Fields of Corn: The Amish of Lancaster

by Sarah Price

  "Schrecklich," she whispered.

  Shana wondered if Melinda was thinking of her own four children that had died. It amazed her how calm everyone seemed to take tragedy. Sarah nodded her head. "Only three years old. They aren't certain what it was. Just took ill one day."

  The women began talking about another family. Slowly, Shana drifted into her own world. She watched Ana, sitting contently in the warm summer sun, embroidering her pillowcase. Certainly life as an Amish woman was hard, she imagined, with constant children underfoot and continual work to be done. Shana had also noticed how gruffly the men treated their wives, never showing any affection and rarely addressing them by name. Instead, the men sat outside, discussing the upcoming hay season while several women served them coffee and dessert.

  The grandfather clock had just struck four when Katie said good-bye to everyone, explaining that by the time they got home, it would be milking time. Quickly, Shana followed, telling the ladies how much she had enjoyed meeting everyone. To her surprise and delight, both Ana and Melinda replied by asking her to come visit them at their farms whenever she could during the long winter months.

  Shana noticed the women's casual insinuations about how long she would be living with the Lapps and the backward glances she received from the men as she followed Katie outside where Jonas and Emanuel were already at the buggies, waiting patiently for the women. Shana hurried over to Emanuel's buggy and let him help her in, his touch once again lingering. With a sigh of relief, she settled back for the long, silent ride home, her leg gently brushing against Emanuel's and her heart pounding fiercely within her chest.

  Back at the farm, Shana let Emanuel help her down from the buggy. She noticed how he clasped her hand, waiting until she met his gaze. Shana opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it. "Thank you for inviting me," she heard herself whisper, withdrawing her hand from his and quickly disappearing into her house. She shut the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily.

  The way she felt around Emanuel frightened her, but it frightened her more the way the tranquil, peaceful Amish lifestyle appealed to her. No competition or complications. They lived day to day, pleased with whatever they accomplished and enjoying the fruits of their harvests. The women enjoyed cooking, cleaning, and raising families for their husbands. And the men enjoyed working hard in the fields and pleasing their wives. But it's not just a lifestyle, she corrected herself. It's a faith. Disappointed in her typical tourist attitude that Emanuel had chastised her about the previous day, Shana quickly buried herself in some paperwork from the restaurant.

  Half an hour later, she was sitting at the table, reviewing the last month's P & L statements when a soft knock at the door startled her. She glanced at her watch. Six o'clock. Obviously not expecting anyone, she quietly set down her pencil and, getting up from the table, hurried over to the door. When she opened it, she was even more startled to find Steve, Emanuel's younger brother by two years, standing outside. He resembled Emanuel in appearance but his eyes were far less worldly and extremely shy.

  "There is a phone call," he mumbled softly.

  "Is there a phone?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together. "I mean, I didn't know you had a phone here."

  Steve shook his head and pointed to the neighboring farm. "Over at the Hostetler's," he explained.

  "Steve!" someone called from the barn. They both looked up to see Emanuel walking from the darkness of the open doorway. His hands in his pockets and his head tilted forward, he seemed preoccupied. "Daed needs your help in the milk house."

  Steve glanced back at the barn. "Shana has a phone call."

  Emanuel nodded toward Steve, and then turned his attention to Shana. "I'll show you where the phone is, then." He didn't wait for her reply and started walking briskly down the lane toward the road. Steve was already hurrying toward the barn so Shana found herself quickly catching up with Emanuel.

  At the edge of the road, Emanuel reached out and touched her arm. "Watch," he said as an old blue Chevy whirled around the bend in the road and sped up the hill. Checking the other direction again, which was clear, he released her arm and crossed the street.

  The Hostetler farm seemed more active than the Lapps. Two young girls trudged through a muddy field, rounding up the herds. The younger girl slipped and almost fell headfirst into the mud but her older sister grabbed her arm and steadied her. Emanuel chuckled to himself and even Shana had to suppress a smile at the sight of the two girls flaring their arms and chasing the lazy cows. One of them, noticing Emanuel and Shana, shouted out and waved. Emanuel waved back.

  He pointed to a small grey building on edge of the farm. The door was swung halfway open and Shana could see a broken stool propped against the inside wall. She hurried over the small building, curious as to who could have tracked her down.

  Picking up the phone, she placed it against her ear. "Hello?"

  "You don't know how hard you are to find! There must be two hundred listings for Lapp in the directory."

  "Jeff?" she asked as she recognized the familiar voice of the other manager from her restaurant. As he rambled on about how he had lost his keys, Shana glanced at Emanuel. He stood a few feet away, his back to her and his hands thrust in his pockets again. He shuffled his boots in the dusty lane, stared at the girls stomping through the mud, and occasionally glanced at Shana through the half open door in the phone booth. "I guess you want me to trek out there?"

  "Well, no one can get into the office or the liquor cage."

  She laughed. "On a Friday night?"

  "Never fails," he replied.

  "I'll be there in thirty minutes." She hung up the phone and stepped outside. She shut the door but it swung halfway open after she released the handle. "That's nice of the Hostetler's to let your family use their phone."

  "Three farms share the phone," he explained in a matter-of-fact voice as he started walking back toward the road.

  "Why don't you just get your own?" she asked as she walked next to him.

  "The Hostetler's need it for business. We don't." He didn't look at her but stared straight ahead. His face seemed more somber than usual. "Problem?" he asked, casting her a quick askew glance.

  "The manager on-duty at work misplaced his keys." She said with a gentle shrug of her shoulders. She dreaded the thought of driving into the restaurant after such a wonderful day. “I’ll have to take my set to him.”

  Emanuel nodded once as if to say that he understood. The somberness lifted and his shoulders looked less stiff. He glanced down the road before, his eyes catching hers, he spared a quick timid smile and crossed Musser School Lane.

  They had turned past the mule stable and approached her small porch when Emanuel finally spoke again. He cleared his throat as he stared straight ahead. "Elijah and Jacob Zook are having a volleyball game tomorrow evening. Perhaps you'd care to accompany me to it?"

  Her heart pounded inside her chest and she felt her palms grow sweaty. She wanted to go, wanted to spend more time with Emanuel. But she couldn't help wondering if spending so much time with him was misleading. "I'm not much of a volleyball player," she started to decline but she didn't finished. Emanuel glanced at her, his eyes sparkling in the dim light from the fading sun. Swallowing, Shana fought her fear and followed her heart. "But, that sounds like fun, Emanuel."

  Emanuel stopped in front of Shana's small house. "Then I'll see you at seven." He waited until she had disappeared inside to retrieve her car keys before he started walking around the barn toward the Lapp farmhouse. He hesitated briefly as Shana started her car, the engine loud against the stillness of the Amish. She backed up, her eyes catching sight of him in her rearview mirror. Then, he was gone, his silhouette vanishing around the corner of the barn and engraving itself in her thoughts.

  Chapter Five

  Brilliant flashlights and kerosene lanterns lit up the Zook's barn, full of Amish youths standing around a volleyball net set up between several bales of hay. The young girls stood to the si
des, lingering in small groups as their shadows reflected against the walls. They talked quietly to each other, glancing over at the men and, occasionally, giggling. The men, however, pretended to pay no attention to any of the girls as they practiced tossing the ball back and forth. Some of the men leapt up, spiking the ball over the net. Then, as their friends congratulated them, their eyes would wander over to a particular group of girls as though making certain their prowess had been witnessed.

  As they approached the doorway, Shana stopped and grabbed Emanuel's arm, her insecurities reaching out for something real to bring back her self-confidence. He turned around, his eyes searching her face for the cause of her hesitation. She felt his warm skin quiver beneath her fingertips and immediately she jerked her hand away, casting her eyes down in a silent apology.

  Most of her day had been spent in turmoil over what to wear to the volleyball game. While she knew that the other Amish girls would wear their regular, plain dresses, Shana had nothing simple and plain enough for an Amish social event. Yet, for all of her agonizing, as she stood there in her plain black skirt with her embroidered white pull-over, staring inside at the people in the artificial lighting, she knew she had decided wrong. No matter what she had worn, she knew that she stood out among the plain dressed Amish girls with their hair pulled back and tucked neatly under their white organdy prayers caps.

  "Something wrong, Shana?" Emanuel asked politely.

  For a moment, Shana stared up at him and almost blurted out that she wanted to go home. She dreaded walking inside the barn, hating herself for not listening to her instinct. But, when she saw the glow in his eyes and the concern in his expression, oblivious to her discomfort or reasons for it, Shana merely shrugged and forced a smile. "It's so bright in here. It took me by surprise," she mumbled then, following his lead, she entered the barn.

  She noticed at once that a general hush fell over the group. The girls, most of them appearing to range sixteen to twenty years in age, stared at her. As odd as their lifestyle seemed to Shana, it was she that was the outcast and outsider to them. On the ride over, Emanuel had briefly mentioned that many of the Church members didn't approve of his parents renting to Englischers, especially a single, young woman. He had quickly added that most of the younger Amish people in the community didn’t share that sentiment. In fact, they were often quite curious about the Englische people that rented the small apartment on his family’s farm.

  However, Shana knew that curiosity did not mean they wanted the Lapp’s tenant to intrude on their social life. She didn’t need Emanuel to tell her that. Instead, she sensed it as the young women gawked at her and the young men began murmuring among themselves. In that single instance, Shana understood the implications of what Emanuel had just done and she couldn't help but wonder why he had chosen to do it. Certainly the repercussions were not worth the effort on his part. But, rather than questioning his reasons, she took a deep breath and said, "Well, it looks like we haven't missed much after all."

  A tall Amish youth, not much younger than Emanuel, took the initiative to speak in the uncomfortable silence that followed their arrival. "Ach vell, we were just beginning the game. You want to play, then?"

  Emanuel nodded. "Which team needs more players, Jacob?"

  "Elijah's has room for you."

  Emanuel turned to Shana. "You want to play or watch?"

  She glanced at the two teams. One of the Amish boys stood in the back corner, holding the volleyball under his arm. They were all staring at her, a stranger amongst them, as they waited to hear her response. With the realization that she would be the only girl playing, Shana lifted her chin and said to Emanuel, "I'm not much of a watcher, so I might just give it a try."

  "If you get tired, just say so," he replied before they took their places among the other players.

  Shana didn't have to listen to hear what Emanuel's peers, especially the young girls, were saying about her. But she didn't really care, either. Her idea of fun was not sitting on the sidelines, admiring the men for their physical skills in a game they probably didn't understand. I'm not Amish, Shana reminded herself, so I'm certainly not expected to act like I am. It dawned on her that Emanuel probably invited her there for that very reason. So, rather than disappoint him, Shana helped shock them, instead.

  Half an hour later, a few more young men wandered into the barn. They stood close enough that she heard their whispers and one youth mumbled her name. Even though it took every ounce of restraint, Shana refused to listen. She wondered what they were saying as they spoke in their private Deitsch language. Certainly asking them why Emanuel had brought her there, a question that lingered in Shana's mind as well. Knowing his reasons were anything but malicious, she continued to hold her head high and tried to play the best game of volleyball she could in order to make Emanuel proud that he had asked her to accompanying him. But the uncertainty rang in her ears, confused about her role as Emanuel's friend and what she felt inside.

  The game ended forty minutes later. The teams regrouped, some of the men stepping aside to let the latecomers join in. Shana walked with Emanuel over to the pitchers of lemonade on some bales of hay near the door. Quietly, he poured a glass and handed it to her. Feeling a hundred eyes on her, Shana merely returned his smile and accepted the drink. The barn was hot and stuffy and the cool drink quenched her thirst. But as she sipped it, to her dismay, Emanuel left her side and retreated to where the men stood, their backs to the women.

  Alone, Shana clung to her glass of lemonade. The clusters of young Amish women stared at her but no one ventured to welcome her into their group. They talked softly among themselves, some of them occasionally looking at her as though wanting to invite her to join them. But no one dared. For several minutes, Shana waited to see whether Emanuel would return but, when she realized he was engrossed in a conversation with some of his friends, she took a deep breath, hid her hurt, and walked to the nearest group of girls.

  "I hope you don't mind if I join you," she started.

  For a long moment, none of the three girls spoke. They averted their eyes and glanced at each other. But, determined, Shana allowed the silence to continue until someone replied. Finally, after a lengthy awkward silence, the tallest of the three spoke up. "You must be the Englische woman living with Emanuel's family."

  "I rent a small house over the mule barn, yes. My name's Shana," she said, taking the initiative to introduce herself. In turn, the girls replied by telling her their names. Then, the ice broken, the girls began to talk again, this time in English to include Shana in their conversation.

  Shana noticed one of the girls, Ester Ostenberg, glance at Emanuel. Something in her eyes caught Shana's attention. Perhaps it was the youthful look of curiosity or envy for having an Englische woman living on their farm but, when the young girl looked back, Shana wondered if it wasn't something else. She was a pleasant looking girl with a ruddy complexion and strong hands. While Shana had realized that she often underestimated the ages of Amish youth, she guessed the girl to be no more than nineteen. And throughout the half-hour Shana shared with them, Ester's eyes were continually drawn to whichever group Emanuel seemed to be joining.

  The other two girls, Ana and Marie, asked Shana some polite questions then, began talking about their upcoming day trip to Washington D.C. to work at a market. Shana listened intently, amazed that these young girls, so innocent of the world that embraced their culture, would travel by themselves to a city so far away to work for a day's wages.

  "That's a long way to D.C.," she observed to Ana and Marie.

  "Not too long by bus," Ana replied. Then, lowering her voice, she leaned forward and added, "Besides, with the weather so hot, I like spending the time in air conditioning."

  Shana laughed softly. "I guess that is an added bonus. Especially since it's so hot. I hadn't noticed it before because I'm at work most of the time. But, since I have this weekend off and I've been at my house, I do miss the air conditioning." They stared at her, as though ama
zed that she could miss something that they could never have. "It was nice tonight," Shana added, starting to change the subject. "We rode over in Emanuel's open buggy. Those are much nicer to ride in than the closed box-buggies."

  Ana raised an eyebrow and Marie mirrored her girlfriend's startled expression. Shana noticed the silent communication between the three girls as the silence fell over them. Shana wondered what she could have said that made Ester looked so crestfallen and the other girls shocked. Finally, it was Marie who broke the silence. "Most Englischers would envy your buggy-riding experience, especially in an open buggy," she said slowly.

  "Why's that?" Shana asked, curious about the stiff, stilted words that Marie spoke.

  "Usually Englischers have to go into Intercourse and pay a man to ride them around in a carriage. It isn't often they befriend a real Amish man," Ana answered for Marie, her emphasis on the word real.

  Marie raised an eyebrow. “Nor do they ride in a courting buggy.”

  The conversation quickly shifted as two other girls joined their group and, her feeling still stinging from the unusual hint of hostility in Marie and Ana's voice, Shana replayed the conversation in her head to see where she might have offended the three girls. She also wondered what they had meant by a courting buggy.