The Amish Heart of Ice Mountain (20 page)

She saw that there were no lamps glowing from the cabin and decided that Edward must have had an equally
gut
time fishing and eating. She let herself into the dark cabin, pleased to hear Blackie's happy yips.

“Hello,” she greeted the dog, dumping her packages on the kitchen table, then jumped a mile when a deep voice answered her.

“Hello.”

She put a hand to her throat. “Edward, you scared me.”

“I scare myself sometimes.”

She moved to turn up a lamp, finding him seated at the kitchen table, his elbows on the wood and his head in his hands.

“What's wrong?” She went to him and put an arm around his shoulders.

“I wanted to drink today, Sarah, badly. But I didn't.”

“That's
gut
though, right?”

He sighed and pressed his head against her belly. “I don't know. I don't know who I am anymore. What I'm supposed to be doing. It seems I've lost myself in one afternoon.”

She thought hard, stroking his overly long hair. “Well, what happened today exactly?”

He sighed aloud. “The bishop spoke at the water, talked about the Marcellus Shale thing. Wanted to thank
Gott
that we were brought back into unity with one another. Though some had invested, it had all worked out all right. He made me seem like a hero for testing the faith of the community and then revitalizing it through
Derr Herr
. . . . Sarah, I'm no hero. I felt like a fraud and I—I found out some bits and pieces more about my grandfather. Nothing really good.”

She drew a deep breath. “Do you know what you need?”

“What?” he asked listlessly.

“Bed and to be made love to.”

He tilted his head back with a faint smile, looking up at her in the fall of the lantern light. “That does sound interesting.”

“
Ach
,” she murmured. “I can make it interesting.”

“Good,” he whispered. “Please do.”

And she did.

Chapter Thirty

That Monday, Edward did feel rejuvenated by two nights of his wife's tender and passionate ministrations and got up with the intention of taking care of
Grossmuder
May's garden and tools.

Autumn was an important planning period on any farm, and even though it would be a small harvest, there was much to do and Sarah was more than happy to participate.

“But,” she pointed out as they made their plans over breakfast, “I am not going to wear one of my new dresses to get all dirty in. Please may I wear gray?”

He laughed, feeling
gut
inside for the moment. “In this case,
jah
, I give my permission.” And he kissed the pert tip of her nose.

They decided that the first order of business was to harvest the pumpkins, gourds, and squashes.
Grossmuder
May had harvested many of the seeds, Sarah knew, to create a bird-friendly garden in winter and she wanted to keep that tradition. But harvesting the many twining vegetables was no easy task. Edward had to lift the larger pumpkins, some easily weighing over seventy-five pounds, while Sarah used the red cart she found in the shed to carry others, with Blackie happily trotting over vines alongside her.

For now, the pumpkins and strange-looking gourds would be stored in one of the smaller barns, but soon Sarah knew she'd have to spread out a tarp and gut the vegetables for their seeds, and then scrape out the valuable insides to be canned for the long winter. But that was for another day, and hopefully she could con Ernest and Clara into helping.

Next, she wandered far afield for an hour, collecting and saving seeds from different wildflowers to sow the following spring. She wanted to bolster her wildflower population as well as looking for different herbs she might use to dry.

Then she and Edward both began to plant for spring color to
kumme
—pushing spring bulbs deep underground; crocus, tulip, daffodil, lily, and hyacinth. The bulbs would burst right out of the mud after the snow melted with bright and happy colors.

Then there was the rather dull and dusty job of digging up the potatoes and turnips and sweet potatoes. Although there wasn't much of a harvest, Sarah hated the feel of the damp earth under her nails and often had to pause to blow on her fingers because they got so cold. Edward came along and kissed her fingertips, ignoring the dirt, and she had to laugh. She watched him walk away with love in her eyes as he went to winterize the tools in the barn.

She knew things must be sharpened and oiled for winter storage to prevent rust and damage before spring. She sighed tiredly as she got to her feet. The day was nearly done and she hadn't thought of supper yet. She decided quickly on pretzel soup and went into the cabin.

She washed her hands and then found the pretzel jar, shaking some out into a large bowl. Then she crushed the pretzels and got a mixture of butter, flour, milk, and water boiling on the stovetop. She added the crushed pretzels and a dash of salt and a pinch of pepper. It really was a great-tasting soup for a chilly day, and she had it nearly ready when Edward and Blackie came in.

“Mmm.” Edward sniffed appreciatively. “Pretzel soup. I haven't had it in a long time.
Danki
, Sarah.”

“Ach.”
She laughed low. “I'm sure you can think of another way to thank me later.”

He smiled at her boldness and she knew that she would have her thanks.

Chapter Thirty-One

Word reached Ice Mountain that Coudersport was going to have a fall festival, and Sarah thought it would be a perfect time to go see if Miss Betty at the library needed any more help with the book shelves. When other
Amischers
had heard about the library, there were many volunteers who offered to both go to the festival and stop in to give a bit of help with the library. So, Bishop Umble arranged to rent a church bus, with Mr. Ellis to drive, and on a bright October morning, a whole group of folks from Ice Mountain set out for Coudersport, hoping for a day of fun and excitement.

As they drove into Coudersport, they saw that the usually quiet small town was absolutely bursting with people, buses, and cars. A bright banner proclaimed it the
FESTIVAL OF FLAMING FOLIAGE
, and indeed, the mountains were alive with reds, oranges, and cheerful yellows, as if
Gott
had taken a paintbrush to the trees Himself.

Edward swung Sarah down off the bus step, pleased to see her looking so lovely in a pale green dress and a crisp apron. “You're the most beautiful woman here,” he whispered in her ear, and she merely shook her head, as if he'd muttered a bit of inanity. He smiled at her and she blushed; then he took her hand, and many of the folks from the bus began to follow them as they set off for the library.

When they got there, Edward was surprised to see that the squat building had a fresh coat of paint in light cream, and even the lion looked a bit more majestic with new color. He held the door for the ladies entering and then went in himself. The place smelled of new paint and fresh-cut wood. And, most surprising of all, was the woman who sat behind the desk. It was surely the same woman with her brown eyes, but now her hair was down and she wore a cheerful blouse and skirt. She smiled gaily when she saw Edward and Sarah and got up to greet them.

“Oh, I'm so glad you've come. I have to tell you that the day you—um—wrecked the library was the best day of my life.”

“But why?” Sarah asked.

“Because, sweetheart, the community got together and redid the whole place. I've got sturdy wooden shelves, windows that open, volunteer readers, and new books! You have to come and see.”

She led the group into the adult section, and Edward was amazed at the transformation. Many people were perusing high, stable wooden shelves, and many others sat at oaken tables, their heads bent over books.

“And,” Miss Betty indicated in a proud whisper, “I've got a free table, where folks can come in to take or give books. It's worked out wonderfully.”

Edward idly ran his hand over the free books and something caught his eye. It gave him an idea for Sarah's birthday, which was fast approaching. He turned then, in time to feel his wife slide her arm around his waist, and he felt the bump of her cast through her dress.

“Isn't it
wunderbaar?
” she whispered.

“Yep. But hey, why don't we go see if we can get that cast off while we're in town? I think it's about the right time, and the hospital's not that far a walk from the festival.”

“I'd be only too glad to get it off,” Sarah admitted. “It itches.”

“Then let's walk up there now.”

They said good-bye to the very different Miss Betty and her new library and started up the hill to the hospital, passing visiting marching bands getting into formation for the parade that was due to start in a few hours.

To Edward's surprise, halfway up, they met Joseph walking in the same direction. He had his arm slung around the shoulders of a tall
buwe
, Jay Smucker.

“Joe, what's going on?”

Joseph shook his head and muttered in an undertone, “Red Smucker was drunk this morning before Jay left. I think he may have broken one of the
buwe
's ribs.”

Edward frowned, glancing at Jay, who had his head down. Red Smucker was known on the mountain to be tough and mean . . .
but to beat your own
sohn
. . . .
Edward felt an unreasonable surge of anger course through him and promised himself that he'd have to go see Red when they got back to the mountain.... He was aware that Sarah was looking at him worriedly, so he smiled and patted her arm, but he didn't think she was fooled. Still, they arrived at the hospital and asked for Dr. McCully, who appeared only too glad to help both Jay and Sarah.

Joseph elected to stay behind with Jay for X-rays and treatment, and promised to meet up with them later, while Sarah held up a very thin arm, shrunken in musculature due to the cast. “I'm glad I've got my sleeve to cover the arm,” she joked, rolling down the fabric as they walked away from the hospital.

“I'm sorry you had to have that cast at all.”

“
Ach
, Edward, it's all right. So much
gut
has
kumme
from that
nacht
. The cast was simply a small blessing.” She stretched up to kiss his cheek as someone in a group of passing
Englisch
youths made a wolf whistle sound and she pulled away, embarrassed.

“Don't worry, sweet.” He laughed. “
Englischers
, for some strange reason, don't believe that we
Amisch
engage in PDA.”

“PDA?” she asked hesitantly.

He snuggled her close. “Public displays of affection.”

“
Ach
. . .” she murmured, then laughed. “Then why do some of us have fifteen children?”

“Now that, sweet, begs for a different response, and one that I cannot give here.”

He delighted at the flush that stained her fair cheeks, then led her across the crowded street to where there were many craft stands set up.

 

 

“
Ach
, Edward, look at all these beautiful things. I hardly know where to begin!” Sarah said excitedly. “But, oh, is this boring for you?”

“Nee.”
He shook his head. “I like to see you happy.”

“
Danki
,” she whispered. “And I like to get ideas for things to make to pretty up our cabin. I'm so glad Bishop Umble allows some decoration.”

She passed over the beaded jewelry and the bracelets made from stone and wood. But she stopped at the alpaca fleece and felt its superb softness, wondering how many skeins she'd need to make a fine rug.

The woman at the booth was helpful and Edward laid out the money without a word. Sarah soon found that she needed to be more careful when she looked at things, for he was all too quick to buy them for her.

They passed dollhouse miniatures, soaps and lotions, tote bags, decorative flags, and a myriad of other items. Then they came to a booth of sterling silver and Sarah bit her lip once more as she fingered a baby's cup, finely crafted, tiny, and with a handle on either side. Edward took it gently from her hands and she turned to look up at him.

“Is it—I mean . . .” she floundered.

“Not
gut
to prepare?”

“Something like that.”

“Sarah King, as
Gott
wills, I shall surely plant my seed in you. Buy the cup and may many little hands hold its handles.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she gladly handed over the money and watched while the man carefully wrapped the silver. She took it back happily. “I'm finished shopping,” she said then. “I have everything I could want.”

 

 

That
nacht
Edward lifted the rough washcloth from the filled metal bathtub and watched Sarah's long bare legs as she stepped in with pleasure. She settled her rounded bottom into the steaming water and leaned back with a soft sigh of pleasure.

“Mmm, I'd have to agree,” Edward said from where he knelt beside the tub, his blue shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, the warm lantern light playing on the golden hairs of his forearms. “I love bathing you.”

“Why?” she asked teasingly, her voice sleepy and relaxed.

“Because afterward, I get to carry you to bed and make love to you while you're still damp.”

“Hmm . . . is that the only reason?”

He trailed the washcloth across her neck and down over her soft breasts. “
Nee
, it depends of course how many times I get to see that look of amazement in your eyes when you fall over the edge and into the sun . . . that's something, too.”

“
Ach
. . .” she purred as his hand dipped lower. “I'd have to more than agree.”

 

 

Later, when he'd exhausted both her body and her mind with pleasure, he slipped from the bed and hastily dressed in the dark. He hadn't forgotten his personal promise to have a talk with Red Smucker. . . .