A Simple Spring: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel

by Rosalind Lauer

  “It’s given Jonah and Adam a chance to take care of other things. Like the fence on the back field that’s always giving us trouble.” With Daisy done, Gabe shut off the machine and hung the hoses over a nearby rail. “And good fences make for good sleep. I’m sick of getting out of bed in the middle of the night because one of the cows got loose.”

  “I think the new machines are wonderful good.” Sadie paused. “Have you seen Adam this morning?” she asked, lifting the vat of steaming milk. She was used to pitching in. As Mamm used to say, many hands made light work.

  “Saw him in the pasture earlier, but I’m sure he’ll be at breakfast,” Gabe said.

  Simon scooted under the next cow to clean its teats for milking. “I saw him go into the new washroom. I think he’s washing up extra clean for the preaching service.”

  Gabe rolled his eyes. “He wants to smell sweet for Remy.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of extra washing,” Sadie said as she toted the container to the back of the barn. “I’m going to see if I can find him.”

  She stepped out into the spring morning and let her eyes comb the horizon of sloping hills, a patchwork of fields, the pond with its marsh grass and trees, the other barn and outbuildings and the main house. She saw the twins returning from the henhouse with Sam and Katie, and she knew Ruthie was in the kitchen helping Mary prepare a quick breakfast.

  No sign of Adam anywhere.

  She had hoped for a moment alone with him before they headed off to the service, but as the time for breakfast approached, it was clear she’d missed her chance to speak with him about her decision.

  Behind the milking barn was an ancient beech tree, her favorite hiding place during hide-and-seek when they were little. She stood between the jutting roots of that old tree and leaned against it. The morning sun was a burst of lemon rising in the spring sky, and despite the familiar surface of the tree’s bark, Sadie felt like she was about to fall into very strange territory. Today was the day to say yes to baptism, and no amount of searching could produce that single word in Sadie’s heart.

  She wasn’t ready.

  Would Adam be upset with her?

  She was afraid that he would be. Although he wasn’t her father, he had taken on Mamm and Dat’s place after their passing. Adam felt responsible for her, and she understood that he wanted her to follow their faith and join the church. For sure, Mamm and Dat would have wanted it too, if God had not taken them on that dark winter day.

  But this was Sadie’s decision to make, even if it would disappoint Adam.

  Although Adam was careful with his words, Sadie felt his disapproval like a rain cloud hovering over her head. His scolding dark eyes followed her when she headed down the lane after dishes were done on Saturday or Sunday nights. Her job at the hotel always caused him concern, even when she offered to turn the money she made there over to the family account. Adam told her to keep her wages. He said that she had earned the money, but his words had bristled with scorn. Sometimes she thought of him as an angry bear, just watching and growling, but Adam wasn’t the only bear eyeing her. The bishop and Preacher Dave kept a careful eye on the youth in their congregation. Young people in rumspringa had a lot of freedom, but if you went too far, the bishop wouldn’t hesitate to pay you a visit and give you a talking-to, whether you were baptized or not.

  After breakfast the girls grabbed their bonnets and the family filed out the door to the preaching service. Jonah took Mammi Nell in a buggy with his horse Jigsaw, but the rest of the family walked, as this week’s service was being held at the Zooks’, owners of the neighboring farm who shared the phone shanty with the Kings.

  Just after they turned off the lane, Sadie spotted the line of buggies on the main road, all of them on their way to the service. Here and there groups of folk went on foot. Truly, the sight of the people and buggies heading off to worship the Heavenly Father always moved her.

  All to the glory of Gott.

  And even with all the confusion stewing in her heart, Sadie believed that Gott would understand if she did not choose baptism this year.

  Up ahead a carriage slowed, and a young man jumped out—Sadie’s cousin Ben.

  “It’s Uncle Nate’s carriage.” Ruthie lifted her skirt and scurried ahead. “I want to see Remy before church.”

  Sadie picked up her step to follow her younger sister.

  Up ahead Cousin Abe emerged from the carriage, followed by Remy. Though she wore a prayer kapp, her hair was a bright orange that belonged to no woman born Amish.

  “Remy!” Ruthie reached out and took her hand. “Walk with us! Today is such a big day for you and—” She lifted Remy’s hand, as if something were curious about it. “So soft! Your skin is smooth like whipped cream.”

  “Not like our hands.” Sadie rubbed her own hands together. “Calloused and thick from years of farmwork.”

  “But I’m trying to toughen up,” Remy said, flexing one arm. “You know I had blisters a few weeks back from mucking the stables.” Her green eyes darted to someone beyond Sadie, and Sadie turned to see her brother Adam walking by with Simon and Gabe.

  “Good morning,” Adam said, his dark eyes on Remy.

  It’s a good thing Remy McCallister came along, Sadie thought. God must have brought her around to put a little light back in Adam’s heart.

  “Guten Morgen,” Remy responded, her face lighting up with love as she watched the group of young men pass. “A beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

  “Ya, and a special one for you, today being your first class with the preacher,” Mary said as she approached carrying a shoofly pie, one of her specialties, to be served at the community meal after the service.

  “Or did you forget?” Ruthie asked.

  Remy pressed a hand to her heart. “Are you kidding me? I’ve had butterflies in my stomach since I woke up this morning.”

  “Are you scared you’re making the wrong decision?” Sadie asked. All night, she’d tossed and turned as if sleeping on a bed of thistle and worry.

  “Oh, no, not that. I’m just a bit nervous about the lesson being in German, and sometimes the bishop seems so stern. I’d never want to be disrespectful, but my German isn’t so gut and what if I say the wrong thing?”

  The girls laughed softly, though they sympathized with Remy’s dilemma.

  “Here’s the most important thing,” Ruthie said gently. “Ya means yes. Net is not. And nein or nay is no.”

  “Thanks for the primer, kiddo, but I’m leaving it up to the Big Guy to get me through the language barrier.”

  “The Big Guy?” Mary turned to Remy. “Who’s that?”

  “God, of course. He’s the only one who could make sense of a kooky Englisher like me seeking to join your community. And though I joke about my nerves and fears, I do feel like God has been leading me here, beckoning me to join this congregation. It’s the end of a bumpy road for me, and I’m so happy to see home in sight.”

  “It’s a wonderful good day,” Mary said, lifting her face to the sunshine, then turning to catch Sadie’s eye. “How about you, Sadie? Will you be starting the classes, too?”

  “She doesn’t want to be asked,” Ruthie said, shaking her head at Mary. “I know that because I’ve asked her a hundred times.”

  “I’m not sure yet,” Sadie said quickly, hoping to turn the conversation away from herself.

  “It is a big decision,” Mary said, “but if you ever want to talk about it, I—”

  “Make him stop!” Just then Susie came running back down the road, squealing.

  She was being pursued by Simon, whose mouth was open wide in a gleeful grin. “Say hello to Froggy,” he said, raising his cupped hands.

  “Simon has a frog, and it’s going to hop on me!” Susie ducked behind Remy for cover. “Make him go away!”

  “Mind your manners and your church clothes, both of you.”

  “A frog can’t hurt you,” said Leah. “At least, not the ones around here. But they do have poisonou
s ones in South America. A poison dart frog …”

  As Leah rambled on about the frog world, Sadie breathed a sigh of relief at the distraction. She stared at the rolling green pastures and wished that she shared Remy’s certainty about baptism. It seemed that the older she got, the less certain she was becoming about things. But her personal road was not as straight as Remy’s. Bishop Samuel had said time and again that baptism was a promise to follow the Regel und Ordnung, the rules and order, for the rest of your life. A promise not to depart from the Ordnung through life or death. Sadie wanted to commit to God and do the right thing, but when she thought of baptism worry pressed heavily upon her, a huge stone on her chest. What if she found that she could not follow the Ordnung? Then she would be shunned. Such a humiliation for her heart and her family. She didn’t think she could bear it. Better to wait and choose baptism when both her heart and soul were in it.

  A sad love song circled in Sadie’s mind, and she thought of Frank. He was one big reason why she couldn’t get baptized yet. Frank had discovered her gift for music, and she was grateful for the way he had taken her under his wing, inviting her into the band and taking her to Philadelphia.

  The city … there was another thing she loved that didn’t match with joining the faith. Philadelphia was full of bright colored lights and so many people. Such different people! People with rings in their noses or shaved heads. Some even had hair standing up in a line along the center of their heads like a bristle brush! Some had skin as brown as coffee. Others had golden skin and eyes that pinched at the edges. Every time Sadie visited the city she was fascinated by the variety of people God created. God had so many recipes! Sometimes she tired of the same old clothes and hairstyles that were traditional in her community.

  And then there was her music, another big reason. The biggest one. She stifled a yawn, thinking of the dimly lit club where she had sung onstage last night. Frank had worked it out so that their band could do a few songs, like a real show. Sadie’s nerves had trilled as she’d stepped up in front of the lights, opened her mouth, and found that special place where she could escape in the song. It was a satisfying feeling, sweet and biting, like lemonade on a parched tongue or squishing your toes into the mud of the pond on a hot summer day. Singing onstage was thrilling and tender, brash and quiet all at once. She loved it.

  If Sadie started the baptism classes today, she would need to give up her singing and her weekend trips to Philadelphia. Just as other Amish teens had to sell off their cars or give away English clothes and iPods, she would have to abandon her blue jeans and Frank and the band. Although there would always be the slow, soulful songs during preaching service, she would have to say good-bye to the music of her heart forever.

  Sadie was not ready to do that.

  When they arrived at the Zooks’ farm, there was much quiet commotion. Young men parked the buggies. Horses had to be unhitched and put out in the paddock, as the families would be here for a good four hours at least, with the service and the meal afterward. Women brought baked goods into the house, or gathered their little ones and told them to mind, or stood around with their friends for a bit of conversation before the service began.

  Sadie moved out of the way of incoming buggies, but she didn’t have the heart to go into the house with Mary and her sisters. Instead, she lingered by a pile of stacked hay bales, watching solemnly as Remy and another girl—Elizabeth Mast—accompanied Bishop Samuel into the workshop beside the barn for their first lesson. And there went her cousin Abe … and David Fisher, too. Such a big moment, but barely noticed by others in the congregation.

  As a buggy pulled past she noticed Adam watching Remy go in, and just when she thought he didn’t see her, he turned his head and met her eyes.

  Why did she feel the burning in her face? As if she had done something ever so wrong?

  Adam would have to understand that she could not do it. She was sorry to disappoint her family, especially Adam, but she could not make the promise yet.

  “Sadie?”

  The girl’s voice came from the other side of the hay bale. Sadie leaned forward and peeked over. Her cousin Rachel stood there, tearing at a long strand of hay as if it was very important to split it into tiny pieces.

  “You’re not going?” Rachel asked. She didn’t have to spell it out; she was clearly in the same pickle as Sadie.

  “I can’t do it,” Sadie told her. “And you?”

  Rachel picked at the dry straw. “No. I thought I might feel differently when this morning came, but for some reason I can’t make my feet move in that direction.”

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing.” It was some consolation knowing she wasn’t alone. “Maybe next year,” Sadie said.

  “Ya.” Rachel’s voice was heavy with a mixture of disappointment and concern.

  Sadie bit back disappointment. “It’s the right choice for now,” she said, trying to convince Rachel and herself. “I’ve heard that the ministers keep asking the people in the class if they’re ready.”

  “They do. Last year Abe got turned away after a few classes, when the bishop saw he wasn’t getting rid of the speakers in his buggy.” She turned her head toward the barn where the candidates had followed the minister inside. “I reckon that’s why he passed the buggy on to Ben last week.”

  “So Abe is ready.” Sadie pinched her fingers, still torn over the decision. Baptism would put an end to the pursuit of some of the things they loved—Sadie’s music, Rachel’s painting. But joining the church would seal their places with their community, their family, their homes. “Next year,” Sadie said. “There’s always next year.”

  NINE

  A breeze kept things cool, but the sun, lingering over the green trees and buildings at the edge of the church lawn, warmed Mike’s skin. On the lawn of St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, the volleyball soared over the net and Mike jumped up to punch it back with both hands. It darted over the net and hit the ground between two people.

  “Good job, Mikey.” Daryl stepped over and bumped fists with him. “Let’s win this match and wrap it up. My stomach is rumbling for an early supper.”

  Gran was waiting for Mike, somewhere over by the church hall. Mike glanced over at the picnic tables and held tight to his new resolve not to get those Sunday blues. He always stayed for activities after church, but today felt different. Today marked his new attitude. Renewal had ignited in his heart like a flame snapping to life, and for now his restless spirit had been quieted. Repositioning himself on the volleyball field, he thanked God for getting a message to him.

  It was uncanny, but today’s sermon seemed to be handpicked for Mike. The minister had read from Second Corinthians, where Paul wrote: “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.”

  Day by day … that was how Mike was going to take it now. No more looking back to the sunny days of the past or dreading the future. The time to live was now.

  Yesterday, something had sparked inside Mike while he was out with the church group on their pickup run. Most of the stops involved a few friendly words and a lot of heavy lifting, with people giving away sofas and chairs, desks and dining room sets. Daryl had explained that at the end of the day, they would drop the furniture at the church’s thrift shop, which was also run by church volunteers. At first Mike hung back and watched as one of the other men spoke with the “clients” as the leader of their group. Then Daryl suggested that Mike step up on the next run, and he gave Mike some quick instructions, explaining that they wanted to leave people with a good feeling about St. Mark’s, and they had to get a signature releasing the valuables for their records.

  The small Tudor home in the suburbs was well hidden by the trees and ivy that had been left to grow over the years. “Invasive ivy. A horticulturist’s nightmare,” Daryl muttered as they pulled up in the van.

  While the men opened up the truck, Mike went up the front path and rang the bell. The door was promptly answered
by a woman in her late fifties. Although she was nicely dressed in jeans, a blouse, and a yellow scarf, her hands were smudged with grime. She held a wad of paper towels to her forehead.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am.” As Mike pushed back the sleeves of his sweatshirt, he noticed blood blossoming through the paper towels. “We’re from St. Mark’s Thrift Shop, and—are you all right?”

  “I know, this is quite a greeting.” She frowned, glancing up toward the wound. “I was rooting around in a closet and the shelf above me fell right out on my head.”

  He winced. “Ouch. So you’re not okay. Do you think you need stitches? Want me to take a look?”

  “It’s not that bad. Just bleeding. See?” She lifted the wad of paper, and he saw that it wasn’t a deep cut, though he could already see some bruising.

  “That must have hurt,” he said sympathetically.

  Her lips rippled as she steeled herself. “Mostly, it wounded my pride,” she said. “And it made me angry with my father for leaving his closets in such a mess. And now I’m mad at myself for blaming an old man who’s lived alone for thirty years.” Her voice quavered with the unchartered waters of grief.

  She’s holding back tears, he thought, feeling awkward. What did you say to calm a woman who reminded you of your mother? He didn’t know the answer, though in his experience he’d always found that it helped just to talk.

  “This looks like a bad time for you,” he said. “I’m not sure of the schedule, but if you want I’ll check and see what later dates are open for us to return.”

  “No, please. It would be more painful for me to reschedule. Come on in.” She pushed the storm door open and motioned him in.

  Mike followed her through the foyer, past a curving staircase to a wide living room. The place had old charm, but some cobwebs and cracks in the walls, too.

  “Everything has to go … all the furniture. I emptied the dressers upstairs, but if you come across any other items like clothes or knickknacks, just leave them on the floor, please.” She paused at a large, handsome leather chair and collapsed into it. “This is overwhelming.”