by Merry Farmer
Willow’s shoulders dropped and she blinked wide. “Really? Just like that?”
The surprise in her voice prompted Amos to step forward and draw her into her arms to reassure her. “Yes.” He sighed. It felt like giving something up to allow the people from his past to gain even a toehold in his life again, but if it meant Willow, his wife, was happy, then it was his duty to let go. “Just because I have my troubles doesn’t mean they need to become yours too.”
She surprised him by saying, “Oh, but they do.”
A smile tickled the corners of his mouth. “Do they?”
“Yes.” She looked up at him, face set in determination. “I didn’t become your wife just so that I could cook and clean for you. I want to be your helpmeet in every way. That means sharing your troubles too. It seems to me that you need someone to share those troubles. Why, Beth says—”
She snapped her lips shut and stared at the buttons on his shirt instead of into his eyes.
Amos sighed. Part of him wanted to push her away for talking to Beth about him. Instead, he forced himself to do what he knew was right in his heart and held her closer. Still, part of his heart grumbled in protest.
“Just be careful about what you share with friends,” he said. “I don’t mind if you share in my troubles, but turning our house inside out, as it were, could lead to more troubles.”
“I’m sorry,” she rushed to say. “I won’t talk about you with Beth any more than I have to going forward.”
For some reason, that haphazard comment made him smile. Yes, it would take some adjusting, but he still thought Willow was charming, and he was glad they were together. He proved it by holding her closer and planting another kiss on her lips. This kiss was filled with relief and closeness. It was his promise to be patient with her, and her promise to respect and honor him. It was a kiss that filled him with warmth.
“There’s one other thing,” Willow said, slightly breathless, when the kiss was over.
A hitch formed in Amos’s chest…with good reason.
“Beth has invited us over to supper on Wednesday night,” she went on.
“Oh?” he arched an eyebrow. The stubborn part of him was already chanting “No, no, no.”
Willow nodded, so full of hope and excitement that Amos knew he would be dragged into whatever she wanted, whether it spelled disaster or not. “Beth said that she has a few new recipes that she’d like to show me, and it would be a real challenge for me to help her cook for more than just you. I’d really like to go,” she rushed on. “It would be the neighborly thing to do, after all.”
Amos winced. He wanted to groan and grumble out loud. Fifteen years ago he’d vowed that he would never set foot in another Amish household as long as he lived. If they didn’t accept his family, they didn’t deserve his fellowship. But that was a selfish decision, made just for him. He had Willow to think about now. Marriage wasn’t the place for anyone with selfishness in their hearts.
“All right,” he murmured, knowing he sounded more sullen than he should. “You can say yes to the invitation. This time.”
Willow squealed, jumping up and down in his arms. “This is wonderful. I can’t wait to tell her. She’s told me so much about her house. I can’t wait to see it.”
The rest of the way up the path toward home, Willow went on and on about how much she was looking forward to one simple supper. Amos couldn’t help but think about how much potential for disaster something so simple held.
Chapter Five
Dear Gillian, Emma, and Rose,
I’m so excited that you could hardly imagine. Amos and I are invited to supper at our neighbor’s, the Lapp’s, house tonight. I’m so hopeful that this could be the beginning of Amos repairing the breach in his friendship with these people from so long ago. Now, all I need to do is make sure that I keep my wits about me, pay close attention to what I’m doing, and be careful. If I do all of that, what could possibly go wrong?
As the sun sank toward the horizon on Wednesday evening and Amos and Willow walked up the lane toward the Lapp house, Amos knew he’d made a horrible mistake. He never should have told Willow to accept this invitation. At least half a dozen buggies were parked in Mark and Beth’s yard, and the whole house was alight with chatter and laughter.
“I thought it would just be our two families,” Willow said as they climbed the stairs to the front porch.
“Apparently not,” Amos replied, jaw tight.
Her hand was tense in his. “I promise you, Amos, if I had known that there would be other people here, I never would have suggested we come. I…I know you value your privacy.” She huffed a small sigh. “I’ve ruined things again.”
What could he do but smile to reassure her? “It’s all right. I’ll make it through.”
Five seconds later, he wasn’t so sure.
The front door of Mark and Beth’s house burst open, as if they’d been waiting and watching.
“Willow, Mark. Please come in,” Beth greeted them. She was dressed in a rich, raspberry-hued dress and wore a plain apron and her prayer kapp, like the proper Amish woman she was. “It’s so good of you to come.”
The surly greeting itching at the back of Amos’s mind dissolved when Willow answered, “I’m so excited to be here. This is my first visit to anyone as a married woman.” She hopped over the threshold into the house, smiling at the baby in Beth’s arms and tickling his cheek.
Beth responded by handing the baby over. As Willow settled him in her arms, an unfamiliar tug pulled at Amos’s heart. Willow looked so natural holding a baby.
“Mrs. Stoltzfus, Mrs. Stoltzfus!” Sarah Lapp dashed down the hall, throwing herself against Willow’s leg and hugging it. Another one of Amos’s heartstrings twanged. Willow had made more than just one friend, it seemed.
“Hello, Sarah.” Willow hugged the girl with one arm, bending as best she could to kiss her forehead with a baby in her arms. Sarah beamed up at her in adoration.
The happy thought that came with such a vision was doused as Amos turned to find another face from his past.
“Amos, I’m surprised to see you here.”
Carl Yoder stepped forward from a group of curious, bearded Amish men and extended his hand. The men behind him kept their true feelings on seeing him masked, but Carl smiled.
“Come help with supper,” Beth said to Willow on Amos’s other side. “That way I can introduce you to more of our neighbors.”
Willow glanced to Amos expectantly. There was nothing he could do. He was surrounded and outnumbered. He owed it to his new wife to at least be civil.
He nodded, and Willow burst into a smile, then headed toward the kitchen with Beth. A curious pack of women in their bright but plain dresses waited to greet her. Only when Amos was certain Willow was in good hands did he turn back to Carl.
Carl had lowered his hand, but he extended it once more when he saw he had Amos’s attention. “It’s been too long.”
A large part of Amos would have been happy to cross his arms, lift his chin, and stare down his nose at Carl. That part wanted to demand answers, to ask why Carl was so keen to see him now when for the last fifteen years he had done so little to counteract the unfairness that had pushed the entire Stoltzfus family away.
He thought of Willow, thought of what a good husband should be, and took Carl’s hand. “Carl,” he nodded.
The tension that had filled the air lessened. Carl’s handshake was firm, and as soon as he let go, another long-lost neighbor stepped in to shake Amos’s hand.
“I never thought I’d see the day,” that man, Jonah Fisher, greeted him.
“Neither did I,” Amos muttered, hoping the others didn’t hear him.
Jonah let go, but none of the other men reached to welcome him, though a few nodded. A few others betrayed no expression at all, among them, Saul Byler. Amos met Saul’s narrowed eyes and nodded, letting the man know he’d marked he was there. Then Amos promptly ignored him.
“Leave it to our wives to
coax long-lost friends out of hiding,” Mark said, striding in from the other room to join the group. He clapped a hand on Amos’s shoulders like he used to when they were boys.
As soon as Amos’s shoulders went rock-hard under the gesture, Mark dropped his hand and leaned away.
“Wives?” Carl blinked to Amos. “Is that who that pretty young woman with you is?”
Amos nodded. “Yes. Willow is my wife.”
“I didn’t know you’d gotten married,” Jonah said, grinning like a fox. “I wish you’d said something. I’m sure Beverly and I could have hosted a pot-luck to celebrate.”
“No thank you,” Amos replied.
It was a battle to keep from being outright bullish. He didn’t want to be here, seeped in memories with these men. He remembered each of their faces the way they’d looked when they were children together. Memories of Carl dipping Rachel King’s braids in the inkwell at school, of Jonah and his brother Gregory swinging from the branches of the apple trees in their orchard, of him and Mark and Joseph Yoder racing across the schoolyard during a play day, assailed him. His childhood had been a good one, a happy one.
It had been taken from him by selfishness and cruelty.
“So, Carl,” Mark began, clearing his throat. “I’ve been meaning to ask you how that new draft horse of yours is working out. She looks like a beauty, but how does she handle?”
“Like a dream,” Carl replied.
The men fell into easy conversation about work around the farm. Carl’s new horse had been purchased from an Englisch breeder in Intercourse, and since the man had offered a fair price, a few of the other men were interested in doing business with him. Slowly the conversation expanded and moved into the main room of the house, taking Amos with it.
In spite of that, Amos kept quiet, his hands in his pockets. The easy familiarity of the topic, the habit of tugging his ear that Jonah hadn’t managed to shake, the way Carl rocked as he talked, and even the way Saul Byler sniffed at anything he disagreed with—which was almost everything—all of it reminded Amos of what he’d lost more than what he was ostensibly a part of now. He refused to admit to himself that, more than anything, he wanted to let go and join in the talk.
But no, he wasn’t one of them now. His brown trousers, checked shirt, and smooth face screamed that fact louder than any insult hurled at him in Pennsylvania Dutch. He wasn’t part of the community.
Amos’s attention drifted when the conversation turned to the distributor that several of the men sold their crops to. He glanced to the side, peeking into what he could see of the kitchen. Though the words were indistinct, the female chatter sounded happy and free. That at least set his soul at ease. When Willow walked from the kitchen with a steaming bowl of vegetables and set it on the table in the dining room, she caught him watching. Her smile made him smile, which only made her smile more.
That momentary feeling that he might get through the night in one piece dropped when he noticed Mark trying to hide a satisfied grin. Amos schooled his expression to a frown, wiping the please look off of Mark’s face.
When Amos peeked at Willow once more, she seemed more concerned than contented. She checked over her shoulder at the kitchen, then skirted around the table toward him.
“Excuse me.” Amos nodded to the group of men, and broke away to meet Willow.
“How are you managing?” she whispered when they met in the hall between the main room and the dining room.
“Fine,” he answered, surprised that it was the truth.
“They seem so happy to have you here.” She lowered her voice further, hope flashing in her eyes.
Amos clenched his jaw, unsure what to say. “They’re surprised is all.”
She shook her head, resting a hand on his arm. “I’m sure it’s more than that.”
“And how are you holding up in the kitchen?” He changed the subject.
Willow lifted one eyebrow. “I’m trying to stay out of the way, to watch and learn.”
That brought another smile to his lips. He contemplated stealing a kiss before sending her back to the other women, but was too late. Willow squeezed his arm, then skipped away through the dining room and out of sight.
There wasn’t much more Amos could do besides rejoin the men.
“Of course, more could be said on the subject if we didn’t have outsiders here.” Saul Byler raised his voice as he finished whatever he had just said to the other men.
The circle of friends tensed, all of them looking to Amos. Amos swallowed, standing as tall as he could. Half a dozen sharp replies waited on the other side of his lips, but he would not let a single one of them come out. There was another reason he hadn’t sought to stay friendly with the men he’d grown up with and considered himself in fellowship with all these years. Some of them, like Saul, didn’t deserve his time.
“Now isn’t the time to discuss that,” Mark came to Amos’s rescue. “We’re here for food and conversation, that’s all.”
Amos wasn’t sure if he liked his one-time friend coming to his aid. It was too little, too late.
Saul sniffed. “I seem to recall that it isn’t right to sit down to eat with a man who is under the ban.”
Amos clenched his fists, but before he could say anything, Carl said, “Amos isn’t under the ban. He never joined the church.”
“It’s a matter of his own conscience,” Jonah seconded.
“In this case, it feels like a fine line to me,” Saul said. “It seems—”
He was cut off by a sharp scream and a crash from the kitchen, followed by, “You clumsy cow!”
Willow backpedaled away from the splattered dish of creamed potatoes that now decorated the floor of Beth’s kitchen. She shook out her hand—which throbbed with the burn she’d gotten when Laura Byler handed the hot dish to her.
“I spent more than an hour preparing those potatoes,” Laura snapped at her. “They were meant for the table, not the floor, you stupid Englischer.”
The other women in the room gasped, eyes darting from one to another, and especially to Willow and Laura. All Willow could think about was how the shock of being burned was nothing to the flash of guilt that fire and her clumsiness raised in her. Laura had handed her the dish well enough, but Willow had let the corner of the thick cloth insulating the dish stray too close to the stovetop, and had panicked when it caught flame.
“Mamm, Mrs. Stoltzfus is hurt,” Sarah cried in distressed from the far end of the kitchen where the children were playing.
“Here. Let’s run your hand under cold water.” Beth stepped over the mess of potatoes on the floor, took Willow’s hand, and led her to the sink. “I have some salve we can put on it too.”
“Is that all you have to say?” Laura growled. “What about this mess? Who’s going to clean it up?”
The sound of several male footsteps coming across the dining room accompanied Beth’s command of, “Since you seem to be the most concerned about it, why don’t you start cleaning?”
“What happened?” Mark asked, stopping in the doorway to the kitchen.
“That oaf of an Englischer ruined my potatoes,” Laura complained. “What right does someone like her have to be here anyhow?”
“Don’t you be mean to my friend.” Little Sarah stepped forward, fists on her hips.
“Sarah, don’t talk back to your elders,” Beth scolded the girl, but Willow caught a flash of approval in her eyes. “And Laura, I’ll thank you to remember that Willow and Amos are our guests.”
“Guests?” Laura snapped. “They shouldn’t even be in this house. Amos Stoltzfus isn’t fit to be around decent people. And as for his wife?” She snorted.
Again, the women watching the scene gasped and stepped back. Some retreated to their husbands’ sides, whispering. Others rushed to escort the children out of the room through the opposite entrance.
“She’s right,” Saul defended his wife. “Why should we be forced to sit down at a table with a man who refuses to sit down at God’s table
?”
With Beth tending to her hand under the cool water of the kitchen pump, Willow could only call over her shoulder to say, “Amos is a good, wonderful man. He is kindness itself.”
“And you’re clumsiness itself,” Laura bit back.
Saul snorted with vicious laughter.
“Excuse me,” Amos’s booming voice rode over the unpleasant sound. He wedged his way past Mark in the kitchen’s doorway, his frown dark enough to terrify a lesser soul. With one large stride, he stepped over the mess on the floor—which one of the sweeter, quieter women Willow had just been introduced to had started cleaning up, her head bowed—and marched straight to Beth and Willow at the sink. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“It’s only a mild burn,” Willow said. The far more miserable pain was that of embarrassment for causing a scene.
Amos glanced to Beth. “A little bit of comfrey salve would do her some good.”
He nodded, then scooped his hand under Willow’s elbow. “I’m taking my wife home. Thank you for the invitation. We’re sorry that our company is so undesirable.”
“It’s not that at all.” Mark tried to come after them as Amos helped Willow toward the kitchen door. He wasn’t able to make it around the woman cleaning up the floor in time.
Amos barged through the kitchen door, escorting Willow down the stairs and out into the twilight-shadowed yard.
“I never should have come here,” he muttered as he walked—too fast for Willow to keep up without jogging. “They don’t want me around any more now than they did fifteen years ago.”
“It’s all my fault,” Willow groaned, near tears. “If I hadn’t been so clumsy….”
“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”
They hurried down the front lane toward the road. The lights of the Lapp’s house grew dim behind them.
“But it was,” Willow insisted, heart sick. “I cause such trouble without even trying. My whole life it’s been like that—upsetting boxes of buttons at the store, dropping rolls of fabric at the factory, jamming my sewing machine when we’re in a rush, leaving scrap fabric too close to the lantern and causing the fire.”