Living in Harmony (13 page)

“No need to brace up the pillar,
fraa
. The building will stand without your assistance.” Thomas materialized by her side and draped an arm around her shoulders.

“I'm just making sure. These people don't need any more nasty surprises.” Sally smiled up into his handsome face. “Almost everyone brought something practical for them and put money in the box besides paying for supper. Why do
Englischers
always seem
shocked by Christian charity? The husband and wife look ready to faint.”

“That they do,” he agreed. “This family will never forget tonight and will probably be the first to help others in need for the rest of their lives.” He took her arm as the organizers signaled it was time to eat. “Let's get our dinner. I'm starving.”

Sally and Thomas loaded their plates and found seats near Amy, John, and Nora. The assortment of food was exceptional, encouraging everyone to indulge more than usual. Thomas foraged the dessert table, returning with several things to share with his tablemates. “I would have sampled your peach pie,
fraa
,” he said, “but there was none left. The lady in front of me took the last piece.”

“Was she an
Englischer
?” Sally asked, feeling a twinge of unease.

“No, a district woman, even though all of you probably use the same recipe.” He swung his long legs over the bench and looked at his brother. “There is no figuring out women.”

“I'm starting to discover that myself,” agreed John, taking a brownie from the plate.

Sally slouched lower in her seat and tried to finish her potato salad and ham. Within another minute, a woman's voice rang out from the table behind them.

“Goodness, Sally Detweiler, there's a housefly in my dessert! Aren't these the peach pies you brought?”

Sally turned around to watch in horror as Clara Yoder flung the offending bug off her fork to the floor. Murmurs rose from the table of Amish diners.

“Everybody's heard of shoofly pie, but you shouldn't take the name seriously,” Clara said, not trying to be subtle.

People in the nearby vicinity broke into peals of laughter. All except for Sally. She prayed that the town hall floor would open up and swallow her alive.

O
n the final stretch of open road, John slapped the reins on the new gelding's back, encouraging him to go faster. He was eager to get back to his brother's farm and even more eager to talk with Amy. The information he'd learned today was too good to keep until dinnertime. If he was fortunate, everyone would still be at the table eating lunch.

John felt certain that Thomas and Sally would appreciate some good news to wash away the memory of Friday's potluck and yesterday's preaching service. How could Sally have been so careless as to not notice a fly in her sliced peaches? The district ladies had giggled and guffawed merrily, but the
Englischers
within earshot hadn't looked quite so entertained. John noticed more than one poking around their desserts for unwanted ingredients.

But Thomas, always the indulgent husband, had made light of the situation. “Oh, that little fly wouldn't even hurt…a fly.” All the district men laughed, diffusing the uncomfortable situation. The
pie went into the trash and the elderly woman selected a different dessert. Sally had been mortified—and rightly so. She'd sat pale and silent for the rest of the meal, as though waiting for someone to arrest her for pie sabotage or attempted assault.

John liked his sister-in-law. She was a fine mother, but her careless housekeeping and bad time management made her a poor example for Amy and Nora. But after what he'd found out today, they would soon be moving to a farm of their own.

He turned the horse into the driveway, pulling hard on the reins so his new buggy wouldn't topple over on its side. Inside the barn he rubbed down the Morgan and filled the water trough and grain stanchion with a bucket of oats. When he entered a nearly empty kitchen twenty minutes later, Amy stood washing dishes at the sink, elbow-deep in sudsy water. “Am I late?” he asked. “Did I miss lunch?” He hung his hat on a peg.

She glanced back at him. “I'm afraid so. If you give me a minute, I'll fix you a sandwich.”

“
Danki
. I need to wash anyway.” When he returned two sandwiches, a pile of potato chips, and a glass of lemonade waited at his usual spot at the table.

Amy sat down across from him with a drink of her own. “How did it go in town? Did you find the information you were looking for?”

“Indeed, I did. I visited the office of the Maine Organic Farmers and Gardener's Association.”

“That's quite a mouthful.” She took a swallow of lemonade.

“They use letters to abbreviate the name. Anyway, they explained the whole process of how to get part or all of my acres certified organic. A woman even gave me the necessary forms to fill out.”

“This special certification is important to you?”

“
Jah
, I want my…our…future
kinner
to eat fruits and vegetables without toxic chemicals stuck to the skin.” He bit into sliced roast beef hungrily.

Her left dimple deepened. “You could refrain from spraying or adding dangerous substances without bothering with English paperwork. Plain people have used good, old-fashioned horse manure for centuries without undue consequences, except for stinky neighborhoods when everyone tills it under in the fall.” Ice cubes clinked in her glass as she drank.

John felt a twinge of annoyance. “But if I
bother
with the government paperwork, I can sell my produce to buyers of certified organics and earn better profits. Otherwise, folks won't know how the vegetables have been raised. We will need cash for taxes and medical bills, and to buy what we can't grow ourselves.” He quickly devoured the rest of his sandwich.

“In that case, it's worth filling out the forms, as long as the bishop approves the idea.”

“
Ach
, the bishop.” John glanced around the room to make sure no eavesdroppers lurked nearby. “Come outside with me for a spell.” He wrapped his second sandwich in a napkin.

Amy frowned. “But I promised Nora—”

“Please, Amy,” he interrupted. “This is important.”

She tugged her soiled apron over her head and walked out onto the porch. “A touch of fall is in the air, no? At home, things would still be hot and humid.”

He took her elbow to lead her down the steps. “This is our home now. Don't you like it here?”

She peered up at him, perplexed. “I do, very much so. It's just force of habit to refer to Pennsylvania as home.”

“That's the rest of what I wanted to tell you. The folks at MOFGA gave me a list of properties for sale throughout the county with the number of tillable acres, availability of water, condition of the house—if there is one—and number of outbuildings. Some farms are too far away for us to attend Sunday services, but plenty are close enough to remain part of the district.” He took her hand. “The women seem to like you, and we'll be able to stay close to Thomas and Sally.”

“Are there prices on these listings?”

“
Jah
, for each one, but you know sellers expect buyers to haggle them down a bit.”

“And we can afford these properties?” Her eyes reflected the sun like blue sapphires.

“Some. We won't bother to look at those we can't.”

“Then I suppose it wouldn't hurt to check out a few.” She smiled up him.

It was the first smile he'd seen that day. The sight spread warmth to the marrow of his bones. “I can't wait. The sooner we buy a place, the sooner we can move from here and start our life together.” John peered around the yard. Sally's laundry flapped in the breeze at odd angles because several clothespins had come loose. Hornets buzzed around wormy, fermenting apples because no one had canned them or raked them into the compost heap. A rain barrel lay on its side, forgotten, no longer collecting precious rainwater from the downspout. When he turned back, he saw that she was studying him with a serious expression on her face.

“You don't sound grateful for your family's kindness. That's not like you, John.”

The retort hurt, as though one of the drunken hornets had stung him. “Beg your pardon. I do appreciate Sally and Thomas opening up their home to us, but I'm tired of staying in Elam's former room while you're upstairs.”

Her face turned cherry red. “But we're not wed yet, or have you forgotten that? And our new bishop doesn't seem in any fired-up hurry to marry us.”

Blushing, he slipped his sweating hands under his suspenders. “I haven't forgotten. I can think about little else, but my
bruder
says the ‘when' isn't up to him. Last Sunday after preaching, the bishop evaded my questions while asking plenty of his own. He asked me about the fire that killed your parents and about your family back in Lancaster. He wouldn't give me a firm date or even
an exact month we could marry. That's why I want to buy land. Once he sees that I'm…that
we're
serious about staying in Harmony, maybe he'll schedule our counseling classes to get this ordeal going.”

Amy's chin lifted as she crossed her arms defiantly. “Our wedding is an
ordeal
to you?”

“
Nein
. The ordeal is the long wait.” He released a sigh. “I'm not expressing myself well. Why don't you grab your sweater and take a ride with me? I know of a property for sale not far away. The house is vacant, so we can—” He broke off abruptly as he noticed her expression and tapping toe. “What's wrong?”

“You're so excited about this farm that I can't get a word in sideways. I tried to tell you before that I promised Nora I'd ride to town with her. There are some things she needs, and I don't want her going alone.”

“Can't this wait for another day?”

“No, she said she needs them today.”

John pulled on his suspenders and took a breath. “Of course. I'll hitch up the buggy. I don't suppose anybody will snatch up the property overnight. We can go tomorrow, or at least in the near future.”

She nodded on her way up the path. “Soon we'll go.
Danki
for bringing around the buggy.” Amy disappeared into the house before he could say another word.

“Don't stay too long. Sally will need help with sup—” But the screen door had already banged shut behind her. John stood with his hands in his pockets, feeling like a dog that just had his bone taken away.

Nora jumped back from the window so Amy wouldn't know she'd been spying. What had John wanted to talk about that had
been so important? Surely, the advantages of one type of garden vegetable over another could have waited for later. She could understand wanting to look at farms for sale—every man longed for his own place—but why all the excitement about organic produce? In her opinion, a cherry tomato would always be just a cherry tomato.

“Can we still go?” she asked the moment Amy walked into the house.

“
Jah
, we can. Get your purse. I want to tidy my hair and change my
kapp
. Find your black bonnet too.” Amy slanted her a wry expression.

“Okay, but don't expect me to watch for traffic at crossroads wearing that thing. I have to turn my neck so far around, it's a wonder my head doesn't come loose.”

Amy rolled her eyes on the way upstairs. “Just be grateful we can go to town again.” When she returned wearing a black cloak and her wide-brimmed bonnet, she looked like a widow in deep mourning.

“You will sweat to death in that,” said Nora, throwing a lightweight shawl around her shoulders. “It's still summer.”

“By the calendar maybe, but I felt a chill in the air.” Amy grabbed her purse off the counter and a bottle of water.

Outside, they found the horse and buggy ready at the hitching post, but John was nowhere in sight.

“Where did he go to in such a hurry? No big send-off for his beloved?” asked Nora, climbing up.