by Sarah Price
Newbury Acres
By Sarah Price
Copyright © 2017 Price Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved.
eBook ASIN: B06WWN7NMB
Paperback ISBN–13: 9781520684505
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Return to Newbury Acres
Author’s Note
The locations mentioned in this book are fictitious, as are the characters. All attempts to maintain accuracy in describing the different communities are based on the author’s personal experience with the Amish (1978 to present).
Chapter 1
“Mamm! Someone’s pulling in the driveway!” Catherine called out from the side yard as she hung the damp laundry on the clothes line. The sun was shining, and with the warm summer breeze, the day’s laundry would be dry in no time. Which was fortunate because she had gotten a late start on the washing that morning.
Her mother must have peered through the open kitchen window by the sink. “Oh, help! That looks like Duane and Wilma Anderson’s horse and buggy.”
Catherine glanced over her shoulder, her dark brown eyes trying to see her mother, Ruth, through the window. “Were you expecting them, now?” she asked as the sound of the buggy’s wheels on the gravel grew louder.
“Nee, not today. I sure hope that everything’s fine with her mother yet!”
Quickly, Catherine pinned the remaining clothes. After wiping her hands on her plain cobalt blue dress, she picked up the empty woven basket by its one unbroken handle. Her bare feet hurried across the grass and up the porch stairs that led into the house. Once inside, she set the basket on the floor near the washing machine in the corner of the mudroom. Through the open doorway into the kitchen, she could see her mother hurrying to wipe down the counter and table. She had made pancakes for breakfast, and the younger children had made a sticky mess with the syrup. And the last thing that Ruth Miller wanted was for anyone to stop by and see her kitchen anything less than perfectly neat and orderly.
“Knock, knock!” a voice called through the mud room’s screen door.
“Kum in, Wilma!” Ruth called out.
Wilma opened the door and peered inside, a big smile on her face and a strand of her almost perfectly gray hair flying loose from under her stiff white head covering. At fifty years of age, she was a stout woman, which was surprising since she had no children. However, Wilma often was a fixture in Ruth’s kitchen, especially during canning season. Without any children of her own, she often claimed that she wanted to adopt Catherine, a kind joke that always made Ruth reply that, as much as she wanted to oblige, she actually couldn’t do without Catherine. She would, however, happily offer her next oldest daughter, Sarah, for adoption, an inside joke because Sarah was a tomboy and preferred working in the fields to any kind of housework.
Regardless of being favored by her mother’s friend, Catherine did enjoy Wilma’s company. She was always pleasant and kind, eager to listen to stories about the children, and never one to shy away from helping out with the spring cleaning. There would be few, if any, people in their church district who would ever say anything uncharitable about Wilma Anderson. “I didn’t catch you at a bad time, did I? Duane just went out to the barn to see if he could talk to Martin.”
“Come in, come in!” Ruth called out. “Pardon the mess.”
“What mess?” Wilma walked into the kitchen and looked around. “Your house is always meticulous, Ruth! If you consider this untidy, I’d hate to have you stop into my house unexpected!” She laughed as she said this.
Ruth gave a soft smile at the compliment, but Catherine knew that her mother didn’t agree. She was always cleaning, sometimes twice a day. With eight children, things could quickly get out of hand if she didn’t. Catherine, being the oldest daughter, helped out as much as she could and did her best to school her younger siblings on the virtues of picking up after themselves. A daunting task if one would ask her!
“Kum, Wilma. Sit for a spell. I still have warm coffee from breakfast.” Ruth gestured toward the kitchen table.
“And I made some coffee cake yesterday,” Catherine added.
“Oh, Catherine! You do know how I love your coffee cake.” Wilma set down her bag and readjusted the white strings from her prayer kapp. “I’ll take you up on that offer, but only if you join us. It’s actually both of you that I’ve come to visit with.”
Catherine hurried over to the far counter to help her mother gather the coffee mugs and little plates to set on the table.
Her mother sat down next to her friend while Catherine heated up the coffee. “What a nice surprise, Wilma! What brings you this way on a Monday morning?”
“Duane and I spent the night at Sister Anna’s. To see Mother, you know. And since we didn’t have time to visit after church yesterday …” She didn’t finish the sentence. Normally, after the worship service, everyone gathered for fellowship over a small meal. However, with her mother being ill, a bad summer flu, the Andersons had left early to travel to her sister’s farm in the next town.
“She’s doing well then?” Ruth asked the question with a hopeful expression on her face.
“Oh, ja, much better. The doctor feared she would get pneumonia, and at her age …” Wilma shook her head and clicked her tongue. “Well, she surprised him for sure and certain! She’ll outlive us all, I reckon!”
Outside, a rooster crowed and Catherine glanced out the window. While the coyotes hadn’t bothered much with the chickens since early spring, the hawks were still troublesome. But she didn’t see any shadows on the driveway nor did the hens scatter for cover. She heard her mother ask about Wilma’s mother, but she didn’t listen to the response. After all, Wilma was visiting and with a happy smile on her face. That was all Catherine needed to see in order to know that her mother was fine. Ruth, however, tended to worry about everything and everyone.
“Where are the little ones?” Wilma asked, looking around the kitchen as if expecting to see the other children hiding somewhere. On most days, they would have been. After all, unless they were doing chores or playing, the smaller kinner had a tendency to linger wherever their mother was.
But not today.
Catherine picked up the plate of coffee cake and carried it to the table. “James took the boys fishing, and Sarah took the girls over to see cousin Betsy. They have a new foal. And Daed took George with him. They rode to town for grain.” She didn’t add that it was nice, for once, to not have her younger brothers and sisters underfoot, especially six-year-old George, who was the youngest—and loudest!—of all the children. With any luck, Catherine might find time to steal away and read her new book without anyone interrupting her or, even worse, teas
ing her about her unconventional reading habits.
“Ach. So, you have a little peace and quiet then!” Wilma winked at her as she took a sip of her coffee. “A rare opportunity, indeed!”
Ruth laughed and joined them at the table. “Peace and quiet is a gut thing once in a while, I reckon. Gives a body time to think a spell.”
Wilma gave a firm nod of her head and set down her cup. “That’s exactly the main reason why I’m here.”
“For peace and quiet?” Catherine asked. “You didn’t know the kinner would be gone!”
“Clever girl!” Wilma laughed and waved her hand at Catherine. “Nee, I did not come here seeking solitude. I’ve plenty enough of that without any kinner of my own.”
Unlike most men in their community, Duane was not a farmer. Instead, he had started and run a dry goods store for over thirty years before he sold it to one of his nephews. Now, retired and living in a smaller grossdawdihaus on the same property as the store, Duane often helped out at the store just for something to do.
“You remember Susie Troyer, right?” Wilma asked, watching as Catherine cut the coffee cake and placed a piece onto a plate for her. “Duane’s niece. Well, they live in Banthe by Moreland Lake. It’s a pretty little town set in the woodland, and there’s an Amish farming community surrounding it.”
“That does sound lovely,” Ruth said.
“We’re going to visit them for a few weeks.”
“A few weeks! Everything all right there?” Ruth asked, the typical hint of panic in her voice.
Wilma nodded. “Oh ja, right as rain. You might remember Susie’s husband, Vern, don’t you, Ruth? Well, they’re having a work frolic at their place for their new chicken house, and another neighbor’s having one for his new shop. The community decided to have the frolics during the same period of time, you see. So more people can come and help out.”
“Isn’t that smart?” Ruth raised an eyebrow.
Wilma nodded. “It’s a beautiful place. Just an hour or so away from here by horse and buggy, although we’ve hired a driver. Vern has a small cottage on the far side of his farm that overlooks the lake. And you know how Duane loves to fish and all.”
Ruth laughed. “How could anyone not know about Duane’s fishing? Why, I believe we ate fresh fish every week last summer, thanks to your husband!”
It was true. Catherine remembered how Duane stopped by almost every Friday evening after spending the day at the large pond on a neighboring farm. A nearby stream fed it so it was always full of trout, especially in the summer months. Without fail, he would have a small red and white cooler full of fish that he often offered to her mother. After all, he would explain, it was only himself and Wilma and they couldn’t eat so many fish in a week.
While her older brother James often spent his free afternoons fishing, it was a pastime that she had never been introduced to. She wondered if she would like to sit by the edge of a pond or lake for hours, waiting for a fish to bite her line. Listening to the birds chirping while a gentle breeze blew through the trees? Yes, she could definitely see herself liking to try her hand at fishing.
“The lake’s a rather special place, a nice mixture of farm community with woodland relaxation. A lot of Amish vacation there. I’m surprised you haven’t!”
Catherine almost rolled her eyes. Farmers with eight children didn’t take vacations. Surely Wilma knew that. Then again, Catherine realized, without having her own children, Wilma probably didn’t.
“Well, with so many people gathering to help out, we thought that, mayhaps, Catherine might enjoy accompanying us.”
Catherine caught her breath. That sounded like a wonderful idea, and she said a quick little prayer that her parents would agree. It wasn’t as though her father needed her help on the farm just yet. The crops had been planted several weeks ago, and with seven children left on the farm, he had plenty of help. But she knew better than to get her hopes up. Being away from the farm for such an extended time was not something she had ever done before.
And, truth be told, Catherine wouldn’t mind traveling with Wilma. She had always got along well with the older woman. Several times Catherine had volunteered to help her with spring cleaning or fall canning; it was only fair since Wilma often helped at the Miller house. When they were alone and working, their conversations were lively, and Catherine loved that Wilma seemed quite willing to listen to her stories about whatever book she was currently reading. No one at home would do that.
“That is a kind offer,” her mother said, glancing at Catherine and giving her a quick smile. “I’m sure she’d love to accompany you, but I best check with Martin first.”
“Of course, of course,” Wilma cooed, picking at the coffee cake. “I told Duane to ask Martin about it as well. We’d be leaving on Saturday so we’ve plenty of time to plan.”
“What’s the name of that town again?” Catherine asked, hoping that her voice didn’t sound too anxious. She wanted to ask her brother James if he had ever heard of it.
“Banthe, which is right on Moreland Lake. You’ll find it to be rather quaint, Catherine. And the people are most unusual.” The way Wilma stressed the word most made Catherine’s imagination kick into high drive. “Folks from all different areas are there. Some are full-time residents that farm just outside of the town proper, and then there are summer vacationers that stay at little lake houses. The mix of people just adds to its charm.”
Moreland Lake? Banthe? Catherine couldn’t recall ever hearing about an Amish community by such names. Of course, she hadn’t much reason to travel outside of her own little town, and her family had never taken a vacation anywhere. Still, she made a mental note to look at the address directory of church districts after Wilma left to see if she knew any of the names.
“There’s always so much to do there, Catherine,” Wilma continued with great enthusiasm. “You’ll certainly have a wonderful time with the other youth. They like to boat and fish, even camp overnight on a small island on the north end. And Vern and Susie have a son and daughter just about your age. I know they’d be tickled to meet you.”
Catherine felt the color creep into her cheeks.
“That does sound like a right gut time indeed,” Ruth said with a soft sigh. “Why, I think I’d like to go along with you, too!” She gave a small laugh at her own joke. With seven other children and a farm to run, that was an impossibility.
Wilma stayed to visit for another thirty minutes, the discussion turning to conversations that were less exciting for Catherine, such as gardening and new babies born to cousins, nieces, or other people that she had never met. Catherine didn’t mind sitting with them, though. Her mind was already preoccupied with what a vacation at Banthe might entail.
It wasn’t long before Duane and Martin appeared in the doorway.
“Well, Mother, I reckon it’s time to head on home,” Duane said to his wife. He glanced at Catherine and smiled. “Did Wilma talk to you about traveling with us to Banthe?”
“Oh, ja! Danke for asking me, Duane,” she gushed. And then, looking first at her mother and then her father, she waited patiently to see if a decision had been made.
“I told Duane that it was fine with me if you went,” Martin said in a slow voice. “Unless your mother has any objections.”
Immediately, Ruth shook her head. “Nee, there’s nothing going on over the next few weeks that requires Catherine’s presence. And Sarah can step up a bit. Besides, it’s high time that Catherine had some fun. She’s been quite the blessing to me over the past years, and she deserves to go.”
From the heat that rushed to her cheeks, Catherine knew that she was blushing. She never thought twice about herself when it came time to work around the house. She saw her mother tackling chores, and without being asked, she always assisted her. To hear such a compliment meant more to Catherine than anything in the world. It was something she had never expected to hear, but was awfully touched to have heard it.
“Well, then, it’s settled!”
Duane grinned at his wife. “You’ll finally have your own dochder, Wilma, even if only for two weeks!”
The adults laughed and Catherine smiled, still trying to come to grips with the reality of the situation. When she had awoken that morning, she had thought this would just be another typical day. Now, however, it had become something much different. She almost felt as if she were a character in one of those romance books that she loved to read. What adventures await me? she pondered as she half-listened to Duane explain to her parents the details of the trip. She could only imagine that it would be the best two weeks of her life.
Chapter 2
“Now, Catherine,” Ruth fretted, “you keep track of any expenses, Dochder. We’ll need to know how much to reimburse the Andersons. Don’t trouble them so.”
Catherine folded her burgundy dress and laid it in the small suitcase, careful to smooth out the wrinkles. After five longs days of waiting and preparation, today at last she was leaving for Banthe, and she could hardly wait. “I know, Mamm. And I’ve my own money from selling that quilt I made last year. I can always pay them back if need be.”
“And here.” Ruth handed her a small package wrapped in plain white paper. There was a sticker holding the paper together that read Harper’s Store.
Surprised, Catherine took the package from her mother and carefully examined it, turning it over in her hands before she looked at her mother. “What’s this?”
Her mother suppressed a smile as she raised her eyebrows. “Perhaps opening it might be a way to find out?”
Quickly Catherine unwrapped the package. Inside the paper, she found a small journal and a pen. The cover looked like leather, although she was fairly certain that her mother would not have spent money on such an extravagance. But the pages inside were lined and blank, just waiting to be filled up with stories and details of her adventures at Moreland Lake. She had never had her own journal, although she knew that her mother kept one. She had never thought to ask for one, but now that she held this in her hands, she knew that she would treasure it.
