The Amish Mother

But that wasn’t all that concerned Lizzie. She couldn’t help but wonder how long he—they—would be staying. Why did he want to stay? She’d never met her mother-in-law or any of Abraham’s siblings. What if they didn’t like her? What if they judged her incapable of managing the farm and decided that she was no longer needed? Could she bear to be parted from her children? Because, in her heart, they were her children although she hadn’t given birth to them.

She had enjoyed a good life with Abraham. She’d worked hard to make the farmhouse a home for a grieving man and his children. And Abraham appreciated my efforts, she thought. Right before his death, she’d felt as if he’d begun to truly care for her.

“You don’t have to worry about us,” Lizzie said quietly as she watched him enjoy his food. “We are doing fine.” Her hands began to shake, and she placed them on her lap under the table so that he wouldn’t see. “There is no need to return. I know your life is in Ohio now.”

Zack waved her concerns aside. “You’ll be needing help at harvest time. It can’t be easy managing the farm and caring for Abraham’s children alone.”

Lizzie felt her stomach twist. Zack, like everyone else, thought her incapable of making it on her own, and he’d referred to the children as Abraham’s. She experienced a jolt of anger. Abraham’s children were her children, had been for two years now.

Then a new thought struck her with terror. Zack was the youngest Fisher son. Wouldn’t that make him the rightful heir to his family farm? If so, had he come to stake his claim?

Lizzie settled her hand against her belly as the burning there intensified and she felt nauseous. Was she going to lose her home and her family—the children she loved as her own?

She closed her eyes and silently prayed. Please, dear Lord, help me prove to Zack that I am worthy of being the children’s mudder. When she opened them again, she felt the impact of Zack’s regard. She was afraid what having him on the farm would do to her life, her peace of mind and her family.

Chapter Two

Zack had departed for Ohio the same day he’d arrived after making known his shocking intention of staying on the farm. After sharing their midday meal, he’d gone as quickly as he’d come with the promise to return, ready to move in with his mother and sister. Lizzie had no idea when he’d be back, but she and the children immediately went to work readying the dawdi haus the day after his departure. She would not have him feeling unwelcome.

“Did you hang up the sheets?” she asked Mary Ruth as the girl briefly entered the bedroom where Lizzie swept the wooden floor. She and Hannah had stayed home from school to help her get ready for Zachariah’s return.

“Ja,” her daughter said. “I did the quilts and blankets, too.”

Lizzie smiled. “That’s goot. We want to be ready for your uncle, ja?”

To her surprise, Mary Ruth grinned back at her. “Ja. It will be wonderful to have family here.”

Lizzie nodded in agreement with Mary Ruth, but as her daughter left for the other bedroom with dust cloth and homemade polish in hand, she wondered what the Fishers’ stay at the farm would mean for her and her future.

The cottage had two bedrooms, a bathroom, a combination great room and kitchen, and a pantry. A covered porch with two rocking chairs and a swing ran along the front outer wall of the dawdi haus. Lizzie had always liked the little house and the comfort it offered guests and the grosseldre, or grandparents, for whom it must have been built.

Hannah and Rebecca entered the largest bedroom, where Lizzie continued to clean and prepare for their expected guests. “I wiped inside the kitchen cabinets and the countertops, Lizzie,” Hannah said.

“And what about the pantry?”

“I helped Hannah carry all the jars you said to bring,” Rebecca said. “Want to see?” There was an air of excitement among the sisters.

Lizzie studied the two happy girls and smiled. “Ja, show me.” She followed Hannah and Rebecca through the great area to the kitchen nook on the other side.

“Mam,” young Anne said. “Look how nice they are!”

The jars of tomatoes, sweet-and-sour chow-chow, peaches and jam appeared colorful on the clean pantry shelves. “You girls have been working hard.” Lizzie smiled. “Danki.” She looked about and didn’t see the two youngest. “Where are Jonas and Ezekiel?” she asked with concern.

“Outside with Matt,” Mary Ruth said as she approached from the other bedroom across the hall from where Lizzie had been working.

Anne nodded. “They are pulling out weeds and dead things from the flower garden.”

No doubt the boys were working, as per her instructions, to clear out the dried rudbeckia blossoms and stems. The flowers also known as black-eyed Susans created a beautiful display of bright color from late spring to mid-or late summer, but in the fall, seeds from the dead centers had to be spread across the soil to ensure next year’s glorious display of gold and black.

“You have all worked hard on these today. I appreciate it. I couldn’t have prepared the cottage without you.” Lizzie noted with pleasure the smile on Mary Ruth’s face.

“Is there anything else we need to do?” the girl asked.

“We’ll go shopping tomorrow for supplies,” Lizzie said. “And we can bake bread, put some in the pantry and freeze a few loaves for them. They are welcome to eat at the farmhouse anytime, but they may want to take some of their meals here in the dawdi haus.”

“Ja,” Hannah said. “It’s a nice haus. It will be goot to see someone living in it.”

Lizzie hoped so. “It’s been a long morning without a break to eat. Are any of you hungry?”

“Ja!” the girls cried.

Matt entered the house with his younger brothers. “Ja,” he said, apparently hearing the last of Lizzie’s words. “We’re hungry. What’s to eat?”

Lizzie thought for a moment. “What would you like? Hard work deserves a special meal.”

“Pizza!” the youngest ones cried.

“Pizza,” Lizzie said with surprise and a little dismay. Money was tight, but she could make a crust from scratch, and she did have jars of tomato sauce she’d canned earlier in the summer. She could make her own pizza sauce and top it with whatever cheese she had in the refrigerator, fresh green peppers and onions. She could make a second pizza with just the cheese for the youngsters who wanted their pizza plain. “Pizza it is,” she said with a smile. “And then afterward, why don’t I make those candy apples I promised yesterday.” The children wholeheartedly agreed to the plan.

As she and the children left the dawdi haus and headed toward the farmhouse, Lizzie felt as if they were a family for the first time since the tragic loss of her husband—their father. She experienced a lightening of spirit and hope for the family’s future.

* * *

Later that night after the children were in bed, Lizzie went up to her bedroom, the room she’d shared with Abraham, and stared at the bed. Sleep hadn’t come easy to her since Abraham’s passing. Last night the worry over her late husband’s family moving into the dawdi haus had caused her to fret into the early morning until, exhausted, she’d finally fallen into a fitful sleep not long before she had to get up to begin her day again.

She had a mental image of Zack as she’d first seen him. He looked like a young Abraham, only with dark hair and more handsome features. Not that her husband hadn’t been good-looking. He had been, but she hadn’t noticed that at first. She had married him at a time that had been difficult for everyone, a time of mourning for him and the children, a time of concern that she might have made a mistake in agreeing to the marriage.

But we found our way, Lizzie thought as she moved across the room. Time had healed Abraham’s grief and his gaze had lost the sadness. Then he had begun to appreciate everything that she had done for the family—taking care of the house, doing the wash, loving his children.

They had married as strangers—he’d needed someone to care for his children after his wife had died, and she’d needed a life of her own.

During the first months of her marriage to Abraham, she had slept in the sewing room after quilting long into the night. She had produced some beautiful quilts by their first anniversary, when Abraham had invited her to sleep in the master bedroom. Afterward she had worked on her quilts in the evening instead, with Abraham seated nearby in his favorite chair while the children had played cards or read stories.

Since Abraham’s death, she had gone back to quilting through most of the night until she’d fall into bed exhausted and sleep only to awaken early to begin her chore-filled days. She enjoyed quilting and everyone complimented her on her handiwork. She had recently sold one of her quilts at Beachey’s Craft Shop, the money coming in at a time when they needed it. Ellen Beachey, the shopkeeper, had been gracious in taking her quilts and craft items so that she could earn much-needed cash.

She crossed to the sewing room off the bedroom and picked up one of her colorful quilt squares. Her mind reeled with emotion as she went to work. As she began to make tiny, even stitches in the fabric, she thought of Abraham and the children and how difficult their father’s death had been for them, how hard it had been to lose their mother two years earlier. They were wonderful children, and she loved them.

Would having Zack and his family here help her relationship with the children or hinder it?

She paused, closed her eyes and prayed. Please, Lord, help us to become a family. Don’t let me lose everything I gained when I married Abraham. A family. A home. Children who needed her.

Mary Ruth’s and Hannah’s sweet behavior would have made her feel at peace, if not for the knowledge that Zack would return soon and disturb the life she’d made for herself with the children.

Ah, Abraham, I’m sorry. ’Twas my fault that you’re no longer with us.

Tears filled her eyes as she plied needle to cloth in tiny, even stitches. She recalled her husband’s face and his eyes, which had eventually looked at her with more than kindness, with caring that had turned into love. In the months before he died, Abraham had begun to see her as a wife rather than a housekeeper and helpmate.

She sniffed as she set down her sewing and rose. She was tired. She undressed by candlelight, carefully removing the straight pins securing her dress, and got ready for bed. She brushed her hair, recalling with a smile when she’d brushed out her youngest daughter’s hair earlier.

Her hip ached and she reached for the menthol and camphor salve to rub on the sore and swollen joint. The scent was strong, but she was used to it, welcomed it because any little pain relief was worth it. She could take aspirin or ibuprofen, but she’d used so much of it recently, she decided it was best to save it for when the pain became unbearable without it.

She moved toward the bed, pulled back the quilt and climbed onto the mattress. She heard a gentle knock on her bedroom door. “Ja?”

“Mam?” The door swung open, and her youngest daughter, Anne, peeked inside, holding a flashlight.

“Anne,” Lizzie murmured. She waved her in. “What’s wrong?”

Her daughter approached the bed. “Mam, do you think our grossmama will like us?”

Lizzie smiled reassuringly. “She will love you,” she said, believing it to be true. “You are her granddaughter. All of you children are her grandchildren. Why wouldn’t she love you? Love all of her kins kinner?”

Annie tilted her head as she regarded her with unusually grown-up eyes. “Will she love you, too?”

Lizzie smiled, unable to assure her when she didn’t know. “You are worrying too much, Anne. They will come and all will be well.”

The child smiled. “I am glad. I want us all to be happy together. It is time for us—you—to be happy.”

Lizzie reached for the girl’s hand, pulled her close. “I am happy,” she said sincerely. “You and your sisters and brooders make me very happy.”

“Even though Mary Ruth can be sharp to you?”

She nodded. “Ja, no matter what. I am happy with you all, and I love you.”

Anne grinned and leaned over to hug her. “I love you, Mam.”

Lizzie closed her eyes as she held on to her daughter. “I love you. You all are everything a mudder could ask for and more.” She released her child to pat her cheek. “Now run off to bed. We’ve a busy day tomorrow.”

Annie nodded vigorously and spun to race out of the room, pausing on the threshold to glance back at Lizzie. “Danki.”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows in question.

“For being my mam,” Anne explained before she hurried on and shut the door behind her.

Lizzie blinked against happy tears as she leaned to blow out the candle. As the room plunged into darkness, she relaxed and lay back against her pillow. She felt sleepy and hopeful for the first time in a long while.

* * *

The next morning she was up and ready to begin her day. Now that the dawdi haus was prepared for guests, she needed to clean the farmhouse. She made breakfast first, and soon the children joined her in the kitchen, ready to eat. Lizzie beamed at them as they sat down.

“Hungry?” she asked. “I made pancakes, bacon, sausage and eggs.”

“It looks goot,” Hannah said.

“It tastes goot.” Matt had grabbed a piece of bacon and popped it into his mouth.

“Matthew, mind your manners and put some on your plate.”

“Ja, Lizzie.” Matt nodded, looking solemn, and then he grinned.

Lizzie laughed; she couldn’t help it. The boy was looking at her with such delight that the pure joy of the moment deeply touched her. It was nice to hear laughter in the house again.

Her older children helped the younger ones get their food. Lizzie watched with fondness as Rebecca cut up little Jonas’s pancakes for him.

This is what family is about, she thought. Had she ever felt so lighthearted when she was a girl? She couldn’t recall laughing at the dinner table. Her mother had treated her differently than her siblings because of her disability. It was as if she’d been unable to accept that her daughter wasn’t perfect.

“Anne, be careful with your milk,” Lizzie warned without anger.

Anne set her glass down and smiled at her with milk-mustached lips. “When do ya think Onkel will be here?” she asked.

“Onkel Zack,” Hannah corrected.

Lizzie sat down and filled her plate. “I don’t know. Surely by next week.”

“What else must we do to be ready for him?” Hannah asked.

Lizzie looked at her fondly. “I thought we should clean our haus next. We wouldn’t want Onkel Zack, Grossmama and Endie Esther to see a dirty haus, would we?”

“Nay!” the children chorused. The family teased each other as they ate breakfast, and when they were done, Lizzie and her daughters rose and tackled the kitchen first before moving on to clean the rest of the house. She sent the boys outside to make sure that there were no sticks in the yard and the porch was free of any balls and play items. She’d asked Matt to check the honeysuckle bush near her vegetable garden to see if it needed to be pruned back.

Later that afternoon when the children were at the kitchen table enjoying a snack, Lizzie heard a car in the barnyard. She hurried toward the door in time to see Zachariah Fisher climb out of the front passenger side of the vehicle and then reach to open the back door. A woman alighted as Zack went to the trunk and waited while the driver met him. The Englisher lifted out two suitcases and set them on the ground.

She saw Zack exchange words with the driver. Then he and the woman approached the house. Lizzie stepped out onto the porch to meet them. She heard the children behind her, chatting happily after seeing who had returned.

Lizzie was startled to see him. She hadn’t expected him back so soon. His gaze locked with hers as he drew closer. Her heart started to pound hard.

Chapter Three

He inclined his head. “Lizzie.”

She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. “Zack.”

He drew the woman forward. Lizzie saw that she was older than Zachariah but not enough to be his mother. “This is—”

“Esther,” Lizzie said with a smile. “Your schweschter.” She was pleased to note Zack’s surprise when she’d addressed his sister by name. “We’re glad you could come and stay with us.”

Esther’s gaze warmed. “And you’re Lizzie.”

Lizzie nodded. “Are you hungry? May I offer you a snack to hold you until supper? There are cookies and apple crisp. The cottage is ready for you. I believe you’ll be comfortable there.”

“We all helped to fix it up for you,” Rebecca said as she joined Lizzie on the front porch.

Mary Ruth and the rest of the children stepped out of the house and gathered behind Lizzie and Rebecca. Anne and Matt stood behind them, inside the door.

Esther smiled. “Hallo. So you are Abraham’s children. My nieces and nephews.”

Rebecca stepped forward. “Would you like to come in? Matt can put your luggage in the dawdi haus for you,” she told her aunt. She glanced at her brother and, understanding, Matt came out of the house and approached.

“Danki. I wouldn’t mind coming in for a bit,” Esther agreed.

Zack captured Lizzie’s gaze as he handed Matt a suitcase and picked up the other one. Her heart gave a little jump before it started to beat normally again. “I’ll go with Matt,” he said. “We’ll be right back.”

Esther nodded before she followed Lizzie and the children into the farmhouse. Once inside, she paused to study her surroundings. “Everything is the same, but different,” she said.

Lizzie understood. She hadn’t given much thought to the fact that Esther, Abraham and the rest of their siblings had lived here with their parents before their father’s passing. As they continued through the house and into the kitchen, Zack’s sister smiled appreciatively. “It smells wonderful in here.”

Hannah smiled. “We baked today. Would you like some apple crisp?”

Esther shook her head. “We stopped to eat on the way.”

“Tea?”

At Lizzie’s invitation, Esther sat down at the kitchen table. “Ja, that sounds goot.”

Lizzie studied her sister-in-law. Esther Fisher was a tall, attractive woman with warmth in her brown gaze and soft pretty laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and near her mouth. She wore a black traveling bonnet and a blue dress with black cape and apron. Her features were kind and full of character, and Lizzie immediately felt comfortable in her presence. She thought that she and Esther might become good friends once they got to know each other.

* * *

Memories assailed Zack as he entered the dawdi haus. His grandparents had lived here when he was a young child. They had passed on when he was seven in a terrible accident. A drunk driver had slammed his car head-on into their small open buggy as his grandfather drove Grossmudder and himself to Sunday service. That he and his family were in the buggy several yards in front of his grosseldre’s vehicle saved their lives, but Zack had gotten a good view of the awful scene. It had been a traumatic experience for everyone but most especially Zack.

As he followed his nephew through the house and into a bedroom, he noted slight changes to the cottage. There was no sign that his grosseldre had lived there. He sighed silently with relief as he set his suitcase in the closest bedroom and then followed Matt into the next room, where his sister would stay.

“Lizzie and the girls made up the beds and put stuff in the kitchen for you,” Matthew told him. “They stocked the pantry and the freezer, but Lizzie said that you are willkomm to eat with us. She wanted you to have food in case you got hungry or didn’t feel like coming over.”

Zack studied the boy and nodded. “That is kind of her.” He examined Esther’s room, pleased how clean and comfortable it appeared. A lingering scent of lemon oil intermingled with the fresh air gently billowing the white window curtains. A quilt in soft blues, greens and cream covered the double bed.

“Lizzie made the quilt,” Matthew said after apparently noting the direction of Zack’s gaze. “She quilts a lot and makes wonderful things. She sells her quilts at Beachey’s Craft Shop.”

Zack couldn’t help but admire the bedcover. The pattern and colors were striking, but plain enough to be used within their Amish community. He walked to the bed and ran a hand over the soft cotton in solid colors. “Beachey,” he murmured. “Ellen Beachey’s family?”

When his nephew nodded, Zack smiled. “They’ve owned the shop since Ellen was a child.” He felt a softening inside at the memory of Ellen Beachey, remembering her as a young feisty girl. She was older than him by about ten years, pretty, but she’d been a handful to her parents, although she’d been respectful to the church and the folks within Honeysuckle. He remembered that she and Neziah Shetler had been sweethearts, but by the time he’d returned home for a visit, the couple had broken up. He wondered whom she finally married.

“Do you know she has a bright lime-green push scooter?” Matt said. “She rides it down the hill from her house to the main road and uses it to ride to the craft store.”

Zack chuckled. “That sounds like Ellen.” He envisioned her flying down the hill, her prayer kapp barely held on by bobby pins, her eyes bright with excitement. Following his nephew into the kitchen, he listened as the boy showed him the contents of the food pantry. “Ellen still works at the store, then,” he murmured after he’d nodded approvingly at his food stock.

“Ja.” Matt closed the pantry door and faced him. “We’re glad you’re here,” the boy said. His expression became solemn. “We miss Dat.”

Zack understood. “I haven’t seen your vadder in a long time. I regret that I won’t have the chance to see or talk with him again.” He felt a keen sense of loss, but somehow, for his nephew’s sake, he managed to smile. “But he is with Gott, and so is your mudder.”

“You knew my mam?” The boy seemed eager to hear more about his parents.

“Ja. Ruth and your dat were married before my vadder— your grossdaddi—passed and we moved away.” Zack recalled how difficult it had been for them, especially his mother, who’d loved her husband deeply and felt the terrible loss. When his father had died, his mother hadn’t wanted to stay on the farm. She had moved with her younger children to Ohio to live near his eldest married sister, Miriam, who lived with her husband and children in Walnut Creek. His older brother, Abraham, had remained behind to run the family farm and build a life with his new wife, Ruth.

“We miss Mam, too,” Matt said as they walked together out of the house and across the yard.

“She and your dat loved each other.” Zack noted the boy’s features so like his brother’s. “You favor your vadder.”

“I do?” Matt appeared pleased by the thought.

“Ja. You’ve got his eyes, yet you have a bit of your mam, too.”

Matt blinked. “I— Danki.” The whispered word held a wealth of meaning and gratitude.

“Let’s go back to the haus. Lizzie and your endie Esther will be wondering why it’s taken us so long.”

Matt picked up his pace, and Zack followed, glad he had decided to return to Honeysuckle, if only to get to know his brother’s children.

Zack pulled the screen door open and waited for Matt to enter first. He noted the difference in the gathering room as he headed toward the kitchen and the sound of laughter coming from the rear of the house. As he entered, he saw his oldest niece, Mary Ruth, chuckling at her little brother Ezekiel, who was grinning from ear to ear as the three-year-old put forkfuls of apple crisp into his mouth. “Ezekiel, slow down,” his sister Hannah warned, “or it will choke you.”