Amelia cringed.
Then, as if reading her thoughts, Joanna pulled the other chair over next to hers and sat down. “I’m not comparing you to her, mind you. It’s more of a feeling, I guess. But like I said earlier, you do resemble someone from just up the road.” Pausing, Joanna gazed into her face. “Michael’s only niece is slender and tall, too, and has dark hair like yours.” Joanna frowned momentarily, looking away suddenly. “I guess Michael didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“That Lizzie’s been a-yearnin’ for the English world. Got her first taste of it when she begged Michael to let her drive his car some time back.” Joanna shook her head sadly. “’Tis just a shame—such a gut girl she used to be. To think she’s bringing heartache to her parents.”
“Has she left Hickory Hollow?”
“Jah, she wanted to get her education, like Michael’s doin’. Enrolled in the spring quarter at a college in Harrisburg is what I heard.”
Suddenly Amelia felt somehow party to Michael’s rebellion, knowing he was speaking to his father even now about his intention to leave home.
They sat there, neither adding more to the conversation. Finally Joanna revealed how “awful anxious” everyone had been about Michael the past few years, hoping he might become a church member . . . someday.
Amelia did not have the heart to tell her how close he was to “going fancy.” Instead she shared something of her own father’s aspirations for her.
One thing led to another, and eventually Amelia told Joanna about the storm that blew in last night and led her to Michael.
“Michael’s an upstanding fella, I’ll say,” Joanna said.
Amelia agreed, careful to hold her smile in check.
Lillianne shooed flies with the hem of her long black apron. She had nothing at all to hide, despite the fact she’d overheard everything her husband and son had said to each other. And oh, if she wasn’t ever so pleased with Paul’s kindly way. This time . . . thank the dear Lord.
Yesterday, their strict bishop had stopped by and declared that Paul must use a gentler hand—and words—with Michael from here on out. “Heap coals of fire,” Bishop John had encouraged them. He was adamant that they retain Michael for God and the church, no matter what it took. Obviously, what they had been doing was not working one iota.
Lillianne had never known Bishop John to be so sympathetic, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he felt sorry about past harsh demands on some of the young folk. “You must learn to rein in your temper—show kindness and be longsuffering,” the bishop had told Paul, who had nodded, clearly wretched after Michael had fled the house.
“O Lord, show our Michael the way,” Lillianne whispered as she headed down to the springhouse. She glanced out toward the road, hoping Michael might take his father’s invitation to heart.
Their son had looked mighty ferhoodled when he came out of the stable. He must’ve come back to say he was leaving.
He had surprised her, though, by telling Paul he would consider staying on at the house for a bit longer. And, oh, if her heart hadn’t leapt at that!
Just maybe Paul’s words will burrow down into Michael’s heart. Lillianne trusted so.
Amelia was happy to wait as Joanna went to a nearby room to get the piecework to show her. Moving to stand at the open window, Amelia looked out at the patchwork field patterns that stretched as far as her eyes could see. Enjoying the tranquility all around her, she remembered Michael’s request and lifted her eyes to the blue of the sky, spotted with clouds like cotton puffs. Please help my new friend, Lord, she prayed briefly.
Yet Michael was counting on a heartfelt prayer, not merely doing lip service. Lowering herself onto the cane chair again, Amelia bowed her head and folded her hands reverently as she pictured Michael sitting at the table in his Amish mother’s kitchen. She prayed more earnestly
Then, as if reading her thoughts, Joanna pulled the other chair over next to hers and sat down. “I’m not comparing you to her, mind you. It’s more of a feeling, I guess. But like I said earlier, you do resemble someone from just up the road.” Pausing, Joanna gazed into her face. “Michael’s only niece is slender and tall, too, and has dark hair like yours.” Joanna frowned momentarily, looking away suddenly. “I guess Michael didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“That Lizzie’s been a-yearnin’ for the English world. Got her first taste of it when she begged Michael to let her drive his car some time back.” Joanna shook her head sadly. “’Tis just a shame—such a gut girl she used to be. To think she’s bringing heartache to her parents.”
“Has she left Hickory Hollow?”
“Jah, she wanted to get her education, like Michael’s doin’. Enrolled in the spring quarter at a college in Harrisburg is what I heard.”
Suddenly Amelia felt somehow party to Michael’s rebellion, knowing he was speaking to his father even now about his intention to leave home.
They sat there, neither adding more to the conversation. Finally Joanna revealed how “awful anxious” everyone had been about Michael the past few years, hoping he might become a church member . . . someday.
Amelia did not have the heart to tell her how close he was to “going fancy.” Instead she shared something of her own father’s aspirations for her.
One thing led to another, and eventually Amelia told Joanna about the storm that blew in last night and led her to Michael.
“Michael’s an upstanding fella, I’ll say,” Joanna said.
Amelia agreed, careful to hold her smile in check.
Lillianne shooed flies with the hem of her long black apron. She had nothing at all to hide, despite the fact she’d overheard everything her husband and son had said to each other. And oh, if she wasn’t ever so pleased with Paul’s kindly way. This time . . . thank the dear Lord.
Yesterday, their strict bishop had stopped by and declared that Paul must use a gentler hand—and words—with Michael from here on out. “Heap coals of fire,” Bishop John had encouraged them. He was adamant that they retain Michael for God and the church, no matter what it took. Obviously, what they had been doing was not working one iota.
Lillianne had never known Bishop John to be so sympathetic, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he felt sorry about past harsh demands on some of the young folk. “You must learn to rein in your temper—show kindness and be longsuffering,” the bishop had told Paul, who had nodded, clearly wretched after Michael had fled the house.
“O Lord, show our Michael the way,” Lillianne whispered as she headed down to the springhouse. She glanced out toward the road, hoping Michael might take his father’s invitation to heart.
Their son had looked mighty ferhoodled when he came out of the stable. He must’ve come back to say he was leaving.
He had surprised her, though, by telling Paul he would consider staying on at the house for a bit longer. And, oh, if her heart hadn’t leapt at that!
Just maybe Paul’s words will burrow down into Michael’s heart. Lillianne trusted so.
Amelia was happy to wait as Joanna went to a nearby room to get the piecework to show her. Moving to stand at the open window, Amelia looked out at the patchwork field patterns that stretched as far as her eyes could see. Enjoying the tranquility all around her, she remembered Michael’s request and lifted her eyes to the blue of the sky, spotted with clouds like cotton puffs. Please help my new friend, Lord, she prayed briefly.
Yet Michael was counting on a heartfelt prayer, not merely doing lip service. Lowering herself onto the cane chair again, Amelia bowed her head and folded her hands reverently as she pictured Michael sitting at the table in his Amish mother’s kitchen. She prayed more earnestly
Similar Books
