by Sarah Price
“Taking a little girl’s bedroom,” Mary Ann quipped, slamming the silverware drawer so that the spoons, knives, and forks rattled inside the plastic organizer. “What depths of depravity will Fanny go to next? And this Edwin cannot possibly be such a kind man, Eleanor, if he agreed to such an arrangement!”
Eleanor tried to smile. “It’s just a bedroom, and it certainly would not be proper for a grown man to sleep with a four-year-old.”
But Mary Ann would not ameliorate her poor opinion of Edwin Fisher. An affront had been made against her sister, which, by her logic, was just one more insult to the family. Of course Edwin had nothing to do with the decisions about sleeping arrangements, a fact that Eleanor hesitated to mention for fear of yet again encountering Mary Ann’s wrath about Fanny Detweiler.
So when Fanny brought Edwin over to introduce him to the family, Eleanor felt some personal satisfaction. While she too was not a big fan of Fanny, it pleased her to see that her sister-in-law could demonstrate a modest amount of civility.
Maggie, true to her threats, had remained hidden in her tree house from the moment Edwin arrived and refused to descend the ladder even for meals. However, the rest of the small family greeted Edwin with polite smiles.
He was a tall man with narrow shoulders and a thick shock of dark brown hair cut in a traditional Amish style: straight across the forehead and longer over the ears. His face mirrored his body: long and thin. As Eleanor studied him, she could see he was unusual in appearance, and not necessarily in a bad way. His large blue eyes took in the surroundings of the small grossdaadihaus without the appearance of disdain or judgment. When he responded in kind to their smiles, his mouth did not spread across his face; instead, just one corner lifted, almost as if he had a tic. For a moment Eleanor wondered if he was nervous to meet them.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Maem said, extending her hand to shake his. “Quite kind of you to come help John.”
Edwin shook her hand and nodded his head politely. “I am rather pleased to assist John,” he said, speaking in a proper manner, with the words clipped just a touch at the end. Inwardly Eleanor groaned. Her illusion of Edwin being nervous dissipated. The proud manner of speech would undoubtedly fuel Mary Ann’s aversion to Edwin and be the topic of the day at the supper table. “And my bruder, Roy, is quite capable of assisting at my parents’ farm while I am away.”
Eleanor thought she heard a noise of indignation from Mary Ann. When she looked at her sister, Mary Ann merely lifted an eyebrow at her as if to tell her, I told you so. And then Mary Ann spoke, her tone sharp and clearly disapproving as she addressed Edwin directly: “Your room is the first room at the top of the stairs.”
Edwin looked at her for a long moment, blinking his eyes as if not understanding what Mary Ann said. Finally, he turned to Maem. “Ah, ja,” he said, stumbling over his words. “Fanny had mentioned that I was to stay here.” He looked at Maem and dipped his head. “With you.” Then he returned his attention to Mary Ann. “But, you see . . . about that . . . ” He lifted a finger in the air and shook it as if making a point. “I do believe that a mistake has been made in those sleeping arrangements.”
His words must have shocked Fanny, for all pretense of propriety forgotten, she let her mouth open as she cried out, “A mistake? There is no mistake!”
Maem looked from Fanny to Edwin. Eleanor wished she knew what to say so that she could help her mother. But this was clearly a battle between Edwin and Fanny.
“Danke, though, for the offer,” he said, returning his attention to Maem. “While I appreciate the gesture, I believe an oversight has been made. It seems that particular upstairs bedroom is already occupied by another member of your household.” He turned and gave a stern look to Fanny. “No one shall be displaced on my behalf. I am, after all, just a visitor to the Detweiler farm. I’ll be just as comfortable on a simple cot down in the basement.”
“The basement? A cot?” Fanny rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Where you get these fanciful ideas, Edwin, I shall never know!” She didn’t wait for a response before she tossed her hands into the air, clearly disgusted with Edwin’s proclamation as well as his rebuke. “And to miss the breeze and the view from that window! It is your loss, Edwin. I shall hear none of it when the damp from the basement makes your joints ache in the morning!”
Edwin glanced at Eleanor, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and winked at her. “Indeed,” was his simple reply to Fanny.
That evening, despite Eleanor’s previous hopes that she might enjoy a quiet supper with her mother and sisters, she found herself seated next to Edwin at Fanny’s kitchen table—or, rather, the family table that Eleanor had sat around for her entire life until Fanny claimed it as part of John’s inheritance. Maggie sat on the other side of him while Maem, Mary Ann, and little Henry sat across from them. Fanny made a great display of the meal, preparing a freshly killed chicken (which Eleanor had cleaned for her!) with wonderful vegetables from Mary Ann’s garden.
Edwin seemed overwhelmed at the attention bestowed on him by his overbearing sister. Yet his manners were refined enough that Eleanor suspected she was the only one to notice how his knee jiggled under the table whenever Fanny spoke.
“Edwin’s set to inherit the family farm, you know,” she said, her eyes glancing past Eleanor as if she were invisible and not even there. Instead, her gaze rested on Edwin. “Six generations of Fishers! Why, we can trace our ancestors right back to Christian Fisher himself!”
Eleanor feigned interest, especially since half of the Amish in Lancaster County could make the same claim. “Oh, really? How interesting!”
Fanny smiled at Eleanor’s comment, mistaking the blandness of her remark to be envy. “Indeed! How many Amish families can do that? I mean, he practically started this entire settlement back in the 1700s!” She laughed, delighted with herself. “Every Amish home has his book. Our great-great-great grandfather.”
Edwin leaned toward his sister. “I’m sure there are a few more greats thrown in there, Fanny.”
But Fanny ignored his comment. “Why, if Amish had royalty, the Fishers would be it!”
Across the table, Mary Ann’s mouth opened as if to speak out against Fanny’s prideful remark, but Maem nudged her before she could say what they were all probably thinking.
“Ah,” Edwin said, setting down his fork. “But we do have royalty, my dear schwester.”
Surprised that he would side with Fanny on this, Eleanor looked at him.
“Only He sits on the throne of heaven in a kingdom reserved for the righteous who let others praise them, rather than sing their own glories from their own mouths.” Without looking at his sister, he reached out, picked up his water glass, and lifted it to his lips. “And even then, the sincerity of humility in humanity is often displayed for the lowest of the low instead of the highest of the high.”
Mary Ann coughed into her hand, and Eleanor shot her a look to behave. Fanny, however, had caught the double meaning of his words. With a huff, she resumed eating, and that was the end of any conversation of the direct descendants of Christian Fisher being royalty, in this world or the next.
And with that, Eleanor knew that while she didn’t believe in love at first sight, she did believe that she esteemed Edwin Fisher enough to consider a friendship with him, despite her feelings toward his sister.
Chapter Four
MY WORD!” MARY Ann unpinned her prayer kapp and carefully set it on the small dresser, letting the two thin strings dangle over the edge. There was a mirror on the wall, and as she began to pull out the bobby pins that held her hair into the bun at the nape of her neck, she stared into the reflection, watching Eleanor. “What a dreadfully long evening it was!”
“You say that every evening!” Eleanor laughed lightly.
Mary Ann made a light puffing noise in indignation. “It seems every night we are forced to visit with Fanny now that her bruder is here. And that makes for dreadfully long evenings!”
Eleanor
was already changed and sitting in bed, the white sheet pulled up to her chest. With the windows open a cool night breeze finally kept the humidity at bay. It was a welcome relief after the past week of hot, sticky nights. It seemed that Edwin’s arrival had brought the poor weather. While Eleanor loved the summer months, she had a hard time sleeping during the hot spells. In fact, she was beginning to think that Edwin had chosen wisely when he claimed that a cot in the cool basement was just as suitable as a bedroom.
“Dreadful? I can’t imagine why you’d say that,” Eleanor said, her eyes avoiding Mary Ann’s, even though she felt the intensity of her sister’s stare in the mirror. She could tell when her sister was going to go into a tirade. Clearly this was one of those times. So instead of feeding into Mary Ann’s drama, Eleanor tried to focus on the Bible in her hands, even though she was too tired to actually read. “I thought the evening was rather enjoyable.” Indeed, she’d enjoyed getting to know Edwin over the last week, even though it meant spending more time in the company of Fanny and Henry.
“Really?” Mary Ann practically spun around as she spat out the word in complete surprise. With one hand on her hip, Mary Ann glowered at her. “Enjoyable? The conversation at supper could not have been more dull. Fanny is the only woman I know who can say something and nothing at the same time! And that child of hers is spoilt! Why, he behaves like a complete ruffian! Nephew or not, his constant habit of not listening, interrupting the adults, and stumbling about is enough to grate on anyone’s nerves!”
“He is a bit of a handful,” Eleanor admitted.
“And Fanny making such a fuss over him.” As she talked, Mary Ann unwound her hair from the twisted bun and let it fall down over her shoulder. She ran her fingers through it, working out any knots before she picked up the brush. Like that of all three of the Detweiler sisters, her hair was long and chestnut brown with a touch of sun-kissed highlights in the front. Since they, like other Amish women, never cut their hair, it hung down to her waist. However, unlike Eleanor’s and Maggie’s, Mary Ann’s hair hung in loose waves. When she shook her head, it flowed down her back against the white of her nightgown. “She tells Henry not to do something, and lo, he does it! I reckon we shouldn’t be surprised, for there is no discipline in that household. None whatsoever!”
Eleanor tried not to smile as Mary Ann slammed her hairbrush onto the dresser and turned around, her hands on her hips. “There is a little discipline,” Eleanor said lightly.
“Oh ja! From Fanny to John, that’s for sure and certain!”
Unable to contain herself, Eleanor covered her mouth as she gave a soft laugh.
“It’s true!” Mary Ann moved to the bed and crawled in next to Eleanor, sitting with her back to the headboard. “If only she’d discipline Henry in the same manner, perhaps he’d be more pleasurable to be around. Did you see him at the table playing with his food? Fanny asked him three times to stop, but he just ignored her! Why, Daed would have taken us outside behind the barn if we did such a thing to Maem! What ails that brother of ours?”
“Half brother,” Eleanor added wryly.
Despite having exhausted that particular topic, Mary Ann was not finished with her criticism of the evening. She braided her hair so that it hung over her shoulder as she continued. “And after supper, why, Edwin’s reading of Martyr’s Mirror was so lacking passion and feeling. I don’t think I could have listened to much more. Does he have no feelings that he can read that book with such reserve?”
Eleanor laughed, putting her finger into the Bible to hold her place as she shut it. “Oh, Mary Ann! Not everyone reads as passionately as you do! You cannot hold him to your standards, now, can you?”
“Cannot or should not?”
“Both,” Eleanor said.
“Seriously, Eleanor?” Shaking her head, Mary Ann expressed her displeasure. “Martyr’s Mirror? How could anyone not feel admiration and ardor for the suffering of our ancestors? How much they sacrificed for our freedom to worship! It is our duty and honor to read their stories with as much enlightenment and emotion as possible.” She pressed her lips together disapprovingly. “Your Edwin’s reading made it seem so . . . ordinary!”
“He’s not my Edwin, and you embarrassed him,” Eleanor said softly. She could still see him in her memory, glancing up at her when Mary Ann interrupted him during his reading. “Making him repeat lines and try to sound more excited. More heartfelt and emotional. His patience with your criticisms, and the fact that he even wanted to read out loud when no one else volunteered, should speak enough for his fine character, ja? No one else read, nor would they, after you scared them with your tireless instructions on how to properly read Martyr’s Mirror to honor our ancestors.”
“Fine character?” This time Mary Ann rolled her eyes. “Is that all you can see in him, then? Fine character?”
Eleanor paused to contemplate her sister’s questions for a moment. What exactly did Mary Ann want her to see? Or, more importantly, what did she want her to say?
Ever since his arrival a week ago, Edwin had been nothing less than helpful and pleasant to everyone on the farm, especially the Detweiler women. Always respectful, he deferred the authority of the farm to Maem, asking for her permission when he felt it was needed, a fact that infuriated Fanny, who took to pointing out that the farm belonged to her and John, not Maem anymore. One day Eleanor overheard him chastising Fanny for saying such a thing. He reminded his sister that Maem and her daughters had just lost the most important man in their lives and now their world was upended. She felt a bittersweet fondness for his protection: glad to have it but wishing it wasn’t needed.
Even Maggie liked him, especially when she had learned that she need not give up her room to accommodate his visit. Several times Eleanor had seen Edwin climbing up the ladder to sit in the tree house with Maggie. When Eleanor inquired as to what they discussed, the answer was always the same: animals. Maggie’s love of animals was well matched with Edwin’s knowledge of them.
While Maem tried to find excuses not to join John and his family for supper, Edwin always found Maem’s door open for him to visit for coffee and dessert afterward. He was admittedly reserved and quiet, offering his opinion only when asked, but Eleanor found nothing inappropriate about that. In fact, when Maem inquired about his future, a question that shocked Eleanor and delighted Mary Ann, he managed to smile and reply with a soft “God’s plan for my future is yet to be seen, isn’t it, now?”
Both Mary Ann and Maem were visibly disappointed in his response while Eleanor secretly cheered. Good for him, she had thought, to not get swept into a web of speculation about something he could not control. Only God could determine their futures. Both Eleanor and, she suspected, Edwin knew that her mother was inquiring for the sole purpose of finding out what his intentions were in regard to Eleanor. After just one week his favor toward Eleanor was apparent, even if he did remain properly aloof and formal when it came to expressing any interest in her.
Eleanor would have expected nothing less from such a man. His disposition was, indeed, impeccably Amish in nature, and she respected that.
Of course Eleanor would not share such private thoughts with her sister. So, instead, she responded with a more vague answer. “A man of fine character is the foundation of all other virtuous traits, ja? Without the one, you cannot invite others . . . at least not those of a godly nature. And frankly I’ve had numerous opportunities to work alongside him, both in the dairy and in the pasture. I find him to be rather interesting. He’s certainly well versed in Scripture, and that’s quite admirable.”
Mary Ann stared at her. “Scripture? Have you nothing else to talk about with him?”
“Is there anything more important than Scripture?” Eleanor countered with an air of reproach.
“Oh, Eleanor!” Mary Ann shook her head, clearly disapproving of her sister’s comment. “You know what I mean. What do you know about Edwin? His likes? His passions? His hopes for the future? Do you know any of these things?”
>
“Nee, schwester, I do not. But I do know that I am”—she hesitated, then admitted—“rather fond of him.” Deep down, however, Eleanor did know what her sister meant. But she wasn’t comfortable telling Mary Ann how Edwin’s quiet manners and insightful thoughts made her feel. No Amish woman would dare to confide, even in her sister, that a man’s very presence made her heart quicken and her senses tingle. And she certainly wasn’t going to mention the private conversations she shared with Edwin in the early morning hours while milking the cows, long before the rest of the household awoke.
Courtship among the Amish community was not as open as Mary Ann obviously desired. In fact, as far as Eleanor knew, most Amish courtships were kept private until the time came to marry. While she sensed that Edwin shared her opinions and emotions, she did not feel confident in expressing this thought aloud. He had made no attempts to take their friendly relationship a step further, such as asking her to ride in his buggy or seeking out her company without others around. To speculate about his intentions would be far too painful if she learned that he was, indeed, just a kind, friendly man.
With an overly dramatic sigh Mary Ann turned to confront her sister. “I’ve noticed how much attention he pays to you, Eleanor. And I dare say that you don’t seem to mind it, although I hope that he too can sense your fondness for him. I’d feel much more accepting of a match between the two of you if I felt that there was something stronger than only reciting Scripture to bind your heart to him.”
Eleanor watched as Mary Ann picked restlessly at her braid. She was a pretty girl; Eleanor would not deny that. But she had read one too many romance novels when she was younger, sneaking them from the local library without Maem and Daed knowing about her thirst for love stories. Ever since she turned sixteen and began attending the youth gatherings, Mary Ann seemed quite the authority on courtship, even though she refused the two young men who offered to drive her home from the singings.
