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Treasuring Emma (A Middlefield Family Novel)
by Kathleen Fuller
Paperback : 320 pages
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Adam was her first love and best friend. But then he went away. Determined to experience the freedom of living in the Englisch world, he left Emma heart-broken. How could he have chosen the ...
Introduction
Emma always put the needs of others ahead of her own. When will it be her turn to be treasured?
Adam was her first love and best friend. But then he went away. Determined to experience the freedom of living in the Englisch world, he left Emma heart-broken. How could he have chosen the world over her?
Now Adam is back in Middlefield and Emma can't seem to keep him away from her family's farm. But this time she's determiend to guard her heart. It might be love that keeps him there . . . or perhaps just guilt.
When a newcomer arrives in town and shows an interest in Emma, she dismisses Adam's insistence that she be cautious. All this attention is new to her and she doesn't know quite how to accept it. Emma knows her Heavenly Father treasures her. But will her new beau?
Excerpt
Glossaryab im kopp: addled in the head
aenti: aunt
appeditlich: delicious
bann: excommunicatin from the Amish church
boppli: baby
bu, buwe: boy, boys
daed: dad, father
danki: thank you
Dietsch: Pennsylvania Dutch, the language spoken by the Amish
dummkopf: dummy
Dutch Blitz: Amish card game
familye: family
fraa: wife, woman
freind: friend
geh: go
grosskinskind: great-grandchild
grossmammi, grossmudder: grandmother
grossvadder: grandfather
gude mariye: good morning
gut daag: good day
gut nacht: good night
ix
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haus: house
hungerich: hungry
kapp: prayer covering worn by women
kinn: child
kinner: children
kumme: come
leib: love
maedel: girl
mammi, mamm: mom, mother
mann: man
mariye-esse: breakfast
mei: my
meidung: shunning
menner: men
mudder: mother
onkel: uncle
Ordnung: the unwritten Amish rule of life
rumspringa: the period between ages sixteen and twenty-four,
loosely translated as "running around time." For Amish young
adults, rumspringa ends when they join the church.
schee: pretty, handsome
schwester: sister
seltsam: strange, unnatural
sohn: son
vadder: father
verboten: forbidden
willkum: welcome
ya: yes
yung: young
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Chapter 1
"Emma, I'm so sorry."
Emma Shetler lifted her gaze to meet Moriah Miller's eyes.
Moriah had been a good friend to her over the past year, and
Emma had never noticed until now how blue her eyes were. Blue
like the summer sky, and at this moment, full of compassion.
Emma tried to swallow down the thorn of grief that blocked
her throat. "I appreciate you and your familye coming by this
afternoon."
"Your mammi was a very special fraa." Moriah laid a hand
on Emma's shoulder. The warmth of the gentle touch seeped
through the thin fabric of Emma's black dress.
The color of mourning. Of death.
Despite Moriah's comfort, that's what Emma felt inside.
Dead.
She glanced around the living room. As expected, most
members of the church district were here to pay their respects
and show their support. Dark dresses and white kapps for the
1
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2 Kathleen Fuller
women, black pants and hats for the men--all of them in
mourning clothes. They milled around the living room. Con-
versation and movement blurred into a meaningless cacophony
of sound and motion.
Emma tapped her toe against the polished wood floor of the
old farmhouse, her nerves strung tight as a barbed wire fence.
She should have been in the kitchen, preparing and serving the
traditional meal. But her sister, Clara, had taken over the cook-
ing and banished her to the living room. This was supposed to
make her feel better--stuck here, doing nothing?
She spied her grandmother Leona across the room. Clara
must have chased her out of the kitchen too. Several women
between the ages of fifty and seventy created a circle of support
around Grossmammi. Emma smiled to herself as she noticed the
women's ample hips drooping over the seats of creaking wooden
folding chairs. They spoke in low tones, nodding and shaking
their heads. The thin ribbons of their white prayer kapps swayed
against the stiff white aprons covering their dresses. Emma had
no doubt they were offering comforting passages of Scripture
and words of encouragement to their old friend.
During the seventy-five years God had granted her, Leona
Shetler had loved her family deeply. But that love came with a
cost. Three years ago her son--Emma's father, James--had
passed away. Now she had to deal with the death of a daughter-
in-law she loved as her own.
Emma felt the grief stab at her. First her father, then her
mother. It didn't seem fair. She wished she could muster even
a small measure of the grace and peace her grandmother
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Treasuring Emma 3
demonstrated. But instead she simply felt bereft, abandoned, and
confused.
"Emma?"
She turned her attention back to Moriah. "Sorry. Did you
say something?"
"I asked if you needed anything else."
"Oh, ya. I did hear you say that." The words clanged
around in her head, empty noise. "Nee, I'm fine."
"All right." Moriah lifted an eyebrow. Her concern echoed
that of her sisters, Elisabeth and Ruth, along with everyone else
who had passed by Emma's chair. The same question over and
over: How are you holding up?
How did they think she was holding up? She had nursed her
mother through a painful, deadly cancer. She buried her today.
Emma fought to contain her emotions: Anger. Resentment.
Guilt. The community's heartfelt concern didn't deserve such
rudeness. But nothing anyone said could penetrate the emo-
tional wall that was growing around her, inch by excruciating
inch.
Throughout the rest of the afternoon, people paused to talk.
Relived special moments they'd shared with Emma's mother
and father. Assured Emma of God's will, His plan. Phrase after
empty phrase about God's comfort and mercy.
She nodded and smiled and tried to look peaceful, while her
foot went on tapping incessantly against the floor she'd scrubbed
on her hands and knees. Why wouldn't they just leave her alone?
That's what she wanted.
No, that wasn't the truth. There was one person she longed
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4 Kathleen Fuller
to have by her side. Only one. His words, spoken in a soft, deep
voice that never failed to affect her, had the best chance of
soothing her broken heart.
But he wouldn't come. He had walked out of her life two
years ago, and she had no hope he would walk back into it now.
Emma stood and stretched and walked around, but kept her-
self apart from the rest of the visitors. Moriah and Gabriel Miller
were the first to leave, followed by a steady stream of other
guests. Clara stood by the front door and thanked each person
for coming. The perfect hostess.
When the last guest disappeared, Clara turned to Emma.
"Where's Grossmammi?"
Emma looked at her grandmother's empty chair and
shrugged. "She probably went upstairs to her room."
"I'm sure she's exhausted. It's been a long day. For all of us."
Peter King, Clara's husband, came inside wearing his hat and
a navy blue jacket. A burst of cool October air wafted in behind
him. The screen door shut, and he looked at Clara. "Buggy's
ready. We should get back to the kinner."
Clara's lips pressed into a quick frown. "There are a few
more things I need to do in the kitchen."
"I can finish up here, Clara," Emma said. "I haven't done
anything all day."
"It won't take me long. Just five, maybe ten minutes."
"Clara."
That one word commanded the attention of both Clara and
Emma.
"We need to geh home. Now."
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Treasuring Emma 5
Clara didn't protest; the pinch above the bridge of her nose
was response enough. "I'll get my shawl." She disappeared
from the living room.
Peter turned to Emma. "Are you okay?"
Would she have to hear that question for the rest of her life?
"I'm fine."
"You'd tell me and Clara if you weren't, ya?"
Emma nodded, but she didn't mean it, and neither did he.
His questions arose more out of duty than familial concern. She
never had confided in her sister or brother-in-law, and the death
of their father and their mother's ensuing illness had made the
sisters' relationship tenuous at best. Now that Mammi was gone,
Emma doubted she'd see much of Clara and her family, except
for church service every other Sunday.
Peter stepped forward. "I wanted to ask you something."
The low tone of his voice surprised her. "What?"
"I'd like you and Leona to consider moving in with us." His
voice was nearly a whisper now. "As soon as possible."
His question shocked her. She started to shake her head.
"There 's not enough room--"
"I can add on. It wouldn't take me more than a couple of
days."
She thought about their tiny house. Her nephews, Junior and
Melvin, shared a room, and as far as she knew baby Magdalena's
crib was still in Clara and Peter's bedroom. "You and Clara have
your own familye to take care of."
"You and Leona are part of that familye, Emma. I've fig-
ured everything out. You and Grossmammi can share Junior and
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6 Kathleen Fuller
Melvin's room. They can sleep on the couch until the addition
is finished. It's not a problem."
"What's not a problem?" Clara appeared, her black bonnet
tied in place, the bow perfectly formed under her pointy chin.
A large safety pin fastened the corner of her black shawl to her
shoulder.
He let out a deep breath. "I've asked Emma and Leona to
move in with us."
"Without telling me?" She spoke the question softly. Politely.
But the edge was there.
"I don't need your permission."
"We could have at least talked about it." She turned to
Emma. "Do you and Grossmammi want to leave this haus?"
Emma wasn't fooled. Her sister knew how much the place
meant to her and their grandmother--the old farmhouse,
with its five acres of farmland, sturdy barn, and wood shop.
Grossmammi would never leave, nor would Emma. Besides,
Clara didn't really want them to move in with her.
"We'll be fine here."
"But what about the work it takes to run this place?" Peter
asked. "I know Norman Otto has been a big help, but you can't
always count on him to be there for you."
"God will provide." The words came out of Emma's mouth
automatically, without any feeling or conviction behind them.
"Like He provided a cure for Mammi's cancer?" Clara said.
She scowled and crossed her thin arms over her chest, then
glanced away. "Sorry."
Emma knew she should reach out to Clara. Hug her, or at
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Treasuring Emma 7
least give an encouraging touch on the shoulder, as so many of
their family and friends had done for her throughout the past
few days since Mammi's death. Yet her body wouldn't move.
"You should get back home. I'm sure the kinner miss you."
"Maybe you shouldn't be alone." Peter looked at Clara.
"Mei fraa can stay the night, at least. It wouldn't be a gut idea
for you and Leona to be all by yourself tonight."
Clara looked at her husband, her dark eyes narrowing.
"Ya," she said, with about as much enthusiasm as a cat volun-
teering for a soapy bath. "I can stay."
"It's the least she could do," Peter added.
Emma glanced at Clara. The least she could have done was
to help with her own mother's care during the long and painful
process of dying. The least she could have done was to be a sis-
ter when Emma most needed one. But none of that happened.
Emma had been taking care of things by herself for a long time,
and she didn't much need or want Clara's help now.
"That's not necessary. Grossmammi is probably asleep
already." For added effect, Emma yawned. "I'm tired too."
"It looks like you don't need me, then." Clara straightened
her shoulders and uncrossed her arms.
"But she'll be by in the morning," Peter said.
"Ya. I'll be by in the morning."
Emma shrugged. She could disagree, but what was the
point? Peter would make sure Clara would be here. It was the
Amish way, and Peter was nothing if not thoroughly Amish. He
opened the door, and the three of them stepped onto the front
porch. Layers of grayish-blue hues stretched endlessly across
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8 Kathleen Fuller
the dusky sky. Peter hurried down the steps to the buggy, paus-
ing to motion for Clara to follow.
Clara turned to Emma. She could barely make out her sister's
sharp features; only her stiff white kapp contrasted against the
shadowy evening.
"I know Peter offered to let you stay with us," Clara said,
"but let me talk to him about it first. It's not that you and
Grossmammi aren't welcome, of course."
Emma knew perfectly well that her sister didn't want them
living under the same roof, but she kept silent.
"There are other things to consider," Clara continued in a
rush, "and we haven't had a chance to discuss them. You know
Peter. He can be impulsive. But he means well." She paused.
"He always means well."
Peter hesitated before climbing into the buggy. "Clara."
Clara hurried toward the buggy. Emma waited until they
disappeared down Bundysburg Road before she sat down in her
father's old hickory rocker in the corner of the warped front
porch.
The back of the rocker touched the peeling white siding on
the house. Flakes of old paint dotted the backrest of the chair.
Emma ran her fingers over the worn wood of the smooth,
curved armrest. She glanced at her mother's matching chair
beside her. So many evenings her parents would sit in these
chairs, talking as they rocked back and forth. Or sometimes they
said nothing at all, simply gazing at one another now and then,
or touching fingertips as the rockers moved back and forth. It
was the closest they ever came to expressing outward affection.
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Treasuring Emma 9
Bright headlights appeared. She looked up. A car moved
slowly down Bundysburg Road. The hum of the engine faded
in the distance, replaced with the shrill chirping of crickets and
deep throaty moans of bullfrogs.
Shelby the cat jumped into her lap and added her purring
to the night music. Emma rubbed the cat behind her ears. Yet
even the presence of one of her beloved pets couldn't keep the
emptiness at bay.
For the past eighteen months her sole focus had been to care
for her mother. The animals--two cats and three dogs, plus the
chestnut mare, Dill--had received less attention than normal.
Now Mammi was gone, and what kind of future did Emma
have? Living with her sister for the rest of her life?
Exhaustion rolled over her in a wave, and her stomach
churned. Marriage was an option. Maybe. But she was twenty-
four years old, an old maid by some Amish standards. Besides
that, she wasn't even sure if she wanted to marry. Not after what
happened with Adam.
She closed her eyes and tried to push him out of her thoughts.
Still, the split second of attention she gave to him made her heart
twist. Two years since he left Middlefield. How long would she
continue to love him?
"Emma?"
The timbre of the deep male voice sent a shiver through
her. Shelby leapt from her lap.
"Adam?"
As soon as she said his name, her cheeks heated with embar-
rassment. How foolish could she be? The man who stood at the
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10 Kathleen Fuller
foot of the porch, holding a rusted, old-fashioned gas lantern,
was not Adam Otto.
"I'm sorry," Norman Otto said. "I didn't mean to startle
you. I thought you heard me coming."
Emma stood from the chair and went to the edge of the
porch. "I guess I was deep in my own thoughts."
To her relief, he offered no comment about what those
thoughts might be. "I see Clara and Peter left."
"Ya."
Norman glanced at the ground, then looked up at her. "Just
watered your horse and put down some straw in her stall. The
dog bowls still had food in them, so I didn't add any more. The
three of them were curled up on a pile of hay in the corner when
I left. Also filled the cat bowls. One of them put a dead mouse at
my feet."
For the first time in what seemed like weeks, Emma mustered
a half smile. "That would be Tommy. He likes to give presents."
Norman nodded but didn't say anything more. A man of
few words, that was Adam's father. He'd been their neighbor
for years, and she'd never heard him string together more than
a sentence or two.
Norman's help with the animals and chores, however, wasn't
merely a neighborly gesture. As a deacon of the church, the
responsibility fell on him to take care of the poor and widows in
their district. He'd been helping the Shetlers since her father died.
"Emma." Norman's voice cracked. He let out a sharp cough.
"No matter what you need, let me know. I'll take care of it for
you."
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Treasuring Emma 11
"Danki," she said. But there was only one thing she needed.
One person. And both of them knew Norman couldn't do any-
thing about that.
"I best be getting home now. Carol said to let you know that
she 'll be over in the morning with breakfast."
"She doesn't have to do that."
"You know she wants to." He paused. "Your mammi . . ."
He cleared his throat again and straightened his yellow straw
hat. "We'll all miss her." He turned and headed for his house,
the light from his lantern flickering with each step.
Emma's eyes burned. Memories broke through her fragile
defenses again--this time not only of her parents but of times
she and Adam spent together as kids. She remembered how they
played on the front porch, games like Dutch Blitz or checkers.
The times they chased fireflies in the front yard and put them
in a glass jar, its lid filled with holes he'd poked using an awl.
The night she'd noticed him as more than a friend. The dreams
she 'd had of marrying him.
She could still remember details, like how his honey-
colored eyes were a shade lighter than his straight, dark blond
hair. The way the dimples in his cheeks deepened when he
flashed his lopsided smile. The natural huskiness of his voice,
so like his father's.
The emptiness gnawed at her. She sat down in the rocker
and pressed her palm against her forehead. She should be griev-
ing her mother, not thinking about the man who broke her
heart. Her eyes grew hot, yet she couldn't bring herself to cry.
Hadn't she wept rivers of tears when her father died? When
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12 Kathleen Fuller
Adam left? As she watched life slowly drain from her mother
over the past few months?
Now she couldn't generate so much as a single tear. She
didn't have anything left. Nothing at all. Her life, at one time full
of excitement and hope, had shattered into a broken, empty shell.
And she didn't know if she'd ever feel whole again.
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view abbreviated excerpt only...
Discussion Questions
1. Have you experienced loss like Emma’s? What words offered you the most comfort in such a time?2. What is your first impression of Adam? Do you immediately judge him?
3. Why do you think Emma’s grandmother wrote to Adam? Do you think she is a nosy old lady, or do her intentions appear sincere?
4. As the story unfolds, there is obvious discord in Clara and Peter’s marriage. Discuss the steps both could be taking to work out their problems.
5. Adam’s return home mirrors the biblical story of the prodigal son. What differences do you see between that story and Adam’s return?
6. Characters often reflect on the phrase “God will provide.” Do you believe that? Has there been a time in your life when you’ve doubted that God would come through for you?
7. Discuss Norman Otto and his relationship with his son. How do you react to Norman’s attitude toward Adam? Do you think that Norman is wrong?
8. At what point do you become suspicious of Mark?
9. Emma’s grandmother comforts her and tells her at one point, “We’re not guaranteed an easy life.” Do you disagree? How have you dealt with bitterness concerning the not-so-easy parts of your life?
10. Do you feel pity toward Mark? Why or why not?
11. In order for Adam to return to the community, he was required to stand in front of the entire church and confess his sins. He had to completely embrace humility. Have you ever had to do that?
12. How do you feel about where the author leaves Mark King, or Matt Kingston, as he tells the young Amish girl? Do you believe that he can be brought back from path he is on?
13. The title of this story is “Treasuring Emma.” What does it mean to actively treasure someone? In what ways do you see characters in this story treasuring each other?
14. What is your biggest takeaway from this story? Do you feel encouraged after seeing God’s faithfulness through so many difficult circumstances?
from the publisher
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