A Simple Faith: A Lancaster Crossroads Novel (3 page)

At the stove, her older sister, Emma, slid warm slices of ham onto a platter. Dear Emma took such good care of them all now that Fanny had to stay off her feet. Not a single strand of her brown hair was out of place, and her dress and apron were spotless—a good example for her young scholars at the schoolhouse. Emma taught the Amish children in Halfway, and Elsie admired her sister’s steady patience with the children who sometimes got out of hand.

Dat sat down at the table opposite his wife, Fanny, who had her head bent over a bit of mending. Little Beth perched on her knees on a chair beside Dat, who was teaching her how to cut ham with a fork and knife.

“The beds are made and the upstairs swept,” Elsie said, touching Fanny’s shoulder. Every day Elsie thanked Gott for bringing this good woman into their lives. There was no denying the undercurrent of excitement in the house, with Fanny expecting a little one soon. Pregnancy wasn’t something Amish folk talked about, especially not in public, but with Fanny’s high blood pressure, they’d had to take some measures to keep her resting.

“Good.” Fanny tied off a knot and broke the thread with her hands. “After breakfast I’m going to have Beth help me. She needs to practice her stitches.”

“And we’re going to have Will help us with the roof,” Dat said. “Caleb’s outside with him now.”

“I’m here,” Caleb called from the mud porch. A moment later he lumbered in, all six feet of him. Elsie sometimes marveled that this young man who towered over her—a full three feet taller than she was—could be her brother. “Big miracles come in small packages,” Caleb used to reassure her when, at the age of nine, she realized she would always be a little person.

The door popped open again, and young Will stepped in. “I’m here, too, and I’m hungry. What’s for breakfast?”

Fanny looked over at her son and pointed toward the porch. “Boots off.”

Will’s eyes opened wide as he looked down at his feet. “Oops.”

“We’ll take care of that,” Caleb said, sweeping the younger boy off his feet. “There you go.” He held the five-year-old aloft. “You don’t mind hanging on my shoulder while I eat my breakfast, do you?”

“But I’m hungry!”

“I’m sure there’ll be leftovers,” Caleb answered.

Everyone laughed as Caleb teased the boy in his arms.

“Let me down!” Will squirmed in protest. “I’m not a baby.”

“Thank the Almighty for that.” Fanny passed a tray of toast down the table.

Elsie smiled. Will would be taking on more responsibility once there was a new baby in the house. But for now, he was the little one in Caleb’s arms.

“Let me down! Let me down!” Will insisted, grinning through his protests.

“Only because my breakfast is getting cold,” Caleb teased, carrying the boy to a safe landing out on the mud porch.

A moment later, Elsie was still smiling at her brothers’ antics as everyone settled at the table, their heads bowed in silent prayer.

Thank you for this meal. Thank you for my wonderful good family
, Elsie prayed. There were times when she still missed her mother, but Fanny had brought love and tenderness into their home again. “A woman’s touch,” Dat always said. It had proved to be just what their family needed. From their many conversations, Elsie knew that Fanny understood the need for the shop to change … but would Dat?

As Elsie sipped her coffee, Dat talked about the progress on the roof and the plans to rebuild the carriage house. “There’s more rotten wood in there than I thought at first,” he said. “We might have to replace some studs and maybe that main beam.”

“We’ll need to get some help if we go that far,” Caleb said, holding a triangle of toast aloft.

“The King brothers would be a big help,” Elsie suggested, knowing that her sister Emma would be happy to have her beau, Gabe, come around to help with the work. “Gabe is handy, and Adam used to be a carpenter.”

Emma’s silver eyes caught Elsie with a glimmer of amusement. Of course, Emma wanted Gabe here, but she wasn’t ready to admit that in front of Dat.

“That’s a good idea,” Dat said. “I’ll ask them next time I see them at church.”

When conversation turned to the weather, and how the lack of
ice and snowstorms was bringing a good amount of customers to the Country Store, Elsie saw her chance.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about some new ideas for the store, Dat.” Nerves fluttered in Elsie’s chest, a trembling butterfly, but she tried to keep her voice steady. “There are some vendors in the city who would like to carry some of our products. The soaps and heather, and there’s a lot of folks interested in honey and jams put up by Amish women.”

“Englishers in the city?” Dat lifted his coffee mug. “How do they know about our little store?”

“Word travels when you’ve got something good. I’ve been writing letters to them, but they want to meet us—you and me. It would only take one trip to Philadelphia. We could go next week in George Dornbecker’s van.”

Dat’s dark brows jutted together. “A day trip to the city is the waste of a day.”

“Not a whole day,” Elsie insisted. “We could leave after lunch and be home in time for dinner. The vendors will meet us at the marketplace, so we won’t have to traipse all around the city.”

Tom looked at his wife. “And how will this help sales at our store?”

“We would get a good commission on most sales,” Fanny said. “Elsie explained it all to me, and there’s a chance for a profitable side business. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, this one.”

Hope fluttered in Elsie’s chest as she twisted her small hands together under the table.
Please say yes, Dat
. It would make a world of difference for their little shop.

“And what about Bishop Samuel? I don’t want to take any chances and sign a contract that would have us selling graven images.”

“This is a very different matter,” Elsie explained. “We would be selling approved items to vendors in the city.”

“And I’ve already spoken with the bishop, just to be sure.” Fanny lifted her gaze from the table, her soft eyes on her husband. “Samuel says it doesn’t violate the Ordnung.”

“Then there’s no reason not to give it a try.” Tom turned to Elsie. “You’ve been pushing me on the shop, I know that, but I have to say, you’ve taken it in a good direction. More folks are stopping in now, a lot more customers. We’ve been turning a good profit for the past few months.”

Joy welled up inside Elsie. Dat had noticed.

“We’ll go into the city in the next week or two, in the afternoon,” Dat said. “Caleb and I need to finish the roof first. You’ll get us a spot in George’s van?”

Elsie nodded, pleased to have Dat’s approval. She would call George today, from the shop.
“Denki,”
she said, knowing her father would not regret this. Already the shop was the family’s major source of income. With a little more sprucing up and a chance to sell to countless people in Philadelphia, the shop would make them a very comfortable living, with enough profits to get Dat’s business on its feet.

At last, Elsie’s hard work and planning were beginning to pay off.

After breakfast, Elsie and Emma shared the cleanup. They moved quickly and efficiently, scouring the cast-iron skillet and drying dishes, mindful of the time limit. Emma had to get to the schoolhouse in time to greet her students, and Elsie had the shop to open in Halfway.

“Was that a bit of matchmaking?” Emma asked as she wiped a bowl.

Elsie smiled. “I knew someone in the community would help out. It might as well be Gabe.”

“Denki. It would be nice to see more of him.” Emma’s relationship with the tall, blond Gabe King had been a secret until recently. Now every young person in the community knew she was Gabe’s girl, though word hadn’t yet spread to their father.

Elsie wondered what their dat would think about his oldest daughter choosing the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. A glimmer of longing flickered through her at the thought of falling in love. It was every girl’s lifetime wish, but Elsie could never attach herself to that dream. Anyone looking at her knew from the start that she was not an ordinary girl.

“Church is at Gideon Yoder’s this Sunday,” Emma said, bringing Elsie’s thoughts back to the bubbles floating between them. “There’ll be a bonfire at the singing, and it’s bound to be a good time. Won’t you come along, Elsie?”

“We’ll see,” Elsie said, warding her sister off gently. Since she’d turned old enough to attend youth events, Elsie had learned that it was better to waffle about going than to downright refuse. Emma just didn’t understand why Elsie felt uncomfortable at social gatherings.

“Something tells me you have no intention of going.”

“How do you know?” Elsie looked down at the suds, a thousand bubbles with a thousand iridescent reflections. A village of bubbles in different sizes, though all of them were shiny and bright. “I didn’t say that.”

“But I can read between the lines. When you teach thirty pupils in a one-room schoolhouse, you begin to know what they’re thinking. As if there were thought balloons over their heads, like in a comic. Jeremiah Miller can’t wait until recess. Rose Beiler would like to sit all day practicing the curly loops in her handwriting. And you? Your balloon says that there’s no way you’re coming to the singing.”

“I’ve got a lot going on right now, fixing up the store. Did you
hear Dat? We’re going to Philadelphia next week to meet with vendors. Once we get the distribution set up, I’m going to work on a website. Well, I won’t work on it myself, but Nancy Briggs knows a Mennonite woman who will do it for a small fee. She’ll even manage orders and billing for us, all over the Internet.” Nancy Briggs, Halfway’s mayor, was a great help to both Amish and Englisher folks.

Emma tossed the dish towel over one shoulder and waggled her fingers in the air. “The Internet is a little strange, don’t you think? Words and thoughts floating through the air?”

“You’re the one who sees thought balloons,” Elsie teased.

They both chuckled.

“Dear Elsie, all I’m saying is, don’t pour your heart into the business. You need a social life, too. Friends outside the family. And what about a beau? How will you meet the right fella if you’re stuck in the Country Store day and night?”

“I’m not stuck there. You know I like working in the shop.” Although Elsie felt very comfortable “hosting” people in the store, she had never gotten into the habit of attending singings, and she had no desire to change that. The Country Store was easy for her. The way she perched on her stool at the register or hustled up and down the aisles seemed very natural. It was what Gott intended. But outside the safe confines of the shop, she felt awash with self-consciousness. When Elsie was in public, she tethered her smile to hide her unusual teeth and she didn’t like making people uncomfortable with her small size.

“You know what I mean.” Elsie felt Emma’s hands on her shoulders, firm but gentle. “Why do you stay away from folks outside the family?” Emma asked. “If I didn’t see you bouncing around the store and talking with customers, I would think you were shy.”

“It’s not shyness.” Elsie felt her resolve weaken under her sister’s
massaging hands. “But sometimes I do feel awkward about these teeth.”

“So you keep your lips pressed closed when you smile.”

“Ya. And though I’m used to being shorter than one of your first graders, I hate it when people stare at me.”

“But it’s the Almighty Father who made you different. He made you special.”

“I know that.” But it was little reassurance when Englisher folks narrowed their eyes and stared at her. “I pray that Gott’s will be done, but sometimes … sometimes I long to be normal.”

“Oh, Elsie.” Emma slipped her arms around her waist, and Elsie felt her sister’s cheek pressed to hers. “Do you remember how Dat used to rock you in his lap and sing to you? How he used to call you his button-nose girl?”

Elsie’s resolve softened. She felt likely to melt in her sister’s arms as poignant memories embraced her. “Button nose … I do remember that.”

“It was right around the time that Mamm died, and I used to be jealous. Silly, I know, but I wanted Dat to hold me in his arms, too.”

“Poor Emma. You were always the responsible one. You still are.”

“Ya. That’s why I’m going to make sure you go to a singing, or a quilting bee or a frolic—anything to get you out and about.”

“Maybe a quilting bee,” Elsie conceded, knowing that sort of gathering wouldn’t involve courting.

That was her deepest, darkest secret … a terrible sin she wouldn’t share with anyone—not even Emma.

Elsie had vowed never to marry.

She could not take the chance of having a child who looked like her, and Dr. Trueherz had told her that this condition was genetic. Something she could pass on if she had children. And Elsie couldn’t bear to subject a child to the cold eye of the world.

“A quilting bee,” Emma said. “Mary King was talking about having one real soon. It would be fun to go together, wouldn’t it?”

“Anywhere we go together is fun,” Elsie responded as her sister’s arms slid away.

“Look at the time! Here I am chattering away and the schoolhouse is filling up with students.”