An Unconventional Amish Pair
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Emma Miller
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Chapter One
Henrietta Koffman held tightly to the aluminum ladder with both hands and squeezed her eyes shut. Counting to three, she breathed deeply to calm her pounding heart. The good Lord took His faithful in His own time, but this was not how she wanted to go. This was not how she wanted her family to remember her—falling to her death off a roof. Especially when no one thought she should have taken this job for Edee Gingerich in the first place.
“Please, Gott,” she whispered. “Not today. I promise I’ll try to do better. I’ll be more devout. No more naps during Sunday service, even if the sermon goes on too long.”
The previous night, this had seemed like such a good idea. Even though she wasn’t fond of heights, she wanted to be sure the chimney cap hadn’t been knocked off when she removed the stovepipe below. All she had to do was climb the ladder two stories up, attach an eyebolt to the roof and hook the harness she’d borrowed from her brother-in-law to the eyebolt. Then she would walk across the roof to the ridge and follow it to the chimney.
It was just a matter of getting to the chimney now, but she felt as if her feet were glued to the rung of the ladder. One more step and she would be on the roof. The anchor plate was already attached, the harness clipped in. If she fell, she’d only drop a few feet before the harness caught on its tether, and she’d be all right. Her brother-in-law Jack, a building contractor, promised she’d be fine, joking that he’d fallen several times over the years and never had any injury but a bruised ego when his employees had seen him slip. He had offered to go up on Edee Gingerich’s roof for her, but Henry refused his help. This was her job; she’d written up the estimate, then the contract, and secured the kitchen renovation project completely on her own, and she would do the work herself. She intended to prove to those who thought she couldn’t do it that they were wrong.
Standing thirty feet in the air on a ladder, the spring breeze tugging at her hair covered in a scarf, she was having second thoughts. Her eyes closed; she pretended her feet were on the ground. She listened to the birdsong in the blossoming trees surrounding the house and inhaled the sweet scent of freshly turned soil in the neighboring fields.
Would it have been so terrible for her to let Jack do this one little thing for her? But that was a moot point now because here she was, standing on the ladder.
“I’m not a quitter,” she mumbled, forcing herself to open her eyes again. From her perch, she watched an older model white pickup slowly drive by the house. Then, taking a deep breath, she stepped onto the asphalt-shingled roof. However, she miscalculated: her foot caught on the edge of the rain gutter, and she fell onto the roof with a loud exhalation of air.
“Ouch,” she muttered as the metal clips of the harness cut into her.
Thank goodness Edee had stayed in the house. She couldn’t imagine what she looked like lying on the roof in her father’s work pants and shirt. Her uncle, the bishop of her church district, would have a fit if he knew his niece was wearing men’s clothes. But wearing a dress and prayer kapp didn’t make sense while doing construction work; it was uncomfortable, limiting and could even be dangerous. So she’d left her family’s house that morning wearing a blue dress and changed after she arrived. She’d put her dress back on before her boyfriend, Sam, picked her up, and no one would be the wiser but Edee—and the widow would never tell.
Boyfriend? she thought. It was the first time she’d put his name and that word together. Was the bushy-browed Sam her boyfriend? There had been no conversation between them about walking out together, although they saw each other every weekend attending one community event or another. And now, he would pick her up most days from Edee’s because he worked for Jack’s construction company and was the foreman for a job they were doing in Rose Valley, where Edee lived.
The reminder that Sam would come for her within the hour motivated her to roll over and sit up. The view through the old oak trees was beautiful from the rooftop. She studied the county road in front of the house as the same white pickup passed again going in the opposite direction. Across the way, Edee’s neighbor walked behind a plow pulled by two Percheron horses, turning over the spring soil for planting. She raised her face to the sun’s warmth and felt the slight breeze on her cheeks. Saying a quick prayer for her safety, she gritted her teeth and rolled onto her side to come to her feet.
It took two tries to stand because it was windier than she’d anticipated. But she managed to get to a crouching position and then slowly stood. Finding her balance, she watched the white pickup go by the house yet again. It was probably someone looking for fresh eggs for sale. Edee’s road was mostly Amish farms; Englishers were always driving up and down, looking for eggs, firewood or fresh produce for sale. Moving carefully, she turned to face the roof’s ridge and eyed the chimney. She would need to sink another anchor point into the roof and attach the harness higher. Jack said that would keep her from falling too far if she slipped from the top.
“Just a short walk,” she said aloud as she checked to be sure the harness was still secure across her chest. “Fifteen feet. Maybe twenty. Easy peasy.”
She ignored her fluttering heart and took one step, then another, and wobbled. The wind had picked up, and the branches of the live oak tree in the backyard swayed. The roof’s incline was more severe than it had seemed from the ground. She put out her hands for balance and took another step, feeling the tug of the rope clipped to the harness. She wondered if she’d be able to walk easier without it and considered unhooking herself, but then thought better of it. She had promised Jack she would use the harness and was a woman of her word.
She fixed her gaze on the chimney. “Easy peasy,” she repeated, gritting her teeth.
Henry didn’t know what happened next. One moment she was walking toward the chimney, and the next she was falling forward. She cried out as she went down. She was able to put out her hands to break her fall, but she felt a rough shingle scrape her cheek. Just as she thought she was safe, she began to slide down the sloped roof.
“No, no, no,” she cried, clawing with her hands, trying to slow her descent. But there was nothing to grab onto. Her feet hit the ladder hard, and she felt it give way. She heard it clatter to the ground just as she slipped over the roof’s edge, hands and feet flailing wildly. The rope from the harness caught her so hard that it knocked the wind out of her, and for a few seconds she dangled off the roof, swaying, her eyes squeezed shut. But slowly her body came to rest at the end of the rope.
Her eyes flew open, and against her will, her gaze fell to the grass two stories below, where the ladder lay. Guess I should have asked Jack what to do if I did fall, she thought.
Now what? The harness was so tight around her that she couldn’t fully inhale, and she was starting to feel the tightness of panic in her chest. Her heart beat fast, and she breathed in short gasps. How was she going to get help? Even if she shouted, Edee would never hear her from inside.
“You all right?” a male voice called from below.
Startled, Henry looked down to see an Englisher in blue jeans, a flannel shirt and a baseball cap. He was twenty-five maybe, with butter-yellow blond hair that fell over one eye, and a dimple on his square chin. “Um...ya,” she said, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. No, she was beyond embarrassment; she was mortified to be hanging from a roof dressed in her father’s clothes. “Ya, yes, I’m okay. Not hurt.” Where did he come from? she wondered. Then she saw a white pickup parked in the lane. It was the same one she’d noticed minutes ago.
He gazed up at her, shading his eyes from the sun with his hand. “If I can get the ladder right next to you, can you climb down? I’ll hold it for you. Or I can come up to help you.”
“No need to come up,” she assured him, sounding calmer than she felt. “If you could get the ladder back up, I can manage.” All she could think of now was getting off this roof before Sam showed up. If she didn’t, he’d tell everyone in Honeycomb what had happened, and her uncle would be paying a call to discuss giving up her silly notion of working for women like Edee who couldn’t afford the big companies or didn’t want male strangers in their homes. Poor Edee’s eldest son died three years ago, and her younger son left the church eight years ago and was never seen again.
“Just put the ladder back up, please,” she said, her voice squeaking. Thank goodness this handsome man was a stranger and she would never have to see him again.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again.
“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Just put the ladder back up! Please,” she added, softening her tone.
“No worries.” He smiled up at her, seeming to take no offense. “You’ll be down in a jiffy.”
And she was.
He stood the ladder up and held it until she was standing on firm ground again. “Thank you,” she said as she freed herself from the harness. Now that she was safe, she felt flustered. She didn’t like feeling so vulnerable and, even more, disliked the thought that a stranger saw her this way.
“You’re welcome.” He hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his Levi’s jeans and smiled.
He was good-looking, and he knew it. He wasn’t the kind of man Henry ordinarily was drawn to. The handsome ones who knew they were handsome were usually self-centered and useless, in her opinion. But she felt herself blush as he studied her. He hadn’t said anything about her unusual attire, but then she wondered if he even realized she was Amish.
“Can I ask what you were doing up there?”
“I wanted to check to be sure the chimney cap was properly reseated,” Henry explained. “This morning, we pulled the stovepipe down inside, and I was worried the cap had been jostled.”
He gazed up at the roof. “Want me to go up and check? It would only take me a minute. Honestly, I’m not crazy about heights, but I’d do it for you.” Again the charming smile.
“No, thank you.” She threw the harness over her shoulder. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow,” she said, expecting an argument.
He shrugged. “Okay.”
She met his gaze, surprised by his response. Instead of insisting he would do it for her or saying something about how she shouldn’t be on the roof, he’d let it drop. It was as if he thought she could do it. This wasn’t a response she was used to in her Amish community, especially from a man. Even Sam Yoder, whom she was sort of dating, was always commenting about what he thought women should and shouldn’t do, and it was clear he didn’t approve of her work. It was too bad this good Samaritan was English. Because a man like him would be the kind of man she’d like to marry someday.
“So...” He furrowed his brow as he followed her toward the back porch. “Does...um...does Edee Gingerich still live here?”
She looked at him, surprised to hear him speak the widow’s name. Why was he asking? she wondered suspiciously. Had he been casing her house? Was that why he’d driven by several times? A few weeks ago, an Amish widow in another community in Kent County had been robbed. The police later discovered the thieves had been watching her house for days before finally breaking in while the woman was at church.
“Well, thank you again for your help.” She offered a quick smile and made a beeline for the back porch, thinking she would go straight in and warn Edee of the suspicious man. Maybe she should consider staying the night with her friend to be sure she was safe.
“So does she live here or not?” he asked, hooking his thumb toward the county road. “Gingerich is on the mailbox.”
Henry looked over her shoulder at him, uncomfortable that he was pressing her for the widow’s name. “Why do you need to know?” she asked sharply.
Before he could respond, the back door flew open, and Edee appeared. “Chandler!” she cried, rushing across the porch.
Staring at Edee and then the man, Henry stepped out of the widow’s way.
“My sohn! My sohn, you’ve come home,” Edee sobbed.
Henry watched as her friend threw open her arms to embrace the stranger.
This handsome blond was her son? This was Chandler, who had left the church and his family years ago? Henry couldn’t stop staring as mother and son embraced.
“I prayed you’d come back to me,” Edee said, laughing and crying at the same time as she hugged him tightly. “I prayed and prayed because I knew Gott would answer my prayers someday.”
“Mam,” Chandler murmured, wrapping his muscular arms around her small frame and kissing her cheek.
“This is my sohn! My Chandler,” Edee told Henry. She took his hand and led him across the porch, unashamed of her tears. “Come in, come in. Are you hungry, Chandler? You must be hungry.”
Henry stood for a moment in disbelief as she watched them walk into the house. Then, not knowing what else to do, she followed them. Inside, Henry stood in the doorway between the mudroom and kitchen, watching them as Edee insisted her son sit and began pulling leftovers out of the refrigerator.
“I want to hear everything about you,” Edee gushed. “I want to know everywhere you’ve been. What you’ve been doing.” Beaming, she looked over her shoulder at him as she set containers on the counter. “I want to know all there is to know. But first, you must eat. Did you bring a suitcase? You’re staying a bit, aren’t you? Please tell me you’re staying.”
The clock on the wall caught Henry’s eye, and she realized Sam would be there momentarily to pick her up. She hadn’t loved the idea of giving up the freedom of coming and going to Edee’s as she pleased, but she’d accepted the offer after pressure from her family.
Henry eyed Chandler as Edee chattered. Why was he here after all these years? What did he want from his mother? Why would a young man leave his widowed mother in the middle of the night, not contact her to let her know he was alive for eight years and then show up? Was it money he wanted? Was it even safe for her to leave Edee alone with him? “Need any help, Edee?” she asked.
The petite woman in a pale green dress, black stockings and a white apron and prayer kapp shook her head. “Indeed not, but you should join us for an early supper. Talk with my Chandler. I know you’ll like him. He’s a very nice boy. Very kind.”
Henry glanced at the clock again. If she didn’t hurry, Sam would come up the lane for her, and for some reason she didn’t want him to. Why, she wasn’t sure. Maybe because she was embarrassed to have felt a momentary attraction to Edee’s English son and was afraid Sam would somehow know? “Danki, but I can’t,” she told Edee. “Time to go home.” Looking once more in the handsome man’s direction, she excused herself and went down the hall to change out of her work clothes.
By the time Henry returned to the kitchen dressed as she had left her family home that morning, the widow was busy heating up the leftovers. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Edee?”
“Ya,” Edee said over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”
Henry hesitated, glancing in Chandler’s direction. “Thank you again for your help.” She didn’t smile.
He turned in his chair to face her, looking her up and down in surprise. “You’re Amish?”
She ran her hand over the prayer kapp that had replaced the scarf she wore during her workday. “Ya, I am.”
He grinned at her. “I’d have never guessed.”
“A lot of surprising things about this young lady,” Edee said, shaking a wooden spoon in Henry’s direction.
“And what’s this young lady’s name?” he asked.
“Henrietta,” Henry answered, unsure why she had spoken her given name.
“But we call her Henry,” Edee said. “Everyone does. Wait until you get to know her, sohn. You’re going to love her as much as I do.”
“Am I?” His blue eyes, pale like the color of the sky, twinkled as he met Henry’s gaze. He was still smiling at her, a brash smile that made her feel off-balance. “I look forward to that,” he said, directing his comment to Henry rather than his mother.
Then he winked at Henry, which shocked her so much she rushed out of the house.
Chandler watched the young Amish woman go, then rose from his chair to help his mother. He removed two plates from the cupboard. They were the same plates he fondly remembered using as a child. “Henrietta who?” he asked. “She’s not from around here, is she?” He was shocked that Henrietta was Amish, though he hoped it hadn’t been too evident. She’d been dressed in work pants and a shirt...on a roof. How could he have guessed? She wasn’t like any Amish woman he’d ever known when he lived here.
“Koffman. Comes from a nice family over in Honeycomb. One of seven sisters. I’m sure you met them at some point. They lost their mother a few years ago and now care for their ailing father. Hard workers, those girls, and as faithful as they come.” She eyed her son. “Be the kind of woman a man like you would do well to marry.”
He laughed, carrying the plates to the table. “Something tells me that a nice girl like Henrietta isn’t looking for a man like me. I was never baptized, remember? And I’ve been living a sinful life full of motor vehicles and reruns of television sitcoms.” He did not mention the cigarettes, beer or any other more shocking things he’d seen or done; he wouldn’t do that to his mam. But she wasn’t a fool. She knew, but there was no reason to speak of it and upset her.
“There’s always salvation for a man willing to seek it,” she answered firmly as she stirred the leftover succotash she was reheating on the stove. “I’ve prayed for that, too. Not just for you to come home, but to find your way home to the church.”
He couldn’t resist a smile. He’d missed his mother so much. She hadn’t changed a bit. She always saw the best in people and believed they were fundamentally good. She trusted in God’s forgiveness and the salvation He offered. She even believed her wayward son could be saved. He liked to think that was true, but he wasn’t sure he believed it.
The eight years he’d been gone had been hard. Lonely. He’d not given up on God, but it had seemed like maybe God had given up on him. When he left Delaware, he had high hopes of finding happiness and fulfillment in the English world. He’d thought that walking away from the strict rules he’d been raised with would help him find himself and his place in the world. He’d been wrong.
He’d struggled to find work and never lived in a place half as nice as the home he was standing in now. And even though he’d lived in several states, he’d not found a place he belonged. No matter how he tried, he had never quite fit in with the English men his age he worked with. Even though he had been living in the English world, it seemed like his heart had never adjusted. Standing here in his boyhood kitchen, it was hard to remember why at eighteen he had so desperately wanted to leave Rose Valley, leave his family and friends.
Chandler regretted now that he hadn’t returned sooner. Or at least sent letters occasionally to let his mother know he was okay. For the last year or two, he’d played around with the idea of coming home, but only when he’d learned last week of his brother Joe’s death through a friend of a friend had he decided to quit his job in Illinois and return to Delaware. It had broken his heart to know that Joe had been gone two years and here he had been thinking all this time that his big brother was here caring for their mother.
He was relieved to find that she was still on their farm and seemed to be doing well, considering all she’d been through. The barnyard looked well maintained, the exterior of the house had a fresh coat of paint and, from the appearance of the kitchen, she was having some renovations done.
But how did Henrietta, an Amish woman who wore pants and climbed roofs, fit into the picture?
