by Sarah Price
It was close to ten-thirty when Emanuel came over to find Shana. He greeted the other girls with a pleasant hello before he nodded to Shana and asked if she was ready to leave. Trying to hide her relief, Shana bid the small group of girls’ goodnight and, to her pleasant surprise, they replied that they hoped to see her again. Shana wondered if that was for her benefit or Emanuel's but quickly decided that she didn't care. She was just glad to be leaving.
"I hope you don't mind leaving so soon," Emanuel started as they walked to the buggies. "We have church tomorrow and I must get up early to help Daed with the milking," he explained.
"That's fine," Shana said softly, hoping he didn't ask about her evening. She hadn't spent much time with him and she wondered if he was curious about how she had gotten along with the Amish girls. But she had so many unanswered questions that she was thankful that he didn’t asked.
Instead, they walked in silence down the lane to the place where he had left the buggy three hours earlier. The night air was cool and the sky was clear. Overhead, the moon lingered, surrounded by the clearest stars Shana had ever seen. Between the moon and the stars, there was a brilliant glow of silver cast over the twenty or so buggies by the silo. It was a pretty sight and Shana sighed softly at how peaceful everything seemed.
"You go to church?" he asked, breaking the silence as he helped her into his buggy.
She waited until he was seated beside her before she replied, "Not recently." She wondered if that bothered him.
For a long time, Emanuel remained silent. The buggy lurched forward as Lucky Monday, at Emanuel's urging, slowly began the long trip home. In the darkness, the buggy felt safer and more comforting. The creaking of the wheels as they rolled along the roads soothed Shana and, had the seat been more comfortable, she would have drifted off to sleep.
"Do you believe?"
His question startled her. "In what?"
"God."
Shana laughed. "Of course! Everyone believes in God."
"Then why don't you go to church to worship Him?"
"Well, I..." she began. Then, not being able to think of a reason why, she shrugged her shoulders and admitted, "I don't know. We used to go a long time ago but when we moved to Connecticut, my father traveled a lot and my mother had never been very religious. I guess you could say that we fended for ourselves and eventually lost touch with the church."
"We?"
"My sister and I."
Emanuel took his eyes off the road long enough to cast a sideways glance at her. "Don't you have any other sisters or brothers, then?"
Shana laughed again. "I guess that must be hard for you to imagine since you have ten children in your family."
"You must get lonely without anyone around," he replied quietly, returning his gaze to the road. A car passed along side of the buggy and Lucky Monday lifted her head at the noise. The lights quickly faded down the dark road until, once again, the buggy was surrounded in darkness, broken only by the dim lighting thrown onto the road by the battery-operated headlights.
"Those girls that I met tonight," Shana started slowly. "They seemed quite friendly."
"You sound surprised," he replied solemnly.
"Ester seemed a little quiet, though," she continued cautiously. She didn't want to mention that brief moment of tension but her own curiosity was getting the best of her. When Emanuel did not reply, Shana asked, "Do you know her family well?"
"They live on the farm down the lane."
Again, the buggy filled with silence. Shana fought the awkwardness of the moment and her mind whirled in a thousand directions. On the tip of her tongue lingered dozens of questions but the silence, while uncomfortable, seemed the most appropriate. She let it hang over them as the horse trotted down the road. Another car passed them and, feeling the vibration from its speed, Shana cringed.
"Does that bother you?"
She snapped out of her daze and looked at Emanuel. "What?"
"Every time a car passes, you jump."
"Do I?"
He nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, something she sensed even in the darkness. "I thought you'd get used to it by now. Perhaps one day," he said softly.
"There are a lot of things that I doubt I'd ever get used to," she heard herself blurt out. Her heart began to pound inside her chest, startled and ashamed of herself for always speaking before thinking.
"Such as?"
Had Emanuel not sounded genuinely curious, Shana wouldn't have answered. But his question was asked earnestly, as well as honestly. So, she decided to answer his question in the same manner. "Courtship, for one," she replied to which Emanuel laughed quietly but he did not respond. Taking the lead, Shana continued. "These men invite the girls to play volleyball but none of the girls actually play. They stand in the shadows, watching and giggling, never once interacting with their dates until it's time to go home."
"And this confuses you?"
Shana sighed. "When do they actually get to know each other? How can they ever marry? I mean, have you ever dated?"
He hesitated for a moment, then slowly responded, "If that is what you consider dating."
"What did you learn about your girlfriend? Her desires? Her wants? Her dreams?"
Emanuel cleared his throat. "Shana," he began. "We learn much more than that. We learn her strengths, her values, and her character. The rest, the little things, we learn those qualities after we make the decision to marry."
"Is that what you consider important?"
"Don't you?" he quickly answered. "Dreams and desires can change throughout the years. You cannot count of those things, Shana. But a person's inner strength, their inbred values, and their entire character won't. Does she worship the Lord? Practice His wishes as He commands of us? Does hard work frighten her? Or does she tackle her chores head on? Does she strive to be good and follow the Ordnung? Does she shun evil and worldliness? These are things that can be counted on forever. These are qualities that a man looks for and considers important."
For a short time, Shana feasted on his words. Perhaps he was right, she thought. Too often, people stress the unstable qualities of a relationship rather than the constant and more important characteristics, she realized. "Does Ester meet those standards?" she heard herself ask, immediately wishing she could retract those horrible, jealous words that had slipped from her lips.
"Ester?" Emanuel repeated. For a few seconds, he frowned as if confused by her question. Mortified by the anticipation of what he was thinking, Shana watched his reaction. He slowly realized what her question had really meant and smiled in the dim reflection from the battery operated buggy lights. "On several occasions, I've offered her rides home after singings and other gatherings," he softly explained. "But that is only because of the proximity of her farm to ours, Shana."
Had it been daylight, he would have seen her blush. Thankful for the cover of darkness, Shana turned her face away and stared at the moonlit fields of green corn. She didn't know why she cared, but she only knew she did. And now, he knew too.
Sensing her discomfort, Emanuel let the rest of the ride finish in silence. Enough had been said for one night, they both silently agreed. And, when the wheels of the buggy finally stopped before her small house, Shana thanked Emanuel before gratefully retreating to the safety of her home.
Chapter Six
Early that Sunday morning, Shana laid in bed, listening to Jonas and his sons feed the cows. The cows shuffled back and forth on the cement floor in the barn, occasionally stomping one of their hooves impatiently. She could hear the Lapp men working in the barn, cleaning the manure and spreading lime on the freshly cleaned floors to kill the germs. As the men worked inside, the younger sons pitched hay into the feeders for the cows. The hay swooshed through the air, the noise blending in with the soft chewing from the cows. Every once in a while, she'd hear someone call out in Deitsch. A voice would reply then silence, except for the cows.
In the dim early light, she stared at the ceiling,
her eyes traveling along a narrow, crooked crack in the faded white paint. It wandered across the ceiling and down one corner of the room, finally disappearing behind the crumpled blankets, which she had kicked off during the previous sleepless night, at the foot of her bed. She had memorized that crooked crack, watching it first in the silver glow from the moon then in the golden brush of dawn. Focusing on it, she had tried to escape the turmoil of thoughts that dashed in and out of her mind. It hadn't worked. Shutting her eyes, she rolled over and clutched a flat white pillow to her stomach, the pressure relieving her pangs of anxiety.
It was almost an hour later when she finally heard the rattle of the buggies as they headed down the lane for a neighboring farm for church. Three buggies filed past her small house before the noise disappeared down the lane and, finally, over the hill. The sound echoed in her ears and, when she could no longer trace the noise, she dropped her feet to the cold, wood floor and forced herself to face the day.
Downstairs, she stood at the old gas stove, her silk robe, a dark paisley print, wrapped around her. She gazed out the window, watching as the cows, one by one, wandered away from the feeding troughs and out into the open pasture. As they spread out among the field, they staked their claim around a small piece of grass, some of them dropping to rest and other arching their necks as they bellowed softly. As she watched, a thin stream of steam escaped from the chipped yellow metal teapot and, the warmth rising to caress her cheeks, she shut off the stove with a quick snap of her wrist and poured the water into her waiting mug of instant coffee.
She carried the cup over to the table and set it down on the pale pastel tablecloth. She climbed onto the kitchen chair, one leg bent with her knee pressed against the tabletop. For several long minutes, she stirred the coffee in her cup, her spoon clinking softly against the sides. Then, resting her cheek against her palm, she lifted the cup to her lips. Outside the window, a bird chirped from a nearby tree. It was answered by another. Shana leaned back in the chair and glanced around the room. Her eyes fell upon a blank pad of paper next to the sink. Seconds later, she chewed on the end of a pencil, the pad of paper next to her coffee cup. She scribbled an amateur flower on the upper right hand corner then turned the pencil over to erase it. The wet eraser left a smudge where the four-petal flower had once been.
She drummed the pencil against the tabletop, her eyes drifting from the blank paper with the smudge back to the window. A sigh escaped her lips and she forced her attention back to the pad of paper. Straightening her shoulders, she jotted down four words on the paper: "Clean house" and "Wash clothes." For a long moment, she stared at the blotchy writing on the paper. Then, a frown crossing her face, she tossed the pencil onto the table, leaned back, and covered her eyes with her hands.
Get with it, Shana, she told herself. All night, she had relived their conversation from the buggy ride home. She had berated herself a thousand times over for assuming. For assuming that, maybe, he had taken her there for more than just friendship. That maybe she had seen something in Ester's eyes whenever the young Amish girl had sought out Emanuel. That maybe the feelings inside of her, the ones she just couldn't understand, were real.
Several hours later, after her return from the local laundromat, Shana found herself walking among the tall rows of corn, most of them just empty, fading green stalks. The corn had ripened earlier that summer and now, by mid-July, most of it had been picked and sold. A small brown mouse dashed across the row up ahead and, startled, Shana felt her heart jump and she quickly retraced her steps through the field and toward the empty barn buildings.
She stopped at Lucky Monday's stall but that too was empty. A layer of fresh straw covered the floor and the water trough in the corner held clean water, with the exception of two pieces of hay floating on top. Shana reached in, plucked them from the water, and let them fall back onto the floor. The dog barked once as she walked out of the barn. Shana spared the growing pup a friendly scratch behind the ears before she headed out to the gardens. A car raced down the road, its momentary roar breaking the peacefulness before fading away into the outside world.
For a long time, she stood on the outskirts of Katie Lapp's garden, lost in thought as she surveyed the farm before her. The scarecrow in the garden, dressed in typical Amish fashion, was faded and the clothing torn. In the front yard of the house, a small flowerbed needed to be watered but the flowers, though dry, bloomed a brilliant red. Further in the distance, she noticed that the barn needed a fresh coat of paint and the driveway a fresh layer of gravel. But, wherever she looked, she saw life and love mixed with the beauty of nature.
The pains inside her chest hung heavier and her palms grew increasingly sweaty as she stood there, the summer sun beating on her back. For a moment, she felt faint and then, to her own astonishment, she started to cry. At first, she fought it, but as she stood there, the tears rolled down her cheeks. She tasted the salt on her lips and, with the back of her hand, wiped them away. Yet, they continued to fall and soon, even thought she didn't understand why, she released her emotions and, sinking to her knees, covered her face with her hands and wept.
She was still kneeling there when the family returned from church. Lowering her head as she stood, Shana barely caught sight of the three buggies as they pulled into the driveway and past the barn. As the first buggy rolled by, she thought she saw Jonas wave but, as Emanuel's buggy passed her, she avoided meeting his eyes and quickly escaped from the farm, wandering further down the road and away from the Lapp farm.
She spent the next two hours walking, the fresh air soothing her rattled nerves but not her whirlwind of thoughts. She ignored her confusion, listening only to the soles of her shoes against the street. She held her head high, ignoring her inner turmoil as she blocked out every thing but the beauty of the country surrounding her. While she walked, several buggies slowly passed her, all of the drivers, semi-hidden behind the black walls that surrounded the tiny side window, waving to her. To her surprise, from one of the buggies came a pleasant, "Good day, Shana."
Pausing by the narrow bridge, Shana stared across the fields. A narrow creek weaved through the fields like an ugly, brown snake, the murky water ruining the freshness of the ripe, green corn. Almost a quarter mile downstream, a black and white Holstein waded through the creek, stopping only to lower her head down to the water and take a long, slow drink. Then, its thirst quenched, the cow lifted its head and spared any listening ears a sorrowful loud cry.
Shana leaned against the stone bridge wall and watched the cow for a while, her thoughts slowly returning to what she fought so hard to avoid. She dreaded returning to work the next day. The anger, the tension, the stress. It beckoned her to run and hide. After living in the peace and tranquility of the Amish for three days of pretend, her stomach twisted into a knot at having to step outside the realm of fantasy and return to the world of reality. My world of reality, she corrected.
She returned down the lane to the Lapp’s farm. She kept her eyes downcast as she heard footsteps approaching but, when she realized it was Emanuel's younger brother, David, she spared him a forced smile and soft "Hello". Then, with a forlorn glance in the direction of the large farmhouse, Shana disappeared into her own small house.
It wasn't until much later that evening when she heard the familiar clippity-clop of a horse's hooves against the macadam outside her house. She had already cooked a light supper for herself and, the dishes drying on a damp towel next to the sink, Shana sat at the table and forced her to complete the following week's work schedule. The gentle knock at the door startled her. Quickly, she hurried to the door and opened it, equally surprised to see Emanuel, still dressed in his Sunday best, standing before her.
"Good evening, Shana." He shuffled his feet and glanced at the ground. It was dark outside and the crickets were busy singing their communal song of summer. An occasional firefly would sparkle in the air, disappearing as quickly as it flashed its brilliant, yellow-green light. "I know it’s late but I wanted to take my
other horse for a quick drive and thought that, maybe, you'd join me."
When he lifted his eyes to meet hers, the timid expression on his face startled her. Had he been experiencing the same turmoil, the same rush of emotion that she had been fighting all day? One look at his face added to her suspicions and she understood that what he really wanted was to talk. Without saying a word, Shana nodded her head and closed the door behind herself, not bothering to lock it. Instead, she followed Emanuel to the waiting grey-topped buggy and let him assist her inside.
When he was seated beside her, he carefully slid the door shut. He paused to spare her an uneasy glance before slapping the reins against the back of the horse and clicking his tongue. When the buggy lurched forward, Shana's arm brushed against Emanuel's and she felt a thrill race through her blood. He let his one hand touch her knee, unnecessarily steadying her as she settled back into the seat. The color rose to Shana's cheeks as she stared out the window, too aware of Emanuel's presence next to her and the emotions raging inside her heart.