A Ready-Made Amish Family

by Jo Ann Brown

  As he thought that, he slipped when a gust of wind pushed him sideways. He fell forward but twisted to avoid hitting Clara. As he struck the trampoline, his breath bursting out of him, he realized she’d tumbled backward at the same time and had rolled out of his way. Before he could get to his feet, she’d crawled out of the trampoline and was standing on the grass, panting from exertion.

  Isaiah climbed down, too, and she halted him from saying anything by pointing to the trampoline and shaking her head.

  “I’ve learned my lesson,” she said, leaning on the netting. “I’ll leave this to you and the twins. This isn’t something I can do by myself.”

  Ammon looked at her, as serious as a deacon scolding a member of the Leit. “In the Bible, it says, ‘I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.’”

  She smiled. “It does, but I’m not sure if Paul had trampolines in mind when he wrote to the Phillipians.”

  “It means all things,” the little boy insisted.

  “He’s right.” Isaiah wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold in his laughter at the little boy’s attempt to reassure her. “It does say all things. We don’t get to pick or choose.”

  Ammon nodded. “That’s what Mamm says.” Sudden tears flooded his blue eyes. “I miss Mamm. I miss her and Daed.”

  Gasps came from his siblings, and they frowned, wanting him to stop talking about their parents. Isaiah was too shocked to move, but Clara didn’t hesitate. She went to her knees to wrap her arms around the kind. He threw himself against her and sobbed.

  The other twins stared at Ammon, and Isaiah could see them struggling to contain their grief. It was impossible. One after another, their faces fell.

  When Clara reached out and gathered Nettie Mae to her, the little girl dissolved into sobs. Isaiah wrapped his arms around Nancy and Andrew. They cried, not like young kinder, but with the bone-deep weeping of someone far older who had suffered the worst blows life could bring their way.

  An abrupt detonation of thunder followed a flash of lightning. He scooped up the little girl and boy and ran toward the house. Clara followed with Ammon and Nettie Mae. As soon as they entered the kitchen, all four kinder ran into the living room and crouched by the sofa, their heart-rending cries filling the silence between the rumbles of thunder.

  “Go to them,” Clara urged. “They need you.”

  “I don’t know what to say to them.” Something released inside him as he admitted he was at a loss for what to do.

  “Say to them what you’d say to anyone else.” She grasped his arms and looked at him. “Say to them what you wish someone had said to you when Rose died.”

  He stared, riveted by her advice. Why hadn’t he thought of that himself? Many times, he’d wanted someone to sit and listen to him talk—or not talk—about Rose without telling him he was brave or he was strong enough to bear the burden of his loss.

  He took one stiff step, then another toward where the kinder huddled together, looking for comfort from one another. Realization flashed like lightning through his mind. They believed they could find solace only from each other in their shared loss.

  Sitting on the floor beside them, he didn’t touch them. Instead he spread his arms in both directions along the sofa cushions, offering them an open invitation when they were ready. He wasn’t sure if they were aware he’d come over to them because they hid their faces behind their hands or each other’s shoulder.

  “You know your daed and mamm would have come home to you if they could have, don’t you?” he asked.

  None of the youngsters replied, but they froze, and he knew they were listening to what he said. God, please send me the right words. Let me be Your conduit to their hearts.

  “It’s true,” he went on aloud. “There’s nothing your mamm and daed would have wanted more than to return to you.”

  “But they didn’t!” The pain in Andrew’s voice sliced through Isaiah, because he empathized with the boy. Being left behind by someone you love, especially when that person wouldn’t have chosen to go, was agony.

  “I know, and it hurts when I think about things I want to say to them.”

  “You too?” Nancy raised her head.

  “All the time. Your daed was excited to see the gates when they were finished, and I couldn’t wait to show him, but I couldn’t. Not like I used to, but in my heart, I know he’s near and celebrating with me.”

  “But,” Nettie Mae said around a sob, “I talk. Mamm no talk. Daed no talk. Want to hear them!”

  “Don’t listen here.” He pointed to his left ear before tapping the center of her narrow chest. “Listen here. In your heart.”

  “Where God is?” asked Andrew in awe.

  “Ja.” Envy struck him again, but this time for the boy’s simple faith that hadn’t wavered in the wake of his parents’ deaths. He wished his had been as strong. Could it be again? All he needed to do was walk the path God had given him. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking of his troubles. He needed to help the twins, who were looking to him for help.

  Clara stepped forward and sat on the other side of the kinder. She held out her arms, not saying a word. The girls launched themselves into her embrace. She held them close and comforted them. The boys inched nearer. She motioned for them to join in the group hug. Andrew and Ammon threw their arms around their siblings.

  From the center of the hug, Clara began to sing Jesus Loves Me, and the youngsters joined one after another. When they stumbled on the Englisch words and looked ready to cry again, she switched to Deitsch. She began a different hymn when they finished, and the kinder sang until their tears stopped. She kept singing as the youngsters’ eyelids grew heavy. While the twins fell asleep around her like a litter of puppies, she continued singing, making the hymns sound like both a prayer and a lullaby.

  She extracted herself from among the kinder as the last one nodded off, worn out by the day’s events and the release of the emotions they’d kept bottled up. Walking into the kitchen, she leaned her hands on the table and sighed. “I know I shouldn’t pray for them to be able to set their grief aside because that would mean forgetting their parents. But for a few moments...” She glanced at him as he rose to follow her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “It’s fine. I know what you mean. It’s not easy to walk between the gut memories and the grief. But it’s a beginning for their healing.”

  “How about your healing, Isaiah? When is that going to start?”

  Words failed him as he saw the sympathy on her face. There must be something he could say, but he had no idea what. As thunder crashed around them and wind-driven rain lashed the windows, the storm within him was louder. A calm would settle around the hills once the clouds passed, but it wouldn’t be easy to quiet the turbulence inside him.

  She raised a hand toward him, but he pushed himself away from the table and strode into the dawdi haus, shutting the door. He was as brittle as improperly tempered cast iron. If she touched him, he’d shatter as the metal would when struck by his hammer. He had no idea how he’d ever put himself together again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Isaiah gave the long, flat piece of metal a final hit before putting it to one side rather than into the coals again. Stepping away, he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. It was impossible to concentrate on work. He hadn’t been prepared yesterday for the twins opening up about their grief over their parents’ deaths. He was grateful for Clara’s help as well as her pushing him to do what he needed to as the kinder’s guardian. But he kept hearing Clara’s questions in his mind.

  How about your healing, Isaiah? When is that going to start?

  He should have answered her instead of walking away. He would have answered her if he’d known what to say. He’d wanted to say his healing was well underway, but he wouldn’t lie. The more
he thought about her penetrating questions that had stripped away the defenses he’d kept in place, the more annoyed he got. She didn’t understand. Nobody did.

  God does. The taunting, truthful voice in his mind burst out.

  He ignored it as he tried to ignore Clara’s questions. It was impossible.

  The sound of a horse and buggy outside his smithy was a welcome respite from his thoughts. Or it was until he saw Curtis Mast step out of the buggy.

  Isaiah silenced his groan as his father-in-law strode toward him. Forcing a smile, he called a greeting to Curtis.

  “Busy?” the older man asked.

  “Always, but being busy is better than not being busy, ain’t so?”

  Curtis nodded, then said, “I know it’s not our way for a daed to interfere, but Ida Mae and I were wondering if we should plant extra celery in the garden this year.”

  The Amish tradition of serving celery at weddings demanded extra rows be sowed in the gardens of families expecting to host a wedding after the harvest. Any family who put in extra spent most of the summer warding off curious questions about which son or daughter was marrying and to whom. Only when the couple’s intentions were published during announcements at a church Sunday service were suspicions confirmed or dashed.

  But why was Curtis asking him?

  “I don’t have an answer for you,” Isaiah said as he lifted off his leather apron and hung it on a hook beyond his forge.

  “You haven’t made your mind up yet?”

  “Yet?”

  “We’re two grown men, Isaiah. You married one of my daughters. Don’t you think, as part of the family already, you should let me know what your plans are since you’re walking out with one of my other daughters?”

  Isaiah opened his mouth, then shut it. He was too astonished and wasn’t sure what to say. He tried again. “Did Orpha say...?”

  “She hasn’t said anything, but I’ve seen how she looks when she comes home late after walking out with you.”

  “I’m not walking out with Orpha.”

  “What?” Curtis’s eyes grew as round as a coal on the forge.

  “I don’t know what she’s said—”

  “She hasn’t said anything, which is why I assumed you two had reached a serious understanding.” He tugged off his straw hat and rolled the uneven brim between his fingers. “So you’re not walking out with her?”

  “No. My time’s spent here or with the Beachy kinder. Orpha must be walking out with someone else.”

  His father-in-law stared at him in disbelief, then sighed. “I’d hoped you would decide to marry her because I know you’re a gut man who would provide a gut home for her. But apparently she’s decided on someone else.”

  “It would seem so.” His calm voice hid his exultation that Orpha wouldn’t be pressuring him any longer to marry her. “It sounds as if congratulations will soon be in order, Curtis.”

  “Time will tell, but at least I know whoever she’s with is plain because he drives a buggy. It’s not like the bishop’s Katie Kay who has jumped the fence to the Englischers.”

  “Is that for sure?” He couldn’t ask Reuben, who must be torn up to have his daughter turn her back on her people.

  And Micah... Isaiah wondered how his younger brother was dealing with these rumors. Micah had been busy on several construction projects, and Isaiah hadn’t had much time to talk with him. He needed to make time.

  Curtis shrugged, his mind on his daughters rather than the bishop’s. “She’s gone to live with an Englisch girl, so who knows whether she’ll come back or not?” Putting his hat on again, he turned to leave. “If you hear who Orpha is spending time with, let me know.”

  The older man was gone before Isaiah could reply, which was just as well. No matter how bothersome Orpha had been, he wasn’t going to carry any tales he heard to her daed. She was Rose’s sister, and he owed her that much loyalty.

  * * *

  Clara had been delighted when Isaiah offered to bring pizza home for supper that night. It’d been such a treat when they’d had it after Ammon’s hearing test, and the kinder would enjoy having it again. They’d been subdued, but brightened when she mentioned having pizza.

  She wished the promise of pizza topped with pepperoni and mushrooms was enough to get herself on an even keel. Throughout the day, it was as if a shadow draped over her, something she hadn’t experienced since her arrival in Paradise Springs. She wasn’t sure if the shadow was from the storm of tears yesterday or if caused by the thunderstorms rolling through one after another during the afternoon. She was on edge.

  But why? She should be rejoicing that the twins had realized it was okay to show their grief. It might be the first step toward convincing them to laugh again. But how could she revel in their breakthrough when Isaiah clung to his grief? She wished she could understand how he was able to offer the kinder what they needed when he refused to accept the same from her. Although she didn’t want to believe what she could see, it seemed to her that he acted as if he deserved to be miserable. It made no sense.

  Or did it? She’d been unhappy since she received Lonnie’s letter. Only because she’d come to Paradise Springs and met Isaiah and the twins had she relearned how to smile and tease and enjoy simple, wunderbaar things.

  Or maybe her uneasiness had nothing to do with him and the twins. Maybe it was from the two letters delivered that morning from the kinder’s grandparents. Like the one from their aenti, the letters were filled with news about where the couple was working in Africa. These had been written with the twins in mind, so she didn’t have to edit as she read to them, but neither letter mentioned if or when their grandparents were coming to Paradise Springs.

  How much longer would it be before they arrived? Clara had been at the Beachys’ house for more than a month. She wasn’t in a hurry to leave because she loved spending time with the twins. Having an hour in the evening to talk with Isaiah was a blessing, too, though she must make sure they didn’t end up holding hands as they had on the trampoline. Had he guessed she’d stumbled because her knees had gone weak at his touch?

  “You’re wasting time better spent on doing something other than fretting,” she chided herself.

  While the boys played with their trucks and the girls with plastic horses they made gallop across the floor, Clara cut out clothes for the twins from the fabric she’d found in the other storage room upstairs. They were growing fast, especially the boys. They needed play clothes and nicer clothing to wear to services on a church Sunday. Today was a gut day to spend with the task because she could sit near the kinder, ready to offer a hug whenever it was needed, and not seem to be hovering.

  The twins noticed what she was doing and asked which garment was for which kind. The girls were delighted with the light green and dark blue fabric she had for their dresses. As they wore the same size, they discussed which of them would wear which color first. The boys were less interested in color and more concerned that their new trousers didn’t have hems halfway to their knees as youngsters their age often did, so new pants didn’t need to be made every time they grew another inch. She assured them the hems wouldn’t be any deeper than Isaiah’s, but didn’t mention why. With the kinder due to join their Mennonite relatives, their clothing could be quite different. She had no idea how conservative their aenti and grandparents were.

  As the sky clouded for another round of thunder, lightning and rain, Clara put aside her sewing. The twins were getting antsy being stuck in the house, so she asked, “I’ve got my scissors out. Would you like me to cut your hair, boys?” She smiled at Andrew and Ammon. “Did your mamm cut your hair in the kitchen or bathroom?”

  “Kitchen,” Andrew replied, then lowered his eyes as he spoke about his mamm.

  She guessed he didn’t want anyone else to see tears in his eyes. Giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze,
she wasn’t surprised when he leaned into her instead of pulling away as he might have before yesterday. Perhaps now that they’d started to release their grief, they’d heal. It would take a very long time before the mention of their parents’ names didn’t cause pain. She hoped time would help reminiscences of the happy times eclipse their sorrow.

  “Mamm’s shears here,” Nancy said, opening the drawer near the stove where Clara kept the matches and the other odds and ends needed in the kitchen.

  “Gut.” She reached in the drawer and pulled out the scissors. She also used a book of matches to light the propane lamp over the table as the clouds continued to thicken. Tossing the matches in the drawer, she closed it and said, “Please get me two bath towels, Nancy. You know how many two are?”

  The little girl held up three fingers.

  With a smile, Clara lowered one. “Put one towel on each of those fingers, and you’ll have two towels. Nettie Mae, will you get a clothespin from the laundry basket?”

  “One?” She held up a single finger.

  “Perfect.”

  “What about me?” Ammon asked.

  “You can help by getting one of the booster seats the girls use while Andrew pulls out the chair we’ll use.”

  The kinder scurried in four different directions and did as she asked. Oh, how she was going to miss their eagerness to help! And their sweet smiles and their many questions. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she dashed them aside as she took the towels from Nancy. She put one on the floor and set on top of it the chair Andrew had moved away from the table. Ammon placed the booster seat on the chair.

  When she motioned for him to climb up, Ammon scrambled like a squirrel climbing a tree. She wrapped the second towel around his neck and held it in place with the clothespin beneath his chin. After she had him hand her his hearing aid, because she didn’t want to risk snipping its thin wire, she put it in her pocket for safekeeping. She took a small mirror Melvin probably had used for shaving off the wall by the sink and handed it to the little boy.