Living in Harmony (34 page)

Amy waved until Sally's buggy reached the bend in the road. Nora was already halfway back to the house. “You shouldn't have reminded Sally about Agnes's comment on the turkey sandwiches.” She ran to catch up.

“Why not?” asked Nora, waiting for her on the steps. “A person should be prepared to enter the lion's den.”

“And what would you know about that?” Amy held open the door.

“I attend services here in Harmony, don't I?” Nora walked into the warm, cozy kitchen. “What shall we mice do while the cat is away?” She winked one shiny green eye. “Maybe call the hired van to take us shopping in Waterville? We can bring home pizza for supper.”

Amy stared at the girl. “Have you lost your mind? I assured Sally we would tend to chores in her absence—not run off the moment she turned her back. We have lunch and dinner to make. And I thought we would wash walls to start fall cleaning.”

“I'm not sure who we're cooking for. I've haven't seen hide nor hair of Thomas or Elam. And John seems to be avoiding you lately.”

“He has chores, same as us. You finish up in here while I scrub the bathtub.” Amy walked away from her sister before she lost her temper. The woman had landed too close to the truth—John
did
seem to avoid her. But, after all, hadn't she requested some thinking time? Perhaps he was only giving her the space she wanted.

Their self-imposed separation ended at lunchtime. The side door banged against the wall as John paused long enough to toe off his mud-caked boots. Then he bounded into the room like a stallion jumping a fence. “Where are you, Amy?” he called.

“I'm right here!” She stepped from the walk-in pantry into the kitchen, flashing him a smile.

“Sorry about shouting. I didn't see you.” He hung up his chore coat and hat. “I talked to Thomas in the barn. The bishop agreed at last to let us join the marriage counseling classes. Thomas will provide any information we might have missed during the first class.” He grasped the chair back but didn't sit down. “Isn't that
wundabaar
?”

Amy felt a surge of affection for his excitement. Few men approached mandatory marital sessions with such enthusiasm. “It is. I'm glad he finally realized we're not running back to Pennsylvania on the next train from Portland.” She pulled bags of cold cuts, cheese, and condiments from the fridge for their lunch.

“A few new rules won't scare us off. Not since we've come to the land of milk and honey.”

“And where would that be?” Nora materialized in the doorway. “Surely you don't mean here. The thermometer says it's only twenty-five degrees outside. The bees are all dead and milk would freeze solid.”

John swallowed hard. “I am speaking of Harmony, sister. When someone is ready to buy a new home, he or she appreciates properties still affordable by the common man.”

Nora set the loaf of bread on the table and turned toward Amy. “It's too late to marry this season. November is half over.”

“Couples in this district can marry anytime—December, January, February. There's no wedding season here,” said Amy. “At least we can join the group that will marry before Christmas.”

Nora shrugged her thin shoulders. “They have no season because the district is so small. Who would come to these weddings
that you don't already see each and every Sunday?” She slumped into a chair.

“Probably so,” agreed John, building himself a huge sandwich.

Nora placed a modest portion of ham on her multigrain bread. “I wonder who'll be here for Thanksgiving dinner. Will it just be the six of us….and maybe Elam?”

Amy heard the note of delight at the mention of Elam's name but said nothing. But she set jars of pickles and beets down with a thud.

“It will be the same people who eat here every Thursday evening.” Thomas had entered through the back door silently and walked to his seat at the table. “The English holiday has no place in a Plain household.” He bowed his head in silent prayer as did the others.

When they finished, Nora stared at him. “What's wrong with Thanksgiving? It's simply a time to give thanks for the bounty of the Lord.”

“We need a special day on the calendar to do that?” Thomas aimed his piercing blue eyes at Nora. “We should express our gratitude daily, without fail.”

Nora picked up her sandwich but met his gaze. “I agree, but I don't understand the harm in this particular English celebration. It's just family and friends coming together to share a big meal.”

A muscle jumped in Thomas's jaw. “I've been to Thanksgiving dinners on occasion. Folks usually stuff themselves until painfully uncomfortable and then they fall asleep in their chairs. That's nothing but an exercise in gluttony.”

For several seconds no one spoke. Then Amy said quietly, “I do like the holiday, but you're right about overeating. I've been guilty of that myself in the past.”

“So, no Thanksgiving in Harmony?” Nora pressed the issue while nibbling her sandwich.

“
Nein
.” Thomas scooped pickled beets onto his plate.

“What about Christmas?”

He stared at her. “Surely back in Lancaster you didn't decorate a Christmas tree, hang stockings by the fire, and place a wooden Santa with sleigh and reindeer across the roof?” His tone was soft but deadly serious.

Amy exchanged an uncomfortable look with John. He held his giant, gluttonous sandwich in midair.

“Nooooo.” Nora dragged out the word. “But we baked pretty Christmas cookies to share, sang carols at church and singings, exchanged inexpensive gifts, and had another
big
turkey dinner.” Amy's gutsy sister didn't back down.

Thomas didn't reply to that, but his brows coming together above his nose and a mottled red complexion adequately expressed his opinion. He started to eat with urgency, as though suddenly remembering somewhere he needed to go.

“Well,” interjected Amy. “The meaning of Christmas is remembering the arrival of the Savior. I'm sure we can read the three accounts of His birth in the Gospels on Christmas Eve.”

Thomas nodded at Amy. “
Jah
, of course, you can. That's how we usually mark the holy day.”

John cleared his throat and changed the subject. “I told Amy that the bishop will allow us to take the marriage classes.”

Thomas fixed his blue eyes on Amy. “
Jah
, the bishop said you can join them. Is that your desire, Amy, to wed over the coming winter months?”

“It is. We would be married by now if we hadn't moved here.”

“But you did make the move. I hope you have found our district satisfactory to make a home in.”

“I have.” She set down her glass, squirming a little under his assessment.

“In that case you need to be at his daughter's house at three o'clock.” Thomas rose to his feet, pushing back his plate. “
Danki
for lunch.”

“
Today
?” squawked Amy.

“
Jah
and every other week for four sessions, always on the Thursday before a preaching Sunday.”

John was already shrugging into his coat. “I must check livestock in the pasture and clean stalls. Be ready to leave by two, Amy. An hour should be ample time to get there. His daughter doesn't live too far away.” He smiled gloriously, donned his hat, and left by the side door, as did Thomas.

“Does this mean we don't have to start fall cleaning today? I hate washing walls.” Nora pulled apart her sandwich to eat only the meat, cheese, and tomato slice. She tossed the homemade bread into the compost bucket.

A ripple of irritation nearly made Amy's eyes cross. “Nora King, if you're not the laziest person in this state, I don't know who is! We've enjoyed Sally's hospitality for
months
, yet you barely lift a finger to help her out. You should be ashamed of yourself.
Mamm
would be ashamed of you.”

Nora's eyes quickly filled with tears. She dropped the remnants of her lunch onto her plate. “I was only joking. I assumed we would at least start on one room.”

Amy carried a stack of plates to the sink. “Well, today you're not very funny. And we'll do more than just start a room. While I do the dishes, you move the furniture away from the walls in the living room.” She turned her back on her sibling, who left without uttering another word.

By the time Amy had cleaned the kitchen, her temper had cooled. She found Nora in the front room washing windows with vinegar and newspapers. The rug had been rolled up and the furniture sat in the center of the room. Yet despite her restored calm, she couldn't bring herself to apologize to Nora. That girl had pushed the limits of polite behavior for too long.

Unfortunately, because they toiled in silence, Amy couldn't stop work until the room was finished. Once they moved the
last chair back in place, Amy hurried to the bathroom for a long, refreshing shower. The hot water cascading down her sore muscles brought soothing relief. Her respite, however, proved short lived. A knock on the bathroom door broke her pleasant daydream of sunny weather back home.

“Are you about done in there? We need to leave within the next few minutes to arrive on time.”

Sheer panic paralyzed Amy under the stream of water. Why on earth had she let her hair get wet? But the warm water had felt so good on her prickly scalp. “I lost track of time.
Mir leid
, but I promise to hurry.”

“Amy, it's our initial meeting. What kind of an impression will we make if we're late?”

“I wanted to clean at least one room before Sally returned.” She shut off the water, grabbed a towel, and stepped from the tub, chillier than the room's temperature would warrant.

“Do you mean to say you're still dripping wet?” His tone was half growl, half mutter.

“The more we talk about the situation, the longer it will take me to get ready. Please, John, wait for me outside. I won't be long.”

Amy King kept her word. Never before had she dressed, towel-dried her hair, and braided it into a coil so fast. She grabbed her purse, bonnet, and cloak from the peg without taking the time to search for her sister. Supper would be Nora's sole responsibility. Amy ran out the door to their buggy. Yet her intended
ehemann
brooded all the way to the home of the bishop's daughter. Even though he trotted the Morgan as fast as he dared, they were still ten minutes late.

Once they were inside, Mary took their coats. “Did you get caught in a downpour?” she asked, studying Amy curiously. “I don't believe it rained here.”

“What? No, it wasn't raining along the way.” She gingerly touched her damp prayer
kapp
.

“Excuse us, Mary. We don't want to keep folks waiting longer than we already have.” John took Amy's arm and guided her down the hall and into the living room. Conversation ceased as all eyes turned in their direction. A moment later fond greetings of welcome sang out.

Amy tried to explain their delay, but Bishop Andrew shook his head. “All's well. Come sit close to the fire. You look cold.”

The group's friendliness, along with the bishop's patience, soon put Amy at ease. She noticed that even John stretched out his long legs and unclenched his hands after a while. They listened intently while the expectations of
fraas
and
ehemanns
were clearly defined. Then Andrew explained in detail the customs and procedures for the wedding day. Afterward, each couple shared their plans for starting married life. In most cases the young couple would live with one set of parents until able to build a home on the family farm.

“I understand you bought a farm on Waterville Road.” The bishop directed his statement toward William and Sarah, their new friends from the pig roast.

“Yes, but the place needs lots of work before it can be called a home,” said William. “We plan to live with Sarah's parents until the spring. John and Amy won't have to wait, though. They bought a really nice house on Thorndike Road—biggest house in the neighborhood.”

All eyes fastened on them. John seemed to puff up larger, but Amy shrank into her chair, not comfortable with William's boasting. Pride was never encouraged in any Amish community.

“Large,
jah
,” she said. “But that house needs plenty of work too. It hasn't been lived in for a while, and the elderly owners weren't able to do much upkeep when they were still there. If that's even the one we purchase…we're having a bit of disagreement about it.”

“How so?” asked Andrew, looking directly at John.

John deflated inside his shirt and vest. “I want to pool our money and pay cash, avoiding a mortgage altogether.”

“But that would deplete our funds,” interjected Amy, “leaving nothing for repairs or necessary furnishings or unexpected doctor bills.” She spoke louder than she'd intended. The hardwood floor, without the softening effect of an area rug, didn't help.

The bishop gazed at John and then at Amy. “I understand your concern, but it is the Amish way to avoid borrowing money whenever possible. God will provide for your needs, including furniture. And you'll have the entire district's help with major repairs or medical expenses.” He possessed the calm, gentle voice of a wise old man.