“Twelve years is a bit more than a taste.”
They worked in silence for a few minutes while Ellie wiped off the table, thinking back twelve years. She had been fourteen, just finishing up at school and beginning to notice the boys, wondering which one would be her husband. If she had met Bram then, would he have given her one of his grins? The thought brought a smile to her face.
Bram must be a few years older than her. Since Dat had said he had gone to Chicago while in his Rumspringa, he would have been around seventeen back then, which would make him twenty-nine now. Amish men usually didn’t stay bachelors that long, but she didn’t know about the Englisch. Maybe their custom was to wait longer before marrying.
“Do you know his mother or any of his sisters?” Ellie straightened the chairs around the big table.
“I knew his mother years ago—we were girls together—but I lost touch with her after she married and moved to the Shipshewana district. I heard she passed on a few years ago, and her husband, too.”
“So if he’s from Shipshewana, why isn’t he settling up there?”
“Maybe he’s looking for a wife.”
Ellie shot a glance at her mother. For sure, the corners of her mouth were turned up in a sly grin. She sighed. Lately Mam thought every unattached man could be a new husband for her, but Ellie hadn’t told her that she never intended to marry again.
“We don’t know what he’s looking for. He could be here to...to...”
“To what?” Mam’s face was serene, innocent. How could she not know what the plans of an Englischer from Chicago might be? She must have heard the
stories about gangsters and speakeasies. There were all kinds of worldly evils in a city like Chicago.
“Ach, I don’t know.”
“Daughter, we need to give the man a chance. Dat asked us to treat him as a friend. Surely we can do that much.”
“Ja, I suppose...”
A friend. Ja, he was friendly enough, but could anyone trust an Englisch man? An outsider?
Chapter Three
The next morning’s sunshine brought a promise of another hot day to come. Why was it that weeds always grew no matter what the weather, while the garden plants wilted in the heat? Ellie’s hoe chopped through another clump of crabgrass growing between the rows of beans.
“See? This one is a dandelion.”
Ellie glanced at Susan and Danny just in time to see the baby put a yellow flower in his mouth.
“Ne, ne, don’t eat it!” Susan’s voice was full of disgust.
Ellie smiled as she watched Susan rescue the flower from Danny’s mouth. What a help she was. Daniel would have loved to see how his little dishwasher was growing.
The sound of buggy wheels in gravel interrupted her thoughts. If visitors were stopping by, Mam might need some help.
“Who’s that?” Susan asked.
“I’m not sure.” Ellie straightened up and shaded her eyes from the morning sun as the buggy stopped at the barn. “It looks like Matthew Beachey’s, but that isn’t Matthew driving.”
The Englischer, Bram Lapp, climbed out and headed for the barn.
“Ach, it’s that man who was here yesterday. He must want to talk to Dawdi again.”
She went back to her hoeing, but found herself working with only half her mind on the weeds.
Why was he here? He said he wasn’t going to pick up the horse until next week. And a buggy? It just didn’t fit with what she knew of the Englisch. Ja, she remembered, he wasn’t really Englisch, but if he wasn’t, then why was he still wearing Englisch clothes? But the Englisch didn’t drive buggies. When they drove a horse it was with a wagon or cart, not an Amish buggy. And if Dat was right and he was trying to become part of the community again, then why was he still wearing Englisch clothes?
Ellie gave a vigorous chop with the hoe that took out a dandelion and three bean plants. She was thinking in circles again. She stopped hoeing and sighed. Dat had asked them to welcome the man, but Ellie’s first reaction was to ignore him, just as she ignored all Englisch.
Ja, he was friendly and attractive. But so Englisch.
She tackled the weeds again.
The Englisch were just like these weeds. If you gave them a chance they might choke a person, distract them from the Amish life—the Plain life. She had seen it happen to other people who had opened themselves to their Englisch neighbors, but it wasn’t going to happen to her family. It didn’t matter that this man wanted to become Amish again. The Englisch influence was like a dandelion root: you could try to chop it out, but if you left even a little bit, it would grow again and take over. How could a person turn from one to the other?
Ellie moved to the next row. The squash vines were healthier than the beans. Once they grew a little larger, they would cover the ground with their broad leaves, and the weeds would lose their hold. That was what she loved about her life. Peace, order, community—the Ordnung—were a protective covering that kept worldliness from taking root. Once she got rid of these few small weeds, the squash vines would grow unhindered through the rest of the summer.
* * *
Bram headed to the buggy he had left outside the barn humming “Blue Moon” under his breath. He stopped with a soft whistle. If he wanted to keep on John Stoltzfus’s good side, he’d have to forget those songs for a while. In fact, he had a lot of habits from Chicago that would have to go, but that was part of the job.
John had given him some good, sound advice about the farm he wanted to buy. The man really knew his business. He’d answered Bram’s questions for almost an hour and never seemed to be in a hurry. The older man’s excitement about the prospects the farm held made Bram wish...what? That he wasn’t just buying it for a cover? That he could build it into the kind of place he could be proud of?
Bram stopped, resisting the urge to look back at the barn. With someone like John Stoltzfus around, he’d be able to make something of that farm. Who knew—with someone like John, maybe he could even make something of his life.
He pushed the thought away. Too little, too late. With any luck, he’d find Kavanaugh and be taking off before midsummer anyway.
When Bram reached the hitching rail, the two children at the edge of the garden caught his eye. That little girl was the one from yesterday. She was pretty cute when she wasn’t screaming her head off. He chuckled as he watched her try to catch a butterfly that danced among the flowers.
His breath caught when he saw the mother. Dressed in brown again today, Ellie had her back to him. He was glad he wasn’t one of the weeds she was hoeing. He’d never survive an attack like that. Her movements were brisk, businesslike, but at the same time Bram found himself caught up in the rhythm of her slim form as she worked.
How did she manage, raising her children without a husband? Bram understood the loneliness of living alone, but to add the responsibility of children to that was beyond him.
Bram found himself drawn to her like a butterfly to a flower. He shook his head. No, he couldn’t get involved with a woman like that. A woman like that meant home, responsibilities, commitment. A woman like that deserved better than what he could ever give her. A woman like that would be too hard to leave when his job here was over.
But still, he couldn’t ignore her. They were going to be part of the same church, the same community. They could at least be friends.
The little girl’s laughter carried toward him on the warm breeze, making his decision for him.