First Impressions Page 2

  “Maem,” Lizzie laughed. “I think your nerves would be just fine if only you’d wait until Daed comes inside to hear proper what the letter says.”

  “Oh now!” Maem said, waving her hand profusely at her daughter, again dismissing what Lizzie had said. “What would be the fun of that?”

  As if on cue, the door to the mudroom opened, a loud squeak announcing that someone was entering. Since the entire family was already in the kitchen, the women knew that the squeak meant only one person: Daed, the sole individual who could end their self-inflicted torment by reading the contents of the letter. Lizzie leaned against the kitchen counter, drying a pan that Jane had just finished washing, and watched as her daed entered the room.

  At forty-five years of age Daed was still in his prime. He was a nicely built man, not too tall, but not short by any definition. His mustache-less beard had started turning gray a few years back and that gave him a dignified look, especially when he was deep in thought, tugging at the beard while contemplating what others were saying. Unlike some of the other men in the g’may, their daed did not trim his beard. As a result it had become long and full, with stray hairs coming out the sides. Nowadays many of the younger men were trimming their beards, a grave issue among the elders who saw that as a trait of pride. Yet it was not against the Ordnung, the unwritten laws that governed each church district. Lizzie suspected it would be added into their rules at the next council meeting.

  “Wie gehts?” he asked cheerfully as he walked into the room. His graying hair was flat and stuck to the top of his head with the bottom curling out by his ears, an imprint left behind by his straw hat that he had worn while working outdoors. “Getting warm out there, ain’t so?” He crossed the kitchen and waited for his eldest daughter to move away from the sink so that he could wash his hands. When he finished, Lizzie handed him a dry towel.

  “So quiet in here,” he observed, turning to meet the six sets of staring eyes that watched him intently, out of speechless faces, from the sitting area. “Let me guess,” he said, handing the towel back to Lizzie. “You have a letter, I reckon. A letter addressed to me but whose contents are of most interest to you.” He turned and winked at Lizzie. “Am I close on that one?”

  Maem stood up and hurried to him, holding the letter in both hands, as if it were a precious piece of crystal. “Daed,” she began, “you must open this letter at once. We have all been waiting ever so patiently for you to come in from the fields.”

  He reached for the letter. “Patiently, you say?”

  “But of course!”

  Lizzie saw her father take the letter and head for his seat at the head of the table. Without being asked, Lizzie hurried over to the desk by the back wall and picked up her daed’s glasses. She knew that he couldn’t read anything without them, and providing them to her father would only expedite the opening and reading of the letter that was causing such vexation to her mother and three sisters. “Here, Daed,” she said, setting the glasses onto the table in front of where he sat.

  “Danke, Lizzie,” he replied.

  He reached for the glasses, too aware of the expectation with which his entire family was watching him. Deliberately he took his time opening his glasses, wiping the lenses with the hem of his shirtsleeve, sliding them over his nose, and then assessing the envelope itself. Clearing his throat, he glanced up, looking over the rim of his glasses at his wife. “It’s definitely from my cousin, Jacob Beachey,” he announced. He looked over at Lizzie and Jane where they stood by the sink. “You might remember them. They visited here once, long ago. His onkel was my grandfather’s cousin, if I recall correctly.” He paused, rubbing his chin with his finger and thumb. “Moved out to Holmes County when I was barely sixteen. Jacob came back once to check on the family farm. It has been let out ever since.”

  “We know that, Daed!” Lydia squealed. “What’s in the letter?”

  In a gentle gesture he turned his eyes to look at his youngest daughter. “My, my,” he teased. “Such eagerness. Mayhaps I should purposefully not read this letter to teach my dear Lydia the gift of patience.”

  “Oh, Daed!” she whined, flopping back against the sofa cushion.

  He laughed. Without another word he slid his finger under the back flap and opened the envelope. After withdrawing a folded piece of plain white paper, he began to read the contents, making a noise deep in his throat at one point and sighing at another. His nonverbal cues caused the others in the room to become even more anxious.

  “Ach vell,” he finally uttered, setting the letter down on the table and removing his reading glasses. “Seems that his son is being sent to tend to the farm after all. Land is scarce in their part of Ohio, and Jacob wishes for his oldest son, Charles, to take over this farm in Leola, since they already own it.” He glanced up, pausing for effect. “And to find a wife.”

  Lydia turned to her sister Catherine, and they both grabbed each other’s hands and squealed in delight. Sister Mary smiled but, as was her usual way, remained stoic and quiet. There was naught excitement that could cause Mary, the middle child, to display more than a shy smile, even in the midst of such exciting news. “I knew it, I knew it!” Lydia cried out, delighted at the news that their daed had just shared.

  Daed held up his hand. “He’s coming in late July and bringing his cousin George Wickey with him too.”

  “Blessed news indeed,” their maem exclaimed, her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes boldly sparkling. “Two boys of marrying age! Heavens to Betsy,” she said cheerfully. “What a perfect union for two of our girls!”

  Daed held up his hand. “Now, now, hold on here, my matchmaking fraa. Let’s not be planting celery in the rose garden just yet. We haven’t even met these young men to know whether they are worthy of our dochders.” He leveled a steady gaze at his wife. “Those Holmes County Amish boys are a bit different than our folk.”

  But his wife was already jumping ahead, dreaming of what was to come. In her mind, two weddings, one for each daughter. And wouldn’t that just solve all of their problems? With five daughters and no sons, there was no one to take over the family farm. Most young men in Lancaster were developing skills in carpentry, shed building, even landscaping. Very few men were being raised to take over their own family farms, as land in the concentrated areas where the Amish lived was not increasing but decreasing, and it took only one son to take over the farm.

  In the immediate area most farming men were already married or ready to retire, passing their farms down to one or two of their sons. As for the less fortunate sons, they tended to acquire jobs in trade or among the Englische. The few who preferred to farm often relocated to new communities with their families in order to farm. With four of their five girls of marrying age and few potential single farmers to court, the matriarch of the Blank family had spent many sleepless nights wondering who would take over the dairy farm when old age made it impossible for Daed to carry on with even the most mundane of daily chores.

  Lizzie watched as her mother schemed, thinking aloud and speculating which daughter would attract which of the Beachey cousins, Jane being the obvious first choice. It didn’t bother Lizzie one bit that her name didn’t come up in her maem’s matchmaking plans. She was just as content to stay at home, help her daed, and even remain a maedel. While having committed to the Amish way of life and worship two years prior, Lizzie did not favor any of the young men in their g’may or any of the neighboring ones either. For men, there was an economic rationale to marriage: a wife bore boppli who would grow and help with farm work. For women, it was moral: only with a husband and kinner did her standing in the community rise.

  For Lizzie, however, she saw it as something quite different.

  Indeed, she pondered, as she listened to her mother fretting and thinking out loud. She’d much prefer to remain alone than to marry for the sake of marrying. Conformity was one thing. She had made that choice willingly when she had taken her kneeling vow and joined the Amish church. However, commitment to marr
iage without love was quite another.

  Chapter Two

  SPRING SOON GAVE way to summer, with longer days and warmer weather. But even the early sunrise of a late-June Sunday found the Blank household in full motion. Lizzie was already up and had been milking cows for an hour, her dark green work dress covered in spilled milk and hay. Since her daed had not been blessed with sons, Lizzie tended to the dairy cows with him while the other girls helped their maem with house and garden chores. While Lydia and Catherine often wrinkled their nose at Lizzie after she would help Daed muck the dairy, Lizzie merely ignored her sisters. A quick washing in the upstairs bathroom with Maem’s homemade lavender soap and a change of wardrobe and Lizzie was always prepared for visiting without a trace of odor. Besides, she countered in her mind, she was the only one who was blessed with spending such quality time with Daed.

  Of the five daughters, Lizzie had always enjoyed a special bond with Daed, for her personality favored his more than the other girls. The time spent working in the dairy and helping in the fields cemented that relationship as they often discussed many topics, especially religion and philosophy. Lizzie was one of the few people who knew that her daed loved to read, almost as much as she did. He had a secret stash of reading material, books and journals that explored the different depths and aspects of religion as well as its importance, not just from an Amish perspective but from different perspectives encompassing all Christianity.

  This had become their own special secret and one of particular joy to both.

  Being that today was a church Sunday, Lizzie hurried as she moved the milking machine from one cow to the next, replacing the milking pails as needed. She would carry the full ones to the milk cooler in the back room. The gentle hum of the diesel generator, which kept the bulk milk tank cool, was always audible in the background, a noise she barely noticed anymore. The milk would stay in the tank until the truck came, on Monday morning, to collect the almost one thousand gallons that had been collected over the past three days since the last pickup on Friday morning.

  As she poured the milk into the tank, she glanced around the dark room. Two buckets needed washing in order to be reused again that morning. Her daed must have left them there for her to tend to. Without a question or a raised eyebrow, she washed them and carried them outside to leave by her daed’s side.

  “Best get inside to ready up for church, then,” he said, his attention on the cows, not his daughter.

  Lizzie didn’t respond but took advantage of the extra time he had just gifted to her. She hurried into the house, leaving her work shoes, a pair of old, battered black sneakers, in the mudroom. She barely noticed her sisters and maem, all ready for church and setting the breakfast table, as she dashed up the stairs. Quickly she washed in the bathroom. It didn’t take her long to dress in her Sunday clothing: a light green dress, fastened together with pins instead of buttons, and a crisp, white cape and apron made from organdy. She had spent time ironing it the evening before, careful to use just the right amount of starch, so that it would be ready for the morning.

  Then she turned to the small oval mirror hanging over the dresser and unpinned her brown hair. It hung down to her waist in long, loose waves. Unlike her older sister Jane, she did not have blonde curls, Jane being the only Blank daughter blessed with such light, flaxen-colored hair. The other four had brown hair, although Lydia’s bordered on the lighter side. Yet Lizzie didn’t mind. She paid no attention to her appearance as she brushed her hair and twisted it into the typical bun that she pinned at the nape of her neck. Then, with the utmost of care, she placed her black, heart-shaped prayer kapp on her head and pinned it so that it would not shift from its place. Because she was a baptized member of the church but unmarried, she wore the black kapp on Sundays until she was married. Then she would return to wearing a traditional white kapp. It was a distinction that did not bother Lizzie as it did some other young women in the church district.

  By the time she returned downstairs, her daed was washing his hands in the sink. Her sisters were already seated at the table, waiting for Lizzie and Daed to join them while Maem set down the last plate. When everyone was seated, Daed bent his head for silent prayer, and the others quickly followed. Only when he cleared his throat did the others begin to reach for the plates of warm food.

  Breakfast on church Sundays was a quiet affair, a time of reflection and thought, not of conversation. They all knew that a three-hour church service faced them. For Daed and Maem, it was a time of soul searching and reaffirming their faith in the Creator. For the girls, especially the youngest, it was a time of anticipation of the fellowship meal, and for the four older sisters, of the evening singing with their friends.

  “Heard some guests will be joining us today at Yoders’ for service,” Daed said, breaking the silence.

  It wasn’t unusual for guests to attend church service. What was unusual, however, was for Daed to know it in advance and to mention it. All eyes were now upon him. Surely these would be some important guests.

  Maem tried to not look overly interested, but Lizzie saw the color rush to her mother’s cheeks and a gleam shine from her eyes. Without doubt Maem’s curiosity was piqued. “Oh?”

  Daed reached for the bread and began to spread homemade jam on it. “Ja,” he slowly replied. “Seems Charles Beachey and his cousin George Wickey arrived last week.”

  The news stunned the women sitting at the table, each for different reasons. Lizzie quickly glanced at her sister Jane and exchanged a look of delighted curiosity. Immediately after, Lizzie’s eyes scanned the table, amused at the suppressed energy of her two youngest sisters, who could barely contain their excitement. One could see that they wanted to ask questions; they wanted to screech in delight. However, being that it was Sunday, such a reaction would be highly inappropriate. Lizzie looked back at her daed, realizing that he had waited for such a moment to tell the news for exactly that reason: no overbearing hullabaloo, no public display of frenzy. He would have none of that.

  Maem was the only one to challenge their daed. “I fail to see how you could know such a thing! Certainly you would have shared this news with your family upon hearing it! The letter we received a month ago said they were arriving in July!” she exclaimed. “How rude they must think we are if they have arrived and no one has sent over food or made introductions!”

  Lizzie watched her father’s reaction, delighted to see him controlling his own smile. Instead of responding, he merely continued to eat his bread. It was clear that the many questions they had would remain unanswered for the time being. As always, his timing was impeccable for tantalizing the curiosity of the women in his life. With a smile, Lizzie bent her head down and stared at her plate, playing with the food rather than eating, as she pondered the meaning of her daed’s game.

  Twenty minutes later Daed helped Maem into their buggy and they drove down the lane. Church started at eight, but the older members of the church tended to arrive earlier, while the younger members took their time, walking to church instead of riding with their parents. Quite often there was not enough room in the parents’ buggies for all of their older children, although that was not necessarily the reason why they chose to walk instead. Of greater interest was the fact that younger men might drive by in their own empty buggies and offer the girls a ride. Some girls might be inclined to accept the ride, especially if it was a neighbor boy or a friend. However, truth be told, and more so in the case of the Blank sisters, walking to church was also a great way to exercise a bit before the lengthy three-hour service.

  This morning the girls walked together, Catherine and Lydia giggling in each other’s ear over the arrival of Charles Beachey and his cousin George Wickey. Lizzie listened to their giddy chatter, rolling her eyes more than once in response. Jane laughed and nudged Lizzie, whispering a soft, “Oh, sister, we were like that once too, don’t you reckon?”

  “I take great exception to that!” Lizzie hissed. “I have never giggled and speculated about any youn
g man!”

  At this comment Jane laughed again. Her laughter was light and carefree, pure in nature and kind in delivery. “One of these days, Lizzie,” she teased, “some young man will come along, and your heart will take heed over your head, that’s for sure and certain.”

  “I highly doubt that,” Lizzie retorted.

  Behind them the all too familiar noise of horses’ hooves could be heard. Without even looking back, the girls moved to the side of the road in order to give the oncoming horse and buggy enough room to pass. On church Sunday there were usually many buggies on the road, headed toward the service. The sisters were used to stepping out of the way upon hearing their approach on the hard surface behind them.

  “Nee, indeed, I think not!” Lizzie declared after another moment’s pause, her expression serious and her dark eyes flashing. “For what purpose? To cook his meals and do his laundry and have his boppli?” Another eye roll. “Nee, that’s not for me. I’d much rather help Daed with his farm work and spend my free time at my own leisure.”

  “Books, I reckon!” Lydia scoffed. “You always have your nose buried in a book!” She twirled around in front of Lizzie. “I’d rather have a dozen boppli than spend my nights with a dusty old book filled with silly words!”

  At this, Mary jumped in. “There’s a lot to be said for reading, Lydia.”

  “Like how she pores over Martyrs Mirror?” Lydia was clearly not impressed, and no amount of convincing would change her opinion. “Reading doesn’t land a husband!”