Living in Harmony (47 page)

Grinning, Nora relaxed against the headrest. She liked Violet already. “Harmony would be nice if I were ready to marry and raise a family, like my sister Amy. But for a single woman, not ready to settle down, it was deader than an anthill in January.”

“In that case, you'll like Paradise. We have almost forty Amish businesses in town and spread throughout the county. Lots of bakeries; mercantiles; doll shops; and quilt, craft, and antique stores as well as manly businesses, such as lumberyards, feed-and-seed stores, leather tanners, and carriage shops. You'll have no trouble finding a job.” Violet dug a package of cheese crackers from her purse and offered some to her companion.

Nora took one to calm her queasy stomach. “You mean your
Ordnung
permits women to work?”

“Of course women are allowed to work. Where did you say you came from—Maine or Mars?”

Nora choked on a bite of cracker. “The two were pretty much the same thing,” she said after a sip of water. “Women were forbidden to take jobs outside their homes.”

“Usually women here quit work once they marry and the
bopplin
start arriving. But until then, people will scratch their heads or shake a stick if you sit around the house twiddling your thumbs.” She leaned over to whisper into Nora's ear. “Don't you love that quaint expression, ‘start arriving,' as though babies take the Greyhound to the Columbia depot, call for the hired van, and show up with a fully packed diaper bag?”

Nora snickered. “It does paint a different picture than a mother in hours of painful labor.” She pulled another cracker from Violet's pack. “I'm glad Paradise isn't as stodgy as Harmony. There was little to do, especially during the winter, with few social events other than singings. And the church singings were for
everybody
, not just young single people. Plus, there was no
rumschpringe.
”

Violet's hand, holding the last cracker, halted midway to her mouth. “You're pulling my pinned-together leg, right? No
rumschpringe
?”

“I assure you, I don't joke about the district I used to live in. They were very conservative and tolerated no running-around time.”

“How on earth did folks court, marry, and then add to the rapidly growing Amish population? Or are you saying most Harmonians lived and died lonesome, celibate lives?”

Nora smiled at that. “People still managed to meet and fall in love, in spite of the incredible obstacles placed in their path.” She gazed out the opposite window as memories of tall, handsome Lewis Miller flitted through her mind. She could easily have fallen in love with him if not for the monotony of central Maine…and if the irresistible, black-eyed, wild-as-an-eagle Elam Detweiler hadn't changed everything for her. She shook off thoughts of both men and turned back to her companion. “So you know Emily Gingerich—Sally Detweiler's sister? I will be staying with her, at least for a while, but we have never met.”

“Of course I know her. Paradise might be larger than Harmony, but we have plenty of social occasions to meet each other. Besides, Emily owns Grain of Life Bakery.” Violet lowered her voice. “They are the best bakery in town, but don't tell my
mamm
I said that. One of her
schwestern
owns another of the shops.”

“So far you've shared with me one secret to keep from your father and another from your mother, Violet. We just met today. I could be the world's biggest blabbermouth.”

“You don't appear to be, and I'm a good judge of character.” Violet studied Nora with narrowed eyes, not the least bit nervous. “Tell me, are you up to the challenge, Nora King, to not divulge the confidences you've heard today?”

“You bet I am. It's been a long time since anybody trusted me.” Nora sighed, remembering Elam and his secrets.

Violet reached down to rub her leg, generating a metal-against-metal sound. “My leg braces itch like crazy sometimes.” She winced, as though her scratching had touched a sore spot. “And now that you're privy to several of my dark secrets, you must confess one of yours.”

Nora's head snapped around. “What do you mean? What makes you think I have any?”

“Come on. My legs might not be perfect, but there's nothing wrong with my mind. You just moved halfway across the country to a town that's a complete mystery and are staying with a couple you've never laid eyes on. I smell a secret as strong as cheese left out in the sun.” Her stare practically bored holes through Nora. “Don't you trust me?”

Typical of her impetuous personality, it took Nora no time to decide. Something about Violet appealed to her enormously. She wanted nothing to nip their friendship in the bud.

“I fell in love in Harmony with the wrong sort of man,” she whispered. “I don't know if he plans to stay Amish, and he doesn't even know I'm coming. But when he left Maine, he said he was heading to Paradise. So I pointed myself in this direction.” Nora leaned back in her seat. “Now you know
my
secret.”

Violet stared at her, wide-eyed. “That is the most romantic thing I've ever heard in my life. I will take your secret to my grave if need be.”

And if her expression of awe could be trusted as an indicator, Nora had just made a new best friend.

“I'm coming,” called Emily from the hallway. She pulled off her apron, tossed it on the counter, and swept open the kitchen door. Before her stood a small woman, not more than a girl, really, in a dusty cape and wrinkled brown dress. Her clothes looked too big for her, as though they were cut from a pattern meant for someone else. But she had the prettiest green eyes Emily had ever seen.

“Mrs. Gingerich?” the girl asked, peering up through thick dark eyelashes. “I'm Nora King, Amy Detweiler's sister. I've come from Maine.”

“Thank goodness. For a moment I feared you were here to sell me
a new set of pots and pans or some of those English cosmetics.” Emily grabbed her sleeve and pulled her into the kitchen.

Nora waved at the hired van idling in the driveway as she passed through the doorway.

“No, ma'am. I hope my arrival hasn't come at an inopportune time.” She clutched a large duffel bag with both hands, gazing out from inside a huge outer bonnet.

“I was joking, Nora. Please sit and get comfortable. I expected you today and hoped you would enjoy the company of Violet and Rosanna on the ride from St. Louis. Isn't that Violet a hoot? She never fails to make me smile within five minutes of being in the same room with her.”

Nora removed her cloak and the hideous bonnet, and then she hung them both on a peg. “She seems nice and is really quite funny.
Danki
for arranging them to meet me. I was a bit discombobulated in St. Louis.” She stood behind the chair as though waiting for a certain sign or signal.

“Sit. Take a load off. They travel to Columbia once a month for physical therapy and twice a year for a specialist's reevaluation of her legs. The doctors want to keep them as strong as possible because Violet insists on using crutches whenever possible.” Emily filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. “We'll have tea and cookies. Dinner will be in an hour or so.”

Nora sat and folded her hands like a schoolgirl awaiting an assignment or admonishment.

“Unless you're starving now,” Emily said, “in which case, I'll make you a sandwich.”

“No, ma'am, tea will be fine. I can wait until supper.” Nora remained very still, as though too frightened to move.

“Please, no more ma'ams. My name is Emily.” Without the bonnet, the girl had delicate, small-boned features. Wisps of strawberry blond hair escaped her prayer
kapp
and framed her face. “Are you
sure
you're the Nora King my sister wrote to me about? Or have I admitted an imposter into my house?”

Nora paled significantly. “I am she, although I have no identification. Shall I describe Sally's home or her two sons, Aden and Jeremiah?”

Emily placed some oatmeal cookies on a plate and sat down across from the scared rabbit. “Because I haven't met my nephews yet, nor have I ever been to Sally's home in Maine, I'll take your word for it. And I'll stop teasing until we get to know each other better.” She filled two mugs with hot water and tea bags. “Welcome to our home, Nora. My husband and I are happy to have you and hope you'll soon like our humble part of the world.”

“Everyone has better senses of humor here.” Nora took a cookie from the plate to nibble. “I'm afraid I lost mine when I left Pennsylvania.”

Her earnestness tugged on Emily's heartstrings. “Sally told me what happened to your parents in a letter. You have my deepest sympathy. A woman is never prepared to lose her
mamm
, even if she's seventy years old. At your tender age, the loss is especially painful.”

“I try to focus on the future instead of the past. I did too much staring out of the window and crying in Harmony. I'm eager to make a new beginning in Paradise.”

“Then you've come to the right place. The Amish population of Missouri has tripled in the last twenty years. Folks move here from all over—Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois. We still have plenty of cheap land, and farming is what ninety-nine percent of us do.”

Nora gasped. “That's not like Pennsylvania at all. Most folks there have had to learn a trade or start a business.”

Emily stirred sugar into her tea. “Well, my
ehemann
is actually part of the one percent. His brothers work their family's land, but Jonas started a lumberyard. It does fairly well, selling to Amish and English, if you'll forgive me for some prideful bragging.”

“I will forgive just about anything if I can have another cookie. They are delicious.” A dimple formed in Nora's cheek, the first sign her shyness might be ebbing.

Emily pushed the plate across the table. “Eat to your heart's
content. You can stand to gain a few pounds, whereas I cannot.” She gently slapped one rounded hip. “Didn't my sister feed you while you lived there?”

“Sally certainly tried to, but I get migraines from time to time. They take my appetite away for days.”

“Migraines can be triggered by stress. I aim to see you relaxed and not worrying so much.”

Nora reached for another cookie and consumed it in three bites. “Was your Old Order district formed by people moving here from Pennsylvania?”

“No, we were settled sixty years ago by a group who came from Iowa.”

“Iowa? Where is that?”

Emily smiled. “And to think you traveled all the way from practically the Atlantic Ocean. The Lord be praised! He pities those with a poor knowledge of geography.”

“I prayed plenty on the way here. I took the Downeaster train from Portland, Maine, to Boston; the Lake Shore Limited from Boston to Chicago; and then I caught the Texas Eagle to St. Louis. I tried to learn the layout of my country along the way. What are the states near Missouri?” Nora possessed the innocent, curious expression of a child.

“Iowa is to the north, Kansas is to the west, Arkansas is due south, and Illinois lies to the east. A corner of us touches both Kentucky and Tennessee. A long time ago I pronounced our southern neighbor as ‘Ar-kansas,' so it rhymed with our western neighbor. Finally, an
Englischer
in my shop corrected me. She whispered the correct pronunciation softly so I wouldn't be embarrassed. But what's to be ashamed of? I had never heard anybody say the word before.”

Both of them laughed.

“These Iowa Amish—do you think they are similar to the Maine districts?” asked Nora, taking another cookie.

Emily realized where her guest's queries were headed. “Sally wrote to me about Harmony's no-
rumschpringe
policy. And about the fact
that you haven't joined the church yet. I assured her that no one would pressure you to commit to the Amish church until you're ready.”

Nora released an audible breath of air, relaxing for the first time since her arrival. “I'm happy to hear that. It wasn't so much that they pressured me to be baptized, but every time I turned around I was breaking another rule. Truly, Harmony was too small to be my cup-of-tea.” She drained the contents of her mug and then set it back on the table. “Violet mentioned that your bishop allows social events for young people, regular-type courting, and jobs for unmarried women. That sounds more like what I'm used to after being raised in Lancaster County.”