An Amish Harvest

by Patricia Davids

  “The building can be replaced. Our church will help.”

  “With the building, but what about the machinery? It will take years of scrimping for my family to replace it. My brothers will have to move away to get jobs when the harvest is over instead of working here. My mother will be heartbroken to lose them. I dread to think how she will feel if Joshua and his new wife can’t settle here and raise their children within her sight.”

  “No one sees you as a burden, Samuel. Your family loves you.”

  “I don’t doubt that now, but what about in the future? What about when they see all that my foolishness has taken away. My save-the-family scheme was a failure. I dread the reproach in their eyes more than I dread the pity I know they have for me now.”

  She laid a hand on his shoulder. “It will all turn out as He wills. God takes care of our future. We must live for today and leave the rest up to Him.”

  * * *

  The simple feel of her hand and her softly spoken words gave him more hope than he’d found in days. What she said was true, but he knew he had to do more. “A man must trust God to give him a good harvest, but he still has to hoe the weeds from the garden.”

  “Is that what you did out here at night before the accident, hoe weeds?” She pulled her hand away and he missed the comfort of her touch.

  “Mostly, I gave thanks out here. It’s a fitting place to seek the Lord’s guidance and listen to His wisdom.”

  “You surprise me, Samuel Bowman.”

  “Why? You don’t think of me as a spiritual man?”

  “It isn’t that. I guess I thought you were the kind of man who gives the Lord thanks at the table and at church services and then doesn’t think about Him the rest of the time.”

  “I reckon I deserve that opinion. I haven’t been the best patient.”

  “You have been stubborn and bullheaded, but you haven’t been a bad patient. I once took care of an elderly woman who spit at me every chance she got. I became very quick on my feet.”

  “I must say you have surprised me, too.”

  “Because you found out I’m scared of the dark? It is creepy out here, but at least the moon is out now and I can see my hand in front of my face. But who knows what is watching us from the shadows.”

  “It’s surprising that you are afraid of anything. You seem so sure of yourself.”

  “I have a reason for my discomfort in the dark. Some people thought it was funny to frighten me.”

  “Your brothers?”

  “They started it, but it was my husband who took it up a notch. He would hide and then jump out and scare me when I least expected it. I used to get so mad at him for that.”

  Her voice, tinged with sad yearning, made Samuel long to comfort her. “You miss him, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. It’s only natural. But I know he is with God in Heaven.”

  “What do you miss about him the most?”

  “The most? So many things. I think I miss the sound of his voice the most. We would lie awake until all hours of the night just talking about our dreams and our plans. About what went right that day and about what was wrong. I miss him scolding me and telling me to hurry or we would be late to church. We never were. After every meal I made he’d pat his stomach and tell me it was real fine cooking. And jokes! That man was forever telling me jokes. Silly ones, knee-slappers. He loved a good joke.”

  “Will you marry again?”

  She was silent a long time. Had he gone too far? Her personal life was a private matter. He had no business prying into it.

  Chapter Seven

  Rebecca wasn’t sure how to answer Samuel’s question. Would she marry again? It seemed that everyone had an opinion about whether she should or not, but how did she truly feel about it?

  He waited patiently for her answer. Somehow, it was easier to express her feelings under the cover of darkness. She didn’t have to school her features into blankness and pretend that she was content with the way life was. It was easy to confide in Samuel. Maybe it was because he couldn’t see her face.

  “I don’t believe I will marry. I find great satisfaction caring for the sick among us. I can be useful, and I like that.”

  “A wife and mother does the same. There are many good men in our community.”

  “I find it hard to imagine someone who could make me laugh the way Walter did. It’s harder still to imagine going through life with someone who doesn’t make me laugh. I don’t think I could abide that.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “Is it?”

  “You’ve played some good pranks yourself.”

  She giggled. “I’m a bully. Say it like it is.”

  “Okay, I agree with that. Anyone who would pour a glass of water on a blind man.”

  “Sprinkled, not poured. I sprinkled water on your feet. Give me any more grief about it, and I’ll leave you alone out here.”

  “If I had one good hand I’d take your flashlight away and leave you alone out here. I think it would bother you more than it would me. Don’t forget, these bandages will come off one day. I may yet have my revenge for that sprinkle.”

  She enjoyed his teasing. Maybe too much. This Samuel was easy to like. “I’ve been warned. Are you ready to go back to the house?”

  “I think so.” He stood. “Wait! Do you hear that?”

  “You can’t trick me so easily.”

  “Something is coming this way.”

  Laughing, she jumped to her feet. “I have been assured there are no bears around here, so you can’t frighten me.”

  He held up one hand and tipped his head to the side. “Hush a minute.”

  He sounded so serious. She bit her lip as she glanced at the bushes nearby. Was it the wind making them move or something else? “Do you really hear something?”

  “I do.” He turned his head slightly as if trying to locate the sound.

  “What is it?” She fumbled for her light and snapped it on as she took a step closer to him.

  “I hear...Rebecca Miller quaking in her boots.” He sat down and started laughing.

  “That is just mean.” She punched his shoulder.

  “Ouch. I’m an injured man. You can’t hit me.”

  “You should be thankful I don’t have a glass of water handy.”

  Chuckling, he rose to his feet. “I think I can sleep now.”

  Rebecca’s smile faded as she took his arm and led him toward the house. He was doing better, growing more confident, and she was glad. Soon, he wouldn’t need her anymore.

  With sudden clarity, she realized that she needed to be needed. Without someone to care for, she had been little more than an empty shell waiting for life to be over. She didn’t want to go back to that. She wanted to love life again.

  * * *

  Timothy drove her home Saturday evening, and on Sunday morning, as promised, John arrived in his buggy to take her and her mother to church. Rebecca wore her best dark maroon dress with its matching cape and apron. She tied her black traveling bonnet over her kapp and pulled on a cloak. Picking up a basket filled with food for the noon meal, she mentally braced herself before joining John and her mother in the buggy.

  “Guder mariye,” John called out.

  “Good morning, John. Good morning, Mamm.” Rebecca opened the door to the backseat and deposited her basket on the floor beside her mother’s identical one.

  John smiled at her as he got down. She had no choice but to climb in beside her mother. John got back in. It was a tight squeeze with all three of them in the front. She was pressed shoulder to hip against him. “It’s a fine morning for a buggy ride,” he said.

  His voice sounded strained although his smile was bright. Too bright. As if he were forcing it.

  �
�Any day we gather to praise God is a fine day,” her mother added cheerfully when Rebecca didn’t respond.

  She didn’t doubt they had been talking about her on the way over. Although it wasn’t a comfortable trip for Rebecca, it was a pretty one. The hillsides and fields had exploded with fall colors in the past week. The air was crisp but not cold. Her mother kept up a steady flow of chatter that only required an occasional comment. John remained silent as his horse trotted along at a steady pace, and they soon reached the covered bridge over the river.

  The weathered red wooden structure blended into the red-and-gold autumn leaves on the trees that grew along the roadway. Wide enough for two lanes of traffic, the opening loomed like a cave. As the horse entered the dark interior, Rebecca stared through the slatted sides at the Bowman house on the hillside across the river. She could see all of them standing in the front yard. It was easy to pick Samuel out among the men wearing identical dark suits and black felt hats. His white bandages stood out in stark contrast to the somber colors.

  She lost sight of the family when John’s buggy came out the other side of the bridge. A quarter mile farther along, they reached the stop sign on the main road between Berlin and Winesburg.

  Rebecca’s mother leaned to see around her. “Look at all the birdhouse gourds. Aren’t they pretty.”

  Smiling, Rebecca murmured her agreement. “Very pretty.”

  A car had pulled off the road and was stopped beneath the spreading branches of the old oak tree. An Englisch family was looking at the gourds. As John sent his horse across the highway, Rebecca saw the woman select two yellow ones while the man with her placed money in the box Luke had nailed to the tree.

  John noticed her looking back. “I wonder who is selling them?”

  “Luke Bowman makes them.” Rebecca faced forward again.

  “You know I did notice a few of them in Anna’s shop. It’s a very clever idea to display them that way,” her mother said.

  “Samuel thought of it.”

  John glanced at her. “I haven’t asked. How is the poor man doing?”

  “He’s getting better every day.”

  Her mother’s eyes filled with sympathy. “Burns can be so painful. Is he suffering a great deal?”

  “When the doctor changes his bandages he endures a lot of pain, but he doesn’t complain.”

  John shook his head. “It’s a shame his work was destroyed in the fire. I know the family had high hopes for his business.”

  “Anna told me they had a furniture buyer coming from Cincinnati just to look at Samuel’s work. Of course, they had to tell him not to come because of the fire. Samuel made my china cabinet. It’s a beautiful piece. Your father bought it for me the year before he died,” her mother said.

  “I know you cherish it.”

  John slowed his horse behind several buggies ahead of him. At the front of the line, Rebecca saw an elderly Amish couple moving at a sedate pace along the road. No one passed them. It would be impolite and pretentious to do so on a Sunday. No one wanted to show such a lack of humility on the Lord’s Day.

  A buggy drew in behind them. Rebecca glanced back and saw the Bowman family had caught up with them. Noah leaned out the side window and waved. His mother spoke sharply to him, and he pulled his head in. Rebecca ducked her head to keep from laughing.

  They all arrived together at the home of Roy Bowman a little before eight. Roy was Isaac’s eldest brother. Each family in Rebecca’s congregation hosted services in their home at least once a year. Since the prayer meetings were held every other Sunday, a family rarely had to host it twice. The long gray bench wagon sat beside the house. Men were unloading the benches that traveled to the designated houses twice a month. The men carried them inside and set them in rows while the women greeted each other, laid out the food and looked after the children running to and fro.

  Almost half of the congregation was made up of extended Bowman families. Isaac had four brothers and each of them had numerous sons and daughters. When a church group became too large to fit into a single home or barn, a new congregation would be formed, mostly of the younger married couples. The current group was made up of some twenty families and only about one hundred and twenty-five people. It would be a few years yet before they would need to split up.

  John positioned his buggy among the others lined up across the hillside. He got out and unhitched his horse. While he led the mare to the corral where a dozen other buggy horses were already lined up and munching hay, Rebecca and her mother carried their baskets to the house. As she passed Samuel standing beside his father, she stopped and spoke quietly. “I saw someone buying birdhouses this morning. They took two.”

  “I’ll tell Luke. He’ll have to get busy and make more.”

  “Using the tree to display them was a good idea.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  Her mother frowned at her and motioned for her to come along. Rebecca ignored her. “How are your hands today? Are they still hurting you?”

  “Not as much. Only when I bump them. Which happens a lot. They itch more now.”

  “The doctor said that meant they are healing. I see the bishop heading in. I’d better get this food inside.”

  “Will you be back at our place tomorrow?”

  “I will.”

  The corner of his lip turned up in a little smile. “Goot.”

  It surprised her just how hard it was to walk away from him.

  * * *

  Although he had been reluctant to come, Samuel was glad he did. He enjoyed the three-hour-long service. It was familiar and comforting. He knew the drawn-out hymns by heart and didn’t need to read the words from the Ausbund, their Amish hymnal, but he missed the weight of the large black book in his hands. Jonas Beachy, the bishop, was a good preacher. He and his two deacons spoke eloquently on the gathering in of the harvest and giving thanks for the bounty of the land.

  Yet all the time Samuel sat on the hard backless bench or knelt on the floor, his mind constantly slipped back to when he sat beside Rebecca in the coolness of the night. It seemed that she was always on his mind these days. He listened for her voice among the singers and picked it out easily. It was the sweet alto that he had come to know while she was working in the house. She sang or hummed to let him know where she was ever since he had asked her to. She was kind that way, always being available without being intrusive now that he was up and out of bed.

  When the prayer meeting finally ended, he allowed Timothy to lead him outside. That was when the hard part started. He was soon surrounded by the men of the community. He had to retell the story of the explosion to his friends and cousins and answer their questions about his sight. He had to listen to their words of sympathy and nod when he just wanted to crawl into the buggy and go home. They all meant well, but he quickly grew tired of being the center of attention.

  Noah stood at his side. “We can go in and eat now. Do you want to come in or would you rather wait out here?”

  He wasn’t about to have everyone watch him be fed like an infant. “I’ll wait out here. Just put me in the shade somewhere.”

  Noah led him to a set of steps at the side of the house and then went to get his meal. Thankful to be left alone, he relaxed for a few minutes. The sounds of a Sunday gathering poured through the air around him. The clatter of plates, tableware and conversation came from inside the house behind him. He must be near an open window. He listened to the voices and could pick out his Onkel Roy and his father discussing the corn harvest and the weather. From across the lawn, he heard the shrieks and laughter of the youngest children playing tag. Soon, his father and his cronies would get up a game of quoits once the midday meal was finished. His mother would be among the women cleaning up inside. When they were done, they would gather in rockers and lawn chairs in the shade and catch up on all the news.
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  A few of the young people would slip off to the barn, where they would stand in awkward groups with the boys in one pack and the maidens in the other until someone brought them together with a game of volleyball or baseball. A few would be missing. Those would be making dates for later that evening. Many a young man came to church in his open buggy with the hopes of convincing one special girl to ride home with him after the singing that evening.

  Unlike his brothers, Samuel had never been among that group. His focus had always been on making sure the family business became successful. He knew he had earned a reputation of being stuck up among his peers, but he knew a family of his own would have to wait.

  Had he waited too long? If he had chosen a wife, he would have had someone to look after him now instead of burdening his parents. Someone like Rebecca.

  Before long, he heard footsteps approaching. He assumed it was Noah coming back. “I’m not hungry so don’t worry about a plate for me.”

  “I thought you might not want to eat in front of others so I brought you a milk shake,” Rebecca said as she sat down beside him. “It’s chocolate. It will tide you over until you get home. You should be able to hold the glass yourself. It’s plastic so it won’t break it if it slips away, and it has a lid with a straw so you can’t spill it.”

  “You think of everything.”

  “I try.”

  She pressed the glass between his bandaged hands and he was able to hold it. He located the straw and drew a deep sip of the creamy cold drink. “It’s goot.”

  “I like strawberry better myself. Do you need anything else before I go?”

  For you to stay awhile. He didn’t say it out loud.

  “Noah is coming. I’ll see you in the morning.” She rose and he heard her move away.

  His brother plopped down by his feet. “I brought you a plate. Do you want me to feed you or should I get mother?”

  “Rebecca brought me a milk shake. You can have my plate, too.”

  “Wunderbarr. Aenti Edna gave me the last slice of her snitz and made me promise to give it to you. Are you sure you don’t want it?”