Anna's Healing

by Vannetta Chapman

  City manager Lex Carlson considers that a plus. “They make good neighbors. Not too much crime among the Amish, and what many folks don’t realize is that they pay the same local taxes as everyone else.”

  Judy Scotts with the Cody’s Creek Chamber of Commerce also believes the Amish community is a real asset. She explained that Amish families have been a plus to the local economy. “It only takes one stop by the Amish Cheese House, Dutch Pantry, or Ropp Farm and Bakery to win folks over.”

  Located near the intersection of Highways 69 and 412, Cody’s Creek has become a stopping point for travelers in the market for handmade furniture, fresh produce, or a piece of homemade pie. But not everyone is happy about the Amish move into local tourist, restaurant, and produce businesses. Local farmer Leo Stuebner III admitted, “You cannot underprice these people. Family members work for extremely low wages or nothing at all.”

  The Amish of Cody’s Creek have indeed made a name for their community in the produce business, and their businesses are usually family owned and operated. Anna Schwartz recently moved to the area from Goshen, Indiana. Anna is twenty-four and lives on her onkel’s farm. She has chestnut hair covered with the traditional kapp, and a pretty round face. Standing a few inches over five feet, she could be the cover girl for Amish women. When asked about the rise of cottage industries among Plain folks, Anna said, “What we’re doing is not unique to the Amish. Folks have been selling their extra produce in stands like this for ages.”

  See the enclosed map for locations of various produce stands, including the Schwartzes’. In addition to fresh vegetables, you can find homemade sweets and the occasional quilt or birdhouse. Mr. Schwartz will also be offering tourists a walk through their corn maze beginning next weekend for a nominal fee.

  Anna wanted to reread the article, but she realized her aenti would be worried about her if she didn’t hurry home. So she folded the paper, set it back inside her shopping bag, and started the tractor, pulling out onto the blacktop and turning it toward the farm.

  She didn’t know if her onkel would be pleased about the article, but she imagined it would increase the number of folks who stopped by the produce stand. In Anna’s mind, publicity could be a good thing. She was in favor of anything that would keep her busy enough that she didn’t have to mend socks or sew patches on work pants.

  CHAPTER 4

  Samuel hadn’t, in fact, been particularly pleased about the article. As usual, his expression drooped into a frown, which looked rather comical to Anna. It caused his beard to fall even lower, and often it seemed in danger of reaching his plate. In contrast, the top of his head was as bare as that of most newborns.

  At six feet, he was a large man and still fit and able to do the work in the fields. Anna wondered who would help once he was too old. He and Erin had no sons, no children at all.

  “Best not to have long conversations with the Englisch,” he had muttered at dinner that evening.

  Her aenti almost smiled at Samuel’s conservative response to the article in the Mayes County Chronicle.

  Mammi, though, was thrilled.

  Anna’s grandmother sat across from her at the dinner table. Her blue eyes sparkled behind large glasses, reminding Anna of an owl she’d seen the day before. As usual, Mammi’s face crinkled in a smile. To Anna, she looked like a child in adult clothes. Though she claimed to have once been five feet two inches, the top of her head barely reached Anna’s shoulders. As further proof that she was getting smaller, her dresses nearly reached the tops of her shoes. With skin wrinkled like the pages of an old book, Mammi looked every inch of her eighty-nine years.

  In Goshen, Anna had had the support and guidance of her parents, her four siblings, and the other six onkels. All of Mammi’s sons were married with large families of their own. Only Samuel and Erin were childless, and only Samuel and Erin had moved to Oklahoma. Anna knew that Mammi missed her other children and grandchildren. Once a year she traveled to Indiana to visit, and each day she wrote a letter to a different family member, always inviting them to visit Oklahoma.

  Why had Anna taken Mammi up on the offer? Why had she left so many relatives to live with this small family of three in the middle of northeastern Oklahoma?

  She supposed there were several reasons for her decision to move south—and she’d explained all of them to her family several times. Although large families could be a blessing, Anna often felt smothered by hers. Everywhere she went there were family members, and always they asked the same thing—“When are you marrying, Anna?” This would be followed by a smile and a hug. No one meant any harm by the inquiry. Still, each time she would clench her teeth and dream of living in another place.

  Also, she wanted to see more of the world than Goshen, Indiana. Was that such a sin? She didn’t know, but even with Samuel and Erin’s gloomy dispositions she was glad she had come. Though she often found herself bored on the farm, she was determined to remain in Oklahoma the twelve months she had committed to staying.

  But the single biggest reason that Anna was glad to have taken Mammi up on her offer was sitting across from her, smiling behind her oversized glasses as she looked up from the chicken leg she was holding.

  “Gotte can use that article in the paper. Perhaps more of the Englisch will bring their children to the maze, Samuel. That would be gut. Children need a chance to run through the fields.” She took a bite and then chewed thoughtfully before adding, “Even though we live in a rural area, it seems that many of the Englisch children know nothing about farming. They should learn how food is grown and harvested.”

  Samuel grunted, Mammi chewed, and Erin pushed the platter filled with chicken she had battered and fried toward Anna.

  Anna had passed on the chicken the first time her aenti had put the plate in her hands. It seemed to her that no matter how carefully she watched what she ate, the waistline of her dresses grew tighter. She’d settled for one spoonful of potatoes, some of the baked carrots, and a slice of Erin’s homemade bread.

  She nearly passed a second time on the chicken, but decided a single piece couldn’t hurt. Her aenti’s cooking was nearly as good as her mother’s, and the smell of the chicken frying had reached out to the front porch when Anna had returned to the house. She’d been envisioning it for hours. Taking the first bite, she closed her eyes and savored the rich, crisp taste of the batter.

  Mammi laughed and shook her finger at Anna. “You look as if you’ve met your new best friend. Erin is a gut cook, ya?”

  Anna nodded.

  “There was no use trying to teach my boys to cook. Eight boys and not a single one of them could break an egg correctly. So when my kinner married, I thanked the Lord I would finally have a chance to pass on the skills of the kitchen.”

  Mammi grinned and pushed back at the white hair that had escaped from her kapp. Samuel continued eating without comment, and Erin, as usual, remained silent.

  “I can teach you too, Anna. You will want to be able to feed a young man one day.”

  “Are you going to Sunday’s singing, Anna?” Erin finally appeared interested in the conversation.

  Anna wanted to say no. What she’d like to do Sunday was enjoy their time of family worship, rest, relish her time out of the produce booth, and maybe take a long walk. On the Sundays they didn’t meet for church, most Amish families visited friends or kinfolk. But since she’d been in Oklahoma, that hadn’t happened with her onkel and aenti. They had no family to visit, though they were welcome at any of their neighbors’ homes.

  The look of hope on Erin’s face caused Anna to reconsider her answer. There was little she seemed to do that actually pleased her aenti. Would it be such a burden for her to agree to go to the singing?

  “I was thinking I might.”

  “With Neal or Adam?” As an afterthought Erin added, “Or Thomas?”

  “Actually, I thought I would go alone.” Anna peeked up from her food, steeling herself against her aenti’s disappointment. She needn’t have worried.
r />   “It’s gut you’re going. And maybe you are right. I can think of at least two other boys who are older and still searching for a fraa. If you go alone, perhaps they will understand they may have a chance.”

  Samuel had finished his meal. He pushed away his plate, leaned back, and sipped his coffee. “All fine boys. We’re not rushing you, Anna, but understand that when a woman hesitates to make such a commitment, eventually the time for choosing will pass. Think of your future and realize there are only a limited number of chances.”

  “You’re worried about my future?” Anna aimed for a light tone, but the question came out accusatory nonetheless, at least to her ears.

  “You mock me, but it’s true. Your dat wrote me before you came about how you had turned down the boys back in Goshen.”

  “But I’m only twenty-four—”

  “Twenty-four is maybe not old in the Englisch culture, but for us it is…” Erin swiped at a crumb on the table. “It is unusual for a girl to wait so long.”

  “Gotte has a plan for Anna.” Mammi continued to peck at her chicken and potatoes. “You two do not need to worry over her future. You need to pray and be kind to one another.”

  Samuel didn’t respond to that. He only stood and walked out the back door to complete his evening chores.

  CHAPTER 5

  While Anna was washing the dishes with her aenti, she thought back over the conversation she’d had with Rebecca at the dry goods store. With Samuel out of the house, Erin was sometimes in a more talkative mood. Her temperament seemed better this evening, perhaps because Anna had agreed to go to the singing. Maybe it was a good time to ask her some questions.

  “I don’t remember meeting Daddi Menno.”

  “You did when you were a small boppli. It’s no surprise you don’t remember.”

  “This was before you moved from Goshen?”

  “Ya.”

  “Why did Mammi and Daddi move with you? Didn’t they like Goshen?”

  Erin shrugged. “Everyone needs the support of family. Perhaps they thought that because we had no children, we needed them all the more.”

  Anna hesitated for less time than it took to wash one plate. “Did you ever learn why you couldn’t have children?”

  “The why is less important than the fact.” Erin vigorously dried a plate and set it in the cabinet with a clatter. If the memory upset her, Anna couldn’t tell by the expression on her face, which remained neutral.

  “I’m sorry. That must have been very difficult.”

  “Gotte’s wille.”

  “But—”

  “There is no use struggling against what is, Anna. A kite rises only against the wind.”

  Anna splashed soapy water at a fly. “I’ve grown up hearing proverbs all my life, but I have no idea what that even means.”

  “It means what it says. On a windless day a kite will only fall, but if there is a good breeze, if a storm is coming, then the kite will fly high.”

  “I’m the kite?”

  “We all are, to some degree.”

  “So wind and storms are gut?” Anna teased, but Erin only shook her head and remained serious.

  “The proverb is saying that adversity is gut when it brings us closer to Gotte.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “I suppose I do.” Erin draped the damp dish towel over a hook on the cabinet. “I’d best get to the darning before the light fades.”

  Erin and Samuel rarely used the gas lanterns that sat in each room. Why would they? Each evening they were in bed by the time it was dark, though perhaps it was different in the winter. Summer days in Oklahoma seemed to stretch forever, and even Anna was usually worn out by the time darkness cloaked the fields.

  She finished cleaning up the kitchen, grabbed her shawl, and stepped out onto the front porch. Mammi sat on the top step, playing with one of the cats that had wandered over from the barn. The image made her smile, and for a moment Anna wished she could paint—with pencils or brushes or even words. She wished she could put this memory of her grandmother down on paper.

  “Come sit with me, Anna.”

  The setting sun splashed a dazzling array of color across the Oklahoma sky—orange melted into red, purple, and blue.

  “If I could quilt something that looked like the evening sky, I might be interested in quilting.”

  Instead of admonishing her, Mammi laughed. “You struggle against the rules, Anna. You are not the first.”

  “Some rules make no sense to me.”

  “Ya. I can tell.”

  “Why do we not quilt with red?”

  Mammi continued to tease the cat with a piece of yarn.

  “Why do we insist on only using the old patterns?”

  The cat pounced on the yarn, causing them both to laugh.

  “Why are girls supposed to choose whom to marry when we barely know who we are?”

  “No one is rushing you, Anna.” Mammi gave her a side glance, and then she turned her attention back to the cat. “Like this barn cat, you have a playful spirit.”

  “If you mean I am easily bored, yes. You’re right.”

  “You have not learned to find contentment in simple day-to-day pleasures.”

  “I’m pretty content watching you play with that cat.”

  Mammi reached over and patted her knee. “I am glad you came to stay with us. This house needed your youth and energy. Gotte has blessed us with you, Anna.”

  And with that announcement, Mammi stood and moved into the house, leaving Anna with the cat.

  “I’m a blessing,” Anna assured the cat. Somehow when Mammi said it, Anna could believe her.

  Perhaps good would come from her time in Oklahoma.

  Maybe she would find the answers to how she was supposed to live her life, and where, and with whom.

  Possibly, as Mammi had suggested, her impatient spirit wasn’t such a terrible thing after all.

  As she watched the cat pounce and roll and then pause to clean its face, she realized that she and the cat had a lot in common. They both were young, both enjoyed amusement more than work, and both had short attention spans. And God had created them, and what He created was good. The Bible promised her as much. It was with those optimistic thoughts that she watched the sunset give way to darkness.

  CHAPTER 6

  A familiar restlessness claimed Jacob Graber the second week of September. He’d spent fourteen days harvesting sorghum in South Dakota. He’d become quite good at scouring the Budget and figuring out which communities could use an extra hand. Not that they advertised outright for “Help Wanted.” No, you had to read between the lines. When someone posted about a “better than expected crop” and in the same paragraph mentioned a “short harvesting window,” it usually meant there weren’t enough men in the family. Though neighbors would help, each farmer had his own crops to bring in, which could result in a stressful time for all involved.

  Jacob had picked up a copy of the Budget in Montana. While riding the bus south, he’d deduced that there was work at an Amish community an hour southwest of Sioux Falls.

  His reasoning had been solid, and he’d easily found a job harvesting the last of the summer crops. Jacob knew his build helped in that hiring—folks looked at him and saw a big, strong farmer. He was five feet eleven and two hundred and five pounds. He was also a hard worker, evidenced by the callouses on his hands.

  Matthew Hochstettler was a good boss. He was more than fair, he paid well, and he provided a place to sleep as well as meals.

  “I could use you around this place. My boys help as they can, but I’ve been thinking of taking someone on permanently.”

  Jacob stared out the buggy window. The Dakota hills tumbled into the distance, one after another, until they seemed to him like the waves he had seen in Sarasota.

  The day before he’d woken to a brisk north wind and the smell of fall. He didn’t need any other excuse to pack his bag and head toward town. Matthew was quick to offer him a ride.

&nbs
p; “The job is yours if you’ll have it. You’re a gut worker, Jacob. We’d be happy to have you.”

  What went unsaid was that Matthew had three daughters at home—all of marrying age. All easy to look at and with sweet personalities. Too sweet? Jacob didn’t know. He only knew it was time to go.

  “Danki.”

  “Which means no.”

  “I suppose it does.”

  The silence stretched and rose to fill the buggy as it should, as it always had. Amish men weren’t famous for their ability to make conversation. Jacob had affirmed that truth in the nine states he’d visited. The horse’s hooves against the road soothed something in him—the thing that made his foot tap and his eyes seek the horizon.

  Soon they reached the outskirts of town. Matthew pulled his horses to a stop beside an asphalt parking area. The community in Dakota was growing but still on the small side. Only two other people waited for the bus in the shade of the dry goods store. Matthew set the brake on the buggy. They both stepped out onto the asphalt, savoring the warmth of the day.

  Jacob retrieved his one piece of luggage. The battered black leather looked more like a sports bag than a suitcase. More importantly, it held the things Jacob needed. Inside were two changes of clothes, his shaving kit and a toothbrush, and his reading material—a Bible and the paperback he’d traded for at the town library’s swap section.

  Turning to Matthew, he clasped the older man’s hand. “Danki for your kindness, Matthew. I enjoyed the work and your family treated me as if I belonged.”

  “Ya, it seemed to me you fit right in.” The older man rubbed at his right eyebrow and stared off into the distance. Finally he returned his gaze to Jacob. “Once you begin traveling, it can be hard to stop.”

  Jacob didn’t bother answering.

  “But if you must, we will keep you in our prayers. We’ll pray for your safety and ask Gotte to lead you where you belong.” Matthew reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper folded in half. He pushed it into Jacob’s hands. “I know you have family back home. You’ve told me as much, but if you find you need help from someone closer, give me a call. That’s the number to my bruder’s harness shop here in town. He can get hold of me.”