by Sarah Price
“Oh, Elijah,” she cried out. “Are you alright?”
But Elijah hadn’t even noticed that Fanny ran into him.
“Mary!”
Fanny peered over his shoulder, just as surprised as Elijah to see pretty Mary kneeling on the kitchen floor, a scrub brush in her hand. Upon hearing Elijah’s voice, Mary sat back on her heels and raised one hand to brush back any stray hairs that had fallen from beneath the simple white scarf she wore over her hair. When she saw Elijah, she smiled and lowered her eyes in a way that seemed far too coy to be natural, at least to Fanny.
If Elijah had been surprised to see Mary working alongside the bishop’s wife, Fanny felt as if she had been knocked speechless. Hadn’t it been only the previous evening that Timothy had mentioned that Mary and Henry planned to return? If they were already in Mount Hope, why hadn’t he stated as much? Instead, with no further warning than Timothy’s one comment, Fanny stood behind Elijah, looking over his shoulder at the one person she truly did not want to see in the Yoders’ kitchen.
What Fanny had thought would be a nice day, spending time with Elijah while helping the Yoders, would certainly now be a day spent in the company of not just Mary, but her impudent brother as well—the only other person she did not want to see.
“Ah, Elijah!” Henry, carrying a box of canned food, emerged from the door that led to the basement. “Bishop told us you were coming today, didn’t he, Mary?” He glanced at his sister who did not speak but merely nodded her head.
“I hadn’t known you were returning so soon,” Elijah said, the statement directed at Henry but his eyes clearly focused on Mary. “I trust all is well back in Gordonville?”
“Ja, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
Fanny’s eyebrows twitched as she fought the urge to frown. Henry’s answer harbored a hint of hostility, as if Elijah’s question was offensive. Elijah, however, failed to notice.
“And Fanny!” Henry set down the box and crossed the room, greeting Fanny as if they were old friends, warmly shaking her hand and smiling as he did so. “It was so good of you to come help us!”
Fanny withdrew her hand as quickly as she could and looked away. Just the way he stared at her made her feel uncomfortable. Add to that feeling his warm and somewhat intimate welcome and Fanny knew, without a doubt, that she did not care for him any more than she had when he had flirted with Miriam and Julia.
The bishop, however, seemed pleased with Henry’s greeting to Fanny and placed his hands on both of their shoulders.
“Ah, gut, you two are acquainted already,” the bishop said in an overly friendly way.
Henry responded with a hint of a smile at the bishop as if the two of them shared a secret.
At that moment Fanny felt that all-too-familiar tightening in her chest. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, with how the bishop had just greeted her. In all the years that he had been bishop, he never paid much attention to Fanny, not even during her instructional before baptism and certainly not afterward. He had no reason to. Suddenly now he had specifically requested her presence to help his wife prepare their house for worship service? Her head felt dizzy as she realized that something was amiss.
The bishop paid no attention to her discomfort. “I’ll leave the two of you to help inside. Mary and Elijah can help outside to clear the area for the horses. I already put your bruder to work.”
Fanny swallowed the panic that welled inside of her throat, too aware that Henry stood just a little too close to her. With her personal space invaded, she took a side step, small enough that no one would notice.
Glancing over the bishop’s shoulder, she noticed that Elijah and Mary talked with their heads bent together. Their personal space was clearly invaded by the other, but neither one made a move to correct it. Instead, there was something far too relaxed between them. In the past Mary acted coyly around Elijah. Now she was openly comfortable with interacting with him in a gentler manner.
The bishop shooed Mary and Henry outside, accompanying them to the barn. Meanwhile the bishop’s wife didn’t wait to begin listing the things that needed to be done. Furniture needed to be moved, woodwork needed to be cleaned, and floors needed to be scrubbed. To Fanny, it was no different from what she had been doing at the Bontragers, and without being instructed further, she started to walk to the kitchen sink where a bucket and pile of cleaning rags awaited.
“Oh, heavens!” The bishop’s wife frowned. “I need to go fetch some cleaning oil from the basement. Mayhaps the two of you could start moving the sitting room furniture onto the porch, ja?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she hurried out of the room, leaving Fanny alone with Henry Coblentz.
It was all she could do to avoid looking at him. The memory of his flirting with both Miriam and Julia was not far from her memory, as well as his swift betrayal (and subsequent retreat) at the Bontragers’ house during the Englische hymn singing. He reminded her of the man who wanted to follow Jesus but, when instructed to give up the things he loved the most to do so, refused. Like that man Henry Coblentz thought only of what added to his own prosperity and not how to walk with God. She just wished that more people could see that about him.
“Fanny,” he said. “Let’s start with the sofa, ja?”
She didn’t like being alone with him and found that it was difficult to speak in his presence. Where Miriam and Julia all but fought for his attention, Fanny did all she could to avoid it.
“You got that end, Fan?” he asked as Fanny easily lifted the piece of furniture.
She cringed at being called ‘Fan.’ No one ever called her that and it spoke of an intimacy that did not—and would not!—exist between them. “Ja, I got it,” she said.
Just like the preparation at the Bontragers’ house for the wedding, everything in the Yoders’ home would need to be removed from the first floor so that the rooms could be scrubbed clean.
“I’ll walk backward,” he said, another smile on his face. “It’ll be easier for you to carry it forward, ja?”
Fanny tried to avoid looking at him as they carried the sofa through the kitchen and toward the main door of the house. All the time he gave over-the-top attention to her ability to complete this one simple task, asking several times if she needed to stop for a moment and take a break. Fanny shook her head, wanting to tell him that she could have shoved the sofa across the floor by herself if need be. While she would never be so bold or rude as to say such words out loud, she saw no harm in thinking them.
When they had finally managed to pass it through the doorway, Elijah and Mary on hand to take over from there, Henry paused and watched them carry the furniture to the barn.
“Everything’s easier with two sets of hands, eh?”
Fanny didn’t respond. She began wondering why, exactly, Timothy had insisted that she, not Julia, help the Yoders. And the bishop’s reaction, inquiring about whether or not she had previously met Henry, seemed highly suspicious. Why this sudden interest in her? And why, exactly, had the Coblentzes returned from Pennsylvania so suddenly?
“Everything was well in Pennsylvania, I reckon?” she ventured to ask, curiosity getting the best of her.
Henry seemed delighted that she had, at last, spoken to him. “Why, indeed! As well as could be expected! How kind of you to ask, Fanny Price!”
At least this time he had not called her ‘Fan.’ “It was most surprising to learn of your return, especially so soon after your departure.”
The way that he looked at her, clearly misinterpreting her questions for interest. He leaned against the edge of the sofa and grinned at her. “A joyful surprise, no doubt.”
“Well, for some, I’m sure.” It was the only response she could think of that did not require her to lie.
Henry, however, did not seem inclined to realize that Fanny was not part of the “some” that she referenced.
“Pennsylvania is rather nice,” he began as they walked back into the kitchen.
Fanny didn’t wait for instruction and
headed over to the small stand full of devotionals and newspapers. That too would need to be moved outside. There wasn’t a lot of furniture in the room, so removing everything would be over soon and then the real work would begin. With the help of Mary, she presumed, they would clean every nook and cranny of the walls, ceiling, and floor. They would wash the cabinets and also the windows. Perhaps then, she thought, Henry would wander outside to help Elijah. Cleaning was typically a woman’s job, not a man’s.
Henry continued talking, oblivious to the fact that Fanny was focused on working, not socializing. “Such a small community, though. Both Mary and I found so many aspects of Mount Hope to be much more appealing,” he said. “The quiet, understated aspects.”
She handed him some newspapers to hold, ignoring the pointed look he directed her way.
“And it seems to be a much more thriving community, especially for young people with their whole lives ahead of them.”
“I thought it was overly congested,” Fanny said. “How can it be smaller and more congested at the same time?”
Henry gave a forced little laugh. He waved his finger at her. “Mary always tells me how very astute you are, Fan.”
She cringed.
He did not take notice. “I reckon that it’s just different. The town we live in . . . Gordonville . . . ” He paused and looked at her.
“Ja, I recall,” she replied.
“Gordonville has nice farms, but it is surrounded by Englische communities so the area where the church district’s members live feels much smaller.”
“Ah, I see.”
He knelt down to help remove the papers and books from the stand. “Plus the people in Mount Hope definitely left a handprint on my heart.”
His poetic words caught her off-guard. She looked up at him, surprised—and mildly uncomfortable—to see that his eyes remained on her face, even as he reached for more papers. Surely he didn’t mean her! Why, he had barely spoken to her at all prior to this day. All of his attention had been focused on another: Miriam. Or, rather, Miriam and Julia.
“I suppose there’s a danger of that wherever you travel,” Fanny finally responded. “People have a way of leaving the most indelible impressions upon us . . . wherever we go and whoever they are.”
“And sometimes,” Henry said as he stood up in such a way that he moved beside her, his foot lightly pressed against the heel of her shoe, “when you are away from that place, you have more time to realize how much a person has impacted you.”
Fanny shifted her weight away from him. “Both positively and negatively, for sure.”
“Ah, but even negative impressions can turn positive over time, wouldn’t you agree?” he added. “And then there are times when positive impressions might turn negative. Those are always the most disappointing.”
For some reason Fanny did not think he meant her own impression of him. Rather, he seemed to assume her steadfast good opinion of him with his former statement while she wondered if the latter may have been spoken in memory of Miriam.
His solicitousness toward her was a side of Henry that Fanny had not seen before, and she might have found it charming had she not seen the way that he had used those same attentions to trifle with Miriam and Julia’s emotions. Yet the more that she tried to fend off his social advances, the harder he tried to force them on her. That alone made her realize that Henry Coblentz could try his hardest to be delightful and pleasing, but the real man underneath the sweet talk and smiles remained just as roguish as her initial first impression.
“I’m sure Pennsylvania suits the people just fine,” she said as she began to pick up the small table. “It’s not a new community, anyway.”
“Hmm, no, it’s not. But it’s quite different from here where the community is so integrated with the Englische.”
“You mean the tourists?” She noticed that he merely followed her, instead of asking to take the table from her hands. She wasn’t surprised.
“Oh, ja, the tourists. I’m sure they bring quite an income to the Amish communities.”
Fanny set down the table and stared at Henry. That familiar tightness returned to her chest, only this time it was from her immense dislike of the man that stood before her. “Some Amish would complain that the tourists corrupt our communities. I, for one, would much prefer to have less, not more, interaction with them.” She gestured toward the door. “Mayhaps you would be so kind as to take this outside and see if either Elijah or Thomas need help.” Before he could find a reason to argue, she added, “I’m sure the bishop could share numerous stories about how the worldliness of the tourists has enticed far too many of our youths to forget the vows of our ancestors.”
She turned her back on him and hurried toward the kitchen, eager to begin cleaning the corners of the walls and floor so that she did not have to converse with Henry Coblentz anymore. He was a thorn that seemed to enjoy nothing more than to prick her finger and then, as she sucked at the wound, make his way to her other hand to cause the same damage, even if it was in a kinder fashion.
Chapter 13
FANNY KNELT BEFORE Miriam, who sat on a bench at the front of the room and, with the greatest of care, removed her shoes and stockings. The bowl of water, lukewarm and clear, was on the floor beside her. Once Miriam’s feet were bare, Fanny placed first one and then the other into bowl. With a soft, white cloth, Fanny gently washed her cousin’s feet. When she was finished, she removed Miriam’s feet from the water and dried them on the awaiting white towel.
And then, Miriam’s feet having been washed, they switched places, and with the same care, she took off Fanny’s shoes and stockings so that she could reciprocate the act.
When she finished, Fanny turned to her cousin and whispered, “The Lord be with us. Amen, in peace.”
Miriam repeated the same words and then they shared a holy kiss.
The men had already gone through the foot washing, and when the women were finished, it would end the special service and the families would retire to their homes. It was a solemn day, one that required self-evaluation and spiritual rebirth. However, after her long hours of added work recently—not to mention dealing with Henry yesterday—Fanny was ready for the end of communion.
While she understood the importance of the religious ritual, and she always welcomed reflection so that she could improve her relationship with God, she had never felt comfortable with the foot washing. That part of the service was, thankfully, over for another six months.
“Fanny,” Elijah whispered to her when the service finally ended. “Shall we walk home together?”
Timothy was talking with one of the deacons, most likely slipping him some money to add to the emergency fund for the community. It would be better to leave beforehand. After all, once Timothy returned home, the rest of the day would be spent in silence, each person expected to sit and pray until it was time for chores. Only then would they break the fast that had started the previous day in preparation for communion.
Fanny nodded, and without waiting for the others, they slipped out the door and began walking down the driveway toward the road.
“It’s startling to realize that, in just two days, Miriam will be married to Jeb,” Elijah said.
Fanny had thought the same thing when she had been the one to wash Miriam’s feet during the service. “There is so much work to do yet,” Fanny said. She was tired already thinking of all the chores she would have to tackle in the morning.
“I’m sure it will be over before you know it,” Elijah teased as they fell into step together. “And then we will be blessed with Jeb’s presence at our haus during the weekends until she finally moves onto his farm.”
Fanny tried to hide her smile. “All 160 acres of his farm?”
Elijah laughed. “Ja, Fanny. All 160 acres! She looked quite content when the bishop announced her banns, although everyone in the g’may has already been invited!”
“I don’t fault her, I suppose,” Fanny said cautiously. “A woman only gets marr
ied once in her life, after all. She should be content, don’t you agree?”
Elijah leaned over and knocked her shoulder gently with his arm. “I do agree, Fanny. Although I secretly hold out hope for my future wife to regard me not with feelings of contentment but of love.”
At the mention of his future wife, Fanny felt her good mood rapidly disappear. She had suspected his thoughts were on the future when he had taken his baptism earlier that month. Now she realized that, indeed, he was most likely actively pursuing it. From the way he had interacted with Mary at the Yoders’ house yesterday, Fanny knew better than to pretend any more regarding the true object of his affection.
They walked the rest of the way home in silence, Fanny thinking about Elijah while she presumed that Elijah was thinking about Mary. For the remainder of the afternoon, while the rest of the family sat and reflected on the communion service, Fanny suspected that she and Elijah would continue pondering their futures: her over the loss of her one, true love and him over the possible wedding to his.
After the long day at the Yoders’ house and the even longer afternoon sitting in the Bontragers’ company, deep in thought and prayer, Fanny hadn’t wanted to go to the youth singing that evening. With its busy schedule of sermons, hymns, foot washing, and prayers, the entire day had exhausted her, both emotionally and physically. She wanted nothing more than to retire early in order to face the new week.
But Timothy and Naomi had insisted.
“You need to get out, Fanny,” Naomi pressed, her attentiveness surprising her niece. In eight years Naomi had rarely noticed Fanny unless it was to criticize her or give her more work to do. “Be with other young people.” She looked at Timothy. “She must go. It’s unnatural for young people to not like being together!”
“Ja, you need to socialize.”
That one word, socialize, spoken from Timothy’s lips, gave Fanny even more reason to pause. Timothy never encouraged any of the women in his household to socialize, much less her. Most of his attention was on Elijah, and all of Naomi’s was on Miriam.