Living in Harmony (41 page)

Propping up the hand mirror, she studied her wretched face for a long moment. Amy King was absolutely miserable. This past week had been unbearable. Not that John had pestered her or in any way pressured her. On the contrary, he'd behaved as a perfect gentleman, similar to visiting a distant cousin she barely knew. He finished chores, ate his meals, and read his English Bible more than all previous Bible sessions combined. When John told Thomas that his High German was inadequate to study effectively, Thomas provided an English translation.

And neither Sally nor Nora caused her distress. Both had allowed her plenty of privacy. Amy simply couldn't create a plan for the rest of her life. Although her anger with John had waned, her feelings of betrayal and mistrust had not. There was no way she could marry him this winter. And yet the prospect of leaving Harmony with a suitcase of memories scared her to the bone.

Her prayers had gone unanswered. Her nightly devotions hadn't led to any great epiphanies regarding the future.

With a sigh she tucked the hand mirror in a drawer, pinned up her hair, and donned a
kapp
. Trudging down the stairs, Amy heard a knock at the side door. When she reached the bottom, she heard the soft rap escalate into vigorous pounding. “Nora? Sally?” she called. “Someone's at the door.”

Amy stuck her head into the living room. Sally sat in the rocker nursing her son, while Nora was reading a library book. Neither appeared concerned about whoever waited on the porch. “Did the storm knock out your sense of hearing?”

Sally arched an eyebrow. “We decided
you
should answer the door.”

Nora only shrugged and refocused on her book.

Because the other females apparently suffered from some storm-induced malaise, Amy hurried to the kitchen before the person splintered the wood. Yanking open the door, she gazed into the face of Prudence Summerton, bundled head to toe in heavy wool with knee-high farm boots. “Aunt Prudence!”

“Is this the kind of hospitality the Detweiler and King household offers?” Prudence sounded piqued, but her brown eyes twinkled with affection. “You would allow a middle-aged woman to freeze to death while you sip tea by the fire?”

“Come in and warm up.” Amy threw her arms around her. “Are you hungry? How about some hot chocolate?” She started to drag the woman across the threshold.

“Wait, wait.” Prudence extracted herself from her niece's embrace. “I need to pay the cab before his meter bankrupts me. I wasn't sure if I had the right farm or not. Snowbanks obscure most of the address posts.” She gingerly walked down the salted steps and shoveled walkway.

“I'll fix you something hot to drink,” called Amy. She watched to make sure her aunt didn't fall and then hurried to heat coffee
and cinnamon rolls left over from the men's breakfast. By the time Prudence returned, Amy had the fire stoked and a warm meal for them both.

“Oh good, coffee,” Prudence said. “Cocoa is for afternoons, in my book. And that had better not be decaf, dear niece.” She hung up her outerwear and tugged off her boots. Unburdened, she shed fifteen pounds.

“
Nein
. It's good and strong too.” Amy stared at her aunt as she drank half a cup before sitting down. “How did you manage to arrive so early?” It was the first of many questions.

“I spent the night in Harmony at a motel. I didn't want to look for this place at night with the roads only partially plowed.” Prudence finished her drink and refilled the mug from the pot.

“How did you find us?” Amy pushed the plate of rolls across the table.

“I had your address, remember? It's a cab driver's job to know the roads in his area.”

Why would you pick such a day to change your mind about visiting?
Amy conveyed the question without opening her mouth.

“You're wondering why I'm here.” Prudence bit into a cinnamon roll.

“Only why you would pick December and not during warmer weather. But I'm very pleased to see you no matter what the season.”

Prudence licked white icing from her fingertips. “The way I heard it, time was of the essence. If I didn't come and talk sense into you—and fast—you would soon be back in Lancaster.”

Amy stared, wide-eyed. “You heard I broke my engagement? From who?”

“From whom,” Aunt Prudence corrected. “The letter was signed only ‘interested bystanders.' But I suspect it was from the same people eavesdropping in the hallway.” She took a large bite of her treat.

Amy sprang to her feet and caught the interlopers before they
could escape. She dragged Sally and Nora into the kitchen. “What have you two done? You made our aunt travel in this weather when she chose not to visit Harmony on a warm summer day?” Amy directed the admonishment at her sister.

Nora slipped from Amy's grip. “You said you needed Aunt Prudence's advice, and you sure weren't listening to anybody else.”

“Settle down, both of you. No one forced me to do anything. Now, let's get better acquainted. Nora, I remember you from Mount Joy, and you must be Sally.” Prudence held out both hands to the women. For thirty minutes, they chatted and drank copious amounts of coffee. Amy kept glancing from one woman to another, oddly miffed but not sure why.

Then Sally scrambled up and announced, “Come, Nora. Help me in the henhouse. We'll give these two some time to talk alone.” Sally smiled at Amy.

Nora looked dubious, but she bundled up and followed Sally out the door.

“What's this I hear about your breaking your engagement?” asked Prudence the moment they were gone.

Amy could only nod her head in agreement.

“You had a spat and you threw in the towel? Is that what my sister raised you to be—a quitter?” Prudence clucked her tongue.

“Perhaps when you hear the whole story you'll understand, especially because it involves you.” With that, Amy launched into an account of recent events. However, she noticed the retelling generated little anger in her listener.

Her aunt sipped coffee without interrupting. When Amy was finished, she said, “He messed up badly, no doubt about it. And because
you
have never messed up, you can't forgive him. I understand.” She nodded her head sadly.

“No, I've made mistakes in my life too—ones I will regret forever.” Amy stared at the tabletop, terrified to purge her soul of past sins.

The clock ticked, the wood shifted in the stove, drops of water hit the bottom of the sink at regular intervals as they sat together, waiting. Unable to keep quiet any longer, Amy whispered, “I bought smoke detectors at the Mount Joy hardware store back in Lancaster. My
daed
refused to install them. He said they weren't permitted by the
Ordnung
and insisted that God would protect us.” She lifted her gaze to meet her aunt's. “I should have put them up anyway. I could have hidden them in places he wouldn't have noticed. If I had done that—taken the initiative like an adult—then maybe my parents would still be alive.”

Prudence's eyes filled with tears. “My dear child, their deaths were part of God's plan. Nothing you could have done would have changed the outcome. English smoke detectors aren't more powerful than God when He calls someone home. Now you and your sisters must carry on.”

“But don't you see? I've made my own mistakes. Forgiving John isn't the point. I've already forgiven him. But this whole marriage thing—a husband always getting the final word—what if he makes the wrong decision? Like depleting our bank account to avoid a mortgage. Is that wise? I don't know.”

Prudence shrugged her shoulders. “I don't know either, but you could ask a bank how much money you'd pay in interest during the loan. Maybe then you would have a better idea.”

“Is that how it must be? A woman must surrender her will to her husband and lose control of her life?”

Prudence studied the ceiling as though choosing her words carefully. “A Christian woman must surrender her will to God. He promises never to forsake you and will mark a clear path. Don't try to figure out your entire life at twenty-two. You must trust, Amy. It's the hardest and yet the easiest thing to do.”

Amy's face grew hot with pent-up emotion, and when she couldn't contain them any longer, she let her tears fall. She cried for several minutes, cleansing her soul of guilt and regret. “I do still
love him, but I don't know what to do now. Much has been said and done—selfish, hurtful behavior on both our parts.”

Her aunt, who had been eating her second cinnamon roll, grinned. It was a smile that reminded Amy so much of her
mamm
that her throat tightened. “One step at a time, dear niece. Right now, I suggest you eat a roll before I finish every last one of them. They truly are marvelous.”

E
XODUS
33:22

F
rom the open door to the barn loft, John and Thomas had seen the taxicab arrive. They had been restacking hay bales and feed sacks, sweeping the floor, and checking for rodents' nests. They had just about exhausted their list of possible chores when the vehicle crawled up the driveway.

A middle-aged woman, indistinguishable in a heavy layer of clothes, climbed from the backseat and peered around with interest. She said something to the driver through the open car window before picking her way carefully toward the porch. With the sun simultaneously melting snow as the cold ground refroze the liquid, ice had formed in cleared areas.

“Who do you suppose she is?” asked Thomas, leaning on his broom handle. “She's not anyone from the district.”

John rubbed the back of his neck to loosen tight muscles. “Don't know,” he answered, but deep inside he had a feeling he
knew exactly who had arrived. “She might be Amy's Aunt Prudence,” he added after a bit.

“You think so? All the way from Chestnut after that blizzard we had?” Thomas pulled on his beard as the newcomer knocked on the door. “We'll find out soon enough. Let's finish this loft and feed the goats. Then a cup of coffee sounds about right.”

By the time they climbed down the ladder to the first floor, Sally and Nora entered the barn. Sally carried a wicker basket brimming with fresh brown eggs. Nora's breath condensed into puffs of white vapor.

“Have our hens done their part to keep us well fed, dear
fraa
?” asked Thomas of Sally.

“We have more than enough for omelets tomorrow and to bake a cake this afternoon.” Sally held up the basket for their perusal.

“What brings you ladies out here?” asked Thomas. “An inspection, perhaps? To make sure we've been working hard enough?”

Sally emitted a charmingly undignified snort. “The condition of the barn is your domain,
ehemann.
We're here to give Amy some privacy with her aunt.” She turned to face John before continuing. “Prudence Summerton is here. Nora and I wrote and asked her to come, but we weren't sure if she would.”

John balanced his rake against the wall. “
Danki
for writing to her. I considered it myself but no longer had her address and…I felt too ashamed.”

Nora stepped forward. “You're
glad
she's here?” She sounded more shocked than skeptical.

“
Jah
, I am,” he said. “Amy had wanted to reestablish a relationship with her while in Maine. I feared she would return to Pennsylvania without seeing her one more time.” He tugged off his gloves and stuck them into a jacket pocket.

Nora's green eyes softened. “Well, I hope Aunt Prudence can talk some sense into her.”

John had no idea what kind of “sense” Nora would prefer, but
nevertheless he nodded and dipped his head toward his former sister-in-law-to-be.

“She paid the taxi driver and he left, plus she brought an overnight satchel. So that's a good sign she'll stay a day or two.” Sally looked at one man and then the other.

John nodded at her too, feeling like a rooster pecking for grain with his bobbing neck. He left the barn as though he remembered an urgent task, but in fact he couldn't stomach all the furtive, sympathetic glances and innuendos. He didn't want to talk about Prudence's visit with anyone except Amy. And because he couldn't imagine
that
happening, he needed to get away, period.

John walked down the road, careful to watch for oncoming cars. Should one approach, the roadway was too narrow from the banked snow. He would have to leap into a drift to save his life. But no cars ventured down the Detweiler road, leaving John to muse of what might have been if he hadn't been a loathsome man. When he could no longer feel his toes, he turned back, exhausted yet relieved he was too tired to think. As he reached the porch steps, their new guest stepped out the side door. She wore a wool afghan around her shoulders and carried something steaming in her mug.

“Aunt Prudence?” he asked, a bit ridiculously. “Mrs. Summerton?” he corrected.

“I am, but you were right the first time. Call me Aunt Prudence.” She offered a broad smile that erased years from her features. “You must be John Detweiler. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”