Anna's Healing Read online

  “Certainly, what we’re doing is not unique to the Amish.” Anna twirled her kapp string around one finger. “After all, folks have been selling their extra produce in stands like this for ages—much longer than the hundred years the Amish have lived in Cody’s Creek.”

  Chloe’s pen hovered over the sheet of paper. “I read that your community has existed for that long, but it’s hard to believe. I grew up here and don’t remember much about the Amish.”

  “From what I’ve heard, the community was quite small at first. I believe the population began growing when land prices increased in the northeast.”

  Chloe clicked her pen once, and then she placed it back inside her bag, which was a tooled brown leather. “You’ve been a big help, Anna. I appreciate it. Do you mind if I use your name in the article?”

  “I suppose that would be okay.” It made no difference to her what Chloe put in her Englisch paper. She rarely ever saw a copy.

  Anna watched the reporter walk back to her car, and something inside her—probably the same thing that had whispered move to Oklahoma—caused her to call out, “We’ll have the corn maze open in another week. You should come back. You can even take pictures—of the corn, that is.”

  Chloe hitched her purse strap up on her shoulder. “I’d love that.” She opened the door to her little car, a small blue thing that looked as if it wouldn’t go much faster than a buggy, and started the engine.

  As she pulled away, it occurred to Anna that their conversation was the most exciting thing to happen to her in a week. Perhaps her aenti was right. Maybe she should go to the singing.

  CHAPTER 2

  Chloe had barely driven her small car out onto the blacktop when Anna’s onkel pulled the tractor up to the house.

  Tractors!

  When Anna had first heard that the Amish communities in Oklahoma had allowed them, she’d envisioned all sorts of things—differences in their dress, a broader role for women, maybe even a chance to do something she’d never done before. But when she’d arrived she had found that everything—except for the tractors—was the same as back home in Goshen.

  She understood the allowance. She’d spent part of July and August helping with the family vegetable garden. The dirt was like the Play-Doh her little sister, Bethany, had once brought home from school—malleable at first but quickly turning to something that resembled concrete. Plowing with the big workhorses was difficult, and in some spots, impossible.

  It was a mystery to her why her uncle insisted on keeping Snickers and Doodle, two workhorses he’d bought for a good price five years earlier. She’d asked her aenti about that.

  “It seems the other Amish families here don’t have any workhorses at all.”

  “You’re right.” Erin had continued hanging laundry as she spoke. “They use the tractors for everything, as is allowed.”

  “But not Onkel Samuel.”

  “Nein.”

  Anna waited for more, but as usual her aenti was not very forthcoming.

  “Is there a reason? That he keeps the horses, I mean. Is it better for the crops?”

  “I couldn’t say.” Erin pushed hair back into her kapp. The summer sun was hot, though it was early in the morning. “Your onkel, he’s stubborn. That’s the best explanation I can give you.”

  Thinking back on those words, Anna realized her aenti wasn’t criticizing her onkel, but rather stating a fact.

  Regardless, Anna thought Snickers and Doodle were fine geldings. Both were chestnut-colored Percherons. Snickers had a dark-brown patch that stretched from between his ears to his nose. Doodle had white patches covering her head and neck. Both were strong horses, and she understood why her onkel was unwilling to part with them. What she didn’t understand was why he’d bought them in the first place. Tractors had been allowed for many years before her family had moved into the area. What had he seen in the two Percherons to cause him to spend so much money on them? That money could have been used as a down payment on a new tractor.

  Whatever the reason, Anna was glad he had. She enjoyed visiting the horses, especially when she was homesick for Indiana. Life in Oklahoma had certainly not turned out the way she’d imagined it would. Yes, farming was different and they drove tractors to town—something she still wasn’t comfortable with, but that was the full extent of their liberal lifestyle.

  Her aenti appeared on the porch, holding a plate filled with lunch. In Anna’s opinion, Aenti Erin was thin to the point of unhealthiness. The woman looked as if she stood in danger of being whisked away by the Oklahoma wind. She insisted on wearing drab colors of black, dark blue, and gray—though their Ordnung allowed for much more diversity. Her skin was pale and creased, more wrinkled than someone her age should be, as if life’s trials and tribulations had etched themselves on her skin.

  Erin’s hair was a different matter. Thick, chestnut brown, and wavy, she attempted to keep it tightly pulled under her kapp. Always, though, tendrils snuck out. Anna loved her aenti’s hair because it looked like that of a much younger woman. It proved that Aenti wasn’t as old as she perhaps behaved.

  Anna popped out of the booth and met her halfway.

  “Danki.”

  “It’s no problem, child. How was your morning?”

  “Gut. A little slow.”

  “The woman in the car stayed a long time.”

  Anna almost told Aenti Erin about Chloe Roberts and her news stories. Realizing any such information would be met with a lecture on remaining separate, she focused on her lunch instead. The plate held fresh bread covered with homemade peanut butter accompanied by an apple and two oatmeal cookies. She still had half the water in her thermos, the one she’d carried out with her earlier that morning.

  “This looks wunderbaar.” Throwing a smile over her shoulder, Anna made her way back to the produce booth. If she had thought she would lose weight in Oklahoma, she was wrong. Her aenti and onkel might be stricter than even her own parents, but the meals were the same—chock-full of calories and fat. That didn’t stop her from closing her eyes in a prayer of appreciation before she bit into the fresh bread.

  Some might wonder how Aenti remained so thin, but Anna had watched her eat. The woman pecked at her food like a small wren.

  The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, probably because instead of darning she spent a good portion of the time reading the book she’d brought home from the library. A prairie romance, it boasted a sticker on the side proclaiming it to be Christian fiction. Soon she was lost in another life, one similar to hers in many respects; however, it was set in a different place with unusual problems and interesting strangers. That alone was enough to bring a smile to Anna’s face.

  CHAPTER 3

  Three days later, Anna found herself driving the tractor into town. This was a first! Onkel Samuel had never trusted her to drive alone anywhere before, but to be fair that may have been because there was rarely a need to go into town, and someone had to watch over the vegetable stand.

  She would rather have driven the buggy, but Samuel had merely scratched his head and walked off when she’d mentioned it. He’d showed her three times how to operate the tractor. She was to put it in first gear to plow, but that wasn’t something she needed to know. Neither was second or third, which were used for pulling heavy loads and mowing. She only needed to know neutral and fourth.

  She stopped at a red light and checked her purse again. Yes, she still had the list.

  The light changed and she attempted to pull through, but she popped the clutch and the tractor stalled. She ran Samuel’s instructions through her mind—break, clutch in, start the engine, clutch out. The engine started, but she again let the clutch out too quickly. The tractor jerked forward a few feet, so that it now rested in the middle of the intersection, and then the engine again died. A car behind her honked, and several folks walking down the street turned to stare.

  Anna ignored them. She’d driven a pony cart when she was in fourth grade, a buggy since she was in eighth, and
even the large workhorses her father used when harvesting. She could certainly handle an old blue tractor with a faded blue canopy, pulling the truck bed of a white Ford pickup.

  This time when she started the tractor, it jerked and sputtered but didn’t die. Breathing a prayer of relief, she continued on through the intersection and then turned right into Bylers’ Dry Goods. Her mind slipped back to a simpler time, when she’d driven her parents’ mare to town in Goshen.

  But she’d wanted change, or she’d thought that was what she wanted. It seemed that Duchess had looked at her accusingly when she had left her onkel’s farm. She’d take the mare an extra apple when she returned home.

  Dropping the tractor keys into her purse, Anna scrambled out of the contraption and turned toward the store. She fairly bounced up the old wooden steps.

  “Gudemariye, Anna.” Rebecca Byler smiled at her as she walked inside.

  It was nearly noon, so the good morning greeting caught her by surprise, but Anna responded in kind.

  “It’s not often we see you out. I suppose Erin is home caring for your Mammi Ruth.”

  “Ya. Doc says she needs to stay in bed a few more days, at least until she’s able to eat all three meals again.”

  “Summer colds can be terrible, especially for older ones.”

  Anna nodded as she picked up a shopping basket. She spent the next twenty minutes filling it with items from her aenti’s list. She also paused in the book aisle and perused the latest offerings. Rebecca didn’t carry much, and what she did carry didn’t actually appeal to Anna—books on farming, herbal remedies, and a small section titled “Plain and Simple Reading.” No doubt those books were for the tourists who stopped in, as no one Anna knew needed a book on A Plain Life Without Electricity or Attending Amish Schools.

  Still, she enjoyed glancing over the entire selection. The book covers were crisp, shiny, and unbent. Opening one, she took a deep sniff.

  “I’m going to have to charge you for smelling that book.” Joseph Byler leaned against his broom, trying to hide his smile by pulling down on his beard.

  “Charge me? Will it be fifty cents or a dollar?”

  Now Joseph laughed. “You’d probably pay it. I’ve never seen a gal who loves the book section quite like you do.”

  Anna sighed and replaced the book on the shelf. “Onkel doesn’t approve. He says my time is better spent on something useful.”

  Instead of arguing with that, Joseph patted her shoulder with a large clumsy hand. As he walked away, he said, “Rebecca has something put back for you behind the counter.”

  Rebecca and Joseph were probably the same age as Anna’s aenti and onkel. She guessed they were in their early fifties. The difference was that while Aenti Erin and Onkel Samuel approached each day as if it was a huge burden, Rebecca and Joseph seemed to find joy in the smallest things.

  Had their lives been so different? Or were people merely different in their hearts? In the way they went about their rest and worship and chores? Joseph couldn’t be thrilled about sweeping the shop floor again, yet she’d never seen him when he wasn’t smiling about one thing or laughing about another. Rebecca always had a pleasant word for everyone.

  Anna had only been in the community a few months, and already these two were her favorite people. Their shop was often filled with tourists and Amish and grandkinner all at the same time. At the moment, one of Rebecca’s youngest grandsons, a toddler named Simon, was seated on a stool playing with a small toy hammer and pegs.

  Rebecca rang up her purchases, chatting about the weather and remarking on a baby that had been born to one of the couples in their district.

  “I remember Katie because she was at the last church service looking ready to have that boppli any minute.”

  “Ya, she’s the one. Blond hair with a tint of red in it, what my mamm used to call a strawberry blond. Her husband’s name is Brian. He’s the teacher at the school nearest to you.”

  “Isn’t he an Englischer?”

  “Was. He’s Amish now.”

  “We had a few try to convert to Amish while I was growing up in Goshen,” Anna admitted. “It never stuck.”

  “Brian is a special man, though no doubt the changes are difficult. We should keep them both in our prayers.” Rebecca handed her the receipt and change, and then she reached under the counter and pulled out a copy of the Mayes County Chronicle.

  “I was hoping you’d come in today. I saved you a copy of the paper.” Rebecca opened it up across the counter and pointed to an article on the top of the second page. “The writer mentions your onkel’s farm.”

  The article was titled “Plain Produce.”

  Anna couldn’t help rolling her eyes at the heading, but then she caught site of the byline—Chloe Roberts.

  “Take it home with you.” Rebecca tapped the paper. “No charge. I thought you’d like to read it.”

  “Danki, I will. Though it may be best to do my reading in the tractor. Onkel can’t abide Englisch papers, only the Budget. He doesn’t outright forbid such things. In fact, he caught me reading a library book last week and simply walked away mumbling about young girls and wasted time.”

  “I don’t mean to suggest you go against Samuel’s wishes, but I think he may be interested in this article. It’s bound to bring more tourists out to your place. Gut news, ya?”

  “It is.” Anna carefully refolded the paper and placed it in the sack with her purchases. She glanced left and right. Assured that they had the store to themselves for the moment, she plunged ahead with something that had been circling her mind.

  “I’d like to ask you a personal question, Rebecca.”

  “I’ll answer if I can.”

  “Why is Onkel Samuel so harsh? I’ve been here for more than two months now, and I rarely see him smile.”

  Rebecca didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she pulled out a roll of “New Product” stickers and began placing them on a stack of cookbooks. “I wouldn’t be judging your onkel, Anna.”

  “Nein, of course not. It’s only that I’ve been wondering… is it me? Is it because I’ve come to stay with them? When we wrote to ask about my coming, it seemed as if they wanted me, but—”

  “There’s no doubt they do want you.” Rebecca set down the roll of stickers and met Anna’s gaze directly. “It’s as you say. Samuel and Erin have always had a serious disposition. Perhaps they were born that way.”

  “But Mammi is so joyful.”

  “Ya. It’s true. Though her husband, your Grossdaddi Menno, could be a very somber man at times. I believe Ruth had a positive effect on him. But though she taught him to smile and to appreciate the blessings of our life, his natural temperament was more serious.”

  “So that’s why Samuel and Erin are so sour?”

  Instead of being offended, Rebecca laughed. “I don’t know if ‘sour’ is the right word, but I understand why you would use it. Some of that answer lies in the past, and it’s not my place to share it.”

  “My dat and Samuel are bruders. I always thought Dat was a bit strict and even a little somber at times, but next to Onkel Samuel, Dat looks like a blushing schoolboy.”

  “Speaking of blushing boys…” Rebecca nodded toward the door, where three of the boys from their district were stomping dirt off their boots before stepping inside.

  Each boy had asked Anna to the singings, and she had turned down all three. The reason that she’d given her aenti was they were too young, and it was true they were one to two years younger than she. But the real reason was she wasn’t ready to settle down. She hadn’t even lived yet. How could she be expected to begin dating—which would no doubt lead to marrying—one of the local boys? She didn’t even know if she wanted to stay in Oklahoma.

  So she said goodbye to Rebecca, tucked her package under her arm, and only offered a brief nod to Neal, Adam, and Thomas, who were indeed blushing.

  Anna walked to her tractor without looking back, though she suspected they were watching her. Was she that odd
of an occurrence? An out of town Amish girl? She couldn’t get used to being a minor celebrity among the boys. In Goshen, most of them didn’t give her a second glance.

  Or perhaps she was remembering that wrong. She’d had no more interest in dating back home than she did here. The difference was that when she was still on her parents’ farm, she’d thought a change of scenery would calm the restlessness in her heart.

  It hadn’t.

  She climbed up into the tractor, but instead of putting in the key and fighting the clutch, she opened the paper across her lap and found the article she was looking for.

  Plain Produce

  By Chloe Roberts

  Mayes County Chronicle

  CODY’S CREEK—If it’s wholesome food and fair prices you’re looking for, you need look no farther than a few local Amish farms.

  Corn, green beans, tomatoes, okra, bell peppers, radishes, and squash—plump, fresh, and picture-perfect—can be had when you pull over to one of the small produce booths that dot the countryside. Amish farmers do not use insecticides or chemically produced fertilizer on their crops. What you buy will be organic in the truest sense of the word.

  The Amish population in Mayes County has doubled over the last ten years, bringing with it a resurgence of small farms. Unlike conglomerates with vast acreage and the latest technology, farms owned by the Amish insist on using the old ways and only farming what each family needs to earn a living and feed their own. Though they remain faithful to the Amish faith, their day-to-day practices differ somewhat from larger Amish communities in Indiana, Ohio, and Pennsylvania.

  You have probably seen the canopied tractors pulling the bed of a pickup truck. Amish in the area use tractors for farming and for local travel. However, a horse and buggy can still be found on most homesteads. Their life here in Oklahoma is one of necessary compromises due to the difficulty of the area’s claylike soil.

  If you’ve visited the area on Sunday, you’ve no doubt had to slow down behind the iconic horse-drawn buggies and Plain-clothed families making their way to church or visiting neighbors. What you may not have realized is that this community east of Tulsa is now home to four Amish church districts and more than six hundred Amish people.