by Ruth Price
“Why don't you take the head, Mr. Graber?” Rachel suggested, beckoning Isaac's daed to sit down. Isaac took the empty chair at his left, and Judith seated herself across from him, ignoring his daed's disapproving gaze. Isaac smiled, and Judith returned it shyly, glad that she'd chosen to be brave. To Isaac's left sat the Deacon, and then Rachel's daed and Hezekiah, who at age fourteen was deemed old enough for the adult table. Rachel sat beside Judith, and then Miriam, with Esther taking the place closest to the foot, next to the empty seat closest to the kitchen reserved for Rachel's mamm.
Rachel went to help her mamm bring in the chicken for the table, as well as the bread warmed in the oven from Monday's baking.
“Miriam, go help with those potatoes,” Esther ordered, and Miriam dashed off with a look of gratitude after Rachel into the kitchen. Judith wished she had an excuse to follow instead of sitting in awkward silence as Deacon Hilty began some absentminded rambling about one of his horses from which he'd remove a difficult stone from the hoof this morning.
“Dear God, I thought that gelding was going to take a kick at me, he was so riled up,” Deacon Hilty said, taking a deep breath after. The smell of tobacco wafted from his clothing. “He'll let my wife do anything she likes with him, but me, good God no.”
Miriam came in, carrying a glass serving bowl of sweet potatoes with marshmallow and placed them in the middle of the table, between herself and Hezekiah.
“My, those potatoes look good,” Deacon Hilty said. “But I'd be a fool to lay a spoon in them before your Sweet Potato takes her fill, Esther,” he said, laughing.
Rachel and her mamm followed, the first carrying a large tray of bread with a crock of fresh butter, and the latter a tray of herb roasted chicken. The brown skin positively glistened in the light of the dying sun and the gas lanterns hanging on the walls.
When all of the food was served and everyone was seated, Rachel's daed said, “Mr. Graber, you had mentioned earlier you wished to say the Grace, and it would be our honor.”
Isaac's daed nodded gravely. “Danki,” he said, and took a breath, his gaze resting over each person as though he held in his eyes the full judgment of Christ, and began in Pennsylvania Dutch. “Mr. and Mrs. Schrock, it has been my and my son's true privilege to spend this week in your home.” He beckoned an open hand towards the food. Judith folded her hands together and closed her eyes, as Isaac's daed said, “For as in the words of Matthew, I was hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in... It is clear from your hospitality that you hold the impetus of the Lord firmly in your hearts: Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”
“Danki,” Rachel's mamm murmured.
“It is from Matthew again, that my thoughts in gratitude through the Grace of God stem: Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them. But it is with more than gratitude at this wondrous meal and the true spirit of hospitality I have received here that I feel compelled to say this Grace. I came here not only to expose myself and my son to a different community, but also to use my own experiences and study of the Bible to illuminate, through my own meager perspective, the glory of God. Every opportunity we have to prostrate ourselves before God is one that ought not to be wasted.
“It is in this spirit, even in the face of this glorious meal, that I feel compelled to speak further on Matthew 7, verses 15-20, which reads: Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. Ye shall know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit. A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.”
“It is clear, being in this home, that here stands a tree of warmth and family, rooted in a deep foundation of faith and diligence in following the precepts of the Ordnung. Here is a home that recognizes the importance of living in accord with the wishes of God, and it is manifested in the harmony and togetherness I've seen here. Husband and wife, healthy and gifted with a plenty of beautiful and mannered children--it is not every household, not even every Amish household, that can claim such.”
Though Isaac's daed spoke in general terms, a curl of anger grew in Judith's stomach. Mr. Graber had made no secret his feelings about Judith's family. Even his offers to stay over the night after the church service in case of the two men returning had held a certain disdain for the fact that Esther had no husband, combined with his persistent distrust of her brother Samuel, Mr. Graber's interrogation about what had happened though he had not been there and none of it was his business, infuriated Judith.
Further, there was his attitude towards Judith's studies. She knew that he disapproved of Isaac courting her, but to leave the comparison of 'evil fruit that must be hewn down and cast into the fire,' however subtly he couched it, was uncalled for, especially in the guise of a grace before dinner. But Judith knew better than to interrupt the man. She would give no impression through her expression or speech that she saw any connection between her family and his words, and continue to pursue a good and Godly life as she saw fit. If only she didn't like Isaac so well, she'd be content to let his daed return to Ephrata and never set eyes on the man again.
“So it is with exceptional gratitude to my dear God that I say thank you for guiding me to this home and family, and thank you for this food we are about to receive for the nourishment of our bodies, in the name of the Lord, Amen.”
The amen that followed was perhaps a bit quiet, and when Judith opened her eyes, across the table, Isaac's expression was murderous. Judith forced a smile as Miriam leaned over the table and took a heaping spoonful of mashed sweet potatoes.
“Well...” Deacon Hilty began, and then with a tight laugh said, “I am truly grateful for this excellent meal. Esther, you are responsible for these excellent beans, and I think I recall seeing some of your magnificent corn pudding in that bag.”
“My daughter Judith made it. She is a most dedicated and faithful child, truly the fruit of my heart, as are all of my kinner,” Esther said, taking a spoonful of sweet potatoes.
“You certainly do allow them a great deal of freedom,” Isaac's daed said.
“A tree must be given sufficient space to take root and grow to the light.”
“In addition to be given proper nourishment, both earthly and spiritual.”
Esther smiled, an expression that was mostly teeth. “In that we couldn't agree more.”
“Perhaps we should carve the chicken?” Bishop Hilty suggested. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Yes!” Rachel's mamm stood and hilt first, passed the deacon the carving knife and a long, three tined fork.
“Who wants white meat?” Deacon Hilty asked, standing up to carve the bird. Miriam and Hezekiah's hands shot up simultaneously. “And a little child shall lead them,” the deacon laughed at his own joke. He carved the chicken, placing the cut pieces of meat on a separate plate. When he'd finished with the white meat, he passed the plate around towards Hezekiah at his left. For a time, people occupied themselves with eating, the scrape of silver on china and occasional exclamations of gratitude the only accompaniment to the meal.
When the eating slowed, Esther said, “Mr. Graber, it was with great interest I learned that your son wished to court with my daughter. I know you'd wished to speak with me further on the subject.”
Deacon Hilty cut in. “Is this the best time?”
“I was given to believe that Mr. Graber had some reservations in regards to my daughter. Better to bring such thoughts to the light, instead of couching them in the language of obfuscation. In the words of John, 'The truth shall set you free.'“
“Mrs. Hershberger is quite correct,” Isaac's daed said. “I admit, I do have reservations about a union
between my son and your daughter. My son is committed to pursuing an Amish life. One of the reasons I brought him with me for this trip was to allow him the chance to learn from Amos, whose work with furniture is well regarded. Your daughter, however, seems to have...different goals.”
“My daughter is not yet decided on her life's path, which is understandable considering she is only sixteen and just beginning her Rumspringa. But I suppose should that become an issue, our kinner will discover it in the process of courting. That is the purpose of it, I believe.”
Isaac's daed pressed his lips together, thinning them to a tight frown. “You never remarried, after your husband's death, isn't that so?”
“I've taught all of my daughters everything they need in order to be exceptional wives,” Esther said, placing the serving spoon back into the glass pan with enough force that the sound jarred Judith's teeth. “Should that be the life they choose.”
“So you would accept one of your children betraying the Ordnung and descending into a Godless life?”
“I accept that God might call my kinner to a different life than the one I've prepared them for, and I insist that they respect our customs while under my roof.”
“But not otherwise?”
“My kinner are not running wild, if that's what you're trying to imply.”
“And yet your daughter is not home most nights of the week, and she occupies her days with useless Englischer education.”
Isaac slammed his fist against the table. “It's not useless, daed! Do we not see doctors once a year, and receive Englischer vaccinations as children, and go to the hospitals when we're hurt? How is that useless?”
Jacob's voices softened when he looked on his son. “That's not what I meant, Isaac.”
“Then why won't you even try to like her? You haven't even talked to her since you've arrived.”
“I--”
“It's why Luke left,” Isaac said. “You wouldn't even speak with his wife because she was an Englischer, and I know you had mamm tell him not to visit for Christmas dinner.”
“He'd chosen his path,” Jacob said. “I see no reason to have his Englischer ways corrupt our other children.”
“It's just not fair,” Isaac said, his hand a tight fist beside his plate.
“Isaac?” Jacob rested his palm on his son's shoulder.
Isaac neither relaxed nor turned away from the touch. “Daed, you have to stop driving everyone away. It's not the Ordnung or God, it's just your fear.”
“Deacon Hilty?” Mary stood up and leaned over the table to touch the older man. He had fallen asleep, his cheek resting against his hand. “Deacon Hilty, wake up! We're going to have dessert.”
Deacon Hilty nodded but he didn't raise his head. “I'm fine.”
His forehead had a thin sheen of sweat, and the red of his face had paled. Judith's heart began to pound. “Deacon Hilty,” she asked, “Are you having any pain in your chest.”
“I'm prone to heartburn, Judith, nothing to worry about.”
“Judith, what's going on?” Isaac asked.
“It's just like...” Of course, after the CPR class her daed's death had been at the fore of her thoughts, so naturally she would see it whenever there was any similar situation. Yet she felt an overwhelming urge to send someone to get help, an ambulance, and a low level fear that things were about to get much, much worse.
Dear God, what do I do? Judith prayed. She'd hardly leave a good impression on Isaac if she cut their dinner short and sent one of the kids running to make a call that their guest was having heartburn. Still, was her pride an acceptable price for his life should the worst turn out to be the case?
“Mamm,” Judith said. “I think we might need to send for an ambulance.
“Are you sure?” Esther said.
Judith bit her lip. “I think...yes...”
Esther turned to Miriam, “Miriam, go down to Annie's and see if you can use their phone.”
“Don't you think the girl might not be overreacting?” Jacob said.
“I trust my daughter.”
Judith didn't have time to reflect on her mamm's words before Deacon Hilty fell forward, his face contorted with agony.
“Oh my God!” Miriam shouted.
“Get him down on the floor,” Judith ordered. “And unbutton his collar.”
Isaac and Rachel's daed took Deacon Hilty up, hooking their arms beneath his armpits, then lowering him to the floor. “Shake him and see if you can wake him,” Judith said, remembering the steps of her training.
Isaac put a palm on each of the deacon's shoulders and shouted, “Deacon Hilty!” The silence that followed was chilling.
Judith lifted her skirts and ran around the table to where the two men were kneeling over the deacon. “Is he breathing?”
Isaac lowered his head to the deacon's chest looked out over his chest. “It's not moving,” he said after about ten seconds.
Miriam burst into tears.
Esther said, “Hezekiah, you go to the big road and see if you can't flag down a car to get help. Miriam, wipe your eyes so you can see. You have to run to Annie's and use the phone. Dial 911. Deacon Hilty needs a doctor. Go!”
The two children stood together and ran for the door.
“Check for the pulse,” Judith ordered.
Isaac felt at his neck and then said, “I can't feel it,” he said, flustered. “But you check. Maybe I'm wrong.”
Judith repeated the process, noting how the Deacon's lips had taken on a bluish-white cast and that his chest neither moved, nor could she feel any beat in his neck to indicate he had a pulse. She reached down into her apron and pulled out the mouth protector. Her hands were too sweaty and it slipped from her fingers, sliding across the floor. “Forget it,” Judith muttered, and leaned the deacon's head back, pinched the nose and gave him two long breaths. Then she straddled his stomach and began the compressions.
“I'll do the next breaths,” Isaac said, and Judith looked over at him with gratitude. She continued until her arms were aching. “We'll have to switch,” she said.
“Ja.”
Judith and Isaac alternated breath and heartbeat for the deacon, the prayers and conversation of the others in the room becoming a dull noise that hardly penetrated the aching of her body and fear in her heart that in spite of everything she'd learned, in spite of how hard she'd tried, she and Isaac were failing.
Isaac took over the chest compressions again, and Judith, giving the two breaths, knelt to Deacon Hilty's ear. “Please, you have to fight,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “You have a wife, and a baby coming, and four other kinner. You can't go to God's hands yet and leave them alone. You just can't.” She pleaded with him between breaths, checking his pulse periodically, praying that it had returned, but feeling nothing under her fingers.
Judith couldn't look away from the deacon, so pale and still, their work and prayers falling like sand upon his unresponsive body. Had he already died? Where was the ambulance?
“Judith--it's been over five minutes!” Her mamm said. “How long do you keep doing this?”
“I'm not stopping,” Judith said, and breathed again for the deacon.
A hand gripped Judith's shoulder, and she flinched. “Let me help.” It was Rachel. Surprised, Judith said, “Breathe for him, and talk to him. I'll help Isaac with the chest compressions.”
Judith and Isaac alternated doing the chest compressions. When the ambulance came with blaring siren and red flashing lights, Judith's arms were limp noodles and her back, shoulders, and forearms a massive, throbbing ache. One of the EMTs, a uniformed man with a long, deep brown beard, said, “We'll take it from here,” in English. For a moment, Judith didn't understand. He repeated himself, this time in Pennsylvania Dutch. Shocked, Judith looked up. “You're Amish!”
“Ja,” he said, and then after checking the deacon over briefly, had her to move aside. He continued with the CPR as a man and a woman came running in with a gurney and Englischer medical equipment. Ju
dith swayed, the exhaustion catching up to her as she was left with nothing to do but watch. The three worked together to get Deacon Hilty up onto the gurney. “We're going to need to intubate,” the Amish man said, still performing CPR as the others ran the deacon's gurney to the ambulance.
Judith and Isaac followed, with their parents behind.
The EMTs lifted the gurney, Deacon Hilty atop, into the ambulance. The female EMT, her dark brown hair pulled back in a bun, asked, “Are you two his children?”
“Nee. Deacon Hilty's wife and kinner are at her sister's,” Judith explained. “It's about an hour by buggy. He was visiting today to help Rachel's daed in the fields.”
“Okay, I need someone to contact them and tell them to go to Lancaster Hospital. I've got room for one to ride along.”
“Judith works at the hospital,” Isaac said. “Go ahead.”
Judith gave him a quick, grateful smile and climbed up. As horrible as it would be to see her efforts with the deacon be in vain, it would be worse to be left behind to wait.
Judith did her best to stand back from the frantic work that was going on around her. They'd put a heart monitor on the deacon, but it was silent. “V-Fib,” someone said. Judith recognized some of what the EMTs were saying from her own conversations with the nurses at the hospital, but so much of it went over her head.
The quick, calm, and competent actions of the EMTs awed Judith. The Amish man especially impressed her. She'd heard of the occasional Mennonite working with an ambulance team, but not an Amish man. This one looked to be in his mid-thirties, smooth skinned except for an eleven-shaped wrinkle between his brows.
“Defibrillator,” the Amish EMT ordered.
Dear God, Judith prayed, please don't take him so soon. He has a kinner, and a baby on the way. Please don't let it all have been in vain. Please.
There was a terrifying moment of silence after shock was applied, and then the deacon's pulse sounded through the ambulance, a steady metronome. “We've got a good pulse!” the Amish EMT said.