An Amish Homecoming

by Rosalind Lauer

  “Seriously?” Grace turned to her. “You’re the most impatient driver I know.”

  “But I would never do that to a horse,” Serena insisted.

  Soon they reached an area where the houses and buildings were set closer together, and they had to line up and wait their turn with cars and a few other buggies at stop signs. The edge of town. Serena looked down at her cell phone as it started to buzz. Messages were coming in! They had cell service, at last.

  Serena’s heart nearly burst with joy when she saw that she had twenty-three text messages. Her friends had missed her!

  But before she read anything, she wanted to send out the photo of her with Daisy the cow. People would get such a laugh out of that. She sent it in a group text, and then posted it to her social media accounts.

  Once in town, their progress was further slowed by traffic. “What are all these people doing here?” Serena asked.

  “It’s Saturday. Lots of tourists come to Amish country on the weekends.”

  “It’s really hopping,” Grace said. “What do these people come all the way out to the country for?”

  “Good food. Handmade items.” Alvin nodded at a group of little kids waving from the sidewalk. “And some just come to look.”

  “That sounds annoying.”

  “It’s good for local businesses,” Sam answered. “Though we usually don’t come into town on the weekend. Too much traffic.”

  “They’re all staring at us,” Serena said.

  “We don’t mind,” said Alvin, “as long as they don’t take pictures of us.”

  Serena’s phone was down to seven percent battery, dangerously low, when they arrived at a low-slung brick building with darkened slats for windows—Joyful River’s library. Sam stopped the horse, and the girls climbed down from the buggy. Agreeing to meet their uncle and cousin in an hour or so, Serena and Grace went inside and quickly found side-by-side cubbies with outlets to plug in their chargers.

  Right away, Serena started reading her text messages. Jigger saying he missed her already. When was she coming back? Thinking of her. What would he do without her? Could he visit?

  She took a breath and sighed. It was so nice to know she was missed.

  Next she went through text messages from her friends. All of them were in disbelief that she had been dropped onto an Amish farm without warning. Stella said she was freaking out without her bestie, and Hallie teased that she was going to drive out and rescue her. A few of them suggested her story would make a great reality show. That was sort of true, except she knew the Amish didn’t want to be photographed. It was too much of a vanity thing for them.

  After she read through her messages and emails, she went to her other social media accounts, the ones with photos and quick, fun captions of what people were doing. She already had thirty-two stars for her photo with Daisy the cow!

  Grace tapped her arm. “My phone is recharged,” she said, standing up. “I’m going to go outside and see if Dad can talk to me.”

  Serena gave her a quick nod. Scrolling through her feed, she saw photos posted from last night’s party. Already she was missing out. Hallie and Stella posed together, looking tough. There was a picture of Hallie falling into her boyfriend’s arms, and another of Stella holding a shot of tequila in one hand and a lime in the other.

  Seeing her friends, Serena felt a twinge of sorrow. She didn’t miss partying as much as she had thought she would, but she missed her friends. It bothered her that they’d had a party so soon after she’d left, but then, what did she expect? There was nothing else to do on a Friday night. She scrolled down and saw more photos of the party. Kids doing shots. Jigger toasting with two other girls. Hmm. The photos seemed to get sloppier as the night went on. Peoples’ eyes drooped, and their faces lacked animation.

  She kept scrolling until she came to a photo that made her jaw drop. A couple embracing, and the guy with his arms wrapped around Kylie Jessup was Jigger.

  Serena bit her bottom lip. Maybe it was a joke.

  The caption read: Does it count if you’re too drunk to remember?

  She felt a stab of pain deep in her chest as she closed the app and stared down at the desk in the cubicle. She didn’t want anyone in this library to see her cry. Even if they were strangers, it was embarrassing. She could only swipe at her tears with the backs of her hands and hope that no one noticed.

  After a few minutes, she pulled herself together, raked back her hair, and went over to the main desk. “My sister and I need to apply for library cards,” she told the woman with short gray hair and a flowing pink top anchored on one shoulder with a dragonfly pin.

  “All right, then.” The woman gave Serena two short, paper applications and found an extra pen for her to use.

  Serena felt responsible, setting up the cards and thinking ahead. The Lapps didn’t have much of a book collection, and she was going to need something to pass the time.

  The clerk, who introduced herself as Mavis, told Serena to go on and pick some books. “By the time you’re done, I’ll have your cards ready for you.”

  Roving through the aisles, Serena found the mystery section and picked up a book on display. For years, the only books she’d read were those assigned by teachers. She decided on a mystery about a young Japanese American detective. Then she went to the main fiction section. A book about a woman named Eleanor Oliphant spoke to her, and she picked up a copy. Finally, she thought about Scout, and the book he’d mentioned. She knew the title, but how was she supposed to find it? She went back to Mavis to ask for help. “I’m looking for a book called To Kill a Mockingbird,” she said. “Have you ever heard of it?”

  “Absolutely. It’s one of my favorites.” Mavis showed Serena how to look it up on the computer, then follow the number code to the shelves of books.

  When Grace returned, Serena was sitting at the cubicle, reading one of her new books.

  “I talked to Dad.” Grace’s face beamed with joy. “He’s good. He sounded pretty happy, and he wanted to hear what we’ve been doing. Everything’s good. He’s going to come out for a visit soon. In a week or so.” She shrugged. “I feel better about things.” She tilted her head at Serena. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure.” Serena wasn’t ready to talk about her friends in Philly; it was still all too tender. “I got us library cards, and I already checked out some books. Here’s your card.”

  “Cool.”

  As Grace browsed the stacks, Serena closed her book and tried to rationalize the information she’d gotten on her cell. Somehow, she hadn’t expected all her friends back in Philly to be able to survive without her. Instead, they’d had a party without her. Well, sure they did. She had expected that to happen. She just didn’t think they’d be so . . . so happy without her. And she hadn’t been in love with Jigger, not really, not at all, but still. She hadn’t expected her boyfriend to chase another girl so soon after she’d left.

  She’d been wrong about them, all of them.

  And it hurt to realize that she was . . . dispensable. Replaceable.

  Chapter Eight

  “I can’t believe you’ve walked this far from our farm,” Essie said, following Megan down a sun-dappled path that cut between two farms that had to be miles from home. “You know, you can use one of the scooters or get a ride if you want to go into town.”

  “Nah. Walking is my therapy. And Sam offered to take me into Joyful River in the buggy, but I’m definitely not trying to get into town.”

  “Where is it you want to go?”

  “It’s not really about the destination. It’s more a journey of the mind,” Megan said.

  Essie let her cousin’s words lie between them as they walked along. How could the mind take a journey without the body? It was impossible. But Essie didn’t want to argue with Megan, who seemed to be driven by restlessness. “Is it peace you’re looking for?”

  “Maybe.” Megan stared off in the distance. “Peace would be great. But mostly I’m trying to stay ahead of the pa
ck of wild horses nipping at my heels.”

  Wild horses? Essie looked behind them.

  “You’re so literal!” Megan said. “But you keep your feet on the ground, and you’re a team player. I like that about you. Anyway, after we put up that jam yesterday, I thought you might be interested in the wild blackberries that I found here. There’s a patch growing along that ridge. See that tangle of green in the sun?”

  Essie shielded her eyes from the sun and saw a stretch where the wild berries had taken over an old fence, almost using it as a trellis to climb and expand. “I see what you mean.” She moved closer for a look at the berries—plump and dark, undiscovered because of their distant location. “This is truly a gold mine that you’ve found.”

  “I thought so.” Megan plucked a fat blackberry and popped it in her mouth. “That one’s sweet, but some of them are on the tart side.”

  “Wild berries can be sour, though that makes them good for canning.” Essie started picking. The ripe berries made a thumping sound as they dropped into her tin bucket. “We can fill our buckets now, then come back for more another day. And we’ll need to buy more mason jars if we’re going to put up everything from this summer.”

  “I’m glad you like making jam, but how many jars of preserves does one family need?”

  “We use it all year,” Essie explained, “and we give it to friends and family. It’s good to have some in the cold cellar.”

  “If you say so.”

  With so many berries dangling from the brambles, they had filled their two pails in no time, and turned to head back to the farm. After a time, Essie admitted, “This is a lot of walking.”

  “Yeah. Right now I need to use up my energy so I can sleep at night.”

  “We’ll both sleep well tonight,” Essie said, though sleep wasn’t what she longed for.

  Saturday night was courtship night, when Harlan came over after everyone was asleep and they got to be together, alone, in the quiet house. For the past year Harlan had made it to Essie’s house nearly every Saturday night, traveling in his buggy through rain and sleet and snow. Only once, when the spring rains had swollen the river, making it rise to the bridge, Harlan had wisely stayed on the town side, missing one courtship night. But every other Saturday, he’d come round and met her downstairs, his amber eyes so bright at the sight of her.

  A few times he had brought Sadie and Mark, and the four of them had played a few games and talked a bit. But mostly, Harlan and Essie wanted to be alone, just the two of them. There was so little time for couples to talk in the busy day of plain folk.

  Those were precious moments when they sat together on the glider. Sometimes they held hands, twining their fingers together, and she was sure she felt the tingling warmth of love passing between them. Sometimes he let his face drop to the side of her head, nuzzling her hair with his nose and whispering “My Essie” in her ear. And sometimes, when they kissed, she felt like a tender flower in his arms, a rosebud ready to open in the warm sun.

  Their marriage would be blessed by Gott. If only Harlan would pop the question!

  Not that they hadn’t talked about getting married. It was something they both wanted, but Harlan wanted to be ready. He wanted to be sure his mother and sister would be able to live without him, or else find a place where all four of them could live together. Essie would be happy to live with Collette and Susan Yoder. Suzie was already like a sister to her, and it would be a blessing to make Harlan’s family her own. But whenever Essie tried to nudge him along, Harlan worried over the money. How much they’d need to save. How crowded the Lancaster area had become. How hard it was to find property or a suitable home. How important it was for him to do the right thing, after the taint of his dat leaving the family.

  His concerns made sense. But as far as Essie was concerned, he kept stoking the fire beneath a pot bubbling over with worry.

  Tonight, she would nudge him toward trusting in Gott to provide, and taking a leap of faith.

  Tonight . . . if she could stay awake. Over the past year there’d been many a Saturday night when she and Harlan had worked so hard during the day that they’d both fallen asleep, leaning against each other on the glider. At first he had apologized, but she had assured him that it didn’t matter. They didn’t have to be playing a game, sharing hot cocoa or talking. As long as she was with him, she felt happy.

  * * *

  The rest of the day was as bumpy as a buggy on a rutted road, but Essie set her sights on the joy of seeing Harlan after all the busy Saturday activities. When she’d been sweeping the upstairs room, she’d had a bit of an argument with Serena, who wanted to put all of Essie’s books on the floor so she could use the dresser top for her bottles and tiny tubes of makeup. The last straw had been when Serena had knocked the carved flower bookend to the floor. Essie had gasped as she bent down to retrieve it.

  “It’s just a block of wood,” Serena said.

  Essie held it against her chest. “It’s a bookend. Harlan made it for me.”

  “Well, sorry. I didn’t know. But it can stay on the floor, right? I mean, we’re living out of suitcases on the floor. But I need a place to set up my stuff, and the books can go anywhere.”

  Essie had looked around the room, realizing that Serena was right. The suitcases had seemed an annoyance to be tolerated, but if the three girls were staying, they would need a place for their clothes. “We need to talk to Mem about finding a dresser for the three of you.”

  “That’d be great.” Serena added two perfume bottles to the dresser top. “In the meantime, I’ll set up here.”

  Essie was glad to escape the upstairs and seek the comfort of the kitchen. There were gmay cookies to be baked for church, which would be held the following day at the home of Joe Byler. But as Essie began to gather the ingredients for baking, Mem came into the kitchen and asked for Essie’s help on an important task. “We need to help the English cousins get into the swing of things on the farm.”

  “I’ve been trying,” Essie said, setting the canister of flour on the table. “Yesterday I showed them how to put up jam, and just now I went a long way with Megan to pick some berries.”

  “You’re a big help,” Mem said.

  “And I told Serena I’d talk to you about getting another dresser.” Essie explained about the incident upstairs.

  “I’m sure we can find another dresser for them.” Mem nodded. “And I’m happy you’re helping them adjust. You know most of my tricks in the kitchen now, but I’m not sure these girls know how to cook an egg. They’re still sticking out like sore thumbs, and I know Gott has given them talents that are yet undiscovered. They’ve taken to you, Essie. All the girls enjoyed your frolic yesterday. Won’t you teach them the basics of cooking and baking and tidying up the house?”

  Although Essie agreed, she tried to hide the disappointment that swept over her like a sudden downpour of rain. She always intended to be kind to her English cousins, but this would mean corralling them every day and watching over them like a shepherd chasing stray lambs. This on top of her daily chores, which would take extra time with her cousins tagging along. And at the end of the day, would there be an ounce of free time left for Essie and Harlan?

  She would have to hope and pray that the cousins caught on to the work quickly and found some chores that they wanted to make their own. “Right now, I can show them how to make the cookies for church,” she said, fetching the bowls and baking sheets. The last thing she wanted to do was play teacher to three English girls who didn’t care about learning how to live Amish. She wanted to tell her mother that Serena was bossy. That Megan was sad in a way Essie didn’t understand, and Grace looked as forlorn as a lost kitten. Instead, she said: “I’ll do my best, Mem.”

  “I know you will. I’ll go outside and send the girls in.”

  “And I’ll fetch Serena from upstairs.” Essie went to the stairs and called up to her cousin, trying to make her voice sound more cheerful than she felt.

  Within five minu
tes, Serena was in the kitchen, staring into the refrigerator. Soon after, Grace and Megan popped in, screen door slamming behind them.

  “Do you have lemonade?” Grace asked. “I’m so thirsty.”

  “I would give anything for an iced mocha latte with whipped,” Serena said.

  “So Aunt Miriam said you’re making cookies?” Megan asked. “I thought you didn’t use the ovens on hot days.”

  “Sometimes we have to bake, like now,” Essie said. “If you wash your hands, you can help. It’s an old Amish recipe that’s been in our family a long time.”

  “Cool,” Grace said, soaping up her hands at the kitchen sink. Today her fingernails were painted a shiny black, like the darkest stones in the river. There was something fascinating about black fingernails that made it hard for Essie to stop staring at them.

  “So, is this a cookie emergency, or what?” Megan asked, nudging in next to her sister to wash her hands.

  Essie chose a wooden spoon and began pummeling the butter to cream it. “Not an emergency, but we need to have the cookies for church tomorrow. Our church meeting lasts for a long time. Sometimes three or so hours. Everyone gets tired, but it’s hard for the little ones to last so long. So we always come with gmay cookies. Gmay is our word for church. We hand out the cookies during church to keep the children from getting too restless.”

  “Are we going to have to dig our hands in?” Serena asked. “I hate getting butter under my nails.”

  “We’ll use spoons. First we need to soften the butter and mix it with sugar.” Essie offered up the spoon. “Who wants to mix?”

  For a moment, the girls stood watching with their arms crossed. At last Megan stepped forward. “I’ll do it.”

  “After you get the butter creamy and mixed with the sugar, you add in the eggs and vanilla. While we’re waiting for that, Grace and I will do the dry ingredients.” Essie moved over to the second bowl and gestured for Grace to come closer. “I’ll let you measure. Two and a half cups of flour first. Then we add baking soda and baking powder.”