Plain Proposal (12 page)

It was late morning when Rebecca sent Miriam and Shelby to the market to pick up a few things she needed to prepare supper that evening. Despite plans to go earlier in the week, this was Shelby’s first time to visit the town of Bird-In-Hand, so she scanned her surroundings while Miriam parked the buggy.

“I’m sorry I haven’t brought you sightseeing before now. This isn’t where I would normally go shopping for groceries, but it’s a fun place I thought you might like to see. The Bird-In-Hand Farmers Market is popular with the tourists.” Miriam pulled back on the reins once she had the buggy parked next to another one in the parking lot. “We won’t have much time today, but I promise soon we’ll take a day so I can show you around.”

Shelby stepped out of the buggy, then looked across the street from where they were parked. Bakeries and gift shops lined streets filled with bustling tourists. She walked around to where Miriam was tethering the horse and waited.

“Ready?” Miriam smiled, then took a few steps across the parking lot. Shelby followed, but she stopped abruptly when Miriam did. Her cousin raised her hands to her face, then sidestepped four women whose cameras flashed in their direction. Shelby felt unusually protective. Miriam had told her earlier in the week that they didn’t take or pose for pictures. It was actually against their religion, for reasons Shelby didn’t totally understand. Miriam also told her that most of the non-Amish people knew this, but that they took pictures anyway.

“Don’t get
her
in the picture,” said a woman with dark curls, toting several bags and pointing at Shelby. “She’s not Amish.”

Shelby glared at the women as she and Miriam passed by them and continued across the parking lot. She waited until they were out of earshot from the women, then turned to Miriam. “Doesn’t that aggravate you?”

“Huh?” Miriam crinkled her nose.

Shelby had noticed throughout the week that Miriam’s entire family had a limited vocabulary. “Doesn’t that make you
mad
? People always snapping pictures and staring.”

Miriam shrugged as they neared the entrance of the market. “No. We’re used to it.”

“Well, I think it’s rude.”

Miriam grinned. “I didn’t say we liked it. We’re just used to it.” Miriam held the door open and let Shelby walk ahead of her. Then her cousin pulled out a handwritten list that Rebecca had given them. “It’s a short list. Normally we go to Zimmermann’s grocery store in the town of Intercourse. We’ll go there next week to do our heavy shopping.”

Shelby eased down the aisles with Miriam, where Amish and non-Amish vendors on both sides sold quilts, dolls, jewelry, baked items, canned vegetables, jams, jellies, and a hodgepodge of other things. Shelby could stay there all day looking and shopping, she thought. She pulled her purse up on her shoulder and remembered the small amount of money she had to last her for three months. Not enough to do any real shopping. She eyed a jewelry rack to her left, silver earrings and matching necklaces. Then she breathed in the aroma of freshly baked goods and decided that if she splurged, it would be on something to eat. Something safe—without head cheese in it. She grinned at the recollection. Her parents would have come unglued if she’d spit food into the trash and certainly not laughed about it. Shelby loved the laughter in Miriam’s house.

Most of the people shopping were non-Amish, she noticed. She also took note of two men walking her way. Nice-looking guys about her age. For some reason Jesse popped into her head, but the vision vanished when one of the young men mumbled something in Pennsylvania
Deitsch
to Miriam as they walked by. Her cousin scowled but didn’t say anything.

“Why were they speaking in Pennsylvania
Deitsch
? They weren’t Amish.” Shelby turned around in time to see the men round the corner to the next aisle.

Miriam reached into a large wicker basket on a nearby counter and pulled out a large bag of homemade noodles, then blew a loose strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek. “No, they’re not Amish. They’re just
dumm
.”

Shelby’s jaw dropped momentarily. This was the first time she’d heard her cousin speak harshly of another. “What did they say?”

“
Schee beh
.” Miriam shook her head, then started walking again. “It means nice legs, and non-Amish boys and some of the younger men say that to us. I don’t know who first taught them to say that in Pennsylvania
Deitsch
, but it stuck.” She shook her head. “We hear it all the time.”

Miriam stopped abruptly, almost dropping the bag of noodles.

“What’s wrong?”

Her cousin spun around. “Hurry, let’s go the other way.”

Shelby looked over her shoulder. There was a man about her father’s age holding hands with a pretty woman with blond hair, and there were also three women huddled together by one of the jewelry racks.

“Who are you avoiding?”

They both rounded the corner, and once they were halfway down the next aisle, Miriam stopped and took a deep breath. “That was my
Onkel
Ivan and his. . .” She scowled as she lifted her chin. “His
Englisch
girlfriend, Lucy Turner.”

“Oh. The
bad
uncle.” Shelby pressed her lips together. “Want me to go pull that woman’s hair or something? Then I could kick your uncle in the shin.”

Miriam’s eyes grew wild and round. “We don’t do things like that, Shelby!” She spoke in a harsh whisper.

She was so serious that Shelby couldn’t help but laugh. “Miriam, I’m kidding.”

Miriam grinned. “
Ya
, well. . . I wasn’t sure.” They slowly started walking again. “I’ve only seen
Onkel
Ivan once since he’s been back. It was in a restaurant, but he didn’t see me. I almost didn’t recognize him. He looks different now.” She faced Shelby with squinted eyes. “We’re supposed to avoid him, and I didn’t want it to be awkward.”

“Where’s your aunt?”

“
Aenti
Katie Ann is in Colorado with some other family members.”

“Did that woman who was with your uncle break them up?”

Miriam sighed. “I think so.”

Miriam paid for everything with the money her mother had given her, then looped the small bag over her wrist. They were almost out the door when she heard her name. She recognized the voice and slowly turned around.

Uncle Ivan eased ahead of Lucy and gazed down at Miriam with soft gray eyes, his lips parted slightly in a smile. His tan trousers were held up with a black belt instead of suspenders. His short-sleeved shirt was bright yellow, not dark brown, blue, or green, like she was used to seeing him wear. He seemed thinner and different in more ways than just his appearance. He seemed to stand taller, almost. . . proud. It was unsettling to see him this way, since pride was to be avoided, and it worsened as Lucy cozied up to his side and looped her arm through his.

She’d been praying for her uncle to see the wrong in his ways and return to the church. But based on this new look, she didn’t feel hopeful.

Lucy’s hair was so blond that it was almost white, and her wavy locks rested on her shoulders. She wore blue jeans that hugged her body in a way that made the pants look much too small, and her tight white blouse was cut low on her chest, so low that Miriam felt uncomfortable. Her pink lipstick matched the beaded belt around her waist.

“Wie bischt, mei maedel?”
At the sound of his voice, memories filled Miriam’s mind, but her heart beat with regret over Uncle Ivan’s choices. Lucy scowled, as if maybe she didn’t like him speaking their native dialect.

“I’m
gut, Onkel
Ivan.” Miriam fought the tremble in her voice as she glanced at Lucy. “Hello, Lucy.”

They’d all known the
Englisch
woman for years. Lucy’s mouth turned up at one corner. “Hello, Miriam. Who is your friend?”

Miriam looked at Shelby, whose arms were folded across her chest, her chin lifted higher than usual. Her cousin spoke before Miriam had a chance to. “I’m Shelby,” she said as she eyed Lucy with a critical squint. She looked back at Miriam. “We’re late. Don’t we need to go?”

“Uh,
ya
. We do.”

Whatever pride Miriam thought she saw moments before seemed to fade from her uncle’s expression. His eyelids drooped, and his shoulders slumped somewhat. He rubbed his shaven chin, and Miriam wondered if he was thinking about the times they’d spent together, regretting that he could no longer be a part of her life.
Onkel
Ivan was the first person to take her fishing when she was young, and they’d continued going as often as they could up until he left for Colorado. She’d missed those times together since he’d been back in Paradise. He locked eyes with her, and Miriam didn’t look away.
Come back to us
, Onkel
Ivan
.

“Take care,
mei maedel
.”

Miriam gave a quick nod, then turned away. She could hear Shelby’s boots clicking behind her as they moved through the door and to the parking lot. Miriam didn’t look back. She was sure Ivan and Lucy wouldn’t be there anyway, but she didn’t want Shelby to see her crying.

6

S
HELBY HAD JUST FINISHED SETTING THE TABLE WHEN
the first guests pulled into the driveway. Today she’d learned to make stromboli. One thing she had to admit, the food here was always great. Rebecca and Miriam were both good cooks, and Shelby thought she’d gained a pound or two over the past week. Though she enjoyed helping with supper, she still couldn’t seem to get out of bed early enough to help with breakfast.

“So they each pay fifteen dollars for the meal?” Shelby carried a loaf of buttered bread to the table and placed it between a jar of rhubarb jam and a bowl of chow chow. She loved the sweet rhubarb jam, but she wasn’t fond of the pickled vegetables they called chow chow.

“
Ya
,” Rebecca answered as she scurried past Miriam, toting a bowl of paprika potatoes.

Miriam placed the stromboli on the table next to a chicken casserole. There was also a bowl of creamed celery on the table, a plate of saucy meatballs, and something Miriam referred to as “shipwreck”—a casserole layered with potatoes, onion, ground beef, rice, celery, kidney beans, and tomatoes. It seemed an odd combination of offerings to Shelby, but her cousin had said that non-Amish folks expected to be served a variety of Amish dishes. And Rebecca had said these recipes were handed down from her mother. Even though Miriam told Shelby that pride was avoided in their community, Shelby could tell that Rebecca was proud of her cooking.

A spread of desserts beckoned from the counter: shoofly pie, whoopee pies, glazed apple cookies, and some molasses sugar cookies. Rebecca had been baking most of the day. Shelby wondered if it was worth it and quickly calculated fifteen times eight. She decided it probably was.

She heard footsteps coming up the porch steps.

“Don’t forget. As soon as the meal is over, show them to the den.” Rebecca gave instructions to Miriam as she pointed around the corner to the family room. Jams and jellies decorated with quilted doilies covered a long table against the far wall of the den. Shelby also noticed handwritten cookbooks, quilted pot holders, and individually wrapped whoopee pies.

“The
Englisch
love all that,” Miriam said to Shelby before she turned to her mother. “I will,
Mamm
.”

Rebecca crossed through the den and opened the door for the first of their guests. Shelby stayed in the kitchen with Miriam. She liked the way the kitchen was large enough for the long wooden table, unlike most homes she’d been in that had a separate dining room for such a large crowd. Their kitchen was the largest room in the house, much bigger than the family room, or den, as Rebecca called it. Shelby counted fifteen place settings. Each white china plate had a smaller white plate on top of it, a cloth napkin and silverware, and a glass already filled with ice water.

“Welcome to our home,” Shelby heard Rebecca say as she ushered the first two dinner guests to the kitchen. “This is my daughter, Miriam, and our cousin, Shelby.”
Mamm
paused as she turned to the older couple. “And, girls. . . this is Frank and Yvonne.”

“Nice to meet you,” Shelby said in unison with Miriam.