Free Leaving Lancaster by Kate Lloyd Page A

boards must have been replaced and repainted. New planters housing pink chrysanthemums stood on either side of the front door.
    They passed through the entryway, lined with bookshelves, the floor covered with threadbare throw rugs that must be fifty years old; Esther recognized several. Mamm had always been frugal, but maybe she was living in poverty, barely scraping by. To the left stood the closed door leading to the Daadi Haus; to the right lay the sitting room, illuminated by a gas lamp.
    Esther’s attention turned to Holly, who scanned the house’s drab interior; she wondered what her daughter saw. The surroundings were the opposite of the Amish Shoppe, its every inch decorated and prettified, and the electric lighting intense.
    â€œWe apologize for not contacting you first,” Holly said.
    â€œNo apology needed. I’ve waited so long.” Mamm’s voice quivered with excitement. She fixed her gaze on Esther, until Esther looked away. “What can I give yous ta eat?” Mamm asked. “ Kaffi or hot chocolate? Whoopie pie? Essie, remember how much you loved my whoopie pie?”
    â€œNo one made it better.” Esther inhaled the familiar aromas of warm chocolate, rising bread, and baking squash. “Maybe later, thank you, we just had breakfast.”
    Followed by Holly, she wandered through the sitting room into the kitchen—the hub of the house. The same long table, with six chairs and a bench crowded around it, dominated the room. She noticed a gas-run refrigerator and oven where the icebox and sturdy iron wood-burning range once resided.
    â€œWhere’s Isaac?” Esther peered out the window above the sink and saw the chicken coop, mended in several places, and the barnyard she’d once crossed daily to collect eggs.
    â€œHe’s looking after old Cookie.” Mamm brought a stack of plates to the table. “It wonders me that mare has lasted this long.”
    â€œI want to see her,” Holly said. “I’ve never been in a barn.”
    â€œWell, then, I’ll ask Isaac to give you a tour after breakfast. He’ll be in soon. He’ll be pleased to see ya both.” Mamm was speaking of Esther’s youngest brother, only five years old when she’d left home. Esther had once helped prepare his meals, laundered his clothes, and baked him cookies. She’d left Isaac without a farewell hug and never written, not once. And she’d disgraced the family by not getting baptized into the Amish church. Why would he be glad to see her? If anything, he’d resent her return.
    Mamm arranged the plates—nine of them. “Did Beth tell ya your other brothers have gone to inspect property in Montana? Clear across the country.”
    â€œYes, she did.” Hearing Beth’s name, Esther’s stomach knotted. She imagined Beth bringing her children and grandchildren here to help Mamm make pies and cookies. Having a grand old time in this very room.
    Mamm turned to Holly. “Other Amish communities have moved to Montana, but I can think of half a dozen locations I’d prefer, if we must leave. Like New York State, Indiana, or Ohio. I’ll miss this house.”
    â€œThen why leave?” Holly unzipped her jacket. “I don’t understand.”
    â€œAs the population grows, the county’s shrinkin’, meaning we’re running short on land. One of your uncles, my oldest son, Adam, lives southwest of here in Gordonville. A development company made a substantial offer on his farm, and then recently a neighbor asked to buy our place, offering us enough money to purchase acreage ten times the size of ours, in Montana. Enough property for all my children and grandchildren.”
    The kitchen door leading to the utility room burst open and three kids bustled inside. The oldest couldn’t have been more than four; the youngest was perhaps two years old. The barefoot girl wore the same clothes Esther had as a