“I was just wondering if you need any help. You know.” With a jerky gesture he swept a hand toward the field behind us. “On the farm. Or anything.”
It wasn’t unheard of for Amish to hire Englisch in their businesses. Elias Beachy employing the solemn Leah to help in his shop was a good example, but it was certainly unusual for an Englisch man to approach an Amish farmer looking for work. Either young Robbie was ignorant of our ways, or he was desperate enough for money that he hoped we would make an exception.
Aaron stepped forward then, his expression friendly. “Thank you for the offer, but as you can see, we have four strong pairs of hands to handle the work here.”
Robbie swallowed and jerked a nod. “I get that. I just thought maybe…” His gaze slid toward me for a moment and then back to Aaron. “I know sometimes your people need a lift somewhere. Like if you have to go a long way.” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a slip of paper, which he extended. “I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.”
Aaron took the paper. “We will keep that in mind.”
A long moment passed, during which the young man stood still, as though waiting for Aaron to say something. Then he straightened and offered his hand again.
“Well, goodbye. Nice to meet you.”
Aaron shook it, and then Robbie practically leaped forward to shake Noah’s hand as well. His manner was so odd, so edgy, that when he turned to me I found I’d clasped my hands behind my back. I let go of them. What was this young man up to? Was there something more to this visit than a search for employment? Still, when he stood in front of me he seemed nervous, but I couldn’t detect any signs of insincerity. His gaze traveled over my face while never making contact with my eyes. He barely touched my hand before releasing it, and then he lowered his eyes to look at the ground between our feet.
“I mean it,” he repeated, scuffing a tennis shoe. “If you need a ride, call me.”
With the flash of a smile at the boys, who had ventured out from behind me, though they still stood well clear of the stranger, he whirled and hurried toward his car.
We all stood watching the red vehicle retreat down our driveway and turn onto the road in the same direction from which it had come.
Mark’s childish voice broke the silence. “Who was that?”
A good question.
Daed turned a smile on the boy. “A man looking for work.”
“Can he help us paint?” Luke asked.
“Why would we need his help?” Daed answered. “We have two good painters right here.”
Identical grins broke out on their faces.
“Come on, Onkel Seth!” Luke shouted. “Wook what we did.”
The twins raced toward the barn and disappeared around the side. Aaron and Noah headed back to the chicken coop to finish their repair work, while Daed turned to enter the house. With one more glance at the road in the direction the red car had gone, I followed my nephews, ready to praise their work.
We needed Robbie Barker’s car sooner than we expected.
I was in the pigpen, up to my ankles in mud, when the rumble of an engine nearby reached me. The beginning of March had brought an unusual bout of warm weather, melting nearly all of the snow and turning the pig’s yard into a sloshy mess. Our sow, Schwein—so named after the German word for “pig”—was housed behind the barn as far from the house as possible while still offering her a bit of shelter from the elements. She was due to farrow soon, and she’d begun to exhibit the telltale signs of preparing for her approaching litter. I made sure she had plenty of straw in her pen, all the while keeping a sharp eye on her. Though generally a placid animal, Schwein tended to get cranky as her time for farrowing approached. She’d been with us for a number of years, and each year we sold her piglets, retaining a couple to feed the family. She’d learned to anticipate the removal of her young, and her maternal instincts kicked in as their birth neared. Four hundred pounds of charging sow was enough to keep any man ready for a quick dash for the fence.
When Schwein’s pen was as dry as possible and covered with a layer of clean straw, I let myself out of the enclosure and headed around the barn. An Englisch car had parked in front of our house, and a couple emerged. I’d seen Saloma’s schweschder Naomi and her husband Johann once or twice, though it had been quite a while. Saloma and Naomi greeted each other, hands clasped as they grinned into the other’s face. The rest of the family had lined up for the introduction, the little ones standing politely still between Mamm and Becky. I approached as Saloma finished.
“And you remember Seth, ya?”
Johann nodded. “It has been a while since we met.”
Naomi opened her mouth to speak, but she appeared to change her mind and closed it again. Instead, she merely smiled and bobbed her head in my direction.
I recognized a touch of pity in her shy smile, and the reason struck me like a hammer. The last time I’d seen her had been at my Hannah’s funeral.
Saloma looped an arm through Naomi’s. “Come inside. We have coffee and fresh rolls ready.”
Johann followed the Englisch driver, an older man with a serious disposition, to the trunk of the car and lifted two bags out. He set them down and then extracted a leather money clip from one.
The driver took the bills, folded them, and slid them into the pocket of his jeans. “You’re all set to get to your uncle’s place, right?”
Johann turned to Aaron. “Wayne can’t pick us up tomorrow. Do you have a driver who could take us to my onkel’s farm in Wakefield?”
“There’s a man down the road who is kind to drive us when we need. We’ll ride over to Kevin Cramer’s after lunch.”
I shook my head. “At church on Sunday Joel Wagler mentioned a trip to Akron this Saturday. He said Kevin was driving him.” The nervous young man from a few days ago rose in my mind’s eye. “What about calling that Robbie Barker? He seemed eager for work.”
“Ya, he did.” Aaron turned his attention to Wayne. “If you have a phone, we can call him now.”
Wayne nodded. “Sure thing.”
While the driver retrieved his cell phone from the car, Aaron went into the house and returned in a few moments with the slip of paper the young man had given him. Wayne punched the numbers on the phone and then handed it to Aaron. I hid a smile. Englisch often thought that just because we chose not to own technology, we didn’t know how to use it. During Aaron’s rumspringa, he’d owned a cell phone of his own, as had I. But because I never remembered to bring it with me, mine had not seen much use. Unlike the car, the phone had been an easy thing to give up.
Apparently, Robbie Barker answered, for Aaron identified himself and proceeded to describe our need. He nodded at Johann and Wayne, and then thanked the young man on the phone before disconnecting the call.
He handed the phone back to the driver. “He will be here at two o’clock tomorrow.”
“Fine.” Wayne faced Johann. “I will pick you up in Wakefield on Sunday and take you home.”
“Thank you.”
The man got back into his car, and the engine revved to life. With a final wave, he drove away.
Johann picked up one bag, and I grabbed the other. “I’ll show you to your room.”
My room, of course. But my things had been removed and the bed linens changed this morning in anticipation of their arrival.
Aaron took the bag from my hand. “I’ll carry it. Mamm will have a fit if you go inside like that.”
He ducked his head toward my muddy work shoes, which I’d forgotten. Suddenly aware that my clothes were covered in mud and worse from my work in Schwein’s pen, I yielded the bag. “I might as well clean the barn while I’m dirty, but save me a roll.”
That brought a boyish grin to his face. “You’d better hurry. I’m hungry, and those are Mammi’s gut pumpkin rolls.”
I couldn’t help but return the grin. As boys, we had once snitched an entire pan of Mammi’s pumpkin rolls and hid behind the well house to eat th
em. We were finishing the last one when Becky found us. I’m convinced that if we’d saved one or two for our schweschder, she wouldn’t have taken such joy in reporting our crime. Mammi would have discovered the missing pan eventually, of course, but we blamed Becky for the whupping we’d received from Daed. Honestly, the rolls were so good that we both agreed later they were worth the punishment, though perhaps not the lecture and Bible reading we endured while sitting on our raw backsides.
“Make him save me one, Johann,” I said with a grin, and when he nodded, I turned toward the barn for yet another smelly job.
The addition of Johann and Naomi made supper that night a festive affair, and the women outdid themselves in the kitchen. Our table never lacked for food—a farming family worked hard and used a lot of energy, and therefore required plentiful nutrition—but the variety of dishes that Mamm served that night almost bordered on prideful gluttony, something of which Bishop Beiler would most definitely not approve. No one mentioned the overabundance, of course. And there would be no waste, though we would enjoy leftovers of chicken, pork roast, beans, corn, stewed tomatoes, potatoes—both sweet and white—turnips, and fried cabbage for days to come. Even though our bellies were full of the good food, no one refused a slice of Mamm’s apple cake or a wedge of Mammi’s squash pie topped with thick, sweet cream.
When everyone had eaten as much as they could hold, the men retreated to the living room, leaving the women to clear the table.
“Business is good at the cabinet shop?” Noah asked of Johann as we settled around the room.
The children played on the floor between us, the boys building a structure with the smooth wooden blocks Aaron and I had played with when we were younger. When Sadie would have joined in and no doubt destroyed whatever the twins constructed, Mark turned a cautious eye on his daed before handing her two blocks and sending her to a far corner to play on her own. I hid a grin. Only three, and already Mark was becoming adept at keeping the peace without drawing the disapproval of his elders.
“Ya, too good at times.” Johann leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees and hands clasped. “We have orders we won’t be able to fill until summer, and have had to turn away customers who need cabinets sooner.”
“Is it new houses or replacement cabinets?” Aaron asked.
“Some renovations, but mostly new construction. Lancaster County is growing, especially the western part of the county. More Englisch are settling there.”
Furrows appeared beneath the thinning shock of Daed’s gray hair. “I hate to see it.”
Johann looked surprised. “Why is that? They bring more business to the county. And besides, it isn’t Amish land they’re buying but Englisch.”
I kept my eyes fixed on the growing tower of blocks between Mark and Luke, afraid I’d not be able to filter the surprise out of my gaze if I looked at the young man. Was he really so ignorant of our situation here in Lancaster County?
Aaron explained in a patient tone. “Because your family owns a business, you benefit far more from the Englisch than those of us who farm. If the Englisch buy up all the viable farmland in the county, where will our young men go?” He gestured toward my brother-in-law. “Take Noah. He hopes to buy a farm of his own in a year or two. If there is no land for sale in Lancaster County, he will have to look elsewhere.”
Noah nodded. “My daed can divide our family land in half but no more. Three of my older brothers are saving, but the way things look now, Becky and I will have to move away when the time comes.” His gaze settled on little Sadie, who was quietly babbling to herself while trying in vain to balance one block on top of the other in imitation of her older cousins. The day Becky and Noah and Sadie moved away from the family would be a sad one indeed. Especially if they were forced to move far away.
I felt the weight of a stare and looked up from my niece to find Aaron’s gaze fixed on me. Heat prickled beneath my shirt and threatened to rise into my face. I, too, was one of those younger bruders who, if I were married, would find myself with no land to farm unless I married the daughter of a farmer with no sons. I had done that once, but could not bear to stay with Rachel’s family after her death and so had returned home. My family’s farm had been divided for three generations, the most recent between my grossdaadi and his bruder. To reduce the size any further would be to render the farm unable to support a crop big enough to make farming worthwhile.
Of course, I was not married and would not marry. What need had I of land?
The women entered the room then, all smiles and chattering. Naomi held the box from Plain Man’s Pottery, the pottery pieces inside released from their newspaper wrappings. She hurried across the floor to sit between me and Johann.
“Look what they’ve given us.” She settled the box on the floor and lifted one of the canisters. “Isn’t it lovely?”
Johann made a show of examining the piece, nodding his approval. “Ya. We will make good use of this.” He caught her in a teasing sideways glance. “I can use it to store nails in the shop.”
“Oh, you!” Naomi leaned sideways and shoved his shoulder before taking the canister from his hands. “They’ll never see the inside of that shop. These are for flour, sugar, and barley in my kitchen.” She smiled. “When I have one, that is. And look here.” She replaced the canister in the box and lifted out a piece of fabric. I recognized a set of dishtowels that my sister and Mamm had sewed.
While Johann made a show of admiring the gifts and thanking everyone for bestowing them, I leaned forward to lift one of the canisters out of the box for a closer examination. A perfectly round cylinder with a quarter-inch foot that would rest solidly on a tabletop without wobbling. The outside contained the slightly grooved design that I’d noticed on most of Elias’s pieces. Instead of a wheat spike, a trio of simple wild-flowers decorated one side, their petals small and delicate. The lid, which I lifted by a knob, fit so perfectly as to be nearly airtight. How did Elias make it fit so snugly? Inside the canister was smooth, the lid slightly concave. I turned it over and noted the familiar encircled EB with the current year carved in neat numbers beneath.
In my mind’s eye, the potter’s hands rose, shaping the clay, dipping the water, molding the mound into a tower, and gently pressing it down again. The patience, the sheer artistry required to turn that lump of gray clay into the item I held in my hand captivated me.
Daed’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “It is time to read.” He picked up die Bibel from its resting place on the table beside his chair.
The boys began putting the blocks into their wooden crate, and Sadie toddled across the room to add her two. I replaced the lid and set the canister inside the cardboard box containing Naomi’s wedding gifts. Elias’s offer echoed in my mind. The first lesson is free.
Because the day had been warm, a good bit of snow had melted. Tomorrow we planned to walk the roofs of the main house and the daadi haus and perform any minor repairs that might be needed. But maybe I could slip away for a few hours the day after that.
Daed laid the big book in his lap, moved the oil lamp closer to the edge of the table so he could see, and began to read. I forced my thoughts away from spinning wheels and wet, pliable clay and focused on the nightly reading.
“You’ll sleep hard and cold, I fear.”
Mammi stood with her arms folded across her apron, worry carving heavy lines at the sides of her mouth as she examined the pallet where I would spend the night. No less than five quilts, carefully folded and layered atop a foam cushion on the rough-hewn floor, lay before the hearth where the fire had burned low.
“I’ve no doubt I’ll sleep more comfortably here than in my bed in the big house. And sounder, too, because I’ll not have to listen to Aaron’s snoring.”
That brought a smile to the face etched with years of love and laugh lines. “Often were the times your grossdaadi kept the house awake with his snores.”
“I remember.”
Grossdaadi’s snoring was renowned. Many a night a
s a boy I lay in bed and imagined I felt the mattress beneath me rumble with the vibration from his snores. My own mamm took to plugging her ears with cotton wool in the days when we all lived in the big house together. The day Grossdaadi and Mammi moved into the daadi haus, my mamm celebrated with perhaps a touch more exuberance than the situation warranted. I’d spied upon her when, after bidding her elders a fond farewell, she took two screwed-up pieces of wool and dropped them ceremoniously into the trash bin.
Since that time I believe she had acquired a new collection of cotton wool. The tendency toward noisy sleep had missed my daed and settled instead on Aaron. These days they said that snoring was bad for a person and indicated health problems, which gave Saloma no end of worry. Aaron merely laughed at her concern and continued his nightly serenade of the inhabitants of the main house.
“Ach, but I miss him.” In the waning firelight I caught the glimmer of tears in Mammi’s eyes.
The admission disturbed me more than the tears. Grossdaadi had died nearly fifteen years ago when I was a boy of eleven. My Rachel’s death four years ago, and Hannah’s last year, still lay like raw wounds in my soul. Would they always, even ten years from now?
“Still?” I asked, and a touch of my agony must have seeped into the question, for the next tear that slid down her cheek seeped from eyes so full of compassion that my heart squeezed painfully in answer.
Taking me by the arm, she guided me to a pair of chairs situated before the hearth and bade me sit in one. When she had lowered herself next to me, she clasped her hands and rested them on the skirt of her black dress, her gaze fixed on the glowing embers.
“For thirty-seven years I lived as his wife. Too many memories crowd this old head of mine to ever forget him.”
“A long time,” I agreed.
She glanced sideways at me and bit her lower lip as though hesitant to say more. I knew what was coming, of course. The inevitable comparison. Gott, don’t let her say it.
The Amish Widower Page 5
