Lancaster Amish Betrayal: The Lancaster Amish Juggler Series, #3

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CHAPTER ONE

Venison is thick in the air, smoky and savory, saliva collecting at the back of my tongue.  And that bear meat, so tasty when slow-cooked the way it is today, just three days after it was brought down in the hills north of the Lancaster County line. 

What a story Daed and the other elders brought back from that hunt, not only a fine stag for the marketplace, but that mighty male black bear as well.  Not only would it be a stew that would be the highlight of the market, but the hide will be a rug that will bring in a lot of Englischer dollars, which we need to support the community.

Simon approaches our booth, easing his way between the throngs of locals, and others who line up each week for my whoopie pies.  I don’t mean to brag, of course, but I’m not about to lie about it, which would be worse.  My pies are popular, what can I say?  I’m glad people enjoy them, and they go a good way toward supporting my new family with Simon.  Not that his beet farm isn’t quite productive, because it is, but every little bit always helps, because there’s always somebody in need not far off.

That’s a blessing, because a chance to help another is a chance to help ourselves, and to honor God.

‘Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

But Matthew 25:40 isn’t exactly what is on Simon’s lips, as he creeps around into the booth and gives me a kiss on the cheek.  It took that black brute to outshine your pies today, Hannah.

Between us two, I think I came out of the bargain more than slightly better off!  We share a chuckle, one of many.  Simon and I enjoy a happy life together, even if it’s only been a few months since we wed.  We had our Amish honeymoon, a casual series of visits with family, individually.  We spent time with Abram and my family, time over the county line with Rebecca and her new love, Beau Thompson, even taking the trip back to Indiana to introduce Simon to the rest of my relatives.

Now I’m back, and establishing myself in the community here in Lancaster, which may not be as easy as it should be, but really isn’t as difficult as I thought it might be.

So far.

Behold, the mighty bear hunter, Olaf Thompson says, loudly but lightheartedly, as he approaches the booth with my daed, who can’t seem to stop himself from smiling, even if it’s just a little.

I happened upon the beast is all, Daed says, waving his hand and shaking his head. 

Such modesty, Olaf says, slapping my daed on the shoulder, an intimate gesture my father visibly doesn’t appreciate.  But his snarl hardly deflects Olaf’s attention. Creeping toward the felled buck, the hairy beast comes lurching out of nowhere, all the advantages of surprise and size, weight and might, on his side.  You should have seen Hyamm here, a steely nerve, a dead eye... Olaf mimes raising a rifle to his face, aiming, and firing.  One shot and the beast reeled back, another put the animal on the thick, forest carpet of leaves and moss and muck.  From the dirt he rose, and unto the dirt he returned.  I’ve never seen such a spectacle, and I hope never to see it again.

Amen to that, my daed mutters.

Rebecca and Beau stroll up behind them, arm in arm.  They are such a good match, fitting perfectly in each other’s embrace, a new light shared on their faces.  A lesser man would have frozen in the pitch of the moment, sir, happenstance or not.

You don’t have to call me sir, Beau.  After what almost feels like a humorous pause (if I didn’t know the source) my daed adds, I don’t forbid it, you simply don’t have to do it.

We all share a chuckle.  What a rare thing, for my daed to make a wisecrack, and in public no less!  I laugh as much in surprise as anything else, but I don’t question laughter when it comes, when I can afford not to.

And this time, idle laughter is a luxury I’ve earned, and can well afford.

Hey, ho, the gang’s all here! Lilly says, as she and Jessup approach.  Jessup and Simon embrace.  Lilly says to me, Your pies are as big a hit as ever, Hannah.  And you look marvelous; married life suits you.

Reflecting on the rocky road which our relationship has followed, I’m not sure how to take Lilly’s compliments, but I decide not to fret over it.  I’m a little more concerned about the tension between Rebecca and Lilly.  I never found out how much Rebecca knows about the role Lilly played in her breakdown.  Better to let the matter lie, I reason.  But of course, ignoring a thing can always lead to greater problems, which I have the awful feeling I’m about to learn.

Again.

My daed glares at Lilly.  He’s not as accustomed to forgiveness, of himself or of us, much less of this strange girl who tried to taint my wedding feast.  It was easy to see Lilly feeling his gaze and shrinking back into the crowd, something I have to admit brings me just a little bit of personal amusement and satisfaction.

Well, maybe more than just a little.

Jessup, forever at Lilly’s side, is always quick to defend her, or, short of that, deflect any ill-will that drifts her way.  Despite my best efforts, it happens from time to time.  We live in a small-town environment, and that means everybody is closely invested in everybody else.  A move against one of us is a move against us all, even when a long-standing member of the community, like Lilly, is the one making the move.

Jessup says to me, Lilly’s right, Hannah.  You really have brought a new light to Lancaster, your whole family has!

Simon gazes into my eyes.  I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Nor I, Beau says, looking just as lovingly into Rebecca’s eyes.

Time to check on my wife and son, Daed says with a nod, and I watch him walk away, without waiting to be excused.  He makes his way through the crowd, careful of others but restrained in his movements, like a redwood stalking through a forest of smaller trees.  He may not move quickly, but there is also no reason for him to do so.

I know to some people he is still intimidating and off-putting, that they don’t know how to approach him, or how he’ll react.  His explosion at the children, during their well-intentioned song in front of the house, made a bad enough impression, but that wasn’t to be the end of it.

And it doesn’t matter.

Because, by what he had done in joining the men in the hunt, and then by bringing down the bear, in addition to his attention to his duties to the blacksmith stable and to the farm, Daed had begun to find his place in the community.  And to know that I played some small part in that filled me with a satisfaction, and a closeness to God that I really cannot describe.

And I don’t really need to.

My eyes follow him to the third booth from ours, where Mamm sells the pies she still makes and sells.  It’s hard for me to get used to, but we each have to produce and sell for our own distinct families now.  It’s a new and unfamiliar condition, but it does feel so right.

A lot of great things take a bit of getting used to.

All of them.

He hugs my mamm and they share a quick nuzzle.  But not a kiss.  It’s a slow turning, and, just to see Daed moving so relatively comfortably in public tells me that he’s moving in the right direction.

Toward God.

And Abram, who stands not far from my mamm’s booth, is the center of attention.  He tosses five objects: an egg, a hammer, a brick, a stone, and a screwdriver.  Amazingly, all these different objects stay aloft in the spinning circle in front of him, his eyes never leaving them, his hands a swirling blur.

Then, one by one, he catches each object and sets it down at his feet, until only the egg is left.  He catches the egg and, in a quick move he once described to me as pawning, he makes the egg disappear in his hands.  The crowd claps and cheers, nodding their approval, and dropping dollars into a nearby jar, marked contributions.

I watch my daed, holding my mamm and watching my brother, and I’m simply amazed that it’s happening at all.  There’s no fury, no shame, no conflict.

I thank God for the blessings I’ve found here in Lancaster, and I don’t dare wonder if they can’t go on forever.

I know something’s going to happen.  Soon.  And I’m righter than I’d like to be.

But things start off innocently enough, as they always do.

Rebecca says, Y’know, over in York County, there’s a girl makes whoopie pies... She looks at me with a little flicker of awkwardness.  You know I love you, Hannah, but I gotta say, her pies might be as good as yours!

I search myself for a moment - for anger, for sadness, for some sense of threat to my notion of who I am, and what I’m living for.  So when I feel the smile stretch across my face, I enjoy