Finding Love at Home (The Beiler Sisters)

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Debbie’s mind spun. Maybe there was hope yet. Ida hadn’t said that Minister Kanagy had spoken to her. Perhaps there was no basis to this conclusion Ida had drawn. Perhaps Debbie had imagined it moments ago.

  Ida seemed to read Debbie’s thoughts. “He was watching me last Sunday at the services, Debbie. I know that look in a man’s eye. So don’t say I don’t know what I’m speaking about.”

  Debbie wanted to protest in the loudest voice possible. This wasn’t right! Minister Kanagy was way out of line. He shouldn’t look at another woman so soon after his wife had been buried. But her protests would be in vain, Debbie told herself as she took her seat on the swing again, her body now limp.

  “It might be Da Hah’s will.” Ida reached over to touch Debbie’s arm. “Da Hah will give me love in my heart for the man—if not before, then after we’ve said wedding vows.”

  Debbie groaned but said nothing. What was the use?

  Two

  Debbie hurried about to clean her room. There would be no visitors to the Beiler place tomorrow after the Sunday services that she knew of, but it seemed like one’s room should be freshly cleaned in preparation for a baptism. Sort of cleansing the space before cleansing the soul.

  Saloma had smiled when Debbie stated her intentions downstairs after lunch. She seemed to understand. “We’re doing a thorough fall cleaning soon, so don’t work too hard.”

  Well, it wasn’t a matter of hard work, Debbie thought. It was the principle of the thing. And Ida probably had her bedroom spotless—baptism or no baptism. Emery, the Beilers’ youngest boy, still lived at home. He never cleaned his room, so maybe Debbie would do him a favor after she finished with her bedroom.

  Emery was in his early twenties and needed a wife, in Debbie’s opinion. As the heir apparent to the Beiler farm, he should have no problem with his choice of any marriageable Amish girls in the community. Emery only had to say the word, and the girls would line up. Yet the young man seemed perfectly content to allow each day to roll by. He showed not the slightest concern about his single status. Still, who was she to criticize people about their married status? She was approaching twenty-four and was still single. But it certainly wasn’t because she hadn’t shown interest in someone.

  Emery was such a decent man. Maybe she should make a try herself for his hand. Debbie laughed at the thought. Emery had never shown any romantic interest in her, and neither should he. She lived at the house after all, so it was almost like they were brother and sister. And what a scandal that would be if they did date. She’d be seen as a gold digger for sure. Few in the community would think otherwise.

  Maybe her baptism tomorrow would push Alvin off his perch. The man was the limit! He’d made such promises before and after he came home from his stint in the Englisha world—a stint that had resulted in his excommunication. But thoughts of Alvin still made Debbie smile. There was much she could be thankful for with him. He’d seen his mistake and come back from Philadelphia with a humble and manly confession of his sins in front of the baptism instruction class and then the membership. Alvin had even admitted to a few dates with an Englisha girl named Crystal Meyers. Debbie figured Alvin had been surprised when she’d had a front row seat for his confession. But she had, and this was no doubt due to Minister Kanagy wanting to embarrass Alvin. Though in the end the maneuver had worked to Alvin’s favor. Much of the respect she’d lost for Alvin had been restored by his broken and honest words. Alvin had said he was done with the Englisha world, and that he’d left Crystal Meyers behind for good.

  Alvin had spoken to Debbie after the services that Sunday—an accomplishment for him, indeed. He was usually shy and timid. Maybe his time in the Englisha world had done him some good after all. She’d allowed her hopes to soar as Alvin expressed an interest in pursuing their relationship—after he made his life right with the church, of course. And he had done that a few weeks later with a knee confession in front of everyone. He was granted full restoration back into the fellowship of the community.

  But then nothing had happened all summer. Nothing more than a few smiles exchanged at the Sunday services and the youth gatherings. What had gone wrong? Debbie asked herself that question a thousand times. She’d made her interest in him known even before she moved into Bishop Beiler’s household. Debbie blushed as she thought of the times she’d driven all starry-eyed past Alvin’s farm and watched him work with his team of horses in the fields. Thankfully Alvin must have never told anyone about it, even though he’d seen her and waved many times.

  Debbie sighed. Surely Paul Wagler’s continued interest in her didn’t still deter Alvin. It had before he left for the Englisha world, but she figured Alvin would have gotten over that by now. There were reasons aplenty for Alvin to see that she cared for him more than she did for Paul—dashing and handsome though Paul was. She had settled in her mind that she would marry a down-to-earth, humble farmer. Not someone like Paul, who reminded her of the men she’d dated in her old life in her former world.

  A rattle of buggy wheels jerked Debbie out of her thoughts. Surely Deacon Mast hadn’t come to speak with her! This was Saturday, the day the deacon usually made his rounds to deal with church troubles. Had Minister Kanagy thrown one last wrench her way? She felt a little paranoid as she raced to the window and pulled the curtain back. Whew! Verna Beiler had climbed out of her buggy and was tying her horse to the hitching rack.

  Debbie left her broom and dustpan by the dresser and hurried downstairs. Saloma looked up from her knitting on the couch with a smile as Debbie rushed by.

  “It’s Verna, isn’t it?” Saloma’s face glowed.

  “Yes! I’m going out to walk her in.” Debbie continued her dash out the front door.

  Verna waved from the buggy and hollered, “Gut morning.”

  Debbie ran across the lawn and down the sidewalk to grab Verna in a tight hug. “It’s so good to see you!”

  Verna gave a little gasp. “And you, but oh, watch out for my stomach. It just keeps growing.”

  Debbie grinned as she stood back to regard Verna’s swollen middle. They ended up in each other’s arms again in giggles.

  “I probably shouldn’t have come out.” Verna gave her midsection another glance. “But I couldn’t resist with how glorious the day is. And soon I’ll be laid up with labor pains, and then the whole winter lies ahead with a young boppli in the house. Better enjoy the outside while I can, I told myself.”

  “I agree! And your mamm’s glowing with happiness that you’re here,” Debbie said. “Yours won’t be her first grandchild, but you’re the first of her girls.”

  “I know.” Verna sighed. “I love it. And Joe—he’s such a darling husband. No child will ever have a more doting daett.”

  “Come!” Debbie offered Verna a hand.

  Verna pushed it away. “I can still walk, though I waddle like a duck.”

  The two giggled again as they made their way slowly toward the house. The front door soon burst open, and Ida ran out to envelop Verna in a sisterly hug.

  “I’ll be having the boppli right here and now!” Verna groaned. “That is, if the two of you aren’t more careful.”

  “She’s not serious,” Debbie said when concern flashed on Ida’s face.

  Ida recovered. “It’s so gut that you’ve come. We needed your comforting presence in the house. Debbie and I were talking this morning about Barbara’s funeral.”

  “Oh, you poor thing! Did that stir up so many sad memories?” Verna took Ida’s hand, and the two continued toward the house with Debbie beside them.

  Obviously it had, Debbie thought as she noticed Ida’s tears. She should tell Verna about Minister’s Kanagy’s advances at the Sunday service, but she bit her lip instead. Verna would be sympathetic, but that wouldn’t stop Ida. With Melvin’s children in the balance, Minister Kanagy wasn’t likely to fail in his pursuit of Ida as his new frau.

  Saloma met them at the front door, a big smile on her face. She gave Verna a much gentler hug. Her ar
ms lingered around her eldest daughter’s shoulders. “You look well, Verna. And the child?”

  “The midwife had a gut report last week.” Verna’s glow matched her mother’s. “It won’t be long now.”

  “Da Hah be praised!” Saloma said. “Come in. I’m sure we can stir up some hot chocolate for you, if nothing else. And we have all afternoon to talk. The girls were puttering around, but they don’t really have pressing work.”

  A warm rush ran through Debbie when Saloma called her one of the girls. She would never cease to give thanks for how the Beilers had taken her in. Adam and Saloma had treated her like their own child from the start. That was what she’d wanted for so long but hadn’t dared hope would ever happen.

  Ida disappeared into the kitchen. Debbie was ready to follow when Saloma motioned for her to be seated. “Ida can handle the hot chocolate.”

  Debbie thought of protesting but gave in. This was so like Ida. She sacrificed for everyone. It became almost expected. Still, Debbie couldn’t do more than be in the way while Ida heated the milk for the hot chocolate.

  Verna leaned forward from her seat on the couch. “So Ida’s still mourning?”

  Saloma’s face was sober. “Yah. It’s been hard. Daett says Minister Kanagy has also taken it very hard.”

  Apparently not hard enough if the man is making eyes at Ida, Debbie thought. She almost choked out a protest but held her tongue.

  Verna looked pensive. “Don’t you think it’s a little early for Minister Kanagy to be, you know, thinking about another frau?”

  Debbie drew in a sharp breath.

  Saloma regarded Verna steadily. “So you saw it too on Sunday?”

  Verna shrugged. “It was plain enough to see since Minister Kanagy never looks at women that way. And I’m sure Ida has put two and two together by now. And there’s Melvin’s children—at least the two oldest who live at his place. Ida won’t turn him down, Mamm, will she?”

  Saloma didn’t hesitate. “I’ve thought some about the matter, and I know this might not be the usual, but neither is the situation the usual. I think Ida should accept—if things come to that. Minister Kanagy would make anyone a gut husband.”

  Verna gave a little grunt. “Maybe so, but I don’t like him all that much.”

  “It’s in Da Hah’s hands.” Saloma nodded as if that settled the matter.

  Debbie stifled her words. She had best stay out of this conversation.

  Verna grabbed her stomach moments later, and Saloma’s face flashed alarm. “Is something the matter? The child?”

  Verna shifted on the couch. “No. I’m just thinking about Ida and Minister Kanagy. I don’t like it one bit. Ida’s always been too self-sacrificing. I don’t want to see her hurt.”

  Saloma shook her finger. “I don’t want you to say one word to your sister, mind you. Not everyone can have a storybook ending like you and Joe. Now mind me—not one word!”

  Verna groaned but settled back on the couch.

  In the silence that followed, Ida appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Chocolate coming right up!”

  “She’s such a dear,” Verna said as Ida disappeared again.

  Tires crunched in the driveway, and Debbie caught a glimpse of the car through the window. She knew who it was.

  Saloma got up to look out the living-room window.

  “Who is it, Mamm?” Verna asked when her mother didn’t move or provide information.

  “It’s your sister!” Saloma stepped back and grasped the back of a rocker.

  Verna struggled to get up. “Dear Hah, help us. That girl is nothing but trouble.”

  Saloma headed for the front door as she muttered, “How can one apple in the bushel turn out so bad?”

  Verna ignored the comment and hollered toward the kitchen. “Ida, our sister’s here.”

  “I already know,” the answer came back. “I’ll heat another batch of milk if necessary.”

  As usual, Ida’s first thought was of service instead of her sister’s transgressions. Debbie got to her feet. She would help Ida now, protest from Saloma or not.

  Ida glanced up with concern when Debbie walked into the kitchen. “Did you see how she’s dressed?”

  “No.” Debbie didn’t add that she didn’t have to. Lois likely wore one of Debbie’s old dresses she’d had the sense not to wear around the Beilers. Lois would have no such inhibitions. Lois was more of an Englisha girl at heart than Debbie had ever been—even though Lois was born Amish!

  Ida pasted a smile on her face. “I’ve got everything ready, but you can help carry in the cups. At least we can give Lois a nice afternoon—show her what she’s missing.”

  That won’t happen, Debbie thought. Lois doesn’t appreciate the quiet ways of Amish life. But Ida always saw the best in everyone—even Minister Kanagy apparently.

  Debbie followed Ida into the living room holding steaming mugs of hot chocolate in both hands just as Lois bustled through the front door with Saloma at her side. Lois’s dress was well above her knees.

  Lois grinned and gushed, “Well! If it isn’t the whole family back together again. And hot chocolate. Am I glad I stopped by!”

  Debbie smiled and handed over a mug as Lois took a seat. “I’m glad you stopped in.”

  Ida spoke up. “Gut to see you, Lois.”

  Lois took a quick sip of the hot chocolate. She wasted no time to get to the point of her visit. “So, will I see everyone at my wedding next Saturday?”

  Lois knew good and well no one from her family would come, but she had to make one last attempt, Debbie supposed.

  Saloma’s voice was weary. “You know we can’t come, Lois. It’s an Englisha wedding. We cannot approve of this. You know that.”

  Lois’s face fell. “I told Doug that would be your answer, but he just doesn’t understand. I had to try one more time to convince you.” Lois’s voice caught, and she wiped one eye with a quick sweep of her hand. The hot chocolate remained clutched in the other.

  “I’d come,” Ida said with sympathy, “but it can’t be, Lois. We can’t show any approval of this choice of yours. Surely you know that.”

  Lois gulped. “I guess so. It’s just sad and painful, that’s all.”

  “You should have thought of that before you left.” Saloma’s voice had a bite to it.

  Lois braced herself before she took another quick sip of hot chocolate. “But I love my new life. And Doug is such a catch. And I’m in my first year of college in Shamokin. We’re setting up housekeeping after the wedding in a small rental in Selinsgrove. What more could I ask for?”

  There was silence in the living room. Not because they didn’t know the answer to Lois’s question, but because Lois wouldn’t listen even if they spoke the truth. Lois had chosen her life, which was a jump over the fence to the Amish. And there was nothing anyone could do about it.

  Saloma moved first. She reached over to touch Lois’s arm. “But at least you’ve come home today. I’m glad for that. Maybe you can visit again after the wedding—and bring this husband of yours with you.”

  Lois pasted on a bright smile and settled in. The conversation soon flowed easily enough—now that the hard part was out of the way. The talk was all about Verna’s baby and the Amish wedding season ahead of them. Lois’s face fell momentarily when that subject came up, but she recovered quickly.

  Finally, just before she left, Lois spent some time alone with Ida. The two whispered together near the front door when Saloma went into the kitchen. Debbie watched the sisters with no little sadness that things would never be as they had been. Lois’s happiness in the Englisha world made that only too apparent.

  Three

  The next morning as Bishop Beiler preached the main sermon, Debbie shifted to a more comfortable spot on the bench. The group of baptismal candidates had their seats set up near the ministers. She wasn’t used to sitting right out in the open where everyone could see her. Usually she was seated behind a row or two of younger girls. Debbie tried not to move, but th
at had been difficult for the entire three-hour church service. She clasped her hands on her lap and forced herself to focus on the bishop. The clock on the living room wall crept toward twelve. The sermon would close soon, and she wasn’t about to embarrass herself on the day of her baptism by squirming like a three-year-old.

  Debbie sat up even straighter when Minister Kanagy’s gaze came her way. He hadn’t paid much attention to her all morning, even during their last instruction class upstairs. Perhaps Minister Kanagy thought he should make one last check before it was too late.

  I look perfect! Debbie wanted to yell. But that wasn’t even remotely the attitude a baptismal candidate should have. She smiled to think how her lack of being raised Amish sure showed at times. Minister Kanagy, of course, wouldn’t take that as an excuse.

  At least Minister Kanagy hadn’t paid any attention to Ida, who was seated over in the unmarried girls’ section. If he had, Debbie might have glared at him, baptism or no baptism. But a glare at Minister Kanagy could have no good end—even after one was baptized.

  She hadn’t caught sight of Alvin all day. He was seated somewhere among the row of unmarried men, she was sure. Alvin would be here for her baptismal day, even if some emergency had come up on the farm. Alvin’s daett would cover for him, although Edwin was officially retired and lived in a dawdy haus with his wife, Helen, who had suffered a serious stroke this year.

  Debbie focused again on Bishop Beiler’s preaching. The bishop had his hands clasped now. He paused for a long moment before he turned toward the row of baptismal candidates. “We have come to this important step in the lives of these young people. All summer we as a ministry have tried to instruct them on how a godly and humble life is to be lived before Da Hah. We have found them submissive and willing to obey. For this we are grateful, and our hearts are glad. So without further words, if these are still willing to confess their faith before Da Hah and this congregation, they may kneel.”

  Debbie waited until the others moved first. Since she was the only girl in the class, all she had to do was follow the boys. Debbie slipped to her knees and brushed the long folds of her dress behind her. She bowed her head as Bishop Beiler began to ask the questions at the other end of the line.