Oh no!”
Clara Hertzler dropped another ripe red strawberry into her basket as she looked toward Emma Bontrager’s house. The Beiler sisters were standing by the water spigot near the back porch, staring at it. Clara wiped her hands down her black apron, lifted her full basket, and headed their way.
The hot early June sun beat down on her neck as she caught up to Rosalyn and Ellen.
“Try it again,” Ellen said as she pointed to the faucet.
“I did try it,” Rosalyn snapped. “It doesn’t work.”
“Is the faucet broken?” Clara asked as she set the basket on the edge of the porch.
“Ya, I think so. What are we going to do now? How are we going to water our crops?” Rosalyn gestured toward the half-acre garden their area youth tended so they could raise money for charity in memory of Emma’s late husband, Henry.
“We’ll carry the water cans into the kitchen and fill them there,” Clara said. “We’ll just have to make do until we can get a plumber here.”
“Why do we need a plumber?” Ephraim Blank asked as he approached with his girlfriend, Mandy Bender, in tow.
“The spigot stopped working.” Ellen pointed to it.
“When did that happen?” Ephraim bent down and began to examine it.
“Just a few minutes ago,” Rosalyn said. “I was going to fill my can and start watering the lettuce beds.”
“Have you ever fixed a spigot?” Mandy asked Ephraim. A smile tugged at her lips.
“No.” Ephraim shook his head as he fiddled with the handle. “But it can’t be too difficult, can it?”
“Ya, it can be.” Mandy crossed her arms over her black apron. “You don’t want to make it worse and then cause a big plumbing mess for Emma, do you? Remember, this is Emma’s haus, not yours.”
Clara held back a snort as Ephraim glared at his girlfriend.
“I’m going to go wash these strawberries and get them ready to sell at the stand.” Clara glanced at Mandy. “You might want to ask Wayne if he knows a plumber. His dat seems to have a lot of contacts in the community.”
“That’s a gut idea.” Mandy tapped Ephraim’s shoulder. “Why don’t we find a professional?”
Ephraim heaved a loud sigh. “You have very little faith in me, mei liewe.”
“I do have faith in you, but I think we should find the right person to fix the spigot.” Mandy grinned, her face lighting up.
Clara smiled as she carried the basket up the porch steps. She could see how Ephraim couldn’t resist Mandy, with her gorgeous hair the color of sunshine and her beautiful eyes a striking blue. She wasn’t exactly jealous of Mandy and Ephraim’s relationship, but she often wondered if she’d ever find someone who would love her the way Ephraim obviously loved Mandy.
It seemed as if love was in the air. Her close friend Katie Ann, Ephraim’s younger sister, had met and fallen in love with Chris Lantz in the spring.
Pretty soon I’ll be the only maedel in my baptism class who isn’t engaged or married.
Clara stepped into the kitchen and made her way to the sink. God would reveal his plan for her soon enough. In the meantime, she would enjoy these days of fun and friendship.
“Look at those schee strawberries!” Emma clapped her hands as she appeared beside Clara. Her warm brown eyes sparkled as she picked up a bright-red strawberry and examined it. Although she was in her late sixties, Clara and Katie Ann frequently marveled that Emma looked much younger with her youthful face and the dark hair that revealed only a hint of gray. “We’ve been blessed with such a wunderbaar crop this summer.”
“I know.” Clara nodded as she began to wash the strawberries. “I don’t think we’ll have any trouble selling these at the roadside stand. After subtracting our expenses, we’ve already raised more than six hundred dollars to give to the Bird-in-Hand Shelter. I’m so thankful the garden has been such a success.”
“I am too.” Emma pulled out the drainboard. “Let me help you. We can put these in the plastic containers and then take some of them down to the stand right away.”
“Danki.” Clara’s thoughts turned to the outside spigot. “The faucet outside isn’t working. We need a plumber.”
“Really?” Emma turned toward her.
“Ya. Rosalyn and Ellen were trying to fill their watering cans, but there was no water pressure.” When Emma’s forehead pinched, Clara added, “The garden committee will take care of the cost.”
“Oh, I’m not concerned about that.” Emma waved off the comment. “I just hate the inconvenience.”
“We’ll manage. We can just bring our watering cans in here to fill them.” As Clara washed another strawberry, she felt something soft rub against her leg, and she looked down at Emma’s fat, orange tabby cat and grinned. “Hi, Hank.”
Hank invited himself to move in with Emma on Christmas Eve during a snowstorm, and despite her efforts to shoo him away, Hank had stayed, becoming the widow’s sweet and constant companion.
“I’m surprised Hank isn’t outside helping with the weeding,” Clara said.
“He was outside earlier, but he came in for a snack. Sometimes I wonder if he likes to come inside to check on me.” Emma smiled down at the cat before she began drying the strawberries and setting them in the clear plastic containers they used to sell them.
“I’m sure he does check on you.” Clara opened her mouth to make another comment about the cat, but then the loud put-put-puttering sound of an engine blasted through the kitchen windows. “What on earth is that?”
Clara moved to the far window and peeked out as an older-looking, mint-green pickup truck stopped at the top of the driveway. The engine died with a loud sputter before the driver’s side door opened, and a tall man with sandy-blond hair, mirrored sunglasses, tan cargo shorts, and a blue T-shirt emerged from the truck’s cab.
“Emma,” Clara said, tossing the words over her shoulder, “do you know an Englisher who drives a mint-green pickup truck?”
“No, I don’t think I do.” Emma sidled next to her. “He doesn’t look familiar.”
Wayne King, Ephraim, and Mandy all walked over to the truck, and the men shook the driver’s hand. Clara stared at the mysterious guest. He looked familiar to her, but she wasn’t sure why.
When Biena Petersheim came around from the other side of the truck and stepped toward Mandy, Clara gasped in recognition. “Oh, my goodness! It’s Jerry Petersheim!”
“Jerry Petersheim?” Emma asked. “You mean Saloma and Floyd’s sohn?”
“Ya. He looks so different from when we went to school and youth group together. I know he isn’t Amish anymore, but it still feels strange to see him dressed like an Englisher.” She leaned forward on the windowsill as she took in Jerry’s appearance. He was taller—much taller. He used to match Clara’s five feet seven, but now he stood just under Ephraim’s six feet. And he seemed more muscular as he leaned against his truck and crossed his arms over his wide chest.
Although Clara saw Jerry’s parents and younger sister in church every other week, she hadn’t seen him there in five years. When she had occasionally spotted him around town dressed like an Englisher, she’d longed to understand what had caused him to leave the faith and abandon the culture into which they had both been born and raised.
She marveled once again at how English he looked. Jerry wasn’t dressed like Ephraim and Wayne, with their broadfall trousers, plain button-down shirts, and suspenders. And while Ephraim and Wayne both wore their hair in a traditional bowl cut, Jerry sported a fancier Englisher hairstyle, long on top and short on the sides and in the back.
New confusion washed over Clara as she studied her old friend. Why had Jerry left their faith? He’d seemed happy enough when they were in school, but when his younger sister joined the church two years ago, he wasn’t even there. Why would Jerry choose to be English? His parents and Biena never said.
“Clara?” Emma touched her arm. “Are you okay?”
“Ya.” Clara forced a smile as she looked at Emma. “I’m just surprised to see Jerry here. I’ve spotted him in town a few times, but we were never close enough to speak.”
The storm door opened and clicked shut before Biena stepped into the kitchen. “Clara!” She rushed over and hugged her. “How are you? I told you at church that I’d come today.” At nineteen, Biena was four years younger than Clara, and the sandy-blond hair that peeked out from her prayer covering reminded Clara of Jerry’s. But her eyes weren’t as bright blue as Clara remembered his eyes were.
“Ya, you did. I’m so glad you could make it.”
“How are you, Emma?” Biena turned to the older woman and hugged her too.
“It’s nice to see you,” Emma said. “Are you here to help with the garden?”
“Ya, I am.” Biena’s smile widened. “I heard a few other members of my youth group talking about it, and I wanted to come out.” She pointed toward the back door. “Mandy said I might be able to help you with the strawberries. She said we can package them up and then take them out to the stand.”
“That’s a great idea.” Clara motioned for Biena to join them at the sink. “We’ll have this done in no time at all.” As she washed more strawberries, Biena and Emma dried them and put them in the containers. Her mind spun with questions about Jerry. “I’m so surprised to see your bruder here.”
“Ya. He agreed to drop me off.” Biena closed a full container of strawberries. “When he saw Ephraim and Wayne were here, he decided to visit with them.”
“What’s he doing these days?” Clara washed the last strawberry.
“He started working for our onkel Saul’s plumbing business about four years ago.”
“He’s a plumber?” Clara spun toward her. “He’s here just in time, then.”
Biena shrugged. “Why?”
“I wonder if he can fix the outside spigot.” Clara pointed toward the window. “It stopped working.”
“Oh.” Biena nodded. “You should go ask him before he leaves. I’ll carry these down to the stand for you.”
“Danki.”
Once outside, Clara saw Jerry was still leaning against his truck and talking to Ephraim and Wayne. He had his head bent back as he laughed at something someone said, and Clara felt transported back in time, to when they were in school. Jerry’s laughter still seemed larger than life. A smile tugged at her lips as she approached him. When his gaze met hers, his own smile widened.
“Clara.” Jerry stood up straight. “How long has it been?”
“Too long.” Clara smiled. “Biena mentioned you’re a plumber.”
“I am.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Are you looking for one?”
“Ya, we are.” She pointed toward the house. “Our outside spigot stopped working. Would you please look at it?”
“Sure.” Jerry climbed up into the bed of his truck, opened a large toolbox, and pulled out a tool bag.
Ephraim turned to Clara. “I’m glad you thought to ask him. We were too busy reminiscing.”
Jerry hopped down from the truck and walked over to her. “So where exactly is this spigot?”
“I’ll show you.” As they walked together, Clara admired how grown up Jerry looked. His hair was thicker and his jawline stronger, making him seem more mature. He wasn’t a skinny teenager anymore.
“The garden is incredible.” He gestured toward the rows of crops, where several groups of young people were weeding or harvesting the early fruits and vegetables. “Ephraim and Wayne were telling me how this project came about. It’s really amazing.”
“Ya, I’m thankful to be a part of it.” She looked up at him. “It was nice of you to bring Biena by.”
He nodded, and she longed to read his mind. Why had he turned away from their church?
When they reached the back porch, she pointed to the spigot. “There it is.”
“All right.” He leaned over and began to fiddle with it. After a few moments, he had it off and turned it over in his hands. “Looks like it needs to be replaced.”
“Can you do that?”
“It’s not difficult. All I need to do is—” An electronic ring sounded, and he reached into his shorts pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Hello?” He nodded while listening. “Yeah, I’ll be there. I just need about an hour or so to help a friend. All right. Bye.” He disconnected the call and slipped the phone back into his pants pocket.
Clara shook her head as she stared up at him. “What happened to you?” The question slipped from her lips without any forethought.
Jerry’s lips flattened into a thin line for a fraction of a second, and then his smile returned. “I need to run to the hardware store for supplies, but I’ll be right back. It won’t take me long to fix this.”
“Wait.” She reached for his arm but then pulled back her hand. “Do you need money?”
“No. It won’t cost much at all.” With a quick nod, he walked away.
Clara stared after him, her mind still spinning with questions.
“Clara!” Biena called from the porch, balancing six containers of strawberries in her arms. “Would you please help me carry these strawberries out to the stand? We have a lot more than I thought.”
“Ya.” Clara hurried up the steps and took three of the containers from Biena’s arms.
“Danki,” Biena said as they started down the steps together. “Did Jerry look at the spigot?”
“Ya. He says he can fix it, but he had to go buy supplies. He’ll be back.” Clara looked toward Jerry’s truck, where he was again talking with Ephraim and, this time, with Chris as well.
Jerry said something to Ephraim as he nodded toward the house, and then he climbed into his truck. The pickup roared to life, and then he backed it down the driveway and soon disappeared down the road.
“May I ask you something?” Clara said as she and Biena walked down the rock driveway.
“Of course.” Biena smiled at her.
“Why did Jerry leave the church?”
When Biena’s smile faded, regret tightened Clara’s throat.
“I’m sorry. That was too personal.”
“No, it’s okay.” Biena’s smile was back, but it seemed to wobble a bit. “I don’t know why he decided to become English. My parents used to try to encourage him to join the church, but it always ended in an argument. When he moved out and started renting a room from our onkel, my parents stopped trying to change his mind. They wanted him to at least visit us, and he does. He also runs errands for mei mamm nearly every week to help her out.”
“Oh.” Disappointment filled Clara’s chest. She’d last spent any time with him at a youth gathering when they were both seventeen. And now she hardly recognized the man he had become.
“But he’s mei bruder, and I still love him.” Biena’s happiness somehow seemed forced. Clara assumed she was disappointed in his decision to be English too.
They approached the stand, where Katie Ann Blank stood selling to two English women. One of the women looked at Clara and Biena and gasped. “Blanche! Look at those strawberries.”
The other woman echoed the gasp. “They’re lovely! We have to take some of those home too.” She turned to Katie Ann. “How much are they?”
Clara and Biena set the strawberries on the counter while Katie Ann quoted the price. After the women paid for their purchases, they thanked Katie Ann and left in a red SUV.
Biena rubbed her hands together. “I’m ready to work.”
“Okay.” Katie Ann laughed. “Do you want to help me with the stand?”
“You’re not ready for a break?” Clara asked.
“No.” Katie Ann waved off the question. “I’d rather be here than weeding.” She gave a little laugh, her cheeks reddening. “Is it bad to admit that?”
“No.” Clara smiled. “I’d honestly rather work in the garden than sit down here at the stand.”
“How about I help Katie Ann and you pick more strawberries?” Biena suggested.
“Sounds great. Come and get me if you need me.” Clara waved good-bye and headed back to the garden.
She had nearly filled another basket with strawberries by the time Jerry’s truck pulled back into the driveway. When her basket was full, she carried it toward the house, keeping her gaze trained on Jerry. He was squatting next to the spigot, and he seemed to be rebuilding it. She set the full basket on the porch and walked over to him.
“How’s it going?” She pushed her prayer covering ribbons behind her shoulders.
He looked up at her. “All right. I’m almost done.”
With his sunglasses off, she had a full view of his cobalt-blue eyes. She’d forgotten just how blue they were. The urge to get reacquainted took hold of her. She grabbed an empty bucket, turned it over, and sat down beside him.
“So how have you been?” she asked.
“Gut.” He gave her a sideways glance. “How about you?”
“Fine.” She needed to pull him into a conversation. “How’s your family?”
His lips quirked. “I think you know the answer to that. You see them every other Sunday at church.”
“Right.” She gave a little laugh as her cheeks heated.
“How are your parents, Clara?”
“Fine.” She shrugged. “Mei dat still builds sheds with his bruders. Mei mamm still has her seamstress business. They’re both still as ornery as ever.”
He chuckled. “Glad to hear it.”
“I heard you’re working for your onkel.”
“Ya. I work full-time for mei onkel Saul and rent a room from him. I’m saving to move out. I haven’t decided if I’m going to rent a place or buy one.”
“Why did you go to work for your onkel when you always worked for your dat’s farm?”
“I guess I needed a change.” He shrugged. “Mei onkel offered me the job, and Dat told me to take it. He hired someone else to help him.”
She studied his easy expression, searching for any sign of a lie. Did his father tell him to do that because his uncle isn’t Amish? She pushed the thought away. It wasn’t her concern.
“Do you like being a plumber?” she asked instead.
“Ya, sure. It’s challenging. I seem to learn something new every day, and there’s always something to be fixed.”
“Oh.” She felt the urge to ask him if he had a girlfriend, but that seemed too personal and pushy. Still the question echoed through her mind.
“I suppose you’re not married yet,” Jerry said.
His directness caught her off guard, and her mouth dropped open.
He laughed. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“If I were married, I’d be too busy to spend my Saturday afternoon working here.” She gestured toward the garden.
“That’s true.”
She tilted her head. “How about you?”
“Married?” He shook his head as he put the new spigot on. “No. I don’t even have time to date.”
So that answered her question.
“What about you?” he asked, his focus on his task.
“I’m not dating anyone.” She gathered the folds of her blue dress in her hands as she watched him work. She wanted to know why he hadn’t joined the church when they were eighteen as she had, along with their friends. But asking something so personal would be even more rude and pushy than asking if he had a girlfriend.
He finished fiddling with the spigot and then turned the handle. When water began flowing, she clapped.
“Danki,” she said. “Let me pay you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“At least let me pay for the materials.”
“No. It really wasn’t a big deal.” He began packing up his tools. “I have to get going. Mei onkel called me earlier about an emergency job out in Strassburg.”
“Oh.” She longed to find a reason to keep him there. What was wrong with her? “Are you coming back to help us with the garden?”
“Maybe.” He stood and picked up his tool bag. “I guess I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay.”
As he walked to his truck, she realized she’d like to see him again very soon.
“I saw Jerry Petersheim today,” Clara told her mother as she dried the supper dishes later that evening.
“Really?” Mamm looked up from washing a platter. “Where did you see him?”
“At Emma’s. He dropped off Biena, and then he stayed to fix Emma’s outside spigot.” Clara set a stack of three dinner plates in a cabinet. “I know he left the faith, but it still seems strange to see him dressed as an Englisher.”
“Ya, I know. I’ve seen him around town.” Mamm rinsed the platter and set it in the drying rack.
“He rents a room from his onkel and works for his plumbing business. He has a cell phone and drives a pickup truck. I was so surprised, since we were such gut freinden in school.” Who was she kidding? She’d had a crush on him for years and had even dreamt of dating him after they were both baptized. But that didn’t happen.
“Unfortunately, some Amish people do make that decision.” Mamm shook her head as she turned her attention to washing a large serving bowl.
“What was it like when your bruder left the church?” Clara asked.
Mamm’s shoulders sagged. “It was terrible. My parents were so upset.”
“Did they try to convince him to stay and join the church?”
“Ya, we all did, but our efforts just pushed him further away. As I’ve told you, he moved to Maryland and married a woman he met at work.” Mamm kept her gaze fixed on the bowl. “I still send him a Christmas card every year and hope he’ll respond. He hasn’t, but the cards have never been returned to me. I assume that means he still lives in the same haus.”
“Do you think you could have eventually convinced him to stay in the church if he hadn’t moved away?”
“I don’t know.” Mamm rinsed the bowl and set it in the rack. “Sometimes I wonder if I should have tried harder, but then again, I pushed him away as it was.”
As Clara put away the dried platter, an idea filled her mind. What if she could find the right words to convince Jerry to return to the Amish church? He couldn’t be happy divided from his family. And maybe she could get to know him again in the process.