First Impressions: An Amish Tale of Pride & Prejudice (The Amish Classics Book 1)

by Sarah Price

  “Ja, vell,” Charlotte began. “That’s just the thing . . . ”

  Lizzie cocked her head to one side. “What is the thing?”

  “I do have news. Only it is good news, not bad news.”

  The frown disappeared from Lizzie’s face, and she smiled. “Why, do tell me then! Don’t delay and keep me in suspense, Charlotte. Good news would be quite welcome around here since Maem isn’t speaking to me and Jane is moping around for her dear Charles!”

  Charlotte hesitated and averted her eyes. For having such good news, her expression spoke otherwise. Lizzie’s smile faded as Charlotte began to speak. “I shall be moving to Ohio,” she started.

  “Ohio!”

  “Ja,” Charlotte affirmed and tried to look Lizzie in the eyes. “That’s what I said.”

  “Whatever for?” Ohio seemed like the farthest place on the planet to Lizzie. And there was no particularly clear reason why her friend would be moving there. Her family was here in Leola . . . not Ohio!

  “I will be marrying Wilmer Kaufman.”

  There was no amount of repeating the words in her head that made them sensible to Lizzie. At first she thought she had misheard Charlotte. Such a match was not only ridiculous, it was unfathomable to Lizzie. Hadn’t he just proposed to her on Monday? Then, as Charlotte pursed her lips, bracing herself for Lizzie’s reaction, the reality of the situation broke through the surreal clouds of doubt. As impossible as it seemed, Charlotte was, indeed, intending to marry Wilmer!

  “But why?”

  Charlotte laughed, a laugh filled with nervousness, not cheer. “Don’t do that, Lizzie. Please,” she said softly. “This is hard enough as it is. I need your support.”

  “But he’s ridiculous!” Lizzie cried.

  “Lizzie!”

  “It’s true! And you know it.”

  For the first time since Lizzie had known Charlotte, her friend took a deep breath and faced Lizzie with a confidence that had previously never existed. “He is to be my husband, Lizzie,” she said solemnly. “I ask that you remember that.”

  The reprimand stung, and Lizzie looked away. She was embarrassed, but for many different reasons, not just having been reminded that she had overstepped a line of propriety by being overbearing. When she felt Charlotte’s hand on her arm, she forced herself to look back at her friend.

  “I’m not like you,” Charlotte said softly. “I have to be practical, Lizzie. My parents cannot provide for me forever, and I know how it goes with maedels as they age. My siblings will have their own families to care for, and, in turn, to care for them when they become elderly. Who cares for maedels?” She laughed before answering her own question. “You and I both know that maedels must fend for themselves. I don’t want to be that old spinster woman who becomes a burden to all and family to none.”

  “Charlotte . . . ”

  Her friend held up her hand and shook her head. “Nee, Lizzie,” she said. “It is not oft spoken of, but it is true. You know it. And I’m too old to keep notions of romance and love in my dreams. At my age I will have to accept what comes my way or become that woman . . . ”

  And Lizzie suddenly realized that it was true. While Charlotte was a lovely young woman with a hard work ethic and great devotion to God, she was not particularly young anymore. In her mind Lizzie could see her friend age and become the old maedel that was tended to by the g’may, forgotten at holidays, and visited only by reminder. She would no longer attract young, unmarried men, only widowers who needed help with kinner and farm work. To marry Wilmer, a bishop with an established home, family, and community standing, was definitely a more acceptable alternative for Charlotte, Lizzie had to admit.

  “Oh, Charlotte,” Lizzie started to say, wanting to wish her friend well but not able to form the necessary words.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow,” she said. “So I came to say goodbye. But I wanted to extend an invitation, Lizzie. I want you to come and visit. Please say that you will, so that I can leave here knowing that good-bye is really just a ‘see you in a few weeks.’”

  Lizzie nodded her head, unable to trust herself to speak. She was too close to tears at the thought of losing her dear friend to such a distance and at the realization that the only option for a possible future for Charlotte rested with Wilmer Kaufman. “I shall pray for you daily,” she managed to gasp before hugging her friend.

  The second surprise that caught Lizzie off-guard was a letter. When she retrieved the mail and saw a letter that was addressed to Jane and postmarked from Ohio, she had a moment of hope. That lasted only as long as it took for her to flip the envelope over, for with great disappointment Lizzie saw that the letter had been sent by Carol Ann Beachey, not her brother Charles. Still, she felt a shred of hope as she delivered the letter to her sister, thinking that they might receive some word about Charles’s doings.

  Jane set aside the sewing she had been doing and eagerly opened the letter. So determined was Jane to think the best of all people, she started to read the letter aloud, eager for its contents, which, she presumed, would include an estimated return date for Charles. But as the letter progressed, her voice trailed off. With tears in her eyes she tossed the unfinished letter on the table and quietly excused herself.

  Snatching the letter from the table, Lizzie’s eyes scrutinized the neatly written words, searching for the place where Jane’s voice had faltered. She read the rest of the letter, the color draining from her face, and she looked up, taken aback by the four sets of speculative eyes watching her.

  “What is it, dochder?” Maem gushed nervously.

  “Carol Ann states that when they return, Charles will most likely be bringing a wife,” Lizzie whispered. She let the piece of paper slide from her fingers. It floated through the air and landed on the floor. Lizzie stood there, frozen in the middle of the kitchen as she tried to digest this horrible news. “A wife,” she repeated under her breath. “By the name of Grace Detweiler!”

  A gasp escaped Maem’s mouth, and she looked as if she might swoon. Catherine and Mary were beside her and reached out to steady their maem. Gratefully Maem leaned against Catherine, her head on her dochder’s shoulder and her eyes shut. Her lips moved in silent prayer.

  Mary spoke first. “What does this mean?”

  “It means that Charles Beachey is to marry Frederick Detweiler’s younger sister,” Lizzie said, her eyes still unfocused as she stared at the wall.

  “But . . . ”

  Lydia nudged Mary to stop her from stating the obvious. It would do no one any good to hear the word spoken out loud: betrayal.

  “I have to go find Jane,” Lizzie whispered and slowly walked toward the door, cringing as she heard a sob escape from her maem. She could well imagine the disappointment that her maem felt at the thought that Charles would not be returning to marry Jane. But her biggest concern was for her sister, who, despite her usual outward appearance of calm goodness, was surely experiencing a pain in her heart way beyond that which her own maem felt.

  She found Jane standing in the garden, her back toward the house and her head hung back with her face lifted toward the sun. Lizzie walked around her, giving her a wide berth to respect her privacy until she could gauge Jane’s reaction. Immediately Lizzie noticed that Jane’s eyes were shut and her hands clasped before her chest. She was praying, that much was clear. Yet the look on her face was serene and peaceful.

  “It’s God’s will,” she said without turning to look at Lizzie. “I will be happy for Charles and Grace, not bitter.”

  Listening to her, Lizzie was amazed. How could her sister accept this news with such faith? How could she not cry and need comfort?

  “What if it is not true, Jane?”

  At this question Jane turned her head to look at her sister. “Then that too is God’s will.” She smiled, a pure and genuine smile. “Who am I but a mere sinner to question His plan?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  THE BLANK FARM was quiet for the month of July and into August. Besides tw
o hay-cuttings, one in the front pasture and one in the side, and a family picnic in Ephrata, the long, lazy days of August seemed to drag out, hot and humid, sticky even into the nighttime hours.

  The only excitement was the occasional visits paid by George Wickey, who seemed to appear at least once a week around the evening supper hour. He appeared much more relaxed, having become familiar with the area and, apparently, having made quite a few friends. However, during the weeks that had passed since Charles, Carol Ann, and Frederick had left, he had never made an appearance at any of the Sunday worship services. Lizzie ignored the gossip among the women as to why George Wickey did not attend service and fellowship, for with his new herd of cows to tend, he certainly had enough work to do at the farm without any helpers. And, from comments that he had made at their home during the supper hour, she suspected that he had never taken his kneeling vow, anyway.

  While his appearance at their house brought with it a lightness and new energy, Lizzie did not suspect for one moment that he was calling on her in particular. Indeed, he would direct most of his conversation at her, at least when he was not talking to Daed, but she took his presence to be a neighborly visit out of boredom and loneliness rather than an interest of any romantic nature.

  He also kept her family updated to the health situation of Jacob Beachey. It was clear that Jacob would live, but his recovery would be slow. There was never any mention of Frederick and only a casual mention of Carol Ann. However, Lizzie clearly noticed that George was quite anxious to have Charles return, as he made several comments about how working the dairy was rather cumbersome. Even her daed raised an eyebrow at his lighthearted complaints. Rare was the Amish farmer who found fault with the practice of farming!

  In mid August a letter arrived from Charlotte. Her parents were coming to visit her for a week, and Charlotte wanted Lizzie to come along with them. Lizzie sat under an oak tree in the cow paddock, rereading the words. The words seemed so inviting, although the six-hour car ride did not. Yet the aura of doom and gloom that hung over the Blank farm seemed like more than enough reason to leave, even if only for a week.

  In addition Lizzie wondered if she could pay her respects to Jacob Beachey in order to find out what, exactly, was keeping Charles from returning. She also wanted to verify that, indeed, he was intent on marrying this Grace Detweiler!

  She approached her daed rather than ask her maem. Knowing her parents, Daed would be more inclined to grant permission while Maem would be horrified at the mere thought of Lizzie leaving, even for a short time, especially given that it meant one or two of the other girls would be recruited to help with barn chores. Mary was preparing for the upcoming school year, her first as a teacher aide, so she was of little help to Daed; as to Jane, while trying to maintain a positive facade, she was clearly still hurting inside from the knowledge that Charles had misled her into thinking that he had harbored serious feelings for her.

  “Why, that’s a right gut invitation!” Daed said. “And well deserved for all the work that you do around here. Although of any of the dochders to leave, you would be the last I’d like to send away. Mayhaps Lydia might accompany you?”

  Lizzie smiled at his joke. “And miss her first singing?”

  “Ah, that’s right!” Daed replied, pointing a finger in the air as if he had just remembered that. “Her first singing is next Sunday, ja?” He sighed. “I shall have to relive it at least twice, I’m sure . . . once from her and once from your maem!” He leaned against the handle of the pitchfork and wiped a piece of straw from his cheek. “If you are wise, Elizabeth, and I know you to be so, I would run to Ohio to escape your sister on rumschpringe!”

  As expected, Maem fussed and complained at the injustice of Lizzie leaving when, clearly, it was Jane who needed time away after the loss of her beau. But it was Daed who stood firm, accepting nothing of an argument against his having decided that Lizzie would accompany Charlotte’s parents, William and Leah, to visit her in Ohio.

  They left at seven in the morning on a Saturday in order to arrive before late afternoon. They shared the van with another Amish man, Gideon King. Despite having never met before, Lizzie found him good company, at least for the first hour. Even William engaged in conversation with him, happy to learn that they had some common acquaintances in Lititz.

  By the time the second hour of their journey rolled around, Lizzie drifted to sleep, surprised to find that the gentle rolling of the vehicle actually aided her in her sleep. Charlotte’s maem, Leah, spent her time knitting a sweater from thick brown yarn, most likely a present for one of her sons for an upcoming birthday. William merely stared out of the window, his head nodding at times, an indication that he too slept during the trip. And Gideon seemed content with his own company, speaking only general pleasantries when the driver stopped, once for lunch and once for gasoline.

  As they entered Ohio, Lizzie began to pay more attention to the scenery. It was different from Pennsylvania, that was for sure and certain. It looked hillier than Leola with long, rolling mounds of green that spread as far as the eye could see. However, unlike Leola, the farms were closer together, and because of the hills, there were a lot of rises and dips in the horizon. Most of the farms were white, although she spotted a few with red painted barns. It was a pretty country, and she enjoyed observing the differences and similarities while the van made its way through the meandering roads.

  By the time the van pulled into the farm, Lizzie could barely wait to stretch her legs. The house was smaller than she expected and more contemporary, clearly a former Englische home that had been retrofitted to the Amish way of life. Yet there was enough land for gardens and small crops that had been well tended and were bountiful enough to yield food for the Kaufman family, that was for certain.

  “You have arrived!”

  Lizzie turned around at the sound of her friend’s voice. The front door of the house was shutting behind her as Charlotte hurried across the porch with her arms extended and a smile on her face. Quickly she hugged both of her parents, blushing when her daed commented on how much she had changed.

  “Must be running your own household, ja?” Charlotte’s maem suggested. “Gardening and tending to kinner can do that to a woman.”

  After inquiring about her siblings and stealing one more embrace, Charlotte turned her attention to Lizzie. She reached for Lizzie’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m so very glad to see you!”

  Lizzie smiled back, trying to take in this new Charlotte who was so very different from the one she had last seen not even six weeks prior. She wore the clothing typical of the Ohio Amish, including the cup-shaped prayer kapp that hugged the back of her head. The fabric of her dress was looser and shaped a bit differently than what Lizzie was familiar with. It dawned on Lizzie that, despite looking different, Charlotte was at home while Lizzie was the outsider.

  “You are looking well!” Lizzie managed to say to her friend.

  It was true. Charlotte looked happy, with her rounded cheeks that were flushed with color. Her eyes were literally sparkling, and there was an air of confidence about her that Lizzie had never seen before. Or, she wondered, had she just never noticed it?

  “Come inside,” she insisted. “Leave your things there. I’ll send the kinner to bring them to your rooms.”

  Inside the front door Lizzie stared at the pristine home with shiny hardwood floors and white painted walls. Unlike the houses that Lizzie was familiar with at home, this one had the kitchen in the back of the house, something that was most unusual for farmhouses. There was a small entrance hall with two rooms off the sides: one was a larger gathering room and the other a smaller room that appeared to be used as an office. At the end of the hallway was the large, airy kitchen with windows that looked out over a rolling field.

  Lizzie entered the kitchen, aware of the linoleum floor that looked as through it had been freshly waxed. Everything shone from cleanliness and love. It was a welcomed vision. She felt Charlotte touch her arm.

  “I
t’s so gut to see you, Lizzie,” Charlotte gushed. “And to have you in my own home!”

  “Do you feel at home then?”

  Charlotte nodded. “Oh, ja! It’s wunderbaar gut to run my own home, and the kinner . . . ” She smiled. “They have been most respectful and kind. I was worried about that.”

  “Where are they?”

  Charlotte looked around and shrugged. “Likely helping Wilmer outside or at the Bechler farm.”

  There were four bedrooms upstairs and two downstairs, one being the master bedroom and one a small guest room. Lizzie was situated in the small guest room and spent a few moments unpacking her things as she tried to organize her thoughts. It felt strange to be in a home that was run by her friend Charlotte . . . even stranger considering that Charlotte was living in Ohio, not down the lane from the Blank farm in Leola, Pennsylvania.

  It was only an hour later, when the door opened and Wilmer Kaufman entered the house, that the extent of how surreal everything truly was hit Lizzie. Wilmer greeted his fraa with an air of formality that only slightly hinted at the familiar. Yet Charlotte beamed at the three young boys who obediently followed their daed into the house. A fourth one, an older son, trailed behind, his long legs and arms indicating that he fell into that gangly stage somewhere between childhood and manhood.

  “Ian, David, and Peter,” Charlotte said by means of an introduction of the three smaller boys. “These are your new grandparents, my maem and daed, Leah and William.” She glanced at the older boy. “John, after you have shaken hands, mayhaps you could bring their bags inside, ja?”

  “I want to help too!” the smaller boy named Peter said, jumping up and down eagerly.

  Wilmer seemed to puff out his chest, watching the scene with a sense of pride over his small family. “I trust the drive was right gut, ja?”

  To Lizzie he seemed just as ridiculous as ever. However, she knew that her friend was happy, living a life that was far better than any prospect she may eventually have had in Pennsylvania. If originally Lizzie had been disappointed in her friend for having settled for Wilmer, she at least understood better Charlotte’s decision to achieve a marriage to fulfill her position in life, both now as a wife and a young mother and in the future. It was also evident that Charlotte had given herself over to her role as fraa and maem with a clear conscience and a willingness that came from the heart. And it pleased Lizzie to see that Wilmer’s sons appreciated Charlotte’s efforts, rewarding her with not just the respect due to a maem but also the tremendous compliment of love. She knew that it couldn’t have been easy for Charlotte or the boys, but their willingness to work together and unite as a family was clearly a success.