by Linda Byler
Lee greeted her from the buggy, dressed in a cool, white short-sleeved shirt, his teeth flashing as white as the shirt, his tanned skin a dark contrast. She climbed up and seated herself beside him before he had a chance to step down and help her up.
Their eyes met, and they smiled and continued smiling, both unable to wipe the ridiculously happy emotions from their faces.
He reached for her hand and said, “Sarah, tell me I won’t wake up from the best dream I have ever had.”
In response, Sarah squeezed his hand, laid her head on his shoulder, and said happily, “You won’t.”
Few things can compare with driving along country roads in a horse and buggy, she thought. Especially on a night like this. Both doors were pushed back, both windows held to the ceiling of the buggy by a metal clasp, allowing the air to circulate freely. The horse trotted at a brisk pace, knowing he was going home.
She breathed in the aroma of summer as they passed a field of tomatoes, one of corn, and yet another with freshly cut alfalfa, infusing the air with its heady fragrance.
Oncoming traffic was heavy, so the train of cars behind them grew increasingly longer, until one revved its engine with impatience.
Lee looked in the rearview mirror and pulled steadily, easily, on the right rein, drawing the buggy off the main road and onto the wide shoulder beside it, allowing the cars to pass, one by one. Sarah smiled.
“Lee, pulling off to the side of the road and allowing cars to pass—that puts you in the same highly-respected category as my father. Thank you. Not all men will do that.”
Lee grinned at her.
“So you think you made a good choice?”
“Definitely.”
Their smiles became slightly idiotic once more, and they stayed that way as they pulled up to Ben Zook’s farmhouse.
Not Ben’s anymore, Sarah corrected herself. Anna’s. And not for long. This farm would be Lee’s. And hers. She could hardly bear to think of it. The disbelief, the joy of this great and perfect gift was almost more than she could contain.
Anna greeted her at the door. She threw her soft, ample form into Sarah’s arms, laughing, then crying and becoming completely hysterical, as Sarah held her, laughed, and cried with her.
“Sarah, oh Sarah! I told Lee we have to build a patio between our two houses, so you and I can meet every summer morning to talk and drink our coffee. Do you think we’ll get along? I promise you, I will mind my own business. I will not meddle in your affairs. Ever. I can’t believe you’re going to be my sister-in-law.”
Sarah was drawn into the kitchen, and for the first time, she viewed the house with eyes of ownership.
The walls were painted a soft white, and the trim and doors, as well as the kitchen cabinets, were a softly gleaming golden oak. There were double windows above the sink and behind the table, allowing plenty of light and air into the large kitchen.
The linoleum mimicked dark ceramic tile. Sarah thought it was very tasteful, as was the hidden alcove containing a small sink and a round ring to hold a hand towel.
The cabinets contained a large number of deep drawers and doors that contained evenly spaced shelves. The large EZ Freeze propane gas refrigerator was built into the cabinetry, as was the gas stove beside the double sink.
Sarah had been in this house many times, but never like this. Her mind tumbled with possibilities—furniture, colors, things she would have on her countertop or her table.
She did not want to be materialistic or greedy, but she overflowed with ideas, thinking of things she wanted to buy, items she would need.
Anna’s three children, Marlin, Marianne, and little Elmer, all clamored about her now, asking for attention. She had to focus on the needs of the fatherless children, her heart aching for them as she gathered them on her lap and around her on the brown tweed sofa.
She stroked Elmer’s squeaky clean hair, answered Marlin’s rapid fire questions, listened patiently as Marianne talked about her new kittens in the barn. She showed Sarah where she had been scratched, and Sarah clucked properly over a proffered hand, which Marianne held to the light, the band-aid removed, so the scratch could be examined and fussed over.
She was not aware of Lee’s entrance or of the light in his eyes as he stopped, watching Sarah with the children.
Anna was perspiring freely, mopping at her face with a clean washcloth, complaining about the intense heat.
“You know, Sarah, there’s hardly a nice, Christian way of complaining about the weather. But what’s the difference—that or snapping at everyone all day because you’re so hot and tired of it? I can hardly take one more day of this stickiness.”
“I think a thunderstorm is on its way, later tonight,” Sarah said.
“Yup, paper says that,” Lee agreed.
“Well, good. I hope it’s a doozy. It better clear the atmosphere and lift this humidity. Did you know it was ninety percent yesterday? It was so humid. I had a glass of water setting beside me on the sewing machine, and it condensed so much there was a puddle all around it.”
Sarah smiled. She knew exactly what she meant, having tried to sew and given up herself.
They talked for over an hour, remembering Ben and making plans for the future. Then Anna went to the pantry and refrigerator, producing armloads of food, enough for a dozen people.
There was cold, freshly squeezed lemonade that was so refreshing the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees, Sarah told her.
There was cold, chunked watermelon, red and seedless and mouthwatering, squares of golden cantaloupe, piles of cheese and ham and sweet Lebanon bologna, mustard and dipping sauces, stick pretzels and potato chips. She’d coated strawberries with a combination of milk and dark chocolate, and there were two different kinds of whoopie pies individually wrapped in plastic wrap, moist and soft with a heavy layer of vanilla frosting in the middle.
Sarah had never tasted better whoopie pies. Never. She told Anna, who laughed heartily.
“I bought them, Sarah. You won’t catch me baking when the whole house is like an oven. Forget that.”
Sarah eyed Anna’s plate, then Lee’s, and wondered if she would be Anna’s size in a few years. Their appreciation for food was contagious. She found herself chiming in with praise of the texture of the watermelon, the chocolate, everything.
They took food very seriously. She was alarmed at the amount Lee consumed. She eyed his wide shoulders, muscular arms, his flat stomach, and decided he likely had a terrific metabolism, plus he did an enormous amount of physical work each day.
As if he read her thoughts, he smiled.
“We Glicks like to eat, Sarah. I can hardly wait for you to get to know the rest of the family.”
“I met your sisters at the funeral and your mother before. She’s terribly nice. So friendly.”
They all sat up, silenced, as the rustling of leaves began and quickly turned into more than a rustling. An opened newspaper lying on an end table flapped, then slid to the floor, blown by the increasing force of the sudden gust of wind.
Anna ran to the window, flapping her round arms as she went.
“Air! Air! The wind is coming!”
The children were trundled off to bed, and the table was cleared before the faraway rumbles of thunder began.
“Nothing to worry about yet,” Lee announced, returning from a short vigil on the front porch.
Anna produced a pink spiral bound notebook and wrote across the front cover in bold, printed letters: Levi and Sarah’s Wedding.
They sat together at the kitchen table and planned, writing names of grandparents, uncles and aunts, cousins, friends, co-workers, an endless stream of relatives and acquaintances until Sarah’s head was reeling with the immensity of it all.
Who would be the corner waiters to serve the bride and groom’s table? Who would be fore-gayer (managers)? Who would have the babeyly (paper)? Where would Levi sit? He might be better off in a wheelchair that day.
Lee was too easy, saying anything they deci
ded was okay. Anna told him he could say that now, but he’d come up with a few clunkers later. He always did. He’d just wait till a few weeks before the wedding, and then he’d throw a monkey wrench into the works.
She assured Sarah that Lee was bossy. Look at him, running his own roofing crew. He was used to being the boss, and she’d better start preparing to live a humble life of servitude. This thing of sitting there saying anything was alright was just till Sarah married him and she couldn’t get away; then the real Lee would show his true colors.
Lee grinned, relaxed, completely unruffled, as Anna’s harmless banter continued.
Sarah watched him, as he raked a strong, brown hand through his sun-streaked blond hair. She noticed the way his shoulders were propped against the chair, took in his steady, smiling blue eyes, and her knees became quite weak, her heart accelerated. The love she felt for him was growing into a steady, consuming flame.
She was grateful, humbled, to have this man in her life. Only God’s infinite mercies could have enabled her to safely make this choice. Deep in her heart, she knew Lee would be the kind of man that would never cause her a moment’s grief. Like Dat, he existed on a bedrock of kindness.
Dat’s description of others was almost always, “He would do anything for anybody.” That was his way of relating the goodness he saw in most people. This phrase could truthfully be applied to Lee, she knew. It showed in how he had worked for Ben, became a mentor for Omar, and all while he ran his roofing crew during the day, working long, wearying hours to help others.
In his heart, Lee felt he didn’t know much about God or the Bible, choosing to remain quiet when others had long, heated discussions about theology, Scripture, whatever. But the fruits of being inhabited by the Spirit were all there. Lee knew God, or how could he have had this natural inclination toward kindness?
Dat said that was a great mystery, but it was all around us, every day, in mundane things, often unnoticed by others, but very important.
She wondered if Matthew had found a job, or if he would be returning to Haiti. She didn’t think he knew what he wanted. He really didn’t. Right now, he wanted her, she knew. But wasn’t he just acting like a spoiled child who wanted a toy only because it was held by someone else?
And yet, she would always remember Matthew as someone who had flavored her life with sweetness, the first stirring of young love, the reason for living at times. She would always be grateful for him, for his friendship. But that was all.
“A penny for your thoughts.”
Lee smiled at her, and she returned it gladly, but chose to keep her thoughts to herself. Someday, she would tell him.
The thunder rumbled, louder, closer, and Lee turned to watch out the window as another streak of lightning cut across the night sky.
“Think it’ll be hard this time?” Anna asked.
“I don’t know. Seems pretty powerful all of a sudden.”
The wind tore at the trees surrounding the house and ripped across the lawn as lightning illuminated the landscape around them. There was a particularly loud boom. Anna grasped her head, her hands clapped across her ears, her eyes widened.
Inevitably, the high wail of the sirens followed. Soon a car’s headlights came up the drive and stopped. The door opened, and a figure splashed through the rain. The heavy front door was flung open, and a neighbor stepped inside, dripping.
“Samuel Zook’s barn!” he shouted.
Instantly, Lee was on his feet, following the neighbor out the door and away.
Anna sat, staring morosely at the remains of her delicious snack, shaking her head.
“I hate these fires. I’m sick of them.”
“It was probably the lightning, Anna. That crack had to hit something, didn’t it? I don’t think the arsonist is loose, at least not doing that anymore.”
“You always say that. You know what I think? I think we should have stocks, those wooden things they used to hold criminals, you know, thieves or mischief makers. We used to see them in our history books in school. Men or women were stuck in there, and other citizens, the good people, were allowed to throw tomatoes or eggs at them. That would be perfect.”
Sarah laughed.
“In the Bible, they just stoned them, got rid of them.”
“That’s sick.”
“I know. But still, it would be nice to be rid of these fires. I know how it was for us.”
Anna’s face became hard, rigid, with the intensity of the memory.
“You know, Ben suffered more than you’ll ever know. He had days when he could barely drag himself out to do the milking. I milked alone more than once. I can’t tell you the fear I experienced, the heart-sinking feeling of knowing my husband was lying in bed, crying with despair.
“I think the night our barn burned was honestly more than he could handle. He tried, Sarah, he tried so hard. He took his anti-depressants, talked to counselors, but I’m not sure he always felt as good as he let on. I’ll tell you, Sarah, if you promise to keep this a secret.”
Sarah nodded.
“I’m not sure he was thinking as he would have in former times, the day he went to get that calf. He knew the bull was there. He often told me never to trust him.”
Anna sighed. She winced at the sound of the thunder and the rain and the wind moaning about the house.
“We never know, the day we get married, how wonderful God’s gift of a sound mind can be. Another thing we never know is what God has in store for us. The important thing is that we live fully, trusting Him, and experience all that joy along the way.”
Sarah nodded.
“For sure, Anna, for sure.”
“I may spend the rest of my life as a widow now, living with you and Lee.”
“No, you won’t, Anna. You’re young. You’re attractive.”
“I’m short and fat. You know men don’t like big women. Besides, I won’t talk about it. Ben is still in my heart, and he’ll stay there.”
They did dishes, listened to the strength of the storm abating, and read a few articles to each other from a magazine. Then they took off their coverings and stretched out, Anna on the recliner and Sarah on the couch. They closed their eyes and relaxed, but they kept on talking, the way sisters often do, of everything and anything, comfortable confiding life’s joys and sorrows, their fears and failures.
Finally, at two o’clock in the morning, Sarah wondered out loud if Lee was alright. Did Anna think he was?
“Oh yes, he’s old enough to take care of himself,” she said. “He probably just thinks the whole night’s outcome depends on him. He takes too much on himself.”
They must have dozed off and were awakened by a shrill cry from the bedroom. Elmer was thirsty, so Anna stumbled to the kitchen and got him a cold drink. She crooned and fussed to her baby boy, before settling herself on the recliner, with plenty of grunts and snorts of discomfort.
The night was still warm, but Sarah tried to remain positive, imagining a cool morning breeze to greet her.
Suddenly, the footrest of the recliner slapped down. Anna sat up and announced loudly, “I’m so miserable. I cannot take one more minute of this heat. I’m going to take a shower. It’s too hot on this itchy recliner. I guess if something bad happens, you’ll have to call me.”
With that, she stomped off toward the bedroom. Sarah heard drawers open and shut. The bathroom door slammed, the water turned on, and peace returned.
Sarah watched the remains of the storm, the ripples of blue heat lightning, and listened to the distant rumbles. She was glad the storm had gone through, giving hope of cooler temperatures tomorrow.
Her eyelids became heavier and heavier.
She was awakened by someone softly calling her name. Her eyes fluttered open, looking straight into Lee’s blue eyes, his face blackened, his gaze weary.
“Oh.”
She sat up immediately, all her senses keenly aware of him.
“Sarah.”
Reaching up to fix her hair, her eyes remai
ned on his face.
“They, we, I . . . we caught the arsonist.”
Unable to comprehend Lee’s words, Sarah looked at him blankly.
“We caught him. We have his lighter, the newspapers, the car, everything.”
His voice was hoarse, strained, exhausted.
“Tell me,” she said.
Evidently, Harold Walters had taken no precautions that night. The lightning was so sharp, the fire could have been blamed on it handily, so he got bold and drove up to Samuel Zook’s barn without trying to cover anything.
In the flashes of lightning, they’d watched. When the barn was hit by a bolt of lightning, it was soon extinguished, most of it saved. But there he was, crouched beside the silo on the barn hill sloping up to the haymow, stuffing newspapers in the door, igniting them.
Lee, the neighbor Amos, and the driver—the three of them jumped him and wrestled him to the ground. They were surprised when they saw he was an older man. It wasn’t Michael.
They subdued him, called the police, and spent the rest of the night listening, watching, answering questions.
So now a lot depended on the arsonist’s willingness to tell the truth and the Amish people’s ability to prosecute. Without pressing charges, they were back to square one.
Sarah listened, then stated that this was not a whole lot different than Michael Lanvin being taken into custody. It still depended on the Plain people’s prosecution.
“Dat will not do it.”
“Perhaps others will.”
“Which one is right, Lee?”
He sat beside Sarah, leaned back against the cushions, and closed his eyes.
“We’ll talk at breakfast. I need a shower, then I may as well start milking. Anna’s asleep, right?”
Sarah nodded.
“Let her sleep. Poor thing, she minds the heat so much. I can milk.”
“I’ll help,” Sarah offered.
“No way. You hardly slept.”
“I want to.”
And she did. Secretly, she wanted to see how it would be to milk cows in the stable that would be hers and Lee’s. Her feet skimmed the wet sidewalks, she was so excited. She knew cows and could hardly wait to show Lee her expertise. Without any instructions, she assembled the milking machines, washed udders, fed cows and calves, and swept the aisles. She was a regular cyclone of energy, leaving Lee duly impressed.
