At the end of the first week, she sat on the dark bus feeling very alone. One week on tour, and even with all the people around, loneliness made her ache inside.
The last two shows had been in Massachusetts at clubs with big stages and lights strong as the sun. As dots of light raced past the window, Sadie sat in one of the seats behind the driver and pressed her fingers into chords on the Wurlitzer, Red’s portable electric piano, which he’d brought along. Inspired by the book from Katherine, she had written a poem that she was trying to turn into a song. Singing softly, she tried it with a new melody.
Light inside, burning bright,
Like a lantern in the night.
Find its flame,
Follow it home,
And your heart no more will roam.
She practiced a triad on the Wurlitzer, but she didn’t have it quite right yet. The first day on the bus, Sadie had told Red about her exciting piano lesson from Katherine, and he had told her she was welcome to use the small piano anytime.
“I’m not really a keyboard man,” he’d said, “but I can show you some of the basics.”
Since then, she had spent countless hours trying to teach herself how to re-create songs she loved on the organ. Red had told her that was the Suzuki method of learning, to imitate sound and music on an instrument.
The word “Suzuki” reminded Sadie of her sister Susie, whom she worried about, with her metabolic condition. How she missed Susie and Ruthie and Leah. Even Mary, who could be bossy, and Adam, who had been so disappointed with her in the last few weeks—even those two would bring joy to her heart if she could see them right now.
Adam had left her a message on her phone, which she had saved. She played it over again when she wanted to feel like a tree with roots in solid ground.
“I just want to know that you’re safe. Are you okay there? Give us a call, Sadie girl.”
He’d called her Sadie girl, Dat’s nickname for her.
When she called back, no one had answered the phone in the shanty. That had left her disappointed, but what did she expect? Folks didn’t usually sit in the small shanty just waiting for a call.
Not wanting to leave a message that the neighbors might hear, she had called Nancy Briggs and asked her to talk to Adam. “Tell him I’m good,” she had said.
“Safe and sound?” Nancy had asked.
“Yes, I’m safe.” Suddenly she wanted to tell Adam about the neat little bunk she slept in, and how the bus had a toilet room that was also a shower room when you wanted it. She wanted to tell him she was still a good girl, even if she wasn’t taking classes with the bishop, as Remy was. She wanted to say that she was trying to find a way to share her light, and she felt like she was on the right road, even if it did have a few bumps.
“Well, you take good care of yourself,” Nancy had told her. “Any other message you want me to pass on?”
So many messages … but Sadie hadn’t been able to put them into so few words. She had simply said, “Just tell my family I miss everyone so very much!” The rest of her news had gone into one of her many letters home.
She tried a few new chords for her song. “Light inside, burning bright—”
“Sadie?” Red appeared above the seat back. His hair was rumpled and he wore one of his usual Penn State shirts, this time with shorts. “I’m glad that you’re enjoying the Wurlitzer.”
“Yes, it keeps my fingers and my mind busy. I’m writing a song. Do you want to hear it?”
“I’ve been hearing it for the past hour.” He hooked a thumb toward the back of the bus, where beds were built in to the wall in little stalls with curtains over them. “The thing is, I’m sort of trying to sleep, and since you can’t turn the volume down on that thing, it’s keeping me up.”
“Oh, Red, I’m sorry!” She reached for the switch and turned the electric piano off. “I’ll be quiet now. I didn’t think you could hear everything way back there.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“Thank you for telling me the truth.” She had learned that Englishers didn’t always say what they meant; there was a lot of beating around the bush.
“Any major dude with half a heart surely would tell you, my friend,” Red said. “That’s from a song.”
She nodded. “What’s a dude?”
He yawned. “I’ll explain it in the morning.” And he disappeared in the dim, narrow hallway of the bus.
At a small outdoor festival somewhere in Delaware, Sadie imagined herself floating above the stage as she sang. Although she held a microphone and stood in the spotlight, it seemed that it was someone else’s voice that flowed through her, singing of God’s amazing grace.
This was the light of God shining through her. The power of the Almighty.
When the song ended and the audience roared with applause, she wanted to cry with joy. God had brought her here for this. On a damp, rainy night in June, God’s love had rained down on them all, stirring their hearts.
She wanted to hold on to the moment, but Frank started another song—a slow blues tune—and sadly it was over.
After the performance, the lead singer from Night Shade came over to their bus and shook hands with everyone in the band.
“You got some awesome stuff in your set.” Duff was a big man with bushy dark hair that tumbled down past his shoulders. “That version of ‘Amazing Grace’ rocked the house, man. You should do some more hymns like that.”
“Yes,” Sadie said, unable to contain her smile. “I think that’s a very good idea.”
“Maybe,” Frank said, closing in on Duff for more of a chat.
Sadie moved past them, to the side of the bus where their driver, Mac, had set up a little awning with chairs.
Red sat there, working on his laptop. “Pull up a lawn chair.”
With two more shows here, they didn’t have to hit the road tonight. “I feel too restless to sit.” Sadie looked back toward Duff. “Do you think Frank will consider adding some more hymns to the set list?”
“He might be persuaded to try another,” Red said casually.
“ ‘Be Thou My Vision’?” she suggested.
“That would be my choice.” He glanced over toward the door, where Frank slung an arm around Heather. Frank’s cousin and her friend had shown up earlier that day.
Seeing Frank with the other girl now, Sadie realized how wrong he had been for her. A very bad match. He was nothing like Mike.
“Frank’s a little preoccupied now,” Red said, “but when he has a free moment, we’ll propose another hymn. I’ll support you on that.”
She thanked him and sat down in a folding chair. “Too much sitting around. My hands want to work.”
“Hence the late-night session on the Wurlitzer.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“No worries. There is a lot of sitting around on tour. Too much nervous energy. What do you do at home when you want to relax?”
She touched her chin. “There’s not a lot of relaxing time to be had. Sometimes at night we’ll play games or work a puzzle. But through the day, our hands are always busy. Out in the fields or in the kitchen. There’s cleaning and quilting and milking to be done.”
Red looked up from his computer. “Wow. You are the real deal.”
“Real Amish? Ya.” But even as she said the words, she felt the change inside her. Like a pebble rolling under a shoe, her spirit had shifted and she didn’t feel Amish through and through. The Englisher lifestyle that allowed her voice to flow suited her in many ways. If only there were more tasks to fill the hours.
“I wish we had more shows to do. The empty time, it makes me nervous.” Sadie thought of her brothers and sisters back home. What were they doing now?
Hmph. At eleven o’clock, they were surely asleep in bed, tucked in under their quilts.
That gave her an idea.
“Do you know where I could buy threads?” she asked Red.
“You mean, like clothes?”
“No. I mean the t
hreads used to sew clothes. And fabric and needles.”
“You need to sew something?”
“A quilt. At least I can sew the pieces. It’s work that I can do anytime.”
“I’ll bet we can find a store in town. Maybe a Walmart.”
“Walmart?” Sadie smiled. She had been shopping in the big store outside Lancaster only once. Mamm had told her to try on school shoes, but Sadie could have spent hours going through the store with its racks of clothes and bins of chips and even pots of garden plants. “They have threads?”
“If you got cash, they have everything.”
“I have my first paycheck.” She wasn’t quite sure how to turn it into cash. Mr. Decker had always paid her in cash, and she had never done the family banking.
“We’ll find a place to cash that, too. If you want, tomorrow morning we’ll head into town.”
With a pocketful of twenty-dollar bills, Sadie felt a trill of excitement as she stepped into the big store. A woman standing there told her hello, and then Sadie went from one display to another, amazed at all the things she could afford to buy for the first time in her life.
A bin of footballs reminded her of her brothers. They always joked that Jonah had a hook arm because he could hook the ball back and throw it farther than anyone.
A box of drinking glasses would have served the family well. Sixteen for eight dollars, a very good price.
And then she stopped short in front of a rack of men’s shirts made of fabric the color of a summer sky … the color of Mike’s eyes.
Oh, how she would love to buy these wonderful things and share them with the people she loved!
But no one was here to enjoy these things with her.
Loneliness nagged at her again, and she reminded herself of the reason she had come here. She needed quilting supplies.
She found quilting threads in all the colors of the rainbow, as well as scissors and some brightly colored fabric remainders. She rolled past the clothing section and paused. The inexpensive T-shirts would be good for the summer tour, and the shorts were a good price, too. On the way to the registers, she came upon the food section and her mouth watered at the sight of fresh carrots, cheese, and milk. She added some items to her cart, planning a meal. She had been eyeing the bus’s small kitchen all week, wondering why everyone ate doughnuts and pizza and burgers all the time when there was a perfectly good place to cook.
Back at the bus, Sadie set to work in the little kitchen area. There was no oven for baking, but there was a stovetop with some pans. Soon the aromas of bacon, eggs, and fresh coffee wafted through the bus, drawing Tara and Frank from their bunks. They sat around the little table with cushioned benches, the four musicians and their driver, and feasted on a fine breakfast.
“Mac asked me to marry him,” Sadie told Mike later as they talked on the phone. Sadie had started working on her quilt. She had already cut the fabric into patches, and she was starting her stitching. “But he was just joking. He said he hadn’t tasted cooking this good for years.” She felt a little glimmer of satisfaction, but at the same time she wondered how these Englishers could manage without knowing how to cook a simple breakfast.
“You are a good cook,” Mike agreed.
“I miss baking, but there’s no oven. There’s a microwave, but it makes everything chewy. Like shoe leather.” Rocking the needle, she held the phone to her ear with one shoulder.
“It sounds like you’re adapting.”
“Yes … and no. Singing every day is a wonderful thing. That part makes my heart light. But this is no way to live, traveling with strangers, eating bad foods. I don’t think God has called me to tour. Sometimes I wonder what I’m doing here.…” Suddenly her voice cracked with emotion. She didn’t want to complain. She didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but the words had just slipped out.
“Sadie … remember your calling? You want to share your light. You’re trying to use your voice for the glory of God. And I think you’re doing a great job.”
“I don’t know. It still doesn’t feel right.”
“You’re a work in progress. We all are.”
She pressed her lips together, imagining his clear blue eyes, so thoughtful as he listened to her.
“Remind me, when does the tour hit Philly?”
“July thirtieth. And the last few nights are in New York.”
“That’s less than five weeks away. And when you come to town, I hope you’re planning to stay with Gran and me. She’s been asking about you.”
“I can’t wait to see her again.” Sadie pulled the needle through, thinking of the hours she’d spent practicing on the Wurlitzer. She was eager to show Katherine what she’d learned on the keyboard. Funny, but she didn’t feel so eager to return to the farm. She missed her brothers and sisters, but not the rules of the Ordnung. No … she did not miss Bishop Samuel’s scowl.
“Sometimes I wish this was over already. I’m a fish out of the pond here.”
“What do you mean? You’re the star of the show!”
“Just one star of hundreds in the sky.” She closed her eyes, fighting off the tears that wanted to come. She wanted to be with Mike. When she was with him, she was her very best self.
Beyond that, she missed her family. After the tour, she didn’t think there was any way of going back without falling to her knees and begging forgiveness from all the church members.
And frightening as it was to think about leaving the Amish ways, she couldn’t imagine going back now. God in heaven had made her the way she was; it was up to her to be the Sadie King He had created.
True to her heart.
Even if that meant breaking some rules and walking away from the strict policies of the Ordnung.
THIRTY-ONE
Really, Henry. I can put myself to bed.” Katherine Trueherz put a hand up to stop her son from hoisting her onto the mattress. “Stop it, now,” she said firmly.
Mike had to bite back a smile. His mother and father had come from Paradise to visit Gran, but all afternoon Dad had been driving Gran a little bit crazy, doting and checking her medications and trying to help her when she didn’t need his assistance. It was kind of fun to see his father, who was accustomed to being the boss, overruled by Gran’s velvet fist.
“Now go away, Henry,” Gran said. “Go read in the kitchen and let me take a nap.”
“Okay, Mom. You just give a call if you need anything.”
Mike’s dad backed away, then strode through the parlor, motioning for Mike and Celeste to follow.
“Eighty years I put myself to bed,” Gran muttered behind them. “You’d think I was a three-year-old.”
In the kitchen, Henry poured a glass of milk and let out a thick sigh. “I don’t know how you do it, Mike. She’s a handful.”
“She’s different with me. I have fun with her.”
“Well.” Henry took a sip. “I have to say, I’m seeing you in a new light, and I’m proud. I admire the way you’re able to negotiate with your gran. Honestly, I was never able to do that. With me, it seems to be her way or the highway.”
“Because you’re so much alike,” Mike said. “And she’s used to playing the parental role with you. You’re the last person she wants doting over her.”
“You think so?” Dr. Trueherz rubbed the line of his jaw with his knuckles. “That’s probably the basic psychology of it. Hmm. Maybe you should specialize in psychiatry.”
“Dad.” Mike closed his eyes, his palms flat against the kitchen counter. He couldn’t put up this ruse anymore. “I’m glad you have so much confidence in me, but I’m not pre-med. Not bio, either. I am interested in psych, but not as a medical doctor. Maybe sociology or social work. My time in Jamaica showed me that I have strong people skills. My science is lacking, but I do well with people.”
“But what about the practice?” his father asked. “People rely on our clinic, and we can’t—”
“Henry, please.” Celeste reached out toward her husband, a plea in her eyes. “We
all know how important the practice is. You’ve saved many a life and brought quality care to people who wouldn’t get it otherwise. Everyone in our family knows this.”
“Then how can he even think about letting it go?” Henry paced, pressing his hands to either side of his head. “The practice needs a dedicated doctor.”
“And we’ll find one to take over when the time comes.” Celeste stood her ground. “It just won’t be our son Mike.”
A frown rumpled Henry’s face. “This is wrong. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, a chance to help people, and I think that’s what you really want to do. Why can’t you see that this is the perfect setup for you?”
Because it’s not, Mike wanted to say, but he didn’t want to appear disrespectful to his father. “Dad, this is hard for me. I’ve felt this way a long time, but I didn’t know how to tell you and I wasn’t sure what I really wanted to do. Now I know.”
“You don’t know anything,” Dr. Trueherz said with disdain. “You’re a kid. You think you want to travel the world and feed the hungry, but when it comes down to reality, you’re going to want a home and a way to help people, and I’ve got that all in place for you.”
“I can’t do it, Dad. I’m not med school material, and it’s not my thing.”
“I can make some calls. We can get you into med school.”
“Henry, stop. Please.” Celeste’s voice was quiet but laden with steel. “Mike is telling us something important, and I think we need to hear him out. Sit down, and let him finish.”
“No, thank you.” The doctor strode to the door, paused, then turned back to them. “Think long and hard about this, Mike. The offer won’t be dangling in front of your nose forever.” With a snort of disgust, he turned and left the room, letting the door close hard behind him.
“Arrrrgh!” Mike let his head loll back as he groaned in frustration.
A Simple Spring: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel Page 27