Amish Beginnings

by Vannetta Chapman

  The shorter boy puffed up like a snake about to strike. “You called me a—”

  “Enough,” Nathaniel repeated as he kept a tight hold on their suspenders. “What’s been said was said. What’s been done has been done. It’s over. Let it go.”

  The glowers the boys gave him warned Nathaniel that he was wasting his breath.

  “Benny,” ordered Esther, “go and wash up. Jacob, wait on the porch for me. We need to talk.” She gestured toward a younger woman who’d been staring wide-eyed at the battling boys. “Neva, take the other scholars inside please.”

  Astonished by how serene her voice was and how quickly the boys turned to obey after scowling at each other again, Nathaniel waited while the kinder followed Neva into the school. He knew Esther would want to get back to her job, as well. Since he’d returned to Paradise Springs, he’d heard over and over what a devoted teacher Esther Stoltzfus was. Well, his visit should be a short one because all he needed was for her to say a quick ja.

  First, however, he had to ask, “Are you okay, Esther?”

  “I’m fine.” She adjusted her kapp, which had come loose in the melee. Her golden-brown hair glistened through the translucent white organdy of her heart-shaped kapp. Her dress was a charming dark pink almost the same color as her cheeks. The flush nearly absorbed her freckles. There weren’t as many as the last time he’d seen her more than a decade ago.

  Back then, she and her twin brothers had been his best friends. In some ways, he’d been closer to her than her brothers. Micah and Daniel were twins, and they had a special bond. He and Esther had often found themselves on one team while her brothers took the other side, whether playing ball or having races or embarking on some adventure. She hadn’t been one of those girly girls who worried about getting her clothes dirty or if her hair was mussed. She played to win, though she was younger than the rest of them. He’d never met another girl like her, a girl who was, as his daed had described her, not afraid to be one of the boys.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “You got hit pretty hard.”

  “I’m fine.” Her blue eyes regarded him with curiosity. “When did you return to Paradise Springs?”

  “Almost a month ago. I’ve inherited my grandparents’ farm on the other side of the village.”

  “I’m sorry, Nat—Nathaniel. I should have remembered that they’d passed away in the spring. You must miss them.”

  “Ja,” he said, though the years that had gone by since the last time he’d seen them left them as little more than childhood memories. Except for one visit to Paradise Springs the first year after the move, his life had been in Elkhart County, Indiana.

  From beyond the school he heard the rattle of equipment and smelled the unmistakable scent of greenery and disturbed earth. Next year at this time, God willing, he’d be chopping his own corn into silage to feed his animals over the winter. He couldn’t wait. At last, he had the job he’d always wanted: farmer. He wouldn’t have had the opportunity in Indiana. There it was intended, in Amish tradition, that his younger brother would inherit the family’s five acres. Nathaniel had assumed he, like his daed, would spend his life working in an Englisch factory building RVs.

  Those plans had changed when word came that his Zook grandparents’ farm in Paradise Springs was now his. A dream come true. Along with the surprising menagerie his grossdawdi and his grossmammi had collected in their final years. He’d been astonished not to find dairy cows when he arrived. Instead, there were about thirty-five alpacas, one of the oddest looking animals he’d ever seen. They resembled a combination of a poodle and a llama, especially at this time of year when their wool was thickening. In addition, on the farm were two mules, a buggy horse and more chickens than he could count. He was familiar with horses, mules and chickens, but he had a lot to learn about alpacas, which was the reason he’d come to the school today.

  He was determined to make the farm a success so he wouldn’t have to sell it. For the first time in far too many years, he felt alive with possibilities.

  “How can I help you?” Esther asked, as if he’d spoken aloud. “Are you here to enroll a kind in school?”

  Years of practice kept him from revealing how her simple question drove a shaft through his heart. She couldn’t guess how much that question hurt him, and he didn’t have time to wallow in thoughts of how, because of a childhood illness, he most likely could never be a daed. He’d never enjoy the simple act of coming to a school to arrange for his son or daughter to attend.

  He was alive and well. For that he was grateful, and he needed to let the feelings of failure go. Otherwise, he was dismissing God’s gift of life as worthless. That he’d never do.

  Instead he needed to concentrate on why he’d visited the school this afternoon. After asking around the area, he’d learned of only one person who was familiar with how to raise alpacas.

  Esther Stoltzfus.

  “No, I’m here for a different reason.” He managed a smile. “One I think you’ll find interesting.”

  “I’d like to talk, Nathaniel, but—” She glanced at the older boy, the one she’d called Benny. He stood by the well beyond the schoolhouse and was washing his hands and face. Jacob sat on the porch. He was trembling in the wake of the fight and rocking his feet against the latticework. It made a dull thud each time his bare heels struck it. “I’m going to have to ask you to excuse me. Danki for pulling the boys apart.”

  “The little guy doesn’t look more than about six years old.”

  “Jacob is eight. He’s small for his age, but he has the heart of a lion.”

  “But far less common sense if he fights boys twice his age.”

  “Benny is fourteen.”

  “Close enough.”

  She nodded with another sigh. “Yet you saw who ended up battered and bloody. Jacob doesn’t have a mark on him.”

  “Quite a feat!”

  “Really?” She frowned. “Think what a greater feat it would have been if Jacob had turned the other cheek and walked away from Benny. It’s the lesson we need to take to heart.”

  “For a young boy, it’s hard to remember. We have to learn things the hard way, it seems.” He gave her a lopsided grin, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She acted flustered. Why? She’d put a stop to the fight as quickly as she could. “Like the time your brothers and I got too close to a hive and got stung. I guess that’s what people mean by a painful lesson.”

  “Most lessons are.”

  “Well, it was a very painful one.” He hurried on before she could leave. “I’ve heard you used to raise alpacas.”

  “Just a pair. Are you planning to raise them on your grandparents’ farm?”

  “Not planning. They’re already there. Apparently my grossmammi fell in love with the creatures and decided to buy some when she and my grossdawdi stopped milking. I don’t know the first thing about alpacas, other than how to feed them. I was hoping you could share what you learned.” He didn’t add that if he couldn’t figure out a way to use the animals to make money, he’d have to sell them and probably the farm itself next spring.

  When she glanced at the school again, he said, “Not right now, of course.”

  “I’d like to help, but I don’t have a lot of time.”

  “I won’t need a lot of your time. Just enough to point me in the right direction.”

  She hesitated.

  He could tell she didn’t want to tell him no, but her mind was focused on the kinder now. Maybe he should leave and come back again, but he didn’t have time to wait. The farm was more deeply in debt than he’d guessed before he came to Paradise Springs. He hadn’t guessed his grandparents had spent so wildly on buying the animals that they had to borrow money for keeping them. Few plain folks their age took out a loan because it could become a burden on the next generation. Now it was his responsibility to repay it.

  Inspiration stru
ck when he looked from her to the naughty boys. It was a long shot, but he’d suggest anything if there was a chance to save his family’s farm.

  “Bring your scholars to see the alpacas,” he said. “I can ask my questions, and so can they. You can answer them for all of us. It’ll be fun for them. Remember how we liked a break from schoolwork? They would, too, I’m sure.”

  She didn’t reply for a long minute, then nodded. “They probably would be really interested.”

  He grinned. “Why don’t I drive my flatbed wagon over here? I can give the kinder a ride on it both ways.”

  “Gut. Let me know which day works best for you, and I’ll tell the parents we’re going there. Some of them may want to join us.”

  “We’ll make an adventure out of it, like when we were kinder.”

  Color flashed up her face before vanishing, leaving her paler than before.

  “Was iss letz?” he asked.

  “Nothing is wrong,” she replied so hastily he guessed she wasn’t being honest. “I—”

  A shout came from the porch where the bigger boy was walking past Jacob. The younger boy was on his feet, his fists clenched again.

  She ran toward them, calling over her shoulder, “We’ll have to talk about this later.”

  “I’ll come over tonight. We’ll talk then.”

  Nathaniel wondered if she’d heard him because she was already steering the boys into the school. Her soft voice reached him. Not the words, but the gently chiding tone. He guessed she was reminding them that they needed to settle their disputes without violence. He wondered if they’d listen and what she’d have to do if they didn’t heed her.

  As she closed the door, she looked at him and mouthed, See you tonight.

  “Gut!” he said as he walked to where he’d left his wagon on the road. He smiled. He’d been wanting to stop by the Stoltzfus farm, so her invitation offered the perfect excuse. It would be a fun evening, and for the first time since he’d seen the alpacas, he dared to believe that with what Esther could teach him about the odd creatures, he might be able to make a go of the farm.

  Chapter Two

  The Stoltzfus family farm was an easy walk from the school. Esther went across a field, along two different country roads, and then up the long lane to the only house she’d ever lived in. She’d been born there. Her daed had been as well, and his daed before him.

  After Daed had passed away, her mamm had moved into the attached dawdi haus while Esther managed the main house. She’d hand over those duties when her older brother Ezra married, which she guessed would be before October was over, because he spent every bit of his free time with their neighbor Leah Beiler. Their wedding day was sure to be a joyous one.

  Though she never would have admitted it, Esther was looking forward to giving the responsibilities of a household with five bachelor brothers to Leah. Even with one of her older brothers married, another widowed and her older sister off tending a family of her own, the housework was never-ending. Esther enjoyed cooking and keeping the house neat, but she was tired of mending a mountain of work clothes while trying to prepare lesson plans for the next day. Her brothers worked hard, whether on the farm or in construction or at the grocery store, and their clothes reflected that. She and Mamm never caught up.

  Everything in her life had been in proper order...until Nathaniel Zook came to her school that afternoon. She was amazed she hadn’t heard he was in Paradise Springs. If she’d known, maybe she’d have been better prepared. He’d grown up, but it didn’t sound as if he’d changed. He still liked adventures if he intended to keep alpacas instead of the usual cows or sheep or goats on his farm. That made him a man she needed to steer clear of, so she could avoid the mistakes she’d made with Alvin Lee.

  But how could she turn her back on helping him? It was the Amish way to give assistance when it was requested. She couldn’t mess up Nathaniel’s life because she was appalled by how she’d nearly ruined her own by chasing excitement.

  His suggestion that she bring the scholars to his farm would focus attention on the kinder. She’d give them a fun day while they learned about something new, something that might be of use to them in the future. Who could guess now which one of them would someday have alpacas of his or her own?

  That thought eased her disquiet enough that Esther could admire the trees in the front yard. They displayed their autumnal glory. Dried leaves were already skittering across the ground on the gentle breeze. Ezra’s Brown Swiss cows grazed near the white barn. The sun was heading for the horizon, a sure sign milking would start soon. Dinner for her hungry brothers needed to be on the table by the time chores were done and the barn tidied up for the night.

  When she entered the comfortable kitchen with its pale blue walls and dark wood cabinets, Esther was surprised to see her twin brothers there. They were almost five years older than she was, and they’d teased her, when they were kinder, of being an afterthought. She’d fired back with jests of her own, and they’d spent their childhoods laughing. No one took offense while they’d been climbing trees, fishing in the creek and doing tasks to help keep the farm and the house running.

  Her twin brothers weren’t identical. Daniel had a cleft in his chin and Micah didn’t. There were other differences in the way they talked and how they used their hands to emphasize words. Micah asserted he was a half inch taller than his twin, but Esther couldn’t see it. They were unusual in one important way—they didn’t share a birthday. Micah had been born ten minutes before midnight, and Daniel a half hour later, a fact Micah never allowed his “baby” brother to forget.

  Both twins had a glass of milk in one hand and a stack of snickerdoodles in the other. Their bare feet stuck out from where they sat at the large table in the middle of the kitchen.

  “You’re home early,” she said as she hung her bonnet and satchel on pegs by the back door. The twins’ straw hats hung among the empty pegs, which would all be in use by the time the family sat down for dinner.

  “We’re finished at the project in Lititz,” Daniel said. He was a carpenter, as was Micah, but the older twin specialized in building windmills and installing solar panels. However, the two men were equally skilled with a hammer. “Time to hand it over to the electricians and plumbers. Micah already went over what needed to be done to connect the roof panels to the main electrical box.”

  “You’ve been working on that house a long time,” she said as she opened the refrigerator door and took out the leftover ham she planned to reheat for dinner. “It must be a big one.”

  “You know how Englischers are.” Micah chuckled. “They move out to Lancaster County to live the simple life and then decide they need lots of gadgets and rooms to store them in. This house has a real movie theater.”

  She began cutting the ham into thick slices. “You’re joking.”

  “Would we do that?” Daniel asked with fake innocence before he took the final bite of his last cookie.

  “Ja.”

  “Ja,” echoed Micah, folding his arms on the table. “We’re being honest. The house is as big as our barn.”

  Esther tried to imagine why anyone would need a house that size, but she couldn’t. At one point, there had been eleven of them living in the Stoltzfus farmhouse along with her grandparents in the small dawdi haus, and there had been plenty of room.

  Daniel stretched before he yawned. “Sorry. It was an early morning.”

  “You’ll want to stay awake. An old friend of yours is stopping by tonight.”

  “Who?” Micah asked.

  She could tell them, but it served her brothers right to let their curiosity stew a bit longer. Smiling, she said, “Someone who inherited a farm on Zook Road.”

  The twins exchanged a disbelieving glance before Daniel asked, “Are you talking about Nate Zook?”

  “He calls himself Nathaniel now.”

  “He’s back in Pa
radise Springs?” he asked.

  “Ja.”

  “It’s been almost ten years since the last time we saw him.” With a pensive expression, Micah rubbed his chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Remember, Daniel? He came out from Indiana to spend the summer with his grandparents the year after his family moved.”

  Daniel chuckled. “His grossmammi made us chocolate shoo-fly pie the day before he left. One of the best things I’ve ever tasted. Do you remember, Esther?”

  “No.” She was glad she had her back to them as she placed ham slices in the cast-iron fry pan. Her face was growing warm as she thought again of Nathaniel’s visit and how she’d made a complete fool of herself. Hurrying to the cellar doorway, she got the bag of potatoes that had been harvested a few weeks ago. She’d make mashed potatoes tonight. Everyone liked them, and she could release some of her pent-up emotions while smashing them.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Daniel said. “You decided you didn’t want to play with us boys any longer. You thought it was a big secret why, but we knew.”

  She looked over her shoulder before she could halt herself. “You did?” How many more surprises was she going to have today? First, Nathaniel Zook showed up at her school, and now her brother was telling her he’d known why she stopped going to the Zook farm. Had Nathaniel told him about her brash stupidity of announcing she planned to marry him one day?

  “Ja.” Jabbing his brother with his elbow, Micah said, “You had a big crush on Nate. Giggled whenever you were around him.”

  She wanted to take them by the shoulders and shake them and tell them how wrong they were. She couldn’t. That would be a lie. She’d had a big crush on Nathaniel. He was the only boy she knew who wasn’t annoyed because she could outrun him or hit a ball as well as he did. He’d never tried to make her feel she was different from other girls because she preferred being outside to working beside her mamm in the house. Not once had he picked on her because she did well at school, like some of the other boys had.