“The calves do,” Aaron laughed. “The cows drink water.”
Mary shook her head, “I’m such a dummkopp sometimes.”
“Nee, you’re not. I know nothing about cleaning, except that it needs to be done.”
Aaron ordered a second cup of coffee when he had finished the first. Having not had the opportunity to get to know Mary all that well, he now realized how much they had in common. There wasn’t that sharp sting of attraction he had felt for Becka, but perhaps this was better.
Perhaps learning to love someone over time would be a better way to build a life than with someone who didn’t share your love for your culture. Maybe it was time he set Becka aside forever and focused on his own future.
A future with Mary Leipz.
It wouldn’t be that fierce connection, that sense of protection and affection he had for Becka but it would be something. He liked Mary, she was humble and kind and she knew what she wanted from her life.
He had tried to help Becka figure out what she had wanted and instead he had only driven her away.
Aaron met Mary’s gaze and smiled.
Yes, it was definitely time to move on.
Chapter 16
Aunt Clara had taken Louisa shopping for her school things. Summer was almost over and soon it was time for Becka to return to Lancaster County and for Louisa to return to school.
Becka wandered around the empty house aimlessly before heading outside to the terrace by the pool. How many times had she swum there with Louisa, how many barbeques had she enjoyed with Aunt Clara’s family? Too many to remember, she suddenly realized.
She had been gone for almost a month and her month in Cleveland had done nothing to confirm her decision. Becka still knew she didn’t fit in back home, but more than that she didn’t fit in with the Englisch either.
They did things too differently. They were obsessed with their technology, cooked different food, talked differently; they even took the Lord’s name in vain on occasion. All these things bothered her because she couldn’t imagine living in their society.
But she couldn’t imagine living in hers either.
What would she do for the rest of her life in the farm stall besides stack potatoes? Sure, one day she would marry and have a family to care for, but she couldn’t stand the thought of spending the rest of her life running after children.
Was it wrong to want more from her life? To want to do something that stimulated her mind and gave her purpose. Pride was frowned upon in the Amish community and many of the elders would see her as proud because she wanted more.
But Becka wasn’t proud. She simply wanted more. She wanted more than the farm stall and the constant feeling of being incapable. But she wanted to go home. She wanted to see her parents, her siblings, and most of all she wanted to see Aaron.
Their argument still bothered her. Aaron had been right, but she had not been ready to hear the hard truth. She missed him terribly, their conversations, their picnics… she missed what they had together.
She had thought about writing to him a few times, but whenever she put pen to paper, she realized she had nothing to say. Nothing had changed since that day in the farm stall. She still didn’t know if she wanted to be baptized, she still didn’t know if she wanted to become Englisch.
Louisa’s iPad lay on the table on the terrace. Becka glanced at it and wondered if her cousin would mind if she used it to browse the internet. She missed home and just wanted to see pictures of Lancaster County.
She reached for the iPad and opened the Google application before typing in the words; Amish – Lancaster – county.
A smile formed on her face as pictures of buggies, plain people and the rolling hills filled her screen. Cleveland didn’t feel like home, the images on her cousin’s iPad did. She had walked those hills; she had ridden in those buggies.
A headline caught her attention and she clicked to read the article. Her eyes widened at the bunch of nonsense they had written about the Amish. Reports like they didn’t bathe or brush their teeth. Becka couldn’t help but laugh as she continued to read. She had no idea who had written these articles about the Amish, but they were so ludicrously inaccurate.
She clicked on another article about courtship and chuckled again. Only two communities remained which still allowed bed courtship in winter, but according to this article that was the norm for courtships in all Amish communities. The articles spoke about inbreeding, their lack of education and most of all how backwards Amish communities were.
Becka couldn’t stop herself from commenting on one of these articles. She logged in using only her initials and set them straight. She explained about the misconceptions; about why Amish teens tended to prefer to be baptized into the community. To end off, she revealed that she was born and bred Amish.
She hit the submit button and set down the iPad. After fetching a glass of juice, she returned to the terrace and picked it up again. In the short while she was gone, almost twenty comments had been made already. People asking her questions and asking her advice. Most intriguing was a text from the lady who called herself the webmaster.
* * *
Dear B.R.
* * *
Thank you for commenting and thank you for visiting my site. As you well know Amish don’t have access to these forums (I’m sure you usually don’t either), so most of our information is obtained from hearsay. Would you be willing to write articles for my site from a purely Amish perspective? You will be remunerated of course.
* * *
Becka frowned as she reread the text. Could this be possible? Did a lady she didn’t know just offer her a paying job? Becka put down the iPad and considered it for a moment. If she received permission from the bishop, surely Becka could write articles about the Amish. She didn’t need to use a computer; she could write it on paper and post it to the webmaster.
Folding her knees beneath her, the plan started to take form in her mind. She could still run the farm stall; she could use her mind to inform Englischers about the real lives of Amish people. She might even be able to inspire others to follow a plain life.
Becka tugged her lip between her teeth and hit the reply button.
* * *
Please send me contact details – I’ll get back to you within a fortnight.
* * *
By the time Aunt Clara and Louisa returned from their shopping trip, Becka was already packed.
“Becka? What on earth is going on?” Aunt Clara asked, confused, as she placed her shopping bags on the floor.
Becka couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face. “I’m going home, Aunt Clara. I’ve finally made my decision.”
“But you said you don’t feel like you fit in, that you don’t’ belong?”
“That’s what I thought, but this afternoon I realized I can belong, I just needed a little nudge from a stranger.”
Aunt Clara laughed as she pulled Becka into a tight hug. “What time does the bus leave?”
“In an hour, I googled it,” Becka said with a grin.
Louisa chuckled, “We’ve corrupted her.”
“Nee, you’ve changed my life and I’ll be forever grateful.”
“You’ll have to tell us everything on our way to the bus stop. Louisa, you help with her bags. Becka, let’s take you home.”
In a flurry of bags, goodbyes and a few tears, Becka boarded the bus back to Lancaster County. This time she had no intention of ever leaving again.
Chapter 17
Becka swallowed nervously as she stepped into the bishop’s living room with her mother at her side. When she returned yesterday, her mother had burst into tears and clung to her for at least a minute before letting her go.
“You’re staying?” her mother had asked carefully.
Becka had smiled with a nod. “Jah, but there is something I need to do first.”
She had explained to her parents what she had learned and what she wanted to do. Her father had been hesitant until Becka e
xplained that she wouldn’t need the fancy technology the Englischers had. She showed them the contact details the webmaster had given her and told them they could contact the lady themselves if they didn’t believe her.
Her mother was overjoyed that Becka had found something she wanted to do. To Becka’s shock, her mother admitted knowing that Becka was bored in the farm stall and that since she wasn’t of much use elsewhere, that’s where they needed her.
This morning after breakfast, her father had wished her good luck before he hitched the buggy and waved her and her mother off. Becka had never been to the Bishop’s house, in fact she was terrified of going. But if she wanted to make a life for herself in Lancaster, she was going to need courage. Courage to make a difference to her own life, to her own future.
“Becka and Kitty Raber, this is quite a surprise. I take it you’re here to confirm your baptism will go forward?” the bishop asked, taking a seat across from them. He was a tall, lean mann with a narrow face and a silver beard. He had been the bishop ever since Becka could remember.
“Jah, but before we confirm my baptism I was hoping to talk to you about something else,” Becka started.
She knew her mother would speak for her, but if she was going to make a future for herself, it was time she spoke for herself. “While I was away on rumspringa I found a few articles on the internet about the Amish.”
“I see,” the bishop said as a frown creased his brow, making it clear he didn’t approve of her use of the internet.
“Most of these articles were incorrect. The perception the Englisch have of us is skewed. I know we don’t care what others think of our culture, of our history, but I commented on one article to help them right.”
He nodded and Becka’s heart jumped into her throat. This wasn’t going well at all. “Let me start at the beginning.” Becka turned to her mother who encouraged her with a nod. “I’m not gut at being Amish.” Becka sighed, shaking her head. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right. I’ve never been gut at the things an Amish woman should be able to do. I can’t sew, my quilting is disastrous, and I’m still learning to cook because I simply don’t have a natural affinity for it. Anything I touch in the garden wilts and dies and, to be honest, I don’t even clean very well. It’s not that I’m lazy, it’s just that I like to have my mind stimulated.”
The bishop sighed, “Continue.”
“When I was on rumspringa and I commented on that article, the webmaster – that’s the person who publishes the articles – made me an offer. She wants me to write Amish articles for her to put on the internet. Articles about why we became plain, what we eat, what work we do, how the courtship works, church Sundays. She wants the Englisch community to be able to find truthful information about us. She offered me to write them for her.”
“We do not permit technology, Becka. You know the ordnung rules.”
“I do. And if you agree to this, I won’t be using technology. I will still work at my familye’s farm stall and, between customers, I will write articles with pen and paper. I will post them to her and she can type them up to publish them. She will pay me for these articles, Bishop. This is a way for me to contribute to our community, a way for me to stay without feeling useless.”
The bishop’s eyes widened, “No one is useless, Becka.”
“I know. Mamm’s said that a million times to me in the past, but I can’t help but feel that I may be when I can’t do anything as well as my schweschders can. I’m gut at writing; I can do this, with your blessing, of course.”
The bishop thought for a moment as he scratched his beard before finally meeting Becka’s anxious gaze. “You will post these articles and you will use pen and paper?”
“Jah.”
“Will you be using your name? I don’t want ‘fans’, or whatever you call them, come knocking on our doors searching for you.”
“Nee. The webmaster agrees she would give me a pseudonym to keep my identity private.”
“These articles will be truthful and not derogatory in any way?”
“Of course not. I’m proud of being Amish; I want the world to know why.”
The bishop nodded, “Then, Becka Raber, I see no reason to stand against this. If this is something you can do to earn an income to support your familye, I support it. I think it will be gut for the articles on the interweb to be truthful.”
Becka smiled at his pronunciation mistake. “I think so too.”
“Then, so be it. Can we set a date for your baptism then?”
Becka turned to her mother with a broad smile as she spoke. “I’d like to be baptized as soon as possible.”
“Gut, we’ll do it this Sunday,” the bishop said with a kind smile. “And Becka, would you mind me reading some of these articles before you post them. I have a curious mind…”
“I’ll bring them to you as soon as they’re written.”
“Very well then,” the bishop turned to Becka’s mother. “You can be proud of your dochder. Not many youth today find a way to make a difference. She’s truly a gut dochder.”
Becka’s heart swelled with joy as her mother smiled at her. “She is. Now we just need to teach her how to cook.”
Chapter 18
On their way home, Becka asked her mamm to stop by the dairy farm. She didn’t want to see Aaron before she had seen the bishop, but now that she had made her decision and could start planning a future in Lancaster, she couldn’t wait to tell him everything.
She headed to the milk shed where she knew he would be, but she couldn’t seem to find him.
“Are you looking for someone?” one of the hands asked.
“Jah, I’m looking for Aaron?”
He shook his head. “He’s gone on a picnic with Mary again. Probably be back later today.”
Becka’s heart broke into a thousand pieces. While she had been searching for a way to stay and plan a life with Aaron, he had moved on and found someone else to plan that life with.
She walked back to the buggy, forcing a smile on her face because she didn’t want her mother to see the tears shining behind her eyes.
“Everything all right?” her mother asked, taking the reins.
“Couldn’t be better,” Becka lied as she turned her gaze to the rolling hills instead of her mother’s enquiring eyes.
When they arrived at the farm, it was business as usual. Her mother had things to do at home and Becka headed to the farm stall. She couldn’t believe that Aaron had already found someone else. She couldn’t believe that he had moved on so quickly.
Even worse was that she couldn’t even blame him.
She had held back the tears because she didn’t want her mother to see. But now, alone in the farm stall, they came freely.
Why did she have to be so confused? Why couldn’t she just have stayed and been happy? She sniffed and wiped away the tears with the back of her hand, knowing that she couldn’t have. Had she not gone to Cleveland, she would never have experienced being Englisch. She wouldn’t have commented on that article and she probably wouldn’t have come home at all.
If she had stayed in Lancaster, she would have wondered her entire life whether she had made the right decision. Becka couldn’t imagine living a life with regret that big.
She had gone to find herself and she had. She just didn’t imagine that she would be planning her future alone.
When she had been with Aaron, it had been as if everything in her world was right. As if there was a tomorrow to dream about. Now, without him, her tomorrows looked bleak.
Without considering it, she knew that the hole his absence left in her life would never be filled by her articles.
She reached beneath the counter and pulled out a piece of paper. She searched for a pen but finally settled on a pencil and started writing.
* * *
What it’s like to be Amish
* * *
I was born into an Amish family, one of the oldest families in Lancaster County. For generations, our family have work
ed the land and abided by the rules of our ordnung. Just like our ancestors before us, we still do most things the same way. Some concessions have been made over the years with regards to the color of clothes we wear, the width of the wide brim hat and even our farming methods have developed in certain communities. But what remains exactly as it was the day our ancestors settled in the new world, is the heart.
An Amish heart can be broken just as easily as an Englischer’s heart. We love, we mourn, we celebrate, and most of all we seek joy in our plain lives.
Unlike Englischer’s common belief, we are not married off through arrangements made by our parents. We find our own love interests through Sunday singings, and if there is a connection, the courtship will begin.
We go on coffee dates, picnics and buggy rides to get to know each other a little better. When the courtship has proceeded to the point where a decision can be made, it’s either called off or a proposal is made.
But what happens when you fall in love, when you know that the person you have gotten to know is the person you want to share your life with, and that person finds someone else? Just like Englischers, heartbreak and disappointment are a part of our lives.
For a long time I thought I didn’t want to be baptized into our church. I thought that I was better suited for the Englisch world. I believed that I would feel like I belonged there. Instead I found a ruthless world filled with pride and anger and most of all solitude. I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life in a community where I didn’t even know my neighbor. In a world where church was optional and few ever attended.
This wasn’t the life I wanted for myself. While I explored the Englisch world, found myself and a purpose for my life, the one person I wanted to share my life with found someone else.
Now I’m back where I belong (without a doubt in my mind) and I’m all alone. Will I find love in the future or did my journey of self exploration cost me the love of a good man?
The Amish Voice (Amish Romance) Page 6
