by Sarah Price
The Amish Chronicles:Priscilla’s Story
An Amish Novel in Morality
Four previously published novellas:
The Tomato Patch Novella
The Quilting Bee Novella
The Hope Chest Novella
The Clothes Line Novella
By Sarah Price
Published by Price Publishing, LLC.
Morristown, New Jersey 2014
The Pennsylvania Dutch used in this manuscript is taken from the Pennsylvania Dutch Revised Dictionary (1991) by C. Richard Beam, Brookshire Publications, Inc. in Lancaster, PA.
Copyright ©2014 by Price Publishing, LLC. All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
Contact the author at on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/fansofsarahprice or
visit her Web Blog at http://sarahpriceauthor.wordpress.com.
Price Publishing, LLC. Morristown, NJ 07960
Other Books by Sarah Price
The Amish of Lancaster Series
#1: Fields of Corn
#2: Hills of Wheat
#3: Pastures of Faith
#4: Valley of Hope
The Plain Fame Trilogy
Plain Fame
Plain Change
Plain Again
Other Amish & Christian Novels
Amish Faith
Amish Circle Letters: The Complete Series
Amish Circle Letters II: The Second Circle of Letters
A Gift of Faith: An Amish Christmas Story
An Amish Christmas Carol: Amish Christian Classic Series
A Christmas Gift for Rebecca: An Amish Christian Romance
The Divine Secrets of the Whoopie Pie Sisters (with Whoopie Pie Pam Jarrell)
First Impressions (Realms)
The Matchmaker (Realms 2015)
Pink Umbrellas: The 12 Days of Devotion (with Lisa Bull)
The Prayer Chain Series (with Ella Stewart)
Other Books
Gypsy in Black
Postcards from Abby (with Ella Stewart)
Meet Me in Heaven (with Ella Stewart)
Find Sarah Price on Amazon.
Facebook http://www.facebook.com/fansofsarahprice
and Twitter @SarahPriceAmish
Dedicated to anyone who has ever experienced bullying, whether in person or on the Internet. It is my wish that people will read this book and recognize that false accusations, lies, and general bad will against others are clearly not Christian behavior.
Foreword
A Note About Vocabulary
Part One: The Tomato Patch
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Part Two: The Quilting Bee
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Part Three: The Hope Chest
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Part Four: The Clothes Line
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Song: Pretty Good At Lying
Glossary of Pennsylvania Dutch
One More Thing…
About The Author
Foreword
Bullying is a serious problem. Too often, we read about cases of children bullying other children at school. It is, indeed, heartbreaking to read about the outcomes, quite often resulting in the victim committing suicide. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. We can point fingers at parents, schoolteachers, or even administrators for not doing more to stop the bullying and protect the innocent victims.
However, there is another form of bullying, a form that is not often discussed: adults bullying other adults.
Several years ago, I found myself receiving unwanted attention from another author. The harassment escalated out of control. I learned the hard way that there are very few laws to protect adults from individuals who wish to continually bother us. Some states have strict laws, such as Florida, where cyber-bullying is punishable with jail time. Yet, despite having these laws, law enforcement personnel are, more often than not, unwilling to pursue such claims, leaving the victim to continue to receive harassing postings, emails, and private messages.
These laws must change.
The Internet provides too easy a forum for people to hide behind a keyboard and computer screen, communicating malicious messages with the intent to harm others. It’s unchristian, unethical, and inhumane.
My challenge to everyone is to have an open dialogue about bullying and harassment using such tools as letters, emails, or postings on social media. If you recognize it, report it and block that person or remove yourself from that group. Supporting these individuals is supporting bullying. While turning the other cheek is a very noble concept, there comes a time when we have to find a way to help protect the victims from slander, harassment, and outright lies. After all, as the song goes, these bullies are“pretty good at lying”.
S.P.
A Note About Vocabulary
The Amish speak Pennsylvania Dutch (also called Amish German or Amish Dutch). This is a verbal language with variations in spelling among communities throughout the USA. Since there is no formal written vocabulary, you may notice a variety of word spellings when you read different books in the Amish Christian genre. For example, in some regions, a grandfather is spelled “grossdaadi”while in other regions it is spelled“grossdawdi”, mom is spelled“mamm”in one church district but spelled“maem”in another.
In addition, there are phrases such a“mayhaps”or the use of the word“then”at the end of sentences and, my favorite,“for sure and certain,” which are not necessarily from the Pennsylvania Dutch language/dialect, but are unique to the Amish.
The use of these words comes from my own experience living among the Amish in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. To help readers, Amish words are italicized and a glossary has been provided at the end of the novel.
Part One: The Tomato Patch
Chapter One
Priscilla Smucker stood on the edge of the garden, staring at the neat rows of pretty tomato plants that poked up from the ground. Their green leaves stretched toward the warm spring sun. There was no place she’d rather be than standing barefoot in the middle of her tomato patch. The feel of the dirt on her feet and the smell of freshly growing vegetables surrounding her always made her happy. She shut her eyes and breathed in deeply, enjoying the moment as s
he envisioned the garden in full glory, come late June and early July.
But it was only the first week of June. It would be at least four weeks before the growing plants produced any edible vegetables. In the meantime, Priscilla would continue to work in the tomato patch, tending to each plant as if it were a child and she, the nurturing mother.
Springtime on her daed’s farm was always her favorite time of year. Crops were planted and grew. Cows gave birth to their calves. Life was born anew on the farm. Priscilla loved gardening more than anything, including canning, haying, and caring for the newborn calves. It made her feel good to work with the earth, creating something from nothing, something that would be enjoyed by her family while experiencing a spiritual connection with God.
During this first week of June, the air was more like spring than summer. Priscilla’s brown hair was covered with a blue bandana. She wiped at her forehead, feeling the beads of perspiration, not from heat but from hard work. Yet, she didn’t mind. For the past six weeks, she had been tending to the garden, first plowing the patch of ground, then mixing in composted manure to make the soil rich and ready for the plants. Finally, she had planned the layout of the garden and planted her seeds. Throughout the cold winter months, she looked forward to springtime and her time spent working in the garden.
A bird flew overhead, squawking as it dipped toward the stream behind her parents’house. It was almost time for dinner. Most days, the family gathered at twelve-thirty to share in the midday meal. She could tell the hour without looking at the sun overhead that it was almost that time. When her daed whistled from the dairy barn, she knew that he was almost done with his morning chores and would soon be headed into the house for the dinner meal.
Picking up her hoe in one hand and the bucket of weeds that she had just collected in another, Priscilla headed toward the house. She’d dump the weeds later in the compost pile that the family used behind the mule barn. For now, she wanted to clean up and help her mamm with setting up the table before her daed came in from the dairy barn.
“How’s the garden?”Mamm asked as Priscilla walked into the kitchen and hurried to wash her hands at the sink. Her mamm handed her a fresh towel to dry them.
“Gut,”Priscilla said.“Everything is growing nicely and I didn’t see any sign of grubs this year.”She glanced over her shoulder at the mess on the kitchen floor. An alphabet puzzle was scattered on the floor. A teddy bear was tossed casually on the torn green sofa against the wall.“You are watching Elsie’s kinneragain?”
Her mamm looked at the floor. She smiled and shook her head.“That little Katie is something else. She is a tornado, leaving a path of destruction behind her, ain’t so?”
Without being asked, Priscilla hurried over to pick up the toys and return them to the basket that her mamm kept for when Elsie’s children visited. Since they lived across the street in a smaller house on a farmette, Elsie worked at a local market on Thursdays and Fridays. It helped supplement their income since they hoped to purchase a larger farm in the future. While she worked at market, her three young kinneroften went to their other grandmother’s house; however, it wasn’t unusual for Mamm to watch them, too.
Priscilla liked having the children around the house. As the youngest child and last daughter living on her parents’farm, she often felt lonely without her older sisters. Gone were the days with lots of activity and noise, laughter and conversation. Instead, when her last sister married, the house suddenly changed. So Priscilla welcomed the distraction of Elsie’s children. Their presence broke up the monotony of the day. She loved how the children’s energy felt contagious and their laughter added a vivacious life to the house, one that was missing in previous years. When they returned home in the evening, Priscilla found that she longed for their presence. The quiet that descended upon the house seemed extra loud at those times.
Despite her loneliness, Priscilla knew that Mamm appreciated her help. There was always something to do on a farm. Without Priscilla, her mamm would be the only one cooking for her daedand two older brothers, David and Jonas, who hadn’t married yet.
Priscilla wiped down the table and set it for eight, putting the children on the one side next to where she always sat on the bench. Her mamm and daed would sit at the head of the old wooden kitchen table while her brothers were always seated opposite Priscilla. It was the routine in the house and, on an Amish farm, routine was everything. From rising every morning at four-thirty to milking the cows to worshipping God at a neighbor’s house every other Sunday, there was very little that couldn’t be predicted on the farm. Seasons came and went. Every year at the same time, fields were plowed, gardens were planted, hay was cut, corn was harvested, vegetables and fruits were preserved, cows were milked and meat was canned.
It always amazed Priscilla that some Amish youth wanted to explore the outside world, which was so full of unpredictability. She much preferred the quiet peace of the farm. Every day, something special happened that made her feel closer to God. From watching the birthing of calves to seeing the little birds at the bird feeders that her mamm refilled every morning, life on a farm was the only life for Priscilla.
The door to the utility room opened and she heard her daed walk in, stomping his feet to kick off any loose dirt. Her older brothers would be following soon, she thought, and hurried over to pour fresh water into everyone’s cup. On rare occasions, her mamm might make meadow tea, especially during the hot summer months. Usually it was just water for the adults and milk for the children.
“Go call the kinner, Priscilla,”her mamm instructed gently.“They’re playing on the back porch.”
Slipping out the door at the back of the kitchen, Priscilla hurried through a small hallway to the back porch of the grossdaadihaus. It was cooler there, during the warm summer days, as it was shaded by a large oak tree. The children loved to play there since they were free to make as much of a mess as they wanted. Hardly anyone else ever went back there.
“Katie, you get your brother and sister, now,”Priscilla said softly.“Time to eat.”
“Ach, we were all having so much fun,”Katie whined, but she did as she was told.
“I can see that,”Priscilla replied, quickly assessing the room.“Mayhaps we can pick this up together later, surprise your grossmammi, ja?”She noticed that Katie glanced at her with an expression that showed her lack of desire to surprise anyone. Priscilla raised an eyebrow,“I bet she’d sure tell your own mamm how helpful you were and that would make your mamm feel right gut, don’t you think?”
Katie kicked at a small toy.“I reckon,”she said then grabbed the hand of her little brother and started to walk toward the kitchen.
Priscilla smiled and motioned to her other niece that they should follow. Together, they entered the kitchen and took their places at the table. Priscilla sat next to the youngest one, Ben, in order to help him with his meal.
“Shall we pray?”her mamm said and all eight heads bowed down together for their moment of silent prayer.
As soon as their daed lifted his head, that was the signal that the meal could begin. The table was laden with fresh pickles, cabbage, applesauce, red beets, meatballs, boiled potatoes and chow-chow. There was cup cheese in one dish and apple butter in another, both of which would be lavishly spread across the fresh baked bread that their mamm had pulled out of the oven only an hour earlier. Dishes were passed, forks and knifes scrapped the plates, and the conversation began.
“Heard there’s a charity dinner coming up in July,”Daed said.
Priscilla looked up. Charity dinners were usually run by the Mennonite church. But the Amish liked to participate.“When is it, Daed?”
“Oh, let’s see now,”he said, tugging at his white beard and looking up at the ceiling.“Seem to recall hearing that it was mid-July. Going to be a vegetable contest, too.”His eyes sparkled as he looked at Priscilla.“Jacob Byler told me about it. Seems his daughter, Susie, is going to enter her tomatoes in the contest.”
“Now,
why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Priscilla glanced at her brother, Jonas. His tone hadn’t been too friendly. Several years ago, her family had moved down to Florida from a different district in Pennsylvania. Her daed’sparents were down there and were sickly. So Jacob Byler had uprooted his family to head south to care for them. Just last year, they had moved back north. His parents had passed and there wasn’t much of a living to be made down in Sarasota, Florida.
Two years ago, the Byler family return to Ephrata. Jacob’s sister and her family lived in the area. So he moved his small family into an older, run-down farm located on the edge of the Smucker’s church district. At the time, the Amish grapevine speculated about the family and their financial situation. The farmhouse resided on his brother’s farm and had been vacated years ago. With peeling paint and broken windows, the farmhouse needed a lot of work. Like everyone else in the g’may, Priscilla wondered that anyone would want to live there. Daed had speculated that, mayhaps, they needed to live there. At the time, Priscilla did not know what he meant.
During those two years, the Bylers kept to themselves. Since Susie was finished with her schooling, Priscilla’s interaction with the family was limited to every other Sunday when everyone gathered for worship. Sometimes the Bylers showed up. Sometimes they did not. It seemed Susie’s mamm was sickly. At least that was the explanation shared with the g’may.
Since the Smucker family knew so little about the Bylers, the fact that her brother spoke up against Susie surprised Priscilla.“Why’s that, brother?”
Jonas waved his hand in the air dismissively.“That Susie is always touting that her garden is the best and that she’s the most famous Amish girl in the district for her tomatoes.”
“That’s idle gossip,”Mamm said, a gentle reprimand to her eighteen-year-old son that he shouldn’t speak about others in such a negative light.
“It’s true,”Jonas replied.
Their older brother, David nodded.“She’s known to be a bit proud, Mamm.”
