“Over here!” Sadie leaned the shovel against the wheelbarrow as nervousness crawled up her back.
“Kumm! Adam told me to fetch you,” Ruthie said, her eyes round with alarm. “Bishop Samuel and Preacher Dave have come to see you.”
“Me? Do you know what it’s about?”
Ruthie climbed the lowest rung of the fence and leaned closer. “That’s what I was going to ask you.” She looked back at the house, cautiously. “It doesn’t look so good. The bishop’s forehead is all puckered up, and Preacher Dave keeps pinching his beard.”
“Oh, dear heavens.” Sadie hurried through the gate. Amish life did not include rushing about very often, but it was never wise to keep church leaders waiting. Sadie bolted down the grassy hill, then paused on the screened-in porch to wipe dust and dirt from her bare feet as she gave her racing heart a chance to calm.
Trying to hide the fact that she was quivering inside, Sadie kept her head down as she entered the kitchen. She passed by a curious Susie and followed the sound of the men’s voices into the living room. She had a bad feeling that a meeting with the bishop surely meant she was to be scolded.
And one look at the stern set of the bishop’s jaw told her she was right. His lips were pursed so tight he seemed to have trouble budging them open as he tried to sip his glass of lemonade.
Seated in the rocking chair beside the sofa, Preacher Dave noticed her as Remy handed him a drink. “There you are, Sadie. Come in and have a seat now.”
“You can sit here,” Adam said, rising to give her the blue upholstered chair where Dat used to sit and read The Budget, a newspaper for Plain folk. He moved to the sofa beside Bishop Samuel, whose brown forehead creased with tension.
Remy moved behind the sofa, where she waited just behind Adam. “Sadie, would you like a drink?”
“No, denki.” Sadie sat on the edge of the blue chair and pressed her bare feet into the floor. Dear Gott, give me the courage to face these men, she prayed as their anger seemed to bear down on her. They are men of Gott. Will they not see that I seek to share your wondrous gifts?
Bishop Samuel’s eyes scalded her from behind his glasses as he unfolded a piece of paper; the flyer with her silhouetted photo advertising Amish Blues. He handed it to Adam, who winced.
Behind Adam, Remy strained to see the source of the tension.
The flyer! Hadn’t Sadie told Frank that it was a bad idea?
“What is this?” Adam asked.
“One of our members brought it to us.” The bishop’s mouth puckered, as if he’d bitten into a lemon. “The young man giving the papers out said the girl in the photograph is named Sadie.”
All the air left her body as the terrible truth sank in. They knew what she’d been doing! She dropped her eyes to her lap, wondering how the bishop had come upon the flyer and connected it to her. Not that it mattered now. She was in deep trouble.
Though the church ministers usually looked the other way for youth in rumspringa, they intervened when they thought a young person had gone too far. This was one of those times.
The preacher finished taking a long drink, then put his glass on the table as a slight belch churned through his teeth. Of all the church leaders, Sadie had always thought that Dave Zook was the easiest to talk to, but in this boiling pot of disapproval no one was safe anymore.
“Sadie King.” The bishop’s eyes reminded her of a bull, anger festering as it planned its charging attack. “Is it true that you are the girl in this picture?”
“It’s me,” she admitted.
“Did you sit for this picture?” Adam asked.
“I—I didn’t want the photo to be taken,” she explained, trying to keep the pulsing fear from her voice. “But it was done before I could stop it.”
“We have all had photographs taken against our wishes,” Preacher Dave said, fanning himself with his straw hat. “Tourists do it from time to time, and we cannot always stop them. Since you’re not a baptized member yet, that’s not the serious matter here.”
“What matters is that you are a part of this.” The bishop stabbed a finger fiercely at the flyer. “Making music that’s not to the glory of God. Dancing and dressing in fancy clothes. This place listed here, it’s a business that profits from alcohol. And to wear a prayer kapp through it all … allowing a graven image of yourself to be printed, handed out to strangers. This, this goes against the rules of our community.”
The bishop’s low growl was followed by the sting of silence swelling in the thick, hot air of the room.
Fear rose inside her, a thick knot in her throat as she looked to her brother. Adam’s eyes were black and cold, and he seemed distant. Was he restraining himself from voicing disrespect with the bishop and preacher here, or was he angry with her, too? Over the past few months Adam had watched her with disapproval, though he had not forbidden her from taking part in activities outside the Amish community. He must have heard that she was venturing into the city, but did he have any idea that she was singing with the band? Did he know that she had outgrown a romance with one Englisher boy and taken up with another? Oh, that sounded so much worse than it was, even to Sadie.
“We cannot have this.” The preacher’s beard lifted slightly as he fanned himself. “A sales brochure like this, with one of our own young girls in a photo? Ach. It’s a terrible thing.”
“I know that.” Sadie lowered her head. “I never meant for that photo of me to be taken … or for it to get copied.” For that part she was sorry, but it wasn’t her doing.
“But you have been out singing in the bars, ya?” demanded the bishop.
Sadie dared to look up at the three men, but their faces were stern, their hearts hardened against her. Even her own brother.
Only Remy offered a look of understanding, her green eyes wide as a doe’s watching cautiously from the edge of the woods.
“Answer the question, Sadie King. Have you been out in the bars, singing around fancy men and liquor, too?” Bishop Samuel’s face was the color of a tomato now. It was as if all the fire of his righteous anger burned inside him.
Sadie wanted to defend herself. She wanted to tell them that she had begged people not to take her photo. That she did not dance in public or drink alcohol. She longed to explain that she knew the Heavenly Father had blessed her with this voice and that she believed He meant for her to make use of it.
But Bishop Samuel would not listen the way Mike listened. The church leaders did not want to hear her explanations. Any more talking right now would be seen as disrespectful. They wanted a simple answer.
“I have done that,” she said, staring down at the floor.
A grunt came from the bishop. “And Adam, did you know about this?”
Her brother drew in a breath. “I knew she was going to the city with friends. I wondered, but …”
From the corner of her eye Sadie saw the colored flyer move from the table as Adam grabbed it. “I didn’t know about this, but I believe Sadie when she says she didn’t have a hand in printing it. My sister loves to sing, and she’s been blessed with a golden voice. You should hear her sing while she does the dishes.”
Surprised by her brother’s support, Sadie dared to look up. Remy was smiling and the preacher’s eyes had softened, but Bishop Samuel was unmoved. His hands were poised on his thighs, as if he were about to leap out of the chair and pounce on sin itself.
“God does not give us gifts so that we can flaunt them,” the bishop snapped. “Certainly not in a bar. We live separate from the world, not in it.” He tipped his hat back and scratched his head. “Maybe it’s been too long since I preached about the evils of hochmut. We can fall to pride, and not just in our houses or horses. Folks can be proud of their voice or even the color of their eyes. Gifts from God, ya, but we are wrong to take pride in them.”
His words made Sadie’s heart ache.
Did he think she was proud of her voice? She wasn’t a show-off. That wasn’t it at all! How could it be that a man of God didn’t
understand that?
She held still, working to swallow back tears as the two ministers drilled her on proper behavior. They warned her that if she wanted to be baptized into this church, she had a long road of repentance ahead. For now, she would be wise to discuss her choices with her older brother Adam or one of the church leaders.
“And this …” The bishop picked up the flyer, then tossed it back onto the table in disgust. “Let’s pray that we never again see such heresy.”
TWENTY
Remy said good-bye to Dave and Samuel and stood at the door watching as Adam went along to help hitch their horses up. Her heart ached for Sadie, though she understood the mission of the ministers. Folding her arms across her apron, she thought of Sadie and marveled that there could be two very reasonable sides to any issue.
She had hated idly standing by while the ministers grilled Sadie. In many ways it seemed that their measure of discipline far exceeded the crime of Sadie sneaking into the city to do some Saturday-night gigs with her band. How Remy had longed to go to the girl and slip a reassuring arm over her shoulders! In recent weeks she’d felt motherly instincts toward Adam’s younger siblings. She seemed to know when Katie was cutting a tooth or when Simon needed someone to check on his progress training Shadow, his beloved horse. Now she felt the keen need to support Sadie with a mother’s love, but she did not dare cross the ministers, who were right to worry about Sadie straying from their community.
Just as Remy had found her own sure path to the Amish, Sadie seemed to be finding a road that led away from this community.
More than once while the ministers reproached Sadie, Remy had wanted to interject that she had known about Sadie’s activities. Although Remy hadn’t been directly involved, she’d been guilty of complicity on some level, as Sadie had confided that she enjoyed going into Philly. Judging from the flyer, her karaoke and open mikes had apparently evolved into some real gigs. Remy would have said something, but she was still acutely aware that she was an outsider easing her way into this Amish community, and as the men had clearly come to speak with Sadie, she hadn’t wanted to insinuate herself into the situation.
Passing through the kitchen, she thanked the girls for taking over the chore of lunch preparation. “Look at that platter.” Remy eyed a mountain of grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches on the table. “I’m impressed.”
“It didn’t take long at all when we worked together on it,” Susie said brightly. “And we still have plenty of cheese left.”
“We’re almost finished chopping carrots and radishes, and the soup’s heating up,” Ruthie said as she carved a carrot carefully into sticks. “As soon as it’s done we’ll call everyone in.”
“Good job,” Remy said, patting the two sisters on their shoulders.
In the living room Sadie was still slumped over in the upholstered chair, her face buried in her hands.
Remy touched her back, then went around and knelt on the floor by her feet so that Sadie couldn’t help but look her in the eye.
“That was a grueling session. Are you okay?”
Sadie lifted one hand from her face and blinked at Remy. “I’m still breathing, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’ve had better days.”
“The bishop was really mad,” Remy agreed.
“I’ve never seen Samuel so fired up.” Adam appeared at the kitchen door, his straw hat tipped back on his head. “They’re gone, but not without a few words to remind me that it’s up to me to make sure Sadie doesn’t burn all her bridges behind her.”
“That puts a lot of pressure on you,” Remy said. “I thought the church leaders recognized that it was up to each person to make his or her own decision about baptism. Isn’t that the principle of the Anabaptist faith?”
“That’s the idea.” Adam paced along the length of the room. “But I don’t think a parent is ever really off the hook for a child’s behavior. And the choice to be baptized, for a girl born Amish like Sadie, is not as simple as it seems. In our community, baptism isn’t just about committing to God. It’s about deciding to stay Amish, and it’s a decision that every Amish girl or boy is expected to make.”
Remy let out a breath. “Okay, so it’s a lot of pressure on Sadie, too. I don’t understand why the church allows rumspringa when they pretty much demand that a member be baptized.”
“It’s the Amish way. But for all the wildness of rumspringa youth, Sadie has shown unzufriede—discontent—which is worse. The ministers now see that she’s interested in something that might pull her away from the community. They want it stopped.”
“I’m not leaving my home,” Sadie said. “I’m just trying to follow the music in my heart.”
“I know that, but I’m still afraid of what the bishop might do if you continue to sing in that band.”
Looking up at him, Remy watched as he rubbed his jaw, deep in thought. Her Adam … her husband-to-be. For as long as she’d known him, he’d been troubled about Sadie, worried about her voracious interest in Englishers, concerned over her desire to spend time away from the family and the farm. He’d been cross with Sadie, but today he had revealed his gentle heart, and she loved him all the more for it.
“We know there’s no ban if you’re not a baptized member,” Adam said, pacing quietly. “But if you continue with this singing, the punishment might be just as bad as a shunning. Bishop Samuel said they might require you to confess before everyone at a Sunday service. And that wouldn’t be pleasant.”
“I can’t believe they want to punish me this way,” Sadie said. “We know kids who’ve done much wilder things in their rumspringa.”
“Really,” Remy agreed. “This doesn’t seem fair.”
“It’s not a question of fairness. We have to follow the leaders of our congregation.” He sat on the edge of the sofa, facing Sadie. “I know you love this singing, but Bishop Samuel is clearly against it.”
“It’s too bad Sadie can’t do more with the music during church. I’m sure everyone would love to hear her lead some songs.”
“No.” Adam shook his head. “The song leader is always a man.”
Sadie spoke. “And the Anabaptist songs—though I grew up with them, I feel like I’ve grown beyond them. That day at your apartment, Remy, I heard those beautiful harmonies, and they spoke to my heart. Do you remember those fellas? Mike’s friends who sing in the choir?”
“I do.” When Remy closed her eyes, she could still hear their powerful voices, clearly praising the Lord. She could understand how Sadie had fallen in love with those hymns.
“There is so much beautiful music in this world, songs that can bring a tear to your eye or warm your heart. Not just fancy music, but music that praises God, too. I want to be a part of that, and I don’t think that makes me proud. When I’m singing, I feel my heart opening.…” She pressed her hands to her chest and looked at her brother with pleading eyes. “Maybe I don’t explain it very well, but music brings me such joy.”
“Your words are good enough,” Adam said somberly. “When you sing, I see how happy it makes you.”
“It reminds me of Mamm,” Sadie said, her voice cracking with emotion. “She’s the one who got me started.”
“I know that.” Adam’s dark eyes were full of rue. “But when you look ahead to your Amish life, there’s no place for it. You heard the bishop. You can’t go on with the band and be part of our community.”
There was no easy solution.
In the ensuing silence Remy rose, catching sight of the flyer on the table. A year ago, the hazy image on the flyer wouldn’t have meant anything to her. Now, looking with new eyes, she could see that it was a problem for this community. “How did the bishop get this flyer?” She turned to Adam. “Do you know?”
“Someone left them at the shops in Halfway. One of our members saw a stack of them on the counter at Ye Olde Tea Shop.”
“What on earth …?” Sadie sank in her chair. “I told him not to do it. I knew that flyer would bring us nothing but trouble, an
d here it is.”
Remy sat on the chair across from Sadie. “Have you thought of quitting the band?” she asked gently.
Specks of gold glimmered in Sadie’s eyes. “The thought of getting baptized now, and giving up my singing …” She shook her head. “That would be like choosing never to feel the sun again. When I think of baptism now, oh, it makes my head hurt.”
Remy touched the girl’s knee. “You’re in a tight corner.”
“But I look at you, seeking to be a member of our church, and the choice seems so simple for you.” Sadie fixed her amber eyes on Remy. “When you made the choice to get baptized, you didn’t struggle so. How did you come to peace with giving up your fancy life forever? Your beautiful apartment and your car …”
“My old life didn’t hold much meaning for me. It wasn’t hard to leave behind.” Remy looked up at Adam, a swell of emotion in her throat. “And as for joining the Amish community, I fell in love with an Amish man—an impossible situation. But when I prayed to God, the rest of my life started falling in place. I so wanted to make this place my home, your family my family. I knew there was much to learn about the faith. A whole new language, too. But I work hard every day, and I pray that God will grant me wisdom and knowledge.”
Sadie put a hand on hers. “We are in very different places, you and I.”
Remy nodded in agreement. When she prayed about being baptized, of promising to obey the rules of the Ordnung, she felt at peace with her choice. Whenever she closed her eyes and imagined her new faith, she saw a steady flame. Faith. She believed that God wanted her to be here, with Adam and his family. And she believed that with all her heart.
“What can I do? I want to please my family. I don’t want to anger the bishop and Preacher Dave anymore.”
Remy looked into Sadie’s amber eyes. “Baptism is not the right choice for you if you look to a future in the Amish community and feel trapped by it. You have to be ready. You have to want it.”
Sadie stared pensively, biting her bottom lip.
A Simple Spring: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel Page 18