The Bishop's Daughter

by Patricia Johns

  The door slammed, and Sadie cast her mother a thin smile. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she hoped it wasn’t noticeable. Elijah had a way of filling up that space in a room, and squeezing out her peace of mind. That man shouldn’t be preoccupying her thoughts when there were more serious things to worry about. And yet he did.

  He was making her feel things she didn’t want to feel—like the way her heart sped up when he stared down into her eyes like that. He was every inch a man, he’d said, and she was grudgingly forced to agree. He was, and the woman in her was responding to him as urgently as she had when they were much too young. She wanted to feel his arms around her, to lean into his kisses. And, wicked as it was, she yearned for even more. She might resent him for a good many things, but she hadn’t expected to feel so betrayed at his plans to leave town again—his eagerness to build a decent Englisher life for himself—and she tried to push back the nagging emotions as she worked with Rosmanda and Mamm, putting together a meal of chicken, potatoes, and gravy.

  Two hours later, the side door opened and the sound of men’s boots tramped into the mudroom. Sadie’s back was sticky with sweat, and she wiped her face with a handkerchief. Rosmanda’s cheeks bloomed red from the heat of the stove, but Mamm managed to look as cool as a winter’s morning. How she did it, Sadie would never know.

  “I’m hungry, Mamm,” Samuel said, standing next to his chair. He looked like he was feeling better, and she bent to touch his forehead. He still had a bit of a fever, but it wasn’t as bad as before.

  “Are you?” she asked with a smile. “Here.”

  She slipped him a roll to munch on while he waited for the meal. An appetite was a good sign. Sadie lifted him up onto his seat atop a wooden booster that had been used in this family for generations. She’d sat on that same booster as a little girl. It nudged her up high enough to let her eat from her plate at the table. The men came into the kitchen at that moment, hands and face wet from their wash-up at the pump.

  “It smells delicious,” Daet said, and Sadie was relieved to see that her father didn’t look quite so tired as she’d expected. There was still some color in his face.

  Elijah’s nose looked sunburnt, and he held her gaze a beat longer than necessary—then he turned away. Just like the old days, she realized, when Elijah would stay for dinner and stand there all awkwardly—freckled feet and hands too big for the rest of him. He’d grown into his limbs, finally, and he still made her feel too many things at once.

  “Sit down,” Mamm said, and if she noticed any tension in the room, she ignored it. “The food is hot. Everyone’s hungry.”

  The men slid into their places—Elijah opposite Sadie, and Daet at the head of the table. Sadie reached over to stop Samuel’s hand from creeping toward the bowl of dinner rolls.

  “Bow for prayer,” Daet said, and they all did as he bade, bowing their heads in silence. A moment later, Daet said, “Amen,” and they all raised their heads and reached for the food.

  “Your mamm and I were discussing things,” Daet said as he speared a baked potato and plunked it onto his plate. “And we’ve come to a decision.”

  Sadie glanced toward her mother, but Mamm’s expression remained carefully neutral. Whatever it was, Mamm hadn’t even hinted about it.

  “About what, Daet?” Sadie asked.

  “You’ll be going to see Absolom’s child.” Daet’s somber gaze met Sadie’s, and she stared at him in shock.

  “I’m going to visit Absolom? Really?”

  “Yes. Really. Pass the chicken, please.”

  Sadie’s hands shook as she picked up the platter of chicken with both hands and passed it over her son’s plate to her father. Daet took a wing from the side of the platter and put it on Samuel’s plate, then took a leg for himself.

  Sadie looked over to Elijah. Had he known about this? But he looked as stunned as she was. At least she wasn’t the last to know this time.

  “Who’s going?” Rosmanda asked excitedly. “Because I’d so love to see my brother . . .”

  “Your sister,” Daet replied. “And Elijah. He’ll be able to escort her to and from most easily.”

  “Can’t I go, too?” Rosmanda pressed. “I want to see him! And the baby—”

  “No.” Daet didn’t raise his voice, but his tone was final.

  Elijah was to bring her to her brother.... She looked over at Elijah again, and misgiving rose up inside of her. She’d see the world that Elijah had chosen over theirs, see the home that her brother had built for himself.

  Daet passed the chicken along to Rosmanda, who sullenly took some meat onto her plate. She chewed the side of her cheek.

  “I haven’t seen my brother in so long,” Rosmanda said quietly. “I want to see him.”

  “Sadie is going,” Daet replied. “You are too young and impressionable. Sadie is old enough to see the evils of the Englisher world for what they are. She won’t be lured astray.”

  Elijah coughed, reaching for a cup of lemonade. Should Sadie tell her father about Elijah’s confession that he was going back? But if she did, he was liable to change his mind and forbid any of them to see Absolom, and the very thought closed off Sadie’s throat. A chance to see her brother was dangling in front of her . . .

  “What about Mamm?” Rosmanda pressed. “She’ll want to see Absolom, too!”

  Mamm’s chair scraped back, and she turned to the counter to fetch another bowl of buns. The extra bowl of buns wasn’t needed. She was hiding her face.

  “Never mind, Rosmanda,” Mamm said as she turned back toward them, more composed. “There will be work enough to keep us busy with Sadie gone for the day. And you, my dear, are not ready to care for the house alone, even for a day.”

  Mamm wanted to see her son, too. Desperately. Sadie instinctively reached toward Samuel and placed a protective hand on his back. Sammie wasn’t eating much more than the bun she’d already given him. She felt his head, and while he was still warm, he wasn’t as feverish as earlier.

  “Send me along!” Rosmanda pressed. “If I’m useless here—”

  “Do not question your mamm,” Daet barked. “As for being useless, don’t take that as a compliment. You need to learn to care for a home if you intend to marry! Your mamm was married by sixteen.”

  Rosmanda clamped her mouth shut, her cheeks flaming, and her eyes filled with tears.

  “And Samuel will stay here,” Daet added. “I think Sadie will agree.”

  “Yes, I agree with that,” Sadie said quickly. She didn’t want her child exposed to any of it. She didn’t want him to have some lurking memories from his toddler years, some image that would take root in his sensitive little mind.

  “And the appearances, Benjamin . . .” Mamm prompted quietly.

  “Yes, of course.” Daet wiped his mouth. “We will not speak of this, if we can help it. We are an example to this community, and if we appear to weaken in our resolve, we will hurt more than just ourselves. We must keep this visit to the city private. No one is to mention it. If anyone asks where Sadie has gone, you will only say that she’s gone on an errand.”

  “It will look like there is something between Sadie and Elijah,” Rosmanda said. “If I was along, though—”

  “More reason to keep your own counsel,” Daet replied curtly. “We don’t want to tarnish Sadie’s reputation, either. But she has options in Pennsylvania with the Hochstetlers. She’ll marry again. You, Rosmanda, are my bigger worry.”

  Silence descended around the table, and Sadie eyed her father cautiously. This would be a secret—something done for Absolom’s sake alone. This wasn’t for them, because if it were, Mamm would be the one going, and Sadie’s reputation wouldn’t be risked. If she wanted another good, Amish husband, she could back out of this fool’s errand. She could protect her image and find another solid, pious man who would embrace Samuel as his own . . .

  But she wouldn’t do that, because she wanted to see her brother too badly. This was a priceless opportunity, one that wouldn�
��t come again. If she let this chance pass her by, the only way to see her brother would be in defiance of her father.

  “Absolom is most likely to listen to Sadie,” Mamm added. “They were always close, and he seems to have a soft place in his heart for her still. But this is delicate. You all understand that, don’t you?”

  They were bending for Absolom’s sake. According to the Ordnung, tough love was the way to deal with these things—silence and disapproval until Absolom returned to them and admitted his sin. And returning to the community was supposed to solidify a person back into their place. Except that wasn’t working with Elijah, and Sadie was beginning to doubt it would work with her brother, either. But this wasn’t the Ordnung’s way, and Elijah’s words sprang back to her mind: Your father is capable of great flexibility. Where it comes to Absolom, he’ll bend so far that he’ll brush the ground—wait and see.

  She could feel Elijah’s gaze burning into her, and she refused to meet it. Instead she filled her plate and forced herself to take a bite, her mouth dry. Daet was bending for Absolom, and she didn’t blame him one bit. Elijah might judge her father for this, but she didn’t. Absolom was Daet’s child, and Elijah had no idea how viciously a parent could love.

  If this were Samuel, she’d camp herself on his doorstep and sit there night and day until he came home again—anything but lose her son. She expected nothing less of her daet.

  “When will we go?” Sadie asked.

  “Soon. I’m aiming for Tuesday. I’ll let you know when I have it arranged,” Daet said.

  Somewhere just outside of Chicago—a place that meant nothing to her in a concrete way—her brother would be sitting down to his own dinner with his own little family. In her mind’s eye, he was still wearing his Amish suspenders and straw hat, even though she knew logically that he’d be dressed like any other Englisher. But he’d be there, eating a meal cooked by the woman he’d had a child with, but hadn’t married.

  Was that bond strong enough to hold them all together through the good and the bad? Did that woman fill his heart? She’d always thought that marriage would miraculously instill a blessed sort of love between the partners, and she’d been proven very wrong. And yet her brother had a woman he wasn’t married to . . . a woman who had given him a daughter, and who had a son from another relationship. And yet, she seemed to be enough for him. Absolom had found something that Sadie missed out on, despite doing everything the Amish way.

  On the coming Tuesday—the weekday that the Amish held their weddings, ironically enough—she would meet that scandalous woman, and see the Englisher life that Elijah had left behind . . . the life he intended to go back to. Everything she’d believed to be so obviously true seemed to be slanting now, tipping off balance.

  But someone had to go after Absolom, and, as Mamm had said, Sadie might be the only one he would listen to.

  Chapter Ten

  Elijah swallowed a mouthful of food. Sadie’s gaze flickered up toward him, and she gave him a faint smile. She had her precious permission—she’d see Absolom again. She claimed not to want anything from him, but she did want this.

  He was going to be responsible for her, too—to both her father and her brother, whose hopes for her future were vastly different. The blind enthusiasm from that night when he’d offered this had evaporated. It wasn’t just about giving her something no one else could, or getting some time alone with her. Going to the city changed people—Elijah had seen that firsthand.

  He’d wanted Absolom to go with him the first time he left home because he was afraid of going alone. Elijah knew the risks of companionship now, like the apple from the tree of knowledge. There was no unseeing what she’d see out there, and she’d be changed by the experience, whether she wanted to be or not. Sometimes ignorance really was preferable, especially if she wanted a peaceful Amish life.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Elijah asked, and all eyes whipped toward him.

  “It was your idea, wasn’t it?” the bishop asked, eyebrows raised.

  “It might have been impetuous,” Elijah replied. An offer sparked by a moment in the dark with Sadie—less logical than it was competitive with the other men he imagined courting her in the near future.

  “It seems appropriate to me,” Sarah Graber said quietly. “You brought my son to the city with you nine years ago, and you can bring him home again. You can make up for the impetuosity of youth. But I do appreciate your caution now, Elijah. I do.”

  Elijah looked back down to his plate. He was no longer hungry, and he could feel the weight of that responsibility—because their expectations weren’t realistic. He wouldn’t be able to deliver what they wanted with Absolom or Sadie. He couldn’t turn back time.

  Little Sammie was munching on a dinner roll, but the rest of his food sat untouched on his plate. Sadie pushed back her chair and her son crawled into her lap, leaning his cheek against her shoulder. Sadie smoothed his flaxen curls away from his face.

  “Will you take Sadie to see her brother?” the bishop asked.

  Elijah could refuse, but nothing would change. Not for him. He’d be even more alone, having alienated the only family who remotely understood where he’d been. Or he could do as they asked, and bring Sadie to the city.

  “If you insist,” he said at last. “But you can’t hold me responsible for anything more than delivering her back home again.”

  The bishop met his gaze and held it for a beat, then nodded in agreement. It was something.

  The meal ended soon after, and Elijah thanked Sarah for the meal, then headed to the mudroom for his boots. He needed to get away—to go home—and think this all through. The bishop followed him to the door.

  “Thank you,” Elijah said with a deferential nod. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Elijah had his own thoughts to wade through tonight. He wasn’t doing anything behind the bishop’s back, but he was still wary. He’d caused enough hardship for this family.

  “I would like to speak with you.” The older man’s voice held the gravelly weight of a church leader.

  Bishop Graber led the way outside, and Elijah followed, their boots clomping down the wooden steps. Once they were a few yards from the house, the bishop stopped.

  “Is there a problem?” the bishop asked quietly. “From what I understand, you offered to take my daughter to see her brother. Or were you hoping to bring her to the Englishers without my blessing?”

  “Not the case.” Elijah eyed the bishop for a moment. “And if you distrust me so much, why did you hire me on?”

  “For such a time as this,” the older man replied curtly.

  There it was—the reason for all of this. The bishop had plans of his own. Whatever the older man hoped to accomplish, Elijah felt wary.

  “I’m still not completely comfortable with bringing Sadie to the city,” Elijah said. “It changes people . . .”

  “Sadie is our chance, Elijah,” the bishop said tightly. “Don’t you see that?”

  That stab of jealousy was back again, because, whether Absolom knew it or not, his father was willing to trample any boundary to bring him home. Elijah’s daet hadn’t dared. Moreover, he’d been held back by the bishop’s orders.

  “I see it,” Elijah admitted. “But seeing her brother will have a profound effect on her. I can’t stop that.”

  “You don’t know my daughter like I do.” The bishop scrubbed a hand over his beard. “What is our faith if it can’t stand a test? She wants her brother back home as badly as we do. I’m asking you to bring her back. And, if at all possible, bring her brother, too.”

  No small request there. He crossed his arms over his chest, his mind spinning. But what about Elijah? If he hadn’t come back to help his father, would the bishop have allowed all of this for him? Not a chance.

  “I met a man in a Mennonite church who left the Amish life about twenty years ago,” Elijah said slowly. “He was only a teenager at the time. His father followed him and would sit on the steps i
n front of his hotel room every single night for several weeks straight. He’d just sit there. All night long, because he couldn’t bring himself to be away from his boy. And he wanted to protect him—if he could.” The bishop was silent, and Elijah eyed the older man skeptically. “What does the Ordnung say about that?”

  “The community must come first, of course,” the bishop replied. “Every man has a choice, and that man’s son made his.”

  That Mennonite man had told the story with tears sparkling in his eyes when he remembered his daet. Choices, even the hard ones a young man had made for his own future, didn’t erase the heartbreak.

  “Would you have allowed my father to go to such lengths?” Elijah asked.

  “He didn’t need to.” Bishop Graber sucked in a slow breath.

  “Because I’m back,” Elijah confirmed. Because the bishop had so ruined his father’s ability to run a successful business that his father had been forced to swallow any pride he might have and ask his only son for financial help.

  And yet, Elijah’s father hadn’t come to the city. He hadn’t sent anyone after him. It might have been different if his father had—he might have come back to Morinville for the sake of his parents, before it was too late, before he’d seen too much and changed too much to fit back in. At the very least, this visit back would have been different. It would have been good to know that he was worth a risk to his own father.

  “Yes. You’re back.” The bishop shook his head, not seeming to understand where Elijah was coming from. “The letters worked.”

  “It wasn’t the letters on church teachings,” Elijah said with a bitter laugh. “It was the one letter he likely never showed you.”

  “What letter?” the bishop asked with a frown.

  “That’s between me and my daet. I’m not telling you.”

  “Whatever you think of me,” the older man said quietly, “I have no wish to intrude upon your relationship with your parents. You’re back—that was all any of us wanted.”

  It was ironic that the same constricting rules that had chased him off and been the source of his father’s business failure had brought him back, no matter how temporary it might be. This was success in the bishop’s eyes?