by Mary Ellis
Abby laughed, tightening her grip on Catherine’s hand. “I’ve never heard anyone describe courting quite like that, but trust me, no one grows up without suffering some kind of embarrassment. Otherwise we might become prideful and vain.”
“Then I don’t have to worry about those two sins.” The sisters laughed, and for a moment it felt like old times. “I do want to know something, Abby.” Catherine inhaled deeply. “Tell me about Isaiah. I know he’s deaf, but I might be able to help him if I knew how far he went in school and how much training he received for the hearing impaired. Why does Daniel keep him locked away in the woods?”
Abby looked aghast. “Daniel doesn’t keep him locked away. Isaiah chooses to live on his own. His life with his father was very difficult. The man had no patience, and he thought Isaiah wasn’t trying to learn to talk. He couldn’t accept his deafness. Isaiah didn’t do very well in school and never learned to read. The teacher tried her best, but she was ill equipped to handle special needs along with students in eight different grade levels. She taught him to speak some, but only English words. He doesn’t recognize much Deutsch.”
“So Isaiah fell by the wayside, discarded and thought to be simpleminded.”
Abby nodded. “Unfortunately, that’s pretty much what happened until Daniel became aware of the boy’s neglect while we were visiting for a wedding. He invited him to live with us, and his uncle quickly agreed. Isaiah was an embarrassment to him.” She frowned at the memory. “Living with us, the boy learned farming from Daniel. He caught on quickly once things were demonstrated. By the time he was fifteen, he had cleared the brush around that old log cabin in woods. That shack had been falling down, but Isaiah rebuilt it with timber he cut himself and then aged the lumber. Daniel only needed to help with the beams and roofing. When he finished the cabin, Isaiah moved in. He loves being alone, surrounded by God and nature.”
“Does he know God?” Catherine asked.
Abby blinked several times. “What do you mean? God watches over and protects Isaiah the same as everyone else.”
“Of course, but you said he never learned to read. So he can’t read the Bible and can’t hear the sermons in church or Scripture read aloud in the evening.”
“When he shares a meal at our table, he bows his head in silent prayer along with everyone else.”
“He’s mimicking your behavior. He’s never heard a prayer, Abby. And maybe his mamm never taught him about God because she didn’t know how.”
“Now I’m the one embarrassed. I never thought much about it after he found his…safe place in the world.”
Silence prevailed while each woman collected her thoughts. “Isaiah is a good man. I’m sure God won’t hold it against him on Judgment Day because he hadn’t followed a Christian path. After all, He gave Isaiah the disability in the first place.” Abby shrugged her shoulders and glanced at the clock, satisfied with her conclusion.
Catherine pressed on. “It’s not too late. He could learn to read at that school our English neighbor enrolled her twins in.”
Abby’s chin lifted while she wrung her hands. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Daniel’s very protective of his cousin. I don’t think he would permit Isaiah to be sent away to strangers, considering his past experiences in school.”
Catherine opened her mouth to argue, but the guard looming behind Abby’s chair interrupted. “Time’s up, Miss Yost. You can come back next week.” He crossed his arms over his starched uniform.
Catherine thought better of pleading for more time. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said, rising to her feet. “Please don’t worry about your family or me or Daniel’s cousin.”
Abby grinned. “I’ll try my best about the first two, but you have been thinking about Isaiah’s best interests plenty lately. I won’t worry about him.” Her grin turned sly. “It sounds to me like you know him better than just ‘Daniel’s cousin from the back cabin.’ You must have mentioned his name at least a dozen times since you arrived.”
With her cheeks burning with embarrassment, Catherine leaned over to kiss Abby’s cheek. “Forget I said anything. You know how I love to run on about the most inconsequential topics.” She strode toward the door before she melted into a puddle in the middle of the visitation room floor.
Fourteen
When Abby returned to her cell, Rachelle hadn’t come back yet. Blessedly, this gave her some time alone to mull over her sister’s visit. As happy as she was that her kinner were thriving, her heart ached. She was missing so much of their precious young lives. Learning to swim, riding a horse for the first time, picking berries on warm summer afternoons—these were memories every mother cherished. How many milestone events would she miss while locked up in here? The sour taste of bile filled her mouth as she realized she might spend years separated from them. How they will suffer due to the sins of their mother.
And was something happening between Catherine and Isaiah? Or were boredom and her weariness making her see things not really there? And what about Isaiah? Catherine’s questions convicted her of neglecting the young man over the years. When they had moved him to their farm, they had certainly seen to his physical needs. She made sure he ate three balanced meals a day and even baked his favorite banana nut bread on occasion. She had sewn his clothing and provided him with warm winter gloves, boots, and the head coverings he needed—even though he refused to wear hats even on the coldest January days. Daniel had taught him farming—to milk cows, train horses to pull equipment, and how to bring in the harvest. He’d taught him to hunt, fish, and use building tools. Daniel had taken the boy ice skating on frozen winter ponds, swam for hours during the summer, and helped him build a home that would shelter Isaiah all his life.
Abby had felt satisfied, almost smug, that they had provided him with a loving, supportive family when his own family couldn’t be bothered. But what had she done for his spiritual health? It had not even occurred to her that Isaiah didn’t know God.
What good is it if a man gains great riches if he loses his very soul? Isaiah might not find the salvation promised to believers upon their deaths. And in the meantime, he didn’t know the one true Helper, our Guide and Teacher, the One who promised to remain at our side all our lives. Shame rose up her throat, adding to the already bad taste in her mouth.
Catherine had been right. Isaiah went through the motions but didn’t know how to pray. He had never read nor heard Scripture—the only solace for a troubled heart. People in their district assumed Isaiah had been born too slow-witted for religious instruction, but Abby had known the truth and done nothing about it. Sitting in jail, she could no more help Isaiah than she could the rest of her family.
She picked up her Bible, but for several minutes she just clutched it to her chest. Tears streamed down her face, unstoppable, relentless. They soaked her shirt and closed off her throat. Her head pounded, her stomach churned, and her lungs burned from staccato breathing. Her hysterical crying might have soaked through the mattress if her cellmate hadn’t returned and intervened.
“Abby, what is it? What has happened?”
Abby tried to speak but her vocal cords refused to cooperate. She gasped and coughed with a ragged wheezing sound.
“Oh my.” Rachelle pulled hard on her forearm. “Sit up. You can’t lie there like that. You might choke to death.” When Abby didn’t budge, Rachelle pried the Bible from her fingers, set it on the window ledge, and dragged Abby into a sitting position.
Abby bumped her head on the upper bunk, adding to her woes. “Thanks, I’m okay now.” She couldn’t look at her friend.
“Tell me what’s wrong. What are you crying about?” Rachelle handed her a Kleenex and sat down beside her.
Abby dabbed her eyes and blew her nose, feeling a modicum better. “I was thinking about everything I’m missing in my children’s lives. What if they keep me locked up for years? Laura and Jake will forget about me by the time I get out.” She held the balled tissue under her nose to stem the tide.
>
“Don’t be ridiculous. Kids never forget their mothers.” Rachelle handed Abby a box of Kleenex and then moved the wastebasket next to her legs.
“But they change so much within a few months. What will they be like in several years? The best times of their childhood will pass by while I’m locked up.” Abby pulled out several more tissues.
Rachelle pondered this and frowned. “That really does stink, so you can’t think about the future. Stay focused on the moment. Isn’t that what Dr. Phil always says?”
Abby didn’t know a Dr. Phil. She sighed and glanced around the tiny room. “Stay focused on this moment?”
Rachelle’s gaze traveled the same path. “I meant you should concentrate on remembering the details from their last visit. And wasn’t that your sister today? Think about the stories she told you about home. Picture it all in your mind. Don’t let yourself think too far ahead.” She gave Abby’s shoulders a shake and smiled. “Okay?”
Abby nodded. “Good advice. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now, I believe you were going to read until dinner.” Rachelle retrieved Abby’s Bible from the ledge. “I’ll watch TV in the common room to give you peace and quiet until it’s time to eat.” She flashed a toothy smile and sauntered out, closing the door behind her.
Abby watched the doorway long after she’d gone, composing herself. Then she wiped her face and opened the Good Book. The photo of Laura and Jake fluttered out. She stared at their faces until love replaced her sorrow and then tucked the picture away. No Old Testament wars or tribulations today. She needed some of the advice Jesus gave His apostles and they, in turn, imparted to the early Christians. She turned to the book of Ephesians and started to read. Before long, her eyes fell on chapter 5:22-23: “Wives, this means submit to your husbands as to the Lord. For a husband is the head of his wife as Christ is the head of the church…”
She stopped reading. There it was—specific instructions that she should listen to Daniel and take his advice. Yet she had refused to do so. Her reasons were valid. Her motivations to protect another person seemed sound, but maybe every sinner trotted out excuses for his or her behavior. Daniel had the responsibility to follow Scripture and their Ordnung. She only had the responsibility to follow him. But could it be that simple? In this day and age, could a wife, even an Amish wife, blindly do whatever her spouse instructed? Rachelle would laugh at such an old-fashioned notion, but would her mamm? Abby thought about how her mamm enjoyed far more serenity compared to her own turbulent life. Her mamm trusted her daed, and trusted that God wouldn’t allow a Christian husband to stray too far from the path.
Once again Abby stretched out on her bunk and clutched her Bible to her chest. But instead of weeping uncontrollably, racked with physical pain besides emotional turmoil, she closed her eyes and stilled her brain, forcing thoughts of any kind away. Quiet suffused her soul.
All Scripture is inspired by God, she remembered. Make it your goal to live a quiet life.
Bits and pieces of Bible verses she’d learned over the years flitted into her mind and out again as she silently prayed for direction. She asked for God’s grace to fill her heart.
Her headache diminished and then vanished altogether. Moments later, she drifted into blissful, dreamless sleep.
“Abby, wake up.” Someone’s voice pierced the calm place where Abby dwelled. She clamped her eyes tightly shut to block out the intrusion.
“Please get up. You have to see this!” The insistent voice grew louder while somebody worked her arm like a hand pump.
She opened one eye to peer up at Rachelle. “What is it that can’t wait until morning?” she asked softly.
“Morning is a long way off. I let you sleep through dinner and brought you back a sandwich. I know you are exhausted, but I can’t let you miss this.” She pulled again on Abby’s hand. “Come take a look.”
Abby swung her legs off the bunk, licking her lips and swallowing to try to moisten her parched throat. She rose to her feet to follow her roommate. Rachelle was already at the window, looking down on the street below. Abby heard the faint sound of hymns before she reached the tinted glass.
Lining the sidewalk, two and three people deep, Amish men and women stood shoulder to shoulder, their voices raised in song. Each person held a candle, and the flickering light along with the yellow streetlight cast shadows across their faces. Yet, even poorly illuminated, the crowd seemed to be focused on their window. Abby stared, unable to make sense of what she saw. Her chest lifted and fell with each breath as she mutely watched.
“Don’t you get it?” asked Rachelle. “Those people have come to Wooster to support you.” Her grin filled her face. “It’s a candlelight vigil in your honor.” She hooked her arm around Abby’s waist.
Abby leaned closer, her nose nearly pressing against the windowpane. “Can they see me?”
“I don’t think so. This tinted glass makes it tough to see in even though we can see out.”
“Then how do they know I’m in here?” The idea that these people had come to town on her account was baffling.
“Some guard probably told them your cell number. Then it’s not hard to count the windows. This isn’t exactly the state pen.” Rachelle leaned on the glass and appeared to be counting. “Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven…looks like almost fifty people are down there.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as the throng began another hymn, this one louder and more upbeat.
Abby recognized “Just a Closer Walk with Thee” and felt a surge of joy. It was one of her favorites. “But why have they come? I’m nothing more than a common criminal. I did exactly what the judge accused me of.”
“You had your reasons and they must know that. I heard that you Amish stick together—helping out and supporting each other. So that’s what they’re doing. You seem surprised.”
Abby met her roommate’s gaze. “I am surprised. I’ve received no Amish visitors other than my husband and sister. My father is our district’s bishop, but he hasn’t come to see me. I took that to mean the members of my district had turned their backs on me.”
Rachelle rubbed her sleeve against the glass, clearing away some condensation. “Looks like you figured it wrong. The crowd is growing. A bunch of English women have joined them now.”
“My daed,” whispered Abby, thinking aloud. “I wonder if my daed is down there?” With only candles and the thin streetlight, it was hard to recognize anyone. Abby stared, holding her breath. She focused on several taller figures in the back row who were drifting in and out of the light. Then suddenly she spotted the long, snowy beard of her father and the distinctive broad shoulders and long neck of her ehemann. His floppy hat brim gave him away. “It’s them—Daniel and my father. They have come to the vigil.” A lump the size of a boulder formed in her throat.
“See, it’s always darkest before the dawn…or something like that.” Rachelle pulled something from her pocket. “You need to eat while you watch to keep your strength up. You must be hungry.”
“Thank you, Rachelle. You’ve been a good friend. I’m in your debt.” Abby unwrapped the ham-and-cheese sandwich.
“It’s not much, but when this is all over with, maybe you can teach me how to knit someday. I always wanted to learn that.”
“It would be my pleasure.” Abby took a bite and then ate ravenously, her appetite returning.
The two women kept their own vigil by the window for almost an hour. Abby’s spirits soared hearing the voices lifted in song and prayer. When the assembly finally blew out the candles and began to disperse, she waved her hand frantically, despite Rachelle’s comment that no one could see inside.
Folks came from Shreve to Wooster…for me.
She felt unworthy of their support and yet so grateful. The tall man with floppy hat brim had been in the last group to leave. He didn’t extinguish his candle while on the sidewalk, but had walked away with it still burning. Abby stared at the small yellow glow until it disappeared around the corner.
&n
bsp; That night after lights-out, she lay in bed with a sense of peace and sent prayers of thanks to the Great Physician, who knows our needs even before we do. She had a lot to be grateful for and much to contemplate. Before she drifted back to sleep, her path at last became clear.
Of all the days for Daniel to finish work in the fields early, this had to be the worst. Catherine couldn’t believe it when she spotted him walking toward the porch from the pump house. He had rolled up his sleeves, and his arms, face, and hair were dripping wet. That could only mean he’d finished for the day. She was elbow-deep in cornmeal, battering chicken to fry. The green beans still needed to be cleaned and potatoes boiled for potato salad. At least she’d washed fresh greens and chopped garden vegetables for a tossed salad. She sighed while moving the coffeepot onto the burner to reheat.
“Guder nachmittag,” he said upon entering the kitchen. Daniel grabbed the towel to dry his face and hands.
“Good afternoon to you. I saw you in Abby’s flower garden earlier. What were you doing out there? I thought you once said that flowers were women’s business.” She glanced up while pouring oil into her skillet.
“I wanted to cut back her rhododendrons and azaleas. It needed to be done before they set buds for next year. My fraa sets great store by those flowers.” He tossed the towel down on the counter.
“If there’s still more work in the garden, we have plenty of time before dinner. It won’t be ready for another hour.”
“No, I’m done for the day. I’ll just relax for a while, maybe read to my kinner in the front room.” He offered her a pleasant smile.
She pondered the best way to approach a delicate subject. “Were you still moving hay bales today?”
“Jah. Isaiah and I stored what we could fit in the barn loft. The rest we lined up close to the pasture gate and covered with plastic.”