by Mary Ellis
Nora waved at the hired van idling in the driveway as she passed through the doorway. “No, ma’am. I hope my arrival hasn’t come at an inopportune time.” She clutched a large duffel bag with both hands, gazing out from inside a huge outer bonnet.
“I was joking, Nora. Please make yourself at home. I expected you today and hoped you would enjoy the company of Violet and Rosanna on the ride from St. Louis. Isn’t that Violet a hoot? She never fails to make me smile within five minutes of being in the same room with her.”
Nora removed her cloak and the hideous bonnet, and then she hung them both on a peg. “She seems nice and is really quite funny. Danki for arranging them to meet me. I was a bit discombobulated in St. Louis.” She stood behind a chair as though waiting for a certain sign or signal.
“Sit. Take a load off. They travel to Columbia once a month for physical therapy and twice a year for a specialist’s reevaluation of Violet’s legs. The doctors want to keep them as strong as possible because she insists on using crutches whenever she can.” Emily filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. “We’ll have tea and cookies. Dinner will be in an hour or so.”
Nora sat and folded her hands like a schoolgirl awaiting an assignment or admonishment.
Emily smiled encouragingly at her. “Unless you’re starving now, in which case, I’ll make you a sandwich.”
“No, ma’am, tea will be fine. I can wait until supper.” Nora remained very still, as though too frightened to move.
“Please, no more ma’ams. My name is Emily.” Without the bonnet, the girl had delicate, small-boned features. Wisps of strawberry blond hair escaped her prayer kapp and framed her face. “Are you sure you’re the Nora King my sister wrote to me about? Or have I admitted an imposter into my house?”
Nora paled significantly. “I am she, although I have no identification. Shall I describe Sally’s home or her two sons, Aden and Jeremiah?”
Emily placed some oatmeal cookies on a plate and sat down across from the scared rabbit. “Because I haven’t met my nephews yet, nor have I ever been to Sally’s home in Maine, I’ll take your word for it. And I’ll stop teasing until we get to know each other better.” She filled two mugs with hot water and tea bags. “Welcome to our home, Nora. My husband and I are happy to have you, and we hope you’ll soon like our humble part of the world.”
“Everyone has better senses of humor here.” Nora took a cookie from the plate to nibble. “I’m afraid I lost mine when I left Pennsylvania.”
Her earnestness tugged on Emily’s heartstrings. “Sally told me about what happened to your parents in a letter. You have my deepest sympathy. A woman is never prepared to lose her mamm, even if she’s seventy years old. At your tender age, the loss must be especially painful.”
“I try to focus on the future instead of the past. I did too much staring out the window and crying in Harmony. I’m eager to make a new beginning in Paradise.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place. The Amish population of Missouri has tripled in the last twenty years. Folks move here from all over—Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois. We still have cheap land, and farming is what ninety-nine percent of us do.”
Nora gasped. “That’s not like Pennsylvania at all. Most folks there have had to learn a trade or start a business.”
Emily stirred sugar into her tea. “Well, my ehemann is actually part of the one percent. His brothers work their family’s land, but Jonas started a lumberyard. It does fairly well, selling to Amish and English, if you’ll forgive me for some prideful bragging.”
“I will forgive just about anything if I can have another cookie. These are delicious.” A dimple formed in Nora’s cheek, the first sign her shyness may be ebbing.
Emily pushed the plate across the table. “Eat to your heart’s content. You can stand to gain a few pounds, whereas I cannot.” She gently slapped one rounded hip. “Didn’t my sister feed you while you lived there?”
“Sally certainly tried to, but I get migraines from time to time. They take my appetite away for days.”
“Migraines can be triggered by stress. I aim to see you relaxed and not worrying so much.”
Nora reached for another cookie and consumed it in three bites. “Was your Old Order district formed by people moving here from Pennsylvania?”
“No, we were settled sixty years ago by a group who came from Iowa.”
“Iowa? Where is that?”
Emily smiled. “And to think you traveled all the way from practically the Atlantic Ocean. The Lord be praised! He pities those with a poor knowledge of geography.”
“I prayed plenty on the way here. I took the Downeaster train from Portland to Boston; the Lake Shore Limited from Boston to Chicago; and then I caught the Texas Eagle to St. Louis. I tried to learn the layout of my country along the way. What are the states near Missouri?” As she asked, her face reflected the innocent, curious expression of a child.
“Iowa is to the north, Kansas is to the west, Arkansas is due south, and Illinois lies to the east. A corner of our state touches both Kentucky and Tennessee. A long time ago I pronounced our southern neighbor as ‘Ar-kansas,’ so it rhymed with our western neighbor, but one day an Englischer in my shop corrected me. She whispered the correct pronunciation softly so I wouldn’t be embarrassed. But what’s to be ashamed of? I had never heard anybody say the word before.”
Both of them laughed.
“These Iowa Amish…do you think they are similar to the Maine districts?” asked Nora, taking another cookie.
Emily realized where her guest’s queries were headed. “Sally wrote to me about Harmony’s no-rumschpringe policy. And about the fact you haven’t been baptized yet. I assured her no one would pressure you to commit to the Amish church until you’re ready.”
Nora released an audible breath of air, relaxing for the first time since her arrival. “I’m happy to hear that. It wasn’t so much that they pressured me to be baptized, but every time I turned around I was breaking another rule. Truly, Harmony was too small to be my cup of tea.” She drained the contents of her mug and set it back on the table. “Violet mentioned that your bishop allows social events for young people, regular-type courting, and jobs outside the home for unmarried women. That sounds more like what I’m used to after being raised in Lancaster County.”
Emily considered her reply before speaking. Should she mention that their district might soon become far less liberal if one of their ministers got his way? She glanced at Nora and quickly decided to hold off on full disclosure. The woman had just arrived in a strange land where she knew no one.
“We’re more liberal than the districts near Seymour, Missouri. But why don’t you wait to learn all the details? Let me show you to your room. You can bring up your bag and unpack.”
Nora rose gracefully to her feet. “Will I share the room with your daughter? Sally didn’t mention whether you had kinner.”
“We haven’t been blessed…yet.” Emily hoped her greatest sorrow wasn’t obvious as she walked toward the doorway.
“Danki for opening your home to me, Emily.” Nora followed on her heels. “I so wanted to move here after Sally described her childhood and rumschpringe while courting Thomas.”
“Jah, but I wish he hadn’t taken my sister so far away. At least she’s happy in Maine, so that’s what counts.” Emily led the way up to the bedrooms and chose her words for the second delicate topic in almost the same number of minutes. “Sally mentioned her brother-in-law’s relocation had something to do with your coming to Missouri.” Emily opened the door to the guest room, which would be Nora’s for as long as she wanted it.
She walked straight to the blanket chest and deposited her bag. “Partially, I suppose. Elam and I became friends when I lived in Harmony. But it really was Sally’s description of Paradise that fascinated me.” Nora smiled with genuine warmth. “The fact her kin still lived here helped me decide because I didn’t want to return to Pennsylvania. I hope to run into Elam if he’s around. He ment
ioned taking a grand tour in his new car. He even planned to see the Ozark Mountains, wherever they are.”
“He brought a car?” asked Emily, shaking her head. “The Ozarks are in Arkansas, to the south. A cousin said Elam is living somewhere in the county, but he hasn’t shown his face here at our home…or at a preaching service yet, I might add.” She fluffed both of the pillows. “You’ll find him, I suppose, if it’s meant to be.”
Emily walked to the door. “You have time to unpack and take a nap before dinner. Come down about five o’clock. I wound the clock on your bedside table.”
Nora hurried toward her hostess and embraced her shyly. “Thank you. I am so grateful to you.”
“There’s nothing wrong with making a fresh start.” Emily hugged the thin woman, patting her back.
Who has made her afraid of her own shadow? Thomas Detweiler seemed like a good man when he took away Sally five years ago. What has gone on in my sister’s home?
“Giddy up there, Nell. I can walk faster than you’re pulling this buggy.” Solomon Trask shook the reins above the mare’s back, but he did not slap them down. No sense in startling the old girl. She was probably enjoying the warm April sunshine on her flanks, the sweet smell of apple blossoms tickling her nose, and the absence of traffic on the county road—increasingly rare for Saturdays.
The horse dutifully picked up the pace to a tad quicker than he could walk.
Solomon tilted his head back, letting the sunshine reach his face beneath his hat brim. How he loved the spring! Overhead, songbirds filled the crystalline blue sky with their music, red-tailed hawks soared on wind currents, and waterfowl crossed the Great Plains back to Canada. Life was good. The Lord had richly blessed him with a fraa and five fine kinner, including three boys who had built their homes nearby. His sons had taken over farm duties so he could minister to the district, keeping the members on the straight-and-narrow path. If he failed in his responsibilities, the Lord might not continue to bless their growing community.
Since the drawing that had made him one of two district ministers for life, he had endeavored to adhere to the Bible. God hadn’t provided His holy Book as mere suggestions or helpful advice. His Word was law, and only through strict adherence could a man find direction in this life and salvation for the next.
A hollow, uncomfortable rumble in his belly reminded Solomon it had been hours since lunch, and at this pace it would be hours before supper. Should he stop to buy a dozen cookies at the next farm—one of the district’s three bakeries? After all, his wife would appreciate an extra pie or two in case she hadn’t found time to bake.
It wasn’t long before he turned off the main road. Pricking up her ears, Nell trotted up the drive as though oats and a good rubdown waited up ahead.
However, she hadn’t heard the whinny of another horse but the sound of a car radio. Loud, discordant music blared from a pickup truck parked in the side yard of the Morganstein farm. Solomon climbed slowly from the buggy and tied the reins to a hitching post. As usual, his back spasmed from sitting too long.
“Guder nachmittag, Minister,” greeted one of the Morganstein sons.
“Good afternoon to you. Would you bring my mare a bucket of water and maybe a little grain?”
The boy nodded and scampered off as Solomon trudged past the truck. He headed toward Levi’s leather shop, an outbuilding that had become popular on Fridays and Saturdays with English tourists. Solomon hadn’t gone twenty paces when a sight stopped him in his tracks. Two of Levi’s sons, both in their late teens, were talking with two English girls of around the same age. Doubtless, the girls belonged to the red truck. One was swigging soda from a bottle, while the other moved her body suggestively to the beat of the infernal music. Solomon’s gut twisted into a knot. Both girls wore shorts far above their knees and tops that didn’t cover their stomachs. He approached the foursome with building ire.
Luke Morganstein spotted him and spoke first. “Hullo, Minister Trask. My dad’s in his shop and my mother is in the house.”
Solomon noticed the boy spoke in English, not their dialect of German. He addressed the Englischers. “Where are your parents?”
The taller of the two girls smiled brightly. “My dad’s buying a new jacket. You guys make the best leather stuff in the state. And my mom’s over there checking out free-range chickens. She loves the idea of no cages and will buy every last egg available.”
Solomon’s eyes followed the girl’s long purple fingernail in the direction it pointed. The sight made his jaw drop. A middle-aged woman in a sweatshirt and tight blue jeans focused her camera, snapping pictures of the youngest Morganstein child, a girl of around three years old. The woman was actually posing the child by the henhouse. Bile inched up his throat, souring his mouth.
Sol turned to the teenagers. “Go back to your truck, turn off that loud music, and stay there if you don’t have additional clothes to put on.”
The pair stared, blinked, and then bolted down the drive. The Morganstein sons vanished into the barn before Solomon could take two steps toward the chicken coop.
“Stop that,” he said. He hadn’t raised his voice, but the woman froze and then turned like a corned animal.
“Stop what?” she asked, glancing around nervously.
“Do not take pictures of our people. They are graven images and are forbidden.”
She blushed to deep crimson. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that. What about the chickens and goats. Can I photograph them?” She sounded utterly sincere.
Solomon sighed. “Yes, animals and buildings are fine. Good day to you.”
He picked up the little girl and strode toward the house. Dealing with Englischers wasn’t his calling, but dealing with members of his congregation was. He opened the back door without knocking, a common practice among the Amish, and stepped into an overly warm kitchen.
“Guder nachmittag, Sol,” greeted Sarah Morganstein. “You look hot. How about a cool drink of water?”
After he had set the child down, she scampered for her mother’s skirt.
“Jah, that would be gut,” he said, breathing in and out as he tried to control his temper.
Sarah handed him a glass filled to the brim. “I suppose you heard from the deacon that Levi worked on the Sabbath. He hadn’t intended to, and it was only one time, but he had to fill a large order of leather chaps on a tight deadline. Of course, the deacon stopped by that particular Sunday and found Levi in his shop.” She tugged on her dangling kapp ribbons. “He’s mighty sorry and told Jonas he would never do it again.”
The glass of water almost slipped from Sol’s sweaty fingers as he sorted out the new information, although he had no idea what “chaps” were. “No, I hadn’t heard. I wanted to say your sons are cavorting with half-dressed English girls and a woman was taking photographs of your little one.” He spoke in a raspy whisper.
Sarah blanched as she drew her daughter to her side. “I didn’t know about the pictures. The tourists buy much from Levi and the bakery, helping pay the medical bills from my last surgery. But I’ll keep a better eye on little Josie and my boys.”
“See that you do.” Solomon drained the glass and handed it back to her. “Tell your ehemann he broke the Fourth Commandment and must confess on his knees on Sunday.” Then he marched from the house to his buggy without buying pies or speaking to Levi.
This wasn’t the first time he suspected district members were doing things they shouldn’t on the Lord’s Day. He would take the matter up with the entire congregation—and the sooner the better—before things spiraled out of control.
TWO
Drawn from Immanuel’s veins
Thursday
Nora pulled down the window shade and let it go with a snap. It flapped around the roller several times before coming to rest. The houses in Paradise had shades instead of heavy, wind-blocking burlap curtains like in Harmony. It was only one of the many differences. She opened her window to gaze out on her favorite bit of change thus far. Sprin
g arrived earlier in Missouri than in Maine. Seeds had not only been sown, but many tiny sprouts had already pushed their green heads above the rich brown earth. Jonas said they would plant soybeans next week, which preferred warmer soil than corn. And here in Paradise, farmers cut hay four times compared to three in Harmony during the best of years.
Supper with the Gingerichs certainly differed from meals with the Detweilers. Although Nora had grown fond of Sally, she usually threw dinner together at the last minute, with some food still raw and some quite overcooked. Emily Gingerich ran her kitchen with flawless efficiency, making any task look easy. Although she had no toddlers underfoot the way Sally did, Emily worked outside the home and yet managed to juggle cooking, baking, and housecleaning effortlessly.
“Nora, did you forget what day this is?” A voice carried up the steps, piercing her woolgathering.
“I certainly did not!” Nora hollered. She shut her window against the breeze, put on a fresh kapp, and smoothed the winkles from her new dress. The fabric was the shade of ripe peaches…what a joy after the drab attire of Maine, even for unbaptized women. Downstairs in the kitchen she found Emily filling two travel mugs with coffee and milk.
“Guder mariye,” greeted Nora. “Am I late?”
“Not at all. Today the bakery will be open from ten o’clock until six, but we’re going in early for training. Not that there’s much to learn. As long as you can make change and know how to smile, you’ll do fine.” Emily offered her one of the mugs.
Nora sipped the strong hot brew. “I’m grateful for the job. It would have been enough just to have a bed to sleep in and a meal or two each day.”
Emily winked one brown eye. “I plan to work you like a draft horse. You’ll earn that soft feather mattress, hand-stuffed by Jonas, and my delicious, gourmet cuisine.”
“I promise to try my best.”
“Who could ask for more?” Emily handed Nora a small basket of blueberry muffins. “Let’s be off.”
“Are these what we’re selling today?”
