by Mary Ellis
“Where did all this food come from?” Emma asked James, while nibbling a sandwich.
“A pack mule trails behind the last rider, bringing food and a first aid kit, just in case.”
“Oh, that’s interesting,” she murmured, averting her eyes.
But actually it was more unsettling than anything else. How did James know about the pack mule? Had he brought other girls here before? A pang of jealousy crept up her spine and soured her stomach. She couldn’t finish the delicious lunch. And she could barely think about much else on the ride back to the stable.
Growing up and courting weren’t easy…whether you were English or Plain!
Mamm?” Phoebe asked. “Where do bopplin come from?” Hannah dropped the pancake she was flipping down on the stove. Breakfast was off to a bad start. “They come from God. Why do you ask?” She scraped up the crumbles to add to the bucket headed for the sow and piglets.
“Jah, but how does He get them to us?” The big-eyed child looked utterly earnest. “One girl at school said God leaves them in the garden and the sunflowers bend over the boppli until the mom finds it the next morning.”
With her back to the child, Hannah smiled at such innocence.
“Then another girl said that’s not right. God puts the baby in the mamm’s belly and there it grows until it’s time to come out. Just like the cow babies and the little lambs.”
Hannah turned to face her daughter. “The second explanation is pretty much how it goes.” Seven is too young for any more details, she thought.
Phoebe paused and then asked, “When is God going to put a baby in your belly? I’m ready for a schwestern or even a bruder already.”
“I am too, but we must be patient. And He doesn’t give babies to all couples. We must pray and then accept His will for our family.”
“Okay, but I hope He says yes.” With that, Phoebe ate her pancake with gusto and drank her glass of milk.
I do too, dear one. I do too.
But babies weren’t the only thing on Hannah’s mind during the ride to Julia’s later that morning. She planned to speak to Simon. He wasn’t just her brother-in-law; he was her deacon, and she needed his advice.
She and Seth had been butting heads for weeks and that troubled her sorely.
Despite finding a man to spend her life with, Hannah struggled with losing her say-so in matters. She had managed her own farm following Adam’s death, paid her bills on time, and sold her crops and garden produce. Plus, she had built a business selling wool and lambs to other farms to support herself. Now she had melded her life and livelihood with Seth, and he wasn’t seeking her opinion. He made all decisions by himself and told her his conclusions after the fact.
Simon might not have been her first choice to turn to before, but stubbornness in the past had only multiplied her woes.
“Guder mariye,” she called upon entering his barn. Phoebe ran off to tell Julia they had arrived, and then the child would tag after Leah like a shadow on a sunny day.
Simon glanced up from the cutting implement he was sharpening. “Good morning to you, sister. How go things around the corner?” He refocused on his work.
“Not well, I’m afraid,” Hannah answered without preamble. “That’s why I’m here.”
Simon’s file slipped off the blade with a clatter.
He probably asked the question to pass time, not expecting a frank answer, she thought.
“Jah?” he asked. “You’re not well? What’s wrong, Hannah? Is it my bruder?”
“We are all fine in body, danki. It’s my spirit that needs your help,” she said, sitting down on a hay bale.
He set down the tools and wiped his hands on his leather apron. “Tell me what’s wrong.” He spoke so softly, she somewhat relaxed.
“It’s me. I am willful and opinionated and rash.” When she glanced up, he was pulling sagely on his beard, but he didn’t deny her assessment.
“How can I help?” he asked.
“Tell me how a wife comes to accept that her husband gets to make all decisions in the household.” She blurted out the words without regard to tone or volume. “Seth doesn’t even ask my opinion in matters I’m knowledgeable about.”
There it was—expressed succinctly in words—the matter that had her tossing and turning each night.
Simon gazed on her with compassion. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”
Hannah sat, listening to the barn swallows cleaning out their nests. Bits of mud and straw drifted down to the oaken floorboards from their industry.
In a few minutes Simon returned with his well-worn Bible in hand. “Do you trust the Word of the Lord?” he asked.
Hannah nodded. “With my whole heart.”
“Then let’s see what Scripture has to say.” Simon read her Ephesians 5:22-23: “For wives, this means submit to your husband as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of his wife as Christ is the head of the church.”
“I will write down those verses for you to take home. Read them nightly along with your prayers. In fact, study the whole book of Ephesians.”
She nodded while her eyes filled with tears.
He patted her hand. “It won’t be easy, Hannah. We all struggle with obedience at some point or another, but I can say it will lead to greater contentment in your life and a surer path to salvation. Let your husband lead you. Even when he stumbles or falls, do not criticize him. Your joys will be multiplied and your prayers will be answered.”
Silence spun out in the barn. Even the swallows stopped their cleaning. Hannah sat with fresh tears streaking her cheeks. She knew he was right, and she also knew it was the only way. “Danki, Simon. I will do it.” Dabbing at her nose with a hanky, she rose shakily to her feet. “Right now, I’ll go see what Julia is doing.” She felt as though she’d just accomplished an exhausting task as she walked from the barn.
Thy will be done, she said to herself over and over. And for better or for worse.
She didn’t make it to the house before her niece waylaid her. “Aunt Hannah, could I speak with you a moment?”
Hannah did a double take. Emma looked different—older, but then Hannah noticed the confectionary pink tint to the girl’s lips. “Do you have makeup on?” Hannah asked, quite shocked.
“Jah, do you like it?” Emma stood in the doorway to her herb shed, glowing unnaturally.
Hannah shook her head negatively. “Where did you get it, and what did your mamm say?”
“I bought the makeup in Sugar Creek; the lip gloss and blusher were very inexpensive. Mamm just stared and frowned, with her nose wrinkling up, but she didn’t say anything.” Emma drew back her shoulders. “After all, it is my Rumschpringe.”
Hannah cocked an eyebrow. “You are very pretty, Emma, if that is what concerns you. You were blessed with lovely features that often cause more problems than they’re worth, but your prettiness needs no enhancement from cosmetics.”
“Danki, but could we talk about something different? I need your advice on what to do when your heart tells you one thing and your head tells you something different. I like James Davis very much, and I think I want to court him.”
Emma blurted out this private admission with no more restraint than Hannah had used with Simon last year. This was the admission Hannah had feared. “Have you told this to your parents?”
Emma dropped her shoulders. “No, I saw no reason to upset them until I figured out how I felt.”
Hannah inhaled a deep breath. “I take it James Davis wishes to court you?”
“Jah,” she answered without hesitation.
“You have much more to lose than James does. If you court him and marry him, you will be shunned. You will no longer be part of the Miller family and the Amish community.”
“I know, but I can worship God in James’ church. His mamm is some sort of Bible teacher and his pa leads men in the church, sort of like my daed does.”
Hannah tried to absorb this. “You really wish to join the English world?”
“No, but I wish to date James. What should I do?” she asked, turning her blue eyes up to Hannah.
How simple to be young—but so complicated at the same time.
“Before bed,” Hannah advised, “read your Bible every night. Pray that the Lord leads you to the answers you seek. And open your heart and mind. Make sure you are listening to Him and watching for signs and not simply following your own will. When and if you’re sure you want to court an Englischer, tell your folks. Don’t live a life of deception. The shame of doing so will harm you far more than anything you can imagine.”
Emma hugged her tightly, smearing off some of the cheek blusher. “Danki, Aunt. I will read my Bible and pray. I’m so grateful to have you in my life. You’re a wonderful aunt.”
“And I am thankful to have you in mine,” Hannah said, embracing the young woman. Emma headed back into her shed to work while Hannah walked toward the house. She was anxious to find her sister to gauge how she was faring during the teenager’s crisis. If she knew Julia, there would be a few more streaks of silver in her dark chestnut hair.
Simon sat for a long time on his bale before returning to his tasks. He had plenty to do before cutting hay. All of the blades needed sharpening, one wagon wheel was out-of-round, and he needed to check the shoes on his Belgians.
But his heart was heavy after his sister-in-law’s visit. He hoped the counsel he offered was sound, but lately he was having doubts.
Emma’s decision to run around before her baptism and joining the church had unnerved him. Why did his daughter want a Rumschpringe? He was a deacon. Although she was entitled to this period of youthful experimentation, he would have preferred a smoother transition. First, she’d cut her hair into a scarecrow imitation and had started wearing English athletic shoes instead of her sensible boots. But the last straw had been that pink paint on her face. In his opinion, it only underscored the scarecrow image. He’d put his foot down and hadn’t allowed her to come to the table with makeup on.
Unfortunately, he doubted this would be the last straw.
Next, Seth had come to him for support he couldn’t give. A variety of crops protected them when one or more of the harvests fell short of expectations. The entire district planting almost every acre in corn could lead to disaster.
Or it could lead to huge profits and shore up the depleted medical fund, while allowing families to make repairs and replace worn out equipment. Even a Plain farmer could not live without hard cash.
Seth was a practical man, not one to fly off recklessly, and not one to follow the crowd unless he’d considered the matter carefully. He was correct that if money were to be made in corn, now was the time. The ethanol craze wouldn’t last forever. Either it would die out as an impractical alternative to fossil fuel, or so many American farmers would increase corn production that the high prices would fall.
Seth believed corn was an answer to their problems. And their district had its share of problems—Julia’s deteriorating health the most pressing on Simon’s mind. What if her physician decided surgery with rehabilitation was the only option? They would be paying on those medical bills for the rest of their lives. Being in debt was not compatible with the Amish way of life either.
Simon rose from his hay bale and walked to the doorway. From where he stood, he could see his fields and pastures. In the distance, dense forest supplied the firewood for the stove for the coming winter. The stocked pond provided fish for his table besides an occasional break from chores with his rowboat and fishing pole. Balanced, sustainable farms met their needs, except when illness or accident forced them into the English world of doctors, lab tests, and expensive anesthesiologists. Then, without medical insurance, the Amish were at a disadvantage.
Simon turned his gaze toward heaven. His trust in the Lord was steadfast. Only in His Word could the answers be found, so that was where he would turn. By faith he would live his life and lead his district.
He had to believe he offered Hannah sound advice. Scripture was clear about a man’s responsibilities and authority in the household. Now he must find patience to guide Emma and the strength to remain resolute while many in the community ran astray of the traditional ways.
But even though the path was clear, the journey wouldn’t be easy.
The hot, humid days of July were Emma’s least favorite time of the year. Upstairs in her bedroom, sleep proved impossible. Not a breath of breeze came through the open window. Her bed sheets felt damp along with her nightgown. She seldom yearned for English conveniences, but right now she would love a fan blowing across her overheated skin.
It was hard to imagine air-conditioning throughout the whole house. The blast of cold air when she stepped into the grocery store always shocked her system. Do Englischers feel that jolt each time they go from hot to cold all day?
Stretching like a cat, she swung her legs out of bed and sat up. Though dawn was still an hour away, she would get no more sleep. Her musings on fans and air-conditioning turned her thoughts to James. When she pictured him curled on his side with his silky blond hair across one eye, she ran to the bureau to splash water on her face.
Passionate daydreams had no place in her head. Her daed would never allow him to officially court her, so this summer infatuation must end by the time autumn leaves change color.
But for today Emma would permit herself this romantic indulgence, because she would see him tonight. The Hostetlers were hosting a gathering for Amish youths, and Sarah had invited Sam Yoder’s English friend. Maybe the Hostetlers wouldn’t notice his truck, and certainly her parents didn’t know he would be there. And for that dishonesty Emma felt ashamed. Yet the deception also added a measure of excitement to an otherwise ordinary bonfire.
The party started around seven thirty. People would huddle around the fire pit to cook hot dogs and roast marshmallows. The hosts provided coleslaw and potato salad, while the girls would bring desserts. Emma dressed and hurried downstairs to start breakfast and begin her own contribution—Apple Betty bars. Similar to apple crumb pie in a square pan, the addition of molasses to the brown sugar stiffened the mixture enough to be cut into squares. Chopped walnuts added richness to the crumb topping. One of these treats was plenty. More than that and you risked your waistline…and a bellyache.
Leah was already frying bacon when Emma reached the kitchen. “Guder mariye,” she said.
“Good morning to you, sister,” Emma answered. “Is mamm still sleeping?” She set the butter on the table to soften.
“Jah, Pa told her to stay abed longer and take more pills. Her knees are aching unbearably. She said we should scramble the eggs and add diced tomatoes and peppers for an omelet. I’m going to add leftover ham and melt cheese on top too.”
Emma smiled as she reached for the chopping board. Her sister did love to cook and bake, changing basic family recipes this way or that, sometimes with disastrous results, but often they were delicious.
“Just tell me what you want me to do,” Emma said. “You are head cook today and I’ll be your assistant.”
Leah handed her the tomato, pepper, and ham to chop. “You could help me convince mamm that I should be allowed to go to the bonfire tonight.” She sounded like a pouty child despite her adult culinary abilities.
Emma thought before replying. As much as she loved her little sister, she preferred not to have her spying on James and her. “You’re still too young.”
“It’s a bunch of kids roasting hot dogs and then building up the fire to a big bonfire. They’ll be sitting around in a circle and singing. There’s no reason why I can’t join in that kind of fun. Elizabeth Hostetler will be there, and she’s only fourteen.”
“You are only thirteen, dear one, and Elizabeth lives there. Mostly it will be courting couples. Your turn will come soon enough.”
Leah sighed. “I’ve had no fun all summer. I’m always working. I wish I could eat some marshmallows.”
Emma hugged Leah’s thin shoulders; the girl felt all bones
and sinew. “I’ll bring you some in my cake pan, along with a sample of every single dessert. How does that sound?”
Leah nodded with a sniffle. “Danki, Emma. I s’pose it’s better than nothing. But tomorrow after chores, can we swim in the pond like we used to? It’s been horribly hot.”
“Jah, we can, I promise.” Emma hugged her tightly for a long moment. The idea that she might be starting down a road that would take her away from Leah filled her with sorrow. Summer days were always busy, and she missed sitting on the swing with her sister and telling girl stories.
Leah returned to her bacon while Emma tried to tamp down her growing anticipation of seeing James. Grinning foolishly at a pile of vegetables would look mighty suspicious.
The day passed quickly, and promptly at seven fifteen Emma left for the Hostetlers with her dessert tucked inside a covered hamper. Because it was still daylight, she took the back path, knowing a safe ride home would be provided. Walking around Sarah’s house, she spotted a knot of people milling down by the creek. The fire was already burning, tables and chairs had been set up, and sawed-off logs served as cook stools. Her heart began to pound and her palms perspired as she walked toward the flames leaping toward the sky.
“Can I carry that basket for you, Miss Miller?” James Davis asked over her shoulder.
She jumped but quickly regained her composure. “Carry, yes. Peek inside, no,” she said, relinquishing the hamper to him.
James transferred the hamper to his other side so he could take hold of her hand. “Will you share a log with me?” he asked, swinging arms like little children. “I’m going to cook two hot dogs at once. How ’bout you?”
Emma thrilled to the touch of his strong, calloused hand. Hers seemed so small by comparison. “One will suffice to start. I’m saving room for marshmallows. And you had better save room for my Apple Betty bars or my feelings will be hurt.”
