Love Comes to Paradise

by Mary Ellis

  After a minute of frosting cookies, Nora glanced up. “There is something we can talk about…how busy your shop is. We barely have a chance to sit down the entire time we’re open.” She selected a horrid shade of purple sprinkles from the assortment on a shelf.

  “Are you angling for a raise already? It’s only been a couple of weeks—”

  “Goodness no, but I would like you to consider adding another employee. She’ll work hard, and she’s good with people—especially children—and I can pick her up so she’ll never be late to work.” Nora’s pretty green eyes pleaded more than her words.

  “Who is this rare person, and why doesn’t she already have a job?” Emily rose from her perch on a tall stool.

  “Violet Trask.”

  Emily stepped back from the table and burst out laughing. “You’re joking, right? Minister Sol would never allow his daughter to work in a hot bakery all day waiting on customers. She would be worn out by lunchtime. Her legs are weak.”

  “Violet wants to work with people and promises to stay in her chair the whole time. She could run the cash register, keep inventory, and would require very little pay.”

  Emily dumped a quart of blanched berries into her pie shell. “It would be good for her, but her daed is very protective because she constantly pushes the limits of her disability.”

  “If Minister Sol agrees, do you?” Nora glanced at the clock and walked to the sign in the window. The moment she switched “Closed” to “Open,” they heard the stomp of feet on the steps. “See what I mean? Business keeps improving every day.”

  Emily shrugged her shoulders, relenting. “Sure, why not? Because I know exactly what Solomon will say to this harebrained idea.”

  “I can’t wait to tell her.” Nora swept open the door to a pack of tourists, from age eighty down to eight months.

  “Hello, we’re the Monroes from Columbia,” said a pretty woman carrying a baby. “We heard this is the best bakery in Amish country.”

  Amish country? Have we broken away from Missouri and the United States? But to the family, Emily voiced a warm welcome. “Come in. I hope you see something you like.”

  The woman set her baby carrier on the glass countertop while making her selections from the displays. Another little girl with long pigtails, purple trousers, and a pink shirt with mermaids clung to her side. Emily peered at the infant—a boy, judging by the blue clothing. He laughed and chortled as though having great fun. His tiny fists opened and closed as though he just discovered how hands operated. She pulled back the lightweight cover to better view his perfect face. His downy hair was soft brown, while his hazel eyes sparkled with delight.

  “That’s our little Adam,” said another woman—his grandmother, judging by her age. “Can you say hello to the nice Amish lady?” Granny chucked him under the chin.

  Emily offered her finger, which the baby clutched eagerly. She pulled back a moment before he inserted it into his mouth.

  “He was quite a surprise. My daughter wanted to wait longer between kids, but Mother Nature, or I should say God, had other plans.” The grandmother smoothed the soft skin of his forehead.

  “He’s a fine boy,” murmured Emily. She stepped away, her heart aching.

  “Mommy, I want some purple cookies,” said the little girl wearing mermaids.

  “We’ll have a dozen of the purple sugar cookies, a loaf of multigrain bread, and six peach tarts.” The English woman pulled out her wallet with a smile.

  “My assistant chose well with frosting colors this morning.” Emily boxed up the sweets while Nora rang up the purchase. “Please come back and visit us soon,” she said, handing the woman her change. But for the rest of the day and for most of the night when sleep refused to come, Emily’s thoughts circled in her head.

  God brought that English woman another child before she was ready, but He won’t even bring me one, though I’ve been ready for years. There must be a reason I can’t seem to find favor for this longing in my heart.

  FIVE

  The dying thief rejoiced to see

  When Jonas returned from tending to their horses, milk cow, and hens, Emily had their Sunday breakfast waiting on the table. She arranged red raspberries into a smiley face atop his cold cereal.

  “Look at that. My cornflakes appear to be in a good mood.” Jonas admired her handiwork on his way to the sink.

  “And why shouldn’t they be? It’s a beautiful morning in May. The sun is shining and we have nothing to do today but rest and give thanks. I love Sundays.” Emily filled two mugs with coffee and carried them to the table.

  He took his first long sip before breaking the news. “I hope this won’t ruin your day, but I wish to drive over to the Trasks’. I left a note in Sol’s mailbox on my way home from work yesterday that we would come for lunch.”

  Emily stopped eating and stared at her husband. “Why today? Can’t you discuss district business during the week?”

  “It’s not district business so much as I want to change his mind. And I could use your help.”

  “You would need the army Joshua took to Jericho to change Solomon Trask’s mind. What concerns you, ehemann?”

  “His low opinion of English tourists. I want to point out the advantages so he’ll have a different perspective. And what better person for this than the owner of the best bakery in Amish country?” He dug into his fruit and cereal.

  “I imagine Nora told you that. She used my growing popularity to convince me to hire Violet. The girl wants to get out of the house in the worst way.”

  “Ach, one more thing to talk about, but only if Sol brings it up. Perhaps Violet hasn’t summoned the courage to broach the subject yet with her daed.” Jonas looked around. “Where is Nora, anyway? I didn’t see her outside.”

  “I let her sleep in. She’s been working very hard at the shop. I don’t think she’s used to physical labor.”

  “You’d better wake her up. I want to leave by eleven, and she takes more long baths than anyone I know.” He stood, lifted his bowl to drink the milk, and grabbed his mug. “If you need me, I’ll be in the front room. I want to finish reading the book of Genesis before meeting with Minister Sol.”

  Emily called up the steps, and a few minutes later a sleepy-eyed Nora appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Mir leid,” she apologized. “Did you need me this morning?”

  “Not at all, but I thought you might want time to get ready. We’re going to see Minister Trask and his family.”

  “Today? But it’s a non-preaching Sunday—a good day to sit on the porch reading and writing letters to my family.” Nora didn’t try to hide her disappointment.

  “Jonas plans to speak of the merits of tourism with Sol. At least you’ll be able to see your friend.”

  Nora’s smile was small but genuine. “Jah, that will be nice. I have much to tell her. Maybe I can take her for a long walk in her wheelchair, far away from the serious discussions.” She poured a tall glass of milk.

  “Or maybe Violet will use the opportunity to ask Sol’s permission to work with us.”

  If the girl had been pale before, she turned as white as her beverage now. “One can only hope for the best.” Nora slumped into a chair and reached for the cornflakes. When she climbed into the buggy two hours later, Emily noticed that she had selected her black Sunday dress. All three of them remained quiet during the ride as each formulated arguments, defenses, or a strategy for evasion, as the case may be.

  But when Sol marched down the steps, he greeted them with a cordial smile. “Good afternoon Deacon, Emily.”

  “Afternoon, Solomon.” Jonas shook hands with a far more solemn expression.

  “Welcum, Nora. Violet will be glad you came.” When Sol lifted his hat, his silky white hair blew wildly around his head.

  “Danki, Minister Sol,” murmured Nora. “We brought pies, but we didn’t bake today—never on the Sabbath. We made them yesterday.” She wavered on her feet as though the wind might blow her over.

  “That
’s gut to hear, but I would have assumed as much. Let’s sit on the porch in the rockers. They’re more comfortable than the plastic lawn chairs Rosanna insisted on buying in Columbia.” Solomon led the way to the front of the house. “Why don’t you go inside, Nora? I believe you’ll find my dochder upstairs. She wants to show you her room, although it looks like most Plain bedrooms—a bed, blanket chest, bureau, and writing desk.” He lowered himself into a rocker, while Emily and Jonas selected rockers on either side. Nora wasted no time disappearing into the house, nearly bowling over Violet’s mother in the doorway.

  “Whew, that was a close call.” Rosanna set down a tray of refreshments. “Here is some lemonade and sandwiches.” She took the lawn chair facing them.

  “In your note you said you had a matter to discuss.” Sol spoke to Jonas.

  “I wanted to express my opinion of conducting business with the English. I’ve had good experiences with them, Sol, and certainly not the road-to-ruin encounter you described in last Sunday’s sermon.”

  The minister had a ready reply. “Your lumberyard deals with English locals, not tourists. People who have lived as our friends and neighbors in Randolph and Audrain Counties for years. Generally, they respect our ways, as I hope we show respect for theirs. I believe most of them wouldn’t dream of snapping photos of our kinner or showing up at our homes half naked.”

  Emily blanched with his choice of words. What had happened at the Morgansteins’ farm to have him so rattled?

  Jonas began to rock. “That might be true, but we do get some tourists. I have found them curious but never rude. And I feel the same about my English employees.” He leaned forward to peer around the minister. “Emily gets plenty of tourists at her bakery. What say you, fraa, on the matter?”

  Sol focused his deeply lined, heavy-lidded eyes on her. Briefly, Emily considered bolting up the stairs to find Violet and Nora, despite how cowardly that would be. Instead, she said, “Jah, I must agree with Jonas. Most of our Saturday business is tourists, and they seldom present any problem. Oh, except for wishing to pay with credit cards instead of cash or check and asking if we have regular bathrooms or use outhouses. And once a tourist dumped out his car ashtray into my parking lot. It took me a while to clean up the mess.”

  Jonas scooted his chair forward to catch her eye. “But do they negatively affect your Plain lifestyle?”

  “Nein. If anything, I breathe a sigh of relief when they get in their cars and drive away. They’re always in such a hurry and worried about inconsequential things, such as whether there’s butter or margarine in the piecrust. They make me glad I was born Amish.” She realized too late she wasn’t helping her husband’s argument.

  Solomon rocked and stroked his beard, reflecting on what Emily said.

  Jonas coughed to clear his throat. “Let’s not forget many people in the community who depend on tourist income to pay taxes and medical bills. We’ve had several crop failures in the past few years, and Amish folks still must pay unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s.”

  The minister stopped rocking. “I am well aware, Deacon, as to the financial needs of this district, the number of crop failures, and what Scripture says about paying our obligations.” His words were as brittle as icicles in the dead of January. “Encouraging tourism is something new to Paradise, promoted mainly by the local chamber of commerce to help English businesses such as restaurants and gas stations. But Plain folk have managed to survive without selling crafts and quilts to outsiders. I’m sure if we polled the brethren of Pennsylvania about their current opinion of tourism, they might have a different attitude than yours. There’s no doubt it changed Lancaster lives and not for the good.”

  “How about something to drink?” asked Rosanna, lifting the tray to within easy reach of her guests.

  Emily took a glass of lemonade and sipped from it. Poor Jonas. He resembled a chastised dog after chewing up the master’s shoe. But he certainly didn’t crawl beneath the bed to hide.

  “Your reference about Noah last Sunday implied the English were evil,” he said in a voice louder than necessary.

  Sol shook his head back and forth, sending his hair flying. “I implied no such thing. Scripture speaks of people who practiced evil ways and turned their backs on God. My fear is that our own people will lose the straight and narrow path.” His tone matched Jonas’s.

  “Anyone care for a bite to eat?” Rosanna hoisted the plate of sandwiches, bound and determined to break the tension on the porch.

  “They look delicious,” murmured Emily, accepting a ham-and-cheese. She was the only one to do so.

  “I beg your pardon, Minister,” conceded Jonas. “I misinterpreted whom you referred to in your message. But this morning, I studied the first book of the Bible. You omitted a key part of the story.”

  The minister’s watery blue eyes bulged, while Emily and Rosanna stared at Jonas. “What passage would that be?” Solomon asked.

  “Noah built an altar to the Lord and offered burnt offerings.” Jonas sounded as though he’d memorized the words. “When God smelled Noah’s offering, He established a covenant with Noah and his descendants never to destroy all living things again. He promised not to send another great flood.” Jonas clenched his chair’s armrests. “I think the district will be heartened to hear the rest of the story.”

  “And I believe you, Jonas Gingerich, should read the last chapter of the Bible before you grow too heartened, as you call it.” Solomon didn’t shout nor did he shake his fist, but his rage was apparent from the top of his head down to his boot heels.

  Emily had never heard Jonas—or anyone else for that matter—tell a minister what he should or shouldn’t preach. She placed her sandwich back on the plate, uneaten. Her appetite had vanished, along with oxygen on the porch and her husband’s good sense.

  “Please, Emily, let’s all have a sandwich since my fraa went to the trouble of fixing them.”

  Solomon watched the deacon’s wife pick up the same ham-and-cheese with a shaking hand. She nibbled off a corner. He also took a sandwich, even though he would probably choke on it. Anger was hard to purge once it seized hold of a man. And Solomon was experiencing a boatload of anger.

  How dare Jonas question his teaching and authority? The man was a deacon, not a preacher. Sol couldn’t refute that God established a covenant with Noah, but his flock would be better served if they concentrated on avoiding God’s wrath in the first place.

  “I think I’ll eat mine on the ride home.” Jonas stacked two sandwiches on a paper napkin. “Danki, Rosanna. I’ve taken up enough of your Sunday afternoon.” He stood abruptly as did Emily, still nibbling her bread crust.

  “Just as well, because I need to drive out to the Petersheims’ this afternoon,” Sol said. “The bishop asked me to speak to a young man who rents a room from them. He’s apparently exercising his rumschpringe in a fashion annoying to his hosts.” He stood and pushed back his chair.

  “Good day to you then. I’ll call Nora.” Jonas marched into the house, Emily following on his heels. “Nora,” he called at the bottom of the steps. “It’s time for us to leave.”

  Violet wheeled herself to the upstairs landing. “Why so soon?” she asked. “We haven’t eaten yet. What about those pies you brought?”

  “Your father has another appointment.” Jonas smiled up at Violet. “If you send Nora down I’ll let you keep the pies. Tell her we’ll be at the buggy.” Jonas and Emily left through the kitchen door without a parting word.

  Sol waited until the door closed to address Rosanna. “This is what happens when a man spends too much time with the English. He is full of insolence and argumentativeness, as though an opinion counted in matters of scriptural doctrine and the Ordnung. Did God take a vote among His children regarding their destiny?”

  “Oh, dear, the meeting didn’t go well.” Rosanna peeked out the window, wringing her hands while watching the Gingerichs head to the paddock for their horse.

  “It went as well as Jonas should
have predicted,” thundered Sol. He didn’t know why he spoke loudly, as only he and his fraa remained in the room.

  Except for one tiny mouse. “Excuse me, Minister Trask.” The voice came from behind.

  They stood in the doorway, blocking Nora’s route of escape. “Take a sandwich for the ride home,” said Rosanna. She thrust the plate at the girl.

  As Sol moved back, Nora grabbed one and bolted out the door. She didn’t stop running until she disappeared into the backseat of Jonas’s buggy.

  “Papa, what happened? Did you men have a fight while Nora and I were visiting?” Sol’s daughter struggled into the room on crutches. She headed toward the first-floor wheelchair in the corner, panting from exertion. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead.

  “Jonas and I didn’t have a fight. We had a minor disagreement about the content of Sunday’s sermon.” Sol reached for a glass of lemonade, his mouth suddenly dry as dust.

  Violet lowered herself into the chair and leaned her crutches against the wall. “If it was so minor, why did the Gingerichs take off in a hurry before we even had lunch?”

  “We all had sandwiches, even Nora.” Rosanna wrapped her hands in her apron as though they were wet. “No one was ready for pie. Are you hungry?” She carried the tray across the room to her daughter.

  Violet rolled her eyes and then rolled her chair toward the back hall. “I should have known better than to expect a straight answer from my parents.”

  Sol clenched down on his molars. “Some things are not your business, even if you are twenty years old. That conversation was between the deacon and myself. And your mother asked you a question, young lady.” He pulled the lapels of his mustfa vest.

  Violet pivoted around. “Beg your pardon, mamm. No, danki. I put a snack of cheese and crackers with sliced peaches on the porch for us. I’d better eat that before the dog runs off with it.” She smiled at Rosanna, but Sol spotted tears on Violet’s face.

  How he hated to see his daughter upset. Closing his eyes, Sol searched for some semblance of peace but found none. He lifted his felt hat and Sunday coat from the peg. “I’m on my way to the Petersheims’ to do what they asked. I’ll return as soon as I can, fraa.” He took a sandwich from Rosanna’s plate and headed out the door.