The Stone Wall

by Beverly Lewis

  “That’s right. Lots and lots of alfalfa.” Anna mentioned Luke Flaud’s turkey business and how he raised turkeys and sold them fully dressed. “Luke Flaud and his family live next door to Glen and Sadie. They live in the Dawdi Haus where Glen’s father once lived. That’s where I’ll be staying, too.”

  “Oh,” Mammi said, returning her gaze to Anna. “You’re leavin’ again?”

  Anna’s heart dropped. Did Mammi not want her to go?

  Wanita gave a knowing nod to Anna and steered Bonnie, Bethie, and Rogene into the house to get ready for bed, leaving Anna alone with her grandmother.

  “I’m going to live in Strasburg, Mammi,” Anna said. “I’d like a fresh start, and so much about it just feels welcoming to me. Lord willing, I’ll find a job there.”

  “Lord willin’,” Mammi repeated with a blank stare.

  “I’ll visit you as often as I can, okay?” She reached for Mammi’s gnarled hand, marked with brown age spots. “I love you very much,” she said, a lump in her throat. “I always have. You’ve taught me such important things through the years, you and Dawdi John both.” Gently she squeezed Mammi’s hand, and she felt Mammi weakly return the squeeze, doing so three times in a row.

  “You’re saying ‘I love you,’ aren’t you?” she whispered, surprised.

  Mammi’s face was expressionless, but her eyes glinted with tears.

  “I’ll come see you again.” Anna held her Mammi’s hand, savoring this moment, as the sun sank lower in the sky.

  Sadie sat in bed talking quietly with Glen, a lightweight quilt folded neatly near the footboard, the sheet covering them in their nightclothes. The green shades had been pulled down to the windowsills, but the lamp on Glen’s bedside table dimly lit the room they had made their own, setting it up with the furniture brought over from the large farmhouse—same oak bed, bureau, and blanket chest they’d always had. They even still owned the dark brown loveseat they’d sat on during their courting days at Sadie’s parents’ house more than forty-five years ago.

  Downsizing the rest of their accumulations over the years had taken some getting used to, but at least this Dawdi Haus had been built to accommodate overnight guests. Like Anna, thought Sadie while Glen reached for the cup of cold water on his nearby little table.

  “I can’t tell ya how happy I am Anna’s returning,” Sadie said softly, turning slightly to watch Glen.

  “Jah, and it’s gut to see you ain’t fretting now,” he said. “Anna’s a capable young woman. I doubt she’ll have a speck of trouble finding employment round here.”

  “I hope you’re right.” She hated the thought of Anna being disappointed again.

  Glen placed the cup back on the table. “We’ll trust Gott, jah?” He patted her hand. “I think ya need some rest, Sadie.”

  “Maybe so.”

  “Honestly, we both do.” He reached to outen the battery-operated lamp, then scooted down in bed and folded his hands over his middle. Within a few minutes, his gentle snoring commenced.

  Sadie sat there pondering the day for a while longer, eventually praying for each member of their large family, from oldest to youngest, asking God to keep them on His path until the perfect day. Tonight she added Anna to the prayer, as well. Ease her mind and grant her peace, O Lord. And give her hope for the future.

  Sadie hadn’t forgotten the way Anna’s brown eyes had lit up when she mentioned the Mennonite fellow who’d shown her around the information center yesterday. Will anything come of that now? she wondered.

  Sadie closed her eyes again, though not in prayer, and rehearsed the various Amish shops and the country store she knew like the back of her hand.

  Surely one of them is looking to hire a fine young woman like Anna, she thought, aware, though, that most shopkeepers had already handpicked their summer employees. After all, it’s tourist season.

  Halfway between Mifflinburg and Lancaster Thursday morning, Anna stopped for a soda at a convenience store. Just as she was leaving the store, her phone rang. Quickly, she answered, “Anna Beachy speaking.”

  “Anna, hello. This is Evelyn Leaman calling. Do you have a minute?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Well, something quite unexpected has come up,” Evelyn said. “The opening for a tour guide hasn’t been filled, after all, so if you’re still interested, the job is yours.”

  Anna’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh yes, I’m very interested.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it. Would you be able to come in for training this coming Monday?”

  “I’ll be there.” Anna silently thanked God for this surprising turn of events.

  “I’ve asked Martin Nolt to show you around the places on our list for tourist stops. He’s very knowledgeable about the local Amish attractions and such. Is that all right with you?”

  All right? Anna was practically grinning now. “Jah . . . er, yes.”

  “And while I have you on the phone . . . just a couple of things,” Evelyn said. “Because some of our clients are families with children, you’ll be required to be fingerprinted with the FBI, as well as to have a background check.”

  Anna let Evelyn know she’d been through this process before for her job at the museum. “That’s no problem.”

  “All right, then, we’ll see you at nine o’clock Monday. Good-bye, Anna.”

  Happy and relieved, Anna ended the call and quickly called Mamm to share the good news with her. Afterward, she climbed back into her car and continued on her way. When she arrived at the Flauds’ farm roughly an hour later, she saw Sadie outside sweeping the walkway rather vigorously.

  She greeted her and said, “You’ll never guess who called me.”

  “Well now, I can only hope.” Sadie was smiling even before Anna could share the news.

  Anna nodded. “God answered prayer!”

  To herself, she thought, And Martin Nolt will be training me!

  Chapter 8

  It wasn’t in Anna’s nature to inquire about the first person selected for the job, but sitting in Mart Nolt’s car in the parking lot Monday morning, she learned that the woman had balked at the requirement of being fingerprinted. Anna remembered feeling a bit nervous about that herself when she was offered a job as a guide at the Mifflinburg Buggy Museum.

  Sitting there behind the wheel, Mart looked sharp in his creased black pants and a white short-sleeved shirt with subtle gray stripes, open at the neck. Anna had dressed well, too, wanting to make yet another good impression on Evelyn and the other staff. Not just Mart, thought Anna, smiling to herself a bit.

  She listened carefully as he went over the highlighted county map and discussed the most popular stops and places to see around Lancaster County—an Amish broom- and rug-maker shop, a goat farm that sold cheese, a homemade root-beer stand, an Amish hat shop, the Gordonville Book Store, and an Amish bakery. He handed her a copy of the list for her own use.

  “First we’ll head to the Bird-in-Hand Bake Shop on Gibbons Road,” he said. “They even have a petting zoo for children.”

  Anna made a note of the small zoo in her spiral notebook, and Mart complimented her on her attention to detail.

  “If I talk too fast, just stop me, okay?” he said.

  She nodded, appreciating his demeanor—efficient, yet in a personable way.

  “You’ll be conducting car tours for the first weeks and months, perhaps even a year, but at some point, you’ll be trained to do coach tours, too.”

  “I’ll do my best,” she assured him, nervous at the idea of entertaining a bus full of tourists. In time, she thought.

  “I have no doubt.” His tone sounded almost too positive. “Tomorrow, you’ll go on an actual car tour with me,” he said as he made the righthand turn onto Route 30 to head east. “I’m booked with a family from New York City.”

  “Des gut. I mean . . .”

  He glanced over at her and smiled. “It’s okay to let your Pennsylvania Dutch slip now and then, especially with tourists. They’ll love it.�
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  It was almost as if he thought it was cute or something, but Anna didn’t mind.

  At the Bird-in-Hand Bake Shop—voted for many years as having the best shoofly pie in all of Lancaster County—Mart pointed out the sugar-free and gluten-free baked goods. “A lot of your clients will be happy to know they have options,” he told Anna. “As you can see, the shop also carries craft items and homemade specialty soaps. Oh, and the cheddar cheese bread is out of this world. I’ve never had a client buy it and not rave about it.”

  “Great to know.” Anna jotted this down and followed Mart outside, where they passed a food truck with Amish-made soft pretzels on their way to the petting zoo, which featured a few goats and some fancy, fluffy chickens.

  Since they were close to a farm that had once served as part of the Underground Railroad, they headed there next. Anna quickly learned from Mart that, in the early 1800s, a devout Quaker named Daniel Gibbons and his wife, Hannah, had built a brick farmhouse along Mill Creek, where for more than fifty years, they had secretly assisted as many as a thousand fugitives by offering them refuge and even new identities on their journey to freedom.

  Mart parked the car on the shoulder and pointed out the historic house. “As you probably know, the Underground Railroad helped many people escape all the way to Canada. The network consisted of safe houses and concealed rooms in cellars, attics, and even huts all over the free states,” he said. “In fact, this very house was the first station in Pennsylvania.”

  “Wow,” she whispered, “it’s like we’re on the edge of history.” She made a note of this location, one of several stops in Lancaster County on the route to Canada. “You sound just like a tour guide, by the way!”

  Mart laughed, and Anna realized she was too close to flirting, though that had never been her style.

  The Log Cabin Quilt Shop and Fabrics on the west edge of Bird-in-Hand was their next stop. There, Anna enjoyed talking with the Amish manager, who pointed out a display of how to make the various crafts the store featured. She also took Anna over to one of the large bed frames, where many different quilts were neatly laid out. “Is there a particular pattern you might be interested in?” the lovely woman asked.

  Anna explained that she was training to be an area tour guide and would be bringing clients there soon. “But if I were choosing an Amish quilt for myself, it would be hard to decide. They’re all so gorgeous.” Anna mentioned that she and her mother and sister had made several quilts together, though they were not uniquely Amish patterns.

  “We can also custom make anything you’d like,” the cheerful owner said. “Any color, any pattern . . . anything at all. Be sure to let your clients know, jah?” And she chuckled.

  Anna thanked her and, after looking around a bit more, she and Mart left to head up the street the short distance to the large building housing the Bird-in-Hand Farmers Market. Before they went inside, Mart told her to make note of the summer hours, and again, Anna jotted the information down in her notebook.

  “Do you like whoopie pies?” he asked as he held the door for her.

  “Who doesn’t? My favorite flavor is peanut butter.”

  “The ideal midmorning snack,” he agreed.

  Mart led the way to Grandma Smucker’s, where Anna purchased herself a peanut butter whoopie pie. “It’s probably a good idea to sample one before I bring anyone here, don’t you think?” she asked with a smile.

  “Definitely,” Mart said, purchasing the same flavor she’d chosen.

  “Wow, these are extra big,” she observed.

  “More goodness in every bite,” Mart replied with a twinkle, sounding like a walking advertisement.

  After that stop, they returned to the car and drove past the country housewares store and several other shops featuring Amish goods before they stopped with their sack lunches at Kitchen Kettle Village. They found a picnic table near Lapp Valley Farms Ice Cream at the far end of the cobblestone walkway.

  “Usually the center’s new tour guides are more familiar with Lancaster County, having grown up here,” Mart said as they ate in the welcome shade. “In your free time, you should take the Discover Lancaster getaway guide and spend time driving around to the recommended locations. You’ll especially want to become familiar with the cemeteries and one-room Amish schoolhouses, and our historic covered bridges, all of which we won’t have time for today.”

  “I’ve heard about a few local highlights, like the Amish Farm and House, and the Amish Village,” Anna said. “And Miller’s Smorgasbord, of course. Are those on the information center’s list of possible tour stops, too?”

  “No, and neither is the market we just visited.” He grinned and took a sip of his bottle of sweetened iced tea. “Typically we don’t take tourists to the big attractions that are easy for them to locate. We go to the out-of-the-way places, ones they wouldn’t necessarily be aware of or be able to find on their own.” He paused and studied her, as if he had something else on his mind. “Have you ever eaten at Miller’s?”

  She shook her head and reached for an apple slice from the plastic bag she’d packed at Flauds’. “Would you care for some?”

  “Thanks.” He took one, then held out his bag of celery sticks. “Take as many as you like.”

  Amused, she reached for one, thinking that she and Mart hadn’t known each other very long, and here they were already trading food. “Denki,” she let slip, and his eyes twinkled at her.

  “The ins-and-outs of where to go and what to highlight will become second nature to you over time. Clients really appreciate the chance to see Amish country up close like this—particularly how the Old Order Amish live and farm.” He took another sip of his tea. “Back-country roads typically offer the best chances to do that—where else can people see eight-mule teams in the fields plowing and cultivating, baling hay, or harvesting field corn, for example?”

  Anna stopped eating to jot down these suggestions in her notebook before finishing her turkey and cheese sandwich and the rest of the apple slices.

  That afternoon, they stopped to peruse the Gordonville Book Store on Old Leacock Road, which sold books for children, Amish novels, and religious books, along with Amish cookbooks, German Bibles, and homeschool curricula, games, and toys. The inspirational greeting cards caught Anna’s attention, as did the scrapbook supplies.

  At the Li’l Country Store and Miniature Horse Farm in Ronks, Anna loved seeing the foals in the barn. Children were also outdoors petting and feeding the full-grown miniature horses pellets from a dispenser. Visitors could take rides in carts pulled by the miniature horses, as well as see goats and alpacas. And in the Li’l Country Store gift shop, there were a variety of toy trains. “My favorite part,” Mart confessed.

  On the drive back to the Mennonite Information Center, Mart asked if Anna had chosen a church to attend. “Since you’re new in town.”

  “I have,” she said, and told him where.

  “Well, if you’d like to come to my Mennonite church, you’re always welcome.” Anna thanked him and wrote down the name and address, thinking that it might be useful information for clients.

  They made arrangements to finish the remainder of the route Mart had planned, but this time with actual paying customers. “Trying to squeeze in everything we need to cover is too ambitious for one day,” he said as he pulled the car into the lot of the information center and took the key from the ignition. “The places you’ll see tomorrow are of particular interest to this family—when I get enough advance notice, I try to customize tours to what clients want to see.”

  After Anna went inside to meet with Evelyn to fill out the necessary employment paperwork, she drove back to the Flauds’, glad Mart had not been able to fit their tour into a single day.

  Chapter 9

  Anna bounded out of bed early the next morning in anticipation of another day with Martin Nolt and eager to summarize yesterday’s interesting events in a letter to Wanita.

  After a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs
with cheese, toast with strawberry jam, and hot coffee, she listened to Glen read from the eighteenth psalm, “‘As for God, his way is perfect: the word of the LORD is tried: he is a buckler to all those that trust in him.’”

  Sitting with Glen and Sadie at their table, Anna knew that her parents would be pleased by the Flauds’ dedication to reading Scripture every morning and evening. Like Dat and Mamm do during our own daily family worship, thought Anna, quickly finding some shared religious practices between the Old Order Amish and her own Beachy upbringing.

  Aside from their church forbidding electricity and cars, Glen and Sadie’s faith doesn’t seem a whole lot different from mine, she thought now. Maybe it’s like Mammi always used to say, “At its heart, faith isn’t a matter of rule keeping—it’s about having a relationship with God.”

  The Brown family of four included their fashionably dressed nine-year-old daughter and Mrs. Brown’s gray-haired mother, all of whom arrived at the information center thirty minutes after Anna. Anna was impressed by how Mart warmly greeted each family member. After introducing her to the New Yorkers, he explained, “Anna is training to be a tour guide and will be spending the morning with us.” He sent a smile her way.

  Mart laid out the itinerary on the nearby counter for Mr. Brown and his wife. “Do you mind confirming these stops for our tour?” he asked the couple.

  Anna could hear them talking and chuckling, getting along amiably. Not surprising, she thought, considering how charming Mart can be.

  The Browns’ petite dark-eyed daughter, Riley, appeared to take an immediate interest in Anna, coming over with her grandma to stand beside her. “Did you know a place called Down on the Farm Creamery is on today’s schedule?” Anna asked her.

  “A creamery?” Riley asked, expression puzzled.

  “Where ice cream is made,” Anna said.

  “My favorite food!” exclaimed Riley.