Accidentally Amish (27 page)

By the time Annie turned the key in the lock at her condo, she wanted to see Ruth again. She wanted to see Ruth standing between her brothers or in the embrace of her mother.

She had to go back to Westcliffe. It was the only way to fix this.

June 1738

J
akob used both hands to grip the shovel’s handle and send the implement’s sharp edge into stubborn earth. Again. Again. Little by little the ground gave way. This day was like every other day in the nine weeks since they arrived on Irish Creek.

The land was dense with trees. They had their pick of fir and pine and spruce. The barn went up in a day with the help of the Siebers, Zimmermans, and Stehleys, all on adjoining Irish Creek land, and the Detweilers and others from Northkill. Then came the cabin, which was not large, because Jakob still dreamed of the real house he would have given Verona. But with a loft for sleeping, the family had more space than in the two rooms in Philadelphia. Even with no furniture to speak of, the determined older girls spread their mother’s quilts around so the inside would feel like a home. As soon as Jakob and Christian cleared and turned enough land, the garden went in, and it was beginning to show promise that it would yield. Maria planted a square of beets and refused to let anyone else tend that section of the garden.

Jakob taught Christian to hold a rifle and aim steady enough to drop a deer. The animals browsed the black oak all over their land, so it was surprisingly easy to sight them. After a few sudden movements that sent the wildlife scurrying before Jakob could lift a rifle, Christian learned to move with stealth through the woods. So far they had a bounty of meat—deer, rabbit, squirrel, wild turkey—but Jakob was looking forward to some vegetables.

They had cut dozens of trees already, some of them as tall as seventy-five feet. Oak and elm, sycamore and walnut stacked up to be crafted into furniture, planed for floor planks in the permanent house, or cut to warm his children at the hearth when winter raged anew.

For now Jakob did not want to think about winter. Early June sun gave lengthy light for felling and hauling logs, and the days would grow even longer through the summer. Soon he would yoke the horses and begin wrenching out the stumps scattered across the property. Then they could plow. Then they could plant more than a vegetable garden.

Whether he swung an ax, notched a log, joined a corner, or tucked Lisbetli into bed, Elizabeth Kallen hovered in Jakob’s moments. He raised his face to the sun, closing his eyes to see her once more standing in the road while the wagon rolled past.

The flicker in the flame told Jakob he needed to seal yet another draft above the small window. The children were asleep in the loft, but Jakob had abandoned his bed in favor of these quiet moments alone with a pen in his hand.

But he had thanked her at the time. And it was only a rag doll.

What he wondered most was how she had known where to find them. And why she had come.

The last sentence was far too forward.

Now he would have to copy the letter onto fresh paper. That being the case, Jakob supposed he might as well try out other phrases he feared to breathe.

He couldn’t say any of those things. He drew lines of ink through the words.

Jakob laid his pen down and stood up, rubbing his shoulder. He took three steps back.
What am I thinking? She does not believe. This cannot be.

Jakob moved to the fireplace and examined the embers. He had to leave enough burning to be able to stir up a cooking fire in the morning. Barbara had used the last log for supper. Jakob went to the door, intending to bring in enough wood for the day that would arrive in a few short hours.

When he came back through the door, he stopped in his tracks.

“Barbara, what are you doing up?”

She turned to him from the table, a page in her trembling fingers.

“
Daed
, why are you writing this?”

Jakob took a breath and stepped toward the fireplace, where he deposited his load as quietly as possible. No other children need wake and hear this conversation. “That is a private letter, Barbara.”

“I can see that.”

“Then I ask you to respect my privacy.”

“But you are writing to a woman. Are you going to marry her?”

“It is only a letter. She was kind to us.”

“
Daed
, I understand if you want to marry again. Many of our people marry again quickly. But you have written right here that she is not of the Amish. How can you consider this?”

Jakob strode across the room and took the page from her hand. “Someday you will want to marry, Bar-bar. You will understand certain … feelings.”

“Are you
in lieb
? Do you love her?”

Jakob did not respond.

“We suffered so much in Switzerland and Germany because of our faith. We came to this place—we watched
Mamm
die. For this?” She snatched the paper back and threw it down. “No,
Daed.
”

Barbara turned and climbed the ladder to the loft without looking back.

Jakob blew out the candle but lay wakeful for long hours.

It was no surprise when Barbara disappeared with Lisbetli for a long time after breakfast. It was no surprise when Hans Zimmerman’s horse maneuvered between black oak stumps and came to a stop where Jakob and Christian worked.

Jakob pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “Christian, go to the creek and bring us a jar of water.”

“But we still have—”

“Just go, Christian.”

The boy dropped his hoe, picked up the half-full water jar, and reluctantly turned his feet toward the creek.

When his son was out of hearing distance, Jakob spoke. “So Barbara has confided in your wife, and she is duly appalled at my behavior.”

Hans slid off his horse. “We just want to understand, Jakob. Barbara believes you have intentions.”

“How can I have intentions? I barely know Miss Kallen.”

“You know we are meant to live apart, Jakob. ‘Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord.’ Second Corinthians, the sixth chapter and verse seventeen.”

“Separate from what, Hans? Am I to live separate from affection? Separate from a mother for a two-year-old who doesn’t understand? Separate from someone who might free Barbara to consider her own future?”

“You know the community will care for your family,” Hans said. “That is our way.”

“You have a wife, and your children have their mother,” Jakob countered. “The question has become far more complicated for me.”

“You cannot go against
Ordnung.
” Hans’s jaw set firmly. “If you marry this woman, your life will change. Think of your children.”

“I
am
thinking of them.”

“Has the community failed you? Have we failed to encourage you in God’s will? If we have, we will repent and help you to do the same.”

“Elizabeth Kallen has the heart of God in her. I can see it in her eyes. Lisbetli knows this, too.”

Hans scoffed. “Lisbetli is hardly more than a babe. But you have been baptized into the church. You cannot consider this step frivolously.”

“I assure you that I do not,” Jakob said. “But the fact remains that the number of our people is small. I am unlikely to find a wife among the Amish settlers here. Am I to grow still older while I hope that the next ship brings me a desperate woman widowed on the journey? Miss Kallen is a capable woman who would appreciate the challenges of homesteading and care for my children as her own.”

“But would she join the church?” Hans challenged.

Jakob leveraged his shovel under a large stone, hefted it, and moved toward a pile of stones. “The stones here are smooth and well shaped. They will make a beautiful fireplace someday.”

“Jakob, this is a serious question. Would she join the church?”

Jakob scraped at dirt. “I don’t know.”

“Would you ask her to?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t think you’ve thought this through, my friend.”

“I quite agree,” Jakob answered. “Perhaps that is what I was trying to do last night when I wrote a
private
letter.”

“She must join the church, Jakob.”

Jakob plunged his shovel into the dirt until it stood upright. He turned to look his friend in the eye. “Must she? If I were to wed a woman like Elizabeth Kallen and give my children a mother in the middle of the wilderness, might I be answering a higher calling than the call to join the church?”

Christian returned with the jar of water. Jakob took a deep, cool draft. And Hans mounted his horse.

“Mr. Sieber is leaving tomorrow for Philadelphia to get supplies,” Christian said a few days later over lunch. “We should give him a list.”

Jakob nodded. “
Gut.
Make a list. I will take it to him this afternoon.”

Barbara popped off the crate she sat on. “But we are supposed to go to the Stehleys’ to welcome the latest families. Mr. Zimmerman offered to pick us up in his wagon since he comes right through our land.”

“You take the children and go with him. I will meet you later.”

Anna spoke up. “Is it true that you are going to marry the lady from Philadelphia?”

Jakob stiffened and glanced at Barbara.

“I’m sorry,
Daed
,” Barbara said. “I thought Christian and Anna should know. They are old enough. They are not
boppli.
”

He turned both hands palms up. “There is nothing to know.”

“There might be.” His eldest daughter clearly had her mother’s stubbornness.

“I’m not going to give up the true faith.” Anna was resolute.

“I would never ask you to,” Jakob told her. “Your mother and I taught you to do the right thing. You must make the decisions of your own conscience.”