Her Amish Suitor's Secret

by Carrie Lighte

  Admittedly, a breeze off the lake kept the house relatively cool, but it was every bit as muggy in the fields here as it was in Pennsylvania, and Rose guffawed at her mother’s offer. She had tried to convince Rose to pack warmer clothing before she’d left, but Rose had argued, “I’m only going to Maine, Mamm, not to the North Pole.” Apparently, her mother still had her doubts.

  Rose read on. “Your father’s gout is acting up again so he hasn’t been able to walk, much less put on a boot to go to work. By the time you receive this, he should be better, Lord willing, but please remember him in your prayers.”

  Rose felt a pinprick of guilt. She hadn’t been praying consistently for her parents lately—her focus had been asking the Lord to heal her uncle and to help her earn the money she needed. She offered a silent prayer for her mother, father, siblings and their families before reading further. Her mother had devoted another paragraph to news about her brothers’ carpentry business and her sisters’ households.

  In closing, she wrote, “Baker came to visit on Tuesday. He told your father and me he felt terrible about what he did and that he’s working three jobs in order to repay you sooner than he agreed. He seems truly repentant. If you’ve really forgiven him, you ought to reconsider him as a suitor, Rose. You wouldn’t want to look back someday and regret not reconciling with him.”

  “Ugh!” Rose didn’t think she could possibly be more exasperated until she read her mother’s final line: “I gave him your address as he intends to write to you.”

  Rose closed her eyes and shook her head. How could her mother do that to her? Obviously, she’d been taken in by Baker’s smooth talking. Just like Rose had been once. She seethed. And what does she mean by “if you’ve really forgiven him”? Furthermore, how could her mother suggest she reconsider Baker as a suitor? Rose couldn’t believe a mother would prefer her daughter to be courted by a man who’d behaved so duplicitously than to have her remain single. She felt sold out.

  She slid a sheet of decorative paper from the desk drawer and inscribed, “Dear Mother, Thank you for offering to send my sweater, but I am so hot here in Maine it’s all I can do not to jump in the lake each afternoon!”

  I’m sorry to hear Dad has had gout again. I hope he remembered to use ice on his toe—last time that seemed to help him almost as much as the steroid shot he got from the doctor. I will continue praying for him and for all of you. The picnic you described sounded like fun. I wish I could have helped bake desserts. I also enjoyed hearing about Mary’s new baby and I hope he continues to be a good sleeper.

  I have forgiven Baker but I wish you hadn’t given him my address, as I don’t want to enter into a correspondence—or a courtship—with him. However, I’m pleased to hear he intends to pay me back earlier than he agreed. If he does, I’ll be able to repay the bank loan he caused me to default on sooner than expected, too.

  Rose paused. She’d deliberately included the phrase “he caused me to default on” to emphasize the consequences of Baker’s actions, but her mother might see it as proof Rose hadn’t genuinely forgiven him. She blotted it out and kept writing.

  I’ve found a way to earn extra money so I’ll be able to lease the café on Maple Street once it becomes available in the fall. I’m baking pies and selling jam.

  She wanted to add, “So you needn’t worry about my future as a single woman; I’ll be fine on my own.” Instead, she requested her mother greet everyone for her and then she signed the letter, “With love from Rose.”

  Since it was past time to start supper for the guests, Rose put aside the stationery to write to her aunt later and flew down the path to the dining hall. Eleanor was already there for once and she’d prepped all the vegetables, so Rose had enough time to bake fresh pies for the new group of guests to eat for dessert. The pies were still warm when she served them à la mode, and the ice cream melted atop of the crust.

  “Don’t tell Nancy this, but that was the best strawberry-rhubarb pie I’ve ever eaten,” one of the guests confided on his way out of the dining hall. According to Hope and Charity, the gruff old fisherman had been coming to the camp for five years, yet he rarely spoke a word to anyone.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. The Lord has blessed us with a wunderbaar crop of strawberries this year,” Rose answered modestly, although she couldn’t have felt more tickled.

  The moment was ruined when the fisherman clapped Caleb’s shoulder before shuffling out the door and advising him, “You’d be wise to take good care of a wife who cooks and looks like yours does!”

  Caleb is not my husband and I don’t need to be taken care of! Fuming, Rose ducked out of the room.

  * * *

  As Rose disappeared into the kitchen, Caleb cringed. He understood the man intended to pay her a compliment, but even by Englisch standards, his remark was boorish. It was sexist. And by the way the nape of Rose’s neck turned from tan to red, Caleb recognized how rankled she’d been by it. He wished he had spoken up in her defense, but it all happened so fast. Besides, what would he have said? Rose isn’t my wife, but I’m blessed to know her for reasons other than what she looks like or how she bakes? That only would have embarrassed Rose more. I’ll have to speak to her about it in private, he thought.

  But when Rose returned to the dining hall with a tray of food for him and the others to eat, she was stone-faced, and he thought it better not to acknowledge the man’s remark unless she brought it up.

  As usual, Eleanor kept the conversation at the table going. “Caleb, you have got to see the fireworks on Muundaag evening.”

  “Fireworks?”

  “Jah. It’s the Fourth of July on Muundaag. A big group of us goes up to Serenity Ridge for the best view of the display. You’ll join us, won’t you?”

  Caleb had been so involved in his responsibilities at the camp he’d lost track of the date and didn’t realize it was almost July Fourth. During his summers with the family in Pennsylvania, Caleb learned the Amish didn’t pledge allegiance to the flag because they considered their allegiance to be to God above all, but they were patriotic and enjoyed firework displays.

  On one hand, he’d like to get away from the camp for a break, but if everyone else was going, staying behind would give him an opportunity to poke through the woods without being seen, especially if they left before dark. “Are you going, Rose?” he asked. Then he quickly added, “And you, too, Charity and Hope?”

  “We’re going with Miriam and her breider, jah,” Charity said. “They’re picking us up.”

  “Neh, I’m not going,” Rose answered. “I have pies to bake in the early morning. The fireworks don’t start until ten and it takes half an hour to get home from the ridge, so being out until eleven is too late for me.”

  No sense in me sticking around here, then. “That’s too bad because it sounds like schpass,” Caleb said. Then he told Eleanor and the twins, “I’ll meet everyone there after I finish my evening chores.”

  “Getting to the ridge can be complicated, especially since the Englisch will be on the road, too, and we’ll need to take the long way around,” Eleanor said. “You’re wilkom to kumme home with me when we’re done serving supper. A couple of our friends are meeting Henry and me at our haus and then we’re all traveling in the same buggy. We can bring you home afterward.”

  “I, uh, appreciate that, but I’m sure I can find the ridge myself. Rose will draw me a map, won’t you, Rose?” One morning when Rose caught Caleb wandering through the woods near the field, he claimed he had no sense of direction, so she teasingly offered to draw him a map that showed how to get from the house to the garden. He made reference to her joke now, hoping to elicit a smile, but her expression and posture remained wooden.

  “Jah,” she agreed in a faraway voice.

  The next morning Rose still seemed distracted as she, Hope and Charity sat with Caleb on the porch, waiting for Jaala and Abram. When they arrived, the si
x of them went inside and seated themselves in the gathering room. Since it was his first time this far inside the house, Caleb scanned his surroundings. This was the largest room in the house, but it was still small by Amish standards. Hope, Charity and Rose sat on the sofa and Jaala took the armchair, which Caleb noticed was the same type as those in the cabins. He and Abram sat in the straight-backed wooden chairs across from the women.

  “Shall we pray?” Abram asked, and the women murmured their agreement. In the pause that followed, Rose touched her head and Caleb instantly realized she was signaling him to remove his hat. I’m always forgetting to put it on or forgetting to take it off, he thought sheepishly. As everyone else bowed their heads, Caleb mouthed “denki” to Rose, who nodded, her lips curving slightly before she bowed her head, too. If his embarrassment was the price of returning the smile to her face, Caleb was glad to pay it.

  After singing hymns they knew by heart—fortunately, Caleb also remembered them from the Amish hymnal, the Ausbund—the deacon chose to read Colossians 3:1–14 from the Scriptures. The second verse especially captured Caleb’s attention. It read, “Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth,” and reminded him of the text from the book of Matthew that was quoted in the note sent to Ryan. A chill swept up his spine. The Bible is full of passages that echo or quote other passages, he told himself. It doesn’t mean Abram knows anything about the note.

  Yet when the deacon read the first part of verse nine, which said, “Lie not one to another,” Caleb would have claimed for certain Abram cleared his throat for emphasis; for condemnation. Or maybe that was Caleb’s guilty conscience speaking.

  He hadn’t outright lied to anyone in Serenity Ridge, but he hadn’t exactly been truthful, either. Prior to coming to the camp, Caleb had been concerned about being considered a fraud, being unfair to the Amish and possibly losing his job; now he was more concerned about how the Lord looked at what he was doing. Did the ends justify the means in God’s sight? But if I tell the Amish who I really am, I’ll have to leave and my brother might lose his son...

  Hope’s voice jarred Caleb from his conflicting thoughts. “The verse about setting our affections on things above, not on things on the earth reminds me of the sermon you gave this spring, Abram,” Hope observed.

  “Jah, me, too,” Charity agreed.

  The deacon beamed. “I’m glad you were listening so closely!”

  He delivered a sermon on those verses earlier this spring? Caleb’s pulse hammered his eardrums. Is it possible the person who wrote the note is Amish? Then his mind made an even bigger leap. Could it have been Hope and Charity who wrote it? Or Nancy and Sol? Or... No, Rose hadn’t been at the camp when Ryan received the letter. It couldn’t have been her. What if it was Abram himself?

  “Caleb?” Obviously the deacon had asked him a question he hadn’t heard.

  “Excuse me?” Caleb felt the heat rising up his neck.

  “I asked if you wanted to comment on any of the verses that struck a chord with you.”

  While everyone was waiting for him to say something, Caleb drew a blank. Now his ears were burning, as well as his neck and cheeks. He was grateful when Rose broke the silence.

  “Verse 13, that part about forbearing and forgiving one another as Christ has forgiven us...” she began tentatively, her voice soft. “Sometimes I believe I’ve forgiven someone, but when I really consider my attitude toward them, I wonder if I’ve forgiven them as fully as Gott has forgiven me. Maybe I’m holding on to a little grudge.”

  “I understand what you mean,” Jaala said. “We can pray about that for you—and for each other.”

  All Caleb could think was, Who hasn’t she forgiven completely? The guest from last night? If she had difficulty forgiving a stranger for his impropriety, how would Rose ever forgive Caleb for masquerading as an Amish person?

  He continued to fret as Abram led them in prayer and then in a few contemporary church songs. By the time they finished worshipping, it was almost noon, but for once, Caleb didn’t feel hungry. His insides coiled into a tight lump, but he knew it would be rude not to eat with the others. Afterward he would go out on the lake by himself, he decided. He couldn’t keep up this charade. He needed to find the coins and leave as soon as possible.

  But while he and Abram were sitting on the porch waiting for the women to prepare lunch, the deacon suggested, “Let’s take the canoe out to do a little fishing after we eat. Might not be the best time of day for it, but as long as I’m here...” And Caleb knew he couldn’t refuse.

  * * *

  Rose was glad when Sunday was over. The Scripture had left her unsettled about whether she’d truly forgiven Baker. Forgiving him and accepting him as her suitor again were two different things, weren’t they? But I told Mamm I didn’t even want to enter into a correspondence with him. If I’m really not harboring any ill will, why do I resent the idea of him writing to me? Rose’s thoughts vacillated so much she couldn’t wait to get up and make pies on Monday. Sometimes it was easier to do than to think, and Rose’s work was particularly rewarding that morning because Helen was delighted she was baking on the holiday.

  Since the raspberries weren’t quite ready for picking yet, Rose spent the afternoon putting up vegetables and making jam until it was almost suppertime. Most of the camp guests were either eating in restaurants or they were having Independence Day cookouts on Black Bear Lake, so preparing the evening meal for the few still at the camp was a cinch. For the staff’s supper, Rose and Eleanor baked the trout Caleb caught the day before when he was fishing with Abram.

  “This is appenditlich,” Charity enthused when they’d finished their meal. “You should catch supper more often, Caleb.”

  “Jah, I wish Daed were here to go fishing with you. He loves being on the lake,” Hope said wistfully. “Maybe if he’s strong enough when he gets home, you two can go then.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be well by summer’s end,” Caleb replied, nodding, yet somehow his reassurance was less than convincing.

  Rose sighed. This wasn’t the first comment the twins made that indicated how worried they were about their father’s health. Hoping to cheer them, she instructed, “Okay, you’d all better get going. I’ll take care of the cleanup tonight. Have schpass and be careful.”

  When she finished washing, drying and putting away the dishes, Rose removed the last of the rhubarb from the freezer to defrost it, and then she washed, hulled and cut strawberries. The process was becoming so familiar she imagined she could do it with her eyes closed; yet, she didn’t seem to be getting any faster at it. It was almost nine when she finished and stepped outside into the near dark. The camp was unusually quiet, not a single guest on the property, and as she neared the main house, Rose was startled by a flickering movement ahead of her. I have to quit this foolishness, she thought. I’m fine. Nothing’s here.

  But as she set her foot on the bottom stair of the porch, she realized something definitely was there: a small and dark animal stood near the front door. A cat. But what was with it? Kittens? Then she recognized the telltale white stripe—it was a mother skunk with a surfeit of kits! There was just enough light for Rose to see the animal lift its tale, so she quietly and rapidly backed away before the creature became more agitated.

  Now what was she going to do? she wondered from a safe distance. She had locked the back door and the basement hatchway, on Caleb’s advice, and she didn’t think she could climb into one of the first-story windows. It seemed her only option was to return to the dining hall and wait for the skunks to leave. After fifteen minutes, she crept toward the house and found they were still there. She left and came back a second time, but they appeared to have taken up permanent residence on the porch, so Rose decided this time she’d wait near the lake.

  I would have been better off going to the fireworks display. The thought inspired her; although the hill of trees on the opposite shoreli
ne would obscure the fireworks from view here, if she went to Paradise Point, she’d be able to see into the valley on the other side. Why not? It’s not as if I can go to bed anyway.

  In addition to a life vest, Rose retrieved a flashlight from the nearby storage shed. As she was flipping the canoe right side up, Rose distinctly heard footfalls on the path and she held her breath. It had to be a moose or a deer; no one else was at the camp. Or could it be a bear? Reflexively she picked up the canoe paddle and raised it over her head, hoping it would make her appear bigger, which in turn might frighten an animal away. “Who’s there?” she shouted, just as something stepped into the clearing by the water.

  “Don’t swing!” a man warned. “It’s me, Caleb.”

  “You scared me!” she scolded, lowering the paddle. “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought I heard something, so I came to see what it was.”

  “Neh, I meant what are you doing back already? The fireworks haven’t even begun yet.”

  “Well, someone agreed to draw a map for me and she forgot, and I didn’t want to disturb her since I figured she was intent on making pies...”

  “Oh, neh! I’m sorry. You should have asked me again.”

  “I was kidding. Actually, I got about halfway there and ran into a huge traffic jam, and since I’m pretty bushed anyway, I decided it wasn’t worth the effort. What are you doing down here at this hour?”

  Rose explained the skunk situation and couldn’t resist needling him. “I blame you for this, you know. I never would have locked the back door and hatchway if you hadn’t made such a schtinke about our safety.”

  “I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not. I still think it’s for the best that you lock up.”

  “Jah, jah,” Rose grumbled good-naturedly. “Anyway, I was just about to go up to Paradise Point to watch the fireworks from there.”