one, even our rumschpringe .”
Annie stood, walked to the fence, and plucked at the dried leaves of the vine.
“Doesn’t mean it will be easy, finding a way to fit your Englisch gifts into our community,” her mamm continued. “Plain folks can be stubborn regarding any type of change.”
Swiping at her nose, Annie attempted a laugh. “And so our conversation has come around full circle. If we’re talking about stubborn Amish, you must be referring to Samuel Yoder. I’ve never met a man more mulish.”
Arms linked, they turned and began walking back toward the house.
“I won’t deny that, but tell me about the night you came home—about what Samuel said to you.”
So she did.
They discussed the evening Annie stepped into her father’s room and saw him lying in his bed, and how Samuel had challenged her willingness to stay and care for him. By the time they’d gained the porch steps, the sky had grown darker, though it was still early in the afternoon and the temperature had not yet turned.
“Annie, I wish you could have known Samuel before. He was quite a different person.”
“Before what?”
“The accident. Before his fraa and boppli died. Samuel was more like Adam then—maybe not as quick with a laugh, but always smiling, always with a light in his eyes.”
Rebekah sat down in the rocker, and Annie sat beside her, curious to hear the entire story, though some part of her wanted to turn away from it.
“It wasn’t his fault, but he blamed himself. He was out on a call, and Mary tried to drive the buggy over to a neighbor’s.She made it to the Lapp’s and should have stayed the night.” Rebekah’s voice came from a distant place—one full of heartache, one people knew existed but preferred to forget about until life thrust them into its path again. “No doubt Mary thought there was time for her to make it home.”
“There was a storm?” Annie asked.
“ Ya. It had been threatening all day, but we all thought it might hold off until morning. When it hit, well, it had the fury of a hard, driving rain—only it was snow.”
Annie waited, barely daring to breathe.
“Later they realized the horse must have lost its way.”
Silence surrounded them as Rebekah sank into the memory. Finally, she sighed, shook herself from it.
“They weren’t found for a day. It broke that man’s heart. He’d helped so many, but he couldn’t help Mary and little Hannah. Samuel wasn’t the same afterward. It was as if he became frozen.”
“I remember a little of it, a bit of the funeral.”
“You children were very young. The community turned out for them, but I doubt Samuel noticed. His grief was a heavy burden, still is, I imagine. After the accident, being around other families became a difficult thing for Samuel. I think it reminded him of all he’d lost.”
“Is that the reason he’s sometimes so angry?”
“I don’t know if anger is the correct word. You know our ways, Annie. After watching you these two weeks, I believe you’ve accepted them.”
Annie began to interrupt her, but Rebekah held up a hand to silence her.
“I do believe you’ve put your rumschpringe behind you and fully embraced our faith.”
“ Mamm , I’m joining the church tomorrow morning.”
“True. But occasionally sons and daughters will do so to please their parents. With you, I believe it’s more. With you, I believe it’s a true reflection of your heart.”
This time Annie didn’t interrupt, merely nodded and watched her mother intently, waiting.
“So I think you understand that we believe in giving ourselves up to what happens in life, to what God allows to happen.”
“ Ya. It’s not always easy, like dat’s accident.”
“Or seeing small children fall ill, like the ones you worked with when you stayed in the city.”
Now Annie couldn’t speak, had to swallow past the lump in her throat as she thought of sweet Kiptyn. He was still receiving the new medication, still improving, but every
Annie stood, walked to the fence, and plucked at the dried leaves of the vine.
“Doesn’t mean it will be easy, finding a way to fit your Englisch gifts into our community,” her mamm continued. “Plain folks can be stubborn regarding any type of change.”
Swiping at her nose, Annie attempted a laugh. “And so our conversation has come around full circle. If we’re talking about stubborn Amish, you must be referring to Samuel Yoder. I’ve never met a man more mulish.”
Arms linked, they turned and began walking back toward the house.
“I won’t deny that, but tell me about the night you came home—about what Samuel said to you.”
So she did.
They discussed the evening Annie stepped into her father’s room and saw him lying in his bed, and how Samuel had challenged her willingness to stay and care for him. By the time they’d gained the porch steps, the sky had grown darker, though it was still early in the afternoon and the temperature had not yet turned.
“Annie, I wish you could have known Samuel before. He was quite a different person.”
“Before what?”
“The accident. Before his fraa and boppli died. Samuel was more like Adam then—maybe not as quick with a laugh, but always smiling, always with a light in his eyes.”
Rebekah sat down in the rocker, and Annie sat beside her, curious to hear the entire story, though some part of her wanted to turn away from it.
“It wasn’t his fault, but he blamed himself. He was out on a call, and Mary tried to drive the buggy over to a neighbor’s.She made it to the Lapp’s and should have stayed the night.” Rebekah’s voice came from a distant place—one full of heartache, one people knew existed but preferred to forget about until life thrust them into its path again. “No doubt Mary thought there was time for her to make it home.”
“There was a storm?” Annie asked.
“ Ya. It had been threatening all day, but we all thought it might hold off until morning. When it hit, well, it had the fury of a hard, driving rain—only it was snow.”
Annie waited, barely daring to breathe.
“Later they realized the horse must have lost its way.”
Silence surrounded them as Rebekah sank into the memory. Finally, she sighed, shook herself from it.
“They weren’t found for a day. It broke that man’s heart. He’d helped so many, but he couldn’t help Mary and little Hannah. Samuel wasn’t the same afterward. It was as if he became frozen.”
“I remember a little of it, a bit of the funeral.”
“You children were very young. The community turned out for them, but I doubt Samuel noticed. His grief was a heavy burden, still is, I imagine. After the accident, being around other families became a difficult thing for Samuel. I think it reminded him of all he’d lost.”
“Is that the reason he’s sometimes so angry?”
“I don’t know if anger is the correct word. You know our ways, Annie. After watching you these two weeks, I believe you’ve accepted them.”
Annie began to interrupt her, but Rebekah held up a hand to silence her.
“I do believe you’ve put your rumschpringe behind you and fully embraced our faith.”
“ Mamm , I’m joining the church tomorrow morning.”
“True. But occasionally sons and daughters will do so to please their parents. With you, I believe it’s more. With you, I believe it’s a true reflection of your heart.”
This time Annie didn’t interrupt, merely nodded and watched her mother intently, waiting.
“So I think you understand that we believe in giving ourselves up to what happens in life, to what God allows to happen.”
“ Ya. It’s not always easy, like dat’s accident.”
“Or seeing small children fall ill, like the ones you worked with when you stayed in the city.”
Now Annie couldn’t speak, had to swallow past the lump in her throat as she thought of sweet Kiptyn. He was still receiving the new medication, still improving, but every
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