“But if her biggest rebellion is getting a job—” Delia shrugged.
“It’s not.” He winced, and for a moment, he seemed to hold his breath. Then he exhaled in a rush. “Delia, I know it’s been ages since we’ve been friends, but can I count on your discretion?”
“Of course.”
“She’s been idealizing the Englisher ways. She’s got a little radio that she listens to their music on, and I caught her with a tube of lipstick a month ago. Lipstick!”
“Well, she can’t get away with wearing it,” Delia said. The Amish didn’t wear makeup, and lipstick would stand out, no matter how subtle the color.
“Not here, but if she were in town...” He sighed.
“I know, I know,” she said. “You worry that she’s going to attract the wrong attention.”
“Exactly. And that she’s flouting rules for the sake of being rebellious. If she’s doing that now at the age of thirteen, what will she be doing at seventeen when it’s time for her Rumspringa and she gets a bit more freedom?”
“I understand that worry,” she said. “I used to worry about Ezekiel, but he’s in his Rumspringa now, and the worst thing he’s done is play music on a radio in his buggy. Oh...and he bought a pair of Englisher running shoes, but he hardly wears them.”
“It’s more than that. It’s the loss of her mamm. I know it was particularly hard on her, and she’s angry, but she doesn’t have anyone to blame.”
“No one but Gott,” she murmured.
Delia understood that anger. She’d felt it for a little while after her husband died. Why hadn’t Gott intervened? Why had he chosen to take her husband right when she’d needed him most? She’d worked through it, but then she was a grown woman. How could a girl know how to make sense of such a loss? That kind of emotional turmoil wasn’t Violet’s fault.
“How have your boys dealt with Zeke’s passing?” Elias asked.
They were getting right to the personal business, weren’t they? But she could see the worry in Elias’s eyes. Not many people could understand their situation, she knew. Losing a spouse, and then carrying on raising children as a single parent, was the hardest thing a person could do.
“You saw how protective they are of me,” Delia replied. “They’re like roosters around here, and I’m the only hen to protect. They hate it when I even entertain the idea of another man in my life. I’ve tried talking to them about it, but they don’t want a new daet. And they figure they can take care of me themselves. They think I’ll forget about a new husband if they can carry the burden on those boyish shoulders. I don’t want them to do that. It’s sweet, but...”
“Wrong,” he finished for her.
Delia leaned against the doorframe. “Yah. Wrong. But will they listen?”
“Have they been questioning their faith?” he asked, lowering his voice.
“No...not that I know of,” Delia said. “Do you really think Violet will leave the faith?”
He spread his hands. “How can I know? She’s told me a couple of times already that she wants to go English when it comes time for her Rumspringa. She wants a job so she can save up her money. She’ll change her mind on that, won’t she?”
She knew what Elias wanted her to say—that Violet would forget about it, outgrow the ideas, and everything would turn out perfectly given a bit of time. But how could Delia know that? He wanted reassurance that Delia couldn’t provide. She shook her head, and instead said, “They keep us hopping.”
“Do they ever.”
How long had it been since Delia had had an honest conversation like this with another parent? She’d talked to other mothers, but these days she found herself reassuring everyone that she was doing just fine. She didn’t know why she’d fallen into that habit. Her sisters and brothers had all left for other communities, so she didn’t have the support. For the most part, Delia was fine. But telling other married women that she wanted to get married again felt almost like she was envying them their healthy, happy marriages. And maybe she was! But she didn’t like to admit it. Talking with Elias felt different, though. He had his own struggles, and he was in the same situation she was.
Delia met Elias’s gaze and she smiled. “It’s good to see you again, Elias.”
It was comforting, somehow, to see an old friend who could sympathize.
“It’s good to see you, too,” he said.
“Did you want to come inside?” she asked, and she glanced over her shoulder at the messy kitchen and winced. “Actually, my kitchen is a mess. I’m going to be honest with you—I can’t keep up with proper housework and with the farm work. So when I have to choose between a job that will keep money coming in and one that will just give me a clean counter again, I choose the income.”
“Understandable.” He met her gaze easily. “And if you’re offering to let me come in, I won’t judge.”
Delia stood back and gestured through the door. “Then come on in, Elias. You’ll see the worst of my kitchen, but I suppose it’ll make us truly friends if you don’t faint.”
Elias laughed at her joke and came inside. She watched him as he glanced around the kitchen—the unfinished dishes, the cluttered counter, the messy table. He didn’t look alarmed, and she headed over to clear off the table and give it a wipe. There were still a few dishes from the boys’ snacks on the table, and bread crusts from unfinished midmorning sandwiches.
“I don’t know why I just told you all that about Violet,” Elias said. “You’re easy to talk to.”
“I’m also in the same wagon, so to speak,” she said. “It’s not easy parenting alone.”
“I’ve been working hard at keeping my mouth shut in Indiana, hoping Violet will settle down and I’ll figure out how to help her adjust. I don’t want her reputation to be damaged. Her struggles should be private.”
“I try to keep up appearances, too,” Delia replied, carrying a stack of dishes to the counter and returning with a wet cloth. “I hate being ‘Poor Delia.’ I don’t want to feel sorry for myself, and I don’t want other people feeling sorry for me, either.”
“That’s pride,” Elias said with a rueful smile. “I should know. I’m the same way. Not that it’s working very well, but I try.”
Delia wiped off the table, took a pair of boys’ boots off the seat of one chair and carried them to the mudroom where they belonged.
“You know, I could talk to Violet,” Delia said as she returned. “If she’s working over here, I might have an opportunity. Kinner can be like that—they won’t hear a word from the parent who loves them more than life, but they’ll consider something from a stranger. Maybe I can give her a word of wisdom.”
“You’d do that?” Elias asked.
“Elias, of course! We’re all in this together, and parenting is hard.”
“Maybe I could help you out with your boys, too,” he said.
