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  Over a period of several of these repeated invitations, conversations would ensue, often made longer by the propensity of the driver to take the longest possible route, during which affinities and feelings were shared, hopes and dreams expressed, ultimately resulting in a common pledge. In such a close-knit community, many young people already had their sights on a possible life partner, but these rides would help make their hopes and aspirations a reality. Banns were announced a few months later at a church service. Or it was the short route home.

  Back in July Elijah had convinced Fanny to attend the youth singing. When Miriam and Julia chimed in that she should join them, Fanny had finally acquiesced, but only after Timothy and Martha agreed. With the four of them crowded into the open-top buggy, it had been a fun ride over to the Yoders’ home. But at the end of the singing, Elijah had been nowhere in sight. When she realized that he was gone, most likely off with Benjamin and some other young men, Fanny walked home by herself along the dark roads. She much preferred the solitude of her own thoughts to the giddy chatter of her two cousins.

  She hadn’t gone back to a singing again.

  After the Sunday fellowship meal Fanny found herself in between her aunts and her cousins as they walked home. Up ahead, she could hear Miriam and Julia whispering and thought she heard the name Coblentz uttered several times. Behind her, Naomi rattled on about the way several of the young women, Katie Troyer included, had not tied the strings of their prayer kapps.

  “Can you imagine, Martha? Why, I even think that Troyer girl’s dress was soiled!”

  Martha clicked her tongue, giving the usual disapproving tsk tsk, although Fanny wondered whether she truly cared. Since Timothy’s departure, Martha had remained unusually quiet. Fanny did what she could to take care of her, making certain that she was never alone. But she noticed that Martha didn’t seem to mind whether Fanny was there or not.

  “And the Millers’ son—that . . . Jake?—I saw him fall asleep! Not once, not twice, but three times!”

  “Oh, help,” Martha mumbled without any real emotion.

  Fanny sighed, knowing full well that Naomi sometimes nodded off during the longer sermons, especially during the hot summer months. With close to two hundred people sitting in one large room, it was almost impossible to not give into waves of somnolence. But Naomi always found something, or someone, to grumble about. If Timothy had attended, he too would have complained. In his eyes no one could ever be righteous enough to follow the Ordnung properly.

  “When my husband was bishop,” Naomi started as, despite herself, Fanny pressed her lips together, “he never would have permitted such inappropriate behavior!”

  For the rest of the walk, Naomi continued to talk about the superiority of her husband’s leadership for the g’may and how everything seemed to be falling apart since his death. Fanny didn’t have to listen, for she had heard this lecture many times since her uncle’s death just three years after she arrived in Ohio.

  When they walked down the driveway to the farm, Fanny felt a sense of comfort. She felt that it was home, even if she always knew that it was not her home. The windmill blew in the light summer breeze, the rotor making a loud clacking noise. Overhead, the clear blue sky almost appeared more like autumn than summer. She knew that the rest of the afternoon would be quiet, everyone sitting in the kitchen and talking, or, if someone felt moved, reading the Bible. Fanny hoped that she could find a way to stay outside, to sit in the sun and feel the breeze on her face. Soon it would be autumn, and with the change of season, more days would be rainy and cold. Most of the days would be spent indoors, sitting around the wood-burning stove and making baskets in the dim light of the kerosene lanterns.

  “Did you hear me, Fanny?”

  She looked up, surprised to be addressed by Naomi. “Nee, Aendi, I did not.”

  “Go fetch that blanket for Martha, I said. We’re going to sit out here on the porch for a spell and I don’t want her catching a chill.”

  “Of course,” she mumbled and hurried past Naomi and Martha to enter the house.

  Leaving the front door open behind her, she ran over to the sofa where the old, faded quilt was tossed, unfolded. As she grabbed it, her eyes fell upon an envelope, already torn open, which had fallen to the floor. She recognized the handwriting as being Timothy’s. For a moment she hesitated and almost picked it up to read. But she knew that it was not addressed to her and reading it would be almost as bad as lying or stealing. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder why no one had mentioned that he wrote to the family.

  Because I’m not their family, she thought with a heaviness forming inside her chest.

  She held the quilt against her chest as she walked back toward the door.

  “ . . . and Fanny’s to go to the singing too,” Julia was saying when Fanny approached the chair-swing.

  “Oh, I don’t know if I can do without Fanny,” Martha said nervously as Fanny covered her aunt’s legs with the quilt. “What would I do if she weren’t here?”

  Miriam frowned. “It’s only for a few hours, Maem.”

  Naomi shot her a look that did not go unnoticed by Fanny.

  “It’s fine,” Fanny said. “I’d be too worried to go anyway.”

  Martha gave her a soft smile.

  “Oh, Fanny!” Miriam sounded exasperated. “How will you ever get married and have babies if you don’t go to the singings?”

  The question caught her off guard. She never gave much thought to getting married. While all of the other young women talked about courtships and marriage, their dreams of having child after child, Fanny had always presumed that she would just stay on the Bontrager farm. And she certainly did not envision herself taking care of kinner. She had her hands full taking care of Martha and, when necessary, Naomi.

  “Speaking of which . . . ” Naomi changed the subject. “I heard too much noise last Sunday evening. That rocking chair squeaks against the floorboards, and I’d like a decent night’s sleep tonight.”

  Miriam flushed and Julia looked away.

  Martha reached over to touch her sister’s arm. “That’s to be expected, Naomi. It’s the way it’s always been done.”

  “Doesn’t mean it can’t change, Martha!” Naomi replied harshly, and Martha withdrew her hand as if she had been slapped. “Nor that it shouldn’t. A woman my age needs her sleep!”

  Fanny coughed into her hand. “It is getting chilly out,” she said, hoping to divert Naomi to a safer topic. “Maybe Martha should go inside.”

  Courtship was a strange time in any Amish house where daughters resided. While it wasn’t normally discussed, the ritual of bedside courtship remained a fact among even the most conservative church districts. Most courtships were limited to the kitchen where the couple sat together on a single rocking chair to talk—and sometimes kiss!—in the darkness. It was not unheard of for the talking to also take place in the girl’s bedroom on the second floor of the house, especially since the parents often kept their bedroom just off to the side of the kitchen.

  Yes, bedside courtship was something most people did not discuss, but it was a known practice. Just one more reason Fanny didn’t want to court a young man.

  Chapter 4

  HURRY THEN, FANNY!”

  From her small bedroom at the back of the second floor Fanny could hear Miriam impatiently tapping her foot on the hardwood floor as she waited in the kitchen. Fanny could only imagine Miriam standing there, arms crossed and a scowl on her face, at the terrible and horrible inconvenience of having to wait for Fanny. For once, Fanny thought. Usually it was the other way around.

  With a big sigh Fanny left her bedroom, and after shutting the door behind herself, she walked toward the staircase.

  Oh, how she didn’t want to go to that singing! Her reluctance to socialize before and after the worship service was only magnified at the youth gatherings. As usual, the other women talked about silly things, simply more gossip and most of it of little importance. Her lack of enthusiasm for sharing
her own comments meant that her opinion was infrequently sought. Apparently she had offered her true thoughts, that gossip was irrelevant and sinful, just once too often. The only person who ever seemed to care about her opinion was Elijah, and that certainly wasn’t at youth gatherings, where he spent most of his time with his own peers.

  But Fanny didn’t mind. She often felt fortunate to spend so much time with the finest of company: her own thoughts.

  “Are you coming yet?” Miriam yelled.

  “Ja, ja! I’m coming,” Fanny said, holding onto the handrail as she began to descend.

  Elijah stood at the bottom of the stairs, peering up the stairwell at her. He gave her an encouraging smile, most likely because he knew of her discomfort. He always seemed so attuned to her unspoken emotions, one of the very reasons she felt her nerves begin to settle. At least Elijah would be there, she thought, hurrying down the steps. She would ride over to the singing in his buggy, and if all things went in her favor, she might even ride home with him too.

  “Now calm yourself, Miriam. Here comes our Fanny!” he said cheerfully.

  Just as Fanny reached the second to bottom step, her shoe slipped and she stumbled forward. She cried out as she fell, her hand leaving the banister as she tried to break her fall. But she never hit the wall or the floor. Instead, she felt strong arms grab her by the waist and hold her tight.

  “Gotcha!”

  It took her a second to realize what had just happened. Her hand was pressed against his chest and he held her in a tight, if not awkward, embrace. She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his. For a moment she felt as if her heart might stop beating, for he gazed down at her with a look that words simply couldn’t describe.

  Just as soon as she saw it, it was gone. Blinking, Elijah helped her stand upright, his hands still around her waist but his eyes averted from hers.

  “Now what?” Miriam snapped. When she saw that Fanny had fallen, she clucked her tongue and mumbled under her breath.

  Fanny, however, ignored her cousin. She placed her hands on Elijah’s shoulders, too aware of his chest pressed against hers as he held her. Her heart beat rapidly and she felt tingles racing up the back of her arms. His hands on her waist felt strong and protective. For what felt like an eternity, she couldn’t tear her eyes off his. Finally, when he didn’t release her, she forced herself to look away.

  “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled and started to press away from him. But his hold remained firm. “Elijah?” she asked, wondering why his arms still held her so tight.

  “Are you alright? Did you hurt your ankle, Fanny?”

  Impatiently Miriam sighed from the doorway. “Oh, she’s just fine! Making us late, but fine! Kum now! Let’s get going.”

  Fanny relaxed, just a little, under Elijah’s concerned stare. “Nee, Elijah, nothing hurts,” she said. She felt as though butterflies fluttered inside of her chest. This time, when she pushed away from him, he let go, one hand still on her waist as he made certain she was steady on her feet. “Miriam’s right,” she mumbled, looking down at the floor. “I am making everyone late. I’m so sorry.”

  He leaned over. “Stop apologizing,” he whispered in a lighthearted tone. When she looked at him again, surprised by his sweet demand, he winked at her and finally removed his hand.

  Fanny could hardly breathe. She stood there, stunned back into silence. Had that really happened? Had Elijah held her in his arms far longer than he should have? She felt a distinct warmth spread across her cheeks, thankful that Miriam and Julia were already heading out the door with Elijah slowly following.

  He paused at the door and waited for Fanny.

  Somehow she managed to cross the kitchen floor and pass him as he held the door open for her. As she climbed into the back seat of his buggy, she was still thinking about how she felt, pressed against Elijah’s body, when he safely caught her from what could have been a terrible accident. She wondered if she had imagined the intimacy of the moment. After all, Elijah was like a big brother to her. To Fanny, he was also her best friend, and despite what she truly felt about him, she had never imagined anything more could develop between them.

  But he had looked at her and not necessarily, she sensed, in a brotherly way.

  For the entire ride to the singing, as the buggy’s metal wheels rumbled along the road’s hard surface, Fanny was barely able to focus on anything other than budding feeling of hope that was growing within her.

  That evening the singing was being held in a barn. When they arrived, the men were outside, having taken the time to unharness their horses and lead them to a small paddock adjacent to the barn. Fanny followed Miriam and Julia inside, walking two paces behind her cousins. She could not help but wonder whether or not Elijah might be watching her, but she knew it would be improper to turn around to find out. Instead, she enjoyed thinking mayhaps it was exactly what he was doing.

  Thirty minutes later, however, her momentary happiness took flight.

  The men were gathered on one side of the barn and the women on the other. The singing hadn’t begun yet, the youth were taking their time to converse with each other before the actual singing of hymns began. That was precisely when Henry Coblentz walked into the barn, his sister Mary walking right beside him.

  A moment of silence befell the gathering. It was hardly noticeable at first, as just a few people stopped talking. But the crowd, though small in nature, was large enough for the quieting to be noticeable, if not to the newcomers then certainly to Fanny.

  She too looked up from where she sat on a hay bale, a plastic cup of lemonade in her hand, as she followed everyone’s eyes toward the door.

  Admittedly Henry was a very handsome man. Tall with broad shoulders, well-defined facial features, piercing eyes, and a straight posture, he looked strong and sure of himself, which indicated that he probably had a work ethic to match. But Fanny knew that looks could be deceiving; the handsome Thomas had shown her that. As Henry Coblentz removed his straw hat, clearly new for the narrow brim had nary a straw out of place or a single tear in the black band, he ran his fingers through a thick shock of brown curls and smiled, for whose pleasure Fanny could not presume.

  Fanny knew that beauty on the outside did not mean it carried through to the inside. She had never paid much attention to those who carried the trappings of good looks or the privilege of wealth. The former was apparent from one simple look, but the fine material of his shirt indicated the latter. Clearly it was not made from the same practical bolt that Martha and every other Amish woman purchased to make their sons’ clothing.

  No, Fanny was not one to be impressed by this Henry fellow. Pride in appearances often indicated a lack of motivation to develop true character and humility, while an exterior display of wealth often meant there was no reason to develop a deep relationship with hard work. How such a person could ever be righteous and walk right with God was a mystery to Fanny. Even more mystifying was how any Amish woman would be attracted to such a man. Surely a commitment to God gave a stronger impression than simply presenting a handsome face and wearing fancy clothing!

  However, Fanny quickly realized that she held that thought in isolation; the way that the other young women stared at Henry with obvious interest etched into their faces clearly showed that they saw the superficial exterior with no consideration of what lay beneath. When Henry continued smiling, his eyes traveling across the room and in the direction of where Fanny sat with her cousins and their friends, Fanny watched with amusement as Miriam accepted the smile as if it were for her and her alone.

  It took only a few minutes for Mary to make her way over to the small group of women. Her confidence was as bold as her beauty. Fanny glanced over at Elijah, not surprised to see that Mary’s brother had joined him. What did surprise her was that Elijah’s eyes seemed fixated on the young woman who now stood before her.

  “Wilkum!” Miriam said with genuine eagerness and extended her hand toward Mary as she introduced herself.

  The young woman
who looked no older than twenty-five years of age shook Miriam’s hand, a thin yet confident smile on her face. Clearly she was not intimidated about being in a new place and meeting new people.

  “Mount Hope is so different from Lancaster County,” Mary remarked after the introductions were made. “Much more . . . rural.” Spoken from anyone else’s lips, the comment might have been taken as a slight. Mary, however, let the words roll from her tongue in such a way that rural did not sound quaint and backward. Instead, she spoke with such esteem that it could only be meant as an observation steeped in admiration.

  Miriam, however, raised her eyebrows. Fanny wasn’t surprised. The favorite of Naomi, Miriam seemed to mirror her aunt’s habit of finding something—anything!—to dispute in any opinion that did not reflect hers. In fact, oftentimes even if it did reflect hers. “Really?” she said in a tone that masked any indication of faultfinding. “My daed always comments that it’s becoming far too commercialized as of late. And too many tourists.”

  It was, indeed, a sign of the times that tourists were becoming increasingly attracted by anything Amish-made. The abundance of cheaply designed and poorly manufactured goods that had invaded the world of the Englischers made many people long for solid, handmade items carefully crafted the old-fashioned way.

  And the tourists loved Amish food as well. Tired of prepackaged, overly processed food, more and more tourists were now shopping at local Amish grocery stores. This trend had not gone unnoticed by the community, prompting the more enterprising amongst its members to travel as much as four hours away to sell produce at local farmer’s markets. It made good business sense, and the community, organizing itself as a cooperative, thrived as goods were gathered and purchased from the families in each district, providing a great sales outlet for those who canned, cooked, rendered, baked, stitched, or handcrafted the old-fashioned way.