An Amish Garden

by Beth Wiseman

  “I–I’m sorry,” Isaiah stammered. “I was gonna wait. I just wanted to meet up with Eli—”

  “It’s my fault,” the bachelor—Eli she now knew—said. His voice was slightly shaky as if he was startled by her. He pointed to the small bachelor’s cabin just up the road, nestled into a cluster of tall pine trees. “Last night the boys came by my cabin and told me they saw a bear cub near the Sommers’ place up the road. They were excited to show me the spot this morning. I apologize.” Eli pulled his hat from his head with a flourish. Light-brown hair stuck up in back like a rooster’s comb, striking her as funny. She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling and then blew out a slow breath.

  Sadie’s attraction to him stirred in the pit of her gut. “They were excited, eh? Well, sir, excitement is no excuse for bad manners.” Heat rose to her cheeks, and she resisted the urge to fan her face. “And I’m afraid that I haven’t been a very good example.” Sadie offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for getting excited and not introducing myself. I’m Sadie. Sadie Chupp.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sadie.” Eli shook her hand like an Englischman would, and warmth crept up the back of her neck. She quickly pulled it away.

  “I’d love to chat, but the kinder can’t be late for school, can they? Especially if they have to keep an eye out for a bear cub along the way.”

  “Ja, we must hurry. But not too fast for your sister.” Eli bent down to one knee, not even minding the dirt road. He gently tugged on the young girl’s kapp string. “And what was your name?”

  “Rachel.” She smiled up at him, displaying her missing front teeth.

  “Well, Rachel, you and I can look on the left of the road and the boys can look on the right. If a cub is out there, we’ll be sure to see him.”

  Rachel nodded eagerly and they began to walk. Suddenly she turned back and waved. “Bye, cousin Sadie.”

  “Cousin?” Eli placed the hat back on his head. “I thought Sadie was your sister.” He glanced at Sadie out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t linger on her long.

  “Ne. She’s our cousin from Indiana,” Noah explained. “Her parents died, and so she came to live with us, but she has her mem’s tomato plants, and we’re not to touch them—they’re important.”

  Eli looked at Sadie with compassion and she shrugged. “Well, there you have it. If you ever want to know someone’s life story, just ask a kinder. Have a good day then.” She waved them away, uncomfortable with the attention. Maybe that’s why she’d grown to like gardening more and more . . . In a garden, one didn’t have to face one’s grief and people’s concern on a daily basis. She could hold it all inside if she wished. Or she could let it out—teardrops moistening the soft soil—if she wanted.

  The bachelor stood still, his eyes large and full of questions, but he didn’t say a word. Isaiah tugged on Eli’s sleeve. The man turned, flanked by the kids as he walked away. He had a long, determined stride, and all three kids scuffled to keep up. Seeing that lightened her heart. It also made her feel even worse for the way she’d treated them—treated him.

  Sadie turned back and trudged to her aunt and uncle’s house, wishing she hadn’t let her temper flare up. Wishing she hadn’t chased the kids down. And wishing they hadn’t said anything about her parents’ deaths. For now there was yet another person in the community who would offer her compassionate looks, yet who’d be afraid to come too near because they didn’t know what to say or do.

  Grief not only built an emptiness within . . . sometimes it built a barrier of loneliness too. A barrier that few dared to cross.

  Sadie finished up her task of setting out the plants and then walked toward the house. She’d offered to help Linda with the deep cleaning—the kind that only got done when the whole neighborhood would be showing up for church the following Sunday.

  Linda was already busy at work, dusting the banister that led upstairs to the kids’ room—and Sadie’s small half room—when Sadie entered. She could tell by the look on Linda’s face that her aunt had watched her interaction with Eli and the children. Aenti Linda tried to hold back a smirk as she brushed her cleaning cloth along the wooden handrailing.

  “Seems like the kids were extra excited. They do like getting to know the new bachelors in the spring. The boys have had more than one gut fishing buddy over the years.”

  “Ja, Eli seems nice enough.”

  “Eli, is it?” Linda glanced back over her shoulder. “Ah, yes. I remember now. I knew about Eli Plank even before he’d shown up in these parts.”

  Sadie waited for Linda to continue, but her aunt didn’t elaborate. Was she just teasing? Sadie refused to ask about the man. Refused to put any ideas in her aunt’s head that she was taking an interest. The last thing she needed was word to get back to her sisters.

  “You should have given your letter to Eli—or the kids—to drop by the store on the way to school.”

  “Letter?” Sadie walked to the kitchen and dipped her hand into the soapy water in the kitchen sink basin, deciding to start with cleaning the wood paneling in the kitchen first.

  “Ja, the letter you promised to write to your sisters every week. By my calculations, it’s been two weeks. I’m surprised I haven’t heard from Marie telling me that she’d already bought a train ticket to come and check on you.”

  “And leave her vegetable garden for her children to tend? We both know that won’t happen.”

  “She’s concerned about you, you know.”

  Sadie sighed. “I know.”

  “They all are.”

  “Vell, what else can I write about that I haven’t written in the other twenty letters? Montana’s beautiful. I’m enjoying the kids, and I started Mem’s tomato seeds in the greenhouse with hopes for a fruitful year.”

  Aunt Linda raised an eyebrow. “You could tell her about the bear that everyone’s talking about.”

  Sadie cleared her throat. “Ja, and then my sister Carol would be here for sure, ready to take me back to civilization.”

  “You could tell her about the Amish bachelors.” Linda winked.

  “Ne. That would excite my sisters even more than a bear. Wouldn’t they be happy then for their youngest sister to finally find a man to care for her, since I need so much caring-for in their eyes?”

  “They’re just trying to help, Sadie.”

  Sadie took long strokes as she scrubbed the paneling. “I know.”

  “That’s why God gave us families—and community. No one is meant to live life alone, to carry their grief alone.”

  Sadie didn’t say anything. What could she say? She would open up if she found the right person. Someone who’d listen and who didn’t try to find a solution for everything. Someone who could understand why some days were harder than others, and that sprouting new life was a way of healing from loss and death. Sadie didn’t know if someone like that existed. But if he did, well, that would be worth writing home about.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Eli Plank plopped the last bite of chocolate chip cookie into his mouth and settled down under the shade of the aspen tree. He’d just finished up lunch at the Kraft and Grocery, eating with Abe and Ike Sommers, and he now hoped for a few minutes’ peace to kick up his feet before his lunch break was over. He’d only been working at the Log Works half a day and already his back, shoulders, and arms ached. He’d used different muscles today as he peeled logs—muscles he didn’t know he had.

  Eli folded his arms behind the back of his head and relaxed onto the cool grass, crossing one leg over the other. And it was only then—with his mind freed from other distractions—that he allowed his thoughts to drift back to this morning.

  There were few things that made Eli feel like a fool, but the way he got tongue-tied when Sadie Chupp strode away this morning made him want to slink behind one of the pine trees that lined the dusty road. Why hadn’t he thought of something to say—offer condolences? How long ago had she lost her parents? From the look on her face it was still fresh. Her heart-shap
ed face was one of the prettiest he’d seen, but he couldn’t help but notice the dark circles around her eyes and the worry lines creasing her forehead.

  It also made sense why she’d acted so protective over little Rachel. It was as if Sadie’s heart had been rubbed raw by the troubles of life and was now overly sensitive to the pain of others.

  Eli’s whole life he pictured himself married to someone similar to his mem. Someone most content when quietly tending her garden or rolling out piecrust with a low hum under her breath. That was before he caught the fire in Sadie’s gaze as she approached them. It had caused his heart to leap in his chest. That was also before he noted the pain in her eyes as she walked away, and he wondered what he could do to help. He wanted to hear Sadie’s story—the one that was reflected in the depth of her eyes.

  “Hey, Eli! Lunch break’s over!” The voice shouted behind him, and he turned to find Jonathan Shelter waving in his direction. Jonathan was his supervisor at Montana Log Works, and a friendly fellow. A patient one too. Jonathan hadn’t said anything when Eli showed up five minutes late. Maybe because of Eli’s tale of seeing fresh bear tracks on the road. Jonathan had also been patient when he had to explain more than once how to skip-peel the lodgepole pine with drawknives—mostly because Eli couldn’t get Sadie’s sweet face out of his mind. Thoughts of pretty women and sharp knives didn’t mix. Work had to remain his sole focus.

  He returned to the work area and put on his heavy apron once again. He pulled a long lodgepole log from the pile. It was heavier than he thought, and it took some effort to set it in the notchedout sawhorse. Then, taking up the drawknife in both hands, he scooped it under the layer of bark, pulling the knife toward him and peeling off a chunk. His job was to do this again and again, leaving a layer of color, but removing the bark. Eli’s draws were steady but seemed slow-moving compared to the other workers. They moved at twice his speed with skill and ease, making it look as easy as peeling an apple.

  Earlier Jonathan urged Eli to take his time. Jonathan promised that he’d get used to it and speed up after a few days.

  Eli pulled, pulled, pulled the knife—one swoop at a time—watching the bark curl up and fall to the ground. It was different work than he was used to, but in a way it felt good. It was different than gardening, different than writing . . . and made Eli feel as if he was one step closer to being able to care for his own family someday. Not that he’d give up his other work.

  He enjoyed being the “bachelor scribe” for The Budget and sitting down with a paper and pen. Not to be prideful, but more than once readers had written in to tell the paper that Eli’s reports were the first they looked for when they picked up a copy of the newspaper. Readers enjoyed his adventures, and his dat didn’t mind him traveling and writing as long as he’d keep his promise about three things—to return and get baptized into the Amish church, to find a good woman to marry and bring her home, and every now and then to mention his opa’s seed company. He’d easily promised the first and the last, but how could one promise to find true love? Eli hadn’t promised that. He’d thought that would be the hardest one to keep until his eyes met Sadie’s.

  But enough of that now. He had a half day’s work to put behind him. He just hoped his aching arms would hold out. He often put in a day of hard work in the garden or the fields, but this repetitive movement was different.

  Four hours later, after he got off of work, Eli was only partly surprised to find Isaiah and Noah Chupp waiting by the rack where the Amish bachelors parked their bikes. Jonathan Shelter had brought Eli a bicycle to use while he was up in these parts. It was a mighty kind gesture.

  “Do you have time to help us find the bear?” The words spouted from Isaiah’s mouth.

  Eli’s stomach rumbled, and he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his sweaty brow. Dirt and wood particles came off, and he guessed he was completely covered with sawdust. “I’m not ready for dinner yet. How about I just meet you in the morning? And—”

  “Or you can walk with us now and eat dinner at our place . . . ,” Isaiah offered.

  “Oh no, I couldn’t do that. I’m sure your mem doesn’t want company stopping over.”

  Noah pointed his finger into the air. “Vell, you’d not be the only one. She does wash for many bachelors, and when they happen to bring their laundry by near dinnertime, she always invites them in.”

  “Oh ja, I heard about that . . .” Eli chuckled. It had actually been on a list that one of the previous bachelors had left pinned to the wall of the log cabin, right next to photos of some of the big game they’d caught. Someone had started the list a few years ago of the best creeks to fish in, where the shooting range was, and local ladies who took in wash. Eli smiled, remembering there was a note that said if one dropped off laundry to Mrs. Sommers’s or Mrs. Chupp’s place around dinnertime, they’d often get invited in.

  Still, would Sadie think it too obvious if he showed up at her uncle’s place for the second time that day? He wouldn’t mind seeing her pretty face again, yet with every place he visited, he told himself not to tie up his heart unless it was somewhere he could settle, plant roots, build a life, and start a family. As pretty as Montana was, it was too early to even consider making it home. And as pretty as Sadie was, he still had much to learn about her.

  He rubbed his jaw, still unsure.

  Isaiah must have noticed Eli’s hesitancy. He stepped closer, peering up into Eli’s face. “Ja, really. I overheard Mem just last night in the barn telling Dat that they needed to put a new posting up on the bulletin board at the Kraft and Grocery. She said it would be good for cousin Sadie to spend time with people her own age, especially some of the bachelors.”

  Eli brushed wood chips off his sleeves, then rolled them up. He guessed he could wear this outfit for work again tomorrow. No use washing sweaty clothes just to get them sweaty again. But he did need the rest of his clothes washed. “Vell, if they were going to put up a sign at the store . . .”

  Noah’s eyebrows lifted. “So, can we go now?”

  “We can head to my cabin and maybe keep our eyes open for bear tracks on the way. But as I wash up and gather up my dirty clothes, I want you to head home, you hear? I don’t want anyone to think that you put me up to this.”

  Noah pouted. “But we—”

  “You reminded me of your mem’s laundry service, that’s all. And I was needing my clothes washed, ja?” Eli swallowed hard, knowing his words committed him. “And let’s not assume that dinner will be part of the evening . . . understand?” Yet what Eli didn’t say was that he hoped it would be, maybe even more than the boys. Both for the food and the company.

  “We understand.” Isaiah placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder and quickly nodded, as if urging Noah not to argue.

  Eli took the handlebars of the bicycle and freed it from the rack, but instead of riding it, he pushed it down the road with Isaiah on his left and Noah on his right. He’d always enjoyed being around his nieces and nephews, and having these local boys befriend him so quickly made West Kootenai seem more like home.

  “So, do you think we’re going to see the mean mama bear this time?” Isaiah’s blondish-red eyebrows nearly met in the middle as he raised them.

  “I don’t know.” Eli shrugged. “I talked to some of the locals, and most think that the yearling’s an orphan. A mama wouldn’t let her little one be caught out in the open so much—and get into so much trouble.”

  Noah’s eyes widened. “We can adopt him! Do you think Dat will let us keep him as a pet?”

  “Not on your life.” Eli tried to hide his smile. “Little bears grow up to be big bears, and you can’t tame a wild creature like that.”

  Noah shrugged. “I think you could . . . if you tried.”

  “Better not even try.” Eli paused. “It’s fun and games when we’re together like this—and when you’re with an adult—but don’t ever go near a bear alone, got it?”

  Noah nodded, his shoulders sagging. The mood grew mo
re somber when they walked all the way to the bachelor’s cabin and didn’t see any signs of the bear.

  Eli parked his bicycle by the front porch’s railing. “I’ll meet you at your house in a little bit. Just give me fifteen minutes to clean up, ja?” He leaned down and placed his hands on his knees, meeting Noah eye-to-eye. “No spilling the beans, you hear? It’s our secret.”

  With those few words the boys’ furrowed brows softened. Their eyes widened and their mouths circled into Os. A boy with a secret was just as exciting as bragging rights over seeing a bear, he guessed. The only question was if they’d keep the secret . . . or if they’d warn their pretty cousin that one of the bachelors would be stopping by and was hoping for a dinner invitation. Would Sadie be excited to see him knocking at their door—laundry or not?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Sadie sat at the rough-hewn log table next to Rachel, and both nibbled on crackers Sadie had snuck from the cupboard. Her aunt had a pot of soup simmering on the stove and fresh bread already sliced for the dinner table, but Sadie wasn’t the patient type. As soon as the first rumble of hunger came, she wanted to eat . . . now.

  Rachel occupied herself by drawing pictures of flowers from one of the seed catalogs that Sadie was flipping through. Aenti Linda had walked down to Susan Carash’s house to look at some fabric Susan was offering for one of the quilts Linda was sewing. Knowing her aunt, Linda would come home with all that Susan offered. Aenti Linda was frugal. Nothing went to waste in her home if she could help it.

  Rachel pointed to illustrations of plants and vegetables. “Can I cut out the pictures?”

  “Ja, but not from that catalog.” Sadie flipped through the pile. “I want to keep those, but you can cut out from this one.” She held up a glossy-covered copy of Pioneer Creek Seeds. The fancy script on the front made her stomach tighten. “The Largest Variety of Heirloom Seeds Anywhere,” it read. Sadie tried not to smirk. She’d met the owner, Paul Hostetler, on more than one occasion. His seed company hadn’t been far from her parents’ farm, and he’d come by a few times, taking an interest in her mother’s heirloom tomatoes.