Amish Generations Page 15

  “Then there’s this.” He picked up a carving of a bear standing on its hind legs. “I don’t think I want to sell this either.”

  Ben inwardly groaned. He’d been afraid of this. Convincing Menno to sell these items had been a chore. Now all the work he’d done could be for nothing if Menno decided to pack everything up and head home.

  “Remember our goal, Menno,” he said. “You’re selling these things to put some money into savings.”

  Menno frowned and looked at the merchandise on the table in front of him, then began rubbing the back of his neck. “Ya, about that. I think I’ve changed mei mind—”

  “Are you hungry?” Ben said, grasping at something that might distract him. “I thought I saw a donut stand a few yards away.” He dug in his pocket for his wallet, then gave a few dollars to Menno. “Do you mind getting me a cup of kaffee and two donuts? Get yerself some, if you want to.”

  Menno nodded and took the money. “Be right back.”

  Ben leaned against the table and let out a long sigh. Menno might be nervous about selling, but he was also an amiable man who liked to help folks out at any opportunity. Getting him away from the booth gave Ben some time to think—although he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He couldn’t force the man to sell his things. He’d learned over the past couple of weeks that easing Menno into an idea was better than strong-arming him. Ben said a quick prayer, asking God to help Menno not change his mind.

  Twenty minutes later, Menno hadn’t returned, but the shoppers had started to arrive, and Ben had already sold three items. He hoped when the old man saw how much money he’d made in a short period of time, he’d realize he’d made the right decision to sell. But where was he? It shouldn’t have taken him this long to buy coffee and donuts.

  He sat down in one of two metal folding chairs behind the table and started to unwrap plain brown paper from two more items—an old kitchen knife set from the 1930s and a windup toy car made of metal that had to date to at least the 1950s. He wrote prices on two stickers, placed them on the items, then put them on the table. Then he stood and smiled at people as they passed the booth.

  Two Amish women, both with dark-brown hair and similarly shaped faces, paused in front of the booth. “Rosemary,” one of them said, “don’t these look like the knives Grossmutter had?”

  The woman peered at the set. “I think so. They sure are similar.”

  “I’m sure Mamm would want them.” The woman turned around and waved her hand. “Mamm!” she called. Then she turned to Rosemary. “I’ll be right back. I see Mamm taking the twins to the gazebo.”

  Rosemary nodded, then moved on from the set and looked at the lamp. “How old is this?” she asked.

  “Honestly, I don’t know.” He explained that the items belonged to Menno, and he had tried to price them fairly. “We didn’t have much time to have anything appraised, and Menno doesn’t worry about value. He just buys what he likes.”

  “It is pretty. And fancy.” She glanced in the direction of the gazebo. “I better see if they need help with the boppli.” She turned to Ben. “Danki for yer time.”

  Ben nodded as Rosemary walked away. He would have been surprised if she’d bought the lamp, but he hoped one of the women would return to purchase the knife set. He stepped outside the booth and looked across the crowd toward the gazebo, but all he saw were people huddled all around him. It would be a busy day, which he prayed would translate to selling everything. It would be nice to go back to Charm with empty hands.

  A few minutes later, Menno finally showed up. “Sorry it took me so long,” he said. Instead of carrying donuts and coffee, he held a cardboard box. “You wouldn’t believe how many booths are here,” he said, his eyes bright. “I picked up this box for next to nothing.”

  Oh no. “What’s in it?” Ben grimaced.

  “Nails.” Menno tipped the box so Ben could see inside. “Hundreds of nails.”

  Ben shook his head. This was the last thing he’d wanted to happen. “You already have thousands of nails, Menno.”

  “But you never know when you’ll need a particular one.” He set the box down behind the table. “I’ll be back.”

  “Where are you going now?”

  “To check out the rest of the booths. It’s a gold mine here.” Menno disappeared into the crowd.

  Ben plopped into his chair. He hadn’t thought about Menno taking off on him to buy more stuff. He rubbed his forehead. What he thought would be helpful to Menno had turned out to be the worst thing possible. When Menno returned—hopefully without buying out the entire flea market—Ben would have to put a limit on him. Or a leash.

  He looked at the items on the table. At least he could do his best to sell what they brought. And he’d learned a lesson—never, ever take Menno Yoder to a flea market again.

  * * *

  “I think they’re hungry,” Lora Beth said as she held Katrina close. The baby had been crying almost from the moment they’d arrived at the ox roast. She’d been headed to a booth when both twins started wailing at the top of their lungs, and she immediately took them to the gazebo and tried to calm them down. Rebecca had soon joined her, then Rosemary.

  “I fed them before we came,” Rebecca said.

  “Their diapers are dry.” Lora Beth rocked Katrina back and forth while Rosemary picked up Rosetta. “They are a little hot, though.”

  “I was afraid of that.” Rebecca pulled two bottles of milk out of her diaper bag.

  Lora Beth had put a cold pack next to the bottles before they left Rebecca’s to come to the ox roast. Enoch and LeRoy were also here, and the van they’d hired to bring them to Mesopotamia had dropped them off a little while ago. The men were checking out the booths that interested them, and the women were supposed to do the same. But the twins had other plans.

  Rebecca handed the milk to Lora Beth and Rosemary. Rosetta took her bottle immediately, but Katrina shoved hers away. Her face was bright red, and she was perspiring. A few seconds later, Rosetta was also refusing the milk, as if she were taking cues from her sister, who was older by five minutes.

  “Maybe I should take them back home,” Lora Beth said. She didn’t want to drag two crying babies all over the flea market on this hot day. That wouldn’t be good for her granddaughters or their parents.

  “I’m sure they’ll calm down in a minute.” But Rebecca looked doubtful.

  Lora Beth smiled at her daughter. “It’s all right. I can manage them at home. You and Rosemary geh find Enoch and LeRoy and enjoy the day.”

  “But we want you to enjoy it with us,” Rosemary said, Rosetta now leaning on her shoulder.

  “I’ll enjoy being with the boppli.”

  Rebecca and Rosemary exchanged a look, then Rebecca nodded. “I’ll find Enoch and have him call a taxi. He said he and LeRoy were going to check out the ox roast first and see the progress. I’m sure they’re still there talking with the firefighters if they haven’t already found some friends.” Rebecca took off, and Rosemary sat down next to Lora Beth on the bench.

  “This is a little disappointing,” Rosemary said above the crying babies.

  But Lora Beth wasn’t disappointed at all. She’d been to this flea market many times over the years, and while she enjoyed the ox beef sandwiches and being around friends from different districts, she would rather be at home taking care of her grandchildren. She had reluctantly agreed to come because Rachel had been so persuasive, as usual. “There’s always next year.”

  “True. And I don’t want the bopplis to be upset.” Rosemary patted Rosetta’s bottom, which seemed to calm her. “Rebecca and I found something we thought you might like, though.”

  Katrina had also settled down a little bit, but the poor baby was sweating through her light-purple dress. “What was that?” Lora Beth said as she sat Katrina upright on her lap, then bounced her on her knee.

  “A knife set, just like Grossmutter’s. I remember you liked using it when we went to visit.”

  Lora Beth
nodded. She had liked her mother-in-law’s set, which had been her own mother’s set back in the thirties. The set had gone to her sister-in-law, as it should have. “I don’t need a knife set,” she said. “The ones I have are gut enough.”

  “I know. We just thought you might want it as a keepsake.”

  Smiling, Lora Beth’s heart warmed. “I appreciate the thought, but it seems the older I get, the fewer things I need around me—including knives.”

  Rebecca hurried toward them. “Yer ride will be here in a few minutes.”

  “That was quick,” Lora Beth said, standing to put Katrina in the double stroller while Rosemary put Rosetta in too.

  “Enoch flagged down a taxi driver he knew.” She knelt by the stroller. “You be gut bopplis for Grossmutter, ya?” She looked up at Lora Beth. “We’ll bring you a sandwich or two.”

  “One will be fine.”

  As they waited for the taxi, Lora Beth looked around the flea market. Both English and Amish were teeming up and down the lawn where the booths were set up. The scents of roast ox and other foods permeated the hot, steamy air, and she had to admit she was glad she was going home. She wasn’t missing out on anything. She knew that for sure.

  Chapter 3

  Dear Lora Beth,

  Thank you for the recipes you sent. I plan on making the cake right away. I apologize for not writing sooner. I’ve been busy helping a friend sell some of his “collectibles,” which has kept me on my toes. He’s a good man, and he’s becoming a great friend, but he does have a problem buying things—as in buying too many things. Three weeks ago, we had a booth at the ox roast in Mesopotamia, and he ended up buying more than he sold, which was my fault. I should have known he would be like a rooster in a hen house at a flea market. We did sell a few things, but not enough to offset his purchases.

  Now that it’s almost August, I’ll be spending more time canning. I’ve already harvested a good crop of peppers and tomatoes, and I’ve begun drying my herbs. I’ll also be helping another friend of mine put a small deck over his concrete patio. I’m not as good with a hammer as I am with numbers and gardening, but I do like to lend a hand when I can.

  Speaking of that, I’m expecting my friend with the spending problem any moment. His wife told me he snuck out to another auction this past weekend. I’d laugh, except this is looking serious.

  Best,

  Ben

  Dear Ben,

  I was surprised to hear you were at the ox roast. I was there, too, although just for a little while. My granddaughters were cranky that day, so I took them back to their house while their parents spent the day at the roast, along with my other daughter, Rosemary, and her husband, LeRoy. They enjoyed themselves, and the grandbabies were much happier out of the heat. It’s hard on babies when the weather is so hot. I did see that a lot of people were at the roast, so I’m not sure we would have seen each other even if I had stayed. I’m a little disappointed that we didn’t.

  As far as your friend who spends too much, I wish I had some good advice. It sounds like he might even have a hoarding problem. Both Marvin and I never felt the need to have a lot of things around us, and the older I get, the less use I have for clutter. But I do remember one of my father’s friends had three huge barns full of items he’d bought, and he let us kids pick out one item each every once in a while. That stopped when I was a teenager, because the barns were so overfilled they were dangerous, and by that time I was old enough to realize that he had mostly junk and trash stored in there.

  When he passed away, his family had a huge sale, then moved to another district. I can offer my prayers, though, asking for wisdom for you as you talk to your friend and for God to open his ears to listen to your advice.

  I will also be canning soon. The green beans and okra are abundant this year, as are the tomatoes and peppers, of course. I also planted green onions. Have you ever had a green onion and cheese sandwich on fresh, soft bread? It’s delicious—but you can’t breathe on anyone afterward!

  Take care,

  Lora Beth

  Ben finished reading Lora Beth’s letter and smiled. He appreciated her prayers for him and Menno, who had promised he wouldn’t go to any more auctions or flea markets. Ben was positive the man had good intentions, but he also knew the urge to shop always seemed to win out. Before Menno left after his last visit, they’d prayed together, asking God to give him the strength to not only resist the urge to buy but to be willing to let go of some things.

  He folded the letter and stuck it in his pocket, thinking about the green onions. He didn’t like any kind of raw onions. He only liked cooked ones, so the idea of a green onion and cheese sandwich didn’t appeal. But he was tempted to try one just on Lora Beth’s recommendation. Only tempted, though.

  He went into the kitchen, and even though he didn’t want an onion and cheese sandwich, the thought of food made him hungry. He made himself a ham and swiss and poured a glass of iced tea, then sat down to eat.

  After praying, he picked up the sandwich, then stilled. Normally he didn’t pay attention to the silence in his house, but for some reason it was affecting him now. How many meals had he eaten alone since Paul left home? Of course, he could go to Paul and Susan’s for supper anytime he wanted to. He had an open invitation to visit, and he stopped in to see his granddaughter, Lillian, every few days. But he limited showing up for a meal to two or three times a month. His son and his family had their own life to live, which was another reason he’d refused to move in with them.

  But right now, he was feeling lonely. And for the first time, he didn’t think about Elsie. He thought about Lora Beth.

  The back door was open, and he was about to take a bite of food when Paul knocked on the screen door. Ben motioned for him to come inside. “Yer ears must be burning,” he said as his son sat down at the table.

  Paul frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I was thinking about you, that’s all. Want a sandwich?” He got up from the table.

  Paul shook his head. “Susan’s making supper. You’re welcome to come if you want.”

  “Just don’t bring éclair cake, ya?” Ben chuckled as he sat back down.

  Paul’s cheeks turned red. “I think we’ve all had our fill.”

  “I understand.” Ben sipped his drink. “What brings you by?”

  “Well, I want to let you know”—Paul started to grin—“We’re having another boppli.”

  Ben knew he was beaming. “How wonderful. Another blessing from the Lord.”

  “Ya. Susan is about three months along. She’s had a lot of morning sickness, though, and I didn’t want you to worry if you didn’t see her at a church service or two.”

  “I understand.” He sat back in the chair. “That’s great. I’m really happy for you both. I hope she gets over the sickness soon.”

  “So do I.” Paul rubbed his thumb against the edge of the table, his smile dimming slightly. “Susan asked me to talk to you about something else too.”

  “Oh?”

  “With the boppli coming, she could use yer help with the cooking and canning this fall. It was difficult to do it last year with Lillian under her feet, and she’s been tired lately.”

  Ben recalled that Elsie had been tired the first months when she was pregnant with Paul. “I’ll be happy to help.”

  “Susan said it would be easier if you were there more often. As in all the time.”

  He met his son’s gaze. “Moving in, you mean.”

  Paul nodded. “She’d like that. So would I.”

  “We’ve gone over this before,” Ben said. He remembered what he’d written to Lora Beth, about how he hoped Paul had decided to drop the idea of him moving in. Apparently his son had only put the idea on pause.

  “I know, but the situation is different now. Susan could really use yer help. It’s not easy for her mother to come from Kentucky because she still has children at home. She plans to help out for a few weeks after the boppli is born, but she can’t up and leave j
ust for cooking and canning.”

  Ben paused. He didn’t have a problem with Paul and Susan asking him to help her with typically female-oriented chores. He’d never had a hang-up about women’s and men’s roles, and he would pitch in with any job when he was needed, something he’d always done with Elsie. But moving in? A minute ago, he’d felt the sting of loneliness, but that didn’t mean he wanted to leave his home.

  It was because I was missing Lora Beth.

  The words had just popped into his head, surprising him. Then he realized it was true. But how could he miss someone he’d met in person only once? Yet through their letters, he felt like he’d known her for a much longer time.

  “Daed?”

  Ben came out of his thoughts to see Paul frowning. “Sorry. Can I have time to think about it?”

  Relief crossed his son’s face. “Take all the time you need.” He let out a puff of air. “I have to say I’m surprised. I thought you would say nee as soon as I asked.”

  “That wouldn’t be fair to you and Susan. I’ll think and pray on it. It’s a big decision for me.”

  “I know.” Paul rose from his chair. “I better get home, and I’ll let Susan know what you said. She’ll be glad you’re taking the idea under consideration.”

  Ben walked Paul out, then returned to the kitchen. He stared at his sandwich, his appetite dulled. If it had been just Paul asking him to move in for the dozenth time, he would have immediately dismissed the idea. But this was different. Susan needed his help. It would be nice to spend more time with his granddaughter, too, as well as the new baby after it was born. At what expense, though?

  He closed his eyes and asked God for wisdom and direction. When he finished praying, he’d almost had what he was going to do settled in his heart. But he wanted to get one more person’s advice.

  He went to the desk in his living room, pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, and began a letter to Lora Beth.

  * * *