Adoring Addie (7 page)

When I reached the game, the players had rotated a turn, and Jonathan stood nearest the net on the left side. I slipped off my flip-flops and stepped to the position opposite him on the other side of the net, and then glanced from one brother
to the next. Danny seemed as relaxed as ever, positioned in the middle of the players. George stood to his right and grinned at me. Samuel stood to Danny's left and although he didn't smile, he was no longer seething. That left Timothy in the middle of the front, across from Martin, a scowl on his face.

Cate had told me one time that Native Americans used the game of lacrosse to train their warriors and sometimes they even played against another tribe to settle a dispute, instead of going to war.

The Amish didn't believe in wars. Or even disputes. And certainly not in settling a conflict through a competition. Or so we said.

Mervin stepped back to the server's spot, tossed the ball into the air, and slammed it across the net. Timothy hit it so hard I didn't think anyone would attempt to return it, but Martin did, sending it skyward and over the net with a bump. I positioned myself under it, sending it back. Jonathan volleyed straight at me with a smile on his face, and when I returned it close to the out-of-bounds mark, he lunged for it but missed, rolled onto his back, and popped up grinning, holding his hat in his hand.

George headed back on our side to serve as a familiar voice called out, “Do you have room for one more?” It was Phillip.

“How about two more?” Pete walked behind Phillip.

“We get Pete,” Martin called out.

That left Phillip on our side. He stepped in between Timothy and me, forcing me over, a position away from Jonathan.

Jonathan stepped back as if alarmed, a goofy smile on his face, as Phillip squared his shoulders.

George served the ball straight to Mervin, who bumped it back over the net in my direction. Under normal circumstances, I could have returned the ball easily, but having Phillip
beside me made me nervous, and I lifted my right forearm as I bumped it, sending it off at an angle. Phillip lunged past me, trying his best to save it, but it landed out-of-bounds before he could.

He took a deep breath as he stepped back and then blew his breath out, sending his bangs upward.

Next, Martin served the ball and it came straight to me again, but before I could hit it, Phillip stepped in front of me, crashing the ball down on Jonathan, who set it back to me. Again Phillip slammed it over the net.

Obviously he didn't trust me to hit the ball myself.

Jonathan returned it again, but over my head to Danny, who didn't have a chance to hit it either because Phillip took a giant step backward, lobbing it over the net, this time to Martin, who sent it spiraling off into the pasture.

“Ach,” Pete called out, “that was quite the volley.”

“Jah,” I answered.

Mervin glared at Phillip and said, “He's so mighty for a tender thing.”

I blushed, afraid I might be the “tender thing” he referred to.

“Too boisterous also,” Jonathan added.

Mervin nodded as George served again. Jonathan returned it to me, but again Phillip stepped in front of me. I stuck out my bare foot, hoping to teach him a lesson, but he deftly maneuvered around me without seeming to notice my intent and bumped it high in the air toward Timothy. He slammed it across the net to Jonathan, who returned it again, this time to Danny. He set it high, to the center, in the perfect position for Phillip to spike it back over the net. Which he did, straight to Martin, who missed it entirely. Timothy and Phillip high-fived.

Jonathan turned toward Mervin and said, “We'll get it next time.”

“You might,” his cousin said. “But I think my chances are done.” He sighed.

I couldn't help but think that Mervin referred not to the volleyball, but to love, which had soured him. He'd cared for Betsy. Then me. Both times he'd been rejected. Now he thought I loved Phillip. I couldn't help but feel for him.

Phillip clasped his hands and stretched his arms over his head, cracking his knuckles as he did.

Mervin rolled his eyes at Jonathan, and I stepped away from the net, guessing I wouldn't see any more action. I was right. Every time the ball came close, Phillip lunged in front of me. Jonathan made a face each time.

Finally I slipped away, wiped the sweat from my brow, grabbed my flip-flops, and headed toward the willow, stopping under the weeping branches, where I could watch the game without being seen.

A couple of minutes later, as Timothy and Martin disputed a play, Jonathan slipped away too. As the disagreement escalated, Phillip began looking around, his face beet red, toward the yard and then toward the tree. I turned quickly and scampered down the path toward the creek, a sense of hollowness overtaking me.

A moment later, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned, afraid Phillip had followed, but it was Jonathan, smiling as he flew down the steep trail and then stopped by my side at the water's edge.

“I'm Jonathan,” he said. “Mosier.”

“Jah, I know,” I answered.

“And you're Addie Cramer's cousin.” He grinned. “But I don't know your name.”

I took a step backward. “Addie's cousin?” What was he talking about?

He tilted his head. “Jah,” he said. “That's what you said. Earlier.”

I shook my head, trying to understand what he was saying. “I said I was Hannah's cousin.” I closed one eye. “You were looking for Hannah. Right?”

He laughed. “No, I'm looking for Addie.”

“Oh,” I said.

He dug in one pocket, pulling out a piece of folded paper. “That's not it,” he said, digging in the other. “I have something for her.”

My face grew warmer by the second. “For me?”

“If you're Addie.”

I nodded.

“Oh.” His blue eyes sparkled. “I'm happy to have that cleared up.” He smiled and pulled an envelope from his other pocket. “Here it is,” he said, handing it to me.

As I took it, the flap came open. Inside was money. “What is this for?” But as I asked, I knew. It was the wad of money I'd given Martin. “Ach, I can't take it back.” I forced it into his hands.

“It was kind of you—really.” He held the envelope between us as he spoke. “But I fixed the mantel. No one owes me any money.” He stepped toward me, slipping the money into my apron pocket. I shivered at his closeness. He smelled of wood, mixed with the earthiness of the soil, the marshy creek, and the freshness of the trees all around us.

“Denki . . . if you're sure.”

He nodded.

My hand fell to my pocket. “Was it you last night? Walking down the lane?”

“Jah,” he answered. “I thought I would return the money then, but when I saw your family had a visitor I decided to wait.”

I blushed, turning my head toward the sound of the little boys shouting at each other downstream.

“Look.” Jonathan pointed at a dragonfly flitting by and reached toward it as Phillip called out my name. Jonathan's finger moved from the dragonfly to pointing to the field above the bank where Phillip's voice came from. “Shall we?”

I shook my head and whispered, “I'd rather not.”

His finger switched directions, pointing across the creek. “Care to come with me?”

I nodded, a sense of excitement welling up inside of me.

Phillip called out again, but his voice was farther away—going toward the little boys downstream.

Jonathan grinned and motioned for me to follow as he hopped to the first stone and then to the second.

I matched his surefootedness. A toad croaked back the way we'd come and then another dragonfly flew by. The willow leaves ahead shimmered in the shadows.

“What's up there?” He nodded toward the far bank.

“Trees. And then my Onkel's farm.” There was a path between the two properties, a route far shorter than taking the lane.

He kept going, up the trail with stairlike steps from the roots of the trees wound into the bank. When we reached the grove, he took my hand, his rough skin against mine, sending a shiver down my spine.

He stepped between the trees, pulling me along. “Sycamores,” he stated.

I nodded, dodging around a mosquito. “My great-grandfather planted the trees.”

He ran his hand along the puzzlelike bark. “Probably to stop erosion along the bank, jah?”

I shrugged. I hadn't given it any thought, even though it was one of my favorite spots on the farm.

He dropped my hand and leaned against the tree, both palms flat, supporting himself. “The wood is soft but works great for accents—and for drawers, little boxes, that sort of thing.” He stepped back and looked straight up into the tree. “I'd guess these are a hundred feet tall or more. Sometimes sycamores are hollow. Animals often make their home in them.”

I stepped two trees over and pointed to the base. Jonathan joined me.

“And little boys. My Bruders have a fort in this one.”

He squatted down, shuffled inside, and then called out, like an owl, “Who, who,” sending an echo up the tree.

A moment later, he stepped back out with Joe-Joe's bow, made from a willow twig, in his hand. “It looks like your Bruders have a lot of fun.”

I nodded. “They play Settlers.”

“Did you play here when you were little too?”

“Some.” I smiled. “I suppose I'm the one who taught them to play Settlers, on a rare lazy Sunday afternoon.”

“Really?” He extended the bow to me, but when I reached for it he took my hand again. “I used to play that when I was little too.”

“With your siblings?” I asked, liking the way my hand felt in his.

He shook his head. “Sometimes with my cousins, back when we were young and they came to visit.”

“Martin and Mervin?”

“Jah,” he said, focusing on my eyes. “They mentioned you recently.”

I blushed again.

“It was all good,” he said, a hint of teasing in his eyes. “Especially from Mervin.”

Determined not to blush again, I said, “They've been good friends to me.”

“So you don't hold to this so-called grudge?”

I shook my head as he placed our hands palm to palm, as if together we were praying.

He cleared his throat. “I know you have a lot of Bruders. . . .”

I nodded.

“And you're the only girl.”

I nodded again.

“They must all appreciate you very much.” He pressed his hand more firmly against mine.

“Actually . . .”

A voice called out, “Adelaide! Your Mamm wants you!”

I hesitated a moment and then said, “That's my Aenti Nell.”

“Jah,” he said. “I met her earlier.”

“Now!”

“I'd better go.”

“Stay,” he said, his fingers curling around mine.

“I can't,” I said, pulling away.

“Can I see you again?”

“Come now!” Aenti Nell shouted, her voice sharp.

Jonathan loosened his grip and I slipped my hand from his.

“Later?” he whispered.

I nodded as I stepped away and then rushed back down the trail, across the creek, and up to where Aenti Nell stood under the willow tree.

“Where have you been?”

“The sycamore grove.”

“With?”

I didn't answer but started off toward the Haus at a brisk pace. “Where's Mutter?”

Aenti Nell struggled to keep up with me. “In the kitchen. With Phillip's Mamm. They want to talk with you.”

Mutter said she simply wanted me to put away the food, instead of Aenti Nell and Aenti Pauline, so I would know where it was the next day for leftovers, but the way she and Phillip's mother watched me as I worked, I was pretty sure it was more than that. They wanted to keep me in their sights.

At one point, when I noticed they were both staring at me with puzzled looks on their faces, I realized I was humming as I stacked the containers of leftover salads in the fridge. I stopped immediately.

“Go on now,” Mutter finally said, motioning toward the door. “Phillip was looking for you earlier. We can finish up.” I knew that meant she could sit at the table while my Aentis did the work, but she was the oldest of the Schwesters, and they seemed fine following her orders.

Patty pursed her lips together, making her face appear even thinner than it was as I hurried out the door.

I glanced around for Jonathan as I strolled across the courtyard. Onkel Bob, Danny, and George collected the tables. Cate, Nan, and Sadie gathered the lawn chairs. Betsy leaned against Levi as they walked toward their carriage. I hurried my steps, catching up with my cousin, and gave her a quick
hug. The next time I saw her she would likely have a little one in her arms.

I turned toward the horseshoe game, where Phillip, Pete, Samuel, and Timothy played. The volleyball game appeared long over, and Mervin, Martin, and Jonathan were nowhere in sight. They must have gone home. I had no desire to spend any time with Phillip Eicher, at all. So I turned back to help Cate and Nan with the chairs.

But by the time I reached them, Phillip was jogging to catch up with me. “There you are,” he said.

Cate watched as I told Phillip hello and then added, “I'm going to help with the chairs.”

“And I'll go help your Dat.” He grinned. “I need to talk with him.”

I glanced that way. Onkel Bob and Bishop Eicher stood by the grape arbor, appearing as if they were just finishing their conversation. Daed, George, and Danny each hauled a table toward the church wagon.

Phillip lumbered over to the stack of tables and grabbed two, one under each arm.

“What's that all about?” Cate whispered.

I put my hand to the side of my face and met her kind eyes.

“Is it what it appears to be?” she asked.

“I think so.” I choked on my words.

“But you're not sure?”

Unexpected tears filled my eyes. “How am I supposed to
know
if Phillip's the right one?”

Cate took my hand and pulled me behind the tool shed. “If you have doubts, then he's not.”

I took a deep breath and dabbed at my eyes, stopping my tears before any escaped.

“I saw you with Martin and Mervin's cousin,” Cate said, her voice low.

My face grew warm as I wondered who else had noticed us.

“Do you care for him?” The kindness in Cate's voice helped me relax, a little.

“I only just met him today.”

“And?”

“He's different . . .”

Cate raised her eyebrows.

“It's as if he sees me. Do you know what I mean?”

She nodded. “Jah, I know exactly what you mean.”

“But he's interested in Hannah.”

“It didn't look that way to me.” Cate smiled.

“But perhaps he goes from girl to girl. I'm just the next—not the last.”

“There's only one way to find out,” Cate answered.

“And he's a Mosier. . . .” I looked toward my Daed.

“All the more reason to get to know him. Perhaps the two of you can finally put an end to all the nonsense.”

I doubted that but didn't say so.

Across the way, the horseshoe game must have ended, because Pete and Samuel started toward us. Bishop Eicher opened the back door to the house, probably intent on fetching his wife. My immediate hope was that all the Eichers would go home, the sooner the better.

Billy's voice came from near the willow tree. “Addie! Joe-Joe's hurt.” It wasn't a panicked declaration, more of an everyday occurrence. Cate sensed it too, because she said, “Go on.” She smiled and added, “And take your time.”

I headed toward the creek, slipping back down the trail into the world of my little Bruders.

“He's on the other side of the creek.”

By the time I reached my youngest brother, he'd stopped crying, but his eyes were red, and muddy tears were smeared across his cheeks.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I fell,” he said, pointing to his ankle.

I knelt beside him and felt up and down his foot and leg. His ankle was slightly swollen, but that was all. “Can you stand on it?”

He tried and could.

“Take a step.”

He did.

“You probably twisted it,” I said. “Let's put it in the creek to soak for a few minutes.”

I sat on a rock with Joe-Joe in front of me. He dangled his foot into the water, leaning back against me as he did, tucking his head against me. His fine hair tickled my chin. I turned my face, placing my cheek atop his head, breathing in his sweaty little-boy scent, mixed with mud and creek water. Billy wiggled onto the boulder beside me, resting his head on my shoulder.

That was where Phillip found us, at the edge of the creek. “Could we talk?” He leaned toward us.

I looked up at him, doing my best to soften my expression. “Perhaps another time?”

“Sometime soon?” He straightened, crossing his arms as he did.

I nodded, the tears welling in my eyes again. The thought of talking with him, seriously, terrified me. I didn't want to hurt Phillip. Or my parents. But if Cate was correct, then he wasn't the right one for me.

“Okay.” A look of uncertainty crossed his face. “I'll see you soon.”

I felt sorry for Phillip as I waved at him with my free hand, holding on to Joe-Joe with my other. My little brother felt so relaxed against me I checked to see if he'd fallen asleep. He had.

Phillip started up the trail as Billy began telling me about his day, but the sound of whistling on our side of the creek interrupted him.

“Who is that?” I asked. None of my Bruders—or Daed—whistled much.

“Maybe it's Pete,” Billy offered.

Sure he was right, I called out a hello.

The whistling stopped, but the footsteps continued. In a moment Jonathan was beside us. He held a piece of wood in one hand, another tucked under his arm, and a knife in his other hand.

“Ach,” he said. “Just who I was hoping to see.” He winked at me as he handed Billy one of the pieces of wood. It was a small branch, stripped of wood and shaped like a bow.

Billy held it up. It had notches in each end, tied with the string, and the handle had his name carved on the end.

“Because the little guy's asleep, I'll give this to you.” He handed Billy the one with
Joe
carved on it.

“Denki,” Billy said.

“Do you need some help?” Jonathan motioned to Joe-Joe.

I'd carried him plenty of times, but getting off the boulder was going to be tricky.

“Denki,” I said again, lifting Joe-Joe as best I could into Jonathan's open arms. “Go put these in your fort,” I said to Billy, handing him the other bow. “You can show Joe-Joe in the morning.”

Billy took off running, and by the time we'd crossed the creek, he was back at our heels. Jonathan carried Joe-Joe
effortlessly, but by the time we reached the end of the trail, Billy had surged ahead of us. I knew not to ask my brother not to tell Mutter and Daed about the bows—that would only encourage him to do it for sure. On his own, he might or might not. I couldn't be sure.

“Just as far as the willow,” I said to Jonathan.

He nodded as if he understood.

“When can I see you again?” he whispered, his mouth brushing against my ear as he passed Joe-Joe into my arms.

I couldn't help but smile as my heart beat against the weight of my brother. “Tonight,” I whispered back.

“
Wunderbar
,” he responded, a smile forming on his lips.

After I'd tucked Joe-Joe and Billy into bed that night, I sat out in the courtyard by myself, positioned so I could see both the back of the house and the lane. The sun had set, but the lingering light of dusk illuminated the yard and side of the house.

A breeze blew through the elm tree, playing the leaves like chimes.

I glanced to the second floor of the house. A lamp shone in the window of my parents' room. I hoped Jonathan would show up—but not until after my parents put out their light.

A lone bat flew above the roof and then out toward the field. A mosquito buzzed close to my ear. Another landed on my arm. I smacked it and flicked it to the ground. In an instant I began to itch all over. I looked toward the lane. No Jonathan. I considered going for a walk, but what if he came to the house while I was gone?

Besides, I didn't want to get eaten by mosquitoes. As I stood, the light in Mutter and Daed's window went out.

As the dark of night fell, I headed to the back door, stepped into the mudroom, slipped off my flip-flops, and made my way through the dim kitchen. Maybe he wasn't coming. Maybe he'd changed his mind and had gone to Hannah's house instead. I tiptoed through the living room and then up the stairs, clutching the railing as I pulled myself along.

When I reached the landing, I opened the little boys' door. The full moon that had risen on the far side of the house cast enough light through their window that I could see they were both fast asleep. Joe-Joe slept with his sheet wound around his legs. Both of Billy's arms were flung above his head, and his mouth hung open.

I carefully closed their door. I didn't need to be quiet for their sakes—they would be fast asleep until morning—but I didn't want to disturb Mutter. When I entered my room I stood still, listening for my parents' voices. Some nights I could hear them through the wall, although I'd never been able to make out their words. Sometimes Mutter would cry and Daed's tone would grow frustrated, but even then I couldn't tell what they were saying.

So far tonight—probably worn out by the activity of the day—they were quiet.

I lit my lamp beside my bed and sat atop the sunshine-and-shadows quilt I had made last year. It was for my hope chest, the one I didn't have, so I put it on my bed instead.

All of my other hope-chest items were in a hamper on my floor, which was the only element of untidiness that existed in my otherwise completely ordered space.

Neither Mutter nor Aenti Nell ever came into my room, so they didn't know I didn't use the hand-me-down hope chest my mother had given me.

It had been hers.

And I didn't want it.

Not using it was the most rebellious thing I'd ever done—until I talked to Jonathan at the picnic and encouraged him to come calling tonight.

My dresses hung on pegs across the room. A three-drawer bureau, to the side of the French doors, held all my other clothes. The top was bare except for the only added decor in the entire room—a canning jar filled with cosmos, the white, pink, and fuchsia flowers bending downward.

My parents' door opened with a creak. Sometimes Mutter couldn't sleep and wandered the house. I'd so hoped tonight wouldn't be one of those nights—but it seemed it was.

I ventured to my window, and although I was tempted to step out onto my balcony more than I'd ever been before, I didn't. Jonathan was definitely late. Even though we hadn't specified a time, we both had to get up early in the morning.

I valued punctuality in a person. It was one of Phillip's qualities I appreciated.

After another ten minutes, sure Jonathan wasn't coming at all, I retreated back to my bed and pulled my nightgown from under my pillow just as the hoot of an owl interrupted the still night. I sprang to the French doors and flung them open. Sure enough, Jonathan was waiting in the courtyard, below the branches of the elm tree. Without stepping out, I waved and then motioned for Jonathan to wait over by the willow tree, away from the Haus.

I didn't want Mutter to see him through the kitchen window.

I turned off my lamp, slipped down the stairs, and started for the front door, guessing Mutter was in the kitchen.

Daed's voice coming from the archway startled me. “Out for a stroll?” He had a bowl in his hand.

Speechless, I nodded.

He smiled. “Tell Phillip hello.”

I pursed my lips.

“You have my blessing, Addie.” He grinned. “Lighten up. We couldn't be happier about the two of you. I told Phillip that today.” He held up the bowl. “And by the way, the date pudding is delicious. Best you've ever made.”

I smiled at him, although I doubted he could tell in the darkness, snatched up the pair of flip-flops I kept at the front door, and slipped out. I felt like a cheat—but not enough to tell him the truth or, worse, not go. It was the first time I'd ever deceived my father.