Living in Harmony (7 page)

“You'll have to keep reading that new book of yours.” Amy only vaguely understood the concept of glaciers, but it didn't matter. “
Danki
for bringing me to see this, John. I love it here. Do you think someday we could come back when Nora can join us?”

“Maybe after we're wed, providing you wear the proper head covering.” He winked for the second time that day. “We should start back so we have enough time for lunch. I spotted a deli on our way here.”

“I thought you might have a plan up your sleeve.” She settled back to enjoy the scenery, relaxed now because she knew they weren't lost. At the main road, she noticed there was no sign pointing the way to the lake. Harmony
Pond
truly was for locals and not tourists.

John parked the buggy in a grassy area near the railroad tracks within an easy walk of the local diner. Inside, Amy found more than delicious food. She spotted a “Help Wanted—Part-Time Baker” sign in the window. She inquired about the job while the woman fixed their sandwiches.

“Three days a week ought to do it,” said the manager. “Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. You could bake enough on those days to last for two. We're closed on Sundays. Everything in town is closed around here.”

“May I talk to my fiancé and come back to fill out an application?”

“Sure. I've had that sign up for two weeks with no takers.”

Amy hurried back to the buggy with their lunch and her news. She began explaining the details before even climbing inside. “I
could work for a year or so until
bopplin
came along to help pay for our new farm. What do you think?” she asked, breathless with excitement.

John unwrapped his chicken salad sandwich, laughing. “If working for a while would make you happy, why not? On your days off you can teach my sister-in-law to bake. Did you ever taste such awful pie as last night's? I thought apple was just about foolproof.”

Amy pinched his arm. “Be kind to Sally. Any woman can lose track of time. I've burned a few things myself.”

“Never when you were cooking for company, I would venture to say.” He easily guided the buggy onto the road. Harmony had little traffic no matter what time of day.

“John Detweiler, show some compassion. Anyway, we're family now, not company.” She nibbled her ham-and-cheese.

“You're right. Sally is my brother's wife, but Thomas would benefit if his
fraa
took a job as a baker.” He tried to slide away from her, but she pinched his arm once more in the small buggy.

As it turned out, neither Amy nor Sally were destined for such a vocation. At supper that night, Amy told Thomas and Sally about the Help Wanted sign in the restaurant's window.

Thomas's jaw dropped down to his chest. “Impossible,” he said without hesitation. His gaze shifted from her to John, where it stayed. “She cannot take a job. That's simply not done here. Women do not work outside the home, even if they are still single.”

John's features registered surprise. “We didn't know that, but it's no problem. We can swing buying an existing house and de-electrifying or building on bare farmland without Amy working. It was just an idea.” He resumed eating his supper of stew and pickled beets without another word on the subject.

But Amy's head swam with ideas—all of which she kept to herself. She ground down on her back teeth, annoyed that Thomas addressed the matter with John and not with her. Thomas hadn't
glanced in her direction again—not after his original shocked scowl. But for now she held her tongue. What choice did she have? Her home in Pennsylvania was nothing but a pile of ash and debris. She'd sold the land and ventured north into a new world, never imagining just how different that world would be.

John didn't know if his indigestion stemmed from supper or from the recent turn of events. Sally's beef stew had been so bland and flavorless it couldn't have caused stomach acid. The meat was tough, while everything else had been cooked so long it looked like rainbow mush in his bowl. Her biscuits were dry and the pickled beets too sour. Only her peanut butter cookies tasted good. He'd contemplated stuffing his pockets with the rest but stopped himself with great self-control.

He tried to remember that Sally's cooking was not his problem. His brother cleaned his plate and smacked his lips no matter what his wife prepared. And the more he thought about it, John was happy local
Ordnung
wouldn't permit Amy to work. He suspected Nora triggered his latest bellyache. Did the girl think she was on vacation? When he and Amy returned from town, Nora had been sitting on the porch swing, reading a paperback novel. Had she even asked Sally if she needed help with supper? Sally's garden overflowed with produce ready to pick. Tomatoes were so overripe that their skins had split. Green beans dangled from heavily laden bushes, while carrots and green onions pushed themselves up from the soil. If someone didn't start harvesting and canning soon, those plants would go to seed, spoiling the vegetables. Couldn't Nora see weeds sprouting between garden rows or shiny apples hanging from tree branches on her frequent strolls around the farm? At supper she had rambled on about fictional characters in the novel
she read. Didn't she know nonsensical conversation was inappropriate at a minister's table?

John scrubbed every feed or water bucket, mucked out the stalls for Thomas's twin Belgians and his buggy Standardbred, and then swept the barn floor with the push broom. Hard labor worked wonders for a man's soul…and for a woman's too, if Nora King cared to give it a try. After washing at the barn's hand pump, John strolled back to the house, tired but in a better mood. His temperament further improved when he spotted Amy sewing on the porch.

“Good evening,” he greeted as he climbed the steps. When she scooted over, he sat beside her. “What are you making?”

She lifted one eyebrow. “I'm altering my bonnet because the brim isn't wide enough for district rules. Sally found some matching fabric, so this shouldn't be too difficult.”

“Must not let anyone see how pretty you are. I won't stand a chance.” He snaked his arm around the back of the swing.

“Seeing at all will be the challenge.” She focused her lovely blue gaze on him instead of the bonnet. Her eyes matched the deep color of Harmony Pond. “All's well with the livestock tonight? Thomas said you volunteered for evening chores to give him time to work on his sermon.”

“
Jah
, but his goats are an ornery lot. One of them tried to butt me when I retrieved his water bucket for cleaning. I can't figure out why Thomas keeps such troublesome creatures.” He dropped his voice to a whisper.

“You're joking,
jah
?” Her dimples deepened. “The females produce milk, which Sally turns into delicious cheese, and she also uses their milk when the Holstein heifer dries up. Thomas raises the males for meat. They pasture better on rocky, hilly land than cows. That was boar goat meat in the stew tonight.
Gut
, no?”

“Ah, I'd wondered what that was. Now I know.” He moved the swing with a boot heel. “But I don't want to debate goats and cows with you.”

“I take it you're a beef man.” Amy knotted the thread and then broke it off with her teeth.

“I am, but we need to talk about Nora.”

“She went to bed early with a couple more aspirin. I hope she feels better tomorrow. Those migraines can last for days.” She held up the bonnet to inspect in the fading light.

“Your sister needs to pitch in while we're living here. And Sally could certainly use help with two little ones. Nora is no
Englischer
on vacation.”

Amy suppressed a grin as though he'd said something funny. “She doesn't think she is. She wasn't feeling well today, that's all.”

“You have a tendency to baby her.”

She pondered that for a moment. “Perhaps I did back in Pennsylvania, but I promise I won't here.” She patted his arm. “If the migraine is gone tomorrow, I'll stand over her with a stick to make her work.”

“
Gut
,” he said, louder than necessary.

“Should we go inside? Mosquitos are starting to feast on us.” Amy rose gracefully to her feet, repaired bonnet in hand.

“Another minute, please. I've more to say.” He patted the swing. “Amy, her dresses are inappropriate—dark pink, pale green, light blue. Women in Maine don't wear those colors.”

“She's still in
rumschpringe
, John.” Amy sat back down.

“
Nein.
Not here she's not. Young people in Harmony don't have that option. They join the church and commit their lives as young as sixteen, but certainly by seventeen or eighteen. Nora is twenty—it's time for her to make a decision. And until she does, she must wear more appropriate clothing.”

Amy blinked, staring at him. “We'll go to the co-op store tomorrow if we can borrow the buggy again. We'll buy black, brown, and navy fabric and start making new outfits and bonnets.”

“
Danki
. I don't mean to sound cross with you, but your sister needs to understand Harmony's ways.”

“We've only been here two days, but I'll speak to her during the drive. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going inside before these bugs eat me alive. I'll take a cup of valerian tea up to her to ensure she's as good as new tomorrow.” Amy jumped up and left without another word.

John would have liked to spend time with her without discussing goats, cows, or cures for migraine headaches. He enjoyed their ride to the lake earlier, secretly glad Nora hadn't tagged along. Amy pampered that girl. So had her
mamm
, by buying and cooking special food just for Nora. Finicky eaters became less so once hunger took over. “
Ach
,” he muttered as one uncharitable idea after another flitted across his mind. It might be better if Nora returned to Lancaster sooner rather than later. With her willful independence, she would never conform to district
Ordnung
. And the longer she remained, the more influence she exerted on Amy. If the bishop met the undecided Nora, he might not approve their marriage.

John clenched his eyes tightly shut, ashamed of his thoughts. He should encourage the younger sister to find the one true path instead of wishing her shuffled back to Pennsylvania.

Forgive me, Lord
.
I should concentrate on my own sins instead of pointing fingers at someone else.