Amish Circle Letters by Sarah Price

crocheting in her favorite chair by the window. The sun was high and bright, shining into the room and basking everything in a lovely summer glow.
    “Mamm!” Anna said, sitting down on the sofa next to her. “Steve borrowed the buggy again.”
    Miriam looked up, her fingers still moving as she continued making her placemat. “Did he, now?”
    “You don’t think…?”
    Miriam laughed. “Oh Anna,” she set her work down on her lap. “At his age?” She smiled at her daughter-in-law. They had always had a good relationship. Anna was different than her own daughters, much more open and friendly, eager to be a part of the family from day one. In fact, Miriam often felt closer to her than her own natural daughters. It was just like Anna to hope that Steve was interested in someone. “You do have the most fanciful ideas,” she said gently. She certainly didn’t want to hurt Anna’s feelings. “But I think his time has come and gone. Where would he meet someone anyway? It’s not as if he goes running around with the younger ones and he works from before sunrise to well after sunset.”
    Slumping onto the sofa, Anna sighed. She was so hopeful that Steve would find someone to share his life with. He was such a kind man who honored God in every aspect of his daily life. It was a shame to not share it with another godly woman. “I reckon you’re right,” she conceded. “Of course, I still wonder about the buggy…”
    Picking up her work from her lap, Miriam returned to crocheting. Anna watched her mother-in-law’s fingers move, a fluid motion of wrapping the yarn around the crochet hook and pulling it through the loop in the chain. It was almost musical in nature. Her hands moved so quickly, feeding the yarn to the crochet hook as if she were a machine. It was beautiful to watch. And, while doing this, her mother-in-law was obviously involved in deep thoughts. “Mayhaps he just wants more freedom than he gets when he hires those Englische drivers.”
    “I suppose,” Anna said. But she wasn’t really convinced.
     
     
    Steve pulled the buggy alongside Mary Ruth. He had spotted her on the road, walking back to Leah’s house from the Yoder’s farm. He hadn’t been certain that it was his sister at first but he remembered that she was helping the widower during his transition. He didn’t envy his sister and said a silent prayer of gratitude to God that he had been born a man and a farmer. Women seemed to get moved around a lot before marriage, working at markets, stores, or houses while a man who farmed had a steady routine.
    When he stopped the buggy, Mary Ruth looked up at him in complete surprise. “Steve! What on earth…?”
    He shrugged his shoulders. “Felt like taking a ride. Plus Anna asked me to drop off these apple crunch pies.” He motioned for Mary Ruth to climb into the buggy. It jiggled under her weight as she settled next to him on the blue velour seat. “How you making out over here?” he asked.
    “Don’t ask,” she said glumly. “That Yoder man is miserable. And I feel like I’m just cleaning up after everyone, Menno’s house in the morning and Leah’s in the afternoon! I just want to come home.”
    He nodded his head as if he understood what she meant. It didn’t sound like fun having to help a fresh widow pick up the pieces to his life, especially one that was known for being a bit on the stubborn side. Slapping the reins on the horse’s back and clucking his tongue, Steve directed the horse down the road. The buggy lurched forward as it began to roll along.
    “What’s new at home anyway?” she asked, her heart heavy with longing for her own bed and Mamm’s good home cooking. If Leah was a poor housekeeper, she was an even poorer cook.
    “Not much,” he said. Then, as if an after-thought, he added, “Isaac is going to let Katie tend to that Eleanor woman’s pony at Gideon’s place.”
    “A pony?” Mary Ruth repeated and raised an eyebrow. “What’s that