An Amish Harvest

“Anna,” he chided gently.

“Oh, very well. The gift shop needs dusting. It wouldn’t hurt to be swept out, too.”

Rebecca washed and rinsed the bowl then dried her hands on a towel. “I will be happy to do that for you. Is there a broom in the building?”

Anna nodded. “There is a broom closet near the back. You’ll find what you need in there.”

Isaac smiled and nodded at her. She managed a small smile in return and went upstairs. Rebecca waited for Isaac to speak. Did she have a job or not?

He hooked his thumbs under his suspenders and ran them up and down the bands slowly. “I have spoken with my wife and with Samuel about you staying here.”

She laid the towel on the counter. “I assumed you would. They were against it, weren’t they? That’s okay. The last thing I want is to bring tension into your family.”

“Did you really pour water on Samuel to get him out of bed?”

She stared at the towel. “I did, but only a little on his feet. His sheets needed to be laundered, and he refused to get up.”

“I would have paid good money to see that.”

The laughter lurking in Isaac’s voice caused her to jerk her head up. He was grinning. She smiled in relief. “Samuel was quite upset.”

“But he got out of bed.”

She had to tell the whole truth. “He did, but he fell later when he tried to get back on his own. I don’t think he did serious damage to his hands, but I know it hurt him a great deal.”

“To try and fail is better than not trying. He and his mother both have trouble asking for help.”

“It’s a fault many of us share.”

“True. I have told them both you are staying. You must be prepared for some resistance.”

She drew a deep breath of relief. “Danki. I am prepared. Hopefully, I can convince them it’s for the best.”

“I’m sure you will. My sons need to start cutting corn. They will be in the fields all day tomorrow and I have a table that needs to be delivered to Anna’s niece. I have insisted that Anna come with me. Her niece has a new baby that we have not seen. Samuel has an appointment with his doctor in town. Would you be able to drive him?”

“Of course.”

“Goot. In spite of what my wife thinks, I believe you will be a great help to this family.”

“I hope so. I should go and clean the gift shop before it gets dark. Thank you for keeping me on.”

“Anna will show you to your room when she comes back. It is at the back of the house below Samuel’s room.”

“Goot. I should be able to hear if he falls or has trouble at night.”

“I wish I could make this easier for you.”

She fisted her hands on her hips. “Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

He chuckled and nodded. “I believe you can.”

Rebecca left the house and walked up the lane toward the nearby gift shop with eager steps. She was staying. She didn’t have to go home and face her mother’s constant pressure to wed John. Her mother meant well, but Rebecca wasn’t ready to wed again. She might never be. Her life’s mission now was to care for others, for the sick and those in need of help. Her mother refused to accept that.

The sun hung low on the horizon, but she had a good hour of daylight left. Behind the white board fence to her left, the family’s horses grazed in the pasture. Six big gray draft horses dwarfed a pair of cream-colored ponies munching beside them while four brown buggy horses stood nose to tail drowsing in the evening air. It was a good farm. A neat farm. The outbuildings and the fences had recently been painted. The animals looked well cared for. The corn in the field across from the horses was tall and turning brown as autumn approached. Orange pumpkins peeked through thick green leaves in a patch behind the gift shop.

She reached the small shop and went in. The door wasn’t locked. She hadn’t expected it to be. The Amish believed in the goodness of all men and rarely locked their homes or businesses. What did surprise her was that she wasn’t alone. Luke was setting up a display of birdhouse gourds just inside the door. He had more in a large box on the floor beside him. They were gaily painted in hues of red, blue and yellow.

She gestured toward them. “Those are pretty. Did you make them?”

“I may not have Samuel’s skill with wood, but I’m not without my own talent.”

His sour tone shocked her. She folded her hands in front of her. “I never thought otherwise, Luke.”

He glanced her way. “You didn’t? Aren’t you one of those who believe the drugs scrambled my brains?”

“For all I know, your brains were scrambled long before you took drugs. Where is the broom closet?”

A slow smile crept across his face. “You might be the right one to take care of Samuel, after all.”

“And why do you say that?”

He rearranged his collection to his satisfaction before turning to her. “You’ve got a quick wit and a sharp tongue. I don’t think you’ll take much guff from him.”

She saw a door behind the counter and opened it. “I don’t imagine he’ll give me much guff.”

“Oh, he will.”

She withdrew a broom and several dusting rags. “Are you worried about him?”

Luke crossed his arms and leaned his hip against the counter to watch her work as she pulled the supplies out of the closet. “Samuel is indestructible.”

“No man is indestructible.”

“He only cares about what is best for the family. He sees the vine, but he doesn’t see the branches. No, I take that back. He sees the branches that need to be pruned away so the vine will prosper.”

“Meaning you?” She handed him a dust rag and then began sweeping.

Luke stared at the cloth in his hand for a moment, and then got to work on the shelves filled with jars of apple butter and jams. “Samuel would like it if I left.”

“I would be very surprised if that was true.”

“You’ll see. I’ve been the thorn in his side since the day I was born.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I don’t like to do things his way.”

“I see. What if his way is the right way? He can’t be wrong all the time, can he?”

“Then I do it my way just to annoy him.”

She chuckled. “That sounds like my brudders. They fight like cats and dogs, but they love each other. Do you think Samuel’s accident has changed him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Your father is worried that it has.”

“Maybe Samuel will develop more patience with the rest of us now that he knows what it’s like to suffer.”

She stopped sweeping and leaned on the broom. “You have suffered, haven’t you?”

Luke stopped dusting. “Prison is no picnic. Neither is kicking a drug habit.”

“As one who has suffered greatly, do you now have more patience with Samuel?”

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