by Jan Drexler
“I will come see you again, but I don’t know when.”
“I’m glad you came today, Josef.” She turned her face toward him. Ja, she was blushing. “I’m glad we had time to talk and get to know each other better.”
Josef walked slowly, wanting to make their time together last.
“I have a question for you.” He pulled her to a stop when they reached the end of the lane, right at the edge of the road. She looked up at him, her face framed by the soft edges of her shawl. “Even after such a short time, do you think you . . . I mean, you know I want you for my wife. Do you want me for your husband?”
“There’s one thing . . .”
“What?”
Her face took on a different look, one he hadn’t seen before. Harder, more determined.
“I don’t want to move to Indiana. I want to stay here, along the Conestoga.”
“But the plans are all made. Your vater will be selling his farm.” Josef paced away from her and back again. What was she thinking?
“Daed hasn’t sold the farm yet. If he knew I was staying here, I think he’d change his mind about moving.”
“Your vater isn’t going to change his mind.”
Hannah bit her lip, a little less sure. “If I refused to go, he’d want to stay here to keep our family together.”
“He’s going to go west, and so am I.”
“Well, I’m not.”
If she had been a mule, she would have sat right down in the dirt. His eyes locked with hers. Of all the stubborn, foolish women!
“You can’t stay here by yourself. You’ll come west because your vater and I say so.”
Tears pooled in her eyes, and she dropped her gaze from his. He stepped closer, caressing her shoulder, but wanting to grab her into his arms and hold her until she came to her senses.
“Hannah, Hannah.” Her name spilled from his mouth. He pulled her to him and hesitated. Tears glistened on her cheeks, but her face no longer had the stony look of just a moment ago. He leaned down, captured by her lips, red and trembling. Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her softly. Once, and then again. He pulled away, wanting to continue but satisfying himself with running his thumb across her lower lip.
“We will be married.” He couldn’t speak above a whisper. He couldn’t break the spell of that moment. “I will come again, when I can. Watch for me, ja?”
She nodded.
He leaned down again to kiss her cheek, pressing his lips against the sweet softness of her skin, and then turned and strode down the road toward Ephrata. If he turned back, if he even glanced back, he would never be able to leave her.
Hannah watched Josef walk away, up the road past the Metzlers’ farm, sliding behind a spruce tree just in case he looked back. He didn’t.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. What was it about him? So . . . so pigheaded and stubborn one minute . . . but then kissing her the next. Kissing her . . . Adam’s kiss hadn’t felt anything like that. Nothing had ever felt like Josef’s kiss.
Turning back toward the house, Hannah went over their conversation again in her mind. Before he kissed her, he had given her an ultimatum. It was one thing to say she would obey Daed, but obey Josef? He wasn’t her husband. Not yet.
She tripped over a root sticking out of the ground and kicked it again in frustration.
If he was going to treat her like this, he would never be her husband.
“Because I said so.” She mimicked Josef’s accent as she repeated his words. The more she thought about them, the angrier she got. Who was he to think he had the right . . . ?
She stopped, grasping the top rail of the sheepfold fence. He barely knew her, and thought he would marry her. And he was right. From the first moment she had heard his voice this morning until he left her with his kiss still burning on her lips, the thought of marrying him had been the first thing on her mind.
Until he gave her the order to move to Indiana.
Ne, until she told him she wouldn’t move.
Was the argument her fault? Ja, ja, ja. It was her own stubborn pride that had brought this about. But at the same time, it had shown her a side of Josef she hadn’t known existed. As tender and gentle as he was, he still had an infuriating streak of dominance.
It was good to get that out in the open. Now she knew how he felt and he wouldn’t fit into her plans to stay in Pennsylvania at all. She would need to find another way to make sure Daed changed his mind about going.
She turned back to look at the spot where Josef had left her. Tears prickled in her eyes. The memory of his embrace, the sweetness of his kisses, the rightness of it all . . . Why did they have to have that argument?
“Are you sure you want to take me?” Hilda looked up from fastening her shawl.
Adam turned his hat in his hand. He had been waiting all afternoon for his sister to get ready for this evening’s young people’s gathering, but she had to make sure her hair was right, and then something was wrong with her dress. Finally she had to borrow one of Ma’s prayer coverings because her own wasn’t white enough.
“It will be fun, and you know I’m not going to let you walk all the way by yourself.”
“You know what would be even better?” Hilda waved to Ma and Pa as Adam followed her out the door. “If Hannah would come with us.”
Adam fell in beside her as they walked down the lane toward the road. “I don’t know if she’d come.”
“How do you know? You’ve never asked her, have you?”
“She still thinks there’s too much of a difference between her Amish church and our Mennonite one, even though I think she’d fit in fine.”
They turned onto the road and Hilda nodded toward an Amish man walking toward them in the late-afternoon shadows. “Is that Jacob Yoder?”
“Ne, not Jacob.”
“He’s coming from the Yoders’ farm, though.”
Adam took another look as they drew closer. The man was young, and walked as if he was lost in thought. A sudden suspicion crept into his mind. This could be the man Hannah had told him about. The one who had asked to call on her.
“Good afternoon,” he said as Hilda and Adam came close.
Adam stopped as the other man did. “Good afternoon. A fine day for a walk, ja?”
“Ja.” He folded his right arm across his waist and bowed in Hilda’s direction. “I am Josef Bender, a friend of the Yoders. You are their neighbors, nicht wahr?”
Josef Bender? He fit Hannah’s description perfectly. Adam felt his jaw clench but put a smile on his face. “Ja, that’s right. I am Adam Metzler, and this is my sister, Hilda.”
Josef flashed a glance at him under his eyebrows before turning to Hilda again. Hannah had probably mentioned him, as well.
“How long have you known the Yoders?” Hilda smiled at Josef, like all women probably did. The man was too handsome for his own good.
“We met just a few weeks ago, but we will be traveling west together in the spring. We have gotten to know each other quite well.” Another glance at Adam, this time with a quick lift of those eyebrows. Just how well had he gotten to know Hannah today? He must have spent all afternoon with her.
“Are you sure all of the Yoders are going west?”
Josef’s jaw clenched, the muscle twitching, but his voice was as smooth as ever when he answered. “There’s some question with one of the daughters, but ja, I think the family will stay together, don’t you?”
Hilda forgotten, Adam stared at Josef. He couldn’t be thinking Hannah would leave her home behind to go off to the western wilderness with him.
His sister tugged at his sleeve. “We’re going to be late, Adam.”
“Ja, Hilda.” He nodded at Josef. “Good to meet you.”
The other man gave his little bow again. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other quite often between now and next spring.”
Adam and Hilda continued down the road to the Franz farm, while Josef went the other direction, toward Ephrata.
“Ne, he was calling on Hannah.”
“Hannah?” Hilda turned to look at him and nearly tripped.
Adam took her arm. “You don’t need to hurry so fast. Stephen Petersheim won’t sit with any other girl but you.”
Hilda slowed to his pace, but Adam didn’t release her arm.
“Why would Josef Bender be calling on Hannah? Didn’t she tell him she already had a beau?”
“That’s the problem. As far I’m concerned, she has a beau. But in her mind, we aren’t together until I become Amish.”
“Or she becomes Mennonite.” Hilda tilted her head to look at him again. “You aren’t thinking of turning Amish, are you?”
“Ne, for sure not.”
Josef Bender was Amish. He was just the kind of man Christian Yoder would be looking for in a son-in-law, and Hannah wouldn’t have any arguments with him about meetinghouses or if the abolitionists were breaking the law or if a man should run for public office. Josef Bender was the kind of man Hannah would be expected to marry . . . but would she marry a man she didn’t love?
Wednesday afternoon, in bright Indian summer sunshine, Hannah knocked at the apples still clinging to the highest branches in the orchard. Jacob had found a long cane fishing pole for her to use. The hook he attached to the end helped her grasp the branches. She finally hooked a branch and gave it a shake, sending apples showering to the ground.
Peter and William scrambled on the ground around the tree, making a game out of gathering the fallen fruit.
“Why are we bothering with these apples?” Peter dropped another handful into the basket.
“Because there might not be any apples yet in Indiana. Mamm wants to dry as many as she can to take along.”
“Apples.” William put an apple into the basket, squatting down to lay it with the others.
“Denki, William.”
He grinned at her and went after another one.
Dried apples to take to Indiana. Jacob hunting every day for fresh meat so they would have extra dried and pickled meats to take to Indiana. Mamm weaving for hours every day to make cloth to take to Indiana. Daed sitting at the table every night figuring how to stow everything into the new wagon he was building to move to Indiana.
Hannah whacked at another branch. If she heard one more person talk about Indiana, she might scream. That Josef and his plans. He had probably already planned the cabin he was going to build for their first home.
In Indiana.
She moved to the next tree, hooked the center of the tree, and shook it, pelting all three of them with apples. William giggled while Peter howled.
“I’m sorry, Peter. I didn’t mean for it to hit you.”
Ja, it should have hit Josef. Or Daed. Perhaps it would knock some sense into them. Why did they think they had to uproot everyone and move west? There was no reason for it. They were doing fine right here.
Adam called from the orchard fence to get her attention. “Hannah!”
She waved. “Peter, you and William keep picking up apples. I’m going to talk to Adam for a few minutes.”
Leaning her pole against the tree, she walked through the orchard to the fence. Adam’s smile was like a warm caress, welcoming and open. He wouldn’t force her to leave her home.
“Hallo, Adam.” She climbed up the stile and sat on the top step, facing him.
He moved closer, peeked around her at the boys, and then took her hand. “I’ve missed you.”
“It’s only been a few days since you last saw me.”
“But I still missed you.” He lifted her chin with one finger so she had to look into his face. “The last time we spoke, you told me to give you time to think.”
Hannah nodded.
“Tell me then, have you been thinking?”
Hannah’s breath caught at the look in his eyes. He loved her.
Ja, he had said it . . . but what did it mean, to love another? Adam’s eyes, soft brown above his gentle smile, those were eyes of love.
“I . . . I think I will consider what you said, Adam.”
He leaned closer. “You’ll become Mennonite? You’ll marry me?”
“I can’t become Mennonite.” She would never promise that. “But I want to stay here, to live on the Conestoga and raise my children here.”
Adam squeezed her hand. “Then you’ll marry me?”
“You’ll become Amish?”
Adam looked away. Hannah waited.
“I can’t promise that.”
Hannah nodded.
“But we have a beginning.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “It’s a beginning, Hannah.”
19
December blew in with rain and plummeting temperatures. After the breezy warm day when Hannah and the boys picked the last apples, the next day’s storm caught her by surprise.
Mamm called to her before she went out to care for the chickens in the morning. “Let Jacob feed the chickens this morning. He’s already out, and there’s no need for the rest of us to get wet and cold.”
Hannah stared at her, but Mamm continued stirring the porridge while Margli and Liesbet set the table. She couldn’t remember a time when Mamm had let her stay in during a storm.
“And Hannah, after breakfast, would you help me with the apples? Margareta and Liesbet can redd up the kitchen and watch William. We need to slice the apples and lay them in the attic so they can start drying.”
“Ja, Mamm.”
Hannah glanced at her mother’s face as she turned from the fire to help Margli pour syrup into the small pitcher. She looked peaceful. Even happy. The change that had started in Mamm weeks ago still continued, even on a blustery cold day like this one.
After breakfast, Hannah brought the baskets of apples in from the porch. The rain was turning to ice as the day progressed. Daed had said he expected ice before the snow came, and he was right. She set the baskets on the benches along the table, and then took her seat between two of them while Mamm sat on the other side of the table, between her own two baskets.
“Do you want the apples sliced straight through, or should we core them first?”
“What do you think?” Mamm said, getting the knives out.
“You . . . you’re asking what I think is the best way?”
“You’re old enough to know which way you prefer to do it.”
Hannah couldn’t answer. Mamm had never asked her opinion before. Finally Mamm looked at her, an apple in one hand and her knife in the other. “Well?”
“I think . . . Let’s core them first. It will save work later.”
“Ja.” Mamm nodded and started slicing her apple. “That’s a good plan. We have time to do it now, and we might not then.”
They worked in silence, listening to the little ones play in the attic. Hannah glanced at her mother a few times, but her face was peaceful, and she hummed quietly to herself as she worked.
“Mamm, is anything wrong?”
“Ne, why do you ask?”
Hannah shook her head. “I don’t know . . . it’s just that . . . you seem different.”
Mamm smiled, as if she were keeping a secret. “I am different.” She glanced at Hannah, then at her apple again. “I’m happy for you, for one thing. Josef is a fine young man, and he seems to be well suited for you.”
Josef. Hannah didn’t know what to think of him. Sometimes she would remember his kiss, and her knees would go weak, wanting to relive that moment again and again. But then other times, when she remembered his domineering attitude about moving west, she couldn’t care if she never saw him again.
“Don’t you like Josef?” Mamm glanced at her again.
“Of course I like him. He’s nice.”
“You never speak of him. When do you think we will see him again?”
Hannah felt her face growing hot. “I’m not sure. He didn’t know whe
n he could make the trip, but said he would try to come soon.”
“So then, we’ll leave it in God’s hands.”
When had Mamm ever been content to leave the future in God’s hands? For half of Hannah’s life, her mother had been fighting against God and the tragedy that had come to their family. But now she was content to wait on him?
Hannah peered at Mamm again. Her hands worked quickly, peeling each apple, cutting it in two, cutting out the core, and then slicing the rest into thin strips that would dry quickly. Content. She was content. That’s what was different. Gone were the impatient gestures, the biting comments, the anxious look.
How could she be so much at ease when Daed was going to uproot their lives in the spring?
“Mamm?” Hannah bit her lower lip, choosing her words carefully. “Daed and Jacob are looking forward to moving west, but what about you?”
Mamm’s hands stilled, halfway through a slice. “You’re worried about me?” She smiled. “Don’t be. I’m in agreement with your daed and looking forward to being settled in our new home.”
“But what about leaving our house, and the farm, and everything else? Even the trees these apples came from. All this is the legacy our ancestors prepared for us, isn’t it? Grossdawdi’s hands smoothed the timbers in the ceiling and laid the stone for the fireplace. Everywhere we look we see the care and love they had for us. Can you just leave it all behind?”
Mamm nodded, her eyes bright with tears, but a smile on her face. “Liebchen, anything of this world is just straw that can be destroyed in a moment’s time. Your daed and I want to preserve what is imperishable and much more important. Compared to you children and our faith, this . . . ,” she gestured at the house around them, “. . . is nothing. We’re making this move for you, much as our ancestors left their homes in Switzerland for their families.”
Hannah turned her apple in her hand as Mamm went back to slicing hers. “I thought our ancestors left Switzerland because otherwise they might be imprisoned or killed.”
“That was part of it. But when you are a parent, you never do anything or make any decision only for yourself. Everything you do is to help your children have a better life. Our ancestors left their homes not only to preserve their lives, but to save their children’s lives, and to provide a home where they could live and worship God.”
