The Amish Heart of Ice Mountain (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The following Saturday, Bishop Umble came to the door of the cabin quite early. He had a fishing pole slung over his back and carried a beat-up green bait box.

“
Ach
,” Sarah said. “Were you wanting Edward to go fishing?”

“
Nee
, I want to go fishing and I'd like you to go have a look at Martha. She's having some sort of—woman trouble. And, while you're down there, I've got a horse that seems colicky, and I was hoping Edward might take a look.”

“All right,” Sarah agreed with a smile. She saw the bishop off, hurriedly began to pack her bag with odds and ends, and waited for Edward, who seemed to be looking for something.

“Got it,” he called at last from the bedroom.

They set off together on the cloudy morning, the trees blowing in a light misting rain that made the leaves shiny and pretty nonetheless.

When they reached the Umbles', Edward spoke casually. “I'll go in with you first. Say hello to Martha, then clear out of your way.”

“All right.”

Sarah opened the screen door, then the back kitchen door, then stopped dead in her tracks in absolute amazement as the bevy of women gathered there cried out “Surprise!” in happy unison.

Sarah's eyes swept the large kitchen, which was filled with tables and chairs and bright fabric of many colors. “What—is this?” she asked weakly.

“Well, as yer man calls it,” Martha Umble bawled out, “it's a dressing, not a quilting—so go in the other room and get dressed.”

Sarah looked down at the gray dress she was wearing in confusion. “But I . . .”

Martha waved a hand toward the bedroom. “Just go along and let yer smilin' man help ya.”

So, Sarah threaded her way through the happy women gathered, pausing to kiss her
mamm
and Clara, and then entered the master bedroom with Edward behind her. He closed the door and leaned on it, looking at her expectantly in the light of day that came through the window.

“Well . . .” he drawled.

“Well, what?” she asked, still completely confused.

He started to whistle, then went to the closet to remove a royal blue bride's dress that appeared to be exactly her size. “Edward, what . . .”

“Do you remember the last time you saw this fabric?” he asked softly.

She flushed in spite of herself and he laughed softly. “I had to wash and press it, but I promise it's
gut
as new, and today you will wear it as the bride at your dressing.”

“But I don't need more dresses,” she protested.

He walked up to her and caught her gray sleeve between his long fingers. “You do and you will because it will please me to see my bride clothed in the colors she brings to the world . . . and to my life. Everything was gray before you, Sarah. Everything. And I want the whole world to know how it's changed. So, please, for me, accept these new dresses and never wear gray again. . . .” He bent and kissed her full on the lips, and she could only nod, speechless at his words.

“Now,” he murmured huskily, “let's get you undressed.”

 

 

Edward was more than proud to lead his blushing bride, clothed in royal blue, from the Umbles' master bedroom to the center of the kitchen and help her up onto a wooden chair. Once more, she stared down at him in confusion until he produced a yellow measuring tape from his pocket.

“What I was looking for at home, sweet,” he murmured; then he raised his voice. “I thought a few measurements might help, as Martha had to make this dress by guessing, though she did an excellent job. You all don't mind, do you?” He winked over his shoulder and stretched out the tape across Sarah's waist, and she snatched it hastily from his playful hands. “Edward King,” she hissed. “My mother is here.”

Everyone laughed as he surrendered the tape to Martha, then stretched to kiss his bride good-bye. “Have a
gut
day, my love.”

“You too,” she whispered.

And then he went to gather his fishing gear and meet up with the other men of the community who were without their wives for the day.

 

 

Sarah merrily helped cut out pieces of bright blue and burgundy, pink, purple, and green, according to the proper patterns, while other friends ironed out any creases with the heavy old-fashioned irons heated on the stovetop.

Martha was everywhere at once and Sarah loved her for it. She heard her older friend giving sewing instructions to women who'd probably been making dresses since before Sarah was born.... “Now pin and sew the dress bodice front to the dress bodice back at the shoulders, Mary Graber. And don't forget to measure, pin, and hem the sleeves to just the right length.” Martha paused for a quick breath. “Anne Knepp, pin and sew pleats into the skirt front and back pieces and into the apron. And pin and sew darts into the cape back. And for pity's sake, pin and sew the cape front to the cape back at the shoulders.”

Sarah giggled, which caused even Martha Umble's stern face to relax, and soon everyone was pressing and hand sewing, measuring and hemming. Sarah had to admit to herself that it was almost more fun than a quilting and that her husband had a creative mind. She hoped he was having a
gut
time with the other men and didn't have a chance to feel any panic.

 

 

Edward talked to Joe as they ambled along through the woods. It seemed the bishop had heard of a new fishing hole deep in the forest, past Jude and Mary Lyons's cabin, and he was headed for it today. Bear and Blackie had been mournfully left behind so that they wouldn't scare the fish, but Edward had to admit that he'd secretly grown to enjoy the presence of the little dog and missed him a bit.

He looked around for some familiar landmark and didn't see any but had the feeling he'd been in this part of the woods before. “I haven't been back here in awhile, I guess,” he said to Joe.

His
bruder
gave him a strange look. “
Grossdaudi
's cabin's back here, or at least what's left of it.”

“
Ach
,” Edward muttered, feeling the now familiar symptoms of panic begin to rise up within him. But maybe Sarah was right . . . maybe if he saw the remnants of the cabin, he'd feel better somehow. He lifted his chin and drew a deep breath, and suddenly Solomon Kauffman was walking beside him.

Ben huffed to keep up, juggling fishing poles. “
Daed
's fast, for all that his mind is what it is.”

Edward had an impulsive idea. “That's all right, Ben. Why not let your
Daed
walk with me for a bit?”

“Well, I'd be glad of that,” Ben said with relief, already dropping back.

Edward looked at Joe. “I'd like to talk with Solomon, if it's okay, Joseph.”

“Hmm? Sure.” Joe walked on ahead and Edward stepped close to the old man, who had an amazing stride for his age.

“Solomon?”

The old man squinted over at him. “Elijah King? You be dead, I thought.”

Edward thought fast. “
Jah
, I be dead. Were you the one who found my body?”

“Sure as can be. Stretched out on yer bunk. There wuz nuthin' to be done for ya. Forgive me, Elijah.” The
auld
voice quavered and Edward swallowed.

“I forgive you, Solomon.”

“You still runnin' 'shine, Elijah?”

“Well, now, that's too bad. I could use a jar,” Solomon confided.

 

 

Sarah was amazed that, near lunchtime, ten new dresses and aprons had taken
gut
shape under the skillful fingers of the women, and she had never felt so blessed or indulged. It was while she was fitting close stitches along a delicate hemline that she noticed Esther Zook, Deborah's
mamm
, slip unnoticed in the front door.

Sarah felt a surge of gratitude; she hadn't really had a chance to talk with the dead girl's mother except to see her at church, and she got to her feet now to go to greet her personally.

“Esther,” Sarah said softly, laying her hand on the shorter woman's arm. She could see that Esther had lost some weight, and that there were faint circles beneath her eyes.

“Didn't know whether to
kumme
or not, Sarah. I've been kind of blue.”

Sarah put her arm around the older woman and drew her into the room. “
Sei se gut
, sit by me, Esther. And I promise to
kumme
see you next week about that blue feeling.”

There were murmurs of greeting and tender words for Esther as she was welcomed at the table. Sarah knew her people were especially gentle with those who had suffered grief, even if there was a certain practical acceptance of death as coming from the Hand of
Gott
.

Soon, the tempo of work resumed, until Martha declared that it was time to eat, and all of the sewing work was carefully folded and laid aside and then everyone bustled to bring out their various dishes.

Sarah knew what to expect for lunch from a quilting but was amazed at the way each woman had outdone herself for the dressing; fried cornmeal mush, coffee soup, bacon and egg bake, ham salad spread and fresh bread, Amish noodles, homemade applesauce, cherry pie, and so much more that Sarah could barely find a way to taste every dish.

She thought about Edward as she ate and talked gently with the other women and hoped his day was going as wonderfully.

 

 

Edward hadn't seen his
grossdaudi
's cabin after all because the bishop had veered off the track suddenly, heading deeper into the woods until the sound of the rushing creek began to override everything. He was grateful for the sound; it drowned out the beating of his heart, and even as he helped Solomon put on his waders, he was glad to have something else to concentrate on and think about. Every part of his mind and body seemed to scream
I know this place . . . of course I do....

But then everyone was focused on finding the right spot along the creek that bubbled and gushed and gave way to secret deep holes where rainbow trout were likely to lie in the chill autumn waters. Ben had
kumme
to collect Solomon with a hearty word of thanks and Edward crossed the creek instinctively to a mossy bank, sitting down and dropping his line into a shadowy depth. When he felt a nibble, he tugged lightly, automatically, then brought up the first fish of the day. A rainbow—a good ten inches in length. There were cheers and good-natured groans, but as Edward studied the beautiful iridescent colors of the fish, something in him had to let it go. He found the hook in its mouth, worked it free, then let it slide back into the water, ignoring the protests from the other men.

He didn't care but dropped his line in again, sitting in a world far away until someone sat down beside him. He looked over to find the bishop's keen blue eyes upon him and almost groaned aloud.

“What?” he asked, verging on being testy.

“That was a fine fish you released.”

Edward shrugged. “It was beautiful.”

“
Jah
, and maybe you're not in the mood to take and kill today.... You know, your
grossdaudi
fished this spot a lot.”

Edward's head snapped up. “What?”

“Mmm-hmm. Of course it's not far from where his cabin was, but he and I would
kumme
here—when he'd invite me, which was not often, mind.”

“What was he like? I—I can't seem to remember clearly.”

“Ach.”
The bishop paused, as if considering. “He was a giant of a man. Drunk most of the time, frankly. He rarely came to church. Preferred to keep to himself. But he had a full belly laugh and you know, he always threw what fish he caught back in, too. Said they ‘needed to grow a bit more,' no matter how big they were. I think he had some kindness in his heart, though he didn't want to show it.”

Edward felt the urge to cry but didn't know why—he was looking for shades of a haunting ghost, signs of a man who seemed to have so affected his life, and he couldn't let the feeling go, like he'd let the fish go . . .
like I let the fish go....

The bishop clapped him on the shoulder, startling him. “Well, I've got to talk to the men here, Edward. I hope you'll draw near and listen.”

“
Jah
. . . of course.” But his heart was far away.

Sarah tiredly went home that
nacht
with the ten neatly folded dresses and new aprons carefully wrapped in brown paper. It had been an amazing day, one that she would cherish for always.