An Amish Arrangement and An Amish Noel
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Jo Ann Brown
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Chapter One
Harmony Creek Hollow, New York
The day had started out as Jeremiah Stoltzfus had planned.
It didnāt stay that way after a woman dropped into his arms.
For most men, playing the hero for a beautiful woman would have been a dream come true. But most men didnāt discover that woman trespassing on a tumbledown farm in northern New York. A farm Jeremiah couldnāt wait to call his own.
Heād been invited by the current owner to visit when he reached Harmony Creek. In a couple of days the farm would be his.
At dawn Jeremiah had left his familyās home in Paradise Springs, Pennsylvania. He was joining others to build a new Amish settlement near the Vermont border. Heād made arrangements during the past few months, purchasing the farm based on a few photographs sent by his Realtor. After saying goodbye to his mamm, brothers and sisters along with their spouses and kinder and knowing it was unlikely heād see them again for a year, heād taken a train north to Albany. There, he was met by a van, which drove him the last fifty miles to Harmony Creek Hollow.
The valley edging the creek was set outside the tiny town of Salem. Rolling hills covered with trees and meadows would support dairy farms for the Amish families moving into the area.
The owner of the sixty-acre farm he was buying, Rudy Bamberger, had invited him to stop by before the closing in two days. Jeremiah suspected the old man wanted to size him up first.
Rudy had already asked him a lot of questions through Kitty Vasic, Jeremiahās Realtor. Personal questions that Kitty told Jeremiah he didnāt have to answer. However, Jeremiah had no problem with the questions, because the old man had been selling his familyās farm. Jeremiah had written a long letter, explaining his background and his plans for the farm and his future. His answers must have satisfied Rudy, because the old man accepted his offer on the farm the next day.
When heād arrived, Jeremiah had carried his two bags as he crossed the snowy yard past neglected barns. No tracks had been visible. Nothing had gone in or out of the big barn since the last snowstorm. Allowing himself a quick glance at the other outbuildings, which needed, as heād known, a lot of repairs, heād walked through the freshly fallen snow to the main house.
The large rambling home had a porch running along the front and the side facing the barn. Through a stand of spruce trees, he could see another house, where a tenant family once would have lived. The few remaining shutters hung awkwardly at the windows, a sure sign the house was a fixer-upper, too.
He looked forward to beginningāand finishingāthe tasks ahead of him as he made the farm viable again. His skills as a woodworker would be useful while renovating the barns and the sap house near the sugar bush farther up the hill.
Climbing onto the porch, heād set down his bags before he knocked snow off his well-worn work boots. Heād gone directly to the side door. Rudy had told him to use that door when he arrived.
āDonāt knock,ā the most recent letter had instructed him. āMy ears donāt work like they used to, and I donāt want you standing in the cold while you bang and bang. Come in and give a shout.ā
Heād thrown the door open. āRudy, are you here?ā
A shriek had come from close to the ceiling. Heād looked up to see a ladder wobbling. A dark-haired woman stood at the very top, her arms windmilling.
He leaped into the small room as she fell. After years of being tossed shocks of corn and hay bales, he caught her easily. He jumped out of the way, holding her to him as the ladder crashed to the linoleum floor. His black wool hat tumbled off his head and rolled toward the wall.
āOh, my!ā gasped the woman.
She was, he noted because her face was close to his, very pretty. Her pleated kapp was flat unlike the heart-shaped ones his sisters wore. Beneath it, her hair was so black it gleamed with bluish fire in the fading sunlight coming through the door and tall windows. Her brown eyes were large with shock in her warmly tanned face, where a few freckles emphasized her high cheekbones. She wore a pale pink dress with white and green flowers scattered across it in a subtle pattern. No Amish woman from Paradise Springs would use such fabric. It must be allowed in the new settlement along Harmony Creek. What else would be different here?
But first things first.
āAre you okay?ā he asked, not surprised she wasnāt the only one who sounded breathless. His heart had slammed against his chest when he saw her teetering. And from the moment heād looked into her lustrous eyes, taking a deep breath had seemed impossible.
āIām fine. I had just a little farther to go. Just a little...ā Her voice trailed away as the shuddering ladder, which had landed on its side, clattered to the floor.
Jeremiah frowned. There was nothing on the wall to prevent her from falling. He saw the ruined wallpaper and chipped crown molding along with scraps of paper sheād already pulled off were piled on the floor. Why was she tearing off wallpaper in Rudyās house?
āWho are you?ā he asked at the same time she did.
āIām Jeremiah Stoltzfus,ā he answered. āYou are...?ā
āMercy Bamberger.ā Her face shifted into a polite smile, and he guessed sheād collected her wits that had been scattered by fear. āThanks for catching me.ā
āWhy are you here?ā
Instead of answering, she said, āYou can put me down.ā
Jeremiah was astonished his curiosity about why she was in what would be his house had let him forgetāfor a secondāthat he was still cradling her in his arms. He set her on her feet, but caught her by the elbow when she trembled like a slim branch in a thunderstorm.
Hearing uneven thumps upstairs and hoping they heralded Rudyās arrival, he steered her to the left. There, a staircase was half-hidden behind a partially closed door. Seating her on the bottom step, he picked up his hat as he asked, āAre you all right?ā
āI am.ā
He didnāt believe her, because her skin had a gray tint and her voice quivered. He wouldnāt push her, because he guessed she was embarrassed by the circumstances. But one question remained: What was Mercy Bamberger doing in his house?
āBamberger?ā he asked aloud. āLike Rudy Bamberger?ā
āYes. Do you know my grandfather?ā
Well, that explained who she was and why she was in the house. Glancing up the stairs, his eyes widened when he saw a shadow slip across the top. It was far too small for a grown man and appeared to have four legs.
He watched, saying nothing as he realized the silhouette belonged to a kind. A little girl, who looked about seven years old, had braided hair as black as Mercyās. She leaned on metal crutches with cuffs to go around her skinny arms. Her legs were encased in plastic and Velcro from the tops of her black sneakers to her knobby knees. Who was she?
As if heād asked the question aloud, the little girl cried, āMommy!ā Rushing at a pace that forced his heart into his throat again, because he feared sheād fall, the kind flung her arms around Mercyās neck. āAre you okay?ā
āIām fine,ā Mercy reassured her.
The kind glanced at him with a scowl. āI heard the ladder fall andāā
āIām fine, Sunni.ā She hugged the little girl. āJeremiah kept me from getting hurt.ā
āWho?ā
āJeremiah.ā Mercy pushed herself to her feet and swung the little girl off the steps. She kept herself between the kind and him, showing she didnāt trust him though heād saved her from a broken bone or worse. āHeās Jeremiah.ā Without looking at him, she added, āJeremiah, this is my daughter, Sunni.ā
Again he fought not to ask the questions battering at his lips. The kind was unquestionably Asian, and her eyes, like Mercyās, glistened like dark brown mud in a sun-washed puddle. She also wore plain clothing with a small print.
Comprehension struck him. Mercy and her daughter werenāt Amish. They dressed like the Mennonite women who lived near Paradise Springs. He searched his mind, but couldnāt recall if his Realtor had mentioned anything about Rudy living plain. He glanced up at the electric light hanging from the ceiling. Some plain folks used electricity.
Too many questions needed answers.
Right away.
āHi, Sunni,ā he said, because he didnāt want to upset the little girl or her mamm more.
She aimed another frown at him before turning her back on him. When she didnāt answer him, Mercy asked the kind why sheād been upstairs. He thought she was dismayed the little girl had gone on the stairs by herself until Mercy said, āBe extra careful. Donāt forget the floors arenāt safe.ā
āI stayed away from those, Mommy.ā Sunni raised her left crutch and tapped the floor beside her. āI do that to check before I go in.ā Without a pause, she asked, āCan I have a cookie?ā
āOne,ā Mercy said with a smile. āPut the bag clip on after you get your cookie.ā
āOkaaaay,ā Sunni replied in the same tone Jeremiah had used as a kind when his own mamm said something he deemed obvious.
He smiled, but again the little girl acted as if he were invisible before she drew her arms from the cuffs on the crutches. Leaning them against the wall, she hurried through a doorway to the right. He guessed it must lead to the kitchen.
His grin vanished as he glanced around the room. Rudy called it his everything room. Hooks on the wall showed where coats, hats and bonnets could be hung. The bare floor was scraped from years of barn boots on it, and the tattered wallpaper was a grubby white. It might once have been a brighter color. The room was furnished with a rickety table and a battered sofa covered with a worn blanket. A desk had a book under one leg to keep it steady on the sloping floor. The interior of the house was in worse condition than the outside. The photographs sent by the Realtor had been misleading.
Had he failed to examine them closely enough in his eagerness to buy the farm and get started on making his dream come true? No, heād peered at each picture through a magnifying glass to discover every detail. He knew the kitchen cabinets were painted dull brown, and there was electricity in the house. He planned to remove the latter as soon as the papers were signed.
Jeremiah picked up the ladder and raised it against the wall again. Checking it was solidly in place, he looked at Mercy. He was curious why she was peeling paper off the wall in what would be his house. He could understand if she wanted to take one of the pictures of the farm hanging on a fake brick wall behind the desk, because the farm was her grossdawdiās. In the silence, the tick-tock of a wall clock in the kitchen was loud.
Jeremiah appraised the room again. He intended to use it for the farmās office, as he guessed Rudy had. It was one plan among the many he had. His brothers teased him about having to have every detail set in place before he acted, but trying to find knots in a piece of wood before he began working on it had kept him from wasting time when building a piece of furniture. Being as cautious in his other endeavors seemed wise.
Though he knew, too well, the best of plans could fall apart. Heād thought his future was set with Emmarita Kramer, but sheād jumped the fence and married an Englisch guy sheād met at an auction Jeremiah had taken her to. She never broke the courtship off with Jeremiah, just left. He should forgive her and forget his shock, but when he hadnāt been able to do either, heād decided on a clean start in the new Harmony Creek settlement.
Hearing a throat cleared and knowing Mercy was trying to get his attention, he turned. She was shorter than heād realized. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. As she stuck several vagrant strands of black hair beneath her pleated kapp, she regarded him coolly. She was, he could tell from the set of her taut lips, as curious about him as her daughter had been.
He had a lot of things he wanted to ask her, too, but he waited for her to speak first.
She took one step, then another toward him, though she was at a disadvantage because she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. Then, seeing the determination in them, he wondered if she saw her height as a liability or a way to surprise those who underestimated her.
āYou never answered my question,ā she said.
āWhich one?ā He couldnāt remember what sheād asked him, and he refused to be put on the defensive in what would be his own home.
āThe important one. What are you doing here?ā
āI came to see Rudy Bamberger.ā He frowned. āYou said heās your grossdawdi.ā
She nodded.
āThen Iām surprised he didnāt tell you Iād be coming here today.ā
āWhy?ā
He didnāt think she was being cagey on purpose. Until now, sheād been straightforward. āHe invited me to come and look around.ā
She shook her head. āI donāt understand why.ā
āDidnāt he tell you heās selling me his farm?ā
Mercy Bamberger was shocked speechless. Had she hit her head when sheād dropped into Jeremiah Stoltzfusās strong arms after trying to grab another strip of wallpaper? Sheād made a mess of this conversation from the get-go.
With the ancient Adirondacks to the west and the gentle Green Mountains to the east, the farm had been a haven for her from the first time sheād come to visit the man she called Grandpa Rudy. It offered the very thing sheād lost and didnāt think sheād ever find again. Home. How desperate sheād been for a sanctuary! And how precious it seemed as the promise sheād held within her heart for the past decade was being fulfilled.
She couldnāt mess it up. Already sheād made the mistake of not keeping a closer eye on Sunni. Her daughter had been born with a congenital curiosity not diminished by her physical challenges. Mercyās determination that the little girl should do anything a regular kid could allowed Sunni to indulge her quick and inquiring mind. Telling Sunni not to investigate the rooms upstairs because the floors were unsafe must have convinced her to find out how dangerous they were.
Mercy was letting herself get distracted by a handsome stranger who appeared to be a few years older than her twenty-five years. His bright blue eyes that had been shadowed by his black wool hat identified him as one of the Amish farmers moving into the hollow. Grandpa Rudy had told her about the new settlement in one of his letters. Heād been writing to her every week since she was eleven years old, the year sheād been adopted by his son and daughter-in-law and given a chance to have a new life and the loving family sheād feared sheād never have again.
She was startled how far up she had to look to meet Jeremiahās eyes. Few Amish men sheād met had been as tall as he was. If his ruddy hair hadnāt been cut in the plain style and he wasnāt wearing a simple light blue shirt along with black suspenders and broadfall trousers beneath his black coat, she wouldnāt have guessed this very good-looking man was Amish.
Scolding herself, she recalled how Graham Rapp was easy on the eyes, too, but heād broken her heart by showing how much a āmamaās boyā he was by choosing his mother when Mercy refused to be second. She must not let herself be beguiled by an attractive man again. Not when so much was on the line with her plans for the farm and the changes it could make in many young lives.
But the Amish were well-known for their honesty. So why was Jeremiah talking nonsense about Grandpa Rudy selling him the farm?
āI think youāre mistaken,ā she said, hoping her voice didnāt quake with the strong emotions rushing through her like lightning in a summer sky. āMy grandfather didnāt mention anything about selling Come Along Farm.ā
āCome Along Farm?ā
āThatās the name he gave the farm when I was little. He urged us to come along and keep up with him while he did chores, so we called it Come Along Farm.ā
āHe didnāt tell you heās selling me the farm?ā
āNo!ā
āIām sorry to take you by surprise,ā he said gently, ābut Iāll be closing the day after tomorrow.ā
āImpossible!ā Her voice squeaked, and she took a steadying breath. Sounding as young as Sunni wouldnāt help. And she didnāt want her raised voice to bring her daughter from the kitchen to investigate. The little girl was upset enough already to have to leave their Mennonite community and Mercyās parents in central New York, and Mercy hadnāt missed the glares Sunni had shot at Jeremiah. When she and Graham ended their ill-advised engagement, her daughter had been caught up in the aftermath and no longer trusted men she didnāt know. Mercyās attempts to reassure Sunni that the little girl had nothing to do with the breakup hadnāt helped.
āItās not impossible. Iāve got the paperwork in my suitcase on the porch. If you want to see itāā
āI donāt have interest in seeing what canāt be legitimate. It sounds as if someone has played a horrible prank on you, Jeremiah. Iām sorry.ā She was, because she guessed heād traveled for hours or days to get there. āBut the farmās not for sale.ā
He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. Taking a deep breath, he released it. In a calm tone she doubted she could emulate, he said, āThereās no sense in arguing. Why donāt you get your grossdawdi, and weāll settle this?ā
āI canāt.ā
āWhy not?ā
She blinked on sudden tears. āBecause heās dead.ā
When Jeremiahās face became ashen, Mercy wondered if she should tell him to take a seat. It must have been seconds, but it felt like a year before he asked, āRudy is dead?ā
āYes.ā She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat.
āWhen?ā
āLast week. It was a massive heart attack. He was buried the day before yesterday.ā As she spoke, she found it impossible to believe the vital, vigorous man was gone.
Rudy Bamberger had been more than a grandfather to her. Heād been her best friend, the one who had welcomed her into the family after her life had hit bottom. Rudy hadnāt been a replacement for Abuelita, her beloved grandmother who had raised her when she was called Mercedes in a tiny apartment in the Bronx. Abuelita had died two weeks after Mercyās tenth birthday, and everything in Mercyās life had changed, including her name. Yet, Grandpa Rudy had made her feel as if she belonged among the people who were so different from those sheād known in the city. His love had been unconditional, and sheād returned it.
āIām sorry,ā Jeremiah said with sincerity.
She wished heād been trite instead of genuine, because one thing hadnāt changed. He wanted to take away the farm that was her final gift from Grandpa Rudy. How often sheād sat on the old manās lap and talked about taking care of the apple orchard or making maple syrup as he did each spring or what color she would paint the big bedroom! Heād humored her, even when her paint choices went from pink to purple to red and black over the years.
But Jeremiah was saying her grandfather had intended to sell the farm to him.
āBut Grandpa Rudy told me the farm would be mine after he passed away.ā
āThen why would he sign a purchase agreement with me?ā
Mercy shook herself from her mental paralysis. She hated admitting she couldnāt guess why her grandfather would break his promise to her.
āMommy, whatās wrong?ā
Shocked she hadnāt noticed Sunni in the kitchen doorway, Mercy put her arm around her daughterās narrow shoulders. āNothing that canāt be fixed,ā she replied with a smile.
Over the childās head, she shot Jeremiah a frown, warning him not to upset Sunni. She didnāt want her daughter to feel as if her world was being taken away from herāagaināas it must have when Sunni traveled from Korea to what was supposed to be her forever home. It hadnāt been, because her adoptive parents, whoād changed her name from Kim Sun-Hee to Sunni, couldnāt handle having a daughter who wore leg braces. Sunni had been returned to social services as if she were a set of curtains that didnāt match the furniture. A disrupted adoption was the name given to it. Or a failed placement. The latter fit better, because it sure felt like a failure for the child involved.
As Mercy had learned herself fifteen years ago when sheād been the one given away by what sheād thought would be her forever family. If the Bambergers hadnāt been there to take her in... No, she didnāt want to think of that awful time.
Again, she warned herself to focus on the present, not the past. And her and Sunniās future. She had to stop letting her emotions take over. She needed to be logical. Building Come Along Farm into a retreat for city kids would require her to face a lot of bureaucracy on local and state levels. She must be ready to stand up for what she wanted.
āSunni, if you go and get the book we were reading, Iāll meet you in the living room once Iām finished here.ā
The little girl looked from her to Jeremiah, then nodded. āOkay, Mommy.ā
Mercy said nothing as Jeremiah watched Sunni hobble away. There was no pity in his expression, and she was grateful. Too many people felt sorry for Sunni, calling her a āpoor little thing.ā Sunni was one of the strongest people Mercy knew and had learned to walk through perseverance and hard work. If only Mercy could help her heal from the emotional wounds sheād suffered, but those would take more time.
As soon as the little girl was out of earshot, Mercy said, āI guess I should see the purchase agreement you say my grandfather signed.ā
Jeremiah hooked a thumb toward the door. āGive me a minute, and Iāll dig out the paperwork Iāve got.ā
She considered locking the door, but that wouldnāt solve the problem. Instead, she held the door open while he brought in two scuffed duffel bags.
Closing the door, she said nothing while he opened one bag and found a manila envelope. He withdrew a sheaf of pages and sorted through them. In the middle of the stack, he pulled out several and offered them to her.
āHereās everything I got from your grossdawdi through my Realtor,ā he said without a hint of emotion.
Mercy didnāt look to discover if compassion had slipped into his gaze. This time, for her. She wanted it no more than Sunni would have. When he handed her the pages, his work-roughened skin brushed against her fingers. Sensation arced between them like electricity, and she jerked her hand away. Being attracted to the man who insisted he was buying her familyās farm would be stupid.
If he had the same reaction, she couldnāt tell, because she carefully kept her gaze on the papers. She scanned each page, her heart sinking lower and lower. Everything looked aboveboard, and she recognized her grandfatherās scrawled signature on the bottom of each page. She didnāt stop to decipher every bit of legalese, but grasped enough to know Grandpa Rudy was selling the farm to Jeremiah Stoltzfus.
Just as Jeremiah claimed.
āBut my grandfather died,ā she whispered. āDoesnāt that change things?ā
āI donāt know. This is the first time Iāve ever bought property.ā He gave her a lopsided grin that lifted her traitorous heart once more.
Paying it no attention, she returned the papers to him and he put them in his bag. No one could answer the question gnawing at her most. Why would her grandfather promise her the property and then decide to sell it without telling her? Sheād often mentioned her plans for the farm. Hadnāt he read her letters? Yes, he had, because heād responded to things in them. But never, she realized with a jolt of dismay, had he written anything about her intention to make Come Along Farm a sanctuary for city youngsters like the one sheād enjoyed when she was a Fresh Air kid years ago, escaping for two amazing weeks each summer from the steam bath of the Bronx.
āIām not sure what we should do,ā he said when she remained silent.
āMe, either.ā For the first time she looked straight into his brilliantly blue eyes. He must realize what she was about to say she meant with all her heart. āHowever, you need to know Iām not going to relinquish my familyās farm to you or anyone else.ā
āButāā
āWe moved in a couple of days ago. Weāre not giving it up.ā She crossed her arms over her chest. āItās our home.ā
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