“We’ve had news.” Dat took a folded envelope from beneath his napkin. “Your mamm’s sister has recently died.”
Ann’s gaze flew to Mamm. “What sister? You had a sister?”
Dat gave her a firm look and continued. “Her name was Priscilla, and we’ve only just received word.” He pulled papers from the envelope and laid them on the table. “She was killed recently in a car accident.”
“But Mamm, what sister? Was she our aunt then?” Ann’s blue eyes stretched wide.
“Ann, let me finish. There are children. Two. A boy, Jack, who is fourteen. And a girl, Sally, who is sixteen. We are going to fetch them this weekend.”
Hope’s mouth dropped open. “They’re coming here to live?”
Dat stood and leaned over the table. “Hope, they’ve lost their mamm. We must take them in. They’re kin.”
“That’s not what I meant, Dat. I just don’t understand. What about their own father? And how do we have cousins we know nothing about?” Hope’s mind was still spinning.
Mamm stood, looking so shaky, Hope half-expected her to collapse to the floor. “Tell them all, Benjamin.”
With halting steps, Mamm made her way to the stairs and began to climb, leaning heavily on the railing. She looked so sad, so lost, so not like their mother. Tears gathered in Hope’s throat, making it hard to breathe.
Dat sank back into his chair at the head of the table. “Priscilla made her decision long ago. She rejected our way of life and left.”
“She was placed on bann?” Mary asked.
If Priscilla was placed on bann and fled, everything would make more sense. In that case, no one would have been eager to speak of her.
Dat inhaled sharply. “She left and never returned. She never tried to communicate with any of the family. It was as if she no longer existed.”
“Why didn’t Mamm tell us about her?” Hope asked.
Dat stared up the empty staircase and then back at them. “It wasn’t easy on your mamm. She and Priscilla had been close until…”
Hope leaned across the table. “Until what?”
“There were problems. Your mamm didn’t know—she didn’t understand. For all their closeness, Priscilla never let on.” Dat’s eyes glazed over as if lost in the past.
“Let on to what?” Ann finally asked.
Dat flinched and focused back on his daughters.
“It was a courting issue. The details aren’t important. Priscilla left and never contacted anyone again. We didn’t know where she was. We didn’t know she had children. But now she’s gone, and the children have no one but us.”
“Where are they now?” Hope couldn’t imagine having no one left but strangers for family.
“We are hiring a van to take us to Indianapolis. From there, we will take a bus to Ohio. The children are in Ohio staying with a local pastor. They’re waiting for us.”
“When do you leave?” asked Mary.
“Tomorrow.”
The dining room became silent. Hope looked at her sisters. She observed them struggle to understand the news along with her. Ruth stood erect in the kitchen doorframe, watching all of them, her face a study of grief and guilt. Hope wondered why it should have such an effect on her. As Dat’s sister, had Ruth known Priscilla well? And had something happened between them, too?
Ruth shuddered and became all business again. “We’ll need to rearrange the bedrooms. Ann, you’ll move in with me. Hope and Mary, Sally will have to fit in with you. Jack will have Ann’s room.”
The three girls nodded. A numbness spread over Hope. How could her mother have never mentioned a sister? Bann or not, runaway or not, it didn’t seem possible.
But one thing she knew for sure: all their lives were about to change.
****
The next day was Tuesday. As usual, Hope found an excuse to go to the Feed & Supply store as Abram always stopped there on Tuesday mornings. She was eager to talk with him—eager to share the story of her unknown cousins.
But more than that, she was eager to know his plan. She speculated about whether he’d share it with her right there in the dusty parking lot. Chocolate nudged Hope’s shoulder, and she batted at the flies hovering around the mare’s ears.
“Need a little help, girl?” she laughed, stroking the horse’s nose.
The spices—her excuse this time for the trip in—lay neatly wrapped on the front seat of her buggy. She felt a bit silly waiting next to Chocolate. If the Troyers peered outside, they’d come out to ask if something was wrong. And what would she say? Ach, I’m only hoping to catch a glimpse of Abram today?
Just as she was despairing her trip was in vain, she saw the Lambright’s buggy and road horse, Sprint, trotting in her crooked way down the road. Abram made a fine picture, sitting tall, driving the old mare with such ease. She admired him until her cheeks flushed. When he drew near, she busied herself fussing with Chocolate’s harness.
“Hope!” Abram called. He jumped down and walked to where she stood.
“Hello, Abram.”
“How did it go last evening?” There was concern in his eyes.
“It was true. Mamm did have a sister. She left many years ago.” Hope’s voice was soft, and she proceeded to tell him all she knew. She watched his face register all she shared. Having his full attention was addictive, and when she finished, she wished she had more to say.
“So, you’ll have more in the household now.”
She nodded.
The sun went behind a thin gray cloud and a breeze stirred. A wagon pulled into the lot, and both Hope and Abram nodded to the Schrock family.
Abram looked off to a grassy area by the side of the store where a faded wooden bench rested under a sprawling maple tree. “Can you sit a spell?” he asked.
Her smile broadened. “Jah. Mamm won’t expect me home for a while.”
Abram returned to his buggy to pat Sprint’s nose and pull a handful of grain from a small bag under the buggy seat. Sprint snorted and slurped up the treat with her fleshy lips. Abram and Hope walked over to the bench, and Hope carefully sat a good distance from him, not wanting to appear too familiar in public.
“So I finally get to hear it? Your plan?” Her voice cracked with eagerness.
He grinned. “You finally get to hear it.”
He rubbed his hands down his thighs as if wiping away sweat. She waited.
“I’m buying the old Miller farm.”
Hope was incredulous. “What? The Millers are leaving?”
“Nee, not those Millers. The old Miller place. The farm east of the schoolhouse.”
And then she remembered. It was a fair piece of acreage, but the house was in bad shape, though the oversized barn had always looked solid.
“I know the place. You’re buying it?”
She couldn’t hide her surprise. Everyone in the community recognized that the last few years had been hard on the Lambright family. She knew every spare cent had gone to making ends meet. How could Abram possibly have the money to buy the Miller place?
And then realization dawned. Her eyes grew wide with wonder. “Your rumspringa. You were earning money. And when you went back—”
Abram nodded, and a pleased half-smile played on his face.
“But, I thought you gave all your money to your dat…”
“I tried, but he wouldn’t take it. He finally agreed to take a portion.” Abram took off his hat and fingered the wide straw brim.
Hope watched his calloused hands. He was a hard worker. Harder than she had known. Abram was one of the few Amish teens who actually left the area during rumspringa. When he didn’t come back for months, most folks assumed he was playing hard. Why else would he have stayed away for such long stretches?
“But why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell everyone?”
Abram sighed and clapped his hat on his knees as if shaking off dust. “Originally, I only wanted to earn money for Dat. I didn’t announce it because he was ashamed to be in such a bad
way.”
“But it happens, Abram. It could happen to anyone.”
He held up his hand. “But it didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to Dat. To us, our family. I felt for him. So I kept quiet. Then when he refused to take all my money, my ideas changed. Why not save for a farm of my own? I know a lot of Amish work for others, but I want to work for myself, for my own family.”
He looked at her as if testing her response then continued. “I thought that I could save up enough for a down payment. The old Miller place had gone back to the bank. The house on the property was a wreck. Turns out, the bank was eager to part with it.”
“You already went to the bank?” She marveled, for to her mind, bank business in the Englisch world was confusing at best.
“I’m twenty, Hope. Nearly twenty-one. Old enough.”
“To buy a place?”
“My uncle helped. And he signed the loan with me.”
Hope closed her lips and stared at him. Her mind whirled to organize all his revelations. “But you didn’t accept baptism when you returned.” That fact had caused her more worry than she cared to admit. “I thought you wanted to leave the faith.”
He reached over and clasped her small hand in his strong one. His eyes were pained.
“I didn’t have enough money. I knew I’d need to go back and work for Robby’s father again.”
“Which is why you left the second time.”
He nodded. “I didn’t want to be baptized into the church and then disappear. Once I’m baptized, I will stay. For good.”
She shook her head slowly as if clearing her thoughts. “I thought you wanted to leave,” she said again, this time in a whisper.
He squeezed her hand and then let go when the Schrocks emerged from the store. The Schrock children glanced over, smiled, and then piled into their wagon.
“Hope,” Abram said, his voice low.
“Jah?”
“I’m going to be baptized now.”
“No more leaving?”
“No more leaving.” He smiled at her and set his hat on the bench. “And there’s another part to my plan.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and her skin began to tingle.
He inhaled deeply. “I want you to marry me.”
A soft gasp escaped Hope’s mouth, and she suddenly felt dizzy. Abram’s face registered alarm. “Are you all right, Hope? Did I speak out of turn?” He moved closer. “It’s just that I love you, Hope.”
Joy coursed through her, and it was a moment before she could speak. Tears welled, and her voice was soft as a newborn chick, “Abram. Abram, jah. Of course, I will marry you.”
They looked at each other. A sparrow landed in the tree above them and chirped its melodious call, and they both burst into laughter.
“And, Abram, I love you, too.”
Relief and contentment covered his face. “We will keep it silent for now, jah? In the traditional way. After the harvest, we will tell the others and be published at the proper time.”
Hope nodded. She couldn’t stop nodding. Everything within her swelled with happiness and gratitude.
Now she knew Abram’s plan.
And it revolved around her.
Three
The following day, Hope worked to keep her news quiet. She gathered eggs and sang to the hens. She picked zucchini and greeted every plant in the vast garden with a grin. She swept the porch with a light step. She hummed when she went down to the root cellar for more flour.
After lunch, Mary stared at her with consternation. “I don’t know why you’re so happy about unknown cousins coming. They’re going to upset everything.”
Aunt Ruth frowned at Mary from across the table. “Mary, keep still. Your mamm is going to need everyone’s help and kindness. We all need to ask for the good Lord’s grace and patience.”
Mary scowled.
“When will they be here?” Ann asked, leaning down to pet Apple, who was yipping under the table.
“Mamm would have a fit if she knew that dog was inside during a meal,” Mary scolded.
Ruth stood and collected the serving dishes. “They’ll be home tonight. Are the beds ready?”
“They’re ready,” Hope said. She forced a serious look to her face, but it took effort. It took effort to keep from bursting into joyful giggles. It took effort to remain indoors at all. What she wanted to do was run through the cornfields and sing about her precious love to the heavens.
It was nearly bedtime when they heard the van pull up to their house. Hope grabbed up the oil lantern, and the four of them filed out to the porch. The sky was speckled with stars, and the air was cool and fresh. Fireflies dotted the ground and swirled close to the bushes out front.
The passenger door of the white van opened and Dat and Mamm emerged. Alone.
Ann ran down the steps. “Where are they? Where are our cousins?”
Mamm patted her shoulder and trudged up to the front door. Fatigue rolled off her in waves.
“Elizabeth?” Ruth questioned, touching Mamm’s arm as she passed.
“Let’s go inside,” Dat said and shepherded them to the dining room. Hope set the lantern in the middle of the table. “Sit down, everyone,” Dat said.
They sat.
“It’s been a long day. We met the children. The pastor they’re staying with is a good man.”
“But I thought they—” Ann interrupted.
Dat held up his rough, weathered hand. His face was grim and the wrinkles around his mouth were pronounced. “Please, Ann, let me continue. The children are finishing up some special summer session. Something to do with their school. It will continue until well into August. The pastor told us it is a coveted program, and the children worked hard to be placed in it.”
“Is that why they didn’t come? So they could finish the program? Will they stay with the pastor’s family until it’s over?” Hope asked.
“Nee,” Mamm said. She shifted her weight with a look of complete discomfort, and her hands were clasped so tightly together on the table, her knuckles had gone white. “We can’t ask a stranger to keep our own.”
“Then why didn’t you bring them home?” Mary asked.
“Your mamm thought it best not to break them away yet. They are deeply upset. We thought if they were allowed to finish their special program, they would feel better about moving here. We prayed and feel it is what Gott would have us do,” Dat said.
“But if they don’t stay with the pastor, will they stay by themselves?” Ann asked.
“Nee.”
Hope looked at her mother and pity washed over her at the tortured look in her eyes.
“What is your plan then?” Ruth asked.
Dat cleared his throat. “Hope will go to Ohio to stay with them. When the session is over, they will come home together.”
Hope’s heart lurched, and she jumped off the bench. “Nee! I can’t go.”
How could she be away from Abram so long? After he’d finally declared himself? She simply couldn’t leave him. And there wasn’t all that much time until they would be published in October, and their intentions would be made public. After that, it would be a whirlwind until the wedding a couple weeks later.
Everyone’s eyes stretched wide as they stared at her. It was unheard of to defy Dat in such a way. Hope’s face burned red, and she sank back to the bench.
“Sorry, Dat,” she murmured, her stomach rising to her throat. She quickly sent up a silent prayer. Gott, please help me. I’m sorry for being disrespectful, but please, please, please, don’t make me leave Abram.
“I will go,” Ruth said.
Hope clasped her chest. “Thank you, Ruth.” And thank you, Gott. She turned hopeful eyes to her father.
His gaze focused on his eldest daughter. “I don’t understand your hesitation, Hope, but I’m sorry. It has been decided.”
Ruth leaned forward. “Benjamin, send me. There is no reason for Hope to go. I am fully capable of taking care of the children.”
&n
bsp; Dat’s gaze darted to Mamm before answering. His voice was pained. “Nee, Ruth. Elizabeth wants Hope to do it. You understand why.”
Hope struggled to hide her confusion. “But Dat, I don’t—”
Ruth abruptly left the room. Hope watched her go, wondering at the look of shame on her face. There had to be much more to this story than was being told.
****
Hope expected Abram to feel the same despair she felt at the news, but she was mistaken.
“It is Gott’s will, Hope. He knows what is best. Besides, I have much work to do on the house. I will get it done fast, jah? Without you to distract me?” His eyes were warm and teasing on hers.
She wished she could be so accepting, but the thought of being away from Abram so long brought only pain to her heart.
He gave her a quick, fierce hug, and she felt his strength and love.
“We will be together soon,” he assured her. “And when you return, we will tell both families of our plan.”
She wanted to cling to him, but she knew it wasn’t fitting, nor would it make leaving him any easier.
“You will write?” she asked.
“I will write.” He tilted his head and gave her an irresistible grin.
His lean frame and firm features imprinted themselves on her mind. She closed her eyes and took a slow breath. It would be all right. God would give her strength to leave this precious man.
When she opened her eyes again, he was gone.
****
Hope clasped the tattered suitcase she had borrowed from Ruth as if it would fly away. She climbed into the van and peered through the window at her family. They stood in a row on the porch, waving her off. Except for Ann, their waves were half-hearted and their expressions solemn. The driver glanced at Hope from the rearview mirror.
“You ready, miss?”
She nodded. She hadn’t been in a van all that often and almost never alone. Many Amish went on long road trips, visiting kin throughout the Midwest and East. But not her family. Five times, they had gone to visit kin in a community sixty miles away, and she remembered well her excitement. But this was different. It would take a couple hours to get to Indianapolis, and then there would be three more hours by bus to Ohio.
Amish Romance BOXED SET: Amish Days: Hope's Story Page 4