Pulse racing, Isaac stared at the metal and plastic contraption in Mervin’s hand, his plan to find a good whittling stick forgotten. “Is that a phone?”
“It’s a Touch.” Mervin was busting with obvious pride.
Isaac peered at it closely. “What does that mean?”
Mervin shrugged. “Dunno. But that’s what it said in Leroy’s note. It’s a Touch, and if I put it in the sun in this case, it charges the battery.”
Isaac glanced around. They were still alone in the woods near the Hooleys’. They had to be back soon for supper and the singing, but he wished there was some way they could stay hidden away in the long shadows of the trees with the gift from Mervin’s cousin in Red Hills.
“What does it do?”
“Here.” From his pocket, Mervin pulled out a long white cord with two round knobs dangling down. “Put these in your ears.”
Isaac stuck one in, but it popped out.
“No, that’s for your other ear. See how it has an L for left and R for right?”
Once Isaac had the little things in his ears properly, he nodded. “Now what?”
“Listen.” Mervin tapped the glass front of the rectangle and it burst into life with color and picture.
A moment later, Isaac jumped as music filled his ears. This music was faster like the songs they’d sing tonight, but so much noisier, and of course there were instruments. The beat thumped through his body. A woman sang about applause, and Isaac peered at the screen, his jaw dropping. Lady Gaga, it said. She had blonde curls and dark makeup around her eyes, and wore a tight dress that barely covered her chest and was practically see-through.
He wasn’t sure what to make of the song, and when it was over, he took the knobs from his ears. “Wow.”
Mervin grinned. “Isn’t it great? Leroy put a bunch of songs on it, and there are movies too!”
Isaac stared at the device. “How did he get it to you?”
“He mailed it. Wrapped it in plastic bubbles and it fit right into an envelope!”
“What if your parents had opened it?”
“No way,” Mervin scoffed. “It’s my job to go all the way out to the road to check the mail.”
“Do they even know Leroy writes to you sometimes?”
“Of course not. Man, Leroy’s so lucky his parents stayed. He gets to do rumspringa, and have a car and everything. He says they nag him about it every day, but at least they don’t stop him from going out and seeing the world.”
Isaac could barely even imagine the freedom. “But you know why they don’t allow it here.”
Mervin huffed. “So a few kids went and did something stupid. Now we all have to suffer?”
“But…it’s better for us. We shouldn’t want to try all these worldly things. They’re unclean.” He pointed at the contraption. “That’s unclean. Leroy shouldn’t have sent it.”
“Oh, so you don’t want to watch a movie?” Mervin’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his bangs.
“Well…”
Laughing, Mervin clapped Isaac’s shoulder. “Always trying to be such a good boy. Don’t worry, I won’t tell. Come on, I’ll show you—”
“Mervin!” A girl’s voice echoed through the trees.
“Damn it,” he muttered as he jammed the Touch back into his pocket with the white cord. He sprang to his feet.
Isaac followed suit, pulling out his knife and picking up the nearest fallen branch. He and Mervin leaned casually against a tree just in time for Mervin’s little sister to appear.
Esther put her hands on her hips. “What are you doing out here?”
“Whittling.” Isaac held up the branch.
“We’re leaving. It’s time for you all to have supper. So hurry up!” With that, she turned on her heel, her long dress flowing around her ankles as she raced off.
By “you all,” Isaac knew she meant the young people. He and Mervin hustled back to the Hooleys’, and took their seats at the long table inside the house. Mary sat across from him on the girls’ side, and Isaac resolutely kept his eyes on his plate. David was a few seats over from him.
The singing began at eight o’clock sharp. Isaac enjoyed these songs much more than the dour chants from church. While they still sang about God and worship, the tunes were lively and fun. Between songs, they chatted with each other, and Mary naturally spoke to him.
“Do you like chicken?”
Isaac nodded. At least it was an easy question. Who didn’t like chicken?
“I’m making chicken soup and biscuits for lunch tomorrow. And shoofly pie.” She smiled widely and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
Isaac’s gut clenched. Somehow in his worrying about what it would be like to work with David, he’d overlooked the fact that he’d be seeing Mary every single day. He forced a smile. “I’m sure it’ll be delicious.”
“Your Katie said you love shoofly pie.”
“I do. Thank you. I…um…” It was only polite to make conversation and ask Mary something, but his mind was utterly blank.
Fortunately Mark began another song, and Isaac was spared.
By the time they filed outside a couple of hours later, Isaac was walking so quickly he almost didn’t hear David call him. He spun back around as David said something to Mary and trotted over. Although David was a couple of inches taller than him, it was no reason for the intimidation buzzing through Isaac’s body. He wished he knew why David made him so nervous.
“Hi, David.” Isaac laughed nervously—that unfortunate braying sound.
David regarded him seriously. “I think my sister’s expecting you to ask to drive her home.”
“Oh.” That was the first move in dating. Panic bubbled in his chest. “Uh…I don’t have my own buggy yet. We can’t afford it. I’ve only got the old spare, and it’s not nice enough for her. It’s so bumpy and uncomfortable. It’s falling apart.”
David stared for a long moment before nodding. “All right.”
“Tell Mary I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t like her. She’s a very nice girl. She just deserves something better.”
David watched him again in his unnerving way. “I’ll tell her you said so. See you in the morning.”
“Uh-huh.” Isaac felt like he might jump right out of his skin.
David gave Isaac’s forearm a squeeze where Isaac had pushed up his sleeve. “Don’t worry. I won’t bite.” Then he was walking away.
After Isaac tightened Silver’s black harness and clambered up onto the rickety single-seat buggy, he put the reins to her. She was an old draft horse who couldn’t pull the plow anymore, but she could manage this.
The buggy was five feet long and painted black inside and out. There was no cushion on the seat, just as there were no cushions anywhere in their house. In a newer buggy it wasn’t so bad, but the springs in this one were long worn out. The black oilcloth roof leaked in any rain beyond a drizzle.
It really wasn’t a nice enough buggy to take a girl riding in, but Isaac had a feeling the excuse would only fly for so long. Maybe he should just ask Mary out and be done with it. It wasn’t as if there was another girl he liked better, so what was he waiting for?
The steel-rimmed wooden wheels clattered, and Isaac’s backside was already sore as he bumped down the drive at Silver’s top speed, the feeling of David’s hand still hot on his skin.
It was still dark when Isaac and his siblings woke for morning prayers and chores. Joseph, Nathan, and Katie were still in school, and would head off down the drive to the one-room schoolhouse a few miles away when the sun came up. Mother always watched from the kitchen window, one eye on the water heating on the wood-burning stove to wash the breakfast dishes.
In the barn, Ephraim grumbled as Isaac saddled Silver in the light of a kerosene lamp, petting her head and murmuring nothing words. She was more gray than silver, but her mane had a light gloss. He gave her a sugar cube, and she licked his palm.
“It’s not fair. Now I have to do all your work as well as m
y own.”
Isaac tried to reassure him, although he’d likely feel the same in Ephraim’s shoes. “Father will be doing some of it, and Nathan’s in grade eight now. This is his last year at school.”
“He won’t be finished until almost summertime! That’s practically a year away.” Ephraim slammed down his stool and bent to milking one of the cows. “It’s not fair that you get to go have fun.”
“Fun? I’ll be working just as hard as you are.”
“Yes, but you’re always playing around with your carvings. You love working with wood. Meanwhile, I’ll be stuck here on this stupid farm.”
Although he didn’t raise it, Father’s voice made them both jump.
“This is our home and livelihood, Ephraim.” He stood in the shadows cast by the lamp, and beyond him through the open barn door, the sky was lightening. “This is not a stupid thing.”
Ephraim shot to his feet, opening and closing his mouth before hanging his head, his straw hat hiding his red face.
Isaac jumped in. “You know he loves the cattle and working the farm. He didn’t mean it, Father. He’s just a grouch this morning. Nathan’s snoring kept us awake.” In truth Nathan had blessedly slept on his stomach most of the night and spared them.
Father stepped into the circle of lamp light, smiling softly. “Ephraim, I understand how it is at your age, but you must wait your turn. You’re sixteen—not a youngie yet. Still in your learning years. When you’re seventeen you can attend the singings and spread your wings. Isaac is our oldest son, and he must be first to find his way.”
Our oldest son. A memory of Aaron filled Isaac’s mind. He’d raced across a golden field, almost out of sight, and Isaac’s lungs had burned as he ran, stalks of wheat smacking his face as he tried in vain to keep up, his little legs pumping. He could still hear Aaron’s voice in the wind. “Can’t catch me!”
Wishing he could lock his treacherous thoughts away in a canning jar, the lid ever so tight, Isaac banished the memory. Yet he still reached into his pocket to slide his fingers over the familiar handle of the knife. He kicked at hay with his boot.
“Yes, Father,” Ephraim said, head still bowed.
“I should get going.” Isaac led Silver from her stall to where the old buggy waited.
Father followed and watched him, stroking his beard. “It’s high time you had your own. Brand new.”
Mary Lantz’s hopeful smile flashed in Isaac’s mind. “No, no! Not yet. We can’t afford it.” It was certainly the truth, especially with winter coming. “I don’t mind. Really.”
Father sighed. “In the spring, then.”
Isaac clambered up into the buggy and straightened his hat. It was an odd feeling to be leaving the farm instead of starting his regular work. In all his worrying about working with David he somehow hadn’t thought about the fact that he wouldn’t be home nearly as much. Exhilaration buzzed through him.
Of course he could always go back to work on the farm if carpentry wasn’t for him in the end. If there was one thing that was a guarantee in life, it was that there would always be something to do on the farm.
“Ephraim, I’ll help you with the evening chores after dinner.”
From the door of the barn, Ephraim mumbled, “Thanks.”
Father reached up suddenly to squeeze Isaac’s hand, and Isaac froze, holding his breath. He couldn’t remember the last time Father had made such a display. Ephraim stood nearby watching with wide eyes.
“Be good, Isaac, and do good work. I pray that you will find your joy in this vocation.”
Isaac swallowed thickly, his heart thumping as he grasped the unfamiliar warmth of Father’s hand. “Thank you. I think I will. Father…” He struggled for the words.
“Yes?” He waited patiently.
“I must have seemed ungrateful when you told me about this new job. I’m sorry.”
“Ah, Isaac.” Father smiled. “It is natural to feel some hesitation when we begin a new chapter in life. I confess I would keep you here with me for many more years if I could.” He cast a glance at Ephraim nearby. “But do not worry, boys. I will help you find your own way to adulthood. And to the church, of course. My heart’s greatest desire is to see all my children happy and healthy in life.”
Even Aaron? “I know, Father. We’re grateful to you. God blessed us when He chose you and Mother for our parents.” It was the truth—one Isaac realized with shame he’d never said aloud. They didn’t speak of such things.
“It’s not a stupid farm,” Ephraim added.
Father was silent before taking a deep breath. “Thank you, my sons. We are all blessed by the Lord.”
They murmured their agreement, and Isaac gave Silver a gentle flick. He was past the house when Ephraim’s voice rang out.
“Isaac!”
He reigned in Silver and leaned out to see Ephraim still standing in the barn door.
“I’ll miss you.”
Isaac swallowed hard over a swell of affection. “Me too,” he called. “I’ll be home before you know it.” He urged Silver on, determined not to look back.
It was three miles down the paved county road to the Lantz farm. Silver clopped along the shoulder, and Isaac listened for approaching vehicles, glad the sun was up. He was nervous in the dark with only a lantern and some gray reflective tape on the rear of the buggy to alert cars to his presence on the road.
The bright orange safety triangles they’d put on their buggies in Red Hills were too of the world for Swartzentruber Amish, and Isaac knew he should trust in God to keep him safe from harm. Yet in the darkness of Minnesota nights, more than once he’d wished they could give God a helping hand.
Fortunately few cars passed through Zebulon. Bishop Yoder had searched through different states and up into Ontario for the perfect spot to build their new community. In northern Minnesota he’d finally found a place sufficiently removed from the rest of the world.
As he drove along, for some reason Isaac thought of the last time he’d been to McDonald’s before everything changed. He could still remember the tang of the Big Mac sauce on his tongue. It had been a treat for Ephraim’s birthday, and they’d parked behind the restaurant in a special spot for buggies. They hadn’t been the only Amish family munching salty fries that day.
But in Zebulon, they were discouraged from going to restaurants. The Ordnung didn’t forbid it, but they tried their best to live off the land and from the animals they kept. Mother still drove three miles in the buggy to the nearest grocery store each Tuesday morning since they’d never survive otherwise. But Isaac hadn’t stepped foot in a restaurant since he was a boy back in Ohio.
Little birds flapped their wings in Isaac’s stomach as he drove up the Lantz’s dirt driveway. Come winter it would be a muddy, icy mess, and Isaac wished they had the gravel drives they’d taken for granted in Red Hills. No money for that in Zebulon. As he approached the house, he saw a figure in the barn door, and his heart beat double time.
“Stop it. There’s nothing to be nervous about,” he hissed to himself.
There was no sign of Mary or Anna, but Mrs. Lantz appeared by the house and waved. The Lantz house was very similar to the Bylers’, with the same tin roof, and dark paint and curtains.
“Hello, Isaac!” She called in German, wiping her hands on her black apron. Her dark dress brushed her bare feet, and her white cap was bright. She had David’s dark features, while her late husband had given the girls their blonde hair. “Welcome.”
Isaac pulled the brake handle by the seat, and it pushed against the right front wheel as he reined in Silver. “Thank you, ma’am,” he answered in German.
Like most people in Zebulon, he slipped back and forth between English and German with ease, although the kids and youngies almost always spoke English to each other. It wasn’t an official system—speaking German with the adults and in church, and English the rest of the time—but it worked well.
David’s three youngest sisters waved as they skipped past their mothe
r and down the lane to school in their long dark dresses and black caps, metal lunch buckets swinging. It was a couple miles to the schoolhouse, which was in the corner of Eli Miller’s land.
Isaac waved back, wondering what it was like for David to live with his mother and five girls, and no other boys at all. As he realized David must have his own room, a wave of jealousy rolled through him. To even have his own bed would be such a luxury.
The thought of a wide bed and David in his nightshirt danced through Isaac’s mind, accompanied by a bolt of excitement. Yes, he was jealous indeed, and it was sinful. Isaac gave his head a mental shake. David was his employer now, and it would do no good to be envious.
Familiar moos, whinnies, clucks and crows filled the empty spaces in the early morning air as he approached the barn. David ushered him inside with a smile after Isaac unhitched Silver. Isaac gaped as he took in the interior. There were stalls for the horses, but the rest of the barn had been transformed. Hand tools hung from nails on one of the walls, and a huge worktable dominated the space. Rolls of paper plans and several rulers rested on the wide surface. Piles of rough wood sat stacked against the other walls.
“Make yourself at home, Isaac.” David pointed to a side table holding a water jug and cups, along with a loaf of sliced sweet bread so fresh the hint of apples lingered in the air amid the sawdust. “If you’re thirsty or hungry, there’s no need to ask. Help yourself.”
“Thank you.” Isaac glanced out at the fields. “Do you not farm at all anymore?”
David unrolled one of the thick pieces of paper. “Not since my father died. I’m afraid I don’t have the touch. I can make a much better living as a carpenter. We sold off most of the acres to the Ottos. What’s left is a garden, really, and some land for the animals. My mother and sisters tend it well.”
“Oh yes. I remember now.” He shifted uncomfortably. It had been more than four years since Mr. Lantz had collapsed behind the plow.
Isaac remembered Mervin running breathlessly up the drive with the news, saying that by the time David had made it to the closest English house to call for help, it had been far too late. An emergency was the only instance when they were permitted in Zebulon to ask the English for anything, or to ride in a car.
A Forbidden Rumspringa Page 4
