A Match for Addy. Emma Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ her. “It goes against the ordnung.”

      “Voah.” True. “But bears do not live by the ordnung. And if you were a bear, I think you would be one that danced.”

      He laughed. “Do you always get the last word, Ellie?”

      “Not always,” she replied saucily, “but I try. Maybe that’s why even Sara can’t find a husband to suit me.”

      * * *

      Two days later, Dorcas, who was beginning to think of herself as Addy, carried a plate of scrapple, eggs and fried potatoes to her father at the breakfast table. The cut on her knee was on the mend, and she was excited that she’d be going back to work at Sara’s house. She wore her second-best dress, a sensible blue one that was starting to fade from repeated washing, but was still good enough for housework, and her old blue sneakers. She’d washed and ironed the lovely green dress that Sara had loaned her to wear home after she’d made such a mess of her new lavender one. She planned to return it today.

      “Danke,” her father said, setting down his mug of black coffee and picking up a fork. They’d already sat together for a moment of silent grace before her mam had poured the coffee.

      Breakfast with her parents was always a good time. Her mother was cheerful in the morning, or at least as cheerful as she permitted herself to be, and her father liked to ask about her plans for the day and tell the two of them his own.

      He poured catsup over his scrapple, cut off a bite with his fork and popped it into his mouth. “Goot, Dorcas. You make it crunchy-brown, the way I like it.”

      “Enjoy it, Dat,” she said. “This was the last of it.”

      “The last of all that you and your mother made?” He took a cloth napkin and carefully wiped his mouth. He was always neat when he ate, careful never to leave the table with bits of food clinging to his beard, like some men. Dorcas thought her father a very respectable man, and she couldn’t help being proud of him. Of course, their faith frowned on pride. It was considered hochmut. But how could she not be proud of a father who was one of the two preachers in their congregation, a truly good man who lived according to the rules and thought the best of everyone?

      “I saw the bishop’s wife at Byler’s Store yesterday,” her mother said as she took the seat across from her husband. Her mam liked her coffee sweet, with lots of milk. Luckily, it was summer, and the milk cow gave more than they could use. She hadn’t taken any of the scrapple for herself, leaving it for her husband, but he didn’t know that, or he would have insisted that they share. “She told me that Sara Yoder has a new hired man. Not from around here. Up north, somewhere.”

      “Wisconsin,” her father said as he used the pepper shaker liberally on his eggs. Two eggs, sunny side up. It was what he wanted every morning. He was a hearty eater, and he never minded what they put in front of him. He ate roast turkey breast and beef tongue with equal enthusiasm, which was a good thing, because they often had to borrow from Peter to pay Paul to keep up with the bills. “The new hired hand is from Wisconsin, same as Sara.”

      “If she needed the help, she could have asked one of the Beachy boys,” her mother put in, sipping her coffee. She had a single egg, poached, with a slice of toast spread with honey. Rain or shine, summer or winter, so long as the hens were laying, she liked her single poached egg. And she made it herself, because she didn’t trust anyone else to cook it to her liking. “Plenty of strong young men looking for work around here, without hauling one all the way from up north.” Dorcas’s mother glanced at her. “You didn’t mention a hired hand, Dorcas. Did you see him the other day when you were there?”

      Dorcas busied herself buttering her toast. “Ya, I saw him.”

      “But you never said so.”

      Dorcas took a big bite of toast.

      “Now, Martha, don’t pick at the girl. She’d taken a tumble. I’m sure her mind was on her hurt knee and that pretty new dress you got her.”

      Dorcas smiled gratefully at her father. She sometimes winced when he called her a girl, but this time she didn’t mind. She’d told her parents about the fall she’d taken, but she had omitted the part about Gideon and his rescue of her. She hoped he and Sara wouldn’t tell. It had been most inappropriate, but it had been the most exciting thing that had happened to her in years, maybe ever. She didn’t want to share what she’d done with anyone, least of all her mam and dat.

      “I’ve been wondering,” Dorcas said, in an attempt to turn the conversation to a safer subject. At least a little safer. “If you would care if I started using my middle name.” She looked up cautiously at her parents.

      “Adelaide?” Her mother’s eyes widened in surprise. “Whatever for? You’ve been called Dorcas all your life and now you want—”

      “What harm would it do?” her father interrupted. “It is her name.”

      “Exactly,” she said. “I’ll be thirty soon, and Dorcas sounds too...too fancy.” She didn’t know where that had come from and looked down quickly at her plate. It wasn’t like her to fib like that.

      Her mother thrust out her chin. “Adelaide?” she repeated. “That sounds more worldly to me than Dorcas. It was your grossmama who gave you your middle name, after her favorite grandmother.”

      “I...I was thinking of Addy,” Dorcas dared. Again, she looked up quickly at her parents then back at her plate. “I think it has a nice, mature ring to it.”

      “Mature?” Her mother sniffed.

      Her father took another sip of coffee and nodded to his wife. “Come now, Martha, what harm will it do?”

      Her mam shrugged and sighed. “If you have your heart set on it, and your father doesn’t object, do as you please. But it’s a fernhoodie to me why you want to do such a thing. Dorcas is a goot, Plain name, for a goot, plain girl.”

      “I just think I’d like to go by Addy,” she said lightly, not wanting her mother to know how much it suddenly mattered. Such a small thing, but the suggestion, coming from a man like Gideon, seemed right. “Addy’s plain enough, isn’t it?”

      “I think it’s a fine name,” her father said. “So, Addy it is.” He glanced at her mother. “Perfect, don’t you think, Martha? For a new beginning.” He patted his wife’s hand.

      Addy was surprised. It wasn’t like her parents to show affection for each other in front of her.

      “I think you should tell her,” her dat said.

      “Tell me what?”

      Her mam pulled her hand free. Her pale cheeks flushed just a little. Addy could tell that her mother was pleased by the gesture, but she wasn’t willing to show it. Some people thought that her mother and father were a poor match. Her mam had a sharp side and was quick, always busy, always in motion, and her dat was generally easygoing and slow. He could spend the better part of an hour leaning on the garden gate deciding which chore he’d start on first. And sometimes he was so busy thinking that the day got away from him. But her father was a pious man and a good preacher. Life had not been easy for him, but he’d never lost faith that СКАЧАТЬ