An Amish Buggy Ride

by Sarah Price

  For the first few minutes, they rode in silence. Hair from the rump of the horse floated through the opened front window and Kate wiped at her mouth.

  “You getting a mouthful?”

  She laughed. “Ja, I sure am.”

  He reached up and shut the window. “Better?”

  She nodded.

  “Funny, ain’t it?” He chuckled to himself. “Have barely seen you at all in months and only at worship. Now it’s been twice in one week.”

  She thought that, technically, it had been more than a week since he’d given her that ride home in his buggy, but she didn’t correct him.

  “Must be a sign!” he teased and nudged her gently with his elbow.

  She blushed and looked out the window.

  “Aw, I’m just kidding, Kate. Trying to get a smile out of you. Takes more muscles to frown than to smile. Did you know that?” He returned his attention to driving the horse. Another horse and buggy approached them and Samuel lifted his hand, waving a silent hello as a greeting. “Sure is nice out. What a difference a week makes, ja?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He made her feel nervous, his constant questions and gentle teasing.

  “There’s a singing tomorrow after church.”

  It wasn’t a question, just a simple statement. However, his silence compelled her to respond. “Verna stopped by and told me.”

  “You going, then?”

  Kate shrugged. “Doubt it. Need to help Daed in the fields on Monday.” Most likely, they’d be up by four thirty in the morning to tackle the milking and start the field work before breakfast. Miriam and Becca would clean the stalls when they awoke. It would be a long few days, that was for sure and certain.

  “I reckon you won’t be the only one doing field work on Monday morning.” He pursued the topic no further.

  They rode the rest of the way to the Millers’ farm in silence. Kate wondered whether he was sorry that he hadn’t dropped her off first. She wished she felt comfortable enough to engage in a conversation with him. She wanted to thank him again for the ride home the previous week, to thank him for sparing her from seeing the battered buggy at the accident scene once again. Yet he was too much of a stranger for her to initiate such personal conversation. The last thing she wanted was for Samuel Esh or anyone else to think she was too forward.

  The Millers’ farm was quiet, and for a brief moment Kate worried that no one was home. She knew she would feel terrible if Samuel had made the entire journey for naught. She glanced at him, wondering if he suspected the same thing. To her surprise, he looked unfazed. He parked the buggy and flashed her a reassuring smile.

  “Be right back,” he said.

  She watched as he walked up the path to the barn and disappeared through a door. After several seconds, he emerged, carrying two large cartons of eggs. Carefully, he set them on the floor of the buggy, pieces of an old horse blanket wrapped protectively around the cartons so that no harm would come to the eggs on the ride back to his farm.

  “They were home, then?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know. I just left the money on the counter and took what we needed.”

  Ah, she thought. The tried-and-true Amish honor system. A staple of the Amish way of life. Sometimes during the hot summer months, neighbors with too many fresh tomatoes and zucchinis from their garden left extras in cartons at the end of their driveways. They’d leave a tin can nearby to collect the proceeds. If people wanted to buy any goods, they simply left money in the can and took what they wanted. Maem always clucked her tongue about that, commenting how the Englische tourists did not always play by those rules of honor. She said that if they had anything to sell, they’d sell it outright at market and only at a tended stand.

  To Kate’s knowledge, however, no one, not even Englische tourists, had ever stolen goods from a produce box left on the honor system.

  It didn’t matter, though. Maem wasn’t about to encourage the tourists to stop at their farm. She was much more content to donate her excess goods to the elderly Amish who lived alone or could not farm anymore. Kate suspected that Maem’s disapproval of catering to the tourists in general lay at the heart of the matter, not the supposed stealing of goods.

  Anything that had to do with the Englische was taboo in the Zook household. Having been raised in a very conservative and traditional Amish home, Maem had never felt comfortable spending time among the Englische. But her desire to completely isolate herself and her family was solidified twelve years ago after the accident by the road stand. Kate didn’t feel the same way about the Englische as her mother, but she understood that Maem had her reasons.

  By the time he stopped the buggy in front of her house, Kate felt anxious to get out. She knew her maem would be wondering what had taken her so long. Surely Daed would also be needing some help with the final chores of the evening. It didn’t help any when she noticed David, sitting on the porch in his wheelchair, his head pressed against his hand as he glared at Kate with his dark eyes.

  Certainly her maem had put him there to get some fresh air. At least, Kate thought, that’s what Maem would have told him.

  “Danke for the ride,” she mumbled as she started to get out of the buggy. His hand on her arm stopped her and she looked up, surprised.

  “Mayhaps you’ll change your mind about the singing, ja?”

  She looked away. How could she go to the singing? How could she face the unspoken questions? How could she endure it, knowing what people were likely thinking of when they looked at her? “Mayhaps,” she whispered and reached under the seat for her maem’s Tupperware container. Against her better instinct, she glanced at him one last time. His eyes met hers. “Mayhaps, Samuel,” she repeated before turning away and hurrying into the house. She barely passed David when she heard the sound of Samuel’s horse and buggy disappearing down the lane toward the road.

  Avoiding David’s scowl, Kate opened the door to the house and slipped inside, knowing that her brother would certainly have something to say about the fact that, while he sat on the porch, stuck in a wheelchair staring at the barren fields that he’d much prefer to be planting, she had been “joy riding” in a buggy with Samuel Esh. He’d never consider the fact that there was a good reason for it. He’d just accuse her of doing the one thing he knew he could never do again: enjoy life.

  The familiar guilt burdened her as she hurried into the kitchen to see what she could do to help her maem.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “I want you to go to the youth singing tonight.”

  Kate’s spoon stopped in midair, her mouth open and her eyes wide. She looked at her maem as if questioning whether she had heard Daed properly. He hadn’t asked. He hadn’t suggested. He had told her. He was flat out informing her that she was to go.

  Earlier that day, the family had attended worship service at the Masts’ house, all of the Zooks minus David and Maem. The Masts had held the service inside their home; like most of the older farmhouses in the g’may, it was built specifically to accommodate large gatherings. In some of the newer homes, there were often just large rooms built over the horse barn or craft shops. But however the space worked out, the location where the worship service was held rotated. Every two weeks, worship was held in a different house within their church district.

  The Masts’ downstairs gathering room, emptied of its furniture and with the partitions between the kitchen and the sitting area displaced, easily accommodated the two hundred members of the g’may expected to participate in worship that week. Kate took her seat on the hard wooden bench. She glanced at her friend Katie Ellen who sat to her left and then turned her eyes to the center of the room where the bishop stood, his white beard moving slightly as he spoke. The sermon focused on personal forgiveness, a topic that weighed heavily in Kate’s heart. She fought the urge to squirm while the bishop preached, his singsong voice rising and falling as
if he were chanting and not addressing the congregation. It was a long sermon with a lot of focus on Joseph’s ability to forgive his brothers after they had sold him into a life of slavery.

  Kate listened intently, the color rushing to her cheeks. Had not David been sold into a similar life? A life of sitting in a wheelchair rather than courting his girl and visiting his friends? Part of her wished that David attended church with the rest of the family. Perhaps the bishop’s words would have made an impression on him and helped him realize that it was time to forgive her.

  When the time for silent prayer came, Kate knelt with her face pressed into her hands as she leaned against the bench. She prayed for God to provide her with the strength to remain strong for her parents and for David. She prayed for God to bless her with the wisdom and ability to handle David’s temper and harsh words. And she prayed for God to grant her the insight to learn how to forgive herself the way that Joseph forgave his brothers.

  After the worship service, Kate helped the hosting family with serving the food during the first sitting. No one needed to direct her in what to do. Most of the other young women knew exactly what chores to tend as well. It was their responsibility, after all, to replenish plates of fresh bread and bowls of apple butter. Kate took it upon herself to fill water cups and set them by the plates as people began to take their seats at the tables that the men had just transitioned from the worship benches. It was an easy task and one that required little, if any, interaction with her peers.

  By the time the after-prayer was said over the first seating, Kate felt both hungry and tired. As a young unmarried woman, she wouldn’t get to eat until the second seating in another thirty minutes. While she waited, she stood nearby, watching to see if anyone at the tables needed more water. She noticed that nobody came up to inquire if she would join them that evening at the youth singing, with the exception of Verna.

  For four months, the answer from Kate remained the same: nee. She held no interest in attending anything social. Not now. Not yet. However, she realized that her self-isolation was taking its toll. Verna had made certain to sit beside Kate during the worship service and reiterated her invitation to both the singing and the quilting. But she’d left immediately after the worship service with her family to visit with her older brother in a neighboring district that afternoon.

  Verna’s absence during the fellowship time made Kate think. Clearly, the other women respected Kate’s decision to distance herself, at least while she healed. However, she quickly realized that they also continued living their lives, which included friendships and social activities, things that clearly no longer involved Kate Zook.

  The realization startled her, especially when she found herself relieved that her daed did not want to linger after the fellowship meal. Maem hadn’t even come. Her parents, too, were isolating themselves.

  Back at home, Kate found a chance to nap on the sofa in the main room, a sunbeam shining through the windows and warming the nape of her neck. To her surprise, when she awoke, Maem had already set the table for the evening supper and the younger kinner were outside, chasing the chickens into the coop with exaggerated gestures and assertive shouts.

  “Why didn’t you wake me, then?” she had asked her maem as she stretched her arms and yawned. She could hear Becca and Miriam laughing through the open window. “I would have gladly helped.”

  Maem smiled in return. “I know, Kate. But you looked so peaceful. I didn’t have the heart . . .”

  Peaceful.

  A word that conjured up a whirlwind of images for Kate: Ruth Ann sleeping in her handmade pine crib, newborn kittens nursing from the mother cat’s swollen belly, cows wandering in the green paddocks in springtime. Peaceful was not a twenty-year-old sleeping on the sofa while the rest of the family worked, tiptoeing around so that no one woke her. Swallowing, Kate had pushed those images from her mind. She straightened her hair as she rose from the sofa, then hurried over to help with the rest of the preparations for the meal, secretly grateful for the unexpected nap.

  So, during the supper meal, when her daed blurted out that he wanted her to attend the youth singing that evening, Kate felt completely blindsided.

  No one had mentioned youth singings in months. No one had even hinted that Kate should attend, as if there was an unspoken agreement among the family members that it was not a topic to be broached. Yet, Daed had spoken, and his words lingered in the air as if someone had painted them on canvas for all to see.

  When she realized that everyone was staring at her, Kate lowered her gaze to the food on her plate. Suddenly, her appetite was no more. She set down her spoon and placed her hands on her lap. “May I be excused?”

  Daed shook his head. “Nee, Kate. Not until you answer me.”

  “You didn’t ask a question of me.” She regretted the words the moment they slipped through her lips. Sassy, she scolded herself. But she did not apologize. To her surprise, he did not reprimand her. The heaviness of the tension in the room seemed to excuse the tone of her comment.

  “About the singing.”

  She glanced at David who seemed to slouch more deeply in his wheelchair, a scowl on his face. At seventeen, he made his intention known to the family that he would never attend another singing. He would never meet up with friends and he certainly would not marry. It’s all your fault. His words echoed in her head and her pulse quickened. How could she go to a singing, be social and laugh, enjoy life as if nothing had happened? The fact that David kept his eyes downcast did not lessen her feelings of guilt.

  “I’m . . . I’m just not ready yet, Daed,” she finally responded.

  What she wanted to say remained in her heart, not on her lips. How could she enjoy herself at a youth singing, knowing that David remained at home? Besides, if she went to a singing, people would ask. After all, David’s situation warranted an explanation and that would mean telling the story about Ruth. And what woman would want a disabled man who had caused his own injury and killed his intended bride?

  “Kate,” Daed said, with a firmness in his voice that indicated he meant business. “It’s time.”

  An eerie silence fell upon the room. No forks scraping the plates. No glasses being set down. No belches of full bellies. Just silence.

  Kate looked up, her eyebrows raised in surprise. Time? Time for what? She wanted to ask him the question, but words seemed trapped in her throat.

  Daed must have noticed her apprehension for he took a deep breath and added, “Don’t you reckon, dochder?”

  She could feel the heat of everyone’s stare upon her. Still, she could do no more than look down at her plate. She just couldn’t go through with it. Not yet. While Daed might think it was time, she knew better. Part of her even suspected that that time might actually never come. Not after what she had been through.

  “I can’t, Daed. I just can’t.”

  “Ja vell, you are going.” This time, his tone took on an unusual level of severity, one that she hadn’t heard in a while and certainly not one that was often directed at her. He dipped his head, poking at the food on his plate with his fork. “And that’s the end of that discussion.”

  Kate felt the tears welling up in her eyes and said a quick, silent prayer that he would change his mind. As the head of the household, Daed would never accept disobedience. Not under his roof. Once he issued a command, he would accept no argument.

  For the rest of suppertime, she refused to eat, merely pushing her food around the plate, and barely spoke at all, except when asked a direct question, which, thankfully, was limited to just one: “What time will you be ready?”

  It was a question for which she knew there was no answer.

  When the clock read four o’clock, Kate reluctantly went upstairs to change her soiled apron and fix her hair. The small mirror nailed on the wall by the door reflected her image. The dark circles under her eyes spoke of her sleepless nights while t
he scattering of freckles over her cheeks told stories of days spent working outside under the warm sun and blue skies. While she had never considered whether others thought she was pretty, she knew that she wasn’t unattractive or overly plain. Of course, she certainly didn’t think she was as striking as Esther or Verna, never mind the fact that, as of late, she knew she looked tired.

  “Hi there.”

  Kate glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see Becca crouched on the floor by her dresser. “What are you doing there?”

  She shrugged. “Didn’t feel like helping with evening chores,” she mumbled. Fiery little Becca looked as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.

  Kate stifled a laugh. “So you hid in here? Who’s to say I won’t tattle on you?”

  Another shrug. “You won’t.”

  She was right. Kate would offer to do the chores herself rather than rat out Becca. Moving over to the edge of her bed, Kate motioned for Becca to sit beside her. “What’s up, buttercup?”

  “Why do they want you to go to this stupid singing anyway?”

  Kate frowned. Why would that matter to Becca? It wasn’t as though Kate had never gone to a singing or social gathering before tonight. In fact, both she and David used to go out on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday evenings to visit with friends if a formal gathering had not been arranged. “Singings aren’t stupid, Becca,” she finally responded.

  Becca snorted her thoughts about that.

  “What’s really bothering you?”

  “Nothing’s the same.” Her voice sounded even younger than her ten years. The usually tough facade that Becca wore broke down as she lifted her dark eyes to stare into Kate’s. “Maem’s so quiet, David’s always grouchy, Daed just works and sleeps. I miss the before days.”

  Before days and after days. That was how the Zook family segmented their lives: the days from before the accident and the days after the accident. There was no other way to split it. Before the accident, life had been different with evenings spent playing games of Scrabble or Trouble, the family gathered together and sharing a bowl of Maem’s amazing popcorn, made with special seasonings and brewer’s yeast.