Newbury Acres: An Amish Christian Romance Novel: An Amish Romance Adaptation of Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey (The Amish Classics)

by Sarah Price

Once again, Catherine gasped. “A hundred! Even with a machine, that must take you hours to milk them!”

  He held up his hand, pointing toward the sky. “Very astute, Catherine. Indeed, it would take hours. But we have two milking pits and we also have workers. Remember I told you about my father creating the farming co-op? Without those workers, I never would have the chance to get away to Banthe, and I certainly would not have the pleasure of making new acquaintances such as yourself.”

  She was starting to understand what Henry meant when he had told her that Newbury Acres was a bit different from other Amish farms. She couldn’t imagine the amount of labor required to manage it on a daily basis. “Why does your daed want to have such a large herd of cows? That’s an awful lot of work, even if you have workers.”

  “And don’t forget that we have the wood shop. Freddie runs that. They make furniture that is shipped to almost every state in the country. Tables. Chairs. Beds. Dressers. You name it. He also has workers that help him.” He paused, looking at her once more to see if she was still listening. “And, of course, we grow corn and hay.”

  “With the help of more workers, I take it?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Most of the community works at Newbury Acres. Besides our farm, there are just a scattering of small gentleman’s farms where the other Amish live. Just enough property to grow their gardens and graze their horses.”

  Catherine frowned as she tried to digest what Henry was telling her. From the sound of it, Newbury Acres wasn’t just an Amish farm. It was more like an entire Amish community. Only the Tilmans owned the majority of it, which meant that the workers were at their beck and call. While she knew that sometimes Amish families needed help with their financial situations, they still remained independent. She couldn’t imagine a life where she was beholden to one family in order to put food on the table.

  “Personally, I prefer working in the fields. There’s something about working the soil,” Henry continued. “I’m glad that so many young men in the area can take care of the cows so that I can tend to the crops. But even that is a bit cumbersome for just one person. I’ve been resisting my daed on hiring workers. I’d much rather tend to it myself, you see. But he’s adamant that I need help.”

  “And does your daed always force his opinions on others?” she asked in a genuinely curious tone.

  “He does.”

  Catherine made a face. “I wouldn’t like that one bit.”

  Henry chuckled under his breath. “I imagine you wouldn’t, Catherine. And I can assure you that I don’t either.”

  For a long moment, Catherine remained silent. Her mind was spinning as she realized that there was much more to the Tilman family than met the eye. “And what else does your daed impose upon you?” she asked.

  “What else is there?”

  She hesitated, knowing she was about to bring up an intimate topic. But her curiosity overcame her. “None of you has married yet. And Freddie’s much older than you. I would think that he’d have a wife and children by now.”

  “Freddie is …” Henry hesitated, searching for the right word. “Well, let’s just say he’s not ready to settle down, I imagine. As for Ellie and myself, well, our daed does have expectations of who we should marry.”

  “Expectations!” Catherine turned to face him. “I should think that the only expectation he would have is happiness!”

  Henry gave another soft laugh. “Oh, Catherine. If only happiness were enough for Daed.”

  “But he was happy with your maem, wasn’t he? Shouldn’t he expect no less for his own children?”

  “Was he happy with Maem?” Henry glanced at her and she noticed that there was a sad look in his eyes. “I suppose he was happy. After all, he acquired her parents’ farm when he married her.”

  This was more than Catherine could accept. “Happy because he acquired her parents’ farm? Didn’t he love her?” When Henry did not respond, Catherine wrung her hands on her lap. “I can’t imagine a marriage without love!”

  “Unfortunately,” Henry said in a somber voice, “love does not make the list of his expectations. Money. Land. Those are the two qualifications that top his list, at least for his sons. In fact, he has gone so far as to threaten us with the loss of Newbury Acres if we do not marry a ‘worthy’ woman.” He said that with mockery in his voice. “As for Ellie, I’m not certain he has any expectations. He might very well prefer that she remain an old maedel so that he doesn’t have to worry about her leaving. After all, who would cook his meals if she wasn’t there anymore?”

  Distressed, Catherine slumped in the seat next to Henry. She couldn’t imagine living in such a family. How depressing for Ellie, to know that her father preferred her to never marry just so he had someone to wash his clothing and make his meals. As for Henry, there weren’t many young Amish women who could meet the qualifications of land and money.

  “What would happen,” she began to ask in a slow, deliberate manner, “if you wanted to marry someone who did not bring money or land to the marriage?”

  “Ah.” Henry took a long moment and then nodded his head as he turned to face her. “Then, Catherine, I would have a very difficult decision to make. A man must make his livelihood in order to support his family. Without the livelihood, what use is having the family?”

  For a long while after that, they rode in silence. Catherine felt as if a pit had formed in her stomach. As the oldest daughter, she had neither money nor land. All of that would get passed onto one of her younger brothers. So why had Gid Tilman not only encouraged her friendship with Ellie but urged her to be in Henry’s company, not once but twice now? With nothing to offer the family that could possibly meet Gid’s approval, she was fooling herself to think that she could ever have any hope of marrying Henry.

  It was almost another half an hour before they arrived at Newbury Acres. Most of the drive was through pleasant rolling farmland, but as they neared the Tilmans’ home, she noticed that the geography began to change. There were thick patches of trees and more woodland. At one turn, she was delighted to see a male pheasant standing on a dead tree trunk on the side of the road. Henry slowed down the buggy so that she could see the fowl as it seemingly posed for her.

  “We’re almost there now,” Henry said. “Our woods are renowned for their pheasants. This one must have stood guard,” he added with a wink.

  “Really? I don’t think I’ve ever seen one before. He was magnificent, ja? Truly one of God’s prettier creatures, even if they are not normally included in such discussions.”

  Henry laughed at her. “I never thought of it that way, but you’re right!”

  After a mile stretch of forest, she noticed small clearings with old farmhouses and barns. Many of the houses had clothes lines with sheets and towels or dresses and pants drying in the sun. But the properties were small and not one of them had enough land for crops, just paddocks for their horses.

  “Is this Newbury Acres then?” she asked.

  Henry nodded. “It is. Over the years, as the family acquired more and more land, people have come to call our farm Newbury Acres. In reality, however, the entire area is Newbury Acres. It can be confusing, for sure.”

  She agreed with Henry on that point.

  They rounded another bend and came across a large clearing, this one with large, plush, green fields surrounded by a simple post and wire fence. Far in the distance, she saw acres and acres of corn, with tassels gleaming in the sun. When the buggy drove past a break in the fence, she saw a long, tree-lined driveway, paved, not graveled. At the very end, she could see the house. Even the thick patch of pine trees planted to hide the view from the road could not cover the enormous white stone farmhouse from sight.

  Catherine caught her breath and, without realizing it, reached out to grab Henry’s arm. “Is that …?” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

  But Henry could. He sighed as he said, “Ja, that’s our home.”

  It was easy to pick out the original house: what would
have been a simple two-and-a-half-story home with a stone foundation. Catherine could imagine there was a large loft on the top floor, the roofline creating a low ceiling with alcoves to tuck in beds for the younger children as well as two small square windows for curious eyes to peer outside instead of sleeping. Certainly, the second floor had four bedrooms for older children while the master bedroom was most likely on the first floor. That was typical for so many of the older Amish farmhouses.

  But, apparently, that had not been large enough, for someone had added an even larger white clapboard house onto the northern side. If the one house could shelter upwards of twelve people, the new addition could do that as well. And then there was another addition, one that was more modern with a peaked roof and large windows. There was even a circular covered porch area on the end that overlooked the back fields. This house also looked as if ten or twelve people could live there.

  “How … how many of you …?” Once again, she could not finish her sentence. She felt absurd asking the question in the first place. Clearly more than one family lived in that house.

  So when Henry responded with a quiet “Four,” her mouth fell agape and she stared at him, shocked. “Four? Just four? Why, that’s …”

  “… Ridiculous, ja?” he interrupted. “I agree, Catherine. The house is designed for three families. Three large families. There is even a small grossdawdihaus on the other side. You can’t see it from here. Yet only four people occupy it.”

  “That’s … outrageous.” She could hide neither her surprise nor her contempt.

  “And I agree. There’s also an unused farmhouse on the property he inherited when my mother’s parents died.”

  Catherine turned and stared at him. “Unused? Why, that’s so wasteful!”

  The Amish were taught to use everything and waste nothing. Gid Tilman acted as if he were a kind man, providing jobs for so many people in the community—a community that he practically owned, she reminded herself. To hold onto so much land, more than he could use, and have so much housing that wasn’t even occupied, was more than wasteful.

  “Well, it’s not completely unused,” Henry said. “I work the fields over there and there are times when I stay there. It’s just easier since I put in such long hours. Why, there are times when Ellie has no companions at all! Daed and Freddie sometimes travel for the wood shop business, meeting with distribution places in other Amish communities. But other than that, the houses sit here unoccupied.”

  “And the bishop or preachers haven’t complained?”

  Henry shook his head. “Ja, Catherine. But my daed hasn’t listened. And what can the church do? If Daed was shunned, the people couldn’t work and earn money to feed their families.”

  “Do you agree with this?” she asked, practically holding her breath as she awaited his answer.

  He took his time, thinking of the right words before he responded. She could see that the question she asked was one that he had pondered before, and for that she was glad. If he had responded with a quick “yes” or “no,” she would have been less tempted to believe him.

  “Catherine, I would be much happier if I could live on my mother’s childhood farm, raising a small herd of cows and farming my own land. I do not like being beholden to other men to take care of my land or herds. And I’m fairly certain that they feel the same way: not wanting to be tied so tightly to the Tilman family in order for their families to survive.”

  “And you’ve told your father this?”

  Henry nodded his head. “Ja, Catherine, I have. And he has told me that I should keep my opinions to myself.”

  Catherine lowered her eyes. She should’ve thought twice before she had asked him that question. Poor Henry, she thought. Trapped in a life that was more ostentatious than any true Amish man would ever want. Yet, if he stood up to his father, he risked losing his livelihood. Even though he was young, losing his job was not a simple matter. And as a good Amish son, he was also expected to honor his father, even if he did not always agree with him.

  Suddenly, she realized that the next two weeks at Newbury Acres might not be as much fun as she had anticipated. Clearly there was more to Gid Tilman than first met the eye, and this new insight into his character both intrigued and intimidated Catherine. And one burning question filled her mind: Why had Gid wanted her to come for a visit in the first place?

  Chapter 17

  After they had arrived at the farm and gotten settled, Catherine and Ellie took an afternoon walk down a path that led through a patch of trees behind one of the barns. It was shaded and cool. Ellie had told her it was an old logging trail that her great-grandfather had cut when expanding the original farm. Now she used it for a walking path in the heat of the day.

  Catherine was glad to be outdoors. She needed the fresh air and time alone with her friend.

  From the moment she had stepped foot into the overly large farmhouse, Catherine had felt as if she were in another world. While the house was massive on the outside, the inside remained plain and simple. Each room was painted a pleasant shade of light grayish-blue with window shades just a touch darker, for contrast. The moldings around the doors, windows, and floorboards were bright white, which made each room appear crisp and clean.

  Only the kitchen floor was not hardwood. Instead, it was a plain speckled white linoleum: practical and easy to clean. But the rest of the house had hardwood floors, stained in a dark maple color. They shone as if they had just been refinished that very same week. While Catherine had only seen a few rooms of the house, such as the kitchen and the guest room where she would sleep, she could tell that everything was meticulously cared for. There was not a speck of dust or one thing out of place.

  Apparently, the Tilmans occupied only the middle part of the house. She had learned this fact when Gid Tilman showed her around the house and property. Surprisingly, Gid had been waiting for her to arrive with Henry and immediately helped her down from the buggy. Then, with Ellie in tow, Gid took Catherine to tour the two large dairy barns as well as the horse and mule stable. He seemed quite impressed with himself when he walked her the quarter mile to the wood shop, which on Saturdays closed at two o’clock so that his workers could enjoy the afternoon with their families.

  “Everything is so …” She sought for the appropriate word. “… so organized and well-thought-out.”

  If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought that she saw Gid’s chest puff out at the compliment.

  “I suppose your daed’s farm runs as well?” Gid asked.

  Catherine shook her head. “He has enough helpers, but they are not as efficient as here.”

  “What of the Andersons? Isn’t their farm as nice as here?”

  Catherine frowned. “The Andersons? Why, of course they have a lovely farm. But no farm in Fullerton would compare to the …” She hesitated as she sought the appropriate word, fearing that she might offend Gid by expressing her honest opinion. “…well, nothing in Fullerton compares to the grandeur of Newbury Acres.”

  Despite noticing that Gid seemed to take that as a compliment, which wasn’t entirely her intention, she could not deny that everything under his control seemed to operate like clockwork. And despite her concern over the workers feeling beholden, she did not sense any tension or resentment when she walked through the different buildings. The only tension she ever seemed to feel regarding Gid Tilman came from his own children.

  But it was the house proper that intrigued Catherine. It was so large and so underutilized that she couldn’t imagine only four people living in it. Especially after she saw how large the kitchen and gathering room were. The large farmer’s table appeared to be able to seat twelve people. The top was made of wormy maple, and even though it was so long and almost two inches thick, it appeared to be made from just one solid piece of wood. Catherine couldn’t help but run her fingers along the edge as she walked past it.

  When she came to the end, she wandered across the barren space toward the back windows that lo
oked out on the eastern fields. She could imagine that the sun properly warmed up the room in the mornings. Next to the farthest window was a door. It was plain and simple, no fancy woodwork or moldings. She presumed it was a bathroom. She reached out her hand and had placed it on the knob when Gid stopped her with one word: “No!”

  Startled, she turned around.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought this was the bathroom.”

  He shook his head and pointed to another door that she hadn’t seen under the staircase. “That’s the bathroom.”

  “Where does this door lead?” she asked, curious because of his reaction.

  “That leads to the other side of the house. We do not go there.”

  That was all the explanation that she received from him. From the expression on his face, he wasn’t encouraging any further questions from his guest. “I see,” she said and dropped her hand.

  “Perhaps, Ellie,” Gid said as he redirected his attention to his daughter, “you and your friend might go for a nice walk. I’m sure the exercise would do you both good after the buggy ride. I have my own things to go over at the shop, but I’ll expect supper at five o’clock precisely. We have church tomorrow and will need a good night’s sleep.” Without another word, he turned and left both women standing in the kitchen staring after him.

  “Oh, dear,” Catherine said. “I hope I didn’t upset him.”

  Ellie shook her head and motioned toward the door. “Kum, Catherine. There’s a wunderbarr walking trail and mayhaps we’ll see Henry. He said he wanted to go inspect the corn crop after he changed his clothes.”

  Now that they were alone and walking down the trail, Catherine managed to ask Ellie why their family lived in the middle section of the house, rather than the newer one.

  At first Ellie laughed, and then she sobered as she gave a little shrug of her shoulders. “We used to live in the newer section, but after Maem died, Daed moved us to the middle section and locked the adjoining door.”

  They came to a fork in the road and turned toward the left.