by Sarah Price
‘Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away;
for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.
The fig tree puts forth its figs, and the vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance.
Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.’”
“Just wunderbarr,” Mary Ann whispered, staring at Willis with a starry-eyed look on her face that was unmistakable even from where Eleanor stood. “You recite with such passion and confidence.”
If Willis was embarrassed by her words, he didn’t show it. Instead, he responded with “Two traits that are inspired from the very words of King Solomon himself!”
Mary Ann sighed.
Willis gifted Mary Ann with one last smile, just as Christian’s boots echoed on the front step. He glanced toward the opened door where the newcomer’s shadow darkened the room. “And with that, I regrettably must take myself away.” He nodded his good-bye to her and then to the rest of her family before hurrying to the door, pausing only to lift his hat from the hook and wish Christian a fine day.
Eleanor watched Christian’s reaction. He appeared perplexed at the appearance of John Willis, staring after the younger man. And when he entered the house and greeted Mary Ann, he would have been blind to have missed the dreamy expression on her face. Eleanor suspected that his visit was not just to check on Mary Ann’s knee but also to sit with Mary Ann. Accident or not, Christian had most likely intended to visit anyway.
“How is your knee today?” he asked when he could find his voice.
At first she did not respond.
“Mary Ann!” Eleanor snapped. “Preacher Bechtler has asked you a question!”
“What? Oh!” She emerged from her daydreaming and turned her attention to their new visitor. “Preacher Bechtler! How nice of you to stop by.”
He held his hat before him, his hands as steady as his gaze. “I heard you had an accident yesterday and wanted to see how you fared.”
“Danke,” Mary Ann said, although her heart was clearly not full of genuine gratitude. “I’m quite fine now, although I do feel a bit sore.”
When she offered nothing else to the conversation, Christian looked over his shoulder out the open door. “I had not known John Willis returned to the area,” he said, his voice soft. “He was not at worship yesterday.”
At this news Mary Ann brightened, and for the first time, turned an animated face toward Christian Bechtler. “You are familiar with Willis, then?”
“I am,” he said slowly. “But only in a capacity in which there is very little I can share.”
Eleanor noted the briefest of hesitation in Christian’s selection of words, and for a moment, she wondered what, exactly, he meant.
His visit remained brief, his intention strictly to check on Mary Ann, and on finding her not only in fine health but also in a dreamy state of infatuation, there was little else to discuss. When he excused himself and wished them all well, Eleanor had to prod Mary Ann to mind her manners and say good-bye.
“Honestly, Mary Ann”—Eleanor scolded her sister as soon as Christian left to continue his business for the day—“your conduct is shameful!”
Her mouth opened and she stared at Eleanor, a flashing look in her eyes. “I have no idea what you are talking about!”
“You’ve only just met that Willis man. We know nothing about him, and here you are making cow eyes at just the mention of his name as if he’s come calling with courtship on his mind.”
Defiantly Mary Ann lifted her chin. “He did come calling. Today.”
“To check on you,” Eleanor responded harshly. “Out of concern. Mary Ann, you have no sense when it comes to such matters! Why, you’ll develop a reputation faster than you can shake a stick if you keep this up.”
“Well, I’d rather express my emotions,” Mary Ann shot back, “than deny them to the point that I’m viewed as having no feelings at all!”
Eleanor gasped and raised her hand to touch her chest by her heart. To hear her sister’s opinion, something that certainly reflected observations of Eleanor’s relationship with Edwin, hurt. She remembered Edwin’s last conversation with her, his desire to tell her something only to be interrupted by the needs of her family. What had he wanted to share with her? In her heart she suspected that he wanted to share his feelings for their special friendship. In her head she knew that the moment was gone, and with distance separating them, she would not learn the truth for quite some time. Still, for her sister to suggest that she had no feelings?
“Girls, please.” Maem raised her hand to her forehead. “I can’t handle bickering right now.”
A silence fell over the room, the tension lingering long after the words had been spoken. Eleanor tried to erase Mary Ann’s harsh words from her head and heart. She knew that her sister didn’t mean to insult her. They were so different from each other, and while always the most steadfast of friends, it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore those distinctions that made them unique.
While only two years older than Mary Ann, Eleanor had always been more aware of consequences to actions. Perhaps it was her birthright as the oldest daughter to look out for her younger sisters. Or maybe it was just her nature to assume the job of modeling the proper behavior that was expected of young women. Either way, of one thing Eleanor was certain: in the world of the Amish, appearances mattered. Outsiders to the Amish communities might not understand, or even see, how a group of people who chose to live plain, shunned worldliness, and practiced forgiveness in even the most harrowing situations could sit in judgment of others.
But Eleanor knew it was true, particularly when it came to courtship.
Women did not aggressively pursue men. And for the most part men did not aggressively pursue women. Courtship usually began with quiet conversations in the comfort of the buggy on a ride home from a youth gathering. The less known about any potential interest, the better. And Eleanor understood the rationale behind this. After all, should a relationship not develop, both parties’ reputation and self-esteem would remain intact. Appearances mattered. Without this unspoken custom a young woman could find herself with questionable gossip being spread about her. Once a woman’s reputation was tarnished, polishing it back to its original state was a difficult process.
After a few moments of silence, time needed for tempers to cool down, Eleanor cleared her throat. For the past several days she had been going over their financial situation. With August almost over and autumn bringing a flurry of activities, such as baptism, communion, and, most importantly, weddings, they would be expected to bring baked goods and, in some cases, gifts. And then winter would descend on them. Since Fanny had fussed about the canned goods in the pantry, declaring that the food was part of the farm and should not move with them, they had few supplies to sustain their small family. That meant they would have to spend money at the food store.
“Maem,” Eleanor began slowly. “I reviewed the bank statement the other day.”
“Oh, help!” Maem threw her hands in the air and shook her head.
Eleanor pointed down to the pad of paper. “We do not have enough money for firewood and food. With what little Fanny let us take from the pantry . . . ”
Mary Ann scoffed, “Which was nothing!”
Eleanor shot her a look and continued talking. “With what little canned food we have, we will be at Jacob’s mercy until next year when we can grow our own food.”
At this Maem sighed, her shoulders dropping and her eyes taking on a look of sorrow. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another! First the bickering, now the finances!”
“Before you get too excited, I had an idea.”
At this statement both Mary Ann and Maem stopped what they were doing to pay attention to Eleanor. Her acumen for business was something held in great esteem by both of them.
“As you know, we a
re coming into the season,” Eleanor began slowly. “We’ll have wedding invitations, which, especially for those in Manheim, will require hiring drivers and baking extra goods. Without a pantry to help us through the winter, we’ll need to spend money at the food store, and that is just something we don’t have extra of.”
“Food or money?” Mary Ann quipped lightly.
“Both.” Eleanor leveled her gaze at Mary Ann as if to indicate how dire the situation truly was.
“What would you have us do?” Maem asked. “Give up meat and fresh vegetables?”
Her sarcasm was not lost on Eleanor’s ears. But she ignored it. “So I was thinking of ways that we could make ends meet until next spring. Or even longer. And I thought of something we could do to earn money.”
If she had piqued their curiosity before, she now had their rapt attention.
“So many women work in the fields or go to market, but they still have so many chores at home. And that’s only the Amish. The Englischers are often two-income families, ja? So they really do not have time for chores. Why don’t we offer our services to sew their clothing?” It was an idea that had struck her, almost like a soft voice whispering in her ear, just a few days ago. Late at night, long after the rest of her family retired to bed, Eleanor had stayed up with a pen and paper. Under the soft glow of a small kerosene lantern (for she didn’t want to waste the propane in the stronger lantern that hung over the kitchen table), she made calculations until almost eleven o’clock at night.
“Sewing?” Maem seemed genuinely interested.
Nodding her head, Eleanor smiled. “I figured it out on paper that, if we offer these services, we could certainly make enough money for extra food,” she said, looking directly at her mother, “including beef and fresh vegetables. We’d also have enough to buy Maggie a new winter coat. She’s grown so much taller, and we haven’t any more hand-me-downs to give her.”
Mary Ann exhaled loudly. “I truly hate sewing, Eleanor.”
“Probably not as much as you hate being cold and hungry.”
With a dramatic hand gesture, as if waving Eleanor away, Mary Ann dared to respond, “Hopefully I’ll be married and on my own farm in the spring. I won’t have to worry about these things anymore.”
“And what a joyous day that will be for all of us,” Eleanor retorted. “In the meantime we have to be practical and think of the upcoming months.”
To her surprise Maem nodded her head. “I do believe that is an idea worth pursuing, Eleanor. Proactive actions help ward off negative consequences. I, for one, would hate to need aid from the g’may. Without the farm, there are fewer chores, which gives us time to pursue this idea.”
Eleanor flushed, unaccustomed to praise. Praising others set them apart from others. It also created inflated feelings of superiority and increased an individual’s vanity. So she responded in the best manner she could to deflect the praise. “I’m sure anyone would have thought of it,” she replied in a genuinely demure tone. “And Mary Ann, I know that you hate sewing. But a little bit won’t hurt you, especially if it helps the family.”
“I just wish we had a garden,” her sister replied. “I hate being cooped up inside all day long.”
Eleanor felt that familiar tug of sorrow for Mary Ann, knowing that it had pained her to walk away from her beautiful gardens at the Manheim farm as well as her job at the garden center.
But they all knew that such a sacrifice was needed, unless they wanted to ask the g’may for financial help, and that was not something anyone desired. The Lord helps those who help themselves, Eleanor thought as she bent her head to continue working on the garment she was sewing. And mayhaps Mary Ann was right. If Willis was indeed interested in courting her sister, she’d have her own gardens to tend in the spring.
Chapter Eleven
SEVERAL DAYS PASSED and John Willis stayed true to his word. He became a regular visitor at the Detweilers’ cottage, stopping by to check on “the patient,” as he took to calling her. Then, when she began to put her full weight on the knee, he would offer to hold her elbow and walk up the lane with her.
Alone.
To Eleanor’s dismay John Willis hid his affections in the same manner as Mary Ann: he simply did not. His manner of speaking with her openly about subjects such as the romantic—and sometimes overtly passionate!—innuendos behind the Song of Solomon did not go unnoticed by Eleanor or Maem. Several times, in the heat of a discussion, the topic between the two starry-eyed duo grew so intense that Eleanor had to send Maggie from the room.
Fortunately most of his visits tended to be during the day, and Eleanor was thankful that Maggie had started school, although Maggie herself felt the complete opposite.
Now that the cottage was set up and the Detweiler women were situated in the community, they could begin their earnest effort of starting to offer sewing services. Already Widow Jennings had spread the word—in what way, Eleanor could only imagine—and several people had stopped by to inquire further. As Eleanor had predicted, many women were too busy working outside of the home and could use the assistance of an extra set of hands to help with sewing, especially with wedding season arriving soon. Young women needed new blue dresses for their upcoming marriages. The very fact that so many knew of the weddings ahead of time surprised Eleanor, who was used to the game of secrecy that surrounded courtship. Apparently the younger women of Quarryville were not held to such traditions, a point that Mary Ann used to her advantage.
“The difference is,” Eleanor stated firmly, “that they are already engaged!”
“Oh fiddle-faddle!” Mary Ann said dismissively. “I shall be too, soon enough. Wait and see!”
By the time Saturday arrived, Willis had already made plans to take Mary Ann to the youth gathering on the other side of the g’may. While he didn’t live in the church district, he knew many of the youths from spending time with his aunt and her husband throughout the years. And with the heat of summer abating now that September had come, the youth were taking advantage of the good weather to play volleyball.
While Mary Ann detested volleyball, a fact she did not share with Willis, she immediately accepted his invitation.
Shortly after Saturday’s supper, a simple fare of fresh bread, pasta salad, tomatoes, and meatloaf, Mary Ann stood by the open kitchen window, her face turned to the breeze as she waited and watched for his arrival. Her fingers tapped nervously against the counter as her eyes scanned the empty road.
“Oh, Mary Ann!” Maggie gushed, spinning around in a circle near the kitchen table. “Just think of it! You’ll be married by November for sure and certain!”
“Hush!” Eleanor scolded her when Mary Ann did not. “This whole courtship is far too much in the open as it is. We don’t need anyone to overhear such talk!”
Maggie shrugged and looked around. “No one is here but us.”
“And that’s bad enough!”
But Maggie didn’t care, choosing to enjoy the romantic notions that filled the house. Mary Ann seemed to live in a fog, her eyes always misted over and her lips smiling as if she had the greatest of secrets. Even Maem had begun secretly drafting a list of who to invite to the wedding. Whenever Eleanor was nearby, she hid it so that she avoided being chastised for putting the buggy before the horse.
Still, Eleanor felt concern for knowing so little about John Willis. Earlier in the week Jacob had stopped by, bringing a large box of freshly butchered meat: ground and chunks for stew. Mary Ann had immediately questioned him about what he knew of Willis, to which Jacob had only commented that Willis was set to inherit a nearby farm from a widowed aunt who had no surviving sons. Willis visited each August before returning to his family’s farm that was north of Narvon.
Jacob’s lack of information only confirmed Eleanor’s suspicions that something was not quite right. However, as much as she disapproved of Mary Ann’s open conduct with Willis, she could not deny that the feelings were returned in kind.
“Where is he?” Nervously, Mary A
nn glanced at the clock. She wore her new dress, the light green one that she had made shortly before their father passed away. The color flattered her lightly tanned skin. “He said he’d be here by six thirty.”
“It’s only six fifteen, schwester,” Eleanor said.
Mary Ann scowled.
“You don’t even care for volleyball,” Eleanor stated. “Being someone you are not just to please another is no different from lying.”
“Oh, hush, Eleanor!” Mary Ann glared at her. “I’m trying new things. What is so wrong about that? Besides, what do you know of my likes and dislikes?”
Ignoring her sister’s dirty look, Eleanor responded, “I know you dislike volleyball, and from the impatience you are displaying right now, I reckon you also dislike waiting!”
“Maem!” Mary Ann whined.
But Maem merely smiled to herself, pretending to read the Bible that lay open on her lap.
“Come, Mary Ann,” Eleanor said gently, hoping her softer tone might calm down her sister. “Sit for a spell so you don’t look so anxious.”
But Mary Ann heard none of that, or ignored it, for she continued to stand at the window and gaze outside, her eyes searching the horizon.
A few minutes later the sound of horse hooves could be heard in the room, although the hedge of evergreen trees hid the horse and rider from view. Excited, Mary Ann hurried to the front door and stood on the stoop, a smile on her face that could not be missed. Eleanor joined her and watched as a lone man sauntered around the trees.
When Mary Ann saw that it was Christian, and not Willis, her smile disappeared and she seemed deflated of enthusiasm. “Oh, help! It’s only Bechtler,” she mumbled, grumbling even more when Eleanor nudged her ribs.
“Good evening, Christian!” Eleanor called out, raising her hand to wave to him.
He stopped his horse, a beautiful black Dutch harness with a striking white blaze that ran from its forehead to its nose, and nodded his greetings to the two ladies. Within seconds he dismounted from the horse, and holding the reins in one hand, he approached the house.