Hills of Wheat

by Sarah Price

  “Yes, poor cows.”

  “You’re different, Jake Edwards,” she remarked, her eyes still shining and bright. “Quite different.” She walked along the two aisles of cows, running her hands across the cows necks and backs. Indeed, tending to the cows was one of her favorite outdoor activities. She loved listening to them chew their food and call out to each other. Each cow had their own personality, much like people. “When did you decide to do this?”

  “Few weeks ago, I suppose. Remember I said I had that errand on Friday?”

  “During the storm?” she asked, looking at him over the hind end of one of the cows.

  “During the storm,” he confirmed. “I went over to the farmer who was selling them to finalize the deal. The truck brought them over late Saturday afternoon after it cleared up some.”

  Saturday afternoon? She did a quick calculation in her head. That was almost 36 hours ago. “Have you milked them yet?”

  He look at her with a blank expression on his face. “Was I supposed to?”

  “Oh,” she gasped. “We best get to work! I hope it’s not too late.”

  Without another word, she hurried about the task at hand, explaining everything that she was doing. She asked him for certain things, a bucket, a stool, warm soapy water, and a clean rag to wash the teats. The cows watched her curiously and Jake obliged her every request. As she began milking the first cow, Sylvia talked him through the entire process, her voice soft and gentle as she pressed her cheek against the cow’s flank. The cows were patient and she continued to talk to each one. The milk was hard to flow and it took Sylvia at least three cows to fill one bucket. She presumed that was because they hadn’t been milked since their arrival. After the first bucket was filled, she stood up to carry it to the storage unit.

  Jake guided her over to the back room where the old dairy equipment had been. She was surprised to see new equipment there, some with the tags still on it. She didn’t ask any questions, just hurried to pour the milk into the container. But when she opened it, Sylvia was surprised to see milk already in it. It took a second to register and then she started to laugh. What a sight she must have been, rushing around and explaining to him about the milking! To think that he wouldn’t have known that the cows needed to be milked twice a day!

  She shook her head and tried to hide her smile. “No wonder they didn’t produce much milk,” she said. She gave him a sideways glance. “You tricked me.”

  “It was in good fun, dear Sylvia.” He reached for the bucket and poured the contents into the storage unit. “I wanted to make certain you really knew your stuff about cows.”

  “Did I pass?”

  “With flying colors!” He smiled at her as he handed her the bucket. “Now if you’d be so kind to wash that, I have a few things to do then I’m going into town. I’ll let you alone…you can do your own thing, yes? I won’t be back for lunch but I’ll see you on Wednesday then, alright?” If he noticed the disappointed expression on her face, he didn’t give any indication. “You’ll be OK walking home. Preferably not on the road but through the field. It’s dried out from the rain already. Promise?”

  She nodded and, reluctantly, retreated from the milk storage room, torn between the disappointment of knowing that he would not be at the farm during the day and confusion as to why he would leave her alone. Wasn’t this the time that he should want to be near her? To get to know her?

  Experience told her so. Second-hand experience from watching her sisters and brothers. She knew from her older sister Ana’s courtship days that she could hardly wait to sneak off to see Isaac. They tried to be so secretive but everyone knew what was happening. They looked the other way, their silence the unspoken blessing on the eventual union.

  With Steve, it was different. He courted his girl, Emma, for almost a year before anyone knew about their relationship. He made up errands, drove off late at night, or simply didn’t come home after church. No one knew which girl had captured his attention. After all, he had courted more than his share of girls before he seemed to settle down with his intended.

  As for Emanuel, well…Sylvia smiled. Everyone saw that coming a mile away and it didn’t please her parents whatsoever. There was a lot of turmoil in the house during those weeks after his announcement. After all, Shana was an Englischer and, when they first married, Emanuel didn’t take the kneeling vow. But they did eventually. And it worked itself out.

  So, too, would this, she told herself, retreating to the quiet of the house to get started with her day. She knew that God would take care of her. If this was the path that He intended for Sylvia, it would work itself out. She just had to have faith.

  Once in the house, she went upstairs to begin cleaning the second floor, as she usually did. The narrow stairs creaked under her weight as she walked upward, holding onto the railing. She glanced into the two unused bedrooms, careful to note that nothing had been touched. She had gotten into the habit of only cleaning them once a week, seeing that no one went in there.

  When she opened the door to Jake’s bedroom, she noticed immediately that the room was unusually orderly. Clothes were carefully draped over the foot of the bed, the sheets were not as jumbled as usual, and the top of the gentleman’s chest was not scattered with money and pieces of paper. Her eyes traveled to the place where the photo had been. To her astonishment, it was gone. In its place was a clear glass vase, small and delicate with a single white flower in it.

  Without realizing it, she smiled. She walked over to the chest and reached out to touch the flower. A simple carnation. Nothing too fancy, in fact, perhaps just a little plain. But it was beautiful standing on its own.

  She started at it, stroking the soft petals that had opened, each one layered behind another. It was not threatening, the perfect touch to allay her fears. That was Jake, she realized,

  But as she stood there, her eyes lifted to the mirror over the dresser and she stared at her reflection. It wasn’t something that she did very often, perhaps just a quick peek in the small square mirror at home when she was fixing her hair each morning.

  Looking into the mirror over Jake’s dresser, she saw herself in a different light. Her hair was pulled back from her forehead in a tight bun that was pinned at the nape of her neck, a few stray strands hanging near her ears. The white prayer covering was heart shaped, a bit less conservative than some Amish folk preferred but it was acceptable in her own district. Standing between her and the reflection was the carnation, so pretty in its simplicity, so alone in that vase.

  The next thing she knew, she put her head into her hands and wept. That carnation, she realized, is me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  For the rest of that week, Jake was hardly around the farm when she was there. She found herself both relieved and disappointed. He was always there to greet her in the morning, sometimes with two nice cups of black coffee in his hand. But, after sharing a short moment or two together, he’d excuse himself and leave. She never mentioned the flower to him but always, when she arrived, it was there. The water had been changed and it had not wilted. A reminder, she thought.

  The fluttering in her chest became less frequent or, she wondered, maybe she was just getting used to it. To be truthful, she began to like the routine. He often left the farm after finishing his outdoor chores with the horses and animals. She began to realize that he was giving her much needed space. If he had crowded her, she might have wilted like a carnation will do if crowded with too many other flowers.

  On both Wednesday and Friday, she walked home through the fields. She didn’t mind. The sun was warm on her face and she loved the feeling of the dirt under her feet. Often, she’d take her shoes off so that she could walk barefoot through the fields. She noticed that her tracks had cut a small and narrow track through the plowed lines. She was always careful not to step on anything that was growing.

  The next Sunday was another singing, this one a little further away. Sylvia was reluctant to go but, after some prodding from her br
other, she consented. This time, she waited until she knew no one was watching and she slipped out of the barn door. She didn’t want to risk someone asking her to ride home in his buggy. She wondered if he would be there. Perhaps he had forgotten. But, despite her trepidation, he emerged from the shadows and greeted her with a warm “Good evening. May I escort you home, dear Sylvia?”

  The following week, Steve began to walk along with her to Jake’s farm as he was eager to get started with the plowing of the two acres that would be designated for corn. Again, Sylvia didn’t see Jake at all, except for when she brought out a fresh pitcher of tea at ten o’clock and a basket full of dinner at noon. He was dirty and sweaty, his brow getting a typical Amish farmer’s tan line from where the hat had rested on his head. She tried not to smile when he took off the straw hat that he had bought in town and wiped the sweat from his face. He noticed her stifling an innocent laugh, trying to mask her pleasure and he knew exactly why. With an exaggerated effort, he fanned himself with the hat and then, ever so delicately slid it back onto his head with a carefully discreet wink in her direction.

  But always, no matter what happened or who was there, she saw a fresh white carnation on the dresser. It welcomed her to his room and to his life. It symbolized his growing feelings for her as well as Sylvia’s feelings for what was happening in her life.

  She began to feel more comfortable, recognizing his efforts to conform as best as he could. He developed an honest friendship with Steve. They worked well together, laughing as Steve taught him how to break the field using mules and a special mule-pulled plow. That first day, Jake had borrowed Jonas’ mules but, when she returned on Wednesday, she was surprised to find that he had his own pair of mules in an extension of the barn, munching on their morning hay when she arrived.

  Sylvia didn’t interrupt to ask about them and she tried to hide her smile when he stood between the two giant mules, one hand on each, talking gently into their rabbit-like ears. He didn’t know she was behind him and she couldn’t hear what he said. But the moment was tender and she backed away quietly, not wanting to break the spell.

  At her own home, the talk at the dinner table was often focused on Jake’s latest exploits in the field. Sylvia would listen to Steve tell grandiose stories about Jake’s inexperience as a farmer. Jonas, Daniel and the two younger boys would laugh, good-naturedly but Katie often kept her eyes on Sylvia as though monitoring her daughter’s reaction to any mention of their Englischer neighbor.

  Too aware of her mother’s keen watch, Sylvia never contributed to the discussion but sat quietly, poking at her food. While Sylvia’s silence was not unusual for she had always been rather quiet, her determination to not laugh at the stories clearly concerned her mother. It disturbed Katie enough that, one Wednesday evening about midway through May, she raised the subject under the guise of the upcoming crops.

  “Seems like it might be time for Sylvia to stay home, Jonas. With our own crops needing tending to and all,” Katie put forth. Daniel and Steve frowned and looked at their mother. It wasn’t like their mamm to voice an opinion like that at the table. Most of those discussions were kept for behind closed doors.

  Jonas tugged at his beard and pursed his lips. “Well now, you must have some reason to think she should stay home, Katie.”

  Katie sat primly at the table, her hands folded on her lap. “Can use all the hands that we can get. And with Steve working that corn at Mr. Edwards, there’s an awful lot of work here for just you, Daniel, and the younger boys, t’is all.” She looked up at her husband. “And I could sure use an extra pair of hands, too. Not begrudging Mr. Edwards the help of our dear Sylvia but he’s hired two of our five remaining children. We need the help here, ja? Especially with Samuel still in school.”

  “Reckon you do have a point there,” he said, still pulling at his beard. “Suppose I could have a talk with Edwards to see if he could make do without Sylvia during plowing and planting season. Would make it go faster for us.”

  Silence. Sylvia kept her eyes down but she felt her heart racing. It would be all right, she told herself. Everything would be all right. But her mother was not quite finished. “And seems like Shana will be needing an extra pair of hands soon. Sylvia’s always been quite helpful with the young’ns.” At that, the decision was made. Sylvia knew that her days helping Jake were over. Her father would not argue with Katie on that point. And Sylvia would be sent away for at least two months to help Shana, perhaps longer.

  For the first time in almost two months, Sylvia stayed home on that Friday and helped her mother around the house. For the next two weeks, she would help her father prepare the fields for planting corn. After that, Sylvia knew there would be a long couple of days cutting, binding, and gathering the wheat shocks. She never heard about the exchange between her father and Jake. She only knew that it had taken place. Nothing further was said; there was no need for a discussion.

  It was a long Saturday and even longer Sunday, sitting through a three-hour church meeting, two hour long fellowship, and helping with the evening milking. She didn’t know if Jake knew where to find the singing that night. There was no way to get a message to him. By eight o’clock, she was fidgeting and anxious for Daniel to hitch up his buggy to take her to the Sunday night singing, despite his own reluctance to go.

  Even at the singing, she was quiet, glancing around, forgetting the words to the songs. Leah noticed and asked if everything was all right. Sylvia shrugged and tried to smile but she was waiting for a moment to break free and leave the gathering. It was hard to do, however. There was an extra large group of Amish youths at this particular singing, probably because it was the last lull before different crops began to need harvesting and new crops needed planting. Many of the young men would be busy or helping out family members. They might be too far away to attend the local singings for a while.

  “Heard you going to your brother’s after the harvest,” Millie said between songs.

  “Who told you that?” she asked, surprised that anyone knew.

  “Oh, someone,” she replied casually. But her eyes gave her away when she glanced over at a group of young men standing nearby, one of whom was Sylvia’s brother, Daniel. Sylvia wasn’t necessarily surprised. She suspected that Daniel had fancied Millie just a little but, like Sylvia’s other brothers, seemed determine to select a girl later in life. The Lapp boys were shyer than most Amish young men. Steve was the only one that had courted more than one girl for an extended period of time. Sylvia was certain that if Millie was riding home with Daniel after the singings, he, too, beginning to think about the future.

  It dawned on Sylvia that, without Steve and without Daniel, there would only be three children left at the house. The thought sent a chill down her spine. While she now suspected that her mother was aware of the brewing situation with Jake Edwards, Sylvia also understood the intensity. When Sylvia married, her parents and the two younger boys would soon move into the grossdaadihaus and Jonas Jr. and Lillian would move their growing family into the larger section of the house.

  For her parents, Sylvia realized, it would be the bittersweet beginning of a new stage in their life. And who would help Daed then? Certainly he couldn’t plow and harvest so many acres of wheat and corn with just David and Samuel. And who would help with the daily milking? Jonas Jr. was busy with his own business, the carpentry shop at the back of the property. Sylvia had never considered this before and the thought troubled her.

  “You look far away,” Leah whispered. “Where are you?”

  Millie nudged her. “Ja, where are you?”

  Brought back to the moment by her friends, Sylvia tried to smile. “Just thinking,” she replied.

  “Thinking about whoever you been riding home with after the singings?” Millie teased. Sylvia blushed and looked away. “We can’t figure out who it is,” she whispered. “But you sure do disappear awful early. Left Adam Knoeffer terribly ferhoodled when he was looking for you.”

  “Millie! Now you leave
her be,” Leah scolded gently. “Sylvia, never you mind her. She’s just frightfully fit that she doesn’t know who it is but it’s none of her business.”

  It concerned Sylvia that her two dear friends were talking about her and her private business. But she didn’t say anything. It wasn’t her style to confront others so she turned the other cheek and tried to participate more in the singings, giving more appearance to having fun than she actually felt. However, Millie’s comment about Adam Knoeffer certainly had her on edge and she made certain to avoid him, not wanting to have to let him down should he ask to give her a ride. Of course, she didn’t know if Jake was coming or not but she sure knew she didn’t want to accept a ride with any of the young Amish men at the singing.

  It was only nine o’clock when she excused herself to visit the house bathroom. She had figured that she’d start making her escape around ten, the normal time that she had been sneaking out of the barn, her disappearance apparently not as unnoticed as she had hoped. But on her way back from the farmhouse, she saw him, leaning against the far corner of the barn. He didn’t call for her and she didn’t wave or acknowledge his presence. Instead, she quickened her pace and hurried into the shadows where he had been waiting. He said nothing, just reached for her hand and held it gently in his as they began to walk into the darkness and away from the singing that seemed to bid them farewell.