by Sarah Price
“I . . . ” She glanced around at the other men who were as stunned as Jane and Lizzie by the openly asked question. “I . . . I would be happy to,” she whispered.
Lizzie held back her smile, pleased with her sister’s response. There was something about Jane’s eyes that sparkled near this man. For a woman who was known to have rebuffed many a potential suitor, it seemed that Jane was clearly taken with Charles Beachey.
Chapter Three
THE BARN WAS lit with kerosene lanterns that hissed as they burned, reflecting bright light from their small mirror reflectors and emitting a nice area of warmth that countered the cool evening air. Lizzie stood with Charlotte and Jane, laughing as they watched the young Amish men play a round of volleyball, exaggerating their leaps and jumps in order to catch the attention of the young women. One man fell over a hay bale and, when he stood, had pieces of hay sticking out of his hair, causing a ripple of giggles from a group of girls who stood nearby. Good-naturedly the man merely plucked the hay from his hair and smiled at the girls.
“Oh, look!” Lizzie said, her eyes darting toward the open door of the building. While it was June and the evening air not too humid, the room could get warm with all of the kerosene lanterns illuminating the area, so the youths had decided to keep the doors and windows open for the evening air to cool and aerate it. “It looks like your Charles Beachey has arrived, together with his broody cousin!”
Indeed, two figures appeared in the open doorway of the barn, the one smiling and the other with a hint of a scowl showing on his clean-shaven face. A hush fell over the group. One of the men playing the game hit the volleyball over the net, which promptly bounced off of the shoulder of an opposing teammate. The two newcomers removed their hats and entered the barn, nodding toward the different groups of young Amish people and heading toward the refreshment table, where the hosting family had left bowls of pretzels, popcorn, and chips as well as three large pitchers each of fresh lemonade and fragrant meadow tea.
“That’s not his cousin,” Charlotte whispered knowingly to Lizzie and Jane as the room began to return to life. “I heard that’s one of his friends, a farmer from Ohio.”
“A friend?” Lizzie gasped. “Why, the two look about as opposite in character as a cute little pony to a big ole stout work mule! Some friend indeed!”
Charlotte and Jane laughed at Lizzie’s direct statement.
“Nee, Lizzie,” Charlotte confided, her voice low so others could not overhear. “My daed told me so. Apparently Jacob Beachey asked him to accompany Charles, his sister, and their cousin. His name is Frederick.” She paused as if thinking. “Frederick Detweiler, I believe. And he comes from quite a line of farmers. My daed said that Frederick’s own daed passed on a few years back. All the land passed down to Frederick—one of the largest farms in Holmes County. I heard it covers half of the Dutch Valley!” She paused. “I’m sure that’s an exaggeration, but he even employs many other young men on a full-time schedule to help with the fields and the dairy.”
Lizzie’s mouth dropped, and her eyes traveled back to the man in question. He was standing with his back to her, listening intently to a lively conversation with Charles Beachey. “Employs others to work his own farm! I’ve never heard of such a thing!” She looked back at Charlotte in disbelief. “Why, I thought he looked very proud, but to learn that he’s too proud to even work his own land?”
Jane placed her hand on her sister’s arm, a gesture meant to calm Lizzie down. It worked. “You shouldn’t jump to conclusions, Lizzie. We haven’t yet engaged in any exchange with this Frederick. Mayhaps he is quite the hard worker and a godly man at that. After all, he came to service today.”
“Apparently not Charles’s cousin, George Wickey,” Charlotte whispered. “We have yet to see him anywhere!”
But Lizzie was far from convinced. She glanced back to where Frederick and Charles stood, surprised to see that a few of the local men had joined them in a lively discussion. Once again it was clear that Charles was enjoying meeting new people while Frederick stood with his back straight, his hands clasped behind his back, and a dark expression on his face. Nee, she thought. I don’t think I shall care to engage in any exchange with that proud one.
Charlotte made a casual gesture toward a young woman standing alone by the lantern. While she didn’t look particularly friendly or even interested in being at the singing, she did look out of place with no one to engage in conversation. “That’s Charles’s sister, Carol Ann. I think we should go speak with her, ja? Mayhaps she’s lonely, not knowing anyone here yet.”
Lizzie followed Jane and Charlotte as they walked in the direction of the lone woman. She wore a strange head covering, much different from the heart-shaped ones that adorned the heads of the Lancaster Amish sisters. It was more cup-shaped and the strings were firmly tied, not hanging loose like the other young Amish women tended to wear them. Her dress was slightly different too. For one thing Lizzie noticed that the hem was longer, stopping just an inch or so above the ankle. The colors were a bit different, deeper and more vibrant, although Lizzie wasn’t certain if she came to that conclusion only because she was too familiar with the colors that her own community wore. But the style of dress was different too. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was, but she was certain that she was not partial to the difference.
“You are Charles’s sister, ja?”
Leave it to Charlotte, Lizzie thought with a smile. While not the prettiest young woman in their church district, Charlotte was certainly the friendliest. She came from a large family, and her daed sat on the board that governed four of the nearby schools for the Amish children. With a somewhat prominent status in the community, her daed’s entire family had learned to be outgoing and kind, perhaps Charlotte most of all.
Carol Ann slowly turned her head and looked at the group of three women. The way her eyes narrowed, just ever so slightly, did not go unnoticed by Lizzie. “Ja, Carol Ann Beachey is my name,” she said by way of introducing herself, and she stuck her hand straight out toward the heart of her interlocutor, for the traditional, vigorous Amish handshake.
Jane introduced herself and immediately began to ask questions about when the Beachey party had arrived and how Carol Ann liked Leola so far. With her soft, gentle voice and bright blue eyes, Jane was easy to talk to and even easier to like. Lizzie watched the exchange, half amused and half envious of her sister’s ease with strangers, even one who seemed to look down her nose at their too-short dresses, bare feet, and untied prayer kapps.
Only once did Carol Ann let her eyes drift in Lizzie’s direction, a quick assessment apparently resulting in finding her too unsuitable to engage in conversation. Lizzie was quick to take notice of this and lifted her chin to change that situation.
“I find it interesting that you accompanied your brother,” Lizzie ventured.
“Brother and cousin,” Carol Ann was quick to correct.
“Oh, ja, I had heard that there was another family member along, but I have only seen Charles. In fact, we thought Frederick was Charles’s cousin.”
Carol Ann smiled, a soft and secretive smile that told more than her words. “Well, that would be most interesting,” she replied, her gaze trailing to where Frederick stood with Charles and some of the other local young men. Lizzie observed him turn, ever so slightly, and see Carol Ann watching him. He nodded his head but returned his attention to the men before him.
“Will you be staying a while, then?” Jane asked, oblivious to the exchange Lizzie had just witnessed.
“That depends,” Carol Ann sighed. “Daed wishes for Charles to take over the farm here.” She smiled at Jane, the first truly genuine thing that Lizzie recognized about the woman. “Land is getting expensive in Ohio, and since we already own the property here, it seems right silly to have tenants when we could be using the land ourselves, ain’t so?”
“And Charles’s cousin?” Lizzie changed the subject. “I don’t believe he made service today. Is he here now
?”
Carol Ann narrowed her eyes, clearly displeased that Lizzie had pointed out the obvious. “He is not here, nee. He has yet to take the kneeling vow.”
There was no time for further questioning, although Lizzie certainly had quite a few more questions that she would have loved to ask. Why would their daed send both his son and his nephew when one was clearly not yet committed to the Amish way of life? Why had Carol Ann been sent along with her brother? And why was this disagreeable-looking Frederick here? To chaperone the others, or was there a courtship established between him and Carol Ann? The questions floated through her mind, and to say that her curiosity was piqued would have been an understatement. But she knew better than to pry into someone else’s business, even if she was dying to know the answers.
Once the volleyball game had ended, the youths began to move to the benches, the women on one side and the men on the other. Lizzie noticed that Charles made certain to accidentally bump into Jane, reaching out to steady her with a strong hand that spoke of hard work but also gentle care. He smiled at her and leaned down, whispering into her ear words that Lizzie couldn’t hear but which effect could easily be observed. The color flooded to Jane’s cheeks, and her eyes, those dazzling blue eyes, sparkled like Lizzie had never before seen. Jane bit her lower lip and glanced away, but it was clear that her heart was pitter-patting. Indeed, Lizzie realized, her sister was definitely ferhoodled.
“Pardon me,” a voice said.
Lizzie looked up, surprised to see Frederick standing behind her. “Oh,” she gasped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to block your way.”
“Indeed,” he said, his voice deep and stiff as his eyes stared over her head. “I’m quite satisfied there was no ill intent.”
She frowned at his words, so formal and unfamiliar. While she had plenty of family in Ohio and had cause to meet them on occasion, they had seemed no different than her own immediate family. This man, whom she judged to be close to thirty years of age, seemed too stiff and out of place. “You are with Charles Beachey, ja?”
He nodded his head but gave no formal introduction.
“Do you attend singings frequently, then?” she asked, trying to follow her sister Jane’s advice. After all, she reasoned, everyone deserved a chance.
“As infrequently as possible,” came the sharp reply.
It took Lizzie a moment to realize what he had said. She narrowed her eyes, digesting his words. If he had meant to leave an unfavorable first impression, he had truly succeeded. Between his stance and his words, there was nothing left to the imagination that this man, this Frederick Detweiler from the Dutch Valley in Ohio, thought himself too above others. And she knew that, without doubt, she did not care for him one bit.
There was nothing left to say, so she merely stepped aside, permitting him to pass, her mind still trying to understand how any one individual could be so miserable and cold. No wonder, she thought, that he wears no beard. What woman would want to join with such a proud and unlikable man?
She took her place beside her sister Jane, not surprised to see Catherine and Mary seated at the very back of the barn. Lydia was still too young to attend the singings, a fact that created great strife and tension in the house every other Sunday. While Lizzie felt sorry for her youngest sister, she was also relieved to have a few hours away from her silliness. She dreaded the day when Lydia would turn sixteen and, therefore, be able to join them at the singings. With her overly enthusiastic giggles and often embarrassing comments, Lydia was too eager at seeking attention when it was more proper to remain silent.
“What did that Charles Beachey whisper to you?” Lizzie demanded, her eyes sparkling at Jane.
“Oh,” Jane replied, her hand rising to her chest. “He seems most agreeable, Lizzie. And I dare say quite handsome, ja?”
Lizzie lightly pinched her sister’s leg. “You didn’t tell me what he said!”
Jane covered her mouth to quiet her giggle. “He reminded me of my promise and said he had been looking forward to it all day.”
While the youths around them sang from the hymnal, Lizzie felt her own heart flutter. She looked over to where Charles Beachey sat, while sensing a warm feeling flood over her. Handsome, charming, hardworking, and lively: What a fortuitous match for Sister Jane, she thought. Lizzie barely heard the words that were being sung as she lifted her heart to God and thanked Him. If anyone deserved a chance at happiness, Jane was that very person.
During a break in the singing Lizzie slipped away to use the facilities. She also needed some respite from the chitchat of the young women who, at times, seemed to talk about the silliest of things. Just once, Lizzie thought with a sigh, she wished she could find someone who shared her interest in discussing deeper issues and ideas, like the conversations she often had with her daed.
It was dark in the driveway leading from the house back to the barn. The moon was out, a crescent that graced the path with a gentle blue light. She could see two men standing in the doorway and quickly realized that they were Charles and Frederick. As she approached, Lizzie could see that they had yet to notice her, but she could hear them and unintentionally became privy to their conversation. Their words caused her to catch her breath and stop walking.
“You have already won the heart of the prettiest girl here, I reckon,” Frederick said.
Charles laughed. “You have such a way with words, Frederick. She may be pretty to the eye, but I can see inside her soul. She’s a godly woman, and I can tell her heart is pure.”
Frederick made a “hmm” noise but did not respond further, a fact that made Lizzie press her lips together and bite her tongue.
“Why, Frederick, there’s no need for you to ride home alone tonight either,” Charles added. “Jane’s sister Lizzie . . . she has quite a sparkle in her eye and a quickness of tongue that might just suit your temperament right gut!”
“It would take more than a sparkle in her eye or quickness of her tongue for me to ask her to ride home in my buggy. Besides,” he added with a pause, “she is tolerable, at best.”
“Oh, Frederick!” Charles laughed. “You are being ridiculous!”
From where she stood, Lizzie could see Frederick straighten his shoulders and glance around the room, his chin jutting forward as he said, “In fact, I see nothing redeeming in these Lancaster girls that can’t be found back home in Ohio.”
Lizzie pressed her back against the barn wall, aware that the shadows would hide her from view. Her heart was now pounding, and she felt her cheeks flush red. So, he had noticed her after all. Yet his opinion of her appeared deliberately poor and unfair. How dare he, she thought, trying hard not to let emotion overcome her. Tolerable! What an ugly word! She felt a soft rage rising inside of her and realized that it was the devil’s insidious attempt at overtaking her. Pride, she thought. He has hurt my pride, and that shall not be permitted! Taking a few deep breaths, she did her best to regain her composure and typical cheerful nature. She would not let a man such as Frederick Detweiler, with his fancy farm and airs of superiority, ruin her night. She wouldn’t go home in his buggy even if he would beg her. A man like that, she told herself, was destined to either a lonely life or a mousy wife.
Lifting her chin, she walked into the barn. Charles and Frederick had already returned to their places, ready for the second round of singing. She barely glanced their way as she hurried to where Jane waited for her. Reaching down, Lizzie clutched Jane’s hand and smiled. “I see you have a cup of meadow tea,” she teased. “I wonder that . . . ”
From Jane’s soft glow on her cheeks, Lizzie knew that her suspicion was correct. Charles Beachey had brought the refreshment to her sister. A true gentleman and a good Amish man, that was for sure and certain. Her sister’s happiness was all that mattered to Lizzie, and Frederick’s ugly words faded in her mind, if not in her memory.
Chapter Four
IT WAS MONDAY morning, and the Blank family was sitting around the old wooden farm table. Plates filled with scrambled e
ggs and sausage, toast, and cooked potatoes covered the surface. The room smelled of all the fresh foods.
Maem and Daed drank their coffee while Jane and Lizzie preferred hot mint tea. The younger girls were just as happy with cool water from the faucet. Maem was playing with the food on her plate, eager to hear how the previous night’s singing went. She prodded and asked questions, but to her dismay, typical for young women, both Lizzie and Jane provided vague answers. Mary and Catherine had been too busy with their younger friends to notice any of the exchanges that their older sisters had engaged in with either Charles or Carol Ann Beachey. And Lydia seemed to be pouting, her elbow resting on the table and her hand pressed against her chin.
“So unfair,” she muttered.
“Now, now,” Maem said, pushing the serving bowl of scrambled eggs to her youngest daughter. “Your time will come, Lydia. And sooner than you think.” She glanced at her husband. “Isn’t that so, Daed?”
Daed looked up, not having paid any attention to the exchange. “What? Oh, ja, ja, of course, I reckon!” he replied, nodding his head demurely.
Maem scowled, and Lizzie had to hide her smile, knowing full well that her daed had merely answered what he thought would appease his wife or, better, defuse any potential conversation. But after more than twenty-two years together, such a response was but overly transparent. “It’ll do no good to have five dochders vying for courters, I say,” Maem fussed, glancing at Jane.
“No one is vying for courters, Maem,” Lizzie volunteered, a lightness to her tone that justified instant forgiveness for any perceived sassiness. “You just happen to have five dochders quite close together in age, ain’t so?”
That answer caused Maem to cluck her tongue, tsk-tsking at her second oldest. “You have no idea of the burden I have borne from such a predicament!” she exclaimed.
