by Mary Ellis
“Hullo, Sally,” he called, approaching the kitchen garden. “Aren’t your helpers back from shopping yet?”
Sally straightened to greet him, clutching a ripe tomato in both hands. “No. I told them to take their time and stop for lunch. Once they start working on Nora’s new dresses, they won’t see the light of day until Sunday school this weekend.” She offered him a smile before returning to her vegetables.
Thomas hopped over the low rabbit fence. “Then I’ll give you a hand. You have more tomatoes than a catsup factory.”
“And what if someone sees you doing woman’s work?” she asked, not taking her focus off the plants.
“You let me worry about my reputation. My lesson on the parable of the lost sheep from Luke fifteen will give our church members so much to think about that they won’t have time to ponder what constitutes men’s work.” He picked up an empty bushel basket and began picking two rows over. “What are your plans with these? They’ll need to be processed as soon as possible.” Juice and seeds ran down his wrists from split skins on several tomatoes.
“Tomorrow I’ll wash, blanch, and cut them up. Then I’ll start canning chopped tomatoes to use in chili, sloppy joes, and stew. I’ll also cook the mushy ones down to make spaghetti sauce and tomato soup. I might also give homemade V8 juice a try. I have carrots, celery, parsley, chives, green onions, and Swiss chard to add to my pot of tomatoes.” Sally swatted away a deerfly without breaking stride in her plucking movements.
Thomas extended his fingers one at a time as he counted silently. “That’s only seven vegetables.”
“Seven veggies will be enough to simmer and strain into juice. I don’t want folks at the Campbell Soup Company getting nervous about the competition.”
Thomas laughed easily despite his misgivings. He knew that if Sally took on too much, she would fail at all tasks. “I hope Nora and Amy will put off sewing for another day and help you tomorrow. This many tomatoes will require more than one pair of hands.”
“Ach, if Nora has something suitable to wear on Sunday, then I’ll suggest it. Otherwise, she must sew at least one dress and bonnet by then. We can’t have the preacher’s future kin wearing spring green, can we?”
He didn’t know the light, soft shade of green even had a name. “Jah, true.” He tossed a few rotted tomatoes close to the gate to add to the compost pile later. “Have you planned lunch for the district after Sunday school? Folks will need something to eat before our hymn service. We can’t have growling bellies drowning out voices lifted in praise.”
Sally’s head bobbed up from behind a huge plant. She’d dropped to her knees to reach low-hanging fruits. “I haven’t given it a thought! With this garden demanding so much attention I forgot about Sunday’s lunch. I never asked anyone what they could bring.” Her sweet face filled with alarm.
The meal occurred on a weekly basis, which should make it difficult to forget. Nevertheless, Thomas smiled with the patience of Job. “Just keep it simple, liewi. Folks don’t need a banquet. That only encourages gluttony. How about bread, spreadable cheese, lunch meat, and some chips? Then the only thing you need to prepare ahead is dessert—nothing fancy, though. This isn’t the time to try out new pie recipes. Maybe just a simple cobbler with some of our peaches.”
Sally perched a red-hued fist on her hip. “What’s that you say? I had my heart set on Baked Alaska.”
“I don’t even know what that is, fraa.”
“It’s like a giant hot apple dumpling with vanilla ice cream hidden inside.” She moved her hand over her belly in a circular pattern. “Sounds delicious, no? I read about it in a magazine at the doctor’s office.”
“How do you bake a dumpling without the ice cream melting and draining out?”
“I don’t know. The nurse called me in for my exam.” She reached for another empty basket behind her.
“Forget about Alaska. If you keep lunch simple, you’ll be able to relax during my fascinating lesson. And you won’t have to run around like a rooster without its head afterward.”
Sally stopped picking and jumped to her feet. “Is that how I appear to you, Thomas? Like a headless chicken?” Her flushed cheeks matched the tomatoes.
Thomas bit his tongue with the thoughtless remark. “I misspoke. Forgive me.” He stepped between plants to reach her row. “I meant you wouldn’t be so rushed if the meal were simpler.”
Her pink cheeks lost none of their heightened color. “Maybe you picked the wrong woman to turn into a preacher’s wife.” Her posture slumped. “I’m supposed to lead the other women into service, but I’m usually late and dashing in at the last minute. Either Aden falls into a mud puddle or Jeremiah spits up down my back before we leave for church. Do you remember your first day here as minister? I wore black running shoes instead of high-buttoned leather oxfords like a proper preacher’s wife. I thought the older women would have a heart attack, while the younger ones looked downright fearful for my sake.”
Thomas reached out to touch her face. “Yet everyone survived the day, to the best of my recollection. God brought you to be my beloved fraa and then delivered us here.” He waved his hand at their garden, the hayfield where just-cut hay lay drying under warm sunshine, and the low Dixmont hills on the horizon. “And our family will bloom where we’ve been planted.”
A smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “I suppose I shouldn’t question His judgment.”
He laughed wryly. “He makes no mistakes, Sally. Trust in Him and in yourself, and you will grow into your role.”
“We’d better take these to the house and get out of the sun.” She hefted one basket to her hip. “You’re starting to talk in garden analogies. Besides, I need to cook something for supper.”
He grinned with affection. “You go inside. I’ll finish picking the rest before they rot. There are not too many rows left. Then you and the King sisters can start canning.”
She started to protest until Jeremiah released a loud wail, indicating he was either hungry or wet or both. “Danki, Thomas. I’d better see to that boppli before he wakes the neighborhood.” She giggled at her favorite joke, set down the basket, and headed toward the playpen.
No one was sleeping at this hour.
And no one lived close enough to hear a baby cry anyway.
Sally lifted Jeremiah into her arms and planted a string of kisses across his forehead, quieting him instantly. Aden raised his arms above his head to indicate he too wished to be carried. Sally complied, settling one son on each hip.
As Thomas watched, his breath caught in his throat, while his heart swelled with emotion. “Don’t forget to ask the girls to help when they get home,” he hollered.
She nodded her head to indicate she’d heard as she struggled up the porch steps.
While Thomas picked more tomatoes than any human needed, he brooded on the new potential threat. Sally had gained little approval among the older matrons. She certainly didn’t need Amy’s and Nora’s liberal ways to reflect on her. Especially Nora. Thomas doubted that the girl would remain in Harmony. A small community offered little compared to Lancaster County. But Harmony was exactly what his family needed—a place for Sally to forget about her willful past and walk the straighter, narrower path. Nora wouldn’t be good for Sally, nor Sally for her. He hoped both would come to this knowledge before any real damage was done.
Amy stopped the buggy midway between the house and the barn, and stared at the ten bushels of tomatoes across the porch. “Goodness, Thomas,” she called as he set another in the long line. “Did you pick all those today?”
“Along with Sally I did.” He brushed off his palms as he approached. “Are your errands done?” he asked, peering up from beneath his hat brim.
“Jah. We found everything we needed to make Nora three dresses—one for Sundays and two for weekdays. There’s a nice shop next to the co-op market. Inside it—”
“Gut, gut, but my wife can use your help with dinner. Tales from your travels can wait until later.”<
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Tales from my travels? Amy blinked as Nora jumped down from the buggy. “Of course,” she said. “Let me take the horse to the barn and we’ll be happy to—”
“I’ll take the horse.” He interrupted her again. “John can rub him down while I wash up.”
“Danki for the use of your buggy.” Amy handed him the reins as she stepped past him.
“Amy?” he called.
She halted on the stone walkway and turned around.
“Could you hold off with the sewing for another day? Sally needs help with these vegetables and might be too shy to ask.”
“Of course. I assumed as much when I saw the bounty. The Lord has been generous with the harvest, no?”
“That He has.” Thomas perused Nora with a silent head-to-toe assessment before leading the horse away.
But once Amy and Nora opened the kitchen door, they had little time to puzzle over Thomas. The room was in complete disarray, yet Sally greeted them cheerfully. “Back so soon?” she asked. She tucked a lock of hair beneath her kapp. “Where did you eat lunch?”
Amy hung her purse on a hook and slipped a clean apron over her head. “At the deli by the railroad tracks. We split a chicken salad sandwich.”
“I always wanted to try that place. Maybe someday I will.” Sally dropped a raw piece of fish into a bowl of flour.
“I see you’ve been busy with the garden. What can I help you with?” Amy walked to the sink to wash her hands, trying not to stare at the variety of vegetable trimmings littering the floor around the trash can. Sally’s aim was terrible.
“I’ll put these bags in the front room and come right back,” Nora whispered in Amy’s ear.
“I’m breading some haddock I found in the back of the freezer. Once a month a seafood vendor comes to market day and sells his fresh catch. Thomas loves fried fish.” Sally dipped a floured piece into an egg mixture and then dropped it in a bowl of breadcrumbs.
A wisp of smoke rose from the frying pan as Amy smelled oil beginning to scorch. With a pot holder she moved the pan off the burner before the grease burst into flames. “Why don’t I fry the fish while you make the rest of supper?” she asked, discreetly lowering the heat. With the crisis averted, Amy walked to where Sally was coating fillets with flour, egg, and breadcrumbs.
“Good idea. We’ll have yellow beans with boiled new potatoes. I just dug up these spuds. Because they are small they won’t need much slicing.”
Amy grinned into the bowl of plum-sized potatoes. “They are adorable. A perfect size.”
When Nora returned, she set to work cleaning the kitchen. Within an hour the extended family sat down to a delicious meal in a tidy room. Sally had fed both kinner ahead of time, allowing her a chance to enjoy an adult supper.
John, who had been quiet since chores, finally spoke after sampling the fried haddock. “I thought you would return for lunch.” He pulled a small bone from between his teeth.
Amy smiled across the table. “We would have practically had to turn around the moment we arrived. And you know how women love to browse in stores.”
“Our co-op is a gem, no?” Sally popped a bean into her mouth. “It has a good selection of bulk foods, both grown locally and trucked in from out-of-state.”
“It has everything a person needs,” agreed Amy. “And I loved the quilt-and-fabric shop next door. I imagine it’s crowded with tourists on Fridays and Saturdays.”
Sally laughed uproariously. “You’re not in Pennsylvania anymore, Amy. Tourists don’t come to Harmony.”
“None at all?” asked Nora. She took a second fillet from the platter. Fish hadn’t been commonplace back home.
“Let’s see.” Sally tapped her jaw with one finger. “There were those elderly ladies looking for a giant flea market. They were definitely lost. I hope they found their way home safely.”
“As far as I’m concerned, no tourists means no traffic.” John scraped two more pieces of fish onto his plate.
“Some would be nice,” said Thomas. “The Amish in our community make woodcrafts and furniture to sell over the winter that we must ship elsewhere right now.”
“Elsewhere will probably bring you better profits anyway.” John sounded like an English businessman instead of a farmer waiting to buy his own land.
Amy sipped her iced tea. She’d taught Sally how to make sun tea with cool well water, a few tea bags, and a sunny window. “Nora and I found something interesting in the quilt shop next to the market.” She dabbed her mouth with a napkin, waiting for everyone’s attention.
“What was that, three different shades of black thread?” John directed his quip at his brother, who chuckled good-naturedly.
“Even better. We found a quilt for sale we believe our aunt made. She left Mount Joy about ten years ago, shunned. We girls never learned where she moved to when she left town.” Amy glanced at Nora for confirmation.
Nora looked up with her green eyes shining. “We might not know where she went originally, but she must have lived here at some point.”
Two people at the table stopped eating. “Why do you think this aunt made the quilt?” asked Thomas.
Amy leaned forward in her chair. “Because she always marked her work with a little ladybug embroidered on the seam binding. It was like her signature.”
“Mamm called it vanity, but she always laughed about Aunt Prudence’s little bugs,” added Nora with a giggle.
No one else seemed amused.
“Oh, my, Prudence Hilty is your aunt?” asked Sally, setting down her fork. “She did live in Harmony for a while.” Sally cast a glance in Thomas’s direction. “But word of the Lancaster shunning eventually followed her here and she left.”
Amy turned toward Thomas, who looked as though a fish bone had lodged in his throat. “What happened?”
“Divorce goes against God’s law,” he stated simply. “It is an abomination.”
Amy lowered her gaze to her plate. “That’s what my father and my grossdawdi said. Mamm wouldn’t tell me why she left Uncle Leon, but she must have had her reasons.” Amy breathed deeply to calm her nerves. She sensed that becoming emotional wouldn’t serve the situation.
“She was always nice to her nieces and nephews.” Nora’s voice sounded weak and frightened in the quiet room. “God never blessed her with bopplin of her own, so she loved to spend time with us.”
“Prudence did have her reasons,” murmured Sally.
Amy and Nora stared at the tiny dark-haired woman. “What did you hear?” they asked simultaneously.
Thomas cleared his throat, but Sally forged ahead. “Her husband was fond of strong drink.”
“You should not gossip or state with conviction what you haven’t witnessed,” Thomas said, frowning at his wife.
Sally turned to face him. “I’m not spreading gossip, ehemann. Prudence herself told me this. And you don’t have to catch someone holding an empty whiskey bottle to know when someone is drunk.”
“Did Leon follow her to Maine?” asked John. Even he’d stopped devouring the delicious fish, intrigued by the bizarre story.
“Nein,” Thomas said softly. “He was never here. The bishop questioned Prudence, and she explained everything to him.”
“And you ran her out of town?” Amy’s voice rose with indignation.
“No, we didn’t. We asked her to kneel and confess her sins.” Thomas focused on Amy and her alone. “We told her Scripture was clear. She may live apart from an abusive spouse, but she should not have sought a legal divorce in English courts. She and your uncle are still married in the eyes of God.”
Nora pushed away her plate. “Do you mean Aunt Prudence hired a lawyer and divorced Uncle Leon?”
Thomas nodded. “This isn’t conjecture. She told me so. We advised her to repent of her sin and live in peace here, away from the man. We would have helped her.” He lowered his voice to a whisper and didn’t meet anyone’s gaze.
Sally groaned low in her throat and shook her head sadly.
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nbsp; “But soon after Prudence left our community.” When Thomas raised his head and glanced around the table, his face seemed to have aged during the meal.
Amy was stunned. She could sense Nora’s and John’s eyes on her, but she focused on a stain on the oilcloth table cover. Was it beet juice? Had Aden smashed a raspberry? Dwelling on the possible nature of the stain provided distraction from her confusing emotions. “I hope she’s happy wherever she went.” She spoke only to break the uncomfortable silence.
“Apart from God there can be no joy.” Thomas rose to his feet to get the coffeepot.
Sally scrambled up for her baked dessert. “Anybody for peach cobbler made with our own peaches? Georgia has nothing on peaches over the state of Maine.” She set the pan on the table and began to slice.
“Cut me a small piece.” Amy had seen the peaches for sale at the co-op compared to the Georgia peaches purchased back home at the IGA, but the cobber turned out to be equally delicious.
After the dishes had been washed and put away, Amy followed John out to the rockers on the front porch. As she sat down next to him, she spotted Thomas taking the living room chair within view of them. “Don’t try to steal a kiss,” she whispered. “Your bruder can see us.”
John smiled. “Don’t be too hard on him. It’s no easy task ministering to a congregation.” He spoke softly so as not to be overheard. “Most district members express words of condolence when a man draws the lot to become preacher. It’s a heavy burden.”
She nodded in agreement. Around them she heard comforting night sounds: the wind through tall pines, the drone of insects, and a train whistle at a faraway crossing. Amy closed her eyes and began to rock. After a few minutes of companionable silence, she spoke. “I will write to grossmammi and Aunt Irene before bed. I want to tell them their daughter and sister lived here for a while.”
John stopped rocking and reached for her hand. “Do you think that’s wise? Prudence knew her actions would lead to shunning, yet she acted anyway with total disregard for Amish Ordnung.”
“Sometimes both of your choices are bad.”
