Sylvia, however, made only inconsequential small talk—a comment about last night’s rain and all the lightning. She hasn’t mentioned meeting her fiancé after dark, Adeline thought, guessing there was a reason. Perhaps she didn’t want her personal business to become everyone else’s business, too.
Suddenly, Ernie spoke up. “Onkel Curtis told me recently that courting carriages weren’t always open back in the old days.”
Earnest gave his son an amused look, as if he sensed he was trying to shift the conversation to something he thought might interest Adeline. “That’s what I’ve heard, too. It wasn’t till the late 1800s that people really took to the open carriages.”
Ernie poured more maple syrup onto his pancake-filled plate. “Onkel Curtis also said that, back in those days, Amish weren’t allowed to hitch up on Sundays, so people had to walk to Preachin’, no matter how far away they lived.”
Earnest’s eyes widened. “Is that so?”
“Jah.” Ernie grinned as though he was proud of himself for knowing something his father did not.
“Where’d Curtis hear this?” Earnest glanced at Rhoda, a hint of a twinkle in his eye.
“His Dawdi Mast told him, and Aendi Hannah asked Ella Mae, the old Wise Woman, to confirm it.” Ernie took a large bite of pancake, then forked up a bit of sausage, as well.
Adeline, meanwhile, was quite entertained, wondering why Ernie was so interested in courting buggies at his young age. And she wondered, too, who among the women of this area had earned the remarkable title of Wise Woman.
I really should be keeping a journal of this visit, she thought.
Even though she rarely ever helped with hitching up on a Sunday, Sylvia was thankful that Ernie and Adam managed the task without her assistance. Ernie did surprise her, though, by getting into the driver’s seat on the right side of the buggy and reaching for the driving lines, and Adam climbed in beside him.
Sylvia didn’t mind sitting in the second bench seat with Calvin and Tommy, glad for some time with her brothers. After the heavy rains last night, the air had a freshness to it, and she breathed in deeply.
It wasn’t long before Calvin asked why Dat and Mamma had wanted to spend time alone with Adeline today.
“Maybe Dat has somethin’ on his mind to discuss with her,” Ernie said with a glance over his shoulder.
“Like what?” Tommy asked, looking up at Sylvia from where he was squished between her and Calvin.
“Maybe to ask her not to dress so fancy round us kids,” Adam suggested.
Sylvia doubted that. When Englischers visited, they weren’t expected to dress Plain. As she listened to her brothers speculate aloud as to why they might have been sent to visit their grandparents, Sylvia did find it a little odd that Mamma had expected Dat to stay home with Adeline, although she didn’t admit it out loud. After all, wouldn’t Dat want to introduce his firstborn to his in-laws? Or was he uncomfortable around them, perhaps even embarrassed, coming off his recent shunning?
Something our family must never go through again, she thought, realizing just then how very concerned Titus and his family must be about Adeline.
CHAPTER
twelve
Earnest was looking forward to showing Adeline his beautiful spread—the garden and berry patch out back, the expansive meadow, and the hayfield. It was his idea to include Rhoda, as well, and he shared with Adeline how he’d stumbled upon this fantastic land back twenty years ago, when he’d purchased it from Isaac Smucker, a local clockmaker. “Isaac’s great-uncle built the farmhouse where we now live,” he noted.
Adeline seemed fascinated, and when they wandered toward the family’s garden, she commented on the maze that the pumpkin plants had made as they wound their way into the cherry tomatoes and squash vines. Like a child seeing this for the first time, she was full of questions about what they grew and how, and she asked why this garden was the responsibility of Rhoda and the children.
“It’s just the way things are here,” he said, understanding why she would ask. He’d had similar questions upon his arrival in Hickory Hollow.
“An Amishwoman’s domain is mostly the house,” Rhoda said as she walked on the other side of Earnest. “Besides that, we’re expected to care for the children, of course, and plant and cultivate the vegetable garden, mow the grass, and keep the potting shed tidy.”
“So the men do the farm work?” Adeline asked.
“Jah, and in my case, make and repair clocks.” Earnest glanced at Adeline to his left, thankful the weather had turned in the night. It was an ideal day to be outdoors, although by high noon it would likely be scorching again.
Just then, he spotted Andy Zook coming their way across the pasture, carrying a paper sack and looking spiffy in his black Sunday frock coat and trousers. His exceptionally blond bangs shone in the sunlight beneath his best straw hat with its black band.
“Hullo, Andy,” Earnest called to the grandson of his deceased friend, Preacher Mahlon Zook. “Wie geht’s?”
“Oh, real gut. Nice to see yous!” Andy was swinging his long arms like he was in a hurry.
“Where are you headed?” Earnest asked.
Andy slowed his stride as he neared. “On my way home. Was just over visiting Mammi Zook.” He held up his sack, a grin on his face. “She makes the best homemade candy.”
“How’s your Mammi doin’ today?” Rhoda asked, glancing at Earnest as if waiting for him to introduce Adeline.
“She seems fine, but I doubt she’d let on if she wasn’t,” Andy replied.
Rhoda nodded. “She just goes and goes, doesn’t she? It’s the Lord’s strength in her, I daresay.”
Andy smiled now at Adeline and opened the sack to offer each of them a piece of candy.
“Ach, sorry—I should’ve introduced my daughter,” Earnest said, taking one and explaining quickly that Adeline was visiting from Georgia.
“That’s a long way from here,” Andy said as he reached to shake her hand. “Willkumm to Amish country.” He seemed unruffled by her fancy appearance and the fact that Earnest had introduced her as his daughter. Word had obviously gotten around about Adeline.
“Adeline, meet Andy Zook,” Earnest told her.
Andy pointed in the direction of the cornfield that separated Earnest’s house from the Zooks’ stately brick farmhouse, where Andy’s grandmother resided. “Yous should go over and see Dawdi’s Old Garden roses bloomin’. I’ve never seen ’em so pink or so hardy.”
“We’ll have to do that,” Earnest said.
Andy turned now to Adeline. “Are ya lookin’ to become Amish, maybe?” he asked.
“Oh no,” she demurred politely.
“Well now, are ya sure?” Andy pressed, still grinning.
Adeline nodded and smiled in return. “I’m quite sure I’m not cut out for it.”
Rhoda changed the subject. “Ernie and the boys’ll be sorry they missed seein’ ya, Andy. They’re over visiting my parents.”
“Sylvie too?” Andy asked.
“Jah,” Rhoda said.
“It’s a gut day to go visiting,” he said, tapping his straw hat. “Well, it’s wunnerbaar to meet ya, Adeline. Enjoy your time with us.” Then he was on his way.
Earnest continued walking with Rhoda and Adeline, wondering what Adeline might say, if anything, about Andy.
“Is he always that friendly?” Adeline asked a few moments later.
“No question about that,” Earnest said. Like his Dawdi Mahlon, he thought as Rhoda nodded her agreement.
“Does Sylvia know him well?” Adeline asked, surprising Earnest.
“All the young folk round here know each other well,” Earnest told her, wondering why she’d asked and still smiling at how quickly Adeline had responded to Andy’s question about her becoming Amish.
No, she won’t be following in my footsteps, he thought drolly. But Adeline’s mention of Sylvia reminded Earnest of her plight—and what he had been pondering since last night. Perhaps there was a way h
e might lessen the damage he’d caused to Sylvia and Titus.
Then again, maybe not, he thought. But I need to try something.
He turned his attention back to Adeline, and the rest of their walk was taken up with a fresh supply of questions she posed. She’s very curious. Much like I was at her age, he thought, taking in her latest inquiry. “Why don’t you use tractors?”
Most Englischers questioned the old-fashioned methods the Amish still used to farm, and Earnest began to explain that one reason for those was that the church ordinance prevented farm equipment with inflatable tires. “If an Amish farmer takes to driving a tractor, it won’t be long before a car will look mighty enticing, too. Besides, tractors don’t make manure.” He chuckled.
“I see your point,” she said with a smile. “But you talk so much about farming. I know you have a little farm here, but what about Amishmen who don’t want to farm or who maybe can’t find land to do so? Can they have other jobs?” asked Adeline.
“Most definitely,” Earnest said. “Especially in the past several decades.” He told her about traditional trades of blacksmithing and harness making, as well as about the newer cottage industries begun by both men and women. “The People also make a living doing everything from welding and carpentry to selling quilts and building solar panels.”
“Don’t forget clockmakers’ shops,” Adeline said with a grin.
“Well, those are few and far between amongst the Plain folk.
“And do Amishwomen have much of a say in how they live their lives?”
This conversation was probing deeper than Earnest had expected. “Rhoda, would you like to answer that?” He slowed his pace, watching their mules graze nearby.
“Guess no one’s ever asked me that before,” Rhoda said, looking thoughtful. “We’re expected to be the ‘keepers at home,’ just as it describes in the New Testament in Titus, chapter two, verse five . . . and we grow up thinkin’ that way. You could say there’s some freedom to choose the way we live our lives as faithful wives and nurturing mothers.” Rhoda paused a moment. “In my experience, the Amishmen who love their families don’t make demands on their wives and children or rule with an iron fist . . . like ya might read in the news sometimes.”
Earnest didn’t inquire why Adeline had asked this, but he did find Rhoda’s answer quite revealing, considering the awful wedge that had come between them after his long-kept secret was disclosed.
“This is all so intriguing,” Adeline said as they made the turn at the west end of the meadow to head back toward the house. “I hope you don’t mind my prying.”
“Nee,” Earnest said. “If you can’t ask us, who can you ask?”
Adeline smiled.
“Is there anything else?” Rhoda said, leaning her head forward to glance at Adeline as they walked.
“Well, since you asked . . .”
Oh boy, thought Earnest. What now?
“When you pray silently before and after meals, are you all thinking the same thing?” Adeline sounded a bit hesitant.
Earnest explained that young children were taught to say the Lord’s Prayer at mealtime and at bedtime, and as they grew older, they memorized passages from the Christenpflict, a treasured German prayer book, to pray at meals. “Other Amish families teach children to pray a silent prayer of gratitude of their own.”
Adeline matched her stride with Earnest’s and Rhoda’s. “Your way of life is so unique.”
Earnest didn’t immediately reply, but when he did, he simply said, “It certainly is.”
She looked at him quickly, and a smile spread across her pretty face, reminding him once more of his dear sister.
“The fact that you were able to wholeheartedly throw yourself into Amish life is really something,” she went on to say. “You must’ve had a lot of great support.”
Earnest nodded as he remembered those days, especially the caring way Mahlon Zook had taken him under his fatherly wing. “I couldn’t have done it without the assistance of established church members.” He glanced at his wife, his heart full. “Rhoda was also a big part of helping me learn the ropes here.”
The sky was nearly white with the brilliance of the sun as they neared the stable. And seeing the lone driving horse foraging with the mules made Earnest wonder how the visit with Rhoda’s parents was going for his other children.
For the noon meal, Sylvia helped her Mammi serve a warmed-up chicken and rice casserole, along with plenty of summer squash and a second side dish of chow chow. The manner in which Mammi moved about the kitchen, from the gas range to the table and to the fridge and back, was so similar to Mamma’s own pattern that Sylvia felt at home working alongside her.
She remembered how Mammi once told her that a home was all about the people who filled it. And pouring water into all the tumblers just now, she wondered how her parents were faring with Adeline. Were they truly just getting better acquainted? Or was there something more important that Dat was itching to talk about?
It was still mind-boggling to think how her father must feel, getting used to the fact that he had another child, a grown young woman on the verge of starting her own life with her fiancé.
Adeline may make him a Dawdi one day, she thought, feeling more uncertain than ever where she stood about her own future, with or without Titus.
As they skirted the barnyard, Adeline felt compelled to ask Earnest one final question. “This may sound strange to you, but considering your radical lifestyle change, what’s the most profound thing you’ve learned by being Amish?”
Earnest laughed a little. “That’s quite a question, I’ll say.” He drew a breath. “Well, I can tell you that most of what I’ve learned is about living with less.” He went on to say that this approach had been a big factor in his settling so well into Amish life. “When all’s said and done, it’s people, not things, that bring the most joy.”
Wondering if he had guessed that one of her passions was shopping—as had been her mom’s—Adeline didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t a compulsive spender like some of her friends, but she did find great pleasure in shopping for the fun of it, and not necessarily with a list of things she needed.
“Does that make sense?” Earnest asked.
“Sure, I agree that people are important, but I’ve never really thought about paring back,” she replied, thinking of all the material things that brought her joy—the new furniture she’d purchased with some of her inheritance, her fabulous new car, and certain pieces of jewelry she took pleasure in wearing.
“That’s okay,” he said. “Maybe it’s just something you want to think about.”
I could never live this hard, regimented life, she thought. Or embrace all these religious dos and don’ts.
Thankfully, no one was asking her to.
CHAPTER
thirteen
Earnest didn’t waste any time asking Sylvia to talk with him when she arrived home with her brothers. She followed him into the shop, and he mentioned what he was planning to do. “Normally I wouldn’t stick my nose in, but I’ve been thinking that it’s time for me to talk with Preacher Amos,” he said, sitting in his work chair, surrounded by the gentle ticking of many clocks.
“Oh, Dat.” Sylvia grimaced where she stood in the doorway. “I wouldn’t want Titus to think I put you up to it.”
“I’ll make that very clear.”
Sylvia frowned and glanced toward the window. “I don’t know how to say this, but Titus has changed so much since he proposed marriage. It’s just odd.”
“Well, a lot has happened to our family since then.”
She nodded. “But I don’t blame anyone for that.”
“Not even me?”
“No, Dat—not you, and not Adeline, either.” She sighed. “I told Titus when we talked that Adeline doesn’t change things between him and me.” She drew a long breath. “Or at least it shouldn’t.”
Earnest agreed, nodding his head and wishing she might come in and sit down, the way they
used to have their father-daughter talks. “So you don’t mind if I test the waters to see what Amos says?”
Sylvia was still for a moment. Then, shrugging, she said, “If ya feel it’s the right thing.” She looked down at her bare feet as if there was much on her mind, but she turned and headed out the screen door without saying more.
———
Earnest walked over to the back porch, where Rhoda was sitting and reading her Bible. “I’m goin’ to Preacher Amos’s right quick,” he told her.
“Does Sylvia know?”
He said she did.
“Might be a gut idea,” Rhoda murmured. “Then again, might not.”
“I’ll be mindful what I say.”
Rhoda looked up at him from the willow rocker. “I’ll pray that all goes well. When we ask humbly, the Lord guides His children in the way they should go.”
“Denki. I shouldn’t be gone long.” He hurried down the steps and out to the waiting carriage, where he picked up the driving lines. Then, signaling the mare to move forward, he headed for Hickory Lane, realizing once again that Rhoda’s prayers were the mainstay of his and their family’s life. Without her strong convictions, he would be a floundering mess. Some days, he still felt like he was just going through the motions of his Amishness, although he wouldn’t admit that to a soul, not after all he’d gone through during the six-week Bann.
Riding along, Earnest took in the beauty of the landscape, where some livestock rested under shade trees or drank from the stream. Mentally, he prepared what he was going to say when he saw Amos, then let his mind wander back years ago, to Amos’s ordination as a minister . . . a time when everything seemed to change for the Kauffmans. Almost immediately, there had been a noticeable difference in the family. Amos promptly traded in his carriage for a more conservative one. He also bought a wider-brimmed hat, and soon his wife, Eva, was wearing plainer and longer dresses, as well as more conservative black shoes. Over the weeks that followed, Amos had even grown his beard longer and kept it less trimmed.
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