by Mary Ellis
John hadn’t meant to listen in on the women’s conversation. He and his brothers had finished up fertilizing the fields earlier than expected, and with his free time he thought Amy might like to take a drive with him. With the heat and humidity gone, this might be a good day to look at properties for sale. Maybe they could catch lunch together. They might even be able to slip away without Nora tagging along to chaperone. But Amy hadn’t been sewing alone in the front room. Sally entertained the King sisters with tales of her wild youth in Paradise.
Did the woman have nary a brain in her head?
Surely she saw the folly of inspiring the already willful Nora with new ideas. That girl needed tamping down, not stirring up, if she planned to remain in Harmony. And, frankly, he didn’t like Amy hearing about Sally’s past recklessness either.
Cutting her hair? Riding in cars with Englischers? Taking a job at a local teenage hangout? And attending a party where beer had been smuggled in?
No wonder the district’s matrons doubted her suitability as a minister’s wife. But, truthfully, that unnamed tattletale needed a reprimand by the bishop. The Bible was quite clear about gossiping, and that particular story should have been left behind in Missouri.
John had crept silently down the hallway, through the kitchen, and out the door, hoping he hadn’t been noticed. He needed time to think about what he’d heard. Had he made a mistake coming here? If they had remained in Pennsylvania, they would be married in November with all the other engaged couples. Now Amy had learned of a shameful aunt, who had been shunned by her community, and had listened to wild tales from her soon-to-be sister-in-law. John kicked a stone down the driveway as a chill ran up his spine. What kind of woman had Thomas married? What had attracted a devout, quiet man to a young girl with chopped-off scarecrow hair and no more sense than a goat? Although everyone should be forgiven their past sins, Thomas still should have chosen more wisely if he aspired to preach the Word of God. You might be able to put a hat and a bow tie on a mule, but it still wouldn’t do much more than pull a plow.
John shook off his uncharitable opinions about Sally. She was his brother’s wife and therefore not his problem. But her negative effect on his sweet Amy was his concern, so instead of stewing about the situation, he headed toward the workshop. Thomas usually worked on tables and chairs once farm chores were finished, and today was no exception. Stepping into the pine-scented shop, John spotted Thomas bent over his lathe, working on spindles for chair backs. He wore plastic safety goggles and a long rubber apron, but sawdust and wood shavings clung to just about every inch of him. John cleared his throat. “Mind if I have a word with you?” he asked.
Thomas continued to labor, deep in concentration and oblivious to his surroundings.
John cleared his throat and repeated the request louder this time.
Thomas jumped, peered up, and then switched off the battery-powered lathe. “I didn’t hear you come in, John. Has something happened in the house?” A look of panic masked his placid features.
“No, the women are sewing, knitting, and ironing, and all is well, but I wanted to have a private word with you.”
Thomas stepped away from the equipment, brushing off his clothes. He pointed at two finished kitchen chairs by the window. “I could use a break.”
Once they sat, John scratched his chin, suddenly unsure how to approach a delicate subject. When no insight came to mind, he simply forged ahead. “I overheard Sally talking to Amy and Nora in the living room. I know I listened longer than I should have, but I became curious.” He met his older brother’s gaze and then looked away, embarrassed by his admission.
“Go on. What did you hear? Some gossip Sally shouldn’t have repeated?”
“No, nothing like that.” John crossed and then uncrossed his legs, unable to find comfort on the straight-backed chair. “She was explaining about her rumschpringe back in Missouri.” He glanced at Thomas, who seemed completely devoid of emotion. “She told them how she’d cut off her hair, took a job in town, and rode with Englischers in cars—”
Thomas held up a hand. “I’m well aware of my wife’s past before she joined the church and married me. You need not spell out every detail with such enthusiasm. I see no point to your eavesdropping, and even less reason to bring this to me.”
John felt a flush crawl up his neck, turning his face uncomfortably warm. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have listened, but I’m worried about Amy and especially about Nora. She seems so flighty and impressionable, not to mention easily confused. I prefer they not be influenced in a negative fashion.”
Thomas bristled like a cornered porcupine. “You consider my fraa a negative influence?” His normally calm demeanor vanished again, this time in irritation.
“Nein. I’m expressing myself poorly. Sally has my utmost respect, but I would prefer that she not share details of her running-around days, at least not until Nora has made the decision to join the church.”
“I don’t choose the topics for my wife’s conversations. Besides, you’re worried about something without basis in reality. As I’m sure Sally explained that Missouri’s ways are not Maine’s. There is no running-around here, so you don’t have to worry about Nora or Amy following in my wife’s wayward footsteps.”
John clutched his suspenders for something to occupy his hands. “You’re right, Thomas. I have no cause to either criticize Sally or fear her influence on Amy. Mir leid.” He dropped his chin and stared at the sawdust-strewn floor.
Thomas waved his hand absently through the air. “It’s forgotten. We have more important things to worry about than sewing circle chatter.” His tone turned ominous.
“What do you mean?” John splayed his hands across his knees.
“It’s Elam. He’s home for a while.”
“I’ve noticed that, but at least he doesn’t eat much.” John forced a laugh.
Thomas closed his eyes, and then he rubbed them with his fingertips. “He was fired from the English logging crew. He wouldn’t elaborate with details, but I believe he caused dissension among the men. Elam turns into a hothead when provoked. That much hasn’t changed about our little bruder.” Thomas opened his redrimmed eyes to focus on John. “I’m afraid this isn’t good. The no-rumschpringe rule doesn’t just apply to young women like Nora, but to our brother as well. The problem is that Elam pays no attention to it. When he’s between jobs, he comes and goes from his cellar bedroom as he pleases, he doesn’t partake in family meals or evening devotions, and he refuses to attend Sunday school or preaching services.”
“Maybe he figures the bishop would take exception to his scruffy beard, long hair, and slovenly appearance. And the fact he hasn’t joined the church wouldn’t set well.” John removed his hat and slicked a hand through his hair. “It seems like he’s on the fence—he doesn’t wish to commit to Amish ways, but he doesn’t want to leave and turn English, either.”
Thomas blew out his breath. “That’s what I would conclude. I know he wears jeans and plaid flannel shirts when he’s on the crew. I’ve seen his wash hanging on the basement clothesline. He wouldn’t dare put them in Sally’s laundry basket because she’s apt to throw them in the burn barrel.” Thomas rubbed the base of his neck while rotating his head side to side. “And I’ve seen him smoke cigarettes while driving the team through the fields.”
“At least he wears Amish clothes while home and pulls his weight with chores around the farm,” said John, unsure why he was defending his brother.
“I have given him leeway, hoping he would come around. But the older he gets, the more he test the limits…and my patience. I don’t wish to send him away from home. We’re the only family he has, except for a few cousins in Missouri. But it might come down to that.” Thomas locked eyes with John.
“And if it does, I will support you and help if I can.”
“Danki. That’s good to hear. And I’ll mention to Sally to stop chatting about her short-haired days.” Thomas rose to his feet and returned to the la
the, but he didn’t look even remotely relieved.
“Will you stop poking me?” hissed Nora.
“Then stop sleeping in church,” Amy hissed right back.
“I can’t help it. I keep dozing off.”
“If you pay attention to what the bishop is saying, that won’t happen.” Other worshippers began to notice the girls’ distraction, so Amy pulled away.
Nora nodded and straightened her back against the bench. She’d tried listening, but the bishop’s quiet voice affected her like a warm glass of milk. Neither Thomas nor the other minister delivered his sermon in such a monotone. She’d tried biting the inside of her cheek, tapping her foot, and counting flies on the painted ceiling, all to no avail. The only thing that kept her upright on the bench was sitting across from her—Lewis from the general store. Every now and then their gazes met across the aisle, and Nora felt a shiver of exhilaration. She had once asked Amy how a woman knew when a man liked her. Amy had answered cryptically that “a woman just knows.”
The explanation made no sense at the time, but it certainly did today. Nora knew Lewis liked her. Her last two visits to the co-op confirmed what she’d suspected on her first trip to town. And since then he tried to get her to stay as long as possible.
Have you seen our new assortment of lamp oils that just arrived, Nora?
How about a sample of this honey, walnut, and oat trail mix, Nora? It tastes good and is supposed to give people more energy.
I ordered every variety of bulk candy they make, knowing you have a sweet tooth, Nora.
Lewis loved saying her name. And she loved hearing him say it. She might be growing on his mamm too, because the woman stopped frowning whenever Nora came into the store. Today his mother actually half smiled when they passed each other in the outer hall. Half a smile was better than no smile at all.
Maybe Lewis would sit with her during lunch, or maybe they could take a walk to the grove of oak trees by the river. The bright red and orange leaves were so pretty this time of year. “Ouch,” Nora yelped as Amy’s elbow connected with her rib cage. Heads turned again.
Amy shoved the Ausbund, the Amish hymnal, under her nose. “Stop daydreaming and sing,” she whispered.
Nora abandoned thoughts of Lewis to raise her voice in praise. But when the interminable service ended, she couldn’t wait to get into the sunshine.
But the thorn-in-her-side had followed her. “I’d like a private word with you,” said Amy.
“It’s time for lunch,” Nora protested. “Shouldn’t we help Sally set out the food?”
Amy dragged her like a faceless doll clutched by a toddler. “What? You’re suddenly interested in women’s work instead of playing with kinner?” Sarcasm dripped off Amy’s words.
Nora rolled her eyes. “You and Sally usually want me to watch the boys. I’d wish you would make up your mind. And stop pulling me!” She yanked her arm back. They had reached the stand of oaks, but it hadn’t been her sister that Nora had hoped to see there.
With nostrils flaring, Amy glared at Nora. Amy took full advantage of her four-inch height difference. “Everyone noticed you falling asleep in church. I was embarrassed for your sake.”
Nora arched up on tiptoes. “Tell the congregation those migraine pills make me sleepy.”
“I won’t make up stories. You need to listen to the sermon and stop letting your mind wander. We’re here to worship the Lord. What would God think if He saw you napping in His house?”
Nora leaned against the rough tree trunk, tired of her sister bossing her around. Ever since their mamm died, Amy acted as though she had stepped into mamm’s shoes. “I think God stopped paying attention to the King family long ago.”
Amy’s eyes nearly bugged from her head like a grasshopper’s. She checked over her shoulder, scandalized. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“Because it’s true. Where was God when lightning struck our house? And what are the chances of lightning not only hitting the house, but burning it down?” Like a cornered wild animal, Nora lashed out. “Most people would smell the smoke and get out in time, but not our parents. They had no warning and died asleep in their bed.” Tears streamed unchecked as the dam of emotion finally broke.
Blood drained from Amy’s face as she staggered back. “We are not to question God’s will—”
Nora pushed off the tree and ran along the line of trees, away from the meetinghouse and all of the district members. She kept running until she reached the riverbank, where a fast-moving creek tumbled over rocks and ledges. Breathless, she lowered herself to a log, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed. She cried for her dead parents and for herself, stuck in an ultraconservative district in a land of chilly September days and nights that turned downright cold. If she were home, it would be the height of Indian summer, with bonfires, hayrides, or cookouts every Saturday. Singings would be filled with plenty of young folk…because there were so many more people!
Nora had no friends here other than Lewis…not that it was anybody’s fault but hers. Feeling like a square peg surrounded by round holes, she’d made no attempt to socialize. Right now, while she hid from the world, district members were enjoying turkey sandwiches with mugs of hot chocolate. Nora squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pray, but she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Certainly not words of gratitude for bringing her to this alien land. Fresh tears clouded her vision, but she fought them back as she sat on her log, waiting.
She waited for inspiration on how to return to the noon meal with dignity.
She waited for insight that God still had a plan for her life.
And she waited for Lewis, who maybe had seen her leave and followed. He would sit down on the log, slip an arm around her shoulders, and tell her everything would be all right. Then they would walk back to the meetinghouse, where he’d saved her a sandwich and cup of cocoa. After the others filed back in for the afternoon hymn session, he would take her home because she felt the beginnings of a headache. They would marvel at autumn foliage at its best while his buggy rolled down the lane toward the Detweiler farm.
But Lewis didn’t show up to rescue her. And nothing she envisioned could have taken place anyway. Not here. Not in Harmony.
Damp and stiff, Nora finally struggled to her feet and trudged back to the picnic tables. It was good Lewis hadn’t followed her, she realized. At the speed he was capturing her heart, she would end up married and living in his cabin behind the store before Amy and John. Nora couldn’t imagine spending her life here, not with so many interesting places in the world to see. Why couldn’t John have picked Missouri, where Sally came from, or maybe Indiana or Ohio or New York? She needed to forget about handsome Lewis with his sea-blue eyes, strong hands, and unlimited devotion.
Her future wasn’t here. It couldn’t be.
At the meetinghouse, the congregation had already gone inside to sing, but Amy sat waiting at a picnic table. John stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder in an old-fashioned pose. Amy smiled as Nora approached. “I’m so relieved to see you,” she said. “I’ve been worried. Forgive me for pinching, poking, and quarreling.”
John stood like a stone statue, his face empty of expression.
“I’m sorry too,” Nora murmured. “I lost my temper. Just because I’m mad at God, I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
John cringed from her statement, but Amy remained calm. “God never stops loving us, even when we’re angry with Him,” she said, rising to her feet. “Are you hungry? I made you a sandwich.” She pulled a wax paper packet from her purse.
“Danki. I’ll eat it on my way home.” Nora tucked the sandwich in her bag. “I feel a headache coming on.”
“In that case I’m leaving too so you’re not alone.” Amy turned toward John. “Why don’t you go inside without us? I’ll see you back at Thomas’s.”
“Would you like me to drive you?” he asked, spinning his hat brim between his fingers.
“No. I think the exercise and fresh air wil
l do us good.” Amy buttoned her cloak and reached for Nora’s hand.
John nodded but remained in place, still fiddling with his hat as they headed toward the road.
“Those migraine pills really do make me sleepy,” said Nora, once they were out of earshot.
“I believe you, and I’m sorry I kept jabbing your ribs.” Amy let go of her hand and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.
“Don’t worry about it. I need a jab every now and then.” Nora unwrapped the turkey sandwich and took a bite. It had both mustard and mayo, just how she liked it. No one knew her…or loved her…like her schwester.
That night, long after the Detweilers had all gone to bed, Nora moved her chair over to the window. Amy snored softly in her sleep, but oddly the sound comforted instead of annoyed her. Nora gazed down on a silent barnyard illuminated by the thin light of a crescent moon as though keeping vigil. She shook her head each time thoughts of Lewis crept into her head. After a while her vision blurred as shapes seemed to form and disintegrate in the shadows.
Suddenly, the outline of a man leading a horse stepped into the area in front of the barn. Nora blinked several times to make sure fatigue wasn’t playing tricks on her. But when she looked again, Elam Detweiler lifted one foot into a stirrup and swung his other leg over his black stallion. Hatless and wearing a red-and-black plaid jacket, he kicked the horse’s flanks and rode off into the darkness.
Where on earth is he going at this hour? Intrigue replaced the last residue of Nora’s melancholy. At least solving a mystery might relieve the relentless boredom of living in Harmony.
TEN
Simply to the cross I cling
John thought he heard the mournful sound of crying while feeding the goats. But when he listened and heard nothing, he assumed it was the wind whistling through missing chinks in the barn silo. It was still very early, so he saw nothing in the inky darkness. After he scrubbed out and refilled water troughs with the hose, he heard the cries again, distinct and undeniable, emanating from the eastern pasture behind the barn. He went in search of Thomas and found him on a stool bathing a cow’s underbelly with soapy water.