An Amish Homecoming

by Rosalind Lauer

  “Yah, and your work just increased by three. Three more mouths to feed, and three more to clean up after. Three more on laundry day.”

  “Sully’s girls will learn to pitch in. I’ve got Essie trying to teach them a few things in the kitchen.”

  “Essie’s a right good cook, but I don’t know about her as a teacher.”

  “Every parent needs to be a teacher in one way or another. Essie needs to learn for when she gets married and has kids of her own.”

  “This is true. So the students will teach the teacher?” he asked.

  “A little of both. Essie needs to learn patience, and the girls need to learn how to take care of themselves. My sister was a good mother, I think, but the English don’t teach some of the important things. Cooking, cleaning, and tending the summer garden. Our nieces have none of these skills, but they’re smart girls. They’ll come round.”

  “Bend the branch while it’s still young. That’s what my dat used to say.”

  Miriam took a deep breath as she thought about the old saying. Was it about shaping the growth of a tree? Funny, how living things seemed to grow so slowly while you were watching. And then, whammo! The thin sapling you planted ten years ago now towered over the rooftop of the house.

  What would Sarah want for her girls? She hadn’t been a strict mother, but she’d tried to instill kindness in her daughters. Love of family was important to Sarah, despite the fact that she’d left their family when she turned eighteen. She had told Miriam that she couldn’t live in a box, constricted by the rules of a small group of people. At that point, their parents had already received a few visits from the deacon over his concerns about Sarah in her blue jeans wanting to do men’s work on the farm and luring other Amish teens off to music festivals and fairs. Other youth in their community had delved into drugs and alcohol—far worse things, in Miriam’s eyes. But Sarah had been singled out for her defiance. Come Monday morning, when other young people changed to their daily clothes and got back to work, Sarah kept her jeans and her painted face. The deacons and bishop just couldn’t permit a person to keep breaking the Ordnung, the rules of Amish life.

  When she closed her eyes Miriam could still see that cherry-red lipstick her older sister favored. Sometimes she’d wished Sarah would put her lipstick away and follow the rules, just so she could stay. But Gott had forged a different path for Sarah.

  And so at the age of eighteen, off she went, first to York and then to Philadelphia. Miriam had missed her so much she bore an ache in her chest for years, until at last, after Miriam had given birth to Samuel, Sarah had gotten in touch to say she was married and pregnant and happy with her city life.

  And when Sarah had brought her family for visits, she’d seemed to be still juggling that hot potato of joy. Two different paths they’d taken, and yet the sisters had managed to meet down the road.

  And now, decades after the split, Sarah’s girls had landed here. What would Sarah want for them?

  Just love?

  Lots of love.

  * * *

  “Has anyone seen my church pants?” Peter called down the hall. “Oh, here.”

  “No, those are my pants. Mem!” Paul bellowed. “Peter has my pants.”

  The usual Sunday morning rush to get to church, Miriam thought as she hurried down the hall toward the boys’ room.

  “You can have them back. They’re too small.”

  “Let me see.” Miriam pushed open the door to find Peter in a pair of pants that were far too tight and too short.

  “Did you grow a foot while you were sleeping?” she asked. The twelve-year-old twin boys were growing like pole beans.

  Peter shrugged. “I can wear them, Mem, but if I sit down I won’t be able to breathe.”

  “If he can’t wear them, I can’t wear mine,” Paul said. “Because we’re the same size.” He was sitting on the bed in his usual broadcloth pants, the ones with the patch Mammi had sewn into the knee. “I knew my church pants were getting too small.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Miriam asked.

  He rubbed at the patch on his knee. “I forgot.”

  Every church day there seemed to be a new challenge that threatened to make them late. Miriam instructed the boys to wear their everyday pants—a bit embarrassing, but oh, well. She would search for some hand-me-downs from Sam, or else a trip to Walmart would be in order.

  In the girls’ room Annie and Lizzie got held up explaining about church to their cousins. Miriam popped her head in and told the cousins they didn’t have to go, on account of the service being in German, and not really suited for them.

  “That’s a relief, ’cause church is not my thing,” Serena said from her bunk.

  Miriam appreciated her honesty. “Just be sure to make your beds, and clean up after yourselves in the kitchen. We’ll be back in three or four hours.”

  “Four hours?” Megan winced. “We could drive to Philadelphia and back.”

  Miriam chuckled. “Church is closer. But there’s always a lot of socializing to be had afterward. We take our time.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, when Miriam noticed the sunlight streaming in through the open doors of the Byler barn, she had to smile. It was Gott’s hand casting a golden light on a swath of his congregation. Such a beautiful sight!

  Seated on a bench with her daughters in the women’s section, she realized the barn was heating up. Inevitable, with a hundred or so warm bodies tucked into one space. An older fellow in the men’s section was hunkered over and sleeping, as was someone in the back, whose snore made a nap seem awfully appealing. Granted, the air in the barn was still and hot, and the preacher was covering a lot of scripture that was hard to follow.

  She opened a bin of gmay cookies and passed them to Sarah Rose and Lizzie. Essie declined, so Miriam reached down the aisle, offering them to the Hershberger children before taking one herself. Her eyes closed at the sweet, buttery flavor. At eighteen, Essie had mastered most of the family recipes. She was good and ready to be a fine wife. Miriam glanced at the container, longing for another cookie, but held herself back. A healthy diet did not include extra cookies. Besides, soon enough they’d have the lunch spread out, which was sure to include one of Miriam’s favorite things: Amish peanut butter. The creamy combination of peanut butter and sweet, smooth marshmallow was like a cross between peanut brittle and marshmallow heaven. Such a treat for young and old.

  Later, at a table shared with Alvin, his brother Lloyd, and Lloyd’s wife Greta, they munched on sandwiches, carrots, and radishes as they talked about the break in the heat and a problem Lloyd had been having with his harvester. Greta was not only family, she was also Miriam’s closest friend. Greta had a gift for spilling the truth, whether it was difficult or not, a quality Miriam appreciated. Plus, she had a sharp sense of humor.

  As the men spoke, Greta turned to Miriam and nodded across the lawn toward a group of young folk. “Your Essie has really come into her own.”

  Miriam looked over and saw Essie handing drinks to her younger sisters. “She’s such a help. I don’t know what I’ll do without her.”

  “But that time’s coming, isn’t it?” There was a spark of joy in Greta’s eyes. “Have they mentioned anything yet?”

  “Not yet,” Miriam said. “But I planted plenty of celery this year, just in case.”

  The two women laughed together, enjoying the little joke. It was a tradition to serve celery at Amish weddings in Lancaster County. Celery was a healthy snack, easy to grow, and the stalks propped in water were so decorative on the wedding tables.

  Just then Linda Hostetler stopped by and nudged in to perch between Greta and Miriam. Linda’s husband Len owned a harness shop in town, and she had a habit of asking probing questions when Amish customers stopped in for supplies. Linda seemed to enjoy the collection and distribution of local news.

  “How are the girls?” she asked Miriam.

  “Just fine.” It seemed like an odd question, but with Linda, y
ou never knew. “The young ones are playing by the barn.”

  “Not them. Your English girls.”

  Taken by surprise, Miriam opened her mouth and closed it. She hadn’t expected the question. She hadn’t thought anyone knew about her sister’s girls.

  “I saw them in town with Alvin and Sam,” Linda went on. Something about her long nose and pointed chin reminded Miriam of a fox. Not unattractive, but something to be wary of. “I was coming out of the library when they got out of your buggy. Two girls, right?”

  “Actually, three. Only two went into town.”

  “You have visitors then?” Greta asked. Miriam hadn’t had a chance to tell her yet.

  “My sister’s girls.” Somehow it seemed wrong to have to explain to Linda that Sarah was dead, that the girls needed family now and, with the work demands on their father, had nowhere else to turn. Besides, it was more than Linda Hostetler deserved to know.

  “How long are they staying?” Linda asked.

  “We’re not sure. Maybe a year. Might be longer.”

  “Are they going to school?” Linda asked. “You know, the English have to stay in school longer than Amish children. It’s the law.”

  “They’ll be going to school,” Miriam said, reminding herself to find out the schedule of the county schools. For all she knew, they could be in session now.

  “I just had to ask. When I saw them, I knew something was not right.” Linda leaned closer to Greta to add: “One of them has pink hair.”

  “That’s Grace, the youngest.” Miriam’s heart sank at the jab. She hoped her nieces wouldn’t be picked on while they were here. Especially Grace, who seemed the most tender right now.

  “I’m sure you’ll be keeping your eyes on them.” Linda rose and brushed her dress, as if sitting with them had soiled it. “I’ll be praying for you, Miriam. You and those girls. I can’t say what would happen if the bishop gets a look at them.”

  The hint of trouble took Miriam by surprise, robbing her of the chance to reply before Linda moved on. What had Linda meant about the bishop? They’d done nothing wrong. Nothing about taking in family went against the rules of the Ordnung.

  Miriam stared down at the table. “That was . . . upsetting.” Her throat had grown tight, and her palms were suddenly sweaty. “Though I’m not sure why.”

  “These are Sarah’s girls? Daughters of your sister who passed?”

  Miriam nodded. “Their father works late shifts and long hours, and there’s no one else in Philadelphia who can take them in. They need a mother’s love, Greta. A family.”

  Greta leaned close, her eyes stern. “Then they’ve come to the right place.”

  In her heart, Miriam knew that was true. But Linda’s comment about the bishop echoed in her mind like something from a bad dream. Something that would take a while to shake.

  She and Alvie were doing the right thing, but some folks got thrown off by the way things looked. Like pink hair and shiny black fingernails.

  She would have to trust that Gott would protect them from the likes of Linda Hostetler.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Grace shouted as they zipped down the highway on scooters they’d found in one of the barns.

  “Isn’t it great?” Serena loved the feeling of the breeze in her hair, and she had gotten into a rhythm, pushing off with one foot to keep moving on the flat parts of the road.

  Megan led the way. She was probably the most cautious driver, definitely the most athletic. But she almost hadn’t come along because she worried about the three of them being on the road without helmets. Serena had promised that they’d go slow and be extra careful, and just to be sure, Megan had taken the lead.

  They crested the top of a slight hill and came to a downhill stretch. “Yahoo!” Serena crowed as she rested both feet on the scooter and coasted. There was something wonderful about sunshine and green fields and open road, something that made her feel like she was leaving her worries miles behind her. Maybe she was getting used to the whole farm thing. Last night had helped. She’d had a blast hanging out with her sisters, Essie, and Harlan. Who knew board games could make them laugh so hard.

  And then, there was Scout. It had been the perfect cap on the evening to see him again, to introduce her sisters and chat with him for a while. He seemed to be close to Serena’s age, and if they became friends, she figured he would introduce her to his friends and pretty soon she might have friends of her own. If she had to stay here, she would need some normal friends, people to hang out with when she needed to escape the farm.

  Serena’s sisters weren’t quite as ready to dig into their new Amish home, but Serena figured that, in time, they would find their own grooves. For now, she was happy to be the cheerleader. This morning, after the buggies had left, she’d brought her sisters coffee in their bunk beds, and then had dragged them down to the river to splash around in the crazy hot heat. Soaking in the river, they had concocted the idea to ride the family scooters into “civilization.”

  Now, as they neared town, Serena was glad they were on scooters that could move around some of the sitting traffic. Although there were no Amish people in sight, a good amount of “English” shoppers from the suburbs roamed the streets. Families waited outside restaurants and people of all ages crowded the sidewalks on Main Street.

  “How come there are no Amish buggies in town?” Grace asked.

  “Remember what Aunt Miriam said? Sunday is a day of rest,” Megan explained. “You won’t see them running any shops today, but Sam said that some of the bigger businesses hire Sunday help or let their English partners take over on the Sabbath.”

  “Let’s park the scooters over at that rack and walk it,” Serena said.

  Grace looked around them as she wheeled her scooter over. “But we don’t have locks. What if someone jacks them?”

  “None of the bikes are locked,” Megan observed. “Looks like we have to go with the honor system.”

  Their first stop was the country diner, where they put their name on the waiting list. They’d decided to treat themselves with some of the cash Dad had left with them, and Megan had been craving a burger, fries, and a milkshake, which sounded pretty good to Serena right about now.

  “It’s a forty-minute wait,” Megan said. “If you guys want to go look around, I’ll wait here and text you when they’re about to call us.”

  Grace shrugged. “I’ve got no money and nothing to buy.”

  “Come with me,” Serena said. “I want to look for a dresser for the three of us to share.”

  Grace cocked her head, her reaction difficult to read beneath her oversized sunglasses. “Why don’t we ask Dad to lug out one of our old dressers from home?”

  “Because that’s no easy task, and it’s time we handled our problems on our own.”

  “By buying a dresser? Who’s paying for that?” Grace probed.

  “Just come on.” As they headed down Main Street, Serena tried to get a sense of what they had to choose from. “Let’s walk down and see what’s here.” They passed the Country Store, which seemed to feature fabric, yarn, and craft supplies. “You’ll never find me in there,” Serena said.

  A quaint, shingled building called The Amish Woodshed had a pine scent that seemed inviting. Inside they found small pieces of wood furniture, all of it handcrafted. Most of the stools, cedar chests, and chairs were simple, but some pieces had a design carved into them. The furniture was quaint but woodsy—fine if you lived in a lumberjack camp. There was an entire section of the store devoted to wooden signs, with sayings like “Home Sweet Home” and “Be what you wish others to become.”

  Next door they walked by the drive-up burger stand, and the smell of charbroiled beef made Serena want to change their plans. “Maybe we should grab Megan and just go in here,” she told Grace.

  Her younger sister studied the cars pulled up to the parking bays and then peered into the small shop. “Nah. This is just a hangout spot for teens.” />
  As they were checking out the place, Serena caught the eye of a young guy who’d been watching them. Tall and solid, in jeans and a tank top that showed off his well-toned arms and shoulders, he wore a black bandana wrapped around his head to keep unruly dark curls out of his eyes. Back in Philly, he would have been her type—a bad boy. She could tell by the way he swaggered over to them.

  “Hey, girls. You’ve got that lost look. Let Johnny help you out.”

  “Oh, we’re not lost,” Serena said, looking him in the eyes. “We’re just wondering when was the last time the health inspector checked out this place.”

  He laughed. “It may not be top-notch, but it’s got my seal of approval.”

  “Good to know. And who are you?”

  “Johnny. Johnny Rotten is what I go by now.” He was acting tough, and, although Serena liked playing the game, she wasn’t that into him.

  “That’s original. I’m Serena, and this is my sister Grace.” Beside her, she sensed Grace’s face icing over. This was not her scene. “We just moved here from Philadelphia.”

  “Seriously? That’s cool.”

  “Definitely. We’ve got some errands to do, so see you around, Johnny.”

  He nodded. “Bye, Queena Serena.”

  A nickname—how original, she thought as they continued down the street.

  “Why do you even bother with guys like that?” Grace asked.

  “An old habit.”

  They passed an ice cream and candy shop with a sign that said FUDGE in the window. The harness shop was closed. Grace wanted to check out the little Christmas shop called Noel, but it was brimming over with people, so crowded that the girls didn’t bother to go inside.

  “Who needs Christmas stuff in August?” Grace said.

  “Some people just can’t get enough of Christmas,” Serena said, remembering how it used to be a big deal in their house. “Like Mom.”

  “Dad says Mom did it for us. Christmas wasn’t a really big deal when she was a kid, so she went crazy with the decorations. Remember how she would string lights inside our windows?”