by Sarah Price
Of course, at the time, it had been frowned upon by the bishop and preachers. Her own parents had warned her about singing fast hymns, and for two months, she had been forbidden to attend any youth gatherings. Being so obedient, Mary had complied without making a fuss.
In truth, she hadn’t minded, for at the time, she had started courting Abram, who, rather than risk his own righteous reputation, also stayed away from the singings.
“Why don’t you sit a spell?” Mary gestured toward the rocking chair. “Worrying won’t make John arrive any faster . . .”
Instead of commenting, Bethany made a soft noise. She moved over to the window and peered outside. In the reflection from the light, her skin appeared almost translucent, not one blemish upon her cheeks.
Mary sighed. “My, how you’ve grown,” she whispered.
“What was that, Maem?” Bethany turned her head and looked at her mother.
“Come sit while you wait.”
Reluctantly, Bethany left her post by the window and joined her mother in the sitting area.
“I can hardly believe that it’s so cold out, can you? Seems like summer only just ended. But here we are, already in December.”
“And soon Christmas.” Bethany managed to smile. “The children’s pageant at the school haus is my favorite.”
“It always has been,” Mary agreed, glad that the change of subject had distracted Bethany from her anxiety. It was a tactic she’d learned to use long ago when her daughter appeared anxious. “Even when you were a little girl.”
The memory of Bethany standing in the front of the school with her peers, singing hymns, reciting Scripture, and reenacting the Nativity scene warmed Mary’s heart. Afterward, there were always desserts for the children and their parents: cookies, cakes, pies, even homemade candy. Sometimes the older widows made little presents for the children: a crocheted bookmark, little houses made from old Christmas cards, or store-bought candy canes. It was never anything extravagant; just a token of love for the youngest generation of Amish, who would continue sharing their love for God and Jesus with the next.
Bethany glanced at the calendar and exclaimed, “Why, it’s less than a month from now!” Forgetting about her apprehension, Bethany’s face lit up. “December twentieth, I believe.”
Mary nodded. “The Friday before Christmas, ja.”
Clasping her hands together, Bethany seemed lost in her memories. “I’ll make gingerbread cookies, I think. We don’t make those enough.” She looked at her mother. “Mayhaps I’ll make a small bag for each student. Do you think Teacher would mind?”
This time, Mary laughed and shook her head. “Nee, Bethany. I doubt anyone would mind.”
For a few moments, silence fell over the room once more. Mary worried that Bethany would begin fretting again and tried to think of something to say to her.
To her surprise, Bethany broke the quiet by asking, “I never did inquire as to what you are doing today.”
“Oh, I’ll be just fine. Don’t you worry about me.”
Bethany nibbled on the edge of her thumb in a nervous sort of way. “Mayhaps it’s not such a good idea for me to leave you alone after all.”
“I said I’ll be fine, and I will be,” Mary responded. “Besides, I won’t be alone. Wilma and Verna are coming here.”
Bethany appeared puzzled. “I thought you and your friends baked the cookies for the store on Wednesdays at Verna’s or Wilma’s.”
“That’s true, but they left a message that they would bake them here this week.” She smiled. “To keep me company.”
The sound of an approaching buggy interrupted their conversation. As the rhythmic noise of the horse’s hooves grew louder, Bethany’s face paled. Mary watched her, almost afraid that she might back out at the last minute. A few years ago, that would most certainly have happened. But Bethany was no longer a young teenager. She was an adult and, as such, knew better than to break her promise. Long ago, both Mary and Abram had taught her that promises were meant to be kept and breaking them was akin to lying, and that was something God most certainly frowned upon.
“Well, I’d best get going, then,” Bethany said in a voice so low that it almost sounded like a whisper. Standing up, she started to cross the room toward the door.
Mary waited until Bethany had taken her black shawl from the peg and tossed it over her shoulders.
“Bethany?”
Her daughter paused, her hand lingering on the doorknob.
“Ja, Maem?”
Mary gave her an encouraging smile. “Danke for helping Edna.”
Bethany swallowed and nodded her head. And then, with a twist of the doorknob, she pulled open the door and disappeared through the opening.
Alone in the house, Mary waited until she heard the sound of the horse’s hooves clattering once again on the driveway, pulling the buggy away from the house, before she breathed a sigh of relief and actually believed that Bethany would, indeed, follow through on her promise.
Chapter Twenty-One
Bethany felt awkward in the buggy beside John. Try as she might to sit apart from him, his arm kept brushing hers, and twice his leg touched her thigh. She couldn’t scooch any farther away unless she could melt into the side of the buggy.
“Was awful kind of you to help out my maem,” he said, his hands jiggling in time with the walking horse. He glanced at her and waited for a response. “She’s really been needing an extra pair of hands.”
“Oh?”
He nodded. “I think having your maem helping the past two weeks really made it obvious.”
She wasn’t certain how to respond to that so she remained silent.
For the next few minutes, Bethany stared out the window, too aware of John sitting next to her. What was it about him that made her feel so nervous? It wasn’t like her typical shyness. No. This was definitely something different.
He was nice enough, that was true. And he certainly was handsome. But there was something else about John Esh that made her heart pound and her pulse quicken.
“Bethany?”
Startled from her thoughts, she quickly turned her eyes from the window. “Hm?” She noticed that he was watching her, and she felt her cheeks grow warm.
“I asked if you’re looking forward to helping my maem.”
“Oh.” Folding her hands, she rested them on her lap. “I enjoy helping other people, ja.”
John slowed the horse to a halt at a stop sign. After looking both ways, he urged the horse to move forward again. “I sure am glad you could do it,” he said. “If you’d said no, she might have asked Wilma’s dochders to help.” He chuckled. “You know those two, ja?”
The Schwartz family was in her church district, so she knew the two young women well enough. Bethany nodded, but said nothing. Oh, she knew Rachel and Ella Mae’s reputation for being difficult and argumentative, mostly with each other. But she wasn’t about to comment on such a thing. Even though she had personally witnessed such behavior, she knew that it was not her place to judge anyone, even Wilma’s daughters. They had to answer to a higher authority about their conduct, not her.
“Interesting young women,” he said.
Bethany gave a little shrug. “None of us are perfect.”
He chuckled. “That’s one way to look at it.”
She wondered why the trip was taking so long. Although she wasn’t certain of the time, she knew that she was most definitely late. It was well after eight o’clock, and that was when she was supposed to be there. Perhaps if he’d urge the horse to trot instead of slowly amble down the road.
“It’s getting late,” she said at last, hoping that he’d take the hint and speed up the horse. She was feeling increasingly anxious and wanted to get to the Esh farm. “Your maem will be wondering why I’m not there yet.”
He gave the reins a little slap on the horse’s rump and urged it forward. “Come on now, girl,” he called out, and the horse immediately picked up a trot.
Within minutes, the
y arrived at their destination. Once John stopped the buggy, Bethany quickly slid open the door and started to climb out. Then, thinking better of it, she turned back to him.
“Danke for picking me up, John.”
He nodded once in acknowledgment. “My pleasure, Bethany.”
Without waiting for him, she hurried to the front porch and into the kitchen.
“My word,” Edna said as her eyes darted toward the clock. “I thought he must’ve gotten lost fetching you.”
Quietly, Bethany removed her shawl and hung it in the mudroom.
“I set out the plates and utensils on the one table. If you wouldn’t mind covering both tables with the cloths and then setting them, that would be a good start,” Edna said as she stirred something on the stove.
“Okay.”
From just inside the mudroom, Bethany’s eyes scanned the kitchen. Two large tables had been set up in the sitting area of the kitchen. Unlike her parents’ home, the Esh house had large rooms. Clearly a wall had been taken down at some point—or perhaps an addition had been built, for Bethany had not seen a house with such an accommodating kitchen and sitting area.
Bethany took a deep breath as she smoothed down her apron and then reached up to make certain no stray hairs had fallen from beneath her prayer kapp. Only then did she tell herself that she was ready.
When she entered the kitchen, she realized that Edna stood there, her eyes trailing her. How long had she been watching her?
“Is . . . is everything all right?” Bethany asked, suddenly nervous that she’d done something wrong already.
But Edna merely smiled and shook her head. “Nee, Bethany. Everything is just right.”
Strange, Bethany thought, but said nothing. Instead, she focused on what she was supposed to do: work.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was all Edna could do to keep herself from staring at the young woman as she worked. Without doubt, Bethany was one of the prettiest Amish women she’d seen in a long time. And it wasn’t just her physical looks. Sure, her dark brown hair, deep-set brown eyes, and high cheekbones made her look like one of those Englische models. But it was more than that. There was an air about her, not of confidence or superiority, but of servitude and righteousness.
She was just beautiful—inside and out—a godly person. Edna knew that right away.
It was just after ten thirty when the timer dinged.
Bethany jumped. “Oh! What’s that for?” She opened the oven. “Nothing’s baking.”
Edna laughed. “Nee, nothing is baking just yet. I already precooked some of it and we’ll finish baking it prior to the guests’ arriving at noon.”
She shut the oven door. “Then why did the timer go off?”
Pointing to the stove top, Edna explained. “I promised the men I’d take some coffee out to them. They’re cutting down trees in the back field, and it sure was chilly this morning.”
Something changed in Bethany’s demeanor. It was a subtle shift, but Edna noticed it right away. “Shall I take it to them?”
“Nee, but danke. You wouldn’t know where they are, I suppose.” Edna opened a cabinet and withdrew four coffee mugs by the handles. “I’ll go.”
Without being asked, Bethany took a dish towel and picked up the coffeepot. “I’ll take this for you, then.”
Edna didn’t need Bethany’s company; surely she could handle taking four mugs and a coffeepot outside by herself. But she figured it wasn’t a bad idea to have Bethany accompany her. That way, in the future, Bethany could take it out for the men, which would free up Edna to continue working inside.
A few minutes later, they approached the back field. Edna noticed that Elmer and John were hard at work while Jeremiah and Jonas talked by the mules and flat wagon.
Edna frowned. Isn’t that the way it always is? she thought. Even on John’s week off from the auction house, he was working harder than his two other brothers combined. She made a mental note to speak to Elmer about it—again!—later that evening. It just wasn’t fair to John that he worked so much to help the family while Jeremiah and Jonas often only did the bare minimum.
“Hot coffee!” she sang out as they neared the men.
Jonas looked up and, upon seeing her and Bethany, walked away from Jeremiah. He smiled as he met them halfway. “Just in the nick of time,” he said, his words directed toward Edna but his eyes on Bethany. “You ready to go home? I’d be happy to take you.”
Edna frowned at him. “You know it’s not even noon yet, Jonas. Stop teasing.”
He feigned a look of exhaustion. “Just being polite, that’s all. Besides, I’m about tuckered out from working so hard!”
Edna raised an eyebrow. “Must be exhausting talking to your bruder so much while your daed and John are cutting down the trees.”
“What?” Jonas made a face, glancing over his shoulder at his father and brother. When he turned back toward his mother, he jerked his thumb in the direction of the trees. “Who do you think took down all those other trees?”
“Oh, I’m quite certain I know who took them down,” Edna said, not trying to hide her disapproval of his comment.
“Why, I was just taking a break, that’s all!”
Elmer walked up behind him and clapped his hand upon his son’s shoulder. “That’s right. Taking a break all right.” He laughed and winked at Edna.
Jonas bristled as he reached for the mug of coffee that his mother offered him. “I was working hard,” he mumbled.
Edna noticed that he avoided looking at Bethany as he took a step away, separating himself from the small group.
“Coffee!” John joined them and gave Bethany a small smile. He nodded his head in a silent greeting, to which Bethany responded in kind, the color flooding her cheeks. “Warms a man up, drinking hot coffee in this weather,” John said, lifting the cup to his lips and sipping at it.
Edna surveyed the woods, noticing that only a dozen or so trees had been cut down. She exhaled, wondering how much work lay ahead for her husband. “It’ll take you weeks to cut all these trees.”
“Nee, not weeks. I’m hoping it’s all finished before Christmas,” Elmer said as he held out his coffee mug for more.
She was happy to oblige. As she refilled his mug, she gave a slight shake of her head. “I don’t see how.”
“I believe in Christmas miracles!” Elmer teased.
“Hm.” Edna knew God was in the business of miracles, but she wasn’t certain that helping Elmer cut down those trees, remove the stumps, and fertilize the soil was at the top of the Almighty’s to-do list. “Well, mayhaps His first miracle will be getting Jonas and Jeremiah to exercise their arms and not their mouths,” she quipped.
From behind them, Jonas scoffed and set his coffee mug on the wagon before disappearing in the direction of the trees.
Jeremiah laughed, clearly unfazed by his mother’s comment. “He’s embarrassed to be rebuked in front of a certain person,” he whispered in a loud voice and then gestured toward Bethany with his head. “Mayhaps he’s ferhoodled.”
She didn’t have to look at the young girl to know that she was uncomfortable with Jeremiah’s comment. Edna would have been, too, and she hadn’t been a shy young woman. “Now, Jeremiah,” she scolded in a sharp tone. “It’s not nice to poke fun at your bruder like that, nor is it kind to say such things at all!” She glanced at Bethany and saw that, indeed, Bethany stood stiffly beside her, her eyes staring at the ground. As Edna returned her attention to Jeremiah, she noticed that John focused on Bethany, an intense expression on his face. Leave it to John to be the only one of my three sons to display any sense of compassion, she thought.
“That’s right, Jeremiah.” Elmer gave him a look of reproach. “Your lack of manners is unacceptable.”
The reprimand from his father appeared to do the trick. Jeremiah dipped his head and mumbled an apology.
“Now get back to work.” Elmer gestured toward the trees. “You and Jonas need to pick up the pace. No more dill
ydallying,” he snapped.
Disgusted with her two younger sons, Edna collected the four coffee mugs and started walking toward the house. The more distance she put between herself and the two boys the better. “Come along, Bethany. The guests will be arriving shortly.”
As they headed away from the woods, Edna noticed that John lingered by the wagon, his eyes locked onto Bethany. It warmed her heart that at least one of her sons had inherited enough compassion and sensitivity to make up for what was lacking in Jonas and Jeremiah.
Chapter Twenty-Three
As usual, Wilma was making a mess. Flour covered her hands, arms, even portions of her face. Mary had never quite understood how anyone could make such a wreck of a kitchen just from baking cookies.
“Land’s sake, Wilma! You’re wearing more flour than we used in the dough! We should just sprinkle you with pumpkin spice and bake you!” Verna said sharply, clearly thinking the same thing as Mary.
“Oh hush yourself now!”
Verna scowled. “And you will help me clean this up, Wilma Schwartz. No sneaking off to the bathroom like you normally do.”
“I have a weak constitution,” Wilma cried out in self-defense.
“Weak constitution, my foot!” Verna gave the cookie dough one last pat. “There! Now I think we’re ready to start.” Lifting the bowl, she carried it over to where Mary sat. “I’ll fetch the baking sheets if you want to start rolling them into one-inch balls.”
Mary gave Verna a warm smile of gratitude. How thoughtful of her cousin to include her in the cookie-making process! Others would just do it themselves. It was often easier that way. But Verna knew Mary well enough to suspect that she was feeling left out and helpless. Having a task, even one as simple as rolling cookie dough into small balls, alleviated those feelings.
“I do wonder how Bethany’s doing at Edna’s.” Mary set down a dough ball on the baking sheet.