Living in Harmony (25 page)

“Try over there.” The driver, who had been leaning against the taxi with crossed arms, pointed his finger toward the side of the house.

In the distance Amy spotted someone working in the garden. The stooped-over woman was shrouded in a heavy cloak and bonnet.
Could it possibly be?
A fist-sized lump rose up in Amy's throat as she took several mincing steps toward her. She hesitated and looked back again with childlike shyness.

“Go on,” he encouraged. “I'll wait right here till you tell me otherwise.”

“Turn to the Lord for your strength
.
”
Remembering Thomas's words, Amy forced her stiff legs toward the cabbage and squash patch. “Hello?” she said meekly while still fifteen feet away. “Prudence Summerton?”

The woman arched her neck to peer at Amy. Then she slowly straightened her back and dropped long-stemmed beets into a basket. “Amy? Amy King?” she asked. Breaking into a grin from one ear to the other, she opened her arms wide. “Goodness, I can't believe you've come all this way.”

Amy dropped her purse in the tall grass as she ran. “You recognized me after all these years? I can't believe I haven't changed.”

“Who else could it be?” Prudence dragged her across a garden row.

“Dear me, Aunt, I'm trampling your pumpkin runners.” Amy allowed herself to be enfolded as her heart swelled to near bursting.

“Don't worry about them. I have tons of squash but few nieces who come to visit.” Prudence held Amy against her wool cloak for a moment and then drew her back to arms' length. “My, you have indeed changed. You were in school the last time I saw you and as skinny as a reed. I don't think I would have known you if you hadn't written.” She lifted Amy's chin with one finger to study her face.

“You got my letters? How many?” Amy tugged off her outer bonnet as her scalp started to perspire.

“Two. And I wrote back the next day both times.” Prudence slipped an arm around Amy's waist. “Let's get you something to drink. Are you hungry? Wait until my Will gets back. He's cutting up deadfall in the hills for firewood.”

Amy scooped up her purse as they walked by and then remembered the taxi. “I'll be right back.” She took off running for the driveway. “It's her!” she shouted to him. “I found my family!”

“That big hug told me as much.” His grin was almost as wide as her aunt's. He climbed back into the car. “Enjoy your visit. Call me when you're ready to return to the bus station.”

“
Danki
—I mean, thank you.” Amy waved her hand.

Prudence waited on the threshold, holding open the front door. “I can't believe you traveled alone. Your
mamm
would be proud. We would have met you in Bangor had we known you were coming.”

Amy followed her inside, down a hallway, and into a large airy kitchen at the back of the house. Everything was tidy but austere. Judging by her aunt's appearance and the sparse furnishings, the Summertons were still Plain. “When I received no replies to my letters, I took a chance on finding you. I didn't want you to tell me not to come.”

Prudence pointed at a chair. “I can't imagine why my letters
never reached Harmony, but I wouldn't try to keep you away. Tell me about your trip.”

Over two cups of coffee, a bowl of vegetable soup, and a tuna sandwich, Amy described the bus ride and her life at the Detweilers, minimizing but not avoiding John's reluctance for her to come.

“John is wisely being cautious. He wishes nothing to impede your acceptance in your new district. I'm banned, Amy. Nothing will ever change that.”

“But that's why I had to see you. If you got my letters, then you saw the death certificate of your first husband. You didn't marry Mr. Summerton until
after
Uncle Leon had died. You're no adultress.” Amy had spoken the harsh word without thinking. “I beg your pardon. I don't mean to be offensive.”

Prudence set a pot of steeping tea on the table. “You didn't offend me, child. No one can call me anything I haven't called myself.” Her face paled from the unpleasant memory.

“Well, I'm here to set things right.”

She patted Amy's hand. “Everything
is
all right, so your work is done. Now you can relax and enjoy yourself.”

At that moment a tall bear of a man entered through the back door. He hung up his hat and raked a calloused hand through thinning grey hair. “Who is this,
fraa
?” He studied Amy curiously.

“My sister Edna's oldest girl has come to see how I'm faring.”

“That's what I supposed.” He nodded at Amy while taking the seat across the table. “Supper 'bout ready?”

Prudence laughed hard enough to set her
kapp
ribbons swinging. “Supper? I just reheated soup for Amy and fixed her a sandwich. I've been nibbling along with her.”

Will Summerton leaned back in his chair. “A bowl of soup and sandwich sounds fine to me, providing you have some pie left. You can fuss over dinner tomorrow.”

When he smiled fondly at his wife, Amy relaxed. She'd been right to come. Time hadn't changed her aunt. With one glance,
anybody could tell the woman was happy here. “I'm pleased to meet you…
oncle
Will.”

Later that evening, after Will had gone to bed, Amy asked Prudence the question that had been bothering her. They sat in the front room, quietly rocking next to the woodstove after catching up on the news of each other's lives.

“Why did you divorce Uncle Leon? Amish couples don't ever get divorced.”

“I wondered when you would get around to asking that.”

Amy felt heat climb up her neck into her face. “If you'd rather not—”

“Don't be silly,” she interrupted. “You deserve the truth after what you undertook to get here.”
Clack, clack, clack.
The wooden runners of her chair rolled over the polished floor. “I divorced Leon because he often drank. And when he got drunk, he used to beat me—sometimes with his belt, sometimes with his fists. He'd say he was sorry the next day once he sobered up, but it never changed anything. It started up again the next time he bought a bottle. Folks would pretend they didn't see the bruises, or they would make excuses for him.”

Clack, clack, clack.

“Why not just live apart? Our
Ordnung
permits that in certain cases.” Amy spoke with the barest whisper.

“Because he would find out where I was staying and make me come home. Under alcohol's influence, Leon was evil. One day I decided I'd had enough. I didn't care if they shunned me. I went to the police for a restraining order. They got me a legal aid lawyer, and she found me a place to stay—in Harmony. Then I met Will. That's the story in a nutshell.”

Clack, clack, clack.

Amy stopped rocking. “But you continue to be Plain. How can that be?”

Prudence's face filled with compassion. “You're still so young.
My brethren might have turned me away, but I never turned from my faith.”

“Are there other Amish around Chestnut?”

“
Nein
. We have no district. Will and I hold nightly devotions, and on Sundays he reads aloud from Scripture. We sing the hymns we can remember too, although our bad voices don't make much of a joyful noise.”

Amy reached for her aunt's hand. “Then you two should return to Harmony. All can be forgiven if you repent on your knees. You can become part of a district again…and part of my family. Nora isn't very happy in Maine. She might go back to Lancaster or move elsewhere. I'd love to have you close by.” She clamped her jaw shut before she said too much, such as
John might not let me visit again after we're wed since you're banned.

Prudence squeezed her hand tightly. “As much as I would love to take your
mamm
's place in your life, Amy, we are content here.” Tears filled her soft brown eyes.

“But the Bible instructs us to live in community with other Christians, not apart from each other like hermits.” Amy's desperation rose in her voice.

Her aunt reflected on this before replying. “I cannot come back and take the kneeling vow because I would have to repent for marrying Will. And if the truth be told, I'm not sorry. If I had to do it all over, I would do the same.”

At that, Amy couldn't think of a single thing more to say.

Cold drops of water trickled down Thomas's neck. He repositioned his felt hat and tugged up his collar to no avail. The way the wind whipped the rain around, he would find no protection from the sudden storm. The sooner he finished fixing the break in the fence, the sooner he could dry out in his warm kitchen. After one
last twist with the pliers, tightening the top wire, he restored a barrier between his Holsteins and the rest of Waldo County—at least until his bull decided again to judge for himself whether the grass was greener elsewhere.

On his way back to the house, movement caught Thomas's attention from the corner of his eye. He turned his face into a blast of cold rain and spotted Sally's laundry still on the clothesline. Shirts, pants, and towels flapped in the wind, certainly wetter now than after Sally had cranked them through the wringer. Thomas looked down at the flagstone path just in time to avoid calamity. Aden's blue plastic wheelbarrow, purchased last summer at a garage sale, had been left on the walkway. His son used the toy to haul stones in between the rows in Sally's garden, providing hours of helpful distraction for mother and child alike. Now discarded and filled with muddy water, it almost sent Thomas stumbling.

He stomped his boots on the porch, shed his soggy coat while still outdoors, and stepped into a scene of chaos. A pot of something green and sticky bubbled and spattered on the stove. Jeremiah wailed from his cradle. Aden sat at the kitchen table, playing in rather than eating his oatmeal. And Sally? His
fraa
was up to her elbows in flour, baking powder, and solid shortening.

Thomas toed off his boots to leave on the rubber mat. He strode to the stove, waiting to converse until after pouring a strong, hot cup of coffee fortified with two spoonfuls of sugar. Then he cleared his throat. “It's quite a downpour outside, and you forgot about your laundry on the line. Will you have to start from scratch?” He watched her over the mug's rim.

“I don't know,” she replied, not glancing up from kneading dough.

“I nearly broke my neck on Aden's wheelbarrow. Why did he not put it in the shed or at least tuck it under the porch?”

“Dunno.” Her single word expressed no reaction whatsoever. But with the mention of the child's name, Sally looked at her son
and said in rapid-fire
Deutsch
the equivalent of “Stop playing with it and eat!” Then she slapped the dough ball down on her floured baking board, sending up a white cloud into the air.

Thomas took a long, slow sip of coffee. With Amy King gone for two days, his household had deteriorated into worse shape than before the sisters' arrival. And his normally cheerful wife had turned snappish and sullen, a condition he was rapidly tiring of.

“Where is Nora on this fine autumn morning?” He leaned back on the counter and focused his attention on her.

“I don't know,
ehemann.
Would you mind asking me a question I
can
answer?” Her eyes flashed with anger when their gazes met, and then she stared down at the piecrust.

In that instant he'd seen the quiver of her lips and knew she was on the verge of tears. “All right, I will,” he said mildly. “But first I'll get you some help for setting this kitchen to rights.” Thomas walked to the foot of the stairs and called in a voice that could be heard in the attic, “Nora, come down here, please!” He waited only a moment for the sound of stirring overhead. Then the young woman appeared on the landing and slowly descended. Her bloodshot eyes were deeply shadowed by dark smudges—a sure sign she was suffering from a migraine.

“I'm sorry if you feel poorly,” he said gently, “but Sally needs help.”

“Of course, Thomas,” she murmured. “The pills I took should take effect soon.” Nora stepped into the room, took a quick perusal, and hurried to Aden's high chair. The boy giggled and raised his arms over his head. “You must not be hungry anymore or you wouldn't make such a mess.” In a blink of an eye she lifted him from the chair, grabbed up Jeremiah, and disappeared into the bathroom, presumably to give both boys baths.