Yet the child had not been born. The woman had told him so. She’d spoken the words with tears running down her face. She had trembled while he held her, unable to find words of comfort to speak while the horror of what he’d done raced through his mind.
Her eyes had filled with longing, bursting out in fresh sobs over her great loss. It had also been his loss, had it not? But then hadn’t he been secretly glad the child would never be born? Had he not rejoiced in his heart? Had he not taken pleasure that his offspring would never see the light of day or call him an Englisha father? That surely was the sting of his guilt…that he could ever have felt so about his own child.
His toe caught the edge of the couch, and he groaned, catching his foot with both hands. He sat down hard on the rocker. After the pain subsided he listened to the silence of the house. A creaking bedroom door or a snap in the hardwood steps would give him time to gather his thoughts. Perhaps he could even light the kerosene lamp before Anna arrived from the bedroom.
When there was only silence, the thoughts returned. What would his Englisha child look like now had the baby lived? Was the child in heaven awaiting his arrival? He fell to his knees beside the rocker, pressing his head against the floor.
Why had Teresa come to stir this horror in his life? He’d spent years pushing this away, hiding the thoughts, seeking peace through repentance. He had never sinned so again, not even when the desire for Anna had been great before their marriage. Does that not count for something? he pleaded. Is not my sin long past? Has not love sprung up in my heart for the things of home to replace or counter my wrong actions? His love for Da Hah and the ways of his people had always been present, only momentarily forgotten when the world called so strongly. And his memory of the world faded once he returned.
Yes, the guilt had pounded in his heart for weeks, his fears rising that someone would know he had defiled a woman. But he hadn’t been found out. And the memory of his first woman had grown dim, replaced with the face of another. The love for Anna grew in his heart with a wonder that took his breath away. He had been allowed a chance again after what he’d done. How clean he’d felt when he had taken Anna to speak with the bishop a few Sundays before they were published to be married.
“Are you free from each other?” Bishop Bender had asked.
They had both nodded, their faces open for all to see. And he had hidden his past behind a door through which no one else had ever gone. And it had remained tightly closed all these years…until an Englisha girl coming in from that world brought the memory of it with her. Is that not what he should be concerned with? Should he be warning others of what lies behind the kind eyes of Englisha girls? No, he had only his own sin to deal with. Pressing his head against his hands, he prayed. “Oh great God in heaven, You who know best the weakness in all our hearts. Forgive me, I pray, even as I have forgiven others their sins. Find it in Your most gracious and tender heart to overlook this, my sin again. Wash me clean with the blood of Your dear Son, who gave His life a ransom for many.
“I am but dust, oh God. I am but a weak man who fell and sinned greatly. I confess that I cast my eyes upon the beauty of the world. I lusted after the forbidden and have sinned greatly. Let not my sin bring others to destruction. Let not my sin continue on into eternity.
“Speak now, oh God, to the child who lies on the other side of Your pearly gates. Tell the child I am the father, but that I have sinned and sorrowed greatly over my misdeed. Will You not in Your great mercy make all things work together for good? Tell the child that though I have sinned, yet through my sin, he or she has avoided the temptations of this world. The child is safe with You, surrounded by Your glory and suffering none of these things that beset the frailness of our flesh. For my child this world is forever over even before it began. The child is with You, even as I long to be with You someday.
“Have mercy, oh God, and remember not my sin any longer. Set it not before my mind in remembrance. But if this is not Your will, and You desire in Your great wisdom to bring this suffering near to my heart again, then I ask not that You take it from me, but that I might be given the strength to bear it.”
Drained of words, Menno slowly rose to his feet and walked to the window to watch the snow race past the glass. Lifting his fingers to touch the cold, the sting ran up his arm, reaching his shoulder. He didn’t take his hand away. He saw her in the distance, her car parked outside the hospital in St. Louis, her face turning to look at him before she climbed in. She pulled the door shut with a soft clunk. Suddenly he jumped. Behind him the hinges on the bedroom door creaked, and footsteps came from the bedroom. He stood still and waited.
“What are you doing up at this hour of the night?” Anna asked.
“My heart is troubled,” he said simply.
She slipped her arm around his waist, nestling her body close to him. “Why are you standing here, staring out of the window?”
“Because it is gut sometimes for a man to think and to pray,” he said. “Da Hah begins to seem far away when life presses hard on the soul.”
“Is it of the children you are thinking?” Anna asked. “Have you heard news that troubles you?”
“Nee, our children are okay.”
She leaned against him. “The world seems just beyond the door, does it not?” she asked. “Always ready to come in.”
“Yah,” he agreed. “It lies not far away for all of us.”
“Come then,” she said. “You will be in no shape for church tomorrow if you don’t get some sleep. Your side of the bed was cold, so you must have been out here for some time.”
“I don’t know how long it was,” he said, “but I think I have found peace.”
She pulled on his hand, and he found her face in the darkness.
“You are too gut for me,” he whispered.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Susan held baby Samuel as Teresa climbed into the backseat of the buggy. Once settled, Teresa reached to take Samuel from Susan’s arms, her face lighting up with happiness. Susan pulled herself up to sit beside the two of them.
“Are you ready, Anna?” Menno asked as he climbed in next to her on the front buggy seat.
“Yes, all set.”
“Get-up, Toby!” Menno called from the front seat, slapping the reins.
The buggy jerked forward, and Teresa’s smile widened. She whispered, “We’re really off!”
Susan nodded but didn’t say anything.
“Do you think he’ll be there today?” Teresa asked as they rattled out the lane.
“Yost Byler?” Susan whispered back.
Teresa nodded.
“I don’t know, but I would expect so,” Susan said.
Teresa’s face turned serious.
“Are you perhaps getting some sense into your head?” Susan asked.
“I’m just thinking he’ll be better-looking than I remember from that night,” she said. “So it won’t be so bad. But I will have to speak with him soon, so I’m preparing myself.”
Susan sighed. “You know I don’t like this one bit,” she said. “But if it’s any comfort, I doubt Yost will be coming around anytime soon. He’s too scared of women to be rushing into this thing. You notice the other night he didn’t even speak to you. Daett had to bring in his message.”
“Well, I’m ready when he comes,” Teresa said, forcing a smile.
“You know,” Susan said, “I was just thinking…you can have Thomas if you want him.”
Teresa laughed. “Now you’re being funny!”
“Well, somebody has to find some humor in this dark story,” Susan replied.
“It’s not dark, Susan,” Teresa said. “Now, tell me again about the service. I don’t want to do anything wrong.”
Susan took a deep breath before beginning. “We arrive at the place where church is being held,” she said, “which happens to be at Benny Zook’s place today. We climb down from the buggy after Daett stops near the front door of the house. We pull our shawls around ourselves.
We walk inside. We take off our wrappings and go around shaking hands with everyone.”
Teresa shivered. “Please, God,” she whispered, “don’t let me do something wrong. And I can’t afford to faint on the first Sunday they let me come.”
“Do you want to hear the rest?” Susan asked.
“Perhaps you’d better not,” Teresa said. “You told me yesterday, and I guess I’ll learn as I go along. I feel a little light-headed already.”
“You can stick close to me until church starts,” Susan said, reaching over to squeeze Teresa’s hand. “And when the time comes for you to feed Samuel, Mamm will know where the women are going with their babies and she’ll point the way.”
“We’re almost there,” Mamm spoke up from the front seat.
Teresa peered out of the small buggy window. “There are so many buggies here,” she said. “They’re everywhere.”
Susan nodded, reaching over to pin the top of Teresa’s shawl shut just as Daett brought the buggy to a halt. She opened the buggy door and, once on the ground, reached back to take baby Samuel from Teresa.
Susan, still holding the baby, followed Mamm up the walk, Teresa right behind her. Miriam and Esther met them inside the washroom door. Miriam took Samuel, and Esther helped Teresa take her shawl and bonnet off, showing her where to place them on the table.
“You have to be able to find them after church,” Esther explained. “Everyone’s looks about the same so note where you put them.”
“I would say so,” Teresa said, looking wide-eyed at the stack of almost identical bonnets and shawls.
“I’ll help you find yours when church is over,” Susan said. “Everybody’s looks a little different if you look closely. You’ll learn with time.”
“I expect so,” Teresa said absentmindedly.
Teresa and Susan followed Mamm into the kitchen. Miriam and Esther were close behind with Samuel. Susan noticed that Teresa wasn’t quite as white-faced anymore, which was good.
Mamm was shaking hands, exchanging gut meiyas as she moved down the line of women.
“This is Teresa,” Susan introduced, making a point to keep Teresa close to her.
“And this is Samuel,” Miriam said, showing off the baby as she shook hands.
“Gut meiya,” the women said one after the other as they shook Teresa’s hand.
Teresa’s smile was tense at first, but she relaxed as she received honest smiles in return to her Englisha “good morning.”
“I have to learn how to say good morning in German,” Teresa whispered to Susan when they arrived at the end of the line.
“It’s easy,” Susan assured her. “And it’s doesn’t have to be perfect. Everyone will understand. It’s ‘gut meiya.’”
Teresa took a deep breath. “Okay, here goes.”
Susan watched Teresa out of the corner of her eye as the next woman approached with her young daughters in tow. There was no question about it, Teresa had more courage than she did out in the Englisha world. She had waited for weeks before she dared turn on electric lights in her apartment. And it had been like a knife cutting into her heart to flip on that switch. But Teresa was bravely taking giant steps into the Amish world in such a short time.
“Goot mayer,” Teresa managed, a look of pain on her face.
The woman smiled. “Gut meiya. So you must be Teresa, the young woman staying at Menno’s place. I do declare, I wouldn’t have recognized you as an Englisha girl. You look right Amish to me.”
“I’m sure you could tell when I opened my mouth,” Teresa said with a nervous laugh.
“Oh, you did pretty gut,” the woman told her before moving down the line.
“Don’t even tell me how awful that was,” Teresa whispered out of the corner of her mouth in Susan’s direction.
Susan whispered back, “Just take the er off the end and say a, ‘gut meiya.’”
Teresa nodded and tried again with the next woman.
“Really gut!” Susan encouraged as the line of women moved toward the living room.
“What happens next?” Teresa asked. “I can’t remember.”
“It’s time to go in for the start of services,” Susan said. “Remember, you can’t sit with me. You have to sit with my sisters or Mamm since you have a baby. They will take care of you.”
Teresa kept going as Susan stepped out of the line of women to join the young girls in the front rows. Silence settled throughout the house once everyone was seated. Susan held still, not looking over her shoulder to where Teresa was probably seated. Mamm would take gut care of her.
The song leader shouted out the first song number and Susan jumped. Seated beside her, Mandy Schrock looked over. Susan avoided her glance. What Amish girl jumped when the song leader gave out the number? Mandy had plenty of reason to be curious, but this wasn’t something that could be explained with a whispered answer. Some man in the living room burst into song. The song leader’s soaring voice led out, drawing the notes into mighty swirls of sound that were swallowed up as the congregation joined in on the second syllable.
As the ministers got to their feet to file upstairs, Susan dared look over her shoulder. She found Teresa’s face in the benches full of women and babies. Teresa was sitting in full view, her face lifted in rapt attention, her lips moving as the sound of singing filled the house. There was no way Teresa could know the words, but she was trying. Susan kept on watching as another verse started. Teresa was now looking down at the page of the songbook. Tears were welling up in her eyes and soon ran in little streams down her cheeks.
Turning back, Susan followed the black and white words in her own songbook, mouthing the words from memory. She listened to the sounds of the singing. The words were so familiar, so often heard, and yet were moving Teresa to such depth of emotion. Had Susan missed something in the years of her childhood? The singing had always been enjoyable and beautiful, but one did not cry during the songs.
It was simply too much to understand. All of it was. What had brought this girl to them? What made her so determined to stick this out at all cost? There was no doubt Teresa had been determined. But now she was even willing to marry a man she didn’t love for the sake of her child. And here she, Susan Hostetler, had run away from this life, rushing into the arms of the world with hardly a thought of the dangers involved. Dangers which the ministers had often warned about.
Yet Da Hah had spared her the evils of that world, sending Teresa to bring her home again. Was Teresa an angel? Susan sat bolt upright on the bench at the thought. But angels didn’t have babies with earthly fathers, so that couldn’t be the answer. Teresa must be exactly who she said she was. An Englisha girl sick of her world, who wanted to become part of another world. A world where she hoped to find peace.
Susan glanced up from the page again catching the eye of Thomas. The old love for him rose in her, but she pushed it away. Thomas could not be trusted. Teresa could marry whoever she wanted to, but she was not going down that path.
But what kind of an example was she setting for Teresa? The thought came with a sting. Did her actions line up with Teresa’s courage? And how could Teresa’s love for the community be so strong, even when they treated her wrong?
Susan pulled her eyes away from Thomas’s face, catching a glimpse of Eunice seated on the row in front of her. Eunice was looking in Thomas’s direction with a slight smile on her face. Well, let Thomas look at her, Susan thought. The two deserved each other.
The singing came to a halt with silence settling over the house. Susan kept her head down until another song began. Stealing another look in Teresa’s direction, Susan saw that Teresa was still sitting with her face uplifted, joy written on every feature.
Some thirty minutes later when the ministers came down from upstairs, the singing stopped, and the first speaker soon rose to his feet. He spoke for thirty minutes or so, using a singsong voice, and following no certain path, jumping from Scripture quotations to short exhortations and back again.
Deac
on Ray had the Scripture reading, and Bishop Henry soon rose to begin the main sermon. Forty minutes later, heads were nodding here and there in the men’s section, and Susan took another peek over her shoulder. Teresa was gone, with no sign of either baby Samuel or Miriam. So they must have gone to the bedroom where the children were tended to.
When she turned around, Thomas was looking at her. Susan glanced away at once. But guilt feelings had crept unbidden into her heart, the earlier anger gone. Perhaps she should reconsider her hard-hearted rebuff of his advances? Did not her people teach that forgiveness was one of the highest forms of grace, given freely from Da Hah to each of them, and from each of them back to the other?
Yet, she had forgiven. But surely that didn’t mean she had to take Thomas back. Thomas would say she had to, but he had a reason to say so. The question really was, what did Daett need? The farm needed help, and Daett had his heart set on Thomas taking over for him. But was that reason enough to marry Thomas? No, it was not.
Bishop Henry was wrapping up his sermon, asking for testimony on what had been said. He named a few men, sitting down to wait while they began speaking in the order they had been called. Susan looked towards Teresa again, who was now back and holding Samuel in her arms, a look of total peace on her face.
How did Teresa do it? In all her months among the Englisha, such peace had never found her. Sure there had been gut times with Robby, during the times she was learning how to drive a car and getting her driver’s license. Even taking the test for her GED had been fun and so had been her Englisha “dates” with Duane Moran, but there had been little peace.
Susan almost gasped aloud, as she remembered. The driver’s license was still sitting at home in her dresser drawer, hidden under her clothing. If Mamm or Daett discovered the license, it would break their hearts. They were so hoping she was home to stay, and they would see that little piece of plastic as her link to the other world, making it easy to return at a moment’s notice. Perhaps it was time to cut her ties to the outside world and follow Teresa’s example of submission and humility?
Following Your Heart Page 11