American Girl

Pennsylvania

Beth Troyer stood at the screen door, shading her eyes. Noah Zook promised to pick her up if he could use his father's buggy. Behind her, her mother sat amongst her sewing circle. Stacks of remnant material stood in piles beside them. Her little sister, Muriel, selected a square and added it to the patterned quilt the group stitched.

Muriel was a good girl. Her tiny stitches ran in a perfect line, each piece fitting precisely as it should. Mama praised her for her steady workmanship. Beth, on the other hand, hated sewing. The thread bunched against the needle, and her squares never fit together. When she stitched, she felt like her head would explode.

"Come along, Beth," Mama called, raising her eyes from her work. "The quilt's a part of your trousseau. You should participate in making it."

"Must I, Mama?" Beth asked without looking back.

"Yes, you must," her mother answered. Mama spoke in a soft voice. She rarely uttered a negative word and never criticized. Nevertheless, she expected obedience.

"No, Mama," Beth answered. "It's my Rumspringa. If I don't wish to sew, certainly I don't have to."

Mary-Beth Troyer nodded silently. The quilting ladies bobbed their heads up and down in agreement. Except for Muriel, they had all experienced their own Rumspringa. Beginning at age sixteen, the Amish participated in their years of freedom. Usually lasting about two years, the youth used the time to decide if they wanted to join the church or separate from it. Beth was still determining what she wanted.

Beth looked down at her plain pink dress covered with a stark white pinafore. She would have liked a pretty flowered dress with a lacy color, but such clothes were forbidden. Day after day, she put on the same dress in a different plain color. She wore black stockings and thick-heeled black boots. Her soft auburn hair was hidden beneath a white cap. All the women looked exactly the same.

Upstairs, in the small room she shared with Muriel, she took off all her clothes and looked at her developing body. Beth was slim; she could span her waist with her hands. Unpinning her hair, she let it cascade down her back. Spinning on her heel, she let it fly out around her. Oh, the luxury of being free!

Beneath her mattress, Beth secreted a fashion magazine. She dreamed of owning a pair of jeans and a crop top. But she was born Amish, and such things were forbidden.

"I'm not quite Amish yet," Beth whispered to herself. She had not decided whether to join the church or not. That's what Rumspringa was for.

"What did you say, Beth?" her mother asked. "I didn't quite hear you."

"Oh, nothing really," Beth answered, not realizing she had spoken aloud.

"She said she wasn't quite Amish yet," Muriel said, stiffening Beth's spine.

"You were born Amish, my dear," Mama remarked, casting her eyes toward her sewing. "You shall remain Amish all your life."

"I haven't decided to join the church yet," Beth said, feeling trapped in the conversation. She wished Noah would show up so she could extricate herself from her inadvertent mess. "I might go to the city."

"Philadelphia or Pittsburgh?" her sister asked, digging Beth's hole deeper.

"Becca Hershberger asked me to go to New York City with her," Beth answered crispy. "Her brother, Jonah, lives up there. He's offered us a room in his flat."

No one in the community spoke about Jonah Hershberger. He had gone to NYC during his Rumspringa and never returned. Rumor came back that he had married English, separating him from the Amish community. Becca confirmed the truth to her school friends. She communicated with her brother frequently and planned to leave also.