Since Preaching was being held in the barn, why not simply keep the parrot and its large cage in the kitchen? Especially with the other animals out of the way. Joshua opened the cage and let the bird fly free. Then he held out his hand, waiting for the bird to land. After a time, the fickle parrot landed on him, and Joshua took ample time to pet and talk to Malachi, being careful what he said, because this bird was mighty smart. Almost too smart, having picked up words and phrases Joshua had never intentionally taught it.
Joshua returned Malachi to the cage while the women got rid of cobwebs before sweeping and washing walls and polishing everything in sight.
He envisioned the crowd of people coming to worship at his farm—he hadn’t hosted church on his own since Suzanne’s passing a little over a year ago. The People typically rotated homes for Preaching service every nine to ten months, but the ministerial brethren had taken pity on him and given him a reprieve. Best of all, more than a handful of the womenfolk had quickly volunteered to assist with the shared meal, including Ida Fisher.
Soon the kitchen was tidy and gleaming, and Joshua was thankful—and pleased. How long had it been since this room had gotten the once-over?
It would never do for Maryanna Esh to have seen it dirty!
———
After the women left, and Joshua had polished his black shoes for Preaching service, he washed his hands and made a ham and cheese sandwich for supper, then took it outdoors to eat without even a paper plate.
Tired but pleased, he sat on the willow chair on the back porch with Buster nearby, marveling at all he’d accomplished that day. “With help from gut friends and family,” he muttered. They’d moved things around outdoors, whacked weeds, and even repaired some horse fence. But not everything had been taken care of, because his lawn hadn’t been edged of late and his old swing still needed painting . . . something he’d planned to do himself but hadn’t gotten around to.
Joshua was in over his head, trying to host a worship service. He even started to wonder if he’d made the right choice in moving the cat and rabbit upstairs, because just now he heard Honey Lou scratching at the window screen above him. But, no, if he could manage through till the People left for home after the common meal, things could return to normal here. “S’pose I should see what I can do ’bout getting the widows to agree to take a spin in my carriage.” He chuckled. “One widow at a time, of course!”
Finished with his sandwich, he rose from his chair and hurried down the porch steps and around the side of the house to marvel at the Esh children’s quick work. The flower bed had been thoroughly weeded, the way it had always looked when Suzanne was alive. He felt giddy at the thought of Maryanna’s prompting the girls to surprise him.
“Can it be that Maryanna does care for me?”
His gaze wandered over to the east, to the familiar exterior of the Esh farmhouse. Seeing the glow of the gaslight in the Dawdi Haus, he assumed Maryanna’s parents were already having their family worship, reading the Good Book together.
Oh, but he yearned for a wife and family to have worship with each morning and night, just as he and his brothers had enjoyed as children. As lonesome as Joshua felt at times, he’d even thought of moving his father in with him, but the truth was Daed was comfortable staying with Joshua’s oldest brother, Ned, and his wife, Sadie.
Joshua looked forward to welcoming his own extended family tomorrow. They would arrive very early. Other church members would come around eight-thirty, since the worship service began at nine. He needed to pray for divine help in what to say especially to reluctant Maryanna Esh, because he was fairly sure Ida Fisher would be agreeable to the invitation he’d planned.
But the notion of putting his hand and heart out there, especially to Maryanna, made Joshua so nervous he went right upstairs, sat down on the only chair in the spare room, and let Honey Lou purr in his lap for a good half hour. “I’m sorely out of practice,” he muttered to the cat.
I’ll ask Ida first, he thought, because if he asked Maryanna and she said no, he’d be so ferhoodled he wouldn’t have the courage to ask even Ida. And if Ida said yes, he’d be emboldened to ask Maryanna next.
Joshua sighed and thought that it wasn’t so much a matter of getting one of them to go out riding. “But rather, will I make a fool of myself?”
Jodi made a raw vegetable and tofu salad for supper, watching the small TV in the kitchen as she worked. Gigi paraded past, meowing loudly. “Aw . . . did you miss me?” Jodi bent down and rubbed the cat behind the ears, smiling as Gigi leaned into her hand, purring for more.
Later, while eating, Jodi checked her email and text messages, reliving the day in Hickory Hollow. Before she left the Esh farm, Maryanna had reminded her that at dusk a group of Amish and Mennonite young people planned to meet and practice for the Bird-in-Hand Half Marathon. “Feel free to join in,” Maryanna had encouraged her. “Anyone’s welcome.”
Jodi couldn’t imagine running in a long skirt, if that’s what it took. So she went online to research the actual September event, wanting to see if there was a website. Sure enough, there was an informative web page, complete with a video telling about the upcoming event. On the video clip, she noticed some English women wearing running shorts and modern-style tops and decided she might actually fit in. Not for the marathon—she would be long gone by then—but it would be fun to run on the back roads with a group. There was some intangible good in running with others.
Jodi waited for the sun to slip down toward the horizon before driving to Bird-in-Hand, where she parked her car along the road near the designated farmhouse on South Harvest Road. There she found twenty or more young people already gathering, mostly Amish. There were also a handful of non-Amish runners, two of them women her age wearing shorts and trendy running shoes. The few Amish girls wore their long dresses with matching aprons, but with socks and running shoes. The young Amishmen sported similar footwear, and wore long black pants and short-sleeved shirts.
One of the girls mentioned a hot air balloon launch and other festivities surrounding the run at seven-thirty on the morning of September eighth. Jodi wondered if it might make sense to scrap her plans to run the Boston half marathon in October and run in Bird-in-Hand instead. But all of that would depend on where she landed her next teaching job. If I do, she thought. Her time earlier today with Maryanna’s and Mollie’s children had been such an encouragement. Their excitement had infiltrated her teacher heart, and she could hardly wait to see them again. Unfortunately, there had been no further specific request for her to return again, although Maryanna followed her out to the car and offered an open-ended invitation to visit “any time while you’re in the area.”
When Jodi considered it, two days in a row might be all Maryanna and Mollie cared to be involved with an English woman, as they referred to her. Besides, tomorrow was their church service, and Jodi had things to do. Top priority is finding a job!
Warming up now with the other girls—Amish and English alike—Jodi thought of texting Trent to let him know what she was up to. Would he be amused at this diverse group of runners?
But, no, maybe it was best to have some silence and space between them. Jodi wanted to embrace every aspect of this twilight run, and the thought of Trent’s hope for a family made her depressed if she dwelled on it. She longed to preserve their beautiful love, their life as a couple. It took a whole lot of faith in the future, and in God, to bring a child into the world . . . and it was faith she just didn’t have.
Chapter 26
Joshua rewarded his work with a lukewarm shower, then sat on the back porch again, enjoying the slight drop in temperature with Buster’s nose resting on his knee. He had been tempted to watch the courting carriages rumble by from the front porch. Those young folk from other church districts had a no-Preaching Sunday tomorrow and could sleep in some, unless of course they had cows to milk.
Near the white barn, a red-tailed hawk seized what must’ve been a mouse or other small rodent and flew off w
ith it, squealing. Soon, lightning bugs dotted the yard and meadowland beyond, and he recalled sitting there with Suzanne as they discussed names for their coming child, Suzanne talking also of all the many things she’d sewn.
She was living for that baby—our firstborn.
Joshua still shuddered at such thoughts. He recalled discovering little Sarah Esh’s discarded dress in the ditch with his father. Truth be told, Joshua’s own heart had dropped to his feet at the sight, and he’d feared the People would be grieving another one of their own. But thank the dear Lord, Maryanna’s little one was safely home.
He sighed, embracing the pending nightfall and longing for his wife.
Safely home. If there ever was a young woman who loved her heavenly Father, it was his young bride. On the worst days of his sorrow, Joshua drew comfort in knowing that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.
Getting up, he headed into the house. He wandered through the kitchen and gave it an additional inspection. Another Sunday without her. He walked toward the steps, despising the long nights and eager for tomorrow’s dawn.
Yet was he truly ready for the Lord’s Day?
Maryanna prodded Sarah to finish up her bath and get dressed for bed. Benny, Leda, and Tobias had sailed through their Saturday-night preparations without a speck of prompting, including lining up the for-gut shoes on the back porch, polished for church tomorrow. But as was typical, her youngest poked along.
“Mamma, will Jodi come see us again?” Sarah asked.
“Maybe.” Maryanna had guessed this might come up.
“I wish she lived round here.”
Maryanna finished drying her off and held up her soft, pink nightgown. “We must wrap up your hair in a towel and then get the snarls brushed through before you put your head on the pillow.”
“Can we sit outside?”
Always pressing for more time . . .
“We need to get to bed early so we’re up and ready for Preaching in the mornin’,” she reminded.
“We don’t have to hitch up Dandy to the buggy, jah?”
“No, that’s right.”
“Can we just cut through the meadow?”
Maryanna could see where this was going. “You don’t want to go to bed too early, I s’pose?”
Sarah grinned and wrapped the towel around herself. “This is how Jodi let me sit and eat a banana at her cousin’s house.”
Maryanna was tired and anxious for bed, but she was patient, waiting to hear what was on her youngest’s mind.
Sarah began to giggle. “There was the cutest cat there, too, Mamma.”
All the talk of Jodi. Sarah rarely ceased talking about her angel. She’d also made it clear she wanted to keep the fancy little outfit she’d worn home. Sarah had hung it on a peg, and when Maryanna tried to remove it to wash and return it to Jodi, Sarah cried like her heart was crushed. Sarah had even named the cloth doll Maryanna had finished just today Engel.
“We’ll sit on the back porch for a while to read the Bible while your hair dries,” Maryanna said, hoping the quiet time might be an opportunity to redirect her youngest toward the ways of the Lord.
“Does Jodi read the Good Book?”
Maryanna wasn’t about to divulge any confidences. She did not think it wise to reveal that Sarah’s “angel” was out of sorts with the Almighty.
Helping her daughter dress, Maryanna scooted her out to the porch, where the air was still warm. One of their horses neighed suddenly. It crossed her mind that Joshua might’ve noticed the difference in his one and only flower bed by now, and she hoped he hadn’t put together who’d gone over there . . . unless he’d seen Leda and the girls, maybe. The latter made her fret—the last thing she wanted was Joshua Peachey coming over here to thank her for what had been solely the children’s idea.
“Let’s read now, Mamma.” Sarah patted her arm as they sat together on the wooden settee.
“All right.” She turned to Psalm Ninety-four, verse fifteen, and paraphrased for her little daughter, “ ‘Right must remain right, and to this all the upright in heaven will submit.’ ”
Sarah sat still for a change and listened.
“I want you to remember this,” Maryanna told her little girl. “Dressing Plain as we do and leading a simple, quiet life is important. Do you understand?”
Sarah’s eyes were fixed on the pastureland, and she nodded absently.
“It’s important never to take the first step away from the People.”
Sarah turned to look at her now, eyes wide.
None of her other children had ever needed this kind of talk as little ones. “If you don’t take the first step toward the English world, you’ll never take the second or the next, taking you far away and out of sight.”
Maryanna hoped this would suffice. She suggested they pray before going to bed, and Sarah willingly folded her hands. They sat there in silence, heads bowed. Maryanna thought of leading out in prayer as some of her Mennonite neighbors often did, because she had no idea what her darling girl was thinking or praying just now. As for herself, she pleaded with the Lord God heavenly Father to keep all her children safely in the fold of faith. She recommitted her heart to passing on the Old Ways and God’s will to her children, like a relay runner holding out a baton to the one coming behind—something she’d recently read in her daily devotional book.
The thought of her four-year-old already having such strong leanings put not only the fear of the Lord in her, but caused Maryanna to again ponder her own parents’ pleas that she remarry. How do they expect me to go about getting a date, though?
Could it be that they’d already set things in motion, perhaps? She recoiled at the thought of her father talking to any of the area’s few widowers. Especially Turkey Dan—at age forty-five, more than ten years her senior. Mamm had gone so far as to make a point a couple months ago about how happy Mary Stoltzfus Beiler always looked, married to the bishop and all. “There’s twenty years difference ’tween them, ya know.”
Her father hadn’t minced words, either, declaring nothing wrong with that. And now yesterday, they’d made it clear they were done hinting around. They were certainly moving her marital status to the front burner! Even so, Maryanna was somewhat relieved to think they didn’t have Joshua Peachey in mind. She could not imagine her own house overrun with critters, including an obnoxious parrot!
Besides, wasn’t it a good idea to actually care for a man—not just marry for convenience?
Chapter 27
Jodi noticed the cars parked along the narrow road and in the lane leading to the farmhouse that evening. It surprised her so many others besides Amish had come here to run. She’d read online that whoever hosted the run was also responsible for planning the routes, either a ten-mile course or a four-and-a-half-mile route, as well as refreshments.
The friendly group of mostly Amish and Mennonite men and women runners, the Vella Shpringa, met frequently at different farms. An even larger group ran the night of each full moon. Jodi found it fascinating, thrilled for the company.
While doing a few stretches, she discovered she was next to Barbara Yoder, Mollie’s sister-in-law. “I met Mollie at Maryanna Esh’s,” she said, shaking the younger woman’s hand.
Barbara tilted her head, eyes fixed on her all of a sudden. “Then you must be the one who rescued little Sarah?”
Jodi smiled. “I’m just glad she was okay when I found her.”
Barbara looked at her with rapt attention. “Nothing but the hand of God, you findin’ Sarah like that.”
“More like an angel of God,” the woman next to Barbara spoke up. “By the way, I’m Rosaleen Yoder, Barbara’s cousin.”
Turning the conversation away from herself, Jodi mentioned how calm the evening was, perfect for a nice long jog. Both Barbara and Rosaleen had been running with this group for more than a year, they said. “It’s loads of fun,” Rosaleen said. “So glad you joined us.”
The group set out into the darkening nigh
t, the women running behind the men. Jodi’s companions were quiet for a while; then Barbara said, “I’m ever so anxious for autumn.”
“For the wedding season?” asked Rosaleen.
“Well, that and for a break from the hectic pace of gardening, canning, and weeding,” Barbara said. She ran between Jodi on her right and Rosaleen on her left.
“I feel the same way, believe me,” Rosaleen replied, laughing a little, somewhat out of breath.
Jodi loved how they broke into Deitsch or mixed it sometimes with English, sounding so carefree.
“Is it nosy to ask why you have to quit teaching when you’re engaged?” she asked.
“Well, it’s simply our tradition,” Rosaleen explained. “I’m expected to start preparing to make a home for my husband-to-be and our future family. There’s much to accomplish in a short time.”
“Makes sense.” There was a huge difference between the soon-to-be Amish bride and one in the modern world, where career women juggled work and wedding planning and shared the task of setting up a household. “But I’m sure the children will miss you as their teacher.”
“I’ll miss them, too.”
They ran a bit farther, then Rosaleen asked, “I heard ya quizzed the children on their arithmetic at Maryanna’s.”
“I did.” Jodi chuckled, surprised at the speed of the Amish grapevine.
“That sort of thing rarely happens during the summer,” Rosaleen said. “Maybe ya didn’t know.”
“Really? Why not?”
“Book learning’s reserved for the school year. The summer break is to be a carefree time for the scholars.”
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