by Leslie Gould
“Well, I’m not going to marry Martin either,” Beatrice said.
“No one’s asking you to,” I said.
“Because I don’t plan to marry anyone.”
She’d said that before, said she’d devote her life to serving God. I’d responded that to serve God she’d need to serve His people—and that would mean actually interacting with them. That conversation hadn’t gone well, so this time instead of going down that path again I changed the subject. “We need to figure out a way to save the farm ourselves,” I said. “Without anyone having to get married.”
She started toward the house, with me following. “I don’t know what I can do to help.”
“Be supportive of me,” I offered.
“Then don’t be so bossy,” Bea answered. It was completely dark now, and I couldn’t see the expression on her face.
I stopped walking.
She turned back toward me. “You’ll figure out something,” she said.
I froze on the grass, as if I’d been tagged in a childhood game of freeze tag, as she hurried on into the house. I usually wanted to be in charge—but this felt like too much responsibility. Sinking to my knees in the thick grass, I remembered my prayer in the Mosiers’ barn a few nights before. Nothing had gotten any better. Only worse.
I could only hope Bob would come up with an idea to help us. And that Mamm would live another ten years at least, long after I was happily married—and maybe even Beatrice too, if she learned to be nicer.
Maybe Mamm would warm to my idea of a bed-and-breakfast. It wouldn’t be a circus, as she feared. I’d do it very tastefully. The pumpkin patch too.
I squeezed my eyes against more tears, but then I thought of Leon. He liked me. He wanted to court me. He hadn’t had a chance to answer my question about staying in Lancaster County, and I’d been too distracted by the sight of Nell to ask him again on the walk back, but I was sure he wanted to stay. Who wouldn’t?
I swiped at my eyes and struggled to my feet. Why the double dose of both the good and the bad now? Why had I finally found love only to have us about to lose the farm?
I decided our house really was one of our best assets and set out the next day to explore my idea of opening a bed-and-breakfast, along with drumming up more business for our flowers.
Mamm and Mervin had gone back out to work on the irrigation system. I told Beatrice I had errands to run and she needed to see to the house chores.
“When you’re done,” I said, “weed the lilies.”
She crossed her arms.
“Many hands make light work,” I said.
“Jah,” she said. “And a little sister’s work is never done.”
“No one’s work is ever done,” I said. “It’s the way life is.”
“It’s the way life is with you,” she retorted.
“Honestly, Bea. What do you expect to do? To sit around and write in your journal all day?”
“Of course not, but you think the housework doesn’t take any time. It does.”
“Well, work faster.”
She scowled.
I left before I said anything worse.
I planned to visit bed-and-breakfasts in the area. My intentions were twofold. One, to offer to sell them our flowers and herbs. What could be more inviting to guests than beautiful blooms from a nearby Amish farm, delivered by me, along with fresh herbs for their food? My second motivation was to get a glimpse of the B&Bs, maybe even garner a tour, and see what we’d need to do to our house to accommodate guests.
First, I spent some time in the flower gardens, cutting snapdragons and lavender for bouquets and wishing the lilies had started to bloom. Next I headed to the herb garden, snipping a bucketful of rosemary, thyme, basil, coriander, and oregano. I made bouquets of the flowers and placed the herbs in paper cones and then put all of them in the ice chest.
Then I hitched Daisy to the buggy. By the time I was ready to leave it was midmorning. Breakfast would be done at the B&Bs, but hopefully guests would still be around. A few oohs and aahs would enhance my pitch to the owners.
Mervin stepped out of the greenhouse as I climbed into the buggy seat. “Where are you going?” He’d been avoiding me all morning, so I was surprised to see him.
“Errands,” I said.
“Molly, tell me the truth.”
“I am.” I sighed. “I’m going to visit a few bed-and-breakfasts to see if they want to buy flowers or herbs.”
He crossed his arms. “Your Mamm told me you had a wild idea about opening one of those up.”
I shrugged.
“What shall I tell her if she asks where you are?”
“The truth,” I answered as I pulled on the reins. “I have nothing to hide.”
“I think you do,” he answered.
Pretty sure he was talking about Leon, not any of my ideas for the farm, I made my escape, urging Daisy along.
The day was overcast, with clouds billowing on the horizon. A breeze urged us along, stirring a new hope inside of me. My feelings for Leon spurred me on. I’d no reason to be as pessimistic as I’d felt the day before. Troubles came to everyone at sometime or another.
The first bed-and-breakfast I stopped at was owned and operated by a Mennonite family. It was clear they weren’t Old Order, not even close. But tourists seemed to like the fact that they were still somewhat Plain, even though they owned cars.
As I headed down their short driveway, I noticed a big garden to my right with flowers planted around the edges. Snapdragons and lavender. And a plot beyond it held herbs.
My confidence began to dim, but I chided myself. I might as well give it a try. Practicing on a Mennonite family would be good for me.
I spotted their hitching post, which I took as a good sign, tied Daisy, and then stepped to the back of my buggy. I’d attached our brochures to the cones and bouquets and took one of each out now. An older Englisch couple watched me from where they sat on the front porch. I decided to knock on the back door, hoping the proprietors were cleaning up after breakfast.
I knocked several times before a girl who looked to be around thirteen answered. She wore a print Mennonite dress, an apron, and a rounded Kapp.
“Are your parents home?” I asked.
She shook her head.
I could hardly believe they’d leave a child in charge. “I was hoping to talk with one of them.”
She pointed toward the field. “My father’s mowing and my mother went to town.”
“Oh.” I doubted her Dat would want to be interrupted. I handed her the flowers and herbs. “Could you give this to your Mamm? Tell her I have the farmers’ market outside of Paradise. And I’d be happy to deliver anything she needs.”
The girl pointed to their big garden. “We have our own.”
“Jah,” I said. “I saw that. But in case you need more . . .” As I spoke three strapping young men came around the side of the barn headed to the garden. It looked like the family had a work force too.
“Ellen,” someone called out, “who’s there?”
“An Amish girl,” she called back over her shoulder. “I need to get back to work,” she said to me.
I nodded. “Denki.”
She handed me the bouquet and herbs.
Discouraged, I returned to my buggy. As I put the flowers and herbs back in the box, I realized the Englisch couple on the porch was staring at me. As I pulled Daisy around, the woman snapped a photo of me with her phone. I looked straight ahead, determined not to react. I imagined the photo being posted on the Internet along with a hundred other shots of Lancaster County.
The young men in the garden raised their heads as I passed by but didn’t wave or say anything. As I passed the alfalfa field, the father shaded his eyes from the sun as he drove a fairly new tractor, most likely trying to determine who I was. He looked young—half the age my Dat had been.
Obviously the family had plenty of labor to manage a farm and a bed-and-breakfast. Plus the mother had a car she could drive to
the grocery store and the Dat had a new tractor with rubber wheels, not an old one like we had with metal wheels that was continually breaking down.
Even if I did convince Mamm to let me open a bed-and-breakfast, how could I compete with a Mennonite family, let alone Englisch ones?
Chapter
8
The sun burned the clouds away, and the day turned hot as Daisy pulled the buggy down the highway at a sluggish pace. The other bed-and-breakfasts were farther away, and soon, even though it was still morning, heat started coming up off the pavement. The warm day and the beat of the horse’s hooves lulled me into a dazed state. My head had begun to nod when I heard a shout across the road.
“Miss Molly!”
It was Leon, of course, riding Storm. The horse snorted and turned his head away. Leon pulled him back.
“Where are you going?” Leon asked.
I pulled Daisy to a stop as he approached.
I told him about my visit to the first bed-and-breakfast and that I was headed to a second, and maybe another one or two after that.
“I could ride along,” he said.
“How much time do you have?”
“All morning.” He smiled. “I’m off on a long ride on Storm. Owen’s orders.”
The next bed-and-breakfast was off to the right, a few lanes down the highway. It wouldn’t hurt to have Leon come along.
He rode ahead of the buggy until we reached the lane, but once we did, he fell back beside me.
“Hannah mentioned the camping trip again at breakfast,” he said. “This time Owen asked if we could take both Lightning and Storm along.”
“We?”
He laughed. “Hannah and me.”
“Oh.” Taking both Storm and Lightning on the trip sounded like an ordeal, but if it justified Leon’s coming along all the more . . . “I think we could work that out.” I inched forward on the buggy bench.
Leon smiled again. “Jah, that’s what Owen said.”
Owen had bought his truck a few years before. I was surprised the bishop allowed it, but it was less expensive, over time, for Owen to buy a truck and hire a driver than hire both to take his horses to sales. It was funny, to me, that he owned a vehicle he would never drive.
I mentioned to Leon that I appreciated how kind he’d been to Beatrice about the pie the night before, realizing I’d forgotten to thank him when we were out alone.
“She seemed a little out of sorts,” he said.
“She’s always been . . . unsettled,” I said. “But more lately than before.”
“With good reason,” Leon said. “Besides, I know all about a sister being out of sorts.”
He’d mentioned having a temperamental sister. I scooted to the very end of the bench, closest to him as he rode Storm. “Tell me about her.”
“My second sister, she’s five years younger than I am, has had some emotional problems.” He quickly added. “I’m not saying Beatrice does.”
I nodded.
“Anyway, no one knew what to do with Naomi. My Dat would tell her to snap out of it, but when she couldn’t, my Mamm took her to the doctor and got some help.”
“So she’s better now?”
Leon took a deep breath. “Some. But not completely. She’s worse in the winter. Better in the summer.” He shrugged. “It’s ongoing.”
My heart lurched. “Do you miss home?” It sounded as if he did.
“A little,” he answered.
“How about the cows? Do you miss them?”
He leaned forward and patted Storm’s neck. “I’d rather train horses than run cattle. Nothing against cows, but horses are much smarter. There’s more money in cows though.”
Storm bobbed his head, which made me laugh.
“If I can’t figure out a way to make a living working with horses, I can always go back to the ranch.”
That wasn’t what I’d wanted to hear, but it did seem he’d prefer to stay in Lancaster County and train horses than go home.
“Well,” I said, “I appreciated your kindness to Beatrice. Her sticking around to hang out with Bob and Nan and you was a good thing. She tends to go off by herself and write in this book she has.”
Leon smiled, shyly again.
“What?” I slowed Daisy as the bed-and-breakfast came into view.
“I have a book I draw in.”
I remembered the leather book I saw beside his Bible. “Well, you don’t go off by yourself.”
“Actually, sometimes I do.”
I wrinkled my nose. “You know what I mean.”
His eyes twinkled as he said, “I’m not sure that I do.” He smiled wryly and seemed more amused than annoyed. I decided not to say anything more about writing—or drawing—in books. I’d already put my foot in my mouth.
When we reached the bed-and-breakfast, which I noted didn’t have a garden nearby, not even any flower beds, just trees and shrubs, I parked the buggy. Leon said he’d stay with Daisy, so I grabbed the flowers and herbs from the back, along with a brochure. A car and a pickup were both in the driveway, along with a motorcycle.
The house was set back in a grove of trees, and I hurried along the brick path toward it, deciding I’d knock on the front door.
A middle-aged woman answered it immediately. Her face lit up when she saw me. “How can I help you?” she asked.
I explained who I was and why I was on her porch, at least as far as the flowers and herbs, not that I was hoping for a tour.
She willingly took my bundles and the brochure.
She had a simple but elegant way about her. Her hair was shoulder length and a natural light brown, she didn’t wear any makeup, and she carried herself with poise but exuded warmth. “This is our first year,” she said. “We’ve talked about planting gardens next year, but I’d at least be interested in your flowers and herbs this summer.”
“Thank you,” I said, pointing to the brochure. “The first number is my phone—the second is our landline. Call me on my cell if you want something right away.”
She smiled kindly.
“How is business?” I asked.
“Good. We’re nearly booked for every weekend through the summer—and the weekdays are filling up too. We even have a wedding soon.”
I hesitated, then found my courage, due to her kindness, and said, “I’m considering renting out a room at our place, occasionally to start with.”
“Really?” She folded her arms around the flowers, herbs, and brochure.
I nodded.
“You know, I have people ask me sometimes if there’s an Amish family they can stay with. Some for a night. Some for more than that. Could I give them your number?”
“Jah,” I answered.
“And I have guests interested in having dinner with an Amish family. I have some homes lined up but could use more. The pay is actually pretty good.”
I’d heard of Plain people hosting such dinners. “I’d be interested in that too.” I couldn’t imagine Mamm would be thrilled with the idea, but if it brought in a good amount of money, she might be.
“Would you like to look around?” the woman asked.
My heart fluttered at her generosity. “Please,” I answered.
“Is he with you?” she asked, nodding toward Leon.
“He is,” I said. I waved at him and then called out, “I’ll be back soon.”
She told me her name was Kristine and that the farm had been in her husband’s family for a couple of generations. They’d inherited it a couple of years ago and decided to turn it into a bed-and-breakfast. “It took us that long to do all the work.”
That sounded daunting. I certainly didn’t have a couple of years.
Plush furniture filled the living room, with pillows and throws on the couches and chairs and lacy curtains covering the windows. Thick rugs covered most of the polished wood floors. In the dining room, rounded chairs encircled an elegant table that seated ten.
The kitchen was completely modernized with granite counters, n
ew cabinets, and large appliances. The refrigerator was nearly as big as my buggy.
“Would you like to see one of the guest rooms?” Kristine pointed toward a staircase off the kitchen.
I nodded, following her but not knowing what to say. It was all so fancy. Light from the landing bounced down on the polished wood stairs. When we reached the top, I could see Leon out the window. He was holding Storm’s reins while he stroked Daisy’s neck. Storm held his head high as if he weren’t happy about his competition.
“Is that your brother?” Kristine stopped, placed her hands on the windowsill, and then turned back to me.
My face grew warm, and I must have blushed.
“Oh, I see,” she teased. “He’s awfully handsome.”
“He’s from Montana,” I said, which was a silly thing to say.
“Really?” she said. “I grew up in Idaho. What’s he doing way out here?”
“Training horses.”
She raised her eyebrows. “We had guests last week ask about riding horses. Their daughters both wanted to.”
I didn’t see where she was going.
“Does he do trail rides? Anything like that?”
I shook my head, but that was an idea.
“Too bad,” Kristine said, heading down the hallway. “This room is vacant.” She opened it wide and allowed me to step in first. The bed was huge, with a white coverlet and six plump pillows on it. I couldn’t imagine anyone needing so many. I stepped closer to the bed and then noticed another door. It led to a bathroom. Of course Englisch people would expect their own. Why hadn’t I thought of that?
“It’s all so nice,” I said.
“Thank you.” Kristine headed back to the hallway and motioned for me to go first down the stairs. “You know, if you did rent out a room, no one would expect your place to look like this.”
I didn’t answer.
“They would just be thrilled to have a genuine Amish experience.”
I hadn’t thought about that.
“They would want to sleep in a bed like you do. Use a bathroom like you do. Eat a breakfast like you do.”
“Denki,” I said as I reached the kitchen.
“Pardon?”