Amish Winter of Promises: Book Four
Page 10
Please enjoy the following 3 chapter sneak peek of Amish Romance,
LITTLE WILD FLOWER
Book One
REVISED EDITION
LITTLE WILD FLOWER
Book One
REVISED EDITION
PROLOGUE
Jane Abigail Reeves was in denial. At least that’s how her older sister Nadine described her. Raised as a city girl in a dysfunctional, middle-class family, Jane found it impossible to recognize what normal was anymore. In 1977, her father purchased a farm in the heart of a rural Amish community in Indiana when Jane was only fifteen. Jane and her siblings had not been brought up Plain, but their father had used the move as a means to start a new life. He made it out to be a grand adventure for his family to live off the land, “Like the Amish do,” he had said so many years ago.
Jane knew the real reason her father wanted to move the family away from the city. Part was out of a need to save her mother from ridicule and judgment from unforgiving friends and family who couldn’t see past her condition or accept her recovery from alcoholism. The other part, she knew, was her father’s way of giving in to her mother’s unquenchable desire to run from her past mistakes with the hope of putting them behind her.
For nearly three months, her mother had spent time attending counseling programs, which included a six-week stay in an alcohol rehabilitation clinic, until finally, one unforgettable day; she had managed to come home to her family. Soon after her mother returned home from the clinic, Jack Reeves made an announcement he would move his newly pregnant wife, Anna Mae, and their seven children, including Jane, from a large city in Michigan. The move to the Amish community was almost unbearable for Jane at the time. She didn’t believe living out in the country, with horse-driven buggies, was something she felt she could ever accept.
In her stubbornness, Jane sat in her strange, new bedroom full of anger and resentment for the first two months after the move. She missed nearly her entire first summer at the new farmhouse, and even missed out on making friends the way her siblings had. Her older sister, Nadine, had tried on several occasions to coax her out of her room. She, too, wanted to have something better to do than hang around the warm house all summer, but Jane was too determined to brood. She’d been forced to leave her friends and modern conveniences back at her childhood home, all for the sake of a mother whom she wasn’t immediately open to forgiving at the time.
The Reeves family adapted quickly to their new environment, save Jane, who rebelled against everything from having to use an outhouse, to staring at a blank television in a house with no electricity. The changes, however, that her family went through became easier, and had also brought about their new way of life as they settled into their new farmhouse in the Amish community.
If the truth be told, Jane in fact loved the openness of the country, and admired the Plain lifestyle of the Amish folk that surrounded their farm. And though she initially rebelled, she knew her mother’s plans for recovery depended on a simpler way of life. After all, Jane’s entire life up until about six months prior to the move had been full of cruel treatment that she had suffered at the hands of her then-alcoholic mother. Prompted by her childhood friend, Bradley, whom she dearly missed, Jane built up enough courage to get her mother the help she needed. Directly after the move, she had some regrets over the decision, but when she saw how much it meant to her mother and the rest of her family, she felt guilty for being so selfish. In spite of all that had happened, Jane and her mother became very close during that unsure period in their lives.
While her thoughts remained with those early days in their farmhouse, a warm peace settled in Jane’s heart.
Oh, how happy I was then. In spite of all my protesting and anger about moving here and missing’ my friends back home, I’ve loved it from the very beginning.
As a matter of fact, from the very first day I sat on the porch swing of our new house…
ONE
A TIME TO GROW
Goshen, Indiana; Summer, 1977
Little Rachel Zook was the first of our new neighbors to make her acquaintance with me. The Zook’s best milking cow, Ida, had gotten loose one early autumn day, finding its way to the next farm over—ours. I was too determined to brood to pay her any mind, or to be bothered by what was going on around me. And in my quest to shut out the world, an entire herd of cows might have been able to walk right by me unnoticed. We’d been here for over two months already, but this was the first time I’d been outside of the house.
I sprawled lazily across the wooden porch swing, daydreaming of how much better my life would be if I’d never suggested to my father that my mother needed a change of scenery. Though moving to an Amish community was not what I had in mind, I had to admit my mother had seemed much happier since the move. I, on the other hand, was miserably lonely without my friends to see me through. I’d gotten a few letters from friends I knew from school, but since I never wrote them back, they gave up. I didn’t see any point in keeping in touch by mail, since I knew I’d never have another conversation with them. With no phone, I felt cut off from everyone, and that was how it would stay.
I pushed the swing lazily with one foot, while the rhythmic squeaking of the old, rusty chain that suspended the swing had nearly lulled me to sleep. I let one arm dangle across the slats of the porch; the other neatly tucked under my head for comfort. Mindlessly twisting my long, blonde hair between my fingers, I gave in to thoughts of self-pity.
Startled by movement from across the long expanse of the yard, I squinted my blue eyes against the afternoon sun. Taking in a deep breath, I could almost taste the ripe apples from the small orchard that stood between the two properties. When I finally looked in the direction of the commotion, I spotted a young girl working her way around the unkempt fence that established the property line separating us from our neighbors. I came to a sudden halt from my gentle swinging and sat upright to get a better look at the curly-haired tot as she struggled with the broken, whitewashed fence. Her clothing was just as my father had described to me just weeks before our move. A sudden shift of the wind tipped her bonnet off her head to reveal dark, blonde curls. Her apron fluttered around in the breeze, causing her agitation as she tried to free the hem of her long dress from the fence. I held a hand over my mouth to cover up my laughter. As she walked bashfully toward me, I straightened up, burying my amusement over her struggle with the fence. My efforts were in vain, however, for she introduced herself with downcast eyes.
“I’m Rachel Zook, and Ida, our milking cow got loose.”
She spoke with the same German accent I’d remembered from the man who talked with my parents regarding the sale of our farm. It had seemed like a lifetime before, but had only been a few weeks ago that I’d sat at the top of the stairs and watched my father converse with the strange, bearded man. His wife had spent many a day with my mother, sharing Amish recipes and folklore. While I had enjoyed the wonderful food they prepared together, I had carefully avoided contact with all of the neighbors—up until now.
Rachel adjusted her bonnet to sit squarely on her head, and then continued to speak.
“Could you help me look for the cow? I think it came over this way, jah?”
Her eyes looked up slightly, enough for me to see a slight hint of mischief in them.
Though I was immediately intrigued by this small stranger, I pursed my lips and sighed heavily, determined that no one would interrupt my right to sit on the porch swing and brood.
“I saw a cow go that way.” I lied. But I pointed in the direction of the field behind our farm hoping she would go away.
“Will you show me, please?” the little girl begged.
“Can’t you ask somebody else?” I’m only out here because my mother said I was beginning to resemble a vampire in need of fresh air.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you, but you’re the only one out here.”
She pushed out her lower lip as she cast her eyes toward the ground.
She flashed me a brief smile. “Are you Lucy’s sister?”
“Yep, that’s what they tell me. I’m Jane. And I’m guessing that if you know my sister, then you must be around her age.”
I stepped off the porch and stuffed my hands into the back pockets of my cut-off jeans, intending to help her look for the cow.
“I’m five years and eleven months to be exact. I’ll be going to the schoolhouse in September, Miss Jane.”
“Why in the world did you call me ‘Miss’? I already told you my name is Jane—just Jane.”
“I must say it that way because my papa says it’s gut and proper-like.”
“I hope you don’t expect me to call you Miss Rachel.” She shook her head as I was talking.
“You would only call me “Miss” if I was older than you; that’s what my papa says.”
I didn’t completely understand, but I let the matter drop—mostly because I didn’t really care.
“My father said we’re gonna have to go to your little school house because our old school is too far away. In another state—to be exact,” I mocked her. “Besides, he don’t want us going to public school no more. ‘Says it’s not a good place for us to learn our values.”
“So you’ll be converting?” she asked.
I scrunched up my face. “Converting to what?”
“The Amish ways,” she said gently.
“No way! We’re just going’ to school with you. I don’t think this Amish stuff is cool at all. Only my dad—I mean my papa, does.”
She looked at me only for a moment, but stood politely quiet next to me.
“I’d be willing to bet the school bus couldn’t even find us way out here in “no-wheres-ville,” I said under my breath.
“What did you say, Miss Jane?”
“Never mind,” I said. “I wasn’t really talking to you. And quit looking at me like that, you're bothering me.”
She quietly apologized as we stepped out along the path that was surrounded by wild flowers. I searched as far as the horizon in every direction pretending to look for the cow, but really I was looking for any sign of a town or civilization of any kind. All I could see were a few homes, lots of trees, and plenty of animals.
Discouragement settled in the deep frown that had recently come to be a permanent expression on my face.
“You don’t seem like you want to live here,” Rachel said, breaking the sudden, awkward silence.
My frown grew deeper. “I never asked to live here if that’s what you mean. I had to leave my best friends and a big school back home. I don’t feel like I belong here.”
She held out her arms in a wide circle and flashed me a smile.
“None of this makes me unhappy. It’s wonderful gut to live here if you can learn to love it.”
“I’m not so sure I could ever be happy here. I miss my friends—and TV—and having a bathroom inside the house.”
“What’s wrong with the outhouse in the yard?” Rachel asked.
“It just isn’t the same—trust me. Besides, it’s 1977 not 1877. People don’t need to use outhouses anymore since plumbing was invented. For crying out loud—I don’t know why I’m even bothering to tell you this stuff.”
“My papa says God gave me gut ears so I could be a gut listener,” she said.
I forced a smile when she looked at me, and I could (almost) see the honesty in her big, brown eyes. We walked a little further until we reached the edge of the pasture from where the cow escaped.
“What’s wrong?” Rachel suddenly asked. “Are you sick, Miss Jane?”
“No. Why?”
“Why are you holding your hand over your nose?”
“I don’t like the way it smells here,” I said, coughing lightly.
She cupped her hand around her mouth and leaned in close as if to whisper in my ear.
I leaned in a little as though I was interested in her secret. “You smell the cows. They don’t use the outhouse.”
I chuckled a little. “Maybe they should.”
“You will get used to it. Papa calls it good fresh country air, and says there’s no point in complaining about things when there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Well, I say you talk too much!”
She stopped along the path to pick a few of the different flowers that grew wild in the tall grass.
I considered walking away from her, but I wasn’t ready to return to my solitude on the porch swing just yet. “We’ve got a big family like all the families around here. My father says that’s why we’ll have no trouble fitting in. We’ve got two boys and five girls so far. My mother’s gonna have another one after Christmas.”
I had no idea why I was suddenly breaking my own rule of silence with this child, but it almost seemed a relief to speak out.
“I have one older sister named Rebekah,” she said. “She likes your brother, Mitchell.”
I had watched Rebekah with my older brother from my bedroom window, and the two seemed inseparable. She was all he talked about at the dinner table every night, and I was getting tired of hearing how happy he was when I was so miserable.
“I’ve got two older brothers named Samuel and Elijah, and Mam’s going to have twins soon.”
“Is Mam what you call your mother?”
“Jah,” she said. “My two cousins, Luke and Daniel, live with us since my Uncle Abner and Aunt Esther died.”
“My dad told me they used to own our house. They didn’t die in the house did they?”
The very subject of death made me feel uneasy, but the thought of living in a house that once belonged to dead people made my stomach suddenly turn. Mitchell had always teased me about there being ghosts in the basement of our old house, and I suppose I’d developed a fear of the unknown because of it.
She shook her head casually, and ignored my question as she continued to talk of her family.
“My brother Elijah is about your age. Do you want to meet him?” she asked, appearing to be sizing me up.
“Yeah. Sure. I’ll meet him some time.” Truth was; I didn’t want to meet anyone.
“He’s in the field with my papa. We can go out there to look for Ida and you can meet Elijah at the same time. Maybe if you make a friend you won’t miss the one’s you can’t see anymore.”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me in the direction of the field. I didn’t like her suggestion because I had no intention of replacing my friends, so I gently pulled away from her.
“Maybe later.” Man, she’s a pushy little thing.
She seemed to get the message and let the matter drop.
“Please tell me more about your family,” she begged, as we walked side-by-side along the path.
“Okay. You already know my brother Mitchell. He’s eighteen and a half. Then there’s Nadine, who’s almost seventeen, and I’m almost sixteen. When I was six, my mother had my sister, Rachel who’s nine; then Cameron, my brother came along. He’s seven. Then there’s Lucy; she’s almost six.”
“I’m already gut friends with Lucy. We’re going to sit together in school,” she said.
“You already told me you’re friends with Lucy. Anyway; after Lucy is Molly, she’s the youngest at three, but only until the new baby is born. My parents are hoping they’ll have another boy, but I’d rather have all sisters.”
I stopped talking and rolled my eyes when I realized that the child had lost interest in what I’d been saying. She led me along the trail, calling out for Ida, until we reached the back of her farm. Their farm mirrored ours, with two homes and an out-house next to the barn. Tall grasses provided segue to the growing fields that furnished a means of capital for the Amish farmers.
We followed the trail through the tall grass that led to a field that seemed to stretch out over several acres. A few feet in front of me, a handsome, teen-aged boy stopped working alongs
ide a large man, bailing hay. They both had on short-sleeved, white shirts, brown trousers with suspenders, and wide-brimmed hats. I could see wisps of dark blonde hair falling out along the boy’s slightly tanned face while he stared as we approached them. I recognized the older man as Abraham Zook, the man who’d sold our farm to my family. He wore a long beard with no mustache, in the traditional Amish style.
Upon our abrupt appearance, one of the brown and white horses reared slightly, jostling the primitive farm equipment to which it was attached. The wide, flat wagon behind it was hooked to a separate team of horses. It was full of round hay bales stacked high, which I thought closely resembled giant Shredded Wheat Biscuits. They didn’t look at all like the square bails of straw my father had bought in town for our barn.
“Gut afternoon, Miss.”
Mr. Zook tipped his hat slightly toward me.
I clasped my hands behind me, nodding nervously. I hated formal introductions, and momentarily felt anger rise up in me toward Rachel for luring me here.
“What are you two girls doing out in the fields on such a hot day?” he asked Rachel as he fanned his face with his hat.
“Elijah, this is Jane,” she said, ignoring her father’s question. “She’s Lucy’s older sister, and she’s helping me look for Ida. She got loose again. I thought I saw her go over to their house, but maybe I was wrong.”
She giggled as her attention darted back and forth between Elijah and me.
“That will be enough of the teasing for now, Rachel,” Abraham said.
“Yes, Papa,” Rachel said with downcast eyes.
That little girl just had to draw attention to me, didn’t she? Is it too late to run off? Elijah might think I’m a baby if I run, so I’ll stay put. Maybe I’ll even make an exception to my “no friend” rule—just for him!
I cleared my throat. “Nice to meet you.”