An Amish Garden

by Beth Wiseman

  “Trying to stick close to Mary Ann?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You’ve practically dug up that rosebush. I thought the idea was to use the tool thingy to revive it, not kill it.”

  Danny knew all about gardening, aerating the ground, and applying fertilizer. But he enjoyed the look Emma gave him whenever he played like he didn’t.

  “I am trying to stay close and keep an eye on her. Though the bump on her head has gone down nicely, she’s still quite wobbly on her feet.”

  “How’s the ankle?”

  Emma stole a peek at Mary Ann, then refocused on the rosebush. “The swelling is better, but the bruising is worse. It’s a deep purple now. Doc warned us it would be.”

  They continued in their fertilizing efforts, working side by side in the afternoon sun. Clouds were building in the west, and Danny guessed they’d have rain again before morning. After initially saying hello to Mary Ann and Emma, Shadow had plopped down on his belly, content to lie on the warm ground and occasionally yelp at the butterflies.

  “How’s our lad?”

  “Joseph has been cleaning up Ben’s office. Since he insists on sleeping in the barn, he can at least move out of the horse stall.”

  Danny was about to reply when Joseph walked down the path separating the roses from the vegetables.

  “Did I hear a dog?” His question was directed toward Danny and Emma, but his smile was for Shadow. It was the first smile Danny had seen from him, and it made him look his age—a young man who should be enjoying life.

  “You did indeed.” Danny stood and called to his pup. “Joseph, meet Shadow. Shadow, down.”

  The smart little pup had been moving toward Joseph at a lopsided gait, but he dropped to the ground at the word down.

  “How’d you teach him that?” Joseph knelt beside the dog and rubbed the spot between his ears—black silky fur that was still a bit loose. The dog would grow into his skin in the next few months. He’d be a big one. That was plain to see.

  Danny could also see that Joseph was smitten.

  “Shadow is a quick learner. Do you like dogs?” Danny stood with his hands in his pockets, beaming at the boy and dog.

  “I do.”

  “Ever have one?”

  “Nein.” The next words were a whisper. “We weren’t allowed.”

  Danny seemed to consider that for a moment, then nodded his head. “Some Amish don’t approve of keeping pets.”

  “And then there are the puppy mills.” Joseph’s gaze darkened.

  “There are. I saw a few while traveling, but not as many as you might think. Between Englisch regulations and pressure from our communities to treat animals with kindness, the mills seem to be disappearing.” Danny frowned, remembering the few he had seen, but then that memory was replaced by another. “I also met a lot of Plain families who did have dogs or even cats that they kept as pets. Mostly they stayed outside, of course. Not too many house pets among people like us.”

  “So you taught him yourself?”

  “I did. I can show you how later, if you’d like. It’s fairly simple. You have to be consistent, and the occasional treat goes a long way.”

  “I’d love to learn.”

  “Excellent! Say, Shadow would probably enjoy a visit to the barn while we’re finishing up here.”

  “Come on, boy.”

  Shadow trotted at Joseph’s heels. The two were gone without another word.

  “That was nice of you.” Emma scooped more grounds out of the can and worked it around the base of a rosebush that was beginning to blossom pink.

  “Seems as if maybe he missed some of the things of a normal childhood.” Danny knelt beside her and began weeding.

  Emma had shared with him and Mary Ann all that Bishop Simon had told her the day before, all they knew of Joseph’s home life, which wasn’t much.

  “A dog can heal many broken places of the heart.”

  Emma looked at Danny in surprise and he had the sense she was about to ask how he knew that, but Mary Ann interrupted them.

  “I’d like my bench moved.”

  “Moved? Moved where?”

  The wooden bench had sat in the same place for as long as Danny could remember. It had always been at the end of the row of leafy vegetables. The path of hard dirt made a bend in front of her seat. It provided a perfect spot to study the wildflowers to the right, the roses to the left, and the leafy vegetables directly in front. Behind the bench was a large stand of mint, which gave off the loveliest of scents after a rain.

  “Perhaps we could move it over between the herbs and the marigolds.”

  “But, Mamm—”

  “It’s no problem.” Danny helped Mary Ann into a standing position.

  She clutched his arm with one hand and her cane with the other, balancing precariously on her black boot.

  “Emma, why don’t you stand here with her while I move the bench?”

  The place she had pointed to was a mere three feet away. Emma moved to Mary Ann’s side and studied her as Danny picked up the bench, carried it to the new spot, and made certain it was settled firmly.

  “Are you feeling confused, Mamm? Mood swings? Dizziness? You could have a concussion after all.”

  Mary Ann looped her left hand through Emma’s arm. With her right she tapped the ground with her cane. “Don’t worry so, Emma. A change of view is helpful at times.”

  Change of view? She could throw a pebble from the new spot to the old. Danny helped her to the bench, waiting to make sure she was satisfied with her new view.

  He had to resist the urge to laugh. Emma looked both concerned and put out at the same time, but she remained the patient daughter-in-law. Wrapping Mary Ann’s shawl around her shoulders, she returned to the row of roses and had crouched down to continue her chore when Mary Ann spoke up again.

  “We should plant something new there.”

  “Plant something?” Emma stared around at row after row of garden in bloom.

  “I know.” Mamm clapped her hands. “Transfer a little of the rosemary there. It can grow nice and tall. The tiny lavender blooms will look lovely next to the roses.”

  Emma stood, dusted the dirt from her fingers, and put her hands on her hips. Watching her made Danny want to pull out a notebook and begin writing about Amish women working hard on a rural farm.

  “You want rosemary planted there?”

  “Ya.”

  “And you want it done now?”

  “Now would be gut.”

  Emma was too old to roll her eyes and too well-mannered to stomp her foot. Danny guessed she wanted to do both. Instead she marched over to the small shed where they kept garden tools.

  Finding a medium-sized shovel, she backed out of the shed and into Danny. Her face flushed as he stepped back.

  “I’ve got that, if you’ll point out which plant is rosemary.”

  “You know good and well which is rosemary!” When he only smiled, she added, “We have enough to do, and she wants us to transplant perfectly healthy plants!”

  Emma took him to the herb area and pointed out a dark-green bush, which had grown knee-high.

  “Doesn’t look like an herb.” This time Danny was serious. He’d never seen such a big rosemary plant.

  “They grow large. Some people even use them for landscaping.”

  “Does it matter which I dig up?”

  “I’d take the one to the right side. It will leave a bit of an empty space, but this garden could use more open area.”

  Emma stifled a yawn. No doubt she’d risen several times during the night to check on her mamm. Danny wanted to tell her to go inside, to rest, but he knew those would be wasted words.

  He carried the plant back over to the spot where Mary Ann was waiting. Holding it up, he smiled and asked, “Will this work, Mary Ann?”

  “It’s perfect. You can leave it here while you dig. Careful with the shovel though. Digging can unbury surprises. A person never kno
ws when he’ll hit something hard.”

  Mary Ann’s eyes were wide and focused completely on what Danny was doing. She had the look of a child on Christmas afternoon, when the gift-giving time was about to begin.

  Danny pushed the shovel into the rich, dark dirt. Both of their farms had been blessed with good soil. They had very few rocks, and over the years, they’d created pathways for the water to run down each aisle when the rains came.

  Placing his foot on top of the shovel, Danny dug up one, two, three shovelfuls of dirt. He glanced at Mary Ann.

  “A few more.” Now she was leaning forward, hand on her cane and chin on her hand, her eyes locked on Danny and the growing mound of soil.

  Danny added a fourth, then fifth shovelful of dirt to the growing mound.

  And suddenly his shovel hit something hard, and he heard the sound of metal scraping against metal.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Emma didn’t know what to say when Danny stopped, turned, and looked at her. She raised her shoulders up, then down. Perhaps he could dig to the left.

  But Mary Ann had other ideas. “Best see what that is.” Her eyes twinkled, and Emma suddenly realized her mamm knew what was buried.

  She stepped forward to help Danny. Together they dug around the object and lifted it from its hiding place. The thing was rectangular in shape, approximately the size of a large book, heavy, and sealed shut with a combination lock.

  Danny handed the box to her. She dusted the dirt off and carried it to Mary Ann.

  “It’s not for me, Emma. It’s for you.”

  “For me?”

  “Ya. I’ve been waiting until the time was right.”

  “And it’s right now?”

  Mary Ann reached forward and patted her hand. “Open it.” She gave Emma the combination. And how had she remembered that for so many years? But then, Mary Ann’s mind had always been clear. It was her body that was failing.

  Danny had followed Emma over to stand next to her mamm. He bumped his shoulder against hers. “Ya, open it, Emma. I’ve seen a lot of things in my travels, but never treasure buried on an Amish farm.”

  “It’s not trea—” The word hung in her throat when she saw what was in the box. She pulled out the clear, weather-proof sack. It looked like a Ziploc bag but was made of a heavier material. What was inside had been wrapped in wax paper, now crinkled and yellow.

  Emma sat on the ground at Mary Ann’s feet and pulled the large bundle out of the bag, then unwrapped the paper.

  “There’re hundreds of dollars here.”

  “Thousands, actually.”

  “What? How? Mamm, where did this come from?”

  “Let’s have some tea.” Mary Ann stood and Danny instantly moved to her side. “Tea and maybe one of your cookies. Then I’ll answer all of your questions.”

  Danny reached for Emma’s hand, helping her up off the ground. When their fingers touched, electricity zipped up her arm. Emma felt confused, more confused than she was about the money.

  But instead of asking questions, she followed Mary Ann into the house, put the water to boil, and set out tea, cream, sugar, and cookies. Within ten minutes, they were all gathered around the table. Mary Ann sipped her lemon tea, nibbled on a gingersnap, and then began to tell her story.

  “You know about the war. You both have heard the old ones talk of it.”

  Emma glanced at Danny, and they both nodded. War was not discussed often in their gatherings or their families, but occasionally the topic would come up. When it did, the older folks would describe how they had made it through the years of conscription and service.

  Ben’s father, Eldon, had been eighty-nine when he died. Emma quickly did the math and realized he was probably eligible for service when he was eighteen, during World War II.

  “Eldon had the opportunity to serve with the CPS,” Emma said.

  “Civilian Public Service.” Danny ignored the cookies, something he didn’t normally do. His fingers tapped against the kitchen table. No doubt he was wishing for a pen so he could take notes. “Many conscientious objectors ended up working on public service projects—Amish, Mennonite, Quakers, even Methodists.”

  “We had just married.” Mary Ann stared into her tea, a smile forming at the corners of her eyes. “I thought I would die when he packed his bag to leave, but in the end, Gotte used that time to bless us. Now I want it to bless you.”

  “Slow down a minute.” Emma reached for the strings of her prayer kapp and ran her fingers from top to bottom. The familiar gesture calmed her jumpy nerves. “He worked in the service, versus going to war—”

  “Or to jail.” Danny’s eyebrow arched when she glanced over at him.

  “Eldon was assigned to a wildlife camp, tending quail that would later be released in state parks. That was the first year. The second year he worked at a tree farm.”

  “I didn’t think they were paid for their service.” Danny finally reached for a cookie, but he didn’t eat it, opting instead to break it into pieces on his plate.

  “They weren’t. Many families struggled because of this, but Jeremiah, Eldon’s father, was always looking for an opportunity to better the farm. During the Great Depression, Jeremiah had planted large fields of mint.”

  “It was quite the cash crop during the 1930s.”

  “And continued to be for many years. By the time Eldon had left for the CPS camp, Jeremiah was still making a good profit from the crop. Companies used it to make toothpaste, gum, candy, even food flavoring. We conserved our resources, as everyone did during the war, even though we were doing well with the crops. When Eldon returned from the CPS camp, his father gave him one-third of the profits from those years.”

  “One-third because—”

  “Because there were three brothers. All had served in various camps. Jeremiah thought they could use the money to get started with their families, once they returned.”

  “So why didn’t you use it?”

  “Eldon and I didn’t need the money to start a home. We stayed here, stayed with his parents. He was the oldest, and it was his responsibility. He told me a few weeks after he returned that he didn’t mind serving in the CPS. He missed me and his parents, but he was convinced Gotte used that time away from home to mature him. However, he also felt the money from his father was tainted somehow. He was adamant that he didn’t want to begin our life together with proceeds made during the war.”

  “So you buried the money?” The story made no sense to Emma. Who buried money and left it for nearly seventy years?

  “Ya. We buried it beneath the bench—”

  “And near the mint.” Danny wore a satisfied expression, as if he’d successfully solved a mystery.

  “We didn’t want to forget where it was, and we knew that sometimes old people have memory problems.”

  The clock on the wall ticked as Emma considered all Mary Ann had said. Danny finally began to eat his crumbled gingersnap, then reached for another.

  Emma stared at the stack of bills in the box, which now sat in the middle of the kitchen table. “This is a lot of money, Mamm. All of it came from a mint crop?”

  “Nein. You will also find war bonds in the stack.”

  “War bonds?” She was beginning to feel dizzy.

  “Everyone was encouraged to buy war bonds in those days. The local Mennonite community helped us to choose which bonds were not specifically used for war purposes. That way we could help our neighbors but not betray our convictions.”

  Emma reached forward and flipped through the stack. Finding one of the war bonds, she pulled it out and placed it on the table. “Why didn’t you cash them in?”

  Mamm smiled and sipped her tea.

  Danny offered an explanation. “War bonds were given a ten-year extension, up to forty years.”

  “Can these still be cashed?”

  “Sure. I met a man in Pennsylvania who would take some into his bank once a year. He used it to pay the taxes on his land. A twenty-five dollar bond issued
during World War II is worth approximately one hundred dollars today.”

  “But these are hundred-dollar bonds—”

  “We had no children when Eldon left.” Mamm stared out the kitchen window. “At first the days seemed so long. Then I began to work in the garden and to sew. I sold the handmade items and canned goods at the local mercantile, and I used the money to buy the bonds.”

  Emma sipped her tea and tried to process all she was hearing.

  “When Eldon returned, we placed the bonds in the box, added Jeremiah’s money, and buried it in the garden.”

  “And you were never tempted to dig it up?”

  “Gotte has provided all these years.” Mamm sat back and sipped her tea.

  Emma stared at Danny, but he said nothing, content to smile back at her. This wasn’t his family history that had been dug up, but something made her think that it involved him. After all, Mary Ann had chosen to reveal her secret when Danny was present. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

  Closing her eyes, she pulled in a deep breath. Then she opened her eyes, sat up straighter, and asked the question that had bothered her since Danny’s shovel struck metal.

  “Why now?”

  “I have a feeling you and Danny are going to need it.”

  Emma nearly choked on the sip of tea she’d taken. “Me and Danny?”

  “Ya.”

  Danny’s grin widened and Emma’s cheeks warmed to the color of the red roses yet to bloom in the garden.

  “Mamm, why would we . . . Danny and I aren’t . . . That is . . .”

  Stuffing an entire gingersnap into his mouth, Danny didn’t help her out at all.

  “The Lord is calling you, calling both of you.” Now Mary Ann leaned forward and pinned Emma and Danny with her gaze. “He’s doing something important on this little piece of land, and you two are going to be in charge of it.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Can’t you see? Gotte brought Danny home. He brought Joseph to us. And soon there will be others. The money has been cleansed by nearly seventy years of rain and sunshine. Now it’s time for you to use what we have to bless others.”

  It occurred to Emma at that moment that perhaps Mary Ann did have a concussion, but her eyes were clear and a smile continued to play across her lips. The money on the table was certainly real, though Emma had no idea how much it totaled.