The Amish Mother. Rebecca Kertz
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and apron. Her features were kind and full of character, and Lizzie immediately felt comfortable in her presence. She thought that she and Esther might become good friends once they got to know each other.
* * *
Memories assailed Zack as he entered the dawdi haus. His grandparents had lived here when he was a young child. They had passed on when he was seven in a terrible accident. A drunk driver had slammed his car head-on into their small open buggy as his grandfather drove Grossmudder and himself to Sunday service. That he and his family were in the buggy several yards in front of his grosseldre’s vehicle saved their lives, but Zack had gotten a good view of the awful scene. It had been a traumatic experience for everyone but most especially Zack.
As he followed his nephew through the house and into a bedroom, he noted slight changes to the cottage. There was no sign that his grosseldre had lived there. He sighed silently with relief as he set his suitcase in the closest bedroom and then followed Matt into the next room, where his sister would stay.
“Lizzie and the girls made up the beds and put stuff in the kitchen for you,” Matthew told him. “They stocked the pantry and the freezer, but Lizzie said that you are willkomm to eat with us. She wanted you to have food in case you got hungry or didn’t feel like coming over.”
Zack studied the boy and nodded. “That is kind of her.” He examined Esther’s room, pleased how clean and comfortable it appeared. A lingering scent of lemon oil intermingled with the fresh air gently billowing the white window curtains. A quilt in soft blues, greens and cream covered the double bed.
“Lizzie made the quilt,” Matthew said after apparently noting the direction of Zack’s gaze. “She quilts a lot and makes wonderful things. She sells her quilts at Beachey’s Craft Shop.”
Zack couldn’t help but admire the bedcover. The pattern and colors were striking, but plain enough to be used within their Amish community. He walked to the bed and ran a hand over the soft cotton in solid colors. “Beachey,” he murmured. “Ellen Beachey’s family?”
When his nephew nodded, Zack smiled. “They’ve owned the shop since Ellen was a child.” He felt a softening inside at the memory of Ellen Beachey, remembering her as a young feisty girl. She was older than him by about ten years, pretty, but she’d been a handful to her parents, although she’d been respectful to the church and the folks within Honeysuckle. He remembered that she and Neziah Shetler had been sweethearts, but by the time he’d returned home for a visit, the couple had broken up. He wondered whom she finally married.
“Do you know she has a bright lime-green push scooter?” Matt said. “She rides it down the hill from her house to the main road and uses it to ride to the craft store.”
Zack chuckled. “That sounds like Ellen.” He envisioned her flying down the hill, her prayer kapp barely held on by bobby pins, her eyes bright with excitement. Following his nephew into the kitchen, he listened as the boy showed him the contents of the food pantry. “Ellen still works at the store, then,” he murmured after he’d nodded approvingly at his food stock.
“Ja.” Matt closed the pantry door and faced him. “We’re glad you’re here,” the boy said. His expression became solemn. “We miss Dat.”
Zack understood. “I haven’t seen your vadder in a long time. I regret that I won’t have the chance to see or talk with him again.” He felt a keen sense of loss, but somehow, for his nephew’s sake, he managed to smile. “But he is with Gott, and so is your mudder.”
“You knew my mam?” The boy seemed eager to hear more about his parents.
“Ja. Ruth and your dat were married before my vadder— your grossdaddi—passed and we moved away.” Zack recalled how difficult it had been for them, especially his mother, who’d loved her husband deeply and felt the terrible loss. When his father had died, his mother hadn’t wanted to stay on the farm. She had moved with her younger children to Ohio to live near his eldest married sister, Miriam, who lived with her husband and children in Walnut Creek. His older brother, Abraham, had remained behind to run the family farm and build a life with his new wife, Ruth.
“We miss Mam, too,” Matt said as they walked together out of the house and across the yard.
“She and your dat loved each other.” Zack noted the boy’s features so like his brother’s. “You favor your vadder.”
“I do?” Matt appeared pleased by the thought.
“Ja. You’ve got his eyes, yet you have a bit of your mam, too.”
Matt blinked. “I— Danki.” The whispered word held a wealth of meaning and gratitude.
“Let’s go back to the haus. Lizzie and your endie Esther will be wondering why it’s taken us so long.”
Matt picked up his pace, and Zack followed, glad he had decided to return to Honeysuckle, if only to get to know his brother’s children.
Zack pulled the screen door open and waited for Matt to enter first. He noted the difference in the gathering room as he headed toward the kitchen and the sound of laughter coming from the rear of the house. As he entered, he saw his oldest niece, Mary Ruth, chuckling at her little brother Ezekiel, who was grinning from ear to ear as the three-year-old put forkfuls of apple crisp into his mouth. “Ezekiel, slow down,” his sister Hannah warned, “or it will choke you.”
The boy stopped for a moment and blinked up at her. “But it tastes goot, and I’m hungry.”
“Zeke,” Zack heard Lizzie say quietly, “your sister is right. If you aren’t careful, you will choke and hurt yourself. If you take your time, you will enjoy it more.”
Zack watched with surprise as the little boy nodded and grinned in Lizzie’s direction. “Ja, Mam,” he said, and then he began to eat more slowly, chewing his food thoroughly before swallowing. His brother’s widow smiled at the child with affection, clearly pleased by his obedience.
Lizzie looked up then as if sensing a presence, saw him in the doorway and stood. “Zack,” she said, her expression becoming shuttered. “May I get you something to eat? Some apple crisp—”
“It’s goot, Onkel Zack!” little Ezekiel told him with a mouthful of the treat and a grin.
Zack shook his head. “We ate ourselves full on the way here.”
“’Tis delicious.” Mary Ruth smiled as she held up the plate as if enticing him to try it.
He had the sudden urge to grin. “Hmm. May we take two pieces to eat later?”
“Ja. I’ll wrap them up for you.” Lizzie cut two slices of the apple treat, set them on a plate and covered it with plastic wrap. She placed the dish within his easy reach. “Is everything in the cottage all right?” she asked almost shyly, referring to the dawdi haus. She sat down and cradled her teacup with her hands.
“Ja. It looks goot. We’ll be most comfortable there.” He saw that she looked satisfied. As he sat and waited for his sister to finish her tea, Zack studied his late brother’s wife. Dressed in a light blue dress with a full-length black apron, Lizzie was stunning. Her dark red hair had been rolled in the Amish way and tucked beneath her white head covering without a single strand out of place. Her green eyes appeared large in her pretty feminine face; her nose was well shaped and small, her lips pink and full. Despite her young age and obvious handicap, he could see why his brother had chosen to make her his bride. He looked away, startled by the direction of his thoughts.
“We should get settled in,” he said.
Esther agreed. “Ja. The tea was goot.” She stood and picked up the plate of apple crisp. “We will eat this later.”
Zack rose and nodded his thanks. “We will see you tomorrow,” he said. “It’s been a long