“Welcome,” Miriam said with a smile. The children smiled back, but hung close to their mother. Natasha tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear.
“Your husband is helping mine repair that buggy,” Natasha said. “Thank you for that. Wollie’s determined to take it to work today.”
“He’s happy to help,” Miriam said. “I’m glad you made it.”
“Me, too,” she replied with a smile.
“Have you ever played horseshoes?” Miriam asked the kids.
“Our daet showed us how,” the older boy said.
Daet. She noticed that he’d used the Pennsylvania Dutch word. She smiled at that. Kinner could adjust quickly to changes, and moving to a life of farming and outdoor activities would be an adventure for them—at least during the summer.
“If I got you the game, could you set it up?” Miriam asked.
“Yah, I can do it,” the boy said in Dutch.
“That was very good!” Miriam said. “Nicely done.”
“My mammi taught me that,” he said, switching back to English. “I can say a few things.”
“All right, tell me another thing you can say in Dutch...”
It didn’t take long to get the kinner enjoying some outdoor play, and Miriam led Natasha inside where Mammi was dozing in her easy chair. They could see the kinner out the window, tossing horseshoes and laughing. The smallest girl lay next to the garden, and she was pushing little rocks into the soil as if she was planting.
“Oh, I’m sorry—” Natasha started toward the window.
“She’s fine,” Miriam said. “It’s how they learn. She’s not hurting anything.”
Natasha smiled shakily. “This is very nice of you to have us over like this. I appreciate it.”
“Have you started learning to drive a buggy yet?” Miriam asked.
“I’m afraid of the horses,” Natasha said. “I almost got kicked once, and I haven’t learned how to hitch up. Besides, we only have one buggy right now, and my husband needed it for work. But honestly, even if we had another one, I’m not sure I could manage driving it.”
Miriam nodded. “There are a lot of changes to get used to.”
“I’m not doing terribly well, to be honest. The kids know more Dutch than I do at this point, and I burn everything I cook.” She laughed uncomfortably.
“Sit down,” Miriam said. “Let me get some cookies.”
She brought a plate of shortbread cookies to the table and sat down opposite the other woman.
“Can I ask you something?” Miriam said.
“Sure,” Natasha replied.
“Why are you doing this?” Miriam asked. “Don’t get me wrong—everyone is so happy that you are. You’re very, very welcome in this community, and I’ve been told that your husband’s parents are overjoyed to have you all come to the Amish faith together...” Miriam leaned forward. “But why did you choose this life?”
“For him,” Natasha said with a weak shrug.
“How is your family taking it?” Miriam asked. “Your parents and siblings, I mean. They’re English, I take it?”
“Yes, they’re... English.” Natasha smiled faintly. “And they aren’t taking it well. They think we’re crazy and my parents are worried about the kids getting enough schooling, and having a future, and...” She sighed. “So, it has been tense with them.”
“And you did all this for Wollie?” Miriam asked.
Natasha was silent for a moment. “I met Wollie at a baseball game. The Amish young people were playing against our church’s youth group, and Wollie and I started talking, and...it all just came together. I think we fell in love that very day. We talked for hours, and he was just the kindest, gentlest man I’d ever met. And when he looked at me, I could see exactly how he felt about me, and I’d never experienced that before.”
Miriam held her breath. Neither had she, for that matter...
“And you decided to get married?” she asked.
“Not right away. We started seeing each other. He came with me to some church events, and we’d go out for drives together in the car. Once he brought the buggy, but we drew a lot of attention with the buggy, so we stopped that.” Natasha glanced toward Mammi, whose eyes were still closed. “We got married because we loved each other too much not to get married. I truly believe that God created us for each other, and I could see how He’d brought us together. Back then, his parents had wanted him to marry a strict Amish girl, and I wouldn’t have been acceptable, anyway. And my parents were very happy to show Wollie the English way of living, so we went to where there was more support. Being together was what mattered most to us.”
Miriam nodded. “I do understand that. Your family was more supportive of the marriage... That makes sense. But now?”
“Coming back to the Amish faith is for Wollie,” Natasha said. “I hadn’t realized how much he’d given up by turning his back on the Amish culture. Over the years we talked more about why you all do what you do, and I saw the beauty in it. Besides, I could see my husband’s yearning for the way he was raised, and it was draining away a part of him to be away from this life. So when our home burned down, I agreed that the time might be right to learn how to live Amish.” Natasha smiled, her face lighting up. “Do you believe in people being created for each other?”
Miriam didn’t know how to answer, but thankfully Natasha didn’t seem to require one.
“I believe that God created Wollie and me for each other, and that no other man could make me as happy as Wollie does,” Natasha said. “And Wollie thinks the same thing. We do things together or not at all. That’s how we do everything.”
“You don’t think there might have been other men you could have been compatible with?” Miriam asked.
“Compatible? Maybe...” Natasha took a bite of a cookie. “But there’s a difference between being brought together by God’s own hand and stumbling across someone you have compatibility with.”
“I suppose...” Miriam sucked in a slow breath.
She hadn’t experienced either... She and Amos weren’t even compatible, it seemed.
“My problem,” Natasha said. “My biggest problem, at least, is that I’m not like you Amish women. You’re all so good with your hands, and smart when it comes to practical matters. You’re good cooks, good seamstresses, you take care of animals, know how to hang laundry!” She gestured out the window toward the fluttering towels on the line. “And all my life, I’ve never been good at those things. I’ve had other talents.”
“Like what?” Miriam asked.
“I’m artistic,” Natasha said. “I’m good at painting and drawing. I’m good at handling money—which I suppose is useful anywhere. I’m actually quite good with computers and gadgets, too. But that’s no help here, is it? I’m just different.”
Miriam nodded. “Me, too.”
“What?” Natasha looked sincerely surprised.
“I’m very good with numbers and business,” Miriam said. “I’m different, too.”
“But you seem so—” Natasha glanced around the kitchen “—competent.”
“I am.” Miriam chuckled. “Natasha, can I tell you something?”
“Please!” the other woman said.
“We’re not perfect and we’re not all the same. Being Amish means believing in the same faith and the same values,” Miriam said. “You don’t have to be the same. You will be you, and you’ll bring your strengths to the community, and you’ll contribute. Maybe not with computers and the like, but you’ll find a way to pitch in.”
“But the canning, and pickling, and sewing, and gardening, and...” Natasha’s voice trailed away.
“You’ll learn,” Miriam said with a shrug. “And maybe you’ll never be terribly good at those things. But you’ll find your place. You’ll see. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself.”
Natasha’s expressi
on relaxed. “You’re the first person to tell me that.”
“Am I?” Miriam asked. “I’m sure I won’t be the last.”
“Since I’m here,” Natasha said. “I’m having trouble cooking on my woodstove. Could you walk me through how you do it? Wollie’s mother has shown me all of this, and I feel so silly asking her again and again. If I could cook just one meal for my family without burning it, I’d feel like a success.”
“Of course,” Miriam said, pushing her chair back. “Come—I’ll show you some tricks.”
An hour passed while Miriam showed Natasha how to cook with a woodstove, how to dampen the heat and how to get the perfect glow for baking bread. Mammi woke up from her nap and she gave a few tips of her own about how to run an Amish home.
And after the children had come inside for some pie and tall glasses of milk, Natasha thanked Miriam for her kindness and sent the kids out to the truck, as it was time to go home for lunch.
“Thank you for taking the time for this,” Natasha said earnestly. “I’m looking forward to starting the fire in my own stove for lunch. It’ll be different this time, I’m sure.”
“You’re very welcome,” Miriam said. “It was so nice to meet you.”
When their guests had left, Miriam cast Mammi a tired smile.
“She’s very nice,” Miriam said. “I can see why her husband fell in love with her.”
“Yah, I told you,” Mammi said. “But I think you might have given her some bad advice.”
Miriam shot the old woman a look of surprise. “What? When?”
“When you told her that she didn’t need to worry about being like the other Amish women and that she could be different,” Mammi said. “I woke up a few times there, and I was listening to you two talk... it was nice. But I don’t think that advice was quite right.”
“What would you have her do?” Miriam said with a shake of her head. “She can’t change who she is! She’ll have to find a way.”
“She will,” Mammi said softly. “But you’re coming at this from a very different position than she is. She speaks very little of the language, knows very little about living an Amish life and knows very few people in our community. It’s not going to be so simple for her.”
Miriam was silent.
“You could be different because you’ve got Amish pedigree all the way back to Switzerland,” Mammi said. “No one will question how Amish you are. You might not like the life of an Amish wife, but you know the work because you’ve been taught it since you were tiny. And as for your affinity for business, it might be very useful if your husband will listen to your good instincts, but another woman wouldn’t be able to do what you are doing and still be accepted. You come from a strongly Amish family and were raised by a wealthy Amish father who was revered in the community. It’s different for you. You have some privilege and you get away with a whole lot more.”
“I suppose it might be a little different,” Miriam said after a moment.
“More than a little, dear,” Mammi said frankly.
“If Natasha had a friend who could stand up for her—”
“But you aren’t staying,” Mammi said meekly. “So it can’t be you.”
Right. She was doing it again—dishing out advice that was in no way helpful to the woman who was looking to her for support. She rubbed her hands over her face.
“It’s okay,” Mammi said gently. “I think you encouraged her all the same. She has a mother-in-law to set her straight on the rest.”
“I do try, Mammi,” Miriam said with a sigh.
“I know,” Mammi said with a tender smile. “And that’s why I love you so.”
Miriam went over to where the old woman sat and bent down, giving her a hug.
“I’m just going to go pick up the horseshoes,” Miriam said. “I’ll be right back.”
As Miriam headed out into the noon sunlight, she felt another wave of regret—this one having nothing to do with Natasha or Fannie. This one was for her husband.
Miriam had expected more of Amos—it was true. She’d expected more growth in his business, and more strength in standing up to her father. But Amos didn’t come from a family like hers, and her father was the kind of man who would not be moved once he’d made up his mind about something.
Miriam had expected Amos to be like her father—his business sense, his narrow focus, his effectiveness. But Amos wasn’t her father. And he didn’t have generations of accumulated land and businesses at his fingertips. He hadn’t been raised by businessmen who’d taught him everything they knew.
Had Miriam’s expectations of Amos...her father’s expectations of him...been unfair?
Chapter Eight
Amos spent the first few hours of his day with Wollie, fixing that wagon axle. It took longer than they thought, and it still wasn’t completely finished by the time they called it quits for the morning. But Wollie could finish it on his own that evening. Amos dropped him off at his work and then had to head all the way back to Redemption Carpentry, which took more time still. But there was no helping it—these things happened sometimes. As he rode, his mind kept slipping back to that unfinished box he’d found in his bedroom closet—the one he’d been carving for his and Miriam’s first anniversary.
He’d never finished it. When she left, it hardly seemed like a priority. He couldn’t bring himself to throw it into the stove, either. So it had sat up there for the better part of a decade, simply collecting dust.
But if things were going to be different for him and Miriam now—if they were going to be friends of some sort—then he felt like the change in their relationship deserved to be acknowledged between them. Maybe it was time to finish carving that box and give it to her, after all.
Would that be too much? Would he make things weird between them? But somehow, leaving that small box unfinished felt wrong now, and he couldn’t quite explain why. But he needed to do something about it.
Amos arrived at the workshop a little after noon, and Noah and Thomas both looked up at his arrival. He nodded to the men as he hung up his lunch satchel on a peg by the door and dropped his hat on top.
“You made it,” Noah said. “Is everything okay at home?”
They were asking about Mammi. “Yah, yah...” Amos nodded. “Mammi is doing okay. Every day she seems a little more tired, but she’s okay.”
Noah straightened and brushed the wood dust from his forearms.
“Wollie came by this morning,” Amos went on. “He needed help with a damaged axle on his buggy, so I dropped by his place to help him fix it. It took a lot longer than I thought—one thing after another seemed to go wrong. It’s not quite finished, but Wollie can do the rest on his own. So I drove him to work, and he figures he can get a ride back with a coworker. That’s why I’m late.”
“How’s he doing?” Thomas asked.
“Pretty well,” Amos replied. “He’s finding it harder than he thought to readjust to Amish life, though.”
“He is?” Thomas said, surprised. “I understand it being difficult for his wife and kinner, but—”
“He got used to their ways,” Amos replied. “Like having a truck. He said they kept it for emergencies, and when the buggy broke, he came to find me in his truck.”
The men exchanged looks. None of them had extra Englisher vehicles for hard times. Amos knew how to be Amish, and it wasn’t by having backup plans that went against the Ordnung. Marriage was supposed to be the same—vows and a life together, no divorce, no separation, no backup plan. Maybe Amos wasn’t much better than Wollie right now.
“Once you’ve jumped the fence, coming back isn’t so easy, is it?” Noah said quietly.
“It will take more time, I suppose,” Thomas said. “Our mamm found it hard coming back, too. It isn’t just the rules and giving up the Englisher conveniences. It’s the friendships that have changed, and the way
the community sees you. Our mamm really struggled with that coming back. She still does, somewhat.”
“Still?” Amos asked.
“Coming home again means facing judgment,” Noah said, his voice low.
Amos’s mind went back to sitting on the swing next to Miriam, her soft hand in his. Miriam was facing judgment—from friends, family, people who’d only ever heard about her and hadn’t even met her. And she’d felt safe enough with him to open up about it...
Things were changing, and Miriam had started to trust him, of all people. He hadn’t expected that.
“Amos?” Noah said.
Amos realized he’d been lost in thought, and he looked up. “Sorry, what?”
“The bank statement arrived with the mail today,” Noah said. “It’s on your desk in the office.”
“Thanks. I’ll go take a look.”
Amos headed in the direction of his office while Thomas and Noah turned back to their work in shaping a sleigh bed. Their voices mingled with the swish of the planer, the scent of freshly cut wood accenting the air.
The office was just off the side of the showroom. It was a small room with a large, plain desk and a bank of filing cabinets. One long, narrow window let in a shaft of sunlight, illuminating a white envelope on his desk. That would be the bank statement.
Amos sat down at the desk and pulled out his ledgers. He kept careful track of his work, the payments, expected payments...and for the last couple of months, his accounts had been off. He kept hoping that they’d rectify themselves somehow before the next bank statement... He’d check again today.
Amos opened the envelope and cracked open his newest ledger. For the next few minutes he scoured the columns, looking for the missing money. He’d made a mistake somewhere, obviously, because there was no way that Noah or Thomas were stealing from him. Still, he needed to know where he’d gone wrong, and he went over the numbers carefully, cross-checking as he went.
Two hours passed that way, and when there was a tap on the door, he roused himself.
“Come in,” he called.
Noah opened the door and looked inside. “Everything okay, Amos?”
Wife on His Doorstep Page 10
