by Amy Lillard
Chapter Five
Church. It was the one and only thing that Levi couldn’t avoid. It wasn’t that he wanted to skip out on God. He simply wanted to get away from all the sad looks cast his way. All the pitying stares coupled with other people’s obvious happiness over the upcoming holiday made him miss Mary all the more.
He didn’t blame the others. It was all him. Therefore he should be the one taken out of the equation. He would be better off if he stayed at home. And he wondered how others felt when they spotted him. Did he ruin their holiday spirits? He supposed it was inevitable. He couldn’t manage a smile. Hadn’t been able to since they had placed his Mary and their child together in the ground. Everyone else would be better off if he stayed at home. They could talk about gift giving and parties, present exchanges and every other festive thing they had planned, without accidentally catching sight of his melancholy face. When he had said as much to Mims, she had told him that he was being melodramatic.
Maybe, but it was how he felt all the same.
He buttoned the last button on his vest and headed back to the kitchen. Puddles had gone outside for the morning. She hadn’t given birth during the night. He was wondering if she was overdue to have the pups or if she was merely carrying a large litter. Only time would give the answer.
The clock above the sink told him he had fifteen more minutes before he had to leave. He didn’t want to get to church any earlier than he had to. He was only going because it was expected of him. As far as he was concerned, he could stay in his rocking chair all morning, praying and reading the Bible, and get just as much connection with God as if he had ridden all the way over to Strawberry Dan’s.
Dan Swartzentruber was the minister for their district and about the worst preacher Levi had ever heard. Not that he was trying to be mean, but he had such a hard time staying awake when Dan was delivering their Sunday message. It wasn’t that the man had nothing important to say. He took his allotment as minister very seriously and studied his Bible every chance he got. As a result he knew the Lord’s word forward and backward. He just wasn’t a good speaker. With any luck though, Dan wouldn’t be preaching today and Levi wouldn’t have to worry about his mind wandering to places where it shouldn’t go, which it seemed to do most of the time these days.
Once Christmas was over, he told himself. Surely things would settle down for him once Christmas was over.
He poured himself one last cup of coffee and leaned a hip against the sink. As he drank it, he looked out over the yard. He could just see the barn off to the right, his toolshed on the left, and the road just beyond the large tree that sat at the entrance of his property. Mims and Mary had planted it years ago, when he and Mary had first gotten married. The two women had decided that they needed a tree there for shade when they were trying to pull out onto the road, and it would block curious passersby from taking pictures or just gawking.
Opposite the tree was the little shed where Mary had sold pot holders and button necklaces to the English who happened by. She had also canned pie filling and pickled vegetables—okra, beets, and cucumbers. One wall of the shop had been reserved for his smaller leather goods. Key chains embossed with every letter of the alphabet. They were always popular. Dog leashes, dog collars, and braided bracelets. The last one he had to get special permission to sell, but when the bishop saw that the bracelets were made from the scraps from other projects, he approved them since they represented a lack of waste. Their community was nothing if not frugal.
Levi took another sip of his coffee and let his gaze wander a bit more. Behind the shop and just between it and the barn was his leather shop. It was almost as big as his barn, since he had to have room to hang leather that he was dying or stretching. He also had to have plenty of room for saddles. He did saddle refurbishing and repair for the English and Amish alike. Though truth be told, not many Amish owned a saddle. When they wanted to ride a horse, most Amish kids simply grabbed a handful of mane, hoisted themselves up, and rode bareback.
His coffee had cooled and his fifteen minutes were up. If he didn’t leave now, he would be late. Just on time was okay, but late not at all. Levi poured the coffee down the sink and set the mug upside down inside it. He’d wash it when he got back home.
He made sure all the lanterns were extinguished—a habit, really. He hadn’t lit any when he got up, but Mary had always done the same. Maybe it made him feel closer to her to perform her rituals. Or maybe he was avoiding the inevitable as long as possible. Coat, hat, and he was ready to go. As ready as he could be, anyway.
His horse was hitched to his buggy and tied to the post. She stood, ready and waiting for him to come out of the house. Levi shut the door behind him. The mare snorted and stamped her foot as Levi approached. Her breath was steamy in the cold December morning.
Church today. Then two weeks of quiet and solitude—Mims and well-wishers aside—and it would be Christmas. As unusual as it was, Christmas fell not only on a Sunday, but on a church Sunday. Maybe it was for the best. He would have to go unless he fell ill, but at least he wouldn’t have to spend Christmas morning with his folks and his sister thinking about how much he missed Mary and how, if ever, he was going to heal from the heartache.
* * *
“You’re not dressed.”
At her mamm’s words, Tillie looked down at herself. She was dressed in perfectly acceptable clothing. For the English world, that was. She had on a long skirt, boots, and a sweater that may have molded a little too closely to her belly, but finding modest English clothes was a chore at best. Trying to find modest English clothes when you were pregnant was almost impossible. It seemed that English women were proud of their growing bellies and liked to wear clinging shirts and dresses to show them off.
“You’re not dressed for church,” Mamm corrected before Tillie could say a word.
“Church,” she murmured. She wasn’t dressed for church because she wasn’t going. Her arrival in town had caused enough of a stir, she surely didn’t want to shock everyone out of their shoes by showing up at church. But how did she tell Mamm that?
“I don’t have a dress.” Relief washed over her. She couldn’t go to church without a proper dress. And even though Amish dresses were pinned in order to give a woman a little more room, one of her old dresses surely wouldn’t be big enough to accommodate her large belly.
Mamm seemed almost resigned as she looked her up and down. Then she snapped her fingers, her face lighting up like the sun. “I know. Anna.”
Tillie inwardly groaned. Her sister-in-law. Jim’s wife. It had been a few years since she’d had a baby, but she was still in those years and surely she wouldn’t have gotten rid of maternity dresses.
Before Tillie could protest—not that it would have done any good—Mamm bustled out the door and over to her brother’s house.
It only took a few minutes for her mother to run to Anna’s and come back with a beautiful purple dress. Only a few minutes, but long enough that Tillie knew there was no getting out of church.
She sighed a bit as Mamm handed her the dress. Then shook out the white cape and apron for her to put on next. “Let me know if you need help pinning it over your middle.”
Tillie nodded.
“Breakfast in ten.” Her mother smiled and Tillie stopped obsessing over what everyone was going to say at church. Going was making her mamm happy, and that’s all that mattered. Though she did worry just a bit.
She took the borrowed clothing back into her bedroom and started to undress. Christmas was two weeks away exactly, which meant that after this morning, the next service would happen on Christmas. And as much as she dreaded going today, she was sort of looking forward to church on Christmas Day. In her entire life she never remembered that happening. Church and Christmas and all her family there. All but Leah, Jamie, and Peter. It was good for them, but a little sad to Tillie that her sister had joined the Mennonite church. She had such fond memories of sitting next to her, sometimes between Leah and Hannah, some
times not, as they waited for church to be over. At the time they were old enough to know that they needed to be paying attention, and they did their best, but three hours was a long time even if it was broken up with songs and prayer.
The soft purple dress slipped easily over her head and adequately covered her midsection. The fabric smoothed over her like a caress, like the touch of an old friend, even though she had never worn this particular dress before. But being back in Amish clothes felt good, proper. As if she had made the right decision by coming back. Even if she couldn’t stay.
To say it hadn’t been easy to walk away and leave the new life that she had built with Melvin behind was an understatement. Yet as hard as that was, she knew English life wasn’t for her. Returning in shame hadn’t been a cakewalk either. But she was here now. And going to church. She just wished Melvin was here too.
She pulled her hair down from its simple bob and refixed it into the style she had worn for most of her life. Then she pinned her prayer kapp into place. Slipped into a pair of thick black stockings. Her church shoes were in the closet where she had left them. She put them on when instead she really wanted to wear her black lace-up boots. They were much more comfortable. Or maybe it was an act of rebellion.
Once her outfit was complete, she turned in front of the mirror to view herself from every angle. Anyone who hadn’t heard the news that she had returned was going to be in for a big surprise. The thought made her giggle, though it shouldn’t have. There would be those who would say that they always knew she was going to end up with a shamed life. That running around with Melvin Yoder had been her first mistake. Let them talk. She was here now, doing her best to make amends. No one could fault her for that.
A light knock sounded on the door just a moment before her mother peeked her head inside. “All set?”
Was she? “Jah,” Tillie said, though she wasn’t entirely convinced that she was telling the truth. She needed to be all set. This was going to be her life from here on out. With any luck though, most people would be too busy during the meal after church talking about Christmas and all the things they had planned to notice Tillie Gingerich and her new, altered state.
That would never happen.
But the thought was nice.
Her mother slipped a hand around her shoulders and pulled her into a one-armed hug. Tillie met her mother’s gaze in the mirror’s reflection.
“I’m sorry,” she said, tears stinging her eyes. “I never meant to cause you shame.”
Mamm kissed her high on the forehead. “Hush that. You may have made mistakes, but once you ask for forgiveness then all will be forgiven.”
But not forgotten. Never truly forgotten.
And without Melvin . . .
“Jah,” Tillie managed. She wasn’t sure what else to say. Without Melvin at her side she wouldn’t be allowed to remain. What did she think was going to happen? That she would ask forgiveness and then be allowed to raise her child, the only single mother among the Pontotoc Amish? Single and never widowed. Even if by some chance that happened, she would be permanently shamed. She knew. Parents would point at her and warn their children about the perils of the English world.
No. She just needed Melvin to care enough to come after her.
And stay.
It seemed like with all the trials she faced her plan would be a little more involved. But God had a plan. That much she could be sure about. What that plan could be was a different matter altogether.
* * *
Levi shifted in his seat and tried not to appear too uncomfortable. But at times like this all he could think about was being back at home. It shamed him to think that he couldn’t stay among his friends without wanting to escape. He wondered when those feelings would end.
Strawberry Dan droned on and on about the dangers of the world and the decisions and the mistakes that people made.
Levi did his best to absorb God’s word, but it felt like the sentences were flying over his head, missing him entirely. It was a fanciful notion, but it seemed that’s where he spent most of his time, in those crazy thoughts that sometimes had him worrying about his own self. Time, everyone said. He needed time to adjust, to mourn, to come to terms with everything and all the changes that had happened in his life. It would be better after the holidays, better once Christmas had passed. Better when there was more time between now and the tragedy. But time always seemed to drag on more slowly each day, each hour, each minute. Or maybe he was just tired.
He hadn’t slept well in weeks, months. Not since Mary had stood up from the rocking chair on their front porch and collapsed into his arms. She hadn’t spoken, just looked up at him with those crystal blue eyes of hers as the life seeped out of her.
Tears stung his eyes. He blinked them back, ashamed that he had allowed his mind to wander so much during church. He was supposed to be receiving God’s word, and every time he came to church he prayed for understanding. Still it hadn’t come.
And Strawberry Dan continued to talk about the dangers outside their community.
Levi had never been tempted by the English world, never thought once about it. Maybe because he had Mary. But even now he had no desire to leave, though today could be the perfect day to preach on the subject.
It wasn’t often, but times did arrive when the sermon didn’t quite pertain to him. And it made it harder to sit and listen and be patient and not just walk out. An unforgivable thing to do.
That seemed to be where he lived these days. On the line between acceptable and not acceptable. He supposed he still had his reasons. It had only been two months since he lost Mary and the baby. But that two months would soon be three and then four and then enough time that any transgressions that he had, any eccentric behavior that he displayed, would not be as easily forgiven.
He shifted in his seat and let his gaze wander across the room to where the ladies sat. He had always found it a bit of a distraction to sit opposite the women of the district. Or maybe it was just sitting opposite Mary. He would look over and see her, and she was always enthralled by what was being said. Or maybe she was merely obliged to be interested. Then, as if she knew he was looking at her, she would turn to him. She would give him a little smile. He would smile back. Then she would look away, look down at her lap, lean a little closer to her mother, and the moment would be broken.
His gaze stopped at the spot where Mary used to sit. Tillie Gingerich. He knew her, sort of. Though he almost didn’t recognize her. She was David Gingerich’s younger sister. He and David were good friends, or they had been before Levi had married. David had never married, and consequently they no longer hung with the same crowd. Was it easier never to have loved at all? And he wondered why David had never married. It was much easier to think about that than his own troubles. David had always been a little slow. Levi thought he had some trouble reading, but he was a good man with a good heart. He had his own land, worked with his father and brother at the shed company, and otherwise had a good and godly life. Levi had never understood why David remained a bachelor. Maybe he hadn’t found the girl for him. Or maybe he wanted to avoid the chance at the heartache that was now Levi’s very existence.
But this was Tillie. He didn’t know her that well. As well as he knew anyone in Pontotoc. It was a small community. He knew she was the youngest of the children. She ran with Melvin Yoder, no relation to him that anyone could remember, and a few months back, he couldn’t remember when, she had run off with Melvin so he could build engines and fix cars in the English world. If she was back, Levi supposed that hadn’t worked out so well. But he hadn’t seen Melvin. Not that it mattered.
Melvin had always liked to fix engines. Some of the gas-powered engines that they were allowed to use. But in their conservative community there weren’t many. A man couldn’t make a living out of repairing engines alone. Even Levi couldn’t make a living out of just leatherwork. He still farmed peanuts and soybeans. He didn’t have a big crop; just enough to keep his family going. It was th
e way with most of the Amish in the area. They had their little shops, farming, a special trade like leatherwork or furniture making. All those things together made for a successful farm. Levi shifted his gaze to the men in front of him. He was seated in about the middle, so there were just as many behind him as in front, but he didn’t see Melvin Yoder among those before him. He could just as easily be behind, or still back in the English world. Levi wondered.
It wasn’t that it mattered, but thinking about other people kept his mind off his own problems.
His gaze wandered back toward Tillie Gingerich. He wasn’t sure why she drew his attention again, but there she was. As if sensing his stare, she looked to him. Her hazel eyes were questioning. She didn’t smile like his Mary would’ve done. She merely looked away. The moment was further broken when they were asked to stand, kneel, and pray.
It was the last prayer before they were dismissed. It was cool outside, so everyone would meet in the barn to have their after-church meal, not that Levi was staying. He was headed out just as soon as the crowd started milling around.
Time, that was what he needed. Time. And to leave as soon as he could. With any luck he could scoot away when everyone was talking and milling around before they ate and no one would miss him. Not even Mims.
That wasn’t true. He had other family that would wonder where he had disappeared to—a grandfather, a father, and a mother. And there wasn’t much at all his sister missed.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Levi stopped and closed his eyes, then he turned to face Mims. “I’m going to get my horse.” He should leave it at that, get his horse, hitch her to the buggy, and get out of there while he still could. But he couldn’t handle the disappointment in Mims’s eyes. He loved his sister; he didn’t want her saddened. Even if it meant he was having a tougher time than she.
“You can’t keep running away, Levi. The people here care about you.”
He knew that. They cared, and some cared almost too much. It was him, that was the problem. He got upset with people who didn’t talk about Mary. He got upset if he thought they talked about Mary too much. He got upset when people told him that grieving took time, and he got upset when people told him that soon it would be time to move on. That it would be time for him to find his way. And he couldn’t do it in the shadow of conflicting advice, conflicting looks, and his own conflicting thoughts.