Courting Cate (4 page)

After dinner, while I did the dishes and Betsy and Pete sat on the porch and chatted, Dat escorted Joseph Koller to his buggy. It was warm enough to have the window open, and I could hear both the clopping of his horse’s hooves as he headed up our lane and Pete and Betsy’s laughter. Fortunately, I couldn’t hear their words.

Dat came back into the house, dished himself up a second piece of pie, and then practically collapsed back onto his chair.

“That was a disaster,” he said.

I nodded, not wanting to rehash a single moment of the evening.

“I’ll tell Betsy not to bring home any stray widowers from now on, unless they’re under thirty.”

“Denki,” I said.

Dat chuckled a little. “Lucky for Pete, I’m tall.”

I smiled. Dat’s pants had fit in the length but were a little wide around the middle.

I turned back to the dish rack and pulled out the last plate, biting my lower lip as I did. I wanted Dat to understand my humiliation. I wanted him to lift his stupid edict.

“There’s a volleyball game tomorrow night,” he said. “At the Zooks’.”

“Where Pete is staying?”

Dat nodded.

I definitely wouldn’t be going. “Dat,” I said, turning around. “Can we talk about this new rule of yours?”

He took another bite of pie, his face reddening a little as he chewed.

I sat down beside him. “I know humility is a good thing, but this is more than that—this is humiliating.”

He nodded. “This evening was, but my intention isn’t. You need a little nudge, Cate. That’s all. I’ve been too soft on you in the past, too understanding. Not as strict as I should have been. It’s made you neglect your future.”

I exhaled slowly. “I know you want grandchildren, but think about me. I’m already the comic relief of the district. Do you want to turn me into an absolute fool?”

“You’re not a fool, Cate—not at all. But it’s the Amish way to marry. You just need some help.” He put down his fork and reached for my hand, but I jerked it away. My father had never meddled in my life before. To keep from sharing my not so respectful thoughts, I headed straight to the open back door.

As I rushed through it, Betsy’s laughter reached me again. I pounded down the stairs, scaring the two calicos that liked to hang around the house, and headed toward the shop, away from all the fun on the front porch. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

Why couldn’t Dat leave me alone and let me be content with my lot in life?

I marched toward my favorite tree, the silver maple past the shop.

I don’t remember having problems with my temper before my Mamm died, but afterward I did. When it would start to get the best of me, Dat would tell me to find a place to collect myself. The maple was where I went. Occasionally to think things through. Sometimes to pray. Oftentimes to read. Always to escape.

I grasped the lowest branch and pulled myself onto it, settling against the trunk, serenaded by the frogs down by the creek. Above, a canopy of new leaves swayed in the cool breeze. I could be as willful as Dat. I would simply refuse to court—no matter whom he chose for me. Surely Betsy’s misery would eventually wear him down.

In the meantime, I would come up with a business plan for a publishing company that he’d be willing to finance . . . eventually. Once he accepted that Betsy would be his only source of grandchildren, he was bound to help me with my future.

When I heard Pete call out a good-bye to Dat and Betsy, that he’d see them soon, I craned my neck. It was a good thirty-minute walk to the Zooks’ place, and the sun would soon be setting. A minute later Pete strolled by, reading as he walked.

I longed to know the title of his book. Forgetting my humiliation, and without thinking, I called out, “What are you reading?”

He startled and stopped all in the same moment. It took him a moment to find me in the tree, but when he did, he started toward me, saying, “You wouldn’t tell me good-bye, but you’ll scare me half to death? You are spirited, aren’t you?”

Ignoring his comment, I strained to get a look at his book.

He tucked it under his arm.

When he reached the tree, he asked, “Mind if I join you?”

“Jah, as a matter of fact I do.”

He ignored me, dropped his backpack on the grass with the book on top, and quickly climbed to the other side of the tree. Leaning forward he said, “I was hoping to see you before I left.”

“Why?”

“I enjoyed our talk.”

“But you were laughing with Betsy.”

He shrugged. “Well, sure . . .” He poked his head around the side of the trunk. “Are you always so defensive?”

I ignored him. “So what
are
you reading?”

“For the answer to that you’ll have to wait, until tomorrow.” He jumped from the branch and picked up his book, tucking it under his arm. “I hear there’s a volleyball game at the Zooks’.” He looked up at me in the waning light.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Betsy would,” he quipped.

“I’m sure.”

“I’ll see you soon.” He picked up his backpack.

I didn’t bother to respond. Clearly, he thought winning my trust would increase his chances of courting Betsy.

A moment later, as he reached the lane, he glanced back over his shoulder. “Good night!” He tipped his hat. “Sweet Cate.”

I contemplated going to the volleyball match on Saturday with one goal in mind—to find out what Pete was reading. But even that wasn’t incentive enough. By that afternoon I’d decided not to go, which meant Betsy didn’t go either. She didn’t speak to me for the rest of the day.

Late that night I feigned sleep through the ping of pebbles against our bedroom window. Our Plain courting ways likely seemed odd to outsiders, but that was often how it was done. Parents usually ignored the comings and goings, knowing it wouldn’t last long. Either someone would lose interest or the courting would lead to marriage. Amish youth generally didn’t court casually—if a young man called on a girl it meant he was serious—and parents relied on that. Not everyone who courted married, sure, but it wasn’t our way to date a lot of different people.

Betsy scurried out of the room in a hurry. Regardless of her giggling on the porch the night before, it seemed she was still more interested in Levi than Pete. I could only hope Betsy and Levi were sitting in the kitchen, eating pie.

Although I tried to stay awake until she returned, I didn’t, and the next morning it took me three tries to wake her for
church. We ended up getting a late start, which made Dat grumpy. The service was at Mervin and Martin’s farm, held in their Dat’s shop. Their older brother, Seth, walked in front of us with his very pregnant wife as we arrived.

Most everyone was seated when Betsy and I crowded onto the back bench on the women’s side and Dat walked toward the front on the men’s side. I always felt sorry he didn’t have a son to sit with at services. I was extra thankful for Betsy on Sundays, that I had someone beside me, but I wouldn’t for long, not if she had her way. I was certain she would figure out some way to marry Levi, and then they’d most likely join his parents’ district. Then again, Betsy might decide she was interested in someone besides Levi. Someone like Pete. It was hard to tell.

As Preacher Stoltz stood to lead the singing, a straggler sauntered by. It was Pete, without a book in his hand. The Zooks didn’t live in our district. I could only guess his interest in Betsy had led him to our service. Even so, the sight of him made my heart beat faster.

Pete paused and then made his way down the center aisle and settled on the bench next to Dat. Betsy nudged me, but I didn’t respond.

After forty-five minutes of singing, the sermon began. After a few minutes, Betsy leaned her head against my shoulder the way she had when she was little. If we hadn’t been in the back, I would have made her sit up straight, but as it was I didn’t mind.

Seth’s wife sat in front of me, her back ramrod straight. She wasn’t from our district and hadn’t gone to school with us. I wondered if she had any idea what a cad her husband was.

Near the end of the sermon, my eyes began to droop too.
Preacher Stoltz read 2 Corinthians 12 and then, in conclusion, admonished all of us to turn our weaknesses over to God. For a moment my weaknesses overwhelmed me, but then I patted Betsy’s leg as the preacher led all of us in a silent prayer. She sat up straight and adjusted her Kapp. Afterward we helped the women put out the food in the house while the men moved the benches inside. M&M seemed to be in charge of this task, and Dat and Pete helped.

Betsy yawned several times as we carried loaves of homemade bread to the food table in the living room and then began to slice them.

“You shouldn’t stay up so late,” I whispered.

She looked beyond me, and I turned.

Pete stood, smiling at us. “Good morrow, Cate,” he said to me, his eyes sparkling. “Missed you at the volleyball game last night.”

“We were busy,” I answered. “Besides, aren’t you a little old to be playing games with sixteen-year-olds?”

He laughed. “There was a wide range of ages present.”

Betsy yawned, despite whose company she was in.

“Going to the singing tonight?” he asked.

I answered “no” as Betsy answered “yes.”

Pete laughed. “Which is it?”

“We’re going,” Betsy said.

“We’re not.” Two years ago I’d vowed to never attend another singing in my life.

“So Betsy’s going?” Pete had a confused look on his face.

“Not,” I said again, turning toward the kitchen.

After lunch, I went to find Dat, hoping we could go home. I wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon reading. Pete, Mervin, Martin, and Seth were gathered in front of the barn, talking. Seth had the same hazel eyes as his brothers but had
darker hair and broader shoulders. On the edge of the field, Dat stood with a group of men, one who was holding two of his grandsons in his arms.

As I walked toward Dat, Martin waved at me. “Come here!”

I shook my head. I’d learned my lesson years ago.

“No, really,” he said.

I turned my back to him and told Dat that Betsy and I were ready to leave.

He sighed. “Give me a while longer.”

“We’ll be in the buggy,” I said, and started back toward my sister. I heard footsteps behind me but didn’t turn. In a second I was overtaken by M&M, forcing me to a stop as they stepped in front of me.

“Please come to the singing tonight,” they said in unison.

I shook my head and tried to dart around them.

Mervin shaded his eyes from the midday sun. “Cate, don’t be so vindictive.”

“Just because we’ve teased you a little . . .” Martin’s sunglasses reflected my stern face.

I jerked away from him. “A
little
?” I barked. “Relentlessly is more like it.” I stepped wide.

They hustled after me.

I stopped and turned. “Don’t you know Betsy’s seeing Levi?” There was no point mentioning she also seemed to be interested in Pete.

They looked at each other, and then at the same time said, “She’s changed her mind before.”

“Go away,” I sneered, hurrying away from them again.

Betsy stood beside the fence. I made eye contact with her and pointed toward the buggy. As I followed, I glanced over my shoulder. Mervin and Martin were back with Seth and Pete, talking. I could only guess what about. Dat was walking
toward them, his hand outstretched. He greeted M&M, Pete, and finally Seth.

As Dat stepped away, Seth looked toward me, a sad expression on his face. I couldn’t help but remember a Sunday afternoon twelve years ago. I’d thought Seth was one of my few friends in all the world, until he turned into a bully that day and humiliated me in front of our entire district. Then, like a fool, I more than forgave him. I gave my heart to him, only to have him humiliate me again two years ago.

My face burned as I marched away. By the time I reached the buggy, Dat was behind me.

I escaped down to the creek after we reached the house, taking along the Abraham Lincoln biography and an old quilt. With my shoes off, I plopped on my stomach and, serenaded by the melody of the water lapping against the rocks, read for quite a while—until my cousin Addie interrupted me.

She and Betsy looked more alike than Betsy and I. Addie was taller and her blond hair was darker, but she had the same shapely figure and doelike brown eyes.

Although they lived next door, her family belonged to the district over from us. We didn’t see a lot of them, so usually when Addie came around, I was thrilled to see her, but at that moment all I could manage was to do my best to be pleasant. I sat up, shaded my eyes as I said hello, and then noticed she had a book in her hand.

Now I was genuinely interested. “What are you reading?”

She held it up. “
Pride and Prejudice.
”

“Ah, Jane Austen.”

She nodded.

Nan had recommended Austen, and I’d read all her books
by the time I was Addie’s age. Nan said there were centuries of stories waiting for me, but I hadn’t gone further back than the late 1700s, when Jane Austen started writing, except for the Bible and church history, of course.

As the only girl in the Cramer family, Addie was always busy with household chores. So, no matter how much she enjoyed it, and though she visited the bookmobile now and then, I couldn’t imagine she had much time to read.

She sat down on the quilt beside me. “Ach, Cate,” she said, her voice sympathetic, “I heard about your Dat’s edict.”

“Who from?” I held on to my book tightly.

“Betsy,” she answered.

I gazed past her at the willows along the creek. The leaves turned in the breeze, one after the other, reflecting shades of light onto the water.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Jah, well . . .” I closed my book. “The male gender doesn’t seem to like me.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I read too much.” I held up my book.

She held up hers. “I read too.”

I rolled my eyes. I knew there were boys who wanted to court Addie Cramer—Uncle Cap just wouldn’t allow it yet. “Well, you look like Betsy.”

She shook her head. “You’re as pretty as anyone.” She paused, and then said, as if it were an effort, “Maybe it’s because you’re prickly.”

I wiggled to my knees, straightening my dress as I did. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re being prickly with me right now.”

I swallowed hard. Addie was too nice, usually, to get
defensive with. I did my best to keep my voice even. “Well, I’m a little stressed. About this whole edict of Dat’s. About courting in general.”

Addie tilted her head. “Didn’t you used to court Seth Mosier?”

I groaned. “Please don’t mention his name.”

“What happened?”

“He was courting Dat’s money—not me. Once I figured it out, I kicked him to the curb.” I’d heard that line on the radio in an Englisch store one time and thought it fit the subject.

“Too bad.”

I wrinkled my nose, surprised. There was some sort of rift between Addie’s family and Seth’s, although I could never quite figure it out.

She continued. “I always thought those Mosier boys seemed like fun, regardless of what my parents think.”

“Well, they’re not.” I stood and motioned her off the quilt. “Believe me.”

She stepped away, and I swung the quilt up into my arms, shook it, and had just started folding it when a little boy yelled, “Addie!”

It was her turn to groan. “Oh, no. They’re going to find me.”

“What’s going on?”

“I told Billy and Joe-Joe”—they were her two youngest brothers—“I’d play hide and seek with them.” She pointed downstream. “I’m going to keep walking.” She tiptoed away, and as I headed toward the trail, the boys came crashing down the bank.

“Ah-hah!” Joe-Joe yelled.

I turned toward him.

“You’re not Addie!”

“Where is she?” Billy demanded.

I shrugged and smiled.

They turned upstream, yelling their sister’s name, their bare feet splashing through the water. She’d only have a few more minutes of peace unless she found a really good place to hide.

My resolve stronger than ever, I headed to the house, batting at the cattails along the path as I walked. A few minutes later I found Dat sitting at the table, staring at Mamm’s rocking chair.

I decided to be up front with him and told him directly I wouldn’t be going to the singing.

“What do you mean?” Dat flinched as if I’d insulted him. “It’s one thing not to go to the volleyball game, but you are not too old for singings.”

“I went to four years of those, Dat.” Seth was the only boy who ever gave me a ride home in his buggy, and once I understood why, I vowed to never go to another singing in my life.

“What about Betsy?”

I shrugged. “She’s still napping.”

“Doesn’t she want to go?”

“I’m sure she does.” I hoped after another week of this, at the very most, Dat would realize what a horrible decision he’d made and change his mind.

“Cate,” he said. “How can you?”

“How can
you
? You’re the one who came up with this crazy plan.”

He met my gaze but didn’t respond. After a long minute, he took a drink of his coffee, and I went upstairs to wake Betsy to help with the choring.

As I entered, Betsy stirred.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Five.”

She sat up. “Let’s get going.”

“I’m serious about
not
going.”

She plopped back down on her pillow. “Then I’m not helping with the choring.”

“Fine.”

“Or cooking supper.”

I didn’t answer. We usually had leftovers on Sunday evenings.

“And not just tonight. All week, if you don’t go to the singing.”

I sat down on my bed, not sure which I detested more—cooking or singings. I could sit in the back and sneak out before it was over. I could stay away from the
Youngie.
It wouldn’t hurt to go, for Betsy’s sake. I wouldn’t even have to wait until it was over to leave. Levi would drive Betsy home.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”

She flew across the room and knocked me flat on my bed.

“Get off me,” I groaned.

“Denki, denki, denki,” she squealed.

“Please don’t,” I answered.

“Let’s hurry with the chores!”

Dat must have known something was up by the thundering of Betsy’s feet on the stairs. By the time I reached the kitchen, they were standing side by side, beaming at me.