Living in Harmony (6 page)

“Did you buy an English home?” asked John, selecting a hay bale for a perch.

“
Jah
, the house came with the land. The bishop gave me a year to pull out the electrical wiring, but it needed lots of other work. Nobody had lived here for years other than mice. But at least we had a roof over our heads during the reconstruction.” Thomas peered up at the rough-sawn rafters overhead. “The old barn was falling down, so we had it demolished by a materials recycler. He paid me enough money to buy lumber for the new one.
Englischers
and Amish alike turned out to put the barn up, but it took several days, not one like back home. There are probably more folks in Lancaster County than Maine has in the entire state.”

“That's what I like to hear,” said John, splaying his hands across his knees.

Thomas nodded. “We'll have time to discuss crops and farming down the line when you start looking at land or a farm to buy. Right now we have more important things to talk about.”

“Should we light up a pipe of tobacco like
daed
did when he needed to talk man-to-man with his sons? We'd better be careful none of the womenfolk smell it on us.” John snickered companionably.

His older brother didn't laugh. In fact, he looked as sour as sugarless lemonade. “
Nein
, there's no tobacco use in our district. None. And no alcohol use, either. No one here allows the last batch of cider to ferment into apple jack for a midwinter nip during a blizzard.” His expression didn't soften.

John shrugged his shoulders. “Fine by me. You know I don't smoke, and I've never even drank a beer, let alone anything stronger. Very few districts in Lancaster allow members to imbibe.”

“I'm relieved to hear it, but there's something else. You didn't tell me Amy's younger sister would be coming with you.”

John felt a muscle tighten in his neck. “I didn't know about her plans until shortly before we left, Thomas. There wasn't time to write to tell you.” The overcooked dinner and burnt apples churned in his belly.

“If you had I would have told her to wait a bit.”

“She's not welcome in your home?” John stared at him. Had his brother lost the charitable side of his nature since becoming a minister? That didn't make sense. Surely he knew what the Good Book said about taking in strangers.

“No, no. She's welcome here. Forgive me. I'm not expressing myself well. It's just that Nora hasn't committed yet to the faith. She hasn't taken the vow to the Amish church.” Thomas met and held John's gaze. “There's no
rumschpringe
here—no testing of the waters and deciding if a person wants to remain Amish. We have no big volleyball parties or cookouts or bonfires or any other social events for the youth. For one thing, we're only twelve families. There are not enough young people for a decent volleyball game.” His forced laugh rang hollow in the cavernous barn. “If you had written, I would have advised Nora to remain in Pennsylvania until her running-around days were behind her. She will probably find our conservative district too confining for the uncommitted.”

John blinked several times. “I don't know what to say.”

Thomas placed a hand on his shoulder. “There is nothing to be said. She is here now, and here she'll stay with Sally and me. But don't be surprised if Nora doesn't buy a one-way ticket back to Pennsylvania. I wanted you to know the lay of the land, and I don't just mean with agriculture.” He patted John's back and walked out through the open doorway

John was left alone with his thoughts—and he had much to think about. He'd never heard of no
rumschpringe
for youth, although the practice had always been optional. He remembered
his own running-around days fondly—playing a battery-powered CD player in his buggy, going on a canoe trip down the river one hot summer afternoon, and taking a bus trip to see a minor league ballgame with his pals. All in all, he could have skipped both events and still died a contented man. But Nora? How would she react to no socials to meet eligible young men? She would probably go back to Lancaster to live with her grandparents. And that might be a good idea, as far as he was concerned.

His Amy would make a smoother, easier transition to their new district if her willful, free-spirited
schwester
wasn't a constant companion.

A
my awoke to sunlight streaming through her curtainless window. She left her bed to push up the pane and inhale fresh and decidedly cooler air. Yesterday's showers had washed away much of the heat and humidity, leaving the world a more comfortable place.

Nora burrowed her head deeper under the covers. “Haven't they heard of shades in Maine?” she muttered from beneath the quilt.

“Upstairs windows don't need shades. And if the sun's up, that means you should be too.” Amy slapped the rounded hump playfully.

“Ugggh, please leave me be a while longer. I have a headache. Make my excuses to Sally and Thomas.” The lump didn't budge.

“All right, but you'll go hungry until lunch. No one caters to spoiled women here.” She poured a glass of water from the pitcher on her dresser and dug out the bottle of aspirin from her suitcase. “Except for me. Sit up and take these.” Amy shook two tablets into her palm.

Nora complied, looking haggard with red-rimmed, watery eyes. “
Danki.
What would I do without you?” She swallowed them with a long drink before retreating into her cave.

Having showered the evening before, Amy washed her face and hands at the basin, slipped on her favorite navy dress, and headed downstairs.

In the kitchen, Sally hummed a hymn while spreading grated cheese on what looked like an omelet. John and Thomas were already at the table. John appeared to be studying the local newspaper, while Thomas played a game of peekaboo with his infant son. The father laughed as heartily as the
boppli
.

“I was ready to rap on the ceiling with the broom handle,” teased John with a wink. “We don't want the day to get away from us.”

“
Mir leid
if I'm late,” she apologized. “I'll have to set my alarm clock.”

“You're fine,” said Sally over her shoulder. “They just returned from chores, and you're in time to lift the bacon from the grease.” She handed Amy a pair of tongs.

Once all the strips were draining on paper towels, Amy poured herself a much-needed cup of coffee. “What do you have in mind for us today?” She aimed her smile in John's direction.

“You, Nora, and I can take Thomas's buggy into town for some more exploring. And I have a surprise for you.” John set down his newspaper as Sally carried the omelet to the table.

Amy brought over the platter of bacon and then slipped into a chair across from her fiancé. Everyone bowed their head in silent prayer. After Thomas said “Amen” and Sally began serving the eggs, Amy cleared her throat. “I believe the field trip will be just the two of us. Nora has a headache and will stay in bed a while longer.” She looked at Thomas and then Sally. “She's prone to migraines.”

Thomas hesitated while scooping up eggs, his spoon aloft. “Normally unmarried couples do not take buggy rides together unchaperoned.”

John glanced at Amy and then his brother. “But we were published in Pennsylvania—our intentions to marry have been made clear.”

“I understand that.” Thomas put a small portion of breakfast in Aden's bowl. “But as I explained, we're more conservative here. Because you're new, and many will assume only visiting, I give you my permission.” He dug into his food with gusto.

Amy picked up her fork and ate too, hungry because she'd eaten only a chicken wing and some potatoes last night at dinner. Although curious about the district's rules, she realized this wasn't a good time to ask. Once Thomas left for morning chores and John to hitch up the horse, Amy rose to scrape plates into the compost bucket. “
Danki
for loaning us your buggy.”

Sally fed her son eggs while finishing her own meal. “I'm glad Thomas will let you go today. I was worried about that.” She wiped the boy's chin with his bib.

Let us go?
Amy didn't know what to make of that. At twenty-two, it had been a long time since she'd had to ask anyone for permission for anything.

“Be sure to wear your full black bonnet as though going to church.” Sally gazed up at her. “Women don't go to town in just white prayer
kapps.
They're okay for working in the garden or hanging laundry, but not out in public.” Then she added in a barely audible voice, “We might have to widen your brim. I'll have to check it.”

Amy glanced at Sally over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't joking. She'd heard of districts that required brims so wide on either side that you had to turn your body to see left or right. The head coverings sounded like blinders for an easily distracted horse.

But she looked perfectly serious.

Once Amy finished the dishes and put them away, she went upstairs to hunt for her full bonnet in her suitcase. She'd worn it while traveling and then tucked it away. It was a good thing Aunt
Irene had insisted she take an extra one because she had no time for sewing. Nora still slept soundly, a soft snore emanating from her cocoon. With bonnet in hand, Amy ran down the steps and out the front door without asking Sally to check it.

John pulled up in the buggy just as she reached the driveway. Soon the issue of full blinders seemed trivial as they trotted down the road toward Harmony. Once beyond sight of the farmhouse, John brushed her cheek with a chaste kiss. “You smell nice,” he said.

“Raspberry shampoo—that stuff smells good enough to drink.” Amy leaned out the side window to catch some sun on her face. “What a gorgeous day for an outing.”

“We have several hours before I must help Thomas cut firewood. Sounds like folks here spend half their summer getting ready for winter.”

When they reached the center of town—a crossroads where the bank, post office, historical society, the English church, and an insurance office stood—he turned right instead of left.

“We're not heading toward the grocery store and pizza shop?” she asked, remembering yesterday's tour.

“No, but don't worry. Thomas gave me good directions. We won't get lost.”

“Our second day in Maine and we disappear, never to be seen again.”

“Only if we want to.” After a mile he turned left down a road into a public park.

“We brought no picnic lunch today. What a shame. The benches in the shade look cool and inviting.”

“No need for packed sandwiches.” John remained secretive, however, as the lane continued past picnic tables and swing sets. Dense woods encroached on both sides as the roadway narrowed. Two vehicles could barely fit side by side. They drove past a well-kept cemetery, but no houses, cabins, or even driveways into the dense forest.

After several miles she asked, “Are you sure about this? You didn't misunderstand your
bruder
?” No sooner had she voiced her concerns than the road curved and a parking area opened up before them. Cars, trucks, and boat trailers filled at least half the spaces.

“Goodness, John. Who would know this was back here?” Amy gaped at a large body of water not fifty feet away. Dappled sunlight sparkled off the smooth surface for as far as the eye could see. Boats crisscrossed the waves, their white sails fluttering in the gentle breeze.

“Only the locals, and now that description includes us. Welcome to Harmony Pond.” He stopped the buggy in a parking space and set the brake.

“
Pond
?” she squawked. “I've seen lakes smaller than this.” She jumped down and ran toward the beach. Several families had spread blankets across the sand to enjoy a day in the sun. Children filled colorful buckets with plastic shovels, giggling merrily. No one gave her more than a passing glance as she approached the water's edge. Apparently the Amish here, though few in numbers, generated fewer stares than in well-populated Lancaster County. Amy walked onto a fishing dock that dipped and swayed under her weight. “It floats,” she called back with hands cupped around her mouth.

John climbed down too, but he remained with the horse as there was no hitching post. He grinned from ear to ear. “
Gut
idea. The dock can rise and fall with the water level,” he hollered back.

Shielding her eyes from the glare, she gazed across the water. Tiny cottages dotted the far shore, but to her left she could see no end to the so-called pond. She loved watching the boats, the children splashing in the shallows, and seagulls diving for fish that ventured close to the surface. “What a hidden treasure,” she called on her way back to him. “I wish Nora were here to see this.” Impetuously, she threw her arms around him and hugged.

“According to the book I read last night, glaciers formed this lake. It has only one water source—no separate intake and outlet.” He helped her back into the buggy. “I wonder what happens during heavy spring rains.”