Rumspringas hope, p.1
Rumspringa's Hope, page 1
Rumspringa’s Hope is a story of true love. A story of finding your purpose in life. A story of following God’s will. When Emma is reunited with Caleb, her world is no longer as simple as she thought it was. She must now figure out what her purpose is and who God intends for her to marry. Delightful and thought provoking. I definitely recommend it.
—CYNTHIA HICKEY
AUTHOR OF COOKING UP LOVE AND TAMING THE SHERIFF
The heart of any Amish story lies in the struggle of the Plain People to deal with the world outside the confines of their simple life—a world that threatens to crush them with its fast pace and contradictory values. In Rumspringa’s Hope Beth Shriver puts her finger on this conflict, and with deft storytelling brings it out into the open for the reader first to see and then to understand. Woven into this delightful story is an unresolved romance, unexpected adventure, and a heartwarming conclusion, and when you come to the end of Rumspringa’s Hope, you will have a deeper grasp of the Amish way. Well done, Beth.
—PATRICK E. CRAIG
AUTHOR OF A QUILT FOR JENNA, THE ROAD HOME,
AND JENNY’S CHOICE
Most CHARISMA HOUSE BOOK GROUP products are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchase for sales promotions, premiums, fund-raising, and educational needs. For details, write Charisma House Book Group, 600 Rinehart Road, Lake Mary, Florida 32746, or telephone (407) 333-0600.
RUMSPRINGA’S HOPE by Beth Shriver
Published by Realms
Charisma Media/Charisma House Book Group
600 Rinehart Road
Lake Mary, Florida 32746
www.charismahouse.com
This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible and the Holy Bible, New International Version. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, International Bible Society. Used by permission.
Although this story is depicted from the town of Lititz, Pennsylvania, and the surrounding area, the characters created are fictitious. The traditions are similar to the Amish ways, but because all groups are different with dialogue, rules, and culture, they may vary from what your conception may be.
Copyright © 2014 by Beth Shriver
All rights reserved
Cover design by Bill Johnson
Visit the author’s website at www.BethShriverWriter.com.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014936480
International Standard Book Number: 978-1-62136-599-0
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62136-600-3
To Ty, my husband, for encouraging me to do
what I love to do.
The person who sows seeds of kindness
will have a perpetual harvest.
—AMISH PROVERB
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Glossary
Chapter One
Emma stood at the foot of the ladder looking up at her brother. “If you don’t get down from there I’m coming up after you.”
“There’s no use trying to talk me out of it.” Mark stopped and tucked in his chin so he could stare down at her. “You’re too scared of heights to climb a single step.” He grinned and again turned his attention to the window above him as he climbed a few more steps. The farm haus and the ladder belonged to their neighbor, Roy, whose daughter had caught Mark’s eye. Roy was known for his bad temper.
Emma cringed, knowing what would happen if Roy caught wind of Mark’s latest escapade. She stamped her foot. “Mark, now! Get down.”
Her brother didn’t bother to acknowledge her words. He’d almost reached the top of the ladder, and his focus was entirely on the window above him.
The cold February night air froze her bones, and the anxiety made her chest tighten. She longed to walk away from their neighbor’s farm to the warmth of their own haus. There maybe she could breathe easier.
But somebody had to watch over her errant little brother to keep him in check. It seemed just about everyone else had given up on him. Even their daed, Ivan, and their mamm, Rebecca, seemed not to know what to do.
“Come down this instant,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
He peered at her from the top of the ladder, his head almost even with the window sill, and shot her a look of triumph.
“You’re going to get it.” She tried to squeeze more air into her lungs to get more words out, but they caught in her throat.
Just then Roy’s daughter let out a scream.
Mark scampered down the ladder, nearly falling from the last few rungs. He ran past Emma and headed for home, leaving her alone in the dark. She heard voices inside the house, then all was quiet.
“Slow down…” She could barely squeeze out the words. She doubled over and into a coughing spell.
By the time she made it home, Mark had disappeared into his bedroom. All the others were asleep.
Emma was too exhausted to deal with him anyway, but come tomorrow there would be a penance to pay.
Chapter Two
The following morning the bleak Pennsylvania sky hung dark and low with a threat of snow. Emma sat up in bed and listened to the commotion downstairs. Roy’s voice was loud enough to bring her daed stomping into the kitchen.
Emma pushed off her warm quilt and climbed out of bed. She dressed quickly and took slow steps down the stairs. Mark was in her line of vision. His smirk made her want to smack him for all the trouble he caused. Roy was to his side, though apparently looking at her father and mother.
“I’m a gut neighbor,” Roy bellowed, “but I’ve had enough of your son. He’s getting worse as he’s getting older.”
“So, what have I done?” Mark shrugged and grinned.
Mamm gave Mark an exasperated look. “Let loose a herd of thirty milk cows, stayed out all night, and believe me, I could go on,” Mamm said.
The veins in Roy’s neck pulsed with anger. “Just two days ago I caught Mark throwing rocks at Naomi’s window. And then last night…the ladder…” he sputtered, his face turning purple. “…her window. You were climbing…”
“Is that true, son?” Their daed’s voice was taut.
Emma stepped into the kitchen and joined in. “And getting caught with a beer.” She shook her head.
“Sis, not you too.” Mark tilted his head in that way the girls loved. His charm might work on others, but it didn’t for Emma. She’d seen it too many times.
Emma held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it.” She’d had her fill of him and the way he’d been chasing after Roy’s daughter. Chores sounded better than listening to what was sure to be an explosion once Roy got started.
“And he still owes me some time to pay for the window he broke,” Roy said.
Emma’s eyes shifted to Mark’s. “You didn’t even finish working it off?”
That must have given him too much time with Naomi. For whatever reason she seemed to be enamored with him now. He was a handsome one and charming in his own way, but a pain in Emma’s side. Her patience was worn as thin as Roy’s.
Not wanting to hear another word of the argument, she slipped out of the kitchen and then out of the house to breathe in some fresh air. She was about to return to the house and start the first batch of laundry when the sound of boots scuffling in the pebbled dirt made her pause.
She knew the sound of Zeb Bowman’s gait as he walked closer. Even buried in a warm, heavy coat, his tall, skinny frame couldn’t be missed, like a scarecrow in a cornfield. It wasn’t exactly a welcome sound or sight.
He gave her a smile.
“Hallo, Zeb. What brings you here so early?” It wasn’t early for an Amish, but it was just too early to see him.
Emma was past the age most women married, but much younger than Zeb’s thirty-three years. Her mamm was set on finding her a suitor and seemed to think the widower would be suitable. Emma had no interest in anyone—except for one. And he was no longer part of the community.
“It’s a beautiful morning. And I have news to share with you…and something to ask.” Zeb’s customary greeting made her
“Actually it isn’t so beautiful.”
He took one large step into the house with Emma, standing within inches in front of her, looking down at her with his dark blue eyes. “Your bruder again?”
“Jah, but that’s nothing new.” She didn’t feel like small talk, and there wasn’t anything new to tell.
He nodded but said nothing more about her bruder. “I can’t stay long. Do you have a minute?” Zeb had a way of conversing that made it difficult for others to disagree. He was kind enough and soft on the eyes, but she wasn’t ready to say yes just yet. Others had vied for his attention when his wife died. Amish women didn’t remarry. The men most always did. For whatever reason, Zeb continued in his attempts to court her.
Before he could even get another word out, her throat constricted. She tried to breathe but her lungs were working as hard as they could with no relief. Zeb held her shoulders as her forehead started to sweat.
“It seems to be getting worse. Maybe you should go see Doc.” His stare confused her, and then she realized how bad her coughing must sound to him. She didn’t want anyone to make a fuss. She shrugged him off and went to the house. He followed a few feet behind.
The large white clapboard home had sparse furniture except in the kitchen where eight seats filled the large room. The fire in the family room warmed the cozy area. Multicolored rag rugs warmed the wood floors in every room. Four bedrooms were just enough to accommodate her family, with a washroom to share and outhouse out back.
She slipped off her coat and took Zeb’s. He sat on the couch close to the fire and rubbed his hands together.
“You said you wanted to ask me something?” Emma plopped a wicker basket down on the family room floor.
“Jah, you know how well my dairy farm is doing. I’ve got fifty Holstein cattle now. Doubled the number over the last year.” He hesitated, staring at his hands, then looked up, his eyes seeking hers. “Well, I think it’s time to settle down.”
Emma froze.
Zeb had a large, sprawling farm, but used most of it for grazing and used only a small area for growing crops. She questioned whether that was one reason her mamm was so adamant that she spend time with him. He would provide a secure life for whomever he married.
Mamm poked her head into the room and smiled. “Well, Zeb, I didn’t know you were here. Would you like some coffee to warm ya a little?” She wrung her weathered hands, waiting for his response.
Zeb kept his gaze on Emma. “This isn’t such a good time. I’ll save my question for later.” Then he looked to Mamm and smiled. “No coffee, but danke.”
The sounds of her sisters’ baking lessons carried from the kitchen, which was a relief for Emma. The smell of something burning and the squeals and laughter were a welcome distraction.
Emma couldn’t help but grin, although she was sure her mamm didn’t find it humorous at all. “What is it this time?”
“Cheese bread,” Maria sang out. She appeared behind Martha in the doorway. They both had strawberry-blonde hair like their mamm. People always remarked that they looked so much alike, despite the gap in their ages.
“Ach, my favorite.” Emma squeezed Zeb’s hand and genuinely smiled for the first time that day. “I should go in and help.”
He chuckled. “I wish you would accept my help every now and then.” One side of his mouth lifted.
She nodded, having heard the words too many times. She knew he wanted to be around her family, but why? The more they knew him, the more she felt obligated to consider him. And he knew that. “Thanks for stopping by.”
He buttoned up his jacket then tipped his hat, like he did every time they parted, and turned to leave. “You’re welcome to come over for dinner, if you like.”
She hesitated. Her haus was her refuge, and she took every opportunity to be there. She didn’t always feel comfortable sharing a meal with Zeb’s family. He had built his mamm, daed, and younger brother Merv their own haus attached to his, which was common, but premature due to his wife’s passing.
He looked so hopeful, she couldn’t refuse. “I’ll be there in time to help with dinner.”
“All right, then.” He took a moment to catch her eye and lifted a hand to say good-bye.
The smell of spices filled the air as Emma strolled into the kitchen. Mamm’s herbal tea was brewing on the stove. She heard Maria talking with her in the kitchen. Martha was off fetching eggs. The room was warm with humidity from pots boiling on the stove. Mamm stood over them sprinkling in some salt, and Maria cut up sausages. Emma walked to the large window over the sink that opened to the corn field.
“This is the first time I’ve been asked to go to singing.” Maria twisted a straggling lock of her reddish hair and sat down at the large wooden table. Maria’s tight lips drawn together told Emma what she needed to know to catch up with the conversation. Emma and Maria shared most everything, from their hearts to their hairpins. There was only one other person in whom Emma had ever confided in the same way.
“I understand, but you need a chaperone.” Strands of gray hair had come loose from Mamm’s tied-back hair and seemed to float around her plump face as she went to the sink. She washed her hands and looked over at Emma. “You’ve been working harder than usual this morning.”
“Jah, I’ll help with the noon meal.” Emma nodded, and gathered the silverware, not wanting to draw attention to her work well done, partly so as not to appear prideful.
“Emma, will you chaperone me to singing on Sunday?” Maria twisted her hands, waiting for Emma’s answer.
Emma wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t want to get in the middle of the obvious tension between Maria and Mamm. She took extra time in answering, hoping one of them would intervene before she had to. “Jah, if Mamm approves,” she finally said.
Maria beamed at Emma for only a moment until Mamm lifted a hand to speak again.
“Your brother can chaperone.” Mamm had her back to them, cleaning up the kitchen from the breakfast meal.
“Nee, Mamm. He’d ruin it somehow.”
Her sister was probably right, but what else could her parents do? They had tried everything they could think of, but nothing had improved his behavior. Mamm seemed to be weakening; it had been apparent for some time now that reasoning with him time and again was wearing her down.
“It would be nice for Mark to be with you, Maria. Let Emma spend time with her friends.” Mamm never met her gaze, avoiding conflict that might arise with her answer.
Maria’s shoulders slumped, and Emma knew she had disappointed her. “I’ll ask him to be on his best behavior.” She wanted to do more than that, but it did no good to dwell on the issue. Emma questioned why her brother had changed so much when he became an adolescent. He’d always had a lot of energy, but this was different.
Maria huffed out a breath and went back to the counter where she was preparing the meat for Stromboli. “Some are talking about rumspringa.”
She didn’t look up, just kept working as if she’d said nothing at all. Although it was considered a rite of passage, rumspringa was still frowned upon by most parents. Emma understood you couldn’t condone such a custom unless it was something you’d grown up knowing about and accepted by most of the Amish communities.
“Why now? Spring planting isn’t for a few more months.” Mamm continued with her work, adding ingredients. She stirred the mix together with more force than usual. Talk of rumspringa clearly upset her.
“A lot say they’re going.” Maria sighed. “They’re going to talk about it after singing.” She twined her fingers together as if sorry she’d said the words out loud.
Emma frowned. “I’ve heard that many say they are going this year, but most don’t actually go.” Emma didn’t know what this group would do, but she hoped they would go to the city. She had always wanted to see what was out there, not to live, but to serve.
Emma went about slicing the salami and cheese while Mamm cut up the onion. As Mamm waited for the water to boil she glanced over at Maria. “It’s early to be thinking about something that’s happening in the spring.
“Jah, but there’s been a lot of talk lately for some reason.” Maria’s words spoke volumes. Emma couldn’t imagine she truly wanted to go. Maria was a gentle soul who seemed very content on the farm. She wouldn’t know what to do in the city, but then most Amish didn’t.
