A Simple Autumn: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel (22 page)

“We’re not popcorn!” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Not popcorn,” Katie echoed.

“We want to see the benches,” Sam said, running along the flat black side of the windowless
wagon. “Are they inside the wagon?”

“I certainly hope so.” Nate pushed his hat back to rub his brow. “Or else I’m going
to have to go all the way back and get them!”

All the men pitched in to unload the benches and line them up in two separate sections
inside the newly swept barn. The children wanted to help with the benches, and Jonah
let them hold on to the sides a few times before sending them out to the yard to help
Remy with the cleanup. While they were setting up, Dave and Joseph Zook arrived to
lend a hand. One minute they were taking the first bench out of the wagon, the next
there were two well-formed sections set up in the barn.
Many hands make chores go fast
, Jonah’s mamm used to say.

As people moved in and out of the barn, Jonah listened for the patter of another carriage—Annie’s
carriage. Mary had mentioned that her friend was coming, and the thought of having
Annie here on the farm magnified his joy of the day. He sincerely hoped she did not
bring Hannah, but it would be good to see her here, in his familiar territory, in
his world.

With the barn nearly finished, Jonah passed through the wide doorway, paused in the
brisk, damp air, and listened. No sign of Annie’s carriage yet.

Tipping his hat back, he scanned the yard and saw three figures down on the lawn.
He recognized Simon and Ruthie moving along the far reaches of the yard, trimming
along the fence line with gas-powered weed trimmers.

At the base of the hill Remy wrestled with the reel mower. It looked like she was
wiggling the long handle more than pushing it over the grass, which wasn’t getting
cut. In a fit of consternation, she put her hands on her hips and stared at the mower
as if it were a stubborn mule. Glancing up, she noticed Jonah on the ridge by the
barn and waved him over.

He jogged down to her, mildly amused by her enthusiastic waving.

“I’m having a battle with this lawn mower, and so far the mower is winning.” She gritted
her teeth and gave a push, but the wheels turned only a few inches. “Who decided that
it was women’s work to mow the lawn?” she asked.

“I don’t know the answer to that, but it was probably a wise Amish man,” he teased.

“Exactly. I don’t mean to wimp out, but I have to leave soon and I’ve gotten nothing
done.”

He stepped up and gave it a push. The mower squeaked, but it barely budged. “Ya, there’s
something wrong there.” He squatted over the blades and gave it a quick assessment.
“The wheels aren’t turning properly. Let me sharpen the blades and add some oil to
the wheels,” he said, dragging it toward the toolshed.

“Denki. At the rate I was going, I wouldn’t have finished the job until after Christmas.”

Jonah was turned away from Remy, so he let himself smile. Had
she always had this sense of humor, or had she been influenced by her time among the
Amish?

“And that’s another question,” Remy said, struggling to keep pace with Jonah’s long
strides. “If the use of gas-powered mowers is forbidden, why are those screaming weed
trimmers allowed?”

Jonah shot a look at Simon, who aimed the machine at tall weeds near a fence post.
“Again, I have no answer for you. You’re learning the riddle of Amish ways. The reason
behind rules is not always logical or obvious. We follow rules because they are rules.”

“I’ve got that part down,” she said. “Rules are the real deal in the Amish world.
I think I’ve managed to navigate the big rules. I’m good with the Ordnung. My big
problem is the Pennsylvania Deutsch dialect.”

“They say it’s hard to understand if you didn’t grow up with it.”

“And I’ve studied the baptismal ceremony. If there was an exam on it, I’d ace it.
But I’m still a little nervous about the baptism tomorrow.”

Jonah turned to face her. “Not that I’m unsure,” she said firmly. “I just don’t want
to goof up and announce myself as an outsider during the service.”

He pursed his lips. In some ways, Remy McCallister would always be an outsider. Her
fiery red hair announced it immediately. Then, once you spoke with her, any Amish
person could tell she was Englisher by her choice of words and her attitudes. Within
a minute or two of meeting her, most folk would know she wasn’t raised Amish.

Still, he had to admit that Remy was a special person. She had jumped into this new
life, taking on duties and chores that would send most Englishers running.

“Don’t fret over the baptism,” he said. “If you don’t have the right words in German,
speak English. Gott understands all languages.”

Remy cocked her head, her eyes wide with wonder. “What a beautiful thing to say.”

“Ya. And it’s true, too.”

“You are a man of few words, but they’re well chosen.”

“And you’ve come a long way from the girl who tried to milk a cow in my sister’s nightgown.”

She blinked. “Thank you, Jonah. It’s nice to get an ‘attagirl’ now and then.”

He nodded. “Attagirl.”

A
lthough it was cold and rainy outside, the carriage was warm from the loaves of bread
in the back, some just out of the oven. Annie had started baking before breakfast,
having promised Mary that she would contribute fresh-baked bread for tomorrow’s church
meal at the Kings’.

As Annie directed the horse down the lane toward the Kings’ farm, she sensed something
different about this visit. Was it her? She no longer felt the heavy cloak of dread
on her shoulders at the thought of seeing Adam. Since Remy’s mistake at the last church
meal, Annie’s attitude toward the Englisher girl had softened. If Gott intended Adam
to marry someone else, at least that someone was a very nice girl.

She slowed the horse as they approached the farmhouse and barn, which were both buzzing
with people, like bees on a busy hive. Annie pulled up beside a row of horseless carriages
and hopped down to the ground.

Simon came running out of the barn, holding his hat against the wind. “Do you want
me to unhitch your horse?” he asked.

“That would be good, but first, will you help me carry bread inside?”

“Sure. How much you got?”

When she told him there were eight loaves, he dashed back to the barn and returned
with his brother Sam. Annie’s heart melted at the sight of the little boy who trudged
through the mud. He was a small version of his big brothers! Sam had grown so much
since the last time Annie had visited with the family.

“Mind you don’t drop them.” Annie leaned down to place two foil-wrapped loaves in
Sam’s arms.

“I can do it,” Sam said.

“Good.” When she turned back to the carriage, Simon already had the heavy basket of
warm bread in his arms.

“Smells good,” he said.

“That batch is still cooling. Let’s go right into the kitchen.” Annie followed the
boys in, amused at the way Sam walked slowly under the weight of the precious bread.

Even from the mud porch, Annie could hear the sounds of activity. Inside she found
Mary sliding a tray into the oven. Remy washed dishes in the sink. Betsy King was
rolling out dough at the kitchen table.

“We have bread!” Sam announced.

“Look at that! We’ll need it for sandwiches,” Remy said, with a friendly nod for Annie.

“Where do you want me to put this?” Simon asked.

“On the table.” Annie patted a spot at the far end of the table. Simon hoisted up
the heavy basket, then went off to tend to Annie’s horse.

Mary clapped two oven mitts together and smiled in relief. “Denki, Annie. I knew I
could count on you.”

Annie squeezed her friend’s arm. “You know I enjoy baking.”

Sam climbed onto a chair, his curious gaze on the dough. “Are you making gmay cookies?”
he asked Betsy with obvious interest. Gmay cookies, sometimes called church cookies,
were a favorite among children. Platters of the cookies were handed out to little
ones halfway through the service, and the rest were served to everyone at the meal
afterward.

“Ya. Do you want to help?” When he nodded, she sent him off to wash his hands.

“What can I do to help?” Annie asked. “Anything you need, Mary. I saw Leah and Susie
outside washing windows. Your house will be clean as a whistle when everyone is done.”

“The house is good, but I’m worried about the barn. The children got a late start
on the sweeping. Would you mind checking that it’s fit for church?”

“I’ll go along, if you don’t mind.” Remy wiped her hands on a dish towel. “I’m curious
to see how everything will be set up for the baptism.”

“Then we’ll go check the barn together,” Annie said.

Just then the porch door opened without warning and men began to stream in.

Jonah was in the lead, his dark eyes cool and confident. His sleeves were rolled up
and he wore a black vest. Annie smiled a greeting, then stood back out of the way.
He nodded, eyes narrowed as if he hadn’t expected to see her here. Granted, she wasn’t
family, but Mary was her best friend, and how could one so young prepare a house for
church without every friend and family member pitching in?

Jonah pointed to the daybed in the corner of the kitchen, and three men hoisted it
off the floor and whisked it out the door.

“What’s going on?” Remy asked, and Annie remembered that this would be the first church
service she had seen in the King house.

“They’re preparing the house for church,” Annie said. “Or at least for the lunch after
church.”

“Ya.” Mary kept her eyes on her chopping. “Church will be in the barn, but we can’t
trust this weather for the meal. The men will take down the wall and we’ll set up
tables in here.”

“Hosting is such a major endeavor,” Remy said, smiling as Adam traipsed through the
kitchen with the rest of the men.

As Adam smiled back at his fiancée, Annie braced herself for the familiar sting of
jealousy … but the glum feeling never came.

Instead she felt happy for them. Annie could see that Gott meant Adam and Remy to
be together.

“This is all really amazing, when you think about it,” Remy went on. “To think that
every other week, a family goes through all of these preparations? From now on, I’ll
appreciate church a little more knowing all the work that’s required to pull it off.”

“At least the hosting only comes around once a year,” Mary said.

While the women discussed the duty of hosting, Annie peeked into the living room.
She was intrigued to see Jonah in charge. He knew what furniture had to be moved first,
how to angle the pieces out the door, and where to store it. Adam, Nate, and a handful
of other men and teenaged boys pitched in, but Jonah was clearly the boss.

Hannah should be here to see this
, Annie thought. With his reputation for being the Quiet One, no one expected Jonah
to be a leader. But here he was, the man in charge of church preparations. This was
a side of Jonah that Annie wanted her sister to see.

“Should we head out to the barn?” Remy asked. There was such gentleness about her
that Annie wondered how she could have ever felt cold toward this young woman.

“Ya.” Annie headed toward the door, stopping to pat little Sam on the back and tell
him what a good job he was doing. Jonah had been
right; he and Levi would probably enjoy spending time together while Jonah was working
at their farm.

Outside the rain was coming down harder now, dark lines slashing through the air.
Annie and Remy gathered the skirts of their dresses and ran all the way to the barn.
They arrived at the big barn doors, where they paused to wipe the rain from their
faces and take in the sight.

“It’s been transformed.” Remy pressed her fingertips to her lips, awed by the sight.

Annie had seen many barns and homes set up for church, but something about the stillness
of the Kings’ barn amid the rustling storm made it seem like a blessed place. The
gray day brought little sunlight into the barn, but the single kerosene lamp that
hung from a pillar cast a golden light over the rows of wooden benches.

“I’ve never seen the barn so clean,” Remy said.

“Ya, someone did a good job sweeping. And the benches are in nice, neat rows. Mary’s
got nothing to worry about here.” Annie pointed to the section of benches on the left.
“The men always sit on the left, and they can hang their hats on the granary there.
Those two rows in the middle will be for you and Hannah and all the other young folk
ready to be baptized.”

“I can’t believe it’s really happening tomorrow.” Remy walked up the aisle and paused
at one of the center benches, lost in thought.

Annie followed her, wondering what could be going through this English girl’s mind
the day before her baptism. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?” she asked.

“A little,” Remy admitted. “I’m very secure in my decision. This is where I want to
be, and I’m committed to living Amish. But there’s always the worry that I’ll do the
wrong thing at the wrong time. I had a nightmare that Bishop Samuel was speaking a
language I didn’t understand at all. It was Portuguese or Italian or something.”

Annie laughed, amused by the thought of their bishop speaking a foreign language.
“I don’t mean to make light of your worry, but that is funny.”

Remy sank down on the bench. “I can laugh now, but it was pretty scary in the dream.”

“I think it would scare me, too.” Annie took a seat on the bench facing Remy. “But
you’re a brave girl. You have to be, coming here from the big city and taking on the
ways of Plain folk.” Annie thought of her sister Sarah, moving to a very different
Old Order district in New York. Sarah had her husband and child for comfort, but Remy
had landed here alone—with no one.

“You came here on your own,” Annie said. “That was a brave thing to do.”

“Not so brave, really. I came here for my work.” Remy shrugged. “I had no idea that
I would end up staying forever.”