The Amish Sweet Shop, page 20
Truer words were never spoken. Hannah did exactly as she was told. For several hours she sipped tea and read messages of sympathy—everything from a few lines scribbled in a card to four pages of youthful memories. She helped her mother and sister make dinner just like in the old days. Then she slept soundly in her twin bed, despite Lydia’s snoring. But the next day was a very different story.
Hannah had always been an early riser, but when she came downstairs in the morning, everyone else was already up and dressed.
“Good morning, daughter. The coffee is hot and we have leftover carrot cake or banana bread for breakfast.”
“Both sound good.” Hannah poured a cup of coffee and took her usual place at the table. But before she could cut a slice of either, her mother demanded that she make a decision.
“Which would you prefer—helping me in the henhouse or helping your sister can the last apples from cold storage?”
Could I opt for choice number three?
Hannah waited until she’d swallowed the first delicious bite of banana bread to reply. “I’ll help you today, Mam. Do we just have to feed and water the chickens?”
“Unfortunately, no. It’s time for a thorough cleaning from floor to ceiling. Your sister holds her nose whenever she gathers eggs for me.”
Almost choking on her second bite of breakfast, Hannah washed the piece down with coffee and pushed away the plate.
“Don’t you like it?” Sarah asked. “Try some carrot cake. It might be more to your liking. Maybe you got spoiled with all that fancy English cooking.”
“I rarely eat English cooking. My stomach just feels a bit off. I’ll eat more after we finish with the chickens. I’d better go change my clothes.” Hannah ran upstairs to put on her oldest dress and then slipped on a pair of muck boots from the back porch. When she reached the henhouse, her mother had already shooed the hens into the fenced yard and closed the entrances to their nesting boxes.
“Here,” said Sarah. “Put this clothespin on your nose. You’re not used to the smell anymore.”
Hannah didn’t like clamping her nose shut with green plastic, but she liked breathing in the fumes even less. The clothespin at least made the chore tolerable. Breathing through her mouth, Hannah carefully gathered brown eggs from each box, while Sarah followed behind, scooping out the soiled bedding. After Hannah had collected four dozen eggs, she carried the basket to the stationary tub in the barn, where they would be washed and sorted. By the time she returned, her mother had hauled away the soiled straw and filled two buckets with soapy water.
“Time to scrub.” Sarah handed Hannah a bucket and brush with a gleam in her eye.
For several hours mother and daughter washed every inch of the henhouse, including the nesting boxes, ramps, and interior walls. When finally done, Hannah had a crick in her neck and a sour taste in her mouth, but the palace of the county’s best-laying hens was clean. Then Hannah filled the grain and water dispensers, while Sarah opened the doors so that the feathered ladies could roost. In they marched, clucking and cooing and talking amongst themselves like school children after recess.
Hannah pulled off her rubber gloves. “I’m going to the barn to clean up, Mam.”
“Oh no, dearie. We still must wash the eggs, crate them, and store them in the refrigerator.” Sarah headed toward the barn, but Hannah stopped her.
“I’ll do that. Why don’t you start lunch? Dat will be in soon from the barn and hungry as a bear.”
Her mother grinned. “Good idea. My, it sure is nice having you home again.” Sarah started toward the house with a definite spring in her step.
As much as Hannah loved seeing her mother happy, she didn’t share her outlook. Although most Amish women liked farm work, or at least performed their chores stoically, Hannah found the work tedious and boring. But time alone in the barn would give her a chance to think about her future . . . or lack thereof.
For so many years, her goal had been to buy a farm. But with Daniel gone, buying a farm was out of the question. She would always have a roof over her head and plenty of work to do here. But it was difficult to move back to your parents’ home once you’d lived on your own. She loved working at the hardware store, but with Mr. and Mrs. Howard retiring, those days were numbered. But instead of pondering possible solutions, her thoughts of Daniel triggered a wave of grief that left her weak-kneed and breathless. When Hannah finished with the eggs an hour later, she was no closer to a solution than when she’d started. With a heavy heart, she climbed the rickety porch steps and entered a kitchen that needed a coat of paint. One thing was for certain about farms . . . there was always something to do.
The next morning after breakfast Hannah chose Lydia to work with. Her sister had washed, peeled, cored, and blanched two bushels of apples yesterday but still had more to do. After filling a thermos with coffee, Hannah joined her sister on the porch, where a stack of empty bushel baskets waited.
“Here, let’s put this on you.” Lydia pulled an apron with a giant front pocket over Hannah’s head. “I use these aprons when picking apples, but today they’ll keep our dresses tidier. Let’s take the empty baskets back to the barn and get more apples from cold storage.”
Hannah chuckled as she hefted several empty baskets to her hip. “I have harvested apples before. I’ve been living in Bluebird, not on Mars.”
“Yes, but Dat just bought these aprons last year.” Lydia picked up the other stack of baskets.
“We sell these aprons in my store.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot.” Lydia impulsively kissed Hannah’s cheek. “I’m so glad to have my sister back, even if it’s just for a few days.”
With her emotions barely beneath the surface, all Hannah could do was nod in agreement. “Tell me your news, Lydia. Sounds like you’ve met someone special.”
With a cold wind fluttering their kapp strings, twenty-two-year-old Lydia launched into a tale of summer picnics, hayrides, bonfires, and rides in his courting buggy. Seeing her sister so happy filled Hannah with joy during their multiple trips to the barn’s basement for apples.
“I think Nathan will propose soon. I hope to get married this December. It’s about time, no?”
“Any time is perfect as long as this Nathan is the right one.”
“Oh he is. I met him when he came to live with an aunt after his uncle broke his leg. Nathan’s from Ohio, but he said last week he wants to make Lancaster County his home.”
“I’m very happy for you,” she said with fond memories of her own courting days.
For hours while they washed, peeled, and cored, they chatted and enjoyed each other’s company, as they had years ago. But with so many apples, their workday was nowhere near over. Most Englishers buying a jar of pie filling or applesauce at the store have no idea how much preparation takes place before canning jars can be filled.
By the time they’d finished processing today’s load of apples, it was well past dinner and they had turned Mam’s tidy kitchen into a disaster zone. Their parents had already eaten cold leftovers and gone upstairs. Hannah was starving. Her hands were red and chapped. She’d cut herself twice and felt like she’d fallen into the steam bath along with the apples.
“A job well done,” said Lydia. “Thanks for your help.”
“I would like a few jars to take home.” Hannah dropped her voice to a whisper, knowing her mother might be somewhere close by.
“We’ll consider it your day’s pay.” Lydia placed six jars on the windowsill. “Let’s eat supper by the fire and clean up later. Why don’t you carry in two glasses of tea while I fix our plates?”
Hannah poured the drinks, then rocked in Mam’s rocker while the fire on the hearth crackled and popped. After a long day, the heat warmed and soothed her sore muscles, but it also nearly put her to sleep. Through the window, a million stars and a full moon illuminated the cornfields and rolling hills in the distance.
It was beautiful on a farm . . . but a person was usually too busy to notice.
Lydia carefully carried in two plates of food. “Glad you didn’t fall asleep. We’ve got fried chicken, buttered lima beans, and pickled beets, courtesy of some unknown kinfolk.” She handed Hannah a plate.
Hannah bit into a crispy drumstick. “Daniel’s aunt Sophie made the chicken and beans. Not sure who pickled the beets. Every one of his mam’s sisters is a wonderful cook. If we had bought a place near his parents’ farm, those women would have fattened us both up in no time flat.” Without warning, Hannah burst into tears. She set her plate on a table and covered her face with her apron.
Lydia put her dinner aside too, pulled over her chair, and wrapped an arm around Hannah’s shoulders. For several minutes the two sisters remained linked while one wept and the other consoled.
Then Hannah dried her eyes, wiped her mouth, and swiveled around to face Lydia. “At least I won’t gain too much weight while working in a hardware store.”
“Sounds like you’re going back to Bluebird.”
“I am. I love my job at Howard’s.
“I don’t know how you keep those facts and figures straight, but since you can, that’s where you need to be.” Lydia’s smile couldn’t have been more genuine.
“You have no idea how much your approval means to me,” said Hannah. Then she drew in a deep breath and updated her sister on the latest developments, including the national corporation’s interest in buying the store.
“Howard’s will become like every other chain hardware store. Won’t be much there for Amish folk,” Lydia commented.
Hannah sighed wearily. “I agree, but at least the new owner will most likely keep me on. After all, I’ve almost run the store singlehandedly for the last six months. And I can keep my apartment at the same rent.”
Lydia nodded. “Even if they don’t hire you, maybe you could work at Beechy’s Sweets. Cousin Rose seems very nice and she seems to enjoy it there.”
“Yes, she does.” But wheels were already turning in Hannah’s head as she jumped up to pace the porch.
“If that doesn’t work out, Mam and Dat would love to have you back. Or I would love it if you and your little one lived with Nathan and me. That is, if we get our own place, and if Nathan asks me to marry him,” she added. “And if I happen to say yes.”
Hannah stopped pacing and met Lydia’s gaze. Then they broke into peals of laughter. “I have missed you so much,” she said, rejoining her sister on the swing. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve come to a decision just now.”
The corners of Lydia’s mouth curved up. “What are you up to?”
“I’m going to buy Howard’s Hardware. I’ll go write them a letter right now. Mr. Howard should get it by the weekend.”
“Have you lost your mind? What will you use to buy it with?”
“The money Daniel and I saved for a farm.”
“Do you think he would have approved of such an idea?”
“Well, he sure wouldn’t want me buying a farm alone.” Hannah fought back another round of tears.
“Will it be enough?” Lydia asked after a moment’s pause.
The question quelled some of Hannah’s emotion. “I have no idea, but I must try.”
“I have two hundred dollars from selling eggs. You can have it.”
“Absolutely not. You’ll need that when you marry Nathan. That is, if he asks and if you say yes.”
“I will pray for your success each night.”
“And I will pray for yours.” Hannah hugged Lydia with a strength that belied their long workday. “In the meantime, don’t say anything to Mam and Dat. I’ll tell them when the time is right.” She picked up her plate to finish her dinner.
Lydia nodded and reached for her plate, too. “Feels like the old days when we were young, no?”
“You, dear sister, are still young.” But Hannah knew exactly what Lydia meant. When they were both young, everything felt possible.
Chapter 4
Seth Miller sat in his pickup, waiting for his brother to emerge from the house where they both were born. One Saturday each month, Seth drove Adam around to do his errands. More than likely, they would end the outing with a burger and fries. Not a single car passed by on the road, only Amish buggies. Would any of his former district members still recognize him? Did any of them wonder where he lived or if he still lived?
Seth forced random thoughts of the past from his mind, concentrating instead on the Holsteins around the feed stanchion in a barren pasture. For many generations Miller land had been handed down from father to oldest son. If the situation had been different, the house, barn, and profitable milking operation would one day be his. But since he’d never joined the Amish church, Adam and his wife would take over when his parents were ready for the dawdi haus and Adam would eventually inherit the farm.
Seth felt no jealousy and no animosity toward his younger brother. He didn’t miss the sixteen-hour days necessary to run a dairy operation. But he did miss his mother and two sisters. Both sisters had homes somewhere on the Millers’ three-hundred acres. With Mary and her family living on the back acres, and Rachel’s brood in a house around the corner, seeing either sister was a rare occurrence. At least whenever Adam mentioned that Seth would pick him up, Mam chose that time to hang out the wash. Today was no exception. Just as Adam emerged from the house carrying a plastic crate, Mam followed on his heels with her clothes basket. Once a month, the routine remained the same. She would carry her basket to the highest sunny spot, and wave at him like a tourist from a bus window. Seth always returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm.
His brother climbed into the truck with his usual greeting. “I have no idea why you can’t walk to the porch in a civilized fashion.”
Seth responded with his usual retort: “Good morning, brother. And you know why. Dat said never to darken his doorstep again.”
“A doorstep doesn’t include the porch. There’s no reason to park on the street and make me walk so far.”
“A little exercise is good for you.” Seth clapped a hand on Adam’s shoulder before shifting the truck into gear. “Where to today?”
“I want to check on grain prices at the elevator, pick up boots I had re-heeled, and stop at the hardware store in Bluebird.”
“Why go all the way to Bluebird? There are closer hardware stores.” Seth cast him a sidelong glance.
“Because Howard’s expanded its selection of hand tools. And because Amanda begged me to bring her vanilla bean fudge from Beechy’s. That skinny gal craves sweets, but then she only eats one piece. Guess who finishes the rest?” Grinning, Adam patted his belly.
“A few pounds will do you good. In fact, I think marriage has done wonders for you in general.” Seth pointed at the crate covered with a checkered cloth. “What did you bring me?”
“Mam baked you pies, one apple, and one peach. And she added two loaves of whole grain bread. That sliced, store-bought stuff isn’t healthy.”
“Tell her I said thank-you.” Seth ignored the nutrition comment.
“Plus, Mary knitted you a hat and pair of gloves. And not to be outdone, Rachel knitted you three pairs of socks.”
Seth felt a familiar pang of guilt and longing. “They shouldn’t fuss over me. Both have husbands and children to take care of.”
“You try telling them that. Rachel said she won’t rest until you’re back where you belong.”
“Maybe I already am. I have a nice apartment, a decent vehicle, and a good job.” Seth turned on the radio.
“You forget who you’re talking to.” Adam switched the radio off. “The way I see it, you’re no longer Amish but you’re not English, either.”
“I think you’ve been out in the sun too long.”
“Sure, you wear Levi’s but your shirts are still plain.”
“Maybe I haven’t had a chance to go shopping.”
“In five years? Plus, you still hold up your pants with suspenders, not a belt.”
“That doesn’t mean anything!” Seth struggled not to lose his temper. “I assure you, this particular carpenter uses a nail gun and a power drill. Please, let’s not go down this road again.”
“Whatever you say, but I’m starting to agree with Rachel. You’re just stubborn. You ain’t been shunned, yet you’ve cut ties with the whole family.”
Anger spiked up Seth’s spine. “It’s still Dat’s house and that man called me a thief and a liar.”
Adam sighed wearily. “But I know if you came around, hat in hand, you two could put this behind you. He’s getting old. Why can’t you forgive him?”
Same old argument, the same old outcome. Just once, couldn’t someone see their father as the stubborn one? Braking hard, Seth pulled to the side of the road. “Look, let’s drop it. I don’t want to argue on a Saturday.”
Adam nodded, but his jaw remained tight and he said nothing the rest of the way. Seth knew that Adam was trying to find a logical solution to the conundrum, but their sister Rachel was right: He was stubborn—a regular chip off the old block.
Once they reached the grain elevator, a beehive of activity on Saturdays, Adam found too many friends to talk with to continue an argument. Seth kept to himself on the sidelines until Adam was ready to leave. After a quick stop at the harness maker, who also repaired boots on the side, the brothers headed to Bluebird in better moods. Seth liked the charming little town, frequented these days by as many Amish as Englishers. Bluebird’s Main Street had thrived while other downtowns had fallen victim to big-box discounters by the interstates.
After parallel parking in front of Howard’s Hardware, Seth climbed from the truck slowly, stretching his back one vertebra at a time. Adam hopped out and bounded inside like a much younger man. Although Seth had no use for nonelectric implements and already owned all the power tools he needed, he wandered inside to pass the time. He found his brother at a spinner rack, where all sizes of batteries were buy one, get one free.
“Can you believe this price? All the popular sizes, too.” Adam placed several packs of C’s, D’s, and nine-volts into his basket.
