by Sarah Price
“Not farm girl material?” He ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes wide and full of disbelief at her statement. “Since when have you become so very proud, Emma Weaver? I am disappointed in your hand in this matter.” He didn’t wait for her answer. “There is so much advantage for Hannah in this match, one that is before her and not one that you dream of! Even I would think that you would see that!”
“Then you must think very little of me!”
“What I think of you right now, I prefer not to say,” he admitted rather harshly. “The goodness and godliness of Ralph Martin is unquestionable. Despite your desire to seek better for your friend, I do fear that you will not find it, Emma. I only hope that Ralph will be able to move on and maintain his godly spirit that you so quickly dismiss because of his occupation.” He turned his back to her and stared out the window. “And for what? A hopeless dream that Paul Esh will fulfill your need to meddle and matchmake? Ja vell, Emma, I dare say that Paul will think more rationally than you. His desire is to marry a woman who is suited to be part of a bishop’s family. Despite your protests, Hannah is not that woman!”
Emma caught herself from gasping at Gideon’s words. Lifting her chin, she narrowed her eyes and looked at him. “You criticize me for thinking Ralph is not good enough for Hannah, and then declare that Hannah is not good enough for Paul.”
“Indeed it appears that I did,” Gideon shot back, leveling his gaze at her as if speaking to a child. His condescending tone did not go unnoticed by Emma, and she fought the urge to squirm under his rebuke. “Apparently I have a much more mature awareness of what matches are suitable as well as realistic.”
Emma tried to hide her discomfort and hurried over to the kitchen, wishing that her daed would return from his walk. While Gideon always tended to be on the critical side when it came to Emma, he had never spoken so harshly to her. She felt tears stinging the corner of her eyes, but blinking rapidly, she willed them away. When she had control of her emotions, she forced a smile and turned back to look at him. “If I had hopes of Paul with Hannah, that is not the motivation, I can assure you,” she finally said. “I only hoped to keep Hannah from making too rapid a decision, Gideon, and an unwise one at that.”
To her surprise, Gideon made a groaning noise, one that spoke of vexation and frustration. He spun around on his heels. “Please beg forgiveness of my departure from your daed,” he snapped. “I have suddenly lost my appetite for conversation, never mind fellowship over a meal.” Without another word, he stormed out of the kitchen. Within minutes Emma heard the familiar clip-clop of horse hooves and the gentle humming of buggy wheels, an indication that Gideon had left to return home.
Chapter Five
THE TWO YOUNG Amish friends were walking at a brisk pace down the street, Emma in a freshly laundered and crisply ironed pale green dress, which contrasted sharply against Hannah’s faded pink one with the torn hem and the hole in her skirt. Both were carrying a basket filled to the rim with fresh vegetables and canned fruit. Emma smiled as they walked toward the row of ranch houses along the main thoroughfare, her face turned toward the sun as if drinking in the wholesome goodness that shone down upon them. Besides quilting and entertaining visitors, there was nothing Emma enjoyed more than her weekly visits on Thursday to the elderly widows who lived near her home. That pleasure was now showing on her face. As for Hannah, she was happy to spend time with her good friend Emma.
While most of the widows and widowers lived with their grown kinner on the family farms, usually in the grossdaddihaus, there were just as many of them, mostly women, who lived in the smaller portion of the more contemporary homes scattered in the community, houses that were occupied by their older children who worked at market or at local stores. Several years back Emma had taken it upon herself to visit with these elderly women each and every week. Anna had often accompanied her, but today it was Hannah who walked beside her.
“It’s so nice of you to visit with the widows,” Hannah gushed. “I’m sure they truly appreciate it.”
Emma glanced at Hannah. “I suppose I appreciate the visit as much as they do.” She sighed after she spoke and gestured toward the first house so that Hannah knew to cross the street with her. “It’s right rewarding to bring sunshine into their lives, I reckon. And, in turn, they give it back tenfold.” It was indeed something that Emma truly enjoyed doing for her community, but little did people know that she found as much enjoyment in the deed as the recipients. For Emma, this was a way to stay abreast of what was happening in the g’may, who was getting married and who was not, who was expecting a new boppli, who was moving and where to . . . all little tidbits of information that she could not possibly glean while staying home, taking care of her daed.
Their first visit was to Mary Yoder, an older woman who could not walk very well without the help of a cane. Way back when Mary had been considered a pillar of strength in the community. All the women had known her quite well and she too knew most of them, for Mary had been the only midwife within a thirty-mile radius. There was scarcely a day when her services were not required to assist in childbirth, for which Englische doctors were rarely consulted. Mary had a Mennonite acquaintance, John Bucher, a pious and righteous man who drove her at any time of the day or night, as emergencies arose. She was the only Amish woman in the g’may authorized by Bishop Zook to keep a telephone in her kitchen, but only for such emergencies.
Now these days were long gone, and Mary was no longer helping anyone in her community. But some of the elders, when reminiscing about the past, never failed to mention how many dangerous complications Mary had been able to overcome, sometimes even saving a mother in the process.
Emma always stopped to visit with her first in case Mary needed anything before her dochder returned from cleaning houses, at eleven o’clock. In fact, Emma timed her visits with all of the women to make certain she was there when others were not, in case they needed any assistance while alone.
“Gut mariye, Mary!” Emma called out from the front step, her voice louder than usual since Mary was hard of hearing. The elderly woman sat on the porch and looked up when she heard Emma’s voice. Emma waved and stepped forward to join her. “I brought a friend with me today!”
“Anna?”
“Nee, Mary. You know that she was married to Samuel Wagler just last month.” Emma reminded her. “She lives farther away now and couldn’t visit.” There was a look of disappointment on Mary Yoder’s face. “But I have someone new for you to meet today! I’ve brought my new friend, Hannah Souder, with me. She’s just moved here from Ohio. Wasn’t that nice that she came along, Mary?”
When Emma glanced at Hannah, she was surprised to see her hanging back at the gate, seemingly reluctant to greet the aging woman. Mary sat in her rocking chair, her left eye clouded over with white from a cataract which would keep growing until the day when she would be called back to her Creator. Her skin, leathered and wrinkled, drooped with old age. Her smile showed that she barely had any teeth left. But there was a joy in her face as she turned her head in the direction of Emma’s voice.
“We brought you some freshly canned peaches, dear Mary. Hannah and I canned them just last week. Shall I get you a bowl and spoon for you to enjoy some right away, or would you prefer to save them for later?”
Reaching out a wrinkled and trembling hand, Mary pat
ted Emma’s arm. “Such a good girl,” she replied. “So thoughtful and kind. I’ll save them for later. I don’t have much appetite these days. Danke, Emma.”
Hannah finally inched forward for proper introductions. Her shyness amused Emma, who thought it rather charming despite being unusual. It wasn’t as if Hannah hadn’t been meeting people since having moved to Lancaster!
For the next fifteen minutes Emma sat in the chair next to Mary, talking with her about the quilt that she and Hannah were making for the Mennonite Central Committee’s upcoming auction. In great detail she explained the pattern and colors, taking special delight in Mary’s reaction to the description of the different fabrics being used. For a woman in her nineties, Mary still had some interesting anecdotes to contribute to the subject. At one point the two younger women laughed out loud when Mary admitted how she despised quilting so much that, whenever she was invited to a quilting bee, she made sure to use her right hand—she was a leftie. Her stitching was so horrible that soon enough the invitations ceased to come her way. “What a relief!” she exclaimed. “But don’t let anybody know now.” She ended the story with a twinkle in her eye.
“That was a lovely visit indeed, wasn’t it?” Emma commented as she swung the basket in her arm and continued walking down the road toward the next stop: Katie Miller. But she most looked forward to their second-to-last stop of the day: Sarah Esh. Sarah was the great aunt of Paul Esh, and Emma was eager to get to her house because sometimes Paul visited with her too. Only last week hadn’t Paul been sitting there when Emma arrived? While he had acted somewhat surprised, Emma suspected that he had known she would visit his great aunt and surely had hoped that Hannah would be accompanying her. Today if Paul was there, he would not be disappointed.
“Such a charming home Mary has,” Hannah said as they walked. “I thought her display of pink china pieces and ceramics was lovely, didn’t you?”
Indeed, Mary’s small abode was decorated as plain as possible, but still her personality came through in her collection of tea cups, vases, and plates, all in her favorite color: pink.
“She will be one to enjoy the Christmas gift we are planning, for sure and certain,” Emma pointed out.
“Oh, it’s such a sad state,” Hannah sighed. “Aging and being all alone. I’m sure she must miss her husband very much. But at least she was married and has children to see to her needs. I’d so hate to be alone and never marry.”
There was something wistful in Hannah’s words, and Emma immediately worried that she was thinking of Ralph Martin’s letter. Why was she in such a hurry to wed? Was hope of marriage the real reason she left Ohio for Lancaster county? Not knowing what to say, Emma chose to maintain her silence as they continued down the road. A buggy passed nearby. The driver waved at them and Emma lifted her left hand in greeting to the driver, despite not immediately recognizing who it was. But she could have been recognized, and it would be considered unfriendly not to return the acknowledgment.
After a few moments of silence Hannah turned to Emma and surprised her by saying, “Forgive me if I seem to pry, but it’s a wonder, Emma, that you have not married as of yet. You are so well thought of in the g’may; nary a person has anything but the highest praise for your devotion to God and the community. And, if I may be so bold, you are beautiful, talented, and charming. Why, I’d think you’d have plenty of suitors asking to take you for a buggy ride home after the singings on Sundays, that’s for sure and certain!”
Emma’s response was a simple laugh.
“It’s true!” Hannah cried out in alarm. “I don’t see cause for laughing! I did not intend to make fun!”
“Dear Hannah,” Emma began, her voice patient and gentle. “Don’t worry. I did not take it the wrong way and you are definitely not prying. Your praise is flattering, but I don’t believe it is warranted. Even so, the issue isn’t whether I am beautiful, talented, or charming; the issue is whether or not I can find someone else who shares those same traits! Quite frankly, in the absence of such a man at this point in my life, it might come as a surprise to you to learn that I have no intention of ever marrying!”
The confidence in her announcement and the firmness in her voice made Hannah stop walking and reach out to touch Emma’s arm. “Why, Emma! I don’t believe you really mean that.”
She smiled. “But I do.”
Hannah frowned. “That would be such a sad thing, for I think you’d make a wonderful fraa, and I cannot believe that my opinion is not shared by many young men in this community!”
Casually Emma shrugged. “Mayhaps, but I shall not find out! I’m perfectly content to remain an old maedel. Being on your own does have its advantages!”
At this statement, Hannah gasped. “Emma! That would be so very lonely, don’t you think? No kinner. Whom would you be tending to?”
A light laugh escaped Emma’s lips and she batted a hand in Hannah’s direction. “Nee, not so lonely at all. I have my daed to tend to, Hannah. And a wide circle of right gut friends. I prefer my independence too much, I reckon. I’m not like my schwester. Indeed, Irene’s perfectly content to stay at home and tend to her boppli and the other kinner.”
“But when you become elderly, Emma, who will take care of you? Are you looking forward to being a poor old maedel?”
“My dear Hannah, tell me: is it the being poor or the being old that bothers you the most?” She didn’t wait for her friend to respond before she continued. “Thanks to Daed selling his business, I am fortunate that I shall never be the former, and despite our deepest desires, none of us can avoid being the latter.”
The reaction on Hannah’s face spoke of her surprise at Emma’s words. For a long moment both women remained silent. Hannah seemed to be trying to collect herself after hearing Emma’s short speech about marriage. “If you are so against marriage,” she finally said, “it’s a wonder why you would push such unions on others.”
“Do you think that I push them?” Emma replied at once. The thought of being perceived in such a light struck Emma with a degree of dread and dismay. While she had encouraged Anna and Samuel’s courtship with that initial invitation for supper, she had never considered herself as pushing marriage on anyone.
“I don’t mean to, Hannah. In fact, I think we just had a discussion recently against such a union.”
“You mean Ralph Martin then?”
“Exactly!” Emma looked pleased that Hannah was following her train of thought. “If I simply pushed unions, to use your exact words, I would have persuaded you to accept his call for courtship.”
“That is true,” Hannah reluctantly agreed, breaking eye contact for an instant.
“You, however,” Emma went on, encouraged by her friend’s body language, “were asking me about my intentions for my own marriage. And while I know that many young women marry for the sake of convenience, to work alongside a companion and to create a comfortable future for themselves, I have no need for such comfort. My daed does not need me to work outside of the house. My quilting brings in a fair amount of extra income, which, by the way, I do not really have a need for but enjoy using for helping others. And I will be well tended to in my old age as I intend to stay at our little house. Unless I were to fall in love, there really is no need for me to marry, now, is there?”
&nbs
p; After such an assertive proclamation, there was little left for Hannah to offer by way of an argument, but she had a hard time letting go of the most pressing question in her mind.
“But to be so alone, like Mary Yoder? Or a maedel, like Hetty Blank?” The expression in Hannah’s voice conveyed her disbelief in what Emma had just said. While it was not unusual for Amish women to remain single, Emma’s admission seemed to strike Hannah as being contrary to her new friend’s disposition.
Emma shook her head at this last statement from Hannah. “Ja vell, I think I’m a bit better suited to conform to society than Hetty Blank. I’m certainly a bit more capable of maintaining my independence without a need for assistance from the g’may. Our church district members can focus on the needs of the disadvantaged widows rather than mine.” The noise of a horse and buggy approaching from behind interrupted her train of thought, and Emma glanced over her shoulder to see who it was. An older man with a long white beard lifted his hand to wave to her, and with a broad smile Emma waved back. “And I too have nieces and nephews that will help me, if needed, as I age,” she added.
They were approaching the next stop on their tour of the neighborhood, and as a matter of good form, Emma quickly changed the topic.
“Now, here is a lovely woman,” she said as she gestured toward the front gate. “Katie Miller. But she’s been feeling poorly these past few weeks. I brought her some homemade chicken soup.” Emma smiled brightly. “Anna always made me chicken soup when I was not well. Nothing like good, wholesome chicken and vegetable soup to make anyone feel better, don’t you think?”