A Simple Singing

by Leslie Gould

  The sound of a horse and buggy coming up the drive caught my attention.

  Bishop Jacobs took his hat off and ran his hand through his hair. “Speaking of . . .”

  It was Elijah. He sat tall on the buggy bench, his straw hat perched atop his head. His jacket was open, showing his white shirt and suspenders. My heart swelled at the sight of him.

  He smiled and took off his hat and waved. I waved back and started toward him, stretching my stride as long as I could make it. He jumped down and tied the horse to the hitching post close to the house and then ambled toward me. When we reached each other, he lifted me up and spun me around, which was quite a display of affection, considering his father was a few yards away.

  As he put me down, he said, “I’ve missed you.”

  “Jah,” I said. “I’ve missed you too.” I smiled up at him. “You’re here—ready for the rest of your life.”

  “Our life,” he answered, and then tugged at the collar of his shirt.

  I knew the transition would be a challenge for Elijah—he would have to adjust to so many changes—but my heartbeat quickened nonetheless. He was home. Ready to start his new life, with me.

  Arden came out from the barn to greet Bishop Jacobs and Elijah. Gordon stood in the doorway, but he didn’t venture our way.

  I hoped I’d have some time with Elijah, but he and his Dat were soon on their way home. No matter. I’d see him the next day. I headed back to the house as Arden, Gordon, and the boys started setting up the benches in the shop.

  24

  The next morning, Elijah arrived late to the service, Billy at his side. They snuck in the back and down the side aisle on the men’s side during the singing. Billy was dressed Amish too, which made me smile. I hardly recognized him not wearing shorts and a T-shirt.

  When I turned my head back to the front, Bishop Jacobs was staring at his son. He had a stoic look on his face, and I couldn’t tell if he was pleased he’d arrived or annoyed he was late.

  The service continued with another song, then a scripture reading, and then a sermon from Bishop Jacobs from Proverbs 22:6. Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it. It wasn’t as if he were preaching on the prodigal son, but still it seemed to be inspired by Elijah’s homecoming. For a moment, I feared Elijah might disappoint his Dat again. If he did, he’d disappoint me too.

  Surely he wouldn’t. Both the bishop and I had invested our trust in him. He knew how much we cared for him.

  I snuck out just before the service ended and headed to the house to join Mamm and Aenti Suz in the kitchen. We put out the dishes from the church wagon, arranged the bread and peanut butter spread, and stirred the soup one more time. Soon the men were setting up the tables. Finally, Elijah and Billy came into the house, each carrying a bench.

  After the first group was seated to eat, I found Elijah and Billy huddled by the front door as if they were ready to dash.

  I asked Billy what he did with his car. He frowned. “I left it with Paula. She’s decided to go to college. She can use it to get back and forth.”

  “But she doesn’t have her license.”

  “She’ll get it soon.” He appeared grim. “I taught her how to drive last month. She’s the only one out of all of us who is going to stay Englisch.”

  I gave him a sympathetic look, guessing he missed her, even though Elijah had told me the two weren’t going out anymore and even though Paula had said they never really were.

  Elijah, seemingly oblivious to Billy’s mood, grinned. “Everyone who’s overzealous needs a car.”

  I didn’t react. I knew he was joking, but I wasn’t sure if Billy did. He looked so sad.

  “So are you coming to the singing with Elijah tonight?” I asked Billy.

  He gave Elijah a questioning look.

  “Jah, he is.” Elijah fixed his gaze on me. “He needs to get over Paula as soon as possible.”

  Something was up, but I couldn’t figure out what.

  The rest of the day went without incident. Elijah left soon after he and Billy ate. By the time we’d cleaned up from the noon meal, we had a couple of hours to rest until it was time for the singing. Vi was doing the snacks because it was going to be Milton’s first singing, so at least I didn’t have to worry about that.

  Surprisingly, Elijah and Billy were among the first to arrive. I took that as a good sign. We all chatted outside of the shed, and then just before it was time to go in, Billy wandered off to chat with some other girls.

  “So,” Elijah said. “Want to go to a party with us tonight?”

  “When?”

  “After the singing,” he said.

  “Where’s the party?”

  “Down by Strasburg. At a friend of Billy’s.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Why not?”

  I did my best to keep my voice calm. “I thought you came home to join the church.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m going to the party. I have two weeks until I start the class. I don’t have much time left.”

  “But I already joined the church.”

  “You didn’t act like it when you were in Florida.”

  My face warmed. “I didn’t go to any parties. Not where there was drinking or anything.”

  He shrugged. “I asked my buddies not to drink around you, is all.” He poked me in the side. “There you go getting all uptight. I thought you’d changed.”

  I took a step away from him. “I thought you’d changed.”

  He laughed. “What do you mean? I’ve always been honest with you about who I am. What you see is what you get.”

  From looking at the Amish clothes he wore, I had believed that he had changed. But he was right. He had been honest with me. He didn’t want to be a farmer. He was joining the church because it was time, because he couldn’t think of anything else to do. He thought I’d make a good Amish wife.

  What had I been thinking?

  Elijah and I sat at tables on opposite sides of the room. Me with the other young women, and Elijah and Billy with the young men, including Milton and a group of his friends.

  In a few years, my nephew would marry. Eventually, he would take over the farm from Arden. Would I end up living in the Dawdi Haus as Aenti Suz had all these years? As the old maid, living off the kindness of my relatives? Jah, it was the Amish way, but I found no comfort in the idea. It wasn’t what I’d ever planned for.

  I also found no peace in the singing.

  I’d come up with a plan that had Elijah as the hub, but what was I willing to sacrifice? Would he ever truly settle down—or only pretend to? As his Dat had once said, Elijah Jacobs was definitely a free spirit. If I married him, what would my role be? Would I always be trying to get him to change? Never accept him as he was?

  Arden was leading the singing and started with “Trusting Jesus, That Is All.” Had I put my trust in Elijah instead of God? Had I, all along, loved the idea of him instead of actually loving him?

  Across the aisle, Elijah elbowed Billy, and they both stifled laughs. Elijah had a lot of good qualities, but we had little in common. Jah, he was Bishop Jacobs’s son. And he’d inherit a farm. Jah, I’d had a lot of fun with him in Pinecraft, and I had to admit he was a good kisser, not that I had anything to compare it with. I was definitely attracted to him—but did that mean I should marry him?

  We finished “Trusting Jesus,” and I mouthed the words to the next one, “Steal Away to Jesus.” Steal away, steal away home, I hain’t got long to stay here. Where was home for me? What did Jesus have for me, if not to be an Amish wife, homemaker, and mother?

  The truth was, I’d been much more focused on home, my idea of home, than I had been on Jesus. On hem lengths and hat widths. On my own desires, not God’s.

  I thought of Ira singing “Steal Away to Jesus” and remembered that it was a Negro spiritual from so long ago. Enslaved people sang the words and meant them. People whose very lives were owned by others. People who had
absolutely no choice where they lived or often even with whom they lived. Who had no control over their homes.

  I had those choices. Was I going to court and perhaps marry a man just because I, and others, expected it? Because it was the easy thing to do?

  The weight of Annie’s story fell on me again. Not only had she not married the man everyone thought she would, she’d also been willing to do everything she could to care for others, to put them first. Could I put others before myself?

  I shuddered. The question wasn’t whether I could, but if I was willing. Was I willing to trust God and make His desires my own? In doing that, I’d truly learn to put others before myself.

  I knew the singing would soon be over. Arden had just started “How Great Thou Art,” but I couldn’t sit still a minute longer, and slipped out the back of the shed. I couldn’t go to the house and face Mamm, so I decided to go to the barn, past all of the buggies and the few cars belonging to those on their Rumschpringe. The weather had stayed warm. I turned and looked at the field where a breeze blew through the top branches of the oak tree. Then my eyes fell on the house, on the back porch where Sophia had died over a century and a half ago.

  The daffodils in the beds along the back of the house were just starting to bloom. Dat had told me once that the bulbs had been planted in the mid-1940s by his Mamm, soon after she married my grandfather and moved onto the Bachmann farm.

  My life was rooted on this property, in this community. Of course I wanted to marry and stay close. I turned back and continued on to the barn. As I pushed open the door, singing greeted me. I groaned. What was Gordon doing in the barn on a Sunday evening?

  As I stepped back, he called out, “Hello?”

  “Ach,” I said, stepping forward. “It’s just me. Marie.”

  He stepped out from a stall.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “A heifer’s in labor and having a hard time. Arden called and asked if I’d check on her.”

  I closed the barn door behind me and started toward him. “How she’s doing?”

  “Mostly she’s scared.” He shrugged. “Which is pretty normal.”

  I stopped at the stall and watched the heifer for a moment. Her tail twitched, and her eyes were big and wild.

  Gordon rubbed his chin. “How come you’re not at the singing?”

  I shrugged. He was the last person I wanted to talk to about my reason. Instead, I still had a burning question for him. “How come you’re still working here? Why didn’t you take the shelter job Tony offered you?”

  He stepped back and leaned against the rail. “That was unexpected.”

  “Why? That job is perfect for you.”

  “And this job isn’t?” He smiled. “I don’t know. I feel at a crossroads.”

  I gave him a puzzled look.

  “It wasn’t the desire of my heart, not at the moment.” He shrugged again. “Perhaps another job will come open at the shelter and the timing will be right, but in the meantime I can still volunteer there and do my job here.”

  I frowned. He hadn’t really answered my question.

  “How about you?” he asked. “I saw Elijah is back. It looks like what you’ve wanted all along is happening.”

  I flinched. “Actually, it’s not.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That I’ve been more focused on my own desires than God’s. And, it seems, more focused on my desires than trusting Him.” I tried to smile, but I’m afraid it came out as a grimace.

  Before Gordon could respond, I told him I needed to get back to the singing.

  “Wait,” he said. “Could we talk? I’ve wanted to—needed to—for quite some time.”

  My heart raced. I wanted nothing more than to talk with Gordon, but I needed to sort things through with Elijah first. And I wasn’t sure how long that would take. “Soon,” I said to Gordon. “I promise.”

  I slipped out of the barn, thinking that my friendship with Gordon had made me more empathetic, more aware of the suffering of others—and more aware of my own shortcomings too. But being around him also made me hopeful that I could become a better person—and friend.

  I stepped back into the shed. “How Great Thou Art” hadn’t been the last song. “Amazing Grace” was. As I sang “how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me” it was as if I were singing the words for the very first time.

  I thought about how determined I’d been to follow all the rules and not sin, but in doing so I’d separated myself from God. I’d been all about following the law and not living by grace—and not showing grace to others.

  I had no idea what God had for me, what He truly wanted my desires to be, but I needed to be willing to do whatever He asked of me. My eyes filled with tears as I sang, but my voice was strong: “I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see.”

  I was just beginning to see clearly. The question was, what would I do with my growing vision?

  Elijah must have sensed my discontent, because he and Billy stayed on the edge of the group during the refreshments. Once they started inching toward the door, I walked over and told Elijah I needed to speak with him.

  “Ach,” Elijah said, “Can’t it wait?”

  I shook my head.

  “All right then,” he said. “But make it fast. Billy and I need to get going.”

  I led the way out the door toward the fence line, where, in the background, our old oak tree was a silhouette against the setting sun. I smiled at Elijah as kindly as I could. “This isn’t what you want, is it?”

  “This?”

  I inhaled, trying to build up my courage. “Your Dat’s farm. Courting me. Marriage.”

  He ducked his head. “It’s not just you. I don’t think I can adjust back to this.” He raised his head and gestured his arm wide.

  “Elijah! Come on!” Billy stood, dangling a set of keys. Either he’d bought another car already or had borrowed one.

  “I’m sorry,” Elijah said.

  “So am I.” And I meant it. I’d been pursuing him under false pretenses too. We’d both hoped the other was a ticket to the future expected of us.

  On Monday and Tuesday, I only saw Gordon at a distance. And that was fine. I still needed time to sort through what had happened.

  On Wednesday afternoon, Bishop Jacobs showed up at our house, asking to talk with me. His expression was grim, and I feared something had happened to Elijah.

  I invited him into the house and offered him a cup of coffee. “No.” He held up his hand.

  “Please sit.” I gestured toward the couch.

  “This won’t take long.” He sat down anyway. “I wanted you to know that Elijah headed back to Florida this morning.”

  “Oh?”

  “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but I have to say I’m disappointed. Everything seemed so promising. Why wouldn’t you court him?”

  “Is that what he said? That I wouldn’t court him?”

  The bishop tugged on his beard. “Basically.”

  “It was more complicated than that,” I answered.

  “Does this have anything to do with Gordon Martin?”

  I shook my head. It did and it didn’t. I knew from the way I felt around Gordon that things weren’t right between Elijah and me. That I couldn’t court and marry someone with whom I didn’t share a spiritual connection. And, honestly, the musical connection didn’t hurt. But it wasn’t as if I’d planned to court Gordon instead.

  Bishop Jacobs crossed his arms. “I knew I should have insisted Arden let him go before Elijah returned.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Jah. Arden and I talked about it, but he was convinced that Gordon wasn’t a problem.” I thought of that day in the woods when Arden seemed concerned about me helping Gordon and the boys. Was that what that was all about?

  “I’m sorry Elijah left,” I said. “There was a time I thought he and I could court, could . . .” My voice trailed off. “But I think there’s a
chance that even if we had started courting he may have returned to Florida anyway.”

  Bishop Jacobs shook his head. “You were the stabilizing force we’d been hoping for, praying for.”

  “I couldn’t control Elijah. You know that.” I sighed. “The fact is, through the years, there were a whole lot of people I thought I should have been able to control. Jessica. Leisel. Even my Dat at times. But I was wrong to try. I should have left the rules I wanted them to follow up to them and God.” I wanted to tell him that the Lord Jesus had been showing me quite a bit about myself as of late, but I feared I’d sound prideful.

  But what was more important? To fear pride or to speak in truth?

  I shared with him that I’d been so set on my desires for my future that I hadn’t even asked God what His desires might be for me. I did tell Bishop Jacobs that I’d been praying about what God would have for me, and that I’d be willing to accept whatever that might be, even if it meant I’d never marry and have a family.

  Then I confessed to playing the instruments at Gordon’s house. It was the first time I’d ever made a confession, and I found it ironic it was about music—and not my self-righteousness, something I should have confessed years ago.

  His eyes narrowed, and after he stated I’d need to confess before the congregation, which I’d expected, he shook his head. “I thought you were more mature than that. This is how people stray from our church and community. I believe you’ve entered dangerous territory. Next thing we know, you’ll be headed back to Pinecraft too.”

  I assured him I wouldn’t.

  He stood. “You’ll be in my prayers, Marie. You’ve always been so level-headed. Don’t be misled by your own fancy thoughts about God’s will and Bible verses taken out of context. Remember our traditions. That’s where your guidance will come from.”

  I walked Bishop Jacobs to the front door and then watched as he lumbered down the steps and to his buggy. I was sorry for the pain Elijah had caused him. And sad that I’d disappointed him too. But, honestly, for the first time, I understood the struggles Jessica had with him. At the time, I thought his responses to her were totally justified. In fact, it was my reporting of her behavior that led him to discipline her. I felt ill at the thought of what I’d done.