by Linda Byler
Sarah walked bravely to the side of the shop where the single girls were assembled, greeting others and smiling. She knew some of them, but was not acquainted with the younger ones.
She was completely aware of the curious stares, the pitying glances, but she feigned indifference, making it much easier for herself and those around her. Nothing was said, conversation resumed its normal tone, and Sarah relaxed and enjoyed the beautiful morning. She noticed Anna’s yard and garden, tended to perfection.
“Sarah.”
She looked around and saw her oldest pupil, Rosanna, dressed in a garish shade of green, her hair combed in the latest style, her covering sliding around on the back of her head.
“Rosanna. Why, of course, you’d be in this church district. It’s so good to see you.”
Rosanna shrugged her shoulders and tried to regain an air of indifference, but she looked again at Sarah’s scarred and discolored face, stammered, and threw herself into Sarah’s arms, bursting into little girl sobs. Sarah held her shaking form, patted her back, and looked at her through misty eyes.
“It’s okay, Rosanna, really. It’ll get better.”
Rosanna was sniffling, wiping a finger viciously across her nose, her eyes lowered, so miserably ashamed of herself.
Sarah looked around at the cluster of girls and found only sympathy and tears of pity for Rosanna. She assured her again, handed her a Kleenex, and slid an arm around her waist.
“I can barely wait till we have time to talk, okay? I have missed you so much this summer. I can hardly stand the thought of returning to school and you not being there. You’re done with school!”
Rosanna nodded.
“You look awful,” she said sadly.
“I know. But I won’t always look like this.”
“You think you’ll need a helper this year?”
“I might.”
Rosanna looked straight at Sarah, and they exchanged a look of confidence and trust.
“We’d have so much fun,” Sarah said.
Anna came to lead the girls to their designated benches, and Rosanna left Sarah’s side to follow the girls her own age.
Her eyes averted, knowing all eyes were on her injured face, Sarah walked slowly into the large building that would house the church service, gratefully sliding onto the bench, out of sight and away from prying eyes.
When the single young men filed in, there was a short, dark-haired youth leading them. So. He was not here. As Anna’s brother, Lee would have gone first.
Bitter disappointment took her breath away, but only for a minute. She had the rest of her life, and this was the first day of it. Life was much easier when she thought along those lines, she mused and opened the black hymnbook after the song was announced.
CHAPTER 9
IT WAS GOOD TO BE BACK AT THE SUNDAY SERVICES, the traditional gathering of friends and family. In each district, a group of about twenty-five to thirty families took turns hosting church services at their homes.
The districts were areas agreed upon by the ministers and laymen, usually bounded by roads or other landmarks. When the district grew to more than forty families, causing challenges for hosting so many people, the murmuring would begin. The women grumbled to their husbands about baking forty pies and the necessity of having to make eight batches of homemade bread. It just took too much food, they said.
The women were to be keepers of the home, quiet, prohibited from speaking in church, but they carried considerable clout when the time came to divide a church district into two. They were the ones who fretted and stewed about hosting the ever-growing congregation in their houses or shops or basements, always concerned about the allotted spaces.
On Sarah’s first Sunday back at church, Davey Beiler’s family had gone to church at Ben Zook’s farm, meaning they had gone to the district beside their own home church. They went because the lead minister had gone to attend services in Indiana and had asked Davey to preach instead.
Despite her earlier confidence, Sarah was suddenly not sure she should be there at all. She felt lonely, self-conscious, and now, noticing Lee’s absence, a bit put out. But maybe he’d think she was running after him, coming to Ben’s church service with her scarred face. Well, she wasn’t. Most of her pupils went to church in this district, so what was wrong with that? Besides, her dat had been asked to come.
As the rising volume of the plainsong swelled around her, she opened her mouth and joined in. Few things could lift her spirits like the singing in church. The slow, undulating cadence sent chills down her spine. It was the sound of home, safety, and belonging.
Suddenly, she stopped singing, lowered her head, and kept it hidden behind the woman sitting directly in front of her.
Lee!
He’d just walked in.
Oh, my. Oh, my.
All thoughts of singing were completely erased from her mind. In fact, everything was. She hadn’t seen him in church clothes since Susan and Marvin’s wedding when he had selected Rose to take to the wedding table. His blond hair was cut short. She’d think he was an embarrassment to his parents, or to Ben and Anna, with hair like that, but it did look handsome. His shirt was so white, his eyes so blue, his vest and mutza (coat) fit so superbly, it actually took her breath away.
He was not yet a member of the church. He had never been baptized and taken Christ as his personal Savior. He was already 23, maybe 24. Suddenly, he seemed far away, unattainable. What had she done?
Why, if he was still so worldly, did his values and his attitude seem the opposite of Matthew’s, who was born again, saved, without one doubt in anyone’s mind? Matthew read his Bible endlessly and had a heartfelt testimony to back his knowledge of the Bible, but in so many ways, he still behaved like the same mama’s boy he’d always been.
It was not her job to decipher the difference. It was God’s. Dat had been very firm about that.
Over and over, she relived that last encounter with Lee at the burn center. Now the blinding fog of Matthew was completely gone, the warm sun of her understanding obliterating it, leaving her weak with gratification and the wonder of her love.
The difference was astounding. Where she’d felt desperation, heart-pounding greediness, really, with her desire to be Matthew’s wife, this was slow, easy, secure. It was bliss borne of knowledge, knowing the wait was all a part of God’s plan.
After the singing ended, there was a soft tap on her shoulder, and Sarah turned, meeting Anna’s lowered face, her eyes bright with concern.
“Komm (Come).”
Sarah shook her head.
“Yes, Sarah, you can’t sit on that hard bench. You’re still weak. Come, sit with us. I have a chair for you with cushions.”
Sarah waited until Anna left, then summoned all her courage and rose in one swift movement, flustered and painfully aware of the discoloration of her skin, the deep and angry scars.
Gratefully, she sank into the soft cushions placed on a patio chair, keeping her head lowered, her eyes on the bench directly in front of her.
How ugly she must appear!
A little girl turned around on the bench, gave Sarah a frank appraisal, and asked Anna innocently, “What is wrong with her?”
She was shushed instantly by her harried mother, who was holding a grunting infant over her shoulder.
When Sarah looked up, Lee’s eyes were directly on her face. They both looked away, unanimous in their decision to avoid eye contact. Immediately, they both looked back, and just as swiftly, lowered their eyes again.
When the singing stopped, Dat got up, cleared his throat, looked around the congregation, and began to speak. His voice was deep and low, well modulated, a tone that carried well.
Sarah had never heard her father speak the way he did that day. He was kind and loving, but he firmly shared his new-found insights on non-resistance. He spoke of the test of his faith, when his daughter was burned, and said that on some days, he still wanted to testify against the man in prison. In fact, he’d imagi
ned the hangings of old, the gallows, and any form of punishment man had ever devised, because he was human.
Human nature, he said, wants to slap back immediately. It’s a natural response. Someone smites your cheek, and you want to hit back, but that is not what the Bible teaches us.
Christ’s way is to turn the other cheek. If we return good for evil, it’s like piling coals of fire on our enemies’ heads. It becomes a misery, and it works.
He spoke with conviction, yet he remained gentle.
When Sarah began to feel faint, she put her head on the back of the cushioned chair and closed her eyes, but the room tilted and spun crazily. She gripped the arms of her chair and prayed the weakness would pass.
Recognizing the nausea that welled up in her throat, she got up, immediately grabbing the chair back for support as the room spun around her. She made it to the doorway, gulping as she headed to the house.
The fresh air and brilliant sunshine revived her for a moment. When she got to the kitchen, she sank gratefully on a chair, lowered her head in her hands, and closed her eyes.
She felt a presence, then a light touch on her shoulder.
“Bisht alright (Are you alright)?”
Startled, Sarah lifted her head. Two bright blue eyes peered at her from behind round spectacles, a kindly smile accompanying them.
The older woman was as round as Anna, shaped like a little human barrel, except much softer. Her face crinkled with lines that were likely formed by all the smiling she did.
Sarah nodded, weakly.
“You’re that Sarah Beiler, gel (right)? I am Anna’s mother, Rachel.”
So. She was Lee’s mother. That was interesting. She could see where he got the color of his eyes.
Clucking to herself, Rachel placed a soft hand on Sarah’s face, turning the scars to the light, adjusting her own face to peer through the bifocals on her glasses.
“My, my. My oh. You really did go through something, didn’t you? Siss yusht hesslich (It’s too bad).”
Stepping back, she tilted her face, turned Sarah’s cheek to the light again, and kept examining the burned area.
“You are using the salve?”
Sarah nodded.
“I still have one surgery to go through. The spot on my shoulder that was burnt worse than anything else.”
“I guess you’re thankful to be alive.”
Sarah nodded.
“It could have been Lee, you know. It worries me the way he gets so involved with the people who have fires. I mean, that’s why he’s here at Ben’s. He feels bad for Ben’s loss and does whatever he can so Ben doesn’t have to hire someone. And now he’s so involved with that widow’s boy Omar and his horses. I guess it’s okay, as long as he doesn’t do something foolish yet.”
There was nothing to say to that, so Sarah merely nodded.
Likely, the busy little woman had no idea about Lee’s relationship with Sarah. Or the lack of it now.
Rachel suddenly changed the subject.
“I’m hungry. You look like a bit of food would do you good. Let’s sneak some cheese and blooney (bologna).”
Giggling like a schoolgirl, she searched the refrigerator, coming up with a plastic bag containing at least ten pounds of sliced sweet bologna. She proceeded to open the wrapper on a loaf of homemade bread and spread it with the cheese spread that was so much a part of the noon meal following Sunday services.
“I just didn’t have time to eat breakfast.”
Rachel handed a small plate of the bread and bologna to Sarah with one hand, stuffing a large portion of her own slice into her mouth with the other.
She turned her back, guilty now, as a young mother rushed into the kitchen with a screaming baby, a crying toddler hanging onto her apron.
Rachel polished off the slice of bread, then scuttled after the toddler and picked him up, saying, “Hush, hush, my goodness. Here, here. You want a slice of blooney?”
When the angry little boy’s screams increased, she fished under her ample apron and produced a string of bright colored toys on key chains.
“Here. Look! Here. Now, now. Don’t cry.”
She pressed the button on a small flashlight, which did the trick. The cries dissipated as she clicked it on and off.
Sarah observed Rachel’s motherly skills, the way she saw the helpless expression on the young mother’s face and instantly bustled after the crying toddler. She thought of Lee being here, on this farm, for his brother-in-law, as well as helping Omar Esh.
She nibbled on the smoked sweet bologna, broke off a corner of the homemade bread, and appreciated the mellow taste of the cheese spread. Looking up, she saw Rachel with the toddler encircled in one arm, holding out a glass of orange juice to her.
“Orange juice. It’s the best thing for low blood sugar. You’re not hypoglycemic, are you?”
Sarah shook her head and accepted the juice. Then she moved to a rocking chair, where she leaned her head back against the cushion and closed her eyes.
No doubt about it, she was still not as strong as she would like to be, so she’d better stay in the kitchen and rest awhile.
The young mother fed the infant, turned her head to observe Sarah’s face discreetly, then bit her lip and looked away.
Rachel fussed to the now happy toddler, showing him each trinket on the chain. She observed Sarah as well and pursed her lips.
The door was pushed open, allowing Anna’s buxom form to enter. She was puffing slightly, the color on her cheeks high, her blue eyes alight with excitement.
Church was at her house, and everything had to be perfect.
“Forgot paper cups,” she whispered to her mother, yanking on the pantry door with enthusiasm.
“Did you remember sugar this time?”
“Uh. No. I forgot.”
Rachel’s round form shook as she heaved with silent laughter.
“Best stop cleaning and remember you have church, Anna.”
In answer, Anna swung the plastic packet of paper cups in her mother’s direction, batting her eyelashes as she did so. Rachel ducked her head. The woman on the chair looked over and smiled. They all knew Anna.
Comfortable now, relaxed, Sarah smiled to herself. She savored the easy relationships passed down through the generations. There was a congenial acceptance of one another, at church services, quiltings, school programs, wherever there was a social gathering.
It didn’t seem so long ago that she was a little girl dressed in a pinafore-style white apron, in a kitchen such as this. Her hand firmly grasped in Mam’s, she was led to the bathroom or for a drink of water, as the singsong voice of the preacher rose and fell in the shop or the living room or the basement below.
Mam would meet a good friend, and they’d talk in hushed tones, only a bit, not too long. But they leaned in, touched a forearm as they quickly exchanged a community tidbit, swapped knowing looks, and passed on quickly.
It was rude to stay away from the service for an extended period of time, especially for a minister’s wife. A baby that had to be put to sleep was an exception, however, so the kitchen or living room of the house was often a place where mothers put the little ones down for a nap, relieved to have a few free moments to absorb the sermon without squirming infants on their laps.
Motherhood was an eagerly awaited event for Sarah. She looked forward to cozily sitting together with other young mothers, comparing experiences about births and babies, raising children, the various ways of canning and freezing, cooking and baking. It was an objective for every young girl, and Sarah was no different.
She opened her eyes as the grateful young mother rose slowly from her chair, carefully carrying the sleeping infant into Ben and Anna’s bedroom, where she laid a pre-folded diaper in the middle of the high king-sized bed, gently placed the sweet baby on it, covered her with a light blanket, and tiptoed out, closing the door lightly behind her. Going to Rachel, she bent over and held out her arms for the little boy, smiling as she did so.
�
��Denke (Thank you).”
“Siss gaen schoene (You’re welcome).”
They exchanged smiles, and the young woman whisked her son back to the shop, where services were continuing.
Other young mothers milled about, changing diapers, getting their children cold drinks, sitting down with crying little ones—all a part of the usual church Sunday.
Sarah leaned her head back, closed her eyes wearily as the sounds ebbed and flowed, waves of laughter and talk coming and going.
“Did you hear about Anna’s brother Lee?”
Instantly, Sarah’s eyes flew open, before she caught herself and closed them, afraid someone had noticed.
A young mother folded a snowy white diaper across one shoulder, lifted her daughter, and draped her deftly across the cloth. She lifted her eyebrows and shook her head.
“They say he’s going to Alaska.”
“Whatever for? Is he going hunting or what?”
“I have no idea. He probably won’t be Amish if he goes up there. He’s pretty old and hasn’t joined the church.”
Sarah’s mouth went dry. She took a quick breath to steady herself, then sat up to look for Rachel, his mother, but she had gone back to the service with her daughter.
Alaska. He may as well go to the moon.
“What happened between him and Rose Zook?”
“Who knows? The youth are always going through some sort of drama. Worse than we ever were.”
Nodding righteously, the listening young mother inserted a pink pacifier into her sleeping baby’s mouth, turning to address her friend.
“You know he won’t be back. I pity his parents.”
Sarah could not sit on the chair another second, so she rose, walked stiffly across the kitchen, looking straight ahead without acknowledging either woman, as if obliterating them from her vision would also dissipate the fact that Lee was going to Alaska.
She didn’t believe it. He would not leave Ben and Anna, or the Widow Lydia and Omar. He was the most unselfish person she knew, as kind as her father, by all means. Why would he do something so completely out of character?