by Sarah Price
“There’s a young brother and sister who just moved in the area,” he said slowly, and Rosanna suspected that this was what he really wanted to talk about, not the fact that he hoped to spend more time at home.
“Alone?” It was unusual for Amish people to move away from their families unless it was to marry. “Where are their parents, then?”
“They’re from New York state. Their parents died in a car accident.” He paused, his eyes watching for a reaction from Rosanna. She felt him staring at her, but she refused to meet his gaze. “A drunk driver hit their buggy.”
The tightness in her chest returned, and she fought the urge to catch her breath. Accidents happen, she reminded herself. It wasn’t as if Timothy’s death was unique in that regard. Only in this case, the man driving the buggy had been drunk, not the people in the car. “Go on,” she said, hoping that her voice didn’t sound edgy. She did not want to sound like that, not with Reuben.
“They’re older. She’s in her midthirties, and he’s in his late twenties,” he said. “They’ve rented my haus.”
At this announcement, she lowered her embroidery one more time. Since their wedding in December, his own house next to the harness shop had stood empty. It was smaller than the one here on the farm, with just two bedrooms upstairs, and Reuben had said he had only painful memories there. Moving in with her and the kinner had been a welcome change for him.
When she had walked through it for the first—and only—time, she completely understood why he wasn’t attached to it. The rooms were large, but he barely had any furniture. An old Formica table and a simple folding chair were the only things in the kitchen. While she had not ventured upstairs, she assumed he had a bed to sleep in.
Reuben had noticed her surprise at the lack of furnishings and quickly explained that his second wife, Grace, had not wanted any reminders of his first wife, Rachel. Grace had insisted that everything be sold and replaced with something new. Reuben had bought a table for the kitchen and a sofa for the adjoining sitting area, but when Grace died, her family claimed that those items belonged to them. Rather than argue, he had permitted them to move out whatever they felt was their due. As a bachelor, he didn’t need much anyway.
The fact that someone might rent the house was a good thing, and Rosanna felt as if it was just one more divine message regarding God’s plans for them.
“I’m speechless,” she confessed. “How wunderbar!”
Reuben nodded. “Ja, I thought so, too.”
“I am, however, a bit surprised you didn’t tell me beforehand,” she said, keeping her voice even so that she didn’t sound critical.
“It must’ve slipped my mind, Rosanna,” he responded. “It’s been so busy down there.”
“Ja, vell then, it’s gut to have the house occupied.” She swallowed her irritation that he had kept something so important from her. Instead, she focused on sharing his excitement. After all, the little house sat upon a small plot of land that was of no particular value to an Amish family. The two acres were barely enough for a large garden. Because the store was set up in the stable, an Amish family would be limited as to how they could use the property. To be able to rent it was most fortuitous. “He has started already, I take it?”
At this question, Reuben cleared his throat and leveled his gaze at her. “The brother, Samuel, is a carpenter and will be apprenticing for Jonathan Lapp.”
Rosanna was familiar with the Lapp family, even though they worshipped in a neighboring g’may due to the odd borders of the two church districts. Jonathan had a large farm down the road a spell from Reuben’s business. His two brothers ran the farm while he operated a shed-making business on the rear quadrant of the property.
“It’s the woman I was considering hiring,” Reuben said.
The woman? Rosanna frowned, wondering at the announcement. “As your office manager?” She didn’t want to question her husband’s judgment, but she would have thought he would hire a man to help take charge of the business.
“I know it sounds a bit off,” he admitted. “But apparently she ran a similar shop in New York. She knows a lot and would not require much training.”
Something about the idea didn’t sit well with Rosanna. She mulled over her feelings before speaking. Her husband seemed genuinely excited, and of course Rosanna liked the thought of having him help out more around the farm.
“Why did she leave the business in New York?” Rosanna asked.
“Her brother was moving to this area, and she wanted to accompany him. The New York business was in a smaller community, and she felt . . . stifled.” He laughed when he saw Rosanna’s reaction. “That was her word, not mine.”
“Indeed.”
Stifled? The word sounded strange when Reuben said it. It sounded even stranger when he laughed about it. Stifled was not a word that Rosanna heard very often . . . not from her Amish circle of friends. Stifled was an Englische word, a word that smacked of ambition and drive, the desire to achieve more than others—to be more than others. No, she did not have a good feeling about this. But she certainly was not about to share her doubts with Reuben. This was, after all, his business, and he knew what was needed to run it properly.
“When the parents died, an onkel took over the shop, and they felt it was best to move on,” he added.
“I shall look forward to meeting her, this . . .” She paused; she didn’t know the woman’s name.
“Nan. Nan Keel.”
Rosanna nodded her head. “Nan, then. I reckon we might want to invite both of them to supper one evening? Perhaps after worship on Sunday?”
Reuben leaned over and placed his hand on her knee. His blue eyes sparkled with pride at Rosanna’s offer. “I knew you’d understand. You always do.”
The door slammed open, and Cate bounded outside, a glass of water in her hands. “Maem,” she said, interrupting the moment. Instead of excusing herself for barging in on them, she thrust the glass at her mother and made a horrible face. “Something’s wrong with this water! It’s gross!”
“Oh help!” Rosanna muttered, more about Cate’s interruption than the water. Taking the glass, she held it up to the light. “Let’s take a look-see here.” The glass was clear, but the water wasn’t. Tiny particles floated in the glass, the water tinged the color of urine. A woman’s work never ends, she thought. “Appears the filter needs to be changed.”
Reuben frowned. “I just changed that the other month, ja?”
Despite knowing that his other month was actually over two months ago, Rosanna kept the thought to herself. “The well’s only thirty feet deep, and with the underground springs, it muddies up quicker than usual, I reckon. Needs to be changed every four weeks or so.”
He shook his head but made no movement to get up. “That’s not gut, Rosanna. Not healthy to drink bad water.”
With a sigh, she handed the glass back to her daughter and stood up. “Then I best go change that filter,” she said. “Not going to change itself.”
“Old houses,” he mumbled as she disappeared inside.
She hated the basement. No matter how many flashlights she used, it remained dark with dancing shadows that hid spider webs and the sharp corners of shelving. There were old glass jars containing who knew what haphazardly tossed in crates scattered over the floor. They had been there for years, probably used by Timothy’s maem when he was a child growing up in the house.
On more than one occasion, Rosanna had wanted to clean out the basement. Timothy had called that woman’s work and refused to help. The one time she tried to carry out some of the crates, she tripped on the narrow wooden stairs, dropping the box and twisting her ankle. The smell from the broken glass jars was rancid, causing Rosanna to vomit before she managed to crawl up the rest of the stairs.
For once, Timothy had displayed his softer side and retrieved some ice for the swelling. He even washed up the mess at the bottom of the basement stairs. Nonetheless, she never attempted to clean it again.
Occa
sionally, on days of inclement weather, she hung the laundry down there, knowing that it was warmer and dryer than outside. The only other time she went down there was to replace the water filter, the one task that Timothy had always done, once a month on the first Saturday, until he passed. He was like clockwork, never forgetting.
Rosanna had to admit that this was one of the few things she missed from her previous marriage.
Since moving into the house back in early December, Reuben had changed the filter twice. The first time, he complained about the terrible situation with the water at the house. His mumblings and dark comments had made Rosanna feel guilty, as if it were her own fault that they had remained at the farm instead of moving to the smaller house next to the shop, which had public water.
The second time he changed it, he accidentally stretched out the rubber washer. Without a tight seal, water spewed everywhere, making a mess of the basement. She’d had to shut off the water main valve for over three hours. Reuben had already left for work when Rosanna had realized the problem, and so she’d had to call a driver to fetch her to the nearest plumbing store, which was in Lancaster proper.
She never again asked him to change the filter.
“Need help, Maem?” Aaron didn’t wait for an answer as he hurried down the steps.
“I should be all right,” she said. But she wasn’t. The blue plastic casing covering the filter would not budge, and she was not strong enough to loosen it.
“Here,” Aaron said, gently pushing her aside. “Let me.”
Three tugs, and the casing shifted. He grinned at her and flexed his arm. Then, with much bravado, he continued loosening it until it fell free, the top tipping over and the dirty filter spilling out, along with leftover water, onto the floor.
“Danke, Aaron,” she said as she unwrapped the new filter and handed it to him. “It’s an awful lot of work maintaining this place. Couldn’t do it without you, that’s for sure and certain.”
The compliment pleased Aaron, and he straightened his shoulders. Every day Rosanna noticed the ways in which he was becoming a man. A real man, she thought. Without Timothy around to poison Aaron, the sixteen-year-old had a chance to live a godly and righteous life, one that was free from verbal abuse and alcoholism. And although Reuben wasn’t one to work much around the house and farm, he had a strong work ethic and commitment to the community. Aaron could learn a lot of positive things from his stepfather.
“How’s that horse coming along, then?” she asked as they headed back upstairs.
Aaron beamed. “Oh, he’s a right gut horse! And once he’s used to our buggy, Reuben said he’d give me an old harness to use.”
It would be good for Aaron to have mobility once again. Their old horse could barely make it to worship service or the store. Timothy hadn’t shod its feet often enough, and one of its rear hooves was cracked, which caused it to limp after walking for more than a half mile. The fact that it had survived the accident had been a miracle and a blessing during the time before Rosanna and Reuben married.
“If anyone can break that horse quickly, it’ll be you, Aaron!” Rosanna said, a smile on her lips.
He gave her a grin, his light-blue eyes twinkling. With his brown hair brushed over his forehead and the freckles dotting his nose, Aaron was a handsome young man. Over the past few years, he had seemed shy and withdrawn. In hindsight, Rosanna realized he had suffered more than she knew from observing his daed’s bad habits and harsh words. Now, under the gentle guidance of his stepfather, Aaron was slowly emerging from his shell.
Given enough time, he’d make someone a right gut husband, Rosanna thought.
“You going out with your friends later, then?” she asked as she shut the basement door behind them. The door stuck, and she pushed it with her hip.
“I’ll oil that tomorrow,” Aaron said.
He didn’t answer her question. She knew that probably meant he was staying home. Although he was sixteen and on his rumschpringe, Aaron was not one to take advantage of it like some other Amish boys. He seemed quite content to work on the farm during the day and get a solid eight hours of sleep each night. Unlike his father, Aaron tended to keep himself busy all day, even going so far as to weed whack the fence line and clean the pastures of manure on a weekly basis.
Last weekend, however, after the worship service and the evening chores had ended, he had slipped away. When Rosanna heard the horse and buggy headed down the driveway, she had looked at Reuben, who was contentedly reading his paper. Aaron had apparently decided to attend the youth singing and asked Reuben if he could borrow his horse.
This Sunday there would be no worship service and, therefore, no youth singing. Like many Amish g’mays, church was held every two weeks. Off-Sundays were spent doing family-related activities such as visiting sisters or cousins or even good friends. With farms spread throughout the county, an entire day might be needed to reach more remotely located family.
It was an “off-week,” the week in between church. While Rosanna loved going to worship, especially when it was slow time and they didn’t have to leave an hour early, thanks to the bishop not observing daylight savings, she also enjoyed the Sundays when she could visit with friends or simply sit outside and enjoy nature. Sometimes she went for a walk, usually with Cate and occasionally with Reuben, although she always avoided walking down the road around three thirty, which was when Gloria often took her grandson for his daily stroll. Rosanna treasured those Sunday afternoons when she could spend quiet time with her family; she wasn’t certain how she felt about entertaining this new woman Reuben had hired.
“Gotta fix the fence between the mule paddock and the garden tomorrow,” Aaron said. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Sure hope that ole Gloria Smith isn’t out there on the prowl.” Everyone in the family dreaded dealing with the neighbor.
Reuben walked through the door, overhearing his stepson’s comment. “What’s this about Gloria bothering you again?” he asked as he removed his hat and set it on the counter. “What’s she up to now?”
Rosanna clicked her tongue and shook her head disapprovingly while Aaron scowled. “Aw, now she’s after Cate and me. I was checking on the corn the other day, and when I walked along the back of the field, she was out there yelling about seeds on her property. Said it attracted mice.” He snickered. “Mice!”
Even Reuben chuckled. “Farmland and field mice go together, seems to me.” He opened a cabinet door and pulled out a clean glass, pausing before he turned on the faucet. For a moment, it sputtered and gurgled, and then a burst of fresh water came out. He let it run while he returned his attention to Aaron and Rosanna. “Best to just ignore her,” he said thoughtfully. “No sense in feeding the beast with any commentary.”
“Honestly, she’s just an unhappy old woman,” Rosanna sighed. “Reckon she needs our prayers more than anything else.”
“That’s for certain,” Cate added from the top of the stairs.
“Cate Zook!” Rosanna leaned back and stared up the stairwell. Her daughter sat on the second step, peering down at her. “Eavesdropping is sinful!”
“So is screaming at a twelve-year-old girl who’s minding her own business,” said Cate.
Both Aaron and Reuben tried to hide their laughter at Cate’s sassy rebuttal. Even Rosanna fought the urge to smile. Still, she knew she had to set an example. “I think it’s time for bed,” she called up the stairs. “And when you say your prayers, mayhaps you’ll reflect on the Golden Rule: ‘love thy neighbor.’ ”
“Oh, I’ll reflect on my neighbor all right,” Cate mumbled just loud enough for everyone else to hear as she stomped down the hallway toward her room. A few seconds later, the sound of her bedroom door closing convinced Rosanna that Cate had followed her instructions at last.
“That girl!” She clicked her tongue twice and shook her head. “Willful! I just don’t know where she gets that from!”
Reuben shut off the water and turned around, smiling as he leaned ag
ainst the counter. “Speaks what she thinks, that’s all.” He winked at Aaron. “World needs all kinds of folks. Guess there’s a place for willful children, too.”
The usually silent Aaron snorted and rolled his eyes, nodding his head in agreement with his stepfather. The unspoken bond between the two men touched Rosanna. She had a warm feeling in her heart, despite Cate’s misbehavior. It had taken a while, but after all the ups and downs since Timothy’s death, things seemed to finally be headed in the right direction. Now they needed to just keep it that way, Rosanna thought. She’d do anything to ensure that happened.
CHAPTER THREE
When Nan walked into Rosanna’s kitchen, her hands were tucked into the pockets of her front apron as if she were afraid to touch anything. Her dark eyes scanned her surroundings as if scrutinizing every detail. With a pinched expression, Nan moved around the room, either not taking notice of Rosanna or merely not caring that she walked right past her.
Feeling uncomfortable, Rosanna said nothing. She stood by the counter, waiting for Nan to make a proper introduction. None came. Reuben was still outside in the stable, tending to Nan’s horse. Apparently letting Reuben take care of unharnessing the horse from the buggy hadn’t bothered Nan. Instead of helping, which most horse owners would do, she had chosen to walk straight into the house. She was empty-handed, another surprise.
Rosanna wasn’t certain whether the woman was simply rude or just socially awkward, but she took the opportunity to make her own assessment of this odd guest.
Nan was a pretty woman, with tanned skin and almond-shaped eyes. Despite her attractive face, there was something cold about her. Her jet-black hair was arranged in a bun beneath her crisp white prayer kapp, the part down the middle pulled so tight that she already showed signs of balding, a common affliction among elderly Amish people, but something not usually seen in a woman in her thirties. Unlike the heart-shaped kapps worn by the women in Rosanna’s g’may, Nan’s sat upon the back of her head like a stiff cup, which only added to her uptight and rigid appearance.