An Amish Homecoming Read online

  Essie turned away from the barn and peeked inside, checking the grandfather clock. It was after 3:30, but the bank was open until 5:30 today, Friday afternoon, so they would have time if Harlan was cut loose soon.

  The rumble of a vehicle on the main road caught her attention; a yellow school bus stopped at the top of their lane. The cousins were back from school.

  Peter, Paul, and Lizzie had been home for almost an hour, but then the Amish one-room schoolhouse was just up the road a ways. Essie descended the front porch and waved toward her cousins, who walked down the lane, each wearing a knapsack on her back. Essie realized she was happy to see them. After a week of back and forth in the kitchen at night, everyone had eased into a new pattern to get dinner cooked and dishes done. With some of the pressure off Essie, she now had a chance to enjoy the English girls’ surprising observations and plans. Sometimes she had to hold her cousins back; it wouldn’t do for the bishop to be alerted to English girls swimming in next to nothing at the river with Amish boys. Things like that.

  “Hi, Essie,” Grace called. “We’re hot and tired and glad the school week is over.”

  “TGIF!” Serena said, scraping her hair up into a ponytail and letting it fall over her shoulders again.

  Essie squinted. “What did you say?”

  “TGIF! Thank God it’s Friday!” Serena explained. “We didn’t even have a full week of school, and I think that was the longest week of my life.”

  “Remember our deal?” Megan said. “No griping allowed.”

  “I’m not complaining,” Serena said. “Just stating a fact. Schoolwork makes the clock move more slowly.”

  Essie smiled as she turned round and fell into step with the girls heading toward the house. “And now that the weekend is here, the clock will speed up.”

  “Exactly!” Serena said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Grace said. “I kind of like the distraction of school. Food for the brain.”

  “What about you, Megan? Do you like your new school?” asked Essie.

  “It’s hardly nonstop fun, but it’s my ticket to success, and I’m going to ride that train.”

  “You sound like the little engine that could!” Grace said. “That’s so adorable.”

  The cousins laughed, and Essie smiled. She wasn’t sure just what that meant, but over the past week she had come to enjoy the easy banter among her three cousins. These girls were quick to tease and correct one another, and yet it was clear that there was a strong underpinning of concern and love keeping them together.

  “Wassup with you, Essie?” Megan asked.

  “I’m waiting for Harlan to get off so we can go into town,” she said. “With the break in the weather, Mem and I made whoopie pies this afternoon.” She turned to Megan. “You told me that’s been your favorite since you were a kid.”

  “Tis. Thanks, cuz. I owe you one,” Megan said, striding toward the house.

  “I love whoopie pies,” Grace said. “Don’t eat all of them!”

  “There’s plenty,” Essie said as the two girls hurried into the house. “On the kitchen table.”

  Serena remained in front of the porch.

  “Don’t you want one?” Essie asked her.

  “I’ll grab one later,” said Serena. “I wanted to tell you what happened last night when Scout came by.”

  Serena had confided in Essie that her feelings for Scout Tanner seemed to be growing beyond friendship, and Essie was grateful for her cousin’s trust. “Tell me everything you know about him,” Serena had said a few days ago. Essie had complied, though she didn’t have much information. Scout was one of many of the English who worked together to make the Lapp Dairy Farms owned by her dat and his brothers a success.

  Now Serena pressed a palm to her chest. “I’m. So. Excited. I might just pop.”

  Essie blinked, trying to restrain her curiosity. “What happened?”

  “Scout offered for me to come by and meet his mother, for real. I mean, it’s under the excuse of maybe buying a used dresser for me to fix up, but it’s a chance for the two of us to be together, away from here, without a half-hour time limit and a giant pumper truck rumbling in the background.”

  “That’s wonderful. And you said yes?”

  “I did. And we’re going to do it tomorrow, Saturday, since I don’t have school. He’s going to swing by to pick me up.” Serena clapped her hands together. “Of course, we’ll look at dressers, and I’ll meet his mom and everything. But most of all, I’ll get to spend some time with him. It’ll be like a real date.”

  “And meeting his mem, that’s a big step,” Essie said.

  “That’s what I thought. I can’t wait. And maybe I’ll find a decent dresser, too. A win-win.”

  They were still chatting when Harlan’s gray buggy emerged from the barn, his donkey Beebee pulling it at a steady gait. A high-pitched squeal came from one of the wheels—the song, they called it, when they joked about the buggy’s rundown condition. The rig was on its last legs, but there was no money for a new vehicle. “Here comes Harlan,” Essie said. “I have to go.”

  “We’ll talk more later,” Serena said. “That’s the beauty of having your Philly cousins here. Always someone around to talk to.”

  “It’s a joy and a burden,” Essie teased.

  Serena’s mouth opened in surprise as she pointed at Essie. “You’re getting the hang of this witty banter, cuz!” Serena waved to Harlan on her way into the house. “Hi and bye!”

  From inside the buggy, Harlan tipped back his straw hat and nodded.

  Still chuckling, Essie went up to the porch and lifted a case of jam from the top step. Seeing her, Harlan jumped out of the buggy to help.

  “What’s all this?” he asked, taking the load from her.

  “A case of wild blueberry,” she said, pleased with herself. “That gift shop in town, Joyful Gems, already sold out of the strawberry.”

  “Is that so? Your business is booming, Essie.”

  “Our business,” she said as she climbed into the buggy. “I figured we could deliver the jam on the way to the bank.” She could tell that Harlan had washed up at the slop sink in the barn. Bringing in the hay could be hot, sweaty work, but he smelled of soap, and his face had that clean, just-washed gleam. His blue shirt-sleeves were rolled up, and he’d gotten most of the dust off his pants. She settled beside him on the bench, and, as he called to Beebee to get going, she reached down and brushed two strands of hay from one leg of his trousers.

  “Is that the last of the hay to be brought in?” she asked.

  “Looks like it’s getting near the end.” He swept off his hat and pushed his dark hair from his forehead before replacing the straw hat. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get away from the woodshop today, not with all the orders that have been coming in. It’s a good time to be making furniture. But Zed told me to go. A promise is a promise, and I’ve been helping your dat bring in the hay for seven years now.”

  Ever since your dat left town, thought Essie. Back then Harlan had felt so crushed by abandonment and desperate for money to support his family, he had gone round to all the Amish men in the area, looking for work. Alvin Lapp had hired him on as a steady worker, paid him well until Harlan had found a job in carpentry, something he wanted to move on to.

  “This time of year, Dat needs every extra hand he can get,” Essie said. “But I’m glad you’re one of them. My favorite one.”

  “You know I’d do anything for your dat.” Harlan took the lead with his left hand and twined the fingers of his right hand through hers. “He’s more of a father to me than my own dat.”

  She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it. “I know you still think about your father. Did you ever hear back on any of those letters you sent out?” A few months ago, Harlan had sent letters out to folks in a few Amish settlements, asking if anyone had knowledge of his father. After all these years, Harlan just wanted one more chance to see his dat, to know that he was all right.

  “I got
a few letters back. Only one person said they’d heard of him. A deacon in Somerset County, near the Maryland border.”

  “Is that so? Then you made progress in finding him.”

  “Not really. The deacon said he hasn’t heard from Jed Yoder for years. That he really didn’t join their church. So it’s another dead end.”

  “That’s disappointing. I know you want to see him, but I guess it’s not meant to be. But ours is not to cling to what might have been, especially when we have a bright tomorrow.”

  “You’re right, Essie. You’re my sunshine, and I thank Gott that we’ll be family soon.”

  She squeezed his hand, loving the strength they could muster together. “You’re like family now, Harlan.”

  “But soon, it’ll be real and blessed by Gott. I hope we can marry in November, Essie. There’s nothing I want more than to be by your side come winter nights.”

  This, too, was the ache in her heart, the desire to be by his side always, in his arms at night. His bride, his wife.

  She wanted to tell him so, to paint a picture of her love for him, but she couldn’t speak of that now. Her longings for him, her hunger for him . . . it bore the heat of a wife’s passions for her husband. Those words would have to wait.

  “Until then, all we can do is wait,” she said quietly.

  For a moment, there was only the clop of Beebee’s hooves and the squeak of the singing wheel. And then, Harlan added, “Wait, and save our money.”

  “That’s right. Today I’ll have a deposit to make. When we drop off the blueberry jam, Janice said she’ll pay me for the first case.”

  “You can keep the money from the jam,” Harlan said.

  “It’s going in the account. Otherwise, we won’t be getting married till we’re old and gray. And I want to be your bride this wedding season. You’re a pretty special fellow, Harlan Yoder. It’s time I snatched you up.”

  His smile beamed bright as he squeezed her hand. “You make me sound like a prize horse at auction.”

  “So much better than a horse,” she teased. “I don’t need to groom you, and you won’t be coming down with thrush and canker.”

  He chuckled. “Well, we can be grateful for that. And our bank account is going to start growing faster now that things are changing at the furniture workshop. One of the vendors saw the carving I did for you, and I showed him a few other chunks of wood I was working on. He has a client who wants custom finishes, hand-carved trim pieces for stairways and doorframes, and he’ll pay me double to do the carving.”

  “Double? That’s good pay, and fine work for you.”

  “Carving has never been work to me,” he said. “It’ll be a labor of love. Zed is fine with it, as long as I do it on my own time.”

  “This is good news,” Essie said. With the extra income, they would have enough saved in the next month or two, and Harlan had found work he enjoyed. “Gott has blessed us for sure.”

  “We’ll be able to tell our parents soon,” he said. “Our mothers need some time to get things in order.”

  Much planning went into an Amish wedding. Besides the celebration, which would probably involve at least a hundred and fifty guests, there were other small traditions, like the quilt the bride’s family made for the new couple. Essie smiled at the thought of Mem trying so hard to get her stitches right. Miriam loved to knit, but for her, quilting was a challenge. Oh, it was going to be a wonderful wedding season!

  Once in town, they dropped off the case of jam at the boutique on Main Street.

  “Bring me more when you have it,” Janice said, placing each jar in a prominent place on the counter. The jam gleamed purple inside the ridged glass jar. “Autumn is a busy time for us. Once the weather breaks, people love to make the trip out to Amish country, and this stuff sells like hotcakes.”

  “And it tastes delicious with hotcakes,” Harlan added.

  Essie promised to bring more jam in the next week or two, and Janice paid her a hundred and twenty dollars in cash. In Essie’s mind, the crisp twenty-dollar bills represented progress. She and Harlan were on their way to building a home.

  At the bank, Harlan directed Beebee toward the drive-through line while Essie stared at the cash. “I want to deposit all of it, but I need to pay my parents back for the jars and sugar.” She took one twenty from the crisp bills Janice had given them.

  “And save some cash for more supplies,” Harlan advised.

  She took out another twenty. “It doesn’t seem like so much now.”

  “But there’s more coming to you, Ess. We haven’t been round to collect from the shops outside town yet.”

  Harlan was right. “If we get a hundred and twenty dollars a case . . .” She gaped at him. “If we sell ten cases, we make more than a thousand dollars!”

  He nodded. “It’s not a year-round business, but you can do well on it. You’ve got a good touch in the kitchen.”

  Essie couldn’t help but smile. Right now peaches were ripening faster than they could eat them, and wild berries were free. Time to get picking the last of the season.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Serena wanted to sleep in Saturday morning, but the prospect of visiting Scout woke her early with a case of nerves—that sensation of butterflies fluttering in her chest. She rolled over in bed and stared at the expanse of tree branches swaying in the breeze beyond the window. In the shimmering mosaic of leaves she saw a happy dog chasing its tail.

  She smiled. Scout had a dog named Red.

  She hoped she would make a good impression, but when she got nervous she talked fast, yammering on about ridiculous things.

  Take a breath. Stay calm. Find a place of peace.

  The breeze moved the leaves, and the happy dog disappeared, which she took as her signal to get out of bed.

  The smells of bacon and coffee lured her straight to the kitchen, where Aunt Miriam and Essie moved about preparing a meal for the family. “On Saturdays, we have time to eat together after the morning milking,” Miriam said. “It’s one of my favorite things.” Serena realized she had slept through breakfast last Saturday. This time she helped Lizzie set the table, then went upstairs to wake her sisters.

  “You don’t want to miss this,” she said. “There’s fresh-baked biscuits and eggs with cheese, and the bacon smells so good.”

  Megan sat up and threw back the sheet. “You had me at biscuits.”

  The food was delicious, but Serena’s favorite part was the way everyone came together. Sam, Uncle Alvin, Peter, Paul, and Annie traipsed in from the milking barn and washed up. Essie and Miriam brought the food outside to the picnic tables. Lizzie, Sarah Rose, and Serena finished setting out the flatware and took their places at the table. Grace and Megan came out the door with bright eyes, hair still mussed from sleep, and slow smiles. The gathering felt like a family, and Serena felt a new sense of belonging here.

  After breakfast Serena took a long, hot shower so that her hair would have plenty of time to air dry. After that, she actually dug into her backpack and did some homework. Living without a computer or cell service, she’d learned this week that she couldn’t leave assignments to the last minute the way she used to.

  When it was almost time she went to wait on the porch, where Aunt Miriam was giving Grace a knitting lesson. Both had knitting needles in hand, and Miriam kept holding hers up, trying to show Grace how to loop the yarn around in just the right way. Watching them, it was clear that Aunt Miriam felt at ease with a pair of knitting needles in her hands.

  It wasn’t long before Scout’s red truck came down the lane. Serena stood up and waved as Sarah Rose and Essie came out to the porch.

  “I want to knit too!” Sarah Rose said.

  “You can,” Miriam said. “Get your needles from the basket.”

  Grace frowned. “It’s a little weird when a five-year-old is more advanced in knitting than I am.”

  Aunt Miriam chuckled. “Everyone in his or her own time.” She looked over toward the truck and smiled. “Scou
t. We’re not used to seeing you before nightfall.”

  “I was just thinking how your farm looks different during the day,” he said. Serena knew that Scout had needed to get the day off from the firehouse to make today work. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he had a busy schedule. He talked with Aunt Miriam about a small kitchen fire that had occurred in an Amish home the week before, when he’d been on duty, and then he and Serena were off.

  There was something comforting about being in a motorized vehicle that wasn’t a stodgy school bus. Which was so embarrassing! An eighteen-year-old should never have to ride in a bright yellow bus like a goofy school kid.

  Scout’s truck was old. The leather of the seats was splitting in the seams and the cab had an oily smell, but for Serena it was like sliding on an old familiar sweater. She loved sitting up high and bouncing over the bumps in the road.

  “If it’s okay with you, I figured we’d go to my house to work on the dresser thing, and then head into town for a burger.” He rested his elbow on the open window of the truck, casual but in control. “I know you don’t get sprung from the farm too often.”

  “I would love that!” She tried not to gush over the plan too much, but she was thrilled that this outing was sounding more and more like a date.

  “So how was the first week of school?” he asked.

  “Okay,” she sighed. “I don’t know what it is, but I feel so much older than the other seniors.” When Serena watched them talk in the hallways or text one another in class, she wondered what it would have been like to grow up here in their world, surrounded by farmland and Amish communities. She’d already seen posters for homecoming dance, and she cringed at the thought of going to a formal event with any of the boys at this school. Boys, that was all they were. Not men, like Scout.

  Even Johnny Rotten, who turned out to be a senior and a football player, seemed immature. He’d flirted with Serena once or twice when his girlfriend wasn’t around, but she wanted nothing to do with him. Guys like Johnny were more concerned with petty things like besting their friends and looking cool in fat sneakers. She bet that not one of them knew anything about the stars in the sky.