An Amish Buggy Ride

by Sarah Price

  The snow started falling even harder. She kept her head bent against it and repeated the Lord’s Prayer, mostly to distract herself from her rising anger at David. She was also frustrated with herself for refusing the ride; it was foolhardy to walk alone at night in such a storm. Just as she was about to reach the crest of the hill, she looked up eagerly. She was approaching the border of their neighbor’s farm, which meant she was almost home.

  Something blinked in the darkness ahead of her. For a moment, she couldn’t tell what it was. She had already passed her aendi’s house and no lights had shone through their windows. Either the storm blocked the glow of kerosene lanterns or they already slept, which would not be surprising since Susan was expecting her first boppli in another month or so. She was Maem’s youngest sister and had married later than most Amish women. In truth, Kate felt as if Susan were her schwester instead of an aendi. After all, Susan had lived with them until she’d married Timothy two years ago.

  As she neared the crest of the hill, she frowned at the single light that blinked. On. Off. On. Off. What on earth could it be, she wondered with more than a little fear building inside of her chest. It looked as if it were located in the field, not the road. That gave her some comfort as she approached. Perhaps the farmer had left a lantern or flashlight in the field?

  And then she heard it. A familiar clicking noise. The same noise that buggy lights made at night when they blinked. Yet, buggies had two lights, not one. The unmistakable clicking sound sent a shiver throughout her body. Forcing herself to hurry, she half ran toward the light, her heart pounding and panic coursing through her blood.

  The overturned buggy lay in the ditch, only half of the back visible to the eye. The broken shaft, split in two, dangled like a damaged tree limb. The horse was nowhere in sight, having broken free from the lines.

  Shaking, Kate placed her hand on the side of the buggy and felt her way toward the door. Her foot slipped on the icy, snow-covered ground, and she caught herself by grabbing the side of the wheel. The whole buggy moved, just slightly, as she steadied herself.

  When she got to the door, it was almost impossible to open. The top of the buggy was tilted away from her, leaning down into the ditch, and she couldn’t reach the door handle.

  “Hello? Who’s in there?” she called out, her voice shaking, dread building inside of her chest.

  Silence.

  Taking a deep breath, she moved toward the front and wiped the snow away from the windshield, peeking inside, afraid of what she would see. At first, she saw nothing. The buggy was empty and she almost breathed a sigh of relief. But as her eyes adjusted to the dimness of its interior, only slightly illuminated from the blue glow of the battery-operated dashboard, she realized that she was mistaken.

  Two forms, both dressed in black, lay in a heap at the bottom of the buggy. Without seat belts, they had fallen together and looked almost invisible in the darkness. Kate shook as she reached out a hand to bang on the windshield. “You all right in there?”

  Finally, she saw movement and felt a stab of hope as a familiar pair of brown eyes stared up at her.

  “Get help, Kate,” David managed to say, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper. She thought she saw him trying to reach out to her, but his arm seemed pinned beneath him. She sensed rather than saw him wince in pain. “She’s not moving. Go get help.”

  Frozen in place, she just stared, her heart racing and her mind trying to comprehend what she saw. For what seemed like minutes, she stood there. Was that blood on his face? Why couldn’t he move his arm? What was preventing Ruth from moving? Backing away from the broken buggy, she stared at it, the reality dawning on her that David needed help. And fast.

  Turning on her heel, she ran the rest of the way up the hill, her feet sliding on the thin layer of ice that lay underneath the fresh, wet snow. She fell not once but twice, managing to scramble back to her feet and continue running on the treacherous road until she came to the lane that led to their farm.

  “Daed!”

  No one could hear her, but she continued yelling his name as she neared the house. When her feet hit the bottom step of the porch, the door opened; her father stood there in his stocking feet while her mother stared over his shoulder.

  “Wie geht’s?”

  Breathless, Kate collapsed against the doorframe, letting her mother’s hands pull her inside and pluck at her wraps. “It’s David.” She stared at her mother first and then her father. She didn’t want to say it. What if she had been mistaken? What if it was someone else? Still, whoever it was needed help. “Something’s happened. An accident.”

  “David?”

  Kate gulped for air as she nodded her head once.

  Her father wasted no time and began to pull on his winter boots and overcoat. “Where?”

  “Just down the hill. Toward Susan’s house. An accident . . . with the buggy.”

  With those words, Kate’s father ran from the house into the snow. She turned her wide-eyed gaze to her mother and felt the tears start to fall.

  “Mayhaps I . . . I best call for help,” Maem said softly, the color drained from her face and her voice monotone, as if in a trance. Without reaching for her coat, Maem disappeared outside, undoubtedly to go to the barn where the telephone was kept, since the bishop did not allow telephones in their houses.

  Kate stood there, alone in the mudroom, her hands shaking, whether from the cold or fright she did not know. Behind her, in the kitchen, she listened to the loud hissing noise of the propane lamp by the sofa. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed the unfinished crocheted blanket on the sofa. Maem must have been working on it when Kate interrupted with her shouts for help.

  Uncertain what to do, Kate fell to her knees, not caring that she knelt in a puddle of snow. She closed her eyes, clasped her hands together, and then prayed. Her lips remained still as she lifted her heart to God, imploring Him to protect her brother David and Ruth. When she heard the first sirens, she was still on her knees and there she remained until her mother returned with Kate’s aendi, Susan, both of them covered in snow.

  Kate looked up and knew that they both had been to the accident scene. From the way that Maem sobbed into Susan’s shoulder, Kate did not need to be told that her prayers had not been answered.

  Rising to her feet, Kate followed the two women into the kitchen. Without being asked, Kate began to arrange the furniture for the influx of visitors that were destined to arrive. Surely the bishop and elders would come to pray. Keeping busy was the only way that Kate knew how to avoid facing the reality that tragedy had struck, a tragedy undoubtedly caused by her brother David and his passion for the sour taste of whiskey.

  CHAPTER ONE

  As she walked along the road toward her parents’ farm, she noticed patches of bare earth, an undeniable sign that spring was just around the corner. Along the edge of the road, piles of dirty snow, cleared weeks earlier by the township plows, remained—stubborn reminders of what had been a brutal winter. One of the worst on record, they said.

  Now, as the fields began to thaw, flattened brown grass peeked through the remains of the white blanket that had covered it nonstop for the past twelve weeks. The sun was going down and a cold wind picked up. Near the broken split-rail fence, the overturned gray-topped buggy with its broken wheel and wrecked black metal shaft cast an eerie shadow on the exposed ground.

  Kate averted her eyes as her path took her closer to the skeletal frame. Every time she took this route, she forced herself to look anywhere but in the direction of the wreckage. She pulled at her black shawl as if trying to ward off both the cold air and the bitter memories of that consequential night.

  Had it only been three months ago?

  As she neared the damaged buggy, she shut her eyes and counted as dread consumed her. No matter how much time and distance she put between herself and that night, she felt she’d never get over it. O
ne, two, three . . . It was the same thing, every Saturday, so she’d learned just how many steps it took to get past the horrible sight. Twenty-three. That was the magic number until she would finally pass the spot. Twenty-three, just like the number of her favorite Psalms.

  Four, five, six . . . While she loved helping her aendi with the boppli, she hated walking home. Although she could have chosen to walk the long way or cut through the Hostetler’s field, she vowed two weeks ago that she wouldn’t do that anymore. Seven, eight, nine . . . Why hadn’t they removed it yet? What were they waiting for? Time seemed as frozen as the ice coating the wheels, trapping the buggy in a pile of snow that the Englische road crew had thoughtlessly plowed up against it. Ten, eleven . . .

  “Hey, Kate!”

  Her concentration broken and the numbers suddenly forgotten, she opened her eyes and turned around at the unexpected sound of her name. To her surprise, she saw Samuel Esh hanging out of the open door of his gray-topped buggy. He waved at her and stopped his horse so that the buggy blocked her view of the damaged fence, the tragic evidence of the accident, and the bitter memory of that awful night.

  “Let me give you a ride,” he said, a pleasant smile on his face. He tipped back his straw hat, his straight brown hair falling over his forehead until he pushed his bangs out of his blue eyes. Although she did not answer, he moved over on the buggy seat, making room so that she could climb aboard.

  Once settled next to him, she stole a quick glance at him, feeling awkward, for she had never ridden alone in a buggy with a young man.

  “Danke, Samuel,” she whispered, folding her hands on her lap and tucking her feet under the seat. She hoped he knew how much she meant it. Her appreciation was for the ride, but even more for his thoughtfulness in offering it. She hoped she wasn’t taking him out of his way. From what she could tell, thankfully, his horse had already been traveling in the direction of her parents’ farm.

  He wasted no time urging the horse to move forward, pulling the buggy farther away from the remnants of the accident. Once they had crossed the crest of the hill, he seemed to relax and slowed down the horse. Holding the reins in one hand, he glanced at her.

  “Where you coming from, then?” he asked.

  “My aendi just had a boppli,” she answered, her eyes downcast and her hands folded on her lap. She didn’t know why, but she always felt so shy and awkward around boys, especially Samuel Esh, who was five years older than she was. Kate knew him a bit through her older brother, Thomas. The two boys had gone to school together, although Samuel was two years older than Thomas. For a short while, during their rumschpringe days, Samuel and Thomas had run around with the same youth group.

  However, Samuel seemed more worldly and much more knowledgeable than Thomas. That made sense, from what she’d heard of his travels. He’d left Lancaster County four years prior and traveled to New York City, Miami, and Dallas. There had even been whispers that he had stopped at New Orleans for something called Mardi Gras. Kate hadn’t asked what that was when Thomas mentioned the topic a few years ago. She only knew from the raised eyebrows and clickings of tongues from the other womenfolk that it was something definitely too worldly for an Amish youth. But no one could complain or reprimand him. After all, Samuel Esh had been on his rumschpringe and, at that time, had not yet taken his kneeling vow.

  After six months of traveling, Samuel had returned to his parents’ farm and settled down to a life of working God’s land under His guidance. No one ever mentioned his adventures among the Englische, although a few members of the g’may had seemed mighty surprised when, upon his return, he had immediately started his instructional for baptism.

  That was just around the time Kate had turned sixteen, which meant she was finally allowed to attend youth singings and gatherings. She enjoyed that particular freedom and the chance to attend events with her older bruder, Thomas. No boy asked to take her home in his buggy after her first social outing. Kate didn’t mind. In fact, she was relieved to not have that pressure put onto her young shoulders. She had no idea what she would have talked about with a boy! She wasn’t especially talkative, and if she did start a conversation, it was usually with one of her sisters or a female friend, like Verna.

  When Thomas began courting a young woman named Linda Schwartz, Kate began walking home from singings with her friends or, if asked, riding home in a crowded buggy driven by a neighbor boy. She hadn’t thought much about it, but now that she was twenty, she often wondered what was wrong with her that no one in particular had offered her a ride.

  After Thomas had married the previous winter, Kate noticed that most of her friends began courting young men. First she noticed Ella, and then Sylvia, leaving in a different buggy than the one in which they had arrived. When her younger brother, David, began to court Ruth Stoker, Kate was left walking home with Hannah for a few months until she, too, seemed to slip away with a young man to ride in his buggy along the winding roads, leaving Kate alone to walk home from the gatherings.

  And then the accident occurred.

  “Your aendi . . . she lives just at the bottom of the hill, ain’t so?” he asked.

  Kate nodded.

  “Timothy’s Susan, ja?”

  Kate gave a little laugh at the way that Samuel referred to her aendi. “Ja, Timothy’s Susan.”

  Samuel nodded his head once. “It’s a girl, ja? Haven’t seen Susan at worship with the boppli yet.”

  “The boppli’s still small, not even two months,” Kate responded.

  New mothers tended to keep their newborns away from crowds, especially worship service, until the infants were over two months old. Susan was no different. She fretted about germs, forcing Kate to wash her hands incessantly with special soap that Timothy had purchased at the Smart Shopper. In fact, she had lived in the grossdaadihaus when Kate was growing up and had moved out when she wed Timothy two years ago. The newly married couple had moved into a smaller but neighboring farm just down the road from Maem and Daed’s property.

  Maem had chuckled over Susan’s germaphobic condition, commenting to Daed, “Let’s see how much of that fretting is left over when she has her third boppli!”

  It was no secret that Maem and Susan didn’t see eye to eye about child rearing. Susan had always been rather critical of the way Maem and Daed let their children have more freedom than most families in the g’may. The Zook family was always the last family to pull out shoes from the attic in the autumn. The kinner seemed to miss the most school during the plowing and planting season. And David . . . well, everyone seemed to have an opinion about David.

  “Ruth Ann is her name,” Kate added quietly. She still wasn’t entirely comfortable with Susan’s naming her firstborn after Ruth so soon after the young woman’s death.

  Samuel remained silent, not speaking for at least a full minute, which felt painfully long to Kate. Finally, he nodded his head and looked at her. “Right gut name, don’t you think?”

  She didn’t respond.

  When Susan gave birth two months ago, shortly after the New Year, the joyous occasion had brought the Zook family newfound hope and a reason to smile. Kate had been only too happy to volunteer to help her aendi on the weekends, giving Susan a little break to rest a spell. It was also a good excuse to visit. Even better, it allowed Kate a reason to escape the heaviness that lingered over her parents’ home.

  And what a heaviness it was!

  How life had changed for everyone since that snowy night in December. She didn’t like thinking about it, so she pushed the events deep into the recesses of her brain. She liked to pretend that there was a little box inside of her head, one that allowed her to hide horrible memories. It was a relief to imagine closing the lid, pretending to lock it with an old-fashioned iron key, and hiding it far away in the back corner of her mind. The truth, however, was that the memory of that night and the following days could never remain locked, no matter how ma
ny times she envisioned turning that key.

  At least she could forget, if only for a few hours, when she was at Susan’s. Holding the boppli changed everything. She loved holding Ruth Ann, especially when the baby slept. Her small mouth often puckered as if nursing even though she was wrapped in a blanket, all snuggly buggly, with her eyes shut and her tiny chest rising and falling while she napped. A slice of heaven, Kate would think as she gazed at her.

  The only downside to helping her aendi with Ruth Ann was the inevitable walk home. The first few Saturdays, she walked home the long way, avoiding the place where the buggy accident had occurred. Eventually, she knew that she needed to face her fears and begin walking directly home. She thought it would get easier, but it never did.

  Not until today.

  The perfection of Samuel’s timing impressed her and she said a silent prayer of thanks to God. She still held out hope that the wreckage would be removed soon. It had not been possible thus far. Any attempt would have been hindered by the onslaught of snow and ice that had fixed it in place since the accident in December. So the remains of the buggy still occupied a patch of grass bordering the road, an unwelcome reminder of the past. Technically it was on their neighbor’s property. Who knew how long it would remain with so much happening in the g’may, a fact that haunted Kate every Saturday when she walked by it.

  Today, however, Samuel had saved her that pain with his impromptu stop and invitation to ride the rest of the way home in his buggy.

  “Sure will be nice when the snow is all gone, don’t you think?”

  Kate snapped back to the present and looked at Samuel. His big blue eyes stared at her from beneath the brim of his hat. Despite it still being winter, his skin glowed tan and she knew that he must have started working outside already. The Esh’s farm was one of the larger properties in their g’may; with eleven children, there was no shortage of labor to work it. Word on the Amish grapevine was that Samuel’s devotion to both his family and their farm had been unflagging, especially after he took the kneeling vow.