Healing Amish

By Samantha Collier

A collection of Amish short stories from authors such as Samantha Collier, Monica Marks and Terri Downes...After partially spending his youth in an Amish community, tragedy forces Samuel to live with his shunned grandmother in the Englisch world. When he reaches adulthood, he decides to return to the Amish world to settle some old scores. But to his surprise, he finds both forgiveness and romance waiting for him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trellis Publishing
• Release date: Jun 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201119591

Book preview

HEALING AMISH

SAMANTHA COLLIER

TABLE OF CONTENTS

HEALING AMISH

ABIGAIL’S DILEMMA

SARAH’S AMISH GIFT

OVER THE SUMMER

AMISH CHRISTMAS BABY

SUSANNA’S CHOICE

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HEALING AMISH 

ABIGAIL'S DILEMMA 

SARAH'S AMISH GIFT 

OVER THE SUMMER 

AMISH CHRISTMAS BABY  

SUSANNA'S CHOICE 

Somehow, Samuel remembered this country. 

Every field that he passed, every hill that he climbed in the beat up little car, every farmhouse that dotted these hills.  It had been twenty years since he had last been here, but amazingly, it felt like yesterday.

He had received the letter in yesterday’s post.  The letter from a solicitor in this little Amish community that he had spent the first seven years of his life.  So now he was travelling to see the solicitor.  He knew that the meeting had something to do with his grandmother’s recent passing; the solicitor, a Mr Yoder, wrote that he was acting on behalf of the late Mrs Annika Worth.

Samuel navigated the car through the streets of the small town.  The car stood out here – old buggies were everywhere.  The sight of the buggies and their horses charmed Samuel.  It made him remember travelling in one, with his parents, through these very streets.  He remembered being sandwiched in between Daed and Mamm in the buggy. His mother had always worn a full-length dress, with a crisp white apron.  Samuel had never seen her without her white prayer cap.  And his father had always worn long trousers, long shirt and suspenders, a black hat continually atop his head.

There.  He had found Mr Yoder’s office, tucked in between a jewellery store and a bakery.  Samuel parked the car, glancing at his wrist watch.  He still had fifteen minutes before the appointment.  Should he take a wander?

Yes, why not.  His legs needed stretching after the long car ride, and he was curious.  Curious to see how much he still remembered of this little town.

The streets were wide, lined with trees; the leaves swayed slightly in the fall breeze, then slowly fluttered to the ground.  A mix of bronze, yellow, and red, they carpeted the streets so much that shopkeepers were sweeping them out of their stores.  Samuel passed a furniture store, gazing in at the handmade wooden furniture.  He knew that this town was renowned for its furniture; even people he knew, back in the city, travelled here to buy whenever they needed a new kitchen table, or cabinet.

It was amazing, thought Samuel, as he looked at a rocking chair in the shop window, that people still made things by hand like this.  Old world values, and skills that were passed from generation to generation.  Something that he felt had been lost in the modern world, with its disposable mentality.  In the modern world, everything had a shelf life.  People threw out things constantly; things weren’t built to last.  Here, it seemed the opposite, he thought wistfully.

How would he have been different, if he had have continued to be brought up here.  A part of this community.  He shook his head, ruefully.  There was no point speculating.  What’s done is done.

A look at the town clock tower showed him that he had been meandering the streets for far too long.  He would need to hurry to get to the appointment.

He backtracked, hurriedly walking the streets towards Mr Yoder’s office.  A bit breathless, he almost collided with an Amish woman who was about to open the office door.

Excuse me.  Samuel was panting. I am so sorry!

The woman looked at him.  She was young, probably in her early twenties.  She wore a long blue dress, covered in a white apron.  Her fair hair was pulled back into a bun at the back of her head, covered by a white prayer kapps.  She smiled.  It was a beautiful smile; her teeth were white and even, and the smile seemed to spread into her eyes.

That is perfectly fine, the young woman replied.

Please, said Samuel, opening the door, indicating that she should enter before him.

Thank you, said the woman. Samuel didn’t think that it was possible, but her smile widened further.  He felt his heart stop momentarily in his chest.

She reached reception before him, and he could hear her say that she was here to see Mr Yoder.  Samuel was intrigued.  Why did a fresh faced, Amish woman need the services of a solicitor?

She sat down in one of the chairs, smoothing the skirt of her dress.  Samuel spoke to reception, then sat opposite her.

Samuel watched as she carefully extracted a piece of embroidery from her bag, and a needle and thread.  The embroidery was of a rose, complete with leaves.  She started working on it immediately, skilfully weaving the needle and cotton through the fabric.  She was quick.

Samuel didn’t know why, but he felt a sense of wonder and lightness as he watched her work.  It was something that he had never seen before – embroidery wasn’t something that people did in the English world in waiting rooms.  It seemed to hark back to a simpler time.

A man emerged from an office, walking toward the waiting room.  He was an older Amish man, with a full length black beard, and dressed in the traditional black clothing.  Was this Mr Yoder?

"Gutentag, he informed them both. Mr Esh?  Miss Fisher?  He looked from Samuel to the woman sitting opposite him.  If you would both follow me?"

Samuel stood, surprise etching his features.  Why was the woman attending his appointment?  But he didn’t say anything.  He simply waited for the woman to put away her embroidery and follow Mr Yoder, then he followed himself.

Mr Yoder went behind his desk, indicating that they should both sit opposite him.

Now. Mr Yoder spread out some documents onto the desk.  I must inform you that we are about to read the Last Will and Testament of Mrs Annika Worth.

The woman nodded, but her face was impassive.  Samuel glanced at her, still not understanding.  Was she a long-lost relative that he had no knowledge of?

Mr Yoder set to work, reading in a dry, crabbed voice.  It was short.  But when he had finished, he took the black rimmed glasses he was wearing off his face, rubbing his eyes.

So, he said. In short, all of Mrs Worth’s property, excluding some personal items, have been left to Miss Fisher.  Are there any questions?

Samuel felt like he was in a nightmare.  Should he pinch himself?  Would he wake up soon?  He was in a dream, surely, where all his grandmother’s property had been left to a stranger.

I don’t understand, Samuel said, looking from Mr Yoder to the woman sitting by his side. I am my grandmother’s next of kin.  As far as I know, no one is closer to her. He turned to the woman. Who exactly are you?

The woman blinked rapidly.  A nervous smile played over her face. My name is Sarah Fisher, she replied, looking at him. I don’t understand any more than you do, Mr Esh.  I have never heard of your grandmother before I received the letter to come to this appointment.

You are telling me that my grandmother has left all of her property to a woman she has never met?  Samuel looked at Mr Yoder disbelievingly.

Mr Yoder spread his hands, sighing deeply.  It would seem that way, he replied. Mrs Worth got in contact with me a few months ago, saying that she needed to update her will.  She never informed me that she didn’t know Miss Fisher.  He looked at Samuel sympathetically. I can understand your shock.

My shock?  Samuel’s voice rose slightly. Yes, you could say I am in shock!  She promised me... his voice trailed off.

He felt like the walls of this small office were closing in on him.  He needed to get out, now.

He stood up, abruptly.  Mr Yoder looked surprised.

If you would both excuse me.  His voice was trembling. Thank you for your time, Mr Yoder.  I will be in contact if I need to be.

He walked out of the office, glancing briefly at the stricken look on Miss Fisher’s face.

Back in his car, he sat for a moment trying to regulate his breathing.  His hands shook as he put the keys into the ignition.

Annika, his grandmother.  The woman who had taken him from this community and raised him in the English world, all those years ago.  She had always told him that it was for the best; that he didn’t want to be in this narrow minded Amish community.  She had made sure that he lost any knowledge of his Amish roots.

But he had remembered, and he had secretly sought knowledge about it.  He wanted to know – it was part of his history.  It had seemed a betrayal of his parents to lose all ties to it.  But his grandmother would have disapproved, so he made sure that he never told her.  His resentment against her – for denying his birthright – had grown stronger over the years.

He had known that she still owned his parent’s farmhouse; it had been left to her, after all.  He had assumed that it would become his when she passed, and had looked forward to it, to re-connect to his long-lost family.  He didn’t know whether he wanted to embrace the Amish faith again and become part of the community, but the house was symbolic of it.  It meant a lot to him.

And she had denied him, yet again.  The final betrayal.  But why? 

Hands still shaking, Samuel started the car.  The guesthouse that he had booked into wasn’t far away, although it seemed unnecessary to stay there now.  He had been anticipating that the farmhouse would be his, and been planning to go there during next week.  Seeing what needed to be done.  Re-connecting to his past.  Should he cancel his booking, and simply go back to the city?

He looked out the car window.  Miss Fisher, that epitome of virtuous Amish womanhood, was walking on the street in front of him.  He thought that he could see dried tears on her face.  What was her story?  Why had his grandmother left all her property to her, a supposed stranger?  Was Miss Sarah Fisher as innocent as she was making out?

Samuel sighed.  There was no way he could leave.  Anger started to fill his heart, spreading into his blood.  He had to find out what was going on.  And then he would decide about whether he would contest the will or not.

***

That night, in his guesthouse room, Samuel took out a photograph.  It was old, black and white, but it was still in good condition.  And besides, it was the only one that he had.

He didn’t know when it had been taken – but he looked to be about four or five.  The setting was in this very town.  Samuel recognised the clock tower in the distance, and an older version of the main street.

Neither of his parents were smiling as they stared at the camera.  Instead, they looked suspicious.  Samuel knew that this reaction to English technology was common amongst the Amish.  It was a wonder that he had even one photograph of his family; a lot of Amish simply refused to be photographed at all.

His mother held his younger self by the hand.  His father stood behind both, one arm resting on his wife’s shoulders. 

Samuel felt tears pricking behind his eyes, as he remembered that awful day, when his parents had been ripped from him forever...

He had been seven years old.  It had been a day like any other.

Daed had gone out after breakfast, to tend to the farm.  He kept hogs, and farmed corn mostly.  Samuel sat at the kitchen table, swinging his legs underneath it.  He was lagging in finishing his breakfast.  His mother, who was usually a model of patience, was starting to notice.

Samuel, drink up your milk, she stated.  And one more mouthful of oatmeal, please.

He had complied, but it had become too late for him to walk to school. And so, his mother had decided to take the buggy.  She started tucking him in and making sure that he had his coat on.  It was just heading into winter, and the days were getting colder.

Just as they were about to depart, taking Samuel to school, his father reappeared.

I think I will come with you, he said.  I need to go into town to get a new corn knife.  The other one broke just before.

So now it was three of them in the buggy.  Samuel remembered being in the middle, between his parents, and feeling safe and warm tucked in between them.  And then, he had seen the old schoolhouse approaching.

Have a lovely day, my lieb, his mother had said.  His father had smiled at him.

And then they had driven off.  Samuel had stood watching them until they were little specks in the distance.

He had known that something was wrong when his teacher, Miss Glick, had called