Page 99 of An Evil Heart
“We might have those pies before the wedding if Anna could slice a little faster,” says the older woman.
One of the women snickers. Another coughs into a kerchief. I’m pretty sure I hear a chuckle from the woman slicing the apples.
“Can I help?” I barely recognize my own voice and clear my throat. “I’m a pretty good slicer.”
“We got this, Katie,” says Sarah.
“Sitz dich anne un bleib e weil.” Irene, my sister-in-law, wipes her hands on her apron and pulls out a chair. You just sit yourself down and stay awhile.
Before I can comply, she crosses to me and takes my hand, guides me to the chair. “This is Lovina,” she says, motioning to the large woman. “And you remember Anna.” She motions with her eyes to the woman slicing apples. “They’re here to help with the food.”
“Sarah’s been doing most of the work,” Irene says.
“Got the chickens and celery lined up a while back,” Naomi puts in.
“Don’t forget all those mason jars,” Anna adds.
“Pies’ll be finished today,” Irene says breezily.
It occurs to me that the wedding is the day after tomorrow and I feel that beast of panic gallop through me.
Giving a final finger-press to the dough, Sarah wipes her hands on a towel and grins at me. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Katie Burkholder without something to say.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Chuckling, Irene goes to the gas-powered fridge and pulls out a plastic pitcher of what looks like tea. She snags a glass out of the cabinet, pours, and places it in front of me. “Got some mint in it. Good for a nervous stomach.”
I see the mouths of the other two women twitch as I sink into the chair. Only then do I realize my legs are weak.
Sarah pours tea for herself, too, snags a lined pad of paper from the counter, and brings both to the table. “Your dress is all ready, by the way. You can take it with you if you’d like.”
“Thank you,” I tell her. “I will.”
“If you have a few minutes, I wanted to talk to you about food.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch,” I say. “I’ve been tied up with the case…”
Waving off my concerns, Sarah falls into the chair with a sigh, as if she’s been on her feet too long. “Well, you got that awful killing solved. Everyone’s been talking about it. Praying, too. For all of them.”
“I wasn’t the least bit surprised when that Fisher boy didn’t join the church,” Anna says.
“Been trouble since he was two years old,” Naomi adds.
“Hismammis just beside herself,” Irene tells me. “She’s over in Berlin, you know. We’re going to take a casserole to the family after the wedding.”
Using an old-fashioned No. 2 pencil, Sarah scribbles on the pad; then her eyes find mine. “We’ve got roast chicken with bread stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, and creamed celery. Pies for dessert, of course. Apple and cherry.” She offers a knowing smile. “Apples are from our own orchard.”
“I think that’s perfect,” I say.
“We’re going to hold the ceremony in the barn. That’s where we put everyone when we have worship here. More room, you know. Cooler there, too, since we’ll be baking.”
“Of course.”
“The eck table is in the living room. Jacob and William will bring a couple of extra tables down from upstairs, too.” The eck table is where the bride and groom sit for their meal with their “side sitters,” or bridesmaids and groomsmen, in this case my siblings and their spouses.
She motions toward the box of canning jars on the floor. “We’ll set up tables for eating in the yard. Plain white tablecloths. And mason jars with celery stalks for the centerpieces. Oh, I almost forgot, Ella Mae Miller is going to make one of her cakes.”
The sound of my sister’s voice, the background conversation, the clang of dishes, fades to babel. I stare across the table at her, remembering how close we’d once been, wishing we could somehow break down the barriers between us and get it back, and for the first time since I left Painters Mill when I was eighteen years old, I feel as if that one small wish is possible.
I rise so quickly, my chair screeches against the floor. Vaguely, I’m awareof the room going silent. The clang of cookware and dishes quieting. I feel all eyes on me. Without looking at anyone, I leave the kitchen and walk into the living room. The eck table is in the corner. The only adornment is a mason jar with a few stalks of celery, the leaves still intact and tucked into the jar as if someone put it there just to see how it might look.
