An Amish Year

by Beth Wiseman

  Elizabeth didn’t say anything but motioned for him to follow her.

  When Eli walked into the kitchen, he’d never seen such a spread laid out, especially for just two people. There must have been ten different offerings, including two pies. Elizabeth’s table wasn’t as big as Ruth’s, to be expected since she lived alone. There was seating for four and two place settings, which barely fit amidst all the food. Eli pulled out a chair and sat down. He wasn’t all that hungry since he’d eaten a heavy meal a few hours ago, but he planned to force himself to eat generous portions since Elizabeth had gone to so much trouble. “Ach, Elizabeth . . . this looks gut beyond words.”

  She smiled, but there was something not quite right about the way she pressed her lips together. Eli knew that look. “I hope you like it. I worked on it all day.”

  Ouch. He deserved that. Worst of all was that she looked like she’d been crying, and Eli felt like a louse. “I can’t apologize enough for being so late. There’s no excuse. I was busy and lost track of the time.”

  “It is fine.” She took a seat across from him, then they both bowed their heads in prayer. After Eli filled his plate, he took a bite of chicken casserole. And that was all it took for his appetite to return. He’d wondered if the pie was a fluke, just her best recipe. But after trying a little bit of everything, he had to admit—she was a better cook than Leah. And certainly better in the kitchen than Ruth. Eli had jokingly thought, If I marry Ruth, I’ll have to do the cooking, and it was an idea he liked. But first he was going to get through this meal.

  As they ate, the silence grew awkward. “How was your day?” Eli scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes. Even the potatoes were better than most, with just the right amount of butter slightly browned on top.

  “I cooked all day,” she said again, barely picking at her food and not looking at him.

  Eli needed to do something to redeem himself, even if he had no plans to pursue Elizabeth in a romantic way. He was sorry for being late, but he couldn’t help but think maybe she was overreacting a little. This situation didn’t seem to warrant tears, but just the same, he wanted to cheer her up. But visions of his time with Ruth were distracting him. He couldn’t wait to see her again.

  “You have a very pretty home.” Eli was getting full, but he accepted a slice of coconut pie when Elizabeth inched the pie closer to him. “Coconut pie is a favorite of mine.” He took a bite. “And this is surely the best I’ve ever had.” The truth. But Elizabeth stayed quiet.

  When they were done eating, they moved into the living room. There was no mention of coffee, and the brittle silence was even worse now that they weren’t busy eating. Eli decided to break the ice.

  “I can tell you’re upset about me being late, Elizabeth. It wonders me what I can do to make you feel better. I’m usually punctual, so I apologize to you again.” They were each sitting in a rocking chair, a small table between them with a lantern on top, a box of tissues, and several books.

  “It’s fine, really,” Elizabeth said with a stone-faced expression that Eli knew meant trouble. Fine never meant fine when a woman said it like that, accompanied by that look. Eli used to be able to talk his way out of trouble with Leah.

  Eli picked up the book on top of the pile, a Christian devotional guide for women. “I love to read when I have the time,” he said, casually thumbing through the pages. He put it down, smiled, then picked up the next book, a novel with a woman on the front cover, a prairie in the background.

  “I have plenty of time to read,” she said as her voice cracked a little bit. Eli had a strong urge to hug her, to comfort her, but in a fatherly sort of way. But he just nodded as he put the book back.

  “Danki for supper. It was the best meal I’ve had in a very long time. But I reckon it’s best to get home. Gracie went to watch the baseball game at the Lantzes’ haus, and I’m anxious to make sure she got home safely.” Eli stood up, but Elizabeth remained seated, kicking her rocker into motion as she folded her hands in her lap. Eli should have already called his daughter, but Grace was the worst about leaving her cell phone lying around or not answering it. He was glad the use of cell phones was acceptable in Lancaster County.

  “Danki again,” Eli said when it appeared that Elizabeth wasn’t going to walk him to the door. “See you soon.” He forced a smile and moved toward the door, but when he heard a whimper, he turned around. Elizabeth had covered her face with her hands. Eli suspected this was going to be a long evening. He needed to call Gracie. Ben was spending the night at his new friend’s house, so he just needed to make sure his daughter was okay before he tried to make amends with Elizabeth, whose whimpering had turned into full-blown sobs.

  Grace lagged behind Miriam and stayed on the porch to talk on her cell to her father, then walked into Miriam’s living room and closed the door behind her.

  “Daed is with date number two, and he’ll pick me up in a little while,” she said as she looked around Miriam’s house. “No wonder you’re not married,” Grace mumbled as Miriam started a fire in the fireplace. It wasn’t very cold, but the fall afternoons and evenings were cool enough to enjoy a fire, and within a few minutes, orange sparks shimmied up the chimney. Grace tossed her sweater on the couch, which was filled with . . . stuff. There wasn’t even room to sit down.

  “Okay, now we have warmth.” Miriam brushed her hands against her dress. “Now, what did you say?”

  “I said . . .” Grace twisted her mouth back and forth but didn’t have the heart to come out and tell Miriam that this place was a wreck. Newspapers, books, and empty plates were piled high on the coffee table, and a further inspection of the couch revealed laundry that needed folding, more books, and . . . a cat. “Aw, who’s this?” Grace picked up the orange-and-white tabby. “I love, love, love cats. But Daed is allergic, so we’ve never had one.” She held the kitty close and stroked her ears, and within seconds she purred.

  “That’s Kiki.”

  Grace recalled hearing someone say that Miriam had lots of cats, like a crazy cat lady. “Where are the others? Don’t you have more cats?”

  Miriam shook her head. “Nee, it’s just me and Kiki.” She gave the fire another poke, then turned to Grace. “Are you hungry?”

  Grace had figured she and Wayne would eat after the baseball game, but his only suggestion had been to go back to the same place as last Saturday to make out. When Grace had said no, that she better get home, there was no mention of food or even a ride home. Jerk. “Ya, I’m a little hungry.”

  “Come on.” Miriam motioned for Grace to follow her into the kitchen, so she set Kiki back on the couch. They both had to step around three big boxes on the way.

  “Did you just move here?” Grace walked into the kitchen behind Miriam. Dishes were piled in the sink, but otherwise, it wasn’t too bad. Kind of pretty. Plain and simple, but with just a little color here and there.

  “Nee, I’ve been here about four years. My parents moved to Colorado after both of my grandparents died. Some of the Amish folks here have been moving out there. Land is cheaper, and there’s more of it. My two younger bruders went with them, but I chose to stay here.” She shriveled up her face. “It’s cold there.” Then she shrugged. “Besides, I couldn’t imagine leaving here. But they are all happy and that’s what counts. Both my bruders got married in the past year, and one of my sister-in-laws is expecting. But I miss them all.” She opened the pantry and pulled out a box of macaroni and cheese. “This okay?”

  Grace was speechless. She’d never had boxed macaroni and cheese. “Okay,” she said hesitantly as she pulled out a chair at the small kitchen table and sat down, briefly wondering how her father’s two dates had gone. She wanted him to be happy, but it was unsettling to think about anyone besides their mother living with them. �
��Why aren’t you married?”

  “I’m not planning to get married,” Miriam said as she turned the gas up on the burner before placing a pot of water on top.

  “Why?” That was unheard of to Grace. Everyone wanted to get married and have children. “Um . . . are you sick or something?” Maybe Miriam didn’t want to burden a man if she wasn’t well.

  “Nee, not that I know of.” Miriam turned to face Grace and leaned against the kitchen counter. “I know those girls you hang out with call me an old maid.” She smiled. “They can be a bit rude sometimes, but I think once you get to know them, you’ll find that they really are gut girls. I know it’s hard to make friends at your age, but give it some time. All of those girls have grown up together. It will just take awhile for them to warm up to you.”

  “But why aren’t you married? I don’t understand.” Grace propped her elbows on the table, then cupped her cheeks as she and Miriam locked eyes. “I mean, you’re . . . um . . . pretty.”

  “For an old maid, huh?” Miriam chuckled. “I just choose not to get married. I spend my time trying to do for others, trying to live a gut life, and worshipping my heavenly Father as often as I can.”

  “But lots of people do all those things and still get married and have kinner. I don’t understand,” she said again.

  Folks in their community had stopped asking these questions a long time ago. It was just accepted that Miriam planned to live her life alone. But every time a new single man came along, the questions started again. Miriam was tempted to tell Grace the truth, that she wished more than ever that she could share her life with a wonderful man, and why that wasn’t possible anymore. But this was a teenage girl she barely knew.

  “You don’t have to understand,” she finally said. “It’s just the way I choose to live my life.”

  “It’s weird.”

  That wasn’t the first time Miriam had heard the popular Englisch word used to describe her. “Ya, you are correct. I am a weird old maid.” Miriam had grown used to laughing at herself. She wished things were different, but this was the path God had chosen for her, and she made do, trying to stay focused on the positives. But sometimes, late at night, in the darkness when no one was around, she’d allow herself a good cry.

  “Do you date?”

  Miriam sighed, hoping Grace would move on to something else soon. “Nee, I stay busy doing other things.”

  “Like what?” Grace nodded toward the sink full of dishes, then strained her neck to look into the living room. “You don’t stay busy cleaning haus.”

  Miriam folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow. “Anything I want to do. How many people can say that?”

  “Do you work? I noticed you don’t have a garden. What do you do?”

  “You are a curious creature, are you not?” Miriam grinned, tempted to make up a fun story to tell Grace, but instead, she dumped the noodles in the boiling water before motioning for Grace to follow her. They walked down the hall to Miriam’s extra bedroom that she’d turned into a sewing room after her parents left for Colorado. She pushed the door wide and kept her eyes on Grace, not wanting to miss her expression.

  Grace’s jaw dropped as she walked into the spacious room toward the quilting table, then took in the dozens of quilts on racks around the room.

  “Did you do all of these on your own?” Grace took another look around, then gingerly touched the project on the table, a quilt filled with bold colors, a special order that Miriam was almost done with. “Or do you have quilting parties in here?”

  “Nee. I’ve done all of these myself.” She picked up an old red suitcase and set it on a nearby chair. “This suitcase is filled with scraps from Widow Hostetler’s life. I’ve been piecing them together for weeks, until the patchwork is just perfect.” She eased closer to where Grace was standing and pointed to the square in the middle. “This piece represents Widow Hostetler. It’s a scrap from her swaddling cloth when she was born.” Miriam touched each of the six squares surrounding the center. “Each of these scraps represents what Widow Hostetler believes to be the most important events in her life. Her baptism into the faith, marrying her husband, and the birth of her four children.”

  She pointed to the next eight larger squares. “These squares represent things to do with her baptism, husband, and children, things relevant to them. Then it branches out from there, until the quilt becomes her entire life story.” Miriam smiled. “I love doing these story quilts. I know more about Widow Hostetler than I ever would have known otherwise.” She walked around the table and pointed to a maroon square. “This was the dress she was wearing when she packed up and left the community. She was shunned for doing so.” She glanced at Grace. “She was sixteen when she left.”

  “But she came back?” Grace was still running her hand along the tightly sewn patches.

  “Ya. But not for six years.” Miriam touched the square with the white cross etched in the middle. “This represents her return to Christ.”

  “What’s this one?” Grace touched a square with a cross-stitched pie in the middle.

  Miriam smiled. “Against the bishop’s wishes—it was a different bishop back then—Widow . . . Annie Hostetler . . . entered her key lime pie at the county fair. And she won.”

  Grace smiled. “This is the neatest thing.” She looked up at Miriam. “Are all your quilts like this? Do they all tell a life story?”

  “Nee, some people just order a regular old quilt. But these are my favorites to make. Annie plans to write up a list of what each scrap means, then she’ll give it to her kinner. She has arthritis, so it’s hard for her to do any type of quilting these days. But most of my orders are from the Englisch.”

  “So . . . I guess someone wouldn’t do this until they were old, right?”

  Miriam shook her head. “Nee. I do them for all different reasons.” She walked to a rack on the far wall and pulled down a small quilt. “I just need to finish the edges on this, but each scrap represents a child’s life—when she was born, when she took her first step—see the picture of baby shoes sewn in? And it goes all the way until she starts her first day of school, represented by the book in this square.”

  “These are the most beautiful quilts I’ve ever seen.” Grace lifted her eyes to Miriam’s again. “Beauty goes so much deeper than what our eyes can see, and the beauty in these quilts isn’t just on the outside.”

  Miriam smiled, warmed by Grace’s mature comment. “Danki, Grace.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Where’s yours? Surely you’ve started one for yourself?”

  This was the bad part about showing newcomers her quilting room. It was the question that ultimately came up. She didn’t want to lie to Grace, but she’d never shown anyone her quilt, and she doubted she’d ever have anyone to hand it down to. “It’s not very far along, a work in progress,” she finally said.

  Grace opened her mouth to say something, but they both looked toward the hallway when they heard a buggy coming.

  “Probably mei daed,” Grace said softly. “Danki for showing me this, Miriam.”

  “You’re welcome. Ready for mac and cheese?”

  Grace smiled and nodded, so they headed back to the kitchen. Miriam supposed she would have to ask Eli to stay for supper. She smiled to herself. Unless he’s too full from all his dates.

  But when Eli walked into the house, Miriam had to ward off the sadness that threatened her sometimes in the presence of someone she might have been interested in. Oh, how I wish things were different.

  Chapter Seven

  ELI WAS SURE HE’D NEVER EATEN SO MUCH IN ONE DAY, and he’d surely never had noodles and cheese that came from a box. Gracie had tapped him on the arm and n
odded to the empty box when Miriam wasn’t looking. Eli forced himself to take a few bites. It was awful, but Grace ate most of her serving.

  “I’m sorry it’s not a better meal, but I didn’t know I’d have company for supper,” Miriam said, smiling. Eli wondered if her house was tidier when she was expecting visitors.

  “Danki for asking me to stay.” Eli would have preferred to go home, but Gracie wanted to stay. And now that he was here, he was having a hard time keeping his eyes off of Miriam. He’d never had a woman shoot him down so fast. Eli knew he was no expert when it came to dating, but her rejection had left him wondering if there was something outwardly wrong with him. He tried to clear his thoughts. It had gone from a wonderful afternoon with Ruth to a terrible time with Elizabeth. But when Eli had finally left Elizabeth, she’d stopped crying. They’d both decided she wasn’t ready for any type of courtship yet, a decision that would make it easy for Eli to move forward with Ruth, especially since they’d set another date before saying good-bye earlier. Ruth wanted Eli to come for lunch again next Saturday. And he would meet her four children.

  Grace laughed out loud, which caught Eli’s attention. She and Miriam had been chatting about quilts, and Eli hadn’t heard most of what was said. But as he eyed his daughter, such merriment shining in her eyes, he tuned in to their conversation.

  “So the Englisch lady wanted the entire quilt to have shoes on it? All different ones?”

  “Ya. She loved shoes and she had many, many pairs.” Miriam shook her head. “Can you imagine? So wasteful, but she paid a gut sum of money for me to make her the quilt.”

  Grace chuckled again. “Nee, I can’t imagine. I wish I could have seen that.”

  Miriam tapped her finger to her chin for a few seconds, then she glanced at Eli before excusing herself. “Be right back.”

  After Miriam was out of earshot, Grace raised an eyebrow and said, “How were your dates?”