“You did what?” Nick Burkholder asked as he guided his horse along the dark, winding country roads of Willow Creek, Pennsylvania. It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and he and his brother were on their way to a singing at Frederick Stutzman’s house. Their plan was to make a brief appearance and then leave to hang out with Nick’s Amish friends from Elmsville at an eatery in Highland Springs.

“On Friday night I, uh, sort of started a fire in Jenny Nelson’s cabin,” seventeen-year-old Kevin repeated, referring to the vacation house of an Englisch acquaintance.

The redheaded brothers were known for kidding around, so Nick assumed Kevin was joking. “Oh, I get it. You mean you started a fire in their fireplace. You sounded so serious you had me going for a minute there. Voll schpass.”

“I wish it were very funny,” Kevin replied, using the Englisch term for voll schpass. It seemed to Nick his brother had picked up more Englisch phrases and habits during the first six months of his rumspringa than Nick had learned during the entirety of his own five-year running around period.

Kevin’s voice was somber as he continued. “I mean, jah, initially I was trying to start a fire in the fireplace, but one of the newspaper logs I rolled must have—”

“Kevin!” Nick cut him off. “You should know better than to use newspaper logs after all the warnings Daed’s given you!”

“I just thought—”

“Neh, that’s just the problem. You didn’t think at all,” Nick retorted, ironically using the same words his father often used when lecturing him. He brought the buggy to a standstill at the side of the road and turned to face Kevin. “Please tell me no one was injured.”

“Neh. But there was a little superficial damage to the walls and ceiling.”

Kevin proceeded to tell Nick he must have been distracted by the other guests summoning him into the kitchen to eat, because he forgot to close the protective mesh screen on the fireplace. He reckoned when someone opened the door to the cabin it created a back draft, and ash from the dry newspaper logs was swept through the air, because the next thing anyone knew, a pair of window curtains caught fire. The flames quickly leaped to a dried floral wreath hanging on the wall nearby, and before Jenny could retrieve the extinguisher, the wood paneling and ceiling had been burned, too.

Nick’s mind was reeling, and he could hardly focus on the additional details Kevin provided about the mishap. If only Nick had attended the party with him, the fire probably wouldn’t have happened. But Nick’s parents had requested Nick stay behind and help take inventory at the hardware store his father owned.

“You just went out on Wednesday night. You’re too old to be gallivanting around at every opportunity,” his mother had said in a tone that indicated she meant business. “Your daed needs your help organizing and stocking up on specialty products the Englisch buy for Grischtdaag. Friday evening is the only opportunity he has.”

Nick couldn’t refuse. At twenty-one, he’d stretched out his rumspringa longer than almost anyone in his church district, which was a point of contention between his parents and him. They strongly implied if he didn’t decide to join the church soon, he’d have to move out on his own. While he wouldn’t be shunned, it would be disgracing for the entire family if he lived apart from them but stayed in the Amish community without being baptized into the church.

The choice should have been an easy one, and deep down, Nick had already made up his mind. He loved God, he loved being Amish and he loved his community. By now he knew that although some aspects of Englisch life were appealing, he had no desire to “go Englisch” for good. But he was also keenly aware that as long as he didn’t join the church, he wouldn’t be permitted to marry an Amish woman. And although he had courted most of the eligible young women in Willow Creek, as well as several from the Elmsville district, he hadn’t met anyone he considered

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