Little Wild Flower, Amish Romance/Amish Fiction/Christian Romance

by Samantha Jillian Bayarr

  My mother had her own contribution to the farm, with Naomi and a few other women to teach her how to use the wood cook stove. My father’s stomach was always pleased with my mother’s learning, and so was Mitchell’s after a hard day in the fields. She was also learning to can vegetables and fruits for winter storage. My father and Mitchell had already used the smoke house to cure some ham from the pig that the Zook’s had given us as a welcome gift.

  My father was also pleased with the way my younger siblings had begun to fashion their language after our neighbors—I was still a little unsure about the idea of calling my parents Mam and Papa, but it was something I was beginning to get used to hearing. My parents even encouraged Mitchell to begin courting Rebekah Zook just before school began. In the eyes of the community, at eighteen, she was almost too old to be courting, but my brother had taken a shine to her and was quite pleased that Abraham had given his consent for the two to court “proper-like.”

  Normally, marriage to outsiders was strictly forbidden, but my father informed us that the Zook’s and the surrounding community had changed a few years back by relaxing most of the Old Order customs. None of us really understood everything about it, but I knew it meant their rules had changed, allowing Mitchell and Rebekah the opportunity to marry, as long as he took on most of her traditional ways and honored her beliefs. Mitchell was so smitten with the schoolteacher that he was determined to become a farmer for her sake.

  After stepping carefully over the clumps of earth that had been turned over, I reached Mitchell in the middle of the field with the lemonade I’d grabbed from the screened porch. He looked more pleased to see the glass of lemonade in my hand than he was to hear how my first day at the schoolhouse had gone.

  “You brought that for me, right?”

  I didn’t answer.

  Mitchell wiped the sweat from his brow with a red bandanna that he pulled from the back pocket of his dusty trousers. Thick, wet strands of his dark hair stuck to his sunburned forehead. Sweat continued to drip from his hair onto his face, so he tied the bandanna around his head. He hopped down from the tractor and punched my arm playfully.

  “I see you brought me some lemonade.”

  He grabbed the lemonade from me and gulped it down, then, handed the glass back to me.

  “I drank outa that glass,” I teased. “I back-washed in it.”

  “You did not, Shorty, because if you did, I’d have to rub your face in the dirt.”

  “I’m not short,” I barked. “You just grew more than I did, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, and I got bigger muscles than you, too,” he said as he flexed his biceps.

  He relaxed his hand, then, grimaced, holding his palms open and revealing red and blistered hands.

  “I guess you’re not so tough after all.” I held a hand over my mouth to cover my grin.

  “Did you come out here for a reason, or did you just come out here to make fun of me?”

  “Don’tcha even wanna hear about my day at the little school house?” I begged. “By the way, if you marry Miss Rebekah, you're gonna have to give up this modern tractor and drag a horse through them fields.”

  “Don’t tease me. And don’t you go worrying about my business. Abraham ain’t mad at Papa anymore for putting plumbing in the house and all. He got over it after the first week of the Miller’s truck being in the driveway. So he ain’t gonna bother me none about having a tractor. Besides, you need to start watching what you say. The Amish boys like to tease a fella if they find out he’s courting.”

  “Listen to yourself. You’re really becoming one of them, aren’t you?” I asked, suppressing laughter. “I bet you wouldn’t be talking like that if it weren’t for your girlfriend.”

  He pursed his lips and punched me in the arm again.

  “Ouch, that hurt.”

  “Ooh, don’t be such a baby. So, you gonna tell me how your day went? I’ll bet it would have been more fun if Elijah had been there today instead of in them fields over there with his papa.”

  “If I can’t tease you, then you can’t tease me either. And don’t say stuff like that, somebody might hear you. Then I’ll get in trouble for thinking on boys when I ain’t supposed to yet. I’ll make you a deal—if you’ll be keeping my secret, I’ll be keeping yours.”

  I pushed out my lower lip in an effort to stifle his laughter toward my seemingly hopeless situation.

  “You don’t gotta beg. Hang in there,” he said as he punched my arm again. “Maybe Papa will reconsider his decision next month when you turn sixteen. Who knows, maybe you could start coming to Sunday Night Singings if you’re lucky,” he added.

  “What in the world is a Sunday Night Singing’?”

  “Well if you hadn’t spent the first few months in your room after we moved here, pouting’ like a spoiled child, you would know more ‘bout what goes on around here,” he said, nodding his head and raising his eyebrow as though he had information that was privy to him alone.

  “Wait just a minute,” I interrupted. “The only reason I stayed in my room is because our parents moved me away before Bradley came to visit his grandma for the summer. I was just mad because I missed out on seeing him this year. After being somebody’s best friend for so many years, it ain’t easy giving him up, you know.”

  “You don’t gotta convince me. I know you miss Bradley, but you gotta move on with your life. You should’ve gotten his new address if you wanted to stay in touch with him. It ain’t easy, but you gotta learn to live with the mistake you made in not getting his address last year,” he said.

  “It ain’t my fault. I didn’t know we were gonna move, and he was the best friend I’d ever had, besides Penelope. And we both know I’ll never see her again either since she got put in a foster home last year. That’s two best friends gone in one year, and I just can’t take any crap from you about it.”

  “C’mon, let’s not argue. Before you get your feathers ruffled over something you ain’t got any control over, put your energy into what friends you can get now, and make sure you don’t lose any more,” he said as he gave me an affectionate squeeze.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get off track. Weren’t you gonna give me the skinny on Sunday Singings?”

  He smiled at me, letting me know that we were settled in our disagreement, then, continued with his explanation.

  “Singings are what you do when you're courting an Amish girl. Usually it’s at someone’s barn and only the youth in the area are allowed—especially if you're courting someone. We sing songs and play games. It really is a lot of fun. Rebekah and I have gone to a few, but we don’t let on to any of the fellas that we’re courting one another. If we had, we’d have gotten teased something awful. For some reason or another, Amish boys like to tease you when they find out you're courting someone.”

  “Would you talk to Dad—Papa for me, Mitchell?”

  “Don’t beg.”

  “But you don’t understand. If I can just get Elijah to notice me, then maybe I’ll have a chance to go to one of them Singings with him,” I said.

  “Oh, he’s already noticed you plenty. ‘Says he likes your long blonde hair.” He flicked a wavy spiral of hair from my shoulder and I pushed at his arm.

  “Is that what he said?”

  Mitchell just stood there, staring at me like I hadn’t said a word to him.

  I stomped my feet playfully. “Tell me,” I demanded.

  “Hold on a minute. You're so giddy; the whole county is gonna mistake your jumping around for an earthquake.”

  The excitement left me as soon as he made his comment.

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Well I had to say something to get your attention. Papa said you had to be seventeen to have a beau, and unless he changes his mind, you ought to hold your horses a bit. A year could be a long wait if you're gonna be this excited about it now. If Elijah’s really interested, he’ll wait on you. And you can be sure he’ll be proper around you, so you better start thinki
ng properly about him, or you’ll lose him to another girl,” he warned me.

  Listening to Mitchell talk this way made it hard to believe that only a few short years ago I had felt nothing short of hatred for him because of his mean disposition. I had, in fact, despised my entire family because none of them ever cared to be kind to one another, much less to help another member with a problem. Oh, occasionally, Nadine and I would put our heads together, but it usually meant trouble for the both of us. Now Mitchell was grown up and every bit of what a big brother ought to be. He no longer carried the hatred in his heart that made him ugly. In fact, he’d grown to be quite handsome with the added feature of a kinder disposition, and Rebekah was right to have chosen him.

  I walked away from Mitchell with the empty glass in my hand, forgetting that I wanted to tell him what a great teacher his Rebekah had been. The only thing on my mind was how to create an opportunity to talk to Elijah. I knew it wouldn’t be easy with his papa by his side in the field all day. I even worried that I might need to employ some of the workings of the “old Jane” in order to come up with a plan that would work.

  Unable to think of anything that wasn’t devious, I left the glass on the back porch and walked slowly toward the Zook farm feeling quite discouraged. Rachel was on the front porch with Lucy, shelling peas with an older girl I thought I recognized from school.

  “Hello, Jane. This is my cousin Hannah. She lives across the road.”

  Rachel pointed to a grey farmhouse set back off the road. It was tough to see through the trees that lined the road in front of the property. In fact, I hadn’t even realized there was a farm there until she pointed it out, as I hadn’t yet explored much of my new surroundings.

  “She’s the same age as you,” Rachel said, interrupting my thoughts.

  “That’s cool. I mean…nice to meet you, Hannah.”

  I put up a hand as if to wave, then, felt a little awkward until she mirrored my action and waved back. Without waiting for an invite, I stepped onto the porch to join the others.

  Hannah picked up a pitcher from a long table in front of a set of windows that lined the front of the house along the length of the porch. “Would you like some lemonade?”

  “Yep. That would be nice. I just gave mine away to my brother in the south field a few minutes ago, and completely forgot to get myself some more. I’m awful thirsty,” I rattled on nervously.

  Talking to people that I didn’t know had never been a talent of mine, but after the conversation I just had with Mitchell, I figured it was time for me to learn.

  “Oh no!”

  Rachel startled me with her sudden outburst.

  “I knew I would forget to take a drink to Papa and Elijah. Mam’s going to give me extra chores if I don’t get out there.”

  Rachel scampered a bit to gather the glasses full of refreshment for the two in the field.

  “I’ll help you,” I offered, secretly hoping this might be my chance to speak to the boy I admired so.

  “Well, let’s go if we’re going to do it,” Hannah said.

  Until that moment, I hadn’t counted on it being a group outing, feeling a little unsure of myself. I didn’t want an audience when I met up with Elijah in the field, but it was too late to rethink my offer of service.

  I followed nervously behind the three girls, trying not to spill the pitcher that held the remaining lemonade in it. When Elijah came into view, a lump welled up in my throat, making it difficult to breathe. Once again, I found myself trudging over clumps of dirt—only this time I had to manage a half-full pitcher of lemonade instead of a mere glass. My eyes locked onto Elijah’s, and even from that distance, I could see the deep blue of his eyes as they sparkled in the sun.

  Without warning, my foot caught in a clump of earth, sending me face down in the dirt. My ankle had twisted in the dirt, causing me to let out a high-pitched yelp just prior to landing. Lemonade seemed to spray in every direction, especially in my hair. Elijah immediately ran to my aid, but I was so embarrassed, I found it difficult to look him in the eye. I suddenly tasted blood mixed with the dirt in my mouth.

  Rachel gasped. “You’re bleeding, Miss Jane!”

  “Take her on up to the house, Elijah.” Mr. Zook spoke with authority.

  Elijah offered his arm in assistance, which was a bit awkward in the beginning. However, the shooting pain in my ankle was bigger than my pride at the moment, which forced me to accept his arm with gratitude. He seemed to be a knowledgeable and calm guide, but I supposed he’d seen worse injuries on the farm than my ankle.

  “Steady now,” he cautioned. “You don’t have to hurry. I imagine you’ll be off that ankle for a gut while.”

  His voice was as gentle as I’d imagined it to be, and his strength in holding me was exciting. I was in no hurry, I felt safe and secure with his strong arms around me. We arrived at the porch of his farmhouse, and he sat me down gently in the same worn porch swing that Rachel had sat in just minutes before. Then he reached up and smoothed back my sticky hair from my face and smiled a heartfelt smile. “Looks like you got yourself a mouthful of my God-given earth, and it’s smudged your pretty face a little, too,” he said.

  My face flushed at his boldness.

  Does he really think I’m pretty, or is he just being nice? I don’t think I care. I just like the attention.

  Ha…equal rights are for ugly girls.

  Though I knew it wasn’t right to get caught up in his good looks, I couldn’t help myself. I had to admit, though, his kindness was enough to make this moment worth the world to me, and I was prepared to milk it for all its worth.

  “You wait here, Jane, and I’ll get a wet cloth to mop up some of the blood.”

  I stared into his smiling blue eyes until he turned and walked away. All my life I had despised my name, until Elijah spoke it just then. Up until recently, my mother had spoken my name in harshness, but it sounded almost poetic coming from his lips.

  When he returned, he sat down beside me on the swing, and began to dab gently at my bleeding lip. I studied his bright blue eyes, hoping for a sign that his kind actions weren’t out of some sort of Amish tradition. My father had told us about the people’s kindness being “their way”, but I wanted to believe this was more than traditional Amish kindness. Neither of us said a word, but I felt as though there was plenty being said as we fixed our eyes on one another. I wanted to kiss him. I’d always been an impulsive person, but my bloody lip kept the desire in check. My awkwardness had left me, and a sense of belonging settled in me as we sat quietly starring at each other for what seemed like a slow-moving moment in time.

  While Hannah picked up the pieces of the broken pitcher, Rachel and Lucy scampered up onto the porch steps, breaking the silence between Elijah and me. Rachel even sat between us on the swing. I leered at her, knowing she did it on purpose. Elijah stood up abruptly and took my hand in his. His hands were rough and worn, as though they had seen many days of hard labor.

  “Is there anything else you need, Jane?”

  His manner was so gentle that I wanted to beg him to stay, but I held my tongue.

  “Papa will be missing me in the fields, I should get back,” he said, his hands still clenching mine.

  He flashed me a smile as he let my hand down gently in my lap. He advanced to the steps of the porch and turned to leave.

  I understood he had work to do, but I didn’t like it. When he turned back, I sensed his hesitation.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said, shooing him with my hand. “I just bruised my pride a little.”

  He stood there smiling at me as though he understood, then, stepped off the porch, heading back toward the field. He turned his head a final time before leaving the yard to wave, and I waved back, feeling confident that this was the beginning of a friendship that might prove to be greater than the ones I had with Bradley and Penelope.

  “I’ll stop by to see you tomorrow, if it’s okay with you?” he asked.

  I wanted to jump up with excit
ement, but my ankle kept me in check. So I nodded my answer with a smile, and watched him disappear beyond the pine trees that surrounded the porch. I was suddenly thankful for the reminder of the pain in my ankle, which forced me to act like a lady instead of being impulsive the way I had been most of my life. If I was to win his heart I may have to begin to mimic the girls whose company I was presently keeping.