Marie E. Bast - The Amish Baker

“ Danki , Sarah. Please sit and join me.”

Her feet itched to move away. “Only for a minute—I have to start cleaning the display case for closing.”

“This will only take a minute.” He took a bite of the banana bread, then a sip of coffee. “This bread is very gut .”

She pulled a wooden chair away from the table and sat.

“I believe Alvin Studer came into the bakery and asked you to join him for a buggy ride. He is a gut man and his six kinner need a mamm .”

A shiver ran up her spine as she averted her eyes from the bishop’s face. “ Jah. He did ask. I was busy and didn’t have time to talk with him.” It was only a little white lie.

“Sarah, it’s Gott ’s will that you remarry. Each person in our church must lose the desire for self and think of the community. That is what we believe. Jah , it’s time for you to sell the bakery. It’s Satan’s lie that makes you think that a career outside the home is fulfilling. Alvin needs a frau and mamm for his kinner .” His eyes pierced hers like the tiny, sharp point on a straight pin.

The bishop was matchmaking her!

Plop...plop.

Caleb stopped and listened.

Plop. The sound cut through the still afternoon. He turned his head in the direction of the pond but couldn’t see past the grove of maple trees. Maybe an animal skittered over the water. He trained his concentration back to the job at hand.

Plop...plop.

Caleb listened. Jah , definitely coming from the pond. Surely Jacob hadn’t skipped school again to go fishing.

He laid his fence-mending tools on the ground and raced across the field. His long strides carried him quickly to the shade of the trees. Scanning the perimeter of the pond, his eyes came to rest on his six-year-old sohn reclining on the grass.

Caleb walked to within ten feet of the bu . “Jacob, what are you doing?”

Jacob sprang to his feet, almost losing his balance as he teetered on the edge of the pond. He stepped back and whirled around. “I’m th-throwing r-rocks in the water.” His head hung, but his brooding gray eyes peered up.

“Again, you skipped school. Are your chores done?” Caleb’s intent gaze froze Jacob to the spot.

Jacob shrugged his shoulders. “Nein.”

“Work on the farm takes priority over playing.” Caleb furrowed his brow. “You know chores always come first. Milk cows need to maintain a strict schedule.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Jacob whispered, almost too low for Caleb to hear.

“What has gotten into you?”

Jacob shrugged again with a blank face.

“Go and unhook the gate and let it swing open so the cows can come in from the pasture for milking. Then feed the chickens. After chores, go to the house and get on your knees and ask Gott to forgive your laziness.” Caleb turned and walked back to the fence but glanced over his shoulder to make sure Jacob headed toward the barnyard. Caleb shook his head as he watched the bu kick a stone in his path.

“Jacob, don’t take your anger out on the earth. Anger is a sinful thing. In prayer today, tell the Lord your transgression. Go, sit in silence and talk to Him about what you have done. We’ll discuss an extra chore for your punishment.”

Caleb watched as Jacob trudged to the barnyard with his shoulders slumped. He would leave the bu alone for a while to think about what he’d done.

His wife’s death had been hardest on his sohn . Jacob had cried for hours after the cancer took his mamm . Martha’s caring ways had woven a strong bond between her and the bu .

Caleb returned to the pasture. Holding a piece of wire fencing, he stretched it tight around the wood post, pulled the hammer out of his belt and drove a staple over the wire to secure it. He walked down the fence line, found another piece of loose fencing and fixed it. Mr. Warner, on the farm next door, didn’t much care for Caleb’s cows trampling down his corn.

He took a step back, removed his hat and wiped trickles of perspiration from his brow while he surveyed the work. After smacking the hat against his thigh to remove dust and moisture from it, he plopped it back on.

For a small bu , Jacob gave Caleb more problems than this old fence. Jacob, Jacob, Jacob, how do I get through to you?

He looked up toward heaven. Lord, what do I do with him?

Caleb had consulted the bishop about Jacob’s sadness after his mamm had died. “Time will cover the wound,” the bishop had said, “like a healing salve.”

Martha had passed over a year ago, but the salve hadn’t eased Jacob’s pain. At least, not yet.

Like Jacob, Caleb had thought about Martha a lot at first. He’d missed her terribly. Yet ever since the encounter with the pretty baker, he couldn’t erase the memory of Sarah’s smile, her chocolate-brown hair or those cinnamon-brown eyes. They started pushing the memories of Martha into a secret spot in his mind. Was it right to let new memories replace those he had of Martha? He touched his hand to his stomach, where Sarah’s nearness had stirred him. For sure and for certain, she was an attractive woman.

Was it too soon to remarry? Jah, his kinner needed a mamm , but a woman as nice-looking as Sarah must have an ehemann . Guilt prickled the back of his neck, and he shook Sarah’s image from his mind.

He grabbed his fence-mending tools, carted them back to the barn and hung each one on a hook. Then he pulled off his gloves, straightened them out and laid them flat on the bench. When he walked past the milking floor, he saw that Mary had already led the Holsteins to the stanchions and had started applying the iodine mixture to the cows’ udders. Jacob sat off to the side, watching and learning. Caleb smiled. In a couple of years, the bu could take over that chore.

It’d be nice to have his sohn work alongside him. Someday, Jacob would own the farm, unless Caleb remarried and had another sohn . Then the youngest bu would inherit the farm, according to Amish custom, and he’d give his older bu , Jacob, money to start his own business. Mary would find some young bu to marry, and he’d have his own farm or business to take care of Mary and their family.

Caleb followed Mary and wiped the cow’s udders with an alcohol wipe. When he was finished with the disinfecting, he attached the vacuum line and started the milking process.

Glancing at Jacob sitting quietly and wearing a sorrowful face, Caleb racked his brain for a way to help the bu deal with grieving and his feelings of emptiness and loneliness. Sometimes he wished Jacob were more like Mary.

At thirteen, she was strong willed and self-sufficient. From an early age, Mary did for herself. Her independent way seemed to help her deal with her mother’s death and grieving the loss.

Jah , for sure and for certain, Gott had blessed Mary with a tenacious personality and a thriving business making jellies, candies and crafts the Englisch liked.

Nein. Jacob wasn’t as tough as Mary. He was the sensitive one.

Caleb had a surprise for Jacob tomorrow. One that just might ease his pain for at least a little while.

* * *

Caleb settled on the seat and watched his sohn mosey toward the buggy. Jacob climbed in and plopped down beside his daed . Caleb shook the reins. “Giddyap, Snowball.”

“Why do we have to go to Kalona, Daed?” His lips set in a pout.

“We are going to drop off some of Mary’s pillow covers, pot holders and boppli blankets at a consignment shop.”