by Sarah Price
Anna looked away, the color flooding to her cheeks, but not before she saw Elizabeth’s jaw muscles tighten.
Despite her own discomfort with her father’s rebuke, Anna felt even more shame as she remembered her sister’s stoic response when it was announced after worship service that Willis Eicher and Barbie King were to marry. At that time, seven years ago, there were plenty of unmarried young women in the g’may, five of whom sat between Anna and Elizabeth on the hard pine bench since they always entered single file in chronological order. Even though she hadn’t been able to comfort her sister, Anna felt the sting of the announcement. Elizabeth, on the other hand, never once mentioned his name nor the four times that he had come calling at their house.
The intention had been clear and, frankly, presumed by all.
Instead, Willis Eicher chose to marry a woman from a faraway church district. That decision always brought out the fire in William’s eyes, for the woman was the only daughter of that g’may’s bishop. Besides the whispers about Willis snubbing Elizabeth, there had also been scuttlebutt over the motives behind his surprisingly sudden decision: the King family owned a rather large farm in another church district in a neighboring county.
Anna had never truly decided which one of them had felt more disgraced: Daed or Elizabeth. Even today she couldn’t decide. The one thing she did know was that the wounds remained fresh for them both and reminded her far too much of the pain that she too had once caused.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Lydia reached out and, with a calm hand, touched William’s sleeve. “William, that’s pride speaking.”
He ruffled at her words and shifted his weight in his chair.
“Besides, maybe we won’t have to sell the haus. Not yet, anyway.” Her eyes brightened from behind her glasses. “I have another possible, perfectly reasonable solution!”
“The only perfectly reasonable solution,” he grumbled, “is staying in my own haus.”
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and rested her head against the cushion. “I just hate the thought of all those people talking about us.”
“Speculating . . . ” he added.
“I knew we shouldn’t have donated so much money last year!” Elizabeth clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “You know that the amount we donated was shared by Preacher Troyer’s fraa! Everyone knows and now speculates about our situation!”
“Scandalous!” William cried.
Anna felt as if the two of them were playing volleyball.
The kitchen clock chimed six times. Lydia glanced at it for she needed to leave in less than thirty minutes. Certainly she had her own work to do, Anna thought. Already Lydia had spent almost an hour with William and his daughters, reviewing the situation, a situation about which he merely grumbled and complained with no inclination to act upon a viable solution.
“If you should like to hear my solution?” Lydia interrupted. She spoke louder than usual but still with a degree of patience. Once William and Elizabeth settled down, she took a deep breath and began speaking. “It’s simple, really. You have that small haus in Florida. Move there for a while. Winter and spring are lovely down there. It’s less expensive to live there, and if you rent this haus for a year or so, the income will replenish your savings. If you find Florida to your liking, you can sell the haus without raising an eyebrow. If you don’t, you can always return.”
Anna looked up again from her quilt. “Why, that’s the perfect solution!”
Lydia nodded and added, “Especially after last winter being so difficult and causing the flare-up with your arthritis. Certainly no one will question why you have left.” Pausing, she let that suggestion register with William.
“If we move that far away, I’d still have to sell my horse and buggy,” William grumbled.
Anna glanced up at him sharply. This was the first indication that her father might—just might—be willing to listen to reason.
Lydia nodded gravely to acknowledge William’s loss before pressing her point home. “If you don’t rent out the property, I fear you’ll have to approach the bishop for assistance or, even worse, sell it. This way no one will be any the wiser and you can return for the summer to stay with Mary and escape the Florida heat.”
A silence fell over the room. Anna waited, her breath caught in her chest. Elizabeth almost broke into a rare smile while Mary developed a typical scowl, the two very different reactions almost amusing to Anna except she knew the serious reasons behind them.
Finally Elizabeth nodded her head in approval, her agitation from moments prior quickly vanishing. “That’s an agreeable solution!” She met her father’s worried gaze. He often sought her validation on important decisions, and even those that did not qualify as very significant. She was, after all, the maternal head of the house, at least since their mother departed from her earthly life to begin her heavenly one. “Especially with the cold season soon upon us. I’m rather partial to that idea.”
But the idea of William and his two unmarried daughters leaving Sugarcreek was not received as well by everyone.
“Florida?” Mary scoffed at the idea as if someone had just given her a glass of spoiled milk. “Oh bother! Who will help me with the kinner?” With a helpless expression on her face, she looked first to her father and then to Lydia. “You know I haven’t been feeling quite well! The headaches and fatigue! And those two kinner are so active. Cris’s family provides no help at all. Why! They return the boys to me in worse shape than when they left, what with all the cookies and sweets!” Disgusted, she returned her attention to her father. “If you move to Florida, you simply must leave Anna behind. It’s not as if anyone would miss her . . . ”
The comment, while seemingly harsh, didn’t faze anyone in the room. With the exception of Lydia, Anna knew that it was an accurate statement and not necessarily spoken with malice. Her quiet nature often caused people, especially her family, to overlook her at larger gatherings. And to be needed by someone, anyone, was better than to be needed by none.
“And when we return, then what?”
Mary sighed. “If Salome Musser would let us move into the big haus, we might have room.” She picked at a white thread on the blue sleeve of her dress. “Mayhaps this might be the catalyst for her to finally do the right thing, nee? Who ever heard of such selfishness? And with only Leah and Hannah living there.” She looked up, suddenly aware that everyone watched her, stunned by her sharp words. “Ja vell, it’s true! Her son did buy the farm, after all.”
Another glance at the clock and Lydia suddenly stood up. “Think about it, William.”
For a moment Anna’s heart broke. Her father looked around the room, his eyes taking in the freshly painted walls (for he always hired three young men to repaint them in the springtime), wood-stained trim work (something that Anna worked tirelessly to clean each week), and perfectly waxed linoleum floor (another task that fell upon Anna). Cleanliness was, after all, next to godliness.
“To have another person sit in my kitchen?” Emotion welled up in his throat. “Tend my Lizzie’s gardens? Who could I possibly entrust with such a valuable piece of my life?”
Gathering her black sweater, Lydia ignored his reservations. She spared a genuine smile in Anna’s direction before picking up her basket. “I heard that George Coblentz is returning to Sugarcreek. His older sister is ailing and they may need a place to stay.”
“They?” William’s mouth fell open. “You mean he has young kinner?” He shook his hand in front of his chest as if warding off something bad. “Nee! I won’t have undisciplined young ones tearing through this haus! They’ll trample the rose bushes, for sure and certain!”
Laughing, Lydia placed her hand on his shoulder, the closest gesture of intimacy she ever shared with him. It was a simple touch that spoke of a deep friendship and even deeper tolerance on her part. “Oh, William! You fret over the most mundane things! Besides, it’s just George and his fraa, Sara. Their children are all grown up now.”
Anna
picked up her quilting, readying herself to continue working on the blanket since Lydia was leaving.
“Coblentz?” William tugged at his neatly trimmed white beard. “I don’t know anyone named Coblentz.”
Lydia slipped her arms into her sweater and quickly extracted the strings to her prayer kapp. Her hand on the doorknob, she turned to wave one last time to the three young women before responding to his statement. “Of course you do,” she said, opening the door. “George’s fraa grew up here. Sara? Sara Whittmore?”
Anna’s fingers froze over the material, the needle only partially pushed through the fabric. She dared not raise her eyes. To do so, she feared, would allow Lydia, of all people, to read her thoughts.
“They are the most delightful people, and you know what they say about a woman without kinner,” she said, her voice light and breezy. “They take the best care of the haus and gardens!” One last wave and Lydia disappeared out the door. Behind her, she left four people in deep thought: three who wondered about this George Coblentz and how the g’may would react to the news of the Eicher departure while the fourth stared at her lap, her eyes glazed over and her fingers unable to extract the needle.
Whittmore. The name was far too familiar to Anna. While the voices of her family faded into the background, long repressed memories awakened. She lifted her eyes and looked around the room, her eyes seeing the very objects that so alarmed her father just moments before. Rather than fearing the hands that might touch them in just a few short weeks, her heart pounded at the very thought of them staying in their house.
She sighed, lifting her eyes to the ceiling as she fought the intense pounding of her heart. Oh, she wondered, a deep and hollow feeling forming inside of her chest. Was it possible that, once again, he might actually walk these floors? The very thought led her to distraction and made her so uncomfortable that she had no choice but to claim a headache and, soon after Lydia’s departure, retire to the safety and isolation of her room. The only problem was that she was not alone, for the memory of Sara’s brother, Freman Whittmore, accompanied her.
Glossary
ach vell—an expression similar to Oh well
aendi—aunt
Ausbund—Amish hymnal
boppli—baby
bruder—brother
buwe—unmarried man
daed—father
danke—thank you
Eck table—a corner table for the bride and groom to sit at their wedding feast
Englische—non-Amish people
Englischer—a non-Amish person
foresinger—the man who starts the hymn singing at worship
fraa—wife
g’may—church district
grossdawdi—grandfather
grossdawdihaus—small house attached to the main dwelling
grossmammi—grandmother
gut mariye—good morning
haus—house
ja—yes
kinner—children
maedel—older, unmarried woman
maem—mother
mayhaps—maybe
nee—no
onkel—uncle
schwester—sister
wie gehts—what’s going on?
wilkum—welcome
wunderbaar—wonderful
Books by Sarah Price
THE AMISH CLASSIC SERIES
First Impressions
The Matchmaker
THE AMISH OF LANCASTER SERIES
Fields of Corn
Hills of Wheat
Pastures of Faith
Valley of Hope
THE AMISH OF EPHRATA SERIES
The Tomato Patch
The Quilting Bee
The Hope Chest
The Clothes Line
THE PLAIN FAME TRILOGY
Plain Fame
Plain Change
Plain Again
OTHER AMISH FICTION BOOKS
Amish Circle Letters
Amish Circle Letters II
The Divine Secrets of the Whoopie Pie Sisters (with Pam Jarrell)
Life Regained (with Pam Jarrell)
A Gift of Faith: An Amish Christmas Story
An Amish Christmas Carol: Amish Christian Classic Series
A Christmas Gift for Rebecca: An Amish Christian Romance
THE ADVENTURES OF A FAMILY DOG SERIES
A Small Dog Named Peek-a-boo
Peek-a-boo Runs Away
Peek-a-boo’s New Friends
Peek-a-boo and Daisy Doodle
OTHER BOOKS
Gypsy in Black
The Prayer Chain Series (with Ella Stewart)
Postcards From Abby (with Ella Stewart)
Meet Me in Heaven (with Ella Stewart)
About Sarah Price
THE PREISS FAMILY emigrated from Europe in 1705, settling in Pennsylvania as the area’s first wave of Mennonite families. Sarah Price has always respected and honored her ancestors through exploration and research about her family’s history and their religion. At the age of nineteen she befriended an Amish family and lived on their farm throughout the years.
Twenty-five years later Sarah Price splits her time between her home outside of New York City and an Amish farm in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, where she retreats to reflect, write, and reconnect with her Amish friends and Mennonite family.
Contact the author at [email protected]. Visit her weblog at http://sarahpriceauthor.com or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/fansofsarahprice.
Table of Contents
COVER PAGE
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT PAGE
CONTENTS
A NOTE ABOUT VOCABULARY
PREFACE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
EPILOGUE
GLOSSARY
ABOUT SARAH PRICE