Her Brother's Keeper

by Beth Wiseman

  After supper, Charlotte had struggled through the nightly devotions with Hannah and the rest of the family. Now that she was tuned in to the possibility that there was a God and an afterlife, there seemed to be a giant overhaul of her soul underway, and it was painful and unwelcome. She thought back to what Ryan had said. When a person first begins to develop a relationship with God, it’s like a cleansing of the soul or something.

  Charlotte had no doubt that she needed a life overhaul, but at what cost? She pulled her knees to her chest and pulled her oversize white T-shirt over her knees. Rocking back and forth on the bed, she closed her eyes and reminded herself why she was here. Then she forced herself to think about Ethan dangling from a noose, hanging from a tree in his yard. And that vision was enough to get her back on the course she’d set before she arrived, no matter how painful the truth might be. She found her yellow pad between the mattresses and got comfy.

  August 28

  The Plain People seem to pride themselves on separating themselves from the world because of their unwavering faith in God, but what happens when one of their own takes his or her own life? Will that person go to heaven? Did Ethan go to heaven? Apparently, the Amish debate this question like many other religions. Hannah is really struggling with this, and I believe that her grief about Ethan is real, but I can’t help but wonder what goes on behind closed doors here.

  Charlotte paused. She’d had enough counseling to know that just because her childhood had been horrible, that didn’t mean there weren’t good people in the world. Her parents’ way of raising children wasn’t the norm.

  She thought about what she saw in the clouds today.

  I’m choosing to believe in God. I’m choosing to believe that Ethan is in heaven.

  But if that was the case, Charlotte wondered if she would ever see her brother again. She was pretty sure there wasn’t a reserved seat for her on the other side of the pearly gates.

  Charlotte knew about the fund that the Amish all contributed to for medical needs, and she wondered if Ethan should have seen a counselor, and if that option had ever been offered to him.

  Putting the pad beside her on the bed, she stretched her legs out in front of her, leaned against her pillow, and picked up her cell phone. When Ryan answered, she filled him in on the day.

  “So, do you believe in signs?” she asked him after she told him what she’d seen in the clouds.

  “I don’t know. I think God sometimes gives us signs. Faith means believing in what we can’t see, and God doesn’t have to prove Himself. But, I have to admit, it’s pretty cool that you saw that.”

  Charlotte still wondered if she’d created the formation in the clouds just by wishing it to be so. Or was it the sign she’d asked God for?

  She jumped when she heard a noise that sounded like it was coming from outside. “Hey, I gotta go. I hear something out in the yard. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Charlotte shined her flashlight on the wood floors and tiptoed to the window. She waited until the light from the propane lamp caught the shadow running through the yard and wasn’t too surprised to see that it was Jacob. She’d been right when she thought she’d heard the front door opening late at night. Apparently, Amish and English teenagers had something in common.

  Six

  Hannah stood next to her mother at the kitchen window. Mary had rushed to the barn when she saw Isaac pulling up in his buggy, and now they were smiling and laughing.

  “Isaac must really like Cousin Mary. She told me that they are going on a date tomorrow.” Mamm kept her eyes glued to the two of them, which was probably a good thing because she didn’t see Hannah scowling. “I think it’s wonderful that Isaac is starting to date again. He’s spent so much time tending to his parents; he deserves someone special in his life.”

  “Mamm . . .” Hannah folded her arms across her chest and struggled to keep the agitation from her voice. “First of all, Mary won’t be here very long. And did you know that Mary was the one who asked Isaac out?”

  Her mother didn’t pull her gaze away, but smiled. “I think that’s just fine.”

  Hannah shook her head. “I don’t know how you can say that. It’s not appropriate.” She moved away from the window, poured a cup of kaffi, and sat down at the kitchen table to read die Botschaft. She took a sip as she caught up on posts from relatives in Indiana. Anything to take her mind off of Mary and Isaac. After a few moments, her mother joined her.

  “How are you and Mary getting along?” Hannah’s mother pulled out the chair across the table from Hannah, but instead of coffee, her mother was sipping on goat milk, not a beverage Hannah enjoyed by itself.

  Hannah marked her spot with her finger and shrugged. “We get along fine.” She recalled Mary’s comment about heaven. “She’s different. And I still don’t think a woman should ask a man out on a date. I know the Englisch do that sometimes, but that doesn’t make it right.”

  “Hannah. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

  Hannah dropped her jaw. “Mamm! That is not true. I am still grieving for Ethan. And besides, jealousy is a sin.”

  “And we all sin from time to time,” her mother said as she put a hand on Hannah’s. “I know how much you loved Ethan, but it’s been a year, Hannah. If you have an interest in Isaac, you need to talk to Mary about it since she is only here visiting.”

  Hannah started shaking her head as tears filled her eyes. Even all this time later, she felt guilty for considering the feelings she might have for Isaac.

  Her mother leaned against the back of the chair and took a long sip of milk. “Ethan would want you to be happy. He would not begrudge you going out with Isaac. We all know that Isaac is a wonderful man.”

  Hannah blinked her eyes a few times as guilt and sadness turned to anger, which was possibly brought on by jealousy, making her mother right. But Hannah was not about to admit it. “No matter the situation, Isaac and Mary are going out tomorrow, and I think we owe it to both of them to see if they might have a chance together.” She heard the words leap through her lips and knew it was the truth, but they left a bad taste in her mouth.

  “The Lord might have put Mary in your life for a reason, Hannah. You’ve withdrawn so much since Ethan’s death, and I think sometimes people avoid you because they don’t know what to say.”

  Hannah knew this to be true. Even her closest friends kept their distance these days. “Maybe.”

  “I would like Mary to stay longer. I mentioned it to her in passing, but the subject hasn’t come up again. She’s already been here a week. It seems like she just got here yesterday. You know, her great-aunt and uncle aren’t living anymore. And she doesn’t have anyone courting her.” Mamm took a sip of the thick milk, and it left a white mustache. Hannah smiled and pointed to her own upper lip. Mamm chuckled as she dabbed at the spot. “How would you feel about that?”

  “I’m sure she has people in Texas to return to, but it’s up to her.” Sometimes Hannah could feel a friendship forming, and maybe with more time, she’d grow even closer to Mary. Or would her cousin only grow close to Isaac?

  Mamm sat taller, put her palms on the table, and smiled. “I will talk to her later.” She nodded toward the window. “Maybe more than a friendship can grow and she’ll end up staying here.”

  Hannah scowled. “Mamm, they’re just talking.”

  Her mother raised an eyebrow. “You just never know who the heart will choose. Who God will choose.” Mamm stood up and pressed her hands together in prayer, closed her eyes, and looked toward the ceiling. “I’m going to pray that both of them will find true love if it’s God’s will.”

  Hannah forced a smile, then walked to the window. Mary and Isaac were still talking. Maybe they would choose each other.

  Hannah wrapped her hand around the back of her neck. Who will ever choose me?

  Isaac chuckled at another one of Mary’s stories. She’d surely experienced things that Isaac couldn’t imagine, but it made him want to travel
to Texas someday—to see longhorns, bluebonnets, and maybe even a cowboy. And he’d sure like to try one of the kolaches Mary spoke of, fluffy pastries with sweet fillings like poppy seed, prune, and apricot.

  “And your mamm never found the baby armadillos?” he asked when Mary was done with her tale.

  “Nope. My friend and I raised the four babies in an old doghouse in the backyard. They looked like pink little rats, but what could we do? They didn’t have a mother.” Mary looked away as she blinked her eyes a few times. The friend was Ethan, but she didn’t think she should mention that she had a brother since none of Hannah’s family thought she had any siblings. “That was a long time ago.”

  Isaac studied her for a few moments. She was pretty with golden-blond hair framing a tanned face peeking from beneath her bonnet, and she had deep-brown eyes. But when he glanced toward the house, he found himself wishing Hannah would come outside. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d read Hannah’s expression wrong at the furniture store when she’d avoided making eye contact with him. She’d fidgeted with the string on her kapp, as if maybe she was bothered that Isaac would be going on a picnic with her cousin.

  He wondered what kind of community Mary came from, where it was okay for a woman to ask out a man.

  “Um . . . since you already visited our furniture store, are you . . . are we . . .”

  “I would still love to go on a picnic.” She took a step toward him as she spoke, smiling. Isaac glanced at the King farmhouse again, but all was quiet.

  “Gut. Okay.”

  Isaac wanted to straighten Mary’s prayer covering. It was always lopsided. But he didn’t want to embarrass her.

  She raised both eyebrows and smiled until tiny dimples formed on her cheeks.

  “And remember, I said I’ll bring the food.”

  They settled on a time, and Isaac went on his way, back to the store. It had been so long since Isaac had been out with a woman, he couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. Even if he did wish that it was Hannah he’d be spending the day with.

  Charlotte helped Hannah set the table for lunch—dinner, she reminded herself—while Lena finished running the clothes through the wringer washing machine.

  “Mamm said she mentioned you staying a bit longer with us.” Hannah made the statement in a way that Charlotte couldn’t decipher. She wasn’t sure if Hannah wanted her to stay. Would Lena or Hannah want to stay in touch when Charlotte went back to Texas? She hoped not. With each passing day, she felt worse about the lies, and to keep in touch would just be continuing the deceit.

  “Oh. I don’t want to inconvenience y’all.” She cringed, wishing she’d remember to sound more Amish.

  “It wouldn’t be an inconvenience,” Hannah said as she placed a fruit salad on the table. “Mamm enjoys having you here.”

  Charlotte pondered the comment.

  The screen door in the living room slammed. Amos and Jacob were home for lunch. The familiar smell of sweat, manure, and hay wafted into the kitchen with the men, although it was a fraction of the odor they’d bring in at the end of the day. Despite their straw hats, both father and son sported a bronze tan, although Amos’s face had a web of wrinkles from years of outdoor work.

  Jacob didn’t strike Charlotte as the poster child for the Amish. Not only had she caught him sneaking out of the house a couple of times, his hair was longer than most, and he rattled on about politics, space, movies, and places he wanted to go—most notably to the moon or Mars. And such conversations always drew criticism from Lena.

  After they’d all prayed, Jacob said, “I bought a telescope with the money I’ve saved working side jobs.” The sixteen-year-old sat taller and raised his chin, seeming to know that at least one of his parents would challenge him. Amos spoke up first.

  “What is this telescope? A phone?” Amos bit into a slice of bread, and Charlotte hurried to nab her own piece.

  “It’s an instrument to look into space,” Jacob answered with a mouthful of chicken.

  Charlotte was aware that Amish kids were allowed some liberties when they turned sixteen. Supposedly, it was a time for them to experience the outside world, then decide if they wanted to be baptized into the Amish faith. Although, she couldn’t imagine why anyone would stay here when there was an entire world, away from buggies and primitive living, to experience.

  “Nee, that is a luxury,” Lena said firmly. “What do you think the bishop would say?”

  Charlotte had seen the bishop at their church services, but the way everyone talked about this guy, he was judge, jury, and executioner, so to speak.

  “There is nothing wrong with me wanting to educate myself about the world we live in,” Jacob said defiantly enough to draw a scowl from his father. Go Jacob, Charlotte thought.

  “You have all the schooling you need,” Lena said, huffing out the words. “I hope you didn’t spend much on this space seeker.”

  Charlotte fought a smile and stuffed more bread in her mouth.

  “It’s my money to spend.” Jacob spat the words out like any normal teenager.

  “You return it. We don’t need such worldly things here.” Lena sat taller and sighed loudly.

  “Nee, I’m not. It’s coming on the package truck. And I’m keeping it.”

  Amos laid his fork noisily on his plate, which was still half-full of chicken, potatoes, and green beans. “You will watch your voice with your mamm.” After directing the comment to Jacob, Amos turned to Lena. “He can keep the space seeker. He saved his money, and it won’t hurt anything.”

  “Nee, Amos. What if the bishop sees it? What use is it? Why should he dabble with such things, and—”

  “Stop, Lena.” Amos’s voice was firm as he spoke to his wife, and Charlotte held her breath for a few moments while she waited for Lena to counter. But Lena was quiet.

  Huh . . . she’d learned something new about the Amish folks today. The man of the house runs the show.

  Hannah sat up in bed, lit her lantern, then opened the drawer of her nightstand. She pulled out the cedar box with a few keepsakes from Ethan, things she hadn’t buried. Even though pictures weren’t allowed, she and Ethan had taken one of themselves a few weeks before he died. Their day at the Allentown Fair was one of Hannah’s fondest memories, and from high up on the Ferris wheel, Ethan had held out his phone and snapped a picture of them. A flash of light lit up their faces against the darkness of night behind them. If only she could have known that only a short time later, her Ethan would be gone.

  Why, Ethan? Why? She’d asked herself hundreds of times. They’d had their entire future to look forward to, and Hannah had been certain God had blessed her beyond her greatest hopes. She took out the two dried roses, the first ones Ethan had given her, ones he had grown himself. She thumbed through other keepsakes, expecting the familiar tears to build, but lately, her grief had taken a new turn. Anger. How do you love someone, commit to a lifetime with them, then leave without saying good-bye, not even a note? Nothing. Just word from a neighbor that Ethan was dead, that he had hanged himself. And now Hannah had to live with that image in her mind. Although, she was sure it wasn’t as bad as the vision that Big Johnny Stoltzfus would have to carry around, since he was the one who found Ethan. She missed Ethan, but he hadn’t only ended his own life, he’d taken a part of Hannah’s too.

  She was putting everything back in the small box when she heard a voice, and since sleep wasn’t coming this evening, she picked up the lantern and eased her bedroom door open. She could see a light coming from beneath the door in Mary’s room. Tiptoeing, she made her way down the hallway and knocked lightly.

  “Mary, are you awake?”

  “Yeah, just a minute.”

  “No, no, no,” Charlotte whispered as she looked at her watch. She’d just finished applying the hair color she’d brought from home. Since she might be here at least another three weeks, she decided to fix her hair tonight while everyone slept. Someone was bound to notice her roots any day now—they were so obviou
s to her.

  She was thankful for the prayer covering. She always had her hair done at a salon, so she had no idea how to match just the roots, which is why she’d applied the dye over all her hair. Hopefully, this would be a shade of blond she could live with and that no one would notice a difference. Twice, Hannah had almost caught Charlotte without any head covering. She was sure Amish women didn’t color their hair. She’d seen plenty of the women with full heads of gray hair, many who didn’t even look like they’d reached forty yet.

  Hannah often wore just a scarf over her head at home, and sometimes nothing at all when she was inside the house. Same with Lena. When both of the women had asked why Charlotte never took her prayer cap off, she said she wasn’t comfortable doing so around Hannah’s father and brother. She had no idea what the rule was, but it was all she could come up with at the time.

  Ugh. Dye was going to get all over the towel, but as she wound it around her head, she decided to worry about that later.

  “Hey, what’s up?” she asked as she pushed the door open a few inches, shining her flashlight toward the ceiling.

  “I’m sorry. I thought you took a bath earlier.” Hannah held the lantern up a little higher and stared at Charlotte through the opening.

  “I did. I’m just . . . well, just . . . soaking my hair.”

  Hannah cocked her head. “Soaking your hair?”

  Charlotte opened the door a little wider and forced a toothy smile that she hoped might look genuine. “Oh, it’s just something to make my hair shiny.” She knew vanity was looked down upon, and once again, she was kicking herself for not choosing her words more carefully. “Not really shiny, just manageable. It tangles easily.”

  Hannah crinkled her nose as she waved a hand in front of her face. “Ach, it doesn’t smell very gut, does it?”

  “No. It’s pretty stinky.” Charlotte cleared her throat, wondering why she hadn’t thought this through.