Chapter Nine
Fannie rose early the next morning with a sense of excitement bubbling inside her. She was going to see Noah again soon. Recalling their evening in the barn left her feeling happy and hopeful. He was willing to be her friend, a dear friend.
As she entered the kitchen, the pale pink light of dawn provided a colorful view through the kitchen window over the sink. The few wispy clouds she saw promised a fine day.
She put the coffee on and grabbed the wire egg basket from the wall on the front porch. Keeping busy was a way to make the morning go faster. The dew was heavy on the grass as she hurried barefoot across the front yard.
Her parents kept a dozen laying hens. Their small henhouse was a movable pen and coop combined, painted white with a green roof to match the other buildings on the farm. It held two hinged nesting boxes with removable back panels that allowed for easy cleaning and access to the eggs. Happily, there were ten eggs, and all the chickens were accounted for. The rooster crowed his impatience to be let out. She opened the pen door and the flock raced out to roam the farmyard during the day and eat their fill of crickets and grasshoppers.
Fannie noticed the glow of a lamp down at the barn and guessed her father was already feeding the horses and making sure Willow and her colt were okay before they left for the church service. It was being held at the home of Luke Bowman. The family lived less than two miles away, so her family wouldn’t have to make an early start.
Wiping her wet feet on the welcome mat, Fannie opened the door and saw her mother was up and getting breakfast ready.
“Did you see your father?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at Fannie.
“Nee, but I saw a light in the barn.”
“Tell him to hurry. We don’t want to arrive late.”
Fannie smiled. It was the same thing her mother said every Sunday there was a service. To Fannie’s recollection, they had never been late, but still her mother insisted that they might be if her husband didn’t hurry up.
Fannie’s mother cut several slices of the ham that she had cooked the night before and transferred them into a skillet before packing the rest of it in a hamper. A light noon meal always followed the service. Each family brought enough food to share.
“I’ll see if I can help him with the chores.” Fannie put the eggs on the counter and started back outside, but stopped when she saw her father was already hitching a horse to the family buggy.
“Looks like he’s finished. What do you need me to do?”
“Cut some lettuce from the garden and bring me in a half-dozen nice tomatoes.”
Fannie pulled a kitchen knife from the drawer and went out to fetch the produce. Searching among the tomato plants for ripe fruit, Fannie smiled as she remembered the time Noah had shown her how he threw a baseball using a few tomatoes that made a satisfying splat when they hit the strike zone he had marked on the side of the house. They had been spotted by his mother, who had scolded them both for being wasteful.
“You seem happy this morning,” her mother said, looking over the garden fence.
Fannie placed several ripe tomatoes in her bowl. “I was thinking back to some of my childhood scrapes.”
What if her friendship with Noah grew into something more serious? Was she prepared for that? The idea of being courted in earnest didn’t repulse her the way it once had.
“Remind me to share some of mine with you one of these days.”
“Mamm, I can’t imagine you getting into trouble, even as a child.”
“Ha! With four sisters in our house we were always getting up to something.”
“Like what?”
“Like tying someone’s braids around the bedpost while they were sleeping.”
Fannie gaped at her. “You didn’t. Whose?”
“Mildred was the eldest and was always hogging the bathroom getting ready for school in the mornings. We thought we could have our turns before we untied her.”
Fannie chuckled. “Did it work?”
“Nee, she hollered so loud that our daed rushed in to see who was being murdered. Needless to say, we never pulled that trick again.”
“Did Mildred get the point?”
“She took even longer after that. Look at me, wasting time talking. I came out to ask you to bring in some green onions, too.”
Fannie handed her the bowl of lettuce and tomatoes over the fence. “I’ll be right in with them.”
Her mother started to turn away, but paused. “You seem more content today, Fannie. Did you patch things up with Noah?”
“We did.” She smiled to herself.
“I’m so glad. Whatever the cause, I like this change in you. I’m so glad you and Noah have found each other. I may be getting ahead of myself, but I do love fall weddings.”
“I’ll get those onions for you.” Fannie’s excitement drained away.
It was one thing to imagine her friendship with Noah could blossom into a stronger relationship, but the reality was that when the summer was over, her pretend courtship with him would end, too.
Then she would have to pretend it didn’t matter if he moved away to the English world—or if he remained Amish and chose to court another.
She pulled herself up short. That kind of thinking was selfish. She would be happy for Noah no matter where his life took him. A husband, even someone as progressive as Noah, would never accept her working for Connie.
Fannie and her parents arrived at Luke and Emma’s place well before eight o’clock. Buggies and horses were already lined up along the corral fence. The bench wagon was being unloaded in front of the hardware store that Luke ran with his wife and his wife’s two younger brothers.
The house was attached to the store by a covered walkway. Inside the building, the shelves of merchandise had been built with large casters that allowed them to be rolled back against the outer walls, making an open space where the benches were being set out.
Fannie followed her mother around to the entrance to the house and into the kitchen where the women were making preparations for the meal after the service. Dishes were being brought out; glasses were cleaned and stacked in rows. Coffee cups and mugs were arranged on the end of the kitchen counter. No meal after an Amish service was complete without plenty of piping hot black kaffee.
Emma took the hamper Fannie had carried in. “It’s good to see you, Fannie. So, tell me, how is it going with you and Noah?”
“Fine,” Fannie answered, feeling like a fraud each time she was asked about him.
“Just fine?”
“For now.”
Emma bit the corner of her lip. “Lillian said the two of you had a quarrel. Give him a chance. The Bowman brothers are fine men. I almost didn’t give Luke a second chance, but I thank Gott every day that I did. I couldn’t be happier now.”
“Noah and I worked out our differences,” Fannie said to reassure her.
Relief filled Emma’s eyes. “I’m happy to hear that.”
“So am I,” Rebecca said from behind Fannie. Apparently there was nothing secret about their courtship, except that it wasn’t a real one.
The service lasted almost three and a half hours. Bishop Beachy was in fine form and gave a stirring sermon about forgiveness and the need to guard against pride. He and his ministers took turns preaching without notes. They spoke as God moved them.
Afterward, as the families filed out of the building, Fannie looked around for Noah. She had seen him when she came in, but he was gone from his place at the back when the service ended. She finally caught sight of him standing by his father’s buggy, speaking with Rob and Simon Beachy. From their animated gestures, she guessed they were talking baseball.
Noah noticed her and nodded in acknowledgment. A grin lifted one side of his mouth and brought a light to his beautiful fo
rget-me-not blue eyes. She smiled in return and went to join her mother and several other young women who were setting out lawn chairs in the shade of a large oak tree.
Her mother leaned close. “Will you be staying late with the other young people this evening?”
“I will be staying, but I’m not sure I’ll be staying late.”
“Someone is taking you home?”
“Ja, Mamm. Someone is taking me home.”
Susan Yoder approached her. “We’re getting up a volleyball game. Would you like to join us?”
“Sounds like fun, and I have some news to share with you.” Fannie jumped up to follow Susan to where a dozen girls and young women were choosing sides as two young men strung the net for them.
Fannie gestured for the girls from her team to gather around. “Timothy Bowman and his wife are going to manage our team. We can start practicing again on Tuesday.”
The girls clapped with delight. “Have you told Abbie and Laura?” Susan asked.
“I plan to ride over to their home tomorrow. We’ve missed an entire week of practice. That means we’ll have to work doubly hard to make up for lost time.”
“We could stay for an extra half hour each time we meet,” Susan suggested.
“Only if you girls are willing to do that,” Fannie said.
“I am,” Pamela said, looking at her teammates.
They all agreed. Fannie couldn’t have been more pleased with their dedication. The Amish Girls would ride again, and together they would showcase the wonderful horses of Stroud Stables.
After the game and the meal were over, a few of the families began leaving. Most would stay until late in the evening, visiting with one another. Fannie was taking the hamper and empty dishes back to her father’s buggy when Noah caught up with her.
“Let me carry that for you.” He reached for the hamper.
He took hold of it but she didn’t let go. “I’m capable of carrying it.”
“I know you are. I didn’t offer because I thought you were infirm. I offered because I want to assist you and because my brothers are watching.”
She glanced behind them. All four of his brothers were lined up along the porch staring in their direction.
He took the hamper from her. “They want to make sure you aren’t still mad at me.”
“Emma and Rebecca quizzed me this morning about our quarrel.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That we had worked out our differences.”
“Goot answer.” He opened the buggy door and put the hamper on the backseat.
Fannie looked toward the porch and saw his brothers had been joined by their wives. Noah’s parents and Fannie’s parents were seated in the shade with glasses of lemonade in their hands, but they were staring in Fannie’s direction, too. Everyone wanted to see how they were getting on. If this kept up, she would have to hang a sign around her neck announcing No Quarrel Today.
She sighed heavily. “I’m beginning to feel like a prize mare at the auction. Everyone in your family is looking me over. Next, they’ll want to check my teeth. Luke and Emma will probably report back everything we do or say at the singing tonight.”
He chuckled. “I have a solution, if you don’t mind missing the party.”
What was he up to? “I don’t if you don’t.”
“Then just keep walking. Our getaway buggy is near the end of the row.”
“You mean leave without telling anyone?”
“I do.”
“What a great idea.”
He reached for her hand. “You aren’t the only one who has them.”
She giggled and twined her fingers with his, feeling like a schoolgirl again, slipping away to play hooky.
They reached Noah’s buggy and he helped her in. It took only a minute for him to back out of his parking space and set Willy in motion.
“Where to?” he asked when they reached the end of the lane.
“I don’t care. Just somewhere where no one will ask how things are between us. I’m afraid I’m going to blurt out it was all a joke.”
“I know the feeling. Want to go up to the overlook again?”
Fannie shook her head knowing it would get busy later. “Let’s go to my family’s picnic spot. No one will go there this evening.”
“The Erb picnic spot it is. Do you mind if I pick up my fishing pole?”
“Not so long as I don’t have to clean any fish.”
“I will clean my own catch.”
“And mine?”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “If you catch any. Fishing takes patience.”
“And you think I lack patience?” She tried to hold back a grin and failed.
“Think? I know you do.”
“Ha! We shall see about that.”
* * *
After stopping at home to grab his fishing pole, Noah drove his buggy over to Fannie’s place. She dashed inside to change out of her Sunday dress and grabbed a quilt for them to sit on. Noah drove them down to the creek on Fannie’s property feeling more lighthearted than he had in ages. While he unhitched Willy and left him to graze, Fannie spread out the quilt beneath a tree.
He settled on the blanket beside her and leaned back against the trunk of the tree. It was a beautiful sunny day with high, white cotton-ball clouds drifting across a blue sky so bright it made his eyes water to stare at it.
But it wasn’t the sky that drew his attention. It was the sparkle in Fannie’s eyes when she laughed at something he said or when she pointed out the antics of a squirrel in the tree overhead.
She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “I do wonder what they are saying about us now.”
“The squirrels?”
“Nee, our families.”
“I’m sure everyone has an idea about where we went and what we are up to.”
“Will Luke and Emma be upset that we didn’t stay for the singing?”
“Luke understands. It wasn’t that long ago that he was courting Emma.”
She nodded toward his pole. “Aren’t you going to fish?”
“Later. At the moment, I feel lazy and the grass under this blanket makes it wonderfully soft. This was a goot choice.”
“Danki. This is one of my most favorite places in the whole world.”
“It’s a pretty place, all right.” The trees were large with wide-spreading branches that let only dappled sunlight through. The murmur of the creek as it slipped over its rocky course provided a soothing sound, as did the birds and insects in the trees.
“I used to come here a lot. I would bring a book and spend all afternoon reading when I was about twelve,” Fannie said.
“Reading was Timothy’s thing, not mine.”
“What was your thing? Baseball?”
“Not at that age. I was a birder.”
She looked at him in surprise. “A what?”
“A birder is a serious bird watcher,” he said in a solemn voice.
“You’re teasing me.”
“Nope. I kept a log of all the species I identified. I still have it somewhere. Did you know there are more than one hundred types of common birds that call Ohio home?”
“I did not know that.”
“I had a great-uncle who lived near the Killbuck Marsh. I used to go and stay with him for a few weeks each year. He got me started birding. He knew everything about birds. We would hike out into the marsh at dawn and spend the whole day trying to find as many species as we could. Each Christmas, he would send me a card with a beautifully drawn picture of one of the rare birds he’d seen that year. When he passed away, I sort of lost interest in it. Then I discovered baseball, and that became my passion.”
“Oh, how I wish I had known that. To t
hink of the names I could have called you. Birdbrain, featherhead, dodo bird. My cup would have runneth over with joy.”
“I see where this is going. Revenge for carrottop.”
“Pure and simple.”
“Really? The name Noah didn’t supply you with enough fodder for taunting?”
“It was a biblical name. It didn’t feel right to make fun of you for that. Having the name Fannie, on the other hand, did bring out the worst in some of the boys.”
“I never teased you about your name.”
“Just about my looks. I don’t see how that is any better.”
He folded his arms and looked her up and down. “They have improved considerably over time.”
“Coming from a birdbrain, that’s quite a compliment.”
“I knew I never should have shared that story. Do you still come out here to read?”
“I haven’t in years. Riding and training horses takes up all my time now.”
“Things change for all of us, I reckon.”
“That is true. What will you do if you can’t play professional ball?”
“Stay on the farm and work with my daed and brothers.”
“As the youngest son, the land will come to you when your daed is gone.”
“I hope I can be as good a steward to the land as he has been. What are your plans after the Horse Expo?”
“I’ll keep working for Connie. If things go well for her, she’ll employ me full-time.”
“You truly love working with horses, don’t you?”
“Do you think it’s strange that I want to devote my life to it?”
“It’s unusual, but then you’ve always been an unusual person. I mean that in a good way, before you get upset and resort to name-calling again. What will you do if Connie can’t save her stable?”
“I don’t know. It’s something I can’t consider.”
“Isn’t working with your father satisfying? You could always continue training his horses.”
“I love my father and I enjoy helping him, but I want to train saddle horses, not just buggy horses, and I want to give riding lessons.”
“Couldn’t you do that at home?”
“My parents would object to having Englisch people coming in and out. You know how it is. I would have to conform to their Amish standards.”
Their Pretend Amish Courtship Page 11