“Have you ever stuck yourself?” she asked, unable to erase the thought of Rebecca’s daughter.
“Oh, rarely.” Rebecca smiled. “And once you pin on your apron dozens of times, you prob’ly won’t, either.”
When they finished, Rebecca removed all the pins and had Jenny try to replicate what she’d done, handing her the pins in a plastic box. But it wasn’t as easy as it looked.
Rebecca grinned when Jenny asked if there was a tall mirror around. “Just some hand mirrors,” she told her with a tilt of her head, hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. “But if ya must see yourself fully, you could go out to the springhouse pond and see what ya look like Amish.”
Jenny blushed and hoped she didn’t sound vain. “Oh, that’s all right.”
“Next, would it be too pushy to talk about your bangs?” Rebecca asked kindly.
Jenny blew her bangs off her forehead. “You’ve probably never had such a dilemma, right?” There were no bangs on Amishwomen in the pictures or movies she’d seen, nor on the cable channel reality shows.
“Jah, that’s so,” Rebecca answered. “We train our wee girls’ hair to part from early on—without bangs, of course. Then as it grows, it’s twisted off to the side and into the hair bun.” She went on to explain that the more conservative Amishwomen wore their hair bun low on their neck. “And the more progressive put them up a bit higher.” Here, Rebecca’s eyes twinkled a smile. “We don’t have much to do with them, though.”
Jenny knew from Marnie that the Hickory Hollow Amish were stricter than some conservative groups—it was interesting to realize how that affected even the smallest things. Yet she was eager to do up her own hair like Rebecca’s. She doubted this aspect of her venture into Plain life would be difficult or even sacrificial, since she’d always loved wearing long homemade skirts and modest blouses. But her wispy bangs were definitely a problem.
“I s’pose we can wet them down till they grow out,” Rebecca suggested, dimples in her plump cheeks.
“Or plaster them with hairspray.” Jenny laughed.
At the mention of hairspray, Rebecca let out a chortle. “I really doubt there’s any round here.”
“Oh, sorry. Of course not.” She felt silly. “Guess I forgot myself for a moment.”
“You could try pinning them down, I s’pose.”
“Are you permitted to wear bobby pins?”
“For our hair, sure. But we use straight pins to secure our Kapps.”
“The prayer bonnets?”
“We don’t call them that,” Rebecca said gently. “They’re actually prayer veilings, but we just refer to them as a cap.” She paused. “Once you’re baptized, you’ll begin wearing yours.”
Jenny nodded, glad she knew a few things.
“Would ya like to have a tour of the farm, then?” asked Rebecca.
“I’d love to! It’s my first time visiting an Amish farm.” Jenny wanted to go exploring immediately, eager to take it all in—the hen house, the large two-story barn, and the most appealing stone springhouse, not far from the Lapps’ big house.
Yet where was Marnie—wasn’t she coming?
I’ll ask her about the clothes I’m wearing. She’ll know about Katie.
Jenny wanted to do everything at once—take the farm tour with Rebecca, talk with Marnie, and go and sit on the quiet front porch to soak in what she’d already heard and encountered. Though the surroundings were peaceful, she suddenly felt as if she were on sensory overload and needed time to process.
What a completely different world!
Glancing toward the barn, she realized she hadn’t met Rebecca’s husband yet. Samuel Lapp—an ideal name for a strong, loving Amish father. Yet she knew so little about him. When she inquired, Rebecca nodded cheerfully. “Oh, you’ll meet him soon enough—and our eldest son, Elam, along with several of our young nephews, too. Our younger sons, Eli and Benjamin, drop by with their families often, sometimes to pitch in and help.” She waved her hand. “It takes a gut many to fulfill the many requirements of running a dairy farm.”
“I’ve read some articles about it.”
“Sounds like you’ve done your homework.” Rebecca’s round face spread wide with her smile. “If not before, you’ll see Samuel when it’s time for supper, after milkin’,” she said. “We have an assigned spot for each meal. You’ll sit on the opposite side of me, right where our Katie always used to sit.”
Jenny glanced at the sawbuck table. “Katie? Your . . . daughter, you mean?”
Rebecca bowed her head. “Sorry, guess ya don’t know ’bout her.”
Know what?
Just that quickly, Rebecca raised her chin. “Come. I’ll show you the rest of the house.”
And with that, Jenny decided she had better start walking on eggshells where Rebecca’s daughter was concerned. Despite the books she’d read, she was evidently still ignorant of some Old Order social dynamics, though she was ready to learn.
I’ve staked my whole life on it!
Chapter 6
Marnie Lapp held her breath and managed to avert a sneeze as she walked along the road to Uncle Samuel Lapp’s place. She wondered how Jenny was managing so far. She liked the idea of having another friend around who was still single. Talking in person with Jenny Burns during a few days each of the past summers had been a treat after trading letters. Even so, Jenny hadn’t shared much at all about her love life, or lack of it, and Marnie had kept quiet that she was nearly engaged to a handsome Amish beau—Roy Flaud—who lived and worked over in Bird-in-Hand. Even so, the two girls had clicked from Jenny’s first stroll past Marnie’s roadside vegetable stand.
The young Englischer was downright interesting, but despite her fondness for simple things, she wasn’t much different from other English folk Marnie had met. She had a streak of pride, which must eventually be suppressed. Just like Marnie’s own sneeze.
Most Englischers didn’t realize that being Amish wasn’t just about dressing Plain, riding in carriages, and living simply. No indeed. The Amish way primarily involved obedience to the community and to God. If Jenny wanted to join church, she would soon have to learn to deal with her strong will and submit to the rules of the Ordnung and the bishop.
Marnie let herself enjoy the fall breeze and clear skies. The start of Amish wedding season was just days away, and she already knew of several weddings she wanted to attend—all for first cousins. As for herself, she didn’t dare think too far ahead, considering her own beau had indicated they’d most likely wait till next year to marry.
Returning her thoughts to Jenny, she whispered, “If I weren’t Amish by birth, would I want to join from the outside?”
It was hard to imagine Jenny’s gumption in quitting her job to come here. And Marnie wasn’t sure how she’d chosen to tell her family. Jenny had been mum on all that, and Marnie figured it wasn’t her place to probe, anyway.
With the exception of Jenny, there was only one other person Marnie had known to leave home and family. And in that moment, it dawned on her how odd it was that Katie Lapp and Jenny Burns had seemingly exchanged places, unbeknownst to each other. Jenny was, no doubt, staying in Katie’s former room . . . left empty when Katie, excommunicated and shunned by the People, had turned to the Mennonite church.
One out; one in.
“Who would’ve thought?” Marnie said aloud. It wasn’t that she’d consciously planned any of this, picking the Lapps’ place for Jenny’s temporary residence. It was her mother who’d insisted that Rebecca was the best choice for Jenny’s mentor. And the bishop had agreed.
Marnie froze suddenly at a horrid thought. What if Jenny didn’t make it through the Proving? She certainly hadn’t given it much consideration till this moment. But no! She must dismiss the very possibility, because there should never be another time of deep sorrow for poor Rebecca, not after losing Katie. Still, the painful thought persisted, and Marnie had to shoo it away like a wasp.
Surely that won’t happen. Surely not.
Marnie took hope in the fact that Jenny was utterly determined to succeed as a seeker. After all, she hadn’t moved here on impulse. No, she’d formulated the move for some time, saving money and planning the smallest details, looking to the heavenly Father for guidance. So surely there was no worry that Jenny might fail to become one with the People.
None at all.
Marnie waved and hurried her step when she saw Jenny running down Lapps’ long lane toward the road, in full Amish attire, minus the Kapp.
“Well, look at that,” she whispered. Marnie waved again and felt her heart soar. Where on earth had Jenny gotten a dress and apron so quickly?
“Hi, Marnie!” Jenny called to her, a big smile on her face.
“Hullo! Looks like ya made it.”
“Still can’t believe I’m actually here. Better pinch me fast!”
Marnie opened her arms and hugged her friend. “I’m ever so glad.” She looked her over but good. “Ach, we’re nearly twins, ’cept for your bangs.”
“I’ve been letting them grow, but obviously they aren’t there yet.” Jenny laughed. “Rebecca helped me pin them down, as you can see.”
“Did ya really need thirty bobby pins?”
Their laughter blended like apple cider and ginger ale as they headed back toward the house.
“Are you already unpacked?” Marnie asked.
“Almost.”
Asking what things she’d brought, Marnie was still amazed that courageous Jenny had actually made the move. To think she’d willingly abandoned electricity and her car!
Jenny recited the various items she couldn’t part with: two poetry books, her Bible and a devotional book, and a thick white bathrobe with matching slippers. “That’s why I brought a large suitcase.” She lowered her voice. “I think Rebecca was startled at its size.”
“Did you bring any pictures of your family?”
“A few, yes.”
Marnie smiled and suggested they sit on the front porch chairs Rebecca still had out, despite the chillier days. “I’m very curious to see.”
“Well, I’m equally curious, Marnie. Is it okay for you to look at pictures of my family when you can’t have any of yours?”
“I can understand why you might think that,” Marnie said as two bobby pins slid from Jenny’s bangs.
“Oh dear.” Jenny picked them up and tried to put them back again. “I can hardly wait until my hair looks like yours.”
“I can tell ya one thing for certain: Patience will become your closest friend during the Proving.”
Jenny laughed. “Oh, I’m sure of that.”
“So how are ya getting along with Aunt Rebecca?”
“She’s very thoughtful.” Jenny paused and cast her gaze toward the sky. “I do think she wonders what I’m doing here, however.”
“Well, I can’t imagine switchin’ places with ya.”
Jenny’s smile spread across her pretty face. “Here I am! But I can’t help wondering . . . do I really look Amish?”
Marnie laughed. “You look as Plain as I do. And you’re goin’ to fit in just fine here.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
Marnie frowned. “Did you ever doubt it?”
Jenny shook her head.
“Honestly, not many seekers stick around, from what I’ve heard—at least in other areas where this sort of thing is more common.”
“I’ll take it a day at a time.”
“Gut idea.”
“Jah, really gut.”
Marnie laughed out loud. “Ach, you’ve picked up some Deitsch, then.”
“I recognize a few of the simpler words and phrases already, thanks to two years of high school German.”
“Remember, understanding and speaking are different things.” Marnie reached to give her a hug. “You’ll catch on eventually.”
“I certainly hope so.”
“Oh, you will.” Marnie tried not to smile too big. “But first . . . I know exactly the place to take ya for a peek at yourself.”
Jenny brightened. “Really?”
“Just you follow me.”
Chapter 7
An autumn breeze trembled the treetops, creating a leafy shower below as Jenny followed tall, lean Marnie around the Lapps’ old sandstone house. “I’d really like to see the springhouse up close,” she said, intrigued by her earlier glimpse of it. “Rebecca says it’s the closest thing to a full-length mirror.”
“The springhouse pond?” Marnie turned and gave her a surprised look. “Why, that’s precisely where we’re headed.”
“Perfect, then,” Jenny replied happily.
Marnie stopped walking abruptly as they made their way down the lane. Grinning, she said, “Lookee there.” She pointed in the direction of the large double-decker barn. A striking young Amishman with blond hair and wearing a straw hat was walking toward the main door. “My cousin Andrew Lapp is here, helping with milking this afternoon. He does occasionally, when he’s caught up on his own work.” She shielded her eyes from the sun. “You’ll like Andrew . . . everyone does.”
“If he’s your cousin, he must be nice.”
“Oh, believe me, Andrew left nice in the dust.”
“He lives here in Hickory Hollow?”
“Rents a room from his parents.” Marnie nodded. “Andrew says he baches it.”
Jenny shook her head. “What’s that mean?”
“Well, just that he’s still a bachelor at twenty-nine. Guess he never found the right girl, but he keeps real busy with his welding business and helping Uncle Samuel, too.”
“I thought Amish were expected to marry young.”
Marnie laughed. “Jah, but every now and then a persnickety one comes along. Like Cousin Andrew.”
Jenny watched him for a moment and then noticed Marnie looking at her. Marnie’s eyes sparkled knowingly. “He’s a real catch, but a lot of girls have tried to get his attention, believe me. Even so, he claims to be holdin’ out for the right one. We tell him he’s gonna hold out till his dyin’ breath!”
As they continued down the hill, Jenny observed Marnie—her gentle mannerisms, her soft way of speaking—glad to be getting to know her even better, here on her own turf.
“Be careful on these steps,” Marnie said, motioning toward the steep stone walkway leading down to the pond. “They’re often slick.”
Jenny loved how the site was set apart from the rest of the farm in a haven of sorts. The treed area provided exactly the right amount of shade, and the rock-walled springhouse and small spring-fed pond looked like the ideal place to relax or even pray.
“There.” Marnie waved a hand gracefully toward the clear, placid water. “See for yourself what ya look like . . . in nature’s mirror.”
Jenny peered down at herself, feeling a little shy. Amazing! she thought. I could actually pass myself off as Amish.
“Well, what do ya think?” Marnie had moved closer.
“Like the saying goes—the clothes make the man. Well, the woman.”
“’Tis the truth!”
They had a laugh, although it was Jenny who laughed longer. “I almost forgot the old me.”
“You’ll have plenty of time for that, Jenny.”
Jenny stared into the pond, suddenly thinking that Pamela and Dorie would never believe what she was up to, despite knowing how keen she was on old-fashioned things. A lump sprang into her throat, surprising her. I’ll miss them.
Ultimately, her friends would find other friends and fill the gap. And perhaps they’d understand something of her passion once she wrote and explained herself. Maybe . . .
Jenny stepped back from her reflection in the pond. “I’m curious to know about Katie, the Lapps’ daughter. What happened to her?”
“Ach, she was shunned—and a mighty harsh shunning it was, too. All this happened almost seven years ago now, when Katie refused to destroy her guitar . . . and her music. She was even so brazen as to stand up our bishop, John Beiler, on their wedding day. Man
y think it enraged him when she jilted him, literally running away.” Tears sprang to Marnie’s eyes. “It was a very sad time for everyone.”
“So she lives elsewhere?”
“Just on the edge of Hickory Hollow, with her husband, Daniel Fisher, who’s also under the Bann. We’re not s’posed to visit them in their home, exchange money, or take anything from their hand to ours.”
“Wow—that’s serious.” Jenny looked down at her dress. “Does it matter, then, that I’m wearing Katie’s former clothes?”
Marnie stared. “They’re Katie’s?”
Nodding, Jenny admitted they were.
“No, that won’t hurt a thing,” Marnie assured her. “Ain’t like Katie’s rebellion can affect you.”
Jenny wondered how strict the same bishop would be with her. And knowing all this put her on edge. Would there be much grace for even the most innocent of mistakes? She sighed. “Is shunning very common?”
“It depends on the severity of the transgression. Of course, if you don’t get baptized, you can’t be shunned.” Marnie leaned closer and whispered, “Katie Lapp was considered practically dead to the People for nearly a year during her initial shunning.”
Jenny shivered at the thought. “That’s horrible.”
“Things loosened up slightly after that, but we never see her around here.”
“So what happens if I fail my Proving?” Jenny had to know. “Could I be kicked out . . . like Katie?”
“Fail?” Marnie frowned, then grinned quickly. “Don’t ya worry . . . there’s no way that’ll happen!” Marnie waved her toward the little rock building beside the pond. “Have ya ever seen the inside of a springhouse?”
“No.”
“Come, then, I’ll show ya.”
They went to the small door and Marnie opened it. Stooping, they entered the damp room. Off to the right side, there was a long rectangular section on the ground, where spring water was rimmed by a cement ledge.
“Aunt Rebecca sometimes refrigerates milk cans and crocks of food in the cold water there,” Marnie said, showing her the areas of deep and shallow water.
The Secret Keeper Page 4