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Authors: Linda Byler
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Women and girls moved from table to kitchen, fer-sarking leftovers, planning tomorrow’s meal, complimenting. They were relaxed now, the crowning point of the day achieved.
And it had gone well, hadn’t it? It surely had.
Hannah sat smack down in the middle of the riotous mess and folded a fresh slice of whole wheat bread around a large portion of the succulent ham. She poured a glass of ice cold meadow tea and said the young generation could do dishes, which drew a mixed response.
Out in the kesslehaus , Mamie Stoltzfus said Hannah sure hadn’t changed now, had she? Always running the show, being the boss, and then the minute the real chores started, she sat there in all her glory. It just irked Mamie.
Barbara Zook agreed, but shrugged her shoulders and said that was just Hannah’s way.
But still, Mamie said.
Sarah moved to the sink where Rose had begun scrubbing the pans with dried food clinging to their sides. As Rose finished with the pans, Sarah took them and dried each one as if her life depended on it. In reality, her thoughts were far away.
Through the kitchen window, she watched the beams being put into place. Agile men clung to the precisely cut lumber, the hammers flailing. But she was not really seeing anything. What was wrong with her?
She felt guilt about Matthew, and the stone in her heart was now an unbearable thing. There was Rose, beside her, washing dishes at a rapid speed, chattering happily, her blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes adding another stone marked “Shame” to the one that had “Guilt” inscribed on it.
Who did she think she was? Why had Matthew been the one to dress her hand? Why not Mam, or Hannah, or anyone else?
Silently groaning, she half-heard Rose. The men on the new yellow lumber swam together like colorful fish, but her unfocused gaze obscured the sunlight-infused picture before her.
“Sarah, you’re not listening to me!”
Rose was emphatic and then looked perplexed as Sarah’s hands—bandages and all—stopped their motion and tightly gripped the edge of a large roaster.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, her bright blue eyes inquisitive, innocent.
Everything’s wrong with me. Your boyfriend, Matthew, is an elusive rainbow in my life. I want him. I’m terribly guilty, my mind is so jumbled I can’t see straight. How can I get out of this?
“Nothing,” she said.
“Well, Sarah, of course there is. You’ve been through a lot. It can’t be easy, knowing someone lit your barn on purpose. It would really give me the creeps.”
“It does.”
“Of course it does.
Sarah met her friend’s eyes in a sort of half-slant. Seeing the blue gaze of love and concern, the childlike honesty and trust, only multiplied her guilt.
It was time for everyone to go home. Then she could sit in a clean, quiet kitchen and have a genuine old-fashioned talk with Mam.
She needed advice. She needed Mam.
How desperately now she wanted Mam to tell her that it was alright to let yourself love your best friend. No. Mam would never.
Sarah dried the roaster viciously and avoided Rose’s eyes.
Chapter 6
T HE NEW BARN STOOD like a beacon of renewal, a proud sentry of fellowship, caring, and love administered to those in need. Yet the weeks following the barn raising taxed the good humor and energy of the whole family.
It was the rain. The constantly scudding gray clouds containing inch after inch of rain persistently rolled in from the east, slowly eroding the optimism of even the most encouraging member of the family.
Even Mam, who usually refused to spend needless money to dry clothes, gave in and hired a driver to take the mounds of laundry to the Laundromat over along Route 30. She muttered to herself as she dumped out the gallon jug with its heavy accumulation of loose change and counted her quarters feeling as blameworthy as someone who had just committed a crime.
The thing was, those great, gleaming washers that spun her towels and tablecloths and
Women and girls moved from table to kitchen, fer-sarking leftovers, planning tomorrow’s meal, complimenting. They were relaxed now, the crowning point of the day achieved.
And it had gone well, hadn’t it? It surely had.
Hannah sat smack down in the middle of the riotous mess and folded a fresh slice of whole wheat bread around a large portion of the succulent ham. She poured a glass of ice cold meadow tea and said the young generation could do dishes, which drew a mixed response.
Out in the kesslehaus , Mamie Stoltzfus said Hannah sure hadn’t changed now, had she? Always running the show, being the boss, and then the minute the real chores started, she sat there in all her glory. It just irked Mamie.
Barbara Zook agreed, but shrugged her shoulders and said that was just Hannah’s way.
But still, Mamie said.
Sarah moved to the sink where Rose had begun scrubbing the pans with dried food clinging to their sides. As Rose finished with the pans, Sarah took them and dried each one as if her life depended on it. In reality, her thoughts were far away.
Through the kitchen window, she watched the beams being put into place. Agile men clung to the precisely cut lumber, the hammers flailing. But she was not really seeing anything. What was wrong with her?
She felt guilt about Matthew, and the stone in her heart was now an unbearable thing. There was Rose, beside her, washing dishes at a rapid speed, chattering happily, her blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes adding another stone marked “Shame” to the one that had “Guilt” inscribed on it.
Who did she think she was? Why had Matthew been the one to dress her hand? Why not Mam, or Hannah, or anyone else?
Silently groaning, she half-heard Rose. The men on the new yellow lumber swam together like colorful fish, but her unfocused gaze obscured the sunlight-infused picture before her.
“Sarah, you’re not listening to me!”
Rose was emphatic and then looked perplexed as Sarah’s hands—bandages and all—stopped their motion and tightly gripped the edge of a large roaster.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, her bright blue eyes inquisitive, innocent.
Everything’s wrong with me. Your boyfriend, Matthew, is an elusive rainbow in my life. I want him. I’m terribly guilty, my mind is so jumbled I can’t see straight. How can I get out of this?
“Nothing,” she said.
“Well, Sarah, of course there is. You’ve been through a lot. It can’t be easy, knowing someone lit your barn on purpose. It would really give me the creeps.”
“It does.”
“Of course it does.
Sarah met her friend’s eyes in a sort of half-slant. Seeing the blue gaze of love and concern, the childlike honesty and trust, only multiplied her guilt.
It was time for everyone to go home. Then she could sit in a clean, quiet kitchen and have a genuine old-fashioned talk with Mam.
She needed advice. She needed Mam.
How desperately now she wanted Mam to tell her that it was alright to let yourself love your best friend. No. Mam would never.
Sarah dried the roaster viciously and avoided Rose’s eyes.
Chapter 6
T HE NEW BARN STOOD like a beacon of renewal, a proud sentry of fellowship, caring, and love administered to those in need. Yet the weeks following the barn raising taxed the good humor and energy of the whole family.
It was the rain. The constantly scudding gray clouds containing inch after inch of rain persistently rolled in from the east, slowly eroding the optimism of even the most encouraging member of the family.
Even Mam, who usually refused to spend needless money to dry clothes, gave in and hired a driver to take the mounds of laundry to the Laundromat over along Route 30. She muttered to herself as she dumped out the gallon jug with its heavy accumulation of loose change and counted her quarters feeling as blameworthy as someone who had just committed a crime.
The thing was, those great, gleaming washers that spun her towels and tablecloths and
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