Valley of Hope: The Amish of Lancaster

by Sarah Price

  “Good night, Samuel,” she said softly, pulling her hand from his grasp and slipped away from his presence. “You be careful driving home and think twice about running over to your Miller Lane fellows. It might do you some good to walk the path a little straighter…stop those tongues from wagging anymore.” And with that, she turned and hurried to the door.

  Her words lingered in his mind as he watched as she disappeared into her parents’ house, one light still burning in the window to help her find her way. She had always been so good to him, sticking up for him when others wouldn’t. Now, she was sending him a kind warning that people were talking. And Samuel knew that, once a reputation was established, it was hard to erase it.

  He waited until he saw her outten the light before he turned back to the buggy and climbed inside. His mind whirled at the turmoil of emotions that he always felt when he was near her. If only he didn’t have such an interest in exploring the world and living life. Yet, no matter what he did or how much trouble he found himself in, there was Mary Ruth, championing him despite unpopular opinions and seemingly waiting patiently for his wild ways to die down.

  The only problem, Samuel thought to himself, he didn’t know if they’d ever die down enough to be the kind of Amish man someone like Mary Ruth deserved. He slapped the reins on the horses back and clucked his tongue. As the buggy lurched forward, he leaned back in the seat. No, he told himself, Mary Ruth deserved better than the likes of him, no matter how much she hoped that he would change.

  Chapter Five

  “Hey Samuel,” someone called out.

  Samuel was weed whacking along the fence line of his father’s far pasture. The sides of the pasture ran up along the hill, parallel to the road. Then, at the top of the hill, it cut along Musser School Lane. His father often asked him to cut the weeds along the fences on Saturday afternoons when he was finished at the carpentry shop. Samuel didn’t mind since he liked to be by himself and ponder about different things.

  He often thought about what he wanted to do with his life. His daydreams included everything from seeing the ocean to visiting the big city, Philadelphia. These daydreams focused on travel and exploration, learning more about the ways of the Englische and enjoying the world of technology. They included things like cell phones and computers, cars and planes. But those daydreams never once included a future of weed whacking twenty acres of fence line.

  “Who’s that?” he called out as he shut off the gasoline-powered machine.

  Despite having grown up within the community, Samuel had always wondered why the Amish church permitted gasoline-powered machinery for certain types of yard work but not others. It seemed to be a conflicting statement of acceptance; maybe even a little hypocritical. But, when the chores fell onto his shoulders, he certainly wasn’t about to question it. Of course, the decisions on what could or could not be used varied from district to district. Just two miles down the road, the families couldn’t use gasoline-powered lawn mowers. Instead, they had to use the old fashioned push mowers with the metal blades that spun around, moving faster if it was pushed faster. Living in a progressive gmay had its benefits, that was for certain, he thought.

  Samuel set the weed whacker down on the ground and started walking toward the hill. He took his straw hat off of his head and wiped at his forehead with the back of his arm. Small pieces of grass clippings clung to his sweaty skin, which was tanned a golden brown. He tried to brush the clippings away but they seemed glued to his arms.

  “Peter!” The voice called back.

  As Samuel crested the hill, he noticed the car just below and his friend was leaning out the open window. “Wie gehts?” Samuel asked as he crawled through the fencing and jumped down the incline.

  He didn’t know Peter Barlett very well. After all, it was only the other week when Jacob Miller had introduced them and that adventure hadn’t gone very well. Unlike his other friends, Peter was not Mennonite. He came from a family of Presbyterians who didn’t regularly attend church. Samuel hadn’t been able to understand how any one could affiliate himself with any church if he never attended. But he had figured that it was an Englische tradition.

  The one thing that Samuel knew about Peter was that he was quite smart. At twenty-one, Peter would be starting his senior year of college in the autumn at Penn State. He was studying agriculture and wanted to eventually farm. When Peter went back to school, he would spend his time studying and socializing with his Englische friends. But he was home for the summer and, besides working at a local outlet mall, he was free to do as he pleased in the evenings and on the weekends. That was one of the reasons that Peter liked to hang out with Jacob and Paul. Samuel suspected that was also why Peter now considered him a friend.

  “Headed into town to get some food. Want to come along? I’m picking up Paul and Jacob on Miller Lane,” Peter said. He leaned out the window, his arm tapping on the side of the car door.

  With tanned skin and a dazzling smile, Peter was definitely a good-looking Englischer. With that, Samuel knew came the Englischer girls. He had noticed how the young women were attracted to him the other night when they went into Lancaster. Just one more of the many strange things about the Englische culture that he didn’t understand: their emphasis on outer beauty instead of inner strength and goodness was foreign to Samuel. In fact, he had thought just about that fact the other night as he watched the young Englische women laugh at Peter’s jokes and lobby to sit next to him at the diner.

  But now, that thought was long gone from Samuel’s mind. Forgotten were his questions about the non-Amish culture. All that mattered was that Peter had stopped by to see if Samuel wanted to grab a quick bite to eat. If only I didn’t have so many chores, he complained to himself.

  Samuel glanced back at the top of the hill. The weeds were growing high by the fencing. It always amazed him how high the weeds could grow in just one week. Unfortunately, his daed liked a neat and tidy farm. No weeds. No overgrown grass. Clean fence lines. Samuel knew that his parents felt that the care of the property and house reflected on their own faith. The better it was maintained, the more loyal to God. He never had understood that philosophy but, having accepted it, Samuel just did as he was told to help keep that image of loyalty through a well-maintained farm.

  “I don’t know,” Samuel started to reply. “My daed will be awful sore if I don’t finish this fence line tonight.”

  That was the truth. Nether one of his parents had said so much as a word to him over the past few days. Samuel wasn’t quite certain what to make of that. It wasn’t as though he had been out drinking alcohol or even smoking cigarettes. He knew that plenty of Amish young men did experiment with those things, some even trying drugs. But Samuel had no interest in that. He just liked the freedom that came with rumschpringe.

  “Aw, come on,” Peter said, hanging out the window. “You’ll be back in two hours. Plenty of time to finish.”

  Samuel scratched at the side of his head. With the other fellows being picked up next, Samuel would get to ride in the front passenger seat. He’d be able to roll down the window and hang his arm outside, feeling the cool air on his skin as Peter drove along the winding back roads. It was quite tempting. “Ja, vell, he’s still mad about the other night.”

  Peter laughed, his eyes mocking Samuel. “I thought rumschpringe was a time of no questions asked.” The way he said the word rumschpringe dripped with sarcasm.

  “There’s questions alright,” Samuel quipped. It annoyed Samuel that Peter was mocking him. “Especially when others are stuck doing my morning chores!”

  With a casual shrug of his shoulders, Peter started the car engine again. He seemed disappointed that Samuel wasn’t going to skip out on his chores and take the trip into town. But it was clear that the trip was going to happen, with or without Samuel. “Maybe next time, then,” Peter said, shifting the car into gear as he prepared to drive down the road.

  “Wait!” Samuel called out. Two hours, he told himself. The sun would still b
e high enough in the sky and, in all likelihood, his daed wouldn’t even notice that he was gone. He could always say that he ran out of weed whacker cord and took a quick break to run over to Jake’s to get some more. He was about halfway between the two farms, anyway. It was a logical excuse.

  He hurried back up the hill and glanced down at the farm. No one was in the barnyard or in the lower field. Certainly no one had seen him disappear down the hill, nor was anyone keeping track of his progress. Satisfied, Samuel hurried back down the hill and ran around the side of the car. “I’ll go. I’m hungry from all this work. Nothing wrong with a little break, ja?”

  “That’s more like it,” Peter said, a smile lighting up his tanned face as he waited for Samuel to buckle his seat belt before he started to drive down the road toward their friends’ house. “This is our time to have some fun. All work and no play sure does make for some boring weekends!”

  The sun was setting when Samuel jumped out of the car and ran back up the hill to crawl under the fence. He waved once at the car and watched as they drove down the road, Peter flooring the gas pedal and the engine roaring away. He even sped around the corner, the noise of the car lingering far longer after the car had actually disappeared from view. Peter drove too fast, that was for certain. While Samuel didn’t mind on the highway, especially with the windows rolled down and the music blaring, he always felt that Peter was taking chances on the back roads.

  The first thing Samuel realized was that the weed whacker was missing. He walked up and down the fence line, looking for it. He was certain he had left it by the tenth section of fencing but, just to make certain, he walked both up and down the row, looking for the machine. But it was gone.

  He sighed, annoyed at himself for having gone and even more annoyed at Peter for insisting that they go into Lancaster for a bite to eat. When Peter had said he wanted to get some food, Samuel had assumed he meant into New Holland or Bird-in-Hand. But Peter had his own ideas and had taken the three young men thirty minutes away to a small, dark pub in Lancaster. Samuel also had not liked that Peter had drank two beers while eating. So, when Peter wanted to walk around, Samuel was supportive, knowing that the fresh air and time would insure that Peter wasn’t intoxicated when he drove them back to Leola.

  Samuel also noticed that Peter had his own idea about time. In Peter’s world, time was meant to be wasted and used, but only at his own convenience. Samuel had tried to act unconcerned about the time but as two hours slipped into three and then into four, he began to worry. He’d never get the weed whacking finished and, with the sun starting to set in the sky, he knew he’d never make it home in time for evening chores. Once again, Daniel and David would be stuck with extra work. Not only would Samuel hear complaints from his daed, his brothers were certain to give him an earful, too.

  So, as he walked down the hill toward the farm, he tried to think of a dozen different ways to explain his absence from the farm. But, shore of outright lying, he quickly realized that there was no escape from the angry words of his parents and brothers. He quickly understood that he had no choice but to accept their reprimand, promise to not do it again, and hurry away to his room for the rest of the evening. He was tired anyway so that plan seemed the most sensible.

  “Samuel Lapp!” his mother said sharply as he walked into the kitchen. “You had us worried half to death!” She was sitting in her chair, working on cross-stitching some squares for a quilt. She set the fabric on her lap as she looked up. “You best go to see your daed in the barn! He’s quite unhappy, Samuel.”

  Samuel stared at his mother, unable to speak, as he realized that nothing ever changed. The routine was the same, day in and day out: Rise, chores, eat, work, eat, chores, sleep. Every night, after the supper was served and enjoyed, his mamm would clean the dishes, dry them, and put them away before sitting in the same chair to mend clothing or work on her cross-stitch. His father would sit in the chair next to her, the kerosene lamp hissing from overhead, as he read The Budget, sharing stories about other Amish communities throughout the country.

  That could be me, he told himself as he stared at his mamm. Same routine, same life. One day, he’d wake up and be older, tired and weary. Gray hair, gray beard, lots of wrinkles; and, when he looked back on his life, he would only see what he saw every day: The routine. Samuel just didn’t see what was so appealing about it.

  “Did you hear me, Samuel?” his mother snapped.

  “Huh?” He uttered out of his daydream.

  She gave two quick tsk, tsk under her breath as she shook her head. “You need to go apologize to your daed and make this right, son. It’s time you start taking responsibility for your actions and become the man you will need to become to support a family.”

  Samuel frowned. “A family?”

  Katie pressed her lips together tightly as she stared at him. “While you think you will never settle down, you still have a family, even if it’s only your daed and me! You are almost 21 years old. You need to stop acting like a wild child and start behaving like a proper man!” He was used to her sighs and disapproving looks but not to these words. Never had she spoken so harshly to him. “You think that rumschpringe means you can run wild, Samuel, but there is a limit to the tolerance that people will have for such poor choices and behavior,” she said, snapping the thread that she was using on the quilt square.

  There was a sharp edge to her look, one that caused Samuel to feel forced into a corner. Fight or flight, he thought. Since fight was clearly not an option, he turned on his heel and hurried back out the door. Better to face his daed without his mamm within hearing distance. Her willingness to forgive was clearly not in order this evening.

  But the wrath of his father was even worse. Silence. His father was finishing with the chores, Daniel and David letting the cows out for the evening, when Samuel walked through the barn doorway.

  David saw him first and frowned. “Nice job, Samuel!” he snapped sarcastically.

  Samuel lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, David.”

  “You should be! Getting sick of pulling your weight around this farm. Mayhaps you should do some of my chores for a few mornings to see what it feels like!”

  Daniel walked over to his younger brothers and set his hand on Samuel’s shoulder. “Best be rethinking some of your choices, brother.” His words were not unkind but the message was clear. “Some of them are not making you too popular around here.”

  But Jonas didn’t say a word. He continued with his chores, ignoring Samuel who stood behind him, waiting for his reprimand. Jonas moved in slow motion, his eyes clearly avoiding any connection with his youngest son. The unspoken message was even louder and clearer than his mamm’s harsh words. If he continued on the path he was traveling, he would become an outcast from the family and that meant a separation, both physical and spiritual. It was clear that his father was reminding Samuel that a separation from the family would be filled with such silence and, if his behavior continued, that was exactly what would happen.

  Chapter Six

  Mary Ruth sat quietly at the kitchen table, playing with her fork while she listened to the conversation between her two older brothers. She pushed the scrambled eggs back and forth on her plate, not eating because of the growing pit in her stomach. She felt her heart flutter in her chest and her pulse quicken as they shook their heads. There was a dark cloud looming overhead, a tenseness in the air that was palpable. The conversation was not the normal jovial one, filled with stories that brought rounds of laughter to the family. Instead, Samuel Lapp was the topic at hand and, while his antics were of great interest among her brothers, his parents clearly did not find them as humorous.

  Breakfast was always the liveliest family time in their house. It was also the only meal where everyone was present on a regular basis. Most days, for the noon meal, her older brother, Simon, was at his job at the Lapp carpentry store while her other brother, Stephen, might join them for the meal or might take some time to run his own errands. The rest o
f Mary Ruth’s siblings had married and were living at their own houses. The Smucker farm was not as big as some of the others in the immediate area and, especially since the crops had already been planted, her father and brother Stephen often had some free time in the afternoons to visit with friends and neighbors if they wanted. Yet, always, they gathered in the morning to start their day off with a silent prayer, good food, and family fellowship.

  But this morning, despite the wonderful smells of sizzling bacon, scrambled eggs, and morning potatoes, there was something unpleasant in the air and Mary Ruth sensed it. Indeed, there was an unspoken tension that lingered above their heads. Quietly, she sat next to her older sister, Leah, and listened intently as her two brothers bantered back and forth about Samuel.

  “Ja, Junior was quite upset with him yesterday,” Simon said. “Seems Samuel arrived late for work in the morning. Overheard them arguing about it.”

  “Again?” Stephen shook his head in disbelief. “That’s the third time you mentioned it in two weeks! What’s he thinking?”