Promise Lodge

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Part of Rosetta wished she hadn’t gone down this conversational trail, because she recalled feeling the same romantic fervor, the same endless hope, when she’d been her nieces’ age. But it was time to let the girls know that she felt happy and fulfilled with the maidel life God had granted her—time to explain that the single life offered opportunities rather than a reason to feel shame or loneliness.

  “Truth be told, the right young man was courting me when I was twenty—your age, Phoebe,” Rosetta replied with a wistful smile. “Tim was helping my dat take down a dead tree. He was climbing up high to saw off some of its branches, and the top section of the tree gave way. When Tim hit the ground, his neck broke—and the accident broke our spirits for a while, too.”

  Laura’s face fell and tears filled Phoebe’s eyes. “I—we had no idea,” she murmured.

  Rosetta smiled sadly. “We didn’t talk about it much. You were a wee little girl when it happened and Laura wasn’t yet born,” she explained. “A few years later, both Mamm and Dat started having health problems, so it was the natural order of things for me to stay home and look after them—not that I wanted to get serious about anybody after Tim passed away. I was sure he’d been the man God intended for me to marry.”

  Rather than get into a theological discussion about why God had allowed her beau to die, Rosetta smoothed the butterfly quilt beneath the two pillows with their embroidered cases. “Mamm and I enjoyed sewing together, so I cherish the pieces we made because we passed many happy hours,” she remarked. “Several of those quilts are still in my trunk, and now I’ve got the perfect place to use them. Come and see my other wild quilt!”

  Rosetta playfully steered the two girls into the next room. She grabbed the edge of the quilt she’d left on the unmade bed and shook it open. “Can you tell your grandma didn’t make this one, either?” she teased.

  Laura laughed while she and Phoebe straightened the colorful coverlet to get a better look at its oddly shaped pieces. “What are these? Why did you cut the fabric skinny at one end and pointy at the other?”

  Rosetta smiled. “Those are neckties that English men wear for dress-up,” she explained. “I cut them in half and then positioned them with the narrow end of one against the wider end of another one.”

  “And then you sewed them onto long fabric panels and joined the panels with this bright blue fabric,” Laura said. “Where did you get so many neckties? There must be dozens of them here, with so many colors and patterns my eyes don’t know where to focus first!”

  “Jah, it was a fun quilt to put together. I was still in my rumspringa, so Mamm allowed me to have a gut time with it—especially since the ties didn’t cost me a cent,” Rosetta went on. “Somebody English dropped bags of neckties into the thrift store’s collection box and the lady who ran the place had no idea what to do with them all. She said they were so out of date, nobody would ever buy them.”

  “I like it!” Phoebe declared.

  “I’m glad you’re getting your pieces out and using them,” Laura said. “These rooms will look really special with your quilts and embroidered pillowcases—and who knows? Maybe some of the ladies who rent your apartments won’t have much bedding or furniture to bring with them.”

  “I thought I’d be ready to provide anything some of them might not have,” Rosetta replied with a nod.

  “And maybe you’ll want to use these, too.” Phoebe fetched the dark wooden plaques she’d left in the other room. “We found a whole bunch of them in the closet we’re cleaning out.”

  Rosetta’s eyes widened. “Kids must’ve made these while they were attending camp,” she speculated. “Think how much time it took to spell out the Lord’s Prayer with alphabet soup letters, and then glue on the words and the macaroni trim around the edges!”

  “And this one is the Twenty-Third Psalm,” Laura said, holding another plaque so Rosetta could see it. “We found plaques made with different colors of dried beans and corn, too.”

  “Pictures of chickens and roosters and flowers,” Phoebe elaborated, “along with a really large one of the Last Supper.”

  “And we found a big angel hanging that somebody crocheted with tiny white thread, but it’s got some brown spots. Mamm thought they might be water stains.” Laura’s whole face lit up with her smile. “We threw away a lot of dried-up glue and melted crayons and faded construction paper, but finding the plaques and pictures was even better than discovering some of the stuff in our attic when we were packing to move here.”

  Rosetta smiled as she imagined the items the girls had described. “Let’s go downstairs and take a look at those pictures. Wouldn’t it be fun to display them in some of the common rooms or hallways? Maybe we can soak that crocheted angel in some vinegar water to remove the stains.”

  As the three of them left the room, Phoebe paused in the doorway for one last look at the necktie quilt. “I bet it took some nerve to get out the linens you’d made for when you got married, Aunt Rosetta,” she said softly. “I’m glad you showed them to us and explained about why you’ve stayed a maidel. I’ve never believed you didn’t have guys wanting to court you—”

  “But now that I know you chose not to marry,” Laura chimed in, “the whole picture of your life makes more sense. You’ve been piecing your path together the way you wanted it, like you did with your unusual quilts.”

  The whole picture of your life . . . piecing your path together ...

  Rosetta hugged her nieces’ shoulders. “I’m so glad you girls understand what I’ve told you,” she said softly. “Your mamm and your aunt Mattie and I are getting our second wind now, after we’ve lost important people in our lives. And you know what? We’re finding out that unattached women don’t have to follow so many rules,” she pointed out. “It’s not a bad thing, being single. But don’t say that to Preacher Amos. Bless his heart, he wants us to be happy in the traditional way.”

  “He wants Aunt Mattie to cook and keep house for him, too,” Laura remarked.

  Rosetta chuckled. “They were sweethearts for a long time before Dat steered Mattie toward marrying Marvin,” she said. “After the way he treated her, though, your aunt is determined not to marry again. We’ll see who wins—your aunt, or Amos.”

  Phoebe frowned, stopping before they descended the back stairway. “Why was Uncle Marvin so mean?” she whispered. “We loved playing with Roman and Noah when we were kids—but not when their dat was home. We never knew when he might get cross with us, or with Aunt Mattie.”

  “Mamm always told us not to gossip about it,” Laura chimed in earnestly. “She said we shouldn’t talk about the Schwartzes’ personal business, nor quiz Aunt Mattie about any bruises we might see.”

  Rosetta listened to her nieces with a sad heart. Their words confirmed the way folks in Coldstream—and in most Amish colonies, she suspected—looked the other way when a man mistreated his wife. If she and her sisters were to end the cycle of abuse here, they would need younger women of Phoebe and Laura’s generation to help them carry out their vow.

  “Part of Marvin’s moods had to do with his diabetes—and the fact he didn’t want a doctor telling him how to manage it,” Rosetta replied. “But I always believed that he could’ve controlled his sharp tongue and his temper, had he wanted to. Unfortunately, Mattie had no way out of their marriage until he died. And we all wonder how Deborah got that big handprint on her neck, too, don’t we?”

  Rosetta gave the girls a moment to consider what she’d said. “Your mamm and Aunt Mattie and I are determined not to keep looking the other way now that we’re starting fresh here in Promise,” she continued earnestly. “We probably shouldn’t quiz Deborah about that bruise, but we can encourage her to talk about what’s been going on in Coldstream. We want her to stay as long as she needs—”

  “But won’t her parents wonder where she’s gone?” Phoebe interrupted. “Why hasn’t she called home?”

  “Deborah’s never been in trouble,” Laura said with wide eyes. “I can’
t believe her dat—or anyone else—would grab her neck so hard.”

  Rosetta sighed. “I agree. And I suspect that within another day or two we’ll know more about it,” she speculated. “Meanwhile, we’re glad Deborah came to us when she was running from trouble. Jah?”

  Both girls nodded again.

  “Shall we go downstairs and see those treasures you found?” Rosetta asked in a more cheerful tone. “We’ll keep Deborah in our prayers. And we’ll keep believing that God knows the truth and that He’ll reveal it when we’re ready to understand it.”

  As they started down the narrow wooden steps, Laura’s chuckle echoed in the stairwell. “We learned some truth about you today, Aunt Rosetta,” she teased. “No matter what you think, I’m not giving up on Mr. Right finding you here at Promise Lodge.”

  “Me, neither,” Phoebe insisted in a lighter tone.

  Rosetta laughed as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “Meanwhile, I’m moving ahead with my plans for these apartments and my new life,” she told them. “Hanging around and waiting for a man to show up? Not my style!”

  Chapter Eight

  “How long can you stay with us, Deborah?” Laura asked as she cracked eggs for the cookie dough.

  “It’s so gut having you here. Just like old times,” Phoebe chimed in. She stopped cranking the egg beater long enough to flash Deborah a bright smile. “I bet your mamm really misses your help, though.”

  Deborah concentrated on putting peanut butter into a glass measuring cup. This rainy Saturday morning marked her fourth day at Promise Lodge, and she’d known that sooner or later her friends would start asking such obvious questions. The cool, wet weather meant that again they couldn’t work in the garden today. Amos and Noah were helping Roman with the dairy barn renovation, so Rosetta had suggested that the women could spend the day baking breads, cookies, and pies for the deep freeze.

  The kitchen had become very quiet. Deborah could feel Mattie, Rosetta, and Christine watching her as they awaited the answer she didn’t have. After her run-in with Noah, she’d been wondering when he would tell her that she’d worn out her welcome—and that he had no intention of taking her back. But where else could she go if she left Promise Lodge?

  “Even after I nearly ruined your dress, you want me to stick around?” she teased Phoebe.

  “Puh! That’s why I loaned you an old one to paint in,” her friend replied. “I can see why you’d want to keep after Noah, though. He’s basically a gut fellow—”

  “Even if he’s clueless,” Laura added with a laugh. “All the more reason he needs you in his life, jah?”

  Deborah glanced up in time to see Noah’s mamm exchange a glance with her sisters. Mattie put a damp tea towel over her big ball of pie crust dough and crossed the kitchen to join the girls. Deborah’s heart beat faster. Something told her she wasn’t going to get by with hedging any longer.

  “I have a little confession,” Mattie said. She leaned against the big stainless steel sink as though she might rest there a while. “I didn’t want to ask about the bruise on your neck, Deborah, because I recall how awful I used to feel when Marvin took out his frustrations on me,” she began quietly. “But I left a message on your family’s phone saying we’d heard about the Bender barn fire—figuring your mamm would know who’d told us about it and call me back. And she did.”

  Deborah’s breath caught. “I—I meant to let her know I was here,” she said in a tiny voice. “But I was afraid if Dat or one of the kids went to the phone shanty and heard the message before Mamma did, everyone would get upset all over again.”

  Mattie smiled sadly. “Alma waited until your dat was gone on a welding job to call me. She was relieved to know you were here with us, Deborah,” she said gently. “She was worried about where you’d gone after he cast you out.”

  As the friends on either side of her gasped, Deborah’s face prickled with humiliation.

  “What happened?” Laura demanded, slinging her arm around Deborah’s waist.

  “Why did your dat grab you hard enough to make that handprint?” Phoebe murmured, shaking her head. “I was so happy to see you, I didn’t want to ask about it.”

  Once again the scenes from that fateful night at the Bender place flashed through Deborah’s mind. For a few painful seconds she relived the horror of being shoved out of Isaac’s buggy and then retrieved by his English friend, Kerry, only to discover that the lanky redhead was drunk enough to have all the wrong intentions. “Um, what did Mamma tell you?” she cautiously asked Mattie.

  Mattie’s eyes darkened with concern. “She said you got crosswise with your dat—and now the bishop’s upset with you—because you called nine-one-one when you saw the Bender barn was afire instead of ringing the big bell so the local men could douse it. And—like you told us when you got here—Obadiah’s denying his son had any part in it,” she added. “But you made it sound like you saw Isaac there, with your own eyes.”

  “Jah, I did.” Deborah lowered her head. Her throat was so tight she could barely get the words out. “He and his English friends were in the barn smoking and drinking. I suspect one of them tossed a cigarette into the hay or kicked over the lantern—maybe by accident.”

  “Or maybe not!” Laura blurted.

  “Let’s don’t go speculating about that, young lady,” Christine warned her daughter. She and Rosetta came over from the stove, wiping their floury hands on towels. “What else did Alma say, Mattie? Maybe some new facts have come to light since Deborah came here.”

  “Jah, she said Sheriff Renfro came looking for Deborah, wanting to talk to her—”

  Deborah gripped the countertop while her friends sucked in their breath.

  “—on account of how they traced the nine-one-one call to the Peterscheims’ phone shanty,” Mattie went on ruefully. “Eli told the sheriff he couldn’t talk to you. And he told a reporter from the Coldstream paper the same thing. Alma says you’ve really upset the apple cart back home, even though she knows you didn’t intend to cause any trouble.”

  Deborah blinked, determined not to cry. The women gathered around her were her closest friends, and they wanted the best for her. “I didn’t intend to deceive you when I came here, either,” she murmured with a hitch in her voice. “But I didn’t know what else to do about Rosetta’s barn, knowing how Isaac Chupp always wiggles out of the problems he causes. I was afraid you wouldn’t let me stay here if you knew—”

  “Oh, Deborah, we know you don’t go looking for trouble!” Laura insisted as her hug tightened. “If you say you saw Isaac and his friends in the barn, they were there.”

  “And your mamm suspects those boys got rough with you,” Mattie went on in a strained whisper. “She was mighty worried when you didn’t come home until nearly dawn the day after the fire, and you looked like you’d been in a bad scuffle. Are—are you all right, dear?”

  Deborah wanted the floor to open up and swallow her, even though she knew Noah’s mother had her best interests at heart. Mattie wasn’t coming right out and asking, but she was wondering just how involved Isaac and his friends had gotten with her. Laura and Phoebe were holding their breath. Christine’s hand fluttered to her heart and Rosetta’s eyes widened with concern as they awaited her answer.

  “Isaac shoved me into his buggy when he heard the sirens, to get us out of town before the sheriff and the fire engine got to the barn,” Deborah began. “And then after we went down a lot of dark back roads, he—he started touching me and kissing me. Said I’d better let him do whatever he wanted, to make up for calling nine-one-one about him and his buddies.” Deborah hung her head, still stinging with fear and humiliation.

  “When I slapped him, he made me get out of the rig. Then he grabbed my neck and shoved me into the ditch beside the road,” she rasped, covering the bruise with her hand. “It was pitch-dark and I had no idea where I was. Somewhere along the line I’d lost my kapp. My stockings got muddy and torn up when I landed in the ditch and scraped my knees. It took me a l
ong time to find my way back home.”

  “And your dat took that to mean that Isaac and his friends had . . . taken advantage of you?” Christine asked in a horrified whisper. “And that you’d allowed them to?”

  Deborah felt as limp as a balloon that had lost all its air. “He said I’d had no business going over to a burning barn, and that any virtuous Christian girl would’ve run the other way when she’d seen a bunch of boys drinking in there.”

  Before she could draw another breath, the three women and her friends huddled around her. They took her into their arms, murmuring their comfort and apologies. While it felt wonderful to have the support of these lifelong friends, Deborah still felt sick at heart. Was it a sin if she didn’t reveal the rest of the story, about how Kerry had caught up to her and—

  “Your mamm was afraid your dat had jumped to such conclusions,” Mattie’s voice cut into her dire thoughts. “And when the bishop claimed his son wasn’t anywhere near the Bender barn that night, Alma said Eli went along with him to keep the law from getting further involved. Then when you got home in the wee hours, your dat made you leave—as though you were to blame for the condition your clothes were in.”

  “It makes no sense for Eli to say Isaac wasn’t in the barn and then to suspect his daughter was stirring up trouble with him,” Rosetta muttered. “I’m so sorry it happened this way, Deborah. Thank the Lord those boys didn’t hurt you right off and leave you in that burning barn.”

  “Jah, you’re here with us now, and you’re safe,” Phoebe said with a nod.

  Even as relief washed over her, Deborah sensed this nasty situation wasn’t behind her. What if Isaac found out where she was and came after her? Would he sneak in and set fire to the buildings at Promise Lodge, just for spite? Or was she letting her imagination run amok now that she could finally discuss what had happened on the night of the fire?

  It did no good to worry about such what-ifs, however. She had more immediate problems to consider. “Please don’t tell Noah,” Deborah pleaded. “For some reason he thinks I ended our engagement so I could be with Isaac, and—and I can’t seem to convince him that’s not true.”