Amish Days
Sally’s Story
A Three-Story-Bundle Amish Romance
by Brenda Maxfield
Copyright © 2015 Tica House Publishing All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including scanning, photocopying, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
1.Amish Days: The Decision
2.Amish Days: Second Thoughts
3.Amish Days: The Stranger
Amish Days
The Decision
An Amish Romance Short Story
by Brenda Maxfield
Copyright © 2015 Tica House Publishing All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including scanning, photocopying, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.
One
Thus saith the LORD, Ye shall not go up, nor fight against your brethren the children of Israel: return every man to his house; for this thing is from me. They hearkened therefore to the word of the LORD, and returned to depart, according to the word of the LORD.
1 Kings 12:24 (King James Version)
“But you’re not Amish!” Bryan’s earnest green eyes stared into mine.
“Bryan, please. I don’t have time for this!” At his exasperated expression, I turned on my heel and left.
“Sally! Wait!” he called after me, but I kept going. My bus was already at the curb, and if I missed it again I’d catch if from Mary. More than once, she’d rescued me from Hollybrook High, lecturing me all the way home in the buggy.
Not that I blamed her for being angry.
Coming into town from the farm wasn’t a short trip, and she was busy. Especially since she’d started raising dairy goats.
The whole family was busy. All the time. Every day. My family. Even now—after all these months—the phrase stuck to my tongue. Did my dead mother toss in her grave knowing I was being raised by her Amish sister?
Mom had been raised Amish, too, although trying to get at those facts was like yanking tiger teeth.
“Wait!” Bryan caught up with me.
“Bryan, I don’t have time for it. The bus is here.”
“It’s just a dance. And I’ll give you a ride home afterwards.”
“Uncle Benjamin disapproves of dancing, so I shouldn’t go.”
Bryan’s broad shoulders sagged, and he shifted his weight to one side. His eyes appraised me. “I get that. But he does realize you’re not Amish, right? Plus, don’t you want to see my moves?”
I couldn’t help but grin. I liked Bryan—he was fun, and he made me laugh. But the constant tightrope I teetered on between the Amish world and the Englisch world made my very bones ache. I tucked a long brown strand of hair behind my ear.
“I know it’s aggravating,” I said and reached out to give his hand a squeeze. “We’ll talk later, but I really do have to go.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “All right, girl, but I’m calling you tonight.”
“Counting on it!” I called over my shoulder as I flew down the steps to the bus.
I settled into the last seat. In Ohio, all my friends fought over the back seats of the bus. Here in Indiana, in this weird twilight zone of “old-fashioned life,” everyone planted themselves toward the front. So I sat alone.
With a wheezing snort, the bus lurched forward to begin delivering us to our respective homes. I was the only one in school who lived with the Amish. I was the only one with special permission to charge my phone during school hours. I was the only one who hadn’t lived there her entire life.
Translation: I was still—and might forever be—the “new girl.”
Which at first, I hated. But later, well, I wasn’t one to discourage attention. I pressed my forehead against the cold glass of the window and stared out as the tidy city streets gave way to the sprawling countryside. Expanses of land with new stubby green growth met my gaze, and I saw more than one Amish farmer out walking the fields—checking, assessing, monitoring.
Like Uncle Benjamin. And like my cousin Hope’s husband, Abram—who limped his way through the fields, although his injured leg seemed to be getting better with each passing month. And like Josiah—Mary’s beau—who helped Abram.
Absently, I played with the zipper on my backpack, pulling it open and shut, open and shut, the tiny metal scraping sound barely audible above the bus’s screeching engine and squalling brakes.
What was Jack doing right now?
I missed my brother. Nothing was the same without him. His running off had nearly slayed me. But I’d adjusted.
Sort of.
Well, not really.
The bus hiccoughed to a jerking stop, and the door whooshed open. “Sally! This is you!” the bus driver hollered over her shoulder. I stood and ambled to the front.
“Thanks, Margot,” I said.
She shoved her glasses higher onto her pudgy nose and gave me a crooked grin. “Get yourself off this bus! My shift is O-ver.”
I raised my foot as if to step down, then hesitated. “Aw, I don’t know. Maybe we should discuss the upcoming spring festival.”
It was a game we played nearly every day—me taking my sweet time to disembark and she pretending impatience.
“Sally, if you don’t get on out of here right now, I’ll sic the bus cops on you!” Her puffy hands grasped the steering wheel in mock anger.
“Okay, okay,” I said, laughing. “I’m out!”
I jumped down the steps and looked back at her with a wave. I didn’t even know her last name, and she was ages older than me, yet I considered her a good friend.
I lived in a crazy world.
“Sally?”
I swirled to see Ezekiel Zook eyeing me from the side of the road.
“Zeke.” I stifled my excitement at seeing him. After all, he was Amish—which basically put him out-of-bounds for me—and I wasn’t pleased with the level of interest I had in the guy.
He strolled over and reached out to take my backpack from my shoulder. He fell into step with me, considerably shortening his stride.
“How was school?”
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. His blond hair was long enough to stick out from beneath his brimmed straw hat. He was clean shaven and smelled faintly of hay and trees and spring air. “My day was okay. How about yours?”
He nodded. “A fine day. Better now.” His stark blue eyes stared into mine. His gaze made me uneasy, as if he were peering way too far inside me and seeing way too much.
“Quit looking at me like that, would you?”
He chuckled, hitching my backpack higher onto his shoulder. “I don’t know what you mean.”
I poked his arm. “Do so.”
He shook his head and a broad smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “You’ve heard about the work frolic this Saturday, jah?”
Of course, I’d heard. Aunt Ruth and Aunt Elizabeth had organized it. The Troyers were off to Illinois to fetch their grandpa who’d had a bad stroke. In the meantime, the farm work had fallen behind. So on Saturday, the community was turning out to work their fields, tidy the house, prepare food for their return, and basically have fun in the process.
One thing I’d learned early on, the Amish took care of their own.
“You’re going?” Zeke asked, his eyes full of hope.
“Probably. Nothing else to do around here.”
He frowned slightly at that. Part of me wanted to grab his a
rm and assure him nothing was more wonderful than living with the Amish. But if I did that … if I even allowed myself to dwell on that subject, I might drown in this place.
Lose myself completely.
Again, I wondered how my brother was doing.
We turned into the drive, and the Lehman farmhouse stood in all its white, welcoming glory. I never tired of looking at the peaked roof, the upstairs windows, and the wide expansive porch—they offered a welcome my old house in Ohio couldn’t begin to match.
I pulled my backpack off Zeke’s broad shoulder. “Thanks for meeting me and for carrying my books.”
He nodded and studied my face. “I hope you’ll be there. At the frolic, I mean.”
His attention made my throat squeeze. I had a sudden urge to run from him and never look back. But instead I swallowed hard, and said, “We’ll see.”
I walked toward the house, careful not to hurry, so he wouldn’t know how much he affected me.
****
I opened the door to the aroma of Aunt Ruth’s beef stew. It was her specialty, and it slid down my throat like a smooth potion. The carrots and potatoes and chunks of beef were so tender, a person didn’t even have to chew. I popped into the kitchen to see her standing over the stove, stirring, with a look of satisfaction on her face. She glanced at me with her warm brown eyes, and the wrinkles around her mouth deepened into a smile.
“Ach, Sally, you’re home.”
“Yup. I’m home. Where’s Aunt Elizabeth?” I walked up to the steaming pot and grabbed a spoon to take a sample.
Aunt Ruth playfully slapped at my hand. “You’ll wait for supper, our Sally!”
I nudged her aside and dipped my spoon in the pot. “Ah, Ruth, you know how much I love your stew.”
I blew on the spoonful and waved my hand above the steaming veggies to cool them.
“Elizabeth is in the barn with Mary. One of her goats got a bit scraped up.”
“What happened?”
Ruth chuckled. “Foolish thing climbed atop the bales of hay and fell into the watering trough.”
I shook my head. “Those goats are nuts.”
“Jah, that they are. But such cute nuts.”
I licked every bit of stew off the spoon and aimed for another scoop.
“Sally!” Ruth scolded. “Get off with you!”
With a laugh, I dropped the spoon onto the counter and headed upstairs. Since Mary was in the barn, and Ann was who-knew-where, I had the room to myself. Ann had moved in when Hope married. Sharing a room with two other people wasn’t my idea of privacy, but strangely, it didn’t bother me. Ann was always good for a smile. Mary wasn’t, but we’d worked out an understanding.
Besides, Josiah was courting Mary and by next fall, they’d probably be married and she’d be gone.
Jack’s room stood empty, just as he’d left it. Uncle Benjamin was in favor of Mary moving in there, but Ann had cried and fussed and the subject was dropped.
I slung my backpack onto the bed and walked to the pegs on the wall. Removing Mary’s spare kapp, I placed it gently on my head. I peered into the hallway, and since the coast was clear, I scooted into the bathroom to inspect myself in the tiny mirror above the sink.
The kapp fit me well. I tucked my long hair under it and held the kapp strings close to my chin. I turned to the side to view my profile.
Then I leaned close to the mirror and stared beyond my thick lashes into my dark brown eyes. “Amish girl,” I whispered, fingering the thin stiff fabric of the kapp.
I backed up a few inches. “I’m Amish,” I said, trying on the idea for the hundredth time. “Good to know you. Jah?” I spoke in the Pennsylvania Dutch I’d picked up since moving there. “Jah, Amish. That I am.”
The stairs creaked, and I whipped off the kapp and rushed back to the bedroom to hang it on its peg. Ann walked in. “Hey, Sally, how was school?”
“Fine.”
“Guess what? I taught Apple a new trick!” Her face beamed like the sun peeking over the horizon. “She can fetch a stick and put it in a stack by the porch. Isn’t that clever?”
“Very clever.”
She plunked onto her bed and played with the corner of the quilt. “I miss Jack. When’s he coming back?”
I sucked in a tight breath. “I don’t know if he’s ever coming back. I’ve told you so a million times.”
Ann’s eyes welled with tears. “He has to come back. I miss him too much. I wrote him again at that pastor’s house, but he doesn’t write me back.”
“He’s not big on letter writing. I’m sorry, Ann.” And I was. The least Jack could do was be polite.
“Can’t you call him and ask him to write me?”
I sat beside her. “I have called.”
“What’d he say?”
“The same thing he always says—he’s fine where he is and he isn’t in the mood to write.”
Ann swiped at the tears rolling down her face. “But I miss him.”
“Me, too.” I stuffed down my own sorrow and gave her a quick hug. “I better do my homework.”
Ann raised her eyebrows. “’Tis so strange to see someone your age doing homework.”
“I know. No one past eighth grade goes to school around here. I’m the weirdo.”
She giggled. “Jah, you’re the weirdo!”
“Now get out of here and leave me alone!” I said, playing at being stern.
She skipped from the room, all evidence of her former sadness gone. I wished I could drop my sadness so easily. Lately, I’d been waking up with what felt like a load of bricks pressing on my lungs. I couldn’t get the thought of Jack out of my mind. The pastor’s family where Jack and I stayed right after Mom died was a good place. I knew they were taking care of Jack. But we should be together, Jack and me. Mom wouldn’t like us split up.
I don’t like us split up.
I lay back on the quilt and stared at the blank white ceiling with no light fixtures, no heating vents, no fan. Should I go back to Ohio and live with Jack? Uncle Benjamin and Aunt Elizabeth would never allow it. They only agreed to let Jack live there because they knew he’d keep running away.
I turned to my side and drew my knees up to my chest. A lump of tears formed in my throat, and a hollow sadness enveloped my stomach. Mom, why did you have to get killed? Moisture burned beneath my eyelids, and I pressed my hands hard into my eyes. I could not cry again. I would not cry again. I wasn’t a baby. And it had been months since Mom died in the car accident.
I should be over it by now.
I let out my breath in a huge sigh and squirmed back to a sitting position. I opened my backpack and dug out my physics book. My cell buzzed.
“Yeah?”
“Sally?” Bryan’s warm voice came over the line.
“Hey. You didn’t waste any time calling.”
“Sorry about the fight.”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t call that a fight. A spat, maybe? A tiff?”
“Whatever you want to call it. Sorry. But I really do want to take you to the after-game dance.”
My spine stiffened. “Bryan, I told you. Uncle Benjamin doesn’t approve such things.”
“But you’re not Amish—”
I shoved the physics book off my lap. “And here we go again…”
Bryan’s voice turned sheepish. “Okay, Sorry. I think I just set a record. Apologizing, then back to fighting in two seconds flat.”
I got up and walked to the window. The fields glowed with that vibrant green only seen in the spring when everything was new. The sun was low, and its rays gave a calm sheen to it all. I took a deep breath, attempting to soak in some of the peacefulness.
Truth was I wanted to go to the dance with him. It would be fun, and his hot looks added even more reason to go. “Bryan, I get it. I’m not mad at you. Maybe I can go. I’ll work on it.”
But at that moment, something else was nagging my mind. Something I needed to do—even more than figure out how to get to the dance.
; I blew out my breath. “Bryan, will you have wheels this weekend?”
“Of course. Why?”
“How would you feel about a small road trip?”
I could hear his smile. “With you? You bet. Where to?”
“How does Ohio sound?”
Two
Uncle Benjamin hit the roof when I shared my plan. His sharp eyes flashed and his voice turned to stone. “Nee. You cannot go.”
Aunt Elizabeth put her hand on his arm. “It’s her brother, Benjamin.”
I flashed her a look of gratitude, and held my breath.
Benjamin turned to her. “Going to Ohio with a boy! Alone in a car? Unchaperoned? It’s not done.” His voice remained harsh, and my aunt’s pleas went limp.
Elizabeth pursed her lips and then nodded. “Jah. I see you’re right, of course. But if Sally does go, she could convince Jack to come home.”
My stomach clenched. Jack would never come home with me, and fetching him wasn’t my reason for going. I was going to check on things. See if it was possible for me to move back and live there with Jack. If he wouldn’t return to Indiana, I would go to him. It’s what Mom would want.
Yet even as those thoughts coursed through my mind, my heart grew heavy. I didn’t really want to leave Hollybrook. I’d grown more accustomed to the plain life than I could have ever imagined.
And every time the conversation turned to God—which was often—I felt it. A tugging. A hunger.
No, I wasn’t ready to leave.
And then there was Zeke. I gritted my teeth. No, I couldn’t go there.
Zeke had nothing to do with any of this. He shouldn’t even come to mind.
But he did. Constantly.
“Sally?” Aunt Elizabeth’s voice jerked me back to the moment.
“Yes?”
“Someone else must accompany you.”
I shook my head. “I don’t need anyone else to go. It would freak Jack out. You know, like he’s being ganged up on.”
Uncle Benjamin took a step closer and his face was resolute. “Then you won’t go.”
Amish Romance BOXED Set: Amish Days: Sally's Story (Hollybrook Amish Romance) Page 1