An Amish Gathering (Three Amish Novellas)

by Beth Wiseman

  “Now, I reckon I best get to the ladies’ room before we get back on the road.” Ruth pushed her chair back.

  “Me too,” Leah said. “Be right back.”

  As Leah followed Ruth to the women’s restroom, Aaron smiled. The two women were different in so many ways, but both had a spirited way of looking at life. He took a sip of his tea and thought about how he might be able to set up another date with Leah . . . without referring to it as a date, of course.

  Paradiso was clearing out, but Leah’s two friends were still in the booth nearby. He could hear them chatting quietly, and he didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when he heard Leah’s name mentioned, he couldn’t help but tune in. He smiled when he heard one of the girls say what a sweet person Leah was.

  “But I wish she wouldn’t force all this religious stuff on us,” Aaron heard the other girl say. “I mean, she’s fun to hang out with when she’s not preaching. And now she wants us to read her Amish book? I don’t think so.”

  But it’s not an Amish book. It’s about love, kindness, special friendships, and a relationship with the Lord.

  “I agree. Leah is nice enough, but I’m not buying into all this religious junk.”

  Aaron cut his eyes briefly in their direction, long enough to see them stepping away from the booth and heading to the exit door.

  Leah’s book.

  They’d left it in the plastic bag, pushed up against the wall, as if it weren’t anything special at all. It’s her only copy, and it’s very special.

  Aaron acted quickly. He grabbed the bag filled with handwritten lined white pages—words Leah had toiled over until a perfect tale of love and God’s blessings had spilled onto the pages. He scurried back to his seat, and he could hear Ruth’s voice around the corner.

  His urge to protect Leah overwhelmed him. It’s a good book. He stood up, leaned over, and stuffed the plastic bag as far down in Ruth’s giant bag as he could get it, amid items he was sure he didn’t want to see. Aaron threw himself back into his chair right before the two women entered the room.

  “I just love your aunt,” Leah whispered when she sat down. “She’s delightful.”

  “You’re delightful.” It just slipped out, and Aaron silently blasted himself for being so forward. But Leah’s dimples shone with approval.

  James peered out his bedroom window, straining to see into the darkness.

  “Are you spying on our maedel?” Marian wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head around him to see. “They were gone for a good bit.”

  “Ya.” James watched Aaron walk Leah to the door, but once they hit the porch, James could no longer see them from the upstairs window. The car headlights lit up the front yard, and James thought about what an entertaining supper it must have been with Ruth.

  “Perhaps they are becoming more than friends, no?” Marian pulled away from him and moved toward the bed. James followed her, rubbed his beard, and waited for his wife to pull back the covers.

  He grinned. “I hope so.”

  James turned on the small battery-operated fan on his night table and sat down on the bed. He stretched his legs atop the covers, crossed his ankles, and yawned. Marian dimmed the lantern and snuggled up next to him, kissed him on the cheek, and then moved to her side of the bed. They both bowed their heads in silent prayer.

  James thanked the Lord for the many blessings in his life, and once he was done with his usual prayers, he added a special request.

  Please, dear Father, help Leah to master the skills necessary for her to be a gut fraa. Help her to realize her place and to stop wasting her time with these silly stories she writes. Guide her, Lord, and help her to be a responsible young Amish woman. In Jesus’ name, I pray.

  “Good night, my love.” Marian extinguished the lantern.

  James locked his hands behind his head and faced the small fan, the gentle breeze a small relief from the stifling heat. “Good night.”

  Aaron climbed into the front seat with Ruth after he walked Leah to the door. There was an awkward but wonderful moment when Leah’s eyes had fused with his in a way that made him think that they were becoming more than just friends.

  “So did you ask her out again?” Ruth peeled down the driveway.

  “Ya, I did. Worship service is at our haus this Sunday. I asked her if she’d like to take a buggy ride to Bird-in-Hand after the meal.” He paused, checked his seat belt, and grabbed the dash as Ruth rounded the corner.

  “She’s a fine girl. Spunky.” Ruth turned toward Aaron. He wished she’d keep her eyes on the road. “But Aaron, Leah isn’t your ordinary Amish girl. As a matter of fact, I’m not seeing where you two have much in common.” She stared straight ahead again. “You’re rather boring compared to her.”

  “What?” Aaron twisted in his seat to face her. “How can you say that to me?”

  Ruth shrugged. “I love ya, Aaron.” She hesitated. “Actually, you’re my favorite, but don’t tell the others. Anyway, you just strike me as the kind of young man who is gonna want a woman to cook for ya, sew, tend to your house, and be, well—traditional.” Ruth chuckled. “I didn’t have to spend much time with Leah to realize that she ain’t real traditional. And I’ve heard your sisters speak of her. When they heard we were all going out to supper, I heard Annie telling Mary that the two of you weren’t a very good match.”

  How dare they? “Leah and I would make a fine match.” Aaron sat taller and looped his thumbs in his suspenders. “And I’m not boring.”

  “Maybe that was a bad choice of words. But you ain’t spunky like she is. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “It’s one of the things I like about Leah, her free spirit.”

  Ruth pulled into the Lantz driveway. “From what she said tonight, I don’t think that father of hers encourages that free spirit. And Leah don’t strike me as someone who’s gonna be tamed into something she’s not.”

  Aaron thought about what Ruth was saying, surprised at how much sense his aunt was trying to make, even if she was wrong about him. “I wouldn’t try to change her, Auntie Ruth.”

  Ruth turned the car off and grabbed her big pink bag, then Aaron remembered.

  “Ach, Auntie Ruth. I stuffed something in your purse when you were in the bathroom with Leah.”

  She pushed open her car door, draped one foot out the door, but turned to look at him, her nose crinkling with displeasure. “Like the silverware, or what?”

  Aaron grunted. “No.” He pointed to her purse. “There’s a plastic bag filled with papers. It’s one of Leah’s stories. Her Englisch friends left it on the table at Paradiso. I’ll give it to her on Sunday, but I didn’t want to make the night bad by telling her that her friends left something so important behind.”

  Ruth dug around to the bottom of the bag and pulled out the plastic bag. “I thought this purse felt heavier.” She glanced at Aaron. “Have you read this?”

  “Ya. It’s gut.”

  They sat quietly in the dark for a moment. “Think Leah would mind if I read it?”

  Aaron shrugged. “She seems to want people to read it. I reckon it’d be all right.”

  Ruth put the bag back in her purse, then groaned as she lifted herself to a standing position. Aaron eased out of his seat, and they both closed the car doors and began walking toward the house.

  “I’ll read it tonight. I might be dead tomorrow or the next day.”

  “Why do you keep saying things like that, Auntie Ruth?” Aaron shook his head, then latched onto her arm as she walked up the porch steps. He thought about Leah lying in the meadow and how ridiculously he’d acted.

  He reached for the matches on the shelf inside the kitchen door, pulled the lantern from the same place, and lit it. He held it out so Auntie Ruth could see her way into the kitchen.

  She dropped the big purse on the kitchen table, put her hands on her hips, and stared hard at Aaron. “I say it because it’s the truth.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  LEAH TIED THE
STRINGS ON HER KAPP AND RUSHED DOWN-stairs for Sunday breakfast. She was late for the second time this week. Everyone was seated at the table, already eating, when she walked in. Her father didn’t look up, but everyone else did.

  “Why didn’t you wake me up?” she whispered between clenched teeth when she slid onto the bench beside Edna.

  “I shouldn’t have to.” Edna didn’t whisper, and Leah cut her eyes at her sister.

  “That’s enough,” their mother warned.

  Leah was looking forward to spending time with Aaron after worship service, for reasons that surprised her. She wasn’t sure what the point was. Aaron clearly wanted more than just friendship, and Leah wasn’t ready for that. But every time Leah thought about him, a strange feeling overtook her.

  “Daed?” Leah knew this wasn’t the best time to approach her father about her plans with Aaron, but once breakfast was over, there would be morning chores, then they’d all be off to church service.

  Her father looked up.

  “Aaron asked me to go for a ride to Bird-in-Hand after worship service today. Would that be all right?”

  Edna slammed her fork down on her plate, and Leah saw her draw in a breath and press her lips together. Leah watched her father warn Edna with his eyes. A first that she could recall.

  Mary Carol and Kathleen glanced up but stayed quiet, as did their mother.

  “I reckon it will be all right,” Daed said as he reached for a piece of bacon.

  Leah fought the urge to send grumpy Edna a smug grin. “Danki, Daed.”

  Ever since she’d started spending time with Aaron, her father didn’t seem to mind what she did or didn’t do around the house. She didn’t mean to be late for breakfast, she’d just stayed up too late working on her book. She thought about Donna and Clare, and she couldn’t wait to see what her friends thought about her story, and whether it would help the girls have a better understanding of God and how a relationship with Him would change their lives.

  Ruth flipped open her big red suitcase, the one she’d purchased at the market in Tuscany. She recalled the big burly man trying to get her to pay the sticker price. He didn’t know who he was dealing with.

  It had been six months since she’d attended an Amish worship service, which was during her last visit to Paradise. She pulled out her favorite red dress with large white polka dots and glanced at her red straw hat hanging on the bedpost. Perfect.

  As she dressed, she cursed herself for staying up almost all night to finish young Leah’s story. The girl had a gift. That was for sure. But she couldn’t help wonder how much this community would try to mold her into something she was not, and whether they would ever encourage her writing. Ruth thought about how difficult it was when she left the Old Order at eighteen, choosing not to seek baptism into the faith. She’d never let on to anyone, but many times she’d regretted her decision. She hoped Leah wouldn’t make the same mistake. Ruth could tell that the girl had a spirit like a wild stallion, not to be harnessed. If her family would give her a little room outside the box within which they all lived, Ruth believed Leah could grow and thrive in this community. Back in Ruth’s day there was no bending of the rules; an Amish girl was expected to perform a certain way, no questions asked.

  But at this time in her life, so near to death, Ruth wanted to be in this peaceful place with family. I’ll be home soon, Lord.

  She pulled her hat over her gray hair, wound tightly atop her head, and covered her lips with a bright red color to match her ensemble. She looked in the small mirror hanging from a chain on the far wall. It was important to look her best each and every day. When I go, I’m going out in style.

  She grabbed her big pink purse from the night before, dumped all the contents into an equally large red bag, then grabbed Leah’s story from the dresser and stuffed it inside her purse.

  Aaron helped Abner take down the removable walls that separated the den and dining room to make room for the hundred or so people who would be attending worship service at the Lantz house this morning. Every eight to nine months, it was their turn to host worship. It was the only time the walls came down, unless they were hosting a Sunday singing, which they did about twice a year.

  Aaron was anxious to see Leah, but something was chewing at his insides, and he couldn’t seem to shake it. I am not boring.

  Auntie Ruth’s words kept ringing in his mind, and Aaron had thought about this for half the night, until sleep finally came at around midnight. He decided that he might be a tad set in his ways. He also appreciated a schedule and enjoyed the structure in his life. But boring? I think not.

  Then why couldn’t he get the comment out of his head?

  “Hurry, boys. People are starting to arrive.” His mother slammed her hands on her hips and glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s almost eight o’clock, and you still don’t have those walls down.” She turned to head back into the kitchen, and Aaron could hear her barking orders at Annie and Mary. He shook his head. Now there is a person who lives a structured life, he thought. Sarah Lantz had everything organized to perfection all the time, and she was always on schedule—with everything.

  Aaron listened to his mother’s voice rise a little as she told Mary that the bread in the oven must be pulled out right when the timer dinged, not a minute afterward. All of a sudden, he wondered if his mother ever did anything just for fun. Even when his father took a break to read a book, Mamm was always tending to something on her schedule. She never seemed to do anything that wasn’t preplanned. Am I like that?

  Aaron searched his mind for some wild, adventurous thing he’d done lately—or ever. Failing that, he tried to recall the last time he’d done something out of the ordinary or veered from his schedule. I read Leah’s book.

  He saw Leah through the window then, walking across the front yard with her family, and he determined that today would be the day he was going to show Leah Petersheim that he was anything but boring, and he would prove his aunt was wrong.

  Worship service lasted three hours, as usual, with the men on one side of the room, the women on the other, and the bishop and deacons in the middle. Leah sat with her mother and sisters, and Ruth had chosen a seat next to her. She could hear Ruth’s stomach growling—loudly.

  “This is one thing I don’t miss,” Ruth whispered to Leah. “Three hours of worship on these backless benches every other Sunday.”

  Leah nodded, stifled a giggle. She felt sure that everyone around them heard Ruth’s comment. Ruth sat a little taller in her red and white polka dot dress and matching hat and shoes. Leah had thought her mother’s eyes were going to pop out of her head when she saw Ruth come downstairs earlier, making a proud grand entrance. Most everyone there knew Ruth, and it shouldn’t have been a shock to anyone, but eyes bulged at the sight of her just the same.

  “I hope we have ham loaf,” Ruth whispered to Leah.

  Leah nodded again, then looked across the room. She found Aaron, who was shaking his head but smiling. Perhaps Ruth’s voice was carrying more than Leah thought.

  She thought about the ride she’d be taking with Aaron after the Sunday meal and realized that she’d been looking forward to it ever since they’d all dined at Paradiso on Wednesday.

  “Praise be to God!” Ruth stood up immediately after Bishop Ebersol closed the worship service in prayer.

  Leah wasn’t sure if Ruth meant the comment as actual praise to God in response to Bishop Ebersol’s recitations or as relief that the service was over. Either way, the bishop glowered at Ruth.

  She didn’t seem to notice. “Let’s eat,” she said as she pushed ahead of the others toward the kitchen.

  Following the meal, some of the older folks headed home, but a lot of the men gathered in the barn to tell jokes, and the women chatted in the kitchen and den. Rebecca Miller was organizing a volleyball game, and Leah smiled when she saw Ben standing nearby.

  Leah was playing a game of croquet with a couple of the younger children when Aaron approached her from behin
d. She jumped when he poked her slightly in the back. “Ready to get out of here?”

  She turned around. His lip was twitching, and she wondered what he was nervous about. But Leah was nervous, too, for some reason. Maybe it was the way his voice sounded when he asked her if she was ready to leave, or maybe it was the way he was looking at her. Something seemed different.

  “Okay.” She handed her croquet mallet to one of the children. “Let me go put my shoes on and tell Mamm I’m leaving.”

  A few minutes later Aaron flicked the reins and guided his horse down the driveway, and Leah was glad to be in the courting buggy, with no top, the wind in her face. She pushed back sweaty strands of hair that had fallen from beneath her prayer covering.

  “I can’t wait for fall. I know it’s busy with the harvest and all. But this heat is terrible.” Leah jumped a bit when Aaron settled against his seat and dropped one hand right beside hers on the seat. As his finger brushed against hers, she wondered if he was trying to hold her hand. She lifted her hand, then folded both hands in her lap. She kept her head straight but cut her eyes downward to see his hand still sitting there, seeming even closer to her.

  “Ach. I almost forgot.” Aaron lifted his hand from the seat, reached behind him, and pulled out a bundle of roses wrapped in green tissue paper. He handed them to her and smiled. “These are for you. They’re from Annie’s garden. ”

  Leah felt the color rush to her cheeks. She’d never had a boy give her flowers before. She’d never been on an actual date before, and this was certainly a date if there were flowers involved. “Danki,” she said sheepishly. She glanced up at him and forced a smile as she tried to decide how she felt about this.

  Aaron kept the horse at a steady gait down the winding roads toward Bird-in-Hand, and Leah gazed at meadows covered with wildflowers that seemed to connect one Amish homestead to the next. Clapboard houses, mostly white. Outbuildings, roaming cattle, silos, and a sense of home. Leah had seen enough television in town to know that there was nowhere in the world she’d rather live. Some of her Amish friends talked of leaving as soon as they could gather enough money, choosing not to seek baptism into the community. It was a decision Leah didn’t understand.