by Mary Ellis
“Open your eyes, fraa. We’re finally here.” Jonah placed a big hand on her shoulder and gently shook her. “Welcome to Hancock.”
Leah gazed out the streaky bus window and gasped. An Amish welcoming party of at least a dozen people stood on the platform. Many of them held signs proclaiming “Welcome Home, Jonah and Joanna” in both Deutsch and English. “Looks like word of our arrival reached Wisconsin before we did,” she murmured. But Jonah was busy lifting bags from the overhead bins, looking happier than a blue heron at a fish farm. Leah followed Joanna off the bus, carrying their picnic hamper of snacks.
An effervescent crowd of young people swallowed Jonah the moment he stepped down. His old friends embraced him with hugs, slaps on the back, and snippets of news that couldn’t wait. A few of their parents stepped forward to greet Joanna, including a woman whose resemblance indicated she must be her sister and their hostess. Leah remained alone on the curb, clutching her hamper like a refugee landing on American soil.
After a moment Jonah extracted himself from the group. “Andrew, Steven, everyone—this is my wife, the former Leah Miller from Holmes County, Ohio.”
With all eyes focused on her, Leah wished she could have remained forgotten. I should have lost a few pounds and sewn a new traveling dress.
“Welcum, Leah,” said a pretty young woman. She stepped forward to shake hands along with another equally attractive woman.
Leah nodded politely and smiled, yet due to some odd malady, her ability to speak faltered. But no matter. Jonah’s cousins—four boys ranging in ages from five to thirteen—filled the ride to Jonah’s aunt’s house with lively chatter. Leah sat in the back of the wagon, content to watch the scenery on the way to their home for the next two weeks. One would think all farmland would look pretty much the same. Ohio’s agriculture included a variety of crops besides horses, sheep, swine, and cattle, but all Leah could see of Wisconsin were grazing cows and endless acres of alfalfa to feed them. No wonder they produced so much cheese. What else could you do with so much milk?
By the time they arrived at his aunt’s farm, she was exhausted, starving, and lonely for a little attention from her husband. Aunt Harriet fed them a delicious supper of chicken and dumplings with fresh vegetables and several kinds of dessert. The reunited sisters talked and talked, sipping enough tea to make them buoyant. When Leah couldn’t keep her eyes open another minute, Harriet announced, “Off with you to bed, Bylers. Tomorrow is another day.”
As Leah rose gratefully to her feet, Harriet added, “Jonah will bunk with my two older boys, and I’ve put Joanna and Leah in the guest room.” She grinned warmly, while Leah’s spirits plummeted. What had she been thinking? Two weeks with her husband in their own room? With hunger satisfied and exhaustion about to be addressed, Leah realized her loneliness was only beginning. She thanked her hostess for supper and said good night before her disappointment became apparent.
“I’ll carry the bags,” offered Jonah, entirely too cheerful for this late at night. Halfway up the steps, Leah tripped and would have landed on her nose if not for his quick reaction. “Should I carry you, fraa, as if we were newlyweds?” he asked.
“Ach, newlyweds. We’ve been put in separate rooms like youngsters.” Fatigue prevented appreciation of the practical arrangement.
“Absence will only make my heart grow fonder,” he whispered in her ear. He set her suitcase next to one twin bed, brushed her lips with a kiss, and hurried downstairs to resume his conversation about wheat varieties with his uncle.
Leah dragged a chair to the window to say her prayers, but self-pity crept into her heart instead of thankfulness and praise. This would be a long two weeks in an unfamiliar world. Jonah had every right to enjoy visiting old friends and relatives. She shouldn’t feel left out or in the way, but somehow she did. However, the loneliness she experienced crawling under Harriet’s starched sheets was small potatoes compared to the loneliness she felt at the social event thrown in Jonah’s honor.
On Friday his former best friend, Steven, and wife, along with several other married couples and dozens of single acquaintances, threw a potluck picnic. Jonah had talked about the upcoming event all week, trying to guess who might attend. By the time the Bylers arrived at four o’clock, volleyball and horseshoe games were already underway. Steven started a fire to roast hot dogs and marshmallows to accompany the side dishes. Jonah and Leah ate supper together, but once he finished eating he hurried back to the games with the other men. Leah discovered several of his former classmates were also professional cooks and bakers. One woman worked at a bakeshop and another in a restaurant, while a third created fancy cakes in her home the way Leah did. The women remained at the table for hours, swapping stories, sipping coffee, and sampling desserts.
When Leah didn’t dare consume another morsel without fear of popping pins, she rose to her feet. “Excuse me, please. I must stretch my legs before I grow attached to this bench.”
Annie, Steven’s wife, also hopped up. “I’ll walk with you. I can use the exercise after that dinner.”
The two hadn’t wandered twenty yards when Leah spotted something that chilled her blood—Jonah and a blond woman were on the porch steps, deep in conversation. They were in plain sight of everyone and not sitting improperly close, yet their familiarity unnerved Leah. Chatting and laughing, they seemed to be aware of no one else but each other. “Who is Jonah talking to?” asked Leah, hoping to keep her voice casual.
Annie squinted into the fading light. “Oh, that’s Sarah Gingerich. She and Jonah courted for a while before he moved away. Folks thought they might announce an engagement, but then he met you and fell in love. So it’s water under the bridge.” Annie linked her arm through Leah’s. “Don’t worry about them. They’re just catching up. Let’s go look at my newborn collie pups. They are the cutest dogs in the world.”
Leah complied, oohing and ahhing at the pups appropriately, except for the “don’t worry” part. It might have been easier if the old flame wasn’t tall and thin and beautiful. Jealousy and envy were sins. Jonah had never given her one reason to doubt his faithfulness. Yet that night, a nasty green-eyed monster reared its ugly head, taking hold of her heart with its long, razor-sharp claws.
TEN
Charm, Ohio
Emma Davis walked onto the bedroom balcony carrying the day’s first cup of coffee. Although it was a long walk from the pot in the kitchen, she enjoyed the porch rocker in the early hours while her sons still slept. James had just left for work at the main office of Hollyhock Farms. He would spend most of the morning returning phone calls, updating records, checking inventories, and scheduling the workers for the day, week, month, and season ahead. He’d shown her various spreadsheets on the computer that he claimed made running an agribusiness easier, but it had looked more like a tangled ball of yarn to her. James would usually stop home to share lunch with her and the boys and then spend his afternoons on horseback, checking livestock, fences, and various work crews hired to run a large beef cattle and horse-breeding operation. And then there were Emma’s sheep—the money-losing end of the business. But because sheep were what had brought them together, their flocks of Dorsets, Suffolks, and Cheviots would always have a home at Hollyhock.
James might dress Plain and drive a buggy for transportation since his conversion to New Order Amish, but his day-to-day operations had remained unchanged. Computers, cell phones, Internet and e-mail, and modern technology were accepted by their Amish sect. Emma had grown up Old Order, which still used propane appliances, kerosene lamps, and draft horses to pull farming implements.
As the sun rose high enough to burn the dew off their lush rolling lawn, Emma heard her baby awaken. Little Sam would start out whimpering like a dog, graduate to crying, and if still ignored, would begin howling like a coyote at the moon. She downed her coffee and hurried to the nursery to tend to a hungry child with a wet diaper. After changing the baby into dry clothes, she carried him into Jamie’s room, where her older son was a
lready playing with blocks. “Did you climb out of your crib again?” she asked. Jamie peered up, giggling. “We need to either install higher sides or put you in your own bed.”
“Mommy, look,” he ordered, but the tower of blocks shifted and fell over.
“How about some breakfast before you attempt to rebuild?”
“Cheerios,” he demanded, scrambling to his feet. “With bananas.” The name of the fruit sounded as though the word contained two y’s, but she understood just fine. He ran out his bedroom door.
“Bananas it is.” Emma caught hold of his back suspenders to ensure he didn’t tumble down the steps in haste. And so a normal day of motherhood for Emma Davis had begun—one filled with spilled milk, burned brownies, and scraped knees. Yet she would savor the time while her children were small for the rest of her life.
Later that day, after James returned to work and she’d put both boys down for a nap, Emma curled up on her chaise with a novel. She had checked a mystery out from the library that involved a crime-solving cat, but she hadn’t reached the second chapter when Barbara Davis appeared. Her mother-in-law came roaring up the driveway in her fancy gold convertible. The woman set such store by that car! How could a God-fearing Christian woman—who conducted a Bible study in her own kitchen and regularly helped at the homeless shelter, ladies’ jail, and midwife birthing clinic—spend twenty-five-thousand dollars for a car? James told her that wasn’t expensive by English standards, yet the price had set Emma’s head reeling.
Barbara Davis was very much an Englischer.
“Yoo-hoo, Emma. It’s me.”
Emma set down her book to meet her at the top of the steps. “Hullo, would you like coffee? I have half a pot still warm from lunch.”
Barbara pushed her windblown hair back from her face. “Oh, no. No time for that. I have to get to church, and I would love for you to come with me.” Her smile went from one ear to the other.
Barbara attended a big evangelical Christian church close to Sugar Creek, where most of the county’s non-Amish belonged. She hadn’t been thrilled with her son’s conversion, yet she hadn’t tried to talk him out of it either. Emma would always be grateful for her open-mindedness in that regard. “I can’t today,” said Emma. “The boys are both asleep. Is it another flea market fund-raiser and bake sale? Because I have a bag of discards you can take with you.” Emma tried to help out with Barbara’s charity efforts, whether for a local family out of work or drought victims across the globe.
“Oh, no, this is much better.” Barbara was practically dancing with excitement. “Our pastor is taking a group to work in Haiti. We’ll be helping to rebuild a whole village. Churches from all over Ohio will join us. Those without construction skills will be sewing, cooking, painting, and carrying supplies. Can you imagine? We will make a difference in people’s lives.” Her enthusiasm was hitting cloud level.
“But that horrible earthquake was almost two years ago,” said Emma, rubbing the back of her neck.
“That’s correct, but there is still much to be done. Most of the people live in temporary camps. Now that more roads have been fixed, we can get construction materials into new areas. We’ll be building homes, churches, and a school. Families will be glad to get a permanent roof over their heads.”
“You’re going to Haiti? What about your job in the ER?” Emma felt as though she was the parent, trying to talk sense to a flighty teenager.
“Oh, that’s the best part! Because I’m a medical professional doing humanitarian aid, the hospital will hold my position indefinitely.”
Emma smiled graciously. “That’s wonderful news. Your family will miss you but will be so proud of you.”
Barbara reached for her hand. “I’d like you to come with me. We’re not leaving for a couple of months, so you would have time to prepare. Emma, this will be the experience of a lifetime.”
Emma’s jaw dropped open. “Me? I couldn’t possibly go with you. I have a husband and two little boys.”
“Your James could eat meals at the big house with his dad. Lily has agreed to move home while I’m gone to take care of things. And as far as my grandbabies? A friend’s daughter just graduated from nanny school. She’s willing to donate her services for the six weeks for free, as her donation to the cause. Besides, she’ll get practical experience to put down on her résumé. You can rest assured that your boys would be in good hands.”
Emma shook her head. “Nanny or no, I don’t think I could leave them for even one week, let alone for six.”
Barbara patted her shoulder. “I understand what a sacrifice it would be to be apart from them, but these people are suffering, Emma. And we’ll have the opportunity to talk about Jesus besides meeting their urgent physical needs. Some of their communities still practice voodoo. At least agree to come to one of the information meetings. There will be another one in two weeks, along with a video of the blighted area.” Her pretty eyes turned downright plaintive.
“I’ll come to the next meeting, but I make no other promises. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to start something for dinner.” Emma forced a weak smile.
“Bless your heart, child. I’ll be in touch!” In a whirlwind, Barbara Davis jumped in her shiny car and drove away.
I am a grown woman, not a child! Yet somehow a child was exactly how her mother-in-law made her feel.
Winesburg
“Phoebe! Come down right now or we’ll leave without you.”
When Phoebe heard her father’s voice, she tossed her drawing pad on the bed. Her mother had already called her once, but Phoebe had wanted to finish the portrait of Eli Riehl. If she let more time slip by, her precious memories of New York—and of the handsomest man in the world—would fade away forever. And she would need something to cry over when she was elderly, frail, and still single.
She flew down the stairs and out the door as fast as Sunday decorum allowed. Hannah, Ben, and her dad were already climbing into the buggy. “I thought you would have to take the path to Uncle Simon’s,” said Hannah, offering her a hand to step up.
“Nobody likes latecomers, young lady,” scolded Seth. “Whatever you were doing probably wasn’t suitable for the Sabbath anyway.”
Pining over a man I’ll never see again? Probably not. Phoebe uttered a silent prayer of confession as the Millers drove the half-mile distance to the Miller family next door for church service. As she and her family joined the throng entering Uncle Simon’s outbuilding, which had been scrubbed spic-and-span, her mind played a cruel trick on her. She thought she saw the tall, blond profile of Eli Riehl duck through the doorway up ahead.
It couldn’t be. The Riehls lived in another district. Phoebe shook her head as though waking from a dream. When her father and brother headed toward the left-hand benches, she and Hannah found spots on the right, midway to the front. She immediately bowed her head in prayer to be delivered from her constant self-absorption. She didn’t stop praying until the congregation began the first hymn. When she opened her eyes, she met the gaze of the world’s best storyteller. Eli was smiling at her from across the room, not even pretending to be singing.
Phoebe felt the barn sway as though under hurricane-force winds. Her breath escaped with the sound of a squeaky door hinge, loud enough to draw Hannah’s attention. She elbowed Phoebe’s side and thrust the songbook Ausbund under her nose. “There will be time for staring at boys later. We’re here to worship.”
With enough to be contrite about already, Phoebe lifted her voice in praise. And for the next three hours of sermons, Scriptures, and singing, she tried desperately not to look at him. At times, she succeeded. When the service concluded, people filed out toward the long tables where lunch would be served.
“Don’t wander off,” warned Hannah. “We need to help Julia bring out the food.”
“Of course,” said Phoebe, although wandering off had crossed her mind. She joined the women headed toward the house.
“Ach, Phoebe. I’m glad you’re here since Emma and Leah ar
en’t,” said her aunt. She handed her niece a giant bowl of potato salad and bustled off. Phoebe would have asked where her cousins were, but Julia appeared disinclined to chitchat. After setting the side dish on the table, she turned and found herself nose to nose with a sweet-faced girl in her early twenties.
“You’re Phoebe Miller, right? Do you know where Leah Byler is?” asked the woman.
“Jah, I’m Phoebe, but my aunt just told me Leah didn’t come today.” She smiled politely.
The woman settled her hands on her rounded hips. “My name is Rose. I live one district over. Your cousin is a friend of mine. This is our off-week for church, but my bruder thought it would be nice to worship at your service. So here we are.”
“Welcome, Rose. Would you like to join me carrying bowls? The sooner the food is out, the sooner everyone can eat. I hope you brought your appetite.”
Rose lowered her chin and stared intently into Phoebe’s eyes. “How’s your eyesight? Do I bear no resemblance to my brother? Folks usually say we look alike, except for the height part.”
Phoebe caught her breath and then stammered incoherently. “You’re Rose…Riehl?”
“In the flesh. And I know Eli’s both starving and anxious to talk to you. So let’s get those side dishes.” Rose linked arms with Phoebe, practically dragging her into Aunt Julia’s house, while Phoebe scanned the crowd for a particular face.
The next hour passed in a blur, like scenery through a speeding car window. They carried and served and fetched and then cleaned up afterward. At some point Phoebe supposed she’d eaten something, but she couldn’t recall what it had been because Eli Riehl made sure he was always within sight during the meal. And the moment she pulled off her soiled apron and dropped it into the porch basket, he materialized at her side.
