Mary's Home

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Betsy threw off the quilt and dressed. She wondered why Josiah had left early last night. She had meant to stay awake and talk when her sister came upstairs, but sleep had overtaken Betsy. That meant Mary had either lingered downstairs or crept up the steps so no one would hear her. Josiah was nothing but trouble, but Betsy no longer expressed her feelings about him to her family. They didn’t want her opinion because what did she know? That was their attitude. She planned to join the Englisha, and that took care of her sound judgment.

  But Josiah was unreliable. She had been certain of that since laying eyes on him for the first time. In the meantime, Mary had been taken with his piercing blue eyes and his down-home charm. That he had fit Mary’s timetable for acquiring a home and a family was a little too pat for comfort. Mary, on the other hand, could see only roses with no thorns. She had waxed eloquent these past years, scribbling her poetry on the back of Josiah’s letters, yet she had never shown her expressions of love to Josiah. How had he not discovered Mary’s talent? Was he not interested, or was he too taken with himself? The latter, if Betsy had to guess. But no one was asking her.

  She tiptoed across the hallway and listened by Mary’s bedroom door. All was silent. Had she been wrong about last night? Maybe Josiah had to leave early for his return to Lancaster…but no. That made no sense. He usually stayed until after midnight while the two lovebirds made wedding plans. The man could sleep on the bus ride back to Lancaster the next morning. Josiah would only leave early if trouble were in the air.

  Betsy pushed open the bedroom door. She should check on her sister. There was a spring bug making its round in the community, so Mary could be burning up with a fever. Maybe that explained Josiah’s early departure. Betsy paused in the doorway to peer at the bed. Mary was definitely under the quilt, but her breathing didn’t sound heavy. Betsy had turned to leave when Mary spoke. “Do you want something?”

  “Are you okay?” Betsy chirped. “I thought Josiah left early last night.”

  There was silence from the bed.

  “You’re not sick with the flu, are you?”

  “I’m okay. I’ll be down in a moment.”

  Mary sounded normal, though her voice was a little weak. Betsy pushed the question. “Why did Josiah leave early?”

  “He had to get back to Lancaster.” This time there was a catch in Mary’s voice.

  Betsy approached the bed and sat on the edge. “What happened?”

  A sob burst out from deep inside her sister. “Josiah says he’s not coming back. He broke off the engagement.”

  “What!” Betsy exclaimed. “The charlatan!”

  “He’s Josiah,” Mary wailed. “Don’t run him down.”

  “So what is this about him not coming back? You have your wedding planned.”

  “I know!” Mary gasped. “Maybe he just wants a break from our relationship. I can’t imagine what else. He just…he doesn’t…he left, Betsy, and he didn’t say much other than that it’s over.” Mary buried her face in the quilt. “I tried not to cry all night. There must be some explanation I’m missing.”

  Betsy took a deep breath. “Don’t you think Mamm should hear this? There are wedding plans that must be called off.”

  “That’s not until the first Thursday in November. There’s still…” Mary’s voice dropped to a whimper. “That’s a long time yet, and I’m sure we can straighten things out. Other couples go through things like this. We can grow and learn.”

  “You should still tell Mamm,” Betsy insisted. “Just in case.”

  Mary gathered herself together and wiped her eyes. “I’ll be down in a moment to help with breakfast, but don’t tell Mamm anything. I’ll wait a few days to see if a letter arrives from Josiah.”

  Betsy knew a letter wouldn’t arrive, but now was not the moment to make the point. She retreated and closed the bedroom door. She ran her hand along the handrail for the descent down the steps. A soft glow of light appeared under the stairwell door before she arrived. She opened and stepped into the living room to follow the light into the kitchen.

  Mamm looked up with a smile. “You’re up early. Daett’s the only one out in the barn.”

  “I’ve caught up on my sleep, I guess.” Betsy tried to appear disinterested. Mary should break the news in her own way.

  Mamm’s smile faded. “Perhaps it’s time we have another talk about your future, Betsy. With it being early, and Mary still sleeping, this might be a goot chance.”

  “There is nothing to say, Mamm.” Betsy hung her head. This conversation would have been awkward no matter what, but with the news about Josiah’s breaking off the wedding…

  Mamm peered at her. “Did something out of the ordinary happen this weekend, Betsy?”

  “No. I did my usual thing with Enos.”

  “Rachel and Annie are both praying for you.” Mamm sighed. “Rachel told me so at the services yesterday. I guess everyone has noticed your absence at the hymn singings, and with Josiah back to visit again, and Mary’s wedding coming up…” Her voice trailed off.

  Betsy looked away. Thankfully, she heard Mary’s step on the stairs. This conversation was almost over.

  “We are all praying for you,” Mamm squeezed in before Mary appeared.

  Somehow Mary had rid herself of her tearstains and had pasted a bright smile on her face. How long would she be able to continue the charade? But then, what did Betsy know? Maybe Mary could patch up this rough spot with Josiah.

  Mamm was all smiles too. “Goot to see you this morning, Mary. Did Josiah have any news from Lancaster last night?”

  “I…we…” Mary searched for words. “Josiah left early, but everything’s fine in Lancaster. They are ready for spring planting next week. He probably won’t be back again until sometime in the summer.”

  Betsy busied herself with heating the pan for the eggs. Should she say something? Mary was in denial, and that was not goot.

  Mamm also busied herself at the stove. “I hope Josiah didn’t catch the flu bug while he was here.”

  “I don’t think so.” Mary attempted a laugh. “Josiah wouldn’t catch the flu.”

  Betsy stifled her incredulity. There were no limits to Mary’s faith in Josiah Beiler.

  “Are you coming down with it? You can have a few extra hours of sleep this morning if you need them.” Mamm’s face was filled with concern.

  “I’m fine.” Mary brushed past Betsy to retrieve the bacon from the refrigerator. “At least I will be soon,” she muttered under her breath.

  Mamm turned toward Mary. “What is wrong?”

  Mary didn’t answer as she rattled the bacon pan on the counter.

  Mamm shrugged and continued with her work, but she appeared troubled. Why was Mary avoiding the problem?

  Heavy footsteps came down the stairs, and Gerald went past the living room door. He hollered over his shoulder, “Take your time with breakfast! There’s three of you and only two of us.”

  “I’m going to help with the chores this morning,” Betsy said, leaving before either Mary or Mamm could protest.

  She caught up with Gerald halfway across the yard.

  He didn’t pause in his rapid stride toward the barn. “What made you decide to help?”

  “I had to get out of the house. Josiah left early last night.”

  He gave her a glance in the dim morning light but didn’t respond.

  Betsy hurried on. “There’s trouble in paradise, and Mary’s head is in the sand.”

  “So?” Gerald declared. “Lovers’ quarrel, I suppose. They do happen.”

  Betsy sighed. “I know that nobody values my opinion, so I’ll keep it to myself.”

  Gerald laughed. “You know there’s trouble out there too.” He waved his hand toward the foothills of the Adirondacks, which revealed the dawning sun.

  “Of course I know that,” Betsy retorted. “Things just aren’t as bad as Amish life.”

  “Is there any kind of Amish man who would interest you?” Gerald asked in a teasi
ng voice.

  “He doesn’t exist,” Betsy snapped. “Or if he does, he wouldn’t want me.”

  “You have such high standards that no one can qualify. Is that the problem?”

  “Don’t lecture me, Gerald. I’m not being prideful. I know what I want.”

  “So tell me.” He paused at the barn door.

  “Right here?”

  “Yah, I can’t wait for such interesting news.”

  “Okay.” Betsy lifted her chin. “He’d have to know things you don’t learn on an Amish farm. Interesting things, such as a basic knowledge of the universe.” Betsy pointed up and outward. “And he’d know how to dance without stepping on toes. That would help. And if he must be a farmer, he should know how to clean up. Is there an Amish man like that?”

  “You’re insulting me. Maybe I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”

  “Sorry,” Betsy said. “You and Daett are not what I mean—”

  “See?” Gerald declared as he opened the barn door. “There are men who fit your criteria. You just need to stop thinking so negatively. You’re scaring them off.”

  Betsy followed her brother into the barn and muttered, “They should also be like Ronald Troyer.”

  Gerald seemed not to hear, but his words had stung her. Maybe she didn’t have things figured out. Or maybe she had given up too easily. Maybe Ronald would return to the community and look her up.

  Betsy thought about her sister. Mary was steadfast when the road became rough. Josiah was not worthy of Mary’s love, and last night proved Betsy’s point—but Mary was undeterred in her loyalty and affection.

  Meanwhile, Betsy let a childhood injury determine the path of her life. Was she too stubborn to see the error of her ways? For once an arrow from her family had found its mark. Who would have thought that Gerald would be the one to string the bow?

  “Are you helping or daydreaming?” Gerald hollered.

  Daett stuck his head out from behind a cow. “Just be glad the girl came out to help.”

  “Thank you.” Betsy sent her gratitude his way before grabbing a three-legged stool and a pail. She chose the cow beside Daett’s and sat down to draw milk from the udder.

  Betsy’s head spun. Giving in and accepting the life Mamm and Daett had planned for her would be the easy way out. She wouldn’t have to venture forth on her own and learn a new way of life unfamiliar to her. Rumspringa wasn’t a true example of the Englisha life. Concerts and dances with Englisha men weren’t the same as marriage to an Englisha man—if she could even catch the attention of one. They would undoubtedly have expectations she might not be able to satisfy.

  Betsy filled the pail with long streams of white milk. The foam rose in the bucket and rolled over the side by the time she finished.

  When Betsy went to empty the milk into the strainer, Daett gave her another smile. “You need to come out more often to help. An extra hand makes things go so much faster.”

  “I’ll try,” Betsy responded.

  Mary used to help with the morning chores before taking a job at the co-op, but no one had asked Betsy to take up the slack the men must have felt in the barn. Had Mamm and Daett been afraid she would rebel if they made her take on a greater share of the burden of an Amish farm? If they had, she could only blame herself. She had never been secretive about her disdain for Amish things.

  Betsy pressed back tears. This morning had not turned out as she had expected. Maybe she was too focused on finding things wrong with an Amish life. If Mary succeeded in patching up her difference with Josiah, Betsy needed to seriously reconsider her own plans.

  She sat down beside the next cow in line. Amish life might be drudgery, but that didn’t mean she should take things easily in the house while Daett and Gerald overworked themselves in the barn.

  SEVEN

  Mary slipped out of her bedroom with a kerosene lamp firmly clasped in her hand. Dawn was still an hour away, and the chill of the November night had crept into the house. Daett would be up soon to stir the banked furnace in the basement and to call Gerald for the morning chores. She should be asleep, but she wasn’t.

  Half the night, she had tossed and turned until her old Texas Star quilt was a tangled mess. She had pressed her face into her pillow to stifle the sobs she couldn’t silence. The pillow was dry now, and another day was about to begin. She would soon be over the last months of grief, she hoped. Someday she would look back and count the lessons learned as worth the cost. Hearts had been broken before hers.

  A cry escaped her as she stubbed her toe on the banister post. The lamp tilted in her hand, and she righted herself. That was all she needed—a spill down the stairs, with an awful crash of glass at the bottom and flames bursting upward.

  “She tried to burn the house down on the day she’d planned to wed Josiah Beiler.” That’s what the community would say.

  “Couldn’t get over her grief,” another would add.

  “She’s not the first girl to walk this road,” someone would reply.

  She should be able to bear Josiah’s rejection with grace and fortitude, she told herself. Perhaps she should even wish him and his new bride a blessing on their wedding day…a wedding day she once thought would be her own.

  Mary took a careful step. Her foot didn’t hurt, but her heart throbbed. Susie Wengerd! Mary had never met the girl, but Susie must be beautiful. Josiah would wed her today instead. At twelve o’clock, Susie would stand by Josiah’s side and say the sacred wedding vows Mary had planned to speak. Josiah’s face would glow with happiness, and his silly grin would appear as the two took their seats afterward.

  “My frau,” Josiah would whisper to Susie on the walk out of the house toward the barn, where the reception in Lancaster would be held.

  She knew the tone Josiah would use—the way he would linger on that last word. Josiah had once held Mary close and told her, “Soon you will be my frau.” Sweet words came easy to him. Had he lied to her? He had seemed so sincere. How could she have been so wrong in her judgment?

  Mary reached for the doorknob at the bottom of the stairwell, and tears filled her eyes as she stepped out into the living room. The kitchen around the corner should be bustling this morning with activity, as aunts and friends gathered to cook the huge noon meal to serve later in Daett’s barn. Instead, Susie Wengerd’s kitchen in Lancaster would be filled this morning with kerosene lamps that threw their flickering light across the old wood cookstove.

  Mary sat down at the kitchen table to bury her face in her arms. How she had loved Josiah and dreamed of the home they would build together. If things had gone as planned, she would have been Mary Beiler tonight. How often she had tried on the name, saying it aloud in her bedroom upstairs after Josiah left on a Sunday evening. She had been ready to settle down as a stable church member and take her place alongside the other married women of the community. They would have lived on the small farm Josiah had purchased in Lancaster. But now that future was gone, lost in the pain and sorrow of rejection. Susie would say the vows with Josiah today, and Mary would still be a Yoder when nightfall arrived.

  She lifted her head to stare at the darkened kitchen window. At least her tears had stopped before the break of dawn, so that was a goot sign. One had to get over things, even those that tore the heart up by the roots and trampled upon one’s self-esteem. What was wrong with her? What had caused Josiah to abandon their wedding plans? He had not explained himself that evening beyond a mumbled, “It’s best we go separate ways, Mary.”

  “But I love you. We love each other,” she had gasped.

  “Yah,” he had agreed, his eyes fixed on the hardwood floor. “But it would be for the best if we seek the will of the Lord for another path through life.”

  Then he had left, his borrowed buggy pulling out of the driveway, and she had stood beside the living room window with tears streaming down her face. The next day he made his way back to Lancaster from Little Falls, where he always caught the Greyhound bus. Maybe that had been the probl
em—their long-distance relationship. Maybe if she had lived in Lancaster, Josiah’s affections would not have strayed. She would have been on hand to woo him back when Susie made her moves.

  Mary clenched and unclenched her fists. She couldn’t hate. Susie was a sister in the Lord and a solid member of the community in Lancaster. Josiah would not have settled for any other kind of girl. If Susie had captured Josiah’s love, Susie had been within her right. That was the purpose of courtship, to choose the right partner for one’s journey through life. Mary groaned. These philosophical thoughts did nothing to make her feel better. She had failed. She had lost the man she loved and trusted. She had been jilted, as the Englisha would say, six months from the altar.

  Another man would come along, but not one like Josiah. There couldn’t be one. She would have to settle for second best and know the truth in her heart. Her dream of home and family would never burn quite as brightly. Along with his love, that was what Josiah had taken away.

  Would the memory of their sweet times together fade with the passing years? She felt them this morning as if they had happened yesterday. Memories sat undimmed in her heart even when she knew that Susie had taken her place.

  Would Josiah live to regret his decision? Even if he did, there was no going back after the wedding vows were said. What once could have been could never be. Mary stood, went to the stairwell, and tiptoed upward. If she couldn’t say the wedding vows with Josiah today, she would say something else. She had written the truth last night about the mistake Josiah would make today. He might never face his regret, but she had suffered enough to know that she was right. The day would come when Josiah would regret walking away from their love.