by Sarah Price
“Oh, help and bother!” Emma covered her mouth and looked away. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she realized her blunder. A time to keep silence, and a time to speak, she thought to herself. “I’m so sorry, Hannah! I misunderstood you. I didn’t suspect that you were actually considering a favorable reply!” She reached out and clutched her friend’s hand, staring into her face. “Please forgive me.”
“Forgive you?” Hannah asked, a confused look on her face.
“Just never you mind my words, Hannah. I wouldn’t dream of telling you what to do! Courtship is, after all, a very private matter.”
But the seed was clearly planted.
“You . . . you think I should turn him away?” The tone in Hannah’s voice was a mixture of surprise, indecision, and concern. Clearly she cared about Emma’s opinion and what Emma thought about her possible suitor. “I hadn’t realized he cared so much for me,” she began, speaking aloud more for her own benefit than Emma’s.
“Marriage is forever,” Emma pointed out. “How long did you stay at their farm? A week? How well could you get to know someone in such a short period of time?”
“I suppose not very well.”
“And I imagine it was short visits with his schwesters around, ja? Just short, friendly exchanges?”
Hannah nodded her head. “He was friendly, true. But to want to officially court me? I reckon it is rather . . . surprising,” she said, although it sounded as though she was trying to convince herself more than Emma.
“Seems to me that, mayhaps, you have your own doubts, ja?” Emma smiled softly as she returned her attention to her quilting. “Anna always told Irene and me that when a woman has doubts, she has no choice but to refuse. When one hesitates to say ja, then one must say nee immediately!”
There was a moment of silence, as Hannah contemplated Emma’s words.
Emma took advantage of the pause to continue. “Of course, if you think Ralph is the most interesting and godly of men and wish to spend your life with him without any second thoughts about your future . . . ” She let her voice trail off, the sentence unfinished as she pushed the needle into the quilt top once again. The silence that ensued reassured Emma that she had hit her mark and that Hannah was considering her words.
“I suppose it is rather sudden,” Hannah admitted.
“And to spend your days as the wife of a pig farmer,” Emma added, a disapproving look on her face. “I dare not think about how long and tedious your days would be. Why, we’d never get to see one another, I’m sure and certain! You’d be married to the farm as much as to Ralph!”
At this, Hannah gasped. “Never see you? I never thought about that! Oh, Emma! I can’t imagine not being able to visit you on a regular basis!” She took a deep breath and tilted her chin, a fresh look of resolve on her face. “You are so right, Emma. I had not thought this through. I have no choice but to refuse his offer.”
Setting down the needle, Emma smiled at her friend. “Well then, I reckon you should reply to him straight away, ja? Best tell him immediately what your response is to his proposition.” Without waiting for an answer, she stood up and hurried over to the kitchen cabinet next to the refrigerator. She opened the drawer and withdrew a small, flat box. “I have stationery here, Hannah. You can sit at the table to write the letter, if that helps.”
To Emma’s surprise, the color suddenly drained from Hannah’s face. “Please help me, Emma. I have no idea what words to use!”
“Now, now,” Emma soothed. “As I already said, just be kind and gentle yet firm in giving your refusal. I suppose it shouldn’t be too long of a letter for fear that he will consider that a tease. You certainly have no need to fear your selection of words, Hannah. You are, after all, an intelligent creature.”
Feeling more confident, Hannah nodded, an expression of determination on her face. She took the paper and a pen from Emma before bending her head down to begin drafting the letter to Ralph Martin, informing him that he dare not come courting her at Gladys’s house after all.
After the letter was completed, carefully worded to avoid hurt feelings, or at least to lessen the blow, Emma inquired if she needed to return directly to Gladys’s home. When Hannah shook her head, stating that she had managed to complete all of the necessary chores, Emma was quick to suggest that they return to the living room to quilt. A distraction would do her friend good, and Emma knew that sewing could do just that.
They sat by the quilting frame, the silence allowing time for meditation and reflection. Emma loved the sound of the thread poking through the fabric and sliding, ever so gracefully and smoothly, as she pulled it up from beneath the material. She could quilt for hours, she reckoned, but after a while her back would begin to ache just enough that she would have to set down the needle and thimble to take a moment to stretch her back. Blinking as she stood before the window, she felt a slow burning beneath her eyelids. It won’t be long, she realized, before I’ll be needing glasses.
“How long until we are finished, you reckon, Emma?”
Emma glanced over her shoulder at the quilt. In just a week, they had managed to quilt almost half of the quilt top. “Why, no more than two weeks if we continue to work at the same pace. Even less if we work harder. Mayhaps Anna might come visiting again to help a spell. Many hands make light the work.” The adage was core to the Amish belief system. When people volunteered their assistance, tasks were always completed faster, and the fellowship of working alongside others always made the work more enjoyable.
“I was thinking,” Emma said cautiously, breaking the light silence that had befallen them. “I’m sure that you’d like to meet more people in Lititz, and I had an idea about how to do so.”
“Oh?” To say that Hannah was intrigued was putting it mildly. She set down her needle and stared at her friend. “Please share it with me. I’d love to hear it.”
“Well,” Emma started, her head dipped down as she pushed the needle through the quilt top. “You know I go visiting on Thursday mornings. I like to stop in at the homes of the widows in our district. Those are usually the days that their caretakers and family are busy at market, you see.”
Hannah nodded, hanging onto every word that Emma spoke. Emma was pleased that her friend showed such interest, glad to create a diversion for Hannah after such an emotional morning in regard to Ralph Martin’s letter.
“Ja vell,” she continued. “If we were to ask members of the g’may to give us their favorite adages and Bible verses, we could compile them into a nice little booklet to copy and distribute to the widows for Christmas.” She looked up, her eyes glowing. “I do believe those women would love that, don’t you think?”
A smile crossed Hannah’s face as she gazed at Emma. “That is such a lovely idea, Emma. It almost brings tears to my eyes at how thoughtful and kindhearted you are.”
“No more so than anyone else, I imagine,” Emma responded modestly. “Although I do confess that it serves the additional purpose of better acquainting you with more people in the g’may.”
The opening of a door interrupted their concentration. Emma glanced over her shoulder as her daed walked into the room, Paul Esh following close behind. At the sight of Paul, Emma smiled and immediately set down her needle and thimble.
“Gut mariye, Emma.” Paul nodded in her direction. “And to you too, Hannah. I’d say that I’m surprised to see you here, but I heard from your daed that you are busy working on a new quilt for the auction.”
“Hannah is helping me, indeed.”
“How very good of you, Hannah. It will certainly raise money that is much needed to help those less fortunate.” Paul paused, his eyes drifting over the quilt that was spread taut in the frame.
At last Hannah stepped outside of her tendency toward shyness, as she replied, “Emma has arranged to donate the quilt to the Mennonite Central Committee. I have never quilted before so this has been a fun, new adventure for me. Emma has taught me so much!”
“I can only imagine,�
� Paul said approvingly. “She is known for her many talents. And I’m sure she must certainly be a great teacher.”
“Oh, ja, the best,” Hannah gushed. “She knows so much about quilting. I have found a new passion, indeed!”
“A woman who quilts has admirable talents in my eyes. Such creativity and patience. I always said a quilting woman would be the one who steals my heart.” He paused and glanced at the two women. “If that is God’s will, of course.”
Emma watched the exchange between the two, the smile still on her lips as she recognized a sparkle in Hannah’s eyes that mirrored itself in Paul’s. With a delightful skip of her heart she realized that a courtship would most certainly ensue between the two of them. And she was more than certain that Paul, while vastly different and much more acceptable in her eyes than Ralph Martin, shared one thing in common with the man: marriage on the mind.
“And what brings you to visit today?” she ventured to ask when a small lull of silence fell over the small group.
Removing his hat, Paul stood between the two women. His brown hair, cut in a typical Amish style of flat across the forehead and angled by his ears, was flattened on his head, and he quickly ran his fingers through it. “Figured it was time to make good on my promise to your daed and fix that hinge on the barn door. And none too soon, I might add. The old rusty one was more than ready to retire, I do believe.”
Both Hannah and Emma laughed at his joke.
“Danke, Paul. His hands aren’t as strong as they used to be.”
“My pleasure,” he replied with a beaming smile on his face.
Henry, however, grumbled under his breath at her comment. “Hands are just fine. It’s my eyes that aren’t so good. Need to eat more carrots, I tell you.”
Ignoring her daed’s complaints, Emma got up from her chair and started toward the kitchen. “I made some fresh bread this morning,” she said. “Let me package some for you to take home. To thank you for your help.” Before Paul could counter her offer, she rested her hand on his arm. “We insist, don’t we, Daed?”
“It’s not that white bread, is it?” Henry called over his shoulder before turning his attention back to Paul. “Wheat bread, that’s the only kind to have. Read it in a book about avoiding that cancer. Wheat works wonders. Any other is not healthy for the body. Wheat, I tell you.”
With a quick lift of her eyes, Emma hurried past the men and into the kitchen. “Ja, Daed, it’s wheat bread. I’d think no more of baking you white bread than I’d consider baking you a cake!”
Henry caught his breath and shook his head. “Cake! Why, that’s just as bad as the white bread. All that sugar is bad for the body.” He turned to Paul. “We need to eat healthier, honor God’s temple in our bodies, and not poison it with sugar and processed food. Those Englische folk . . . why, just look at how they poison themselves and all the diseases they get as a result! You must tell your daed to preach about the benefits of wholesome food and whole-wheat bread made with flaxseed oil, as well! And when Irene visits next week, we must caution her to limit the sweets she gives to her kinner!”
Glancing over her shoulder, Emma noticed that Paul nodded his head in response to her father’s ranting. She barely suppressed a smile and went about the task of wrapping the freshly made loaf of whole wheat bread in plastic for Paul’s journey home. She took longer than usual, working slowly so that Hannah had no choice but to engage in conversation with Paul. He was quick to admire the progress of their quilting.
“I can’t believe how much you have accomplished so far!” he exclaimed, a genuine look of admiration on his face. “I do believe you will be ready for binding the edges within the next week!”
Hannah looked over at Emma, not certain how to respond.
“Oh, the binding!” Emma returned to the room and handed Paul the wrapped loaf of bread. “We must send that out to be done. I must confess that binding is not one of my strengths.”
At this comment, Paul shook his head. “I find that hard to believe, Emma. You make so many beautiful quilts. Binding should come quite naturally to someone with your talents!”
His compliment did not go unnoticed and she was quick to deflect it. “Nee, it is one of my weaknesses, indeed. I usually send my quilts to the Hostetler sisters in Bird-in-Hand. They truly do the most beautiful work when it comes to binding the edges.”
“The Hostetler sisters?” He looked first at Emma then at Hannah. “They are well known for their work, I admit. I imagine they would do great justice to this quilt. I would be honored to take the quilt to them when the time comes for it to be bound.” He returned his gaze to Emma. “Consider it my contribution to your generous donation.”
“That is more generous than necessary, Paul.”
“I insist!” He looked back at Hannah, a smile on his lips. “Don’t you agree, Hannah? I should be allowed to contribute?”
And so it was settled that Paul would come back the next weekend to collect the quilt and take it to Bird-in-Hand. Emma watched the exchange between Hannah and Paul with great delight, approving of her friend’s gracious acceptance and Paul’s gentle fending off of her compliments. A new suitor would certainly help ease Hannah’s potential second thoughts at having rejected Ralph’s proposal, she thought.
Chapter Four
IT WAS SATURDAY afternoon at the Weaver house. The windows were open and a light breeze stirred the air just enough to keep it comfortable inside, despite the unusually warm September weather. Outside the birds swarmed the bird feeder that hung from the black shepherd’s hook among the front bushes. The noise of their chatter floated into the room, a welcome song of mirth and happiness that kept Emma company. Occasionally a car drove by the house, its engine disturbing the peacefulness of the surroundings. Otherwise it was a lazy, relaxing day, just perfect for Emma to focus on her quilting.
Earlier that morning Emma had visited with the Blanks. While she normally visited on Thursdays, she had promised Hetty’s maem to drop off a schnitzel pie. She liked to bake pies early in the morning on Saturdays, the room still cool from the night air and the smell lingering in the kitchen for most of the day. But to spend the time making only one pie made little sense to Emma. So when she did bake pies, she always made extra ones to give to neighbors and friends.
Given that she had already spent time visiting on Thursday, her stop at the Blanks’ house that morning was shorter than usual. She used the excuse of wanting to return home in order to work on the quilt so that neither woman’s feelings would be hurt that she didn’t stay longer. However, once she left their house, she took her time walking home, enjoying the heat of the sun on the nape of her neck. As she wandered down back roads, she paused to admire the green fields of the neighboring farms. It wouldn’t be long before the corn stalks turned brown and were cut for fodder, leaving bare fields to greet the winter months.
By the time she returned home, it was almost noon. She had to hurry to make a light meal for her daed. Boiled potatoes and carrots accompanied the meatloaf that she had cooked earlier in the day. The two of them ate at the table, little conversation between them with the exception of Emma updating her daed about Hetty’s appreciation for the schnitzel pie.
For the most part, it was a quiet sort of afternoon. The usual flurry of visitors was not expected at the house since Hannah had plans to join Gladys at a neighbor’s home for supper. Emma had hoped to see Anna, but learned earlier in the week that Samuel was intent upon visiting his cousin’s farm with his new wife. Without her favorite people around to entertain, Emma was quite content to sit in her chair by the quilting frame, putting the finishing touches upon the outer border while she half listened to her daed snore as he napped in his recliner chair.
The clock had just struck two o’clock when she heard the sound of horse hooves and buggy wheels pulling into their driveway. Setting down the needle, she glanced out the window, but from her vantage point she was unable to see who had just arrived.
“Are you expecting someone, Daed?” s
he asked softly, turning to look at him.
Jolted from his sleep, Henry grumbled for a moment as he gained his senses. He rubbed his face and sat up straight in the recliner. “What did you say, Emma?”
“I asked if you are expecting someone, then? I hear a buggy in the driveway.” When he didn’t respond, still dazed from his slumber, she frowned and stood up in order to walk into the kitchen for a better view from the front window.
“Who is it?” her daed called.
She didn’t have to answer as the door suddenly opened and Gideon entered, removing his hat and placing it on the hook near the door. He grinned at Emma and called out a greeting to Henry.
Immediately upon hearing Gideon’s voice, Henry brightened and shifted his weight in the recliner. “How right gut to see you, Gideon!”
Emma remained speechless. She quickly glanced around the kitchen, saying a prayer of thanks that everything was neat and tidy. It would never do to have a visitor see anything less than a pristine kitchen. “We weren’t expecting you,” she managed to say.
Ignoring Emma’s comment, Gideon crossed the room and properly shook Henry’s hand. “I was visiting friends down the road and thought to stop by for a Saturday afternoon visit.” He glanced at Emma. “If that pleases you, of course,” he added with a light-hearted tone to his words.
“Always a pleasure,” Henry countered, the expression on his weathered face speaking of the genuine delight he felt at his friend’s surprise appearance. He gestured toward the sofa. “Sit for a spell, ja?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Gideon took his seat and sighed as he leaned back. “God has graced us with a beautiful day, ja? I’m surprised that you are inside when it is so lovely outdoors.”
“Avoid the midday sunlight. The doctors say so, nowadays. It’s a wonder that the farmers of olden days didn’t all just drop from skin cancer!”
Gideon laughed.
“As for you, you must stay for supper. We insist!” He turned to look at his dochder. “Don’t we, Emma?”
