Page 3 of The Christmas House
That Sunday, Liz and Martha Rose rode with Adam to Singing at sundown in his black open buggy.
It was a tight squeeze, but thankfully the preacher’s farmhouse was only a short jaunt away.
Even so, Liz had to sit sideways to fit in the slim space between the edge of the courting carriage and her slender sister.
There was no moon in sight, but the tawny glow of gas lamps in neighbors’ kitchen windows cast light on the surrounding furrowed fields.
Liz could scarcely wait for the first snowfall, when Dat would let her use his large sleigh with its built-in seating for her tours.
The horse-drawn sleigh made rides all the more festive and fun, especially for folks on the Christmas House Buggy Tour, who always enjoyed the finale of traveling past the show of lights, life-sized nativity scene, Santa and reindeer, holiday music, and everything else related to Christmas.
Without snow on the ground, though, her custom-made carriage and the merry bells hanging from King’s harness would have to suffice.
Adam broke the stillness. “Will you be all right on your own after Singin’, Martha?”
“I believe so.”
“So happy for ya, sister,” Liz whispered.
“If need be, I can drop ya off at home, Liz,” Adam offered.
“If ya don’t mind, I’d appreciate it,” Liz said, a little disappointed at the prospect of having to ride home with her sibling yet again.
Stars sparkled as they appeared, and Liz wondered if she’d ever dare ask Adam about his visit to Ella Mae’s, recalling what he’d said the other day about her godly advice.
She smiled in the fading light, squished next to Martha Rose though she was.
Maybe there’d never be a good time, and besides, it wasn’t her place to question his doings.
Nevertheless, she had a hard time imagining her younger brother seeking counsel .
.. or drinking tea of any kind, for that matter.
Adam pulled into the preacher’s driveway and jumped out to tie King to the post across the driveway from the back porch.
Entering the house, Liz and Martha headed downstairs, where the Singing was to take place.
For now, they sat with the other girls sixteen and older.
With their two older sisters married and busy with two small children each, Liz and Martha were each other’s best companion.
And Liz was grateful, especially after the breakup last year.
Martha made sure I was not alone at youth gatherings.
Soon, two of their girl cousins joined them, and Liz and Martha moved over to make room. Liz greeted Fran and Naomi warmly, Fran being almost as close as another sister, though more so to Martha Rose.
Just now, Liz noticed Martha stealing glances across the table in Ben Fisher’s direction. How serious are they? Liz wondered. If I were already wed , would they be getting married this wedding season? Ach , do they think they must wait another year because of me?
Liz glanced discreetly at the young men around the room and realized that, once again, there were no new faces amongst them.
Inwardly, she sighed and wondered if it made sense for her to keep attending the gatherings when no one there was likely to ask her riding—most of the eligible young men in attendance had already paired up with someone, and none of the others sparked her interest, really.
Am I too picky?
As she waited there on the bench for the Singing to begin, Liz thought back to a discussion she’d had with Dat more than two years ago, before she’d started her business....
Liz and her father leaned on the white fence on the perimeter of the barnyard, observing the grazing mules in the near distance. The July morning was hot and sultry, and the meadow was profuse with golden dandelions, some already gone to seed.
Liz contemplated how to begin. “Dat,” she said, forging ahead at last, “there’s somethin’ I’d like to discuss with ya.
” Slowly, she began to share her desire to offer buggy rides to tourists.
“Not as a livelihood, though. I want to work only three days a week, but with what I’d be chargin’, I could still give ya a nice amount for room and board. ”
Turning to study her, Dat was silent at first. “No need to work outside the home, Lizzy.” He glanced at the bluing sky, clouds skittering off toward the east.
“It’s somethin’ I’d like to do, though.”
Her father removed his straw hat and fanned his perspiring brow. “Workin’ in a job like that means you’d be rubbin’ shoulders with outsiders.” He reminded her that spending time with worldly folk—in a confined space, no less—wasn’t the wisest choice for a single, young Amish woman.
She’d prepared herself for this. “Well, I’m a baptized church member an’ committed to God, Dat. Don’t worry that I’d stray.”
“Still, there’s temptation on every side.”
Liz couldn’t deny that. “But what if it was a way to let my light shine to folks I might never meet otherwise, and maybe even to glorify God, too?” She quoted Matthew five, verse sixteen, one of her favorites since childhood.
“‘Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.’”
Dat bobbed his head slowly. “Do ya really think takin’ Englishers on rides would accomplish that?”
“Why not?”
He paused yet again. “Well then, here’s somethin’ else to think on: What if you married after ya got started with these tours? Your husband might not want ya workin’ amongst the world or at all, ’specially not once you start a family. Have ya considered that?”
“Well, plenty of Hickory Hollow married women work away from home at quilt shops and as waitresses,” she pointed out. “But I agree that a family must come first. Right now, though, that might not be a concern for me.”
She contemplated what to say next. “Honestly, though, it’d be interesting to talk to new people and maybe even quash some Amish myths floating around.”
Although running a buggy tour business was a little unusual for a single Amishwoman, her father had ultimately given his permission, but only on the condition that Adam accompany her, an arrangement she’d quickly come to appreciate. Her father was a sensible and caring man, after all.
Sitting up straighter now, Liz was glad to see Preacher Yoder and his wife coming downstairs to give their welcome. After several announcements, including one about an upcoming hayride and barbeque, everyone sang the birthday song for those with November celebrations.
Then Preacher Yoder’s wife blew into her pitch pipe and started the first gospel song of the evening, “I’ll Meet You in the Morning.” As was customary, they sang the verses in German and the chorus in English, switching easily between the two languages.
Liz joined her voice with those of the other Youngie , glad to make a joyful noise unto the Lord. I need to focus on what matters .
Whatever tonight and the coming days might bring, she would continue to pray for the right fellow to come along, someone who shared her hope to bring encouragement, even blessings, to others.