“And, dear, sometime when you’re ready to talk about it, I’d like to know more about your Amish experience,” Mom said, a soft expression on her pretty face.
Jenny caught her breath. “How about now?”
Her mother motioned her toward the kitchen, walking back to an open cookbook. Jenny followed into the grand kitchen and sat on the barstool, observing her. “What would you like to know?”
Mom shook her head. “I have no idea.”
“Well, I can tell you that, while I practiced repeatedly, I never managed to make a successful loaf of bread like Rebecca Lapp. Yet it’s something Amishwomen do frequently.”
Mom raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips.
“Have you ever made bread?” Jenny asked.
“Sure, just not recently. Years ago, I made fresh bread every week.”
“Would you teach me how, Mom?”
“Well, why not now?”
Jenny smiled at the sudden sparkle in her mother’s eyes.
When she returned to the family’s guesthouse, Jenny took time to hang up her Amish clothing, putting the dresses in the far back of the large closet before closing the door. Her time in Hickory Hollow had turned out to be shorter than she’d ever expected, an experiment meant to have a different outcome. “Nothing more,” she whispered sadly.
Then, brushing her hair, Jenny was surprised to see that her bangs came all the way down to her nose. She moved to the floor-length mirror and fluffed them a bit. “Well, what do you know . . . one small triumph!”
After a formal dinner the next evening, Jenny made a point of sitting with her father in the den to show him the newly published Pennsylvania Dutch Bible. He thumbed through to various Old Testament passages and into the Psalms. He asked her to read to him, and she did, surprised at how much she’d learned in such a short time. He even asked for the translation of certain words, and she brought up her dictionary. She waited for him to create an excuse to leave, but he didn’t, at least not for a solid hour, which pleased her.
He did ask, though, before she headed to the guest cottage, if someone by the name of Andrew Lapp was a friend of hers from Amish country. Curious, she asked where he’d seen the name. “Well, here.” He pointed to the second page, the one following her name and the date, which she’d already seen.
The pages had evidently been stuck together when Andrew presented it to her. There, in Andrew’s own strong hand, were the words Delight thyself also in the Lord: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. ~ Psalm 37:4
Andrew had also written a note saying the verse was a favorite and signed his name.
“That’s an interesting book—can’t say I’ve ever seen a whole volume in Pennsylvania Dutch before.” Dad peered at it more closely.
She nodded and smiled as she looked up Andrew’s reference to the Proverb to see the translation, then read it aloud in Deitsch.
“You enjoy studying this language, don’t you, Jenny?”
“It wasn’t easy for me, despite my classes in German, and I don’t have your patience for such detailed work.”
Dad chuckled, folding his hands and making eye contact. “Tell me about Amish life. What things stand out most to you?”
She explained how chores were broken up along clear gender lines. “There’s a specific hierarchy in Amish culture: Men and women have very defined roles, even from childhood. I was surprised at how much time I spent in the kitchen, for instance—it takes a lot of work to keep up with all those hearty appetites, but Amishmen expect nothing less of their womenfolk.”
Dad smiled. “Womenfolk, Jenny?”
“That’s what we call ourselves. Well, what they call themselves.” And now Jenny was smiling, too.
Rebecca looked out when she heard the clatter of a carriage that evening. Her pulse sped up when she saw it was Bishop John—surely he’d heard of their Christmas Day reunion. She’d held her breath, waiting for this dreadful moment, but was in some ways relieved to be confronted at last.
Samuel was sitting near the stove in the kitchen in his stocking feet when the bishop knocked on the back door. “Willkumm, bishop,” he said, rising and going to shake John’s hand. His expression showed no trace of concern as he pulled up another chair, giving up his rocker for the man of God. “Have a seat,” he said.
They exchanged particulars—mostly about the weather and two upcoming farm auctions. Rebecca offered hot coffee and some cookies, and the bishop accepted them, which surprised her a little. Was this not to be a serious visit after all?
At last, though, he began to share what was on his mind. “I heard Katie and her husband were over for Christmas dinner.”
Samuel gave a quick nod, his eyes serious. “Was there anything wrong with that, bishop?” he asked respectfully.
The silence grew lengthy as Bishop John studied the coffee cup in his hands. “Well, in my thinkin’, there’s nothing wrong with a God-fearing man having a visit from his grandchildren. Might be a blessing.”
Rebecca thought her heart might stop. “No, but something else is wrong, Bishop,” she admitted, wanting—needing—to come clean.
Samuel frowned. “Rebecca?”
“I’m talking ’bout what I’ve been doing . . . in secret.” She unloaded her burden right then and there, revealing her numerous nighttime visits to see her shunned daughter. “I just couldn’t stay away from my grandchildren,” she confessed. “My family.”
The bishop ran his fingers through his beard, appearing far more flabbergasted at this admission than did her own Samuel. And before the bishop could say a word, Samuel said he wished John had been on hand to see his young grandson Sammy being granted his “dearest Christmas wish.” Samuel was as calm yet determined as she’d ever seen him with any of the ministerial brethren, and his composed demeanor made her fall in love with him all over again.
Amazingly, the bishop did not pursue the topic of her breaking the ordinance, though he did not offer to forgive Rebecca, either, just kept his face turned toward Samuel. “Mercy has an important place in our community,” John said quietly, his expression serious. “I daresay it’s been a long time comin’.” This most of all astonished Rebecca. Did John Beiler mean what she thought he was saying?
Rebecca wanted to clap her hands. No, she wanted to give her husband a sweet kiss, and she would do just that the minute the bishop left, which he did much sooner—and more calmly—than she or Samuel might have imagined.
“He didn’t condemn my visits to Katie,” Rebecca said in wonder as the two of them watched their neighbor head to his waiting horse and carriage.
“Come here, my dear woman,” Samuel said, drawing her to himself. “You have nothin’ to fear. Jah?”
“Thank the Good Lord,” she said, taking the opportunity to lean in and stand on tiptoes. But Samuel kissed her first, before she could even pucker.
Chapter 48
Jenny never dreamed her sojourn home would amount to such pleasure on not just her part, but her parents’. And Kiersten, too, had come around a couple days after Jenny’s return, wanting to stay longer than just to drop by and say “hey,” actually asking questions about Plain life.
To her family’s thinking, Jenny hadn’t been gone very long. In fact, she assumed they had hardly noticed . . . and here she was back already. Still, Jenny felt almost doted upon by them, and also by Kyle Jackson, who’d taken her to one of her favorite spots—a walk along the Connecticut River in Essex, where Main Street ended at the rushing water’s edge.
She asked Kyle if he would purchase the land in Kentucky for himself, if the two of them weren’t together as a couple.
“No, probably not,” he said, honest as always.
Then why do it? she wondered but didn’t want to shoot him down.
“Why do you ask, Jenny?”
“Just curious.”
Kyle bypassed that topic and went on to inquire about her stay at the Lapps’ farm. Jenny felt more comfortable now and ready to tell Kyle what had transpired
there. She even shared about the practice of social avoidance called the shunning, explaining that Rebecca’s ties to her daughter had seemed to take precedence over the strict church ordinance, although she did not reveal Rebecca’s forbidden visits.
Jenny also recounted her time with the Old Wise Woman, and the many hours working together with Rebecca in her kitchen, as well as quilt making and baby-sitting at the bishop’s big farmhouse. “Lots of domestic chores,” she said, moving on to describe Marnie’s and Naomi’s plights. Then she described how reserved and soft-spoken Samuel Lapp had been, “until he talked my ear off, showing me how to hitch up the pony to the cart.” That had Kyle laughing, saying he’d like to have seen her go flying up Hickory Lane in the pony cart. She did not divulge her calamity with Josie and the pony cart, however. Nor did she say a word about Andrew Lapp.
“Do you know how impossible it is to see the stars here at night?” she suddenly blurted out. Kyle looked bemused, then suggested it was mostly because of the bright city lights. And in that moment, Jenny was glad she’d returned the call to Marnie Lapp, though Marnie had sounded so sad, missing Jenny yet giddy to talk to her again. “We’ll stay in touch, like before,” Marnie had promised.
Jenny had quickly agreed, certain things would never be the same but relieved Marnie wanted to remain friends.
She did not permit her mind to wander back to Andrew, though. Dwelling on him was a mistake, knowing as she did the great emptiness she felt—sometimes nearly a lack of air in her chest—when she allowed herself to return to him in her sweet memories. Jenny guessed she might feel that way for a very, very long time.
By leaving Hickory Hollow, she’d lost Andrew Lapp forever. Their precious friendship was a closed book.
The distant sound of firecrackers punctuated Rebecca’s dreams, and later, in the wee hours, when she was fully awake and plodded downstairs to the bathroom, she realized she had tears on her face. Had she been dreaming of Jenny Burns again? Or was it Katie?
Samuel had warned her she would miss the daughter figure she’d found in naïve Jenny. Rebecca had indeed begun to mourn this new and unexpected loss, wishing there was a way to let the former seeker know there were no more secrets to be kept. Samuel was now quite sure the bishop would simply turn his head to their visits to Dan and Katie, and vice versa.
Rebecca was compelled to go and look in Jenny’s room, thinking how odd it was that she’d lost both girls. And both to the English world. So the fancy life won out, when all was said and done, and yet she loved them both. I put Jenny at risk by going against the Ordnung and hoping she’d turn a blind eye, she thought. When I was supposed to be her mentor! Sorrowfully, Rebecca realized she’d done much the same with Katie by withholding another secret.
“Haven’t I learned my lesson yet?” she whispered, remembering how Jenny had flitted from room to room while living here, so taken with the trappings of Amish life: the wringer washer, the smooth bone of the crochet hook, and the comforting livestock in the stable. Yet she was not able to embrace it long enough to make it her own.
Rebecca lifted the heirloom quilts and slipped into the bed where both Katie and Jenny had rested their heads, said their silent prayers, and longed to be accepted. A new year had come on swift wings just hours before, but Rebecca did not care to sleep. No, it was time to pray. “Dear Lord in heaven, be with all of our family this night. Keep them ever in thy loving care. I pray this, too, for Jenny Burns, who is also thy child. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Marnie was shocked to see Roy arrive by van following breakfast New Year’s morning. She was helping Mamm redd things up in the kitchen, her younger siblings sitting now at the table, looking at the cute cards they’d made for each other before Christmas.
She went running outside to greet Roy, not bothering with a coat or shawl. “Happy New Year!”
“You, too, Marnie.” He was all smiles and she thought he might reach to kiss her cheek, but they did not embrace. “I have gut news for you. Had to come in person to tell ya.”
“That gut?”
He nodded, his eyes alight. “But first, go an’ get your coat and scarf so we can walk right quick.”
“Let’s go to the barn, where it’s warmer,” she said, liking the thought of being with Roy on this first day of the year. She hurried inside and pulled on her work boots, coat, and scarf, then donned her black candlesnuffer-style outer bonnet. She looked for her mittens and smiled when she found them pushed into her next youngest sister’s coat. “I’ll be right back, Mamm,” she called into the kitchen, not waiting for an answer. Oh, the joy of seeing her beau again!
She listened carefully as she and Roy walked slowly across the backyard to the barn, where she knew they’d have privacy. Making their way inside to the stable, Marnie could scarcely believe what Roy was saying.
“You’re mighty sure?” she said, wanting to be sure she had it right.
“Jah, your bishop and I had a long talk early yesterday morning. He sought me out, said it was all right in his opinion if I take you to gatherings with others who are seeking to understand God’s Word.”
Marnie found herself shaking her head, amazed.
“I was surprised by John Beiler. I honestly liked him, Marnie. He seems to understand where I’m comin’ from—that I love God and want to learn as much as I can from Scripture before I become your husband.”
“So he knows that, too?”
Roy reached for her mittened hand. “I’m actually thinkin’ of joinin’ church over here in Hickory Hollow.”
“Wha-at?” Now, this was a surprise! She leaped up and Roy caught her, embracing her and planting a warm kiss on her cheek. “Oh, this is the best news ever!”
“I thought you’d say so.” He held her near and removed his black felt hat, then gave her the first-ever kiss on the lips. He explained that he truly thought the bishop was taking a few steps back from the youth who were in Rumschpringe, letting them choose baptism without so much coercion.
This was as astonishing as Roy’s tender kiss.
“Can ya stay for dinner?” She looked up at his handsome face. “Perty please?”
He grinned his answer and pulled her close again.
“This has to be the happiest day for us, jah?”
“Well, I can think of a better day yet . . . next fall, ya know.”
She smiled. Their wedding day would top this moment, no question on that.
“’Course now there’s no need for you to move to Dan and Katie’s,” he said.
She’d nearly forgotten with all this rush of news. Goodness’ sake, was she ever relieved. “Kumme mit—we must talk to my parents, ’specially to Daed.”
This will be the best gift ever for my father!
Chapter 49
I think I’ve learned a tough lesson,” Jenny told Pamela and Dorie at the noisy eatery in Hartford days later. “Silly me . . . I have to accept who I am, not what I wish I might’ve been.”
Pamela shook her head. “Sounds philosophical, Jen . . . something your father might say.”
“I can’t believe you’re back,” Dorie said. “I mean, you looked so at home in Amishville. We talked about this on the drive back here.”
“I agree with Dorie; you seemed really settled there . . . despite your crazy Plain costume.” Pamela cringed. “Don’t hit me!”
They laughed together, and when their lunch order arrived, Jenny dismissed their remarks, ready to enjoy her salad and crab-cake sandwich. Dorie smiled at her apologetically across the table from behind a mound of fries.
Pamela suggested they pray silently, which they often did when eating out together, but Jenny’s mind flew to the dozens of times she’d watched Samuel purposefully bow his head in reverence, with Rebecca doing the same. Jenny still wished she knew what words they prayed—surely it was a learned rote prayer, as was the bedtime prayer. But she’d never asked.
Another regret.
“It’s so great to have our little trio together again,” Dorie said as sh
e reached for the ketchup.
Jenny took note of the busy place. The walls were lined with posters and other paraphernalia, and it wasn’t long before her thoughts were in Hickory Hollow, where Rebecca’s home was anything but frenzied and overdecorated. Tidy, simple . . . that was the Amish approach to interiors.
“A house is a home because of the people who live and love there,” Ella Mae had once said.
“Jenny? You look wistful.” Pamela leaned near, studying her. “You okay, hon?”
“Of course.” Jenny reached for her soda and took a sip, yearning for the unusual taste of Rebecca’s homemade root beer.
Later in the week, Kiersten talked Jenny into meeting at an upscale strip mall in Hartford, where they shopped for most of the afternoon, Jenny mostly observing what her sister bought. They capped off the outing with supper. “I’ll bet you miss home-cooked Amish food,” her sister said, juggling her many purchases as they sat down.
“Well, Mom’s the best cook ever.”
“So is that a no?” Kiersten probed.
“Food is food, right?”
Kiersten laughed. “You haven’t changed at all. I thought you’d return all geared up for our modern ways . . . the ones you looked down on most of your life, remember?”
Jenny listened, trying to get a grasp on Kiersten’s perception of her. It was unnatural for sisters who grew up under the same roof to have to go through these kinds of maneuverings. “You must have thought I was checked out, even when I was a little girl. Everyone did.”
Kiersten didn’t come right out and agree, but it was clear what she thought. “Oh, you know.”
“No, really, I’m sorry if I shut you out.” She paused. “I must have.”
Kiersten waved it off, bringing up Cameron. “Talk about checked out—our brother is crazy in love with Lexi.” She explained that he and his new girlfriend saw each other several times a week, and even hauled Lexi’s kid along. “Totally surprising.”
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