Bappie’s eyebrows went up and she mouthed a rapid question, followed by a hiss of “Voss iss lets mitt sie?”
Hester shrugged her shoulders, spread her hands with palms upward, and shook her head.
They moved to the backyard where the air was turning cooler, sitting on chairs they brought from the shed. Levi said the child was only frightened, likely never having been away from home. She’d come around. He had heard of the Amos Stoltzfus family, had helped them shuck corn in the fall.
“Amos is a real nice man. Not much ambition, but I am not sure about the wife. She seems a bit slow.”
“They are nice, as far as that goes. I don’t think the children are treated unkindly. The parents just don’t have much insight as far as the children’s needs, never giving the ordinary attention and caring most families are accustomed to showing. Fannie is so quiet, so used to going about life unnoticed, that going away and meeting strangers is too much for her tonight,” Hester said.
“So what are your plans?” Levi asked.
Noah looked at Hester, his eyes questioning. Finding the joy he sought in the warmth of her eyes, he told them of the upcoming journey to the home of their youth, the hope of keeping Fannie with them.
Bappie, as sharp as a blade, connected the dots saying loudly, “With you? With both of you? Or just with Hester? How is this now? You’re traveling together as brother and sister, but when you get there, who is going to live with whom? Huh? I mean you’re not getting married or anything, the way Levi and I are, are you?”
With this, she reached over and grabbed Levi’s hand proudly, possessively, her face radiating happy ownership. Levi’s face shone in the twilight as he reached over with his other hand, covering Bappie’s with both of his own.
Completely at ease, Noah responded. “Oh no, we have no plans. We are brother and sister, so I’m sure our parents will welcome us and allow us to stay as long as we want.”
Hester got to her feet, saying she was checking on Fannie. There was nothing to do or say to this, out of respect for the Amish tradition of not announcing a wedding until just a few weeks in advance, in spite of Bappie’s unladylike snorts of disbelief.
A romance was always kept well hidden, even if the truth was stretched by small white lies at times in order to keep it a secret. Courting was done in the late hours of a Sunday evening, after the traditional hymn-singing that usually ended an hour or so before midnight. The secret was well kept by both sets of parents, too. Typically, a young man accompanied a girl into her house, well hidden from her parents, who had already gone to bed. In fact, it was not unusual for a young man to court a young woman for a few years without actually speaking to either of her parents until he asked to marry her.
Only after the engagement was announced publicly in church did the young man show his face at the home of the bride-to-be, freely coming and going in broad daylight. At that point he became an honored hochzeita, a prospective groom, a son-in-law-to-be, already welcomed warmly into the family.
Noah pulled it off seamlessly. Levi was completely clueless, or if he wasn’t, he respectfully didn’t show it.
CHAPTER 20
AND SO ON MONDAY MORNING, HESTER PACKED HER clothes into a small wooden trunk, along with some of her most cherished possessions—a few linens she had embroidered, the set of fine china William had gotten for her, the figurine Emma had given her as a Christmas gift.
When Noah pulled up to the backyard with his team of pawing black horses and a canvas stretched securely on bands that arced above the sturdy spring wagon, Hester’s heart beat crazily in her chest. A myriad of emotions overcame her, fluttering butterflies of every color that confused her, magnified by the sheer number of them.
How to describe how she felt? Anticipation, wonder, fear, trepidation, sadness, a sense of loss. But also a great swell of love and adoration for Noah, now released and allowed to flow unfettered, her wall of refusal a faint and dimming memory. This love overrode all others like a leader, a giant who strode forth with an impenetrable armor.
When Walter, Emma, and the boys appeared, a lump rose in Hester’s throat and quick tears blurred her vision. Emma. The rotund little woman with a heart of gold. She was the angel of mercy, the one who had nursed her back to health after the white men’s destruction of the Indian village on the banks of the Conestoga Creek. In her memory, Emma would always shine with a pure light. And Walter. Dear man, so devoted to his food, his impeccable English manners, and his wife. Richard and Vernon, the homeless waifs, would grow up to be good, solid citizens under their tutelage.
Billy had not returned yet, which saddened Hester, the longing to see him before she left surprisingly real.
Hester stood, clothed in a shortgown of summery blue, her black cape and apron pinned over it, her muslin cap strings tied beneath her chin, her black shoes and stockings worn according to the Ordnung, but a cumbersome bother. Her feet were already uncomfortable, longing to be free from the stiff leather.
Fannie stood beside her watching warily, taking in the pawing horses and the strange people with the small boys. She was dressed in her one presentable shortgown, a gray color that may have been purple or blue at one time, covered with her black Sunday apron, pinafore-style and buttoned with two black buttons down the back. Her feet were bare, which was acceptable in summer, even for Sunday services, to spare the use of shoes, which were expensive.
Noah loaded the trunk, then stood politely as Hester said her goodbyes. She was enveloped in long, hard hugs by both Emma and Walter as tears flowed unashamedly, their bodies as soft as pillows and as comforting.
Hugs were unaccustomed among the Amish, a show that was much too physical, but Walter and Emma were English and displayed their love freely.
When it was Bappie’s turn, she and Hester simply stood facing each other, their eyes speaking what their throats would not allow, lumps of emotion cutting off any words that formed in their hearts.
“Goodbye, Bappie,” Hester whispered, a strangled sound that was met by a sob. Bappie threw her long, skinny arms around Hester, two bands of love as sturdy as leather straps on a harness.
“I’m going to miss you terrible,” Bappie sobbed.
Hester’s eyes were closed but her cheeks were wet with tears that squeezed from beneath her heavy lids. “Thank you, Bappie, for everything. I’ll write,” she choked.
“You have to come back for my wedding in November.“
“I will.”
“You mean, we will.”
They stepped back, both of them fumbling in the pockets sewn to their skirts, lifting their black aprons, blowing their noses, then beginning to laugh through their tears.
Noah lifted Fannie first, seating her on the cushioned seat. Then he gave Hester a hand, looking gently into her streaming eyes, his touch a reassurance of his love, his caring so great he could not fully convey it.
From her perch on the wagon seat, Hester waved and called out her goodbyes, promising to return in November. She turned in her seat to continue waving as the horses pranced off, pulling the wagon behind them.
“Goodbye, goodbye,” the small knot of friends called in unison as the buggy rumbled out of sight.
The air was thick and sultry, the sun’s intensity cloaked with a veil of haze. The air that moved past them as the horses trotted along was wet and stale, as if it had smoldered over the town all night.
The trees were limp and discouraged-looking, as if they knew their heyday was in the past and fall was imminent. The cornstalks were heavy and green, the ears of corn weighing them down, brown streaks along the stalks speaking of the end of the growing season. Soon would come the crisp, cool air of autumn, when the fields surrounding Lancaster would ring with the cries of the cornhuskers as wagons moved slowly through the fields of rustling brown corn, and the hard, yellow ears were ripped from the stalks and thrown on the wagons.
Most of this bountiful crop would be stored in corn cribs and then fed to the livestock. Some of it would be ground
into cornmeal at the mill, then cooked with salt and water, a staple of many Amish families’ diets. Fried mush, mush and milk, cornpone, cornbread. Virtually free, these corn-based dishes were nutritious and filling, fueling the children as they ran off to school.
Meadowlarks opened their beaks like scissors, lifted their heads, and trilled their country song, singing from fenceposts and stone fences.
Crows wheeled overhead. A convoy of blackbirds circled through the sky, scrabbling hurriedly through the air on busy wings as if they were late to an important meeting. A bluebird flitted ahead of them, its wings beating frantically.
Noah didn’t speak, his attention on the eager horses, allowing Hester time to dry her eyes and remember her friends.
Fannie didn’t move a muscle. Only her eyes showed her interest as she watched oncoming teams and the road opening to the countryside.
Hester squeezed her shoulder. “Are you all right, Fannie?”
Fannie looked up, nodded, then added a small smile like an afterthought.
“You’ll be all right with leaving your home? If you’re afraid of zeitlang, we can always take you back if you want to go.”
Fannie’s silence made Hester feel uneasy. What if the poor child would want to return? In spite of the squalid conditions, it was her home, after all. Who was she to think Fannie’s life would improve with her and Noah?
When Fannie spoke, Hester had to bend low to hear the words.
“Maybe I will get zeitlang for Ammon, but they won’t miss me. Not my mam.”
“Oh, she will miss you, Fannie. She’ll think about it that you’re gone.”
“I don’t think so.”
She spoke breathlessly with a wisdom beyond her years, so Hester did not try to correct her. She merely slipped an arm around the slim figure and pulled her close.
“It’s all right, Fannie. What would Noah and I do without you?”
Fannie tilted her small face upward, looked into Noah’s face, then Hester’s, as the slow light of understanding crept across her features, bringing up the corners of her mouth. “That’s right, isn’t it? You don’t have any other brothers or sisters, do you?”
“We do, but they are all in Berks County. At home. But none of them is you. They don’t have a Fannie among them.”
“They don’t?”
“No.”
Fannie pondered this for some time, then opened her mouth as if to speak. But she closed it again, choosing instead to lay her head against Hester’s arm and breathe deeply.
The two horses trotting together formed a sort of rhythm that made its way into Hester’s senses, a cadence not unlike the night sounds of insects. Sometimes the hoofbeats were synchronized in perfect unison; other times there was a mishmash of off-beat thumps until they gradually returned to the same orderly beat.
The harnesses flapped on the glistening backs of the horses. The traces pulled taut on the upgrade, then flopped loosely going downhill when the britchment surrounding the haunches drew tight, holding back the covered buggy they rode on.
The horses’ black manes rippled and shone, streaming with every footstep. Their tails arched proudly, the long black hair spreading evenly behind them. They held their heads high, their ears pricked forward, flicking back occasionally in response to a command or an instruction from their driver.
The sun had unwrapped itself from the fog, its red, blazing light shimmering across the backs of the horses. A thin, white band of sweat appeared around the britchment on each animal. The hairs along their backs turned slick with it. One of them, the horse on the right, slowed visibly, lifting his mouth until the bit rattled the reins, then letting it fall. Over and over he did this, till Noah looked at Hester and said he believed Comet was tiring. They’d pull off at the next shady spot.
“Comet?” Hester inquired.
“Comet and Star.”
She smiled. Finding his eyes, their gazes held.
“Good names for these beautiful horses.”
“Yes, I am fortunate to have them. However, they aren’t nearly as beautiful as my most prized possession.”
Puzzled, Hester asked, “You have more horses?”
“Oh no, she’s not a horse.”
When Hester met his eyes, she blushed furiously and wished she had a hat to yank forward over her heated face. As it was, she turned her head to the left until her cheeks cooled.
She said, “I am not your possession.”
“Almost. Someday soon.”
“Does a man possess his wife?” asked a small voice between them.
They had forgotten Fannie. Hester gasped.
Noah lifted his face and laughed aloud, a great freeing sound without embarrassment, just the joy of finding something extremely funny.
Hester fumbled for words, made a few very bad starts, gave up, and stared ahead without speaking. Noah took the situation in hand, saying Hester was not his sister, except in name, and they hoped to be married someday, although he had not yet asked her. That would all come later, after they visited their parents, Hans and Annie Zug.
Very firmly the words came, put into the atmosphere with meaning, an expression containing so much wisdom for a child of eleven, it took Hester’s breath away.
“I didn’t think Noah was your brother. His hair is almost white. Yours is very black. But Abraham said that about Sarah, his wife, and since you are traveling like they were, well, it’s almost the same thing.”
This speech coming from the timid Fannie left Hester speechless. Noah began humming and turned his face to the right, away from Hester’s unease. There was only the sound of the buggy wheels on the wide dirt road, the dull hitting of iron clad hooves on packed earth, the jingle of buckles and straps, the flapping of leather against the horses’ wet legs.
Evidently Fannie was not uncomfortable with her speech left unanswered. She sat against Hester, her eyes bright and alert, watching the ever changing landscape.
When the road led downhill to a clump of trees, an appendage of a large tract of thick forest, Noah reined in the tired horses and pulled off to the side of the road. Unsure what was expected of her, Hester remained seated till Noah asked if she wanted to unhook the traces for Star and lead him to the creek with him and Comet.
The horses lowered their heads, snorting and snuffling, blowing out their breaths on the surface of the water till thirst overcame their distrust and they lowered their mouths and drank.
Noah watched Hester’s face as she looked at Star drinking from the tepid little creek. She felt his eyes on her face, looked up, and smiled.
“They are good horses,” she said.
“They sure are. I got a bargain when I bought these from Dan.”
“Are you planning to hitch them to the plow?”
“Oh, my, no. It would ruin them. They’re far too highstrung to wear them down in the plow. That’s for draft horses or mules.”
Hester nodded.
“Will you be buying a farm?”
This question startled Noah. He was surprised Hester asked him, because she was so shy about many other things.
“I am hoping to persuade Hans to let me have about half the acreage he owns. I don’t want to live close to them. First, I need to see how things are, how Annie is, the children, just everything. We need to be very careful, Hester, with the way things were in the past.”
“Oh, I am not implying anything. I am just going for a visit. Not that I have any concern as far as your buying a farm.”
Hester ran her hand through the heavy, tangled hair in Star’s mane, keeping her eyes averted, her face taking on a deeper, darker hue.
Noah said, “Look at me.”
She would not, finding the safety she needed in the horse’s mane, as if the most important task in the world had presented itself to her.
Noah clipped a snap from Comet’s harness to Star’s, came around to Hester, and put his hands around her waist, hidden from Fannie’s bright gaze. He stood behind her and spoke soft and low.
“We have spoken of our love for one another, my darling Hester. You are the love of my life. Hopefully God has many years planned for us together. But first we need to take care of this business with Hans and Annie, my parents and yours.”
“Hans is not my parent, and neither is she.”
Hester flung the words into the air, her language portraying her long-remembered hatred and the grudge she carried within herself. This was the one thing Noah was afraid of, the reason he had not yet formally asked her hand in marriage, coupled with the fact that he was unsure how he felt about Hans and Annie himself. That was the reason for this all-important trip.
Hester’s words were like a dagger in his back, as painful and as dangerous. He knew forgiveness would not come easily for her, if ever.
He also knew they could not step into a holy union as husband and wife, while still carrying the baggage of past hurts and unforgiveness. Even if their love was a thing of brilliant splendor now, with time, it would tarnish if these past ruptures were not dealt with. Noah felt it was important to forgive and honor their parents. Only then could they be blessed with a real and lasting love that came from God alone.
He believed he loved Hester enough to carry both of them through any trial that came into their lives, his need to have her for his wife sometimes overpowering his solid common sense. He longed to tell Hester that she needed to forgive but figured it would do no good.
All he could do was take her to these two aging people, watch her reaction, and wait to see what occurred. If God had a plan for their lives together, it would all fall into place like pieces in a child’s wooden puzzle.
They ate in the shade of enormous oak and sycamore trees, nestling in the grass by the side of the road. Noah allowed the horses a long tether so they could graze, biting off the lush green grass and chewing contentedly.
Fannie was confused when Hester handed her a sandwich. She finally took it, then lifted the top slice of bread and ate it dry before grasping the cold, baked ham and eating it separately as well. She drank the water obediently, then got to her feet, wandering among the blue bells and white columbines, humming softly to herself, her small face alight with happiness.
Hester Takes Charge Page 23