“I liked that boy,” she responded.
The words came out a little louder than she intended, and Betty Miller in the next row glanced back at her, a displeased expression on her face.
Paul shrugged as if he was puzzled. “I’m sorry I’m not more likable.” He turned his charms on Cindy, who had also glanced back. She grinned at him and turned around again.
Paul had gone for a haggard and contrite look, and it was working with Cindy. But that wouldn’t work on herself. Of that, she was sure. Still, Paul wasn’t deterred because he turned his attention back to her. “It’s seems to be the bane of my life that the one girl I admire the most gives me nothing but the cold shoulder.”
“Maybe you should try a different approach,” she told him.
Paul perked up. “I’m open to instruction, you know. And what better teacher for a poor Amish boy than a woman educated in all the wonders of the world?”
“You talk too much,” Debbie said, unable to stop herself.
Paul looked pleased. “See, you’re doing a gut job already. We’ll have to do more of this—later.”
The ball sailed toward them in the back line before Debbie could retort. Paul had stepped away and given her the floor even though he could have easily returned the ball.
His charms aren’t going to affect me! Debbie told herself as she set the ball up for a front row spiker. The boy spiked it—not as cleanly as Paul would have done it, but good enough to score the point.
“Nice set up,” Paul complimented Debbie.
Debbie sighed. She’d been through this before with men. Doug was supposed to be the last man who did this to her—give shallow compliments, be manipulative, and demand compliments. This was what had helped her decide to move into the Amish community. She’d been tired of the foolishness, and now she was right back in it again. “Thank you,” she said without looking at Paul. She could see his face glowing in her side vision. Clearly he would have to find out the hard way that his advances were useless. Someday that would soak into his thick head. And the day couldn’t come soon enough for her.
Eight
The following Monday night Debbie sat on the couch in the Beiler living room with a hamper of clean clothing beside her. The only sounds in the house were the ones Lois and Saloma were making in the kitchen. Debbie folded the clothes as her mind drifted back to the game Friday night. Paul was probably still gloating over his supposed advances in his plans to conquer her heart. Oh, if he only knew the truth. She took a deep breath. She shouldn’t think about Paul right now. There were other things more important. For one, the house was in a bustle tonight. She’d come home from her job to find the basement full of drying wash.
“We kept the wash on the outside line until twelve or so,” Ida told her. “Then it became obvious the sun had done all it could. When the wind picked up, Mamm helped me transfer everything into the basement.”
Then the two women had fired up the small woodstove they used for such occasions. Wash in the basement was a winter’s inconvenience that all Amish women faced. The Beiler women had taken the extra work in stride without a grumble or complaint. Debbie had joined in, helping fold most of the clothing once it had dried while Ida helped with the chores in the barn. Lois and Saloma had begun supper preparations soon after Debbie had arrived home.
Debbie’s efforts seemed like a small contribution when she considered the amount of work the Beiler women did to keep the place running. It made her hours at work at Destiny Relocation Services, where she answered phones and managed the moving crews, seem insignificant. Maybe she should quit her job and stay “home” fulltime now that Verna was married. The problem was that Saloma and Ida had already made the necessary adjustments. Between the two of them and Lois, the workload was usually covered. The extra strain only showed on cold, winter days when the wash wouldn’t dry in the usual time. But that was the weather’s fault. On normal days, Ida and Saloma could handle things at home fine without her.
Debbie folded the last of Emery’s denim pants and pressed out the crease the best she could. “Such things aren’t necessary,” Verna had told Debbie. “Our men don’t need creases in their work pants.” Verna had laughed at the very idea. But this was one of the few instincts from her past that still stayed with her. If—and that was a big if—she ever married an Amish man, she would always be tempted to take the time to iron his work pants. But she wouldn’t. She didn’t want her husband to stand out from the other men. That was a matter of great importance in the community. No man should lift himself above the others in word, deed, or clothing.
Debbie let her mind wander. She thought about life as a married Amish woman. There would be lots of children, she was sure of that. Once they began to arrive and with all the work in the house, there would be no time for such frivolities like ironing work pants. Debbie pulled her thoughts up short and felt her face burn. She rarely indulged in such intimate dreams. And with Alvin gone, there was even less reason to do so. For a moment she felt like crying about her lot.
It must be the winter weather, Debbie decided. Another storm was ready to howl outside tonight. Perhaps she was in denial about Alvin and just couldn’t accept that the winter of her soul had arrived. Instead, she wished for spring. She found pleasure in thoughts of marriage and sweet babies. She couldn’t let go of the hope of spring when the soil and the soul would bring life forth again.
A shiver ran down Debbie’s back. She really was in denial. She should run from her fears like Alvin had. And she had a ready excuse. She was at great risk right now. She could easily lose her welcome at the Beiler home plus any hope of someday joining the community.
While living across the road from the Beilers for most of her life, Debbie had longed for their quiet life. Even in the moments when she forgot the desire, it had been there, ready to exert itself for the smallest of reasons. The sound of distant horse hooves beating on pavement, the clang of horse-drawn machinery in the fields, or the smell of freshly mown hay drifting into her open bedroom window was enough to turn her thoughts toward Amish life. Then there was Alvin. Alvin was the crown that could have held it all together. But now, even with him gone, the pieces were still there like they always had been. She must readjust. But how? That was the question. Should she pursue Alvin in Philadelphia? Amish women didn’t do that. And that course of action seemed foolish and impossible at the same time. He wouldn’t listen to her anyway. Perhaps she should weather this storm in her soul. Hunker down and wait and not draw attention to herself.
That was the best route, Debbie decided as she folded one of her dresses. She looked and acted like an Amish woman in many ways now. Verna and Ida had assured her of that many times, so it must be so. Ida might be inclined to indulge in a biased point of view, but Verna would have told her the truth. Verna was practical in that way. Ida let her kind heart get in the way of total honesty sometimes.
Right now Ida was clearly on a mission. She wanted to help quiet down the community’s whisperings over Alvin’s departure and eliminate the resistance Debbie had to Paul’s attentions. Ida meant to solve the first with the second, and she gave up her own hope for Paul in the process. Debbie sighed. No doubt Ida found a certain satisfaction in her self-sacrifice, but her soft heart was the real reason behind Ida’s actions. And for that Debbie couldn’t slight Ida in the least. But the girl’s efforts were wasted when it came to Debbie’s affections toward Paul. “Look how he likes you!” Ida had said on the way home Friday night. “I haven’t seen Paul so impressed with a girl in a long time.”
Debbie wondered how she could make Ida understand that this placed her right back where she’d been in her college days. She’d dated several boys, Doug being the last one. All of them were of the same type. They dashed about with outgoing personalities and plenty of charm. Debbie knew a part of her was drawn to that. When she moved in with the Beilers, she’d thought she was rid of that tendency. Now it was back and perhaps even made worse by Paul. He made Doug and the others look like ama
teurs in the “smooth” department, which said a lot.
There was no way Debbie would settle for Paul. She hadn’t left her own world to fall further into her relationship weakness. What she wanted was a man with depth and mystery. Alvin might think he’d lost her with his sudden departure from the community, but the truth was that it made Debbie more attracted to him. If Alvin was able to strike off on his own and succeed, that said more about him than he probably realized. The man had a mystique about him that she liked.
Debbie studied one of Lois’s dresses she’d pulled from the clean clothes hamper. She draped it over the back of the couch. What Alvin’s real problem was right now, she couldn’t imagine, but it had to be something besides her presence and the issue with Paul. No, there had to be more. But what? All she knew was what she’d gleaned from community speculation. She’d overheard conversations among the women and girls at the Sunday services. No one made any effort to hide them from her. None of the buzz about Alvin had deterred her heart.
“Alvin comes from such a solid family,” someone said. “How could he leave like this?”
“His daett and mamm must be devastated…their last son, and now he’s gone.”
“Alvin never was much for rumspringa. Maybe that’s the problem,” Minister Kanagy’s wife, Barbara, had opined.
“I say that’s a warning for us all,” said Lavina, the woman Barbara was speaking to. “Thinking one is so holy that the world has no attraction is a great pride.”
“Yah, we must all test our faith,” another added. “But it’s best done as the forefathers did this, not by how these spiritual giants amongst us think best.”
“Such pride is an awful thing.”
The older women had nodded, as if that supplied the answer. But Debbie wasn’t convinced. She couldn’t imagine that a man would leave so much that he loved because he was afraid of her rejection. Doug never would have, and Paul certainly never would. Alvin was different, but still…
In the meantime, Ida’s efforts would bear little fruit, as would Paul’s confident advances. His boldness Friday night had continued on Sunday because Ida had volunteered Debbie to help serve the unmarried men’s table. When she’d dropped off the peanut butter bowls, Paul had taken the opportunity to tease her.
“Is this a special Englisha mix?” he asked with a straight face.
“You haven’t even tasted it yet,” she said, unable to hold her tongue. “It might not be any good.”
“Oh, it’ll be good. I was waiting for special service from your hand!” Paul quipped, garnering low chuckles from the others at the table.
“Maybe she wanted to serve us first,” a boy ventured. “She looked like she was headed in my direction.”
“That’s when my handsome looks distracted the poor girl,” Paul said. Louder laughter followed this time.
“I’m going to put this peanut butter bowl right on top of your head pretty soon,” Debbie retorted.
“Now wouldn’t that be a sight!” one of men hollered from the end of the table. “I’d like to see that.”
“Debbie wouldn’t harm a flea, let alone plop peanut butter over my head.” Paul gave her a sweet smile. “She’s just trying to demonstrate how much she cares about me.”
“Woo hoo!” the man who sat beside Paul hooted. “We’ve got live courting going on right before our eyes. Are you showing us how it’s done, Paul?”
Ida pulled on Debbie’s arm, apparently satisfied with her work at the moment. “Come, we have to get more food from upstairs.”
“She looks like she’s fleeing!” a man’s voice proclaimed as Debbie followed Ida up the stairs.
Ida gave Debbie a quick look when they walked into the kitchen. She whispered, “He cares a lot for you, Debbie. And you’re doing very gut yourself.”
Debbie kept her mouth shut, which only encouraged Ida to whisper, “It’s not useless, Debbie. He’ll be asking you home soon. Don’t give up so easily.”
What a confused mess! Debbie tried to straighten out Ida’s thoughts on the way home. “Ida, I don’t like Paul. He’s not my type. Paul’s like the boys I used to date out in my world, and that’s one reason I came to the Amish community.”
Ida hadn’t appeared convinced in the least.
At the hymn singing that evening, Debbie tried a different tactic. She took a seat among the second row of girls. Her usual place was on the front row, but she hung back and kept herself busy in the kitchen with the last few dishes on the counter. By the time those were put away—at a slow rate of speed—the first bench was full of girls. She slipped into a back row and stayed out of sight of Paul’s searching gaze. When he finally found her, she shifted a bit and used Minister Kanagy’s eldest daughter, Wilma, as a shield for the rest of the evening.
As she’d suspected, this only made things worse. Paul made a beeline for the outside door right after the hymn singing. She figured his plan was to wait for her near the washroom door. What he intended to say, she didn’t have any question about either. Probably a proposition that she allow him to take her home the next Sunday evening…or perhaps even that very night. An invitation she had no intention of accepting. But she didn’t want word leaked out that she’d turned down the handsome Paul Wagler either. Not right now when her position in the community hung by a thread. She slipped out the front door and walked clear around the house to avoid him.
The last piece of laundry folded, Debbie let out a sigh. She had to ride out this storm. The weather would clear as it always did. Spring would come…eventually. She stood and walked over to the front window for a peek toward the barn. The windows there glowed with soft warmth from the gasoline lanterns. Likely Ida would appear in the barn door soon with one of the lanterns in her hand. She didn’t have to worry about whether she could stay in the community. Ida was born Amish. In a way, none of this situation was fair, and yet Debbie had to trust that God knew all things. In the end this would turn out like it was supposed to.
Debbie tucked her loose hair under her kapp. She turned to walk into the kitchen where Saloma and Lois were placing the last of the supper dishes on the table.
“Finished with the wash?” Saloma asked, looking up with a pleased expression. “You’ve been such a help today, Debbie. Danke.”
“I’m the one who should thank you,” Debbie said as she busied herself with work in the kitchen. She wondered how long she’d have to endure the present situation before God revealed His will.
Nine
Debbie stood at the kitchen sink over an hour later as Lois dried the dishes beside her. The soap suds came up to Debbie’s elbow, creating a chill on her forearms where the cool air from the window reached in. The kitchen stove still gave off a warm glow from the cooking Saloma and Lois had done as they prepared supper. To Debbie, her cold arms and warm back reminded her of the conflicting emotions that swirled inside her. On the one side there was the comforting presence of the Beiler household she’d become so used to. On the other hand, there was the trouble that had blown in with Alvin’s departure.
Winter weather never won out, Debbie decided, comforting herself with the thought. Spring always came regardless of how cold the storm blew. Would not this trouble with Alvin end in the same way? How that would be, she had no idea, but there had at least been a little good news tonight…even if she had to imagine it.
Bishop Beiler had told them at the supper table, “Deacon Mast stopped by to tell me that Alvin has let his parents know that he’s safe in Philadelphia.”
“The deacon made a special trip for that?” Saloma was surprised.
“Deacon Mast knew I was concerned,” the bishop replied, but he fell silent after that.
From the look on Saloma’s face, Debbie could tell there was more to it. Maybe what church discipline was on tap for Alvin. Perhaps that was part of the reason for the deacon’s visit too. Deacon Mast probably consulted with the bishop on what his first contact with Alvin ought to consist of now that Alvin’s whereabouts were known. Excommunication
was likely not far away, even though such a public rebuke wouldn’t reflect well on Bishop Beiler’s leadership. If he lost a member to the Englisha world in such a fashion, it wouldn’t be an easy matter for him to resolve. She could tell from the looks on all their faces that the situation was serious. Even Henry Yoder’s excommunication last year hadn’t produced such troubled expressions around the supper table.
Lois wiped the dishes beside her with quick motions, apparently lost in her own thoughts.
Debbie gave her a little smile. “Sorry. I haven’t been meaning to ignore you. I was just thinking about Alvin’s leaving.”
Lois nodded. “I understand. It’s a troubling thing for the community. And for you. But perhaps he’ll come back.”
“Thanks,” Debbie whispered. She doubted Lois really had much hope in Alvin’s return, but the sentiment did count. And what concern in her own life was Lois thinking about right now? She had a faraway look in her eyes. Should she ask?
While Debbie pondered the question, Saloma came in from the living room and cleared her throat. “Are you girls about done? Daett wants to have the prayer and Scripture reading soon. He’s retiring early tonight.”
“We’ll rush,” Debbie said. Saloma withdrew, and Debbie decided the bishop was even more troubled than she’d imagined. He seldom retired well before nine o’clock. But then perhaps the winter weather was getting to him. She ought to stop her thoughts about things and retire herself for a long winter’s sleep. Things might look different once spring weather arrived. And if she thought about spring long enough, she could almost imagine the first of its warmth. The warm breezes would melt the drifts of snow along the road. The horses would run in the barnyard with full vigor. This renewal might also happen for Alvin and herself. She just had to keep her faith in the Lord’s guiding hand. He’d brought her this far. He wouldn’t fail her now.
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