Luke pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and gave the leather seats one last cleaning.
Sometimes, after an evening of a cappella hymns, Mary liked to try her hand at driving the buggy. He considered himself a liberal man, and he enjoyed occasionally letting her take the reins. His father would scowl at a woman driving when a man was in the buggy, but Luke saw things differently. When Mary grasped the reins, her greenish blue eyes reflected both excitement and insecurity. She even talked to the horse to get it to behave. Luke never conceded whether he thought the horse understood her. But Mary was awfully cute working her way through her fears and making the horse do her bidding. As the only girl among the ten siblings, Mary’d had little opportunity to drive a buggy at home.
After tucking the bandanna into his pocket, he climbed into the buggy and sat on the leather seat. He stared at the house and thought about Hannah. Something was wrong with her, seriously wrong. She hadn’t been the same since the night she had fallen nearly a month ago. She barely ate, talked, or worked. Daed had even allowed her to stay home from church since the incident and to get out of the work gathering at the Millers’ yesterday.
Worse than all that, Hannah had no spunk lately. Why, she hadn’t baked him a cake or even fetched him some cool water when he was working in the fields. He flicked the reins and clicked his tongue. Wunnerlich. That’s what it was. Strange.
Too tormented to do any more work and too anxious to sleep, Hannah lay on her bed, listening for the sound of a horse’s hoofs, while daylight still streamed in her window. She felt a little sorry she hadn’t gone to the singing with Luke. Some fun time with Mary might have helped Hannah’s sanity return. But she was still waiting to hear from Paul. Her chest ached with worry that when Sarah returned, she might not have a letter with her.
Thoughts of the letter from Zabeth came and went. Asking her parents about it was not an option. When Hannah was very young, they’d made their position clear: if a topic was approachable, they’d bring it up during mealtime. If they didn’t bring it up, their children weren’t to do so. But what if her parents had lost the letter and then forgotten it? Hannah sighed. That was silly. People didn’t just forget such important—
She bolted upright.
Paul’s gift! The small leather book. Hannah rubbed her forehead, desperate for a moment of clarity. Where was it? When had she last seen it?
Feeling dizzy, she sprinted down the stairs, grasping the handrail firmly. “Mamm?” She hurried through the living room and into the kitchen. “Mamm?”
“In the laundry room.”
Barely recognizing her mother’s scratchy and tired voice, Hannah came to an abrupt halt when she arrived at the doorway. Huge stacks of dirty clothes were shoved into a corner, covered with a sheet. Clean, wet clothes sat in a pile in the large galvanized tub. “Why are you doing laundry this close to nightfall?”
Her mother turned and smiled. “Oh, Hannah, it’s good to see you downstairs again.” Mamm looked about the room. “We aren’t managing things very well without you.” She whispered the words as if Daed wouldn’t figure out how poorly Hannah was doing if Mamm didn’t tell him.
“I had a small leather book in my apron—”
“Today?” Mamm’s brows furrowed.
“No. When …” Hannah searched for the right words.
Her mother lifted an armful of dirty clothes and tossed them into one of the smaller galvanized tubs. “You mean the last day you worked for Mrs. Waddell?”
Blinking back her resentment, Hannah realized how comfortable her mother had become with that awful night. “Yes. I had a small book in the hidden pocket. Have you seen it?”
Studying her daughter, Mamm pushed the tub of dirty clothes into the corner. “I never saw it. But the clothes you had on were burned the next day.”
Burned?
Hannah dashed out the side door and across the back field. Clawing through cold ashes and soot in the barrel where they burned trash, she found no shreds of clothing.
It was Esther’s job to burn trash. Maybe she had found the book and put it away somewhere. Looking across the yards and gardens, Hannah soon spotted her sister picking lettuce in the garden.
“Esther, can you come here, please?”
Leaving the small basket, Esther strolled toward Hannah, wiping the dirt from her hands on her black apron. “Feeling better?”
Hannah shook her head. “My clothes you were told to burn, you know the ones?”
Esther nodded.
“There was a small leather book in the hidden pocket of my apron. Tell me you have it.”
Esther shrugged. “I can’t tell ya that. I would have brought it to ya had I found something.” Still rubbing dirt off her hands, Esther huffed. “I can tell ya that I’m tired of doing my chores and yours. So is Sarah, and now she’s having to work for Mrs. Waddell too. You ought not do us this way.”
Ignoring her sister’s irritation, Hannah got down on her hands and knees, searching the grassy grounds near the barrel. “Is there any way the book might have fallen out of the pocket?”
“Don’t see how. Daed had your clothes all bundled up when he gave them to me. I unfolded them over the barrel so they’d burn more thoroughly. I know how to do my jobs, Hannah.” Esther put her hands on her hips. “And yours too, now.”
Unwilling to give up hope, Hannah continued hunting for the missing item until the newly healed skin from the gashes turned raw. It was no use. The book was nowhere to be found. Why had she stayed in bed like a fool and let the gift Paul had given her come to ruin?
Her bitter disappointment jolted to a halt when she heard hoof steps. Standing, she saw Levi and Sarah riding bareback together. The horse ambled toward the barn. Hannah sprinted in that direction.
Levi paused while his sister slid off the back of the chestnut horse. Sarah thrust an envelope toward Hannah. “I don’t see how you put up with working for Mrs. Waddell. She’s the crankiest woman I’ve ever dealt with. According to her, I didn’t do one thing right all day.”
Hannah took the envelope and pressed it to her chest. “Thank you, Sarah. Thank you.” Feeling waves of joy, Hannah beelined to the side yard, ripping open the letter. But it wasn’t a letter. It was a card with a scene of a white-steepled church sitting among autumn trees with leaves of gold, red, and yellow. That was odd. Since the People rotated homes for their services rather than use church buildings, it didn’t seem likely Paul would send her a note like this. She flipped open the card.
Dear Hannah,
I’m sorry to hear you aren’t well. I find it even more distressing that you won’t be returning to work for me. We have an arrangement. I will be in especially deep need when the holidays come. You must speak to your father about this, or I will.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Waddell
Hannah ran inside, searching for Sarah. She found her in the laundry room with Mamm. “This is it?” She waved the card in her sister’s face. “This is all you came back with?”
“It is.” Sarah lifted a galvanized tub filled with clean, wet clothes. “Would you have me write the letter myself that you want so badly?”
Hannah stared at Sarah. Then she glanced at her mother, aware of how much she had just revealed.
Her mother sighed, seemingly unaware of the new piece of Hannah’s life she’d just learned. “All right, girls. That’s enough. You’d do well to remember your quiet upbringing and the teachings to hold your tongue, before your father uses his strap.”
Sarah set the cumbersome tub on the floor. “I’ve been doing Hannah’s chores for nigh on four weeks now. That Mrs. Waddell is as harsh as the cold winter’s wind in January. And then my sister comes fussing at me about things I have no control over.”
Nearly four weeks? Was that possible? Surely Sarah was exaggerating. There was no way nearly a month had passed.
“Silence.” The thunderous voice filled the room. All three women turned, wide eyed, to face Zeb Lapp. “Sarah,” he snapped, “are you complaining?” His v
oice was loud enough to be heard into tomorrow. “Has your older sister not always carried more than her fair share in this house? Yet now that she’s been feeling poorly, you whine like a feeble cat.”
He turned his focus on Hannah. “And you. Did I not tell you to start pulling your weight around here? Look at your mother. She’s worn ragged. Life on this farm must have everyone’s full strength for each and every day. Have you become lazy like the fancy folks who can’t get meals on the table even when the expensive stores do most of the cooking for them?”
He raised a finger and pointed at Sarah. “Hannah’s not the one who told you to do her chores. I am! How dare you grumble! If I hear one more word, I’ll take you to the smokehouse and teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget. Do you hear me?”
Hannah wondered how they could not hear him. His face was red, and his throat would hurt from screaming when his temper settled. But she refused to apologize. She was sorry for lots of things, but snipping at Sarah was not one of them. And she’d not lie about it, whether she was made to go to the smokehouse or not.
Sarah lowered her head, seemingly unable to look at anyone. She was trembling so hard Hannah thought she might pass out. “I was wrong. I beg your forgiveness.”
Waving his hands in the air, their father continued. “When I see the fruit of your words, then we’ll talk of forgiveness. Now, leave the clean laundry there. There’s no sense in hanging it out to dry at nearly dusk. We’re getting behind on more important things than laundry. We didn’t harvest near enough potatoes for a full day’s work.”
He took a long, deep breath. “Sarah, gather your siblings. All of you go help Levi sort today’s potatoes and get the bins cleaned out for tomorrow’s digging.”
“Yes, Daed.” Sarah headed for the door without lifting her head.
“And remember my warnings, Sarah.” Her father’s booming voice made Mamm jump. “Do not let the youngsters out of your sight. No one is to go near that road without one of your older brothers.”
Sarah scurried off.
Hannah wondered what good a pacifist brother would do. What would Levi do if something awful happened to one of his sisters? Stand there and politely ask the person to go away? Panic roiled within her, but she held her tongue and started for the door.
Her father glowered at her. “Samuel’s been out of pants that fit him for far too long. Have you finished sewing for the day?”
She’d been so distracted by the letter from Zabeth, the realization she’d lost the bankbook, and the disappointment of another day without a letter from Paul that she’d forgotten her goal for today. “No, Daed. I’ll go do that.”
“The three of us need to talk but not now. There’s work to be done.”
Dreading the idea of anything her father might say to her, Hannah nodded compliantly before she scurried through the living room and up the steps.
Luke watched all the young people making their way out of the Stoltzfuses’ barn and to the buggies. He felt sad for some of the young men who’d come to the singing hoping to find a girl but were leaving alone. Some twenty-odd years ago a slew of boys had been born into the community. That was a great blessing to all the men who needed strong hands to help run the family farms. But now, when it came time to find wives for them all, the gender imbalance was a problem. Having so many males in each household also made it difficult for parents to uphold the longstanding tradition of offering their sons housing and land when they married.
Mary climbed into Luke’s buggy, not pausing a bit to see who was getting into the other buggies. Luke smiled at her and took hold of the reins with a wink.
She folded her hands in her lap. “The air is so refreshing tonight. The first comfortable evening for months, ya?”
Nodding to Mary, Luke mumbled softly to the horse. “Kumm zerick.” The horse began backing up. “Gut.” The mare stopped. Luke clicked his tongue, and the buggy lurched forward.
Only the silvery glow of the moon gave them light to see by. Looking at a sea of open buggies with single occupants, he mumbled, “So many of the young men go home alone.”
Sighing, Mary stared at her folded hands. “I heard the Miller twins are going to Mennonite singings.”
The horse’s hoofs clopped against the paved road. “If word of that gets back to their Mamm, they won’t be doing it for long.”
The local parents preferred their children to stay within the district to marry, though they’d bend in that area if need be. However, flirting with the Mennonite ways was equal to treason in the hearts of lots of Amish folk. Many respected their Mennonite neighbors, but they didn’t want to lose their children to them. Luke’s own father was the most determined on the issue of any man he’d ever met. None of Zeb Lapp’s children would turn from the Old Order ways. None.
Mary shook her head. “Those Mennonite girls would do well to catch one of the Miller twins. Can’t say I like their sense of modesty, though. The lightweight material they use and the few pleats they put in show off their figures much more than we’re allowed. Have you noticed?”
Luke pulled the left rein, causing the horse to turn onto Newberry Road. “I’d best not be admitting to noticing such a thing even if I did.”
Mary laughed gently and shoved her elbow into his side. “Your cousin Elizabeth thinks we should make our clothing by their pattern and material. Though it doesn’t much matter what any of us think. Bishop Eli said it’s not the right way to dress, and he gets final say.”
Coming to a stop sign, Luke pulled back the reins. “I was hoping not to take you straight home tonight. Do you mind if we ride slow and talk for a while?”
Mary shifted in her seat, facing him a little more. “I don’t mind.”
When they turned onto a gravel road, Luke slowed the horse. He would have liked to stop the buggy entirely so they could talk without having to speak above the clopping horse hoofs and the grinding gravel under the wheels. But if someone saw them parked, he wouldn’t be abstaining from the appearance of evil as he’d agreed to do when he joined the church.
As the horse plodded along, Luke grasped both leads in one fist. Then he reached for Mary’s hand. She jumped with a start and jerked from him. Luke’s heart sank.
She giggled. “Ya caught me by surprise, Luke. I wasn’t expecting …”
Luke took the reins with both hands again. Mary reached out and enfolded her soft, delicate fingers over his. They lowered their entwined hands onto the seat. Her touch made him think the horse and carriage would float through the sky like a hot-air balloon. “I care for you ever so much.”
She gazed at the scenery to the right side of the buggy, away from him. A few agonizing moments later she turned and faced him. “I feel the same way.”
“Does your father know who’s bringing you home from the singings?”
“I don’t think so. But he’s in a much better mood since he knows I’m going to the singings regularly and not fritterin’ my Saturday nights away among the English.”
Heat ran up the back of Luke’s neck. “He’s just glad you’re not using any more of your rumschpringe to slip into town and date English boys.” His words came out angry, and he immediately regretted them.
“Like you didn’t mix among those English girls while you were deciding where you’d spend your future. You even kissed one or two if the rumors have any truth to them.” In spite of her words, Mary’s face reflected peaceful acceptance of his running-around time.
Swallowing hard, Luke once again wished he’d never gone out with those English girls. He couldn’t tell Mary that he had just used them to boost his ego. It was fun to cross the forbidden border and go out with a few English girls. But soon enough he’d realized he didn’t like the non-Amish women, not one of them. They were nice enough and all, but he just didn’t have enough in common with them. They wanted to talk about television, music, movies, and computer games. His idea of a good conversation was about last week’s softball game in the Millers’ mowed field, but the English gir
ls never knew the people he was talking about. It wasn’t just that; it was everything. There was a wall between him and those fancy girls, a wall he decided he didn’t want to tear down.
His father would be furious if he learned that Luke hadn’t used his rumschpringe for its real purpose of finding an Amish mate. Nonetheless, that time of being free from the usual constraints had caused him to know without any doubt that he’d rather live the strict, simple life of his forefathers.
The swift clomping of a faster buggy came up behind them, the driver clearly wanting to pass Luke’s slow pace. Glad for the few minutes of distraction, Luke pulled the right lead, making the horse move as far off the shoulder as it could.
While waiting for the buggy to pass, he wondered about Mary’s days of extra freedoms. Had she cared for some English boy before Luke had started bringing her home from the singings? Even now, with her beside him, annoyance ripped at his insides as he thought of his sweet Mary spending time with those conceited, worldly young men.
He knew Mary would eventually choose to join the church, but left on her own, she might wait a few more years. She, like Hannah, enjoyed having some freedoms from her parents’ watchful eyes. Wondering what indiscretions Mary would confess to her mother before her baptism, he gripped the reins until his hands tingled with numbness. There were worse things than what could be expressed through a confession. What if she had given part of her heart away, a part he’d never own? That would haunt him the rest of his days, whether she was his wife or not.
Mary nudged him. When he glanced at her, she tilted her head toward the buggy that was beside them. He turned to look. Matthew Esh had slowed his carriage. He was riding alone, obviously milling about, wasting time. Luke had done a fair amount of that himself before he had a girl to spend time with.
Luke smiled back. “Fine evening for a buggy ride, ya?”
Matthew pulled back on the reins, keeping his horse at an even pace with Luke’s. “ ’Tis that. I thought maybe your horse had gone lame you were goin’ so slow.”
Luke shook his head. “It’s a good night for riding and talking.” He winked at Mary, then turned back to Matthew. “But not to you.”
Sisters of the Quilt Page 7
