Love Comes to Paradise

by Mary Ellis

  But Lewis pulled the handle from his grasp. “I’ll get the water and feed. Emily is waiting in the house.”

  Their eyes met and held before Jonas turned on his heels. “Much obliged,” he said, dropping the gloves on the bench. His kitchen and his fraa sounded wonderful, even with only stewed chicken necks and a bowl of beans.

  “I thought you would never get home.” Emily rose from the table as soon as he opened the door. She had been reading the Budget, the Amish newspaper that was mailed to their house once a week from Sugar Creek, Ohio.

  “Seemed that way to me too.” Jonas hung up his hat and coat and headed to the sink to wash. He splashed water on his face and neck, enjoying the cool relief. “When the four of us arrived, Elam wasn’t home. We had to wait hours for him to return from Columbia. But the matter has been resolved.” Jonas fell into a chair. Leaning back gingerly, he stretched out his back one vertebra at the time.

  “Did you fire him?” She poured him a glass of iced tea.

  “Jah, with two weeks’ notice plus severance pay.” He gulped down half his drink.

  “Gut. Sally’s brother-in-law or not, I’ll be glad to see that troublemaker gone.” Emily pulled a covered plate from the oven and placed it before him.

  When Jonas peeled back the foil, he found two chicken legs, a thigh, and a breast next to a mound of buttered noodles. Not a neck or a lima bean in sight. “Danki for keeping my supper warm.” Tucking a napkin into his shirt collar, he uttered a brief prayer and bit into a chicken leg. Never had food tasted so good.

  Emily handed him a bowl of sliced cucumbers and tomatoes, dressed with oil, vinegar, and garlic. He studied her while she poured a glass of tea and sat down opposite him. She looked hot, tired, and in no better mood than usual for the past week. Wisely, Jonas waited until he finished dinner before broaching his subject. After swallowing the last forkful of tomatoes, he wiped his mouth. “Elam is no longer our problem, but Nora still is,” he whispered.

  “What do you mean?” Emily also lowered her voice.

  “When we agreed to take her in, I’m sure Sally and Thomas expected more than feeding her and providing a place to sleep.”

  His wife studied him over the rim of her glass.

  “I’m the deacon of this district. I should have counseled her and taken interest in her well-being. I’ve barely said more than ‘your pies are better’ the whole time she’s lived here. She’s a troubled woman. Things aren’t good between her and Lewis. And he came to Missouri with high hopes of taking home a bride.”

  Emily cocked her head to the side to listen. “I talked to her the other day and laid down the law,” she continued, once certain no one stirred overhead. “I explained that her soul was in jeopardy. She must stop trying to be popular with young men and settle down before she loses her chance for marriage.” Emily added an unpleasant harrumph, sounding like an elderly widow without a bit of patience with the world.

  Jonas peered at the love of his life. “Was that your advice to Sally during her rumschpringe?”

  The question took Emily by surprise. “Excuse me?”

  “Did you deliver an ultimatum to your younger sister, along with an insult and the threat of eternal damnation?”

  Emily’s eyes almost bugged from head. “Nein, I didn’t.”

  “No, you listened to Sally. You were patient with her and not quick to pronounce judgment or issue threats. So why would you treat the younger sister of Amy Detweiler any differently?”

  “I don’t know. It seemed like the best thing to do at the time.” Emily’s eyes filled with tears, but her posture indicated resistance still remained. “It’s late, ehemann, and I’m too tired to debate this with you.”

  “Perhaps you can pray about it?” he asked softly. “Then maybe further debate won’t be necessary.”

  Emily jumped to her feet, set his plate and bowl in the sink, and hurried up the steps. Never before in their marriage had she allowed dirty dishes to remain overnight. That alone indicated his words may have finally penetrated her thick shell of indignation.

  Tuesday

  “Amy, you and Nora watch over your schwestern. Rachel and Beth are still too little to know they shouldn’t get close to skittish mares.

  Nora gazed over her shoulder at mamm—young and thin and smiling as she selected the next tiny dress to hang on the clothes line. Amy took Rachel’s hand while Nora clasped Beth’s, and together they crept to the paddock fence where a spotted Appaloosa nursed a pair of twins. The colt had brown and white patches like his mother, while the foal was pure white, without marking or blemish.

  “Pick me up, No-rahh,” cried Beth in Deutsch. Nora lifted her four-year-old sister as high as she could so that she could also gaze on the miracle of creation in between the fence rails.

  “Nora.”

  She ignored her sister, content to watch the maternal scene a while longer. The spring sunshine warmed her back, while a cool breeze sent her kapp ribbons fluttering. Yellow buttercups and blue violets dotted the pasture, breaking the verdant expanse of new green grass.

  “Nora. It’s time to get up.” Oddly, Beth hadn’t spoken in their Amish dialect this time, but in perfect English—a language she hadn’t learned yet and wouldn’t until she started school. Stranger still, a gentle squeeze of her shoulder accompanied the demand.

  “Beth?” asked Nora, shaking her head. She blinked, sat up, and then rubbed her eyes.

  “Not Beth. It’s me, Emily.” Her boss perched on the edge of her bed, wearing a worried expression. “You were calling your sisters’ names in your sleep. And talking to your mother,” she added.

  Nora peered around. Their farm in the foothills of the Alleghany Mountains in Lancaster County had vanished. Amy, Beth, Rachel—all still children—were gone too. Slanted rays of sunshine and swirling dust motes filled her austere bedroom on the second floor of the Gingerich home. “I was having a vivid dream of home,” she murmured, kicking down the quilt that had tangled around her legs. “Sometimes the pain medicine for my migraines creates intense images that seem so real.” Nora scrubbed her face with her hands.

  Emily appeared only more concerned. “Are you all right? How’s the headache? Maybe I worked you too hard yesterday, baking all those pies and loaves of bread, besides washing clothes. We sure got a lot done.” She patted Nora’s shoulder gently.

  Nora straightened against the oak headboard. “I’m fine. My headache is gone, thanks to the pills and extra sleep.”

  “Gut, because I have two things to tell you.” Emily inhaled a deep breath. “One, Jonas and I are going to Columbia in a hired bus. He needs to meet with his banker, and I want to spend time in the library, reading. We’ll probably treat ourselves to supper in town on our day off.”

  Nora’s fog had begun to clear. “I thought Wednesdays were Jonas’s and Lewis’s days off.”

  “Usually they are, but Jonas decided to switch days for both of them this week.”

  Nora fidgeted, eager to get up, but Emily had trapped her in the bed. The other side was against the wall. “Have a nice time. I’ll surely find something for my lunch and supper. And don’t worry about me getting lonesome.”

  “I won’t, because of my second news. Violet is downstairs, waiting for you. She says if you don’t get up soon, she’ll crawl up the steps and clobber you with one of her crutches.” Emily held up her palms. “Those were her words, not mine.”

  “What? She’ll see me at work in two days. Any urgent gossip could have waited. How did she get here?”

  “Lewis picked her up. He’s waiting in the kitchen for you too.”

  Nora reached for the balled-up quilt and tugged it over her head. “Ach, this is too much. Why have they come? Can’t a gal catch up on sleep?” She spoke from under the hot covers. Sweat had already plastered her nightgown to her back.

  In one swift movement, Emily stripped the quilt from the bed. “They are here because they are your friends and worried about you. Neither believes a single word Detweiler sp
ews. They want to take you for a buggy ride and picnic to get your mind off your woes. Violet packed a hamper to the brim in case you’re gone for days.”

  “I’ll take it from here, Emily.” A breathless voice came from the doorway. Violet limped across the bedroom, her braces thumping against the wooden floor. Her face was beet-red and glistening with perspiration, but she smiled despite each painful stride.

  Emily rose to her feet as Nora scrambled off the bed. “I would have come down. Emily just told me you were here not a minute ago.” Nora put an arm around Violet’s waist and guided her to the room’s sole chair.

  Violet sat down heavily, her braces banging against the chair. “You’re lucky, missy, that I didn’t carry the crutches up with me.” She hiked up her skirt and rubbed an exposed portion of leg.

  “Because you would have clobbered me?” asked Nora, kneeling by her feet.

  “Without a second thought.” Violet smiled and wiped her forehead with her hanky.

  “If you can help Violet down safely,” said Emily to Nora, “Jonas and I will be off. I just heard the van toot its horn.” To Violet, she said, “Good luck.”

  Both girls nodded and chimed in unison, “We’ll be fine.”

  Emily headed down the steps while the two friends stared at each other. “What did she mean by that—good luck?” asked Nora.

  “She knows I’m here to talk sense to a cement-head.”

  Nora broke into a fit of giggles. “No one has ever spoken to me like that.” She shook her head from side to side.

  “More’s the pity.” Violet clasped Nora’s arm, her face sobering. “You need to get a grip. That man downstairs loves you. He’s pacing the floor back and forth like a dog on a chain. He doesn’t believe Detweiler’s lies and neither do I. And all the district’s smart folks won’t either. What do you care if a few un-smart people whisper behind your back? In time, it will pass when some other poor soul lands in the spotlight.” Violet dabbed her cheeks again as her color returned to normal.

  Nora looked at her best friend in Missouri—in the whole world actually, while a lump rose into her throat. “I’ve never had a pal like you.” She threw her arms around the frailer woman and hugged until Violet gasped for air.

  “Let a gal breathe, Nora King.” Violet extracted herself from the embrace. “And stop sounding like you’re dying. Let’s hobble down and go riding with Lewis. I packed sandwiches, cold homemade pizza, fresh strawberries—” Her voice trailed off, finally noticing Nora’s expression. “What is it? Spill your guts already, because you’re scaring me.” She thumped her braced leg.

  Nora pushed off the floor and settled on the edge of the bed. “I might not be dying, but I can’t face Lewis. He wants honesty, and I’m too ashamed to tell him the truth.” She waved her hand through the air to stem potential interruptions. “Elam lied about me and him. A couple kisses were all we shared.” She looked Violet in the eye. “But I’m no virgin. I gave in to a boy in Pennsylvania—someone who I thought loved me. He didn’t, and I surrendered my virtue for nothing. How can I admit to Lewis, ‘No, it wasn’t Elam; it was somebody else you’ve never met?’” Nora dropped her gaze. “I feel so embarrassed. Why did I foolishly think my past wouldn’t catch up with me?”

  After a half minute, Nora raised her chin. Violet seemed to be desperately searching for a solution that didn’t exist.

  “Maybe you wouldn’t have to bring up Pennsylvania. Just talk about Maine and here,” she suggested.

  Nora reached for Violet’s hand and pressed it to her cheek. “We both know a man as nice as Lewis deserves an honest wife. I couldn’t live with myself if I lied to him, and yet I cannot face him and admit I’m a damaged woman. Just like rumor has it,” she added wryly, attempting to smile.

  “What can I do?” Violet’s question sounded weak and childlike. “What should I tell him?” She pointed at the floor in case Nora had forgotten her one true love was pacing the floor below.

  “Go down and tell him my headache returned with a vengeance. That’s no lie.” She closed her eyes tightly for a moment. “Tell him I must pull the shade and swallow more pain reliever.” Nora tightened her grip on Violet’s small hand. “I’m glad you came over today. Truly, I am.”

  In that instant, Nora had a blinding revelation—her days were numbered in Paradise. Lewis would soon return to Harmony. Elam would drive off in his red Chevy. And she would have no choice but to move back to Amy in Maine, or Rachel and Beth in Lancaster County. Nora knew she would never have a friend like Violet again. She squeezed Violet’s fingers. “You know what? Tomorrow is still another day off. I baked so much yesterday that we’ll be in good shape for Thursday at Grain of Life. What do you say we go on a picnic, just the two of us? Girl time—no men allowed. I’ll pack the lunch and then find a place to dangle our feet in water, just how you like. Maybe there will even be ice cream involved.” She wriggled her brows and grinned.

  “I would love that,” said Violet, sadness shading her words. “But what should I do with today’s hamper and Lewis?” Again, she pointed at the floor.

  “Be an angel and share your lunch with him on the way home. Or maybe if you brought your chair, he could push you down to the pond. It’s really nice there. Very peaceful.”

  “You won’t accuse me of beau-stealing?” asked Violet. Her true nature was returning.

  Never again in my life will I meet anyone like you. She helped Violet to her feet. “Not to your face I won’t.”

  “Then it’s settled. Let the chips fall where they may where beaus are concerned.” Violet ambled across the room, much improved from the rest. At the door she paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Get some sleep. I’ll leave your sandwich, pizza, and berries in the fridge in case you get hungry. If you change your mind, you know where we’ll be.”

  Then she was gone and Nora retreated to her bed, still damp with perspiration. She waited until certain they had left before she sobbed like a baby into her pillow.

  SEVENTEEN

  When this poor lisping, stammering tongue

  Emily tried concentrating on Mary Beth’s account of her trip to Indiana for a funeral. But after her third time of asking whose relative was the deceased—Mary Beth’s or her ehemann’s—Mary Beth smiled politely and turned to talk to the woman behind them. Emily hated being rude, but she wondered why the women always sat together on trips instead of with their husbands. She so wanted to talk to Jonas, not that a small bus coming back from Columbia would provide much opportunity for a marital heart-to-heart.

  She had a lot of crow to eat, as the English would say.

  She had much wrong to atone for, as her bishop would describe.

  She had been a disloyal, mean-spirited, judgmental wife, and that said it all in any language or culture.

  While Jonas arranged financing for some new sawmill equipment, she’d walked to the library, hoping to read more regional history or study the cooking magazines for amusement. But she couldn’t concentrate on Audrain County During the Great Depression or “A Month of New Casseroles Using Five Ingredients or Less.” Her mind kept wandering back to her husband’s words: “Was that your advice to Sally during her rumschpringe? Did you deliver an ultimatum to your younger sister, along with an insult and the threat of eternal damnation?” He had convicted her without needing judge, jury, or courtroom. With numbing, shameful regret, she remembered telling Nora she should marry in a hurry and move back to where she came from.

  With Mary Beth blessedly distracted, Emily peered out the streaky window. After the rain stopped, the clouds parted to reveal a gorgeous blue sky and bright sun. Her delicious Applebee’s supper sat heavily in her belly. She hadn’t needed the chocolate cake, but Jonas insisted they split dessert. How did they bake ice cream inside a cake without it melting? She owed Jonas more than the big half of a high-calorie sweet. At the restaurant, the table for eight hadn’t encouraged private chats between spouses. Too many district members sought the deacon’s sage advice. Unfortunately, she hadn
’t been one of them. Emily leaned her forehead against the glass and prayed to be shown the way back to his heart.

  With a sudden lurch, she bumped her head on the window, waking up from a nap. Peering around, she recognized the farm of the elderly neighbors behind them. The husband was already hobbling up the aisle, while the wife still gathered their belongings. “Jonas,” she called. “Could we get out here too and walk home? The rain has stopped and the evening has cooled off.”

  He took no time to decide. “Sure thing. I could use some exercise after that dessert you insisted on ordering.” Everyone chuckled, well aware of Jonas’s fondness for sugar.

  Emily grabbed her tote bag of books, gave Mary Beth an impromptu hug, and practically flew off the bus. Their neighbors waved, halfway up the walkway to their porch. Jonas took her canvas bag and slung it over his shoulder. “This is a surprise. I’m shocked you’re not tired.” He headed toward the back path—a shortcut between pastures and crop fields to their farm.

  “We need to talk,” she said softly. “I owe you several apologies.”

  “Will a mile and a half be enough time? Maybe we should take the long way home along the road.”

  Her heart skipped a beat until she heard his husky laughter next to her ear and felt his arm encircle her waist. “I’ve been a terrible wife.”

  “‘Terrible’ might be too strong a term. Why not use ‘mediocre’ or ‘underachieving, but shows signs of improvement’? I love that description on the new employee evaluation form Ken devised.” Jonas pulled her tightly to his side.

  “Be serious, ehemann. And please forgive the horrible way I’ve been acting.”

  He released her waist but clasped her hand. “All right, I’ll be serious, but I’ve already forgiven you, fraa. That happened before we left the Yosts’ yard. We’ve been married more than ten years—good years,” he emphasized. “But couples occasionally slip up because we’re human. I’ll expect mercy from you if I ever do something wrong.” He pinched her side, knowing the exact location of her ticklish spot.