“Hey, Butch. We’re going to visit the farm!”
“No way,” Percy replied, shaking his hands furiously. “I know where that leads. Hazel will get excited and then she’ll want chickens. I have enough rubbish in my van as it is…”
“Oh, come on, Percy, stop being such a bore…”
“I said, no. There’s no way I’m having chickens in my van! And there is no way we’re going anywhere near that farm!”
Ten minutes later, we were on the road again, heading for The Graber Farm.
Chapter Nine – The Boy in the Buggy
A short way down the road, there was another town – a lovely looking place consisting of no more than twenty or so houses, a small town meeting hall beneath a tall clock tower and a couple of shops. The three of us ladies were keen to press on, but Percy – who had developed something of a mild huff since Hazel convinced him to drive us all the way to the Graber Farm – seemed to have found some sort of backbone and insisted on pulling over so he could enjoy an afternoon nap.
Leaving Percy to his sleep, we decided to take a stroll out in the town where we found a nice little coffee shop sitting snugly beside a small florist. It was Ida May’s turn to buy the coffee. She marched quickly inside leaving Hazel and me to grab a table out on the street. As it turned out, there were more than enough vacant tables that we didn’t really need to worry about reserving one and – seeing that it was such a beautiful day, Hazel and I decided to head into the florist to grab some flowers to take home with us.
The owner of the florist was an old woman – and I mean old by our standards. We were in our mid seventies at the time, but this woman must have been pushing ninety. And yet, she scooted back and forth behind the counter like a woman barely over thirty, cutting stalks and giftwrapping elaborate bouquets for the customers in front of us. As she did so, a young girl – probably no older than seventeen – sat beside the counter, doing her level best to ignore our arrival while her eyes were glued incessantly to her cellphone.
“Kids these days,” Hazel remarked as we finally reached the front of the queue, nodding coyly towards the girl who stared viciously back before returning to her phone. “How they have time to live with their eyes always on a screen, I’ll never know…”
The storeowner chuckled. “My granddaughter,” she explained. “She’s doing a couple of hours for me here and there. They call it work experience…”
“Do they?” Hazel replied, laughing heartily as though she’d just told the silliest joke. “Not much work going on if you ask me.”
“Apparently it’s the new thing,” the storeowner explained. “Dani – that’s my granddaughter – is trying to set me up with a website on the Web-Internet. She thinks it will bring me more business.”
Dani dragged her eyes away from her phone. “It will, grandma,” she replied earnestly. “It’s called the Future. Even the Amish are beginning to grasp the concept…”
Hazel paused, her eyes glancing over at me before she quickly scooted over beside Dani. “The Amish, eh?” she said, trying and failing to appear as nonchalant as possible. “I always thought they were more traditional than that.”
Dani shrugged, pocketing her phone and leaning back on the counter. “They’ve got to make a living, don't they?”
Hazel’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“The whole world is going online now. Even African villages without proper running water have wifi…”
“I don’t think that’s quite true…”
“And it won’t be long before any human being can talk to any other in the entire world! At any time! Soon, all business will be done on the web.” She flung her hands up in the air, almost clouting Hazel around the head as she fluttered her hands above her. “Order forms. Websites. Emails. Hundreds of thousands of pieces of information floating through the atmosphere…”
She brought her hands down with a sudden thump, causing Hazel to almost jump out of her skin. “Even the Amish aren’t silly enough to ignore that.”
The whole room went quiet as Hazel and I stared at Dani who, having finished her lecture, settled back down and took out her phone once again. It was hard to tell whether Hazel was impressed or terrified by the prospect of information floating above our heads. As she turned back towards me, her face had a look of such intense concern that I half thought she was afraid that information might be zapped right out of her head as we stood there.
The storeowner was the first to break the silence, chuckling slightly as she pulled up a selection of bouquets for us to look at.
“Like I said, my granddaughter. Don’t mind her.” She chuckled again. “And now, what can I do for you lovely ladies.”
****
Ida May already sat outside the coffee store as we emerged from the florist. Hazel, in her confusion over Dani’s comments, had bought the first bouquet that the owner had offered her – which wouldn’t have necessarily been a bad thing had it not been a selection of roses. Ida May stared with irritation as Hazel deposited the bouquet down on the table.
“Roses, Hazel? Why on earth would you get roses?”
Hazel looked genuinely ashamed. “I panicked.”
Ida May shook her head in disgust. “Such a ridiculous flower…”
I chuckled and reached forward to grab my coffee. I took a long drink from it, savoring the bittersweet taste while my face enjoyed the warm breath of the sunshine upon it. In the back of my mind, I was distinctly aware of the sound of a horse and buggy making its way down the street – although I didn’t pay it much attention. I was too busy enjoying such a glorious day.
As the buggy passed by, I raised my coffee cup to my lips once more.
Hazel’s arm darted out with such ferocity that I almost threw the scolding liquid all over myself. She let out a small squeal and grabbed my hand, her finger gesturing in the direction of the horse and buggy.
“Did you see that?”
Ida May and I exchanged curious glances.
“See what, Hazel?”
“That boy on the buggy. Tell me you saw him.”
“What about him?”
“He’s Amish!”
Ida May looked like she was about to burst out laughing. She barely tried to hide her snigger as she raised a paper napkin and dabbed gently at her lips.
“I would’ve thought you’d seen enough of them already…”
“No, I mean…”
Hazel paused, her eyes glancing between the two of us, sparkling with glee as they did. “Didn’t you see it?”
“See what, Hazel?”
Hazel opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it. She slowly closed it and settled back into her seat, staring out towards the buggy as it disappeared around the corner.
“No, nothing,” she replied. “Never mind.”
It was the strangest thing.
The Amish were always so traditional. They never really did the whole technology thing. In fact they kept themselves to themselves for the most part.
And yet in one day, Hazel’s whole view of them had been turned upside down.
First there was Jebediah’s friend, Charlotte…
Then there was Dani and her assertion that the Amish were using websites…
And now this…
Was she overreacting?
Hazel didn’t think so. The others often joked that she was away with the fairies, but in truth her eyes were just that little bit keener than most.
But were they too keen?
She can’t have been imagining it, could she? Was her excitement beginning to run away with her, or was it just a normal thing now?
Either way, she could’ve sworn she’d seen it…
A young Amish lad sitting in the buggy…
Reins in one hand…
And a cellphone in the other…
Chapter Ten – The Graber Farm
As soon as Percy had recovered from his nap, we were on the road again, heading towards the Graber Farm – althou
gh only after Percy made Hazel promise not to buy any chickens.
Hazel – to her credit – didn’t put up much of a fight and promised straight away, although I couldn’t help noticing that her fingers were crossed behind her back when she agreed. I didn’t point this out to Percy – he seemed stressed enough as it was.
As it happened, when we arrived at the Graber Farm, Percy’s entire demeanor took a turn for the better. In fact, he was the first one out of the van when we arrived. Staring up at the cobblestone built farmhouse, he excitedly pointed out the intricate wooden carvings on the roof and marveled at the sweet, rustic décor of the place.
We headed straight into a large wooden barn that sat opposite the grain store, Percy excitedly marching ahead as he led the way in. As we arrived inside, the animals in the barn all seemed to stop and consider us for a moment before rushing across their pens to greet us all.
Hazel turned to us with such glee in her eyes that she looked like she’d just won an around-the-world cruise.
“Isn’t this amazing?”
As she trotted off towards the chicken coup, a few seconds later, Percy seemed to realize where she was heading and, with the speed of an Olympic athlete darted after her.
“Wait a moment,” he called out. “What are you – urgh!”
He stopped in the middle of the barn, raising one foot up to inspect it before quickly turning his nose up. Hopping on one foot while shaking the other, he turned towards us, looking as though he might vomit on the spot.
“What is that on my shoe?”
“What’s the matter, Butch?” Ida May called out, giggling wildly. “Not afraid of a little horse manure, are you?”
“Horse manure…? These are brand new…”
Percy gave his foot one last flick of his shoe, finally dislodging the brown muck that had previously clung to the end of it. Time seemed to slow as the brown sludge spun up into the air, hung there for a moment, and then descended back towards the ground. Unfortunately, at that precise moment, Percy decided to step forward to check his other foot just as the manure splatted against the waist of his trousers…
“Agh!”
The scream was so loud that Percy’s voice echoed repeatedly around the large space. I turned to Ida May who watched Percy with a wicked look in her eye.
“I think I’d better go to the farmhouse,” I explained. “Let them know what’s going on in case they think someone is being murdered.”
Ida May laughed. “Good idea. Meanwhile, I might go pet those goats. Let’s see if I can convince one of them to head-butt him for good measure…”
I had no idea whether Ida May was being serious or not, although I wouldn’t put it past her. As I headed out of the barn, I passed a small gathering of Amish laborers, who looked curiously towards the barn as Percy’s screams echoed louder and louder. None of them seemed willing enough to venture inside. In fact, one or two of them seemed on the verge of breaking down into uncontrollable laughter, much to the disapproval of some of the elders in the group. I gave them all a small smile, but wasn’t surprised to find that I didn’t receive one back.
I moved quickly across the courtyard and went to knock on the front door, only to find it already open. I stared back at the gathered laborers, but none of them seemed particularly concerned with my encroachment into the farmhouse, so I stepped inside.
“Hello?”
The inside of the house was much like I’d expected. It was a relatively large room with a plain wooden table in the middle. On the table was a white, woven tablecloth upon which had been laid a collection of simple brown plates and cups, a couple of glass jars, and a large fruit bowl filled mostly with grapes.
I stepped a little further into the room, marveling at the simplicity of it all when I became distinctly aware of some raised voices coming from the next room.
I paused for a moment. I had done my fair share of snooping in other people’s homes, but somehow this felt different. Whereas before I felt like I was justified in listening in on other people’s conversations, this felt as though I was doing something far worse. A ridiculous idea – of course – but it was one that troubled my mind for a good minute or so before I finally threw caution to the wind and made my way over to the door.
I listened in hard, but the voices seemed somehow muffled as though they weren’t actually on the other side of the door and were in fact much further away. And yet, as I strained my ears, I could just about make out the unmistakable sound of Jebediah’s voice.
“You cannot do that Uncle!”
“Oh, I can’t, can I?”
“You have to let me experience the world outside.”
“You are Amish, boy. And don’t you forget it.”
There was a brief silence. “Well maybe I don’t want to be Amish anymore…”
There was the sound of a slamming door and then silence. A moment later, I could hear footsteps moving swiftly towards the door that I was listening through. Before I had a chance to react, the door was flung open and I found myself staring into the eyes of a tall man, with a long brown beard who glared down at me with such startling aggression that I felt as though I might faint right then and there. The pitchfork standing at the ready by the back door didn't help allay my fears either.
He considered me for a moment, his eyes flickering towards the open farmhouse door behind me, before finally he took a deep breath and muttered:
“Yes? Can I help you?”
Chapter Eleven – The Rumspringa Conundrum
“I said, can I help you?”
He continued to stare at me as he slid through the open doorway and slowly shut the door behind him. I felt myself sliding backwards, unable to take my eyes of the man in front of me. He didn’t seem particularly intimidating, but there was a certain maliciousness in his eyes that made me skulk back across the room until I felt the side of the wooden table make contact with my back.
“I…” I stuttered, my hands plunging down to grab at the table so I wouldn’t topple over. “I heard raised voices…”
The Amish man stared at me, not even blinking. He seemed to be considering me for a moment, before his eyes softened and a small smile began to grow across his face.
“My apologies,” he muttered, nodding his head respectfully. “I often forget that our customs are a little alien to many of our visitors.”
‘Your customs?” I replied, feeling the tension lift slightly, although my hands still gripped a tight hold of the table. “Arguing with each other?”
The Amish man thought for a moment, that strange smile still glued to his face. He opened his mouth to answer, when suddenly his eyes darted to the front door behind me. As if by magic, his face softened even further – in fact he almost looked joyous as his eyes fell on Hazel tottering into the room.
“Miss Hazel,” he exclaimed. “How are you?”
Hazel trotted over, reaching out for the Amish man’s hand and giving it a brief shake. “Jethro, how are you?”
“Very well, miss.”
Hazel paused, glancing towards me. I don’t know whether the fear was still present in my eyes, but Hazel didn’t seem to respond to it if it was. Instead she gave a brief gesture towards me.
“I see you’ve met my friend, Clara…”
“Miss Clara,” Jethro nodded respectfully. “My apologies if I startled you.” He turned to Hazel. “Are you here for more chickens, Miss Hazel?”
“Startled?” Clearly Hazel hadn’t noticed anything wrong. “What were you up to, Jethro?”
A shade of embarrassment crossed Jethro’s face. “Miss Clara may have overheard a minor altercation with my nephew, Jebediah…”
“Oh yes...Jebediah.”
Jethro’s eyes narrowed. “You know my nephew?”
Hazel nodded happily.
“We met him while he was making a delivery to Susan’s furniture shop a few towns over,” I explained.
Jethro’s eyes seemed to scan through me for a moment before he finally smiled and nodded onc
e more.
“Good to see that boy is doing some of his work lately,” he replied, moving across the room to grab a jug of water. “He’s been slacking off lately…”
“He delivers the furniture for you?”
Jethro nodded before offering us a cup of water. I didn’t accept, but Hazel did. Jethro poured out the water and handed Hazel a cup before muttering:
“I should’ve expected it really…”
“Expected what?”
Jethro sighed. “The boy is on his rumspringa…”
“His rum…what?”
I turned to Hazel – she seemed to look as confused as I was.
“Rumspringa,” repeated Jethro, setting down the water jug and lifting his own cup to drink from. “An Amish custom. Before our youngsters are formally baptized within the Amish church, they are allowed to diverge from our regular customs. It is encouraged that, as elders of the community, we allow a certain amount of misbehavior from our youth so that they can experience life outside our community. After that they are given the opportunity to be baptized and join the community, or else leave it to pursue a life elsewhere.”
“What a wonderful concept,” I replied, nodding my head in approval. “I suppose it means that no one in your community is here against their will – no one needs to be pressured into joining the community if they don’t want to.”
“Quite so,” Jethro replied, a small smirk appearing on his face momentarily. “Although most youngsters choose to remain. It is very rare they decide to leave…”
“And Jebediah?”
Jethro turned towards Hazel, a glimmer of pain shooting behind his eyes. “Jebediah is particularly difficult at the moment.”
“You mean, you fear he might leave?”
“I mean, he has chosen to continue working for me while on his rumspringa,” Jethro clarified. “He continues to live here with his family and earn extra money working for me, but we allow him certain luxuries…”
Pinched, Pilfered and a Pitchfork (We're Not Dead Yet Club Book 4) Page 5