by Mary Ellis
John stepped into the moonlight, holding the horse’s bridle. “No, Amy. If Thomas is still awake, I’ll tell him tonight. You have coddled and babied your sister long enough. It’s time she grew up and took responsibility for her actions.” He turned and stomped off toward the barn without bothering to offer a civil “gut nacht.”
Thomas stretched out his calf muscles under the warm quilt, wiggled his toes, and worked the kinks from his spine one vertebra at a time. Despite being the one at the gathering who wanted to talk until dawn, Sally had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Thomas thought it had been a successful social—Amish and English coming together to celebrate a good harvest and talk of their plans for next spring. The logic many had presented for obtaining organic certification convinced him to submit the necessary paperwork over the winter. God was good. He had blessed Harmony with fine weather this day so they could enjoy one last outdoor event. Thomas was about to surrender to sleep himself when a tap at his bedroom door jarred him alert.
“Thomas, are you still awake? I’d like a word with you.”
He bolted upright at the sound of his brother’s voice, and then he jumped out of bed before a second knock awoke Sally. Opening the door quietly, he peered into John’s deeply lined eyes. “What is it? Can’t it wait until morning?” He stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him.
“Nein, it won’t.” John spoke in a harsh, exaggerated whisper. “I smelled beer on Nora’s breath on the drive home. She had been drinking at the Stolls’ cookout, and the only person Amy saw her with was our brother.” He crossed his arms, tucking his hands beneath his braces.
“Elam? Are you sure?” Thomas tried to clear the cobwebs from his tired brain.
“Who else in the district would do such a thing? I saw him there with my own eyes, slinking in the shadows like a fox near the henhouse. He wanted to get supper without interacting with folks.” John met his gaze and held it, expecting him to say or do something as the eldest Detweiler and a minister of the district.
Something I probably should have done a long time ago. “Give me a moment.” Thomas crept back into the room to retrieve his robe and slippers. Then he marched down to the first floor as determination and ire rose with each step. John followed close on his heels.
How many casual conversations had he had with Elam? How many times had he gently corrected infractions of the rules without anger or judgment? He had bent over backward to tolerate Elam’s continued fence-sitting while others would have been given an ultimatum—join us and abide by the Ordnung or leave to make a life elsewhere. He provided a home for his wayward bruder without asking for a dime from his paycheck toward food or shelter. At long last, Thomas’s blood began to boil.
In the kitchen he grabbed a flashlight from atop the refrigerator and handed John the battery lantern from the peg. “Let’s check his quarters before he returns from the party,” he said, heading down the cellar stairs. He had every right to discover what went on inside his house—a house paid for with his life savings and restored by the sweat of his brow. Thomas hung the lantern from an overhead hook, and the two brothers began rummaging around the austere room.
It didn’t take long to find snack food, several packs of soda pop, an assortment of car magazines, a battery-powered radio, and a charger for a cell phone. But where Elam would plug in the thing was a mystery to them. John also discovered a pint of whiskey under the mattress and a carton of filtered cigarettes on the ledge above the washtub. He tossed those two items on the bed with the outdated library publications.
“Under my nose, in my own home,” moaned Thomas. “This is how he repays my patience and continued indulgence.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, like grapes left too long on the vine. He swallowed hard as they heard approaching footsteps from the outside entrance.
Elam appeared in the doorway, hatless and disheveled, as if he’d run all the way back from the Stoll farm. “Looking for something specific?” he sneered. “Or are you just invading my privacy for no particular reason?”
Thomas closed the short distance between them. “You aren’t entitled to privacy in my home—not anymore, not after tonight.” He pointed at the whiskey bottle and carton of cigarettes. “You get liquored up and smoke in my house while my fraa and kinner sleep?” He didn’t hide his revulsion.
Elam’s brown eyes darkened to almost black. “I’ve never smoked in the house or enjoyed an evening nip indoors. I give in to my weaknesses away from your precious abode.”
Thomas felt no relief whatsoever. “Tonight you shared your weakness with Nora King. Is it not so?” He couldn’t control the anger in his voice.
“I didn’t offer it to her. She came upon me eating supper in my buggy and saw a six-pack of beer under the seat.” He shrugged with defiance. “She took a can of her own accord.”
“I suspect she drank more than one.” John spat rather than spoke the words. “I smelled it strong on her breath.”
“Like I said, it wasn’t my idea she partake in the first place.” Elam moved from the doorway to the bed to assess his magazines.
Thomas narrowed his focus. “It’s time you looked for another logging job. And in the meantime, you will not bring forbidden alcohol or tobacco into my home again.”
Elam glared first at John and then at Thomas, thinning his mouth into a hard line. Yet he remained silent.
After several uncomfortable moments, Thomas demanded, “Do you understand?”
The two brothers engaged in a stare-down before Elam glanced away. “I understand,” he mumbled.
Thomas and John stomped up the steps to their beds, yet both would suffer restless sleep despite their fatigue.
Nora finally found a Sunday school lesson that didn’t put her to sleep during the first five minutes. Thomas had spoken about the parable of the mustard seed. It was the smallest of all seeds, but it became the largest of all garden plants, providing long branches for birds to make their nests. She loved how Jesus taught in parables but explained what He meant to the disciples so there would be no confusion.
Now, if only they would replace these hard, uncomfortable benches in the meetinghouse. Why couldn’t this district meet in people’s homes or outbuildings the way every other Amish community in America did? She’d read that Plain folk lived in twenty-eight different states, including Colorado, Texas, and Florida. Couldn’t John have picked some place warm to move to instead of this wilderness?
“Are you going to slice those loaves of bread? Or do you expect people to tear off a chunk to make their sandwich?” asked Sally, studying her with interest.
The sarcasm jarred Nora back to her present circumstances—helping to set out the noon meal. Sally arranged meats and cheeses on a platter while Amy scooped pickled eggs and beets into bowls wearing an equally hawkish expression. Amy had watched her every move since they returned from the pig roast, as though if she turned her back for a second, Nora might pull out a bottle of beer.
Nora giggled with the mental picture of guzzling a Budweiser in plain sight. Now the other women might fear her mad, besides a reckless drunkard. But if she admitted the truth, she didn’t much care for the taste of beer. She would rather drink a Pepsi or cherry soda. It was Elam Detweiler who caused her to do crazy things—not by suggestion but by example. She’d never met anyone who lived by his own rules, not caring what others said or thought about him.
“Do you think your brother-in-law will show up for lunch like he did at the pig roast?” asked Nora of Sally. She sliced the whole wheat loaves uniformly and arranged the slices artfully on the tray.
“Who, John?” asked Sally. “He’s standing over there by the cider barrel with Thomas.” Sally bustled around directing the ladies where to put their contributions, glowing with the success of her food lists.
Why she hadn’t thought of it sooner was a mystery to Nora. “No, not John. I mean Elam.” Nora dropped the carving knife into the tub of soapy water.
Amy looked as though she mi
ght faint dead away, but Sally closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. She stood practically nose to nose and hissed under her breath, “You’re in enough trouble, young lady. I strongly recommend you forget about Elam. A walk down that road will only lead to certain ruin.”
Nora opened her mouth to remind Sally of Scriptures such as: “Do not judge others, and you will not be judged.” And “Let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone.” But men suddenly formed a sandwich line, thwarting the opportunity. By the time everyone had been served, Nora had lost her appetite. She grabbed an apple and sat alone on the meetinghouse steps. No one joined her to chitchat or offer a sample of their secret recipe brownies or walnut tarts. No one liked her. She was as much an outcast in Harmony as Elam. But at least Elam would find another job to take him away from the ceaseless boredom.
Nora bit into her apple as movement caught her eye. Lewis from the store waved and pointed at the empty spot next to him on the bench. He was eating lunch with several of his sisters. They motioned for her to join them. How the sight of him stung. He was so kind and gentle, so attentive to her. Yet one glance at his dull, drab sisters indicated exactly what lay down that road…to paraphrase Sally Detweiler. Nora grinned, held up her apple, and gestured it was all she desired. Then she left to find her sister in case Lewis decided to become persistent.
She found Amy and John with four people she didn’t know. “Join us,” said Amy. “Where’s the rest of your lunch? Do you want half my sandwich?” She scooted over to make room.
Nora shook her head. “No, I’m not hungry. If it’s okay with you, I’ll start for home.”
“Walking?” Amy looked suspicious.
“Jah, I’m just going home to rest. Please don’t worry so much.” Nora headed toward the road. For the remainder of the day, she stayed in her room napping and praying to be released from her Harmony incarceration. She ventured downstairs only long enough to eat a tuna fish sandwich and a hard-boiled egg. No one had called her to supper. In the living room Amy sewed by the fire while the Detweilers read. Their sons played with toys on the braided carpet. Dejected and filled with self-pity, Nora climbed into her bed fully dressed and fell asleep. When she awoke a few hours later, Amy was sleeping in the other bed while a bright-yellow moon beckoned her to the window. Nora sat on the straight-backed chair daydreaming of home until something in the yard drew her nose to the glass.
Elam hauled the open pony cart from the shed into the barnyard. From her vantage point she watched him hitch the sleek, black stallion he’d been grooming the first day they met. Where was he going in the middle of the night? It took her less than a moment to decide to find out.
Creeping silently downstairs, Nora grabbed her cloak from the peg and closed the door behind her. A mouse couldn’t have made less noise.
Elam looked up as she approached, but his expression remained bland. “Aren’t you already in enough hot water because of me, Miss King?”
“You haven’t done anything. I only have myself to blame, if I were to blame someone…which I don’t choose to do.” She stepped closer.
“That’s a lot of words when a simple jah or nein would have sufficed.” He finished attaching the bit to the bridle and then faced her. “What exactly do you want out here tonight? Couldn’t sleep, so you wondered what the family black sheep was up to?”
She didn’t flinch or look away. “I wanted to know where you were going at midnight on the Sabbath.”
He ran a hand down the horse’s mane to calm his eagerness. “It’s not the Sabbath anymore. If the Harmony bishop or his ministers cared to consult Scripture, the Sabbath ended at sundown. So folks should be allowed to sow by moonlight or take a late night buggy ride if they choose. At this time of day the roads are empty of Amish buggies or English cars—nothing to worry about.” Elam climbed into the pony cart as the stallion pranced. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one eager to feel the wind in his hair. Elam studied her face long enough for her to grow uncomfortable from the perusal. Then he stretched out his hand. “Want to join me on the fastest ride of your life?”
Without hesitation, without consideration for the consequences, Nora looked him in the eye and replied, “You bet I would.”
FOURTEEN
When mine eyes shall close in death
Ready to go?” asked John. “I’m free until suppertime. In fact, if we miss supper and are forced to grab a bite in town, so be it.” He beamed with way more energy than usual for a Monday.
Amy didn’t feel half so peppy, even though her chores had been less tiring than his. “I’m not sure this is a good day to go after all.” She hung up the damp dish towel to dry.
John wasn’t remotely deterred. “This is a perfect day to go. Thomas will be gone all day on district business, and Sally went next door with her little ones. We are free as birds.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“I’m a bird with a clipped wing.” Amy sighed while glancing toward the stairs. “Nora still hasn’t come down yet. She just moaned and buried her head beneath the quilt when I tried waking her this morning.”
“And why would that affect our looking at farms for sale?” He leaned against the kitchen counter.
“I don’t know if she has one of her migraines or is simply being lazy.” Amy wiped down the kitchen table for the second time.
John pursed his lips while pondering this. “Either way, we’re not talking about Aden or Jeremiah. We’re discussing Nora, who is capable of taking care of herself while we’re gone.”
Amy tossed her rag into the sink. “I know, but I’m afraid if we leave that she might get into trouble.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’d planned to ask her to come with us today.”
John’s eyes nearly bugged from his face. “Why would we take her along? I don’t need her negative comments when this will be our farm.”
“But look at the stunts she pulled at the pig roast when I let her out of sight.”
This time he rolled his eyes. “You can’t watch her every minute of the day to prevent bad things from happening, Amy. You are not her keeper.”
“I know that, but maybe we should keep tabs until Elam returns to his logging crew.”
“He was fired. Who knows if he’ll find another job away from home? Besides, the real estate agent is meeting us at the first property. Everything is set up for today.” He opened his hands, almost in supplication.
“Then let me get my outer bonnet,” she agreed. But inside Amy felt anything but agreeable. Nora needed to stay out of trouble or Thomas might send her back to Pennsylvania. And who would look out for her there? Their grandparents were too old to understand a young woman testing her wings before settling down. Nora might make irrevocable mistakes without Amy’s guidance. She might not be able to control Elam, but she could prevent Nora from ruining her reputation with him.
A few minutes later Amy had her bonnet and purse, but Nora still hadn’t come downstairs. So she had no choice but to paste on a smile and leave the Detweiler farm with her husband-to-be. She couldn’t expect John to wait forever for the perfect opportunity.
When they arrived at the first farm, the English Realtor was pacing the length of the porch. “There you are,” she called in a melodic voice. “I should have picked you up instead of meeting you here. We would have saved time. Hi, I’m Jane Chadd.” She pumped their hands in turn, wearing the whitest smile Amy had even seen. Then the woman marched up to the front door and threw it open with a flourish.
“Now, don’t be shocked,” said Mrs. Chadd. “No one has lived here in ten years. Once those holes in the roof are patched and the broken window glass has been replaced, you can start on the interior one room at a time.”
Amy followed John inside a building that should have been torn down, not put up for sale.
“Mind your step,” the Realtor cautioned. “The last tenants left behind some unfortunate souvenirs.”
“Oh, good grief!” Amy quickly pulled up her apron to cover her mouth and nose.
“Now, Amy,” murmured John. “It doesn’t smell anymore. Those were left last winter. Raccoons prefer living outdoors until the snow starts to fly.” He stepped over the dung and followed the Realtor on a whirlwind tour of the dilapidated hovel.
“Is there plenty of good fertile land that comes with the house? Is that why we’re looking at this property?” Amy whispered conspiratorially to him so as not to offend the agent. Broken windowpanes, sagging floorboards, and missing stair treads indicated a house beyond repair in her estimation.
“Nein. More than half the acres are wooded, while the tillable land has lain fallow for years.” John leaned on a saggy post that threatened to give way.
Apparently, Amy’s facial expression indicated she needed no further elaboration.
“Are we ready to see the next place, folks?” asked the bubbly Realtor. “Why don’t we leave your buggy here and take my car to save time? I’ll bring you back when we’re finished.”
Amy couldn’t exit the shack fast enough. It hadn’t contained one redeemable feature. Climbing into the backseat of the sedan, she let John ride up front with the Realtor.
“I believe you’ll like the second property better, Miss King.” Mrs. Chadd spoke to Amy’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “It hasn’t been vacant for nearly as long.”
It would be impossible not to. “That’s refreshing to hear.” Amy kneaded her knuckles in her lap and stared at the passing scenery.
John turned around to face her, practically strangling in the seat belt. “We are touring in the reverse order of my preference. I saved the best property for last.”
If the first one was any indication, perhaps we should skip ahead to the end, she thought, but she asked, “You visited these earlier while I was gone?”
“Jah, several times. Plus a few others I already eliminated.”
“I don’t see why you didn’t eliminate the raccoon hotel.” Amy’s tone sounded more sarcastic than she’d intended.
