by Emma Miller
“Of course not.” Grace took Johanna’s hand and squeezed it affectionately. “Rebecca wouldn’t be allowed to behave like that, either, would she?”
Johanna’s expression softened. “Ne. But Rebecca knows what is modest behavior and what isn’t. And then, of course, there’s an issue of safety.”
Grace nodded, knowing all too well that a young woman could get herself into trouble kissing the wrong man. Hadn’t she made that very same mistake with Joe?
“Susanna doesn’t have the ability to make those kinds of judgments,” Johanna added.
“Maybe not, but maybe it’s just because she’s been too sheltered. When you look at her, what do you see? A little girl?” Grace leaned forward. “I don’t. I see a beautiful young woman, not beautiful in the way that Rebecca and you are beautiful, but...” She thought back to the first time she’d laid eyes on Susanna, and how pleasantly surprised she’d been. “I don’t know how to put it, but Susanna just glows. Her eyes sparkle with a special inner light.”
“Ya.” Johanna admitted. “They do. We have all seen it.”
“So why can’t Susanna do the things that other girls her age do, that Rebecca does? Why can’t she go to singings and young people’s outings? Properly chaperoned, of course. Why can’t she talk to nice Amish boys her own age and share secrets with girlfriends like every other teenager?”
Johanna’s flawless brow furrowed and she absently wound a bonnet string around one finger. “Susanna does go to singings and work frolics.”
“She told me that she always has to carry the pie basket, sit by the cookies and pour lemonade. Like a grossmama. She says that she never gets to play games like the other girls—or ride home alone with boys in their father’s buggies.”
“Susanna told you that? When?” Johanna seemed genuinely surprised. “When did she say such things?”
“Thanksgiving Day. We were talking when we fed the chickens and gathered the eggs. She confided in me. She said everyone thinks she’s a baby and she’s not.”
“Atch...” Compassion flooded Johanna’s eyes. “I never knew Susanna felt that way. She seems so happy, like a—”
“Like a child?” Grace supplied. “But she’s not, is she?”
“But...” Johanna scrambled to respond. “She can’t ever marry, have children, manage a household.”
Grace shrugged. “All the more reason she should have the fun of being a teenager, don’t you think?”
“I suppose...”
“Aunt Jezzy never married, did she?” Grace asked. “But I’m sure she had her rumspringa years. Probably even had a radio hidden in the hayloft to listen to Elvis.”
Johanna’s gaze met Grace’s, and both started to giggle at the thought of sedate Aunt Jezzy rebelling against her parents’ teachings.
“Mam! Mam! I got choc’late!” Dakota dodged an English woman in a blue polka-dot dress and skidded to a stop beside the table. His face was already smeared with chocolate ice cream, and he was grinning so hard that a dimple appeared on his cheek.
“I see you did,” Grace answered with a smile. She glanced back at Johanna. “Just think about what is best for Susanna and talk to your mother.”
“About Susanna?” Rebecca asked, joining her sisters.
Johanna nodded.
“Well, at least Susanna isn’t marrying David this Sunday. Sadie told Mam that she and David were going to spend a few days at her daughter’s house.”
Johanna successfully dodged an ice-cream drip as she lifted Jonah and his strawberry cone onto her lap. “The Kings will have their new roof on their house before Christmas and they’ll be moving in. I’m sure Susanna will forget all about this getting married to David. You know how she is.”
“I do know how she is.” Rebecca took a seat. “That’s the problem. Sometimes, Susanna latches onto an idea and holds it like a squirrel to a stolen acorn.”
Jonah and Dakota both laughed. “I like squirrels,” Dakota said. “I want Santa to bring me a squirrel. Not a cartoon squirrel, a real one. And a train, one that blows smoke and has a whistle and—”
“What’s a cartoon squirrel?” Jonah asked.
“Secret Squirrel.” Dakota licked at a drip of chocolate. “On TV.”
Jonah wrinkled his nose and glanced up at his mother. “Secret Squirrel?”
“He’s never watched television,” Johanna explained to Dakota.
“Ask Santa to bring you one,” Dakota urged Jonah.
Rebecca looked uncomfortable. “There was a man dressed up like Santa Claus by the ice cream. Dakota wanted to tell him where he lived now.”
“So he doesn’t miss me. And forget to bring toys.” He waved his cone at Jonah for emphasis. “Last year he brought a Christmas tree and a fire truck with a bell and—”
“Who is Santa Claus?” Jonah tilted his head and looked up at his mother. “Will he bring me a fire truck?”
Johanna’s mouth opened and closed. Then she shook her head. “Ne, Jonah, Santa Claus is for Englishers. He doesn’t come to Plain children, just English houses.”
“But I’m English,” Dakota protested. “Irwin said so. Englisher, he said.”
Jonah nodded. “He did. But Irwin also said there was trolls under the chicken house. And Grossmama said Irwin was a dummkopp and trolls live far away in Belleville.”
“Dummkopp,” Dakota echoed with a giggle.
“Not a word for little boys,” Johanna chided. “It was unkind to say, even about Irwin. He isn’t a dunce, just verhuddelt. Mixed up,” she translated for Grace. “No trolls here or in Pennsylvania.”
And no Santa Claus, either, Grace thought sadly. That was a beloved tradition that she and Dakota would have to give up...and that might be even more painful than surrendering her guitar. I hope I’m doing the right thing. It has to be, she thought. I’ve prayed and prayed, and I can’t think of any other way to make up for what I’ve done. She was just sorry that Dakota would have to pay the price, too.
Rebecca passed out ham-and-cheese sandwiches that she’d purchased. “I hope you like mustard.”
“We do,” Grace assured her.
Johanna had found a book of old quilt patterns in one of the thrift shops and was anxious to show it to Rebecca. As everyone ate and talked, Grace found her thoughts drifting away and reflecting on the weeks since she’d come to live at Seven Poplars.
As both Hannah and John had warned, it was a struggle for her to fit into the Amish lifestyle. Dakota had adapted quickly, but as much as she reveled in having family and a warm and joyous home, she was still torn between this new life and her old one. She loved the quiet nights in the snug farmhouse without the blare of highway traffic or the shouts of feuding neighbors. She loved the shared dinners and the animals and the slower pace of life. But she loved her job at the veterinary clinic, as well.
She found being part of the practice exciting. She liked chatting with the drug reps, placing orders for cleaning supplies and socializing with the clients. Lunch with her fellow employees was fun, and she found herself drawn to several of the vet techs, enjoying the camaraderie and the shop talk. She liked the Christian radio station that played in the waiting room and in the kennel area. And most of all, she loved watching everyone caring for sick and injured animals, and the feeling that she was a valuable piece of the puzzle. Every day brought something new to learn, and every day...despite her efforts not to, she found herself watching and hoping for glimpses of John. Even though, as the large-animal vet for the practice, he was on the road much of his day, she never knew when he might stop by for supplies or just to see how everyone was getting along, as he put it.
She had to stop riding home with him. She knew it. The more time she spent alone with John, the worse it would be when she had to let him go. He wasn’t part of her future, and becoming attached to him was a wrong turn
on the path God had planned for her. Next time John offered, she would simply decline.
“But you can’t say no. You’ll have to go,” Rebecca said, breaking into Grace’s musing.
Grace’s eyes widened and she blinked. Had she spoken John’s name aloud? “Excuse me?”
“You’ll have to go with Susanna,” Johanna explained. “To the corn-husking work frolic at Lydia and Norman Beachy’s house next Saturday. To be her chaperone.”
“Me?” Grace asked, still trying to catch up with the conversation. “A husking frolic?”
“Ya.” Rebecca chuckled. “It will be fun. There will be a bonfire and games. And husking heaps of feed corn for the Beachys. They always have more work than they can manage alone.”
“There will be young people,” Johanna said pointedly. “A few older couples who act as chaperones, but mostly unmarried. The Amish don’t allow their teens and young adults to date, so it’s how they meet and decide who to court.”
“But you said Susanna...” Grace looked from one to the other and lowered her voice when she noticed an Amish woman at another table watching them with interest. “She wouldn’t be allowed...”
“Susanna will go for the games and the food,” Johanna clarified. “But you will go to look for a husband. It’s the perfect opportunity.”
“A good Amish boy,” Rebecca added. “You want one, don’t you? This is how we choose.”
“Aren’t I a little old for boys?” Grace asked.
Rebecca snickered. “Men, then.” She glanced at Johanna and then back to Grace. “I’m sure Roland Byler will be there, and he’s nearly thirty. Maybe Johanna should go with us, too.”
Johanna looked down at Jonah and stood up. “Sticky hands. We’ll have to get these two boys to the washroom.”
“Of course, if Susanna...” Grace looked from one sister to the other. Rebecca had a positively mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Will Hannah let her go?” Grace asked.
“Probably,” Johanna said.
“I’m sure she will.” Rebecca spread her hands, palm up and smiled. “What harm could there be with her oldest sister there to watch over her?”
* * *
A week later, Grace shared the front seat of the Yoder family buggy with Rebecca and Susanna as they rolled along the blacktop in the brisk darkness. It was a clear, crisp December night, with stars as bright as diamonds and a huge harvest moon. The three of them were well bundled up with scarves, capes and mittens. Rebecca drove the horse called Blackie.
Grace hoped that she wouldn’t do or say anything that made her look foolish tonight. She had no idea what a husking frolic was or how she would tell which of the Amish men were available and which weren’t. Maybe the best thing to do was to wait for them to approach her. They all certainly knew who she was.
As they approached the Beachy farm, Grace saw four other buggies ahead of them on the road. “A good lot tonight,” Rebecca said, flicking the reins over Blackie’s back. The horse broke into a trot, and Grace grasped the edge of the seat. “You know I was teasing Johanna the other day about Roland Byler,” Rebecca said as they entered the lane.
“Yes?” Grace urged.
“He won’t really be there. Even if he was, he isn’t right for you.”
“You said that before. But why? He seems nice.”
“Johanna and Roland used to walk out together,” Rebecca explained. “Before she married Wilmer.” She shrugged. “Johanna says the last thing she wants is another husband right now, but who knows?”
“Johanna likes Roland,” Susanna said. “Anna said so.”
Rebecca chuckled. “And that, Susanna banana, is a secret. Don’t say it to anybody, especially not Johanna.” She reined in the horse near the barn, and a tall, gangly young man came to take the horse’s halter. “Vernon, this is our sister Grace,” Rebecca said. “You’ll have to help introduce her to the others. Grace, Vernon Beachy.”
He mumbled something, but before Grace could return the greeting, another figure moved out of the shadows with a familiar rolling gait. Susanna squealed. “King David! Hi!” He laughed and waved, and Susanna scrambled down from the buggy.
“Good luck,” Rebecca said with a chuckle. “It looks like you have your chaperone work cut out for you tonight.”
* * *
Keeping up with Susanna and David should have been easy, and it was while they were all in the barn during the corn husking and the clapping games and singing. Susanna played and won what Grace supposed was an Amish version of musical chairs with hay bales substituted for chairs. But once the frolic moved outside to the bonfire and refreshments, it was almost impossible to not lose one blue dress and black bonnet in a crowd of black bonnets and blue dresses.
There must have been three dozen teenagers, all laughing, jostling and teasing one another amid the roasting of hot dogs and toasting of marshmallows. Susanna and David seemed to be having the time of their lives, but once either of them stepped back from the circle of firelight, they were quickly lost in the shadows and Grace found herself having to gently encourage them to join the others again.
Grace had determined in the first twenty minutes that other than good-looking Mordecai Miller and determined Barnabas Swartzentruber, who were both doing their best to charm Rebecca, there wasn’t another unmarried male over the age of twenty-one. Grace’s hopes of meeting someone—anyone—had swiftly faded and been wholly replaced by a determination to not allow Susanna the opportunity for any more mischief.
The only person she’d had any exchange of conversation with all evening had been her sister Miriam who’d come with her husband, Charley, to help the host and hostess of the frolic. But there hadn’t been much opportunity to talk with Miriam, either, because she had been busy passing out refreshments. Charley, in the meantime, had been busy policing the frolic. He had confiscated two radios, an iPod and a cell phone, and had sent two boys home after he’d witnessed them poking fun at David King.
“Stutzman brothers. Not from our church district,” Charley said, as the guilty party drove their horse and buggy hastily down the lane. “But they should know better. Ananias Stutzman is a deacon. Wait until I tell him how his sons behaved. They’ll be shoveling manure until Pentecost Monday.”
Grace was easing her way into the throng of teenagers around the bonfire when she heard the rumble of wagon wheels and the clip-clop of hooves in the farmyard. She glanced over her shoulder to see a hay wagon pulled by two enormous draft horses. Driving the animals was a man in a black felt cowboy hat and a thick denim jacket. She couldn’t see his face, but something looked very familiar about him, so familiar that her heart skipped a beat.
“Look who’s here,” Miriam said, appearing at Grace’s shoulder.
Charley, approaching them, laughed. “I’m guessing that’s her ride home.”
“Me?” Grace asked, thoroughly confused.
“Grace Yoder!” the man in the cowboy hat shouted, much to the amusement of the teens and young adults gathered around the dying bonfire. “Would you do me the honor?” He swept off the wide-brimmed hat, and there was no longer any doubt as to his identity.
Grace couldn’t help laughing. It was John Hartman.
Chapter Eleven
“Grace Yoder! Will you ride home in my courting buggy?” John shouted, to the delight of the audience who all laughed and cheered. He spread his arms wide and swept his cowboy hat dramatically into the air.
Grace wanted to crawl under the nearest bale of hay. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Pulse racing, she turned away, hoping to hide in the crowd, but Susanna caught her elbow.
“Look, Grace!” Susanna’s round face glowed with excitement in the firelight.
Grace pulled away from her.
“It’s John! With...with Samuel’s horses! Can we come? Please? Can King David and me ride in t
he hay wagon?” Susanna tugged at a chubby hand, and David King appeared from the crowd, clutching an unopened two-liter bottle of soda to his chest, his prize for winning one of the clapping games. David rarely spoke, but his eager, smiling face said it all. He wanted to go as much as Susanna did.
“I’m not riding home with John,” Grace protested. But, oh, how she wanted to. It was so romantic, John coming for her in Samuel’s wagon. And it was fun. Innocent. Unlike much of the Englisher ways of dating. And to think, John would do it in front of the whole young community of Seven Poplars. He must really like her.
The temptation was so great that Grace could feel it urging her toward the wagon. No, that feeling of being propelled forward, she realized, that wasn’t temptation. It was Rebecca and two of her girlfriends pushing her forward through the group.
“Go on,” Rebecca urged.
Grace planted her feet. “I can’t.”
Rebecca glanced at her friends and the three giggled.
“Is this a setup?” Grace asked suspiciously. “Did you know John was going to do this?” She’d been chilly earlier, but now she felt as if she’d been standing too close to the fire.
Rebecca shook her head. “Ne, but if you take Susanna and David with you, it would be good.” She smiled mischievously. “Then, I can ride home with...with someone else.”
The two girls beside her, neither of whom Grace knew, chuckled again. “Maybe Barney,” the tallest girl said. Her black bonnet shadowed her face, but Grace could see a delicate dimpled chin and pretty mouth.
“Or Mordecai Miller.” The other young woman, both shorter and plumper, nudged Rebecca. “They both asked her,” she whispered.
Rebecca clapped a hand over her mouth and snickered. “Shh. You’re not supposed to tell.”
“Everybody knows,” the tall girl said. “Mordecai told Mahlon that Barney didn’t stand a chance of you riding home with him.”
Rebecca threw Grace a pleading look.
“Rebecca... Don’t do this to me,” Grace begged, but it was too late. Charley and Miriam were both urging her to accept John’s offer, too. And then the crowd parted, and John was standing in front of her, cowboy hat in hand, grinning sheepishly.
