by Sarah Price
"Emanuel?"
"Hum?"
"What's wrong, Emanuel?" she asked, moving over to the side of the bed. "You've hardly spoken a word all night and then only to reprimand Sylvia."
"We have a lot of work to do tomorrow," he said sharply.
"She's old enough to know when she's tired. Besides, I think she was curious about my parents."
He rolled over and leaned back in the pillow. "Her curiosity tonight will make her lazy tomorrow," he snapped.
"Emanuel!" For a long moment, her shocked expression countered his own obvious anger. And, indeed, she was shocked for she had never heard him say an unkind word about anyone.
The clock downstairs rang a quarter past ten, the chimes reverberating throughout the quiet downstairs and floating up the stairs to the second floor. The flame from the lantern danced against the glass, its glow casting shadows across the plain white walls. Finally, Emanuel broke the silence. "I'm sorry, Shana," he apologized as he sat up. "I'm not used to such tension and hostility in my home."
Her expression softened as she sat down on the bed next to him. "You mean my parents?" She folded her hands in her lap, staring at the dancing shadows for a long moment. She had felt it, too. She had tried to prepare Emanuel that their visit would not be as amicable as he imagined. But she had hoped that once they held their first grandson in their arms, they would have forgotten that their daughter would raise him Amish. "I don't think meeting their hostility with hostility toward Sylvia will ease the tension," she said softly.
He leaned his head in her lap and sighed as her fingers began stroking his curls. "If they knew your new life would shock them, why did they insist on visiting?" He wrapped his arms around her waist and exhaled loudly. "I don't understand the Englische, Shana. Your ways are so different."
"No different than your parents' initial reaction to our marriage." She ran her fingers across his cheek. "It isn't our place to always understand, only to accept."
Emanuel smiled up at her and gave her a gentle squeeze. "Your wisdom shames me, Shana."
"It shouldn't, Emanuel." She smiled back. "I've learned it from you." She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. "Now, you should sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow and Noah will certainly wake us early."
Twice during the night, Noah woke for his feeding. Shana sat in the straight back chair by the window, staring out into the darkness at the fields in the moonlight. Soon, the tobacco would be all speared and hung to dry. By then, it would be time to cut the alfalfa and bale it for the upcoming winter months. Shortly after that, Emanuel would continue harvesting the corn and start shredding the drying stalks. He would also start harvesting the second set of tobacco plants that he had planted just weeks before Noah's birth. And then, the winter months would settle in again. While she looked forward to spending more time with Emanuel, she dreaded the thought of the cold.
When Emanuel awoke in the morning, Shana had just finished nursing Noah. She dressed quickly and woke Sylvia with a gentle touch to her shoulder. "I'm going to the barn to help Emanuel. Will you watch Noah?" Within minutes, Sylvia was dressed and in the kitchen, Noah asleep by the open window in his crib, a gentle warm breeze blowing across his back. Sylvia stood in front of the small mirror over the sink in washroom. With expert fingers, she rolled her hair back over her ears and pinned it in a careful, neat bun.
Shana smiled at Sylvia as she touched her own hair. "You do that so quickly. It always takes me ten minutes and I have to do it twice."
"It'll get easier in time," Sylvia replied modestly as she opened a kitchen cabinet and reached for a pan. "Should I start breakfast for your parents, too?"
"I'll fix theirs later, Sylvia. I'm afraid it's too early for them."
Her parents awoke around eight-thirty. By that time, the early breakfast dishes had been cleaned and Emanuel was already out in the fields, checking on his tobacco plants. Shana greeted her parents with a warm smile and hurried to fix their breakfast, conscious of their constant gaze on her back. She tied an apron around the waist of one of her plain green dress that Sylvia had helped her make after Noah's birth.
"I'll help you, dear," her mother started but Shana quickly discouraged any help. She needed to keep busy, force herself to work in order to ease the tension. "You're so busy, Shana," her mother replied as she joined her husband on the slightly tattered sofa.
"Mother, Noah was born over three weeks ago. I can't be idle forever."
"But you should take it easy."
Shana broke five eggs into a large bowl. She tossed the broken eggshells into a garbage bag before whipping at the eggs with a bent fork. "Sylvia's been a great help while I've been getting back onto my feet." She looked up at Sylvia and smiled. "Of course, it's Sylvia who's been doing most of the chores. Washing the clothes, weeding the garden, cooking the meals."
"How long will you be staying with Shana, Sylvia?" her mother asked as she leaned over to pick up Noah. Sitting back on the sofa, Shana's mother shifted the baby in her arms, her one hand expertly patting her grandson as he slept.
Sylvia lowered her eyes, avoiding the gaze of Shana's parents. "As long as I'm needed." She glanced up at Shana. "I like being around the babies."
The eggs sizzled in the heavy cast-iron pan. Shana began stirring them, her wrist moving quickly and the iron prongs of the fork scrapping against the pan. "I thought after breakfast we could go for a buggy ride," Shana said. "I figured you hadn't been for a buggy ride before."
"Can't say that we have," her father answered.
Shana turned around, her wrist still scrambling the eggs. "Well, if you're out here in Lancaster, visiting your daughter, I guess we better remedy that," she replied lightly. She noticed the darkness that crossed their faces and quickly changed the subject. "We'll go to the store for some apples and, this afternoon, Mother, you can help Sylvia and I make applesauce. Maybe Father can help Emanuel in the barn. You can clean some stalls to get the city out of you," she teased and, noticing their frowns turn into surprise, she laughed. "Or you can just watch," she added.
Later in the afternoon, with over twenty quarts of applesauce stacked neatly on the shelves in the washroom outside of the kitchen, Shana walked through her garden with her mother. Emanuel had taken her father into the fields after the noon meal and Sylvia had opted to watch over Noah while she completed her school journal entry for the day. So, the sun beating down on them, mother and daughter walked through the garden, Shana occasionally stooping to pluck some weeds from the dry ground.
"I wish it would rain soon," she said wishfully, her eyes scanning the cloudless sky. "It's been such a dry summer, the crops are behind."
"Well, you can't control the weather," her mother replied.
Shana stood up, wiping her hands on her skirt. Then, reaching her hand up to shield her eyes, she searched the horizon for the men. "Emanuel's showing Father the young tobacco plants," she said. "We'll be cutting that some time next month. Jacob Zook, the old tenant here, grew tobacco. That's how Emanuel learned about it. The first crop was successful. He hung them to dry in the barn's loft. It smells wonderful in there."
"They can grow tobacco." Her mother shook her head as she asked, "But they don't smoke?"
"Not cigarettes anyway," Shana answered, smoothing back some stray hair from her face. She hadn't started wearing the Amish Kapp yet, slowing weaning herself into it on Church Sunday and when they went visiting family. "Isn't it peaceful here?" She looked at her mother. For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, both searching for the words to describe how they felt. "You realize that I'm joining the church this fall."
"What does that mean, Shana?"
"It means that I will be baptized as an Amish woman. There are a lot of rules surrounding their religion, most of them against conforming to the ways of your world."
"My world," her mother repeated softly.
"No owning cars. No electricity. No telephones."
"I don't understand how..."
Shana smi
led. "How I can give that up?" she finished her mother's question. "I don't see how you can't understand. I love Emanuel, I love Noah, and I love this farm. Have you ever seen the birth of spring? Have you ever known the exact moment when a plant breaks free from the earth to reach for the sky? Or the baby chicks that are born? Have you ever seen them as they peck their way out of the shell and stand, for the very first time, on their two wobbly legs? Did you know that they immediately start searching for food? It's fascinating that they know that. It's born within them. I'm surrounded by wonder and glory and miracles every day. Giving up the cars and the phones and the television isn't giving up anything. It's gaining everything." Shana reached out and touched her mother's arm. "I know you don't understand. Just know that this is what I want and I'm happy."
Her mother lifted her chin, fighting the urge to cry. Forcing a smile, she quickly added, "And you have a beautiful son, a caring husband, and a wonderful farm." She hesitated, her eyes drifting in the direction that the men had disappeared. "When you first told us about Emanuel being Amish, we didn't know what to think. Maybe it didn't really hit us or maybe we just didn't know what that meant. But, when he called us..."
Shana tilted her head and frowned. "He called you?"
"After Noah was born," her mother replied. "His voice was so strong, so in awe of everything that had happened. It was hard to believe that it was real. Our baby was gone." Her mother met Shana's eyes. "But now I see that it is a woman who has replaced her, not the stranger we had feared."
"Thank you for coming, Mother," Shana whispered. And, blinking back her tears of relief, she found herself in her mother's arms, returning the hug of love with her own of thanks.
Chapter Twenty-One
Her parents stayed until the following weekend. During their visit, Shana's father helped Emanuel in the morning with milking the cows and for the rest of the day, spearing tobacco in the hot, stuffy barn. Shana kept her mother busy assisting Sylvia in the garden and, after dinner, the three of them spent the afternoon canning peaches and pears for the winter.
In the evenings, after Shana and her mother finished cleaning the supper dishes, Emanuel and Shana would smile to each other over the nodding head of her father and drooping eyes of her mother. If there was tension among them in the beginning of the visit, by the time they left, Shana felt satisfied that they had truly glimpsed a piece of her new life that helped ease their confusion over her decisions.
By that time, Sylvia had reluctantly agreed that it was time for her to return to her parents’ farm. So, mid-afternoon on Saturday, Emanuel hitched up the buggy and, with sorrowful eyes, Sylvia gathered her few belongings and said good-bye. Shana watched as they drove down the lane, emotion welling up in her throat. During the past several weeks, she had grown used to Sylvia's quiet presence that had been her only company during the long days, expect when her family had visited.
Alone for the first time since the baby's birth, Shana spent a few minutes cooing over Noah before she started gathering up the dirty clothes for the wash. For the rest of the afternoon, she washed the clothes and hung them to dry on the clothesline that ran from the side of the house to the corner of the stables. Afterwards, she sat on the edge of the porch and fed Noah while she watched the cloud formations against the blue backdrop of the clear sky.
The chickens talked noisily amongst themselves from the chicken coop, the rooster impatiently hanging around as though waiting for its chance to dart inside the forbidden pen. The herd of cows wandered in the pen, several of them lingering near the gate into the barn. One of the cows, a large black one with a heavy chain around her neck, stood to the side, arching her neck as she mooed. Over and over again. Each cry dragged out in a soulful bellow as she slowly moved away and disappeared behind the barn.
"Isn't she noisy?" Shana asked Noah. He gurgled in response, his head rolling to one side as he blinked his dark eyes. Shana smiled to herself and wiped some milk from his chin. "Messy eater, you are," she said.
A buggy pulled down the lane and, looking up, Shana squinted as she tried to see who it was. "That's can't be your daed," she said to Noah. Standing up, she walked to the edge of the porch and raised her one hand to cover her eyes. "Hello Mary Beiler," she waved as she recognized her neighbor. "Thought you had left for Ohio already." Stepping off of the porch, Shana walked toward the buggy that had stopped in front of her house.
"Another two weeks, yet. Waiting for the papers to be finalized," she explained. "Must be proud of Emanuel. Adding on like he did."
Shana tilted her head as she shifted Noah in her arms. "Adding on?"
"To the farm." Mary reached down and ran a calloused finger over Noah cheek. "What is he, a month yet?"
"A month, yes," she confirmed before pressing Mary. "What do you mean that Emanuel is adding onto the farm?"
Mary smiled, the wrinkles under her eyes deepening from behind her round glasses. "Why, he purchased most of our land between your farm and ours, Shana. And several of the cows, too."
Shana stared at her for a moment until the realization of her words sunk in. There were almost fifty acres between the two farms. Amos Beiler had lost both of his sons, one in a farming accident and the other at birth, and their daughters had married and moved to their husbands' farms. While Emanuel's farm was by no means considered small, the additional land would provide for several sons in the future. "And the rest?" Shana asked, trying to cover her surprise at Mary Beiler's announcement.
"Young Mennonite couple bought the farm and the land on the west side." The horse stepped backward and Mary steadied the buggy. "Stopped by for some of your eggs, Shana. Good half dozen will do fine."
After Shana hurried to the barn and gathered up a half-dozen fresh eggs, she bade Mary farewell and watched as she started down the lane. Part of the way down, the buggy stopped and she leaned out of the window, pointing to the field. Shana looked in that direction, but seeing nothing, started to approach the buggy.
"Looks like she's in trouble," Mary was calling out.
When Shana looked again, she noticed the cow, down on her side and breathing heavily. "Dear God," Shana whispered and, thanking Mary, ran to the house to put Noah in his crib. Then, her heart pounding, Shana raced back outside and across the gravel driveway to the pasture. She quickly jumped over the wire fence, cutting her leg in the process. Ignoring the pain, she ran through the mud, her bare feet slipping as she approached the cow's side.
Only three other cows had given birth on the farm since she had been there and, except for one, she hadn't witnessed the process. The one time, Emanuel had called out for her help, to hold the lantern while he rolled back his sleeves and assisted the cow with turning the calf. And, as Shana quickly assessed the situation, the small hooves that had projected out of the cow spoke of a similar situation.
She dropped to her knees and, uncertain what to do, she tried to imitate what she remembered Emanuel had done. Gently, she helped guide the calf as it made its backwards descent into the world. The legs poked out and she reached for its front legs, carefully steering it in a way to cause the cow the least amount of pain.
Shana prayed out loud as the cow bellowed softly, weakly pushing with what strength she had left. And, fifteen minutes later, the new calf stood wobbly on its feet. The mother made no move to get up and clean the calf so Shana grabbed the calf and, half racing and half tripping, carried it to the stables. With a warm sponge, she washed the confused, newborn calf, praying even harder that Emanuel would soon return.
Almost an hour later, Shana sat on the fresh hay she had spread on the ground, her back to the cold cement foundation as she stared at the now sleeping calf. She had finished cleaning the newborn and managed to fill a bottle with fresh milk to feed it. Now, exhausted, she stared at it, feeling a sense of accomplishment for saving its life and a sense of doom for the mother that still lay in the pasture.
"Shana?" Emanuel called out as he walked through the empty barn. The sun was setting and, without any lights, the b
arn grew increasingly dark. When he came around the corner, Noah in his arms, he stopped short and quickly took in the situation. Her hair was disarrayed and her clothes caked with mud and blood. He stared at the calf, nestled into the soft, fresh hay. "The cow?" he asked as he looked back at Shana.
Shana shrugged. "I don't know, Emanuel."
He shifted the baby in his arms before kneeling down beside her. "You alright?" With his free hand, he brushed her hair off of her forehead. "You saved the calf, Shana. If you hadn't, neither would have survived."
She lifted her eyes to meet his concerned gaze. Against her will, a few tears trickled down her cheeks. "I was so scared," she whispered tearfully. "I didn't know what to do."
Emanuel stood up. Holding Noah tight against his shoulder, he reached down to help her up. "I need to tend to the cow and you need to clean up." He smiled at her, his eyes glancing over her shoulder at the sleeping calf. "The Lord was smiling on that calf today," he said.