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

by Sarah Price

  When the congregation stood up and turned to face the outer walls of the building, before kneeling in a final prayer, Priscilla felt refreshed and eager to face the rest of the day. She knew what she had to do: recognize true righteousness and practice patience when it came to things that caused her stress. She said a silent prayer, asking God for the strength to do His will in a stronger manner.

  After the service, the men began to convert the wooden benches into long tables by slipping the bench legs into wooden boards. While the men worked, the younger boys scurried around the room, collecting the Ausbund books to store in a wooden crate. The women, however, began to prepare the meal for fellowship. Even the younger girls helped by carrying plates and utensils to the tables, setting them for the first seating that was about to start.

  Priscilla busied herself, carrying plates of cold cuts and bread to the tables, smiling at the other women who were helping. Despite what appeared to be chaos, with men and women scurrying about the room, it was completely organized. Everyone knew what work needed to be done.

  Men sat at the first table and women at the second. There was a long moment of silence as the bishop bowed his head, the others following his example. Those who were not eating during the first seating stood along the wall and lowered their head as they joined the silent prayer. Only when the bishop made a movement with his hand did the others begin to reach for the plates of food to serve themselves.

  The older members of the congregation and the mothers with younger children always ate first. The single women and the women without any children would replenish their drinks while they waited for their turn. Priscilla found a moment to stand with Polly and Sarah during a break in the work.

  “Sylvia doesn’t look well,”Priscilla managed to whisper to Polly after the first seating of people began to eat.“Is she all right then?”

  Polly shook her head.“Mamm had her go to the doctor. He has her on special medicine for her blood pressure. Seems it’s too high.”

  “Is that so?”Priscilla asked, concern in her eyes. Sylvia was too young to be suffering from high blood pressure. And, since she was visiting her cousin, not feeling well was certainly an even stronger inconvenience.“Whatever could cause that?”

  “Stress,”Polly answered, leveling her gaze at Priscilla. There was something strong and determined in Polly’s eyes.“The letters keep coming. And now she won’t show them to us. They are apparently too vile to even let others read.”

  Letters? Priscilla could scarce believe it. While she was relieved that Susie had stopped bothering her, it disturbed her that Sylvia had now become the prime target. Yet, she remembered her prayer, to practice being more patient and godly. Rather than merely spend time talking about Susie, it was time to get others involved.“I think she needs to go to the bishop, to tell him what is happening,”Priscilla said firmly.“He’ll know what to do. Such matters are best handled by him, I reckon.”

  Polly shrugged her shoulders.“What can he do? If it is Susie Byler, she’s no longer part of our district and, from what I heard, she’s getting herself mixed up in Englische things that are probably making matters worse.”

  That caught Priscilla’s attention. Despite being in the same g’mayas before she was married, Stephen’s farm was at the further edge of their church district. With so much to be done on the farm, she hadn’t had much time for visiting since her friends had stopped by, the week before.“What types of Englische things?”she asked suspiciously.

  “Well, you know that her mamm was caught with the bottle by their new g’may. Some speculate that Susie is following down the same path.”

  “Oh help!”Priscilla said, pressing her hand against her chest. The evils of alcohol were something she had only heard about but never experienced, thankfully. It was rare to hear about Amish who drank, and certainly not after baptism. To drink as a baptized member of the church meant risking to be shunned. But, then again, Susie had been denied her baptism.

  Sarah leaned forward.“Heard it’s more than speculation about that girl and alcohol. Seems to get worse at night, making calls on the telephone to people and leaving horrid messages.”

  “I don’t believe you!”Priscilla gasped.“This is just more gossip, ain’t so?”

  Sarah shook her head before she continued.“Calling and leaving messages at different farms on the community phones. Everyone says she’s just plain ole nuts and the booze is making her worse. Downright nasty and mean, that’s Susie Byler.”

  “Stop, please!”Priscilla put her hands to her ears as if to shield herself from more unpleasant news.“I can’t bear to hear more!”

  “Just be glad that she’s leaving you alone for now,”Polly added as she reached for the pitcher of water and walked to the table to refill everyone’s glasses.

  “No,”Priscilla said, more to herself than to Sarah.“I will pray for her, instead. That’s what God would want: prayer for that woman and for our friend, Sylvia.”

  “Prayer won’t help that woman, I fear,”Sarah quipped before she, too, hurried to see if anyone needed to have his or her drink replenished.

  Wandering into the kitchen, Priscilla tried to busy herself by helping the older women. She wanted to distance herself from the latest news about Susie. She was, indeed, quite glad that Stephen did not have a phone on the property. One less thing to worry about. If someone needed to reach them, they would have to stop by the farm, mail a letter through the postal service, or contact them via the shared community farm on the main lane.

  One of the older women smiled at Priscilla as she picked up a towel and began to dry dishes by the sink. That was one of the things that Priscilla enjoyed the most about church Sunday: the camaraderie of the women as they cleaned up between meals. She had never minded the work of washing dishes for over two hundred people. With so many women helping, it hardly felt like work. But she enjoyed hearing the latest news from her neighbors, both near and far.

  Stephen’s farm was one of the farther ones in the district and, as such, far away from many of the other farms. It had only been by chance that his farm had not been included in the redistricting several years ago. Since no one had lived at Stephen’s farm and it was adjacent to his daed’s, the bishop had extended the border of the new district just beyond the farm. Priscilla would always be grateful for that decision for, without it, he might have attended other singings and found himself taking home another Amish girl instead of her.

  “How’s the new farm, then?”the older woman asked Priscilla.

  “Right gut, danke,”she replied, setting the dry dish on the counter.“We just planted our first garden last week. The soil sure looks dark and rich so I’m hopeful that we have some success.”

  The woman laughed, the deep lines of her face telling the unspoken story of many years of gardening in the sun.“Of that I’m sure,”she said and patted Priscilla’s arm.“You always had that green thumb, ja?”

  “No more so than anyone else, I reckon,”Priscilla replied modestly.

  The woman smiled at Priscilla’s comment.“Time will tell on that one.”There was a knowing look in the woman’s eyes and Priscilla felt herself flush at the unspoken compliment. Her gardening skills were renown in the community, despite her best efforts to downplay the extra attention.

  It was just a few minutes later when Priscilla felt a tug at her sleeve and, setting down the dishtowel she had in her hand, she turned to see who was trying to catch her attention. It was Sylvia, her face pale and drawn. She truly looked ill and Priscilla set the towel down on the counter.

  “Why Sylvia!”she exclaimed.“What has happened? Shall I fetch you some water?”

  In response, Sylvia shook her head but motioned Priscilla to the side, signaling that she wanted to speak to her in private. Together, they walked to the back of the large room and slipped through a door onto the back screened in porch. It was a warm day and, in the distance, children were scampering about, playing with each other in the side yard. Otherwise, they were alone.
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  “I received a new letter,”Sylvia whispered, slipping a folded sheet of paper into Priscilla’s hand.“I want you to read it.”

  Priscilla hesitated, not wanting to read another one of those letters.“I don’t think I want to, Sylvia.”

  But Sylvia insisted. There was something sorrowful about Sylvia’s eyes that caught Priscilla’s attention: A look of pleading for her understanding. With a sigh, she took the paper from her friend and, with a quick glance over her shoulder to make certain no one could see, Priscilla unfolded it.

  Sylvia,

  You are not the person we thought you to be.

  Your faith is not genuine.

  A true Christian would not be fake.

  Priscilla S.

  It took a moment for the words to sink in. And then, when the enormity of the message hit her, Priscilla’s eyes grew wide and she immediately looked at Sylvia.“You know that I didn’t write that!”she whispered, shoving the paper back at Sylvia.

  “Of course I know that, Priscilla,”Sylvia replied, a touch of irritation in her voice.“You are not capable of thinking such evil thoughts. Do you think we are so foolish as to believe you would write something so vile? She may think we are stupid but I can assure you that it just ain’t so!”

  A shiver ran up Priscilla’s spine and she shuddered. To question Sylvia’s faith was unthinkable! Besides playing the role of God by judging Sylvia’s faith, it was also one of the most insulting things a person could say. Judge not, that ye be judged not, Priscilla thought. Immediately, she felt her own anger start to swell, especially given the fact that whoever had written this had tried to impersonate her!

  “I need to go step outside for a spell,”she said, her voice hoarse and her hands trembling.

  Before she could turn away, she felt a hand on her arm.“Priscilla!”Sylvia said.“You promise me that you won’t tell a soul!”

  Promise? How could Priscilla make such a promise? It wasn’t even a fair question.“Sylvia,”she said.“I would never make a promise that I cannot keep. And that is one that I cannot make, my friend. She is trying to make me look like a horrible person. Again. You need to involve the bishop. Let him handle this for once and for all.”

  “I shouldn’t have told you,”Sylvia mumbled, her eyes downcast as she refolded the paper.

  A momentary wave of guilt washed over Priscilla. Her friend was clearly distressed, understandably so. If anyone questioned her own faith or called her a fake Christian, Priscilla would not know how to respond. It would crush her spirit and cause her to doubt her own beliefs. The thought dawned on her that crushing Sylvia’s spirit was exactly the intent of the writer of that note. Clearly, Sylvia had told her about the note for a reason and that reason was most likely to ask for her support.

  Reaching out, Priscilla clutched Sylvia’s hand.“I’m ever so sorry,”she said.“I will make that promise, Sylvia. This is not about me but about you. I won’t tell anyone, if that is what you truly wish. I reckon it’s like keeping someone else’s dirty laundry off the clothes line, ain’t so? No need to put it out there for everyone to see.”

  Something softened in Sylvia’s eyes.“Danke,”she whispered.“I thought you should know since she’s bringing your name into this.”

  “You do know none of that is true, Sylvia? You are not a fake Christian.”Priscilla coaxed, hoping her words would give her friend strength.“You know that, ja?”

  Sylvia nodded but there was doubt in her expression.

  “Sylvia, if that is, indeed, Susie Byler, it certainly tells more about her than anything else. A person with a pure and truly faithful heart could never write such a horrid note. She is simply filled with malice.”Priscilla took a deep breath and released Sylvia’s hand.“We should all feel sorry for her, I reckon. Pray for her healing.”

  “I won’t be praying for that woman!”Sylvia snapped, her eyes suddenly fierce and full of venom.“She’s too evil for prayers. Not from me, anyway.”

  Priscilla wanted to argue with Sylvia and to remind her that Jesus came to provide salvation for the sinners, not just the saints. Yet, she knew that Sylvia’s pain was too raw for such an argument. Without having walked in her friend’s shoes, Priscilla didn’t want to upset her any more than she already was.

  Chapter Four

  It was almost a week later when Priscilla heard the news. A message had been left on the telephone in the shanty near the road, the telephone that was shared with the neighbors across that lane.

  Amos Hostetler was the one who knocked on the kitchen door with the message that he had retrieved from the answering machine. He apologized to Priscilla when she answered the door, and then shared the news. It was about Sylvia, taken to bed on doctor’s orders due to the stress on her heart. She had fainted while helping in the garden at her aendi’s house. Word had spread quickly about Sylvia’s illness, which seemed to be getting worse by the day. And Polly had called to make certain Priscilla knew as well.

  Without a moment’s delay, Priscilla went out to the barn and informed her husband about Sylvia’s condition.

  “I’ll take you there,”Stephen immediately replied.“Just give me a minute to harness the horse.”

  She followed him to the horse barn, and then sat on a hay bale while he opened the stall door and reached for the horse’s halter to lead her outside to the main area of the building. He tied the horse to the cross-ties and reached for a currycomb. He glanced up, his hat tilted back on his head as he curried down his mare. Priscilla watched, proud of the care that Stephen took with the horse but also wishing that he would hurry. She was eager to get to Polly’s house so that she could find out exactly what had happened to her friend.

  Stephen lifted up his hand and rested it on the horse’s withers as he looked at his wife.“You step aside, Priscilla. I don’t want you getting hurt, now,”he said, his voice low and soft.

  She did as he instructed. Moving away from the hay bale, she leaned against the open doorway and watched as he led the horse toward the buggy. She liked to see him working with the horse. First, he slipped the harness saddle over the back of the horse, resting it just behind the withers and making certain that the girth was secure so that it wouldn’t slip while supporting the shafts of the carriage. He ran his hand along the side of the horse as he moved toward the tail, a kind and calming gesture showing how much he cared for his horse.

  He gently slapped her hindquarters before attaching the crupper, a V-shaped piece of black leather that latched over the tail. Once in place, Stephen buckled it at the dock in order to prevent the harness from sliding forward.

  Satisfied that it was secured, he walked toward the front of the horse. In one fluid movement, he slipped over the mare’s head the breast collar, a wide piece of padded leather with two long tugs that would attach to the buggy to allow for pulling and steering it.

  Crossing the leather tugs over the back of the horse, Stephen moved to the buggy. Effortlessly, he pulled the buggy towards the horse, pulling it by one of the front wheels, careful to position the long, black shafts into their holders, one side at a time. When the shafts were in place, he clipped the holdback straps to the breeching before uncrossing the tugs and securing them to the swiveling base; these, in addition to the hydraulic brakes the buggy was equipped with would prevent the front fender from hitting the horse’s hocks in a downhill incline or should the rig come to a sudden stop

  Priscilla admired how patient, yet efficient Stephen was with the horse, speaking softly in Deitsch to the animal and pausing to reassure it with a loving touch on the poll and behind the ears, tugging at them playfully, before he slid the bridle with its blinders over the horse’s head. He paused to make certain that the driving bit was properly and comfortably positioned in the horse’s mouth, over its tongue.

  In less than three minutes, Stephen had harnessed the mare and connected her to the buggy. She had enjoyed watching him work. Besides the fact that, indeed, he worked swiftly, there was a gentleness to how he handled the horse, s
omething evident in the calm way with which the mare had responded to his touch.

  “Ready?”he asked as he led the horse outside and waited for Priscilla to climb onto the step in order to get inside the buggy.

  She was silent during the ride, thinking back to the church service when Sylvia looked so unwell. She had prayed for her friend, asking God to heal Sylvia, to remove the hurt and the pain. No one deserved to be treated so poorly, that was for sure and certain. But, Sylvia deserved it even less than anyone else. She was such a kind-hearted creature with soulful eyes and a godly heart. Her faith in God and people were second to none. It was horrible to think that someone was targeting her, of all people, with such bullying.

  When Stephen pulled up to Polly’s farm, the place where Sylvia was staying, he reached out and touched Priscilla’s hand.“Be strong,”he said to her.

  With a nod, Priscilla climbed down from the buggy and reached inside for a loaf of the fresh bread she had baked just that morning and brought to her friend.“Danke, Stephen,”she replied.“What time shall I expect you back?”

  “I reckon an hour and a half or so. Going to run a few errands then I’ll be back for you.”

  She watched as he slapped the reins on the horse’s back and listened as he clicked his tongue. The buggy lurched forward and rolled down the driveway, back toward the road. Within a minute, it was out of sight but she could still hear the hum of the wheels and gentle clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the macadam as her husband drove away.

  Inside the house, Priscilla was not surprised to see Sarah sitting at the kitchen table next to Polly.

  “Wie gehts?”she asked as she sat down at the table next to her friends.“Is she doing better now?”

  Polly clucked her tongue and shook her head.“Poor thing is just beside herself.”

  “I’m starting to think that Sylvia should air all of this,”Sarah added, a dark and angry look on her face.“Make it known. Mayhaps then that Susie Byler will stop.”