Living in Harmony (16 page)

“And you love him?” he asked, though it was an odd question coming from an Amish minister.

“
Jah
, I do,” Amy said with an air of perfect poise.

Thomas waited in vain for further elaboration. “Then you still wish to marry in the fall?”

Finally, her mask began to crack. “There is one matter I wish to see through before the wedding. I need assurance that my aunt is fine, and I want to tell her about Uncle Leon's death. John doesn't approve because Prudence is shunned.” She folded her hands on the table as though she'd reached a decision. “I don't wish to disobey him or begin marriage being disagreeable.”

Thomas ran a hand through his hair. “I see, but understand this: There is nothing you can do for Prudence. The situation cannot be helped.”

“But we don't know if she—”

“We
do
know she married Will Summerton as soon as they left Harmony in October of the year past. She is no longer Prudence Hilty.”

Amy's eyes seemed to grow larger. “Have you heard from her? I received no reply to my letter.”

“
Nein
, I have not. But the bishop checked into this to put the matter to rest. She is married and living on a farm with Will, without contact to an Amish community and without God. She is banned, Amy. Forever.” Thomas swallowed the last cold dregs, along with a mouthful of coffee grounds. “Perhaps she will write to let you know she's in good health, but then you must forget your aunt.”

Amy winced as though in pain. “The Lord forgave Mary Magdalene. She became one of His devoted followers.”

“Mary Magdalene sought forgiveness for her sins and was washed clean. Prudence Summerton hasn't asked to be forgiven. Her behavior has been selfish and willful.” Thomas waited, fully expecting the argument to continue.

But Amy clamped her jaw shut. After a few moments she said softly, “I will wait for a while to see if she writes. Then I will proudly become John's bride.”

“So be it,” he said, exhaling a weary sigh. Thomas patted her hand and rose to his feet, unclear why he felt unsatisfied with the first session.

He would wait before talking to John to let his own questions and insecurities settle, if for no other reason.

Crack!
Like a well-oiled machine, John bent down for the pieces of split wood, added them to the growing stack, and placed another chunk on the chopping block.
Crack!
Two more pieces of firewood would keep his brother's family warm that winter—and perhaps the King sisters and himself too, considering how things were proceeding. Thus far, chores kept Amy too busy to
accompany him to look at farms for sale. And he hated to make so important a purchase without her input. Of course, at the rate his brother and the bishop were dragging their feet, getting hitched before the first snow seemed unlikely.

Crack!
He'd seen one property with a fairly livable home large enough for a growing family, but the majority of land was wooded and had already been signed over to a wilderness preservation organization in a hundred-year lease. Another farm had plenty of tillable acres, but the house need to be bulldozed, not salvaged. He would hate to force mice, raccoons, bats, and snakes to relocate from their habitats.
Crack!
And why had Thomas put him off for the last few days? Since his counseling session with Amy, his brother had avoided him. “All in good time” was his answer for every question other than “Are there any more pickles?”

Crack!
Despite cooler temperatures, sweat ran down John's neck and forehead as he hefted another chunk up to the block. He planned to chop wood until his pile stretched to the road or he worked off his frustration, whichever came first.

Another hard to handle aspect of living in Harmony was the separation from Amy. In Lancaster they had been trusted to spend time alone without fear they would behave shamefully. They had gone to a restaurant once a month and swapped tales from childhood, laughing over each other's exploits. He'd taken her on moonlit buggy rides, where they would plan their future without Sally's frequent eavesdropping or Thomas's hawkeyed supervision. If they tarried too long saying good night on the porch, his brother invariably wandered out to offer bug spray or some other thinly disguised interruption. How he missed her companionship, her friendship, and her attention. If he dared to take her hand walking from the barn, she would pull away as though touching a toad. And stealing a kiss as he had under the grape arbor? He didn't dare. How he missed her soft lips, the scent of strawberries from her shampoo, and her tender touch on his arm.

How he longed for her!
Crack!
Another length of firewood split into equal halves.

The sound of squeaky door hinges mercifully distracted him from his depression. Nora struggled to drag his buggy from its parking spot under the barn overhang. He blinked to make sure he wasn't seeing things.
Nora is trying to hitch up the buggy?
Even more shocking than her labor was her attire—the same pale-green dress she brought from Pennsylvania, along with a white prayer
kapp
on her head. Her full-brimmed, black bonnet was nowhere in sight. John set down his ax and wiped his face with his handkerchief.
This is Amy's sister
, he told himself as he approached.
Treat her kindly and don't lose your temper.

“Can I help you with that?” he asked, reaching her side.

“Ah, John. You're a sight for sore eyes. I can't believe how heavy this is.” She dropped the wooden slats that attached to the horse's harness.

“You've never hitched up a buggy before?”

“Never.
Daed
always helped me…or Amy or Rachel. They are fonder of horses than I am.” She flashed a smile.

Nora was an attractive enough woman. The reason she had no serious beaus must be her strong opinions and lack of responsibility. No man wanted a wife who hid from distasteful chores and expected others to take up the slack. “Why don't I get the buggy ready while you go change your dress?” John kept his voice mild and nonconfrontational.

She lifted her chin. “Why on earth would I do that? I just ironed this one.”

John stepped around her to the buggy. “Where exactly are you going?”

“To the general store in town.” She crossed her arms in a woman's typical defensive stance. “I thought I'd go alone to get what I need because everyone else is swamped with chores.”

He contemplated several different irritations—such as the
ridiculous number of times a Plain woman
needed
to go to town and the fact that some of those
chores
should be hers. But he chose his battle carefully. “Were you planning to ask before taking the buggy?”

Despite his best effort, anger lifted his voice a notch.

Nora paused, squinting at him as though confused. “I was under the impression the horse and buggy belonged to you
and
Amy. I don't have to ask her for permission.”

John felt flummoxed, as though he'd been somehow outmaneuvered. “No, I don't suppose Amy would turn down your request. I doubt she ever denied you a single thing.” He had lost patience with his future sister-in-law.

Unexpectedly, she giggled at his sarcasm. “She has told me no once or twice, but I'll admit it's not often. So,
may
I use your half of the horse and buggy? I won't go any farther than Harmony, and I'll give the horse food and water when I return. But you'll have to rub him down,” she added sheepishly. “I promise not to pick up hitchhikers, and I'll be back before supper.” Once more, Nora offered a glorious smile.

“You may, as long as you put on a dark dress and a full bonnet.” John pulled up a long weed to chew.

Her expression changed in a heartbeat. “I look like a frumpy old woman in my new dresses. Sally's patterns must be for feed sacks, and the material is hot and scratchy.”

“You're the one who picked out the fabric, Nora. I won't have you flouncing around town like a youth on
rumschpringe.
That is not permitted here.” He crossed his arms too, but he immediately regretted his choice of words.

Nora's back stiffened. “They don't have much selection in dress fabrics here, John.” She intoned as though speaking to a naughty child. “And I don't
flounce
. I have never
flounced
in my life!”

“While we are living in my
bruder
's home—”

“Goodness gracious! What are you two arguing about?” Amy
materialized suddenly at Nora's side. “Sally heard you inside the house through a closed window.” She glared at one and then the other.

“I have no doubt that she did.” John hadn't meant to bark at Amy, but her appearance had caught him off guard. He closed his eyes to regain composure. “Nora wishes to go to town. I said that was fine as long as she changes her dress.”

“You are not
my
fiancé,” snapped Nora. “I don't have to ask your permission to live my life.”

Amy turned to face Nora, her mouth dropping open wide enough to catch crickets. “What's come over you, sister? And why are you wearing light green? I thought we buried that dress in the bottom of the bureau.”

Nora blushed to a shade of plum. “I hate my new dresses.”

“But you're the one who made them.” Amy glanced between her sister and John, confused.

“The fabric is stiff and uncomfortable. Besides, I hate that ridiculous bonnet. I don't see the point of not being able to see.”

“The head covering is a sign of modesty in public. Prayer
kapp
s are only for indoors. We have already discussed this,” said Amy, her own patience waning.

“Why does John control my comings and goings regarding the buggy? I thought it belonged equally to you.” Nora focused her cat-green eyes on Amy with a hypnotist's skill. “And he accused me of flouncing around. That word doesn't sound very nice. I'm sure I don't flounce.” Nora opted for a more modulated tone.

“No, you don't flounce, and the buggy does belong equally to me.” Amy turned toward her fiancé in a slow, measured movement. “Nora is my younger sister, John, not yours. And she is a grown woman, capable of making decisions.” Two or three seconds spun out as they stared at each other. “But I do agree her dress is inappropriate, especially considering the temperature today.” With the same slow motion, she turned back to Nora. “If you wear your full
navy cloak over the dress along with the bonnet atop your prayer
kapp
, you can be on your way. You may remove the outer bonnet once you get inside the store but not the cloak.” Amy smiled and laced her fingers together, as though pleased with the compromise.

Nora hurried toward the house for the outerwear.

And John? He stood holding up the buggy without the slightest idea as to how Nora managed to get her way…again.

Monday brought great relief to Amy, despite the additional workload of laundry day. Yesterday she attended Sunday school, helped Sally serve lunch to the men first, and then enjoyed a companion meal with the other women before the hymn singing. She'd already made a couple of friends in the district—one, an engaged woman like herself, and the other, a newlywed. And she seemed to have attained approval even from the elderly matrons.