The Amish of Ephrata Collection: Contains Four Books: The Tomato Path, The Quilting Bee, The Hope Chest, and The Clothes Line

by Sarah Price

  “You realize,”he said, his voice low and a twinkle in his eye.“This is the first of many gardens that we shall plant together, Priscilla.”

  The seriousness in his voice made her smile.“Ja, God willing,”she replied.

  “And I’m hoping you raise some of those famous, award-winning tomatoes in this year’s Esh garden,”he finished.

  At this statement, she laughed and felt the color rising to her cheeks. It seemed so long ago that Stephen had outbid the bishop for her basket of tomatoes at the charity auction. That had truly been the start of their courtship and the moment that she had known that Stephen was the man for her.

  He laughed with her and pulled her into his arms, embracing her for just a few short moments. Then, with a gentle kiss to the top of her head, the place where her parted hair peeked out from underneath her prayer kapp, he released her from his hold but still held her hand.“You ready then, my fraa?”

  The horse was already harnessed to the buggy and Stephen helped her climb inside, the grey-topped black box wiggling as she settled into the plush velvet seat. When Stephen climbed inside and sat beside her, he glanced at her and smiled.“Door open or closed?”

  “Oh, open, I think,”she said.

  He nodded and left the door open so that, as the buggy rolled down the road, a light breeze could circulate the air inside. He also leaned forward and lifted the front window where the reins came inside. It snapped open to the top of the buggy roof.“Then let’s go! Off to the garden center, ja?”

  The drive down the back roads was peaceful and quiet. It was still early in the season so there were not many tourists, especially since today was a weekday. If there was one thing Priscilla dreaded, it was the summer season when the roads were clogged with cars filled with staring Englischers. Some of them liked to take photos, despite the Amish’s opposition to the engraved image. During the summer, Priscilla always tried to avoid traveling to town on the weekends. It was best just to avoid the area, she always thought.

  The garden center was a few miles away, located just outside of the town of Intercourse. The main traffic light was backlogged with cars and Stephen slowed down the horse so that the buggy could take its place in line.

  Priscilla stared outside the open door and watched some of the people walking along the sidewalk by Zimmerman’s Market. Most were Amish, but quite a few of the people were Englischers. She recognized one woman who lifted her hand and waved to Priscilla. She waved back with a smile and nudged Stephen to do the same.

  They were passing another row of buildings when Priscilla caught her breath.“Stephen!”she gasped, her hand automatically reaching out to grab his arm.“Is that…?”She started to point but quickly remembered her manners.

  “What is it?”Stephen glanced in the direction that Priscilla indicated.

  Standing outside of a store was a familiar face: Susie Byler. With her blond hair and plump face, it was not hard to recognize her. However, Priscilla was startled by her disheveled appearance and apparent weight gain. And there was something sorrowful about her face, a lack of any expression whatsoever. A truly lost soul, Priscilla thought with a pang in her heart.

  “Oh,”he said under his breath. She noticed that he clenched his teeth, his jaw muscles tightening in his cheeks.“I guess that startled you, ja?”

  Priscilla frowned and looked at him.“What do you mean? Startled me? I haven’t seen her for quite a while and now I can barely recognize her!”She looked back out the window.“And what is she doing there?”

  Stephen shrugged as the buggy rolled past the building. It was all Priscilla could do to not stare. Susie was sweeping the front walk of the building, her floral dress almost covering the thick, black sneakers that she wore on her feet. While her hair was pulled back in a bun, she wore neither prayer kapp nor head covering. It was clear that she had abandoned the Amish way of life.

  “I didn’t think to mention it to you,”he said, his words forced and flat.“I had heard that she’s been working there.”

  Again, Priscilla frowned.“At that tiny little gift shop?”That seemed like such an unlikely place for someone like Susie Byler to work. It was a small store, located off the main tourist track of Intercourse. There was also fierce competition from much larger gift stores right in the midst of the Kitchen Kettle Village. Certainly the store where Susie was working could not be very successful. Perhaps Stephen was mistaken, she wondered.

  But, to Priscilla’s surprise, Stephen nodded.

  That news shocked Priscilla. She wasn’t certain of what to say. It was a long distance for Susie to travel from her parents’farm, that was for sure and certain. And she couldn’t imagine why Susie would be working at a gift store, especially since her parents needed the help on their farm. Hadn’t it been Stephen who had stepped up to help Jacob Byler when he was ill, a few seasons back? Of course, that had backfired when Susie had tried to use his offer to help her daed to put a wedge between Priscilla and Stephen, claiming that Priscilla had stolen Stephen from her.

  Now, how on earth did someone like Susie Byler know anything about working at a store? And an Englische gift store at that! Priscilla pondered.

  “Oh help,”Priscilla mumbled.“I don’t think I dare ask any more questions, Stephen. Best not to know.”No, Susie Byler was not her favorite person, indeed. A troublemaker and a bully was all that this Susie Byler had turned out to be. And it had cost her plenty: the support of her church district and the respect of her community.

  Stephen gave a soft laugh at his wife’s reaction, clearly pleased that she did not want to speculate further about Susie and her fall from grace.“No, I don’t think you do. Me neither. She’s out of our lives finally and, from the looks of it, working harder now than ever before and probably for less reward.”He shook his head, a dark cloud passing over his eyes.“And lost from God, it appears.”

  Priscilla shook her head, not wanting to think about that woman who had caused her and her family such angst.“Let’s talk about something more pleasant, shall we? Like our garden!”

  “Agreed!”

  For the rest of the drive, Priscilla rattled off a list of the different plants that she considered for their vegetable garden: Beets and beans. Lettuce and peppers. Tomatoes and cucumbers. Stephen listened to her, nodding his head in approval at her selection of vegetables that, come early summer, would begin gracing their dinner table. His only suggestion was for a few watermelon plants and pumpkin vines to be added to her list.

  The garden center was bustling with activity. Stephen hitched the horse to the metal railing before helping Priscilla climb down.“Seems we aren’t the only ones with gardening on our mind,”he said as he led her toward the entrance.

  “Stephen Esh!”

  Priscilla turned at the sound of her husband’s name. She was surprised to see Steve Fischer, one of Stephen’s friends who had just gotten married to Mimi Hostetler. She smiled and waited for Stephen to greet his friend.

  “Picking up some plants for Mimi, ja?”he asked while shaking Steve’s hand.

  “Ja,”Steve smiled, a sheepish look on his face.

  Priscilla was surprised not to see his wife with him.“You be sure to tell Mimi that I said hello,”she offered.“Haven’t seen her since the wedding.”

  He nodded and put his hands into his front pockets, rocking on his heels.“Been busy fixing up the house and all. But I’ll be sure to tell her, Priscilla.”

  Priscilla left Stephen’s side, letting him visit with his friend while she wandered through the different aisles, pulling a long flat wagon behind her so that she could load it with the plants that she wanted. She loved the smell of the young sprouts and held a tomato plant to her nose, inhaling deeply. Spring, she thought. It smelled like the best season of the year.

  She set several flats onto the first rack of the cart: tomatoes, eggplants, beans, beets, lettuce, and herbs such as basil, parsley, and chives. She was arranging the trays when Stephen walked back over to join her. He peered over her shoulder
to see what she had already collected.

  “They look healthy, ja?”

  She glanced at him and nodded.“Good selection this year, for sure and certain.”

  “You’ll win some more awards, I reckon.”

  She laughed and gently tapped him on the shoulder.“Stephen!”

  He laughed with her and helped push the cart further down the aisle.“Listen, Priscilla,”he said, changing the subject.“Steve invited us over for an afternoon picnic on our next off Sunday. I told him we would visit.”

  “That sounds lovely!”Priscilla replied, pausing by the cucumber plants to select several to put onto the cart.“I’ll have to bring a pie, I reckon.”

  It was strange that, now that they were married, their Sundays were not spent with other youths at singings or volleyball games. Those activities were for the unmarried members of their community. Now, as a newly married couple, their free time consisted of visiting other people, usually family. It would be nice indeed to visit with another young, newly married couple for a change.

  They were on their way back home from the garden center when Stephen made one last stop along the back roads at another Amish farm. Priscilla looked at him, wondering why he was stopping. It was a farm she was not familiar with but there was a sign for hardware. He smiled at her, a twinkle in his eye as he gestured for her to stay put when he stopped the buggy at the hitching rail.

  “I’ll be just a quick moment,”he said as he climbed out.

  She leaned against the window, gazing into the blue sky. Several birds soared high above and she watched them, amazed at their grace, so perfect and regal. Truly one of God’s most amazing creatures, she thought as she wondered what the world looked like from up there. Near the side of the store building on the farm stood a tall Purple Martin birdhouse. Two of the birds flew into different compartments, one with a piece of hay in its mouth. She smiled, realizing that it must be a mother bird preparing a nest for her eggs.

  “What are you watching with such a lovely smile?”Stephen asked as he opened the back of the buggy and set a package inside on the floor, careful to not crush the plants.

  Pointing toward the birdhouse, Priscilla explained what she had seen.“She must be nesting.”

  She saw him catch his breath, his eyes searching first for the birdhouse and then searching hers.“Spring is a right guttime to think about families, ja?”he said, his eyes boring into hers.“Mayhaps soon…?”

  Priscilla flushed and averted her eyes.

  Laughing at her modesty, Stephen reached out and touched her knee.“Later, I reckon,”he said.“For now, we have a full day’s work cut out for us. Planting your garden and hanging up your new clothes line!”

  “My what?”

  He backed up the buggy, tugging gently at the right rein so that the horse moved the buggy backward in that direction. When the buggy was clear of the hitching rail, Stephen urged the horse forward.“Your clothes line! I just bought you a new wheel to hang.”

  “What was wrong with my old one?”

  He shrugged.“Hoping that you’ll need a bigger one soon,”he teased, nudging her with his arm.“That small one just won’t do when we have lots of kinner!”

  She blushed again and looked out the window, secretly pleased with Stephen’s desire for a large family. She, too, prayed that she would be able to provide him with plenty of sons to help with the farm work and daughters to help her with her own chores.

  Her eyes lingered on the birdhouse as the buggy drove by. The bird sat on the edge of the opening, chirping into the gentle breeze before lifting itself in flight to find more hay or grass to complete the nest inside. A mother’s instinct, she thought, watching the birdhouse grow smaller as the buggy moved further away. She smiled to herself and nestled back against the seat, her shoulder brushing against Stephen’s as she wondered how soon she would feel the urge to start her own nesting.

  Chapter Two

  On Saturday, the sun shone and a gentle breeze blew through the open windows in the kitchen. The trees were just starting to show green from the buds of spring leaves. Priscilla stood at the window and stared outside, her eyes on the far field where Stephen was working. Four large cream-colored Belgian draft horses pulled the grass cutter. It was not the usual time for a hay cutting but the winter had been light and the spring had come earlier than usual.

  She could see the new clothes line, hanging from the corner of the house. It stretched across the driveway all the way to the upper point of the barn roofline. True to his word, Stephen had hung it the very same day that he had bought it. Priscilla had watched from the ground, holding her breath, when he had climbed atop the barn roof. He looked far too high in the air for her liking. But he had only laughed at her apprehension, pausing to wave before he leaned over the edge to hang the new wheel.

  Today, however, was the first day that she had used it. After the breakfast dishes had been cleaned, she had tackled the laundry. Unlike at her mamm’s house, Priscilla only had to do laundry twice a week. With just two people living at the farm, there wasn’t much laundry to require more of her attention. But today, she was especially pleased to look out the window and see the bedding and towels hanging from the line near the barn roof while Stephen’s pants and shirts hung closer to the house. In the middle were her colorful dresses. This clothes line was, indeed, longer than the old one and she could hang all of their laundry at once, and with space to spare.

  She had always loved looking at the colorful clothes hanging from the lines at neighbors’farms. It was as if each one told a story about the families. Priscilla liked to play a guessing game on trips to town, trying to figure out how many people lived on the farms based upon the clothes lines. Five flat sheets certainly meant at least four kinner plus the parents. Multiple dresses in different sizes hinted that the mother had dochders. Tiny black pants, hanging by just the straps of very small suspenders, told the story of a future farmer growing up in that particular house.

  It had often dawned on Priscilla that, despite being so private about their emotions and their lifestyle, the Amish certainly told a very public story when they hung their clothes out to dry for anyone to see and analyze.

  Of course, she also knew that the Amish women, particularly the older Amish women, played other games with their clothes lines. They liked to talk amongst themselves about who managed to hang out their clean clothes first in the morning.

  Many Amish women stuck to the traditional schedule of wash on Mondays. That way, the Sunday clothes didn’t have to wait to be washed. Some women awoke extra early and did the laundry before breakfast so that it was already hanging on the line well before the sun crested the horizon. It was a moment of unspoken pride to be the first to have the family clothes flapping in the breeze, ready to soak in the bright rays of sunshine and breath in the fresh morning scents.

  And, of course, there was also the color game. Priscilla smiled to herself, vowing that she would never get caught into that prideful game of who could make their clothesline look the prettiest. Black pants would hang together then black dresses and aprons then the burgundy dresses, blue dresses, green dresses, and pink dresses. Dark colors would be grouped together and pastels at the end closest to the house. It was a way to be creative and fun while tackling a taxing chore.

  But there was also another game: a game of deceit and lies. There were some women who would get up early and hang out dirty clothes just so that they could be the first one on their lane to have a rainbow colored line of clothes fluttering in the wind. It didn’t really fool anyone, not after a while. Especially when the children showed up for school or at church in less than pristine outfits. It spoke more of the prideful and lying character of the woman than anything else.

  Pride and lies, Priscilla thought. Over a silly clothes line! Two very bad sins that were frowned upon by the people, regardless of which church district they lived in.

  Turning away from the window, Priscilla glanced around the room. Everything looked in perfect ord
er and that was right important to Priscilla on this day, for some of her friends were coming to visit and share the noon meal with her. Stephen had agreed, knowing that it wasn’t easy for Priscilla to suddenly be on a farm alone, without anyone to talk to, while he worked in the barn and fields. She enjoyed helping him with the morning and evening milking, but, other than those few hours and mealtime, she was alone during the better part of the day.

  Sarah and Polly arrived shortly before eleven o’clock, surprising Priscilla even more as they brought along Polly’s cousin, Sylvia. She had returned from Ohio to spend the spring with her extended family in Ephrata, Pennsylvania.

  They all carried cardboard boxes full of canned food with them, more contributions to the pantry of the newly married Esh’s. Priscilla fussed over their generous gifts and set everything onto the counter. There were canned beets, applesauce, chow-chow, and even canned meat. It was more than enough to carry her through until her own garden began to flourish.

  “I don’t know what to say,”she gushed.

  Polly laughed.“Always so modest, Priscilla…Esh!”

  The women laughed at Polly’s emphasis on her new last name. Even Priscilla joined in, blushing modestly before gesturing to the table for her friends to sit.

  Sarah was the first to move over to the table and sit down.“Tell us everything! How does it feel to have your own home?”

  While Sylvia and Polly joined Sarah at the sturdy farmer’s table, Priscilla hurried to the propane-operated refrigerator where she had left a pitcher of fresh meadow tea to cool. When she carried it to the table, she set it in the center.“Oh it’s different,”she admitted.“I’m so thankful that my mamm taught me so much. Without having her around to tell me what to do, I have to make my own schedule. It’s not as easy as I thought.”