know. But I’d like to. I miss doing things like this.”
She gave him a long look and then handed him the rake.
He really did miss working on the yard, on the farm. When he left, he’d had to find a job in town. He was grateful for it, but as he raked up the leaves, he enjoyed the crisp fall air, the exertion. The chance to not think about what Lavina had said even if it only put off things for a little while.
“I’ll go get some plastic bags,” she said.
They worked together, Mattie holding bags so that he could scoop up the leaves into them. Then David hauled the bags to the curb.
“Yard looks really good now,” she said when they were finished. “Thank you for the help.”
“You’re welcome.”
“How about some supper? I’ve got a casserole about to come out of the oven. Ham and scalloped potatoes.”
“Sounds wonderful,” he told her and meant it. On a cool fall night like this it was the kind of supper his mudder or his grossmudder might have made.
Mattie’s kitchen was small, but warm and smelled wonderful. He washed his hands at the sink and sat in one of the chairs, watching her pull the casserole from the oven. She served it with canned green beans and sliced bread. Simple, filling. David ate two servings of the casserole and hoped he wasn’t taking food she couldn’t spare. He figured she rented out the tiny apartment upstairs for extra money.
“That was good as my mudder’s—my mother’s,” he told her.
“That’s high praise,” she said, beaming, and her face creased into many wrinkles. “The Amish are great cooks. And how are your brothers, David? I haven’t seen them visiting you this past week.”
“I’ll be going by tomorrow to see them.”
When it came time to leave she insisted on giving him a Tupperware container of casserole leftovers. As he climbed the stairs to his apartment, he thought about how he’d told her he’d be seeing his brothers the next day.
But he wasn’t sure he was ready to do that yet. He wanted to give himself time to think about how he’d tell them, what he’d say. But he knew he had to do it soon so his mudder wouldn’t worry and think they wouldn’t come. But what if they didn’t?
***
Lavina walked up to Waneta’s house and frowned when she saw only one light showed in an upstairs window even though the day was growing dark.
She raised her hand to knock at the door then she bit her lip. What if David’s dat came to the door? Remembering how he’d bellowed last time she visited made her hesitate and drop her hand.
Then she remembered how David’s mudder had looked . . . how she had cried when she said that her mann was ill, and how she’d begged Lavina to find her sohn and ask him to come see his dat. She couldn’t let the older woman down.
So she raised her hand and knocked, then knocked again, harder, when no one answered the door. Finally, when no one came after several minutes of knocking on the door, she gave up and turned to leave.
Then the door opened. “Lavina?”
She spun around and nearly slipped. “Waneta! I thought you might not be home when you didn’t answer.”
“I fell asleep,” she said, straightening her kapp with an embarrassed smile. “Amos had a bad night and I was up with him.”
“Oh, I can come back.”
“Nee, nee, kumm,” she said, holding the door open. “We’ll have some tea.”
“I don’t want to bother Amos.”
“He’s finally asleep. Kumm.”
Lavina walked inside and took a seat at the kitchen table. She watched Waneta bustle around making the tea. Her movements were quick, nervous. Lavina guessed that she was eager to learn if Lavina had found her sohn, but she wouldn’t want to rush and ask her without offering some hospitality after Lavina’s walk in the cold weather.
She waited until the cup of tea was set before her and Waneta had settled tiredly into her chair.
“I found David.”
She shook her head as she remembered how they’d come upon each other that day. Was it coincidence—or God’s plan?
Waneta’s hand flew to her mouth and tears welled in her eyes. “You did? Already? Mein Gott!” Then her face fell. “But you didn’t bring him.” Her shoulders sagged. “He didn’t want to come.”
Lavina reached over and touched her hand. “He needs to think about it, Waneta.” She fell silent for a long moment. “I’m afraid old hurts don’t die quickly.”
Waneta nodded and stared at her tea. “I know. They said many a harsh word to each other before David left. I know he and his bruders may never come home again.”
“I’m sure he’ll come,” Lavina said reassuringly.
But she wasn’t so sure. She and David had talked so often about their families. His dat was . . . difficult. David had worked so hard to help on the farm, getting up early without being asked, shivering in the winter, sweating in the summer, milking cows, and mucking out stalls. Planting crops and tirelessly nurturing them and then harvesting them.
But his dat had never been satisfied. Never. He’d criticized and yelled. She’d seen red marks on David’s face that he wouldn’t talk about.
David had taken it until his mudder had tried to step in and stop him, and the blow that Amos had intended for David had landed on her.
He’d gone to the bishop for help and been turned away. His dat was a gut, hardworking mann, he’d been told. David needed to do as he was told and not interfere between his parents.
How was that right? he’d asked Lavina. A man wasn’t supposed to treat his fraa, his kinner, that way. She didn’t know what to say. It hadn’t been long after that conversation that she’d heard that David had left the community.
He hadn’t come to say goodbye to her.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have any cookies or anything to offer you with your tea. I haven’t had time to bake this week with Amos being so sick from his chemotherapy.”
“It’s allrecht. I need to be getting home for supper.”
She glanced around the kitchen. The room felt cold and only the overhead gas light lit it. Nothing was simmering on the stove or baking in the oven.
“Waneta, what are you doing for supper?”
She watched the older woman glance absently around the room. “Oh, I think I’ll just warm up some soup I have in the freezer, make some sandwiches for Amos and me. I don’t think either of us wants more than that tonight.”
“You’re sure I can’t help you cook?”
Waneta patted her hand. “You’ve done more than enough contacting David. Now you need to get on home for your supper before your family worries.”
Lavina hesitated. Her heart went out to the woman. She looked a little lost, a little lonely sitting here. In years past the table would have been filled with three big, strapping sohns and a mann, all acting starved after a long day working. There would be platters of food and elbow shoving if they weren’t being passed fast enough. Arguments over the last biscuit. Their dat had frowned a lot but ate his supper quickly and left the table.
Lavina didn’t have to imagine it. She’d been David’s guest for supper a couple of times and witnessed such. It had been quite an experience after the quiet meals she and her two schweschders enjoyed around their kitchen table. Her own dat was so warm, friendly, and different from David’s. And her dat’s relationship with her mudder was so different from the one she saw Waneta had with Amos.