Amish Days
A Loving Stranger
An Amish Romance
byBrenda 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
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Table of Contents
1. One
2. Two
3. Three
One
Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unaware.
Hebrews 13:2 (King James Version)
Sadie Schwartz sat cross-legged on the packed dirt and leaned against the thick beams. The rough wood poked slivers through her cape dress, but she didn’t care. No one could see her where she hid. Even when a horse and buggy passed over the covered bridge above, no one was the wiser.
Tears burned beneath her eyelids, and she pressed her lips together to keep from sobbing out loud. She brushed at her eyes and clasped her hands firmly in her lap. Seven afternoons of hiding under the bridge seemed more than enough. She had to get ahold of herself.
Tell that to my broken heart, she thought. Tell that to my broken dreams, my broken future.
She shuddered. Where was the strength of character that had been pounded into her since birth? Where was her faith? Where was her belief that the Lord God controlled everything with His love and grace?
Love?
The word stung her heart.
For a year, Ezra Ebersol had proclaimed his love for her. One full year. They were to be married during the coming wedding season in November. It was October.
But she wasn’t going to be wed to her long-time beau come November. Instead, she had an invitation to attend Ezra’s marriage to Bethanee Lapp.
A metallic taste filled Sadie’s mouth, and she wanted to spit—but girls didn’t spit. They were demure. And compliant. And obedient. They took what life dished out to them as if everything came straight from the hand of God.
For seven days, she’d done her best to stifle her resentment. But it moved unimpeded through her gut and into her throat. She would choke on it. They would find her dead, lying under the bridge, covered with splinters and dirt. Suffocated by anger and grief.
Local News Report: Amish girl found dead of broken heart under the Spencer Covered Bridge, just one mile south of Hollybrook.
Would anyone weep for her? Would her dat?
Her sister Lisa would.
And if her mamm were still alive, she would weep.
Ezra Ebersol wouldn’t. He wouldn’t even notice she was gone.
Sadie brushed off the hem of her dress and stood. She was tall, taller than most girls in her district, but even so, she could stand to her full height beneath the bridge. She heard the distant clip-clop of someone’s horse moving closer, and she grew still to remain out of sight for another few moments until whoever it was passed.
She tucked a loose auburn curl back under her kapp and waited. And that was when she saw it. A flash of dark blue moving through the woods on the other side of the bank. Instinctively, she backed further into the shadows, crouching now, as she watched the trees.
There it was again.
Her eyes strained to see through the underbrush, and then she saw the source.
A stranger.
Probably in his twenties. And clean-shaven, so not married. He wore his straw hat tilted to the side, unusual for an Amish man. It made him look a bit cocky, sort of rebellious. His blue shirt was tucked into baggy black pants. But oddly, his suspenders were red. Bold red.
Without thinking, Sadie stepped forward to get a better look.
And at that precise moment, he turned toward her and their eyes locked. She felt his burning curiosity, his questions. He narrowed his eyes as if daring her to speak or to move or to do something. Anything.
She froze under the power of his stare. Neither of them moved, and then as quickly as he’d appeared, he turned and disappeared.
She realized her breathing was faster now, and she felt unnerved. Who was he? And what was he doing in the woods near Spencer Bridge? She knew every Amish family in the district, but she’d never seen him before.
Strangers weren’t common in Hollybrook. Especially one as full of mystery as he seemed to be.
She stepped out from under the bridge and blinked in the fall sunlight.
One thing was for sure and for certain.
The stranger had taken her mind off her broken heart and Ezra Ebersol for a good two or three minutes, and she was grateful to him for that.
****
It was near supper time when Sadie made her way back to the farm house. Lisa met her at the door, her face flushed and her kapp awry.
“Where were you?” she asked with a gasp. “Supper isn’t ready and Dat will be in any minute!”
“I left the cold cuts in the icebox. Didn’t you see them? And there was potato salad left from the noon meal.”
Lisa wiped her cheek, leaving a streak of flour across her face. “Nee. I thought I was supposed to make biscuits. And the first batch flopped.” She pulled on Sadie’s sleeve. “I’m a failure at baking. I need your help.”
Sadie put her arm around Lisa’s shoulders. “You’re not a failure at anything. Now, come on, and I’ll help you.”
“But Dat will be in! He’s going to be hoppin’ mad!”
“Let him be mad,” Sadie said in a moment of recklessness. “He can wait fifteen minutes for once in his life.”
Lisa’s eyes went wide and misted over. “He’ll be in a stew all evening then. Oh, Sadie!”
“Stop your fretting, now. Let’s get busy.”
Sadie led her younger sister back into the kitchen where there was a floury mess all over the counter. She spotted the batch of blackened biscuits in a heap on the cutting board. Next to them was a smear of lard and a measuring cup overflowing with milk.
“Ach, Lisa, you’ve made quite the mess.” Sadie intentionally made her voice light and teasing. She glanced at her sister and pulled a silly face, trying to get a smile.
Lisa gave her a grudging half-smile and grabbed the washrag to wipe up some of the spills.
Sadie snatched up a wooden spoon. “Do we really need biscuits? Let’s just serve the left-overs.”
“I told Dat we were having biscuits,” Lisa fussed. “He’s expecting them.”
“Fine.” Sadie expertly organized the ingredients and began to put them together in a large glass mixing bowl. Not five minutes passed before she was rolling out the dough and cutting circles with the end of a glass.
“Here, put these on the tray. Is the cook stove hot?”
Lisa grabbed the circles of biscuit and dropped them onto the baking tray. “Jah. It’s still hot.”
“Good. Let’s get them in. They’ll be done in ten minutes.”
The outside door to the washroom opened and banged shut. The girls stared at each other.
“He’s back,” Lisa said. She hurried to the stove and picked up a blackened pot of coffee. She poured a cup and held it out as Dat entered the kitchen.
“Here’s your coffee, Dat.” Lisa handed him the mug.
He took it in his large, calloused hands. “
Thank you, daughter. Is supper not ready?”
“The biscuits are almost done,” Sadie said, not looking at her father. She busied herself washing up the cooking utensils in the sink.
There was a stretch of silence. Sadie held her breath.
“So supper is not ready?” Dat asked, his voice rising in pitch.
“Wash up, Dat, and go on in. It’ll be on the table in a couple minutes.” Still, Sadie avoided his eyes.
Dat slammed his cup onto the counter, and coffee sloshed over the sides. “How many times must I suffer this? I want supper ready the minute I’m back from the fields. The minute!”
Sadie heard her sister’s sharp intake of breath.
“Sorry, Dat. We’re hurrying. Truly,” Lisa blubbered.
Sadie’s stomach turned to stone. What was his big rush anyway? All he did after supper was sit in his chair like a slug and smoke his pipe.
Dat heaved a huge sigh and stepped to Lisa, taking her arm. “Tomorrow, this ain’t gonna happen!”
“Nee, Dat. It won’t,” Lisa whispered.
Sadie itched to slap him, but she knew better. She went to her sister’s side and stood there, stiff, angry, and silent. She glared at her father. His small black eyes bore into hers, but she didn’t back down. Finally, he sighed and dropped her sister’s arm.
“Be quick with it,” he barked as he left the room.
Lisa rubbed her arm where he had clasped it.
“You okay, Lisa?”
Lisa nodded, tears seeping from her eyes. “I told you he’d be mad.”
Sadie went to the icebox and removed the cold cuts. “He’ll get over it,” she muttered.
“Sadie?”
Sadie turned to look at her sister.
“Do you think Ruth Lengacher knows? I mean, how difficult he is? Do you think she knows?”
Sadie shrugged. “I have no idea. She’ll find out soon enough.”
“But don’t you think we should warn her?”
Sadie fastened the icebox door shut. “They’re already engaged. I don’t think we can do anything now.”
She walked out to the dining table and set the platter of cold cuts before her father. What had her mamm ever seen in him, anyway? Although, to be fair, he hadn’t always been so awful. She remembered the days when Mamm was still alive, when he used to whistle his way through the house. Whistle! She couldn’t imagine anything like that ever happening again.
She went back to the kitchen to check on the biscuits, her mind circling Lisa’s words. Ruth Lengacher seemed to be a kind woman. She had three young girls who would soon be Sadie’s step-sisters. The marriage was to take place in early December after the young couples of the district were married during November.
She shivered as Ezra’s face slipped back into her thoughts. She resolutely pushed him from her mind, thinking again about Ruth and Dat.
Sadie had prayed that becoming engaged would soothe her father’s moods. But it hadn’t. Now she found herself praying that once he married, he would become calmer, nicer, more loving.
She doubted that would happen either.
Until seven days ago, she had thought her dat’s future wouldn’t have any effect on her. She was going to marry Ezra Ebersol and move with him into his family’s daadi haus. She planned to take Lisa with her, and Ezra had graciously agreed. But now?
Sadie sighed so deeply, her lungs hurt. It was all over. Her dreams and her escape.
“I’m taking in the potato salad,” Lisa told her.
“Go ahead. I’ll bring the biscuits and the butter. Is the jam already on the table?”
“Jah. I put it there earlier. Hurry, Sadie.”
Within minutes, the girls were sitting at the table with their father. He bowed his head for the silent blessing, and they followed suit. When he cleared his throat, they looked up and began passing the food. Dat served himself first, of course.
Sadie’s biscuits were light and flaky. She spread each steaming half with butter and watched it melt over the sides. She loved biscuits, but at the moment she could hardly bear the thought of taking a bite. Her stomach was in turmoil, and she knew the food would turn to rock when swallowed.
Dat paused and gazed at her. “You going to eat?”
“Jah.”
“The Good Lord gave us this food. Don’t waste it.” He took a large bite of potato salad. “I’ve asked Ruth and her daughters for the noon meal this coming Saturday.”
Sadie shot her sister a look.
“Have everything ready.”
“Jah, Dat. Of course. That will be right nice,” Lisa said.
“They’ll stay the afternoon. Maybe into the evening, too.”
Sadie nibbled at her biscuit, trying to avoid more lecture about not eating. She managed to swallow the small bites, but as she had anticipated, they hit her stomach like stones thrown into Edmund’s Pond.
Dat ate quickly. Barely seven minutes passed before he stood. “Clean up,” were his words of parting as he wandered into the front room, no doubt to find his pipe.
Sadie shoved her plate away from her. “Like we wouldn’t clean up if he didn’t tell us to.”
Lisa shook her head and stared down at her lap.
“You okay, Lisa?”
“I miss Mamm.”
Sadie rested her hand on the base of her throat. “So do I. But missing her won’t bring her back.”
Lisa glanced up. “I know that. But I can still miss her, can’t I?”
Sadie sighed. “I’m sorry. Of course, you can. Sorry.”
She stood and began clearing off the table. She regretted her sharp words to her sister. If she and Lisa didn’t get along, she’d have no one. A restlessness moved through her as she washed the dishes. She pulled at the collar of her dress, thinking it was too tight, but it wasn’t. When she tugged it, it wasn’t pressing on her throat at all.
So why did she feel like she couldn’t swallow?
Lisa dried the dishes and stacked them on the shelves.
“I’m going for a quick walk,” Sadie told her.
“It’ll be dark soon.”
“I know. I won’t be long.”
Sadie felt that if she didn’t get out and move, she would burst. She draped the dishcloth over the edge of the sink and wiped her hands on the towel lying on the counter.
“You’ll be back soon?”
Sadie squeezed Lisa’s arm. “Right quick.”
She knew Lisa didn’t like to be alone with Dat, but then, neither did she. Although, usually Dat didn’t bother them after supper. Nevertheless, for her sister’s sake, she wouldn’t stay away long.
Outside, the cool fall air hit her with comforting solidity. She should have grabbed her cape, but she didn’t want to go back inside. She began running toward the road, and when she reached the asphalt, she slowed. In general, Amish people weren’t seen running. If she was spotted in such haste, everyone would want to know what was wrong.
Then again, they already knew. News of her broken courtship had spread fast and furiously through the Hollybrook gossip network.
Sadie held her head high and made her way to the corner where the main road crossed Dowser Lane. She turned down the lane and once she reached a stand of oak trees, she slipped away from the road and entered the woods. It was now cool enough to see puffs of air from her breath, and the cold seeped through her dress and into her bones.
Yet, it felt good somehow. She was thankful for a sensation that had nothing to do with her broken heart. She plodded her way through the dead, fallen leaves listening to them crunch under her feet. Pausing for a moment, she leaned against the rough bark of a particularly stately oak. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the fall air.
“Who are you?”
Her eyes flew open, and she jerked away from the tree. It was him. The stranger.
“Who are you?” she snapped back, once she found her tongue.
He took off his hat and threw back his head and laughed. Irritation surged through her.
&n
bsp; “What’s so funny?” she demanded.
“You!”
She marched past him toward the road.
“Wait! I’m sorry! Wait!”
She stopped but didn’t turn around. She heard his footsteps scuffle through the leaves and then he was standing before her.
“Kind of late for a walk in the woods, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Yet here you are, walking.”
Again, he laughed.
“Excuse me,” she said and continued toward the road.
He matched her stride. What was the matter with him? Hadn’t she made it clear she didn’t welcome him? When she got to the edge of the trees, she stopped.
“We can’t be seen coming out of the trees together,” she said.
“And why not?”
She gave an exasperated sigh. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
She gave him a puzzled look.
He touched her arm, and she drew back, shocked.
“Are you even Amish?” she cried.
His face grew solemn. “I’m sorry for touching you. Jah, I’m Amish. And nee, I don’t come from around here.”
“Who are you?”
“The name is Joshua Graber. I’m boarding with the Lamberts.”
“Are you kin?”
He shook his head. “Not really. Truthfully, there might be some blood between us, but far, far removed.”
“Why are you here?”
He chuckled, but Sadie got the distinct impression he wasn’t amused.
“My parents sent me.”
“But why?”
“I’m a trade.”
Sadie’s eyebrows raised. “You’re a trade?”
“Jah. Got sent here from Ohio to work with the Lamberts in their furniture business and to find a bride.”
Sadie took a step back. This was getting way too personal for her comfort. She squared her shoulders.
“Good luck to you,” she said curtly and walked away.
She heard him chuckle again, but this time it sounded genuine. She hurried down the road, both to get away from the strange man and to get back to Lisa, who by now would be stewing.
Amish Days: A Loving Stranger: An Amish Romance Short Story (Hollybrook Amish Romance) Page 1