The Fiddler (22 page)

B
efore leaving the Hostetlers’ early that evening, Amelia asked Elizabeth to let her know when she might want to shop for a few clothes, if she still wanted to. “I’ll be around yet tomorrow if you need me,” she offered.

Elizabeth thanked her but said now that she was at her grandparents’, she didn’t dare shop tomorrow. “Not on the Lord’s Day.”

“Of course! Whatever you think is best,” Amelia said, then offered to loan a skirt and blouse, which Elizabeth quickly accepted. “I’ll stop by with those later tonight,” Amelia promised as she departed for her car.

Amelia returned to the Kurtzes’ farmhouse, trying to push the memory of the day’s terrifying moments in Harrisburg out of her mind. She went in the back way and found Joanna in the kitchen washing supper dishes by herself. Amelia greeted her and went to stand next to the sink, where she picked up a tea towel. She began to tell what had transpired with Elizabeth.

“Lizzie’s back, ya say?” The look of disbelief on Joanna’s face was revealing. “Ach, ’tis a miracle.”

“It was certainly difficult persuading her,” Amelia said, leaving out the nerve-wracking details. “But yes, she’s back.”

“And Michael asked you to go along?”

Amelia nodded, realizing Joanna’s brain was whirring in all sorts of directions. “He thought it might help that I’m an Englisher,” she added.

“Oh, such wonderful-
gut
news!” Joanna quickly dried her hands on her apron and excused herself to hurry out to the barn, presumably to let her father know.

Glad Joanna was occupied, Amelia slipped up the stairs to the guest room.
What a couple of days!
She sat on the edge of the bed and relived her first moments in Hickory Hollow yesterday morning . . . meeting delightful Joanna and later, sweet Ella Mae . . . and Michael’s parents, as well. And today, poor, dear Elizabeth.

So much has happened since my fiddling performance Thursday night!

Suddenly, the vision of the promo for the European tour sprang to mind. Stoney must be pulling out his last hairs as he awaited her return. Her father must also be wondering what was keeping her from home—was the stress affecting his illness?

Amelia looked about the simple yet comfortable room.
What a restful cocoon I’ve wandered into.

Never would anyone back in Ohio imagine she was sequestered away from the modern world . . . soaking up the serenity of an Amish setting. But Joanna’s old farmhouse wasn’t just any respite, and Hickory Hollow wasn’t just any peaceful community. It was a unique and appealing world all its own, and Amelia had never felt so happy.

———

A while later, Amelia heard Joanna coming up the stairs, calling softly, “Yoo-hoo, are ya up here?”

Amelia must have dozed off. “Yes.” She sat up and stretched. “Come in, Joanna.”

“Hope I didn’t wake ya.” Barefoot, Joanna stood in the doorway, wearing a big smile.

“I just feel so relaxed here.”

Strands of Joanna’s hair had fallen out of the thick bun at the nape of her neck. “I’m all done redding up the kitchen. And I went to give the
gut
news of Elizabeth’s homecoming to my parents, too.”

“They must be pleased.”

“Oh goodness, are they ever!” Joanna’s smile lit up her face. “All the People will be grateful to you, I’m sure.”

Amelia shook her head. “I can’t take the credit. Michael was a big part of it.”
And God
. She remembered her frantic prayer on the front steps with Elizabeth.

“No matter how it happened, Lizzie’s back.”

Amelia agreed.

“Well, if you’d like—if you’ve had enough rest—we could take a nice long walk together,” Joanna suggested, clearly eager for one. “Before sundown.”

Amelia was delighted. “Sure, I’d like that.”
Very much,
she thought.

The sun was low and red in the sky as they made their way along Hickory Lane. After a time, they turned off onto a side road, and Joanna again brought up Elizabeth’s return. “I hope Lizzie gets a sweet taste of home—something she’s surely missed,” Joanna said, her long dress blowing gently in the breeze.

“Maybe your sister can help with that.”

Joanna’s eyebrows flew up. “Lizzie mentioned Cora Jane?”

“Not by name, no.”

“Oh.” Joanna explained that her younger sister and Elizabeth had been nearly like sisters themselves, but Cora Jane’s heart was broken when Lizzie left without a word to her. “Only Michael knew what was goin’ on, but he kept mum for the most part.” Joanna sighed. “I assume Cora Jane will be hard-pressed to forgive Lizzie, but she will, sooner or later. That’s what we’re taught to do—what the Lord expects from us.”

Amelia considered that as she enjoyed the coolness of the evening. The birds twittered high in the trees lining the old dirt road. “Do you think Michael will forgive Marissa . . . for leaving him?” she asked quietly.

“Oh sure . . . but these things take time. And it’s not like she left Hickory Hollow, or wandered from the fold of the Amish church. Marissa was always Mennonite.” Joanna paused. “Michael shoulda known better.”

“I don’t mean to be nosy.”

“No, that’s all right. I guess ya must know Michael pretty well,” Joanna said, swinging her arms. “But if I tell ya what happened ’tween Marissa and Michael, you won’t share it with anyone, will ya?”

“You can trust me.”

“You have to understand that Marissa adored Michael. She even offered to join the Amish church for him, if he wanted. Leavin’ him was the hardest thing she’s ever done.”

Amelia nodded.

“But in the end, she knew she had to answer God’s calling on her life.”

“Calling?”

“Missions work. Marissa told Michael that Christ was her first love.”

Amelia pondered that. “Why couldn’t Michael have joined her church and gone with her?”

“I don’t know if she would have asked him. Amish don’t evangelize outside the confines of the community like Mennonites and other churches do. We focus on our own children—hoping they’ll join the church.”

Amelia was surprised. “So, Michael accepts that teaching, but not other aspects of Amish faith?”

“I’m not sure what Michael thinks about everything, honestly, but I know how his parents brought him up. And I don’t see how he could’ve gone with Marissa to study to be a missionary.”

An enormous cloud covered the sun as they walked farther from the Kurtz farm, and within minutes a brilliant lining began to shine around the cloud, with bursts of silver rays shooting straight up. “Have you ever seen the sky look like this before?” Amelia remarked. “It reminds me of a painting.”

“Ever so beautiful.” Joanna stared up for the longest time. Then she said, “Surely that’s how it’ll look when the Lord comes back.”

Amelia was unable to take her eyes off Joanna as she gazed heavenward, her face shining with such expectation, even adoration.

Marissa referred to Christ as her “first love.”

Joanna’s account of Marissa, coupled with the devout expression on Joanna’s face, touched Amelia’s heart.
If only my faith were as rich as theirs . . . Does their sense of contentment run so deep because these two women have found their purpose in life?
she wondered.

They walked silently for a few minutes, and Amelia enjoyed the wildflowers, especially the vivid yellow of the many clusters of daisies.

“Just to be clear,” Joanna said suddenly, “I hope you don’t think Michael was at fault for the breakup with Marissa. Truth is, they just weren’t meant for each other.” Joanna looked again at the sky. In the space of a few minutes, the radiance had faded.

“Not surprising,” Amelia remarked. “Lots of couples discover they don’t belong together.”

In time . . .

“True.” Joanna’s expression turned hopeful. “As for me—and my beau—I believe we’ll marry . . . one sweet day,” she whispered. “Lord willing.”

“You have a beau?” Amelia asked.

Joanna blushed and nodded, suddenly seeming shy. “No one knows about him, though.”

“A secret love?”

“Jah . . . he’s just wonderful-
gut.
”

“Well, if he can make you smile like that, I’m sure he is,” Amelia replied, hoping Joanna would say more . . . and wondering when she didn’t.

Joanna looked at her. “You’re interested in us—the People—ain’t?”

“How do you mean?”

“Just seems to me you’re tenderhearted toward our ways.” Joanna smiled.

“I have never experienced such peace . . . anywhere,” she admitted.

“Well, stay around if you’d like. There’s a canning bee next Tuesday, and if you want a real taste of Amish life, washday is Monday, bright and early.”

Amelia laughed. “Speaking of that, Elizabeth wants to borrow one of my outfits, so I’ll drive back over there tonight.”
I nearly forgot.

“Oh? Isn’t she goin’ to wear her old Amish dresses, then?”

Amelia shrugged. She didn’t want to speak for Elizabeth. “She might need some time to get reacquainted with Plain ways” was Amelia’s best answer.

“I ’spect she will,” Joanna replied.

As they turned to head back, Amelia said no more, still curious about Joanna’s secret beau.

I
n the wee hours that night, Amelia dreamed of an Amishwoman with kind blue eyes and deep laugh lines around her puckered mouth.
“I’m ever so glad you’ve come, dearie,”
she said, holding out her wrinkled hands. The elderly woman smiled and asked mischievously,
“Will you play your fiddle for me?”

Sunday morning Amelia awakened before dawn, wondering if Joanna was already up for milking. The room was still very dark, but outside, the robins chirped near the eaves, anticipating the coming sunrise. In the distance, a rooster crowed.

Amelia stretched leisurely. Her body craved more sleep, but she would not give in to it, wanting to be alert to Joanna’s rising. She’d overslept and missed milking yesterday—she wasn’t about to let that happen again today. Sitting up, she yawned and stretched again, wondering what she could wear to the barn.

Soon she heard Joanna stirring, and Amelia slipped out of bed to go quietly across the hall. Joanna greeted her warmly but looked surprised to see that she was up. She offered Amelia a man’s shirt and a clean pair of trousers. “If ya like, you can put these on under your skirt. It’s up to you, but it’s all right with us if you just wear the britches, like Dat and the fellas do. The clothes ya brought are much too perty to wear in the barn.”

“Thanks.” Amelia accepted what she assumed was Joanna’s father’s or possibly one of her brothers’ clothing.

“Oh, and it might be a
gut
idea to borrow a pair of our work boots, too.” Joanna eyed Amelia’s own boots propped up against the wall in the corner, across the hallway. “Yours are just too nice to get mucked up.”

Amelia was grateful. Once again, Joanna had thought of everything.

Downstairs, they worked together to make the lighter of two breakfasts—Joanna explained that the next one would take place following milking. This breakfast was comprised only of some fruit, toast, and cinnamon rolls . . . as well as juice and coffee.