Holding a Tender Heart (26 page)

Mamm
looked up at them with a strange expression, but she didn't comment as Ida headed upstairs and Verna remained in the kitchen.

Twenty-Three

T
hree weeks later, on a late-July evening, Debbie walked toward her parents' place with a bag of freshly baked bread swinging in one hand. Supper was finished at the Beiler farm, and the evening stretched out in front of her. They'd eaten early even though Emery was still in town on an errand.

“He can eat when he comes back,” Saloma had declared. “I'm not keeping
Daett
waiting.”

Debbie felt a glow inside as she thought about the memory. Her time with the Beilers was going so well. Still she checked in briefly with either her mom or dad at irregular intervals. Tonight warranted a prolonged visit. Not that anything special had happened. She simply wanted to stay in touch with them. There was no reason to make them feel she'd abandoned them even though her mother had wanted her out on her own and making her way in the world.

Debbie had done that, although in a strange way from her mom's perspective. Hopefully her mother would eventually get used to her daughter's choices. Her mother likely hoped even now that this phase of her life would soon be over. Well, it wasn't a phase. She was more convinced than ever that Amish life was right for her. Her cooking skills, with Lois's help, were progressing slowly but well. They had a cake and even pies planned for this week. Lois said she'd
make the crusts though. That was the hard part about pies, she claimed. And Debbie could easily believe that after she watched Lois's nimble fingers form pie dough into its proper shape. Then she'd formed little creases all along the top edge that looked miraculous. Debbie would learn how to do that someday. She would have to if she wished to be truly Amish. These were things that came more easily if one was born into such a life. Even Verna and Ida could handle pie crust, though neither spent much time in the kitchen.

It wasn't fair really. The few times Debbie saw her mother cook was when she stirred premixed batter from store-bought cartons. It was cheaper that way, her mother had always claimed. But now Debbie suspected there was more to it. It was also faster and easier. But she had much to be thankful for, she told herself. She would have to remind Mom of them if the chance came up, though it was unlikely her accomplishments would mean much to her mom. A wonderful thing like Bishop Beiler's acceptance of her wouldn't signify anything to someone in the world. She wouldn't understand why that was a big deal. Then there was the help she gave the Beiler family with Lois. Lois had almost ceased her talk about the
wunderbah Englisha
life. Of course, Debbie's mom would think that point a complete negative. Neither would she understand her daughter's desire for Alvin Knepp's attention. Not that she'd received any…yet. On this, Debbie had been a complete failure. Maybe she'd thought too highly of herself. How did she think there was even a chance she could waltz in and gain an Amish man's confidence?

The Amish believed pride was one of man's greatest sins. And she was, no doubt, guilty of that one. Paul Wagler, on the other hand, teased her every chance he had. She was quite irritated with the man. Verna claimed he acted that way with all the eligible girls. But Debbie wasn't so sure. When she caught his gaze on her during the Sunday preaching, he would suddenly look away. Yes, there was plenty of interest from Paul. And that was just another failure on her part, although how could she have prevented it? Paul created his
own attraction. He was also the one who kept Alvin away, she suspected. In fact, she was sure of it even if there was no way to prove it. Why else had Alvin suddenly stopped his Saturday habit of borrowing tools from Bishop Beiler? Did Alvin's no longer break? She doubted that. The Knepps wouldn't have improved their farming ways that rapidly.

No, the situation lined up too well. Alvin had seen her and Paul laugh and joke together that Sunday night a few weeks ago and had lost his courage. Alvin thought she cared for Paul. In retrospect she should have been more careful. But how was she supposed to know how Amish men thought? And how did one deal with someone like Paul? In her experience, if she ignored him it brought more attention than if she snapped back at him.

Well, she'd better think about something else lest her long face cause her mother to think she didn't like her new life. Debbie turned in at her parents' driveway and knocked twice on the front door before walking in. Her dad caught sight of her first and called over his shoulder, “Callie! Come see what the cat dragged in.”

“Oh, Dad!” Debbie gave him a tight hug. “It's so good to see you.”

“What have you got there?” He peered at the loaf of bread. “Did you bake this, Debbie?”

“Yes!” Debbie allowed her face to glow.

The approval on her dad's face warmed her heart, so she gave him another quick hug.

He deliberately made a long face. “I thought you might have brought supper with you.”

“Oh,” Debbie cooed, “I should have.”

Her dad laughed. “Now, sweetheart, I was just teasing. Come in and sit down. You're staying a while, aren't you?”

He wasn't teasing on the subject of food. Debbie would have to remember that and cook an Amish supper for her parents again. All by herself this time—once Lois had trained her well enough. They might be the perfect people to practice on.

Debbie followed her dad into the living room. Her mother looked up from her newspaper.

“Hello, dear!” her mother greeted, ignoring the loaf of bread.

“Hi, Mom.” Debbie bent over and gave her a quick hug before sitting down on the couch across from her. She could sense her mother was still uneasy with her new life. But she was still her daughter however Amish she became. And tonight she was wearing one of her “
Englisha
dresses,” as the Beiler family called them. She was trying to make things easier for everyone. Someday her complete change to Amish life would arrive and must be faced, but tonight was not that moment.

“I see you still speak English.” Her mom looked over her glasses at Debbie.

“Now, Mom, I don't speak Pennsylvania Dutch that well. I still barely understand it.”

“So, how are you getting along over there?” her mother asked, motioning in the direction of the Beiler residence.

Debbie smiled. “They're very nice people, Mom. You ought to visit sometime.”

“Yes, I suppose I ought to.” Her mother glanced away.

Was she hiding a tear? Debbie wondered. “Mom, you
did
want me to move out, remember? It's nice that you do miss me.”

Her mother nodded. “A little, but let's not go crying all over the place. I'm too old for that.”

“She's quite sentimental…underneath,” Debbie's father offered.

“I know.” Debbie got up and gave her mother another hug.

Callie squeezed back this time. “So tell me, are you
really
enjoying it over there?”

“Yes, I do like it. Very much.”

“And the new life?” This came from her father.

“I love it, Dad. It's what I've always wanted.”

“I thought so.” He regarded her for a moment. “Well, I'm glad to hear it then.”

“Mr. Fulton says you wear Amish dresses to work,” her mother said. “Have things really gone that far?”

Debbie shrugged. “I'm experimenting. And no one is complaining at the office. The dresses are very nice and presentable, although not the latest styles. I'm not scaring off any customers.”

“Your mother was just making an observation. She meant no harm,” her dad interjected.

Debbie nodded. “I guess I'm jumpy on the subject. The Beilers are accepting me without any complaints. And I've been going to church with them every Sunday in full Amish dress, which includes a head covering they call a
kapp
.”

Her mother's smile was thin. “Any prospects yet? Any interest by that young man you mentioned?”

“Mom! Besides, I haven't joined the Amish church. No Amish man would take a chance on a girl who's not of the Amish faith. And I'm not…yet.”

“Good-looking girl like you?” Her father grinned. “I'm sure they're lining up.”

Her mother smiled. “And a woman with a college education. They ought to line up around the block!”

Debbie laughed. “I'm afraid that's not a plus in their world. In fact, I never hear the Beiler girls mention my education to anyone.”

“Surely they don't hold that against you?” Her mother appeared thunderstruck.

“It's just not important in their world, Mom,” Debbie replied. “They have other priorities.”

“Like having babies every year.” Her mother snorted. “That's a really lofty goal.”

Debbie frowned. “You don't have to condescend, Mom. They're precious people. And large families are part of their belief system and are needed to help them farm.”

“As women's liberation is part of mine,” Callie said, shuffling the
newspaper in her lap. “Well, now, let's talk about something sensible. I'm sure you didn't come over here to prattle about having babies.”

“I'd love a slice of that bread Debbie brought, Callie. We have butter and jam in the refrigerator, don't we?”

Her mother sighed. “Depend on a man to bring the subject back to the ‘important' things of life. And yes, Herbert, there's grape jam…and plenty of margarine…
not
real butter though. Remember your arteries.”

“Bread like this,” he held the loaf up, “seems to warrant real butter and homemade jam.”

Callie sighed. “Now look what you've done, Debbie! He'll want home-baked bread every day of the week.”

“Maybe I can bring some more often,” Debbie offered.

“You've really learned how to bake?” her mother asked. “You're probably better at it than I am.”

“I'm trying, Mom. That's all I can say at this point.”

“I imagine that's an admirable skill in your new world,” her mother said. “To me it harkens back to caveman days.”

“Hmmm. Maybe I'll move over to her caveman world,” her father said, returning from the kitchen to wave around his piece of jam-smeared bread.

“He even talks like a caveman!” Callie sounded exasperated. “But here we are, arguing with each other when you've come to visit, Debbie. Here, stand up so I can get another good look at you.”

Debbie did a slow turn in front of her. “Mom, I'm still the same person.”

Her mother ignored her comment. “There are little changes here and there. Things only a mother would notice, I suppose. But you're happy. That I can see.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Debbie sat down again.

Her father acted like he hadn't heard the exchange. He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “That was really good, Debbie! Thank you!”

“I'm glad you liked it.”

He looked at her for a few seconds. “There's something I need to tell you, Debbie. I don't want this to be a great shock, but then I suppose you know that even Amish people have their problems.”

Debbie glanced at him. “Yes, I know the Amish have their problems. What's going on? Is there something you think I should know about?”

He shrugged. “You may not even know the person involved since this is a rather large Amish community, but…”

“Just say it, Herbert,” Callie said.

Her father leaned toward the coffee table and picked up the paper Callie had been reading. He showed Debbie the front page. “I don't suppose you read the newspaper anymore.”

Debbie eyes traced the headlines.
Local Couple Under Arrest in Robbery Heist.
Underneath in smaller letters were,
Police expect further arrests to follow
.

Debbie met her father's gaze. “You're not saying these were Amish people? That's not possible.”

He shook his head. “No, but the arrests that follow will include at least one Amish man. The girl involved fingered him. Her former boyfriend, she claims. She's cut a deal with the prosecutor for a lighter sentence if she testifies against him. That sort of thing.”