CHAPTER FIVE

 

The storm’s strength swayed the hickory tree’s branches, making them buckle at times.  Jeremiah Troyer watched the swaying tree limbs as he leaned against the window behind the deli case.  He’d gotten the boxed lunch at Yoder’s Kitchen in case he saw the single mamm and her dochder.  However, being that she’d lied to the social worker about him being with her, he couldn’t possibly award her with a free lunch. 

Was it a man’s place to be an example in doing right, even with strangers?  He believed so, but he also remembered that the Scriptures say to not give a hungry man a stone.  Had he done the right thing? 

“You’re deep in study, Jeremiah,” His father, Samuel, came around the corner with an arm full of sharp cheddar cheese.  He could tell when his son was bothered.  He wondered what was on his mind. 

“Just a girl,” Jeremiah said as he grinned at his father. 

“Another one.  You’re pretty popular, son!”  Samuel drew a smile before he chuckled.  He knew that his son hadn’t gotten married yet and hadn’t been in any rush to get a fraa, even after the car wreck. 

Samuel knew that raising his two nieces had been a chore that had worn Jeremiah out.  Every now and then, he’d catch him napping at the office desk. 

There had been many single women, even some who had worked for him in his bakery and bulk food store, which had been interested in Jeremiah.  No matter how hard the women had tried to get his son’s attention, he hadn’t paid any attention to them. 

Jeremiah had always declared, “I’m not going to let any woman replace my schwester!”  He’d thought it would be hard to replace Sara, and Samuel had agreed with him. 

Sara had been a bright, bubbly mother of two beautiful girls. If only they had heeded Samuel’s warning about how dangerous Black Mountain could be during bad weather.  Samuel had driven across Black Mountain many times to deliver cheese to the Harlan Bulk & Dent Store, and he had known that the mountain could be mighty dangerous on a good day. 

“She’s an outsider.”  Jeremiah grinned as he watched his father’s face get stern.

His father gave a quick glance and then finished putting the cheese in the case. 

Jeremiah watched worry engulf his father’s face.  He couldn’t wait to tell him the rest of the story.   He waited, watching his father’s thin grey hair dangle atop his head. 

Jeremiah thought about the new patches of grey hair that dotted across the top of his head; for some reason, the straw hat had been hiding it.  He was glad that the menner in his community wore straw hats.  He felt inadequate and backward in getting grey hair before he’d even married.  However, in the back of his mind, he knew that he was doing the right thing.  He wouldn’t devalue his sister and marry anyone that came along. 

Actually, Jeremiah didn’t think anyone could ever replace his sister, and this had always bothered him, for he was lonely and needed a good wife.  Truth be told, he was desperate for a wife.  There was emptiness in his two nieces’ eyes, and he knew that void could only be filled by a good Christian mother.  He hadn’t found anyone like his sister Sara, and he doubted that he would find someone like her.

Samuel looked up at him.  “You’re deep in thought.  Who is this outsider?  What was she wearing?”

Samuel was reluctant to even hear what had happened, for he knew that outsiders didn’t stay tuned to the Scriptures like his close-knit Old Order Amish community did, and he had always warned his kinner about mingling with the outsiders.  Samuel knew that his son was very picky, so he wouldn’t get swept away by a newcomer to Walnut Creek, especially since she was Englisch.

“She is Mark Yoder’s dochder.  Her father was murdered, as was her mother.  I overheard her telling her story.”  Jeremiah folded his arms and leaned against the window sill.  The corner of his eyes caught the social worker walking in.  Water-fresh white pearls hung around her neck. 

“Hello there, young man!”  The social worker waved at Jeremiah, making him blush.  “You were very polite with that high-heeled, miniskirt little girl!” 

“I didn’t know her.  She was desperate to get away from you.  What happened?”  Jeremiah walked to the deli case and leaned onto it.  In the corner of his eyes, he saw his daed force back a giggle. 

“She gave me a story.  Let me see what you think.  Do you think that she is real?  She was talking like you all.”  The lady’s words caused Samuel to nearly bump his head on the deli case as he jerked up from the floor.

“Yes, she was speaking Dietsch fluently,” Jeremiah agreed that she had been real.  “Yes, she has a Plain heritage.

“You’re kidding me!”  The lady was startled, for she had thought that the girl had heard them speak and imitated them.  Would she have made the Amish mad by taking her baby?  Her face flushed and guilt stormed her face.

“Yes, lots of communities speak Dietsch.”  Jeremiah smiled and noticed the Sheriff standing next to the front of the store entrance.

“You don’t know her?”  The lady asked as she took her left hand and patted her neatly-combed hair bun.

“No, she is a stranger.”  Jeremiah nodded at the Sheriff.  He assumed that the Sheriff would take the baby to a safe home. 

“Thank You, Mr.  Troyer.  I will have Sheriff Metcalf take the baby to Millersburg.”

“To the Englisch family or the Amish family?  Jeremiah asked because he knew that there were three foster families in Millersburg. 

Jeremiah remembered hearing that the Smiths were away for a month of sight-seeing in Europe. That left Noah Hostettler and his wife, Marie, and the Harrods.  The Harrods were one of his top customers, selling one-hundred fried fruit pies a week at their convenience store.  Noah was his best friend.  They went fishing together on holidays. 

“The Harrods are on their thirty-first wedding anniversary in Europe.  I only have the Hostettler’s.  They are good people like you.”

“He’s my best friend.   They have a large play area on their farm.”  Jeremiah smiled and then looked at his daed.  He was sure that his daed would go into the office and ring Noah, filling him in on all of the details about this single, unwed mother. 

“Thank You for coming in.  Be careful out there.  That is a mighty strong storm.  Tornadoes were reported two counties over.  Mr. Black was in here earlier telling us about it.”  Samuel spoke with concern because it was a tornado that had caused the Mennonite driver to overcorrect and run off the road, killing his only dochder.  He’d been lost without Sara, as had his wife, Esther, who had been very close to her dochder. 

Samuel turned to Jeremiah and shook his head.  His grey beard looked fluffy and light, exactly like it had ten years ago.  He leaned against the deli case and sighed.  He knew that his son would never be interested in an Englisch girl, especially one that wore a pink miniskirt.

“The baby will have a good home.  I’m glad to see such a caring social worker.  Does Mrs.  Yoder still need the Colby cheese that she called for this morning?”  Jeremiah asked. 

Getting his mind off the homeless and dripping wet girl would be good.  He needed the drive down to Mrs. Yoder’s Kitchen to clear his mind and relax.  Even the storm’s heavy rain and strong winds sounded good, compared to being at the store. 

Jeremiah walked out and got into the buggy.  He directed the team of horses to the left, to go down the two-lane road that ran into where Lehman’s and Mrs. Yoder’s Kitchen sat.  Both businesses had always been great tourist attractions. 

He yelled at the horses as they trotted down the two-lane road.  Even in heavy rain, tourists dotted the curvy road.  The rain made it hard to see fifty feet ahead, but he was used to the road, as were the horses.  On a normal, clear day, one could see large tree-lined Amish farms lining the road on each side.  All the farms welcomed tourists and made a living out of selling homemade wares. You could buy homemade peanut brittle, eggs and chickens, and even watch cheese be made.  It was a tourist dream, and most tourists stayed at least a week while “regulars” stayed two weeks.

His mind traveled to the blonde-haired girl that he had met.  Although he highly disapproved of her revealing attire, she had quickly sparked his interest.  He looked down at the little white lunch box that lay in the seat next to him and thought that he should give it to her.  He knew that she was probably hungry.

He wasn’t supposed to feel like this, to be drawn so strongly into a stranger’s plight.  He shook his head and uttered, “I don’t know what’s going on.  Why can’t I forget this girl?”

All of the women who’d baked him giant cinnamon rolls and yummy Shoofly pies didn’t matter.  This intriguing blonde-haired girl did matter, and she hadn’t even baked him anything.  Actually, she had no money to even buy him a Shoofly pie, so why was he even thinking about her? 

“Remember, Jeremiah.  She’s forbidden.  Snap out of it!”  He clicked at the horses and took some deep breaths.  He tried to change his thoughts to the wholesale bakery orders that needed to be filled; Mrs.  Yoder’s niece needed twenty-four strawberry crème pies for a charity event. 

Jeremiah began to wonder if Mark Yoder’s daughter liked making strawberry crème pie and if she enjoyed eating it, too.  Did her soft blonde hair sway with the light spring wind in the strawberry field?  He’d love to be picking strawberries by her side.  What was her favorite color?  Did she enjoy quilting?  Sara had been an expert quilter.  Sara had also been the faster strawberry picker in the community.

Jeremiah recalled Bishop Yoder’s powerful Sunday sermon about giving up your own desires so that Gott can plant a seed for His plan.  “People that do not listen to God do not grow,” Bishop Yoder had explained during the Sunday morning service at his father’s house.

Should he listen to God or follow the rules of the Ordnung? He jerked his right hand away, took the cloth and wiped the sweat off of his forehead.

The horses jerked as if they could feel he was troubled.  He couldn’t let this stranger make him feel so heavy. He had to get her out of the area.  He felt like the odd feeling would go away if she was gone because it hadn’t sprung up until she had come to town.  Who could he get to help him to get her out of town?  Maybe they could take her to Columbus?  Maybe he could take her to Columbus?  It would be a very heart-heavy drive, but he would feel good afterwards, with a light mind and no girl distracting him.

The rain finally let up and Jeremiah relaxed his grip and squinted to view a person riding bare back to the right of the road. 

“I can’t believe this!”  Jeremiah was shocked.  It was the mini-skirt girl.  How had she gotten a horse, and how had she located a calico dress?

“Ma’am!  Stop!”  He yelled at her several times before getting her attention.  She steered the horse in the middle of the road and came running toward the buggy.  Her wet deep blonde curls hung down the sides on her neck.  Her eyes reflected the hard day that she’d had.

“Here, I got this for you earlier,” Jeremiah said as he handed her the white lunch box. 

“Thank You,” she said as she nodded and turned away.  The horse obeyed her command and quickly turned and trotted.  Her lavender calico dress swayed in the wind, but her damp blonde curls stayed fixed against her neck.

“Are you cold?”  He yelled at her.

She circled mid-road again and came back to the buggy.  “I feel sick.  I feel a cold coming on.”  She coughed. 

He knew that she’d been in the rain all day.  He wanted to see how fluffy her blonde hair really was; for his schwester Sara had had fluffy blonde curls.  He gazed into her weary eyes.

“I look a little untidy, don’t I?  This isn’t my horse.  I have to give it back.  A widow down the road saw me walking to the bed and breakfast and begged me to go horse back.  The owner’s husband is supposed to bring the horse back, as he used to be Amish.”

“I know that, little one.”  He smiled at her.

“Little one?  Don’t I look seventeen?  Earlier today, I turned seventeen.   It would have been good to have had the lunch box when I saw you buy it.”

He shrugged.  He thought that she was being ungrateful, and the fact that she’d lied to the social worker was unacceptable.

She got closer to the buggy and handed the box back.  She had wanted in his buggy twice, and she hadn’t been good enough, so there was no way that she’d take the lunch.  “Take it back, please.  I’m fine.  I’m going to the bed and breakfast.”

“Okay.”  He slowly took the box from her and watched her ride away. 

“You’re too good to have me as a fraa.  Sorry that I embarrassed you!”  She yelled as she rode away. 

Although soaking wet and homeless, and now childless, she looked strong and courageous to him.  It was as if he could see into her soul and see that she had tossed her burdens on Someone else.  Could that Someone be Jesus?  Who was Mark Yoder?  What had happened to him?  Was he liberal or conservative?  Jeremiah began to wonder. 

The rain had cleared up, but a light mist extended down the road as Jeremiah watched her ride away.  Who was she to think that she could just jump back into a close-knit faith like the Old Order Amish?  She should know better.  She was an outsider now.  Jeremiah thought that she’d be better off moving to another town to gain employment, for Walnut Creek was mainly run by Amish and Mennonite people. 

Deep down, he had to admit that he was a little curious about this blonde, strong-willed young lady.  Being intrigued by a woman was rare for him, for ever since his sister Sara’s untimely death his main focus had been Rachael and Emily, his sister’s two daughters.

Although Rachael was the oldest, you couldn’t tell it.  Sure, Rachael was twice as tall as Emily and looked more mature, but her attitude was premature ever since her mamm had been killed.  She had become more distant and withdrawn.  Being eight years old and losing your mamm had to be hard for her.  Emily was only a boppli when Sara had been killed, so she had had an easier adaptation to not having a mamm. 

Guilt punched Jeremiah in the chest as he saw the intriguing blonde lady stopped along the roadside.  “She’s talking to Mr.  Drake,” Jeremiah told himself as he shook his head in disbelief

He made the horses speed up so that he could hurry up to the farm entrance to divert their conversation.

“Why’d I have to be so rude?  Here is the county woman-chaser chatting away with her.”  Jeremiah spoke from experience.  He’d known Mr.  Drake for years and had known that he wasn’t the best candidate to be a husband.

He got close enough to see that Mr.  Drake was leaning against the mail box, chatting away.  The young lady made hand motions as she talked.  She appeared to be emptying her frustrations about being stranded in a strange town. 

The smell of fresh rain against the road echoed throughout the buggy.  There was a light mist of water that seemed to swirl across the farmlands that dotted the road.  Jeremiah yawned and scanned the sky in search of a rainbow but found none.

Jeremiah finally got within five feet of Mr. Drake’s farm entrance.  He fixated his eyes on the blonde girl.  He could feel some of her pain, for he’d felt overwhelmed and lonely ever since he’d become the daed for Rachael and Emily.  He remembered standing in the corn field, screaming at God as he asked why the accident had to have happened.  He remembered that God hadn’t answered back yet.  He was still asking God, awaiting an answer. 

He didn’t like being angry at God, but he’d be lying if he’d tell you that he wasn’t angry.  There wasn’t a day that he got up that we weren’t questioning God.  The emptiness in his nieces’ eyes had never left.  He knew he had to get a fraa.  He bit his bottom lip and then sighed as he stopped the horses at the curved entrance to Mr. Drake’s farm.  Here he was with hidden grey hair awaiting someone who looked and acted like his sister Sara, and God rolls an outsider in. 

“Gott, you have some humor, don’t you?”  He uttered as he got out of the buggy. 

“There’s that Amish guy!”  Miriam turned her head and stared at him.  She looked calmer, and Jeremiah expected it, for every new lady in town had met up with Mr. Drake, only having been later tossed out, bags in tow, on the end of his dirt road, next to the Bees for Sale:  Make Your Own Honey sign.  Everyone in the town gossiped, but no one could prove why he never kept a fraa. 

Sara had said that it was because Mr. Drake had asked the women to help in honey-making; the bees had scared them away.  Jeremiah wasn’t buying it.  He knew that Mr.  Drake was up to no good; he was a silver fox. 

“Hello, Mr.  Drake.  How is the honey coming along?”  Jeremiah smiled and looked at him before jerking his eyes back to the hateful young lady. 

This beautiful blonde-haired girl had begged to get into his buggy, but now she had no need for him and had labeled him as “that Amish Guy.”  His feelings were hurt, for he had a name: Jeremiah and he wanted her to address him as such.  “Jeremiah is my name, young lady.”  He tipped his straw hat and softly grinned. “I forgot your name.”

“Miriam.  Remember I am Mark Yoder’s dochder!” She smiled.  

 

“She’s going to board here with me.  The cold, rainy streets aren’t the place for a proper lady.”  Mr.  Drake explained as he pulled his greasy blue jeans up.  His grey beard looked ruffled against his white tee shirt that advertised a beer company.

Jeremiah glanced at his greasy pants- the ones that he always wore.  How could a proper lady be attracted to someone who was so rough-looking and downright eccentric? 

“You’re going to stay here?  I have a really nice tree house that my cousin had built last year.  Jeremiah said as he looked at her tanned, smooth complexion.  His words had startled her as she threw her mouth open in awe. 

Wait to see it; I promise that it’s like an apartment.  My cousin built it around a hickory tree, but it’s on the ground, extending up to the top floor.  My dochder, Rachael, climbs up to the top to read a lot. The top is all glass.”  Jeremiah smiled, awaiting her acceptance of his kind gesture for a nice place to sleep.

“Are you allowed to do that, Troyer?”  Mr. Drake ran his dirty hand threw his beard and grinned. 

“No, not really, but since I’m moving to my second farm to be closer to my bakery, she can live in the tree house.  I’m tearing down the farm house to make way for a larger corn field.”

“Oh, I see.  Mr. Drake nodded and turned to Miriam, whose face was frozen in fear.  Are you scared of heights?”

“Oh NO, NO, NO!” Miriam uttered as she looked like she could vomit at any time.  The tanned color of her face had quickly turned to white as she suddenly passed out.  Mr. Drake jumped over and grabbed her.  “I guess that means that she’s staying here.”