by Sarah Price
Katie Miller lived in the converted two-car garage of a more modern home. She rented it from another Amish family who had bought it several years ago from a Mennonite neighbor. A widow, Katie had tragically survived all of her own kinner but one, and that son had not joined the Amish church. That left Katie Miller no other option than to live alone, in the rented section of a fellow church member’s house instead of with her own family. And, with poor health, she looked forward to Emma’s visit each week.
The visit was short, only thirty minutes in duration. Emma fluttered about the small house, making certain to heat up the large bowl of soup for Katie Miller—certainly her only hot meal for the day—and serving it to her when it was just shy of being too hot. While the older woman ate her soup, Emma sat perched upon her chair and chattered away about the different happenings among the families in their g’may. She laughed often and would pause to ask questions of Katie, a way to keep the woman involved in the conversation despite her days spent living alone in the small apartment.
All too soon it was time to leave. Emma quickly washed and dried the dishes and utensils that she had used, so that Katie wouldn’t have any mess to tend. Before leaving, she made certain that everything was in order and Katie was content in her recliner chair, her Bible nearby so that she could read while the light was still streaming through the windows in the room where she sat, alone with her memories.
No sooner had they shut the screen door behind them than Emma heard someone call out her name. It was Paul Esh, riding down the road in an open carriage. She almost gasped. What good fortune and how timely, she thought as she nudged Hannah’s arm with a little too much enthusiasm.
“Look!” she whispered hoarsely, nodding her head toward the approaching carriage. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he stops to offer us a ride!”
Both women waved to him, and sure enough, Paul stopped the horse in front of Katie Miller’s driveway. With a broad smile, he gestured for the two women to come and join him in the carriage.
“If I know anything, Emma Weaver,” he laughed, “you are making your rounds and your next stop is at my aendi’s house and then off to spend time with the Blanks, ain’t so! Let me take you both. It will be faster and I could certainly use the good company, I reckon.”
Without hesitation, Emma accepted the kind offer and hurried to the side of the carriage. She placed her basket in the back section, making certain that it was properly secured. The slight delay permitted Hannah to climb first into the wagon so that she was seated next to Paul. With a smile, Emma joined her.
When the horse was finally moving again Paul leaned forward and peered at Emma first and then Hannah. “I see you have company today on your weekly rounds,” he said cheerfully. “That’s right gut to see you bringing your new friend with you to visit the women. I’m sure they are most appreciative, ain’t so?”
With the slightest of movements, Emma tried to nudge Hannah to respond, but no words escaped her friend’s lips. When it became clear that Hannah was not about to speak, Emma did so for her. “I’m not certain who enjoyed meeting Hannah more,” she started, “Mary Yoder or Katie Miller! And Hannah made the most delicious soup for Katie Miller!” Emma couldn’t ignore the sharp look that Hannah gave her. “Well, she helped heat it up, anyway.”
“Without doubt, the women appreciate any and all kindness shown to them. I find I learn so much from spending time with them as well. Such wisdom they carry upon their shoulders, if only the youth would pause to listen.” Paul had a way of speaking that made everything sound noble and good. His eyes sparkled as he talked, and Emma was pleased to notice that he was looking at Hannah every bit as much as he was looking at her. “Putting others’ needs before our own is just one way that we can walk with Jesus,” he added.
When Hannah did not respond, Emma, once again, took the opportunity to do so. “Perhaps you have heard that Hannah is helping me collect Bible verses to put together special books to give to the elderly this Christmas. With our quilt almost finished, we’ve begun working on this new project, and it’s coming along quite nicely. She’s going to organize the verses and rewrite them for the different books to give as gifts!”
“Are you then?” He seemed genuinely impressed. “And what are these verses about, I might ask?”
Hannah lifted her eyes to look at Emma for a moment, as if silently begging Emma to respond. When Emma remained silent, Hannah had no choice but to answer. “Well,” she began, “we are asking for people to write their favorite Bible verses, so there is no particular subject. It could be any topic of interest to them.”
“We should have our final verses this weekend,” Emma added. “My schwester, Irene, and her family are to visit. I just know that she’ll want to contribute to this project. She grew up and worshipped with these women too.”
Paul tilted back the straw hat he was wearing and nodded his head in approval. “Why, I know you have not asked me, but I should like to contribute my own favorite Bible verse to your collection as well!”
Emma watched as the color rose to Hannah’s cheeks. Despite her plainness, there was a demure beauty to the young woman, and it was clear to Emma that Paul had noticed it. If only they had some more time alone, she thought. And then she realized exactly how to arrange that.
“Oh, help!”
Paul turned to look at Emma. “What is it, Emma?”
She waved her hand toward him and shook her head. “Silly me. I left my sampler at Katie Miller’s.”
He pulled back on the reins, stopping the horse. “I shall happily turn around so that you can fetch it. It won’t take but five minutes.”
Emma was quick to cut him off. “Danke, Paul. That’s a right nice offer. But I don’t mind walking by myself to retrieve it. Mayhaps it’s more helpful if you took Hannah to your aendi’s house. She’ll be waiting for her visitors. I can meet up with the both of you at the Blanks. I’d feel rather poorly if your aendi missed out on visiting with you. She dare not suffer because of my silly forgetfulness!”
Reluctantly Paul agreed, but only after Emma insisted again, and without waiting for another word, jumped out of the carriage. She waved good-bye to them both and hurried down the road in the direction they had just come. She glanced over her shoulder only once, smiling when she saw Paul continue driving the horse along the road to his aunt Sarah’s house.
A little time alone, Emma pondered, will do the two much-needed good. The time spent walking alone did not bother her in the least. She would appreciate the exercise anyway. Indeed, she rather enjoyed it, for a warm feeling of delight washed over her as she dreamed of an upcoming wedding of Hannah Souder to Paul Esh.
As she was walking toward Katie Miller’s house, Emma thought of Hannah’s previous words: “If you are so against marriage it’s a wonder why you would push such unions on others.” And then it struck her: if she had so vehemently refuted her friend’s allegations, she pondered, why would Hannah’s potential nuptials with Paul Esh so vividly permeate her imagination? Why did she enjoy the idea of others being wed, while she would not even entertain the thought of putting herself in a similar situation?
Was she becoming, after all, a matchmaker? In her culture these things were better left to the Almighty. Overt matchmaking was not the way of the Amish, but certainly nudges here or th
ere in the right direction couldn’t hurt.
Chapter Six
WITH THE KINNER running through the house, and run they could, the noise level was greater than normal. Emma, having a hard time keeping her countenance, found herself more than once laughing at the antics of her young nieces and nephews. Her usually quiet kitchen had become a lively playground this Saturday morning, chock-full of little voices, rowdy laughter, and the sounds of bare feet padding across the freshly washed and waxed linoleum floor. There was a warmth in the air that didn’t come from the outdoors but from within the heart.
“May I hold the baby again, if you don’t mind?”
Her older sister gratefully handed her infant son to Emma. While she didn’t say so, she clearly looked relieved to have a break from holding the baby. “He’s still sleeping, but if you hold him, I can see to the bread.”
“You always did make the best wheat bread,” Emma complimented her sister as she carefully took baby George in her arms. “Daed still compares my loaves to yours, can you believe!” She laughed, nonplussed that her own baking skills did not measure up to Irene’s. “He’ll be ever so glad to have yours on hand for a while. I’m both grateful and eager to be able to freeze a few loaves to hold him over.”
With the oven door open, the enticing fragrance of warm dough permeated the room. To Emma, freshly baked bread was the most welcoming smell in any Amish kitchen. Irene poked at the loaves. Deciding that they were finished, she reached for a potholder and began to pull out the pans.
“Is he still on that whole-wheat kick, then?” she asked, setting the metal bread pans on a rusty cooling rack.
“Oh, that and more!” her sister replied. She pretended to scowl as she teased, “Don’t dare mention a word about cookies or cake in his presence. You’ll get an earful of rantings, for sure and certain, about the evils of sugar!” Still laughing, Emma cradled the baby gently in her arms. She leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. A whiff of lavender caressed her nose and she smiled. “I just love how babies smell, don’t you?”
Irene didn’t have a chance to answer as her two older sons ran down the stairs, pushing and shoving at each other to see who could beat the other to the kitchen. “Henry and John Junior!” she scolded. “No running in the house!”
Neither boy seemed to hear her as they raced through the kitchen, almost knocking over their younger sisters who were playing with some blocks on the kitchen floor.
“Such energy,” Emma laughed as the boys burst through the door and bounced down the steps to play in the front yard.
Irene smoothed down the front of her black apron and sighed. To Emma, her older sister looked worn out and tired. With dark circles under her eyes and graying hair, she had aged tremendously since giving birth to her fifth child just four months prior. “Energy that is wasted on the young, I fear.”
“Oh, Irene!” Emma frowned at her sister’s lament. While Emma always tended to err on the side of positive thinking and rainbows, her older sister, like their father, had always been one to look at the dark side of things. During their growing-up years Emma had excused the difference in their perspectives with the fact that Irene had felt the loss of their maem more than she had. But if Emma had hoped that marriage and a family of her own would replace her sister’s clouds with sunshine, she had been sorely mistaken. “You just need the baby to be a little more independent and then you’ll regain your energy, I’m sure.”
Irene responded with a simple shrug of her shoulders. “Mayhaps. Or mayhaps I need Lizzie and little Emma to be older to help more. They’re too young still to do much more than get underfoot.” Using mismatched potholders, Irene began to remove the still-hot bread from their pans. She lined them up on the rack and set the pans in the sink to be washed later. Satisfied, she admired the six loaves. “Just about perfect,” she whispered. “John will be most pleased.”
“Where are the men anyway?”
Irene and her husband, John, had arrived earlier in the day, eager to visit with Emma and Daed before heading back to their own farm. Yet, upon arriving at the Weavers’ house, John had disappeared with his father-in-law outside and they had yet to return. Neither woman minded, for it had provided them time to catch up and visit before the other guests arrived.
It was close to eleven o’clock when a buggy pulled into the driveway. Glancing out the window, Irene peered around the property before spotting the men standing on the far side of the small horse barn. “Gideon’s arrived.”
Emma remained unusually silent.
“I think he’s brought your friend with him,” Irene said, turning back to look at Emma.
This brightened Emma’s mood. She had asked Hannah to join the Weaver gathering, despite Henry’s private grumbling about not wanting to share his precious, limited time with Irene with anyone outside of the family.
When Hannah entered the kitchen, Emma was quick to properly introduce her friend to her sister before inquiring about the circumstances of her arrival in Gideon’s buggy.
“Oh, that?” Hannah laughed. “He came upon me walking the road and stopped to offer a ride. I must admit that it was appreciated.” She fanned at her neck. “It’s warm walking in the sun!”
Chewing on her lower lip, Emma glanced over her friend’s shoulder. “Where is Gideon, anyway?”
“Gideon?” Hannah set down her purse on the floor next to the counter. “I think he went with your daed and another man behind the barn.”
Emma groaned. “Oh, help, I know what that’s about, for sure and certain!” She didn’t wait for either Hannah or her sister to ask before she answered the unspoken question. “Gardening for next year. I just know it. Daed’s so worried about us not having fresh vegetables now that Anna isn’t here. She did the gardening, remember?” With a frustrated sigh, Emma sank down onto the sofa, the baby still cradled in her arms. “I reckon he’ll be expecting me to manage the garden, then!”
Gardening was the last thing on Emma’s list of favorite things to do. Between the dry, dusty feeling of dirt on her hands and the warm sun heating up her back, there was very little about gardening that she found appealing. She much preferred working indoors, keeping an orderly house and working on her quilts.
“It wouldn’t hurt you to garden a bit,” Irene offered gently. “I feel so close to God when I’m working outdoors. How will you ever feed your own family, Emma?”
“Family?” Her eyes grew large and she stared at Irene, an expression of disbelief on her face. “Daed is my family and we are getting on just fine, danke!”
“One of these days—”
Emma interrupted her sister, refusing to let Irene finish the sentence. Undoubtedly it would lead to the same topic: marriage and motherhood. “Nee, Irene. You know that I’m quite content with my independence.” She ignored a look from Hannah, who was clearly amused. Irene, however, frowned. She was always dismayed at Emma’s avoidance of courting, never mind her determination to remain single forever!
To avoid the topic, Emma glanced down at the sleeping infant in her arms. “I’ll leave mothering and nurturing to those who do it so much better than I ever could. Like you!” She said the last part with kindness, knowing full well that her sister had always wanted a large family, even if she was currentl
y experiencing days of weariness and feelings of being overworked.
The table was set for the noon meal when the men returned to the kitchen. Emma noticed that Gideon made a great effort to avoid making eye contact with her. For a moment she watched him with curiosity, realizing that he was still upset with her about what she had come to call “the Ralph Martin and Hannah situation.” With a slight roll of her eyes, she shifted the baby in her arms and pretended to not be offended by his silence. Instead, she watched as he played with the two older boys while Irene put the food on the table.
His patience with his nephews impressed her, especially given that he was an old buwe with little or no experience with kinner. His face lit up when the young boys clambered around him, asking him to toss them into the air. This he did with great delight, despite Henry’s dismay that one of his grandsons might get injured.
When the two boys finally settled down at the urging of their maem, they begged Gideon to share stories about their daed when he was their age. Gideon was only too willing to oblige, much to his bruder, John’s, dismay.
“Not the story about the loose cow, please,” John mumbled to Gideon, which only caused young Henry and John Junior to beg to hear the story about how their daed had let a cow escape the dairy rather than milk it at chore time.
Listening to Gideon tell the story, Emma found herself smiling. What a right gut daed he would have made, she thought.
With lunch on the table, Irene called everyone to be seated. Henry assumed his position at the head of the table, and after he cleared his throat ever so slightly, everyone bowed their heads to say the silent blessing over the prepared food. When Henry shifted his weight, the subtle sign that prayer was over, a new round of activity resumed. Plates of bread and bowls of steaming vegetables were passed around the table, the adults helping to serve the younger children so that food was not spilled upon the fresh tablecloth.