Living in Harmony (19 page)

“You know him better than I.” She filled a bowl of her own with oatmeal.

Thomas leaned back in his chair. “When we were boys, he used to plan exactly what he would do on the first nonpreaching Sunday of warm weather while we were still buried under a foot of snow. He studies seed catalogs in January, even though he'll invariably plant the seeds he saved from the previous year.”

She reflected on this. To her, the information only underscored her point. “Does this behavior even remotely sound like Amy?”

“No, but opposites attract, Sally. Look at us.” He winked one magnificent blue eye at her.

She frowned, even though she agreed with him on some level. Personalities often differed with long-married, happy couples. But something about Amy and John's engagement didn't set right with her. His impatience to marry sent up—what did the
Englischers
call it?—red flags. “I really like Amy,” she said finally. “Not that I don't like Nora, but I seemed to have…bonded with her sister.”

“That's
gut
. If she stays and marries John, you'll have a friend besides a sister-in-law.”

“
If
she stays and marries?” Sally pounced on that like a cat. “Your word choice indicates you have doubts too, Thomas. Your
bruder
needs a more docile, pliable
fraa
than Amy King.”

He stood and lifted Aden from the chair. The boy had eaten all he intended to and was now just making a mess. He carried him to the sink, removed his soiled bib, and washed his hands and face. “I have no doubt that the correct path will be made clear for both Amy and John. In the meantime, it's important that others don't unduly interfere.” He lowered his chin and fixed her with a cool, steady stare. He set Aden down on the floor, clean and dry again.

“Me, interfere? Surely you jest.” Sally used another favorite English expression, even though Thomas's meaning was crystal clear.

Thomas peered out the back window and then dropped the curtain back in place. “She's on her way in, so our conversation about
your
true nature must wait for another day. And she's carrying a heaping basket of cabbages. You two will have your work cut out for you this afternoon.”

“Perhaps women need to burn off steam too.” Sally cleared the table of their breakfast dishes. “Oh, I almost forgot. Your other
bruder
came home last night, very late. I heard him on the stairs to the cellar. He made quite a racket, actually, as though he kept stumbling.”

“It must be too rainy up north to cut lumber. They give the men a few days off until things dry out. Otherwise, heavy trucks could get mired in the muck.” He shrugged on his coat, looking ten years older than five minutes ago. “Have you talked with him yet?”

“Only to say good morning. He took a shower, made two sandwiches, and headed toward the fields. He muttered something about checking fence lines.”

Thomas nodded as though deep in thought. “No mention as to how long he might stay this time?”

“
Nein
. I've told you all I know.” Sally felt a shiver of something dreadful. When Thomas swept open the door, he nearly ran headlong into a streaky-faced Amy.

“Whew,” she said, sliding past him. “All picked—the cabbage,
squash, zucchinis, and brussels sprouts—every last one of them.” She hung her cloak on a peg and headed to the sink to wash.

Sally poured her a mug of coffee. “Thomas said you have a full bushel of cabbage for us to chop and can.”

“
A
full bushel?” she asked. “There are five bushels lined up on the porch. He must have only seen me haul up the last one. I hope you slept well last night, because we'll need our energy today.”

Sally sighed and then remembered something her
mamm
loved to say: The Lord never gives us more than we can handle.
Five bushels to can
?
We'll be inventing recipes for cabbage pie and cabbage bread before all those jars are gone.

“Get up, John, before the morning gets away from us.”

With a start, John bolted upright and fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand. In the dark room he sensed rather than saw Thomas looming above him.

“Were you planning on sleeping till noon?”

“I guess not.” John threw back the covers. “What time is it?”

“Half past four. Have you forgotten? We're spreading manure today.” Thomas backed away, allowing his brother space to get out of bed. “Just like the old days. You can sleep through thunder and lightning, gunshots, and even the snores of our little brother.”

John went to his dresser, where a basin and pitcher of cold water awaited. The floor chilled his bare feet. “
Danki
for waking me. I was having a bad dream.”

“What about? Did you arrive late to lunch and the man in front grabbed the last piece of chocolate cake?” Thomas raised the window shade, letting it go with a snap. Whereas John could sleep through just about any ruckus, Thomas loved creating them.

“No, Amy and I were on a country dirt road at the height of summer. She kept running away from me, and I couldn't catch her no matter how hard I tried.” John gazed into the small mirror before splashing cold water on his face. “She had an expression of pure terror on her face each time she looked back at me. I knew we were approaching the edge of a steep cliff and wasn't able to warn her. Just like spooked cattle, we were doomed to tumble over to our deaths.” He shook his head to dislodge the unsettling nightmare. As he buried his face in a soft towel, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Get hold of yourself. There are no deep abysses in the area, no dirt roads, and Amy is downstairs with Sally and Nora, preparing to leave.”

“Leave? To go where?” John tossed the towel on the bureau.

“Where's your memory today? I mentioned at supper last night that we would spread manure this morning. It's supposed to be sunny for a few days to give it a chance to dry before we till it under.”

John reached for his work trousers from the chair. “Why are we fertilizing already? It's still September. We never did this until late October back home.”

“Fall comes earlier here in Maine. I'll see you downstairs.”

“Wait. Where are the women going?”

“Sally never sticks around while I fertilize. The smell turns her stomach. The women are meeting at Martha's house. Her neighborhood plans to spread next week, so then they will probably congregate here. They will quilt all day long, breaking only for meals and tending to little ones. But I bet they will do as much talking as sewing.” Thomas headed toward the door.

“Amy will be gone the entire day?” John tugged a clean shirt over his head.

“Don't worry. Sally will fix a plate of sandwiches for our lunch. And she's making a pot of chili for our supper.”

“It's not my belly I'm concerned with. Amy still hasn't seen the two farms for sale that I like.”

“All in good time. Patience is a virtue we need to cultivate.” Thomas closed the door behind him, not waiting for his brother's response.

All in good time
, muttered John, tugging on socks.
At this rate, I'll hobble into church with a cane on my wedding day.

In the kitchen, chaos reigned as Sally and Amy bustled around making breakfast, lunch, and dinner for them. Aden attempted to eat scrambled eggs on his own, while Jeremiah howled in his portable crib in the corner, demanding attention. However, when John entered the kitchen, the real eye-opener slouched in a kitchen chair. Elam Detweiler—tall and thin but muscular, with dark hair and eyes—was as different in appearance and temperament from his brothers as a man could be. His traditional Amish bangs had grown out, and he had a scruffy three-day beard, forbidden among unmarried men. Before him sat a plate of eggs and toast, barely touched, as he brooded over a travel mug of coffee.

“Good morning, brother,” said Elam in English. “Glad to see you could join us. I'd hate to have all the fun of spreading manure without you.”

“
Guder mariye
.” John returned the greeting in
Deutsch
. “Some of us work hard every day and are bone tired when we fall into bed.” He sat down at the other end of the table.

“Good morning, John,” greeted Amy. “I bet you're hungry.” She served his plate of breakfast with a pretty smile.

“I am,
danki
.” Their fingers brushed when she set down his food, and the touch electrified him, erasing the last of his morning grogginess. After bowing his head to pray, he directed his question to her. “Did you sleep well?”

“
Jah
, just like a
boppli
,” said Amy over her shoulder. She scooped up eggs for the women.

“Babies don't sleep very well in this house,” said Elam. “Jeremiah's
cries kept me up half the night.” He leaned back in his chair and stretched out his long legs.

“I can't see how that's possible, Elam Detweiler.” Sally turned from the counter where she was fixing sandwiches. “Your bed is in the cellar, and Jeremiah was in his crib upstairs with us.”

Elam laughed and hooked a thumb toward the crib. “You must be immune to the noise, because I'd recognize my nephew's voice anywhere.”

John concentrated on his plate of food, tamping down a retort. He had no right to interfere in Thomas's household, however much he wanted to.

When Sally refilled coffee mugs, she served Elam last. “The boy has been fed and his diaper is dry. Sometimes babies just cry. That's life.” She flashed him a scowl before she resumed making sandwiches.

“Perhaps someday your future
fraa
will give birth to the first non-crying baby,” said Amy between bites of eggs. She stayed by the stove to eat while she stirred the pot of chili. “Then he'll be written about in a medical journal somewhere, and the Elam Detweiler family will be famous.”

John took a bite of toast, but it had suddenly turned dry and hard to swallow. For some odd reason, he didn't like his bride-to-be engaging his younger brother in conversation.

Elam smiled at Amy over his cold food. “I don't intend ever to marry, Miss King, but I appreciate your confidence that my son would be extraordinary.”

“Never say never. The right woman could turn even your immovable head.”

Elam's raucous laughter drowned out the baby's crying. “Someday you will be a lucky man, John, but this gal will keep you on your toes.” Elam pushed away the plate and rose to his feet. “Are we about ready to start spreading autumn joy?” His gaze shifted between his brothers.

John wiped up his eggs with a bread crust and then carried the plate to the sink. “I'd like to say goodbye to Amy. I'll meet you outside.”

“Isn't young love sweet?” Elam strode out of the house with an arrogant swagger, leaving his full plate on the table. Two pairs of eyes followed him to the door. One pair belonged to Thomas, whose expression remained dour, while the other belonged to Nora King. She'd watched him from across the kitchen with utter fascination.

John swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. “Have a good day quilting,” he murmured to Amy, in the un-private company of others.

When he joined his brothers, Thomas assigned John and Elam to work as a team to spread the liquefied composted manure across the harvested fields. Elam chose to ride in the seat driving the team of draft horses. John would ride on the backseat, assuring that the supply to the spreader remained constant. Other than a few annoying flies, work went well that morning. But after lunch the Belgians became mired in a low, swampy section of field. Without hesitation, Elam applied the whip to the horses' backs.

John swiveled around. “Stop that! Thomas never whips his team, and neither do I.”

Elam sneered. “How exactly can I get them out of this quagmire?”

“If you'd been paying attention, you could have avoided the low spot,” snapped John.

“It's too late to worry 'bout that now.” Elam used the whip again on the straining horses.

“If you strike them one more time, I'll take that whip to your hide,” John shouted. There was nothing ambiguous about his intentions. He jumped down into the muck, walked around the
equipment, and positioned himself between the Belgians. He patted their sweating flanks to calm them. After a minute he took hold of their halters and led them onto higher ground.