A Simple Spring: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel

by Rosalind Lauer

  “Remy is right.” Adam’s dark eyes held regret. “Sadie, I know I’ve been pushing you. I know that. It’s wrong of me to press you, but I’m responsible for you now, and it’s important to me that you do the right thing.”

  “I know that, Adam. But do you know that baptism is the right thing for me?” Sadie asked, her eyes shiny with tears.

  “I want you to remain with this family and in this community,” Adam explained. “But I have to trust in God. We know God in heaven has a plan for you. And I believe He means for you to stay Amish, Sadie.” He rubbed his jaw, his dark eyes warm with compassion. “I’m sorry. That’s not what you wanted to hear.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” Sadie plucked at one of the pins on her apron.

  Relief filled Remy as she looked from Adam to Sadie. This was the conversation they needed to have; time for forgiveness and renewal.

  “So how can we help you?” Adam asked his younger sister. “How can we ease your heart?”

  Sadie shook her head. “You can’t. There’s no helping me.” A tear streaked down her cheek as she stood up. “I’m grateful for you trying, but I can’t follow the laws of the Ordnung right now. I can’t be baptized.” She swiped at her face and ran out into the kitchen.

  Adam and Remy got to their feet, surprised by Sadie’s sudden action.

  “Sadie …,” Adam called after her.

  A moment later came the sound of the screen door slamming behind her.

  Remy stared toward the doorway, wondering what to pray for in this situation. There was no simple answer.

  A dark sigh came from Adam as he let his head loll back. Remy put her arms around him and pressed her face to his chest. Showing such affection with the children around and in the light of day wasn’t something they normally did, but then this was an extraordinary situation.

  “I love you,” she said. “And I totally admire the way you handled that. It was so wise of you not to shout at Sadie, though I know you’ve been angry with her for a long time.”

  “I figured the bishop put enough fear in her. But only Gott can change Sadie’s mind. And right now, it looks like we’re losing her,” Adam said.

  “Oh, please don’t say that.” Remy couldn’t imagine this family without Sadie’s cutting humor and her angelic voice, though she sensed that Adam was right.

  Since the day Remy had met Adam’s siblings, Sadie had stood out because of her interest in Remy’s Englisher life. Sadie, with her cell phone and her jeans barely hidden beneath the skirt of her dress. Her eyes always glowed when she told stories of her exciting adventures in the city, and when she talked of music, that girl positively came alive.

  Remy loved her like a sister, and even as she’d always answered Sadie’s curious questions about the world beyond the Amish, she was sympathetic to Adam’s concerns over the possibility of losing his sister. “She’s my responsibility,” he’d reminded Remy time and again when they’d spoken of Sadie in private. That was her Adam, always concerned with the care of the large family he’d taken on after his parents’ deaths. What a hard lesson, to realize that you can’t control the people you love.

  “With God’s grace, we’ll accept the things we can’t control,” Remy said, strengthened by Adam’s arms around her.

  “Ya.” His voice was rough as he planted a kiss atop her kapp. “We must pray for grace.”

  “And hope that Sadie finds her way back to us,” Remy said quietly. “There’s always hope.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  In the four days since the ministers had come to discipline her, Sadie had gone through the motions of daily life with a fevered brow and a cold heart. She’d been hurt by the “intervention,” as Remy had called it. Sadie was sure that was just a fancy word for a scolding.

  Now, as she scrubbed pots and dishes on this sweaty Sunday evening, the strains of the song she sang with the other girls worked at softening her heart of stone. This was the song they had sung with Mamm every night when they were doing dishes. But as she let herself relax a bit, she felt the pain of the ministers’ stunning blow return. Her face grew warm with shame, and her voice grew faint.

  “And I will tell you just why I love you …,” Ruthie sang, her sweet voice strong and true as she began to dry a dripping pot.

  Cousin Rachel was storing the food. Leah was bringing things in from the tables outside. Sadie washed and Ruthie dried. It was a good system, though the kitchen was mighty hot on this June night.

  Down the road in the Lapps’ barn a singing was going on. The others were there—Mary, Adam, Jonah, and Gabe. But Sadie had no taste for it, knowing that a few tongues had probably been wagging about the trouble she’d stirred. No, it was better to stay home, and she’d been touched that her cousin Rachel had decided to stay too, making up an excuse about having a headache.

  “That’s everything from outside,” Leah said, sliding a tray into the soapy water. “Can I go? I can’t wait to start going through that bag of books.” Leah always had her nose in a book.

  “You got some new ones?” Sadie asked.

  “Rachel brought over a big fat bag from Sarah.” Rachel’s younger sister was a book lover too, and she frequently exchanged bags of books with Leah.

  “There’s a wonderful good book about ancient Egypt,” Leah said. “Did you know they used math to build the pyramids?”

  “And here I thought they used muscle to move those stones,” Rachel teased.

  Leah smiled at her cousin. “That, too. I love reading about olden times. Remy knows a lot of history and such. She promised to teach me things, now that I’m finished with school.”

  “Are you sad that school is over for you?” Ruthie asked. “I know how you loved it so.”

  “I’m going to miss it, but Remy says I can keep learning.” Leah peered at them cautiously through her glasses. “She’s going to talk to Adam about homeschooling me on high school subjects. She thinks I could get a scholarship if I keep on with my studies.”

  “A scholarship?” Rachel pinched her chin. “I can’t see the ministers allowing that.”

  Leah frowned, then shrugged. “That’s what Remy says, and I’m excited about it.” She moved toward the living room and stairs. “Can I go?”

  Sadie nodded and turned back to her dishes. “That’s the first I’ve heard of more schooling for Leah.”

  “Me too,” Ruthie said.

  As Sadie scrubbed at a patch of baked-on beans she worried about Remy, who didn’t seem to understand that the Amish ended education at grade eight for a very good reason. Leah’s help was needed on the farm, and it was about time she learned more about how to care for the cows and the house. The twins had been coddled a bit, maybe because of Susie’s illness. Those girls couldn’t even bake a loaf of bread yet.

  “What should we sing next?” Rachel asked.

  “I think Sadie should tell us what happened with the ministers,” Ruthie said, looking up at Sadie as she wiped a plate clean.

  “We’ve got a nosy one here,” Rachel said. “Though I don’t mind hearing myself.”

  “And no one else is around.” Ruthie was all ears as she put a plate in the cupboard.

  “Ach, it was awful.” Sadie swiped at her damp forehead with the back of one wrist. “I’m sure you know most of the story.”

  “Did the bishop make you give up your boyfriend Frank?” Ruthie asked breathlessly.

  “Sort of, but not really.” Sadie sighed. “If I tell you, you got to promise to keep it a secret, ya?”

  Ruthie’s head bobbed.

  “You know I’m on your side, always,” Rachel said.

  “The ministers don’t want me singing with the band anymore.” She explained how they’d gotten ahold of the flyer Frank made. Dim-witted Frank had put them in the shops in Halfway. What was he thinking? Since the bishop and preacher came here, Sadie hadn’t gone to a single rehearsal. She hadn’t even left the farm, and she’d worked her fingers to the bone, trying to prove herself to Adam and the rest of the family. When Ada
m asked about her job at the hotel, she had told him that Mr. Decker didn’t need her this week. It was a small slice of truth, but Sadie couldn’t bear to reveal everything to Adam now, with this dark cloud over her head.

  Last night, when everyone was asleep, she had stolen off in the darkness and walked far from the house, out of earshot, to use her cell phone. Out by the pond, with the bullfrogs croaking and cows mooing from the barn, she knew no one in the house would hear her. With frogs croaking from the bulrushes, she had given Frank a stern talking-to about how he needed to respect her family and her community. She told him she wouldn’t go to the city with the band anymore. The clubs were Frank’s dream, not hers. And she told him that she wouldn’t be courting him anymore. Saying the words had lifted a weight from her heart.

  “That Frank doesn’t sound so nice,” Ruthie said as she folded a dish towel.

  “He brought music into my life,” Sadie said in his defense. “But I’m not sweet on Frank anymore. Not just because of the flyer. We don’t agree on much, and I don’t like to argue. I had to end it. Which is all for the best, since the ministers would have been even angrier with me if they knew I had an Englisher boyfriend.”

  “Oh, Sadie, you’ve surely stepped in the muck this time.” Rachel blinked in astonishment. “You pluck your eyebrows and break up with your Englisher boyfriend. Sadie King, I don’t even know you anymore.”

  “Of course you do.” Sadie slapped the dish towel over one shoulder and struck a pose with her hands on her hips. “It’s me, Sadie, the girl who’s always at the center of the storm. Putting eggs in people’s boots and tossing up frozen cow patties like Frisbees.”

  Rachel cocked her head to the side, her blue eyes squinting. “Ya, now I see it’s you. Only the girl singing with an Englisher band, that girl I don’t know.” She shook her head. “If it was me doing that kind of thing, my dat would scold me from here to Saturday.”

  “Adam has been grouchy all week,” Ruthie said. “I think he wants to scold Sadie, but he’s not her dat.”

  Sadie gave her sister a sidelong glance, surprised by her insight. “You hit the nail on the head, Ruthie. But it’s a tight spot for Adam. The bishop holds him responsible for us.”

  “But what can Adam do with an unzufriede Sadie?” Rachel asked. “He can’t make you choose to be Amish.”

  Sadie bit her bottom lip, feeling a pang of guilt for the trouble she was causing Adam. “It’s a problem, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “But you said it’s over with Frank,” Rachel said. “That’s good. A step in the right direction. Now you’re free and clear to date an Amish boy. We should have gone to the singing tonight. Every time I see Amos Lapp, he asks about you.”

  Sadie shook her head. No, she didn’t want to go to the singing, and Amos Lapp was not going to be her beau.

  Though there was a young man who’d found his way to her heart. But could she tell her favorite cousin and little sister about him? Rachel would just tease her for finding trouble everywhere, and Ruthie would find it hard to keep Mike a secret.

  No, she wasn’t ready to tell them about Mike. Her feelings were too new, too delicate to share. Good, funny Mike who made her heart come alive … He wanted to date her. “A hot date,” he had said. It made her smile to think of the little joke.

  Last night, after her call with Frank had ended, she’d phoned Mike.

  She could still see the reflection of the moon on the pond, its creamy white edges clarifying and blurring as her story spilled out, along with her shame and regret and fear.

  And Mike had understood.

  He had understood when she’d told him about the bishop and preacher coming by to warn her. He’d groaned when she’d described the flyer, Frank’s carelessness and selfishness … Mike had understood how it had unraveled, and he’d been more than sympathetic.

  When he promised to call her every day to check up on her, Sadie’s heart had warmed. Mike cared about her. “Sadie?” Ruthie called as she wiped down the counter. “A penny for your thoughts?”

  Sadie hesitated, drying her hands on a towel. “I was just thinking of the wonderful sliver of moon that was out last night.”

  The next morning she called Mike from behind the henhouse, waking him up. “It’s time to get out of bed, sleepyhead,” she teased.

  “It’s six-something in the morning!”

  She laughed. “And you’ve already missed the sunrise!”

  On Tuesday she waited until night to call him, and walked out to stand under the beech trees. The warm breeze clattered through the leaves, making God’s own shimmering wind chimes overhead.

  “This is a better time for me, songbird,” he said. “I’m a night owl at heart, though it was a little hard to hear you with all that croaking in the background the other night.”

  “The bullfrogs are noisy in summer, but I think it’s a happy song. Loud, but good.” That made her think of her dat, and she wondered if he would have defended Sadie and her music. She didn’t know for sure, but she didn’t think so. Dat had wanted his children to grow up and be good Plain folk. Dat had been sad when Adam left the farm, and not just because he missed him. “A boy should grow up to be a good Amish man,” she’d heard him say.

  She pressed against a tree trunk, feeling the support of the solid beech behind her. Something had changed. It was as if the earth had shifted and adjusted her skirts, and suddenly the grass and trees and sky all fit just a tiny bit better.

  “You’re kind of quiet on that end,” he said. “And your cell phone must be running out of precious battery, unless you managed to make a jailbreak during the day.”

  “I didn’t, but I’m going to visit a neighbor tomorrow to use her outlet. I’m going to call you every day, just like I promised.”

  “I like a girl who keeps her promises.”

  His words flickered over her, cool and exciting, like the moonlight dappled by the trees.

  “Did you ask Adam about visiting our church?”

  “Not yet. I’m waiting for the right moment.”

  “Good strategic planning,” he said.

  “But I’m hoping for next Sunday, since there’s no church. Can you do that?”

  “That’d be great. Just let me know. I can pick you up Friday night and you can spend the weekend here.” When Mike had learned of her love for the city, he had expanded the plans.

  “Okay.” Sadie didn’t know how she would work that out with Adam, but she refused to let it shadow the warm glow that filled her heart when she was talking with Mike. “My phone might cut out, but before it dies, tell me about Jamaica, please.” Mike had been in the Peace Corps, and she found his stories fascinating. “Tell me about the little boy who sang hymns on the street and climbed trees for fruit that he would sell to you.”

  “Oliver?” He sighed. “He was a spunky kid. Ten years old and he was making money for his family selling fruit.…” Mike had gone on weaving words of this tropical island community in the way that she’d seen her mamm and grandmother work the fabric of a quilt, piecing things together, stitching with needle and thread for a hundred hours until color and images emerged.

  Was Mike a gifted storyteller, or was it only that he cared so much about the people in his story that they spoke to her heart? Whatever the answer, she knew that she wanted his stories to go on forever.

  The next day Sadie looked up from her gardening and saw her chance to talk to Adam. After a morning spent plowing, Adam and Jonah were bringing the draft horses in, and Sadie knew they could use help currying the hot horses and cooling them down. She tossed her apronful of weeds into the compost heap and hurried over to the edge of the field, the soil of the path warm under her bare feet.

  “I’ve got Buddy,” she said, taking the big gray stallion by the lead and heading over to the post fence to tie him up in the shade.

  Simon ran over to pitch in, and a moment later Adam and Jonah were headed over to the shade with the other two horses. When Adam tied Cricket right at the ne
xt post, Sadie knew this was it. She bit her lips together and got to work on Buddy with a currycomb as she sorted the facts in her mind. She didn’t want to be disrespectful, but she also felt that she shouldn’t be treated like a child. She was eighteen years old.

  Still, she was asking a lot of Adam.

  “So there’s no church this Sunday,” she said as she muscled the comb into Buddy’s back. She could smell the sweet scent of sunscreen that had been sprayed on the horse’s head. White-faced horses were likely to get sunburns if they weren’t protected.

  Adam worked on a knot in Cricket’s mane. “That’s right, and the week after that it’s at Jacob Fisher’s.”

  “So then, this Sunday, I’m going to go into Philadelphia to visit a church.”

  Adam stopped brushing and wheeled around toward her. “You are, are you?”

  “An Episcopalian church. Mike Trueherz, the doctor’s son, offered to take me to the church service. He’s even worked it out so I can stay with his grandmother.” She explained that Doc Trueherz’s mamm was recovering from a stroke and needed companionship.

  Tipping back his straw hat, Adam scowled. “That’s not a good idea. It’d be fine to help out the doc, but the ministers are already concerned over all the unzufriede things you’ve been doing.”

  “I know that. But I haven’t been with the band all week, and I’m not going to see them this weekend, either. This is about looking at a different faith.” And checking out their music, she thought, though Adam didn’t need to know that just yet.

  Her oldest brother shook his head slowly. “Not a good idea.”

  “But Jonah did it,” Sadie piped up. “Back when he was thinking about baptism. Tell him, Jonah.”

  “I did.” Jonah patted his horse’s head as he spoke. “I hitched up a buggy and went to a few different churches on in-between Sundays.”

  Adam put his hands on his hips. “Did you, now?”

  Jonah shrugged. “I was curious.”

  “And Dat thought it was a smart thing to do. That’s what Dat told him,” Sadie said. “So if Dat thought it was okay for Jonah, he would have allowed me to do it.”