We used to talk about being able to stock up on more of the meat he hunted, or the fish he caught as a failsafe for more difficult times. We could certainly have used it right about now.
Jacob was always a good provider but as I look at my dwindling food supply, I wonder again how my sons will learn to hunt or whether they’ll even be interested in it without their daed’s example and enthusiasm to rally them. With fewer and fewer people in the community relying on the land to survive, things were certainly changing in the Amish culture as a whole.
I grab some beef stock and vegetables that I canned in the fall, for the soup I plan to make for dinner. I sit everything on the kitchen counter and then grab some orzo and corn meal from what I refer to as my ‘dry goods pantry’. Which is the original closet pantry that I use for things like rice, pasta, flour and oatmeal.
I stand over the sink and start to peel the potatoes that I washed earlier, when I realize that my hair is still down. I hurry into the bathroom, brush the tangles out and secure it under a fresh kapp before returning to the kitchen. I know many Amish women that only let their hair down to wash it or to sleep at night and they feel naked without their kapps – but I’m not one of them. We’re only required to wear it outside the home or in mixed company, and by the time the evening chores are done I’m usually more than ready to take it down.
Once I peel and cube the potatoes, I decide to check on John.
***
In the barn, I assess the problem with the buggy and give it a once-over to see if anything else needs to be repaired while I’m here. I start by replacing the battery that operates her blinkers and check the single trees, bolts, straps and all of her harnessing snaps. I notice a cupboard above the work area near the buggy stall and look through it to see if there are any spare parts. Once I’m satisfied that I have everything needed to do the repair, I decide to work on the bicycle first before getting my hands greasy with the buggy.
I head back to the house, to grab the wrenches I was using to fix the kitchen faucet, but as I grab the handle to the screen door, Sarah emerges from the pantry with her hair down and her kapp off.
I take a step back and stop myself from entering for fear that I might embarrass her, but in those few seconds, I can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks as the soft waves of chestnut hair fall around her face and over the narrow shoulders of her petite frame. I think about how open and honest she was with me about her beliefs and experiences with her grief. Though some in the community would admonish her for those thoughts, I find them incredibly refreshing, and I realize I don’t want to dishonor her.
She may be small, but in the same way she described her middle son, I can tell that she’s a mighty woman on the inside. She’s loyal to God and strong in her faith without letting the community traditions close her mind to the way that life should be. It’s a quality that I’ve rarely seen in Amish women over the years and I’m curious to know more about her.
I go back to the barn and make due with my pliers, resetting the chain on her bike before returning to the buggy wheel. Just about the time I get everything put back together, she comes into the barn.
***
“It’s chilly out here this afternoon; would you like another cup of coffee? I can put some in a thermos,” I politely offer to Mr. Troyer. I notice Jacob’s metal toolbox on the workbench and the cupboard doors open just above it. He notices my momentary reaction.
“I hope you don’t mind, I thought this might have been where your husband kept any spare parts for your riding equipment. It saved me from having to go back to my place or into town to fix the problem.”
“Ne, I don’t mind at all, did you find what you needed?” I don’t know why I paid it any attention at all, except that I hadn’t seen that old tool box sitting there since the morning Jacob died.
“Ya, I should have it all fixed up in just a few more minutes.”
“I’ll go back and put the kettle on, just come on in when you’re done.”
Inside the house, I collect my thoughts for a second before putting the kettle on the stove and going back down to check the laundry. I take the clothes out of the dryer, wring out the next load of wash and start the dryer again before carrying the laundry basket upstairs to fold.
A few minutes later, I hear him scruff his shoes on the door mat and step inside just before the kettle whistles. “I grab it and pour the water into the press as he washes his hands in the sink.
“Just let me know what I owe you, I can’t tell you what a relief it is to have everything working properly again.” I say, filling our coffee mugs.
“Don’t worry about it, they were just minor repairs.”
“You have to let me pay you something,” I insist, not wanting to take advantage of his kindness.
“If your cooking is as good as your coffee, you could invite me to dinner some night when it’s convenient but I won’t take your money,” he says stubbornly.
I chuckle, “Okay, how about Saturday if you don’t have any other plans? You can even bring your nephew if you’d like.”
“Saturday would be great. I don’t know what my nephew has planned, but if he’s available I’m sure he’ll jump at the chance for a home-cooked meal. Neither of us is anything to brag about in the kitchen.”
I fold the laundry as we chat and finish our coffee. Fifteen minutes later, we say our goodbyes and I send him on his way with a full thermos and an extra quart of goat’s milk I had in the refrigerator from this morning’s milking. I wave as he climbs back in the buggy, looking forward to seeing them both at dinner on Saturday.
After he leaves, I dust, run a damp mop over the floor, mend some socks and let out the buttons on three pairs of Josh’s pants that he’s not wearing. He’s getting a little pudgy for his height but I’m confident that it will correct itself naturally in the months to come when he can play outside more.
I go back downstairs to wring and dry the last load of laundry for the day, which includes the dress I muddied today. After that’s done, it’s just about time for the children to come home from school so I walk over to the Daadi Haus to fetch my mamm and Josh.
“Hi mamm,” I smile, as I walk in the door. I can smell the pies she’s baking. Josh rushes to me and gives me a big sticky hug and kiss.
“I smell cinnamon and apples. Has someone has been baking fruit pies?” I ask curiously, sniffing his chubby cheek.
“We have!” he tells me excitedly.
“Och, did you make one for me?”
“Ya, and mammi, and Mark, and Mary, and Samuel, and Hannah, and Ruth, and Dan, and Jesus, and daed, and daadi.”
“My goodness that’s a lot of pies,” I chuckle, “I think you might have forgotten to mention one though.”
He looks at his co-conspirator for help. My mamm and I always managed to get 13 hand pies out of a 12 pie yielding recipe so we could sample one together right as they came out of the oven.
“Would there happen to be half of a missing pie right here?!” I ask tickling his belly.
“Mammi,” he sighs, throwing up his hands and blaming his grandmother.
She and I both laugh.
“Actually I made 36 pies, we have a ladies’ frolic tomorrow and I thought we might be having visitors this weekend,” she says with a knowing look.
“Ruth and Dan will probably come over Sunday after church but you know Ruth always brings dessert.”
“I meant the tall young man who moved into the old Schwartz place right after Christmas.”
If I didn’t know that my mamm was devoted to her church and the Amish life, I would swear that she had internet access and spy cameras planted all over the community. For a sixty-four year old widow with failing eyesight and terrible arthritis that keeps her from getting out much, she seems to always know what’s going on in the community long before I do. “He fixed my bicycle and the buggy wheel today but how did you know I invited him to dinner or who he is?”
“I raised you, I know you well,” s
he says cleaning the flour off of the counter from rolling out her last batch of pies. “Him I met when he brought the kinner home from school in the snow one day while Eli Lapp’s tractor was broken down. It was the day Hannah lost her mittens right after Christmas break. He found them in the wagon and brought them by the next day while you were gone. I talked to him for a few minutes. He seems like a good man. Did you know that he and one of the Lapp boys built the wagon they pull behind the tractor?”
I hear the children coming down the drive toward the house behind me. “Ne, he didn’t mention it.”
“Och, see he’s humble too,” she says casually.
“I need to get dinner started, are you coming?”
“We’ll be right over when the pies are done, you go on ahead,” she says taking Josh’s hand and shooing me out the door.
My mamm is small and thin, much like me and I suppose I’ll look like her when I’m older. Her body is weak from arthritis and a few injuries she’s had over the years. She has always set a good example for me as a Godly wife but she has a big personality tucked in her small frame that hides behind her quiet, submissive demeanor.
Mamm’s parents owned a tobacco farm with seven children. She worked the fields and helped take care of the family from the time she was a young girl until the day she married my daed at the age of nineteen. He died eleven years ago and I regret that my children never knew him but I’m eternally grateful for having her in our lives every day.
I have a brother too – but we rarely see him. He moved to Maryland a few years ago to take over my uncle’s farm when he started having health problems. He’s always been a big boy, taking more after my daed’s side of the family. In fact, that’s how he came to be named Sampson. There were complications during his birth and though they both survived, my mamm was never able to conceive again.
I go back inside the house and greet the children with a hug and a kiss as they change into their mud boots to go do their afternoon chores.
I prepare my grandmother’s sweet cornbread recipe and put it in the oven before going back down to pull the last of the clean clothes from the dryer, which are mostly mine. I put them away while everyone comes in and washes their hands after chore time.
We all gather around the kitchen table and surrounded by the warmth radiating from the wood stove, the children tell me about their day. As I finish getting the soup on to simmer and take the cornbread out of the oven, I tell everyone about falling off the bike in the rain and the nice man who brought me home and fixed everything.
Mark agrees that inviting him for dinner was a good idea, Mary and Hannah decide to make him a thank you card, Samuel promises to show him his best magic trick and Josh decides to give him three pies because he fixed three things...apparently if Caleb comes he can have five. Mamm and I laugh at his rationale.
After dinner and a hand pie each, the children do their night time chores and then it’s time for baths, pajamas, teeth brushing, prayers and bed. By the time they’re all tucked in, I’m tuckered out. I go to the living room to sit with mamm for a little while.
“Denki for the pies mamm, they were delicious and they’ll save me a lot of work Saturday.”
“I’ve never met an Amish man who didn’t like hand pies,” she smiles.
“Do you regret never remarrying?” I ask curiously.
“At the time when I was faced with that decision, ne but things are much clearer in hindsight and sometimes I wonder what might have been if I had. Besides, I was 55 when daed died and you’re 32, there’s enough room for a whole lifetime of love in between the two.”
“Still, I’m glad you didn’t marry Deacon King,” I chuckle, “You’d probably be getting up every morning at 4 a.m. to starch his underwear.”
“Shame on you,” she laughs.
“I think I’m going to turn in early, what time is the ladies’ frolic tomorrow?”
“Ya, quilting and tea sandwiches at noon at the Stoltzfus farm...be there if you wanna be square,” she teases as I shake my head in amusement.
A ladies’ frolic is a time when groups of women in the community gather together to socialize and learn from one another as we work on different hobbies or projects. There are several different types of frolics like scrapbooking, soap making or crafting but the one we’re going to is for the quilters. We’ve been working on a quilt for Mrs. Stoltzfus’ daughter’s upcoming wedding in November.
Go on in to bed liebchen,” my mom says, peering over her glasses as she tidies up her sewing box, “You’ve had a long day. I’ll see myself home.”
“Night mamm,” I say, kissing her forehead, “See you in the morning.”
THANK YOU FOR READING!
I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I loved writing it!
If so, you can purchase this book HERE.
And if you want to keep up with new releases from me, just pop over and join my reader list here :)
Lastly, if you get a chance to leave me a review, I’d really appreciate it (and if you find something in the book that – YIKES – makes you think it deserves less than 5-stars, drop me a line at [email protected], and I’ll fix it if I can)
All the best,
Rachel
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rachel was born and raised in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Being a neighbor of the Mennonite community, she started writing Amish romance fiction as a way of looking at the Amish community. She wanted to present a fair and honest representation of a love that is both romantic and sweet. She hopes her readers enjoy her efforts.
Also by Rachel Stoltzfus
A Home for Jacob
A Lancaster Amish Home for Jacob
A Lancaster Amish Prayer for Jacob
A New Life for Jacob
A Lancaster Amish School for Jacob
A Lancaster Amish Home for Jacob
A Lancaster Amish Home for Jacob
A Lancaster Amish Vacation for Jacob
A Lancaster Amish Love Story for Jacob
A Lancaster Amish Memory for Jacob
A Lancaster Amish Miracle for Jacob
A Lancaster Amish Treasure for Jacob
A Lancaster Amish Home for Jacob 9-Book Boxed Set
A Lancaster Amish Home for Jacob 9-Book Collection
A Lancaster County Amish Quarrel Series
An Amish Country Quarrel
Simple Truths
Neighboring Faiths
Courageous Faith
An Amish Country Quarrel 4-Book Boxed Set
An Amish Country Quarrel 4-Book Boxed Set Bundle
A Lancaster Home for Jacob Boxed Sets
A Lancaster Home for Jacob 5-Book Boxed Set Bundle
Amish Country Tours, Amish Romance Series (An Amish of Lancaster County Saga)
Amish Country Tours
Amish Country Tours 2
Amish Country Tours 3
Amish Country Tours 3-Book Boxed Set
Amish Fairy Tales (A Lancaster County Christmas) series
Amish Cinderella #1
Amish Cinderella Book 1
Amish Cinderella Book 2
Amish Sleeping Beauty
Amish Snow White
Amish Fairy Tales 4-Book Boxed Set Bundle
Amish Faith (False Worship) Series
Amish Home: False Worship - Book 1
Amish Home: False Worship - Book 2
Amish Home: False Worship - Book 3
Amish Home: False Worship - Book 4
Amish Home: False Worship Complete 4-Book Boxed Set Bundle
Amish Seeds of Change
Amish Seeds of Change
Amish Seeds of Change 3-Book Boxed Set
Amish Sickness and Health
Amish Heart
Amish Faith
Amish Heart, Faith and Soul
Amish Soul
Big Valley Amish
Amish
Secrets And Lies
Amish Trust and Betrayal
Amish Love and Healing
Big Valley Amish Series Collections
Amish Secrets and Lies 3-Book Collection
Lancaster County Seasons (An Amish of Lancaster County Saga)
A Lancaster Amish Summer to Remember
Peace Valley Amish Series
Amish Truth Be Told
Amish Heart and Soul
Amish Love Saves All
Amish Peace Valley 3-Book Collection
Amish Love Be Kind
Amish Love Be Patient
Amish Love Be True
Amish Love Be Kind 3-Book Boxed Set
Simple Love Series
Simple Amish Love
Simple Amish Pleasures
Simple Amish Harmony
Simple Amish Love 3-Book Boxed Set
Simple Amish Love 3-Book Collection
Winter of Faith
Winter Storms
Test of Faith
The Wedding Season
Winter of Faith Collection
Standalone
Amish Country Tours 3-Book Boxed Set Bundle
Simple Amish Love 3-Book Collection Page 21