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The Amish Sweet Shop

By Mary Ellis, Laura Bradford, Emma Miller

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Nothing Tastes So Sweet by Mary Ellis:
“Daniel,” Hannah called from the stove. “Your breakfast is ready.”
“What are we having—Eggs Benedict?” he teased. “Corn beef hash?”
She laughed. Daniel always requested the same menu each Monday morning and today was no different. “Two eggs, over-hard, four strips of bacon, and three pieces of buttered toast. Better hurry before everything gets cold.” She filled his mug with coffee.
“Ahh, my favorite. How did you know?” He winked while adding jam to a slice of toast.
Hannah took her coffee over to the window seat. Normally she ate with her husband, but today her stomach didn’t feel right. In fact the thought of bacon grease and butter made her downright queasy.
“Any plans this week, other than work?” he asked between bites of egg.
“If Wednesday’s weather is nice, I may call for a ride to Mamm’s. She’s hosting quilting at her house. Then Daed can bring me home.”
“What does weather have to do with quilting?”
“I don’t want him out late if it’s raining. That makes it too hard to see buggy reflectors.”
Daniel nodded and refilled his mug.
Hannah peered down on the street below. “Oh my, your ride is here already.”
“Tell Mr. McCourt I’ll be right now.” Daniel built a sandwich with his remaining eggs and toast and then headed to their bedroom to finish packing.
Hannah wiped the glass and squinted, but couldn’t distinguish whether it was Mr. McCourt—her husband’s regular driver—or not. “I hate screaming out the window while everyone in town is sleeping.” She called on her way to the stove. “After I fill your thermos, I’ll carry down a cup of hot coffee. Mr. McCourt might have asked someone to fill in today.”
Without warning, her husband of eight years crept up behind her, enfolded her in his massive arms, and lifted her off her feet.
“Goodness.” Hannah squawked in surprise. “Put me down. You’re lucky I wasn’t still holding the pot of coffee.”
Daniel lowered her to the floor but didn’t release his embrace. “I sure hate leaving you for five days at a time.”
Hannah squirmed away. It was Daniel’s standard Monday complaint, but she needed to pack yesterday’s blueberry muffins in with his lunches and load his cooler with bottles of water. “Good paying job like yours are hard to find. In another year or two we should have enough to buy our own farm.”
“That day can’t come soon enough.” Shrugging into his work coat, Daniel tightened the lid on his thermos. “Is there any of Jacob’s fudge left?”
“No. After supper you ate the last piece of maple and I finished the vanilla.” Hannah pressed the extra travel mug into his hand just as they heard a car horn.
“For certain it’s not Mr. McCourt. He knows better than to blast his horn. Maybe he arranged a replacement through Uber.” Daniel buzzed a kiss across her forehead. “Stay well, dear fraa. I’ll see you Friday night.”
As he hurried down the steps of their second floor apartment, Hannah swallowed a lump of emotion in her throat. It was the same routine week after week, yet it never seemed to get any easier. Only during the month of August when Daniel took his three-week vacation were they together during the week. But considering the cabinet factory was forty miles away in Reading, there wasn’t time for him to come home each night.
Hannah waved from the window as Daniel jostled his overstuffed duffle and cooler into the back seat and climbed in the passenger side. Then she watched the deserted street long after the hired car disappeared around the corner. So much had changed in Bluebird since they moved from her parents’ attic to the apartment above the hardware store. It had been an easy adjustment for her. Mr. and Mrs. Howard kept the rent cheap since they loved people living upstairs, sort of like resident night watchmen. And with her odd hours at the store, going home after work was a simple matter of climbing the stairs.
Although they both had been born and raised on farms, living in town gave Hannah a chance to talk to people other than her family. With more Amish moving to the area, Bluebird businesses catered to both Amish and English needs, as well as the steady influx of tourists. It was as odd for a Plain woman to admit, but Hannah had felt lonely and isolated surrounded by corn and hay fields—a sentiment not shared by her sisters or her mother.
For Daniel, the transition from the country to town had been difficult. The small four rooms—kitchen, dining room, living room and bath—felt claustrophobic to someone who’d grown up in a rambling, six-bedroom farmhouse. The Kline’s living room was so spacious they could easily accommodate the entire district when it was their turn to host the preaching service. Plus Daniel loved the smell of newly mown hay and the crow of the rooster each morning. He couldn’t wait for Saturdays when he harnessed Dad’s Percherons for spring plowing or the corn harvest in the fall when the whole district pitched in. Despite the fact he made oak and walnut cabinets all day, sold at prices nobody Amish would ever pay, Daniel was a farmer from the soles on his boots to the top of his black felt hat.
Thanks to his job and hers, someday they would save enough money to buy a farm or at least some acreage, which wasn’t easy this close to the Lancaster, a popular spot with English tourists. Then they would quit their jobs and fulfill his lifelong dream. Hannah would take her rightful place at his side as a wife and hopefully by then, a mother. Until that day, she enjoyed seeing a steady stream of new faces and having neighbors close by. And wouldn’t love a candy shop across the street where every type of sweet was only a few steps away?
Hannah washed the breakfast dishes, made the bed, and wrapped her long hair in a bun. After a quick trip down the back stairs, she turned her key in the front door and punched in an hour early at Howard’s Hardware. Since idling in four empty rooms upstairs would be wasteful, she switched on the lights and got started with the weekly inventory, another of her standard Monday routines.
Within the hour, the diner would open for breakfast, the bakery would have fresh donuts and pastries, and Jacob Beechy would be in his kitchen making the world’s best fudge. The rest of Bluebird—the quilt shop, the ice cream store, and the grocery store—opened a bit later in the day. But the one bed and breakfast kept some lights on both night and day, hoping to attract the attention of those passing through.
Ready for her second cup of coffee, Hannah entered the back room just as the door to the parking lot opened. “Good morning, Mrs. Howard,” she greeted.
“Good morning, dear child. And I told you a thousand times to call me Martha.” The fiftyish woman set down two take-out bags and a tray holding three Styrofoam cups. “I bought us breakfast tacos, hash brown potatoes, and yogurt parfaits.” Her employer smiled and ran a hand through her salt-and-pepper hair.
Tacos and greasy potatoes didn’t sound any more appealing than what she’d cooked for Daniel that morning. “Thanks for the coffee, but I’m not very hungry.” Hannah took off the lid to let the liquid cool.
When Hannah shook her head, Martha’s big smile faded. “Not even for strawberry and blueberry yogurt? You usually love that.”
“I’ll stick it in the fridge and eat it for lunch. Where is Mr. Howard? Didn’t he ride in with you?” Hannah would never be able to call her elderly employer by his given name, Lawrence, no matter how much he scolded.
Martha pulled a chair to the table which served as their work surface, lunch counter, and conference room for their infrequent employee meetings. “Lawrence’s breathing treatment took longer than usual. He told me to go ahead and he’d see us later.” She added three packets of hot sauce to her burrito, something few Amish people would do at nine AM.
“Oh, dear. Is Mr. Howard’s COPD getting worse?”
“I don’t think so, but we won’t know for sure until his doctor’s appointment next week.” Martha nibbled the burrito and took a sip of coffee. Despite her assurance, deep worry lines creased her forehead.
“I’ll remember him in my prayers tonight.”
“Thank you, but that’s enough about us old folks. What’s new with you and Daniel?” She broke off a piece of hash brown to eat.
Hannah was grateful for the change in subject. “We visited his family on Saturday, stayed overnight, and came home yesterday after church. Daniel has so many nieces and nephews these days I can’t keep their names straight. Every one of his six brothers and sisters is married with several children.”
Martha’s expression turned downright bewildered. “How does his mother serve dinner to so many people?”
“Dinner is never served sit-down in Daniel’s household. All the women cook on Saturday, either at home or they come early to help Mamm Kline that day. Then the food is kept cold overnight and set out on several tables after church. People fix a plate and find a spot to sit in the dining room, kitchen, or on one of the three porches. If there’s one thing the Klines have, it’s plenty of room. We don’t cook on the Sabbath.”
The older woman clucked her tongue. “Each Thanksgiving and Christmas I kick myself for not buying a house with a bigger dining room. Now all Lawrence talks about is moving to Florida to be closer to our son. He wants me to put my feet up while someone else does the holiday cooking.”
Hannah was momentarily speechless. This was the first time she’d heard anything about the Howards relocating. “I’m sure your daughter or daughter-in-law would welcome the opportunity,” she murmured.
“We’ll see how true that is when the time comes. Hopefully, you’ll soon have your own babies to chase after at family get-togethers. Then you worry about your nieces and nephews’ names.” Martha laughed so hard her belly shook.
“I hope so,” she agreed. “But it hasn’t happened yet and we’ve been wed eight years.”
“And for most of those years Daniel’s been gone four nights a week. On Friday, I’ll bet he comes home so tired he can’t do more than lift his fork for supper.”
Hannah felt her cheeks redden with shame. “The Amish don’t discuss such things. We patiently wait on the will of God.”
“I know, but sometimes even the Lord needs a little help from us.”
She felt another uncomfortable rumble in her gut, while her queasiness escalated threefold. “Excuse me a moment, Mrs. Howard.” Hannah jumped up and fled to the bathroom where she lost the little bit she ate, along with two cups of coffee.
When she returned to the table, Martha had put away the food and thrown out both coffee cups. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you. It’s not my place to stick my nose in your business. Now my rudeness made you sick.” She wrung her hands.
Hannah reached for a bottle of water from the shelf. “You were trying to help. No apology is necessary. Besides, I’ve been feeling sick all morning. Maybe I’m coming down with a bug.”
“Is this the first time you’ve felt this way?” Martha asked.
Hannah pondered the question. “No, last Tuesday the crunchy peanut butter on my toast didn’t agree with me.”
“It could be the flu…or maybe a little Kline is on the way.”
She shook her head. “You just have babies on the mind this morning, that’s all.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But the pharmacy sells little kits that could solve the mystery right quick.” Martha pushed to her feet and slipped a long apron over her clothes.
“I wouldn’t spend my money on such foolishness.” Hannah regretted her words the moment they left her tongue. She had no business talking that way to her employer. “Shouldn’t we get the store ready to open?” she asked sweetly.
The comment had rolled off Martha’s back. “Absolutely right, dear girl. Don’t tell Mr. Howard about my dawdling or he might fire me on the spot.” Martha issued another belly-laugh and marched through the swinging doors to turn on the overhead lights, dust, and straighten the displays.
Hannah breathed a sigh of relief and slipped on her long white apron. She would rather update the accounting and inventory software than contemplate looking for a new job...or the possibility of being pregnant. Since the bishop gave her permission to use the store’s computer during business hours, she’d grown invaluable to her employers and well compensated for the new responsibilities. But her indispensability lasted only as long as the Howards owned the hardware store and she remained childless. Married Amish women didn’t work outside the home after they had babies.
She knew there would be plenty to do once they owned a farm. The henhouse was usually the wife’s domain, along with a large vegetable garden. Canning, drying herbs, and quilting augmented the everyday tasks like of cooking, cleaning, and laundry. Unlike English households, children made life easier, not harder for farm wives because once they were old enough they would help with chores. But until she and Daniel saved enough money, Hannah wanted to keep working.
As soon as she finished the updates, Hannah printed spreadsheets for Mr. Howard’s inspection. However, when the owner finally walked through the front door, he didn’t seem up to assessing anything. His complexion looked sallow, almost pasty, and his spry step was now a slow, unsteady shuffle.
“Mr. Howard, are you all right? Let me get your wife. She’s in the stockroom.”
“No, no, Hannah. I’m fine. Let Martha keep working. She takes enough breaks the way it is.” His dark eyes twinkled with mischief. “I just need to sit for a spell.” Mr. Howard slumped onto the opposite stool at the counter, looking much older than he had yesterday.
“Can I bring you some water?” she asked. Just then the bell over the door chimed and a young couple with two children walked in.
“No, no. Go take care of the customers. That’s what you enjoy most. I’ll just sit here and watch.” When he smiled, the expression erased a decade from his face. As long as his blood stayed oxygenated, Mr. Howard functioned well for a seventy-year-old man. But a bad night’s sleep robbed him of vitality, despite sleeping in an oxygen tent.
Buoyed by the compliment, Hannah approached the wife, trying to gauge what she might be interested in. She did have a knack for turning a one-item shopping trip for a toilet plunger or roll of duct tape into a bag of time-saving gadgets for Amish customers or energy-saving gizmos for Englishers. Who didn’t need birdseed after buying a feeder, or drop cloths and extra brushes if buying paint? Most people thanked her for sparing them another trip back to town.
Once the young couple left with a full bag of household cleaning products, Hannah checked on Mr. Howard. He had moved to the tall chair behind the cash register, his usual perch, with far more color in his cheeks.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Good. You fuss over me as much as my wife. That walk from the parking lot gets longer every day, but I’m fine now.”
So began their regular, daily routine: Hannah waiting on customers and answering questions on the floor; Mr. Howard ringing sales and fielding questions on plumbing and electrical, and Mrs. Howard refilling shelves as needed. Since replacing inventory didn’t take all day, Martha usually went down the street to chat and gossip at other businesses.
Hannah loved the established routine. She loved her job and forced any thoughts of the Howards selling the store from her mind. After all, didn’t most people dream for years before actually doing something about it?
The idea she couldn’t force from her mind was Martha’s suggestion she might be with child. It wasn’t the second time she’d had morning sickness, it was the fourth. Although most Plain women would wait until fairly far along before seeing a doctor for confirmation, patience had never been one of her virtues. As soon as she finished her shift, Hannah hurried to the drug store, purchased one of those overpriced kits and ran all the way home. Once she read through the directions twice and followed them to the letter, she couldn’t bear to look at the results. After all, her husband was forty miles away. Her mother and sister were at least ten. Even Mr. and Mrs. Howard had locked up the store and gone home.
She felt so alone.
But sitting there like a ninny wouldn’t do any good.
So Hannah bowed her head and whispered a short prayer. “Thy will be done, Lord.” Then she picked up the stick, looked at the indicator, and realized she wasn’t alone at all.

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