by Sarah Price
Grace reached out to take the Bible from him. “That was right gut reading, Benny. You barely stumbled over any words, and I liked how you emphasized some of them. You almost sounded like a preacher!”
He beamed at her praise. “Danke, schwester.” Then, with a glance at Anna Mae, he fumbled in his pocket for something. They shared a secret look. Grace quickly found out why. “Got you something for your birthday, then.”
His words surprised her. Birthday gifts were not usually exchanged. Perhaps from parents to children but rarely between siblings. “You did?” She took the small white package that he handed her. “Whatever for?”
Color flooded his cheeks and he shuffled his feet. “It’s from Anna Mae too.”
Anna Mae grinned and joined them in the sitting area. “Open it.”
Grace looked up at her mother. “May I, Maem?”
“Of course!” She dried her hands on a towel and walked over to where they stood. “I should like to see this gift too. I knew nothing about it.”
“Well, she’s sixteen,” Benny said. “Figured she’s a woman now. Deserves some recognition . . . even if she might paint her face and go traveling.”
Nervously, Grace opened the white tissue paper. Inside was a small box. She frowned, having not one idea what could possibly be in it. Lifting the lid, she saw a folded white handkerchief. Pretty cross stitches lined the edging, and in the lower left corner was an embroidered purple iris. Her favorite flower! In the springtime, she loved running down to the pond located behind the cow paddock where the purple iris bloomed under the shade of the heavy weeping willow tree. It felt magical to push aside the long, hanging branches and kneel near the iris patch. Maem let her cut some of the flowers to bring inside the house for the table. Last year, Maem even let her keep one in a small cup on her nightstand.
“I . . . I don’t know what to say.” Grace looked up and stared at the three pairs of eyes watching her. “It’s a lovely gift. Danke.”
Benny hooked his thumbs under the straps of his suspenders and tugged at them, smirking. “I bought the handkerchief with my own money!”
“Benny!” Maem scolded at his boastful comment.
“It’s true!” he sassed back. “Anna Mae did the embroidery. I just don’t want Grace thinking I wasn’t involved in the gift too!”
Grace gave him a light hug. “Very thoughtful of you, Benny. I’ll be sure to treasure it forever.” While hugging him, she glanced over his head at Anna Mae and smiled in appreciation. It had been a while since Grace had reflected on how much she loved her family. Each member had his own personality, but at the core of each person was faith in God and love of each other. Her parents had instilled these in their eight children from the very day they were born.
Even Benny, with his rambunctious nature, deep down was a faithful servant of God. Grace had heard it in his voice when he read the morning’s verses as Maem had instructed. At worship services, he might squirm during the bishop’s longer sermons—even Grace had to admit that the bishop tended to drone on a bit long—but Benny still prayed faithfully and, as a rule, wasn’t too naughty. Just a bit outspoken, she reckoned.
Grace couldn’t recall any specific verse in the Bible about being outspoken, although she knew Proverbs had several verses referring to the wisdom behind holding one’s tongue.
Ja, vell, she thought, he’s still young. He’ll learn.
Tucking the handkerchief into the pocket of her work apron, Grace hurried over to help Maem with the final preparations for the morning meal. A glance out the window over the kitchen counter told her that Daed and Emanuel were headed toward the house from the barn. They’d be hungry, for sure and certain. A good, hearty breakfast and a few cups of hot coffee would keep them going throughout the day.
“Gut mariye, Grace!” Daed sang out happily. “Reckon that birthday wishes are in order, ja?” He loved to tease his children and as a rule was always good-natured, even when disciplining them. As for Grace, he had never needed to speak sternly to her, and their father-daughter bond was rather special, mayhaps the strongest among his daughters.
“Danke, Daed,” she replied as she set the food on the table. Anna Mae was busy filling up the water glasses, and Benny had already assumed his spot on the bench. “Do you think I look sixteen, then?” Grace asked, slipping into a chair opposite Benny.
Daed spent a moment studying her, as if truly contemplating her question. With a thoughtful tug on his beard, he pursed his lips. “Mayhaps just a little,” he quipped. “I think I see a wrinkle or two under your eyes.”
Everyone laughed at his gentle teasing and then settled around the table for the morning prayer before the meal.
After Daed raised his head, the boys reached for the serving platters and scooped scrambled eggs, bacon, sliced scrapple, and homemade hash browns onto their plates before passing them to the others. The sounds of forks against china and spoons scooping jam out of a jar took precedence over conversation for the first few minutes. Everybody had a hearty appetite, and Maem’s food was just what they needed to satisfy it.
“Headed to a horse auction this morning,” Daed said. He glanced at Grace. “Emanuel’s going. Thought you might like to ride along.”
Maem lifted her head and answered first. “You looking for a horse, then? Something wrong with Roonie?”
“Nee, nothing wrong with our horse,” Daed reassured her. “They have some Belgian mules going up for sale later this morning. One of ours is getting up there in age. Have to prepare for the worst.”
“Oh, Daed!” Anna Mae cried out. “Not Duke!”
“Ja, Duke’s given us plenty of years, but I noticed his labored breathing during our last haying. He’s old, Anna Mae.” His soft and gentle tone did little to calm his youngest child. He returned his attention to Grace, anticipating her reply. “Vell?”
Grace wasn’t certain how to respond. She’d like to go to the auction; it would be a rare treat. But with Anna Mae still in school and Benny underfoot, that might leave Maem in a bind. “May I, Maem? I sure don’t want to leave you with all the chores.”
“I’m sure Benny will be most helpful, won’t you now, son?”
The expression on his face said otherwise, but he knew better than to sass his mother in front of Daed. On more than one occasion Daed had taken Benny behind the woodshed for sassing. “Honor thy father and mother,” Daed would say as he led Benny out of sight of the other children to discipline him.
“Ja,” Benny sighed. “Being that it’s her birthday and all. . . . ”
Two hours later, Daed drove the horse and buggy into the parking lot of the auction facility. There were plenty of different auctions held there throughout the year: equipment, horses, carriages, household furniture, even vegetables. Grace couldn’t remember ever having gone to the horse auctions. Either she had been in school or Daed had taken just Emanuel.
The first thing she noticed was the number of buggies lining the back of the lot, over a hundred of them. Most horses, unharnessed from their carts and buggies, were simply tied to a long rope stretched between the trees. All of the horses nonchalantly ate the hay that had been spread on the ground by the auction staff because the horses would be there for several hours. Some were stealing the hay from each other, causing the occasional indignant neigh from their disgruntled neighbors. There were a number of pickup trucks and horse trailers along the side of the building. Many Englischers attended these auctions as they knew that the horses there were healthier and better bred than those outside the Amish communities. Grace was glad that this was a buyers’ auction and not one of those horrid ones where trailers came from faraway states to bid on cheap horses to sell to foreign countries for meat consumption. No, these horses were at the beginning of their life spans, not the end.
The second thing she noticed was the tall young man who entered the building just as they approached the door. He was older than Grace, but there was something familiar about him. His green eyes sparkled as he held open the door an
d took a step back. There was something about the way he smiled at her that caused her to blush and look away. Being noticed by a young man was certainly something new. And on her sixteenth birthday, at that!
Daed grumbled a gruff “Danke” at the man and pressed his hand firmly between Grace’s shoulders to direct her inside the building. She stumbled over the threshold, but Daed caught her elbow to steady her.
“Who was that?” she whispered.
“Menno Beiler.” Daed’s voice sounded none too happy about this particular young man, and for that reason, Grace became curious. After all, Daed seemed to like everyone.
“Does he belong to a nearby church district? He looks familiar.”
Emanuel snickered under his breath and Grace glanced at him, mouthing the word “What?” Her brother merely shook his head, still smiling as if enjoying a secret joke.
“He lives in another church district but hasn’t been baptized yet and most likely won’t ever from what I hear of his running round,” Daed answered her in a firm tone of voice. “And he is no one for the likes of you to share company with, Grace.”
Again she felt her cheeks grow hot. She hadn’t meant to sound forward or even to show interest in the man. No, she was more intrigued by her father’s reaction. Now, however, she longed to glance over her shoulder and sneak one last look at this Menno Beiler. When she did, she saw that he was watching her as well and she quickly averted her eyes. Whatever could he have done to earn such a lack of respect from her father? She wondered.
She knew better than to inquire any further with Daed. If there was a story to tell, Emanuel would be the one to ask, later and in private. As her older brother, he’d be the one taking her to and from the youth singings on Sundays, her escort for the first year or so until she started courting young men, those who would secretly ask to take her home. Certainly Emanuel would tell her more about this Menno Beiler, especially if he was someone to avoid.
After her father registered for his bidding card, he escorted Grace toward the front of the building, where folding chairs were set up facing a fenced chute. The horse handlers stood by the heavy door at the far end of the chute, waiting for a horse to be brought over from the holding pen behind the building.
Grace settled into her chair, her eyes wide as she took in the sights and sounds surrounding her. Men were talking in both English and Pennsylvania Dutch. From the way the men were dressed, she could easily tell who was Amish, Mennonite, or Englische. It surprised her that so many of the men intermingled, chatting amiably with each other, despite the clear differences in their backgrounds. As horses were brought to the doorway, a handler would hold its lead and halter and run with the horse back and forth in the chute while an auctioneer spoke so fast that Grace couldn’t tell what he was saying.
Emanuel laughed at the perplexed look on her face. “Don’t even try to figure out what he’s saying.”
She smiled at his teasing, but her eyes remained riveted on the horses. They were all so beautiful, and she hoped they would be purchased by owners who would take proper care of them. Most Amish men took wonderful care of their animals, but she knew stories of a few who did not. Those were the stories that always seemed to gain the most interest from the Englischers.
“The draft horses and Belgian mules should be coming up soon,” Daed said. “Want a soda pop?” He didn’t wait for either Emanuel or Grace to answer as he headed toward the food stand at the other end of the building.
Grace sighed. “I think the auctions must be very scary to the horses, ja? They’ll be going to a new home tonight.”
“Aw, Grace,” Emanuel said softly. “Don’t get all tenderhearted on us. They have to work too. And I’m not so certain that they have feelings like that.”
She shrugged in response. She felt otherwise but wasn’t about to argue with her brother.
“Emanuel!” a voice said cheerfully from behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder and was surprised to see Menno Beiler approaching them. Her eyes darted in the direction that her father had disappeared moments ago. There was no sign of him.
“Haven’t seen you at the youth singings in a while, Menno,” Emanuel replied. “Been keeping busy, then?”
Menno took off his straw hat and ran his fingers through his hair. Grace noticed that the top of his forehead was pale while the rest of his face was tan. Obviously he worked outside. “Oh ja,” he responded. “Daed’s keeping me busy on the farm, for sure.”
“Me too.”
Menno’s eyes looked over at Grace. “This is your younger schwester, then?”
Grace lowered her eyes. Her cheeks flushed as he stared at her.
“Yes, this is Grace.”
“Nice to meet you, Grace.” Menno reached into his pocket and extracted a white object. “You dropped this when you stumbled on your way in.”
The handkerchief dangled between his fingertips. She gasped, and when he reached out to hand it to her, she took it. “I’m ever so grateful you saw it! I just received it today, as a gift.”
Menno raised an eyebrow.
“That’s right,” Emanuel replied, barely suppressing a smile. “It’s Grace’s birthday today.” He paused. “Sixteenth birthday.”
She didn’t care for the way he stressed her age.
“Sixteen, eh?” Menno slid his hat back onto his head and smiled. “Ja, vell, you have yourself a wunderbarr gut day, Grace.” He started to walk backwards, leaving them. “And be careful not to lose your birthday gift again.” He winked before turning around and heading in the direction of a group of young men.
“Emanuel!” she whispered when Menno was far enough away. “Who is he?”
There was a twinkle in her brother’s eye and she knew what he was thinking. But she didn’t care. She wanted to know.
“Menno Beiler. Lives on a farm in Ephrata, I believe,” Emanuel responded. “Nice enough fellow, but he’s four years older than you and been traveling a bit during his rumschpringe. Hasn’t been attending church, either.”
That would certainly explain why Daed didn’t care for him. A young man with a questionable commitment to the church, and possibly the faith, would cause such a reaction among most Amish people. She knew she was going to join the church. She’d wait for a year or two before taking the instructional from the bishop, but she was definitely going to become a baptized member of the church.
Who would want to leave and why? she thought.
While she didn’t have much interaction with the Englische, she certainly didn’t like their noisy, fast cars that spooked the horses. And the music? A few times when she had ridden along with Daed to get some things at the local hardware store, an Englische man would park his car next to their buggy. With their whitewall tires and chrome bumpers, the cars were big, bulky, and ugly, in Grace’s opinion. Some drivers played the radio, and the music sounded awful: loud, banging, and incoherent. Sometimes there would be a woman in the car, her hair piled on top of her head and bright paint on her lips.
Grace was unimpressed.
No, the outside world could stay far away from her. She preferred the quiet of the farm, the routine of the day, and the peace of knowing God.
Almost two hours later Daed signaled that it was time to leave. After having returned from the food stand with three soda pops—a rare treat indeed—he stayed until the last Belgian mule was auctioned off. While he bid on two of them, he hadn’t been very aggressive in competing with the other bidders. At the end of their stay, they left empty-handed.
But Grace had enjoyed the event. It was an experience she would not soon forget, especially the way that Menno Beiler had looked at her and how those looks made her feel. On the bouncy ride back to their farm, Grace sat in the back of the buggy, her chin pressed upon her arm as she gazed out the open back window. In her other hand, she clutched the handkerchief, the one that Benny and Anna Mae gave her with such love and the one that Menno returned to her with such interest, a twinkle in his eyes. And she couldn’t help
but wonder if she’d ever see Menno Beiler again, perhaps at a youth gathering or a singing in the near future.
It was a thought that lingered with her long after the day had ended.
2015
“Grace?” Mary touched her arm, a gesture that brought Grace back to the present moment. A look of concern filled her friend’s face. “You all right, then?”
Color flushed her cheeks. “Oh, heavens to Betsy, ja! I was just remembering when I turned sixteen.” She touched the little handkerchief. “My schwester and bruder gave me a handkerchief almost exactly like this. I treasured it for a long time and was mindful not to get it stained.” She laughed to herself. “Although I lost it at a horse auction the very day I received it! Can you believe that it happened to be Menno who retrieved it?”
Mary clucked her tongue and shook her head. “If I didn’t know how honest you are, I almost wouldn’t believe you!”
Grace nodded. “Ja, it’s true. Oh, I was ever so thankful! Poor Benny would have been upset if I had lost it. He was just so proud of having bought the material.” Looking up at Mary, she sighed. “I haven’t thought about Benny in a long time.” She smiled softly as she remembered her younger brother. “He was quite the handful, I’ll tell you that, but such a special boy.”
“What happened to him?”
That was the question many people had asked for years after his death. During his own rumschpringe, his propensity for adventure had created a whole new set of problems for the family. He stayed out late, smoked cigarettes, and even came home smelling of alcohol once. But it was his love of racing that got him into the most trouble. With his own horse and hand-me-down courting buggy, he loved to race other boys. Just two months before his seventeenth birthday, he did more than lose the race. This time he was riding bareback through a field. The horse stumbled, and Benny flew onto the ground. Three days later, the family gathered at the side of the freshly dug grave, watching as the men lowered the simple pine casket into the earth.