A Horse for Elsie Page 8

  For Elsie, the money she handed to her parents was no sacrifice. She had the one thing she had worked so hard to earn: her horse. The hours spent in the cold learning to ride, her face red, her eyes shining as she loped across the fields, could not compare with anything she had ever experienced. It was beyond her biggest expectations.

  Now if she could only deal with this Elam Stoltzfus episode.

  She told her mother about it as they coated peanut butter crackers with chocolate. Her mother stood at the opposite end of the table, her face glowing with inner happiness, a Ritz cracker spread thickly with peanut butter put together with another one on top, like a whoopee pie. She threw it into the large stainless steel bowl of melted chocolate that rested on top of boiling water, turned it with a fork, tapped the handle on the side of the bowl until the excess chocolate dropped off, then gently deposited it on the waxed paper spread on a cookie sheet.

  “Oh, imagine, Elsie. Wilbur’s chocolate. It’s so expensive. And I had enough, oh, more than enough to purchase it at Creekside. This is the best Christmas, ever.”

  “For me, too, if Elam Stoltzfus wasn’t ruining it.”

  The tapping stopped.

  “Whatever!” she exclaimed, borrowing her daughter’s words.

  “I mean it. Mam, he said he wants me for his girlfriend. He said I’m amazing. He did. And you know it’s not true.”

  “Elam Stoltzfus said that? Well.”

  The tapping continued, but a pleased smile spread across her glowing face. She placed a coated cracker carefully on the waxed paper, then faced Elsie squarely.

  “And why is this not true?”

  “Well, I’m not. We’re … I am just me. None of that is true.”

  “I think it’s true. I think he was sincere. He’s been like that even when you went to school. Remember how he hung around here with that pony of his? Candy, or Cookie, whatever his name was?”

  “He never let me drive.”

  “Elsie, you can put more peanut butter on that cracker. I have another jar in the pantry. A bigger one.” She spoke with so much pride and happiness, not having to spare the peanut butter. Then she continued, earnestly. “To have someone like Elam say such a thing would not be easy. I know there is a divide in our way of living, but money has nothing to do with love. God’s ways are not our ways, His thoughts far above our own piddling ability. You are an amazing daughter, talented in so many ways. In fact, everything you attempt, you excel in. Not everyone acquires their dream the way you have, through sheer hard work. You have to rise above everything that has always been our lot in life. To be poor is nothing to be ashamed of. Your father is handicapped, but rich in everything that counts. Do you realize we could be swimming in wealth, with an angry, self-absorbed father who shows no love or respect to his family?”

  She picked up a tray of freshly coated crackers, a spring in her step as she carried them to the counter.

  “So, what did you tell him?”

  Elsie just shook her head.

  Chapter Eight

  The bakery at market was controlled chaos, with Rache circling the entire area with lowered brows and a voice like a bullhorn, wedging her way between girls with clipped words of remonstration, egging them on to do more, even when it was impossible to do so.

  Tray after tray of Christmas cookies was baked, arranged, wrapped, and sold. They couldn’t keep the shelves filled, which resulted in harried customers lined up in frustrated rows wearing perpetual frowns of impatience. The cash register dinged endlessly as women marched off with boxes of pies, dinner rolls, loaves of bread, trays of cookies and cupcakes.

  Through all the clatter around her, Elsie worked steadily, her sister Malinda at her side. Nothing distracted them from producing perfect yeast breads and rolls as they concentrated on the task at hand. It was important to allow the yeast dough to rise to the correct level, to bake the loaves just long enough in the huge commercial oven, to watch carefully that quality would not be compromised in spite of the frenzied pace around them.

  It was eleven thirty, and still they hadn’t had a break. Rache slammed back to the yeast dough area, flopped on a folding chair with all the force of her questionable poundage, set down two coconut doughnuts and her cup of endless cappuccino, and said she couldn’t take this anymore.

  “This corner is the only one that knows what they’re doing. The rest is all one big hurricane. That Sheila is going to be fired unless I miss my guess. She doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘hurry’. Oh, did you have your break yet?”

  She bit into her coconut doughnut, closed her eyes, and moaned.

  “It’s almost a sin to eat something this good. Did you have your break?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, go. You’ll fall over, skinny as you are.”

  “We can’t. We have to watch the proofer and the oven.”

  “Seriously, girls, it’s not legal. You have to go. I’ll watch. Go.”

  She stuffed the remainder of the doughnut into her mouth, pointed toward the aisles teeming with Christmas shoppers.

  “Go,” she said around the unbelievable amount in her mouth.

  They ordered ham-and-egg sandwiches and apple juice, bent their heads in prayer, and bit into the heavenly warmth of the steaming food.

  “Mm. These are the best,” Elsie murmured.

  Malinda nodded, her mouth full.

  “I could have fainted, I was so hungry.”

  Elsie laughed. “Let’s get another one quick. Split it. I’m never going to be full with one. I’d get an order of hash browns, but it takes that restaurant forever. We have five more minutes.”

  Their spirits lifted by the good food, they returned to work, not a second late.

  Rache looked at the clock, shook her head.

  “You girls are the best. I’ll tell you. You should be paid double.”

  And until the Christmas rush was over, they were.

  Their eyes wide, they counted their bonus, counted it again. Eli Belier thanked them both, then leaned close to ask them to keep it a secret.

  “Nothing destroys a peaceful workplace faster than comparing wages. I do thank you. You continue to do an outstanding job, the biggest factor being the responsibility you take so seriously. I never worry about the yeast dough corner. Never. Don’t forget our Christmas banquet the twenty-ninth, girls. Bring your boyfriend, Elsie.”

  She grinned, waved him away. He laughed and hurried off.

  Bring your boyfriend, he’d said. Huh. If she accepted Elam, she would have that option.

  On Christmas morning the girls slept in, having crept into their warm beds with limbs like soft butter, weary beyond anything they’d ever known, their Christmas bonuses tucked in a drawer. It felt almost wrong, having so much cash in an envelope.

  They woke to the happy clatter from downstairs, the younger children having opened their presents early.

  Elsie grabbed her robe and hurried downstairs to find Amos quite beside himself, roaring over the train set he had discovered in the large square box. Dat and Mam sat together on the couch, coffee mugs in hand, laughing, their eyes shining, allowing him to make all the outrageous sounds he wanted.

  “Un train! Un train! Gook mol, Elsie!”

  His worn flannel pajamas were red, and by the time he was finished whooping, so was his face. Elsie scooped him up, trying for a hug and a resounding kiss, but his desperate struggle to free himself prevented any affection.

  The living room was warm with the crackling fire in the old black woodstove, the smell of bacon and breakfast casserole wafted from the oven, and candles glowed on the windowsill with pine boughs on the sideboard. It was Christmas.

  Elsie opened her package to find fabric for a new dress, a lovely shade of green, somewhere between olive and a crayon green.

  “Oh, it’s really lovely, Mam. Such a different shade of green. Thank you.”

  “There’s more,” Mam said, beaming.

  Elsie dug into the white tissue paper to find a
small bottle of cologne, something she had never owned. She had watched her friends spritz all kinds of floral scents liberally while she busied herself doing her hair, adjusting her covering or apron, aware of the fact that she had never been able to own something so unnecessary,

  “It’s too expensive,” she breathed.

  “Not this year,” Mam said, then laughed outright, an uninhibited sound of joy and pleasure Elsie had never heard.

  “The boys will notice you now,” Dat said, his eyes shining over his coffee cup.

  As if they hadn’t already, Elsie thought, a lurch in her stomach, a stab of remembering Elam, followed by her mother’s words.

  Could she claim that large chunk of self-worth as her own? How did a person go about believing they were amazing? Such a thing was far too slippery, like the catfish she had tried to catch with her bare hands in the deep, dark pool in the creek. The fish looked fat and old and lazy, but the minute her hands touched the slimy scales, the fish shot away like a torpedo.

  Amazing was too much. Too strong. Too hard to live up to. But Christmas cheer worked its magic and the heavy cloud of Elam and every insecurity that came with thinking of him soon vanished.

  The breakfast table was boisterous, happy, with excited voices chiming into other voices until a general bedlam broke out, complete with the pinging and clacking from the battery-operated train. And then gradually they settled down to enjoy their new gifts. Anna Marie worked to complete the potholder from the new loom, plying nylon strips from one metal hook to another, her eyebrows lowered in concentration. Suvilla was wrapped in a cuddly throw, the new book from her parents held only inches from her nose.

  Elsie threw on an old coat and scarf and let herself out the front door to her horse, taking deep breaths of the pristine air, the gray-white world of winter, when the sun was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. She squinted against the white light from the snow and shivered inside the coat.

  The interior of the old barn was cold, damp, but so clean. It smelled of fresh new hay, oats and corn, leather, the rusty old hydrant by the half barrel, a smell she would never tire of.

  “Hey, baby.”

  Gold swung his head over the rough planks of his box stall, shaking it up and down a few times, as if to nod, his way of saying good morning. Elsie caught his nose, bent her head to kiss his face. She caressed his velvety ears, stroking the forelock of blond hair that hung between his eyes.

  “How are you? You’re a good boy. My baby,” she crooned. She went to the shelf for the currycomb, opened the door to his stall, and began the daily ritual of a thorough grooming. She washed the white hair above his hooves with an old rag, then combed out the snarls in his mane and tail.

  As soon as she’d be able to purchase ribbon, she’d learn how to braid his hair, the way she’d seen a horse’s mane done in a magazine called Western Horseman. She’d been at the dentist’s office and had become so lost in the world of horses and girls wearing cowboy hats that her mother had to call her twice before she looked up, the hygienist waiting patiently by the open door.

  Elam would know. Not that she’d ask him, though.

  She jumped, the currycomb falling from her nerveless fingers, when the door opened abruptly, letting in a rectangle of gray-white light onto the dim concrete floor of the forebay.

  “Hey.”

  There stood Elam in the doorway of the barn.

  “Oh, you surprised me.”

  “I bet. Didn’t mean to. Sorry.”

  “It’s ok.

  “What are you up to?”

  “My usual morning chores.”

  Elam walked past her to prop his elbows on the top plank. He whistled.

  “Wow!”

  Elsie smiled a very soft, hidden smile behind the hand she put up to her mouth.

  “It’s amazing.”

  “Is that your favorite word?” She was suddenly ashamed. She shouldn’t have said that.

  “Why, sure! It is amazing to see a transformation like this in any animal, but especially a horse. You still feeding the minerals?”

  “I just ordered another bucket.”

  Nothing was said about the cost. Elsie appreciated his silence. It made her feel as if she were normal, ordinary, able to pay for something she needed with no questions asked.

  “I haven’t watched you ride him.”

  Elsie blushed. “You won’t.”

  He laughed.

  Then, “Do you have a ride to the Christmas singing tonight?”

  Warily, she eyed him.

  “No.”

  “Can I take you? The singing is over at Emanuel Lapp’s and I’m hitching the two Belgians to Dad’s bobsled. Thought we could take the field lanes, mostly dirt road. It’s hard to use sleighs or sleds with the road-clearing crews at work as soon as it snows. You want to ride behind two Belgians?”

  “When did you get Belgians?”

  “We’ve always had them. These two are really showy guys, though. My dad and I bought them together. Terrible price. We’ll raise colts, see how it goes.”

  “Why Belgians?”

  “You’ll see.”

  He knew her well enough to know she would be thrilled at the sheer size and beauty, the massive strength of these beautiful horses bred for hard work.

  “Who else is going?”

  “Just us. But I’m putting bales of straw and blankets in the sled so we can take spins around the fields.”

  She expected herself to pause, to stall and figure out how to politely answer no. Instead she said, “All right.”

  That afternoon, she told her parents she was going to the Christmas singing with Elam. Her mother raised one eyebrow in question from her chair, but said nothing. Her father grinned openly, in that unaffected childlike manner. But, mercifully, no one said anything.

  She dressed in red, for Christmas. Her dress was a deep burgundy, a pretty shade on a fabric that draped across her shoulders with a velvety softness. She found herself humming, her cheeks flushed, as she skipped downstairs to ask her mother for help with her cape.

  Malinda accompanied her back up to her room, sat on her bed with her skinny knees drawn to her chin, her eyes shining.

  “Oh, I just can’t wait till it’s my turn to be sixteen. I simply can’t wait. I’m counting the weekends. Ada and Sallie are looking forward to it as well.”

  “I wish you the best. I really do. It’s a good time in our life, or a hard time. Whichever we choose to make it.”

  “You seem to be doing all right.”

  “I am. It’s just …”

  Elsie bit her lower lip.

  “Sometimes, you’re faced with hard choices.”

  “Like what? Guys, you mean?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Elam.”

  “Well, yes.”

  They laughed together, sisters enjoying the secrets and romance of rumschpringa.

  “Elam would be my pick,” said Malinda. “Except he’s … well, you know. He’s pretty sure of himself and his horses. You can see it in the way he walks and talks and drives, just everything.”

  “Remember Cookie?”

  “Remember how mad you got?”

  Elam was right on time. Bundled in her best sweater and woolen coat, a white head scarf and heavy gloves and boots, her covering preserved in a Tupperware box, her purse slung across her shoulder, Elsie hurried through the twinkling light from the scattering of stars overhead. Little dots of light decorated the snowy landscape, and there was the smell of cold and pine and bare branches, of decaying cornstalks.

  “Hello again, Elsie,” he called.

  “Hello.”

  There were no headlights, only battery lamps attached to each side of the massive bobsled. The Belgians were the largest, heaviest horses Elsie had ever seen. She had often seen them from a distance, plodding along in some endless field, drawing a plow or harrow, their noble heads in a powerful arc as their leg muscles worked to do what God had designed.

  Depending on what type o
f farm equipment they were pulling, there were only two, hitched side by side. Sometimes there were four, and if the plow or the liquid manure spreader required it, there were six.

  But these looked like show horses, not real farm workhorses, with all this prancing and sidestepping, as if the energy had never been directed to any menial task, certainly not drawing farm equipment.

  Elam didn’t say anything. He was too busy trying to hold them both to the standstill that was required until he tended to the heavy lap robes.

  “Woah there, Captain. Stand still.”

  Elsie arranged the heavy robes herself, tucking them in beneath her legs. Laughing, she told Elam to drive, she’d be fine.

  “They’re quite a handful.”

  “I can see they are.”

  When he finally did loosen the reins, they lunged, but not in tandem. The left horse leaned into his collar a few seconds before the right one, which caused a jerky, uneven movement that tilted the makeshift seat, resulting in Elsie grabbing for the dashboard to keep from being thrown backward.

  After that, they trotted together, their massive hooves making a dull thlock thlock of sound in the heavy snow, the wide bobsled runners whispering long behind them, as if the sshhhh was meant to quiet the world around them.

  The cold stung their faces. The edge of the woods appeared dark and deep, with black etchings of tree branches like crocheted lace against a lighter sky. The moon was only a sliver of cold, as if it only appeared to let the stars know who was the ruler of the skies.