Kate’s Song Read online

Nathaniel examined Kate again. What was he looking for? Without a word he came closer and put his calloused hand to her face. Stunned, Kate sat perfectly still as he caressed her cheek with his thumb. “You need a comfrey paste for the lip,” he said, his eyes riveted to hers. “And a different kind of poultice for the eye. How is the pain?”

  Kate cleared her throat. “There is… It stings a little.”

  “My mother…will…know…what…,” he said, seeming to lose his train of thought with each word.

  He pulled his hand away suddenly and put on the smile he came in with. “I will come by later with more from my mother,” he said. “And drink some rose hip tea,” he added on his way out. “I will bring that too.”

  They watched him leave as quickly as he had come. Mamma clicked her tongue. “Even if the house burned down around him, that boy couldn’t keep his eyes from you, Katie.”

  Kate groaned. “Oh, Mamma, I am so embarrassed. I’ve tried very hard to despise him ever since he kissed me. I think I was fourteen before I stopped sticking my tongue out at him every time he looked my way.”

  “I never understood why you disliked him so much after that kiss,” Mamma said.

  Kate played with the ties of her kapp. “The other girls made fun of me for weeks, and the boys sniggered every time Nathaniel came within spitting distance. I felt humiliated.”

  Both mother and daughter burst into peals of laughter. “Poor boy,” Mamma said, wiping tears from her eyes. “It would throw his heart to the pigs if he knew.”

  Kate thought of his good-natured expression and handsome features. “Mamma, he has changed so much since I last saw him!”

  “You remember Nathaniel King as lang and gangly, all arms and legs. As a teenager, his feet arrived at church service five minutes before he did. He’s filled out nicely, wouldn’t you say, leibe? With the arms of a carpenter.”

  Kate could only nod her agreement.

  Chuckling, Mamma went back to tending her bacon. “You have been gone two years, and before you even left home, he spent several months as an apprentice to an uncle in Ohio. He has not seen you for like as not three years yet.” She took her skillet off the cook stove. “If you like, I will invite him to dinner.”

  Kate grinned. “Will you wait until my lip grows smaller? If he wants to try more kissing, I need to be ready.”

  Mamma chuckled and shook her head. “Leibe, do not tease me. You will only raise my hopes.”

  Chapter Three

  An hour before suppertime, Dat appeared in the threshold of the kitchen, where Kate and Mamma were finishing the snitz pies. He took off his muddy boots, hung up his hat and jacket, and washed his hands and face before giving Kate a serious look and beckoning her to follow him. After dusting off her hands on a towel, Kate reluctantly joined her father in the front room.

  He motioned for her to sit on the overstuffed sofa facing the window then pulled up a chair almost knee-to-knee with her. Out the window, the sun peeked bravely through the clouds as water left over from the rainstorm dripped off the eaves of the house.

  “Now, Katie,” he said, shaking his finger in her direction. “Mamma insisted I stay away today so I would have a chance to calm down before speaking with you. I have paced the orchards all day, and now,” he paused and raised his voice, “I have not calmed down. I missed my dinner, and I am hungry. It is no use trying to calm down. Tell me what has happened to you.”

  Kate lowered her eyes. “It will not make you happy.”

  “Leibe, nothing you could tell me about getting a black eye will make me happy,” he said. “When my daughter comes home battered and bruised, believe me, I am ready to be made miserable.” Folding his arms across his chest, he looked at her sternly.

  “Oh, Dat,” she said, a sob parting her lips. The tears flowed so quickly she did not have time to push them back.

  Dat patted Kate awkwardly on the head. “There, there, liebe. No need to cry about it.”

  “I am sorry to bring upset to the house.”

  “Maybe now you will never want to leave.”

  Kate sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I do not know yet.”

  “I see,” her father said. “They do this to you, and you want to return?”

  “One man, Dat. They are not all like him.”

  “Too many are.”

  The room darkened as the clouds drifted over the sun. Kate sat up straight. “My friend, Maria, you remember. I wrote about her.”

  “You give her singing lessons.”

  “Jah. The father of her baby, he drank too much one night and came to hurt her and the baby, and I stood between them.”

  Dat shook his head. “Why must you do things like this, leibe?”

  “You would have done the same.”

  “Jah, but that doesn’t mean I want you to,” he said.

  Kate smiled. “I follow your example in all things.”

  “Was your friend harmed?” Dat asked.

  “He broke her arm. The baby was not hurt.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “Yes. They took him to the hospital.”

  Her father raised an eyebrow.

  “I am sorry,” Kate said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “I must tell you. I wanted to hurt him. I tried to hurt him.”

  Dat frowned. “Jah, Lord Jesus said to turn your cheek.”

  She lowered her head. She would do almost anything but make her father ashamed of her.

  Dat patted her hand. “But He also said he who offends one of his little ones—it is better if a millstone is hung around his neck and he is thrown into the sea. Perhaps by sending this man to the hospital, you saved him from a worse fate.”

  Kate frowned. “Perhaps.”

  “What’s done is done. You will hear no else about it from me. You have not been baptized yet,” Dat said, with an emphasis on the yet. “But you still belong to this community, Katie, for as long as you choose. You are one of our daughters and will find love with us, not condemnation.”

  “Jah, I know. When I went away to school, I know everyone tried to understand and not to judge. Except Aaron. He did not understand.”

  “Your brother has only concern for you in his heart,” Dat insisted.

  “Very deep down, I think.”

  Dat smiled. “We all must learn what we must learn. Even Aaron.” He scooted his chair away from her then fixed his eyes steadily on Kate. “If you go back to the academy, you will stay away from this man?”

  Kate nodded. “I promise, Dat. I promise.”

  Dat slapped his knees. “Gute. Then let’s eat.”

  Chapter Four

  At suppertime, they came flocking to the Weaver home like chickens to the cornmeal pan. Kate’s younger brothers, home from the dairy, plus her four older married siblings with their children, blew through the door at almost exactly the same time for supper. Elmer had set out early this morning to spread the word among the family that Katie had returned, and they were all to come to supper. Only Kate’s younger sister, Hannah, who lived in Ohio with her new husband, was missing.

  Mamma and Dat Weaver had nine children. Three sons, three daughters, then three sons. A perfect nine-patch quilt, Mamma always said. Kate sat smack in the middle of the bunch. Three brothers older, three younger. One sister older, one younger.

  Kate’s older brothers, Aaron, Zebulon, and Ike were each married with young children. Aaron, who lived next door, had five sons, and Kate knew how difficult it was for him to be humble about his two sets of twins. But if anyone was proud of his humility, it was Aaron.

  Watching him walk into the house, Kate thought of her younger years and Aaron’s almost daily criticism of her manners, her pride, and her thoughts, which, according to Aaron, were very wicked indeed. When, as a little girl, Kate would sneak out behind the barn and sing at the top of her lungs to an imaginary, adoring audience, Aaron had somehow always managed to find her and give her an abrupt slap across the back of her neck. In those days, Dat chastised Aaron almost weekly
for faultfinding, but Aaron must have felt it his calling to pass judgment on his sister.

  Kate frowned to herself. She mustn’t think of Aaron so harshly. Perhaps she truly had a sinful heart and God was trying to send her a message through her brother.

  Aaron and his wife, Ada, marched into the house arm in arm, paying no heed to their unruly sons, who bounded in after them. It was as if the boys weren’t even related.

  Ada’s eyes grew as big as half dollars. Her rosebud lips parted in shock. “Kate! Elmer told us it was bad, but I had no idea how awful.”

  Aaron merely frowned when he laid eyes on Kate. He granted her a cursory pat as he examined her bruised face. Kate braced herself for Aaron’s displeasure, but Zeb and Anna arrived, and Aaron was swept aside as they hugged Kate affectionately.

  Zeb took Kate’s chin in his hand. “Poor girl. Does it hurt?”

  Kate nodded.

  Anna, Zeb’s wife, took Kate’s hand. “I missed you something wonderful. You are staying for a few days?”

  “At least until September, Lord willing.”

  Anna hugged her again. “Gute. We’ll see you often, then. We should make a quilt together.”

  “I would like that,” Kate said.

  Ike appeared at the door and threw out his arms. “Just look at you! Having to fight off those Englisch boys, are you?” He enfolded her in a rib-crushing embrace. “Remember when I fell out of the hayloft and broke my nose? I have never been in that much pain, ever.”

  “I remember,” Kate said. “Your face was so swollen, I thought there was a stranger in our house for weeks.”

  “I had two black eyes to go with it.”

  Zeb punched Ike playfully in the shoulder. “And I can’t say the new nose did anything gute for your looks.”

  Ike promptly took off after his brother. They ran around the kitchen like two teenagers, trying to catch each other, until Mamma scolded them to stop fighting before they broke something.

  Kate squealed with delight when Mary’s husband, Moses, carried in the new baby, and she snatched the little one from his father’s arms the minute they crossed the threshold. Mary, Kate’s older sister, followed close behind.

  Cuddling the sweet-smelling bundle close to her heart, Kate stroked the silky, black peach fuzz on the top of his head and caressed his little fingers. “Mary, he is a beautiful buplie. His skin is so soft.”

  “Jah, he is perfect,” Mary said. “He will be a fine man for his dat.” Then she caught sight of Kate’s battered features. “Oh no. I should have brought my arnica ointment. What have you done for the bruising?”

  “Nathaniel King brought a poultice this morning, and he is bringing some other things later.”

  Mary touched Kate’s lip. “I’m telling you now not to bother with a tobacco poultice. A comfrey compress is the only thing that will take care of those bruises.”

  Two long tables stood in the kitchen, one where the grandchildren sat and the other for the adults. Mamma, Kate, and Mary set all the food on the adult table and the young ones brought their plates to their mothers to be filled. Kate knew that, at nineteen years old, Elmer was not happy about sitting at the children’s table, but he endured it good-naturedly. Twins Ben and Joe, at four years younger, didn’t care where they sat as long as they were supplied with plenty of food.

  Naturally, the attention at supper centered on Kate. Dat enlightened the family about her injuries, briefly repeating what she had told him. Already uncomfortable with the way Aaron looked at her, Kate was glad Dat had spared her the embarrassment of telling the tale herself.

  “And now we will talk no more of it,” Dat said, focusing a stern eye on Aaron. “What’s done is done. Our Kate is home.”

  A knock at the back door interrupted Dat’s lecture. Mamma jumped from her chair and opened the door to a little boy no bigger than a peanut.

  “Well, bless my soul, if it isn’t Daniel Herschberger,” Mamma said, ushering the boy inside as she did every other visitor to the Weaver home. “What can we do for you, Danny?”

  Daniel looked around the overflowing table and suddenly became shy. He sidled next to Mamma and nibbled on his fingernail.

  “Where’s your dat?” Zeb asked.

  “He’s with Lolly,” Danny squeaked.

  “Your cow?” Dat said.

  Danny nodded. “Jah. Dat is wondering if you could help with the calf.”

  “Too stubborn to come without a fight, is she?” Dat said, smiling. Even though poor Dat had taken only two bites of his supper, he was more than willing to help at a moment’s notice. He quickly rose from the table and lifted his coat from the hook. “Lead the way, Danny,” he said as he opened the door and followed the boy into the chilly spring evening. He left a full plate of food and took his empty stomach.

  It seemed as if Aaron had been eagerly awaiting Dat’s departure so he could deliver a much-needed lecture to his disobedient sister. “This is what comes of seeking the world, Katie,” he said. “The Englisch are ungodly and violent. You belong here in the community.”

  Anna, Zeb’s wife, looked uncomfortably at Aaron and promptly changed the subject. “Tell us what you have learned at school, Kate. You are so brave to go to such a big place all by yourself.”

  Dear Anna. So considerate of people’s feelings—noticing what others would not.

  “It has been very difficult in some ways, especially at first,” Kate said. “I am still so far behind the other students. Luckily, the academy emphasizes performance rather than academics, so someone with my background isn’t completely lost.”

  Aaron’s wife, Ada, sat next to her husband, her nose turned up ever so slightly. “And what have you learned in your fancy new school?” she said.

  Kate ignored the petulance in Ada’s tone. “I have heard such beautiful music that sends my heart to God,” she said, glancing in Aaron’s direction instead. Then she turned her attention to Anna. “There are oratorios that soar to the high ceiling of the cathedral and operas that would make you weep.”

  “Life is full of enough sorrows. What need have we to go looking for them in the theater?” Zeb said.

  “Because of the stories they teach. They reveal evil and good so you may learn the difference and love the good. They show compassion and cruelty so you may choose the good way. The stories can point you to God.”

  Aaron shook his head. The others at the table hung onto every word she said, some uncertain, others enthralled.

  Kate put down her fork and folded her hands in her lap. “Our opera workshop just performed an opera about a girl, Angelica, who lives as a nun in a convent because her family has rejected her.”

  “She is Catholic?” Ada said.

  “Yes, and when she was young and unmarried, she gave birth to a boy, and her family took him from her and never allowed her to visit.”

  “What happens to her?” Mary said.

  “When she learns her son is dead, she takes her own life. It is very, very sad.”

  There was a long pause at the table. “And when it is all done,” Zeb said, “how does it bring you to God?”

  “Angelica,” Kate stuttered, “longs for acceptance from her family. But they are unforgiving. In the opera, you see the pain her family has caused her. You ache for their forgiveness, for Angelica. And you say to yourself—Who must I forgive today? Who is in pain and needs my love?”

  Mamma wiped a tear from her cheek. “Jah, we all must ask God every day.”

  The spell broke when Ike’s five-year-old son, Elias, came to the table with plate in hand, asking for more potatoes. No one was eager to return to the subject of Kate’s schooling, especially Kate. Ike asked Zeb about the corn he was planting this year, and the conversation moved safely to other topics. Kate had neglected to mention that she sang the role of Angelica, and every performance she could not keep the tears from flowing when the little boy ran into her arms to greet Angelica in heaven.

  Better not to tell. Better that Aaron and Ada not have one more reason
to chastise her. Kate scolded herself again for being so petty. Why did she feel threatened by Aaron and Ada? They loved her and only had her best interests at heart. Didn’t they?

  With supper nearly over, Aaron, who must have thought it a great burden to remain quiet, started in on Kate again. And since he was the eldest, no one but Dat would tell him to hold his tongue. To make matters worse, Ada’s father was the bishop of two districts, and this seemed to make Aaron believe he held some sort of authority over his siblings.

  “Are you home for good this time, Katie?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You will never get a husband if you keep going away,” Aaron said.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying, Aaron,” Zeb said. “Kate is very pretty. The boys take to her like bees to honey. We older brothers could never keep them away before.”

  “But now is different,” Aaron said. “I’ve heard talk.”

  Mamma lifted her head. “What talk have you heard about my madle?”

  Aaron waved his fork in Kate’s direction. “The longer she stays away, the more influence the world has over her. She will find it too hard to pull back and be baptized. Who will want to marry her?”

  Ada nodded, all too eager to share the gossip. “To be honest, I am surprised she chose to return to us at all. They say Kate is worldly. And too old.”

  “That is idle talk,” Mary said. “Kate is only twenty-two years yet.”

  “Jah,” Aaron said. “Exactly. Her rumschpringe has gone on for six years. Most boys and girls choose baptism after two or, at most, three years. People start to wonder whether she will join the Church at all.”

  “Let them wonder,” said Ike.

  “The boys want Plain girls,” Aaron said, putting a stop to any disagreement. “Not the worldly, vain sort. There might be a widower to take a fancy to her, if he’s not picky. But a man who wants to be the bishop or a minister someday will not come near her.”

  A dull ache settled in Kate’s stomach. Could Aaron be right? Most of the boys who had once offered to drive her home after Sunday-night singings and youth gatherings were married or courting.