by Mary Ellis
But before a predator could strike, a rambling white house with a green metal roof and long front porch loomed before them. Flowers bloomed on both sides of the steps, while vines encircled the posts and entwined the handrails. Somehow she’d envisioned Maine’s landscape inhospitable to climbing roses, clematis, daylilies, and black-eyed Susans.
Without warning, the front door swung open as they reached the porch. “Welcome, welcome!” a deep voice boomed. Soft yellow light from a kerosene lamp framed a tall man in the open doorway. Amy spotted a second lamp burning on the table behind him.
“Thomas,” greeted John, hurrying up the steps. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” The two men hugged clumsily with much backslapping. “This is my intended, Amy King.” John pulled her up the steps. “And this is her younger sister, Nora. She was eager to try out your new community.”
Nora stepped into the light and nodded demurely. “Danki for letting me come to visit.”
Thomas appeared momentarily befuddled. “Oh…of course. We’ll all be joined as family when John and Amy tie the knot. Come in. Meet my fraa, Sally.” He stepped aside, and they entered his austere but pleasant front room.
Amy’s gaze fell on a tiny woman holding a sleeping infant. She looked no more than twenty—younger than she was. Another child peeked out from behind Sally, clutching her dark-brown skirt in his tiny fist. Amy held out her hand to the woman. “I’m Amy King. Danki, Sally, for opening your home. I hope you haven’t kept your kinner up waiting for us.”
Sally stared at her hand as though handshaking weren’t a common practice. She squeezed Amy’s fingers rather than shaking them. Amy filed away the information for future use.
“Oh, no. This one woke up with a wet diaper. Then his howls woke up his brother. This is Jeremiah.” Sally hoisted the boppli up on her hip. “And this is Aden.” She dragged the toddler out from the folds of her skirt. “His shyness will only last a day or two. Then he’ll talk your leg off.”
Amy bent down to the boy’s perfect oval face. Thick lashes framed his huge dark eyes. “Good evening, Aden,” she greeted in Deutsch. The boy blinked several times, frightened by so many new people.
“Are you hungry or thirsty?” asked Thomas, looking from Amy to John and back again. “Sally can heat leftovers from supper in no time at all.” He took one bag from John and closed the heavy wooden door against the night. Even in thin lamplight, Amy could see the deep lines that etched his eyes and mouth. Flecks of silver peppered his dark hair, and his beard reached his chest.
John shook his head from side to side. “No, we ate several times during the last twenty-four hours. We’re eager to lay our heads down, if you don’t mind. I can sleep in the barn if you have a spare blanket.”
“No need for that. There’s room in the house. We have four bedrooms—one for us, one for our sons, one for Amy and Nora, and you can have Elam’s old room.”
“Where is our little bruder?” asked John, looking around as though Elam was also hiding behind someone’s skirts.
Amy watched the smile fade from Thomas’s face.
“He’s not here, John. You’ll have the room to yourself. He’s away, working on a logging crew up north. And even when he’s home, he’s taken to sleeping in the basement.”
“On an English crew?” asked John. “I thought the Amish in Maine didn’t work for outsiders the way they do in Lancaster. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to move here.”
Thomas walked to his wife’s side. “Usually that’s true, but you know our brother. A bull moose separated from his heifer isn’t as stubborn as the youngest Detweiler.” He punctuated his sentence with an unconvincing laugh. “But we have plenty of time to catch up on family news. The women need their rest.” Thomas guided Sally toward the foot of the stairs. “Amy and Nora can follow us up. You’ll find your new room down that hallway. It’s the last door on your right. Take along that lamp to find your way.”
John nodded in Amy’s direction. “Gut nacht. Sleep well. Before you know it, we’ll be wed and looking for our own place.”
Stopping in his tracks, Thomas turned back to his brother. “We’ll also talk on that matter tomorrow. You indicated in your letter that you wished to marry as soon as possible.”
“We’ve both taken the kneeling vow and have been baptized,” said John. “We were about to start the marriage classes with the bishop when—” He faltered, reluctant to mention the fire. “When we decided to relocate.”
“Jah, gut, but things are different here in this district. The bishop will want to meet you both. Then he’ll want you to adjust to our ways before taking the next step.” Thomas spoke almost melodically.
John opened his mouth to speak but closed it again quickly. “We’ll talk tomorrow, then.” He lifted the kerosene lamp from the table and headed down the hall, not quite as cheery as when they arrived.
Sally leaned over to brush Amy’s cheek with a kiss. “Welcome,” she whispered. Then she trailed her husband up the steps as he held the lamp high.
Nora staggered up behind Sally, dragging their one bag as though it weighed a ton. For a moment Amy paused to admire the plain, homey furnishings of the kitchen and front room, and then she followed last with a springier step. She slumbered that night in her new bed in her new room in an unknown land as though a choir of angels stood nearby, singing sweet lullabies.
Sally didn’t sleep anywhere near as well, even though the house’s nighttime creaks and groans rang familiarly in her ears. Although she welcomed more females into the household to help with housework and offer feminine perspective, she shuddered at the thought of these two making such a disastrous move. Even though both sects were classified as Old Order, a world of difference separated their Maine community from the Lancaster Amish. Close proximity with the English had changed the Pennsylvania brethren’s ways, making them more worldly and tolerant of independent, willful behavior, especially among young people.
Here in Harmony, there was no rumschpringe—no testing of the waters before joining the church and committing your life to Christ. The elder sister, Amy, might adjust fine because she had already been baptized and found her life mate. But the younger King girl? Sally had gazed into those moss-green eyes and seen herself as she was many years ago, before her redemption by the patient love of a good man.
“Is the room too warm for you to sleep? I’ll open the window across the hall for cross ventilation.” Thomas’s low-pitched words floated in the darkness.
Sally felt the mattress move as he shifted his weight to an elbow. “Nein,” she whispered. “I’m just worried about the new arrivals.”
“My bruder and his future fraa? They’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep and some of your delicious vittles under their belts.”
She laughed at his teasing—her cooking wasn’t her best skill. But she soon sobered. “Don’t underestimate their transition.”
He sighed so softly she almost missed it. “True enough. The bishop prefers people to visit first and try out our ways before making the move. Many change their minds once they experience the long Maine winter.”
“And discover we are but a dozen families.”
“But we’re growing larger all the time.”
Sally reached for his hand atop the quilt. “You’re the best supporter Harmony could have.”
“I am content. The Lord has blessed us richly. There’s no reason why John and Amy can’t make a happy home here too.”
“It’s not about them I worry, but the younger one.”
This time Thomas’s sigh sounded like a mule’s grunt. “John made no mention of an uncommitted youth tagging along. If he had, I would have discouraged the idea, but I couldn’t turn someone away in the dead of night. She looked as though she were about to fall asleep standing up.” He chuckled.
Sally clucked her tongue. “I doubt she will stay. And the expense of her travel will be wasted money.”
“If you are worried, send up the matter in prayer.” Thomas spoke now as
one of the district’s ministers rather than her ehemann.
“I was praying when you decided to chat about the heat upstairs.” She pinched his arm lightly.
“Once you have prayed on the matter, then there is no cause to worry.” He leaned close to brush her forehead with a kiss. “Go to sleep, fraa. God in His infinite wisdom will sort out this dilemma.”
The next morning Sally awoke to the steady beat of rain on the metal roof in an otherwise silent house. Even her infant slumbered after his last feeding several hours ago. Dressing quickly, she went downstairs and brewed coffee before setting out fresh bread, strawberry preserves, and a bag of cracked wheat. Creamed wheat sweetened with maple syrup would make a hearty breakfast for Thomas when he returned from early chores. With the pot of hot cereal simmering, Sally settled down with a second cup of coffee. A patter of feet on the steps soon broke her solitude.
“Good morning,” greeted Nora King in English. “Amy’s snoring woke me up, so I thought I’d see if you needed a hand with breakfast.” The girl lifted the lid and gave the contents a stir. “What’s this, might I ask?” She scraped the sides of the pot with the wooden spoon.
“Our version of Cream of Wheat. The wheat comes from your home state but is ground locally in town.”
Nora tried a sample with a teaspoon and wrinkled her nose. “It tastes fine, but I’m not much for cooked cereals. Mamm usually keeps dry cereal on hand for me when we’re not having eggs—” her face suddenly paled. “She kept it, I mean.”
Sally’s heart ached, witnessing the fresh pain of loss. “Do you mean an English boxed cereal?” she asked.
“Jah. Mamm bought them from the closeouts at the salvage store or sometimes from the dollar store. She would never pay grocery store prices, no matter how finicky I was.”
Sally noticed that the girl was practically skin and bones, which probably justified her mamm’s indulgence. “I’m sorry, Nora, but we have no outlets or dollar stores in Harmony. We have one grocery store, but the Amish usually shop at the community co-op. That’s where I bought the ground wheat and strawberry preserves. My berry patch didn’t do well this spring. Thomas said it takes several years for a patch to become fully established and productive.”
Nora poured herself a cup of coffee. “Your breakfast will be fine, Sally. I don’t mean to sound troublesome. Shall I toast the bread?” Her pretty face bloomed into a smile, making her look heartbreakingly young.
“Jah, there’s the cutting board and knife.” Sally pointed at the counter and hurried from the room at the sound of a baby’s cry. “I’ll be back soon.”
By the time she returned with her two sons, washed and dressed for the day, Kings and Detweilers filled her kitchen. Amy scurried around filling mugs with coffee and ladling creamed wheat into bowls. Just as Sally settled Aden into his high chair, Thomas and John rose to their feet.
“I’m taking my brother for a tour of the farm.” Thomas lifted his hat from the peg by the door, while John drained his mug. “Later I’ll hitch up the buggy and take our guests on a grand tour of the town.” He winked at Sally. “I’ll show them what Harmony has to offer.”
“I can’t wait.” John’s enthusiasm flowed like a mountain stream in spring. “Can we stop at the bishop’s house? I’m eager for him to meet Amy and me. Once he sees our commitment to each other and to the Lord, I’m sure he’ll have no qualms about marrying us. Must we wait until November like back home?”
“No, we have no wedding season the way they do in Lancaster County. Folks can marry any month, time permitting, but our bishop doesn’t live here. He lives in our sister district up north, close to the Canadian border.”
“Further north than here?” asked Amy in a tone that doubted the possibility of such a thing.
“How can you share a bishop?” asked John, simultaneously.
Thomas answered Amy first. “Jah, about a hundred and fifty miles. He hires a car to get him here and back.” Then he turned to John. “He comes every other week to hold church services. On the opposite weeks, the other minister and I conduct Sunday school and Bible study, all in English.”
Three pairs of eyes stared at him. Nora was first to speak. “You have preaching every Sunday? No off week?”
Thomas pulled on his suspenders. “Every week. There’s so much to learn in Scripture that I feel we can’t miss a weekly opportunity to be in God’s Word together.”
“Why in English, this Sunday school?” John sounded almost accusatory, as though the Maine congregation was misbehaving in some way.
“We welcome outsiders to our services, even Englischers. All are invited to hear about the Lord and His Son. It’s the same up north, only on reversed Sundays.”
John reached for his hat, momentarily speechless.
“I told you things were different here,” said Thomas, opening the door.
“I’m sure we can adjust to minor changes.” John stepped onto the porch, tugging down his hat brim against the rain.
“We haven’t even scratched the surface yet.” Thomas followed him outside, shutting the door behind him.
Sally was left with two women looking like deer facing a woodland hunter with a drawn crossbow. But after a moment Amy and Nora began clearing the table and were nothing but helpful for the rest of the morning. They cleaned her kitchen, washed the dishes, and started the laundry. While she hung wet clothes on the line under the covered porch, Nora ironed the basket of shirts in the living room from yesterday’s load. Amy fixed sandwiches to take for lunch during their tour. Then she breathed a sigh of relief when the King sisters climbed into the buggy, leaving her alone with her boys. She wasn’t used to so many people underfoot. And she wasn’t used to other women scrutinizing her housekeeping. Wouldn’t you know that when the rain stopped the bright sunshine illuminated windowpanes desperately in need of washing and a huge, lacy cobweb in the corner of the room? How does one whack down a web without being obvious?
Amy and Nora pretended not to notice the spider’s handiwork, the dying pot of herbs on the windowsill Sally had forgotten to water, or the fact she hadn’t knitted a single sofa throw to add some warmth to her bland living room. These were well-mannered Christian girls well raised by their mamm—a mamm who probably never overcooked noodles or burned a batch of cookies in her life. Sally shook off her self-pity as she remembered that their mother had gone home to the Lord and would never have an opportunity to overcook or burn anything again.
While Aden played with the small wooden horses carved by his daed, Sally decided to cook a memorable dinner for their first supper in Maine. But good intentions will never fill the silo, as her grossdawdi used to say. She underestimated how much a big, strapping man like John could eat. Her two roasted pullets proved inadequate for five adults and one toddler. Once she sliced up the meat on the platter, she flushed with embarrassment. In addition, her stringy green beans apparently should have been picked sooner. And she should have mashed the parsley potatoes, because that’s how they looked in the serving bowl anyway. When Aden had doused himself with juice, his midday bath had distracted her from the boiling pot of spuds.
“Everything is delicious,” said Amy after swallowing a dainty forkful of potatoes.
“I’m glad you like it,” said Sally, sipping a glass of water. She hoped the Lord would forgive Amy’s well-intentioned fib. The younger sister, Nora, looked pale and distraught, as though she’d witnessed something unimaginable on the trip to town. “How was the tour?” Sally hoped livelier conversation would divert attention from the empty chicken platter.
Amy glanced up with unreadable cool blue eyes, but John was quick to answer. “Gut, gut. The town’s smaller than we expected, but everything a person needs is here. Farmland everywhere and not a single housing development in sight. Your cooperative market is a good place to buy what we need and sell whatever we grow, if we ever have more than what our family needs.” His handsome face couldn’t look more enthusiastic. “And they sell fresh donuts there on Wednesdays.”
“Do you really hold preaching services in a new building like the Mennonites?” asked Nora.
Thomas smiled patiently at her. “We do. It’s our meetinghouse, school, and church. We don’t worship in one another’s houses.”
“So you just hang around there, visiting after lunch?”
Thomas paused a moment. “We eat a simple meal after services, but after that we usually have hymn singing for the whole congregation and then go home.”
Nora nodded while pushing green beans around her plate. “Where’s the closest Walmart?”
“I have no idea,” he said as Sally burst out laughing. “Probably in Bangor, but that’s too far for us to go by buggy.” Thomas set down his fork. “You’ll find things much slower and quieter here than what you’re accustomed to.”
“That suits me fine.” John dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “Say, do I smell something burning?”
Sally leaped to her feet. Eager to hear about the tour, she forgot about two apple pies still baking.
Thomas jumped up too. “Careful now, fraa. Don’t burn yourself on those hot pans.” He grabbed oven mitts from a drawer and carefully removed the smoking pies from the oven. Sally opened the window and set two trivets on the sill. Thomas placed them so smoke would drift outside and then leaned over to inspect them. “Only the crust is burnt,” he announced. “I trust the insides can be scraped out with a spoon just fine.”
Sally smiled at him gratefully, but she couldn’t wait for supper to be over with, especially after she’d noticed her brother-in-law’s expression of utter disapproval.
“Walk with me, bruder,” said Thomas.
John jumped to his feet. Dessert had been a disaster—the apples were as mushy as the parsley potatoes earlier in the meal and just as lumpy. “Jah, sure. I could use some exercise. I’d love to look at your workshop again.”
“A man needs a way to keep his hands busy during the long winter.” Thomas held open the kitchen door and they stepped into a warm summer night.