by Linda Byler
The minister droned on for an unspeakably long time. Hannah mostly worried about the coffee and whether the cheese would be too runny to spread on the bread. If the pie crust was hard or reasonably flaky.
Long after the last song had been sung, the tables set and re-set, everyone cleared out and Hannah sagged with relief into the armless rocker. Dave came in and stood in front of her, grinning. “So Hannah, weren’t you glad you listened to me?”
“Go away. Just go and stop bothering me.” But she had to smile in spite of herself.
And so the lives of Dave and Hannah King progressed through the years. A total of ten children joined their family by the time Hannah reached the age of forty-three, each one loved and cherished in her own way.
Samuel and Rudy followed their father’s ways, but none of his boys ever grew to his size or stature. He remained the giant father figure, but a fair and level-headed one.
Daniel, Ezra, and Noah were in a line, all looking up to Dat with respect and even reverence. Noah had the same wild, untamed mop of hair as his father, his amber eyes and large hands and feet.
With Hannah’s temperament, he was a genuine troublemaker in school and in church, bloodying the nose of more than one boy older than himself. He swaggered, he spit, and went by the name of “Max.” And yet, somehow, in spite of the thread of headstrong natures running between mother and father, they raised their brood in the Amish faith.
They all acted up as teenagers, bringing sleepless nights and humbling Hannah in a way that no horrific events of her lifetime ever had. The homestead in the West had been a constant chain of life’s lessons, but not one of them served to smooth the rough edges of her personality the way her children did.
Sarah resisted all of her mother’s advice. She pouted around the house and refused any form of discipline. She was quick to speak and quick to judge, the despair of Hannah’s life until she decided, painfully, that we reap what we sow. It seemed her life was one constant flashback. Shot through with fiery remorse, Hannah begged forgiveness for her past and was rewarded with a spirit of humility, a sweetness in her nature of which she was quite unaware.
She went to quiltings and auctions, shook hands warmly and met people’s gazes with friendly eyes and genuine caring. She stopped talking about innocent women who did not quite measure up to her standards.
Her hair turned gray. She threaded her hand through the crook of Dave’s elbow as they stood by the woven wire fence, watching the baby lambs on a fine spring morning. All around them the earth bloomed. Dogwoods, redbuds, crab apple, cherry and apple blossoms opened and sang to God’s glory. The woods were thick with new green leaves, burdock, plantain, dandelion, and thistle. Small creatures rattled the heavy plants and skittered away as the aging couple walked along the fence.
“Our homestead,” Hannah whispered.
Dave patted the hand on his arm and turned his amber eyes on her dark ones. “Yes, Hannah. Our homestead. Our place here on earth. I have never regretted a minute of our union.”
Hannah snorted. “Oh, come on, Dave.”
“I still love you. Even more now that we’re older. I’m serious.”
She held the gaze that still caused her knees to turn liquid, the unspoken language of love that had carried them through the rough times as well as the joyous ones.
The spring breeze sighed as he bent to kiss her, his wrinkled eyes filling with tears of gratitude and appreciation for his beloved.
The sun slid behind the thick, green forest, casting an ethereal light on the undulating farmland, bathing the white farmhouse and the red barn in a golden glow.
Hannah laid her head on her husband’s shoulder, saw the perfect morning glow over the farm, and whispered again, “My homestead. My home where contentment and love reign.”
THE END
GLOSSARY
an schöena ovat—a nice evening
an shauty soch—a sad thing
begräbniss—burial
Bisht die Hannah?—Are you Hannah?
Dat, doo kannsht net—Dad, you can’t do that
demut—humility
demütich—humble
denke—thank you
dichly—kerchief
duchsach—fabric
eisa kessle—iron kettle
forehaltiss—future plans
freuheita—freedoms
gehorsam—obedient
gehorsamkeit—obedience
grosfeelich—proud
gute—good
hals schtark—determined
Herr saya—God’s blessing
hochzeit velssa—wedding songs
Hott sie ken schema?—Has she no shame?
Iss eya net an bei kumma?—Is he not appearing?
ivva reck—overcoats
Kum yusht rei—Come on in
lied—song
Machets goot, Dat—Stay well, Dad
ordnung—Literally, “ordinary,” or “discipline,” it refers to an Amish community’s agreed-upon rules for living, based on the Bible, particularly the New Testament. The ordnung can vary in small ways from community to community, reflecting the leaders’ interpretations, local traditions, and historical practices.
rishting—preparing
roasht—a chicken and bread casserole
rumschpringa—Literally, “running around.” A time of relative freedom for adolescents, beginning at about age sixteen. The period ends when a youth is baptized and joins the church, after which the youth can marry.
Sayna mol—I want to see
schnitz un knepp—dried apples cooked with chunks of home-cured ham and spices, with a covering of thick, floury dumplings called knepp
schputt—mockery
schtrāling—combing with a fine-toothed comb
smear kase—cup cheese
ungehorsam—disobedient
Vie bisht?—How are you?
vie ihr Dat—like her father
Vilt. See harriched net—Wild. She doesn’t listen
Vos iss lets mit sie?—What is wrong with her?
OTHER BOOKS BY LINDA BYLER
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LINDA BYLER WAS RAISED IN AN AMISH FAMILY AND IS AN ACTIVE member of the Amish church today. She writes all her novels by hand in a notebook. Linda is well-known within the Amish community as a columnist for a weekly Amish newspaper.
Linda is the author of five series of novels, all set among the Amish communities of North America: Lizzie Searches for Love, Sadie’s Montana, Lancaster Burning, Hester’s Hunt for Home, and the Dakota Series. Linda has also written five Christmas romances set among the Amish: Mary’s Christmas Goodbye, The Christmas Visitor, The Little Amish Matchmaker, Becky Meets Her Match, and A Dog for Christmas. Linda has coauthored Lizzie’s Amish Cookbook: Favorite Recipes from Three Generations of Amish Cooks!
