by Sarah Price
“Is that so? Your community has become too commercialized as well, then?” Mary remarked with genuine surprise.
Fanny wanted to point out that the tourists helped them by buying their baskets. The small shed on the dairy barn where they sold baskets during the summer months often brought in three hundred-plus dollars a day, money that was used to help pay for things on the farm. If it weren’t for the tourists who strayed down the back roads off of Route 241, they would have had to economize or find another income stream.
“I suppose your daed would not care very much for Lancaster County, then,” Mary added. “Although I must confess that I did not see the town proper yet.”
“Daed’s old fashioned,” Julia replied. “His parents were raised Swartzentruber, but neither one of them joined.”
“Oh?”
This time, however, there was the slightest hint of disapproval in Mary’s voice. Neither Julia nor Miriam seemed to notice. But Fanny picked up on it right away, especially when Mary lifted an eyebrow at the word Swartzentruber. Some of the Old Order Amish communities did not always think highly of the overly strict Swartzentruber Amish way of life, finding them backward and far too conservative. Clearly Mary fell into that category.
Unaware of the undercurrent of Mary’s comment, Julia explained further. “They joined the Danners, instead. I think it had something to do with the plumbing.”
“Well! Can you blame them?” Mary laughed. “Imagine! No running water! Why, that sounds so . . . primitive.”
This time, it was Miriam who joined the conversation and dragged Fanny into it as well. “Even Fanny had running water when she lived in Colorado!”
With renewed interest, Mary turned her attention to Fanny. “Colorado? Is that where you are from?”
Fanny stumbled over her words. Colorado wasn’t something that she frequently thought about. Let alone mentioned. Her communication with her parents was limited to a few letters each year. She had no relationship with her siblings, save William. To Fanny, her life in Colorado was from such a distant past that she no longer associated herself with the child that spent her early years there, way back when.
“It was a long time ago,” she finally said.
“And you came here because . . . ?”
Fanny wasn’t used to having such inquisitive questions asked of her. She felt awkward and uncomfortable at being the center of attention. “The community in Colorado,” she managed to say. “It struggles.”
The simplicity of her response said enough and Mary nodded, indicating her understanding of the matter. “How fortunate for you to have family here, then.”
It was a kind remark, a way for Fanny to avoid answering any more questions regarding her past. For that, Fanny was grateful. Had she misread her first impressions of Mary Coblentz? Could Mary have more compassionate insight into others than she originally thought?
Oblivious to Fanny’s reconstruction of her character, Mary returned her attention to Miriam and Julia. “It’s been a while since Henry and I have been here.” Fanny thought she saw Mary look over Miriam’s shoulder in the direction where Henry stood with Jeb and Elijah. “So much has changed, I reckon.”
“I hadn’t known you’d been here before,” Julia remarked. “When was that?”
“Oh, when our schwester was married. When was that? Ten years or so? There were so many people there, I’m not surprised we didn’t meet.”
But she had met Elijah, a fact that Mary neglected to mention. From the way her eyes lingered on the small group of men, Fanny began to wonder if there was a particular reason for Mary’s silence on the matter.
“My bruder William lives in Lancaster County,” Fanny offered. “Mayhaps you know him? William Price?”
Miriam scoffed. “Oh, Fanny. How provincial! As if she would know everyone in Lancaster County!”
Mary, however, looked upward, her eyes searching the ceiling as if the answer resided there.
Ignoring Miriam, Fanny added, “He’s a carpenter,” as if that might help narrow it down.
“I’m not certain that I have met him,” Mary admitted but without a lot of conviction. “As Miriam stated, Lancaster County is quite spread out, you see.”
But Fanny picked up on an undercurrent of falsehood in Mary’s words. If she was from Gordonville, surely she would know a young, unmarried man that lived in the same town! She didn’t have time to respond to Mary, offering this bit of information, for Miriam stepped forward and turned her body to slightly block Fanny from the conversation.
“Our little town is not as large as where you are from, I’m sure. But you will find Mount Hope most welcoming,” Miriam said as she smiled at Mary. “For both you and your bruder.” Her eyes flickered in the direction of Henry Coblentz. “Will you be visiting us for long?”
“Until Council,” Mary replied. “We’ll have to return for that and Communion.”
Miriam brightened at this comment. “Why, Council isn’t until October! You’ll be here an entire month!”
Mary graced her with a charming smile. “I reckon so, Miriam. Although our Council is a week before yours, or so we’ve been told.”
Fanny noticed Julia remained silent throughout this exchange, her eyes lingering on Henry as he stood talking with Elijah and Jeb near the refreshment table.
“We wouldn’t leave at all,” Mary continued, “but we aren’t members of your church district. Yet.”
Her last word caught Fanny’s attention. Were Mary and Henry considering moving to Mount Hope? And, if so, why wouldn’t they simply have their bishop write to their own brother-in-law rather than return to Pennsylvania to attend the Council Meeting and take communion?
Every year, right after the autumn baptism service, the members of the church district gathered after Sunday worship to discuss everything that was happening in their community. Any new rules or changes to existing ones were discussed, debated, and decided upon at that meeting. Any grievances with others were openly aired and resolved. Baptized members of the g’may attended this meeting so that the entire church district could be right with God before accepting communion at their next worship service. It was the one time of year when most Amish people did not travel, unless it was to return from elsewhere to attend this meeting.
“Are you thinking about moving here, then?” Fanny asked.
Mary nodded. “It just depends on Henry.”
At this comment, Miriam lit up. “Well, now my curiosity is piqued!”
“Henry is considering moving out here,” Mary explained. “Our older bruders are working the family business in Gordonville, so Daed wishes to expand out here.” She gave a soft laugh. “Plus, it’s become far too congested in Lancaster County.”
Fanny frowned. First Mary had described Lancaster as spread out and then as congested. Her words seemed rather contradictory. “If it is so congested, I would think that would be the best place for new business, unless his business is farming, wouldn’t you say?” Fanny offered, surprisingly out of turn.
Miriam gave a frustrated sigh. “Oh, Fanny, don’t be so argumentative.” She shook her head and looked at Mary as if to gain her sympathies in having to put up with Fanny. “Always giving opinions when no one asked!”
But Mary looked at Fanny, seeming to study her with a new sense of piqued curiosity as if noticing her for the very first time. Finally she gave her a soft smile, but directed her statement back to Miriam. “Her statement is actually quite correct. And my bruder does, indeed, wish to become a farmer. Land in our county is far too dear for him to purchase outright. However, the bishop has land that could be worked and farmed. His own children are already settled in their lives and not one of his boys is a farmer.” Mary turned to look at Miriam. “If Fanny’s opinions are not frequently sought, perhaps they should be. She seems more astute than she is given credit for.” And then, without waiting for a response, Mary turned and waved for her brother to join the small group. “I would like to introduce my bruder Henry . . . ”
&nb
sp; None of the women spoke as Henry, along with Elijah and Jeb, joined their group. Fanny watched as Elijah nodded his head in Mary’s direction. He seemed to stand straighter and with a more formal expression on his face. Mary’s response was a wistful smile, but her eyes traveled to her brother.
“Henry, I wanted to introduce you to the Bontrager sisters and their cousin, Fanny Price.”
Neither Miriam nor Julia seemed to notice that Mary had not offered their first names. He looked at Fanny, his eyes taking her in before he reached out to shake her hand. She felt uncomfortable under his steady gaze and withdrew her hand as quickly as she could. He seemed amused by her reaction, but his attention was soon diverted.
“I’m Miriam. It’s so nice to meet you!”
The honey sweet tone that her cousin used to greet Henry Coblentz caused more than one head to turn. Fanny looked up in surprise while Jeb blinked in concern. Unfazed, Miriam shook Henry’s hand, her touch lingering more than a few seconds too long.
“How very . . . ” Henry paused as he held Miriam’s gaze and hand. “ . . . welcoming.”
“Everyone’s been so friendly,” Mary said, glancing at her brother. “Wouldn’t you say, Henry?”
“Hmm, ja.” The words came from deep within his throat as if he barely heard his sister.
From behind Henry, Jeb cleared his throat. “And you should meet Julia,” Jeb offered, casually forcing his way to stand next to Miriam, his arm brushing hers in a subtle way that was clearly intended to send a loud signal. He positioned his body so that he blocked Miriam from Henry’s view.
Fanny noticed that Henry greeted Julia in much the same way and with much the same reaction from her cousin. She had never met someone like Henry Coblentz and she knew, without a doubt, she didn’t like him even if both of her cousins clearly did. Wiping her hand on her dress, Fanny hoped she could rid her skin of the itch she felt from his touch.
“And Elijah,” Mary said at last. The way she rolled her head to look at him reminded Fanny of a sleek barn cat, lazy yet purposeful at the same time. “How good to see you again.”
“Your journey was uneventful, I presume?”
She laughed, a light and airy sound. “As uneventful as one could hope for!”
Elijah smiled. “Indeed.”
Fanny watched this unexpected interplay between Mary and Elijah, confused at first by their reaction to each other. They were comfortably uncomfortable with each other in a way that said far more than their words indicated. In the eight years she had known Elijah she had never witnessed him act so ferhoodled.
“I suppose the question everyone is wanting to ask,” Miriam said, pushing against Jeb so that she was no longer hidden, “is how long you will be staying in Mount Hope. A good long time, or will you be returning soon?”
Fanny frowned. Hadn’t Miriam already asked Mary that very question? Only this time, she directed the question to Henry.
“Until Council,” he responded, his eyes staring directly into Miriam’s in a much too forward way to suit Fanny. “Our district will have that the second Sunday in October.”
“Well,” Miriam responded. “That’s long enough anyway, I reckon.”
Fanny wasn’t certain if she meant that it was long enough or too long. Since their own Council meeting would be held on October 16 after their regular worship service, the Coblentzes would be in Mount Hope for almost five weeks.
“Ach, Miriam,” Jeb said, turning so that he, once again, blocked her from Henry’s view. “You’ll be plenty busy with preparations for our own celebrations, I imagine. Not too much time for visiting with our own wedding on November first!” He gave an insincere laugh as her eyes flashed angrily at him. “Well now, I think I see Benjamin over there. Kum, Henry. Let me introduce you before the singing starts, ja?” Before Miriam knew what happened, Jeb had led Henry away, guiding him toward another group of young men near a folding table with pitchers of lemonade and meadow tea, leaving Miriam standing before Mary and, as such, with the sole responsibility of now introducing her to the other women.
Fanny smiled to herself as she saw Miriam struggle with the not-so-obvious slight from Jeb. Anyone else watching probably would not have noticed. His behavior toward Miriam was so casual, and the men so often separated from the women, that he appeared no more interested in her than he was in a bale of hay. Only every so often he might glance in her direction, as if checking up on what she was doing and whom she stood by. It was such a slight indication that most people would never see it. Fanny, however, found that by observing in silence she could often discern what so many people often missed.
Chapter 5
THE SUN FELT warm on Fanny’s back as she knelt in the garden. She plucked a few unwelcome weeds from between the rows of tomatoes and tossed them into the black bucket by her side. Soon the garden would produce the last of its vegetables for the season. In the meantime she was happy to enjoy the time away from basket weaving and house cleaning, the two things that Naomi demanded she do. However, the garden had been neglected of late, especially with Fanny helping Elijah with the animals in the early morning hours. Finally Naomi had consented that she could tend to the weeds instead of sitting in the house weaving baskets.
Pausing, she sat back on her heels and wiped the sweat from her forehead.
Somehow she had managed to be assigned the task of gardening by herself. While she didn’t particularly mind, for it meant she didn’t have to listen to Naomi bossing everyone around inside the house, she resented the fact that, once again, Miriam had claimed to have a headache. The heat and humidity of the late summer day was apparently too much for her cousin . . . as was the windy chill of autumn days, the biting cold of winter mornings, and the dampness of spring rain. In reality, however, Fanny knew that Miriam had snuck out the previous evening, presumably to meet up with Jeb. She had heard the stairs creak at eleven o’clock at night as someone descended the stairs in the darkness.
To Julia’s credit, she was stuck inside on a gorgeous day, catching up on some orders for baskets. More often than not, Julia seemed to quietly contribute just the right amount of work so that she did not fall prey to Naomi’s criticism. However, not once did she offer to assist Fanny, instead choosing to disappear in the early afternoon to visit with two of her girlfriends who lived on a neighboring farm.
Fanny returned her attention to the weeding, taking her time to pluck each weed so that she didn’t have to return to the house anytime soon.
“Fanny!” Elijah whispered in a loud voice.
She smiled when she heard his voice and started to look around, trying to see where he was. “Elijah? Where are you?”
“Nee! Keep pretending to weed!” he instructed, a playful tone to his loud whisper.
Obediently she did as he asked, trying not to smile. She knew this game. He played it with her frequently. When she had first arrived at the Bontragers, Elijah began sneaking up behind her and, out of sight of Naomi or Timothy, he’d beckon her away on some little adventure so that they could talk, or as was often the case, just get away from the farm. It was a great game that he continued to play with her, claiming that he liked to see her laugh at him. But in reality she suspected that he noticed the unjust distribution of labor among the women, and since he was not inclined to speak up, he rebelled in a less vocal manner.
“Come now, Fanny. I’ve tacked up the pony! Let’s go for a ride!”
Ah, she thought, risking a glance in the direction of the garden shed. “I can’t, Elijah. I’m weeding,” she whispered back but loud enough so that he could hear.
“That garden has no more weeds than Naomi has tact!”
Fanny laughed, covering her mouth with her soiled hand, and, once again, looked over her shoulder toward the shed. “Ach, Elijah! You’re impossible!”
He poked his head around the corner of the shed and gave her a brotherly grin. “You’ve been working all day, Fanny. You’re entitled to some fun. Just don’t let Naomi see you!” he teased.
“S
ee me have fun?” Fanny questioned teasingly.
“See you not working,” he corrected and made a face at her. “Just hurry to the side of the barn so she doesn’t see you leaving. Otherwise, she’ll be out here to investigate why you stopped working!”
“And report me to your daed, no doubt!”
The longer Timothy remained away, the more Naomi browbeat everyone, especially Fanny, although no one was immune from being a target. Naomi’s knack for noticing even the slightest hint of laziness seemed to increase with every passing day, although she often seemed to excuse Miriam with her frequent headaches or need to lie down in the afternoon.
Unfortunately the more Naomi complained, the less Martha talked at all. And that created an even larger problem for Fanny. Her worry about her one aunt was trumped only by her dislike for the other. While she’d never voice her concerns, she did go out of her way to avoid Naomi. Still, Martha’s melancholy worried Fanny, who sat by her side to ensure that her aunt ate properly and didn’t catch a chill when the sun went down. While Martha seemed to appreciate her efforts, sometimes even talking with her when they were alone, Naomi saw Fanny’s concern and fussing as more reason to criticize her niece. After all, she claimed, Fanny was paying more attention to Martha than to her chores.
“I’m afraid I can’t go, Elijah,” she said when she realized that as much as she wanted to ride the grey pony she simply could not. Besides the fact that she was almost finished weeding, she wanted to check on Martha. “What if your Aendi Martha needs me? She was feeling fatigued this morning.”
“You worry too much.” His words, though critical, were spoken kindly. “She’ll be fine for a short while. Besides, you’re outside anyway.”
“I promised to make that bassinet for the Englischer’s order.”