An Amish Family Reunion (8 page)

Emma—her rebellious child—the one whose
rumschpringe
days had turned Julia’s chestnut hair to dull gray by the time she married her young man. Julia decided that she would begin cleaning today in the room her daughters had shared while growing up. Inside the seldom-used guest room, Julia discovered mementos of the two sisters who’d once also shared dreams, secrets, and more than a few tears.

In the closet hung one of Leah’s faded dresses, left behind because the shade of peach wasn’t suitable for a married woman, and because too much of her own good cooking had rendered this size only a nostalgic memory. Julia held the worn cotton to her face to inhale the faint but distinctive scent of her daughter. She would throw the outgrown frock into her ragbag to be cut up into quilting squares.

Julia ran her dust cloth over the oak writing desk, where Leah wrote to Jonah and Emma had written to her
Englischer
, James Davis, while he’d been away at Ohio State Agricultural College. Then she headed to the girls’ nightstand and matching bureaus. On a lark, she opened the bottom drawer of Emma’s dresser. Emma had apparently forgotten quite a few items when she packed her bags for their honeymoon train ride to see the ocean. Emma had chosen to see the Pacific Ocean, not the much closer Atlantic.
So like my rebellious child
. Afterward she’d moved to Hollyhock Farms, owned by the Davis family of Charm. Her husband’s hometown was only fourteen miles from Winesburg, but it might as well be a hundred considering how often Emma, James, and their sons came to visit.

Julia pulled out the drawer and set it on the bed to examine its contents without straining her back. The items should, no doubt, be dumped into the trash. In the streaming sunlight she spotted the blue jeans Emma had worn under her Plain dress to go horseback riding with James and his friends. She’d ridden all day long astride a thousand-pound-beast and not fallen off. Julia pressed the frayed denim to her nose to catch the fragrance of her oldest daughter. But instead she inhaled the scent of peaches! Sure enough, in the back of the drawer were containers of peach-scented shampoo, body lotion, and dusting powder, along with Cover Girl blusher and a tube of pink lip gloss. Julia squeezed a tiny bit onto her own finger to examine. It too smelled sweet. Emma had so wanted to compete with English girls, not realizing that James had fallen in love with a peaches-and-cream Amish girl who needed no enhancements to her incredible God-given beauty.

Julia took out a brochure for the Sugar Creek Swiss Festival where Emma had taken her first train ride. It had been just a short trip to Baltic and back for tourists. Was it on the train that James realized he was head over heels in love with Emma? So much so that the young man was willing to give up his fast 4 x 4 pickup truck, Levi jeans, and plaid flannel shirts forever? Their change to New Order Amish meant he could keep his farm tractor, modern harvesters, cell phone, and electricity in their home as well as in the barns. Yet driving a horse and buggy each time you wished to go anywhere had been a tough adjustment to make. Emma’s change from Old Order to New had been a far easier transition. However, living initially in her pushy mother-in-law’s home brought its own tribulations. Today, seeing Emma and James together with their two sons, you would think they had been born to their current lifestyle.

Her former rebel, Emma, was one happy woman.

Julia put the other mementos back in the drawer and slid it into the bureau. After returning Leah’s dress to its hanger in the closet, Julia ran her dust mop quickly over the wood floors and batted down cobwebs with her broom. She took a final glance around the room and closed the door behind her.

With her heart aching, this wasn’t a good day to throw junk into the trash.

Everything was how it should remain in her little girls’ room…at least for now.

P
hoebe Miller had never seen anything so grand—and they hadn’t even reached the falls. Out the left side of the bus she viewed the Niagara River, a broad blue expanse of water dotted with seagulls bobbing on the waves, hoping for an easy lunch. Motorboats puttered to-and-fro as anglers sought the perfect spot to cast their lines. The water looked downright benign. Yet thanks to Eli’s story, she knew what dangers lurked beneath the silvery calm surface.

What if a boat’s engine conked out? Surely the unseen current would be too strong to paddle against, even if the vessel had oars on board. The terrified fishermen would be swept helplessly downstream. Cries for help to other boaters could go unheard. Certainly those cell phones that every
Englischer
carried wouldn’t work on a rushing, turbulent river. The poor souls would be carried to the brink of the falls, where they would hover for a few seconds before dropping over the edge to their deaths, not having the protection of a barrel like Annie Taylor’s.

Phoebe shuddered, trying to banish the morbid mental image. She gazed out the right-hand windows to view a cityscape of tall modern skyscrapers and many old-fashioned churches. “Buffalo,” the bus driver announced jarringly. “Birthplace of buffalo wings, home of the Buffalo Zoo, the famous Buffalo Bills, and the minor league Bisons.”

Not quite famous enough for a Plain artist from Holmes County
to have heard of
. But no matter. Viewed from the freeway, Phoebe
thought the city looked exciting and somehow hospitable. As their
route followed the river that connected Lake Erie to Lake Ontario,
the driver shared interesting tidbits about the Peace Bridge to Canada, Grand Island, and finally the Niagara Falls region. “Look there,”
he said. “Do you see those tall, odd-shaped buildings sprouting in the distance?” Many rushed to the left side of the bus to get a good look. “They are in Canada, our friendly neighbor to the north.”

Phoebe practically suffered whiplash trying not to miss a single landmark. Soon the bus exited the freeway and rattled down a side street, narrowed by parked cars on both sides. They pulled under the two-story canopy of their designated hotel.

“We’re here,” the driver called. The bus stopped so fast, Phoebe banged her nose on the seat in front of her.

Mrs. Stoltzfus exited the bus but then returned within five minutes with a middle-aged
Englischer
. She positioned herself up front with her clipboard, a bundle of white envelopes, and her I-mean-business expression. “This is our tour operator, Mr. Barnett. I will call out names in groups of four. When you hear your name, come forward and take your envelope from Mr. Barnett. Make sure
your
name is written on the envelope. Then exit the bus and go find your suitcase. Written under your name is your room number. Inside you’ll find a key card to get into your room and a tourist bracelet. You can work out later who bunks with whom. Put those bracelets on your wrists snuggly. The bracelet will allow entry into each attraction one time. If you lose it, you’ll be reading magazines in your room for the next two days.” She paused here and narrowed her eyes. “Now listen up. Find your bag, go up to your room, leave your bag there, and then hurry back down to the bus. We have no time to unpack or lollygag. If you come down here late and the bus is gone, head back to your room… and read a magazine.” She scanned the tour group, making eye contact with suspected lollygaggers. “The rest of us will be on the
Maid of the Mist
!” She beamed then, her smile accentuating her round apple cheeks. The bus broke into thunderous applause and plentiful hoots until Mrs. Stoltzfus lifted her hand like a crossing guard.

Phoebe glanced out the window. The luggage had already been set on the sidewalk in neat rows for quick retrieval.
This tour operator knows his business
. Everyone started chatting as the first group of names was called. When she heard “Ava and Rebekah Glick, Phoebe Miller, and Mary Mast,” Rebekah slapped the back of Phoebe’s head as though she’d been sound asleep.

“That’s us!”

Phoebe’s stomach somersaulted despite having consumed a ham sandwich, chips, and an apple for lunch, along with two full packs of Nabs. She took her envelope, followed the Glick sisters off the bus, grabbed her suitcase, and then followed them inside the hotel lobby with wide-eyed wonder. Marble floors, chandeliers, fancy area rugs, leather couches grouped for easy conversations—just as
daed
had predicted—fit for a queen. Mary Mast, a small, thin Geauga County girl, looked equally intimidated, while Rebekah and Ava marched through the lobby as though perfectly at home.

“This way,” said Rebekah. “Step lively. You heard what Mrs. S. said.” Once they had reached the elevator and stepped inside, she pushed the button for the twelfth floor.

“How do you know which floor we’re on?” asked Phoebe, inspecting the outside of the envelope. Nowhere did it indicate that information.

“Oh, Phoeb, really.” Rebekah rolled her eyes. “It’s room
twelve
-oh-six.”

Phoebe was amazed. If her cousin Henry did marry this girl, he would never have to think another thought again. His wife would take care of figuring everything out.

Once they had reached their floor, the doors elegantly swished open and they exited the elevator like a row of little ducklings. A sign on the wall indicated their room was down the hall to the right. When they got to the door, Ava inserted her keycard in a slot until a little light turned green and then pushed down the handle to open the door. Inside the room they found two queen-sized beds, a huge TV, a sofa, an easy chair with a reading lamp, a vanity area separate from the bathroom, and a bank of windows on the far wall. Even Rebekah’s mouth dropped open in shock. Ava threw herself down on one bed, acting as though making angels in fresh snow. Rebekah inspected the tiny bottles of soaps and lotions on the mirrored tray. Mary headed into the large bathroom and locked the door behind her. Doors never had locks in Amish homes. And Phoebe? She ran to the window to gaze down on the river that had captured her imagination.

After a few minutes, Mary joined her at the expanse of glass. “Wow,” she enthused, with a grin.

“You’re not kidding. Wow,” agreed Phoebe. The two stared down on the rapids of the Niagara River. No longer placid and benign with boating vacationers, this water roiled and tumbled between sharp-cut banks with fierce intensity. Waves broke against boulders in the riverbed, sending plumes of spray high into the air. One couldn’t fail to realize the river would soon reach the drop-off point.

Phoebe was mesmerized. If the entire trip entailed watching the view from this spot and nothing else, she wouldn’t be disappointed.
“You’ve been to waterfalls, Phoebe. This won’t be any different than the
ones you’ve already seen—only taller.”
She couldn’t help laughing at the memory.

“What’s so funny?”

“I just remembered something my
daed
said.” Phoebe faced her new roommate. “Ready to board the
Maid of the Mist
for the boat ride of a lifetime?”

“Sure.” Mary agreed, but she looked petrified. “Mind if I hang onto you sometimes? I don’t know how to swim.” She whispered the words as though keeping a secret from the Glick sisters.

“Hang on all you want,” said Phoebe, while thinking,
Good swimmer or not—if you fall overboard, you’re a goner
.

The four girls rode the elevator down to the lobby with their tour bracelets firmly attached. All had changed into sneakers for easy walking and clutched city maps of Niagara Falls, New York. Phoebe also had her drawing tablet tucked under one arm.

Rebekah noticed it as they boarded the bus. “You can’t take that along today! It’ll get wet on the boat. Didn’t you read about the spray of mist?”

Tiny, red-haired Mary intervened. “We’ll be wearing raincoats. Phoebe’s tablet can stay under that.” Mary held out the picture of blue-clad people for verification.

Rebekah rolled her eyes. “Fine, but don’t say you weren’t warned if it gets soaked.”

On the bus Phoebe and Mary sat together for the short drive to the park entrance. She almost forgot to look for Eli Riehl—almost, but not quite. She spotted his hatless head of blond hair halfway back, noticing that most of the young men had left their hats in their rooms along with their vests. And a few had even pulled their shirts loose from their trousers. And what about Mrs. Stoltzfus? Instead of correcting their wardrobe lapses to comply with the Amish
Ordnung
, she was devouring a caramel apple.

When the bus arrived at the arched walkway into the state park, Mrs. Stoltzfus walked up the aisle to dispense last-minute instructions. “We’ll follow the trail through the gardens and enter the visitor center. Take the steps to the bottom level and go out the back door, and then you’ll go through more gardens to the observation deck. We’ll take the elevator down one hundred seventy-five feet to the river, where we will get on the
Maid of the Mist
.” She peered around over her spectacles. “I want you to stay together until we’re all on board. Afterward, you’re on your own. You can watch the movie in the visitor center, walk the trails upriver, or board the trolley to either the aquarium or Goat Island to see Horseshoe Falls and Cave of the Winds. You have maps showing where everything is. If you lose your map, there are more available at each attraction. If you lose your bracelet, I think you
know
what you’ll be doing. And don’t forget the name of the hotel we’re staying at.”

Phoebe shivered, pressing her bracelet into her skin. This chaperone didn’t act anywhere near this scary in Holmes County.

Mrs. Stoltzfus smiled now at the sea of faces, mostly eager and a few terrified. “Just meet here under this arch by six o’clock to catch the bus back to our hotel for dinner.” She punctuated the word
here
with a stomp of her left foot. “That’ll give you more than four hours to sightsee. But don’t worry. We still have all day tomorrow to catch anything you miss today. Okay, let’s go!” Without waiting for possible questions, Mrs. S. went down the bus steps.