The Fiddler (25 page)

Amelia shifted on the white wooden bench. She had a hard time imagining this. “But . . . what if love doesn’t show up? What then?” She thought of Byron again and struggled to catch her breath.

“We can trust God to lead us in all things, including the choice of a mate. He is sovereign and does all things well.” Joanna’s eyes glistened.

Amelia’s own parents had often said as much. As for herself, though, she had never really consulted God where Byron was concerned. She sat there, her fiddle case lying on the latticed floor, and let Joanna’s words sink in slowly—along with the truth of what they could mean for herself . . . and for Byron.

———

When it came time for the noon meal, Amelia politely asked if she could pack a small sack lunch. She needed to practice longer today than yesterday. Rhoda quickly volunteered to make a tuna salad sandwich and sent an apple and a thermos of lemonade to go along with it. Grateful for their thoughtful hospitality—and flexibility, too—Amelia drove down Hickory Lane with her lunch and her father’s fiddle.

Today she hoped to find a spot farther removed from Joanna and her family to give them a break. A shady clump of trees near what looked like an empty corncrib and an Amish phone shanty seemed the ideal spot. So she pulled onto the wide shoulder and removed her fiddle from its case, tuned up, and began to practice, starting with the first major scale, and then the corresponding relative minor.

She played through her warm-ups, then moved on to a concerto. And as she played, she wept. Was Ella Mae’s beautiful, heartfelt advice meant for her? She
had
swerved off the path from her calling, listening instead to the direction of others. Did her life really have a purpose beyond that, and could it include marriage and even children someday?

Hours later, when she had worked up a sweat, thanks to the high temperature and humidity, Amelia returned to the Kurtz farm and showered for the second time. She then gathered up her clothes, intending to wash them by hand. Joanna, however, quickly suggested she wait until washday tomorrow.

Amelia didn’t want to cause a fuss on the Lord’s Day, but she wanted to have something clean to wear for her trip home in the morning. Quietly, she gathered her few items of laundry and headed to her car, fiddle in hand in case she found another opportunity to practice while away. She felt caught up in a maze of do’s and don’ts.
The riddles of the Amish life
, she thought, a little frustrated. But at the same time, she couldn’t deny being incredibly intrigued by their life-style.

Lillianne sat on the back porch, longing for some relief from the oppressive afternoon heat while reading seven chapters from first the old German Biewel and then the same number of chapters in the King James Bible. Toward the end of her reading, she began to doze off. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a nice long nap in her own bed, but it was much too hot upstairs.

She looked out at the grazing land to the east and noticed the cows clustered under a grove of trees. The barnyard was still, as well. She listened for Paul inside but didn’t hear his snoring—her poor husband had been extra tired since the accident. An injury like that took a lot out of a body. Of course, he might very well be out on the front porch reading the Bible, too.

Earlier, she’d heard Michael asking permission to take the family carriage. Paul had been in the kitchen then and said it was all right, as long as Michael was back before suppertime. And now here was Michael, returning to pick up Elizabeth, who still looked surprisingly fancy in Amelia’s skirt and blouse. Michael smiled gaily and waved at her from the buggy, with Elizabeth now sitting to his left. Surely they were heading to Elizabeth’s parents’.

“Oh,” Lillianne said aloud, suddenly grasping the reason for her son’s cheerfulness. Then and there, she was mighty sure he’d spent time with Amelia!
That’s what!

“Do ya think someone who’s sinned many times can ever find forgiveness?” Elizabeth asked as Michael hurried the horse along Hickory Lane.

“From God or the People?” Michael replied.

“Well, both.”

Holding the reins, Michael considered his niece’s state. There she was, sitting in an Amish buggy and wearing the prettiest English outfit, going visiting with someone who was every bit as on the fence about the Amish church. “I guess it depends if that person’s truly remorseful and ready to quit sinning.” He glanced at her, assuming she was talking about herself and trying not to let on. “Remember, God sees the heart. He knows when a person is genuinely sorry and ready to walk the straight and narrow.”

Elizabeth hung her head.

“The Good Book says that if God calls and we answer, we belong to Him—we’re His children from then on. Sure, we may sin from time to time, but if we love Him, we no longer care ’bout going our own way.” He paused. “We no longer continue in our sin.”

Elizabeth seemed to mull that over, then gave him a sidelong glance. “Do you think it’s a sin not to join church, uncle?”

“The Bible doesn’t address becoming a member of a physical church. It does talk about the fellowship of believers, though—it’s actually a command not to forsake gathering with other Christians. I wouldn’t think of saying anything against that.”

“So are
you
goin’ to join church this fall?” asked Elizabeth.

The questions had started out seemingly innocent enough, but now she’d put him in a corner.

“You’re not answering,” she pressed him.

“I can’t.” Michael wasn’t ready to discuss this now, as they approached the Kurtz farm on the way to Elizabeth’s parents’ house. Not when Amelia’s car was missing from Nate’s driveway! In fact, Elizabeth’s words were getting lost somewhere between hearing and comprehension as he worried that Amelia Devries might have quietly exited Hickory Hollow when he wasn’t looking.

Would she do that?

N
ot wanting to ruffle more feathers, Amelia had slipped on her last clean outfit before excusing herself from the house in search of a laundromat. She drove south to Route 30, where there were plenty of fast-food options, as well. A grilled chicken sandwich sounded good, so she ordered that and ate it once her small load of laundry was in the wash cycle.
Joanna must think I’m a heathen, doing my wash on Sunday.

Amelia wondered how Elizabeth was doing today, hoping no one at the Hostetlers’—including Michael himself—was rankled over the fancy outfit. It was hard to think of Elizabeth returning for very long to Hickory Hollow . . . not after living in the fast-paced modern world.
Unless she wants to slow down after experiencing the other side of the fence.

Once Amelia’s clothes were dried and folded, she drove contentedly around the back roads south of Strasburg, exploring Amish farmland. She enjoyed the drive along White Oak Road, where barefoot Amish children played in the yards, some jumping on a trampoline. There were teenagers—mostly courting-age girls—talking and laughing softly, strolling in groups of threes along the road. Some held hands, like Amelia had seen Friday while she walked with Michael.

Eventually she circled over to the periphery of Gap, again on the back roads. It was then that she remembered there was to be a barn Singing in a neighboring church district that evening. She drove back northwest toward Bird-in-Hand again, wondering if she could possibly locate the youth gathering. She was definitely interested in witnessing this Amish social event, even if from afar.

As a girl, she had seen open buggies heading to one barn or another on certain Sunday evenings, usually at dusk. Even back then, the idea of leaving the house at twilight to meet the boy you loved or to visit with other young people of like faith was appealing to her.

Her mind returned again to her conversation with Joanna earlier that day about faith and its role in courtship. And as she drove, Amelia rehearsed the facts of her relationship with Byron, knowing what she must do.
First thing, when I get home . . .

Joseph and Lena Hostetler were clearly shocked when they saw their daughter’s bruised and bandaged face, and broken arm . . . as Michael and Elizabeth walked into their kitchen. Michael knew his brother well enough to know that Joseph’s expression was one of great concern. He must be wondering what his only daughter had gotten herself into by being so rebellious. Her worldly garb didn’t help things, either, and Joseph, always outspoken, even went so far as to point this out.

Poor Elizabeth tried to explain that she had been wearing English clothes all during the months she was living in Harrisburg. “So this is really nothin’ new for me,” she argued.

“But you’re home now.” Joseph cast a frown at his wife.

Lena intervened. “Go ahead and get settled back in your room, dear.”

“Just so ya know, Mamma, I’m not stayin’ for long. I’m only here for a short visit.” Elizabeth looked warily at Michael.

“Well, say!” hissed Joseph, glowering at his daughter. “So you’re goin’ back to the world, then?”

Elizabeth bowed her head and then headed for the back door.

Michael went mum, feeling mighty awkward, too. Little good it would do to speak up in Lizzie’s defense.
And with this sort of welcome, she’ll never want to stay.