by Sarah Price
Daed had been an only son, so there had been no question as to who would inherit the farm. Both of his parents suffered from the cold winter weather and had moved down to Pinecraft, Florida, settling in a small Amish community outside of Sarasota. His four older sisters had married well, two having moved to Holmes County, Ohio, where, at the time, the land was more abundant and less costly. His oldest sister had passed five years prior, refusing treatment for her spine cancer from the Englische doctors. Instead, she had relied on the natural cures of herbs and concoctions. Whether the cancer killed Aendi Ruth or it was the concoctions that did it, no one ever questioned God’s will in taking Aendi Ruth home.
As to Daed’s other sister, Mary, she had married and moved to the south side of Lancaster County. Her husband was a carpenter, so they lived in a modest home in Strasburg, their own two sons following in their daed’s footsteps. Twice a year there would be a family gathering, usually at the old Blank homestead. Since the family was smaller than most Amish families, Maem always invited the neighbors, most of them people who had grown up with Daed and Mary.
“It’s still raining, Daed,” Lizzie said as she entered the kitchen. She wore a pale green dress with her black work apron tied around her waist. With her dark hair pulled back into a perfect bun at the nape of her neck and her prayer kapp already pinned to her headband, she was ready to face the day, dreary weather or not.
She took a deep breath, surprised. The kitchen already smelled of fresh bread baking in the oven. She glanced at the clock, suspecting that she might have awoken later than usual, for Maem usually didn’t start baking until well after six o’clock, a time when Lizzie had long been outside helping Daed with the dairy chores.
But it was only four-thirty. Lizzie wondered what time her maem had arisen if she already had bread baking. Certainly she might not have slept at all, possibly sick with worry. If taking care of the family was Maem’s primary job, worrying was a close second. Lizzie watched as her maem hustled about the kitchen, touching pots and pans as if keeping her hands busy would help her stop fretting about her oldest dochder. As usual, Daed remained calm, not noticing his fraa’s tendency to let her nerves overreact.
For as frantic as Maem could become over the simplest annoyance, Daed seemed to always be calm and steady. In many ways they were such an unlikely couple, Lizzie often thought. Maem had been born to a large farming family that lived to the north of New Holland. Her own maem had passed at a young age and left eight kinner in the hands of her husband. With no matriarch in the family to guide the kinner and support the husband, the farmhouse had fallen into disarray and was often overlooked when it came time for the church service rotation. It was too hard to maintain the property and work the fields. Maem rarely talked about her upbringing, but from the few times that one of her siblings had visited, Lizzie knew that it had not been easy. The family had developed a reputation among the g’may, a reputation that Maem was quite thankful to leave behind when she was fortunate enough to capture Daed’s attention at a youth event so many years ago. Not caring about what others thought, Daed had pursued her and, within just a few months of courting, had married her, whisking her away from the slovenly farm and bad reputation that surrounded her family.
Given her upbringing, it was only natural that Maem would worry excessively about her oldest dochder’s reputation. Clearly that had kept her maem from sleeping well and caused her to awaken early, putting her hands to work in order to help her mind stop spinning with different what-if scenarios.
“What shall we do about Jane, then?” Lizzie asked, turning her attention away from her nervous maem as she bustled down the cellar stairs.
Daed stood by the counter, a large mug of hot coffee in his hands. With a deep breath he shook his head. “I checked the answering machine in the barn,” he started. “That Detweiler fellow was good enough to leave a message mentioning that our dear Jane was at the farm when the storm hit.” Lizzie raised an eyebrow at the mention of Frederick. “However, he left another message this morning that the bridge washed out and a tree fell onto their barn, blocking the road, I fear.”
“Onto their barn!”
“Ja, the barn. But with them having just arrived, only the horses and buggies were inside. No damage or injuries.”
Maem emerged from the basement stairs, her arms laden with jars of canned beets and chow-chow. “No injuries except for our dear Jane’s reputation!” she scoffed.
“Now that’s not so,” Daed reassured her. “Detweiler is a fine man, I’m sure, and also the chaperone for the other two men. Jane is staying with Carol Ann after a horrible storm hit. Anyone who questions that, my fraa, has filth on their mind and gossip on their tongue!”
“I should go to her,” Lizzie exclaimed, alarmed that anyone might say something against her sister. “She can’t stay there alone!”
“Lizzie! I shall not have two dochders with soiled reputations!”
With a scowl on her face Lizzie turned to her maem. “My presence would salvage her reputation, and I care not a twit for my own!”
Daed stepped in. “If the rain lets up, I shall walk you there myself, Lizzie. Mayhaps we can bring her home, or at least I can see how the roads are and assist with the tree, ja?”
“Walk?” Maem exclaimed, horrified at the thought. “Why, you must take the buggy! She’ll be filthy, for sure and certain!” Her eyes were large and bewildered at her husband’s suggestion. “What will the Beachey man think?”
“I don’t care a fiddle-faddle about what they’ll think!” Lizzie said.
“They’ll think that we are a caring family who helps our neighbors and has concern for our dochder!” The firmness in his voice surprised Lizzie, and she noticed that her maem, while not happy about the direction of the conversation, immediately backed off. After all, Daed had spoken, and there was nothing further to argue about.
The rain began to slow down, the drops becoming a gentle mist. Lizzie helped her daed in the dairy, occasionally looking up from the cow that she was milking to assess the outdoor weather. While the clouds did not dissipate, the rain was all but finished by the time the last cow was milked and the herd was let to pasture. Lizzie hurried inside to grab a blue head covering so that her prayer kapp would not get soiled. She took a secret satisfaction in the fact that Daed instructed the other three girls to muck the dairy while they were gone, a job that Lizzie normally did with nary a care but one that her sisters detested.
They had walked a mile up the hill and turned down the first lane to head toward the Beachey farm. Immediately Lizzie saw why her daed had insisted that they walk. The roads were all but impassable by horse, buggy, or car. Many telephone and electric poles were downed, and wires were on the road. Daed guided Lizzie past the lines, careful to avoid as many puddles as they could for fear that the electrical current might still be active, although he suspected that the entire area was without power. Very few of the Amish farms used electricity, and those that did had special permission from the church leaders. Mostly the lines carried electric current to the non-Amish homes since all of the farms on their street stuck to the mandated diesel-powered generators and solar power. But they all had telephones. While forbidden for casual conversation and never in their homes, telephones were needed by the farmers to communicate with their suppliers, distributors, and clients. In the twenty-first century even the church leaders understood that simple concession.
“Mein Gott!”
Lizzie glanced at her daed, surprised by his expression. She followed his gaze and saw why he had spoken so. More large trees had fallen, blocking the roads so that, even on foot, they could not pass. A silo at a neighbor’s farm had fallen over, and a herd of cows wandered on the road, having passed through an opening in a fence from a fallen tree limb.
“Was it a tornado, Daed?” she asked.
“Nee, nee,” he replied, shaking his head. “Just a very strong summer storm.” He reached over and placed his hand on her shoulder. “God is right gut, my Lizz
ie. Trust firmly in the Lord and in His wisdom.”
She smiled, knowing what he meant. Damage to property was one thing; yet, God willing, no one had suffered injuries in the neighborhood. From the looks of the damage, it was nothing that the community could not swiftly recover from. She lifted her heart quickly to God, thanking Him that He had spared their family and prayed that such was the case for all the others living in their g’may.
Cutting through the fields took them longer than anticipated. Although the Beachey farm was a mere three miles away from the Blanks, it took close to two hours to approach it. Lizzie felt her pace quicken once she saw the white farmhouse, eager to see her sister and, hopefully, bring her home.
The lane was covered in deep puddles, and Lizzie had to hold up her skirt to jump over them. Her daed had wandered to the barn, assessing the damage, while Lizzie headed directly to the house.
“Allow me,” a voice said, startling Lizzie as she prepared to leap over the largest puddle yet. With debris on the right and a ditch on the left, she had no alternative. When she looked up, she saw Frederick approaching from behind the debris pile. He wore his pants tucked into his tall boots, and his shirt was stained with mud. He wore a funny-shaped straw hat, different than what most Lancaster Amish men wore. She was speechless in his presence, and when he stepped forward, stretching out his hand for her to take, she could only respond by accepting his assistance.
“Did you walk all the way here, then?” he asked, his deep voice calmer and kinder than she remembered.
“Ja,” she responded. “The roads are quite impassable, I fear.”
He made a noise, deep in his throat, which she wasn’t certain how to interpret.
“My daed went to the barn to assess the damage,” she heard herself say. “I wanted to check on Jane, however.” She realized he was still holding her hand, despite the fact that she had successfully scaled the puddle. “How is Jane?”
“I imagine quite fine,” Frederick said. “They had just arrived as the storm hit. I fear she may have twisted her ankle, running to the house. But I leave that assessment to your tender care.”
Lizzie frowned. She hadn’t heard about a twisted ankle. Without the ability to walk, Jane certainly could not leave. At least, Lizzie reasoned, until the roads were cleared. Withdrawing her hand from his, Lizzie nodded her appreciation for his help. “Then I best go see to her, ja?” Without another look, she hurried down the rest of the lane and quickly discarded her muddy shoes on the porch, unaware that she was still being watched.
The inside of the farmhouse was surprisingly well lit and warm, not just to the skin but also to the senses. Quite an achievement, she pondered, considering that they had not been there but less than a week. The kitchen had been repainted a light pale green, and fresh room-darkening shades hung from each double-hung window. The floor was linoleum and looked freshly waxed, while the appliances appeared new and of a high quality. Lizzie stood in the doorway, staring at the room in amazement. It was clean and plain, yet refined at the same time.
“Lizzie!”
Jane’s voice came from the back of the sunroom, which was attached to the kitchen. There was a dark green sofa against the wall with a matching recliner nearby. Jane was sitting in the recliner with her legs propped up, an ice pack on her right ankle. Without a thought for her bare feet, still damp from her soaked shoes, Lizzie hurried across the kitchen and knelt by her sister’s side.
“Are you well? We were so worried, Jane! Tell me without a moment’s delay what happened!”
Jane laughed, her eyes twinkling, despite the dark circles beneath them. “Oh, Lizzie, you are such a goose! We were fine.” Jane craned her neck and looked behind Lizzie. “Weren’t we, Carol Ann?”
Startled, Lizzie quickly stood. She hadn’t noticed Carol Ann seated in another chair near the back corner. She was crocheting a blanket and had not bothered to make her presence known. Lizzie found that odd but forced herself to step toward Carol Ann. “I hadn’t seen you there, Carol Ann,” Lizzie said. “We all prayed for your safety. God was right gut that you escaped the storm unharmed.”
“Ja,” she said, her eyes quickly assessing Lizzie’s soiled state. “Jane and I had been returning from the dry goods store. She was kind enough to help me pick out some yarn as well as material for a new prayer kapp.”
Lizzie’s eyes flickered to Carol Ann’s head, secretly not surprised to see the same old Ohio kapp on her head.
“Oh, Lizzie, I feel ever so clumsy,” Jane said lightly. “When we pulled into the lane, the buggy was stuck in a hole. George came to help push it, but I stepped out before I knew.” She motioned toward her ankle. “I fear I fell and twisted it.” Casually she pulled the ice pack from her leg, and Lizzie had to control herself from gasping at the dark bruise that graced her sister’s ankle. “I could barely walk, but Charles was good enough to come fetch me while George saw to the buggy.”
“I came as soon as I heard,” Lizzie said. “The roads are truly wretched. I’ve never seen such a storm sweep through our area, have you then?”
“Nee,” Jane agreed. “Not in June.”
Carol Ann set down her crocheting and stood up, slowly walking toward the kitchen. “I suppose I shall start the noon meal, then,” she said. “The men will be hungry and need energy for the afternoon.”
Without being asked, Lizzie hurried to help her. She did as she was instructed, even accepting Carol Ann’s preferred manner of peeling the potatoes without comment. Occasionally she glanced over at Jane, too aware that her sister napped. It was clear that the pain from her ankle was greater than what she was letting on. Jane would never want to be seen as either a burden or a complainer. Yet the pain was evident on her face.
“I suppose we should call a doctor to look at her ankle,” Lizzie whispered to Carol Ann.
“We have no phone here,” she replied.
Lizzie was about to retort that Frederick had called their farm earlier and left a message. But, figuring that it was best to hold her tongue, she kept silent on the matter.
It was shortly after eleven thirty when the door opened and the men stomped inside the side room adjoining the kitchen. They could be heard removing their boots and hanging their hats before entering the kitchen. Lizzie glanced up, surprised to see three men, not one of whom was her daed. Charles smiled brightly at Lizzie while Frederick merely ignored her. The third man, who, by his appearance alone, was easily identified as the elusive George, tilted his head and looked straight at Lizzie before stepping forward to introduce himself. As they shook hands, Lizzie noticed Frederick stiffen and turn his face away, the muscles in his jaws tightening as if he were bothered by George’s introduction.
Nee, she realized as he quietly disappeared into another room. Frederick was more likely bothered by George’s happy-go-lucky presence, she reasoned.
She could understand why. Unlike Frederick, George seemed to sparkle with energy. His personality was in sharp contrast to Frederick’s, and, Lizzie imagined, that could certainly create a riff between them. However, since Frederick and Charles seemed to get on so, she was more than curious as to the cause of Frederick’s obvious dislike for the younger cousin. Indeed, Lizzie found him comparable to his older cousin Charles, both in looks and charm. With curly brown hair and flashing eyes, George was quick to smile, and during the meal he engaged in lively conversation, even more than his cousin. He was not as soft-spoken as Charles but seemed pleasant enough. Yet Carol Ann seemed to distance herself from George, even as her eyes went to the kitchen doorway, anticipating Frederick’s entrance. The noise of running water explained, if not excused, his absence from the table.
Lizzie watched the interactions of the household with great curiosity, too aware of the sense of the unspoken, yet too ladylike to inquire. Instead she focused her attention on her sister while politely responding to George’s attention without allowing any encouragement for him to further it. Whatever was happening beneath the surface at the Beachey house was quite intens
e, and she certainly did not want to get swept away in the undercurrent.
The meal was soon over, and Jane had settled back into the recliner with her foot elevated before Frederick reemerged. He had washed up and changed his clothes, and he ignored Carol Ann’s gesture of a plate that had been set aside. “Too much work,” he mumbled, and without so much of a glance at any of the others in the room, he reached for his hat and disappeared back outdoors.
Charles knelt by Jane’s side and, to Lizzie’s amazement, gently took her hand as he spoke to her. “We shall work hard, Jane, so that the roads will be clear for you to return home. While your company here is . . . ” He hesitated and lowered his voice. “Most enjoyable, I am more than certain you would prefer to be under the care of your maem rather than that of three bachelors and a maedel.”
Jane blushed and smiled.
Lizzie, however, raised an eyebrow. Maedel? Carol Ann was considered such? Perhaps Carol Ann was not as young as Lizzie had perceived, and that could explain her sour attitude as she witnessed the gravitation toward Jane, the elder of the Blank sisters.
Charles and George returned outside to help. Lizzie stood in the center of the kitchen, feeling awkward and useless. With a deep breath she glanced at Jane, then turned her head to look outdoors. “Jane,” she began. “I think I might be of more use helping the men.”
Carol Ann spun around, a shocked look on her face made all the more austere because of the tight prayer kapp that hugged the back of her head. “Help the men?”
“Ja!” Lizzie replied, staring at Carol Ann as if daring her to challenge her further. “Many hands make light the work. While I might be unable to do the heavy lifting, I can move the brambles and debris, for sure and certain!” She didn’t wait for a response from the open-mouthed Carol Ann before she headed toward the side room, hoping that, in the meantime, her shoes had dried at least enough to not prune her toes while she worked outside.