by Amy Clipston
“You think you’ll be able to work here while under the bann?”
“Ben says jah, as long as I don’t wait on Plain customers.” Thaddeus crossed his arms over his chest. “So you’re on your own here.”
On his own. Like Hannah had been for the last two years. Phillip glanced around. No other customers perused the rakes and leaf blowers. No one scrutinized boxes of screws and nails and nuts and bolts. No one needed a hammer this morning.
“What are your intentions with Hannah?”
Thaddeus shuffled his feet and stared at the floor for a second. Then he looked at Phillip head-on. “I know what you’ve done for Hannah while I was gone. I’m thankful for it. You’re a gut man.” His hands dropped to his sides, his fingers spread wide. “But I’m hoping you’ll see it through my eyes. Hannah and I should’ve married. I’m to blame that we didn’t. I want to make things right. I want to marry her and give my daughter my name. I’m asking you to be the better man. To step aside.”
Step aside. Give up two years of his life. Retorts like, It wouldn’t be hard to be the better man begged to be flung at Thaddeus. Phillip bit his tongue. This was about what was best for Hannah and Evie. Sweet Evie. A child growing up without a father. “It’s too late for—”
“It’s never too late to right a wrong. That’s what Ben says. He says Hannah has forgiven me and so will everyone else once I confess and do my penance.”
“That doesn’t mean Hannah will take you back.” Phillip’s protest sounded weak even in his own ears. Hannah’s face when she saw Thaddeus told a different story. A story of longing and hope that never died. His own doubts were really the only ones up for grabs. “How can she be sure you won’t abandon them again?”
How can I be sure you’ll take good care of them?
“That’s between her and me. But I can’t fix things with you between us. She’ll at least consider the possibility if you step back.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re a gut man and you know it’s what is best for Hannah and Evie.”
“How do you know what’s best for them? You haven’t been here.”
“I know I haven’t been here, but I look at you and I know you’re not the right man for Hannah.” Thaddeus took a step forward, his tone softening. “Even if it wasn’t me, it wouldn’t be you.”
“What do you know about Hannah and me?”
“I know you felt sorry for her. That’s not the same as loving her.”
Had he and Leo been sharing observations? “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know I love Hannah and she loves me.”
It was as if he knew about Hannah’s hesitation, her abrupt flight after Phillip kissed her. He couldn’t know. Only Phillip and Hannah knew. “I shouldn’t be talking to you. I have work to do and I need to get some supplies.”
Thaddeus backed away. “Sometimes things are right under your nose if you just open your eyes and look.”
Phillip thought about Christina. Never truer words were spoken.
CHAPTER 11
Knowing eyes. So many knowing eyes.
Thaddeus ducked his head and focused on the floor where he knelt before the entire Gmay. He swallowed. The lump in his throat nearly gagged him. All of his family members, friends he’d known since his mud-pie days, even acquaintances—they all stared. His entire community gathered on long, hard, wooden benches in Ben Stutzman’s barn to hear Thaddeus’s confession and decide his punishment.
He stared at Zechariah’s scuffed, dirty boots. As an elderly man with disabilities he’d earned the right to sit on the front row. His friend Abel, who’d recovered from a recent stroke, sat on one side of him, and Freeman Borntrager, who suffered from some sort of blindness, was on the other. Freeman’s cane, carved from hickory, rested at his side. Abel’s and Zechariah’s walkers kept company in the aisle.
Look up. Look up. Now was the time to face his sin. To face his family, his friends, his community. To face God. He was through running away. He was through making excuses. Instead he would repent and accept his punishment.
He forced his gaze to the women’s side. Hannah, with Evie on her lap, sat beside Laura. Evie chortled, and Hannah hushed her.
“Daadi, daadi, daadi.” Evie chanted. “Want daadi.”
She wanted Zechariah.
Hannah’s gaze met Thaddeus’s. Did he see compassion there? Empathy? She understood better than anyone in the room how this felt.
Was that a slight nod or his imagination? Encouragement? Her glance slid away. She lowered her head and whispered to Evie, who accepted a cookie from Laura and began to sing a tuneless, nonsensical song.
His baby was sitting on her mother’s lap waiting for his confession to begin.
Nausea swept over him so acutely he feared he might hurl on those scarred boots in front of him. Nee. Nee. He swallowed again and again and inhaled the scent of fresh hay and manure. The simple smells of his life, almost forgotten during those years in the RV factory, saved him.
Ben strode to the front of the room. “We are gathered here today to hear Thaddeus Yoder’s confession. Thaddeus confesses the Fehla of fornication to the community. He confesses that he did not accept responsibility for his sin or for the child that resulted from this act of fornication.” Ben’s tone was emotionless, yet crushing, in its neutrality. “Thaddeus chose to leave rather than marry the mother of his child. He abandoned them both. After two years, he has returned with a desire to confess his sins, repent, and accept his punishment.”
The silence tore at Thaddeus. Everyone in the barn was aware of the circumstances behind this confession. They knew he was a coward. They knew he abandoned not only Hannah but Evie too.
They had forgiven Hannah and they would forgive him, whether he deserved it or not. Scripture required it. God required it. Even for a cowardly sinner such as himself.
Still, they would always remember him as the man who ran.
“Thaddeus, are you sorry for what you have done?”
Thaddeus raised his head and sought out Hannah. Their gazes collided. “I am so sorry. I seek forgiveness from everyone here and from Gott. I seek forgiveness from Hannah and my daughter Evie. I’m willing and ready to take my punishment. To restore myself to their good graces and Gott’s.”
“Has your heart changed then, Thaddeus?”
“My heart has changed forever.”
It had grown, doubled in size, rearranged itself over the last two years. He’d learned what it meant to be totally alone. He learned what love was. He learned how puny his faith was. He learned how much he needed others—how much he loved Hannah. And how wrong he’d been.
“Leave us then.”
For a horrible second, his legs wouldn’t work. Thaddeus gritted his teeth.
Gott, please.
His legs unfolded and he hoisted himself to his feet. Deacon Cyrus Beachy led him to the doors. There, Thaddeus looked back. Hannah swiveled and looked directly into his eyes. This time there was no doubt. She offered a tiny nod.
A small but steady flame ignited in his heart.
Hope.
Memories, like flashes of lightning, scorched Hannah’s mind. That night at Stockton Lake. The kisses. The giving of self completely. The joy followed by abject shame. The hard floor under her knees as she confessed her sins in front of her mother, father, grandparents, great-grandparents, sisters, and brothers. Imagining them imagining her sin. The agony of childbirth. The joy of holding Evie for the first time.
Joy and pain so mingled a person couldn’t untangle them in a thousand years.
Laura’s hand crept over hers and squeezed. She leaned in. “Do you want me to hold Evie?”
“Nee.”
“The worst is over.”
“I know.”
Much more remained to be endured. Thaddeus’s confession brought their sins front and center once again in everyone’s mind. The stares and whispers would never die down. They would follow Hannah through the s
treets in Jamesport and between the tables at the café as she served her friends and neighbors. She’d endured this once before. She would do it again.
“The elders have met. We recommend eight weeks in the bann.” Ben paced in front of the long benches. He looked far older than he had two years earlier when he became bishop. “All in favor?”
Eight weeks. Two months. Nothing like the two years Thaddeus had spent in Nappanee. It would seem like forever. At least, six weeks had for Hannah. Eight weeks without contact with friends or family. Eight weeks to contemplate his past and his future.
Eight weeks for Hannah to do the same.
Laura elbowed her. She raised her hand with the others.
“It’s unanimous then.”
Hannah couldn’t help herself. She sneaked a glance at Phillip. The look on his face said she didn’t have eight weeks.
Phillip wanted his answer now.
Sin paraded through the barn for all the world to see. Phillip looked away from Hannah. Surely this would remind her of what she suffered at Thaddeus’s hands. Surely she would be reminded of his true nature. Yes, he repented now. Yes, he wanted to take his punishment now. But what of those two years he’d been gone, leaving her to face censure alone?
Let her forgive, but never forget.
Was that wrong? Gott, is that prayer wrong?
The barn door opened. Thaddeus entered first, then Cyrus. Thaddeus looked neither left nor right as he passed within a foot of Phillip’s seat. His fair skin was mottled red. A pulse worked in his jaw. His Adam’s apple bobbed.
A public confession took its toll, as was intended. Still, it hurt to watch, no matter who walked that aisle. To have a person’s failings laid bare before the people he loved. It must feel like being skinned alive. Phillip didn’t wish it on his worst enemy. And Thaddeus was no enemy.
The thought stole through his defenses, catching him by surprise.
He and Thaddeus cared for the same woman. Thaddeus treated her badly. Led her down a bad path and then abandoned her. Then he recognized his sin and was attempting to rectify the situation. He deserved forgiveness.
Being unable to forgive carried its own weight of sin. Not recognizing his effort and lauding it smacked of arrogance and self-righteousness.
Gott forgive me.
Thaddeus reached the front of the room where Ben stood waiting. The bishop faced him. “Your punishment has been set at eight weeks of bann. Are you willing to take on the discipline of the church?”
Thaddeus cleared his throat. “I am, more than willing.”
“The bann will commence immediately. We understand that you are staying with Burke McMillan.”
Thaddeus nodded.
“And you have a job.”
“Jah. At the hardware store.”
“You will have no contact with anyone from this district for the next eight weeks. Is that understood?”
“Yes.” Thaddeus straightened. His gaze roved over the gathering. “I will be back in eight weeks to join my family and friends in worship.”
“Cyrus, Solomon, and I will meet with you before then.” Ben nodded toward the door. “Go.”
Again escorted by Cyrus, Thaddeus trudged to the door. He looked neither left nor right.
The door closed behind him.
Phillip breathed. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath.
People stood and milled about. The quiet chatter grew louder until it reached a crescendo as they released pent-up emotions.
Suddenly stifled by the warm air and thick smell of hay and manure, Phillip edged toward the door.
Zachariah’s walker thumped in front of him. The old man peered at Phillip through thick glasses. “How are you?”
Zechariah’s hoarse words were a mess, but Phillip got the gist of them from his kind expression. He held the door for the older man and waited until they were outside to answer.
“Confused.”
“Welcome to my world.” Zechariah’s laugh was more of a croak. “If it weren’t for Laura, I wouldn’t be able to find my pants in the morning, let alone put them on.”
Phillip grasped Zechariah’s arm and steadied him. Together, they trudged across the yard to a row of buggies that wound past the corral and out to the open fields of corn, oats, and alfalfa just beginning to shoot from the warming earth.
“What’s confusing you?” Zechariah halted. His breath came in raspy gasps. He leaned into the walker and let his head drop for a few seconds. “The past or the future?”
“Both.” How much should Phillip share, given the private nature of his thoughts? Out of respect for Hannah too. “I don’t know if one can be separated from the other.”
“The most we can do is try to see the world through the other person’s eyes.” Zechariah tottered a few more steps. Hands out, ready to steady him, Phillip kept time. “Put others before ourselves. Do what’s best for another, rather than ourselves.”
“Like Evie.”
“Your thoughts go to her first.”
“As much as I wish her to be my dochder, she’ll always be the dochder of another.” And Hannah would always have loved Thaddeus first. And more. That was apparent from the look on her face today. So like the look she gave Thaddeus that day at the Purple Martin. “I can’t change the past, and I’m not in control of the future.”
“It’s gut you recognize that.” Zechariah stopped. “None of us are, suh. Pray for Gott’s will to be done. Then be willing to accept what happens next.”
“How will I know what His will is?”
“I reckon you already do. All that remains is to accept it.”
“That’s not so easy.”
“Look at me, suh. If you think this is easy . . .” He let go of the walker long enough to wave his hand at his hunched body. “It’s not. Inside, I’m still a young, vigorous man who works hard and goes fishing and birding and hunting. I sing and run around the yard with the kinner. This is not me. But here I am in this pokey, achy, stiff-as-a-board, jerky body. Why am I still alive? Because Gott wills it. Therefore, I accept it. And besides, I have my fraa to thank Him for.”
He stopped and gasped for air. Phillip took his arm again. “Should I get Laura?”
“Help me into the buggy first, if you don’t mind. Then ask my fraa to stop jabbering so we can go.”
Phillip did as he was told. Zechariah’s chastisement had given him much to think about. So much he might choke on it.
CHAPTER 12
The Sunday morning service should not be considered a break in monotony. Sighing at her own perverse thoughts, Hannah settled back on the hard bench after the kneeling prayer. The days seemed to limp along. Working at the restaurant, helping Laura with supper, putting Evie down for the night, reading to Zechariah until he went to bed, then playing checkers with Laura or having a glass of iced tea on the porch swing. This morning, church and the visiting that would follow.
Something was missing from her life, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Knowing Thaddeus was in Jamesport, right down the road, irked her. He was back, but not back.
Phillip hadn’t shown his face at the dawdy haus since Thaddeus’s confession. The thought brought only a strange relief. The want in his face, the longing, caused guilt to sneak up and trip her. She wanted to want him like that, but feelings of friendship won out. A person couldn’t demand that love show its face. It simply did. Or didn’t.
She sighed. Focus. God would smite her for thinking about men in the middle of a church service. It was so warm in Cyrus’s barn, sweat dripped from under her kapp and dampened her neck. Mattie, squeezed in between Laura and Cecily, Hannah’s youngest sister, poked her.
“What?” Hannah jolted and glared at her friend. “Why did you do that?”
“Service is over, silly.”
“Oh.”
They joined the flow of people drifting through the open barn doors. A slight breeze wafted over them. “That feels gut.”
“Why were you sighing?”
“Come on.” Mattie was the spitting image of Thaddeus with her dark curls that refused to be corralled by her kapp and sapphire eyes. She grinned at Hannah. “Tell the truth. You were thinking about Thaddeus.”
“Nee.”
“If you lie after a church service, Gott will smite you.”
Hannah’s friend always knew what she was thinking. “Have you talked to him?”
“Nee. Mudder would smite me if she caught me anywhere near Burke’s house.”
They pushed through the crowd and headed toward the kitchen to help bring out sandwiches and cookie trays. Hannah dodged a group of kids headed to the volleyball nets. Folks were already settling at the picnic tables. Conversations punctuated with laughter swelled around her. It was a perfect Sunday afternoon and she still sought contentment.
Forgive me, Gott. Help me.
Phillip’s deep laugh filtered through the myriad sounds. Biting her lip, she sought him out. He sat at the picnic table near the far corner of Cyrus’s house. Christina Weber held a plate of cookies just beyond his grasp.
He reached for a cookie. She pulled the tray higher. He rose from his seat until he towered over the petite blond. She giggled, curtsied, and offered the tray again. He snatched a cookie and then offered it to her. She took it, grinned, and curtsied again.
Phillip looked happy. He never smiled like that on Hannah’s front porch. She slowed and then stopped.
“What is it?” Mattie touched her arm. “Oh, that. Didn’t you hear? Christina works at the Combination Store now.”
“I know.”
“She’s sweet.”
Sweet and a hard worker who always had a kind word for people. According to Laura. Who talked to Jennie. “I know.”
Mattie tugged at her. “Come on. The others will wonder why we’re not helping. And then Mudder will hear about it, which means I’ll hear about it.”
“Right behind you.”
Hannah picked up her pace, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from Phillip’s face. He deserved to be happy. He deserved to be carefree. He would never have that with her. His eyes connected with hers. His smile became diffident. She nodded.