It was quiet. Her mother, Peter and her sister Barbara had taken her grandparents up north to see her grossmudder’s sister, Evie, in New Wilmington, an Amish community north of Pittsburgh. Her older brother Josiah had left early this morning to visit the Amos Kings, most particularly his new sweetheart, Nancy. Dat was making some repairs to the grosseldre’s house while her grandparents were away.
As she reached into the basket for another garment, Annie glanced at Millie, sleeping on the floor not far from her feet. Every day she thanked the Lord that Dat allowed her to keep her dog inside the house instead of out in the barn where the other animals were kept. In her community, most pets were excluded from homes, but Millie was special, at least to Annie. And her father was kind to understand what Millie meant to her.
She spread an apron on the cushion beside her, smoothing out the wrinkles before laying it on top of Peter’s shirt. Millie lifted her head and eyed Annie briefly before closing her eyes and lying back down. Annie smiled tenderly at the animal. Millie was a black-and-white mongrel—“mutt” Peter called her—with soulful brown eyes and a mouth that looked as if she were smiling whenever she sat up, panting for a treat. She loved Millie; the dog gave her unconditional affection, following her wherever she went. It had been Millie who had helped her get over the heartache and loss of Jedidiah Lapp. When he’d talked of being friends, she’d known he was telling her that he was no longer interested in her as his sweetheart.
I’ll not be hurt again, she thought. Only by marrying for practical reasons would she keep her heart safe. I’ll wed a church elder or a widower with children, someone who will appreciate me and be happy to have me as his bride. Then after the wedding, she would learn to become fond of her husband. No handsome young man would hurt her again.
As she folded pants, socks and undergarments, Annie frowned. Lately, her mother had been hinting that she wasn’t getting any younger. “You should find someone to marry and soon,” Mam had said.
How could she find someone to marry? Didn’t they have to show an interest in her first? She tried to think of all the older men who were free to marry. Preacher Levi Stoltzfus. Amos King’s brother Ike, newly back in his home community from Indiana, where he’d lived with his wife before she’d passed on.
Annie loved it in Happiness. Whomever she married must stay here. Charlotte King had married Abram Peachy, their deacon, and she was happy raising Abram’s five children. If I can find someone as nice as Abram, I’ll be content. First respect, then love will follow, a safe kind of love that brings only peace rather than heartbreak.
She picked up a stack of socks and set them carefully in the laundry basket. Next to the socks, she placed the folded undergarments. Suddenly, Millie rose up on all fours and began to bark fiercely.
“Millie!” she scolded, startled by her dog’s behavior. “Stop that this minute!” What was bothering her?
But the dog continued to bark as she scurried toward the window, rose up on her hind legs, propped her front paws on the windowsill and then barked and whined as she peered outside.
“Girl, what do you see?” Annie frowned as she approached, looking over the dog’s head to search the yard for the cause of the animal’s agitation. And she saw the ladder against the grosseldre’s house leaning crookedly against the gutter. Suddenly apprehensive, Annie searched for her father and then saw him, lying on the ground not far from the base of the ladder.
“Dat!” She rushed out of the house and ran to him. Millie slipped out behind her, but Annie cared only to get to her father to see if he was all right. Millie hovered nearby, wanting to get close enough to sniff Dat, and Annie had to scold the young dog to stay away.
“Dat,” Annie breathed as she knelt near his head.
He groaned. “Annie—” He tried to rise and cried out with pain.
“Nay,” she said. “Don’t move. We don’t know how badly you’re hurt.”
Her father lay with his eyes closed, looking paler than she’d ever seen him. “I’ll go for help. Stay where you are.” She leaned closer. “Dat, can you hear me?”
“Ja,” came his soft whisper, then he grimaced.
Annie stood, and raced barefoot through the grass and down the dirt drive as fast as she could, her heart thudding, her fear rising with each step. It wasn’t safe to try to move him herself. She had to get help.
* * *
“We had a gut morning,” Jacob Lapp said as he steered the family’s horse-driven market wagon from Bird-in-Hand toward home. “Dat will be pleased that we picked up the lumber.”
“Ja, and Mam will be happy we bought everything on her list and so quickly,” his younger brother Isaac said.
Jacob flashed him a glance. “You helping Dat with the repairs at Abram’s?”
“Ja, ’tis why he wanted the lumber this morning. The shed on the deacon’s property has become unsafe. Abram is afraid that one of the children will get hurt.”
Jacob silently agreed. A building that wasn’t sturdy was an accident waiting to happen. “They’ll have plenty of time to fix the shed today,” he said conversationally. “It’s a gut day to be working outside.” His brothers were handy with tools, expert in construction. Jacob could handle a hammer as well as any of them, but he didn’t want to work in that occupation for a living.
He sighed. He wanted what his older brothers had: a wife, a home and work that would provide for his family. His older brothers had found their life paths. Noah was an expert cabinetmaker with a thriving business. Jedidiah, his eldest brother, owned a small farm and supplemented his income with construction work when it suited him.
But me? I help Dat with the farmwork, but I don’t want to be a farmer, nor do I want to work in construction. And I don’t have Noah’s talent for making furniture. He had no idea what his special God-given gifts were, and until he discovered he had any, he’d not be thinking of marrying. He wouldn’t wed until he could provide for a family.
As he drove down the main road, past Whittier’s Store, and continued on, Jacob pushed those thoughts aside and enjoyed the scenery. The only sounds were the horse’s hooves hitting pavement and the occasional rev of an engine as a car approached and then passed.
Suddenly, he saw a young Amish woman running barefoot down the road. She stopped and waved at them frantically as they drove past. “Schtupp!”
Jacob pulled the buggy to the side of the road. Once he’d reined the horse to a halt, he sprang from the vehicle and hurried back to see what was wrong. He recognized the young woman immediately. “Annie!” She was Annie Zook, a friend from childhood and his brother Jed’s former sweetheart.
Annie hesitated. “Jacob?”
“Ja.” He studied her with concern. “Annie, is something wrong? Can we help?”
She glanced from him to Isaac as if she wondered if they could help. “Dat’s hurt!” she exclaimed. “He fell off the roof of my grosseldre’s house!”
Jacob hid his alarm. “Is he conscious?”
“Ja,” she cried, “but he’s in pain!”
“I’ll stay with you,” he told her, “while Isaac goes for help.” Isaac climbed out of the vehicle and approached. Jacob addressed his younger brother, “I’ll drive to the Zooks’, then you take the wagon. Find a phone and call 911.” Isaac nodded, his expression turning anxious before he got back into the vehicle. Jacob helped Annie into the buggy, then he climbed in and took up the leathers. “Yah!” he cried, spurring the horse on.
The horse’s hooves pounded against the macadam road. Jacob drove down the dirt