by Sarah Price
Inside the house, Shana allowed herself a long shower, washing the dried mud off her legs and blood from her arms. When she finally turned off the water, she heard Noah crying. She quickly dried off and dressed, leaving her hair wet and hanging down her back as she hurried into the bedroom to lift Noah from his crib. His cries didn't cease and, realizing how late it was, she sat on the edge of the bed to let Noah feed while she fought the images of the day from her mind.
After feeding Noah, Shana carried him downstairs. The grandfather clock chimed from the living room, reminding Shana that she needed to start preparing the evening meal. To her relief, Noah slept while she quickly cooked some corn and heated up some chicken from the previous night's supper. When Emanuel finally came in from the barn, Shana had the table set and was waiting for him, the supper left warming in the oven.
She heard him washing his hands in the washroom and, after shutting off the faucet, he walked into the kitchen rubbing his face in a clean kitchen towel. His clothes were covered in mud and his face looked long and tired. But he spared her a smile and affectionately placed his hand on her shoulder. "Jacob was kind enough to help with the cow."
Shana frowned. "Did you fetch him?"
"No, he stopped by the Beiler farm to bid them farewell." He sat down at the table, the damp towel draped over his shoulder. "Mary Beiler mentioned she had stopped by and we had a downed cow. He stopped in to see what had happened."
“Well?"
Emanuel shook his head but did not continue the conversation. Instead, he took the towel off his shoulder and handed it to her. She understood that he probably didn't want to talk about it. Losing even one cow was upsetting. The cows were not only their livelihood, but indirectly, an extension to their family. Yet, as Shana took the towel from him, she sensed that his silence stemmed from another place. "Soon we'll need to bale the second alfalfa cutting. Jacob has offered his older son to help us."
"That was kind of him," Shana replied as she served him his meal. She was confused by his lack of emotion over the cow.
"He's a good neighbor."
"What did you do with the cow?" she managed to ask. "What will happen to the calf?"
He frowned as he looked up at her. "The cow will be butchered and the calf raised for sale. No different than any other calf."
Noah began to cry as she set the plate before Emanuel. She hurried over to his crib and picked him up. She felt her own tears surfacing as she thought of that poor calf, born only to live in a dark box for several months before it was sold to be slaughtered. She tried to forget about it as she comforted Noah.
"Aren't you joining me?" Emanuel asked after he bowed his head in prayer.
Shana carried the baby over to the table and sat down. "I'm not very hungry tonight, Emanuel," she said softly. She rubbed Noah's back until he quieted down. "He's been fussing a lot today," she commented. His head bent down, Emanuel continued to eat, his own thoughts somewhere else. Shana sighed, wondering what she had done to provoke his silence. "How are things at your parents?" she finally asked, breaking the deafening quiet.
"Lillian asked for you," he replied solemnly. "We've been invited for visiting the Sunday after next."
Shana nodded, even though he was not looking to see. "Our last instructional is that following Sunday, isn't it?" For the past four months, they had been meeting with the ministers for die Gemee nooch geh, the instructional prior to taking the Amish baptism. Usually the meetings were at the same time as the Sunday service, although they had missed one week due to the birth of Noah.
Emanuel set his fork down and leaned back in his chair. He wiped his mouth with the napkin he had laid across his lap and stared at her with his piercing blue eyes. He looked older with his mustache-less beard. Yet, the smooth china complexion, so deeply tanned from working in the fields, spoke of his youth. "Shana, you must learn to accept death on the farm as well as the life it brings forth. This is part of being a farmer's wife as well as an Amish woman."
"Am I being chastise?" she asked, shocked at Emanuel's words.
"Reminded," he said, his tone short and words direct.
"I see," Shana replied, her own anger suddenly rising at him. "So, let me understand, Emanuel. Are you reminding me that, once I take the vow and become a baptized member of the church, I can no longer get upset when we have to kill a chicken or sell a calf to the butcher? And, of course, getting upset when a cow dies in birth right in front of me, I should spring back to all happiness and not pause to mourn?" She stood up, hurt at his coldness. "Is that a prerequisite to becoming a baptized member or just a prerequisite to being your wife? I'm sorry if I feel for the loss of any life, Emanuel, or if it inconveniences you. I feel, Emanuel. And death makes me sad," she finished abruptly.
She waited for him to admonish her words. But he remained silent, refusing to engage in an argument. Instead, he quietly finished his meal before he left the table and disappeared upstairs. She stood there, listening as he moved around. The floorboards creaked in their bedroom and she heard him walk into the bathroom. Several minutes later, as she was clearing the dishes off the table, she realized he was not coming back downstairs. By the time she finished cleaning the kitchen, it was almost nine o'clock and, knowing Emanuel would be rising early to work in the fields, she took Noah and retired upstairs herself.
In the darkness of the bedroom, Shana put Noah to bed and, as quietly as possible, she striped her clothes and hung them on a peg in the wall. She put on her nightdress and crawled into bed next to Emanuel. His back faced her and her anger subsided as she feared his silence.
Putting her hand on his arm, she gently shook him. "Emanuel? Are you sleeping yet? I don't want to go to bed angry," she whispered. When he did not respond, she lay back on her pillow and stared at the ceiling, trying to sleep as she listened to the gentle breathing of Noah from his crib and Emanuel from her side.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Shana hadn't heard Emanuel get up but, as she listened to the rooster crow at the sun, peeking over the horizon in its daily fight to break through the gray overcast, she knew that he must have just gotten up for the morning milking. She hadn't slept well and her body felt drained. Noah had woken up several times throughout the night and, knowing Emanuel would not rise to console his son, Shana had continually crawled out of bed and sat with Noah in the rocking chair by the window to let him nurse.
She forced herself out of bed and hurried over to Noah's crib. "Good morning, my beauty," she said softly as she picked up Noah and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "You kept Mommy up all night, didn't you?" She quickly changed his cloth diaper and dressed him for the day in a miniature version of Emanuel's Sunday dress. "We have a busy day, don't we, Noah? Gardening and cleaning. Maybe we can beat the rain and go visiting. Or ask your daed to ride to that market for apples and we'll make more applesauce."
She laid Noah on the freshly made bed as she got dressed. She chose a plain sky blue dress that Sylvia had helped her make during her stay on the farm. Then, she took down the dark Halsduch, her black bodice cape, and put it over the one-piece dress. She pinned it at the waist with a straight pin and smoothed the front of the cape over the dress. Brushing her hair off of her forehead, she followed the instructions Sylvia had given and rolled it back and twisted it at the nape of her neck. Finally, she reached for the white organdy prayer cap and, hesitating for only a minute, she placed it on her head and tied it under her chin.
She took a step back and stared at her reflection. Her face looked fiercely plain, yet her cheekbones were too high and her mouth too pouted. She didn't feel Amish and, she realized, she certainly didn't look it. She wondered what Emanuel would think, especially after their argument the evening before. While she had been slowly conforming to the Amish way, she had not gotten into the habit of fully dressing Amish. But she knew, with her baptism only a month away, she needed to get used to it. With her parents' visit over, she felt the time to start was now.
Downstairs, Shana spent the
first hour and a half of her morning washing Noah and Emanuel's clothes. She liked to get it out of the way since it was the chore she disliked the most. By the time she hung all of the wet clothes on the line outside, it was time to feed the baby and start preparing Emanuel's breakfast.
That morning, she forced a smile into her heart as she fried his bacon and scrambled his eggs. She felt uneasy from the previous night’s argument. They rarely argued but she hated it when their words grew strong. She knew that Amish husbands and wives shouldn't argue but she was having difficulties in dealing with Emanuel's impatience with her. And his silence was even more hurtful than if he snapped back at her.
When the morning milking was over and Emanuel came into the house, his breakfast was ready and Shana greeted him with a warm smile. She noticed his slight hesitation when he saw her typical Amish garb. But it was the organdy head covering that caused him to raise an eyebrow. Yet, he said nothing as he dried his hands on a crisp, white towel before he sat at the table and waited for Shana to serve him.
"How is the calf?" she asked, sitting next to him with her own small plate of scramble eggs.
"Fine," he replied solemnly. He kept his head bent over as he ate. "I'll be needing your help with the milking from now on, Shana. It's just too much for me to handle alone," he said.
Shana cringed inside but kept her thoughts to herself. With caring for the baby, house, garden, and chickens, she barely had enough time to cook, wash, and sew. But she knew that more of the cows were giving milk now and he had enough work in the fields to justify his request.
"Of course, Emanuel." She listened to the gentle breeze that fluttered through the kitchen window. The stiff green shade brushed back and forth against the glass. The rooster crowed from the chicken yard and she heard the horses neighed. "I thought maybe we could make applesauce this afternoon, with it looking like rain and all," she said in order to break the silence.
"It won't rain and I have business over at the Beiler's farm."
"Business with the Beiler's?" she asked, knowing that he had his own reasons for not telling her about purchasing most of their farm. "Perhaps Noah and I could ride along to visit."
"Perhaps," he said. Then, he finished his meal in silence.
Shana spent the rest of the morning in the garden. With Sylvia's help, Shana had learned to love working in the garden. She prided herself on keeping it free from weeds and bugs. All of her vegetables thrived on the love and care she showered on them. Most days, she'd pick weeds from the narrow aisles between her plants while Noah slept on the porch, close enough for Shana to hear his cries.
By noon, she had plucked her fresh tomatoes and cut any ripe heads of lettuce. She carried these in her apron and took them into the house. She set the tomatoes on the windowsill by the kitchen pump. Emanuel had promised to put in regular plumbing later that month, although Shana found she didn't necessarily miss it, especially with the faucet in the washroom.
It was shortly after twelve-thirty when Emanuel came in from the barn and hung his hat by the door. His shirt was dirty and his face sweaty. Following his routine, he washed his hands, face and neck before entering the kitchen. He forced a smile at Shana as he walked over to Noah's crib. While he waited for his supper, Emanuel sat on the old sofa and held his son. Shana listened to him talking gently to Noah in Pennsylvania Dutch and felt a twinge of jealousy that she did not know what he said. However, she understood the significance of Noah understanding the language of his ancestors.
"Dinner's ready," she said as she set his plate down on the table, trying to sound cheerful.
He waited for her to sit next to him before he bowed his head in prayer. Then, as he picked up his fork, he said, "Tobacco's almost ready to cut. Another two weeks, I think. And shortly after, we'll fill silo."
"We'll?"
"Daniel and Steve are coming to help. They'll stay for a day or two."
Shana nodded, wondering if that meant he would reciprocate and lend a hand at his father’s farm but she did not ask. She was simply relieved that his silence had lifted. "It'll be nice to have the company," she replied.
"I ran over to Beiler's this morning," he announced. "So, if you want to make applesauce this afternoon..." He left his sentence unfinished, an unspoken apology for his unusually demanding conduct from the day before.
"That would be nice, Emanuel," she said softly, pleased with the sacrifice he had made.
After supper, Emanuel hitched Lady Priscilla to the buggy while Shana cleaned up the dishes. Then, picking up Noah, she hurried outside to the driveway. The sky still hung gray but the clouds looked as though they were breaking. "I believe you're right, Emanuel. About it not raining today."
He held Noah while she climbed into the buggy then lifted the baby to her awaiting arms. "Could use the rain," he said softly.
The drive to the market, almost four miles away, soothed Shana. She hadn't left the farm in so long that the gentle plodding of the horse's hooves against the macadam was a welcome escape. She held the baby tightly, a soft breeze blowing in through the cracked windows, and shut her eyes as she listened. "I'll always love that sound," she murmured, more to herself than to Emanuel.
"What sound?" he asked.
"It's so gentle and calming. Peaceful," she continued, opening her eyes to look at Emanuel. He nodded his head, understanding of what she spoke.
There were two other buggies waiting outside of the market. Also, parked alongside, were three cars, one with out of state license plates. Shana handed Noah to Emanuel before she lifted her skirt and climbed down. She noticed his eyes glancing over her attire quickly as he waited for her to smooth down her skirt and follow him into the store.
It was a different market than the one they usually visited in town. But, this Amish market helped them with their day-to-day needs. Shana hurried down the aisles, picking a few essentials that would tie them over until their next big shopping trip. The wide planked wood floors creaked under her weight. She liked this store better than the one in town. Since this market was off a dirt road in the middle of some farms, the tourists didn't know about it. Occasionally an out-of-state car might happen upon the store but they tended to behave better than the rude and pushy tourists that so often stared and tried to steal their pictures when they shopped in town.
Shana smiled as she passed another Amish woman who greeted her with a simple, "Good day, Shana."
She loved knowing the people of the community and feeling their love and friendship. The uneasy mood from that morning slowly lifted from her shoulders as she made her way to the large barrels of freshly picked apples. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes seeking Emanuel. She spotted him by the door, Noah fussing in his arms, as he spoke with an older Amish man. For a moment, Shana watched him, her heart warming as she saw him laugh, his eyes crinkling into those familiar half-moons. The baby reached up and brushed his fist against the bottom of Emanuel's beard as though vying for his attention. Emanuel shifted him in his arms, continuing his conversation with his neighbor.
"Two bags of apples," Shana told the young clerk who came over to assist her. "That should be enough for applesauce?"
"Depends how much you aiming to make."
"Enough for the winter," she replied.
"Better make it three, then," the clerk said. "You can never have too much, ja?"
Emanuel saw her at the counter and, saying good-bye to the Amish man, came over to help carry the bags out to the buggy. Shana took Noah from him and made some quick small talk with the young Mennonite girl behind the register. Then, glancing out the store windows, she saw Emanuel waiting for her so she grabbed the last small plastic bag, bid the young girl good-bye, and hurried out to meet Emanuel.
He stood by the buggy, his face long and taut. Impatiently, he motioned for her to hand the last bag to him. "Let's go, Shana," he said in a low voice.
"What's wrong, Emanuel?"
"Get in."
She started to hand him Noah and follow his order, trusting
his stern command, when she noticed the three boys sitting on the back of a beat-up blue Chevy pickup. They were large boys, the oldest at least nineteen. He tilted his straw hat back on his forehead and grinned. "Ain't that cute? Little Englische girl pretending she's Amish," he said loudly. It took Shana a minute to realize he was talking about her.
"Hey, Amish! Didn't have any cousins left to marry?" the other boy shouted at Emanuel.
Shane's mouth fell open and she whirled around to Emanuel. "What did they just say?"
"Get in the buggy, Shana," Emanuel ordered again, this time taking Noah from her arms and gently pushing her toward the open door.
"How do they know I'm not Amish?" she demanded, her face getting red with rage.
"Just get in, Shana. Don't be bothered by the likes of them."
