‘‘You don’t get it.’’ Louisa leaned her head back on a pillow. ‘‘I don’t really belong here. I thought maybe I did, but I don’t.’’
‘‘How can you say that?’’ Annie blinked her eyes and a frown crossed her brow. ‘‘Don’t be too hasty to decide. Besides, I like havin’ you here. You’re my sister.’’
Lying there, staring at the high ceiling, Louisa wondered how she had ever fallen asleep to the sound of beeping taxis instead of the call of barn swallows. How would she ever find such peace anywhere again? But Sam . . . where did he fit in?
‘‘People do crazy things for love,’’ Annie said softly. ‘‘Things even harder than changing a lifestyle, I daresay.’’
Louisa looked at her and nodded, scarcely able to speak. Could she ever really belong to Sam, give up her art? Live under the Ordnung? But on the other hand, how hard would it be to leave him behind? Give up the chance to journey toward Julia’s remarkable faith? And dear Annie— how could she say good-bye to her?
Funny, she thought. A man brought me here . . . and a man’s sending me back.
‘‘Annie,’’ she said suddenly, ‘‘I don’t know how I’ll pull this off, but I think I need to go home.’’
‘‘Aw . . . Lou.’’
‘‘No, really. I should have admitted this before. To you . . . and to myself.’’
‘‘Admitted what?’’
Louisa sighed. ‘‘Courtney’s visit stirred up a bunch of unresolved issues. At first they pushed me toward Sam, but now, well, I just don’t know where I should be.’’
The two dressed for bed, saying no more.
Chapter 24
Annie searched for her slippers in the darkness. When her feet found them, she pulled on her long bathrobe.
‘‘Lou?’’ she whispered.
Lighting the lantern, she was suddenly quite aware of her friend’s absence. A quick search—beneath the other bed and in the bureau drawers—confirmed that Lou had taken her belongings. Her luggage was gone, too.
Sighing, Annie sat on the edge of the already made bed, where Lou had sat and giggled and cuddled Muffin and said the most hilarious things.
Here, on this bed, Lou had sketched drawings of twostory barns and haughty peacocks. Here Annie had found Lou’s art hidden beneath the pillows when first they’d moved to this room.
She smiled wistfully, remembering all the happy days. ‘‘A wonderful, sisterly, good time.’’
Then, just as she rose to make her own bed, she spied Lou’s soft tan skirt and creamy blouse hanging on the wooden wall pegs next to the cape dresses and aprons. ‘‘Ach, she remembered!’’ Annie laughed out loud, hastening to the pretty English outfit and pressing it to her face.
She noticed Lou’s fashionable tan suede boots on the floor, and a sand-colored silky pair of hosiery rolled up in a small plastic bag. A pretty gold barrette was nestled in a white box atop two envelopes. One marked To Annie, the other addressed to Sam Glick.
Sighing, she sat near the lantern’s light and opened her letter.
Dear Annie,
It’s 2:30 AM and I’m writing this downstairs in Mammi Zook’s little kitchen by candlelight. Can you believe it, I’m actually up before anyone in this house? Muffin is already snoozing in his carrier, ready to fly (stand-by) with me, and all my stuff is gathered around me. But I couldn’t leave without writing to you, my dearest friend.
I’m calling a cab as soon as I sign my name here. I’m not sure if there is enough power left, but I think there is. (I figure if my smart phone is dead, then maybe I wasn’t supposed to leave. Our talk about providence still sticks in my head, you see.)
I really wanted to say good-bye in person, but I knew if I did, you’d talk me out of going. I also wanted to tell your wonderful family thank you, especially your mom, who was like a second mother to me all these months. But I couldn’t wait till the dawn, because I would’ve changed my mind in a heartbeat.And if I’d stayed and gone to Preaching today, well, seeing Sam again would definitely mess with my head. I really can’t go there now, Annie. Maybe someday I’ll explain, if I can.
Thanks for everything. I mean that. I wish I might have stayed here in your paradise longer. Maybe forever.
With love,
Louisa
Annie couldn’t help but lament cell phones and Palms and fancy whatnots, wishing they’d never been invented. She wished Lou were still here, too.
Staring at the letter, Annie noticed the handwriting looked a bit shaky and wondered if Lou might’ve been crying.
She loved being here. And she loves Sam. . . .
While frying eggs, Mamm shook her head, saying she could not fathom why on earth Louisa just upped and left. ‘‘Never even said good-bye.’’
‘‘She wished she could have thanked the whole family, but her leaving had nothing to do with any of us.’’ Annie couldn’t say any more lest she start to cry.
‘‘Well, dear, why don’t you think of moving back to your old room?’’ Mamm suggested.
Annie gathered her composure. ‘‘S’pose I could, but maybe I’ll just stay put for the time being.’’
When Daed heard the news, the lines around his mouth showed signs of relaxing. Obvious relief . . . and no wonder. But Mammi Zook sighed and patted her chest, her eyes moist.
They all sat down together—Annie, her brothers, Mamm, Daed, and Mammi and Dawdi—terribly conscious of the now-vacant spot where Louisa had always sat.
‘‘That Lou was somethin’, jah?’’ Yonie spoke up at last.
‘‘That’s the truth,’’ Annie replied.
‘‘I’ll miss her, too,’’ Mamm said.
Daed frowned and cut them off by signaling it was time for the blessing.
They bowed their heads in unison. But instead of offering gratitude to the Lord God heavenly Father for the provision of food, Annie skipped over the rote prayer in her head. This day she was most thankful for Lou’s visit—the whole of it—and how an English pen pal had radically changed her life for the better.
Preaching service went longer than Annie ever remembered it lasting. During the membership meeting that followed, she sat in the far corner of the kitchen, entertaining Esther’s children by tying knots in her linen hankie.
‘‘Where’s your friend?’’ Laura asked, her arms folded across her chest like she was a miniature lady.
‘‘Heading home now, I ’spect.’’ Coming right out with it was far better than fudging. Truth be known, Annie wished Lou hadn’t chosen her to deliver the message to Sam. She might’ve mailed it to him, she thought. But if he were observant at all, he would have noticed Lou was missing, for she’d never once skipped a Sunday gathering here.
Annie felt for the sealed envelope deep in her pocket.
‘‘Why’d Louisa leave?’’ asked Laura.
‘‘Well, she knew she couldn’t stay for good.’’
Laura turned to look out the window. ‘‘Too bad, jah?’’
Annie nodded.
‘ ‘ I liked her a lot. She was nice to me and my brothers . . . and to Molly and James, too.’’
Annie nodded. ‘‘She sure was.’’
‘‘Will she come see us again?’’
‘‘Anything’s possible, I guess.’’
Laura turned away from the window, a big smile on her wee face. ‘‘That’s what Mamma says a lot. ‘All things are possible.’ ’’ A wonderful-good thing.
‘‘Believin’ is ever so important,’’ Annie said, starting a game of peekaboo with little John.
‘‘Ach, Mamma says that, too.’’
When the membership meeting was finished, and the food for the common meal was brought up from the cold cellar, Annie took John, Zach, and Laura back to find Esther, who’d gone for a short walk, as she was not welcome at the meeting. On the way Annie spotted Sam, who looked as dejected as Lou had last night.
When Annie caught Sam’s attention, she was glad the Hochstetler children were in tow, or she might have been tempted to stan
d and chat with him a while, to offer a comforting word or two.
Silently she pulled out the envelope and slipped it into his hand.
‘‘From Louisa?’’ he asked.
She nodded. Taking the envelope, he walked quickly away.
Annie was glad Mamm was so willing to go visiting during the next few weeks. Nearly every day they dropped in on either Sarah Mae, Martha, Priscilla, or other womenfolk.
The house seemed topsy-turvy without Louisa in it, and 277 even Dawdi agreed with Mammi when she said how much she missed Louisa spending time with her in the evenings, doing their needlework by the fire. ‘‘She was starting to understand some Dutch, too,’’ Mammi said, shaking her head sadly.
One morning, while enjoying chamomile tea and cinnamon rolls at Martha’s, Annie heard the happy news that her sister-in-law was expecting again. ‘‘The more babies in the family, the more fun we’ll have, ain’t?’’ Annie said, wishing Lou might be on hand to celebrate.
All the crocheting of booties and blankets ahead!
When not going visiting, Annie counted hay bales with Yonie. There was also some talk that Daed and Luke were planning to drive fence posts in the southeast pasture. And Omar mentioned some of the loggers were eyeing the woods up yonder.
Winter’s fading, she thought, wishing Louisa were here to see the pussy willow buds soon to appear.
With the warmer days came the anticipation of Good Friday’s fast day. The membership would contemplate the Ordnung prayerfully, and, if all were in one accord, they would rejoice by taking communion as a group, followed by their twice-yearly foot washing. Shortly after that would come the start of baptismal instruction. Annie found herself looking often at the calendar, counting the days till she and the other applicants would meet with the ministers. She knew she had to be certain of her resolve before making the commitment to study, a thought which kept her awake at night.
She and Ben were still seeing each other every week, and as wonderful as it was spending time together, she also worried she was replacing one vice for another—trading her art for her forbidden beau. She knew she must decide to join church. Or, better yet, as Julia often said, seek to know the will and purpose of God.
Truth was, she had a hard time thinking the Lord could be bothered with what she did or didn’t do. With so many folk in the world, with oodles of needs, why on earth would He care one way or the other?
Esther continued to grasp hold of hope, but what was happening between her and Zeke had nothing to do with goodness or godliness. She made tiny dots on the calendar for each time her husband dishonored her shunning, not for the purpose of reporting him, but for her own sake—if she should become pregnant again. And what a revelation to the brethren that would be!
She’d known of spouses who did not heed the Bann, disobeying the ministers; they soon ended up shunned themselves. Gently she reminded Zeke of this, yet it was impossible to thwart him. A pattern had been set, and she was helpless to stop it. But she would not allow her interrupted sleep or any of his violent outbursts during the day to rob her of the peace she carried silently within. Her greatest joy came both from the Lord and her children, in that order.
The days marched swiftly into April, and Esther realized she had not visited her mother for quite some time. Eager to get out of the house, and missing her talks with Julia, she bundled up the baby and the boys, while Laura was at school, and took the team several miles up the road.
When she arrived at her brother’s place and the small Dawdi Haus built for her mother, Esther was met with an unexpected reaction. Mamma scarcely looked at her and would not invite them in, though she eyed Essie Ann, whose bright little eyes blinked up at her grandmother. ‘‘Are ya busy, then?’’ Esther managed to ask, her heart heavy.
‘‘Well, jah . . . I am.’’
Esther looked down at Zach and John, both shivering a bit. ‘‘I s’pose we could come another time.’’
Her mother stood as rigid and silent as the glass figurines Esther had seen in Julia’s curio cabinet. They caught each other’s gaze, and slowly but surely Esther came to understand the full meaning of rejection as she waited on the back stoop.
The shun . . .
But something powerful, even bold, rose up in her. ‘‘The children are awful cold,’’ she whispered, leaning forward. ‘‘Mayn’t they come in?’’
Tears sprang into Mamma’s eyes, and she opened the door wider. ‘‘Hullo, Zach . . . John,’’ she said, not bending down to kiss them. She rather ignored Essie Ann, and for this Esther felt even stronger pangs of sadness.
This isn’t about the children. She must not treat them so!
As she watched her children standing in Mamma’s small front room with their wraps still on, Esther realized suddenly that the social avoidance meant for her would take its toll on her offspring. This made her feel even more isolated in the face of Zeke’s mistreatment of her and their little ones.
‘‘Come, play with the blocks,’’ her mother said, placing a large box on the floor near the small cookstove.
The boys hurried to begin their play, coats still buttoned up. Eventually Zach shed his, but it lay on the floor where he left it. Never before would Mamma have allowed that. She would have asked her grandson to hand it up to her, lest she hurt her bad back bending low. And when tiny Essie Ann became fussy, Mamma did not offer to take her and walk about the room, whispering softly in Dutch, as she had done countless times with her other grandchildren.
Esther had heard of staunch folk who insisted on placing the infant of a shunned church member on a table or other surface before the baby could be passed to another’s arms, but she had not expected such from her mother.
She was surprised when, after a time, Mamma offered some hot tea. Eager for something warm, Esther asked if she could help. But she was denied that, being told to sit and wait till the teakettle whistled.
‘‘Ach, Mamma, this is silly.’’
‘‘No . . . no, the wisdom of the ages, Esther,’’ her mother said with a severe look. ‘‘Our church leaders are to be honored.’’
‘‘Above one’s own flesh and blood?’’ Esther asked, though the answer was within her.
‘‘The brethren are ordained of the most high God,’’ Mamma said. ‘‘Always remember this, truly.’’
Is this what I must endure for all my days?
Leaning forward in the carriage, Jesse made his way to Al Fisher’s farm. Al, who had never known of the alarming discovery on his land, needed help seeding his oats crop, and a few of the neighboring men had volunteered to put in a half day over there, after finishing up their own chores.
Barbara had asked, sweetly as always, if Jesse would be home for supper, and he had smiled and said he would. Her chicken and homemade dumplings were the best, by far, of any he had ever eaten. A big incentive . . . that, and her sweet kisses, still offered after all these years.
Jesse let his mind wander to Annie’s English friend, who had surprised all of them by disappearing in the night. He realized anew how fond Barbara had been of Louisa, and it annoyed him.
Long past time for her to head on home, he decided. Besides, Annie will soon meet with the brethren about her baptism.
He would’ve patted himself on the back if he weren’t out here on the road.
‘‘Annie’s goin’ to make it to her kneelin’ vow, sure looks like,’’ he mumbled, enjoying the ride alone while counting his blessings. It seemed like Preacher Moses had known what he was talking about, as always.
Louisa was a godsend, after all.
He contemplated Annie’s recent attitude, which seemed to have improved some since Louisa’s exit back into the modern world. Barbara suggested with a smile that maybe their Annie had herself a new beau. They both had heard the soft thump of footsteps on the stairs after midnight, though Annie had not stayed out till the dawn with this new fellow, like she had with Rudy Esh, which made Jesse wonder. And none of the fathers were whispering that one of their own was see
ing the preacher’s daughter.
Whoever it is, he’s surely keeping tight-lipped on it.
He almost chuckled at the enduring spunk of his daughter.
Chapter 25
Louisa had hardly recognized her mother upon first arriving home. She’s had a face lift or something drastic. Trying to look twenty-one again?
But Louisa hadn’t said a word, trying to ease herself back into the lives of her stiff and cautious parents. They seemed to walk on eggshells with her, too. Neither her dad nor her mother asked even once about her decision to return, which was a relief, because all Louisa could think about was Sam . . . and Annie. Paradise.
Settled once again in her apartment, she wished she might have waited at least until the morning—perhaps after breakfast that final Sunday—to announce her leaving. She had wanted to give Barbara Zook a hug, maybe even a little kiss on her rosy cheeks for being a stand-in mom. But she’d observed how physically reserved the Amish women were upon greeting or saying good-bye. They scarcely ever touched, but their generous spirits were like a bighearted embrace.
Easter dinner at her parents’ was an all-out gala, festive in every way, with Daddy’s favorite traditional roast lamb dinner, all five courses perfectly paired with five wine options. The entire time she sat at the elegant table Louisa thought of Amish country, wondering what foods Annie and her family were enjoying. Had they left a vacant seat for her, where she’d always sat at the long table? What funny antic had Yonie pulled? In her mind she could see Jesse Zook bow his head, offering thanks, which was the farthest thing from anyone’s mind here at this table.
Relatives from out of state, as well as local friends, came for the afternoon. Mother was literally shimmering in her new orchid cocktail dress . . . and triumphant smile. She had purchased a new set of fine china just for the occasion. All the expensive niceties of her parents’ life did not bother Louisa as before, and she recognized what had made the difference.
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