Seeing Your Face Again

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Alvin paced the floor of the motel room. There was no reason to even have a mortgage on the place. It had been a point of contention between him and his daett for years. Most of the other farmers were out of debt, and the Knepps should have been too. Especially with a farm as well established as their place was. On that point Daett had hung his head, but he’d done nothing to bring the problem under control. It was as if he were incapable of anything different, and he was too stubborn to let his youngest son try. There had been nights Alvin had lain in bed and wondered if they could make it until Daett retired. He would then take over the farm and change things. But “retirement” wasn’t a word in Daett’s vocabulary.

  Beyond this there was Debbie. He was so unworthy of her. He’d told himself that a thousand times, but his feelings for Debbie wouldn’t leave. To make things worse, she was such a wunderbah woman. Alvin figured he would never be satisfied with another woman, even one who was at his same station in life. Debbie deserved so much more than he could supply. With the farm on the brink, he was stuck with no place to go. The plan to bring his future wife home and have Daett and Mamm move into a dawdy haus was lost.

  And what else could he do? He only knew how to farm. Without his own farm, he would be little more than a hired hand who worked on someone else’s place. He’d get paid hired-hand wages, which weren’t enough to support a family. In fact, these last six months he’d taken no pay. He hadn’t needed it, he’d told himself, because he could never marry Debbie. And who would hire him with the Knepp reputation? Shame burned in his heart. He shouldn’t have left Debbie like he had. The least he could have done was tell her goodbye. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak the words, let alone face her. Even when his conscience throbbed, this decision had appeared to hurt less. Now he wasn’t so sure.

  Alvin stopped pacing. At least he hadn’t stooped to asking Daett for money before he left. He would have a hard time surviving on the little money he’d saved since he’d turned twenty-one, but that was the way things were. He’d known the world out here wasn’t anything like the farm at home. Things wouldn’t be easy. But difficult or not, this was better than what would happen at home this spring. He didn’t want to face that. Daett would no longer be able to hide the facts of the farm’s failure when planting time came, and they couldn’t afford to let the land lie dormant for a year.

  Some Saturday afternoon, about the time the snow began to melt, Daett would make the trip to see Deacon Mast. The deacon would listen with bowed head. He would nod and express sympathy, but nasty repercussions would follow. A committee would be appointed, chosen by the harsh Minister Kanagy, if Alvin didn’t miss his guess. Daett would lose control of his checking account. Changes would be demanded in his farming practices. Changes that Alvin had asked for many times and had been refused. Daett would nod and agree, but he would do what he always had done once the men drove out of the driveway—nothing! After a time the committee would catch on. They would send in a hired hand, but still there would be no change. The best hired hand in the world wouldn’t be able to watch Daett’s every move or change what the years had solidified in his soul.

  If Alvin had stayed, the blame would also descend on his shoulders. “Alvin should have known better.” The whispers would make their rounds. “After all, isn’t Alvin twenty-one and a man?” “You can’t teach one of Edwin Knepp’s boys anything,” they would say. And there were his brothers to prove the point. All of them had left farming when they married. Wallace and William, the twins, had taken construction jobs with crews who specialized in pole barns. Amos had a small harness shop outside of Beaver Springs. The business didn’t do that well, but it was better than Amos’s farming skills. Alvin had been the only brother left to take the farm into the next generation.

  If he hated farming, the matter might have been easier to bear, but Alvin didn’t. He loved the work, the early morning rising before dawn, the dew fresh on the grass, the neigh of horses eager to work, the smell of freshly mown hay in the summertime. He even liked the howl of the winter wind outside the house and the knowledge that the animals were safe and secure in the barn.

  His love for the farm was really why he left, Alvin told himself. He couldn’t bear the pain of losing the place. It tore at his emotions. He couldn’t bear to see so much drift away when it could have been prevented. And his attraction to Debbie had made things worse.

  His first glimpses of her had been exactly that—brief sightings of her car at first. He hadn’t known who was in the car that repeatedly drove slowly past the farm. He’d expected an older, local couple. Perhaps someone fascinated with Amish farms. The car came by too often to have been the usual drive-by tourists. Alvin knew what they thought, even though he seldom heard them from his perch on the rusty seats of his horse-drawn farm equipment.

  “How quaint these people are!”

  “It’s like living in the seventeenth century.”

  “Such thrifty people!”

  Alvin flopped on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Debbie’s face had seemed like an angel’s when he’d seen his first sight of her through the car window. She had apparently considered herself caught and had rolled down the window to wave. He’d waved back. She was an Englisha girl and more beautiful than he’d ever thought a woman’s face could be. At first he’d told himself it was his imagination, that his backwards upbringing caused him to see what wasn’t really there. He told himself that Englisha girls naturally appeared more attractive than their unadorned Amish neighbors.

  But he wasn’t able to convince himself. And then Debbie had continued to drive by. Apparently she felt comfortable with his acceptance of her presence. He’d tried to convince himself he would never see her again, that she was not from his world, that he must think about an Amish girl when it came to love. But she’d haunted his dreams at night, and some days she was all he could think of while he worked the fields. And with how Mildred Schrock had used him after they both joined the young folks—how she’d turned up her nose at him after their schooldays crush on each other—he had plenty of reason to consider a girl outside the community.

  Alvin was at Bishop Beiler’s farm one afternoon when Debbie walked out of the barn. He’d stayed in his buggy for fear his tongue would stammer and stutter. He’d dared ask Bishop Beiler who she was though—after Debbie had driven out of the lane and given him the usual brief wave and quick smile. Bishop Beiler hadn’t seemed too curious about his questions, and strangely enough the bishop seemed to have friendly feelings toward the girl.

  “She’s Debbie, our neighbors’ girl,” the bishop had told him. “She’s been coming over ever since she was a child. She’s gut friends with my girls.”

  So there was more to Debbie’s frequent trips past his place than touristy curiosity. Still, he knew he should never think of an Englisha girl with romantic notions. Then the unthinkable had happened. Debbie had moved into the Beiler household, and the whispers around the community were that she planned to join the faith. Her trips past his place had stopped about the same time.

  Paul Wagler was soon enamored with the charming Englisha girl. This didn’t surprise Alvin. He might have been able to get over Debbie eventually if she hadn’t asked him to wait on tables with her at Verna’s wedding. There she’d taken it upon herself to assure him that she wasn’t interested in Paul. After that talk he’d almost convinced himself that he could ask her home some Sunday evening after the hymn singing. In fact, he had promised Debbie he would do so soon.

  But in the end he couldn’t. Not with the farm situation. He loved Debbie too much to ask her to walk with him through that shame. There would be plenty in the community who were willing to remind Debbie how great this disgrace would be—Paul Wagler being the first in line. Nee, it was best if he found his own way in this world, far from the community and his unchangeable past.

  Seven

  The Friday-night Amish youth volleyball game in the barn was well underway. Paul Wagler dominated the front row at the moment, sending
one spike ball after the other over the net, flashing triumphant looks toward Debbie in the spot next to him after each success.

  He was good, Debbie admitted to herself. And he was handsome. Most girls here tonight—now that Alvin was gone—would look at Paul and her with new interest. Yet they would be wrong. Paul would make some girl a decent husband someday—just not her.

  From the other side of the court, Ida sent a smile of encouragement. Ida was a dear, but she only made things worse by her not-so-veiled attempts to push Debbie straight into Paul’s arms. What had come over the girl? Ida knew the depth of loss she’d experienced with Alvin’s departure. Did Ida wish to sacrifice her own affections for the handsome Paul for another’s perceived benefit? It seemed so. She’d whispered in Debbie’s ear tonight, just before the game began, “I don’t have a chance in the world to catch Paul, so don’t you be holding yourself back now.” Debbie had been horrified but her expression hadn’t deterred Ida in the least. She’d just given her a sly smile in return.

  Paul interrupted Debbie’s thoughts with another triumphant look. The man was the limit tonight. He seemed emboldened by Alvin’s absence and was moving in for the kill. Since Paul was one of the team captains, he’d not only chosen Debbie for his side but had placed her next to him in the play rotation. The man either had no shame or he considered her a gone goose and unable to resist his attentions. That idea raised her hackles.

  He glanced over at her and said, “Thanks for agreeing to play beside me tonight.”

  She’d done nothing of the sort, so she gave him what she thought was a piercing look. But it only produced a hearty laugh from Paul as the ball sailed toward them again. At least he was a gentleman, Debbie noticed. He stepped back to give her a chance to play. But when the arch of the ball drew close, Paul shouted, “Set it up for me! Over this way!” Self-serving man, Debbie thought, but she still bounced the ball toward him in a high arch. Paul leaped into the air and pounded the ball into the barn floor on the other side of the net with seemingly effortless ease.

  “Good one, Paul!” someone called out over the groans heard from the other side of the net.

  Paul pranced about for a moment enjoying his success but saying nothing about her part in the score. Now he looked at her expectantly, obviously wanting her to comment on his prowess.

  “Not bad,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

  “Come on, you can do better than that, can’t you?” He stepped closer and tilted his ear toward her.

  “You’re a great volleyball player!” she hollered.

  A satisfied look spread over his face. “That’s much better.”

  Moments later Paul got another spike in. Mary Yoder, who played across the net from them, scrambled out of the way rather than attempt to block the ball. She blushed red as Paul teased, “I didn’t mean to endanger your life.”

  Mary replied, “I only had to duck a little. I was ready for that anyway. You know, playing across from you I’ve learned.”

  “I’ll be more careful next time,” Paul said with the same kind of wide grin he’d been sending Debbie’s way. Mary blushed at the attention, and Debbie looked around for Ezra, Mary’s boyfriend. But it didn’t really matter, she realized. Paul’s effect on girls was well-known. No doubt Ezra would take it in stride. Most Amish boys seemed practical about such things. Obviously Alvin didn’t fit that mold. He’d left the community with a broken heart over her. At least that’s what was being said. What other reason could he have had? None. Which didn’t speak well of Alvin’s courage. On the other hand, how could she blame him in the face of Paul’s overwhelming charisma and manipulation?

  Debbie tried to push thoughts of Alvin away, but his absence hung over the gathering tonight. Thoughts of him wouldn’t go away no matter how hard she tried to ignore them. Thankfully no one else had mentioned anything so far. If they did, Debbie didn’t know how she would respond. A thought raced through her mind and stung as it went by. Perhaps the young people shared Bishop Beiler’s suspicions that she was to blame for Alvin’s actions?

  Debbie held still for a moment, the game continuing around her. Paul sent his charms her direction again, but she ignored him as she processed her emotions. Surely no one would think she should also leave or that she’d join Alvin in the Englisha world? Didn’t they know that neither Alvin nor she would be happy out there? She wouldn’t. And she was sure Alvin was a man firmly rooted in the community, regardless of his current action. Wasn’t the Knepp family among the most faithful church members around? Bishop Beiler had told her so himself. Somewhere there was a problem with Alvin that no one else knew or had addressed yet.

  “Hel–lo!” Paul shouted near her ear. “Wake up, Debbie. The ball might come your way. This is our last round in the front line for a while, and I need spikes set up for me.”

  Debbie stared at him blankly, but when the ball came her way moments later, she set it up perfectly for Paul. While Paul celebrated his successful spike, Debbie’s thoughts drifted back to Alvin. Could she have done more to assure him of her affections? She couldn’t see how. Things were done differently here. A girl could be considered too aggressive. And she had done her part. She’d tried to get across to Alvin at Verna’s wedding that Paul meant nothing to her. Yet look at her tonight. She was playing beside Paul in the front row. Did Alvin perhaps know more about her than she did? Come to think of it, she hadn’t protested Paul’s maneuvers out loud. A protest would have caused a scene, and one didn’t do that with Paul. Maybe that’s what Alvin had seen—the inevitability of Paul. Perhaps Paul’s persona had acquired a life of its own in Alvin’s mind and driven him to hopelessness.

  Debbie stole a glance at Paul’s handsome face. He could be more persistent than men like Doug had been. She liked it in a way—this inability to bend a man’s mind once he had it made up. That response came from deep inside of her, unbidden and without her permission. It seemed like a primordial instinct that lingered from an era when a woman chose the strongest man in the clan and wed him out of necessity, not love.

  Paul’s voice cut through her thoughts again. “Your turn to serve, beautiful. Get on back to your place.”

  His tone commanded and condescended at the same time.

  “I’m going!” she snapped.

  Paul laughed.

  The man infuriated her! But she dutifully took her place behind the serving line. She mustn’t let him get to her. Her whack at the ball sent it on a crash course to the outer barn wall, well out of bounds.

  “Hey, don’t do that!” Paul scolded.

  Debbie ignored him. If he hadn’t distracted her, she wouldn’t have made such a bad play. Volleyball might not be her best game, but she was reasonably proficient.

  Paul cheered up when the following serve by the opposing team landed in the net. The serve changed again, and the ball was now in Paul’s hands. With a confident whap, he sent the ball over the net in a high arch. It landed just inside the boundary line without a hand touching it. He gave Debbie a sharp look as if to say, “Now that’s how it’s done.”

  “I know that!” Debbie wanted to shout at him, but she didn’t. What Paul thought of her didn’t matter in the least. She watched as he served again and gained two more points. He lost the next serve when their teammate Betty Miller hit the ball out of bounds.

  While they waited for the serve from the opposing team, Paul turned his attention back to Debbie. “I heard your little boy left the community.”

  She gave him a fierce glare.

  He laughed. “Don’t blame me. I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Yes, you did!” she wanted to snap back, but she kept her mouth shut.

  He leaned over to whisper, “I suppose your date card—or whatever you Englisha call it—will be open now.”

  “And I suppose you’re wanting to fill it?” This time the words didn’t stay inside.

  “I see my eligibility has not escaped your esteemed notice.” His smile was triumphant.

  “You don’t have to
talk so high-brow,” she whispered back.

  Paul’s smile widened. “Just letting you know I’m both available and suitable for a fine lady educated in the ways of the world—not like someone else we both know.”

  “The ways of the world? So you’re also thinking of leaving?” Debbie shot back. She wished at once she hadn’t. Paul had her more rattled than she’d thought possible.

  Paul assumed an injured look. “You wound me to the heart, Debbie. I’m as solid as a rock. You need to get your evaluation sheet in better order.”

  Debbie forced herself to laugh. “I think it’s in perfect order, thank you.”

  Paul raised his eyebrows. “Then why is a certain someone wandering off in no man’s land? What happened to your evaluation sheet on Alvin Knepp?”

  When Debbie didn’t answer, Paul kept going.

  “You know, we Amish never settle down out there. Men who leave the community are doomed to roam the earth, forever neither this nor that. And then there’s the church’s highest displeasure of course, and she can be most severe. I’m expecting Bishop Beiler to have the boy placed in the bann before too many Sundays are past.”

  Debbie tried to keep the spin out of her head. Excommunication was something no one at the Beiler household had said anything about, but then they might have been careful not to say anything in front of her. Alvin was a church member, so of course the bann was on the agenda.

  As if he read her mind, Paul smirked. “The inept boy was a church member, you know.”

  “And he was a man!” she almost yelled, but she caught herself in time. Paul was trying to get under her skin on purpose, and he was doing a pretty good job of it. It was time she took control of the situation.