by Mary Ellis
John felt a twinge of annoyance. “But if I bother with the government paperwork, I can sell my produce to buyers of certified organics and earn better profits. Otherwise, folks won’t know how the vegetables have been raised. We will need cash for taxes and medical bills, and to buy what we can’t grow ourselves.” He quickly devoured the rest of his sandwich.
“In that case, it’s worth filling out the forms, as long as the bishop approves the idea.”
“Ach, the bishop.” John glanced around the room to make sure no eavesdroppers lurked nearby. “Come outside with me for a spell.” He wrapped his second sandwich in a napkin.
Amy frowned. “But I promised Nora—”
“Please, Amy,” he interrupted. “This is important.”
She tugged her soiled apron over her head and walked out onto the porch. “A touch of fall is in the air, no? At home, things would still be hot and humid.”
He took her elbow to lead her down the steps. “This is our home now. Don’t you like it here?”
She peered up at him, perplexed. “I do, very much so. It’s just force of habit to refer to Pennsylvania as home.”
“That’s the rest of what I wanted to tell you. The folks at MOFGA gave me a list of properties for sale throughout the county with the number of tillable acres, availability of water, condition of the house—if there is one—and number of outbuildings. Some farms are too far away for us to attend Sunday services, but plenty are close enough to remain part of the district.” He took her hand. “The women seem to like you, and we’ll be able to stay close to Thomas and Sally.”
“Are there prices on these listings?”
“Jah, for each one, but you know sellers expect buyers to haggle them down a bit.”
“And we can afford these properties?” Her eyes reflected the sun like blue sapphires.
“Some. We won’t bother to look at those we can’t.”
“Then I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to check out a few.” She smiled up him.
It was the first smile he’d seen that day. The sight spread warmth to the marrow of his bones. “I can’t wait. The sooner we buy a place, the sooner we can move from here and start our life together.” John peered around the yard. Sally’s laundry flapped in the breeze at odd angles because several clothespins had come loose. Hornets buzzed around wormy, fermenting apples because no one had canned them or raked them into the compost heap. A rain barrel lay on its side, forgotten, no longer collecting precious rainwater from the downspout. When he turned back, he saw that she was studying him with a serious expression on her face.
“You don’t sound grateful for your family’s kindness. That’s not like you, John.”
The retort hurt, as though one of the drunken hornets had stung him. “Beg your pardon. I do appreciate Sally and Thomas opening up their home to us, but I’m tired of staying in Elam’s former room while you’re upstairs.”
Her face turned cherry red. “But we’re not wed yet, or have you forgotten that? And our new bishop doesn’t seem in any fired-up hurry to marry us.”
Blushing, he slipped his sweating hands under his suspenders. “I haven’t forgotten. I can think about little else, but my bruder says the ‘when’ isn’t up to him. Last Sunday after preaching, the bishop evaded my questions while asking plenty of his own. He asked me about the fire that killed your parents and about your family back in Lancaster. He wouldn’t give me a firm date or even an exact month we could marry. That’s why I want to buy land. Once he sees that I’m…that we’re serious about staying in Harmony, maybe he’ll schedule our counseling classes to get this ordeal going.”
Amy’s chin lifted as she crossed her arms defiantly. “Our wedding is an ordeal to you?”
“Nein. The ordeal is the long wait.” He released a sigh. “I’m not expressing myself well. Why don’t you grab your sweater and take a ride with me? I know of a property for sale not far away. The house is vacant, so we can—” He broke off abruptly as he noticed her expression and tapping toe. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re so excited about this farm that I can’t get a word in sideways. I tried to tell you before that I promised Nora I’d ride to town with her. There are some things she needs, and I don’t want her going alone.”
“Can’t this wait for another day?”
“No, she said she needs them today.”
John pulled on his suspenders and took a breath. “Of course. I’ll hitch up the buggy. I don’t suppose anybody will snatch up the property overnight. We can go tomorrow, or at least in the near future.”
She nodded on her way up the path. “Soon we’ll go. Danki for bringing around the buggy.” Amy disappeared into the house before he could say another word.
“Don’t stay too long. Sally will need help with sup—” But the screen door had already banged shut behind her. John stood with his hands in his pockets, feeling like a dog that just had his bone taken away.
Nora jumped back from the window so Amy wouldn’t know she’d been spying. What had John wanted to talk about that had been so important? Surely, the advantages of one type of garden vegetable over another could have waited for later. She could understand wanting to look at farms for sale—every man longed for his own place—but why all the excitement about organic produce? In her opinion, a cherry tomato would always be just a cherry tomato.
“Can we still go?” she asked the moment Amy walked into the house.
“Jah, we can. Get your purse. I want to tidy my hair and change my kapp. Find your black bonnet too.” Amy slanted her a wry expression.
“Okay, but don’t expect me to watch for traffic at crossroads wearing that thing. I have to turn my neck so far around, it’s a wonder my head doesn’t come loose.”
Amy rolled her eyes on the way upstairs. “Just be grateful we can go to town again.” When she returned wearing a black cloak and her wide-brimmed bonnet, she looked like a widow in deep mourning.
“You will sweat to death in that,” said Nora, throwing a lightweight shawl around her shoulders. “It’s still summer.”
“By the calendar maybe, but I felt a chill in the air.” Amy grabbed her purse off the counter and a bottle of water.
Outside, they found the horse and buggy ready at the hitching post, but John was nowhere in sight.
“Where did he go to in such a hurry? No big send-off for his beloved?” asked Nora, climbing up.
Amy settled in beside her, purposefully bumping Nora’s hip with her own. “What’s gotten into you lately? That was a mean thing to say.” She shook the reins and the horse strained against the traces.
“Sorry, I’m out of sorts. Little Jeremiah hasn’t stopped crying all day. I’ll never get my last dress finished because I can’t concentrate with the noise.”
“The baby is teething. You could offer to help Sally with him. It might be good to get your mind off yourself for a change.”
Nora took no offense. She had been mopey and preoccupied lately. “I picked him up and carried him around, but no matter what I tried he wouldn’t stop crying. I even sang a song to him.”
“Goodness, that would make anybody cry their eyes out.” Amy tried to maintain a straight face, but when she glanced at Nora they both broke into laughter.
“I’ll keep that in mind tomorrow.” Nora leaned back on the seat and slipped on her sunglasses. She wouldn’t chance a migraine on their rare afternoon together.
“What did you need so urgently? I thought we stocked up on our last trip to town.”
Nora turned her head to watch the passing scenery. “Nothing I couldn’t do without, but I needed a break from Thomas’s farm.” Noting her sister’s expression, she grabbed Amy’s sleeve. “Wait and listen before you scold me. I just feel so lonely. At home there was always someone to talk to, plus we had lots of different projects going on. Life was never dull.”
“You think life here is dull?” Amy’s voice held no censure, only curiosity and concern.
“Dull as a fifty-year-old knife tha
t’s never been sharpened.” Nora chuckled with amusement.
“I find it peaceful and serene. Plain lives should contain contentment, jah, but not excitement. What did you expect?”
“More people around, I suppose. John is always doing chores. Thomas is either in the fields or poring over his Bible to prepare for Sunday. And running the household and tending her children overwhelms Sally.”
“That’s not fair. Both of her boys are very young.”
“I’m not criticizing her. It’s just there are no neighbors here. Nobody drops over for a midweek visit or to borrow a cup of sugar. Folks can spend days without seeing anybody other than their families and, if they are lucky, the mailman. In Lancaster, people were constantly coming and going through mamm’s back door.”
For a few moments their thoughts wandered to a crowded kitchen, voices raised in song and laughter, the comforting smells of baking bread and simmering soup…and to their parents.
“Are you missing home?” asked Amy softly.
“No. I just needed a trip to the market.” Nora shook off her sadness like a wet dog in the rain. “Let’s get this new horse up to lightning speed. I want to see if there are more donuts left.”
“Your wish is my command.” Amy slapped the reins and the gelding tossed his silky head, pleased to trot on the flat empty road. They reached the co-op general store twice as fast as they did on their last outing. Both women marched in wearing broad grins and discovered they were the only customers—another testament to the miniscule population of Harmony.
Amy headed down the aisle of spices and seasonings, but Nora immediately felt the sensation of being watched. She turned around and met the gaze of the young clerk, the same man who had rung up their candy purchases before. That trip seemed like ages ago.
“May I help you find something?” he asked, offering a pleasant nod.
Nora marched to the counter, wishing she could pull off her black kapp. “What do you have on sale?”
The question left him momentarily dumbfounded. She could practically see the wheels turning behind his bright-blue eyes. “Do you mean marked down? Like about-to-expire cheese or bruised produce?” His eyes sparkled playfully.
“Jah, I suppose, but do you have things on sale that aren’t damaged?” She offered him her prettiest smile.
“Nein. Why would I reduce the price of merchandise if there’s nothing wrong with it?” He appeared to chew on the inside of his cheek.
“To sell more items, of course. Women love things on sale.”
“Our store only carries what people really need. And when you find something you need, you’re willing to pay a fair price for it. I won’t undercut our meager profits to make a quick sale, not even for a pretty face.”
Nora felt warmth welling up inside her that had nothing to do with the building’s lack of air-conditioning. “Who has a pretty face?” she asked.
“You do, Miss King. I noticed it yesterday.” He spritzed cleaner on the counter and wiped it up with a cloth.
“How do you know my name?” She arched one eyebrow.
He stopped cleaning and leaned an elbow on the sparkling glass. “Because Minister Detweiler introduced you, your sister, and his brother to the congregation at Sunday school and at the preaching service. I happened to be paying attention.”
She relaxed and exhaled. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. I didn’t see you in church, but I remember you from our last time in your store.”
“My daed’s store,” he corrected. “Maybe you didn’t see me because you’d fallen asleep.” He winked and then looked around to make sure the gesture hadn’t been observed.
Nora leaned forward against the counter. “Was it that obvious? I fought to stay awake, but with this heat my eyes kept closing during the sermons.”
He gave the spotless glass one final swipe with his rag. “The heat? I just remarked to my sister that it had sure cooled off recently. Whose sermon did you find particularly sleep-inducing—the bishop’s or one of the ministers’?” He paused and then feigned an expression of horror. “Certainly not Thomas’s! It would be tough to live in his household if you fell asleep whenever he spoke.”
She pursed her lips and considered a response. “Did you plan how to tease me? You seem well prepared.”
He straightened up. “I did, actually. There’s not much else to do on Mondays, and I knew you would come in at some point.”
Nora decided it was time to change the subject. “Where are the donuts? They are the main reason I’m here.”
“Ach, it’s the wrong day. You’ll have to come back on Wednesday.” He winked his other blue eye.
She narrowed her gaze. “Do you have a name, or shall I call you Impudent Rascal?”
The clerk crossed his arms, drawing Nora’s attention to biceps that strained the fabric of his shirt. “My name is Lewis. And I am pleased to see you…awake.” He stretched his hand across the counter.
Nora shook his hand as she noticed Amy approaching with an armful of dried herbs and pasta. “Nice to meet you, Lewis. I’ll watch for you on Sundays to make sure your eyelids stay fully open.”
Amy looked at them both curiously as she set down her purchases. “Don’t you have anything at all to buy?” she asked.
“I haven’t seen anything I like yet. Today’s not donut day.”
Amy sighed. “I understand your desire for a change from the farm, but I did tell John you absolutely had to come to town. Don’t you think it will look odd if you come back empty-handed?”
Nora glanced at Lewis. He seemed to enjoy their conversation immensely. “You have a point. Lewis, why not ring up Amy’s merchandise and I’ll be right back.” Moments later she returned with four different varieties of bulk candy.
“Sweets?” asked Amy, putting one hand on her hip. Then she accepted her package and change with a polite danki.
“That’s right, candy.” Nora pushed the bags across the counter. “Lewis explained that this co-op sells only essential items. Therefore, a person can assume candy is one of life’s necessities. I’ve felt that way for years.”
Lewis took the candy to ring up. “I will give you a ten percent discount, Miss King. Never let it be said our store doesn’t run sales.” He smiled warmly as he handed her the sack.
Amy glanced back over her shoulder as they headed for the door. Nora kept her focus forward.
“I do believe that man likes you,” Amy whispered as they climbed into the buggy.
Nora smoothed her dress. “Of course he does. Why do you sound surprised? I’m a pleasant enough person.”
“Pleasant?” Amy shook her head from side to side and clucked her tongue to the horse. “Giddyup there.”
“Well, some of the time I am.” Nora dug into a bag for a lemon drop.
As the buggy pulled onto a traffic-free road, Amy turned to face her. “Let’s just say you know how to be pleasant.” At that they shared a sisterly belly laugh.
For the first half of the trip home, they remained lost in their own thoughts. Then Amy asked, “Do you like him?”
“Who?” Nora put on sunglasses against the practically blinding sun.
“You know very well who I mean. Lewis.”
“He’s nice enough, despite not believing in markdowns.”
“And rather handsome, no?” Amy persisted. “Especially that smile.”
“I’d say he’s too tall and thin with rather enormous hands. How does he pick up dimes from the counter?”
Amy released an exhalation of exasperation. “He is not too thin, and most big men have big hands. It would look ridiculous if they didn’t. And you shouldn’t worry about picking up dimes. Concern yourself with finding someone to marry.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Amy. I’m only twenty. That’s too young to marry.”
“Maybe in Lancaster, but not in Maine.”
Nora popped another piece of candy into her mouth. “To tell you the truth, I can’t figure out why you’re in such a hurry.”
“Mamm and daed are gone. I needed to establish a new home for myself…and for you, if you’ll have it. I took control of my life when I decided to move here. That is the only way a woman can feel safe.” The horse danced to the side of the road as Amy’s grip loosened on the reins.
Nora pulled off her scratchy bonnet. “If control of your life is what you want, then why get married at all? It seems to me a woman surrenders her say-so to a husband on her wedding day.”
She had raised her voice to underscore her opinion. Now the words seem to hang in the crisp late summer air as Amy stared at the road, pouting for the rest of the way.
Three days later, Amy still felt troubled over Nora’s comments. John represented love, affection, and stability—a home in which to raise children, a place to grow old with a good man. And John was a good man. But if he took charge of her life—unilaterally making decisions that affected her future—she might not feel as secure as she hoped.
Bad things happen when a woman lets down her guard.
Weak people are no better than rudderless boats bobbing in rough seas.
She’d been that woman in Lancaster, even though she was the oldest daughter...and look what happened to her parents. Suddenly she gazed down at the beans she’d been snapping for supper. At some point she’d stopped saving the beans and began saving the woody stems. “Good grief,” she muttered, picking stems from the colander.
Sally glanced her way as she carried her pot of stew to the stove. “Looks like something has you tied up in knots, and it’s probably not the beans.” She joined her at the sink to sort vegetables from the scraps.
Amy shrugged. “There is much on my mind. It’ll be hard to convince the bishop we’re ready to wed when he’s only here a few days each month.”
“He arrives by Wednesday on preaching weeks and stays with his married daughter. That’s probably when he’ll counsel you and John.”
