of the heavy work of feeding people fell to them. Rebecca didn’t mind—she was happy to help—and work frolics were fun. A change from everyday farm chores was always welcome, and gatherings like these gave young people from different church districts an opportunity to meet and socialize. Getting to know eligible men was the first step in courtship, as the eventual goal of every Amish girl was finding a husband.
Not that she would be in the market for one for some time. Technically, at twenty-one, she was old enough to marry, but she liked her life as it was. Her older sisters had all found wonderful husbands, and she intended to take her time and choose the right man. Good men didn’t exactly grow on trees, and she wouldn’t settle for just anyone. Marriage was for a lifetime and she didn’t want to choose in haste. If she couldn’t have someone who loved her in a romantic way, she’d remain single.
Rebecca yawned and rubbed the back of her neck. This was the first chance that she, Mary and Lilly, all of courting age, had found to take a break. Here, under the shade trees, they could take a few minutes to relax, talk and enjoy some of the delicious food they’d been serving to the men all afternoon. The fact that their chosen spot was slightly private while offering a perfect view of the young men pulling rotted siding off the old barn was a definite plus.
“I don’t care how eligible Caleb Wittner is. I wouldn’t want him.” Balancing her plate of food, Mary folded her long legs gracefully under her as she lowered herself onto the grass. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned toward Rebecca. “Amish or not, I tell you, I wouldn’t set foot in that man’s house again, not even for double wages.”
Lilly’s curly head bobbed in agreement beneath her spotlessly starched prayer kapp. “Didn’t I tell you? I warned you before you took the job, Mary. I learned the hard way. He’s impossible to please, and that child of his...” Lilly rolled her dark eyes and raised both hands in mock horror, causing a round of mirth. Blonde, round-faced Lilly had a sweet disposition and had been a loyal pal since the three of them had gone to school together as children, but Rebecca knew she was prone to exaggeration.
Actually, Lilly and she had been first graders when they’d met. Mary had been older, but that hadn’t stopped her from taking the newcomers under her wing and helping them adjust to being away from their mothers all day. The friendship that had kindled around the school’s potbellied woodstove had only grown stronger with each passing year. And since all of them had left their school days behind and become of courting age, not a week went by without the three of them attending a young folks’ singing, a trip to Spence’s Auction or some sort of frolic together. To cement the bond even more, Mary’s brother Charley had married Rebecca’s sister Miriam, which made kinship an added blessing. So tight was hers and Mary’s friendship that Rebecca often worried how she’d stand it if she married out of the community and had to move away.
“Seriously.” Rebecca nibbled at a stuffed egg and returned to the subject of Caleb Wittner’s mischievous daughter. “She’s a four-year-old. How bad could she be?”
“Oh, she’s pretty awful.” Mary chuckled as she tucked a stray lock of fine, honey-brown hair behind her ear. “Don’t let those big, innocent eyes fool you. Turn your back on that girl and she’s stuffing a dead mouse in your apron pocket and tying knots in your shoestrings.”
“Together,” Lilly added with a grimace. “She tied my church shoes together so tight I had to cut the laces to get them apart. And while I was trying to sort them out, she dumped a crock of honey on the sermon her father had been writing.”
“I think you two are being uncharitable,” Rebecca pronounced. She eyed one of Aunt Martha’s famous pickled carrots on her plate. “And letting your imaginations run away with you.” Her attempt at reining in her friends’ criticism of Caleb and Amelia Wittner was spoiled by another giggle that she couldn’t contain. Mary was terrified of mice. Rebecca could just picture Mary’s face when she’d slipped a hand into her pocket and come up with a dead rodent.
“That’s not the half of it,” Mary went on. “Amelia’s impossible, but her father...” She pursed her lips. “He’s worse. Short-tempered. Never a kind word for me when I came to watch his daughter. Have you ever seen him smile? Even at church? It’s a wonder his face doesn’t freeze in winter. He—” Mary broke off abruptly and her face flushed. “I didn’t mean...” She shook her head. “I wasn’t mocking his scars.”
“I didn’t think you were,” Rebecca assured her. The three of them fell silent for a minute or two, and even Rebecca, who hadn’t been critical of the new preacher, felt a little guilty. Caleb had suffered a terrible burn in the fire that had killed his wife. One side of his face was perfectly acceptable, pleasant-looking even, but the other... And his left hand... She shivered. God’s mercy had saved him and little Amelia, but had left Caleb a marked man. She swallowed the lump rising in her throat. Who could blame him if he was morose and sad?
“Ya.” Lilly took a small bite of fried chicken and went on talking. “It’s true that Caleb Wittner is a grouch. And it’s not uncharitable to speak the truth about someone. He’s nothing like our old Preacher Perry. I miss him.”
“We all do.” Rebecca sipped at her lemonade, wondering if she’d made it too tart for most people. She liked it as she liked most things—with a bit of a bite. “Preacher Perry always had a joke or a funny story for everyone. What is that English expression? His cup was always full?”
Perry’s sudden heart attack and subsequent passing had been a shock to the whole community, but nothing like the surprise of having newcomer Caleb Wittner selected, within weeks of his arrival in Seven Poplars, to take his place as preacher. The position was for life, and his role as shepherd of their church would affect each and every one of them.
“You have to admit that Caleb and Amelia have certainly livened things up in the neighborhood,” Rebecca added.
The coming of the new preacher was the most exciting thing that had happened in Seven Poplars since Grace—Rebecca’s secret half sister—had appeared on their back porch in a rainstorm two years ago.
Without being obvious, she glanced back at the barn, hoping to catch another glimpse of her new neighbor. There were two men pulling a large piece of rotten sideboard down; one was Will Stutzman, easy to recognize by his purple shirt, and the other was her brother-in-law, John Hartman, Grace’s husband. Caleb Wittner was nowhere in sight. Disappointed, she finished the last few bites of her potato salad and rose to her feet. “We better get back and help clear away the desserts before someone comes looking for us.”
Her friends stood up, as well. “I wonder if there’s any of your sister Anna’s apfelstrudel left?” Lilly said. “I think I could make room for just one slice.”
* * *
More than two hours later, as the purple shadows of twilight settled over Caleb’s farmstead, Rebecca returned to the trees near the barn to retrieve her shoes. Most of the families who’d come to work and visit had already packed up and gone home. Only a few of those who lived nearby, including her sisters Miriam and Ruth, and their husbands remained. Rebecca had been ready to go when she realized that she was still barefoot; she’d had to stop and think where and when she’d removed her sneakers.
“I remember where they are now,” she said to her mother, Hannah, who was just climbing into their buggy. “You and Susanna go on home. I’ll go fetch my shoes and see you there.” Home was around the corner and across the street. She could just walk.
Mam and Susanna waved and their buggy rolled down the driveway, followed by her sisters and brothers-in-law behind them.
“You want
