Andrew

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  His eyes momentarily flashed with something like compassion. The emotion didn’t last long. “I . . . I don’t think a buplie is meant to punish anyone, but I do think it should make you think on your sins.”

  She fell silent. If he only knew how a baby changed every thought, every dream she’d ever had. “It does make me think on my sins. But my sins aren’t what you think they are. Don’t you see, Andrew? No amount of shame or guilt my parents or you or Treva Nelson want to heap on me will make me want to change. The community wants to humiliate me.”

  “They don’t mean to be cruel. It will take time to forgive you for what you’ve done.”

  Mary truly felt no ill will in her heart for Andrew Petersheim. She had been where he was. She placed a hand on his arm. “Do I need their forgiveness?”

  He locked his gaze on her hand. “I thought I was sure, but now I don’t know.”

  “It is my understanding that I only need Gotte’s forgiveness. I don’t need yours. I’ve done nothing to offend you. How long do you think I’ll want to stay in the community if I’m treated like an outcast every time I go out? The way you treat me is more likely to drive me away, don’t you think?”

  “Jah,” he said, his voice inexplicably cracking in a dozen different places.

  “My parents, who are supposed to love me, want me to suffer. They want punishment, as if that will induce me to return to their loving arms.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice, though she’d done her best to forgive her parents. She had hurt them deeply. “My mamm and dat won’t allow me in the house. I came back almost three weeks ago, and Mamm took one look at me and slammed the door in my face. Do they want me to grovel or come begging at their window in sackcloth and ashes?” He wouldn’t look at her. “What do I have to do to satisfy their demands for justice?”

  He looked truly troubled for her. “I don’t know.”

  Mary’s parents had been furious with Bitsy and Yost for taking her in. Her dat had come to Bitsy’s house and argued with Bitsy and Yost for over an hour. Mary had been sitting at the top of the stairs listening to the entire conversation. Dat had demanded that Yost throw Mary out of his house—as if cruelty would nudge her toward repentance. Mary smiled to herself. Bitsy had even threatened Dat with her shotgun. Yost had defended Mary and Bitsy, and Mary had never been more grateful to any man in her entire life. No man had ever taken Mary’s part before.

  Yost had called her dat to repentance before inviting him to leave. It had been truly unforgettable, but she took no pleasure in the memory. “You might not believe it,” she said, “but I’ve thought a great deal about how I could make my parents love me again. I could sit at the stop sign with a poster tied around my neck that says I’m sorry for what I’ve done. Or even better: Here is a horrible sinner. Shun her, punish her. She doesn’t deserve love or forgiveness. People could throw tomatoes at me.”

  Frowning, Andrew scrubbed his hand down the side of his face. “You shouldn’t . . . that’s not what I think.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Andrew had seemed so sure of himself at the auction. Maybe he was humble enough to consider what she was saying. “Believe me, Andrew. I have wrestled with the weight of my sins. I have shed many tears in the middle of the night, praying for Gotte’s forgiveness. I spent five nights sleeping in a Laundromat with nothing but newspapers for a blanket. Believe me, I have suffered the weight of my sins. You say I’m too cheerful, but Jesus has washed my sins away. I can’t help but rejoice in Him. Should I spend the rest of my life wallowing in my shame, letting it grind me to dust? How do you think a sinner should be treated?” She leaned toward him, hoping he saw sincerity in the question instead of scorn.

  She sensed the tension in his neck, his arms, his strong hands and long fingers. He turned his back on her and leaned his hands on the counter. He stood that way for several silent minutes, and his shoulders moved up and down with the rhythm of his lungs. It was as if he was fighting some sort of battle inside himself. Finally he spoke in a soft, intense whisper that stole her breath away. “I have treated you poorly, Mary.”

  “Better than some.”

  “Nae. Not better than anyone.”

  “You fixed my toe.”

  “I didn’t want to be there.”

  She wished he’d turn around so she could see his eyes. “You stayed anyway.”

  “I saw the disgust from my neighbors. I heard the whispers. I . . . I agreed with them. When you showed up pulling that wagon, I watched, indignant that you had dared to show up. I thought you were the worst kind of sinner, undeserving of my help. I didn’t want to help you for fear of what the others would think.”

  Mary smiled at the memory, though Andrew wouldn’t understand why. “That was Bitsy’s idea, to see if anyone would find some Christian charity and help the poor pregnant woman.”

  He turned around, and his gaze pierced right through her heart. “Benji made me feel ashamed.”

  Mary tried to hide her surprise. Maybe Andrew’s heart wasn’t so hard as she thought if he had been ashamed even then. Maybe there was hope for the rest of them, and maybe there was a chance that Mary would find a place here. “Benji is a gute boy. He sees when no one expects him to be looking, and he hears when no one thinks he’s listening.”

  Pain flashed in Andrew’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did. Jesus ate and fellow-shipped with sinners, but he saved his wrath for the hypocrites, who fancied themselves so righteous but couldn’t show love and forgiveness. I am the worst kind of sinner.”

  “Andrew,” she said. She stood and took the three short steps toward him. Her head began to spin. She had been trying to slay too many dragons today, as Josh would have told her. She pressed her hand to her forehead.

  Andrew grabbed her arm and steered her back to the sofa. “Are you all right?” He snatched the empty glass from the counter and filled it again. “Here, drink this.”

  “Too much volleyball excitement,” she said as she drank down a second brimming glass of water. At this rate, she’d be floating back to Bitsy’s house.

  “You shouldn’t be playing volleyball in your condition.”

  She gulped down the last swallow. “I’m too proud.”

  “Is that why you were playing—for your pride?”

  “I suppose so. I wanted them to notice me, to acknowledge me instead of pretending I don’t exist or making faces at me behind my back. It was deerich.”

  “But everyone has treated you so unfairly, I can see why you’d want to do it.”

  She glanced at him. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. In spite of how you felt about me, you helped me get out of that volleyball game with my pride intact, even though pride is a sin.”

  He lowered his eyes and stared at his hands. “I couldn’t let them treat you like that, not after my failure at the auction.”

  “So you came up with the story about needing to cut cookies.”

  He cracked a smile. “It was all I could think of, though Gotte is surely not happy that I lied.”

  “I thought it was very clever of you. It got me out of the game, and I could still hold my head high.”

  “I saw something fierce in your expression. I could tell that you wouldn’t surrender even though everyone was against you.”

  She smiled. “Not everyone.”

  He looked away, the faintest smile playing at his lips.

  “See? You do have a gute heart.”

  “But even then I wanted nothing more than to get away from you. I handed you the knife and walked away.”

  “You came back,” she said, resisting the urge to touch his arm for a second time. The Amish weren’t apt to do a lot of touching. They thought it was inappropriate. She’d learned many useful things from Josh—like the fact that the smallest touch could convey a thousand warm emotions. She wasn’t about to teach Andrew those kinds of lessons.

  “Do you need more water?”

  She sh
ook her head.

  He took the glass from her and set it on the counter. “Why did you come tonight? After the auction, you had to know how people would treat you.”

  “I’m a little dense that way. I don’t know when to quit.”

  “Quit what?”

  “I came to see if people would behave like Christians,” Mary said. “I came to prove to them that they can’t scare me off with a few nasty looks and hesslich, ugly words. I want them to see I’m stronger than that, and I won’t be bullied.” She sighed and shook her head. “Nae, that isn’t entirely true. This community, these people, they are who I am. I came back to see if there is a place for me here, to see if these people are still my people. I’m beginning to wonder if maybe I don’t belong here. Maybe I never will.”

  “You should give it more time,” he said.

  “I want my baby to grow up in a place of love and security. I just don’t know if I can find that here, and I don’t have forever to decide.”

  He pressed his lips together. “I hope you’ll give us a chance to prove ourselves. If I can change, anybody can change.”

  “Ach, vell, I don’t know about that. You are not just anybody, Andrew Petersheim. You have some very gute qualities.” She gave him a teasing smile. “I can’t think of any just now, but it will come to me.”

  His frown deepened. “I don’t have any gute qualities.”

  “You can admit when you’re wrong.”

  “No, I can’t.” His own words made him grin, and the grin gave way to laughter. “Not very often.”

  His smile was like a flash of light in the darkness, almost as if she should shield her eyes to keep from going blind. She’d never seen anything so extraordinary. She caught her breath as something warm and pleasant washed over her like a summer rain. Who knew a smile had that kind of power?

  She needed to say something before he suspected he’d made her lose her wits. No doubt he could hear her heart beating against her chest like an Englischer’s drum. She was not going to drink another glass of water, no matter how giddy she felt. “Why did you come to the gathering?”

  He threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m too old. I told Mammi Martha, I’m too old.”

  “Your mammi made you come?”

  “She bought me, Abraham, and Austin some teeth-whitening toothpaste especially for the gathering. She said it would help us get a wife and insisted that we come tonight. Abraham and Austin are still young enough to enjoy a gathering, but it’s pure torture for me.”

  Mary laughed. Benji had told her that Andrew refused to look at any Bienenstock girls. “Couldn’t you have explained it to your mammi?”

  He shook his head. “Mammi lives to be ‘of help,’ as she says. If she had any inkling that we didn’t appreciate her gifts, she’d be devastated. So, I used the toothpaste and came to the gathering so Mammi wouldn’t be upset. I try not to smile directly into the sun. I don’t want to blind anybody.”

  Mary averted her eyes. He already had. She pointed to a strange strap dangling from his straw hat. “Is that from your mammi?”

  He grinned sheepishly. “I forgot to leave it in the buggy. I’m supposed to wear it around my chin so my hat doesn’t blow off in the wind.”

  Andrew’s mammi must not have cared how ridiculous her grandsons would look with chinstraps on their straw hats. “How thoughtful.”

  He chuckled. “Mammi Martha thinks everything is a problem just waiting for her solution.”

  “I’m glad you came, even if just to spare your mammi’s feelings.”

  His eyes filled with tenderness. “I’m glad you came too. I’m sorry you got your feelings hurt.”

  Mary wasn’t sorry she’d come. She’d finally found a friend—maybe. She didn’t dare say the word friend to Andrew. He might throw up his hands and run screaming out of the house. It was one thing to own up to your mistakes and show Christian charity. It was quite another to commit to being a friend. Andrew probably wasn’t ready for that.

  She sighed inwardly. Maybe he never would be.

  Chapter Six

  Mammi Martha sniffed the air as Alfie and Benji stormed into the house, ran past her, and hurried down the cellar stairs like a two-cattle stampede. “Someone hasn’t been using the special rose water, Rebecca. Dinnertime would be much more pleasant if all the boys sprayed the rose water on themselves three times a day and used my special soap.”

  Mammi had grown suspicious that Andrew and his bruderen weren’t using the special rose-scented soap she’d put in each of the bathrooms, so on Monday, she’d hid all the regular soap so they’d be forced to use the smelly stuff. It had been an agonizing choice for Andrew. Either smell like sweat and manure all day or get strange looks from his friends because he smelled like “a bed of roses in the bathtub.” Two days ago, he’d sneaked over to Glick’s Family Market and bought a bar of deodorant soap, which he hid in the bottom of the trash can in the bathroom. Lord willing, Mammi wouldn’t get a notion to empty the trash cans anytime soon.

  Mamm stood at the cupboard with her back to the table, putting together a meatloaf for dinner. “Truer words were never spoken, Martha.” Mamm had taken to giving Mammi the same noncommittal answer for everything. Truer words were never spoken. That way she didn’t have to lie to Mammi but neither did she have to follow every well-meaning direction Mammi gave her.

  Of course, if Mammi bought something for the house, Mamm was forced to use it or risk hurting Mammi’s feelings, but what Mammi didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Unless she took a shower with every last one of her grandkids, she’d never know that they were hiding the good soap at the bottom of the trash can.

  Dawdi David sat at the table with his head slumped over his chest and a dishtowel draped around his neck. Mammi Martha was getting ready to trim his hair while giving Mamm pointers at the same time. “Now, Rebecca, you have boys, so it’s normal that everything in the bathroom is going to carry the faint smell of urine, but all you need to do is spray the toilets twice a day with Clorox Disinfecting Bathroom Cleaner. But use the special cleaning rags I bought. Don’t use the washrags. It’s too easy to spread hand, foot, and mouth disease.”

  Mamm pounded down the hamburger in her bowl. “Truer words were never spoken.” She was extra grumpy. Andrew had heard her ask Mammi not to cut Dawdi’s hair in the kitchen where she could get hair in the food. Mammi hadn’t paid her any heed.

  Dawdi hadn’t said any words since his stroke, but it was obvious he could follow what was going on. He widened and narrowed his eyes in Andrew’s direction every time something interesting happened and smiled whenever something really interesting happened. Andrew, Abraham, and Austin each spent an hour a day taking care of Dawdi and helping him with his exercises. More than twenty minutes of exercise a day left him exhausted, but he was making progress. Yesterday he had squeezed Andrew’s index finger with his hand. That was a new skill.

  Alfie and Benji stormed up the stairs, tromped across the kitchen, and out the back door again without a second look at anybody. Something dangled from a strap around Alfie’s neck. Were those binoculars?

  “Boys,” Mammi called. “Where are your shoes?” For sure and certain the boys hadn’t heard a word she’d said. “Now, Rebecca, those shoes won’t do any good sitting in their closet.”

  “Truer words were never spoken.”

  Andrew didn’t dare tell Mammi that the boys didn’t have a closet in the cellar. She might go out and try to buy one.

  Dat and Abraham were in the fields, and Austin was milking their four cows. They didn’t get a huge amount of milk, but enough that a milkman came by every night to collect what they’d milked and take it to a processing plant. It was a little bit of extra money every month.

  Andrew had come into the house to wash peanut butter jars, but with Mammi cutting hair, he’d decided he’d better wait. No food inspector would take kindly to pieces of hair that could easily float into a jar of peanut butter. Andrew glanced at Mamm, who was still trying to pound the
hamburger into mush. “Mammi, would you like me to cut Dawdi’s hair? I’ll take him outside so we don’t have to wear out the special broom on the floor.”

  Mamm stopped pounding. She’d probably give Andrew a kiss if he could talk Mammi into letting him take Dawdi out of the kitchen for a haircut.

  “That’s a very nice offer, Andrew, but I already told your mamm, I don’t think it’s wise to take David outside. He could get a chill.”

  “I stopped by the thermometer on my way in, Mammi. It’s seventy-five degrees outside.”

  “He can’t do the porch steps.”

  “I’ll cut it on the porch and drape a blanket over Dawdi’s legs.”

  Mammi raised her eyebrows. She liked to have her way, but she wasn’t too stubborn to consider other options. “All right. Some time outside might do your dawdi good.”

  Andrew carried a kitchen chair out to the porch along with a smooth blanket that wasn’t as likely to catch all the hair trimmings. Then Mammi held Dawdi’s elbow with Andrew on the other side, and they helped him shuffle out to the porch with his walker. Mammi brought out a chair and the comb and scissors. “It won’t hurt to cut it shorter than normal,” she said. “No one at the gmayna is likely to see him.” She patted Andrew on the shoulder before she slipped inside. “You’ve always been the most thoughtful young man.”

  Dawdi smiled at Andrew, and it made him feel ashamed. “Don’t believe it, Dawdi,” Andrew said, opening and closing the scissors in his hand. Dawdi’s smile faded. “I know you love me, Dawdi, but it’s true. I used to believe I was a thoughtful young man, but now I can barely stand to live with myself. Plain and simple, Dawdi, I’m a hypocrite, and Mary sees right through me.”

  Dawdi lifted one eyebrow. That was something Andrew hadn’t seen for a very long time. Dawdi used to lift his eyebrow like that when he questioned the intelligence of one of his grandchildren.

  “I met this girl. Her name is Mary Coblenz. Do you remember her? She jumped the fence and came back about a month ago. She’s with child, unmarried, and living with Bitsy and Yost Weaver because her parents won’t let her in the house.”