Fiddler, The

by Beverly Lewis

  ———

  A while later, Amelia heard Joanna coming up the stairs, calling softly, “Yoo-hoo, are ya up here?”

  Amelia must have dozed off. “Yes.” She sat up and stretched. “Come in, Joanna.”

  “Hope I didn’t wake ya.” Barefoot, Joanna stood in the doorway, wearing a big smile.

  “I just feel so relaxed here.”

  Strands of Joanna’s hair had fallen out of the thick bun at the nape of her neck. “I’m all done redding up the kitchen. And I went to give the gut news of Elizabeth’s homecoming to my parents, too.”

  “They must be pleased.”

  “Oh goodness, are they ever!” Joanna’s smile lit up her face. “All the People will be grateful to you, I’m sure.”

  Amelia shook her head. “I can’t take the credit. Michael was a big part of it.” And God. She remembered her frantic prayer on the front steps with Elizabeth.

  “No matter how it happened, Lizzie’s back.”

  Amelia agreed.

  “Well, if you’d like—if you’ve had enough rest—we could take a nice long walk together,” Joanna suggested, clearly eager for one. “Before sundown.”

  Amelia was delighted. “Sure, I’d like that.” Very much, she thought.

  The sun was low and red in the sky as they made their way along Hickory Lane. After a time, they turned off onto a side road, and Joanna again brought up Elizabeth’s return. “I hope Lizzie gets a sweet taste of home—something she’s surely missed,” Joanna said, her long dress blowing gently in the breeze.

  “Maybe your sister can help with that.”

  Joanna’s eyebrows flew up. “Lizzie mentioned Cora Jane?”

  “Not by name, no.”

  “Oh.” Joanna explained that her younger sister and Elizabeth had been nearly like sisters themselves, but Cora Jane’s heart was broken when Lizzie left without a word to her. “Only Michael knew what was goin’ on, but he kept mum for the most part.” Joanna sighed. “I assume Cora Jane will be hard-pressed to forgive Lizzie, but she will, sooner or later. That’s what we’re taught to do—what the Lord expects from us.”

  Amelia considered that as she enjoyed the coolness of the evening. The birds twittered high in the trees lining the old dirt road. “Do you think Michael will forgive Marissa . . . for leaving him?” she asked quietly.

  “Oh sure . . . but these things take time. And it’s not like she left Hickory Hollow, or wandered from the fold of the Amish church. Marissa was always Mennonite.” Joanna paused. “Michael shoulda known better.”

  “I don’t mean to be nosy.”

  “No, that’s all right. I guess ya must know Michael pretty well,” Joanna said, swinging her arms. “But if I tell ya what happened ’tween Marissa and Michael, you won’t share it with anyone, will ya?”

  “You can trust me.”

  “You have to understand that Marissa adored Michael. She even offered to join the Amish church for him, if he wanted. Leavin’ him was the hardest thing she’s ever done.”

  Amelia nodded.

  “But in the end, she knew she had to answer God’s calling on her life.”

  “Calling?”

  “Missions work. Marissa told Michael that Christ was her first love.”

  Amelia pondered that. “Why couldn’t Michael have joined her church and gone with her?”

  “I don’t know if she would have asked him. Amish don’t evangelize outside the confines of the community like Mennonites and other churches do. We focus on our own children—hoping they’ll join the church.”

  Amelia was surprised. “So, Michael accepts that teaching, but not other aspects of Amish faith?”

  “I’m not sure what Michael thinks about everything, honestly, but I know how his parents brought him up. And I don’t see how he could’ve gone with Marissa to study to be a missionary.”

  An enormous cloud covered the sun as they walked farther from the Kurtz farm, and within minutes a brilliant lining began to shine around the cloud, with bursts of silver rays shooting straight up. “Have you ever seen the sky look like this before?” Amelia remarked. “It reminds me of a painting.”

  “Ever so beautiful.” Joanna stared up for the longest time. Then she said, “Surely that’s how it’ll look when the Lord comes back.”

  Amelia was unable to take her eyes off Joanna as she gazed heavenward, her face shining with such expectation, even adoration.

  Marissa referred to Christ as her “first love.”

  Joanna’s account of Marissa, coupled with the devout expression on Joanna’s face, touched Amelia’s heart. If only my faith were as rich as theirs . . . Does their sense of contentment run so deep because these two women have found their purpose in life? she wondered.

  They walked silently for a few minutes, and Amelia enjoyed the wildflowers, especially the vivid yellow of the many clusters of daisies.

  “Just to be clear,” Joanna said suddenly, “I hope you don’t think Michael was at fault for the breakup with Marissa. Truth is, they just weren’t meant for each other.” Joanna looked again at the sky. In the space of a few minutes, the radiance had faded.

  “Not surprising,” Amelia remarked. “Lots of couples discover they don’t belong together.”

  In time . . .

  “True.” Joanna’s expression turned hopeful. “As for me—and my beau—I believe we’ll marry . . . one sweet day,” she whispered. “Lord willing.”

  “You have a beau?” Amelia asked.

  Joanna blushed and nodded, suddenly seeming shy. “No one knows about him, though.”

  “A secret love?”

  “Jah . . . he’s just wonderful-gut.”

  “Well, if he can make you smile like that, I’m sure he is,” Amelia replied, hoping Joanna would say more . . . and wondering when she didn’t.

  Joanna looked at her. “You’re interested in us—the People—ain’t?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Just seems to me you’re tenderhearted toward our ways.” Joanna smiled.

  “I have never experienced such peace . . . anywhere,” she admitted.

  “Well, stay around if you’d like. There’s a canning bee next Tuesday, and if you want a real taste of Amish life, washday is Monday, bright and early.”

  Amelia laughed. “Speaking of that, Elizabeth wants to borrow one of my outfits, so I’ll drive back over there tonight.” I nearly forgot.

  “Oh? Isn’t she goin’ to wear her old Amish dresses, then?”

  Amelia shrugged. She didn’t want to speak for Elizabeth. “She might need some time to get reacquainted with Plain ways” was Amelia’s best answer.

  “I ’spect she will,” Joanna replied.

  As they turned to head back, Amelia said no more, still curious about Joanna’s secret beau.

  Chapter 25

  In the wee hours that night, Amelia dreamed of an Amishwoman with kind blue eyes and deep laugh lines around her puckered mouth. “I’m ever so glad you’ve come, dearie,” she said, holding out her wrinkled hands. The elderly woman smiled and asked mischievously, “Will you play your fiddle for me?”

  Sunday morning Amelia awakened before dawn, wondering if Joanna was already up for milking. The room was still very dark, but outside, the robins chirped near the eaves, anticipating the coming sunrise. In the distance, a rooster crowed.

  Amelia stretched leisurely. Her body craved more sleep, but she would not give in to it, wanting to be alert to Joanna’s rising. She’d overslept and missed milking yesterday—she wasn’t about to let that happen again today. Sitting up, she yawned and stretched again, wondering what she could wear to the barn.

  Soon she heard Joanna stirring, and Amelia slipped out of bed to go quietly across the hall. Joanna greeted her warmly but looked surprised to see that she was up. She offered Amelia a man’s shirt and a clean pair of trousers. “If ya like, you can put these on under your skirt. It’s up to you, but it’s all right with us if you just wear the britches, like Dat and the fellas do.
The clothes ya brought are much too perty to wear in the barn.”

  “Thanks.” Amelia accepted what she assumed was Joanna’s father’s or possibly one of her brothers’ clothing.

  “Oh, and it might be a gut idea to borrow a pair of our work boots, too.” Joanna eyed Amelia’s own boots propped up against the wall in the corner, across the hallway. “Yours are just too nice to get mucked up.”

  Amelia was grateful. Once again, Joanna had thought of everything.

  Downstairs, they worked together to make the lighter of two breakfasts—Joanna explained that the next one would take place following milking. This breakfast was comprised only of some fruit, toast, and cinnamon rolls . . . as well as juice and coffee.

  “Did ya sleep well in this ol’ house?” Joanna asked while they set the table.

  “Very well, thanks. How about you?”

  Joanna smiled her answer. “Honestly, I had quite a lot on my mind, though . . . late into the night.”

  “Perhaps your beau?” Amelia whispered.

  Joanna’s eyes grew wide, and she shook her head. “Daresn’t say.”

  Amelia carried the butter and jam for the toast to the table, interested to know more about Joanna’s boyfriend.

  ———

  When the table was filled with people, Nate Kurtz bowed his head and silently gave thanks. It didn’t take long for everyone to eat the small portions of food—just enough to satisfy any hunger pangs before the larger breakfast later.

  After washing her hands, Amelia followed Joanna out to the barn. When the heavy door was slid open, she smelled the aroma of straw and feed, and anticipated plenty of fresh, raw milk from the herd. She recalled what Michael had explained about the diesel-powered milking machines the Amish now used.

  Joanna cautioned her to keep her distance. “The cows won’t give milk as readily if they sense a stranger near. They’re awful tetchy—all thirty-five of ’em.”

  Amelia recalled her own grandfather’s concern on the rare occasion that a visitor was present during milking. Although not a stranger per se, Great Uncle Cleo, her grandfather’s oldest brother, sometimes stopped by during the morning milking. Cleo was known to mumble to himself while he carried milk in a bucket to the milk house, where he poured it into the large cooling tank. Amelia remembered her grandmother as being incredibly patient and kind to Cleo, who had served time in World War II and never recovered.

  One by one, the cows began to stand up in their stalls, prodded by hunger and their swollen udders, which hung like enormous balloons between their legs.

  Joanna pointed out the propane barn lights to Amelia—and the automatic barn cleaner with slats to remove the cow dung. “Is this anything like your grandparents’ milking parlor?” she asked.

  “Not much.” Amelia shook her head. “And my grandparents always had a radio playing during milking. Papa said soft music, especially baroque, soothed the cows and helped them let down their milk.”

  Joanna chuckled at that. “Maybe you could play a milkin’ serenade on your fiddle for the herd . . . jah?”

  “You’re so funny.” She smiled.

  Amelia hung back as Joanna crouched in her long dress beside the first cow. She sprayed each udder with a special solution that she said contained one percent iodine, then wiped it down with old newspaper, starting the twice-daily ritual while her married brothers did the same to the next cows.

  Joanna’s father mixed the feed under one of the silos, glancing over at Amelia with Joanna. He nodded and gave a faint smile when he caught Amelia’s eye.

  “How can I help?” Amelia asked.

  Joanna looked at her father, who was pushing a wheelbarrow of feed their way. “Do ya really want to?”

  Amelia nodded. “However you think’s best, of course. I don’t want to startle the herd.”

  “Well, it’d be fun for you to give the calves their bottles. How ’bout that?”

  “Perfect.” Amelia couldn’t help smiling. “I’ll feel like I’m nine all over again!”

  ———

  After hanging out in the straw with the calves, Amelia was ready to get cleaned up. First, though, she went with Joanna to the end of the stanchions, where her friend showed her the lever to pull to open the tie rails that kept the cows inside their stalls.

  She was glad when Joanna suggested she head in to shower and change clothes. Although Amelia had enjoyed the barn—all the smells and sounds—she was not as enamored with the whole process of milking as she had been as a little girl. That fascination was tucked into the past, along with the days when her grandparents were living.

  By the time Joanna arrived inside, Amelia was ready to help start cooking. Evidently it would just be the two of them again, as Joanna’s mother had gone over to the Dawdi Haus to help her own mother make a hot breakfast.

  Once Joanna had thoroughly scrubbed up, she prepared the batter for blueberry pancakes. Amelia agreed to create the egg mixture for the scrambled eggs, which included onions, ham, and milk.

  “Ach, this is such fun,” Amelia teased, smiling over at Joanna, who worked across the counter.

  “Next thing, you’ll be talkin’ Deitsch.”

  “You yuscht never know,” Amelia replied.

  Joanna giggled. “Do ya make a big breakfast every day back home?”

  “Oh, now and then,” Amelia replied. “Most of the time, though, I have some fresh fruit and cereal or toast. It’s just me, you know.”

  “You don’t stay with your parents?” Her eyes were suddenly wide. “You live . . . on your own?”

  “I have for several years.”

  Joanna frowned a little.

  “Why? Do you consider it wrong?”

  “Maybe not so much wrong, as . . .” Joanna stared at the large stainless steel bowl in front of her. “It’s just that an unmarried woman round here is expected to live with her parents, under her father’s roof, ya know.”

  “The Amish way, no doubt,” Amelia said without thinking.

  “It’s part of God’s covering over a single girl,” Joanna added, her eyes still fixed on the pancake batter.

  So, if you live apart from your parents, God won’t look after you? Amelia finished dicing the ham, then dropped it into the eggs. “I hear what you’re saying about the way you were raised. But do you honestly believe it’s wrong for a single woman to live alone?” She was curious, knowing Joanna interacted with Englishers at market and other places.

  Joanna didn’t answer right away, which seemed to be a clue. “It’s not for me to say what you should or shouldn’t do, Amelia.” She glanced at the ceiling. “I’m not your judge. That position’s already taken.” She paused. “Hope you’re not upset.”

  Amelia pushed her hair back. This most delightful Sunday morning didn’t have to be tarnished by a difference of opinion. There was no way on the planet she and an Amish girl could expect to see eye to eye, even about inconsequential matters. “We come from such different cultures,” Amelia said. Yet she appreciated Joanna’s willingness to share her opinions. Certainly her views reflected the life stream of Amish tradition.

  “No hard feelings, then?” Joanna looked truly worried.

  “Not at all.”

  Relief registered on Joanna’s face—even her shoulders relaxed. “Ever so gut.” Joanna stopped her work and looked at Amelia. “Ya know, this might sound peculiar, but not long ago I prayed, askin’ God to send someone along to fill up the emptiness in the upstairs bedroom. Honestly, I did.”

  “That’s amazing—and very nice to know.” Amelia meant it with all of her heart.

  “I hope you’re having a refreshing time here.”

  “Oh definitely!” Amelia reassured her. “Last night in bed, hearing the crickets and seeing the moon rise, I actually wished I could stay longer. . . .”

  “Well, why not?” Joanna urged.

  “Thanks . . . you’ve been such a wonderful hostess. But I really do need to drive back to Columbus tomorrow.”

  “Well, I c
ertainly mean it.”

  Conscious of the sincerity in Joanna’s clear eyes, Amelia wondered if her new friend was so readily accepting of other Englishers . . . their foreign ways aside. Was it just Joanna’s friendly nature . . . or had Joanna been influenced by Michael?

  Chapter 26

  Amelia followed Joanna’s lead and helped carry a platter of scrambled eggs with crisp bacon along the side, while Joanna brought over the equally large plate of stacked pancakes. Joanna’s brothers had returned to their own families for the morning, so it was only Amelia, Joanna, and her parents at the table for the more substantial second breakfast of the day.

  After Nate offered the silent prayer, Joanna’s mother brought up the neighboring church district, saying they were having their Preaching service today. “The Amish youth from that district will be hosting a barn Singing at dusk,” Rhoda added.

  Amelia had heard of such gatherings but had never had the opportunity to listen in on the unison voices.

  But her first priority was to see Ella Mae Zook again. Something tugged at her heart when she thought about visiting the charming woman, and it was all Amelia could do not to tell Joanna what she had planned while they worked to clean up the kitchen.

  The minute I’m free, I’ll head over to Ella Mae’s with my fiddle!

  Lillianne happily gave her granddaughter the undivided attention she seemed to crave both before and after breakfast. Elizabeth told how very difficult her schoolwork had been and later mentioned her waitressing work and two other girls who shared the rent with her. It was as if the poor thing hadn’t had anyone to talk to all these months.

  Elizabeth followed Lillianne around like a shadow, sitting smack-dab next to her during morning prayers and Bible reading. Lillianne hoped she would say something about wanting to visit her parents. Truth was, Lillianne worried that if Paul or Michael didn’t take her over there soon, Elizabeth’s apparent hesitation might cause even more strife in the family. Jah, for sure and for certain.