Her Forgotten Amish Past. Debby Giusti

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      Becca hurried inside and then turned toward the door as Ezekiel followed her into the kitchen. His smile had vanished, and the frown he had worn earlier this morning had returned to darken his gaze.

      Hattie stepped to the stove and stirred the hamburger mixed with a sloppy Joe tomato sauce. The scent of the simmering meat filled the kitchen with mouthwatering goodness. She said something to Zeke in a dialect that made no sense.

      Just as before, Becca nodded as if she understood and hoped her response was appropriate. She didn’t want Hattie or Ezekiel to know she had forgotten how to converse in the language common to the Amish.

      Every thought that rumbled through her mind was in English, not German and not Pennsylvania Dutch.

      Yet she was Amish. Wasn’t she?

      Evidently, not a very good Amish woman. The plain people were nonviolent, which meant she shouldn’t have been running away from someone all the while wearing a dress stained with blood.

      Something had happened in the woods. If only she could remember what.

      Reaching around Hattie, she grabbed the coffeepot and poured a cup of the hot brew, then offered it to Zeke.

      “Danki.” He raised the cup to his lips, his eyes never leaving her face. Her cheeks grew warm and a tingle curved around her neck.

      Abruptly, he lowered the cup and headed to the table, for which she was grateful. His nearness had unsettled her all the more. She returned the coffeepot to the stove and glanced at the stairway, longing to retreat to the guest bedroom so she wouldn’t have to face her handsome rescuer whose mood swings confused her almost as much as her own lack of memory.

      “Sit, dear.” Hattie motioned her toward the table. “The sloppy Joes are almost ready to serve. You can help me then.”

      “Has anything new come to you?” Ezekiel asked as she slipped into the chair across from him.

      “I have thought of nothing except what I cannot remember,” she admitted. “And still I remember nothing.”

      Glancing down, she added, “I keep thinking of the Troyer family to which I must belong since the name seems so familiar.”

      She dipped her head. “While you were outside, Hattie placed a wet tea bag on my eye to draw the swelling. As you can see, thanks to her home remedy, it is better.”

      “Do not thank me, dear. It was the tannin in the tea.”

      “All the while the tea was working, I thought of the Troyers and what they must be like. Hattie mentioned a Troyer family living in the valley.”

      “The wife’s name is Ida, dear. She and her husband have five boys.” Hattie reached for a plate and heaped the meat mixture onto a bun, then held it out for Becca who hurried to the stove to help. “Serve Ezekiel first.”

      Zeke nodded his appreciation when Becca placed the plate in front of him.

      Hattie handed a second plate to Becca. “It looks gut, yah?”

      “And smells delicious.” Becca stared at the fresh bun overflowing with the juicy mixture. Just as at breakfast, the portions were generous. “You’ve given me far more than I can eat, Hattie. This should be your plate.”

      “You ate little this morning, dear. I do not want you going hungry.”

      “Hattie, no one could go hungry in your house.” Zeke chuckled from the table. “You are a bountiful cook.”

      His aunt seemed to appreciate the remark and said something in reply that Becca could not understand. A look of concern passed over the sweet woman’s face before she repeated the statement in English.

      “Surely you know the Amish saying, dear. When the man grows the food and the woman cooks the food, both eat to their fill.”

      Without commenting further on Becca’s inability to comprehend the Pennsylvania Dutch dialect, Hattie pointed to the chair across from Ezekiel. “Sit, dear, before the food grows cold.”

      Taking her place at the table, Becca kept her hands on her lap, unsure of the midday meal routine. This morning she had started to eat and then noticed Hattie bowing her head to give thanks. She didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.

      Once Hattie was seated, Zeke lowered his gaze. Hattie did the same and Becca followed suit. From the recesses of her limited memory a prayer surfaced.

       Thank you for this food and bless all of us today, especially those who cannot be here. Bring peace to our hearts, lighten our steps and help us to do all things according to Your Holy Will. Amen.

      She should have been relieved to remember something, anything, but recalling the short prayer only made her want to remember more.

      Was it an Amish prayer that she had said with her parents as a child? Or a prayer she said with her own children? How could a mother forget her little ones, those she should love most?

      Ezekiel said something.

      She glanced up to find him offering an open jar of pickles. She jabbed one with a fork and placed the pickle on her plate. “Danki.”

      Hattie patted her hand. “Is everything all right, dear? You look troubled.”

      “I’m concerned about upsetting you both by being here.”

      “Do not think such thoughts. We are happy to have you as our guest.”

      Becca glanced at Zeke. His eyes were on his plate. He didn’t seem as enthusiastic as his aunt about having a stranger in the house, yet he had been the one to bring her here.

      She shuddered thinking of what could have СКАЧАТЬ