Living in Harmony (48 page)

Emily considered her reply before speaking. Should she mention that their district might soon become far less liberal if one of their ministers got his way? She glanced at Nora and quickly decided to hold off on full disclosure. The woman had just arrived in a strange land where she knew no one…and the bus back to St. Louis doesn't even run tomorrow.

“We're more liberal than the districts near Seymour, Missouri,” she said. “But why don't you wait to learn all the details? Let me show you to your room. You can bring up your bag and start to unpack.”

Nora rose gracefully to her feet. “Will I share the room with your daughter? Sally didn't mention whether or not you had
kinner
.”

“We haven't been blessed…yet.” Emily hoped her greatest sorrow wasn't obvious as she walked toward the doorway.

“
Danki
for opening your home to me, Emily.” Nora followed on her heels. “I so wanted to move here after Sally described her childhood and
rumschpringe
while courting Thomas.”

“
Jah
, but I wish he hadn't taken my sister so far away. At least she's happy in Maine, so that's what counts.” Emily led the way up to the bedrooms and chose her words for the second delicate topic in almost the same number of minutes. “Sally mentioned her brother-in-law's relocation had something to do with
your
coming to Missouri.” Emily opened the door to the guest room, which would be Nora's for as long as she wanted it.

She walked straight to the blanket chest and deposited her bag. “Partially, I suppose. Elam and I became friends when I lived in Harmony. But it really was Sally's description of Paradise that fascinated me.” Nora smiled with genuine warmth. “The fact her kin still lived here helped me decide because I didn't want to return to Pennsylvania. I hope to run into Elam if he's around. He mentioned taking a grand tour in his new car. He even planned to see the Ozark Mountains, wherever they are.”

“He brought a car?” asked Emily, shaking her head. She pulled down the window shade against the night. “The Ozarks are in Arkansas, to the south. A cousin said Elam lives somewhere in the county, but he hasn't shown his face here or at a preaching service yet, I might add.” She fluffed both of the pillows. “You'll find him, I suppose, if it's meant to be.”

Emily walked to the door. “You have time to unpack and take a nap before dinner. Come down about five o'clock. I wound the clock on your bedside table.”

Nora hurried toward her hostess and embraced her shyly. “I am so grateful to you.”

“There's nothing wrong with making a fresh start.” Emily hugged the thin woman, patting her back.

Who has made her afraid of her own shadow? And what has gone on in my sister's home? Thomas Detweiler seemed like a good man when he married and took away Sally five years ago.

“Giddyup there, Nell. I can walk faster than you're pulling this buggy.” Solomon Trask shook the reins above the mare's back, but he did not slap them down. No sense in startling the old girl. She was probably enjoying the warm April sunshine on her flanks, the sweet smell of apple blossoms tickling her nose, and the absence of traffic on the county road—increasingly rare for Saturdays.

The horse dutifully picked up the pace to a
tad
quicker than he could walk.

Solomon tilted his head back, letting the sunshine reach his face beneath his hat brim. How he loved spring! Overhead, songbirds filled the crystalline blue sky with their music, red-tailed hawks soared on wind currents, and waterfowl crossed the Great Plains back to Canada. Life was good. The Lord had richly blessed him with a
fraa
and six fine
kinner,
including four boys who had built their homes nearby. His sons had taken over farm duties so he could minister to the district, keeping the members on the straight-and-narrow path. If he failed in his responsibilities, the Lord might not continue to bless their growing community.

Since the drawing that had made him one of two district ministers for life, he had endeavored to adhere to the Bible. God hadn't provided His holy book as mere suggestions or helpful advice. His Word was law, and only through strict adherence could a man find direction in this life and salvation for the next.

A hollow, uncomfortable rumble in his belly reminded Solomon it had been hours since lunch, and at this pace it would be hours before supper. Should he stop to buy a dozen cookies at the next farm—one of the district's three bakeries? After all, his wife would appreciate an extra pie or two in case she hadn't found time to bake.

It wasn't long before he turned off the main road. Pricking up her ears, Nell trotted up the drive as though oats and a good rubdown waited up ahead.

However, Nell hadn't heard the whinny of another horse but the sound of a car radio. Loud, discordant music blared from a pickup truck parked in the side yard of the Morganstein farm. Solomon climbed from the buggy slowly and then tied the reins to a hitching post. As usual, his back spasmed from sitting too long.

“
Guder nachmittag
,” greeted one of the Morganstein sons.

“Good afternoon to you,” said the minister. “Could you bring my mare a bucket of water and maybe a little grain?”

The boy nodded and scampered off as Solomon trudged past the
truck. He headed toward Levi's leather shop, an outbuilding that had become popular on Fridays and Saturdays with English tourists. Solomon hadn't gone twenty paces when a sight stopped him in his tracks. Two of Levi's sons, both in their late teens, were talking with two English girls of around the same age. Doubtless, the girls belonged to the red truck. One was swigging soda from a bottle, while the other moved her body suggestively to the beat of the infernal music. Solomon's gut twisted into a knot. Both girls wore shorts far above their knees and blouses that didn't come close to covering their stomachs. He approached the foursome with building ire.

Luke Morganstein spotted him and spoke first. “Hullo, Minister Trask. My dad's in his shop and my mother is the house.”

Solomon noticed the boy spoke in English, not their dialect of German. He addressed the
Englischers.
“Where are
your
parents?”

The taller of the two girls smiled brightly. “My dad's buying a new jacket. You guys make the best leather stuff in the state. And my mom's over there checking out free-range chickens. She loves the idea of no cages and will buy every last egg available.”

Solomon followed the girl's long purple fingernail in the direction it pointed. The sight made his jaw drop agape. A middle-aged woman in a sweatshirt and tight blue jeans focused her camera, snapping pictures of the youngest Morganstein child, a girl of around three years old. The woman was actually posing the child by the henhouse. Bile inched up his throat, souring his mouth.

Sol turned to the teenagers. “Go back to your truck, turn off that loud music, and stay there if you don't have additional clothes to put on.”

The pair stared, blinked, and then bolted down the drive. The Morganstein sons vanished into the barn before Solomon could take two steps toward the chicken coop.

“Stop that,” he said. He hadn't raised his voice, but the woman froze and then turned like a corned animal.

“Stop what?” she asked, glancing around nervously.

“Do not take pictures of our people. They are graven images and are forbidden.”

She blushed to deep crimson. “I'm sorry. I didn't know that. What about the chickens and goats. Can I photograph them?” She sounded utterly sincere.

Solomon sighed. “Yes, animals and buildings are fine. Good day to you.”

He picked up the little girl and strode toward the house. Dealing with
Englischers
wasn't his calling—dealing with members of his congregation was. He opened the back door without knocking, a common practice among the Amish, and stepped into an overly warm kitchen.

“
Guder nachmittag
, Sol.” greeted Sarah Morganstein. “You look hot. How about a cool drink of water?”

After he had set the child down, she scampered for her mother's skirt.

“
Jah,
that would be
gut
,” he said, breathing in and out as he tried to control his temper.

Sarah handed him a glass filled to the brim. “I suppose you heard from the deacon that Levi worked on the Sabbath. He hadn't intended to, and it was only one time, but he had to fill a large order of leather chaps on a tight deadline. Of course, the deacon stopped by that particular Sunday and found Levi in his shop.” She tugged on her dangling
kapp
ribbons. “He's mighty sorry and told Jonas he would never do it again.”

The glass of water almost slipped from Sol's sweaty fingers as he sorted out the new information, although he had no idea what “chaps” were. “No, I hadn't heard. I wanted to say your sons are cavorting with half-dressed English girls and a woman was taking photographs of your little one.” He spoke in a raspy whisper.

Sarah blanched as she drew her daughter to her side. “I didn't know about the pictures. The tourists buy much from Levi and the bakery, helping pay the medical bills from my last surgery. But I'll keep a better eye on little Josie and my boys.”

“See that you do.” Solomon drained the glass and handed it back to her. “Tell your
ehemann
he broke the Fourth Commandment and
must confess on his knees on Sunday.” Then he marched from the house to his buggy without buying pies or speaking to Levi.

This wasn't the first time he suspected members were doing things they shouldn't on the Lord's Day. He would take the matter up with the entire congregation—and the sooner the better—before things spiraled out of control.

The Miller Family Series

A Widow's Hope

Never Far from Home

The Way to a Man's Heart

The Wayne County Series

Abigail's New Hope

A Marriage for Meghan

The New Beginnings Series

Living in Harmony

Standalones

Sarah's Christmas Miracle

An Amish Family Reunion

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