by Mary Ellis
He stomped off toward the house, but not before he heard the father mutter, “Cranky old guy, isn’t he.”
Inside the kitchen Sol found Mrs. Huffman slicing a brick of cheese, while English women were talking up a storm. Their children wandered around, peeking in adjoining rooms. “Do you need help, Deborah?” he asked.
“Ach, Sol, you’re a sight for sore eyes. I can’t think straight. Please take people’s money and make change while I wrap up the cheese and box the eggs.” Deborah’s face was dangerously flushed due to her stress level and the kitchen’s temperature.
Sol cleared his throat. “Ladies, if you’ve already made your purchase, please wait on the porch. Mrs. Huffman can use some air.” He pushed open a window while an Englischer slid up the pane on the opposite side of the room. Then she picked up her bag and herded the children out the door. Within a few minutes all the customers had their cheese, eggs, and correct change. Blessedly, the bus soon pulled away, leaving behind a blast of diesel exhaust.
“Where is John?” Solomon pulled out a chair for Deborah.
“In the front room, resting.” She lowered herself wearily. “I have a fan blowing on him. He’s still too weak to get out of the hospital bed.” She fanned herself with a scratch pad.
“Where are your older daughters?”
“In school. They are almost done for the year.”
Sol poured a glass of water and handed it to her. “Keep them home tomorrow. If they miss a few days, it shouldn’t make much difference. I’ll talk to their teacher and have her stop by if necessary.” He peered through the open window. “Should I take down the road sign so folks don’t stop to buy cheese?”
“Oh, no, Solomon. Please don’t.” She finished the water without pausing. “We need the income our goats and hens bring in.” She dabbed her face with the apron and struggled back to her feet. The infant in the cradle had begun to cry.
“I brought cookies for your little ones, but I must get perishables in my buggy home. I’ll arrange for someone to stay with you a few days. At least until John gets some strength back. District men will come on Saturday to catch up with chores and repairs around the house.”
“Danki, Solomon. I’ll tell him when he wakes up.” She lifted her brand-new daughter into her arms. The boppli immediately stopped squalling.
Solomon left by the front door so he could check on his friend. John Huffman was slumbering fitfully, his skin ashen and dry. He didn’t awaken even when Solomon touched his arm. Sol prayed all the way home for the man’s health to be restored. Only then could the family be free from the intrusion of busloads of tourists.
“Rosanna, Violet?” he called, entering his home thirty minutes later. He placed the pies into the refrigerator.
“Mamm is at the neighbor’s and I’m out here.” His daughter’s voice carried through the screen door.
Sol walked onto the back porch and found Violet reading in her wheelchair with a basket of sewing by her bare feet. “You’re the one I wish to speak with anyway,” he said.
“I’m caught up with darning, so I’m reading a book from my stack from the library in Columbia.” Violet looked mildly guilty. “It’s too hot to quilt in the front room. There is poor ventilation where we set up the frame.”
“It’s fine, daughter. I’m not checking on your industriousness. I bought a couple of coconut cream pies at Emily’s bakery. They’re in the fridge. We might have to eat them soon because they didn’t remain very cold.”
Violet glanced up from her book. “Danki. We can cut one up for supper and give the other to Kathryn’s family. They won’t go to waste.” She turned the page as a bug buzzed around her lemonade.
Sol leaned against the post. “I stopped at Grain of Life, where Nora works.”
She cocked her head to the side. “So you said. Thank you for the pie.”
“I told Emily that if the job was still open, I wanted to accept it on your behalf.” He shrugged off his black coat while she stared at him.
“What did you say?” she asked, barely audible.
“I said you would start work at the bakery tomorrow. Emily wrote down the store hours because they are different each day.” He handed her the note with Emily’s scrawl.
Violet gazed at the paper as though confused. “You’ll let me take a job, with Nora?”
“I am, providing you don’t overdo it.” Sol draped his coat over his arm.
“Did you spend too much time in the hot sun?” A smile began to lift one corner of her mouth.
“Perhaps so. What say you? I’d like to take off this vest and pour something cool to drink.”
Violet struggled to stand. “I say you’re the best daed in the world!” She stretched her arms toward him and took two steps.
Sol grabbed her before she fell. Her arms locked around him so tightly she could have cracked a rib. “Jah, we’ll see what you say next week,” he said, patting her back. “Work isn’t half the fun you think it is. Now sit down and conserve your energy. Nora will pick you up at twelve fifteen tomorrow and forty-five minutes before each day’s starting time. Be ready when she drives up and don’t make her wait.”
“Danki, Papa,” she said, muffled against his shirt.
“Just try not to get fired on your first day.” He pried her arms loose, lowered her to the chair, and headed inside as his eyes filled with tears.
It wouldn’t do for his dochder to see him weak and emotional.
“Whew, it’s a hot one today.” Emily glanced over her shoulder at Nora. The girl was twenty paces behind her and panting like a spaniel. “It’s not much farther. Can you make it home from work or shall I hitch up the wagon to come fetch you?”
Nora lifted her hand in a feeble wave and caught up to Emily at the roadside mailbox. “Let’s see what treasures the postman delivered.” Emily flipped through the stack. “A bill from the county for land taxes and one from Dr. Spears for Jonas’s broken finger last March. He caught it between pallets at work. Flyers from the mall in Columbia. Goodness, they stretch far and wide to attract customers. The Randolph County newspaper and two real letters—one for me and one for you.”
Nora, who had been holding herself up with the mailbox post, straightened. “Is it from Amy?” she asked, reaching for the letter. “I can’t wait to hear the news. It’s been so long.”
Emily read the return address before surrendering the envelope. “Nein. It’s from a Lewis Miller at the Harmony General Store in Harmony, Maine.” She waved it before Nora’s nose.
Nora plucked it from Emily’s fingers. “Danki, but I do recall what town I lived in last. Lewis’s family owns the organic cooperative market. My sister will sell produce there as soon as she has vegetables to harvest.” Nora ripped open the envelope.
“If my memory serves correctly, isn’t that the third letter the mysterious Lewis Miller has written to you?” She tried to read over Nora’s shoulder. “He must miss you something fierce, even though you’ve never actually mentioned his name.”
Shifting just enough to block Emily’s view, Nora scanned the single sheet of paper. “Life is dull in Maine. There’s not much else for him to do but write to me. And he’s not mysterious.”
“He’s not informing you about a sale on muck boots available for immediate shipment?” Emily loomed again over Nora’s shoulder.
Nora stuffed the letter back into the envelope. “You are shameless when it comes to privacy. I think I’ll read this in my room, not that I don’t already know what’s inside.” Her expression changed from teasing to sorrow.
Emily stepped back. “No, your room will be too warm to relax in. You’ve had a hard day. Why not grab a soda from the fridge and sit under the grape arbor? It should be cooler on the north side of the house by now. I promise not to spy with binoculars.” They walked side by side up the drive.
“I don’t know why I’m being secretive about Lewis. It’s no big thing.” Nora kicked a stone in her path. “He…sort of fell in love with me last year when I moved fr
om Lancaster to Maine with my sister and her fiancé. Amy and John are very happy there.”
“But you were not.”
“It isn’t a good place for single people. There are too few residents to allow much selection for courting.” Suddenly Nora burst into giggles. “Goodness, I make romance and falling in love sound like shopping for dress fabric or groceries at the IGA.”
Emily slowed to Nora’s turtle pace. “This Lewis Miller wasn’t the bolt of cotton broadcloth you had in mind for a mate?”
Nora’s eyes took on that look of sadness again as she shook her head. “But he was very nice to me, even when I didn’t deserve kindness.”
“So you didn’t like his appearance? What was the matter? Too short, too tall…or perhaps he had little hairs growing from his ears? I hated to see that when I was courting.”
Nora couldn’t help smiling a little. “I never know when you are pulling my leg, Emily. But either way, his looks certainly weren’t the problem. Lewis is very handsome, with eyes as blue as a June sky. I just couldn’t imagine myself married and living in the apartment above the store or in the log cabin behind it.” Nora grabbed onto the handrail and used it to pull herself up the stairs.
“A real log cabin? That sounds romantic.” Emily skipped up the steps and opened the door.
“For some maybe, but snow reached the cabin’s windows in winter. Thick, heavy icicles hung down from gutters almost to the ground. Lewis often had to break through them to get outside. It would be like living in an igloo. I just couldn’t see myself spending my life there.” Nora followed her inside and headed for the refrigerator.
Emily shivered, despite a room temperature in the low eighties. “I wouldn’t enjoy that either, but I find the story rather sad, like one of those novels set in an English castle. The son of the duke must marry an heiress, but he’s head over heels in love with the poor-but-worthy governess.”
Slumping into a chair, Nora popped open a soda. “I’ve read enough of those to know they seldom turn out well.”
Emily reached for the pitcher of tea. “I’ve read a few recently that ended happily. What does Lewis want from you in the letter?”
Nora extracted the sheet a second time and read. “He says one of his sisters got married, one got engaged, and that the bishop tripped in a gopher hole and sprained his ankle. The bishop will stay up north until his foot heals. Thomas must assume his preaching duties on Sundays.” She took another long pull of root beer.
“That’s it? Only catch-up news?” Emily lifted her eyebrows.
Nora met her gaze. “He wants me to come back, or at least permit him to come here for a visit. And he says he tried desperately to forget me but found it to be impossible. There, are you happy now?”
Emily’s jaw dropped. She waited for Nora to break into laughter or chime, “Just kidding.” But she didn’t. Instead the young woman’s melancholia seemed to grow as she slumped in the chair like a rag doll. “You’re serious? He said that?”
“I am. Read it yourself if you think I’m making it up.” Nora pushed the letter across the table.
“I don’t think I need to.” Emily sat down across from her. “Goodness, this really is like that Heathcliff person, out on the lonely moors pining after his beloved Catherine. Is that what Lewis wrote in his first two letters?”
“Pretty much, except the local news was different.”
“What are you going to do about him?”
Nora shrugged. “Nothing. What can I do? I live here now, and I never want to move back.”
“But he offered to come to Missouri, at least for a visit.” Emily pressed the cool glass to the side of her neck.
“What good would that do? I’m courting Elam, who also never plans to return to the Northeast.”
“And how’s that going?” Emily sounded as sarcastic as possible.
Nora pinned her with a green-eyed glare. “It’s too soon to tell, but I’ll keep you posted as you have an inquiring mind.”
Emily tapped her front tooth with an index finger. “That’s right. It’s too soon to determine how things will turn out with Elam. So why not invite Lewis to see the Show-Me state?”
“And where exactly would he stay? He knows no one here but me. And I’m already mooching room and board off you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been working like a dog in the bakery, just as I predicted. Either allow your friend a vacation destination or let me start paying you a salary.”
Nora rubbed her eyelids. “Speaking of dogs, you’re like one with a bone once you get a notion in your head.”
“That’s what Jonas says! Has he been gossiping behind my back?”
“He doesn’t have to. I’m very perceptive.”
“You really think so? Because I think you’re missing the forest by watching only one tree. What’s your answer?”
Nora stood and tucked the letter into her apron pocket. “I’ll think it over and let you know. Now, don’t you think we should start supper?”
Emily smiled at the woman’s spunk. “Nein. I’ll fry the pork chops and boil some noodles. I already have turnips and carrots steamed. You go take a nap in the hammock. You’ll need a cool head to think straight.”
Once Nora had carried her soda outside, Emily pulled the defrosted meat from the refrigerator. Then she remembered she’d received a letter from Maine too, from her sister. The timing of Sally’s warning couldn’t have been better.
Dear Emily,
Thomas told me to mind my own business and stay out of the romantic affairs of others. He’s right—I probably should. But I’ll put off turning over a new leaf until tomorrow and meddle one last time. By now, Elam must have reached Paradise. He left word your community would be his final destination. I pray every night that God would place a burden on his heart regarding his worldly habits. In the meantime, it’s Nora I worry about. Amy’s sister is a fine young woman, but she’s also flighty and easily influenced by others. And by others, I refer to fly-by-night Elam.
Nora told me she would resettle in Missouri for a fresh start in a new land. But she also told Amy she was following her heart.
Anything you can do to offer a voice of reason would be appreciated by her loved ones in Maine. We are a long way away. We pray that God and you won’t let Nora wander too far from sight.
Your loving schwester, Sally
Emily exhaled through her teeth. Is that all you want me to do, Sally? Simply keep Nora from ruining her life? Why not ask me to make it rain, or perhaps stop the sun from rising tomorrow?
Nora carefully lowered herself into the hammock and set it swinging. She loved hammocks. They made her feel hidden and protected from the world, but they really were rather unsafe. If you moved too recklessly, it could easily flip over and dump you unceremoniously onto the ground.
Much like life in general, especially in a small town.
Did folks in Rome, Paris, or Kansas City have to worry what others were thinking every minute? Probably not. But here, like in Harmony, a woman needed to somehow control people’s perceptions of her. And Emily Gingerich certainly fell from the same tree as Sally Detweiler. Emily all but ordered her to stop seeing Elam and start courting Lewis.
As though a gal could control whom she fell in love with. But was she in love with Elam? She’d thought so back in Maine, but in Missouri he frightened as much as attracted her. Despite her worries as to who might be watching or listening to their conversation, Elam offered the one thing she sought: He made her feel special, that she was somehow unique among a sea of fish…or in this part of the country, among waving sheaves of grain in the field.
Individuality wasn’t a sought-after trait among the Amish. They were taught from the cradle that no one should set themselves above others. Competitiveness, whether in sports, handiwork, or physical attributes, was discouraged. Everyone was special to God—and His favor should be the only favor sought. Yet Nora had a problem with that idea. She wanted—no, needed—to feel that she stood out from her sib
lings and friends. Because so far she never had. Amy possessed superior domestic skills, such as cooking and sewing. Younger sister Rachel stopped traffic with her beauty. And little Beth? That girl sang like an angel and could even read music without having been taught.
Elam had been drawn to her adventurous spirit, her willingness to walk to the precipice and look over the edge. They were kindred souls, but was that love? How could a person discern true love from human gravitational pull?
Lewis Miller had never been on a precipice in his life. He’d never ventured outside of Maine. His talk about wanting to travel to Paradise was just chatter. He possessed no wanderlust, no desire to sail a boat or take a train ride or walk barefoot through warm sand along the beach. Yet something about him made him hard to forget. Lewis sought a wife to work beside him in a store that would someday be his. To take buggy rides in the moonlight that went nowhere and then turn around and come back. To walk back roads strewn with leaves that would remain exactly the same for another week or month or maybe until next year. To become his wife and bear his children in a town of two dozen families.
“Ugh,” muttered Nora. In sheer exasperation she kicked her legs, an unwise move. The hammock flipped over, catapulting her into the tall grass below. Her soda spilled, her letter fell into a muddy patch, and she skinned her leg on a rock. She needed to stop mulling over these men as though they were a great mystery of the universe. Grabbing her things, she got up and marched toward the house, brushing off her skirt along the way.
When the screen door slammed behind her, Emily called from her position at the stove. “Feel better? Did the nap refresh you?”
“Quite the opposite. I’ve given myself a headache from too much thinking.” Nora washed her face and hands.
Joining her at the sink, Emily plucked a leaf from her hair. “Must be nice to have two beaus. Many girls would love to have just one man interested in them.”
