by Mary Ellis
She pivoted on the bench to face him. “I do love you, James, but I don’t see why we have to wait so long. Four years might as well be forever.”
He chuckled and then patted her hand. “You’re only sixteen. You would need your parents’ consent. Anyway, you’re too young to get married. Heck, I’m too young and I’m already eighteen. English people wait longer to get hitched.”
“But I’m not English; I’m Amish. And I don’t see why you need so much schooling to be a farmer. I would think your pa would’ve taught you plenty by now.” She stood up, straightened her kapp, and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt.
“He has taught me plenty, but there’s always more to learn. You’ve got to compete with the big agri-corporations out there, or you’ll be put out of business.”
She arched one delicate blond eyebrow. “Oh? I don’t see many families in our district forced off their farms by foreclosure.”
James bit down on the inside of his mouth. Perhaps he should sign up for a class in diplomacy at OSU instead of crop rotation, because he sure could use it right now. “Sorry, Emma, but it’s different on English farms. Lots more stuff to worry about. That’s why I’m going to college.” He braced his boot against the tree trunk, and for a minute, became distracted by a monster truck leaving the parking lot. It made a ruckus spinning gravel as it changed gears. When he looked at Emma, she had covered her ears with both palms.
“My goodness. Hasn’t that man heard of a muffler?”
James grinned as he pulled her hands from her ears and kissed the back of her fingers.
She met his gaze. Her eyes looked cool and dark, like a deep pool far beneath a waterfall. “You’re going away for four years so you won’t have to worry so much about things?” she asked. “Seems to me you could save yourself time and your folks a lot of money by just turning to the Good Book. And maybe asking God for a little help.”
James marveled at the wisdom of someone so young without benefit of higher education. “You’re right. I can’t argue with that. The truth is I’m going to college to please my parents. It’s something they want me to do, and I want to respect that. Anyway, I doubt I’ll stay four years. Most likely I’ll cram the necessary courses into two.”
Emma leaned back against the bench. “All right, James. I can understand your wish to honor your parents. It’s the right thing to do. So you’ll understand when I need to honor mine at some point in the future.” One corner of her mouth turned down sadly.
James wanted to ask what she meant by that. He yearned to reassure her that two or even four years would pass quickly. Then they could announce their engagement and start planning a wedding, but Sam and Sarah had returned from the bratwurst booth.
Sarah was picking at a cone of purple cotton candy, while Sam chomped on a sausage sandwich covered with grilled onions and peppers. “You two don’t know what you’re missing,” he said, taking a huge bite.
James’ stomach lurched from the greasy smell.
“We’d better head for home,” Emma said. “We don’t know how the traffic will be leaving the festival, and I don’t want to be late.”
The two couples walked uptown to where they had parked the truck, seemingly a long time ago. Despite the fact that everyone was tired, Sam managed to keep the conversation lively all the way to Winesburg.
Emma, quiet and subdued, stared out the window, offering only occasional jah’s and noes to questions. James regretted making a promise to his mom and dad, and he felt even sorrier he wasn’t able to convince Emma of the wisdom in waiting until they were older.
Some cultural differences were harder to bridge than others, but he knew with absolute certainty that he loved Emma. He would overcome any obstacle in his path, and he would marry her someday.
Moonlight reflected off the polished truck hood while stars sparkled high above the open sunroof. James drove slowly, as he was in no great hurry to get home. The longer it took, the longer he could remember and savor each special detail about Emma. She had kissed him goodnight while Sam had been walking Sarah to her door. James had smelled the fresh scent of peaches and tasted peppermint, like candy canes at Christmas. Her soft lips returned his kiss with innocence. Every time she pronounced his name, the sound of her accent made him believe all things were possible when two people fell in love.
James drove up their road and parked in front of an almost dark house. Only one light burned in the kitchen, like at the Miller house when he’d taken Emma home. Except this light was electric, not kerosene. James toed off his boots in the mudroom and then headed for the back stairs.
“Jamie?” A soft voice called from the kitchen. “Is that you?”
Apparently, Emma wasn’t the only one with a worrying mother. “Yeah, Mom, it’s me.” He stepped into the kitchen where Barbara sat with her Bible, Sunday school manual, and a cup of tea. She looked both tired and somehow anxious.
“You’re home early; that’s good. It’s not even ten thirty.” She peered at him over her half-moon glasses.
“I took Emma Miller to the Sugar Creek Swiss Cheese Festival. She had to be home by ten.”
His mom’s face dropped. “Emma the Amish girl? Oh, Jamie. She’s still a child! This is not a good idea. You’re eighteen now.” Creases across the bridge of her nose deepened, while her eyes narrowed into a pronounced squint. With her sudden change of mood, his mom looked very old.
James felt a surge of anger but tamped it down. “We shared only one little kiss goodnight. And that’s all it will be until I’m finished with school. I thought you trusted me better than that.” His righteous anger echoed off the oak-paneled walls.
But his mom offered no apology. “It’s not a question of trust, son. You’re both young and mistakes can be made—lapses of judgment. Remember, I was young once too.” Her brown eyes pleaded for understanding.
“Yeah, well, I intend to behave myself so she’ll still want to marry me when we’re older.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on the door frame.
Barbara settled back in her chair. “You have no idea what you’re asking her to give up. If you care about this girl, you shouldn’t ask her to leave the only life she’s ever known. Encourage her to date her own kind, and you do the same.”
“Her own kind?” He felt his face flush as his blood started to boil. “You make me sound like a chicken wanting to date a Canada goose. I assure you, Mom, she is my kind. We’re both human beings!”
“I realize that, son, but for Emma to seriously court you she would have to leave her faith and everything she loves behind.”
He wanted to say more. He wanted to accuse her of being control-ling—first demanding college, now telling him whom to date—but he couldn’t. His mom had sacrificed so much for her children and never asked for anything in return…until now.
He would go away to college. He planned to buckle down and finish his education. Tomorrow after church services, he would start packing.
But he would never give up Emma.
Julia rose from her bed and walked to the window, hugging her shawl together with a shiver. The wind had picked up and it had started to rain. Leaves and large drops pelted the glass as she looked out over her backyard. With difficulty, she pulled the window sash down. Earlier, when she had gone to bed, a full moon had bathed the bare fields with shadowy light. Now she peered into nothing but inky blackness.
“What are you gawking at?” Simon asked, concerned for his wife.
“Absolutely nothing, ehemann. A front has come in and brought the rain.”
“Come back to bed then. Emma is home safe and long asleep. She kept to her curfew. Despite the fact she’s courting an Englischer, at least we can rejoice in that.”
Julia turned from the window and smiled at her husband. How unlike him to make light of something she knew troubled him greatly. “Jah, she’s home safe and on time. Her young man is leaving for college. Perhaps their interest will wither on the vine like grapes after an early frost. But Emma is not th
e reason I can’t sleep.” Julia hated troubling him in the middle of the night, but she saw no alternative. She’d waited too long already.
“What is it, Julia?” Simon asked. He threw off the quilt and sprang up faster than she’d seen him move in years. In a moment, he was at her side by the window.
Julia began to weep, unable to keep her secret any longer. “Ach, Simon, the pain has become more than I can bear.” With the words came a deluge of emotion. She had remained quiet about her misery for weeks, but the time had come for honesty.
Simon enfolded her, drawing her close. “My dear Julia, I had such hope for those steroid injections,” he said, careful not to hug too hard.
“As did I,” she whispered, laying her head on his shoulder. “They helped at first, but now the pain is worse than before.” She cried harder, dampening his nightshirt with her tears.
“What about those pain relievers the doctor prescribed? Aren’t they doing anything for you?” He stroked the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair.
“They worked at first, but not anymore,” she answered in a strangled voice. “I dare not increase the dosage, since the doctor said too many or for too long could damage my kidneys or liver.”
Simon released a weary sigh. “Oh, my. We must do something. We can’t let you suffer like this.”
She pushed against his chest. “Let’s go sit down. I’m tired of pacing the floor or staring out the window at nothing. I’m glad you finally know.”
Simon helped her into bed, settling her against the headboard. He cushioned her back with their pillows and then gently tucked the quilt around her legs. “You should have said something before,” he chided softly.
Even his admonishment soothed her spirit. She regretted not being forthright sooner. “You’ve had so much on your mind with the harvest and with Emma starting to court, I didn’t want to burden you.”
“You are my life, besides my wife. You could never be a burden.”
Julia let her tears fall freely, starting to feel better already. And she was charmed by Simon’s tenderness. His years of devotion had never included such romantic declarations, but hearing them warmed her heart. She reached for the top sheet. “And I love you, husband.”
“Should I talk to the Lees about another trip to the Canton specialist?”
“No, there’s no reason for another office visit.” Julia breathed easier as the reality of what she must do became apparent. “The doctor explained six weeks ago that if the effects of the injections wear off quickly, or the medications can’t control the pain, I will need replacement surgery on both knees. There are no other options. Perhaps he’ll repair the joints in my feet at the same time, or maybe he’ll wait till the knees recover. But at this point, the only thing to do is schedule the operation. If you take me to Mrs. Lee’s tomorrow, I’ll call his office.”
Simon patted her leg gently atop the covers. “I won’t have you suffering. You should have told me sooner. We’ll call from the Lees’ as soon as the doctor’s office opens.”
Julia pulled up the quilt. “Get under the covers. The first chill of fall is in the air.”
Simon snuggled next to his wife of many years. “Jah, I can feel it in my back tonight. My, aren’t we becoming a pair of old crows?”
“This operation will be expensive, husband. The surgeon understands we have no insurance. He’ll minimize the length of time I’m in the hospital and send me to the rehab unit as quickly as possible, but I’ll have to stay there at least a week before I continue my recovery at home.” She inhaled a breath that caught in her throat. “The hospital requires a thousand dollars up front and then will set up a payment plan. The surgeon will accept whatever we can afford for down payment, and he too will wait for the balance.”
Simon drew her head to his chest. “This will be a long, painful road, fraa. Don’t worry about the bill. I heard that the early corn received a good price. By the time everyone has harvested and delivered to the grain elevator, the medical fund should be bulging at the seams. We’ll use it for the hospital bill and pay the doctor off on our own. That’s what a rainy day account is for.” He cocked his head to one side. “Listen to that downpour on the roof. Even the weather coincides with our plan.”
They both laughed. What else could they do? Julia felt a weight lift from her shoulders. “I hate depleting our savings when it took so long to set that sum aside.”
“It’s only money. It’s not as important as you are to this family…or to me.” His words trailed soft and low, but Julia heard him clearly.
“Simon Miller, you are becoming passionate in middle age.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Julia. Let’s go to sleep. I have plenty to do in the morning before I take you to the Lees.’ And you need your rest.”
His tone had changed back to the familiar, but Julia smiled as she struggled to find a comfortable sleeping position.
Her Simon really was romantic after all.
If Emma thought things would get easier now that her folks had agreed to let her court James, she was mistaken. She felt more confused than ever. All his talk about building a fancy house on his parents’ farm with five bedrooms and taking her to Paris or Rome had only distressed her. Why would they need a mansion for the two of them? And going to Europe sounded unappealing and a little scary. She had heard that people who lived there ate fish eggs, pigs’ feet, and a strange cheese made from cow brains.
Oh, good grief. Just thinking about such things turned her stomach queasy. It was still rebelling after yesterday’s conglomeration of greasy sausage, funnel cakes, and candied apples. The drive home in James’ truck hadn’t helped matters. Did all Englischers drive so fast?
She didn’t need a big fancy house and didn’t want to get on an airplane to fly halfway across the world. But she did want to marry James. His proposal had left her stunned, with a heart pounding so loud all Sugar Creek could have heard it.
She loved him, plain and simple. English or not, he was a gentle man who shared her goals and dreams of raising crops and animals and, if God was willing, children someday. She would be content with a cottage in the woods and a honeymoon trip to Cleveland, or maybe to one of those Lake Erie islands. If only we didn’t have to wait so long…
“What in the world are you doing, Emma?” Leah’s sharp tone startled Emma from her reverie.
“Nothing,” Emma said, moving to fill the coffeepot at the sink.
“I can see that. Breakfast isn’t even started?” Leah sounded a bit cross. “Couldn’t you have at least put the coffee on? What was the point of getting up so early?”
Emma shot her sister a warning look. “I had things to sort out, and I couldn’t think straight with you snoring so loudly in bed.”
Leah laughed good-naturedly. “Was I? Sorry. My sinuses are stuffy from allergies.”
Emma lit the stove burner and then dumped bacon into a frying pan. “I’m sorry that I didn’t get things going down here. You’re always stuck with the lion’s share of the cooking.”
Leah set the griddle across two burners to make pancakes. “I don’t mind. The kitchen is my favorite place to be. But what was all the sorting-out about? Was it because you’re seeing an Englischer?” She whispered the word as though afraid to speak it aloud.
Because Leah was still a child, Emma chose not to take issue with the comment. “Jah, there’s plenty of thinking to be done once a girl starts courting.”
Leah clucked her tongue the way their mother often did. “I do want you to be happy, sister, but I hope you end up with an Amish fellow so things won’t change around here.”
“Life keeps changing, Leah, no matter what, but you’ll be happy to hear I won’t be seeing much of James for a while. He’s gone to the university and will stay on campus until his assignments are caught up. I’ll be lucky to see him before Thanksgiving. By then, a pretty college girl will probably have caught his eye.”
Leah wiped her hands on her apron and then hugged Emma. “I’m sorry
to hear that. Truly I am, but I’m afraid we’ll both be so busy around here, Thanksgiving will be here before you know it.”
Emma stepped back from the embrace and flipped the sizzling bacon. “Why? What’s going on?” she asked, expecting news of sick livestock or a wallpapering project about to begin.
Leah glanced at the doorway to make sure they were alone. “It’s our mamm. Don’t get yourself worked up, but her legs and feet are worse—much worse.”
“Oh, no,” Emma breathed, feeling ashamed. She had spent so much time thinking about nonsense like Paris and California that she hadn’t bothered to ask how her mother was feeling. “The pain has become unbearable?” She held her breath while waiting for the answer.
“Jah. She can barely walk. Daed and Matthew will carry her downstairs when she wakes up, and she won’t be going back upstairs anymore.” Leah poured perfect circles of batter onto the heated griddle so that each pancake would be uniform. “Pa tried to talk her out of using those steps long ago, but you know how stubborn our mother can be.” Leah again glanced across the room, but the house remained eerily silent. “She would grip those banisters and drag herself up to their bedroom. She said she couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping apart from daed.”
Emma felt the sting of tears in her eyes, but she willed herself not to cry. “What’s to be?” she asked. With a shaking hand, she lifted the slices of bacon out to drain on paper towels.
“They are turning the front room into a bedroom for them. Daed says he’ll sleep downstairs with her. She is going ahead with the operation on both knees, and maybe her feet too.”
The two sisters exchanged anxious looks. These operations came with no guarantees. Their mamm might end up never walking again.
Emma took hold of Leah’s forearm. “You won’t get much help with mamm so bad off, so I promise to help more with the housework. Maybe Henry can tend my flock and see to my outside chores. I won’t run off and leave you alone inside again.”