An Amish Garden

by Beth Wiseman

  “I didn’t realize you’d been remodeling over here.”

  Danny laughed as he put his hands on his hips and looked left, then right. “Let me show you the kitchen.”

  She could see some of the kitchen from where they stood in the sitting room, but she followed him eagerly.

  “What would your mamm say?” Emma walked over to the new stove and ran her hand across the front panel. “Still gas, ya?”

  “Sure. Of course. So is the fridge, but it’s one of the newer models.”

  The appliances weren’t over-the-top. They were what a bachelor would need. He’d chosen well. Emma had looked at a refrigerator like his, but decided it was a bad use of their money since the one they had still worked.

  “Writing must be paying well!” The words popped out of her mouth, and she immediately wished she could yank them back. It was none of her business how Danny Eicher managed to afford his home improvements.

  “It pays all right, probably as well as farming. Mamm and Daed didn’t leave much as far as money in the bank, but they left the land, and it’s a good source of income.”

  “You’re still leasing it to the Byler boy?”

  “I am, though he’s hardly a boy. He turned twenty-two this year, and he’s a hard worker. I think he’ll do well farming. I know he’ll do better than I would. Never did have much experience planting or rotating crops, though I’ve learned enough about both in my travels. I do think I’m somewhat handy with a family vegetable garden.” He said the last with a wink.

  Emma didn’t know what to think of that, but she suddenly wondered if it would look proper for her to be alone in Danny’s house with him. Her cheeks flushed at the thought, because it was ridiculous. They were well past the age when they needed to worry about chaperones.

  “Well, you’ve done a gut job here. I think your parents would be proud.”

  “I wish I’d come home and made improvements while they were both still alive.”

  He’d crossed the room to stand next to her. Emma couldn’t resist. She reached out and rested her hand on his arm. “Your mamm wouldn’t have allowed new appliances in her kitchen. Like Mary Ann, she was always a bit stubborn.”

  The worry lines between his eyes vanished. “Ya. One Christmas I offered to paint the hall. You would have thought I’d suggested knocking a wall out. She informed me the hall was fine as it was, and if I was lacking for things to do, I could help her wash the baseboards.”

  Emma walked to the doorway between the kitchen and the sitting room. The desk was neater than the last time she’d visited. Now the spiral notebooks were organized on a bookshelf, and the top of the desk was clean except for a gas lantern, a pad of paper, and a pen. Her curiosity was winning over her vow to not ask.

  Danny watched Emma as her gaze darted back and forth across his work area. She worried her kapp strings as she stood there, something she only did when she was uncertain what to say or do next.

  He’d known Emma so long, she seemed like an extension of himself. Now that he was home, he couldn’t quite understand how he’d survived without her all the years he’d spent traveling. Danny had left, with his father’s blessing, when he was seventeen. It had hurt him to leave Emma, but he’d known it was the right thing to do—for her sake. She deserved a normal Amish life, with a husband who stayed in one place. When he’d tried to explain that to her, after they’d been attending singings together for over a year, she’d listened with tears running down her face. He’d returned home occasionally for a holiday or because he was in the area researching, but he’d spent the majority of the past thirty-three years away. It seemed like a lifetime. He had never regretted that decision, but watching Emma, seeing her in his home, he also knew it had been the right time to return home.

  “Do you still write every day?”

  “Ya.”

  “What do you plan to do with it?” She turned and studied him. She wasn’t being nosy. She wanted to know. “Do you expect to receive an Englisch contract to write a book?”

  “Haven’t thought much on that.”

  “If you did, would you—” The words died on her lips, and the vulnerable look in her eyes tore at his heart.

  “I won’t be leaving again, Emma. I’m here to stay. This is home now.”

  She nodded but didn’t respond.

  “Right now I’m working with the Menno-Hoff. They offered me a grant to share some of the things I observed in my travels. It’s important that we record our history. I believe I can offer an accurate telling from the inside.”

  “Why?”

  “Perhaps it will help the next generation.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure I know why. I only know that I’m supposed to be doing it.”

  She nodded as if she understood.

  “Let me fetch that sleeping bag.”

  He found it, then walked her back out to the porch.

  “I wasn’t meaning to be nosy.”

  “Of course not. Emma,”—he waited until she turned toward him—“you can ask me anything you want to know.”

  Now the smile he was so accustomed to broke through. “You always knew what you wanted to do, Danny. Even at seventeen—all you were interested in was jotting down things in your notebook.”

  “I was interested in you.” His pulse raced as that memory came back to him full force.

  “When you were sixteen. At seventeen, you only had eyes for your books.”

  “I suppose so.” The memory of what was lost, what they’d almost had together, sank between them, drawing some of the color from the day.

  “Remember the time you were supposed to be checking on the goats your dat had? You were moving them from one pasture to the other—”

  “And I left the gate open, the side gate, while I was writing a piece about a typical day in the life of an Amish lad.”

  “The goats were in Mary Ann’s garden before we saw them.”

  “Dat gave me extra chores for a week.”

  Emma reached out and touched his arm, as she had in the kitchen. “You were doing what you were called to do. Your dat understood, and your mamm too.”

  “Did you understand, Emma?”

  She tore her gaze away, studying the setting sun and their two properties. “After a while I did. I led the life I was supposed to live, and so did you.”

  Danny nodded, but he didn’t like the period she put on that observation.

  There was still plenty of light to see the area between his place and hers. In truth, the Eicher property had always been the better of the two lots. His house was set back from the road a good space. The northwest section had a small pond where her boys had spent many an evening fishing. It was shielded from the street by a stand of white elms. They were seven, maybe eight feet tall. Beyond the pond was a low spot that ran the length of their property line. An optimist would call it a creek, but water ran in it only once or twice a year. Even with all the rain they’d had, it was muddy but not wet. Long ago his parents had put a wooden walk across a four-foot portion, which provided easy passing from one place to the other.

  What he could see now, what he hadn’t realized but had been suspecting, was that Mary Ann’s garden had practically grown to the property line.

  “Indiana evenings are a pretty sight.” Danny’s voice was low. Shadow’s tale thumped against the porch floor, and Emma clasped her arms around the sleeping bag.

  “Your neighbor is on the verge of encroaching upon your property.”

  His laughter filled the night, joined the songbirds, and caused Shadow to bound down the porch steps.

  “I’d be happy to walk you back home.”

  “Don’t be silly. There’s no need.”

  Danny hadn’t been thinking about whether she needed someone to walk her home. He’d simply wanted to prolong their time together. He stepped away, flustered and unable to remember what they had been talking about.

  “Thanks for taking the sleeping bag to him. I wish he’d picked my barn instead of yours.”

&nb
sp; “Danny, we need to talk to this boy. I’ll take your sleeping bag, and I’ll leave it for him, but I’m going back out there later tonight. He’s going to tell me what his situation is.”

  Instead of arguing with her, Danny reached down and patted the top of Shadow’s head. The dog looked sublimely happy. Affection could do that.

  “What time?”

  “Thought I’d set my alarm for midnight.”

  “Okay.” He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll meet you on your back porch.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s because of me you’re providing lodging, and now food, to the boy. I don’t blame you for wanting to call the bishop that first night. What with you and Mary Ann being over there alone—”

  “This isn’t about us being alone. It’s about what’s right for the boy. If he runs from us again tonight, I’ll go straight to the bishop in the morning.”

  Danny’s shoulders slumped, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Mary Ann thinks we’re supposed to minister to the boy.”

  “She told you that too?”

  “While you were inside fetching her a glass of water.”

  “She brought the subject up at dinner as well. Seems she recognizes something special in this boy, or perhaps she thinks it would be a gut way for us to give back to the community. Either way, in a few hours we’ll see if she’s right. We’ll see if he’s willing to let us help him.”

  Without another word, Emma turned and walked back across Danny’s property, skirted the pond, and stepped onto the small wooden walkway over the low point. Suddenly she stopped and clutched the sleeping bag to her chest. He was about to start after her, to make sure she was all right, when a flock of birds rose from the garden as one, flapping their wings and catching a draft to carry them out into the night. Danny’s heart knocked against his ribs, and he chided himself for worrying over her. Emma Hochstetter was a capable woman, and she’d been taking care of herself all the years he’d been gone.

  That wasn’t quite right though. She’d had Ben and Eldon then. Last spring, as the green beans were climbing and twining through the trellis he’d helped Ben build, her father-in-law had died. He was nearly ninety, and he’d been sick for over a year. His passing was a great loss, but not unexpected. Six weeks later she found Ben in the barn, near the horses he loved so much. Her husband, and Danny’s friend, had suffered a fatal heart attack.

  Not to say the entire year had been all gloom and doom. God sprinkled in a few blessings as well, perhaps to assure Emma and Danny He had not turned away.

  All of Emma’s children—Edna, Esther, Eunice, Harold, and Henry—were happily married. And her oldest granddaughter, named Mary Ann after her two great-grandmothers, had been baptized into the church. Three more grandchildren had been born, which brought Emma’s total to twelve. Each was a bright spot in her life, even little Thomas, who was quite the mischief-maker at age four. Danny enjoyed watching them at the Sunday socials. Having a grandchild was something he would never experience. These days, he understood more fully than ever what things he had sacrificed to follow his dream.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Emma was lying on her side with her eyes wide open, waiting.

  As she waited, she remembered things from the evening and prayed about the worries that weighed on her heart.

  When she’d left Danny’s, crossed the bridge, and walked through the garden, she’d looked up and seen Mary Ann in the kitchen, silhouetted against the window by the gas lantern on the table. Mary Ann might be old and increasingly frail, but Emma still considered her to be her parent in the faith. If she said they were to minister to the boy, then Emma would take her word that it was to be so. The fact that Mary Ann and Danny both felt that way confirmed that God had a purpose in what was happening.

  But something more was flitting through her heart.

  Emma thought of their garden, pictured it in her mind, and considered the idea of a sanctuary. What did that mean? Was it so complicated, or was it merely a place where people could rest? A place where they could heal?

  Before she’d walked inside, Emma had turned and studied the garden. In the moonlight, it looked less like something that had grown out of control and more like something Mary Ann had planned over the years. A place she’d cared for patiently and tenderly and that was now coming into its real purpose.

  But what was that?

  And why did Nancy Schlabach and her two boys suddenly come to mind?

  Shaking away the many questions, she’d wound her way back through the garden and to the barn. No sign of anyone, so she checked a final time on the horses and left the sleeping bag in the back stall.

  Closing the barn door firmly, she’d made her way up the back porch steps and into the kitchen. She needed to go to bed early since she was going to set the alarm for midnight.

  Now, watching the tiny hands of the battery-operated clock move, she knew that she wouldn’t sleep until this thing was settled. So she waited, and she prayed, and she saw the moment the time switched from 11:58 to 11:59. She reached for the clock and turned off the alarm before it could sound.

  It had seemed smarter to lie on top of her quilt in her dress. When she rose, she only had to fasten on her kapp and lace up her shoes. She was able to do both of those by the light of the moon spilling in her bedroom window.

  Unlike Danny’s home, Emma’s was two stories. The extra bedrooms had been a blessing when all the children were home. Even now they were frequently filled with grandchildren, especially during summer break and weekends.

  She crept downstairs, careful not to disturb Mary Ann, and snagged her shawl from the mudroom to ward off the night’s coolness.

  When she reached the back porch, Danny was already waiting.

  “Any plans for how to do this?”

  Emma shook her head in the darkness. “Can’t be too hard.”

  “Coming from you, I’ll believe that. You do have five kinner and twelve—”

  “Soon to be thirteen. Don’t forget that Esther is expecting again.”

  “Thirteen grandkinner.” Danny whistled softly. “You’ve had a full life, Emma.”

  “As have you, and let’s not talk as if we’re done yet.”

  They’d reached the back side of the barn. She knew when they opened the door, the hinges were going to squeak. If the child was a light sleeper, he’d be alerted by the noise.

  “Don’t let him scoot by you,” Emma whispered.

  They needn’t have worried. A minute later they stood at the back stall, peering over the half door at the snoring adolescent. Even Danny’s flashlight didn’t waken him, but when Emma rang the bell she used to call in the horses, the lad jumped as if he’d been struck.

  Seeing that his way out was blocked—they hadn’t bothered to open the stall door—he sat up and pulled his jacket tighter around him. The thing was threadbare and couldn’t have provided much warmth, though he had been tucked deep into Danny’s sleeping bag.

  Danny repositioned the beam of the flashlight so that it wouldn’t be directly in the boy’s eyes. It was clear he was a boy, though he might have been edging toward sixteen. He still had the look of Danny’s pup, as if he hadn’t quite grown into his hands and feet. Emma recognized the age. Her boys had gone through the same final growth spurt, and it seemed to take a few years before everything evened out.

  His dark-brown hair hung in his eyes, which looked hazel to Emma in the dim light. He was much too skinny, she could see that well enough. Average height. Not much to tell the bishop as far as description.

  “What’s your name?” Emma opened the door and entered the stall. Danny remained in the doorway, still blocking the boy’s escape path.

  “Why should I tell you?” His voice was soft but somewhat ragged, as if he were aiming for belligerent but unable to pull it off.

  “Because you’re staying in my barn. Apparently you have been for a few days.” When he didn’t speak, she added, “And you’ve been eating my
cooking. You can at least trust me with your name.”

  “Joseph.”

  He didn’t provide a last name, but then, Emma hadn’t expected he would. She’d coax it out of him before they were done.

  “Joseph, we’d like to talk to you a minute.” Danny picked up a wooden stool once used for milking and carried it into the stall. He sat on the upended oats bucket and left the stool for Emma.

  “What about?” The panic in Joseph’s eyes nearly broke Emma’s heart. She’d been prepared to dislike him, to throw him out, to call the bishop and the police. As she studied him, she realized that Danny had been right. This way was better.

  “Why are you here? Where’s your family?”

  He stood and began stuffing his things into a backpack. “Not going back there. You can’t make me either. I’m nearly seventeen now. No use trying to make me go back.”

  “Son, we’re not trying to make you do anything.”

  Joseph flinched at Danny’s use of the word son.

  “Would you mind sitting down so we can talk?”

  Joseph didn’t look any more at ease, but he zipped the backpack and sat.

  Emma closed her eyes and prayed for wisdom and patience, then she cleared her throat. “Where are you from? I don’t think you live in Shipshe, or I’d recognize you.”

  “Goshen.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “Walked on the Pumpkinvine Trail.”

  Danny glanced at Emma, his eyes questioning. She nodded. It was a fair distance, but doable.

  Since he was answering, Emma decided to dig for more information.

  “My dochder lives in Middlebury. It’s a nice town. Why didn’t you stop there?”

  “I did, but after a while I moved on. It’s best not to stay in the same place too long. I should have left here last night.” Dismay flooded his eyes, and Emma got the impression he was fighting back tears.

  When he told them his last name was Lapp, a fairly common name among Amish folk, Danny spoke up again. “Won’t your parents be worried about you?”