Her New Amish Family

“Ach! Well, that explains how the tea towel caught fire.” Martha’s eyes were watering and Trina didn’t know if she was crying or recovering from the sting of the smoky air. Suddenly Martha seemed tiny and frail as she prayed aloud, “Denki, Lord, for keeping us safe.”

“It’s cold out here and you’re trembling,” Trina noticed. “Please come back inside and we’ll have that tea now.”

“Alright,” Martha agreed. “Seth, kumme get the woodstove started, please.”

Trina took Martha by the arm and assisted her up the stairs and into the parlor. She expected the others to come in, too, but when she returned to the kitchen to retrieve the tea, she heard Seth on the porch warning the boys not to leave the front yard or go near the puddle.

“They’re probably cold, too. They should come in,” she said from the doorway.

“Neh, their boots are muddy.” Seth waved his hand. “They’re fine outside. Here in Willow Creek, we believe fresh air is gut for kinner.”

Once again Trina wasn’t sure what he meant by his remark. She replied, “We believe fresh air is good for children in Philadelphia, too.”

“Jah, but there’s less of it in Philadelphia than there is here, so our kinner can stay outside longer.” Seth grinned widely at her before he began filling his arms with logs from the woodpile stacked next to the porch stairs, and since she didn’t disagree, Trina chuckled, too.

As she and Martha were sipping tea and Seth was lighting the fire, the older woman said, “Imagine what would have happened if you weren’t here!”

Seth stood up from where he’d been kneeling in front of the woodstove and brushed his hands against his pants. His grandmother had a valid point and he knew she was waiting for him to acknowledge defeat. “Okay, okay, you win,” he said to Martha.

Trina glanced at Martha and then at him, curious.

“I, uh, well, we wanted to ask if you’d be available to watch the buwe while you’re in Willow Creek,” he stuttered. “As a job, I mean. You’d be paid.”

“You could watch them at our house, so I could help and we’d get to know each other better,” Martha added, beaming again.

Trina hesitated. Although the will stipulated she had to live in Willow Creek, she hadn’t intended to become very involved with the Amish—or the Englisch, for that matter—during her residence. She’d planned to mostly keep to herself. But the boys were well behaved and fun, and after today’s incident she hated to think of Martha trying to manage them on her own. Still, she had her misgivings about Seth. He wasn’t as strict as she imagined an Amish father might be, based on her mother’s depiction of Abe, yet there was something about his attitude toward her that gave her pause. She couldn’t discern whether his comments were meant to be comical or condescending. But Martha had been so helpful to Trina’s mother that it would almost be like honoring her mother’s memory to show Timothy and Tanner the same kind of care. And she did need the money...

“I’m only going to be here for a couple of months,” she warned. As soon as her two months were up and she sold the house, she was moving back to the city.

Seth replied, “That’s all the time we’ll need your help. After school lets out in late May, we’ll hire one of the graduating meed to help. But right now, no one else is available to watch them.”

“Okay, it’s a deal,” Trina said, but this time she didn’t hold her hand out to shake on it. She was already catching on to Willow Creek’s Amish traditions.

* * *

Martha leaned on Seth’s arm, slowly shambling across the barren ground to their house while the boys galloped ahead. If he didn’t know better, he’d have suspected his grandmother deliberately started the fire to scare him into asking Trina to mind the boys.

“Why are you moping?” Martha asked him.

“I’m not moping. I’m thinking.”

“When you’re thinking with a frown on your face, I call that moping.”

Seth laughed. “I hope I made the right decision by asking Trina to watch after the buwe.”

“Pah!” Martha sputtered dismissively. “It’s not as if you’ve asked her to marry you, Seth. If things don’t work out, you can tell her as much. But I think they will. If she’s anything like her lovely mamm was as a maedel, you won’t find a better woman to care for the kinner.”

Seth bit his tongue so he wouldn’t ask the obvious question: if Trina’s mamm was so lovely, why did she go Englisch? Nor did he say that the best woman to care for the kinner was their mamm.

Eleanor’s pregnancy had been an easy one, especially considering she was pregnant with twins, so when she’d passed away during childbirth, it had come as a shock to Seth. Eleanor, however, had seemed to have a sense of foreboding about her delivery.

Once, shortly before the boys were born, she’d whispered to Seth as they cuddled on the sofa, “If anything happens to me, please choose a wife who will take gut care of the bobblin.”

“If anything happens to you, I’m going to look for a wife who doesn’t burn the meatloaf. Or chide me when I track mud across the kitchen floor. Or say lecherich things,” Seth joked, trying to make light of her sentiment.

Usually she played along with Seth’s teasing, but this time Eleanor had scolded, “Seth, I’m serious.” She’d rubbed her rotund stomach counterclockwise, repeating, “Marry someone who will take gut care of the kinner.”

Although Seth knew it was irrational, he often wondered if he had taken Eleanor’s sentiment seriously, could he have alerted the midwife to her concern and somehow prevented her death? He felt guilty for not paying closer attention to what Eleanor had said, especially since she’d ordinarily been such a calm and practical woman.

In fact, it was her practicality that had made Seth decide to court and marry her. The pair had been friends since they were children and Eleanor was sensible, forthright and humble. While the love they shared was more comfortable than ardent, it had been rich and deep. No, Seth couldn’t claim he and Eleanor had ever “fallen in love,” like Freeman had with Kristine, but look at all the hurt that kind of love had caused his family. Passionate emotional attachment wasn’t important to Seth; compatibility, commitment and common sense were. He and Eleanor had found those qualities in each other and their marriage had been a strong and happy one.

With Martha caring for the boys after Eleanor’s death, Seth felt little need to remarry at all, which was why he hadn’t courted anyone in the over four years since Timothy and Tanner were born. But now, given his groossmammi’s declining vision, he understood the wisdom in Eleanor’s request. The boys needed someone to care for them. Not just a teenage maedel and certainly not just an Englischer for a few months. They needed a permanent mother figure.

As Martha tottered along beside him, Seth figured maybe his grandmother was right; now that Trina would be watching the boys he’d have more time to work on finding a wife. Meanwhile, he hoped Trina’s Englisch ways wouldn’t unduly influence his sons. Seth was going to have to keep a close eye on her.

The prospect should have troubled him more than it did. Maybe he’d let his guard down because Martha had taken an instant liking to Trina, but Seth was oddly amused by the skinny woman with mischievous eyes and a musical voice, and he rather enjoyed trying to get a rise out of her. How much influence could she have on his family in two months anyway?

Chapter Two

After Seth and Martha left, Trina washed the cups and began unpacking her suitcase. It didn’t take long. By the time she moved out of her apartment, she’d either sold or given away nearly all of her belongings and she only had a few outfits that were suitable to wear in Amish country. It wouldn’t be appropriate to dress like the Amish, but out of respect for the people she was living among she decided she’d wear dresses or skirts instead of slacks or jeans. Unfortunately, she only owned one dress and three skirts—one of which was now very dirty.

The only nonclothing items she’d brought were a framed photograph and her cell phone and solar battery charger. The photo was of her and her mother and it had been taken on a beach when they went to Cape Cod for a rare week of vacation the summer before Patience got sick. Trina had other photos saved digitally, but it was this printed one she cherished the most. In it, they were both smiling, healthy and tan, and their cheeks touched as they leaned together in a sideways embrace. One rainy afternoon as Trina and her mother strolled through the art galleries, admiring the paintings and sculptures they couldn’t afford, they’d come across an ornate picture frame. Handmade from small pieces of aqua, green and blue sea glass the artist found on the bayside, the frame reminded Trina of the ocean itself. That Christmas, Trina’s mother presented her with the frame as a gift. Trina never knew how she managed to pay for it or sneak away to buy it, but combined with the photo it held, it was Trina’s one and only prized possession.

She considered keeping the photo on the dresser in her room, so it could be the first thing she saw when she awoke, but then she decided she wanted to put it in a more visible area, somewhere she could see it all the time and draw strength from the memory. She carried it into the parlor and placed it prominently on the end table next to the sofa.

Then she considered where to store her cell phone. It wasn’t as if she’d be receiving any calls. Trina had moved to a new suburb shortly before her mother was diagnosed with cancer. She was acquainted with other teachers there but she hadn’t begun to make friends. And the church she attended was so big no one there was likely to notice her absence. Yet, knowing she’d probably need to be in touch with a realtor as well as the estate attorney her grandfather hired, Trina had purchased a solar panel charger to power her phone. She decided to set it up on the windowsill in Abe’s old bedroom, where it would get plenty of sunshine but be out of her way.

Exhausted from cleaning her apartment, packing up and traveling, Trina changed into her nightgown. She slipped beneath the quilt, which smelled of fresh winter air—Martha must have hung it on the clothesline—and shut her eyes, thinking of how protected she felt when Seth carried her to the porch. Within minutes she drifted into a deep slumber for the first time in over a year.

She woke to a banging on the door. Disoriented, she blinked several times at her surroundings. It was morning. She was in Willow Creek. The fire must have died out because the floor made her feet ache with cold. She wrapped the quilt around her shoulders and shuffled to the door. Peeking out the window, she saw Seth pacing back and forth. Oh no! I was supposed to be at his house by seven forty-five so he could review the rules for the children with me.

“It’s eight o’clock,” Seth said in greeting. “Look at you, you’re not even dressed yet.”

Trina pulled her quilt tighter around her shoulders. She understood the Amish didn’t place a high value on physical appearance, except for tidiness and modesty. She could only imagine how rumpled she appeared. “I’m so sorry. I must have overslept.”

“I thought you Englischers relied on alarm clocks.”

Rankled, she cracked, “I figured the Amish rooster would wake me.”

Something resembling a grin crinkled the skin around Seth’s eyes, but he didn’t allow it to move to his lips. “Just kumme to my house as soon as you can.”

She pulled on her clothes, brushed her hair into a ponytail and quickly scrubbed her teeth before running across the yard. When she arrived, she apologized again. “I really am sorry I’m late. I didn’t mean to oversleep.”

Seth seemed less cantankerous now. “It’s alright. Fresh air can tucker a person out.” There it was again; the kind of comment that made her wonder if he was joking or not.

“Guder mariye, Trina,” Martha said as she entered the room, her hands extended in front of her so as not to bump into anything. It seemed she only used her cane outdoors. Timothy and Tanner scooted around their grandmother, calling out their greetings, as well. Their curls bounced as they hopped up and down, unable to contain their excitement.

“Guder mariye,” Trina replied to the three of them.

“We’re going to show you the creek today,” Tanner announced.

“Neh, I don’t want you by the creek,” Seth contradicted. “It’s too dangerous. The current is too strong.”

The boys looked crestfallen but they didn’t argue. Didn’t they tell Trina they’d been to the creek just yesterday? It hadn’t rained, so the water couldn’t be any deeper. Then she realized Seth must not trust her with the children yet. She understood. In time, he’d change his mind.

“I’m sure we’ll do something else that’s just as interesting,” Trina said.

“Jah, so will you and I,” Martha chimed in. “When they take a nap, you can look through my fabric to choose what you want to make a new skirt since yours became stained yesterday.”

Trina appreciated the offer, but she had no idea how to make a skirt. “Oh, that’s alright. The stain will come out. My skirt is still wearable.”

“With the way you’ll be running after the buwe, it won’t hurt to have an extra one,” Martha said. “If it’s the material you’re worried about, don’t be concerned. I have an assortment of colors. Blue, green, even burgundy. I haven’t been able to see well enough to sew for ages. It will be gut to know the fabric isn’t going to waste.”

“I don’t think it’s the color of the fabric she’s worried about, Groossmammi,” Seth quietly pointed out. “The Englisch don’t sew like we do.”

Trina bristled. Why did Seth constantly call attention to how different the Englisch were from the Amish? “Don’t be lecherich. Plenty of Englischers sew their own clothes.” She used a couple of Deitsch words to emphasize she wasn’t completely unaware of Amish culture.

“And you’re one of them?” Seth pressed.

Trina felt her cheeks burning. Her mother had tried to teach her to sew, but Trina never had the inclination. “Yes, I can sew my own clothes. I can hem them, anyway.”

Seth snorted. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Just how much do you know about sewing clothes?” Martha chastised him. “As fine as your leather stitching is, I have yet to see you make your own britches, my dear bu.”

Trina’s gratitude for the woman surged. It was obvious Seth wouldn’t contend with Martha. He set his hat on his head and buttoned his wool coat.

“The buwe’s chore for the day is to rid the front yard of sticks,” he instructed Trina. “And they must lie down for an hour in the afternoon, whether they sleep or not.”

“Don’t worry,” Martha said, answering for Trina. “I’ll fill Trina in on everything she needs to know. Now, since you were so worried about being late, you’d better skedaddle.”

After the door closed behind Seth, Trina released her breath. In her experience as a teacher, the parents were often more difficult to manage than the preschoolers were. I should tell Seth that’s one way the Englisch and the Amish are alike, she thought, chuckling to herself.

* * *

Because Seth was in a hurry, he’d forgotten to put on his gloves so he blew on his fingers as he walked to town. He could have taken the buggy, but that would have meant leaving his shop several times a day to make sure the horse was watered, fed and dry—and it looked like rain. Or snow. It was difficult to tell at this time of year.

Besides, he liked the walk and the shop was only about a mile and a half away. He used the time to mentally prepare for work and ask the Lord to guide him in his interactions with the customers, especially the Englisch ones. When Seth moved from Ohio to Willow Creek, all the stores on Main Street were taken. He’d made it his goal to one day open a shop there, because that’s where most of the Englisch customers and tourists came through town. While he had a healthy business selling harnesses and other horse leatherworks to the Amish, the Englisch had little need for such items. Instead, they wanted custom-designed purses, belts and wallets, and they wanted them at their convenience.

Since the workshop at his home was slightly off the beaten path, Seth had recognized that, in order to increase business, he had to meet his customers’ needs—or their preferences—and he watched and waited for one of the Amish business owners to relinquish their prime real estate on Main Street. When one of the bigger spaces recently opened up, Seth jumped at the chance to lease it. It was a stretch for him financially, but the space was so big it allowed him to have a workshop in the back in addition to the storefront where he could display and sell his wares. He figured in time the sales would be worth the initial investment.

Now that I’m paying Trina to watch the buwe, I’ll have an added expense I hadn’t counted on until school lets out, he thought.

As he contemplated his sons’ care, Seth asked the Lord to watch over Trina as she cared for the boys. Once again he second-guessed his decision to hire her. Martha seemed to think highly of Trina, but then, his grandmother had an unusual gift for making people feel welcome and needed—that’s how Seth felt when he moved in with the boys, who were only newborns at the time. What would he have done without Martha’s help? He supposed the least he could do now was make more of an effort to show a modicum of hospitality toward Trina, since Martha had shown an abundance toward him.

He was so lost in thought that when he arrived at his shop, he was startled to find three Englisch women standing on the doorstep, peeking through the window into the store. In his experience, the Englisch customers tended to be more impatient than the Amish. It seemed to him Englischers were often in a rush and they expected others to be in a rush, too, whereas Seth felt if he couldn’t do a job both quickly and well, he’d rather do it well than quickly.

“We were afraid you were closed for the day!” one of them said.

“Neh, just for the first ten minutes,” Seth replied with a grin as he keyed into the shop. He found humor often kept him from becoming too stressed and his customers appreciated it, too. Especially the Englisch ones, who often seemed taken aback initially, as if they were under the impression the Amish were humorless dullards. But they usually ended up smiling back.

Sure enough, the women giggled as Seth held the door open for them. Soon after, a few more customers trickled in. Seth noticed one of them discreetly lifting a cell phone and he knew he was being photographed. He had half a mind to post a sign forbidding cell phones and cameras in the store, but he decided if people weren’t going to voluntarily respect his beliefs and privacy, it was useless to try to make them do so.

By the end of the day he was relieved to walk home and when he went through the door, the boys bounded into the kitchen to greet him as they usually did.

“Guess what, Daed,” Tanner said. “Trina taught us an Englisch song.”

“And we had lots and lots of vegetation for dinner,” Timothy claimed.

“You mean vegetables,” Seth corrected him.

“Neh, it was vegetation.”

Just then Trina entered the room and said above the boys’ heads, “Hungerich bucks need a lot of vegetation to stay strong.”

Ah, so that was it. Seth had to smile. He and Martha had a difficult time getting the boys to eat any vegetables except potatoes and corn. If Trina had been able to get the boys to eat more greens by appealing to their interest in animals, that was terrific. But he drew the line at teaching them Englisch songs.

“Buwe, please go into the other room while I talk to Trina,” he said. After they scampered away, he asked Trina how her day went.

“It was gut,” she said. He noticed she was using Deitsch words more frequently already. “The buwe picked up the sticks in the front yard and half the sticks on the west side of the house, too. They sure have a lot of energy.”

Seth nodded before getting to the point. “They said you taught them an Englisch song. May I hear it?”

He saw a look of confusion pass over Trina’s face before her cheeks broke into a blush. He regretted embarrassing her, but he had to be sure the boys weren’t being taught songs about superheroes or other ideas that were contrary to Amish beliefs.

“It’s more like a poem than a song. At least it was the way I presented it,” she said and her usually mellifluous voice was marked with defiance.

“All the same, I’d like to hear it.”

Trina exhaled audibly and then began, “One, two, buckle my shoe...” She continued reciting the verse until she got to the number ten, at which point she said, “That’s as high as we went. I was trying to teach them how to count while they were doing yard work.”

“I see,” Seth said. He’d been taught that same verse as a child and he felt as foolish as he’d obviously made Trina feel. Still, he wasn’t sorry he asked her to tell him how the song went. “We didn’t have time this morning to discuss what kinds of activities are appropriate for Amish kinner, so I just wanted to be sure—”

“There you are, Seth,” Martha interrupted from the doorway. “It smells like supper is about ready, isn’t it, Trina?”

Trina peeked inside the oven. “Jah, it’s bubbling,” she confirmed, removing the pan from the rack and setting the chicken-and-cheese casserole on a hot pad on the table. “You should let it cool a bit before you eat it. And don’t forget the asparagus. It’s steaming on the back burner.”

“I thought you were going to stay for supper. You know we made plenty,” Martha said.

So much for demonstrating hospitality; Seth knew he was the reason Trina changed her mind about supping with them. “Jah¸ you should stay,” he echoed.

“Denki, but I need to be on my way. I’ll arrive a few minutes early tomorrow, Seth, so we’ll have plenty of time to review your list of restrictions about the kinner with me.”

“There’s no list,” he mumbled feebly, but Trina didn’t seem to hear as she zipped her jacket. Unfortunately, Martha was listening intently, and from the look on her face, Seth was going to get an earful about his attitude tonight after the boys were in bed.

* * *

Completely humiliated, Trina slinked home. After spending most of the morning and afternoon outside with the boys, her appetite was raging in a way she hadn’t experienced since before her mother took ill. But there’d been no way she was going to sit down at a table with that smug, controlling Seth Helmuth. She respected that Amish people abided by their church’s Ordnung, and without knowing what it said herself, it was possible she might have accidentally violated one of its precepts. But she’d felt like a criminal when Seth demanded she recite the song like that. She hoped he felt utterly ridiculous when he heard how it went!

In the kitchen, she removed her jacket and hung it on the peg beside the door. Almost immediately she took it back down and put it on again. It was freezing in there. Now she was cold as well as hungry. How was she going to go grocery shopping? The stores within walking distance closed by the time Seth returned home and she didn’t have a car. What was she going to subsist on? Water and Willow Creek’s superior fresh air?

She went into the parlor and lit a fire in the woodstove. Then she looked around for her handbag, which contained half a packet of crackers with peanut butter she’d bought at the train station. When she found it, she gobbled a cracker and then brought the rest into the kitchen where she put the kettle on to fix a cup of the tea Martha had left for her. Once the water came to a boil, Trina filled a mug, put the crackers on a plate and sat down next to the woodstove.

Even with her jacket on and the warm cup in her hands, she was shivering, so she retrieved the quilt from her bed and wrapped herself in it before returning to her chair. The silence was punctuated only by the ticking clock and Trina understood why her mother had felt like time stood still in Willow Creek. Trina had only been there two days and it already seemed like a lifetime. It was enough to make her want to pack her bags right then.

Of course, Trina’s mother had had a far more significant reason to leave Willow Creek behind: Abe Kauffman. But as miserable as her mother’s life with Abe had been, she’d rarely spoken against him in detail. Patience had only described how, after her own mother died, her father changed.

“Mind you, he never lifted a hand against me,” she told Trina. “But he wouldn’t lift a hand toward me, either. Not to help me, not to embrace me. He hardly spoke a word to me. It was as if I didn’t exist—as if I had died when my mother did. All that existed was his bottle of beer. So, in a way, I felt as if he’d died, too. At eight years of age, I felt orphaned.”

No wonder her mother had never wanted to return to this house. When Trina was young and used to ask her mother if they could visit Willow Creek, Patience’s face would cloud with sadness as she said no, it was better for everyone if they didn’t. “We’re happy right where we are, aren’t we?” she’d ask Trina, and Trina always answered yes because it was true. As long as they were together, they were happy. Trina sniffed as she realized her mother would never be with her again. Did that mean Trina would never be happy again, either? She knew she couldn’t allow herself to dwell on such thoughts or she’d never make it through her time in Willow Creek, so she prayed the Lord would give her peace and then she went to draw a bath.

But before she reached the washroom, there was a knock at the door. In the kitchen, Trina peered through the door’s glass pane to see Seth holding a plate wrapped in tin foil in one hand and Martha’s basket from yesterday in the other.

“Yes?” she said coldly after opening the door.

“My groossmammi sent these for you,” he replied, lifting the items in her direction.

Since they were from Martha, Trina couldn’t refuse them. “Please tell her I said denki.” She reached for the plate but Seth held on to the basket, stepping into the kitchen uninvited.

“How’s the mouse situation?” he asked. “Did the trap do the trick?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t checked.”

He set the basket on the table, crossed the room and pried the cupboard open. To Trina’s relief, he announced, “Neh, nothing yet.” Then he closed the cupboard and rubbed his arms. “Seems a little cold in here. I can show you how to get a gut fire roaring if you’d like.”

Trina didn’t know why he was suddenly being so congenial, but she wished he’d leave. Not just because she was still miffed, but because the aroma of the meal he brought was making her feel even more famished and she could hardly wait to eat. “Actually, I’m rather warm,” she said, tossing her ponytail.

“I imagine you are,” Seth replied, his lips twitching. “Wearing a quilt has that effect on people.”

Trina rolled her eyes and shrugged the quilt from her shoulders. She folded it into a misshapen square, which she held in front of her stomach to muffle the growling sound it was making. “I suppose I could add another log to the fire.”

“I’ll grab a couple more from outside, since the bin in the parlor is probably low,” Seth volunteered and exited the house before Trina could object.

As soon as he left, Trina lifted an edge of the tinfoil from the plate and dug into the casserole with a fork. When Seth returned, her mouth was full, but she mumbled, “Denki for bringing those in, but I’ve gone camping before, so I’m capable of stoking the fire myself.”

“Is that what you think being Amish means? It’s like going camping?”

Why was he suddenly defensive again? “No, that’s what I think lighting a fire is like,” Trina clarified after swallowing. “If you’ve built one outside, you can build one inside.”

“Actually, that’s not necessarily true. Kumme, let me show you.”

She reluctantly put her supper down and went into the parlor with him.

“Ah,” he said when he opened the door to the woodstove. “Look at this.”

Trina crouched down beside him. She watched his hands gesturing as he spoke, oddly aware those were the same strong hands that had lifted her the day before.

“You’ve done alright with the kindling, but you’ve piled the logs too tightly together,” he explained, not unkindly. “There needs to be a little room between them for the oxygen to get through. Otherwise, the logs won’t take and the flame will burn out like it has now. It’s better if you stack them like this.”

As she listened to him, it occurred to Trina he would make a good teacher. She glanced sideways at his face, noticing the reddish undertone to his short beard. She wondered if it would feel like his wool coat had felt against her cheek. Suddenly her skin burned and she knew she couldn’t attribute its warmth to the fire now crackling in the stove.

“Denki,” she said, standing up.

Seth rose, too, saying, “I want to apologize if I embarrassed you when I asked you to tell me the song you taught the buwe.”

If Trina’s face hadn’t felt hot before, it would have now under Seth’s earnest gaze. “It’s alright,” she conceded, and suddenly, it was.

She realized if a virtual stranger—especially one who had traditions that were different from her own—came to watch her children, she’d give them guidelines about what the kids could and couldn’t do. In fact, when she used to babysit as a teenager, parents always told her what the house rules were. It wasn’t personal, she’d just taken it that way because of Seth’s comments about her being Englisch. But maybe she was the one who was being defensive because he was Amish, instead of vice versa. Or maybe it was a little of both.