by Beth Wiseman
“Why don’t you become Amish?” Andrea smelled like the cigarette she’d smoked outside Charlotte’s house before they’d left home. Now, her sister was smacking on a piece of gum Charlotte had offered her in the truck. Once again, Charlotte thought about the three-year age difference between them and how it felt like much more.
“Quit smacking,” Charlotte said as she cut her eyes at Andrea. “And be polite.”
“You act like you’re my mom sometimes instead of my sister.” Andrea spit the gum in the grass.
Charlotte lifted Bella higher on her hip and rolled her eyes. “I feel like your mom sometimes. Now pick up that gum. Someone will step on it. Here, put it in this.”
Charlotte held out a piece of tissue, and Andrea dropped the gum and then shrugged as she shuffled along in blue jeans, tennis shoes, and a red T-shirt she’d borrowed from Charlotte, along with a red jacket. Andrea almost always wore her long dark hair down, but today she had it up in a twist, which made her look a couple of years older.
“You don’t have electricity. You’re friends with all of these people. And your Amish boyfriend is kinda hot too. Just seems to make sense that you’d convert.”
“It’s a lot more complicated than that, and you know it.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Charlotte stopped walking and glanced at her sister, who had just echoed Lena’s words about the same subject. “Well, it is.” She scanned the women, most of whom she knew, then unraveled a little when she spotted Edna. They gazed at each other, but Charlotte quickly looked away. This was a day for fellowship and an opportunity to introduce Andrea and Bella to her Amish friends, not a verbal catfight with Edna.
Even if it did mean the bishop might pull her aside for a little chat about Daniel and her. Even if it did mean Andrea might embarrass her to death at some point. But as she snuggled with Bella in her arms, she was eager to show off her niece.
“And who is this beauty?” Lillian Stoltzfus reached out and touched Bella’s arm. Charlotte had been told that Lillian decided to join the Amish years ago, but Charlotte didn’t think anyone would ever know. She fit in as if she’d been one of the Plain People her entire life. Lillian had children and grandchildren and was married to a wonderful man, Samuel. After spending a few years in Colorado, most of the Stoltzfus family had moved back to Lancaster County to care for Lillian’s mother, Sarah Jane, who had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease a few months ago.
Bella played shy and buried her head in Charlotte’s shoulder. “This is my niece, Bella.” She nudged the little girl. “Say hi, Bella.” Charlotte tried to be like the Amish in many ways. She tried to be truthful, helpful, strong in her faith, do for others, and avoid being prideful. But right now, she was proud to be holding Bella in her arms and briefly wondered how it must feel to hold her own child.
Right then, she saw Daniel in a group of men who looked like they were sorting tools and nails. She locked eyes with him and smiled. No matter their differences, Daniel still made her heart flutter.
“And this is my sister, Andrea.” Charlotte held her breath.
“Hey.” Andrea gave a half wave to Lillian as she smiled at the other women standing nearby. “Nice to meet ya’ll.”
Charlotte released the breath she was holding, hopeful that Andrea would behave herself today.
Andrea’s eyes widened when another group of women began laying out dishes and flatware on the picnic table. She brought a hand to her forehead to block the sun as she studied the ladies, recalling the box she’d found and its contents.
“Hey . . .” She nudged Charlotte, then whispered, “Who’s that woman, the one in the green dress?” She pointed to six women.
“Well, that narrows it down”—Charlotte grinned—“since four of them are wearing green.” She hoisted Bella higher up on her hip.
“Her.” Andrea pointed, and Charlotte gently slapped down her hand. “The tall one.”
“That’s Edna Glick.” Charlotte sneered, turning up her nose. “She used to see Ethan.”
“Wait a minute. I thought Ethan used to date your friend Hannah.”
“Ethan did date Hannah, but I think he was secretly in love with Edna, and they had a thing for a while.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “And Daniel also dated Edna, and she ended up marrying John, the man she supposedly wants to leave now.”
Andrea scowled, lifting an eyebrow. “Geez. She gets around.” But why bury the box in your ex-boyfriend’s yard?
“Obviously, I don’t really care for her.” Charlotte plastered on a fake smile.
Andrea was starting to enjoy living with Charlotte, and Bella had certainly taken to her new aunt, so Andrea didn’t want to rock the boat. But she sure did want to question the tall, pretty Amish woman she’d seen digging in the yard—Edna Glick. She sighed and decided to put the issue to rest. For now.
Bella reached for Andrea, so she took her and followed Charlotte toward the house as Amish ladies passed by them carrying more dishes of food and pitchers of tea. Once inside, it was a beehive of organized activity. Andrea figured she’d carry out a couple of platters, then go find a place to smoke.
“You can put Bella down if you want to. Everyone watches all the kinner.” Charlotte smiled. “I mean children.”
Charlotte even talked like an Amish person. Bella squirmed out of Andrea’s arms as if she’d understood what Charlotte said. After Bella moved toward some other children in the living room, Andrea picked up a platter of pickles and olives, then followed Charlotte out the front door.
“So, all these guys will build the entire barn today?” As they walked down the porch steps, Andrea noticed that part of the frame was already erected.
“Yep. Or most of it, anyway. Sometimes a few men come back the next day to finish the inside or do cleanup.”
“How much do they get paid?” Andrea held the platter steady with one hand as she picked up a pickle with the other.
“No one gets paid.” Charlotte waved to a couple of women they passed.
“Well that’s”—Andrea cleared her throat, careful of her language around her sister—“messed up.”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, it’s actually really cool. Everyone helps everyone. If someone gets sick, the community pitches in to help with plowing fields, planting gardens, cooking food, or whatever else a family might need. If someone falls upon hard times in some other way, they have the support of the community. And, as in this case, Samuel and Lillian’s barn burned down, so everyone is pitching in to help.”
“I guess all these people believe all these good deeds will get them into heaven.” Andrea wished more than anything that she had that to look forward to. Even if she believed—and she didn’t—no way she’d be allowed in.
“Their belief that Jesus died on the cross for all of us and the way that they live their lives as a result of that belief.”
Andrea stifled a grunt that threatened to spew as she recalled her and two boys robbing a convenience store when she was fourteen. They’d gotten away with it, even though they shouldn’t have. They were young and stupid, not thinking about the security camera. They’d heard later that the camera didn’t catch any of their faces. Andrea remembered how hungry she was that day, hoping that she’d go to jail where there would be food and a bed. Instead she lived off the food they’d stolen from the store. That’s all she and her friends had taken—chips, lunch meat, bread, crackers, and whatever else they could fit in their backpacks and carry out.
The next time they’d tried to steal a car, with plans to drive to California. They weren’t so lucky that time. But Andrea had been a juvenile at the time, so she’d done some time in a youth detention center before being returned to the streets. As an adult, she’d kept up the same lovely behavior, so, nope. She didn’t foresee God opening the pearly gates for her.
“Hey, I’m gonna go look around the property, okay?” Andrea scoped out the house, hoping she could sneak around to the back without anyone noticing.
“You’re going to smoke,” Charlotte whispered as she set a platter of bread on the table next to the pickle tray Andrea had carried out.
Andrea sighed. “I’m gonna quit. I only smoke one or two a day as it is.” Whenever she could scrape together a little cash or Charlotte reluctantly agreed to get her a pack. “I’ll be back shortly.”
As she shuffled across the yard, she could feel Amish eyes on her, checking her out. But she needed a smoke too badly to care. She rounded the corner to the back of the house, leaned down, and pulled a cigarette out of her sock. When she lifted it up, she noticed an Amish guy on the other side of the septic tank behind the house.
Smiling, Andrea headed his way. “I knew there was bound to be some Amish people who smoked.” She took a lighter out of her front pocket, lit her cigarette, inhaled the smooth flavor, then blew it in the guy’s face.
He waved a hand in front of his face. “Do you mind? I’m not smoking.”
“Oh, great. Even worse.” Andrea took another drag, blew a smoke ring, then grinned. “Relieving yourself?”
The Amish kid looked to be eighteen or nineteen. “Nee. Just wanted to be alone for a few minutes.”
Andrea looked him up and down for a few seconds as she puffed on her cigarette. This kid’s hair didn’t look like all the others. His blond bangs weren’t cropped, he had bags underneath his eyes, and he didn’t have the chipper demeanor the others seemed to have.
“What’s eating you? You look depressed or something.” She flicked an ash in the grass. “Guess I’d be depressed, too, if I had to live the way you people do. What in the world do you do for fun?”
Andrea thought she probably had a few years on this guy, but if he could enlighten her about extracurricular activities, she was all ears.
“I ain’t depressed. Just tired.”
Andrea waited for a few seconds, until she presumed that’s all he was going to offer up. “I’m Charlotte Dolinsky’s sister, the only other person here who isn’t dressed in funky clothes.”
“You’re kidding me.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“Why, you know my sister?”
“Ya, I do.”
“What’s your name?” Andrea dropped her cigarette and pounded it out with her shoe.
“Jacob.”
“Ah . . .” Andrea nodded. “I’ve heard about you from Charlotte—the prodigal son returned home because your mother is sick.” She paused. “I’m sorry about that part, about your mom.” She briefly thought about the woman who had raised her, but as a chill ran the length of her spine, she stowed the thought.
“Danki.”
Not very talkative. “Okay. Well. Nice to meet you, Jacob.” She smiled. She gave a slight wave and started walking along the backside of the house.
She rounded the corner and bumped right into the digger lady. Edna.
“Ach, I’m sorry.” The woman grabbed her chest and smiled. “There’s a crowd moving through the living room to the kitchen, so I was going to sneak in the back door to use the facilities. Someone pointed you out to me. You’re Charlotte’s sister, ya? I’m Edna.” She extended her hand.
Andrea didn’t move, her feet rooting with the grass as her heart pounded in her chest.
A puzzled look on her face, Edna finally lowered her hand to her side when Andrea didn’t shake it. Andrea took a step closer to her, then another step, close enough that Edna backed up.
“Don’t pretend you don’t recognize me. I’ve caught you twice digging in my sister’s yard.”
First Edna’s neck turned red, then the color rose like hot steam all the way to her forehead. “I—I, um . . . I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Lady, I saw you.” Andrea smirked.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Edna turned on her heel and rushed away.
“Oh, I think you do,” Andrea said softly.
Twelve
Daniel stepped off the bottom rung of the wooden frame, feeling grateful for the beautiful sunshine and cool breeze today. But thoughts of his mother and Charlotte comingled in his mind and left his brain feeling cloudy.
Every time he pictured his mother lying in the hospital bed, so still and lifeless, he said a prayer for the Lord to wake her up. Almost as upsetting was his father’s inability to leave the hospital or acknowledge his new daughter.
Then there was Charlotte. A woman who had transformed herself before his eyes, turning from a victim of abuse into someone who spent the bulk of her time caring for others. She’d tended to her own mother despite a horrid past associated with the woman. Charlotte had taken care of Lena in Houston during her chemo treatments. She’d allowed Jacob to stay with her when he’d run away to Houston. Charlotte had given Amos her little dog, Buddy, even though she loved the little fellow probably more than Amos did. And now she was taking care of a sister and niece she’d never known.
Selfishly, Daniel wondered if and when Charlotte was going to factor him into her life. They loved each other. He knew that. She was the woman for him, the person he wanted to be with forever, to have a family with. But each time they headed down a path that seemed more permanent, Charlotte backed off. What is she so afraid of? Happiness?
“Daniel, how are you holding up? How is your mother?”
He hadn’t seen Edna approaching to his left, but he recognized her scent, a sultry aroma that Daniel had once found intoxicating. “The same.” He kept walking, but Edna got in step with him.
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” She took in a deep breath. “I think I probably said some things to you that I shouldn’t have, and I surely shouldn’t have kissed you.”
Daniel glanced around, glad to see no one was in listening distance. “Nee, you shouldn’t have. You know that I love Charlotte.”
“I know, I know.” She stopped, grabbed his arm. “But she isn’t right for you, Daniel. Surely you see that. Even if we can’t be together, I want you to be happy, and I don’t see how an Englisch woman, especially Charlotte, can make you happy.”
“It’s against the odds, but we will make a gut life together.” If Charlotte can ever realize that.
“I meant what I said about leaving John.” She started walking again when Daniel did.
“That’s your choice, I reckon.” No matter the situation, Daniel would hate to see Edna shunned. They walked quietly for a few moments.
“Charlotte’s sister is a bizarre woman. I know that the community has accepted Charlotte, even though she isn’t one of us.” Edna lifted her chin as she pressed her lips together. “But I don’t see that happening with her sister. I heard that she’s an untruthful person.”
Frowning, Daniel glanced at her. “This is the first time most people have met her. How can that rumor already be spreading?” It was a sad fact that gossip circulated in their community the same way as the outside world.
“I don’t know. I’m just telling you what I heard. There are reasons for us to stay detached from the Englisch. We are unequally yoked with them.”
Daniel had been hearing that term his entire life, but the truth was that without the Englisch tourism, most of the Amish folks wouldn’t be able to make a living. With less farmland and generations piling on top of generations, the need to work outside the home had become practically mandatory.
“We are all people”—he cut his eyes at Edna—“and there is good and bad in every person.” It was a statement that would have curled his grandparents’ toes, but Daniel’s people were changing along with the times. And part of the change was the realization that the Amish had just as many problems as the Englisch. Edna and John were proof of that. And so were Annie and Jacob, the star-crossed teenagers who couldn’t seem to figure out if they had a future together or not.
But who am I to judge?
Later that evening Jacob came calling, and while Annie welcomed his unannounced visit, she hadn’t been able to get little Grace to stop crying for an hour.
“Let me take her,” Aunt Faye said as Annie paced the
living room. “You go spend time with your beau, and I’ll try to give her a bit more formula.” Aunt Faye smelled like mothballs and the liver and onions she’d been cooking all day, but Annie was grateful to have her staying on to help with the baby, and the cooking and cleaning.
“He’s not exactly my beau.” She eased Grace into her aunt’s arms as her baby sister cried. “There, there, Gracie.”
Aunt Faye cradled the baby in her arms, then started singing to her. Her high-pitched singing voice left much to be desired, so Annie wasn’t surprised when Grace started to cry harder.
“Maybe try the formula.” Annie forced a smile, then went outside to greet Jacob.
They sat on the porch steps beside each other.
“How’s your mamm?” Annie squinted against the sun’s glare as it met with the horizon.
“How is your mamm?” Jacob tipped his hat down a little, also blocking the sun’s rays.
“My mudder is the same.” Annie swallowed back a lump in her throat.
“I hear the baby crying inside.” Jacob stared straight ahead as he nervously tapped a foot.
“Ya. She’s been fussy. Aenti Faye is going to try to give her some formula.”
“A baby needs a momma.” He turned to Annie, his eyes glassy, drooping. “And I don’t really think that ever changes. We all need our mudder.”
Jacob hadn’t answered her when she asked how his mother was doing. “Jacob, what is going on?”
He sat quietly, as a muscle in his jaw quivered. “They didn’t get it all, the cancer.”
Annie brought a hand to her chest. “Ach, Jacob. Nee. I thought everything was going to be fine after the surgery.”
“I think we all did.” He paused, scratching his chin. “Everyone but Mamm. I felt like she’s known all along that the surgery wouldn’t be enough.”
“Why do you say that?”
Jacob shrugged. “Because she just didn’t seem all that surprised when the doctor told us. Hannah took it pretty hard, but mei daed actually cried. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cry before.”