Louisa had never been involved in making so many cookies of different kinds and shapes in her life. Baking and running errands with Annie and her mother, as well as attending yesterday afternoon’s Amish school Christmas program, had taken up much of their time during the past week. Even at the Rancks’ there was much to do to help the family prepare for the holiday. There had been little time to be taught to drive a horse and buggy, but she could wait for a better time.
Meanwhile, she had begun a new drawing of the quaint well pump coated with a fresh sprinkling of snow. She could easily view it from her vantage point in the Dawdi Haus bedroom, working without having to camouflage her art as Annie continued to do. Often she felt apologetic because Annie insisted she openly work on her drawings while Annie couldn’t—or wouldn’t.
It has to be a pain to hide what you love, she often thought and sometimes contemplated the apparent incongruity of it—a group of people following stringent rules they imposed upon themselves. The concept of an unwritten system of expectations and required behaviors—expounding what is good or evil, although discussed by the ministers and voted upon by the church membership twice yearly—was mind-boggling. Had she not come here to experience it for herself, she never would have perceived the riddle of the Amish from Annie’s letters. The freedom she had always envied, which she believed Annie had managed to take for granted, seemed to come at an exceedingly high price.
The thing most amazing about deciding to stay on here was the notion that her coming may have bought some creative time for Annie. But now, with Annie’s worry of being found out by her father—and she fumed over this constantly, even whispering late into the night—Louisa wondered if it wouldn’t be a good thing if her friend’s secret was discovered. That way some understanding could possibly begin. Either that or she and I will be looking for an apartment somewhere off Route 30! But she knew she’d never encourage Annie to leave her roots. What was the point? Her life was all wrapped up in being Amish.
Louisa still had not deciphered how Annie had known of the first-place win before ever going to Julia’s. But she had more than enough on her mind today—up to her proverbial earlobes in cookie dough and chocolate frosting.
In the middle of the morning, a knock came at the front door. Annie and her mother and three sisters-in-law turned their heads to look in unison, appearing quite startled, as nobody, except outsiders, ever used that entrance!
Annie hurried off to answer it, and when she returned carrying a large vase of red roses, Barbara Zook let loose with a string of astonished Dutch. Soon, Sarah Mae was chattering, too, and all of them were observing Louisa, as if they knew instinctively this bouquet was not intended for Annie.
‘‘These are for you.’’ Annie held the vase up.
Amazed, Louisa couldn’t imagine who would be sending her flowers here. A dozen at that.
Annie went with her to the table, where Louisa carefully placed the glass vase in the center. ‘‘Look, there’s a little card with it,’’ said Annie, seemingly eager to know what Louisa herself was curious to see.
This must be from my parents . . . or Michael. She pulled the small card from the plastic holder, opened it, and read: Merry Christmas with fond memories of us. Thinking of you, Trey
‘‘Michael or a secret admirer?’’ Annie whispered, wide-eyed.
‘‘Not so secret now.’’ The surprise overwhelmed even her— the thought of Trey doing something like this. And how had he known where to send the roses?
Unless . . . did he contact my parents? That was the most likely scenario. Trey had not received a return call from her, so he’d called her parents’ home. Too weird.
‘‘Roses are for love,’’ Annie whispered later in the day, when she was admiring them on the bedroom bureau. ‘‘Are you sure there isn’t something still ’tween you two?’’
Could there be? Impossible! Too much had passed since they’d parted ways. Besides that, she was on a quest for peace and understanding far from city lights and metropolitan madness, whereas he had gone to seek all the exhilaration one London town could offer.
‘‘Trey was always very thoughtful, that’s all it is,’’ she said. ‘‘Probably . . .’’
Louisa was amused at Annie’s attempt to bundle them up for the ride once they were settled in Yonie’s courting buggy. ‘‘Must be miles away to Esther’s,’’ she said while Annie continued to tuck lap robes around them.
‘‘Oh, trust me, you’ll be ever so glad for all these once we get goin’,’’ Annie said as they waited for Yonie. ‘‘Your driving lesson’s long overdue, ya know.’’
Louisa felt terribly restless now that she sat here staring down the long back of the enormous horse. ‘‘I had no idea we were going out this afternoon . . . with all this snow.’’
‘‘It’ll be fine, you’ll see. There’s little or no traffic out here, so we’ll be safe from cars. The snow will be plowed to the sides of the road, but if too many cars get behind us, we’ll pull off and let them pass. Then, when we return home, we’ll all go ice skating on the pond behind our neighbors’ barn.’’
‘‘Danz or Lapp?’’
‘‘The Lapps . . .’cause we have a standing invitation from them anytime we want to skate,’’ Annie said. ‘‘Awful nice, jah?’’
Yonie came dashing across the yard, making boot-sized holes in the snow. ‘‘All right, let’s go!’’ He climbed into the buggy next to Annie, but to Louisa he said, ‘‘All set?’’
‘‘As ready as I’m going to be.’’
‘‘Well, if you want the horse to know you’re in charge, it’s best to hold the reins with confidence,’’ he advised.
Louisa had no idea how to make the difference, but she sat up straighter and the reins became slightly taut. ‘‘Like this?’’
‘‘Much better.’’ He was nodding and smiling. ‘‘That’s just right.’’
‘‘Now what? Should I say gee?’’
Before Yonie could reply—and even with her rather soft directive—the horse began to move forward. ‘‘Wow, I didn’t realize how easy that was.’’ She laughed at herself, still as nervous as she’d ever been.
‘‘This horse is very responsive,’’ Yonie said. ‘‘Besides that, you’re a natural, Lou.’’
Lou? There it is again, she thought. The nickname sounded so right somehow. ‘‘Do you really think I’m a Lou?’’
‘‘Seems fine to me, jah,’’ Yonie said.
Annie nodded. ‘‘A good fit it is.’’
‘‘A big departure from prissy Louisa,’’ she admitted.
‘‘Well, I like both names equally well,’’ Annie said.
Louisa snickered. ‘‘Lou is much less fancy, jah?’’
Now Annie and Yonie were the ones to laugh. ‘‘It strikes me funny when you say jah,’’ Annie said, her breath releasing little white puffs into the air.
‘‘It’s such a cool way to say yes, you know? And I think I do like being called Lou . . . it’s new. A nice change.’’
‘‘Hey, Lou is you,’’ Annie sang. ‘‘The new you!’’
The new me. . . . She wondered if being called something different from her given name was a way to distance herself further from her modern life, to turn over a new leaf. Not that she was becoming enamored with the Plain culture, because being born into this subculture was the only real hope of successfully fitting in. Although Annie had told of a handful of folk she’d heard of, especially in other communities, who had attempted to join the church out of sheer frustration with the stressful life of the modern world. Most outsiders failed in such an endeavor, largely because they did not attempt to learn the language— Pennsylvania Dutch. The grueling work schedule also had a tendency to discourage them.
On the flip side was the idea that a Plain person, such as Annie, could make it on her own in the hubbub of the high-tech world. Louisa suddenly thought of herself, wondering how difficult it would be to reemerge into her former life . . . when she was ready.
A girl named Lou would not mesh so well in a complicated world. She smiled to herself, holding the reins for not only this powerful horse but for her own life, at least for this season of time. I’m in charge . . . and I like it!
‘‘You’re doin’ just great,’’ Annie said, instructing her to tug on the right rein just a little before the next intersection. ‘‘Then, after that, it won’t be but a mile or so more before you’ll see the Hochstetlers’ driveway.’’
Louisa was careful not to move the reins too much, but when it came time to say gee and pull on the right rein, she did it with as much poise as she could muster, her body stiff. She held her breath, watching the horse strain on the harness as it made the turn.
Once they were headed on the next road, Yonie announced that she looked like ‘‘an old horse hand.’’
‘‘If both of you weren’t cheering me on, there’s no way I’d ever want to attempt this,’’ she confessed. ‘‘Way too much power at the other end of these reins.’’
‘‘That’s right,’’ said Yonie. ‘‘You don’t want to take a horse this size for granted, but I picked our gentlest and oldest for today.’’
‘‘Well, thanks.’’ She leaned up a bit, glancing his way, feeling edgy about moving around too much. The experience had taught her some interesting things, but after they made their cookie exchange with Esther, she would gladly give up the reins to either Yonie or Annie for the ride home. But she would like to try again on a road minus the snow pack.
Upon their arrival at the Hochstetlers’, Louisa couldn’t ignore Esther’s swollen red eyes and suspected something was very wrong. She assumed Esther and her husband were having some conflict, because as soon as they headed into the house, he hightailed it out the back door, presumably to the barn. In turn, Yonie followed behind. Louisa had quickly discovered that most Amish males spent much of their time working outside. Better than in bars, she thought, wondering what could be troubling the tall man with haunting brown eyes.
Awkwardly she stood in the kitchen, much of it in disarray. Dishes were stacked high in the sink, and a bucket of sudsy water provided a needless obstacle in the middle of the room. The mop lay willy-nilly on the floor, while the youngest boy toddled around the bucket, leaning into the water to splash and cackle, oblivious to his mother’s melancholy. One end of his diaper dragged behind him.
Louisa spied the older boy playing quietly with a mere five blocks in the sitting room, between the kitchen and the front room, talking to himself.
What happened here? She looked to Annie for clues, hoping Esther was not a victim of spousal abuse.
Annie, too, must have sensed something amiss, for she put her arm around Esther and guided her to the table, where they both sat and whispered in their first language.
Louisa wasn’t sure where to put the several dozen cookies she’d carried in, so she set them inconspicuously on the far end of the table. Then, removing the plastic wrap, she chose one on top, with a big glob of frosting on it, to give to the little boy with the droopy drawers.
‘‘Ach, no,’’ Esther said quickly, turning toward her. ‘‘Little John’s not to have much sugar.’’
‘‘Oh . . . sorry.’’
‘‘He has bad asthma,’’ Annie volunteered, sitting close to Esther. ‘‘And sugar seems to feed the problem.’’
Feeling suddenly useless, Louisa set the cookie back on the table and went to the wood stove to warm up, watching the little tyke mumble to himself as he continued making his futile yet contented circle around the bucket.
Annie and Esther eventually switched to speaking in English. And even though she had no interest in listening in on their muted conversation, Louisa wondered if this was Annie’s way of including her. She couldn’t quite understand why that would be, however.
But she could not ignore what was being said, that Esther was troubled . . . something about her husband threatening her with ‘‘the shun’’ if she didn’t stop talking about a ‘‘newfound friend.’’ Whatever that meant, Esther’s tone of voice triggered a deep-seated alarm in Louisa.
From everything Annie could gather, Esther had stumbled into Cousin Julia, of all things, this past week at the Progressive Shoe Store. Esther was adamant now that their chat was ‘‘ever so providential.’’ Talking with ‘‘this most wonderful-good woman’’ had raised her spirits, at least for a time, Esther said.
‘‘Another dose of your Mennonite kin was just what I needed.’’ Esther’s blue eyes began to sparkle now with each mention of Julia. ‘‘She shared things I must admit to never havin’ ever heard. Oh, I honestly ate up what she was sayin’.’’ She lowered her voice, even though it was only Louisa and the boys hearing what she had to say.
Whatever had transpired between her cousin and her close friend, Annie felt at a loss to understand. Having known Esther her whole life, she wondered now why Esther had paid such little attention, if any at all, to her advice. And the more Esther talked of ‘‘saving faith,’’ Annie experienced an empty sensation, wishing she might have been the one to help Esther instead of a Mennonite interfering, whether Esther thought it Providence or not. It was altogether clear that Julia’s words had affected dear, distressed Essie.
‘‘Why the tears before?’’ Annie asked her.
The sound of splashing of water ceased as wee John sat down on the floor patting the leather boots beneath Louisa’s Amish dress. With the kitchen too quiet all of a sudden, Esther simply shook her head.
‘‘C’mon, tell me,’’ whispered Annie, reaching for her hand.
Esther looked about, then leaned forward, her nose bumping Annie’s ear. ‘‘Zeke threatened to report me to the brethren,’’ she confided.
Report her?
‘‘Why on earth?’’ Annie whispered back.
‘‘Oh, but he’s right, ya know.’’ Esther’s face fell again, and tears sprang to her eyes. ‘‘The People will look on me as ever so haughty . . . jah, the sin of pride, they’ll say. For sure and for certain.’’
Annie’s heart was in danger of breaking. Ach, she believes she’s got herself saved!
The lanterns rimming the shoreline were mesmerizing as Annie skated around the far rim of the Lapps’ large pond. Louisa was close behind, doing ‘‘ice laps,’’ as she jokingly called her everlasting loops. Annie wasn’t sure, but she thought Miss Lou just might be determined to ignore Trey’s kind gesture of the bouquet of cut roses. What a shame to waste such pretty flowers! she thought, skating much more slowly now as Louisa whizzed past.
She had heard once, when she was a girl, the notion that if you wanted a boy to fall in love with you, a rooster’s tail feather would easily do the trick if you pressed it three times into your beau’s hand. That alone was supposed to make him love you forever. The old tale was the most outlandish she’d ever heard. Yet pondering romantic love made her wonder how Louisa’s former beau had happened to resurface here and now, via the roses.
As for Annie, there was plenty on her mind to make her want to skate ‘‘till the cows came home,’’ which had already happened twice today, as she’d helped put milkers on a good two dozen of the herd earlier this afternoon, following their visit to Esther.
Louisa slowed her pace and came over to skate alongside Annie around the rim of the pond. It was clear that she, too, had something on her mind. ‘‘What’s with Esther and her husband?’’ she asked. ‘‘Is she always that upset?’’
‘‘That’s between them.’’
‘‘Well, what’s he doing to her? Do you know?’’
‘‘Not for sure.’’
‘‘But you must suspect something’s wrong, don’t you?’’
Annie looked at Louisa as they made the turn at the lake’s narrow end. ‘‘The women are to mind the men. That’s what we’re taught.’’ She had promised not to spill the beans on Esther.
Louisa continued to press for answers. ‘‘Are you saying . . . even if you knew for sure Zeke was beating Esther, you wouldn’t contact the police?’’
‘‘Never the police. It isn’t our way.’’
‘‘Then, what is your way?’’
‘‘Well, God’s way, according to the church.’’
‘‘So . . . let me get this straight. You simply turn a blind eye when husbands abuse their wives?’’
Annie felt the sting of cold . . . and the harsh words.
Louisa must have noticed and quickly apologized. ‘‘I’m sorry, Annie. I know you care deeply about Esther . . . and you would help her if you could. I’m sure you feel quite helpless.’’
‘‘Jah, ’specially when she looks so pale and exhausted . . . and expecting her baby soon.’’
Indeed, her befuddled friend’s eye-opening disclosure weighed heavily on Annie’s mind. That and the fact that Esther seemed to be losing the ability to keep up with her chores and her children. To help her catch up some, Annie and Louisa had finished mopping the floor and doing the dishes while Zach gathered up the toys in the sitting room at Annie’s request. Annie even picked up little John and put him in a clean diaper, then into Esther’s arms for a quick nursing. Esther had nearly weaned him, knowing full well she’d be kept busy with the new baby here before long. Besides, young John’s baby teeth were becoming a problem, she’d said quietly.
Hemmed in on all sides, thought Annie.
Skating over a stray willow twig, Annie put out her arms to steady herself, then kept going. She considered Julia’s involvement with Esther, which still flabbergasted her, in spite of Essie’s ongoing struggle. What right does my cousin have imposing her religious opinion on Essie?
Oh, there had been occasions when Julia had talked about the Lord or heaven or what she liked to call ‘‘the gift of God— eternal life.’’ But for the most part, Annie had paid little attention, letting it go in one ear and out the other. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t have been long-suffering enough or willing to hear Julia out; she just didn’t see why she should compound her problems with unknown doctrine, or whatever it was her cousin was spreading around. Her own problems, though suppressed at this moment, were big enough to keep her up pacing the upstairs sitting room at night.
How long before one of our cousins in Ohio sees Annie Zook of Paradise, PA, is painting in her spare time and says to himself, Well now, isn’t that Jesse Zook’s girl back East?
Annie could hear it now, the ruckus such a disclosure would raise with her father first and foremost. Then it would filter into every crevice of the church district. People would wag their tongues like dogs catching flies. That awful wicked girl . . . doesn’t she know better?
Annie had been noticing Louisa nearly every night sitting and drawing in her sketchbook in bed. Sure, she’d urged her friend to feel free to do so, but she hadn’t thought Louisa would quite so often. Not with Annie propped up in her own bed nearly pining away for a graphite pencil and her own artist’s pad. She often imagined what it would be like to openly convey her ideas on paper . . . or to sell her drawings unframed in small bins where customers could simply look through and discover a special gem. Louisa had recently sold several more paintings to the art gallery on Route 30, and Annie had decided to give Louisa the art classes she’d won as a special Christmas gift, since there was no way she would ever go.
What would it be like not to have to sneak around? she wondered.
Then it struck her like a brick out of the sky. If the People would shun Esther for simply being led astray, what would they do to the preacher’s willfully disobedient daughter?