A Simple Autumn: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel

September

A
lull covered the congregation like a warm blanket. The preacher had been talking
about faith for so long that his voice was now a gentle hum in the back of Jonah’s
mind. Now was the time.

Jonah King knew that church wasn’t meant for ogling people, but it wasn’t often these
days that he was under the same roof as Annie Stoltzfus. He turned his head, just
a few inches, to find her among the women seated on the other side of the barn.

There she was.…

Her face was framed by golden hair twisted back and tucked under her
Kapp
. Her blue eyes flashed his way, quick as lightning, and he looked away. All it took
was one brief glance to get hope frolicking in his chest. Ya, he had it bad. Here
he was, a grown man, and his heart got to racing at the sight of a girl.

But there had always been something special about Annie. She wasn’t quiet and agreeable
like most Amish girls. Annie was stubborn and spirited and willful. She loved to laugh,
and she would stand
face-to-face with a player twice her size in a volleyball game. Annie could hang tough;
he knew that from years of skating with her on the pond or playing board games with
his sister Mary and her. But when it came to children, Annie melted like butter. The
little ones were her soft spot, the true way to her heart.

Ya, Annie Stoltzfus was no ordinary Amish girl, and it was all the things that made
her so different that pulled Jonah to her time and again.

Of course, he never spoke about it. No one in his family knew that Annie Stoltzfus
had hooked him ever since they were kids.

How many years had he watched her and waited, hoping she’d notice him? They had learned
their lessons together in the one-room schoolhouse, and when they were children she’d
come to their house countless times to visit with his sister.

And all those years, she only had eyes for Jonah’s brother Adam. Ya, Adam had been
the name on Annie’s lips. She’d baked many a pie for him, and she’d fretted about
him when he’d gone away during his
Rumspringa
, the time when Amish youth were given some freedom to date while their parents looked
the other way. Adam had taken his rumspringa to extremes, leaving home for three years.

Jonah glanced to his left, where Adam sat with that squinty-eyed look he got when
he was thinking. Adam surely had a lot to think about. He was the oldest, and now
the head of their family, a big responsibility for a man so young. Even with sister
Sadie gone to Philadelphia, there were still ten of them at home—eleven if you counted
their grandmother, Mammi Nell, a widow who lived in the Doddy house just behind the
vegetable garden. Seated here on the men’s side, with Jonah, were Simon, Gabe, and
Adam. Five-year-old Sam sat over in the women’s section with little Katie, who was
only two. Mary, the oldest King girl, kept them under her watchful eye with help from
twins Leah and Susie and twelve-year-old
Ruthie. In Amish families, no child was too young to learn a chore, so there were
usually plenty of brothers and sisters to mind the little ones.

When Adam had returned to head up the family after their parents’ deaths, some folks
had expected him and Annie to wed. But Adam had chosen to marry someone else, an Englisher
girl with a yearning for a loving family and a heart big enough to help him raise
the King children here in Halfway. Now that Adam was out of the running, Jonah wondered
if Annie would finally see him in a new light. The Bible said that there was a time
for every purpose under heaven. Maybe fall was the season that Gott might answer his
prayers and plant a seed of love in Annie’s heart.

He could always hope; nothing wrong with that.

Jonah turned his attention back to Preacher Dave, who was still talking about the
Bible passage “Judge not that ye be not judged.”

“Judgment is a chore for the Heavenly Father to take care of,” Dave was saying. “It’s
not our task to look at our neighbor, our brother or sister, and judge them. Isn’t
that a wonderful thing? One less chore on my list for the day. We must let Gott be
the judge. It’s not our place to look to the man or woman beside us and decide whether
the things they do are right or wrong.…”

Jonah straightened on the wooden bench, pressing his hands flat on his thighs. As
his palms brushed the coarse broadcloth of his Sunday trousers he saw the truth in
Preacher Dave’s sermon. Ya, everyone knew they shouldn’t judge their neighbor. It
was a lesson taught among the Amish all the time. Jonah took a deep breath, wishing
folks could take it to heart and stop passing judgment on him and his brothers and
sisters.

The congregation seemed equally restless. Someone coughed. Little Matthew Eicher came
toddling toward the men’s section, crossing from his mother to his father. A child
fussed over in the
women’s section, and in front of him the Zook boys nudged each other.

Everyone’s itching to file out of the barn and catch the tail end of summer
, Jonah thought as specks of dust glimmered in a shaft of sunlight from the hay-mow.
Although they were more than halfway through the service, there was more to come.

It was a fine September morning, one of those days that wasn’t sure whether it wanted
to hold on to summer’s heat or let the trees and barns begin to cool from the breeze
sweeping over the hills. The morning had been crisp and cold, but now, with so many
people filling the barn, there was enough body heat to bring to mind a summer day.

Rubbing his clean-shaven chin, Jonah frowned as the Zook boys stirred again.

Eli Zook leaned into his younger brother John and whispered in his ear. John was brother
Simon’s age, nine or so, and Eli had all the vinegar of a boy pushing into the teen
years. Eli proved himself a bully, pinching his brother’s arm. That brought a glare
from their father, Abe, though none of the other men sitting nearby was paying him
any mind.

The weight of Simon sinking against him told Jonah that the boy was falling asleep.
Jonah slid an arm around his brother’s shoulders, boosting him up.

Simon’s heavy lids lifted.

Can’t let the boy doze off during Preacher Dave’s sermon
, Jonah thought as his younger brother looked up at him with sleepy eyes, then took
a deep breath.

Big John Eicher watched from the bench off to the side. And Jonah noticed that Big
John wasn’t the only one. Other men had their eyes on him and his brothers.

Always watching. And judging? Even though the preacher had
hammered away at them not to judge, Jonah felt disapproval heavy on his shoulders.

A cloak of self-consciousness had hung over the King family these past two years.
When their parents were killed, people had rallied to give them support. Casseroles
and baked goods had appeared on their table and jars of beets and peaches had stocked
their pantry. Nearby Amish families had invited the children over after school to
distract them from their grief and give the older family members like Jonah, Adam,
and Mary time to get the household chores done. Neighbors had helped with the spring
tilling and planting. The whole community had turned out to raise the new milking
barn.