Annie had proved to be a capable manager, with everything listed and checked off as the days went by. On the risht dawg, the day of preparation, relatives and friends arrived early and plunged into the work, making the day festive with jokes and teasing, which was the custom.
It was Noah’s job to behead the twenty plump chickens, safely housed in the coop. The fact that they had been bought was a well-kept secret. Enos Yoder pocketed the cash, his eyes twinkling, saying his lips were sealed.
First, the brothers hid Noah’s hatchet. Six o’clock on the morning before his wedding, and Noah thought he had misplaced the carefully sharpened hatchet. He looked everywhere while the water bubbled away in the eisa-kessle and the roasht-leid arrived, and still he could not find the hatchet.
Hester had never seen her beloved Noah quite so rattled. She began to wonder if it was a bad omen, when she saw Solomon streak across the yard with Noah in pursuit, his powerful legs pumping. When he caught Solomon by the tail of his coat, he flung him to the ground and straddled him as Solomon screeched, “Uncle! Uncle!” The women clapped and cheered as Noah raised his fist, ready to pummel his brother, till in the knick of time, he yelled, “Da cha shunk!”
Noah released Solomon, ran off to the cupboard in the forebay of the barn, retrieved the hidden hatchet, and began to chop off the twenty chickens’ heads, amid friendly ribbing from the roasht-leid.
That done, it was Noah and Hester’s job to remove the clumps of celery, banked in long lines of raked-up soil, and bring them to the kesslehaus to be washed and sorted.
Alone in the garden, the cold, still air around them alive with the magic of the risht dawg, they worked in the freezing air, stealing kisses and laughing, the wedding day a beacon of joy over every task.
And so they were married in the great stone house Hans had built for Kate. Every piece of furniture had been stored in the shed to make way for hard, wooden benches, creating a wedding chapel, plain and austere, but warm with the love between them.
The service opened with the rousing German wedding song and closed with another song, also a traditional wedding hymn.
They stood side by side, Noah taller, his blond hair gleaming, cut and combed in the Ordnung of the Amish church. Much care and concern had been given by the church to this special day of being given in marriage.
Dressed in a snow-white shirt, black trousers, vest and mutza, he was indeed an schöena bräutigam, a young man who had waited longer than most to take a wife.
Beside him, Hester’s beauty had never been more pronounced. Her face radiated true goodness from within, framed by the perfect line of her eyebrows, the perfect symmetry of dark lashes sweeping her golden cheeks.
They spoke their vows solemnly, as befitted the sobriety of the occasion. They never lifted their eyes or smiled until the last song had been sung. As the guests filed out, only then did they dare meet each other’s eyes, speaking volumes to each other in their new freedom to love.
They said Annie smiled and laughed that day more than anyone could remember. And who was that young girl who sat with the bride and groom at their table?
Oh, that is Fannie Stoltzfus, others said.
Selly glay Fannie. Ach, ya. The women nodded, shaking their heads. That was the way of it, then. Her parents’ house was full with too many mouths to feed, arme leit, yes, yes. She’ll have a good home with Hansa ihr Noahs. But isn’t it something how these two got together? Raised in the same house.
And so the day brought them many blessings, well-wishers, folks who wanted them to have a long and happy married life. And wasn’t it so nice they had an au-gnomma kind. Selly glay Fannie, gel?
They praised the cakes, made a fuss about the cookies, said that Annie was something, now wasn’t she? They shed tears thinking of Hans, barely cold in his grave, and here his son went getting married without him.
Only Lissie, Theodore’s wife, had the nerve to say what many of them were thinking.
“It’s a good thing,” she said, her words clipped with disdain. Then she stretched her neck, her large head swiveling, and asked why it took the freundshaft so hesslich long to eat. She was hungry for roasht.
“Don’t they know there are people here who didn’t eat yet? Likely that ginger cake with brown sugar frosting will be gone till I get there.”
She sat up straighter, her beady eyes peering worriedly from rolls of flesh. “Look at that Annie. She seems like another person. Laughs all day.”
“Not all day,” Elam Fisher sei Rachel said sourly.
Lissie turned to look at her. “You’re hungry, too.”
At dusk, the last buggy wound its way down the curving driveway. This had been a small wedding, so no evening meal was served, and there was no singing far into the night.
Annie, of course, was in the kitchen washing dishes. Solomon sat on a bench enjoying one last cup of coffee while Magdalena finished a slice of walnut cake.
The children were playing tag, dashing between the benches, fueled on an endless supply of cake and cookies. Daniel broke into song, his voice strong as he climbed the notes.
They cleared benches from the kitchen, then brought in the table and the cupboard. Annie said it was quite enough, they would be back the following day to clean up. She sat with them then, poured herself a cup of coffee, and talked about their day. Noah and Hester joined them, both radiant.
“We want to thank everyone for what you did, helping us prepare for our special day. We really appreciate it,” Noah said.
Solomon waved a hand in dismissal. “It was nothing.”
They had decided to spend the night together in the small rental house, and because it was a still, frosty evening, they walked.
Fannie stayed with Barbara and Emma, although Hester had warned them that sometimes she cried at night. They took this very seriously and promised to be very careful with her.
The night was dark with no moon. Only an occasional star shone from the black night sky. The silhouettes of the stark, leafless trees were even blacker, the road barely discernible. Close by, an owl hooted its ghostly sound. The screech of a nighthawk followed, then another more drawn out one.
There was no need for words.
Both of them walked in perfect comfort, grateful for the holy moment. God had led them together, and now he was here to guide them, to give them strength, and to see them home by his grace.
Noah took her hand in his. “My wife, my love,” he said.
“My husband, my love,” she answered, releasing his hand to step into the circle of his arms.
Freed from the pain and confusion of her past, shedding it along with Noah’s rebellion toward his now deceased father and the bitter Annie of his youth, their love was like a tropical flower, opening to the wonders of soft warm rains and brilliant sunshine.
After all they’d been through, neither one of them took their union for granted. As they continued their walk through the still night air, they talked of the times when they were apart, the times they suffered, missing their old home here in Berks County.
Hester told Noah that she had come home now. “This is my home, Noah. This place on earth is mine to call home. You are my home, my dearest husband. I love you for all time, here in these hills of my childhood.”
The kiss they shared as husband and wife was sacred.
Annie’s hands healed to a degree, enough that she was able to perform duties she had no longer been able to accomplish. She continued the treatment all winter, often thanking Hester quietly, with a touch of shame.
Noah and Hester brought Fannie to live with them in the cozy little rental house. She walked to school with Barbara and Emma every day, the same route Hester, Lissie, Noah, and Isaac had walked a generation before.
Fannie swung her little tin lunch pail as she ran to meet them in the morning, dressed warmly in her black coat, shawl, and bonnet, sturdy boots on her feet.
Hester spent her days arranging her furniture in the small, cozy house, the fire burning cheerily on the he
arth. She thought often of her wedding day, of Bappie’s tears, her raucous congratulations, and more tears at her parting.
She fixed a small bed upstairs under the eaves for Fannie, making sure there were plenty of quilts and sheep’s-wool comforters so she would never be cold. She cooked good, nutritious meals and packed her tin lunch pail with honey sandwiches, dried apples, cookies, and canned pears.
The snow came early that winter, hard, biting bits of ice that pinged against the windowpanes and piled around the south side of the house like sugar. Hester threw logs on the fire, cooked a bubbling beef stew, and felt fulfilled.
Only sometimes she’d sit on their bed, the soft ticking crackling beneath her, silently stroking the white quilt Annie had given them, gazing out the window, her eyes seeing nothing. She would wonder, if only for a minute, how it would feel to be able to tell Noah they would soon have a child of their own.
Then she would turn away, scolding herself. It was not to be. Hadn’t she been grateful, God giving her far more than she deserved? Here she was with all this happiness, longing for a child. Then she would refuse to dwell on this one small spot in her heart that yearned for a little boy who looked just like his father. Fannie’s presence helped immensely—her humming, the way she never wearied of schoolwork or of Barbara and Emma.
The farm became a reality. The barn was every bit as magnificent as Dan Stoltzfus’s in Lancaster County. The house made of logs with a steeply pitched roof was a true Dutch dwelling with a spacious kitchen and clever little nooks hidden away, to store extra linens, bedding, and towels.
A year passed. A year of happiness with Noah a constant source of joy, his love never once disappointing her. He had a love for her that he nurtured every day, always concerned for her welfare and Fannie’s.
Which came first, then? The nausea or Annie’s marriage to the widower Elias Lapp? She could never quite remember.
All she knew was that she woke one morning and thought surely someone had cooked onions during the night. The house smelled awful, just awful. She fussed and fumed, opened widows, and still that evening something smelled in this house, she said.
When she staggered outside very early in the morning, gagging and making horrible noises, Noah became alarmed and rushed to her side. He was elbowed quite sharply in the ribs and told to get away from her. This continued all week, till Noah stood stock-still in the barn, his eyes lighting up with a jolt of sudden knowledge.
Could it be? He remembered Kate. Tears sprang to his blue eyes as chills raced up his spine.
He couldn’t tell her. It would be too great a disappointment if it were not so. A month went by before it dawned on Hester as she lay alone in their bedroom one rainy day, crying for no reason other than being so tired of this choking nausea. She called it a spring sickness at first. Or spring fever. Some vague ailment.
Could it be? Oh, she couldn’t tell Noah because the disappointment would be too great to bear. She wouldn’t say anything.
And so as she cooked, she almost always ran to the privy, the nausea in her throat, while Noah sat in the house wondering what to do.
They both became quite irritable with each other. She told him he needed to change his socks more often, and he said he was getting tired of potato soup.
One morning, Noah had had enough. He took Hester in his arms and whispered something in her ear.
“What?” she asked.
“Kate, our mam, used to be sick before another child came. Do you think it could be possible?”
She leaned back in his arms, her eyes wide and dark and fearful.
“Oh, Noah. She did, didn’t she? Oh, Noah.”
Then she cried, because tears came so readily these days.
Their baby girl arrived one still, frosty night in December, a dark-skinned little girl with a thatch of blond hair and the bluest eyes Hester had ever seen. Noah cried great sloppy tears, his emotion unchecked as he looked down at this perfect child of his and Hester’s. A miracle.
Lissie Crane handed him a less than clean handkerchief and shooed him out of the room. She gave the baby to Hester, and Noah went.
They named her Annie.
Annie and Elias came to see her, pronouncing her the most beautiful child they had ever seen.
“You didn’t have to name her after me,” Annie said gruffly, so visibly pleased her eyes danced.
And then, like Kate, Hester bore many more children. She learned to laugh at the nausea, her soul fulfilled with the arrival of each one. Little Hans, all black hair and eyes. Albert, with only a sliver of dark hair, and blue eyes. Kate, the tiniest blond-haired one with black eyes.
Hester gained a bit of weight with each one. She rocked them all in the armless rocking chair, loving Noah, Fannie, and each of their children all the days of their lives.
The sun rose and set over Berks County in the late 1700s, the seasons came and went, the old passed away in due time, and the babies grew to become the children of the next generation.
The clock on the wall ticked away the hours, the house was filled with the happy cries of Noah and Hester’s children, and God in his heaven looked down on what he had created and, someday, would return unto himself.
The End
GLOSSARY
A Hochzeit! Ach, du lieber!—A wedding! Oh, my goodness!
Ach, du yay.—Oh, dear.
Alta essel—old mule
An begaubta mensch—a talented person
An gute hoffning—a good hope for one’s departed soul
An lot gelt—a lot of money
An schöena bräutigam—a good-looking bridegroom
Arme leit—poor people
Au-gnomma Kind—an adopted child
Aylend—trial
Behauft mit hexerei—mixed with witchcraft, or containing witchcraft
Bupplich—babyish
Bupply—baby
Da cha shunk—the dish cupboard
Da Levi sei Bappie—Levi’s wife Babbie
Denke schöen.—Thank you very much.
Der Herren saya—God’s blessing
Der saya—a blessing
Dess gebt hochzich.—There will be a wedding.
Die vitfrau—the widow
Diese hoyschrecken—the grasshoppers
Doddy—grandpa
Doo bisht, Hester King?—Are you Hester King?
Dummes—dumb thing
Egg Kuchen—egg cake
Ein English haus—A house belonging to someone whose first language is English, and who is, therefore, not Amish.
Eisa-kessle—cast-iron kettle
Elam Fisher sei Rachel—Elam Fisher’s wife Rachel
Englischer—someone who isn’t Amish or Native American
Eppa do?—Is someone here?
Ess vort dunkle.—It gets dark.
Eye du lieva, mon.—An old German expression, which translated literally, means “Oh, my love, man.”
Fasark—To care for, look after
Faschpritz—burst
Frau—wife
Freundshaft—extended family
Geb acht.—Take care.
Gel?—Right?
Gewisslich—for sure
Goot. Goot.—Good. Good.
Goota mya!—Good morning!
Grosfeelicha—Proud, cocky
Gute Nacht. Denke, denke.—Good night. Thank you, thank you.
Guten Morgen.—Good morning.
Gyan schöena.—You’re welcome.
Hansa ihr Noahs—Hans’s Noah and family
Haus schtier—wedding gift
Heilandes blut—the Savior’s blood
Heilig Schrift—The Holy Bible
Henn ma psuch, Mam?—Do we have company, Mom?
Hesslich—very much (as in extremely dark or cold, etc.)
Hexarei—hexes, curses
Ich bin Klein.—I am small.
Mine heartz macht rein.—My heart is pure.
Lest niemand drinn vonnen—Let no one live in here
Aus Jesus alein.—B
ut Jesus alone.
Ich bin so frowah.—I am so glad.
Ich hab es shay Kott.—I had it nice.
Ich segne dihr.—I bless you.
Ich vill au halta fa fagebniss.—I want to beg for forgiveness.
In Gotteszeit—in God’s time
Josiah sei Esther—Josiah’s wife Esther
Kindish—childish
Komm mol—come now
Kommet rye—come right in
Krum Kuchen—crumb cake
Liebchenmaedle—lovely girl
Lied—song
Maud—a young Amish hired woman
Mein Gott, ich bitt—My God, I ask
Ich bitt durich Christchte blut—I ask through Christ’s blood
Mach’s nur mit meinem—Provide for my end of life
Ende Gute.—To be good.
Mit-tag—lunch
Mutza—coat, or Sunday suit coat
Na, do, veya isa deya fremma?—Now, here, who is this stranger?
Ob’l Dunkes Kucha—apple gravy cake
Oh, mein Gott. Bitte dich, bitte dich.—Oh, my God, please, I ask you, please.
Opp shtellt—forbidden
Ordnung—The Amish community’s agreed-upon rules for living, based on their understanding of the Bible, particularly the New Testament. The Ordnung varies from community to community, often reflecting leaders’ preferences, local customs, and traditional practices.
Panna kuchen—pancakes
Priest Gott.—Praise God.
Risht Dawg—day of preparation at the bride’s home, just before the wedding
Roasht-leid—the people making the roasht, the main wedding dish made of bread filling and cooked, cut-up chicken
Rumspringa—a Pennsylvania Dutch dialect word meaning “running around.” It refers to the time in a person’s life between age sixteen and marriage. It involves structured social activities in groups, as well as dating, and usually takes place on the weekends.
S. gukt vie blenty.—It looks like plenty.
Schicket euch ihr lieben gäschte.—Behave yourselves, you loved guests.
Zu des lames hochzeit fest.—To the Lamb’s wedding feast.
Schmücket euch aufs allerbeste.—Dress yourselves in your very best.
Schmear Kase! Frisha Schmear Kase!—Cup cheese! Fresh cup cheese!
Schmutz—fat or grease from meat
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