A Simple Singing

by Leslie Gould

  Eva assured her they would and then gave Annie a hug. “It was the Lord who led you to Richert.”

  Annie hugged her back, praying Richert would survive.

  They traveled the short distance to the Bachmann farm. Again, Annie assumed Samuel would go back with the driver, but instead he jumped down, lifting his hand to help Annie. “Josiah will give me a ride later,” he said. “I need to speak with you, in private.”

  Mamm, who was weeding in the garden, shaded her eyes and then shouted in joy, calling out Annie’s name.

  Annie started toward her mother, but then another yell, this time from the back door, caught her attention. Sophia stood tall, wearing a dress and apron. Mamm and Annie both headed toward her, and all three fell into each other’s arms.

  When Annie pulled away, she said, “We have visitors who need a place to stay for the night, Kate Baxter and her son, Ira King.” She nodded toward the group. “And Samuel is here too.”

  Mamm hurried down the steps to greet the visitors.

  “How is Richert?” Sophia asked.

  “He’s not well, but he’s home. They’ll have the doctor tend to him today.”

  “I want to go see him,” Sophia said.

  Not sure that was a good idea, Annie said, “Perhaps you should let him rest today and go see him tomorrow.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “Do you think that’s what he wants?”

  Annie’s heart swelled, and she shook her head. “No, of course not. He wants you to be with him as soon as possible.”

  Her eyes brightened through her tears. “Then I should go.”

  Annie nodded in agreement, touched once again by their love for each other.

  15

  Marie

  Aenti Suz leaned back against the couch and yawned, quickly covering her mouth. Then she said, “I’m exhausted. It’s been a long day.”

  I reached for her bowl. “How about some more ice cream? It’ll keep you awake.”

  She shook her head. “I’m off to bed.”

  “But what about the story?”

  Aenti Suz stood. “It will have to wait.”

  I tried not to let my disappointment show too much as I told her good-night and then washed our bowls. After all, Aenti Suz needed her rest. But I wished she’d tell me how the story ended. Had Sophia recovered? Would Annie stay in Lancaster and marry Samuel?

  A wave of homesickness came over me. Annie had loved our farmhouse as much as I did, yet she’d left it—and Lancaster County—to serve others. She reminded me of Jessica and Leisel.

  As I dried the bowls and put them away, I thought about the desires of my heart—to marry a farmer in our district and stay close to Mamm and our farm. Annie seemed to have the same desires, and yet she was willing to leave the safety of home to care for others. It was hard for me to admit, but I only wanted to care for myself and my family.

  I tossed and turned through the night. The first time I awoke, my thoughts were on Annie and the past. The second time, my thoughts were on the present. First on Elijah’s kisses. Then on Gordon. Was he a do-gooder, only seeking attention, as Elijah had implied?

  I’d certainly never been much of a do-gooder. Sure, I’d make a pie or even help sew a quilt for an auction, but I too believed people needed to take responsibility for their own lives. As Amish, we certainly did. But Paula was right. Not everyone had the resources we did or the community support we offered one another. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep.

  When we first arrived in Pinecraft, Aenti Suz had stated that she was hoping for a mix of outings and down days during our vacation. She deemed Saturday a down day. I spent the morning with Aenti Suz, sitting out on the patio. As she read, I wrote letters to Mamm, Jessica, and Leisel.

  A cool ocean breeze blew through the treetops, enough that I put on a sweater. I prayed for my Mamm and sisters as I wrote to each of them, fighting off another pang of homesickness. Of course, I’d been missing Leisel for nearly the last year, but now I was farther away from her than ever.

  Halfway through the morning, our landlady dropped off a letter for me. It was from Gail. I opened it quickly, scanning her news about how cold and snowy it was in Ohio and how she’d just started courting a man who worked in his father’s buggy-making business. Then she responded to my comments about Elijah. Reading between the lines, I’m guessing you’re interested in Elijah. I hope your affection for his parents and your desire to stay in the district aren’t clouding your judgment. As we both know, you and Elijah are as different as can be. They say opposites attract, but two people must have something in common to forge a relationship. If you start spending more time with him, please enlighten me and let me know in which ways he truly has changed.

  I folded the letter. Talk about self-righteous. I was so glad that I’d been maturing and becoming less judgmental, even if Gail hadn’t. I wouldn’t bother to write her back. Not yet, anyway. She had no idea what she was talking about. I had more in common with Elijah than any other man I knew.

  On Sunday, David joined us for breakfast and then we walked to the Amish church for services again. I was surprised to see Elijah and Billy leaning against the railing of the ramp, along with Paula. All were dressed appropriately, at least by Florida standards. Paula had on a print dress and Mennonite Kapp. Billy and Elijah both wore slacks, white button-up shirts, and suspenders. They weren’t dressed for Lancaster, but they fit in fine for down here.

  Paula waved and grinned. “Mind if I join you today?”

  “I’d love that,” I answered.

  We traipsed into the church. Billy and Elijah went to the men’s side, while Paula, Aenti Suz, and I sat with the other women.

  As we sang “Das Loblied,” I imagined Mamm singing the same hymn back in Lancaster County. Again, I longed for home. Soon enough, I’d be there. In the meantime, I’d enjoy every moment I could here.

  I sang louder. “ . . . word through grace to understand, What Thou would have us to do . . .” I’d known the words by heart from the time I could talk.

  My mind wandered to Gordon. He would be worshipping at the Mennonite church close to the shelter today. Perhaps he was leading singing. Or playing his guitar for the children. Whatever he was doing, I was sure he was serving others and doing the Lord’s work.

  After several songs, the bishop read from Psalm 37. I lifted my head after the first couple of verses, as I heard my verse being read. How apropos that here I was in Florida, with Elijah across the aisle, and this very passage was part of the service. “‘Delight thyself also in the Lord: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.’”

  The minister continued on to the end of the chapter. “‘But the salvation of the righteous is of the Lord: he is their strength in the time of trouble . . . because they trust in him.’”

  I had trusted and delighted in the Lord my entire life. I had no doubt He was my strength. I had no doubt that now He would give me the desires of my heart.

  After the scripture reading, another minister stood and began to preach from the third verse of the chapter, “‘Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.’”

  He talked about serving others and then about how blessed we were, as a group of people, to have property and plenty of resources. He preached that we needed to look for ways to share those blessings with others. He then started talking about our ancestors in Switzerland and Germany and how persecuted they were. . . . My mind began to wander . . . to Elijah’s family’s farmhouse back home. Perhaps his parents would live with us or build a Dawdi Haus out back. Our children would benefit from having their grandparents close by.

  Of course, I’d have Mamm come over on a regular basis to help me with the children, the laundry, the baking, and also the quilting.

  I continued daydreaming, thinking about how our home would be a center for both of our families, until the minister said, “Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

  Paula nodded in agreement.

 
After another scripture reading and a final prayer, the service was over.

  Paula stood. “What a great sermon.”

  I nodded in agreement.

  “It was much more proactive than I anticipated.”

  “Oh?”

  “That story about the minister’s work in Haiti. Wow.”

  Dat had gone to Haiti after the 2010 earthquake. Perhaps I should have listened instead of imagining my future life.

  “There’s so much work that must be done,” Paula said. “So many people in need.”

  I nodded. “We can’t do it all.”

  “Jah, that’s right. But how about that verse out of James? The one about if we know the good we ought to do and don’t do it, it’s a sin?”

  I didn’t remember that reference.

  Thankfully, Elijah called out my name from across the aisle and I could escape Paula’s intensity. As I stepped away from her, she turned to Aenti Suz and continued her train of thought.

  “What’s with Paula?” Elijah asked.

  “She’s reflecting on the sermon.”

  Elijah yawned, hooked his thumbs in his suspenders, and then whispered, “I couldn’t help but reflect during the sermon on how much I needed a nap.”

  I smiled. I wouldn’t tell him what I was reflecting on.

  Paula stepped across the aisle and elbowed Elijah in the side. “When are you going to grow up?”

  He grinned. “Probably later rather than sooner.”

  On Monday, Aenti Suz and I picked up a few more groceries and then spent a quiet day at the bungalow. I embroidered while Aenti Suz read. Of course I wanted her to tell me more of Annie’s story, but I didn’t push her. She was on vacation. She deserved to rest.

  Elijah stopped by Monday afternoon and again on Tuesday. On Wednesday, David joined us at noon for sandwiches. Just as we finished and started cleaning up the kitchen, there was a knock on the front door. As I walked toward it, I feared Gordon might be on the other side. To my relief, he hadn’t called during the week with any information about an outing for me to join in on. But perhaps he decided to deliver the details in person.

  Thankfully, it was Paula, a little out of breath.

  I sighed in relief and gave her a hug.

  She nodded out toward the street. “Billy and I are going to go pick up Elijah from work and go to Coquina Beach. He asked us to stop by and get you.”

  I glanced toward Aenti Suz, who could hear us from the kitchen. “Go on,” she said. “Have a good time.”

  Paula followed me into my room while I threw a towel, shorts and T-shirt, and sunscreen into my bag, guessing that Gordon had changed his mind about contacting me at all. Perhaps he realized that Elijah and I were, essentially, courting. I was relieved at not being contacted by Gordon but also weirdly disappointed. I did enjoy spending time with him, even if we didn’t have that much in common.

  Ten minutes later, we picked up Elijah and headed for the beach, a long stretch on the southern end of Anna Maria Island. The beach had picnic tables and grills. Preschool-aged children swarmed over the playground and several volleyball games took place on the courts. Lots of people swam and others snorkeled.

  Elijah headed toward a picnic table, and as he did someone from a distance away waved. A man. When he stood and waved directly at me, I realized it was Gordon. Around him were a mix of Plain folk and Englisch youth. Their grill was fired up, and from the smell of it, they were roasting sausages. Gordon waved us over. “Would you like to join us? We have plenty of food.”

  Elijah turned around and rolled his eyes, but Paula called out, “We’d love to!”

  She turned toward me, whispering, “Is that Gordon?”

  “Jah,” I answered. “That’s him.” I’d told her a friend from back home was in the area for the week. I hadn’t told her Elijah wanted to fix her up with him. And why would I? She and Billy seemed to be doing fine.

  Paula grinned and marched forward. When she reached Gordon, she extended her hand. Elijah groaned. Billy didn’t react, but he didn’t exactly look pleased. I followed and quickly introduced Paula to Gordon—and then Billy to Gordon. Then Paula introduced herself to everyone else in the group. There was an older couple from Gordon’s church, and a woman, a little younger than me, wearing a head covering, and eight youth who appeared to be between seventeen and twenty-two or so.

  Paula boldly asked all of them where they were from. Two were siblings from Sarasota who lived with their family on the streets. One claimed New York City as home, but it seemed she was from somewhere else originally and didn’t want to say where. One was from Delaware, and the rest were from Pennsylvania. One of them—Shayla—laughed and said she’d never expected to see Amish in Florida but she’d seen them “everywhere!”

  We chuckled with her, and then Paula asked what made her leave home.

  She quickly responded, “Addiction, abuse, and misuse. The big three. For some there’s no place like home—for me, home was no place to be.”

  “I’m sorry,” Paula said.

  She shrugged.

  The girl from New York said that her mother was mentally ill and kicked her out when she was fifteen.

  “You’re mentally ill too,” replied Shayla.

  The girl slugged her, and not in a playful way. I stepped back.

  “Hey,” Gordon said. “Remember what we talked about. No sharing someone else’s story. It’s not ours to tell.” He glanced over to where the Mennonite women were pulling the sausages off the grill and then said, “Looks like it’s time to eat.”

  I gathered that the younger woman was the couple’s daughter. Her name was Abigail and her mother was Miriam. The man, Howard, led us all in prayer, and then Gordon told the guys to let the girls go first. There was a lot of jostling around and teasing and then a few angry words between Shayla and one of the other girls from Pennsylvania.

  Gordon was talking with two of the boys, and the woman stepped between the girls just as Paula said, “Hey, Shayla. How about if you sit over here with me?”

  Shayla sat on one side of Paula, while Billy sat on the other.

  Elijah didn’t say anything or really do anything either. None of his usual smiles or grins. But after he’d filled his plate, Howard struck up a conversation with him. They were soon exchanging names of people they both knew, starting with Elijah’s Dat. Before long, they figured out they were distantly related.

  “How long are you down here for?” Howard asked.

  “Just until May,” Elijah answered. “I’ll go home and farm with my Dat after that. He plans to retire in a year or so.”

  The boy from Delaware muttered, “That must be nice.”

  Elijah stared at him for a moment but didn’t reply. He turned back to Howard. “I’ll join the church as soon as possible after I return.”

  The boy from Delaware, whose name was Josh, left his plate and walked toward the water. A few minutes later, Gordon followed him and then they returned together.

  After we’d finished eating, Elijah nodded toward the volleyball court, but just as he did, Paula pointed toward Gordon’s guitar case. “Who does that belong to?”

  Abigail flipped the ties of her Kapp over her shoulder and answered, “Gordon.”

  “Were you all going to sing?” Paula asked.

  Gordon smiled at her. “That’s the plan.” As he spoke, Abigail nodded her head. She seemed quite enamored with Gordon.

  Elijah looked at me and rolled his eyes again and pointed toward the courts. I smiled back at him, but the truth was—no surprise—I’d rather sing than play volleyball. Howard nodded. “Let’s sing and then play.”

  I sat at the table with Elijah while the others, including Paula and Billy, gathered around Gordon while he tuned his guitar.

  “Do you know the ‘In the Beginning’ song?” Paula asked.

  Gordon nodded and began playing a tune. Once he’d played it through once, Paula began singing and then the others joined in.

  Miriam put the rest of the food in a
cold box and then sat down beside me. “He does such a good job with the music—and the kids too. He’s really an incredible young man.” She smiled. “I keep hoping he and Abigail will start courting, but so far . . . Well, I can keep praying.”

  “Jah,” I said. “You never know. . . .”

  Elijah bumped against me.

  I didn’t blame Miriam for wanting Abigail to court Gordon. If I were a Mennonite mother with a daughter, I’d want the same thing. I just thought it odd that she’d say something about it to me.

  “Gordon said he works for your family. That you’re old friends.”

  I nodded. Perhaps that was why she confided in me about her wishes—maybe she thought I could influence Gordon in some way.

  “How has your week been?” I asked as quietly as I could.

  “Honestly?” She lowered her voice. “Hard. This is our third year in a row serving at the shelter down here, and this has been the most difficult yet. So many wounds and needs. So many injustices.” She sighed. “We have to trust the Lord Jesus that our work will minister to these souls in some way.”

  “So will this be your last year?”

  She shook her head as a smile crept across her face. “Oh no,” she said. “We’ll be back. With some different ideas, perhaps. And a year full of prayers. You know, God doesn’t call us to do what’s easy—He calls us to do what is necessary. And everyone needs to be loved and cared for, regardless of how difficult their lives are.”

  “How come you brought them to the beach today?” I asked.

  She folded her hands on the tabletop. “We planned it early in the week, for this group of eight. We wanted to have a special outing. After working with them, I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. Thankfully, they do seem to like the music though. That seems to be a unifying factor.”

  Not all of them were singing, but all of them were at least listening. I longed to be singing, but it would have been rude not to talk with Miriam.