Forever Amish (26 page)

Smoke hovered over the barnyard. When I looked at the small gap separating the workshop from the barn, my throat closed in on itself. The majestic structure must have been over a hundred years old, dry as kindling. One gust of wind and the flames would leap to it.

A tabby cat streaked out of the barn door, followed by another. I was glad Armin had taken Thunder to his new farm.

“The buggy horses!” Rhoda said.

I heard one scream—a shocking cry of panic.

Reuben stood staring at the barn as if paralyzed—a helpless spectator watching his world dissolve. Armin continued to spray water as Jeremy and Peter sprinted into the barn to free the horses, the animals' eyes bulging.

“Thank the Lord the cows are in the pasture,” Rhoda said.

A moan of sirens in the distance expanded like a howling pack of wolves. The blaring increased, deafening. Two fire trucks, their lights flashing, ground down the lane, then into the barnyard. A crew of a dozen uniformed men leaped from the vehicles and turned on their pumps. Minutes later, rivers of water blasted the barn, saturating its siding.

I stood engulfed in smoke, my eyes burning. A crowd gathered as Nathaniel and other men dressed in black arrived on foot or in buggies to offer assistance. Battling for supremacy the fire fighters soaked the hissing furnace and finally subdued the flames. The smoke turned white. A wet stench permeated the air.

“My … shop,” Reuben sputtered to a fireman who added more flame retardant to what was now a blackened empty shell, a tangle of metal, charred plywood, and filing cabinets, their contents burned.

“You're lucky your barn is still standing.” The fireman, sporting a mustache, glanced at the gasoline can on the ground and raised an eyebrow. Then he and his crew inspected the barn, which remained unscathed on the inside. Only the closest wall was singed—a reminder of how bad it could've been.

 

CHAPTER 34

Reuben slogged over to the spigot and turned off the hose. Then he, Armin, Pops, the bishop, and Nathaniel huddled in a circle and spoke in hushed tones. If I'd been one of them, I'd be elated the barn was still standing, but I figured Reuben was embarrassed—his face was streaked black and the lower third of his beard was missing. The bishop and Pops might be admonishing themselves for allowing Reuben to use gasoline. Even I knew it was a foolhardy method to start a fire.

“Praise God.” Rhoda's hand wrapped her throat. She and Lizzie thanked the fire fighters as they gathered their hoses and prepared to leave. “May we serve you anything?” Rhoda asked. “Surely you're thirsty and hungry.”

“Thanks, ma'am, but no time. Just got an aid call—not a fire, I'm glad to say.” They climbed aboard their gigantic trucks, backed out of the barnyard and lane, and rumbled away. Lizzie waved at them and one responded with a wave of his own. If the barn had caught fire, the men might've been here half the night trying to tame the inferno.

My emotions were scrambled, my adrenaline spent. Sitting on the bottom step next to Ginger, I must have looked like a ghost. Bishop Troyer ambled over to me.

“
Was fehlt dir den
, Sally? Are you all right?” He lowered himself next to me. “You look sad in your face.”

I watched Pops poke the pile of burnt jewelry boxes with a rake; I assumed he was checking for live embers. Reuben came alongside him and patted Pops on the shoulder—what seemed an act of gratitude and admiration. Pops had committed a daredevil feat, and I was thankful beyond measure he'd emerged from the workshop unscathed.

“I'm grateful everyone's okay and that the barn didn't burn,” I said to the bishop.

“It was the Lord's will or it would have.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Do you think it was a coincidence that Ezekiel came back and that you're here?”

“I don't know what to think about anything.” I gathered my courage, as if I were about to leap across a stream. “Did you know my mother ditched me when I was a toddler? I don't even know for sure that Pops is my father.”

“Do you think the Lord holds that against ya?”

Elbows on knees, I clasped my hands. “I've read about the sins of the father being passed on for three generations.”

“That was before the Lord atoned for our transgressions by sacrificing his Son.”

“Do you really believe that's true?”

“Yah, absolutely. Do you not know how Nathaniel's Esther left for the majority of her adult life, then was welcomed back by her family and the community? Think about the apostle Peter, who denied Christ three times. And the apostle Paul, who claimed to be the worst sinner of all after persecuting early Christians. Both went on to be church leaders and write most of the New Testament.”

I envisioned the letters from the bank and felt my anger toward Pops rekindling. “My father has lied to me over and over. I just learned he took out a mortgage on our house and wasn't paying the bank.”

“'Tis not my place to judge another man. The Lord will do that. But it is my position to admonish willful disobedience and to encourage repentance. Your father could ask the Almighty to forgive him.”

Using shovels and pitchforks, several bearded Amishmen helped Pops unearth the charred rubble. Steam continued to rise from what used to be Reuben's workshop. Amish women, among them Esther and Anna, unfolded a card table and covered it with baked goods and paper plates—for the men, I guessed. Lizzie and Rhoda brought out cups and lemonade. I watched people, both Amish and English, continue to arrive to help, a community of goodwill and solidarity.

I zeroed in on Armin—his wide shoulders and rugged good looks.

“I've heard you and Armin are growing close,” the bishop said, following my stare. “He told me he was going to see you today with hopes of bringing you back.”

“That's true.” Ginger's moist nose nudged the back of my hand. Her maternal condition demanded I settle down somewhere for the next few months. “I'd like to stay in the area. Rhoda said I could live with them if Reuben agreed. Would you be opposed?”

“To your living with them? Not at all. But do you understand that Armin is planning to join the church?”

“Yes, he told me.” I swung my knees toward Bishop Troyer. “Would you let me join too?”

“I suggest you try living a Plain life for six months—maybe a year—before you consider joining, to see if you can make the adjustments.” His eyes softened. “'Tis a lifetime commitment, do ya understand that? Some Englischers look at us as a perfect society, but we have our share of troubles, trials, and temptations, just like anyone else.” He glanced to my father, then back to me. “I know of a dozen people who've joined the Amish church and then eventually left. On the other hand, a few have joined us and stayed.”

“I've felt alone my whole life,” I blurted out.

“If God cares about the sparrows—according to a verse in Matthew—then he certainly cares about you. The hairs on your head are numbered.”

My hand moved to my hair, straggling out of its ponytail. I doubted if God cared if I went bald. But here, I might finally feel whole.

“I would never proselytize—encourage an Englischer to join us,” he said. “But come meet with me when and if you're ready. For starters we can talk about forgiveness. Something we all struggle with.”

“Even you?”

“Yah, we're all sinners in our heart. 'Tis human nature. I've asked the Almighty to forgive me a dozen times today.”

I wondered if he were referring to his reaction toward Pops and Reuben. “How can you forgive someone who's never asked for it? Like my mother.”

“When we hold on to unforgiveness, it's like an iron chain around our neck dragging us into the past.” He stroked his beard. “You come by, and we'll talk about it more.”

“I might just do that,” I said. “In fact, I will.”

Smelling of smoke, Pops shambled over to us. Soot covered his clothes, and black streaks masked his sweaty cheeks. He held out his arms. “There's my girl.”

I leaped to my feet and hugged him. “Thank God you're okay.” In the short time he'd been here, I could tell he'd put on a couple pounds. “If anything happened to you I don't know what I'd do,” I said. “Now we need to get your kidneys better.”

“Rhodie's taking me to a specialist in a few days.”

The bishop handed Pops a white handkerchief and he dabbed his face.

“She's already changed my diet—lowered my salt and protein intake. And she's praying to beat the band.” He scuffed his toe into the ground and dislodged a pebble.

“Aren't you happy about that?” I asked, noticing his look of defeat.

He shook his head. “I've failed you as a father.”

“No, you haven't. You've been two parents in one. The best.” Tears pressed at the backs of my eyes. “I shouldn't have taken out my hostility on you.”

“But I've made a mess of things,” Pops said. “Even if I get better, I can't work on the car lot anymore. I need rest and Rhodie insists I recuperate here. Ralph wants to buy Honest Ed's from me lock, stock, and barrel, but I don't want to leave you high and dry.” He dabbed around his eyes. “There's more I need to tell you.”

“Pops, I saw the letters from the bank. I know you took out a second mortgage.”

“Oh.” He crammed the handkerchief into his pocket. “And to think I had the impudence to call myself Honest Ed. The only person I fooled was myself.”

“If you'd told me you needed money, maybe I could have helped.” I took his elbow and assisted him onto the step next to Bishop Troyer. “I could have taken on a part-time job and still worked on the lot when you needed me.”

“I thought I could handle it—” His chin dipped. “I'm no use to anyone. But I could pay off the house with the money from Ralph and give it to you, Sally.”

“Thanks, but I wouldn't want to live there without you.”

“Would you rather I leave?” Bishop Troyer asked.

“No, please stay.” Pops seemed comfortable sitting next to this righteous man. I wondered if they'd spoken in my absence. “No more secrets,” Pops said. “Yah?”

“Including about Mom?” I said.

“I figured I was protecting you by keeping you from locating her.”

“Then you know where she is?”

He brushed soot off his pants leg. “No, but I'll help you track her down if that's your wish.”

I glanced over to the women—Rhoda, Lizzie, Esther, Anna, and more—offering snacks and drinks to everyone helping. I was tired, so very tired, of carrying around my anger, my disappointments, and my bitterness. My hand on the railing, I closed my eyes and listened to the women's laughter and conversation. Then all their joyful chatter quieted. I could hear only the breeze tickling my ears and a bird's trilling. I inhaled the farmland fragrances of anticipated springtime.

I prayed: Dear God, I'm not strong enough to make it on my own. I need you, now and forever.

A mantle as smooth and plush as velvet seemed to drape itself across my shoulders, comforting and soothing my weary soul. It was as if the God of the whole universe had materialized in this barnyard to tell me I'd never be alone again. He was a better father than Pops could ever be. He would never let me down. Would never abandon me as my mother had. I experienced peace and tranquility I'd never felt before.

I opened my eyes to see Pops watching me with a worried expression. “Well, of course you'd want to meet your mother,” he said.

“Maybe next year. You're the guy who raised and loved me. And you were right, she could have found me if she'd wanted to.” I took his hand, the one I'd held on to all my life. “I've got more important things to think about right now.”

“But can you ever forgive me?” His voice cracked.

“Yes, of course.” The art of forgiveness; it was time I learned it.

CHAPTER 35

Carrying a couple doughnuts, Armin sauntered over to us. “I've got to head to my place.” He handed me one. “Would ya like to come with me, Sally?”

When I hesitated, Pops said, “Sure, go ahead, honey. I need to talk to the bishop.”

Strolling with Armin along the side of the road, I sank my teeth into the most scrumptious chocolate-covered doughnut ever. I was surprised my taste buds still functioned after all I'd been through. Maybe everything was better with Armin at my side.

I'd left Ginger with Lizzie and Rhoda; Rascal tugged on his leash—a gift from Nathaniel—in front of Armin. After swallowing his doughnut down in two gulps, Armin seemed quiet. I considered the possibility he was pondering our relationship and having second thoughts.

My legs grew heavy. I reminded myself Armin had endured a long day and then helped subdue a fire. The Zooks' barn still stood intact. Pops was safe and the two of us reunited. And Lizzie had dumped her lowlife boyfriend. Answered prayers aplenty. The words to “Amazing Grace” filled my head: “I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see.” No matter what happened between Armin and me, I would praise God.

My labored steps lightened. We passed Nathaniel and Esther's stately home and walked until we reached a two-story white clapboard house. Green shades covered the windows at half-staff. A small Daadi Haus clung to a corner, where Esther's mother, Anna, had once lived. A freshly painted white picket fence, a mailbox, and a curved trellis greeted us.

“I've never seen such an inviting entrance,” I said.

He sent me a darting glance. “Do ya mean it?”

“Absolutely. Couldn't be prettier.”

The color in his cheeks heightened; Armin looked younger. He unclipped Rascal, who bounded onto the wide porch.

“We're using the front door?” I mounted several steps.

“Yah, for today. I want to make a fine gut impression.”

Aha, he was nervous.

He opened the unlocked door, and Rascal hastened ahead of us. Following the energetic canine, we crossed the front hall and strolled through the living room. I savored every detail: the polished wooden floorboards and throw rugs, a stone hearth. I envisioned myself nestling in front of it with Armin.

He must have noticed I was lagging. “Come on, Sally.” He took my hand and led me into the kitchen, where Rascal sat waiting by the refrigerator. A table large enough to accommodate ten to twelve dominated the room. The counters looked newly varnished, as did the oak cabinet doors. I glanced at the walls: a light cerulean blue, like a rippling creek on a sunny day—the color Armin said he saw when he looked in my eyes. I hadn't realized my eyes were so beautiful. Which made me feel beautiful and feminine.

“Well, what do ya think?” he asked.

“It's
wunderbaar
,” I said, taking my first stab at Pennsylvania Dutch. But I knew his question was serious and the implications of it lay as deep as the ocean floor.

My mind churned with insecurities. I was touched that he'd gone to all the trouble for me. But was I really the woman to fulfill his dreams and was he the right man?

I peeked out the window and admired the freshly painted white barn—smaller than Nathaniel's, yet substantial. Not to mention several outbuildings and a towering silo and corncrib.

“Can ya imagine yourself living here?” Armin said. “With me, that is.”

I faced him and felt a tingling of attraction. I reminded myself: Armin was not asking me to go to a movie; he was proposing marriage and that I join the Amish church. I replayed the bishop's words in my mind and deliberated all the doubts and burdens I carried. Most self-imposed, if I were honest with myself. Our pastor in New Milford had said we should give our troubles over to the Lord. But it was hard to let go.

“My top priority needs to be my father,” I said, knowing I was sidestepping Armin's question.

“I heard him tell Reuben he'd help rebuild the workshop tomorrow. The two of them are starting a new business making rocking chairs—after running the idea past Bishop Troyer, of course. I can't imagine the bishop will disapprove.”

“Pops means well, but he might not be able to fulfill his promises.”

“Yah, I know he's ill. But today, he proved he's a brave man.”

“Sometimes people dive into things without thinking them through.”

“He had the courage to raise you, Sally. For that alone he's gained my admiration.”

“He got stuck with me. That's how it happened.”

“Maybe we could all say the same thing. But some people run away from their obligations. I did, for many a year after our parents died. But Nathaniel never gave up on me. Nor did the bishop.” He extracted a meatless ham hock from the refrigerator, then opened the door to the utility room and gave the bone to Rascal, who carried his booty to a private spot.

Armin closed the door behind him and washed his hands. “By the way, I asked your dat to come live in my Daadi Haus after we get married, and he agreed.”

“Pops living here?”

“Yah. We'll want him to move in, eventually.” He gave me a slow smile. “Ya want to come out and see my new Percherons? Four perfectly matched beauties.”

“Armin, what are you trying to do, change the subject?”

“Nee, I'm wanting to show my future wife her farm.”

“But Bishop Troyer said I should try living the Plain life for at least six months, if not a year. Even then, he may not think I'm ready. And I might not be.”

“Yah, I know you could change your mind and drive off into the sunset in a sporty red coupe. But I don't think ya will. Not with Thunder and me willing to take you anywhere ya need to go in the county and a passenger van at your disposal. Once we marry and start a family, you'll want to stick around. I'm sure of it.”

I envisioned myself cradling a baby while a toddler crawled on this very floor. As much as I longed for a husband and children, was the whole notion of my becoming Amish insane, like a tightrope walker without a net? “But, Armin—”

“I know all I need to know, Sally. Except for one thing. Do ya love me as I love you?”

I recalled the night we'd met, the evening he'd driven Thunder and the buggy in the snowstorm, his arrival after the break-in, and battling the fire. At what point had I given him my heart? He owned it now hook, line, and sinker, as Pops would say.

“Well, do ya?” His brown eyes were intense, eating me up.

“Yes, I do love you, Armin King.” My whole world centered around him. “I didn't know what love was until I met you.”

“Me neither.” I heard an unexpected hitch in his voice, as though he were holding back tears. He placed his hands at my waist. “I'll never leave nor forsake you, like your Mudder.” As he said the words, her fuzzy image lingered like a phantom on the periphery of my mind. I would not allow her to rob me of my happiness again.

“Do ya look forward to becoming Mrs. Armin King and living on this farm?” Armin tilted his head and gave me an adorable grin.

“Yes. But will I ever fit in the community?” All my life I'd wanted to belong.

“You already do, my darling Sally.”

He kissed me with such tenderness I could hardly breathe. I sank into his embrace, his strength supporting me.