Anna's Healing (3 page)

“Certainly, what we're doing is not unique to the Amish.” Anna twirled her
kapp
string around one finger. “After all, folks have been selling their extra produce in stands like this for ages—much longer than the hundred years the Amish have lived in Cody's Creek.”

Chloe's pen hovered over the sheet of paper. “I read that your community has existed for that long, but it's hard to believe. I grew up here and don't remember much about the Amish.”

“From what I've heard, the community was quite small at first. I believe the population began growing when land prices increased in the northeast.”

Chloe clicked her pen once, and then she placed it back inside her bag, which was a tooled brown leather. “You've been a big help, Anna. I appreciate it. Do you mind if I use your name in the article?”

“I suppose that would be okay.” It made no difference to her what Chloe put in her
Englisch
paper. She rarely ever saw a copy.

Anna watched the reporter walk back to her car, and something inside her—probably the same thing that had whispered
move to Oklahoma
—caused her to call out, “We'll have the corn maze open in
another week. You should come back. You can even take pictures—of the corn, that is.”

Chloe hitched her purse strap up on her shoulder. “I'd love that.” She opened the door to her little car, a small blue thing that looked as if it wouldn't go much faster than a buggy, and started the engine.

As she pulled away, it occurred to Anna that their conversation was the most exciting thing to happen to her in a week. Perhaps her
aenti
was right. Maybe she should go to the singing.

CHAPTER 2

C
hloe had barely driven her small car out onto the blacktop when Anna's
onkel
pulled the tractor up to the house.

Tractors!

When Anna had first heard that the Amish communities in Oklahoma had allowed them, she'd envisioned all sorts of things—differences in their dress, a broader role for women, maybe even a chance to do something she'd never done before. But when she'd arrived she had found that everything—except for the tractors—was the same as back home in Goshen.

She understood the allowance. She'd spent part of July and August helping with the family vegetable garden. The dirt was like the Play-Doh her little sister, Bethany, had once brought home from school—malleable at first but quickly turning to something that resembled concrete. Plowing with the big workhorses was difficult, and in some spots, impossible.

It was a mystery to her why her uncle insisted on keeping Snickers and Doodle, two workhorses he'd bought for a good price five years earlier. She'd asked her
aenti
about that.

“It seems the other Amish families here don't have any workhorses at all.”

“You're right.” Erin had continued hanging laundry as she spoke. “They use the tractors for everything, as is allowed.”

“But not
Onkel
Samuel.”

“
Nein
.”

Anna waited for more, but as usual her
aenti
was not very forthcoming.

“Is there a reason? That he keeps the horses, I mean. Is it better for the crops?”

“I couldn't say.” Erin pushed hair back into her
kapp
. The summer sun was hot, though it was early in the morning. “Your
onkel
, he's stubborn. That's the best explanation I can give you.”

Thinking back on those words, Anna realized her
aenti
wasn't criticizing her
onkel
, but rather stating a fact.

Regardless, Anna thought Snickers and Doodle were fine geldings. Both were chestnut-colored Percherons. Snickers had a dark-brown patch that stretched from between his ears to his nose. Doodle had white patches covering her head and neck. Both were strong horses, and she understood why her
onkel
was unwilling to part with them. What she didn't understand was why he'd bought them in the first place. Tractors had been allowed for many years before her family had moved into the area. What had he seen in the two Percherons to cause him to spend so much money on them? That money could have been used as a down payment on a new tractor.

Whatever the reason, Anna was glad he had. She enjoyed visiting the horses, especially when she was homesick for Indiana. Life in Oklahoma had certainly not turned out the way she'd imagined it would. Yes, farming was different and they drove tractors to town—something she still wasn't comfortable with, but that was the full extent of their
liberal
lifestyle.

Her
aenti
appeared on the porch, holding a plate filled with lunch. In Anna's opinion,
Aenti
Erin was thin to the point of unhealthiness. The woman looked as if she stood in danger of being whisked away by the Oklahoma wind. She insisted on wearing drab colors of black, dark blue, and gray—though their
Ordnung
allowed for much more diversity. Her skin was pale and creased, more wrinkled than someone her age should be, as if life's trials and tribulations had etched themselves on her skin.

Erin's hair was a different matter. Thick, chestnut brown, and wavy,
she attempted to keep it tightly pulled under her
kapp
. Always, though, tendrils snuck out. Anna loved her
aenti
's hair because it looked like that of a much younger woman. It proved that
Aenti
wasn't as old as she perhaps behaved.

Anna popped out of the booth and met her halfway.

“
Danki
.”

“It's no problem, child. How was your morning?”

“
Gut
. A little slow.”

“The woman in the car stayed a long time.”

Anna almost told
Aenti
Erin about Chloe Roberts and her news stories. Realizing any such information would be met with a lecture on remaining separate, she focused on her lunch instead. The plate held fresh bread covered with homemade peanut butter accompanied by an apple and two oatmeal cookies. She still had half the water in her thermos, the one she'd carried out with her earlier that morning.

“This looks
wunderbaar
.” Throwing a smile over her shoulder, Anna made her way back to the produce booth. If she had thought she would lose weight in Oklahoma, she was wrong. Her
aenti
and
onkel
might be stricter than even her own parents, but the meals were the same—chock-full of calories and fat. That didn't stop her from closing her eyes in a prayer of appreciation before she bit into the fresh bread.

Some might wonder how
Aenti
remained so thin, but Anna had watched her eat. The woman pecked at her food like a small wren.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, probably because instead of darning she spent a good portion of the time reading the book she'd brought home from the library. A prairie romance, it boasted a sticker on the side proclaiming it to be
Christian fiction
. Soon she was lost in another life, one similar to hers in many respects; however, it was set in a different place with unusual problems and interesting strangers. That alone was enough to bring a smile to Anna's face.

CHAPTER 3

T
hree days later, Anna found herself driving the tractor into town. This was a first!
Onkel
Samuel had never trusted her to drive alone anywhere before, but to be fair that may have been because there was rarely a need to go into town, and someone had to watch over the vegetable stand.

She would rather have driven the buggy, but Samuel had merely scratched his head and walked off when she'd mentioned it. He'd showed her three times how to operate the tractor. She was to put it in first gear to plow, but that wasn't something she needed to know. Neither was second or third, which were used for pulling heavy loads and mowing. She only needed to know neutral and fourth.

She stopped at a red light and checked her purse again. Yes, she still had the list.

The light changed and she attempted to pull through, but she popped the clutch and the tractor stalled. She ran Samuel's instructions through her mind—break, clutch in, start the engine, clutch out. The engine started, but she again let the clutch out too quickly. The tractor jerked forward a few feet, so that it now rested in the middle of the intersection, and then the engine again died. A car behind her honked, and several folks walking down the street turned to stare.

Anna ignored them. She'd driven a pony cart when she was in fourth grade, a buggy since she was in eighth, and even the large workhorses
her father used when harvesting. She could certainly handle an old blue tractor with a faded blue canopy, pulling the truck bed of a white Ford pickup.

This time when she started the tractor, it jerked and sputtered but didn't die. Breathing a prayer of relief, she continued on through the intersection and then turned right into Bylers' Dry Goods. Her mind slipped back to a simpler time, when she'd driven her parents' mare to town in Goshen.

But she'd wanted change, or she'd thought that was what she wanted. It seemed that Duchess had looked at her accusingly when she had left her
onkel
's farm. She'd take the mare an extra apple when she returned home.

Dropping the tractor keys into her purse, Anna scrambled out of the contraption and turned toward the store. She fairly bounced up the old wooden steps.

“
Gudemariye
, Anna.” Rebecca Byler smiled at her as she walked inside.

It was nearly noon, so the good morning greeting caught her by surprise, but Anna responded in kind.

“It's not often we see you out. I suppose Erin is home caring for your
Mammi
Ruth.”

“
Ya
. Doc says she needs to stay in bed a few more days, at least until she's able to eat all three meals again.”

“Summer colds can be terrible, especially for older ones.”

Anna nodded as she picked up a shopping basket. She spent the next twenty minutes filling it with items from her
aenti
's list. She also paused in the book aisle and perused the latest offerings. Rebecca didn't carry much, and what she did carry didn't actually appeal to Anna—books on farming, herbal remedies, and a small section titled “Plain and Simple Reading.” No doubt those books were for the tourists who stopped in, as no one Anna knew needed a book on
A Plain Life Without Electricity
or
Attending Amish Schools
.

Still, she enjoyed glancing over the entire selection. The book covers were crisp, shiny, and unbent. Opening one, she took a deep sniff.

“I'm going to have to charge you for smelling that book.” Joseph Byler leaned against his broom, trying to hide his smile by pulling down on his beard.

“Charge me? Will it be fifty cents or a dollar?”

Now Joseph laughed. “You'd probably pay it. I've never seen a gal who loves the book section quite like you do.”

Anna sighed and replaced the book on the shelf. “
Onkel
doesn't approve. He says my time is better spent on something useful.”

Instead of arguing with that, Joseph patted her shoulder with a large clumsy hand. As he walked away, he said, “Rebecca has something put back for you behind the counter.”

Rebecca and Joseph were probably the same age as Anna's
aenti
and
onkel
. She guessed they were in their early fifties. The difference was that while
Aenti
Erin and
Onkel
Samuel approached each day as if it was a huge burden, Rebecca and Joseph seemed to find joy in the smallest things.

Had their lives been so different? Or were people merely different in their hearts? In the way they went about their rest and worship and chores? Joseph couldn't be thrilled about sweeping the shop floor again, yet she'd never seen him when he wasn't smiling about one thing or laughing about another. Rebecca always had a pleasant word for everyone.

Anna had only been in the community a few months, and already these two were her favorite people. Their shop was often filled with tourists and Amish and
grandkinner
all at the same time. At the moment, one of Rebecca's youngest grandsons, a toddler named Simon, was seated on a stool playing with a small toy hammer and pegs.

Rebecca rang up her purchases, chatting about the weather and remarking on a baby that had been born to one of the couples in their district.

“I remember Katie because she was at the last church service looking ready to have that
boppli
any minute.”

“
Ya
, she's the one. Blond hair with a tint of red in it, what my
mamm
used to call a strawberry blond. Her husband's name is Brian. He's the teacher at the school nearest to you.”

“Isn't he an
Englischer
?”

“Was. He's Amish now.”

“We had a few try to convert to Amish while I was growing up in Goshen,” Anna admitted. “It never stuck.”