The Hope Chest

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  “You could have done those things and still remained Amish.”

  “I know, but Reuben really needed a truck to get him back and forth to work, not to mention traveling from job to job.”

  Rachel merely shrugged in response. She probably didn’t understand how important Reuben’s vehicle was to him, Anna figured. Maybe he did put too much emphasis on worldly things, but Anna didn’t think it would be right to discuss that with Rachel. At least not right now.

  “How are things with you and Silas these days?” Anna asked, feeling the need for a change of subject.

  Rachel gave no reply other than a brief shrug.

  “Are you going to tell me about him or not?” Anna pried. “I can see by the look on your face that you’re in love with him.”

  Rachel shook her head. “There’s not much to say. Silas and I are friends, nothing more.”

  “Has he taken you anywhere or come calling on you at the house?”

  “We did a few things together for a while there, but it didn’t mean anything to him, I’m sure.”

  “That’s too bad. I was kind of hoping that, after I left home, Silas’s eyes would be opened and he’d see how good you are for him.”

  Rachel stared at the porch, and Anna’s heart went out to her. If there was something she could do to make Silas see how good Rachel was for him, she surely would.

  “You never really said—how’s the rest of the family taking Perry’s death?”

  A fresh set of tears pooled in Rachel’s eyes. “It’s been mighty hard—especially for Mom and Elizabeth. Perry was still Mom’s little boy, and even though Elizabeth and her twin argued sometimes, I know she still loved him.”

  Anna was about to reply, but Joseph stepped out the door and headed their way. She hoped he wouldn’t make an issue of her being here. Maybe he wouldn’t speak to her at all.

  ***

  Joseph tromped across the porch and stopped when he got to the swing. “Hello, Anna,” he mumbled.

  “Hello, Joseph.”

  “I came out to tell you two that everyone went out the back door and they’re climbing into their buggies already. We need to head for the cemetery now.”

  Rachel stood, but when Anna didn’t join her, she turned back toward the swing. “Aren’t you coming? You can ride with me and Joseph.”

  Anna stared down at her clasped hands, struggling with her decision. “I’m not sure I should. Some folks might see it as an intrusion.”

  Rachel shook her head. “How could they? You’re part of our family. You have every right to be at Perry’s burial.”

  Anna looked up at Joseph, obviously waiting to see what he would say.

  He nodded and reached out to touch her arm. “You and Reuben are welcome to ride in the buggy with me and Rachel.”

  Anna’s chin trembled as she smiled up at him. “Thank you, brother Joseph.”

  “You’re welcome.” A feeling of relief flooded Joseph’s soul, as he and Rachel stepped off the porch, and Anna went back into the house in search of her husband. Joseph really had found forgiveness in his heart toward his sister, and for the first time in many weeks, he felt a sense of peace.

  ***

  A horse-drawn hearse led the procession slowly down the narrow country road, with the two Beachy buggies following. Behind them, a long line of Amish carriages kept pace, and Silas Swartley’s was the last. He felt sick to the pit of his stomach, thinking how it would feel to lose one of his brothers. Even if they didn’t always see eye-to-eye, they were kin, and blood was thicker than water.

  At the cemetery, everyone climbed out of their buggies and tied their horses to the hitching posts. Perry’s coffin, supported by two hickory poles, was carried to the open grave and placed over it. Relatives and friends gathered near.

  Silas stood near his own family, directly across from the Beachy family. He was surprised to see Anna standing between Rachel and Joseph, and Reuben nearby with his parents and younger sister. Silas’s heart stirred with strange feelings when he saw Anna wearing modern clothes. Her hair was cut short, and it looked like she might be wearing a bit of makeup. Such a contrast from the Anna Beachy he’d known as a child. She no longer resembled the young girl he’d fallen in love with so many years ago.

  Silas glanced over at Rachel. Her shoulders drooped, and tears rimmed her eyes. She looked exhausted. His heart twisted with the pain he saw on her face. If only she hadn’t shut him out, he might be of some comfort to her now.

  Maybe it was best this way. She didn’t trust him anymore, and he wasn’t sure she should. What had he ever done to make Rachel believe he cared for her and not her sister? The truth was, until this very moment, he’d never truly seen Anna for what she was—a modern woman who seemed more comfortable dressed in English clothes than she did the Plain garb she’d grown up wearing.

  Silas forced his attention back to the graveside service. Long straps were placed around each end of the coffin, and the pallbearers lifted it with the straps, while another man removed the supporting crosspieces. The coffin was then slowly lowered into the ground, and the long straps were removed. The pallbearers grabbed their shovels and began to fill the grave. Despite the snow they’d had a few days ago, at least the ground wasn’t frozen; that made the men’s job a little easier. Soil, mixed with snow and gravel, hit the casket with loud thumps, and with each thump, Silas noticed Rachel’s shoulders lift and fall back.

  When the grave was half filled, the men stopped shoveling. The bishop read a hymn, and the grave was then filled the rest of the way. The service was closed after everyone had silently said the Lord’s Prayer.

  Silas’s heart went out to Rebekah Beachy, who sat in her wheelchair, audibly weeping. She clutched her husband’s hand on one side, and her youngest daughter stood on her other side next to Joseph. Elizabeth sobbed hysterically, and when family members turned from the scene and moved toward their buggies, Joseph lifted the little girl into his arms. It was time to return to the Beachys’ for a shared meal.

  CHAPTER 26

  Since so many people attended Perry’s funeral, they needed to eat in shifts, so some went outside to the barn while they awaited their turn for the meal.

  Rachel knew Anna would not be welcome to eat at any of the tables with her Amish friends and relatives, so she set a place for her and Reuben in the kitchen at a small table near the fireplace.

  “That’s okay,” Anna said with a shake of her head. “I’m not really all that hungry.”

  “You’ve got to eat something,” Rachel argued. “You’re already skinny enough, and we can’t have you losing any more weight.”

  “We’ll both eat something,” Reuben said as though the matter was entirely settled.

  Anna finally nodded and took a seat at the table. It was obvious to Rachel that her sister was ill at ease, but even so, she was glad Anna and Reuben had come. She just wished Dad would say something to Anna instead of looking the other way whenever Anna came near. It pained her nearly as much as losing Perry to see her flesh-and-blood sister being treated that way. And for no good reason; Dad didn’t have to give Anna the silent treatment. Shunning didn’t require silence, so Dad was just being stubborn and spiteful, as far as Rachel was concerned.

  When the meal was over, Rachel returned to the kitchen, hoping to speak to her sister before Anna and Reuben returned home. Reuben was nowhere in sight, but she spotted Anna and their mother sitting at the small table where Anna and her husband had eaten their meal. Clearly Mom had been crying, for her eyes were red, and the skin around them looked kind of swollen.

  Rachel slipped quietly away, knowing that Anna and Mom needed this time alone.

  She scurried up the steps and went straight to her room, realizing that she, too, needed a few minutes by herself. She’d been so busy helping with the funeral dinner and trying to put on a brave front in order to help others in the family who were grieving that she hadn’t really taken the time to mourn.

  As Rachel stood in front of the window
, staring at the spiraling snowflakes that had just begun to fall, her thoughts kept time with the snow—swirling, whirling, falling all around, then melting before she had the chance to sort things out.

  Oh, God, why did You have to take my little brother? Why did Anna have to hurt our family by leaving the faith? Rachel trembled. And how come Silas has to pine away for Anna and can’t see me as someone he could love?

  Deep in her heart, Rachel knew that none of these things were God’s fault. He had allowed them all right, but certainly He hadn’t caused the bad things to happen. God loved Perry and had taken him home to heaven. Anna hadn’t left home to be mean. She’d only done it because of her love for Reuben. Love did strange things to people; Rachel knew that better than anyone. Look how she had wasted so many months hoping Silas would fall in love with her and trying to gain his favor. It wasn’t Silas’s fault that he couldn’t seem to get over his feelings for her sister. Anna had hurt Silas badly by running off with Reuben, and he might always hunger for the love he’d lost.

  Rachel had to get on with her life. Maybe God wanted her to remain single. Maybe her job was to run the greenhouse and take care of Mom and Dad. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but if it was God’s will, she must learn to accept it as such.

  Rachel walked to the corner of her room. Maybe Anna would like to take something from her hope chest. Surely she could put a few of the things to good use in her new English home.

  Rachel opened the lid and removed some hand towels, several quilted pot holders, and a few tablecloths—all things she was sure Anna could use. Next, she lifted out the beginnings of a double-ring wedding quilt. Its colors of depth and warmth, in shades of blue and dark purple, seemed to frolic side by side.

  Rachel’s eyes filled with tears as she thought about her own hope chest, now empty and useless. She had never started a wedding quilt, and the few items she’d stored in the chest had either been sold or were on display at Thomas Benner’s store. Rachel had no reason to own a hope chest anymore, for she would probably never set up housekeeping with a husband or have any kinner of her own. Maybe her destiny was to be an old maid.

  Shoving her pain aside and reaching farther into the chest, Rachel discovered an old Bible and an embroidered sampler near the bottom. Attached to the sampler was a note, and a lump lodged in her throat as she silently read the words.

  Made by Miriam Stoltzfus Hilty.

  Given to my mamm, Anna Stoltzfus,

  To let her know how much

  God has changed my heart.

  Rachel knew that Miriam Stoltzfus was her great-aunt Mim and that Anna Stoltzfus was her great-grandmother. She noticed a verse embroidered on the sampler:

  A merry heart

  doeth good

  like a medicine.

  —Proverbs 17:22

  A sob tore at Rachel’s throat as she read the words out loud. She clung to the sampler as if it were some sort of lifeline. The yellowed piece of cloth gave her a strange yet comforting connection to the past.

  Rachel’s gaze came to rest on the old Bible then. She laid the sampler aside and picked up the Bible, pulling open the inside cover. Small, perfectly penned letters stated: “ThisBiwel belonged to Anna Stoltzfus. May all who read it find as much comfort, hope, and healing as I have found.”

  Rachel noticed several crocheted bookmarks placed in various sections of the Bible. She turned the pages to some of the marked spots and read the underlined verses. Psalm 71:14 in particular seemed to jump right out at her: “But I will hope continually, and will yet praise thee more and more.” Rachel had been reciting this same verse for several months. Was God trying to tell her something?

  Rachel was about to turn the page when another underlined verse from Psalm 71 caught her attention: “For thou art my hope, O Lord Go d: thou art my trust from my youth.”

  Hot tears rolled down Rachel’s cheeks as the words of verse 5 burned into her mind. All this time she’d been hoping to win Silas’s heart. She had praised God for something she hoped He would do. Never once had it occurred to her that the heavenly Father wanted her to put all her hopes in Him. She was to trust Him and only Him, and she should have been doing it since her youth. Instead, she had been trying to do everything in her own strength, because it was what she wanted. When Silas didn’t respond as she’d hoped he would, her faith had been dashed away like sunshine on a rainy day.

  Rachel broke down, burying her face in her hands. “Dear Lord, please forgive me. Help me to learn to trust You more. Let my hope always be in You. May Your will be done in my life. Amen.”

  Rachel picked up the precious items she’d found in Anna’s hope chest and turned toward her bedroom door. The Bible belonged to Anna’s namesake, and she should have it. The sampler belonged to Great-Grandma Anna’s daughter, Miriam, and Anna should have that, as well.

  ***

  “It’s so good to see you again, Anna.”

  Tears welled in Anna’s eyes as she sat at the table beside her mother. “It’s good to see you, too.”

  “We’ve missed you, daughter.”

  “I’ve missed you, as well.”

  “You can still come home, you know.” Mom reached for Anna’s hand.

  “I can’t, Mom. My place is with Reuben now.”

  Mom’s eyes swam with tears. “I’m not asking you to leave your husband, but I’m hoping Reuben will want to return to our way of life, too.”

  Anna shook her head. “I don’t think he’d ever be willing to give up his truck or the TV programs he enjoys watching.”

  Mom stared at the table. She obviously didn’t know how to respond.

  Anna moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, wishing she knew how to express everything that was on her mind. “I must admit I’ve come to enjoy some things about the modern way of life, too.”

  “Like wearing short hair?” Her mother’s wounded expression and mournful tone of voice let Anna know that Mom disapproved of her new look.

  Anna reached up to touch a wayward curl. “It was Reuben’s idea that I cut my hair. He thinks I look prettier this way.”

  Mom clicked her tongue, which Anna knew meant she was very displeased. She was about to explain things further, when her father stepped into the room.

  “Some of our guests are leaving now, Rebekah,” he said, nodding at Mom. “Might be good if you went into the other room and said good-bye.”

  Mom sat for a few seconds as though she was contemplating his suggestion. Then she motioned to Anna and said, “Aren’t you going to say hello to our daughter, Daniel?”

  He grunted and gave his beard a quick pull. “Not much to be said, is there?”

  Anna’s heart felt as if it would break in two. Why couldn’t Dad find it in his heart to forgive her? Why couldn’t he at least try to talk things through?

  Mom maneuvered her wheelchair away from the table. “I’ll tell you what, Daniel. I’ll go say good-bye to our guests, and you can visit with Anna awhile.”

  Dad blinked a couple of times as if he couldn’t quite believe what Mom had just said, but to Anna’s surprise, he pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.

  Mom gave Anna a quick wink and promptly wheeled out of the room.

  Anna drew in a quick breath and prayed for the right words to say to her father. “Dad, I—”

  “Anna, I want you to know—”

  They’d spoken at the same time. “Go ahead, Dad,” Anna said.

  He shook his head. “No, you started speaking first.”

  She swallowed hard as she stared at his face. Was his pained expression from losing his youngest son, or was her being here today what had caused Dad’s obvious agony? “I—I just wanted to say how sorry I am for hurting you and the rest of the family. I know it was wrong to hide the fact that I’d been seeing Reuben secretly, and I know it was wrong for us to sneak off and get married the way we did.”

  Dad sat stoically, apparently waiting for her to continue.

  Anna swallowed once more, hoping
to push down the lump that had lodged in her throat. “Reuben and I won’t be returning to the Amish faith, but we do want to keep in contact with our families—come here for visits and all.”

  Still nothing from her father. He remained silently in his chair, wearing a stony expression.

  “I know you don’t understand, but I love Reuben so much, and even though I probably wouldn’t have decided to leave the Amish faith on my own, it’s what he wanted. If I was going to be with him, I knew I had to make a choice.”

  He nodded slowly, and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. “Love does that to people. Fact is, it can cause ’em to make all kinds of sacrifices.” He glanced toward the door leading to the living room. “Your mamm and I had a few problems when we were young and some misunderstandings that nearly kept us apart.”

  Anna gave a quick nod. She’d heard from Mom about some of her courtship with Dad and knew they’d almost not gotten married.

  “For a time, your mamm thought I only wanted to marry her so I could get my hands on the greenhouse. But I finally convinced the silly woman that it was her I loved and not her business.” Dad shifted in his chair. “I even offered not to work there if she’d take me back. Said I’d spend the rest of my days workin’ at my daed’s dairy, though it wasn’t my first choice.” He stared right at Anna and offered her a smile. “So you see, I do understand in some ways what caused you to move away. You wanted to be with Reuben so much that you were willing to give up the only way of life you’d ever known.”

  Anna nodded, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “I’m still not happy about you and Reuben goin’ English, mind you, but I am trying to understand.” He extended his hand toward her. “And I do still love you, Anna.”