Living in Harmony

by Mary Ellis

  Nora stepped forward. “You’re glad she’s here?” She sounded more shocked than skeptical.

  “Jah, I am,” he said. “Amy had wanted to reestablish a relationship with her while in Maine. I feared she would return to Pennsylvania without seeing her one more time.” He tugged off his gloves and stuck them into a jacket pocket.

  Nora’s green eyes softened. “Well, I hope Aunt Prudence can talk some sense into her.”

  John had no idea what kind of “sense” Nora would prefer, but nevertheless he nodded and dipped his head toward his former sister-in-law-to-be.

  “She paid the taxi driver and he left, plus she brought an overnight satchel. So that’s a good sign she’ll stay a day or two.” Sally looked at one man and then the other.

  John nodded at her too, feeling like a rooster pecking for grain with his bobbing neck. He left the barn as though he remembered an urgent task, but in fact he couldn’t stomach all the furtive, sympathetic glances and innuendos. He didn’t want to talk about Prudence’s visit with anyone except Amy. And because he couldn’t imagine that happening, he needed to get away, period.

  John walked down the road, careful to watch for oncoming cars. Should one approach, the roadway was too narrow from the banked snow. He would have to leap into a drift to save his life. But no cars ventured down the Detweiler road, leaving John to muse of what might have been if he hadn’t been a loathsome man. When he could no longer feel his toes, he turned back, exhausted yet relieved he was too tired to think. As he reached the porch steps, their new guest stepped out the side door. She wore a wool afghan around her shoulders and carried something steaming in her mug.

  “Aunt Prudence?” he asked, a bit ridiculously. “Mrs. Summerton?” he corrected.

  “I am, but you were right the first time. Call me Aunt Prudence.” She offered a broad smile that erased years from her features. “You must be John Detweiler. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Then you must not know what I’ve done. The thought shamefully flitted through his mind. “I’m glad to meet you. And I would appreciate a word with you if you don’t mind.”

  “I have all the time in the world, young man. Should we sit there?” She pointed at a forlorn porch swing lightly dusted with snow.

  It looked very unappealing in the stiff breeze and dropping temperatures. “Nein. Let’s talk indoors where you’ll be warmer.” John moved to open the door for her.

  “No, let’s stay out here. This house seems to have busybodies afoot, and I think we would both enjoy some solitude. We’ll survive a little cold and snow.” Prudence plunked down on the swing without bothering to brush off a patch.

  He laughed at her astute observation as his nervousness dwindled. “Danki. I appreciate that. You’ve only been here a few hours, and you’ve discovered a key characteristic of the Detweilers.”

  “It’s an Amish shortcoming.” She pulled down her sleeves to cover her hands.

  John leaned against the porch rail, buttoned his coat, and crossed his arms. “Thank you for responding to Sally and Nora’s letter and coming here. I’m aware of your earlier reservations about visiting Harmony. Amy enjoyed her trip to Chestnut because she so wanted to reconnect with family. She would have regretted leaving Maine without seeing you again.” He locked gazes with the woman’s warm brown eyes. They contained only compassion, or perhaps it was simply his wishful thinking. “I will be forever grateful for your comforting Amy today, no matter what the outcome.”

  Prudence slapped the armrest of the swing. “Stop sounding so grim. Good grief, one would think somebody died the way you’re going on and on.” She tightened the shawl around her shoulders. “All is not lost. There’s still hope for you.”

  He shook off the notion of hope. “I’ve more to say, Aunt. I wronged you. You sent letters to your niece and I read them and then burned them. I’m no better than a common criminal, but I’m sorry for what I did.” He swallowed hard, not looking away from her.

  “Amy told me about your mischief and the reasoning behind your actions.” She studied him like an interesting moth trapped in a web. “You might be a criminal, jah, but I suspect you’re not the least bit common, John Detweiler. You have my forgiveness and my blessing for a long and happy life with my niece. Now, let’s go in the house. I want to see if any more cinnamon rolls are hidden in the cupboards. I forgot how much I loved those things.”

  When John opened the door for the older woman, he found Amy blocking their entrance with her hands on her hips. “Both of you should know better than to talk right under the window. I’m afraid Sally’s habit has rubbed off on me.” Her face held a long-absent peaceful expression.

  “Your mamm would swat your backside if she’d caught you, young lady,” said Prudence to Amy, stepping around her. “And folks wonder why I choose Chestnut over Harmony.” She made a dismissive noise. “I’m going to forgo my snack and take a hot tub soak instead. Cold has settled in my bones. Call me when it’s lunchtime.” The bathroom door clicked shut behind her.

  Amy glanced toward the living room and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I heard your apology, John. That was very brave.”

  “It needed to be said.” He tried to find something to focus on other than her beautiful face. “I’m glad she arrived before you left for home. Above all, I want you to be happy, and if that’s in Lancaster with someone else, so be it.” Surprisingly, he no longer felt the familiar sadness, only a vague sense of resignation. He forced himself to smile.

  Amy pulled him inside and closed the door behind him. “I’m glad to hear you want me happy, because that means I’m staying right here in Waldo County. This is where I want to be, John, with you, as your wife.”

  He couldn’t believe his deceptive, malfunctioning ears. “But—”

  “Stop. Not another word. People make mistakes. I’ve made some of my own and will probably make a few more before I die. But those who love, forgive. That’s what we’ve been taught every Sunday since we were little kinner. And I certainly love you.”

  There they were—the words he’d longed to hear for a long time. And he could do nothing more than just stand there, staring at her.

  Tick, tock, tick, tock…the clock marked passing moments in their lives, ones they would never get back. But John realized he would have plenty of other moments—millions, really—with the woman he loved. He pulled her into his arms. “And I love you, Amelia King.”

  They hugged until she finally squirmed away. “Before we get too mushy, I need to see if Elam’s cell phone still has a charge.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “I want to call Mrs. Chadd to say we need to close that real estate deal for the Morrell house.”

  “You needn’t make any rash decisions, Amy. Much has happened today. Enjoy your aunt’s visit, and then in a few days—”

  “No, John. I’ve made up my mind. I don’t want another family snapping up my dream house while I bake cookies, sip tea, and get caught up on news. I’ll have plenty of time for that later. I’ve dragged my feet long enough, so please walk me down to the cellar to borrow Elam’s phone. You know how frightened I am of spiders.”

  Elam heard two pairs of boots stomping down the inside basement stairs before he saw John and Amy. They sounded like clumsy heifers trying to climb a ladder. He made no attempt to hide what he was doing because his plans to get on with life were underway, the wheels finally in motion. When his brother and Amy walked around the clothespress and crates of canning jars, Elam reclined against the wall. His stack of magazines were scattered across the bed as they had been the day pretty Nora had come calling. However, the beer he held was far more damaging, along with the three empty bottles in the cardboard carton by his feet. Most onerous of all was the burning cigarette in the ashtray on the floor.

  Like a matched pair of marionettes, John and Amy looked at him, the open bottle of beer, and then the burning cigarette, in that order.

  Elam bent down to stub it out. “Has the happy couple patched up the
ir differences? If so, I’m glad to hear it.” He resumed his casual pose against the wall.

  While Amy blinked several times from the smoke, John cleared his throat. “We have, danki, but Amy has a favor to ask. She would like to use your phone if it happens to be charged up.” He kept staring at the smoldering butt, which gave off a foul, burnt-paper odor.

  Elam pushed off the bed and strode to where his heavy work jacket hung from a hook. “No problem. Are you two calling a cab? Maybe running away to get married in Portland and then honeymooning on the coast?” He angled his smile straight at Amy. “Of course, summer would have been preferable for a seaside vacation. Walking the beach on days like today could lead to serious frostbite.”

  Amy wrinkled her nose. “A taxi? No, I wish to call a real estate agent about a farm for sale here in Harmony.”

  Elam extracted the phone from an inside pocket, snapped it open, and handed it to her. “Sorry to hear that. You folks would do better to take that trip to Portland and keep going south.”

  John cleared his throat but held back whatever comment he had with great effort. “I appreciate the loan. We’ll return the phone soon.” He took hold of Amy’s hand.

  Elam hooked a thumb toward the entrance directly outside. “Best reception is at the top of those steps.”

  Amy managed a verbal response. “Danki, Elam. I am in your debt.”

  “Not for much longer you won’t be.” He grinned at his brother’s bride-to-be. Pretty, but not as pretty as your fireball younger sister. It was too bad he was going before he and Nora could get better acquainted. That green-eyed, speak-whatever-came-to-mind Nora King would be his only regret about leaving Maine. He slumped back onto the bed with a car magazine until his brother returned alone with the phone a few minutes later.

  John held it out in an outstretched palm. “Thomas asked you not to smoke inside his home,” he stated flatly.

  “Jah, I recall, but I’ve been very careful to keep ashes only over the concrete. The weather’s been too nasty to sit outside to smoke.”

  A muscle jumped in John’s neck. “Children and women sleep on the second floor of this house and could easily become trapped should fire break out in the basement.” John spoke very slowly, enunciating each word to make sure his meaning was clear. He stared him in the eye without blinking.

  After a moment, Elam glanced away. “I won’t do it again, bruder. I promise.”

  John took a couple of steps toward the inside stairs and stopped. “Danki again for letting Amy make that call. Why don’t you join us for supper tonight? I heard Sally’s making fried chicken. Isn’t that one of your favorites?” He looked back over his shoulder.

  The invitation left Elam momentarily speechless. “Jah, it is, or used to be. Let me think about it and consult my social calendar.” He laughed humorously.

  John left the stale-smelling cellar as fast as his legs could carry him.

  Thomas savored his mashed potatoes topped with cheese, enjoying the lively table conversation. Amy chatted with John, Sally, and her aunt as though she’d been gone for a long time and needed to catch up. Sally, of course, filled Prudence in on news of Harmony district members she might remember—marriages, deaths, new kinner and kinskinner—the events which defined their lives.

  Prudence had originally seemed nervous around him, as though she might not be given a warm welcome. A shunned member could be offered shelter, food, and any other necessities, but those meals shouldn’t have been at the table with the family. However, Thomas had no intention of following the strict letter of the Ordnung on this matter. If he faced censure from the bishop, so be it. Prudence Hilty Summerton had suffered much in her life through no fault of her own. He wouldn’t add to her sorrow.

  “Some pie, ehemann?” asked Sally, breaking his woolgathering.

  “Jah, please.”

  “John?” she asked, pie server in hand.

  Her brother-in-law continued to gaze from Amy to the current conversationalist and back again. Amy seemed to have put the man into a trance with her feminine powers.

  “John, my wife asked you a question.” Thomas thumped his brother on the arm.

  “Mir leid,” he apologized, surprised to find Sally at his elbow. “No, I’ve had enough to eat.” He turned back to focus on Amy’s description of the house they both loved. The real estate agent hadn’t answered their phone call yet, but the message left after the beep had been clear: “We wish to proceed with the purchase of the farm without delay.” Amy’s face glowed as she described the huge kitchen, the number and size of bedrooms, and the incredible view of the Dixmont hills in the distance.

  Prudence oohed and ahhed at appropriate intervals, sharing her niece’s enthusiasm. The only quiet person at the dinner table was Nora. The young woman replied if directly addressed yet otherwise picked at her meal listlessly. Sibling rivalry was normal enough, even among the most devout Christians. It couldn’t be easy to be a rudderless orphan with few prospects for the future. As Thomas considered another cup of coffee before heading out to evening chores, the cellar door swung open and banged against the wall. Seven pairs of eyes turned toward the commotion as all conversation ceased.

  “Oncle Ee-um,” said Aden, lifting his small fingers in a wave.

  “Elam,” murmured Nora. “Glad you could join us.”

  The other five adults stared, slack-jawed at his appearance.

  John leaned slightly toward Thomas. “I invited him to supper when Amy and I borrowed his cell phone.”

  Thomas nodded his acknowledgment. However, it wasn’t Elam’s arrival that startled him but the younger man’s appearance. He had on faded blue jeans and a plaid flannel shirt open at the neck. The sleeves had been rolled to the elbows, revealing his thermal undershirt beneath. He wore a leather belt rather than braces, and what looked to be brand-new, expensive work boots. His freshly washed hair had been slicked back from his face, bangless and utterly too long. His high cheekbones looked more pronounced, as though he’d lost weight. And most irritating to Thomas was the man’s three-day-old beard, well beyond normal stubble by day’s end.

  Beards were only grown by married Amish men, a badge of honor that they had committed their lives to one God and one woman. Elam wasn’t a married man, and as far as Thomas knew, he had no prospects along those lines. Thomas cleared his throat as the others remained silent. He seldom felt anger, but he was beginning to feel the first red-hued sensations deep in his gut.

  “You come to my supper table dressed like that?”

  Elam stood at the stove, loading his plate with four pieces of fried chicken. “As our brother already told you, I got an invitation.” He slapped a dollop of mashed potatoes next to the chicken, and then he ladled on a topping of rich brown gravy.

  “It is your clothing I object to, not sharing a meal with you, Elam.” Thomas wadded up his paper napkin into a tight ball.

  “You have served many Englischers dressed like this at the meetinghouse and here at home.” Elam balanced two buttermilk biscuits atop his mound of food, grabbed a fork from a drawer, and walked to the table. He set down the plate but didn’t sit.

  “Is that what you consider yourself to be—an Englischer?” Thomas sounded more like a growling dog than a man addressing a member of his family. Up until now Elam had left his logging crew clothing below and come upstairs in traditional Amish garb.

  Elam glared at him. “Not usually, only today. I understand we have a special guest.” He flashed a pearly-white grin at Prudence Summerton.

  Amy set down her glass of milk. “Elam, this is my Aunt Prudence, visiting from upstate. Aunt Pru, this is John’s younger bruder, Elam.”

  Elam took a huge bite of biscuit and talked around the food. “Pleased to meet ya.” He swallowed and then shoved the remainder in his mouth.

  “Likewise, I’m sure.” The older woman smiled, oddly amused.

  “And I hear the lovebirds have patched things up. That’s good news. John ain’t never gonna find a prettier gal than t
his one, that’s for sure.” He waved a chicken leg in Amy’s general direction and then bit off a chunk. Crumbs of breading dropped onto the polished wood floor.

  Amy turned bright pink, John a shade of deep plum, and Sally faded to ghostly white. Nora giggled, popping a brussels sprout into her mouth.

  “So the weddin’s back on? Hope I can stick around long enough to go to that. Plenty of good eats at a weddin’. Folks pull out all the stops whenever another good man bites the dust.” Elam licked his fingertips before selecting a thigh to eat next. Standing to dine didn’t seem to bother him in the least.

  “This man, however good or not, is not biting the dust.” John’s words hung frozen in the warm kitchen air. He glared at Elam but made a great effort to release his clenched hands, one finger at a time.

  “Just an expression, that’s all.” Elam winked at John before turning his attention to Aunt Prudence. “So what do you think of Harmony these days? A few more families, but not much else has changed. Ever get the idea that somebody closed the door and time just stopped here?” He lifted the plate up to his chin to shovel in an enormous amount of mashed potatoes.

  Prudence tilted her head to one side. “People don’t often fix things that aren’t broken.” She dabbed her lips daintily with the napkin.

  “Why don’t you sit down before you make a mess on our freshly washed floor?” Nora added a schoolmarm inflection to the scolding.

  Elam’s face flushed to a particularly bright hue. Too bright. And his black eyes were entirely too shiny. At that moment Thomas realized something that might have been obvious to a more astute man: His brother was inebriated. Thomas rose to his full height and pushed back his chair. He reached the end of the table in a few long strides. Once they were eye to eye, Elam continued to eat as though the plate might suddenly be pulled from his hands. Thomas smelled the sour stink of cigarettes on his clothing and the faint but distinct odor of beer. “You may not sit with us,” he said. “Take your supper down to your room. I’ll speak to you later.”