Seeing Your Face Again

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Before Debbie and Lois were halfway across the Beilers’ lawn, Ida came running out of the front doorway.

  Lois squealed and raced forward to grab her sister in a tight hug. The two clung to each other for a long time.

  Debbie waited. She’d expected something like this, but even so, the reunion brought tears to her eyes.

  “Look at you!” Ida held Lois at arm’s length. “You still look Amish.”

  Lois frowned. “I put on one of my old dresses and my kapp, but this is not who I am now.”

  Ida took Lois by the hand. “I thought you might come in your Englisha clothing. This is better, and I’m thankful. Now come. Mamm will want to see you.”

  Lois held back for a moment. “Ida, did Daett say I could come? I didn’t think of that until just this moment.”

  “We all miss having you around, Lois. I’m sure Daett will be okay.”

  Lois didn’t look convinced as she followed her sister up the front steps.

  Debbie tagged along behind them. Ida didn’t pause as she led Lois inside, and Debbie caught a glimpse of Saloma on the rocker as the door swung open. There was welcome written on Saloma’s face even though she hadn’t come to the door. The first sight of her daughter in a while might be a shock Saloma preferred to take sitting down. Debbie was glad Lois had changed. Saloma would eventually see her daughter dressed Englisha, but that didn’t have to happen today.

  Lois approached Saloma, her step a bit hesitant. “Mamm, I’m home for a visit.”

  Saloma rose and reached out with both arms. Lois flew into them, and the two hugged each other.

  Ida wiped her eyes in the silence that was broken only by Saloma’s soft sobs.

  “Are you home to stay?” Saloma asked hopefully as she let go of Lois.

  Debbie figured Saloma knew the answer, but she still had to ask. That was a trait of an Amish woman Debbie hadn’t fully acquired—the hope they possessed at times, even in the face of great difficulty.

  “You know the answer to that, Mamm. But I can at least come home at times to visit…can’t I?”

  Saloma’s voice caught as she agreed. “Yah, Lois. And I’m glad you’ve come today—and in decent clothing with your kapp on.” Saloma reached up to tuck a strand of hair back under Lois’s kapp.

  Lois blurted, “Mamm, you need to know I’m not going to hide the way I’m living. It’s what I’ve wanted all these years. And it’s so wunderbah I have no words to describe it. It’s like I’m finally free. But if it makes you feel better, I will come home looking like this for a while yet.”

  “You’ve cut your hair, haven’t you?” Saloma asked as she tucked another strand of Lois’s hair under her kapp. The effort had little effect because the section of hair floated loose again.

  Lois’s voice turned timid. “Yah. And since I don’t have that much money yet, Callie—Debbie’s mamm—insisted on paying. She said I’d look more Englisha and fit in better.”

  A tear ran down Saloma’s cheek. “You’re cutting your hair like a horse in the barn, Lois. How can you do such a thing after being raised so decent all of your life?”

  “Mamm, please!” Lois took both of Saloma’s hands in hers. “Let’s not fight about this. I came over to see you and to tell you how much I’ve been missing you. I want to hear all about what’s happening here at home.”

  “My precious daughter…” Saloma apparently couldn’t let go of the subject. “This is so wrong, Lois.” Saloma sighed. “But let’s not speak of it anymore. Come sit, and we can talk.” She motioned toward the couch as she took her seat on the rocker again.

  Ida sat down beside Lois as Debbie slipped into the kitchen. She would busy herself while they conversed. She wasn’t really part of the family, and Saloma needed time alone with Ida and her youngest daughter. Debbie paused to look around as a stab of pain ran through her. For the first time since she’d moved in with the Beilers she no longer thought of herself as part of their family. With Alvin’s and Lois’s departures, the dream of being part of them seemed far away and slipping further away with each passing moment.

  In the living room, the low voices of the three women rose and fell as Debbie’s thoughts drifted over the past few weeks. Alvin and Lois had made their decisions to leave the community. Paul Wagler’s attention toward her had increased to the boiling point. And in a way that bothered her, it seemed her parents had turned against her by welcoming Lois into their lives in her place. What was to become of her? Debbie bolted out the washroom door and gasped for air. Was this some sort of panic attack? Or was she just realizing that she didn’t seem to have a home anymore. Not really a Beiler, and not really a Watson either. Who was she?

  Perhaps she needed an honest talk with the bishop. That would make more sense than if she spoke with Saloma as Ida had proposed. The women were occupied inside the house and would be for some time. What better time than right now? Debbie placed her thoughts in action. She approached the barn and pushed open the creaky door. The dim interior pulled her in. She took deep breaths of the musty air that smelled of hay and cows and well-cared-for horses. The back door was open with a manure spreader backed up against it. Emery and his dad were bent over their pitchforks as they cleaned out the horse stalls. Debbie approached them with soft steps.

  Emery noticed her first. “Well, look who’s come to help us!” he sang out.

  Bishop Beiler looked up with a start. “Debbie! I’m surprised to see you. Is the Saturday hanging heavy on you?”

  “I suppose so,” Debbie allowed. “May I help you?”

  “I wasn’t serious.” Emery laughed.

  “Well, I am.” She gave him a warm smile.

  “Right over there.” Bishop Beiler pointed toward another pitchfork. “And there’s still room on my side. We should have this first load up before long.”

  Debbie sank her fork in the gathered pile the men had moved from the stalls. She could take considerably less each swing than the two men, but that didn’t surprise her. She worked slowly but steadily alongside them in silence until the manure spreader was filled. She leaned against the barn wall and caught her breath. Emery drove the team and manure spreader out of the barnyard and over to a snowy field.

  “I’m guessing you didn’t really come out to help load manure,” Bishop Beiler said once Emery was out of earshot.

  “No, I didn’t.” Debbie searched for words to continue.

  “Troubled about what’s going on?” Bishop Beiler leaned on his fork. “I see you took Lois inside the house a moment ago. Were you expecting me to come in and speak with her?”

  Debbie shook her head. “I didn’t really know what you’d do. I knew you saw us go in. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

  Bishop Beiler nodded. “I couldn’t help but notice with all the shrieking going on.” He smiled briefly before his smile faltered.

  “I understand,” Debbie said. “It must be unsettling for you.”

  He appeared weary now. “You spend your life training up your children, working with the church, hoping things will turn out okay, and then this.”

  “Lois did give you plenty of warning.” Now where did that boldness come from? Debbie wondered. Now seemed the moment to speak her mind though.

  The bishop lowered his head. “I was hoping you’d help me out in that area. And you did for a while.”

  “Are you disappointed in me?” Debbie heard her voice catch.

  Bishop Beiler stroked his beard. “Not in you. Maybe in the plan I had. I guess when Alvin left…” He paused. “Debbie, you didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?”

  “Not unless liking him is a sin.” Debbie didn’t meet his gaze.

  Bishop Beiler managed to laugh. “I think that’s a virtue more than anything.”

  Debbie ventured a chuckle. “I don’t think the others in the community will see things that way.”

  Bishop Beiler took his time before he answered. “I suppose you want me to speak plainly, Debbie, since this morning seems like that ki
nd of day. Well, nee, the community won’t tolerate things as they are going for very long. How long, I don’t know, but there are rumblings already. The time will run out soon, I’m afraid.”

  “So I’ll have to go?” Debbie’s voice broke.

  Bishop Beiler gave her a sympathetic glance. “Not on my part. But I’m not the one who will make the call. There is only so much a bishop can do…”

  Debbie finished the sentence for him, “…when there is an Englisha girl in the midst who might be leading people astray.”

  “I didn’t say that because I know that’s not the case. And I will tell them so. But our people tend to go by how things look.” The bishop paused, and his words hung in the air.

  “It doesn’t look good, does it? My fingerprints are all over both cases. I give a young Amish boy impossible dreams so he rushes out into the world. I open the way for the bishop’s daughter to do the same. My own parents even take her in. People will believe I helped set that up even though they know I tried so hard to talk her out of it. I guess that won’t be accepted as a very good excuse.”

  “You are a wise young woman.” Bishop Beiler frowned again. “You see how things stand.”

  “If I married Paul all would be forgiven. Is that not true?”

  Bishop Beiler shrugged. “Nothing like love to cleanse sins. Yah, I’m afraid that’s true, though it doesn’t make me happy in the least that things stand like that.”

  “I can’t do that though. I don’t love him. In fact, he’s an example of the type of person I’m trying to avoid out there in my world.” Her response was heated, but she couldn’t help it.

  Bishop Beiler raised his eyebrows. “You’re sure of this? Paul Wagler has quite an upstanding record among the people. He’s not a man any of our young women would turn down, Debbie.”

  “And yet I have,” Debbie snapped. “He comes on too strong for my taste. I’m just not attracted to him.” There were nicer ways she could have said this, especially to the bishop.

  Bishop Beiler studied the tines on his pitchfork. “I suppose there are many things that must be decided in the future. But let’s don’t rush into them, Debbie. Please take your time. There are those who will seek to hurry things along, but our people believe a person needs to take all the time that’s necessary—even if it seems time is running out. Perhaps you’ll come to see the wisdom of returning Paul’s attention now that Alvin is gone.”

  Debbie bit back a quick retort. “Do you think Alvin is really gone for good then?”

  “He hasn’t responded to Deacon Mast’s letter.” Bishop Beiler studied the ground. “But there’s always hope. Yet I must tell you this, Debbie, simply because you’re so closely involved. I fear there is false hope stirring in your heart. Alvin apparently has some serious problems he’s running away from.”

  Debbie stared, unable to speak.

  Bishop Beiler continued. “Alvin’s daett has come to Deacon Mast for financial help. Seems like there isn’t enough feed in the barn to last the winter, let alone money in the bank for the spring planting. And yet Alvin left with a large amount of money, we believe. Why would he leave his daett in such straits?”

  Debbie struggled to find her voice. “Alvin stole family money? Is that what you’re saying? That he abandoned the farm? Is his father making this claim?”

  Bishop Beiler winced. “Edwin is speaking only the best of his son, but Deacon Mast fears the facts may be otherwise. Already men have been assigned to look into the affairs of the Knepp farm. This is a great shame among us, Debbie. And that may be what Alvin is running from.”

  “Alvin’s no thief!” Debbie protested. “I refuse to believe it.”

  “No one is saying he is.” The bishop looked up as Emery rattled into the barnyard on the manure spreader. “I’m only telling you this because it wouldn’t be fair to hide the matter from you. You need to know.”

  “Thank you,” Debbie managed to say. She turned and stumbled out of the barn and into the chilly air outside. Now the world had really fallen in on her. Alvin was suspected of theft!

  Sixteen

  Alvin labored over his letter to Deacon Mast. The paper and pen were spread out on the kitchen table in his little apartment. It was high time he got the thing written and in the mail or Deacon Mast would draw his own conclusions based on his nonresponse. Not that the letter would produce a different ending, but it was better this way.

  He’d struggled a few days over the issue and thought about what it would mean. He knew in his honesty that the sorrow it would cause his parents was what held him back more than anything else. That and Debbie’s disappointment in him, but he didn’t wish to think about her right now. Mamm and Daett’s heartache was enough pain to bear. That pulled at his heart even as he tried to tell himself there was no other way this could be done. If he returned to the community, Mamm and Daett would rejoice, as would most of the community, but their compassion would soon turn into pity and, from there, to scorn. He was certain of this. The people might not desire to have such emotions, but how could they feel otherwise? With the failure of Daett’s farm, Alvin would be just another boy who couldn’t succeed in any venture. He couldn’t even successfully leave home for the Englisha world.

  How this would be put back together later, he had no idea. But perhaps he didn’t need to understand. Life had settled into a muddled sort of existence. It went on day to day with ever-lessening stabs of homesickness. He never thought he’d like city life—and he didn’t. But perhaps it was the noise and the soot in the streets that was helping deaden the pain in his heart. In a way he was thankful for even the ugly things in life.

  Alvin clenched his jaw and picked up the pen.

  Dear Deacon Mast,

  I received your letter and am thankful for your concern and words of advice. I wish there was a way things could be otherwise, but right now there isn’t. I will not be returning home anytime soon—not until I find peace in my heart on some matters. I understand that such a move isn’t acceptable to you or the community, so you may do what you wish. If Da Hah ever straightens things out where I can return, I will beg for your forgiveness and understanding for having caused the grief that I have. Until then, I wish you and the community nothing but the best.

  Yours truly,

  Alvin Knepp

  Alvin folded the letter and slid it inside an envelope, sealed it, and then grabbed a thin coat and headed into the hallway toward the elevator. There was really no reason he had to mail the letter right this moment, but he wanted to. It was as if he needed to get the deed done and out of his hands so he could move on with life. How that would be done, he wasn’t sure, but this felt better than if he left the letter in his apartment a moment longer.

  He needed a breath of fresh air anyway. Back in the apartment he still couldn’t bring himself to turn on the television—except for very short periods of time. He felt little interest in what he saw: people who chattered about world news, intense conversations, movies he could make little sense of, and baseball games that went on forever.

  He knew he was strange in that way, but it was a subject he didn’t own up to at his job. Not that many people asked, but Carlos, who worked with him in maintenance, had this love affair with the New York Yankees. Alvin had embarrassed himself terribly when he asked who they were and Carlos had been shocked.

  “The Yankees! You don’t know who the Yankees are?” Carlos thought Alvin had lost his mind.

  Which he probably had, Alvin thought with a wry smile. Yah, he’d left his mind back at the farm. There he knew about life even though his daett wouldn’t let him run the farm efficiently. He knew how to fix the machinery when it broke down, and he knew where he belonged. Here, well, he tried, and that was the best he could do.

  The elevator pinged its arrival, and the doors opened. Alvin walked in. The halls were usually empty this time of the night. Getting out on the ground floor, he dropped the letter in the lobby mailbox. He didn’t want to go back upstairs—not yet. Not when he knew
the letter would head back to the community in the morning. This was a stressful-yet-momentous occasion. The letter was necessary, but it was also final and, thus, painful.

  Alvin pushed open the front door and stepped outside. The coat he had on did little to cut the chill, but he’d experienced worse at home on winter days when he worked outside. He hadn’t been raised pampered, he thought as he headed down the street with his chin up. He was a hardy farm boy. It finally dawned on him that the direction he was walking was going away from his usual bus stop. Maybe he wanted new scenery tonight—as if that were possible in the city. Every street and sidewalk looked like the one before.

  His brisk walk soon brought him to a gray, pillared entrance to a park. Alvin stopped and stared. Was it possible? A large expanse without buildings in the city? Yah, the Englisha did keep such things, now that he thought about it. That way they could experience a little of what Da Hah gave country people to enjoy every day. It wasn’t the farm, but it was better than the sidewalks! Even with the dusting of snow on the ground Alvin thought it was wonderful.

  He walked past the pillars, and once he was away from the street he stopped and wiped snow from a stone bench. He sat down and allowed the peacefulness of the area to settle his spirit. He would have to come here more often. It certainly beat anything offered on the television. Here things were as they should be. Here the world showed only the work of Da Hah’s hands. In the summertime there would likely be more people around, but that didn’t matter. They would come for the same reasons he came, and he would consider them friends.

  In the distance the forms of a man and woman came into focus. They came up the same path he’d been on. They nodded and smiled to him as they passed seemingly absorbed in their conversation. Alvin shifted on the cold bench as the thought of Debbie flashed in his mind. He pushed it away, but it persisted. Her face was coming to him from the apartment complex or somewhere near. Only it wasn’t Debbie after all. Nee, it was the woman he’d seen in the apartment building who reminded him of Debbie. Was he feeling drawn to her…just as he’d been drawn to Debbie?