by Sarah Price
This time, she listened to him and climbed into the buggy. She forced the rage out of her heart and shut her ears to their taunts as Emanuel urged the horse to back up. Shana bent over, covering Noah as they passed the pickup truck, the boys still shouting out insults and laughing. Silently, Shana prayed until they had traveled far enough down the lane where the boys' taunts could not be heard except as a distant echo in her ears.
She glanced at Emanuel but followed his example by not commenting. She shut her eyes and said a silent prayer that Noah would never face such humiliating persecution in his life. Before she could stop herself, tears started streaming down her cheeks. How could those boys be so cruel, she wondered in bewilderment. She wiped the tears from her face and was thankful for the reassuring squeeze Emanuel spared her as he touched her leg.
They had almost made it home when a car crept up behind them. Shana turned around to glance out the back window and caught her breath. "It's them, Emanuel," she said, her voice hoarse and her heart pounding inside her chest.
"They won't do anything," he said stiffly.
But as the words slipped out of his mouth, the pickup sped up and began to pass them. The pickup slowed down enough so that they rode parallel to the buggy. One of the boys in the back tossed an empty bottle at the horse before the truck passed and drove down the lane. The horse shied up, rearing as the bottle hit him. The buggy lurched forward and started to tilt sideways. Shana clutched Noah with one hand and steadied herself against the door with another. She opened her mouth as though to scream but nothing came out. Emanuel tightened the reins, shouting for Lady Priscilla to calm down. Then, the truck vanished in the distance and the buggy steadied, he turned to Shana, his face white and his hands shaking.
"Are you alright?"
"Alright?" she spat out. "They tried to kill us!"
"Noah?"
"He's fine, Emanuel."
"Thank God," he whispered.
"We should go to the police!" She leaned back in the seat, her own hands shaking. "How can they be so cruel? So unfeeling?" The words slipped out without any thought before them. "Those boys should be horse whipped! Taught to respect other people, not taunt them!"
"Shana!"
"We're talking about respect for our lives! Our child!"
"Going to the Englische authorities will not change anything," Emanuel said softly.
"Perhaps it will stop them from doing it again!"
"Our ancestors faced worse persecution than that. And, I suspect, that will not be the last time. Whether their words and actions are right or wrong, we are not to judge them, Shana," he reminded her.
"Judge them? What's to judge?" she snapped back. "We could have been killed!"
"And we weren't." He reached over and touched Noah's cheek. "Going to the police is not our way, Shana." He met her gaze. "And neither is reacting to violent actions with violent words. With one month to baptism, you should realize that there is more to our faith than just dressing Amish, Shana."
The blank look in his eyes frightened her. It wasn't anger. No, she didn't think Emanuel could get angry. Perhaps it was disappointment and frustration. Or perhaps it was fear that she would fail him as an Amish wife. "Just get us home," she whispered miserably. How could he reprimand her for reacting to the accident that could have just happened?
She felt ill, her stomach queasy and threatening to unsettle. She had been hearing more and more of the modern-day persecution of her neighbors. From Emanuel's uncle whose barn had been burned to a neighbor several towns over who found his herd of cows shot, the violent torment was specifically directed at the Amish. Now, those boys had not only directed their verbal abuse at the Amish, but at Emanuel and Shana in particular.
It frightened her that strangers knew about her upbringing and who she was. It was as if they had singled them out from among others. But, even worse was the realization that Emanuel expected her to forget about the incident as though the incident had never happened. As she held Noah, she wondered if she’d ever be able to forgive as easily as Emanuel had just forgiven those horrid Englische boys.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Shana felt the deacon's wife untie the ribbons to her black prayer cap and remove it from her head. The bishop laid his hand upon her head. "Upon your faith, which you confessed before God and the many witnesses of our Church, you are baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit," he said. The deacon poured water in the bishop's cupped hands that dripped it over the top of her head.
The bishop pulled her hands from her face. His German words sounded harsh and forbidding. While she didn't understand every word that he spoke, she had been well trained on the deep meaning behind the ceremony. She also understood that she had taken the final step over the line that separated her past from her future. The line that she crossed as the bishop laid his hands on her shoulders, helping her to stand as a new member of their community, was the last remnant of the present.
"In the name of the Lord and the Church, we extend to you the hand of fellowship, rise up."
She raised her eyes and greeted her new family. There were tearful nods of approval from some of the members, although most of them kept straight faces as they recognized the seriousness of Shana's new commitment to not only their way of life but to the community as a whole. As she stood before her neighbors, Shana realized that she had just turned the key to the trunk where she had locked away her never-to-be worn again wedding ring and other materials reminders of her non-Amish past. And she would try, she silently vowed, to keep locked in that trunk her non-Amish memories, as well.
The baptismal ceremony, which followed the regular two sermons, had focused on walking the straight and narrow before the bishop had offered one more opportunity to turn away from the Amish commitment to life. Kneeling before the congregation alongside Emanuel and three other young adults, Shana had declared her desire and promise to renounce the outside world and practice obedience to God and His church. She had promised to be faithful for life to Christ before confessing that she believed that Jesus was the Son of God.
No one verbally acknowledged her commitment after the baptism. Instead, Shana joined the women in the kitchen, her new home away from home, as they prepared the midday meal. Shana helped set out the breads, cold salads, and pies that the women had prepared. Occasionally, someone would lay their hand on her arm or smile at her as their eyes met, but no words passed beyond the regular course of conversation.
When Noah cried from the downstairs bedroom, Shana wiped her hands on a towel and smiled at Sarah Yoder as she escaped the kitchen to fetch her son. She sat on the sofa on the far side of the kitchen, Noah nursing hungrily at her breast. Shana rubbed his back, oblivious to the people that moved around her. No one paid attention to her feeding the baby. To them, breast-feeding was natural, a part of life. Shana fought her own modest shame and patiently let Noah finish. She wiped his mouth with a rag and smothered his face with kisses. He gurgled happily and Shana took the opportunity to quickly change his diaper.
"How quickly they grow, ja?"
Shana glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Lillian. Emanuel's family had come to their church for the baptismal ceremony. "Perhaps I'll think that when he starts walking."
Lillian laid Jacob on the bed next to Noah and quickly followed Shana's example. With expert hands, she had Jacob changed before Shana had finished with Noah. "It amazes me when I see Linda every day. She's so big. Soon she'll be going to school and Jacob will be helping Jonas with the milking and plowing."
Shana laughed. "He hasn't even stopped nursing yet, Lillian."
Lillian laughed with her. "Perhaps it seems like he's already grown since I know he'll have another brother or sister in seven months."
"Oh Lillian!" For a quick moment, Shana didn't know whether to be happy for her or sad. Little Linda wasn't even three yet. So many children in such a short amount of time. But, as Shana saw the radiant glow from Lillian's eyes, Shana remembered the wonderful fe
eling she had the day Noah was born and every day since and she knew that there could never be too many children. "That's wonderful!"
"Just as wonderful as your baptism today, ja?"
Shana met Lillian's joyous gaze and nodded. "Today has been wonderful. And I owe a lot of it to you. Thank you for your help and love, Lillian."
Even though Lillian fought it, a blush covered her cheeks. "We introduced you to God, Shana, but it was Him who showed you the light." But Shana could tell that she was pleased with the compliment.
They rejoined the other women in the kitchen and sitting room. Shana held Noah in her arms and sat down on the sofa. Tenderly, she laid the baby on his back on her lap and let him cling to her fingers. Carefully, she pulled him upward, smiling as he began to laugh. "You're almost ready to sit up by yourself, aren't you?" she asked him. Then, clutching him gently to her shoulder, she gave him a loving hug. "Don't grow up too fast on me," she whispered into his ear.
While the rest of the women scurried around the kitchen, some of the older women joined Shana as did Lillian and the other young mothers. Shana watched as Katie worked with the other women, expertly finding her place in the line of duties. Even Sylvia fit in. Shana smiled to herself as she rubbed Noah's back. Was it only a year ago that she had felt so awkward and out of place among the Amish women when they worked in the kitchen? Now she felt confident and secure in her place as mother, wife, and worshipper.
"We'll be quilting soon, Shana," Linda Yoder said, sitting down next to Shana. She leaned over and brushed a wrinkled finger across Noah's cheek. "Sister Sarah is hosting a party next week. Now that silo is filled and the plow's away until spring. You should join us."
"I'll speak with Emanuel," Shana replied.
Linda Yoder responded with a smile. "Winter months will soon be upon us."
"Soon," Shana said, rubbing Noah's back. "Not looking forward to the cold."
"Ja," Linda agreed. "But the summer harvest is done."
"We still have to hang the tobacco," Shana pointed out.
"Josef doesn't crop tobacco." Linda quickly added, "But there's always work around the farm."
Lillian quickly agreed. "And when it finally ends, it gets warm and begins all over again."
The other women laughed good-naturedly and even Shana had to smile. With the end of the autumn came the hanging of tobacco and once that was finished and it was too cold to work in the fields, Emanuel would spend most of his days working in the barn, painting or fixing things but there would be very little work until late March when everything began again with the advent of the warm weather. Spring, she realized, was truly the season of rebirth.
The men started passing through the kitchen, each filling their plates full of freshly prepared food. The children lingered near the doorway, waiting for their turn. But they would have to wait for a while longer. After the married men were finished eating, it was time for the women to eat. Only then would it be time for the children to fill their plates. Shana watched one young boy, no older than eight, leaning against the doorframe, his hands thrust into his pockets, and his black hat tilted back on his forehead. He watched with envy, his eyes large and round, as the men crowded around the table.
Shana watched the men, her eyes resting on the familiar back of her husband. She studied his every movement, the way he politely handed the serving spoon to the next fellow in line or nodded at an older man who joined them. At one point, as he stood up to leave the table, he caught Shana's eye. A trace of a smile crossed his lips, lighting up his face. But no words passed from his lips. For Shana, his expression said the words that they were both feeling.
Katie came over to her and took baby Noah from her. She held him in her arms and cooed over her youngest grandchild. "What a big boy you are becoming," she said.
"Oh Mamm, please," Shana begged quietly. "I want him to stay a baby forever," she added with a smile.
Katie laughed. "Don't we all? But one day, perhaps sooner than you'd like, you'll be at another baptism and welcoming him into your church."
"That will be a proud day for both Emanuel and me," Shana replied.
"As it is for Jonas and me." She handed the baby back to Shana. "We live our lives obeying God, Shana, and hopefully our children learn from our example. People can look at us and know that we are Christians, that we live holy before God. Our lives are like an empty field and religion is the seeds. But we still need to cultivate those seeds for them to grow into a good bountiful crop."
"Then Emanuel is my sunshine and my community is the soil," Shana said.
"What about the rain?" Lillian teased.
"The rain?" Shana repeated. She thought for a moment before she smiled. "God's words. The Bible is the rain." The rest of the women smiled their pleasure with her answer and even Shana felt moved by the advice that Katie had bestowed on her. Indeed, if a year ago she had felt as though she didn't belong, Shana never felt closer to the people before her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The winter months passed slowly. The mornings were brutally cold and Shana hated getting out of her warm bed. But every day, she arose at five o'clock with Emanuel to help with the milking. Afterward, she'd hurry back to the house to cook him breakfast. Shortly after cleaning up the dishes, she'd dress and feed Noah while Emanuel bathed. Some days, they'd go visiting, fighting the brutal cold to share the midday meal with Katie or Lillian. Other days, Shana would help Emanuel shred the corn stalks or, later in December, strip the dried tobacco. All the while, she'd hurry back to the house to check on Noah who, for the most part, slept through the mornings.
In the afternoons, she'd tend to her household chores while Emanuel hauled manure from the barn to the fields, taking advantage of the hard, frozen ground to spread the natural fertilizer. From the kitchen windows, Shana would often see him driving the mules from behind the barn into the fields. She knew that he felt the bitter cold winds that blew across the farm nestled in the crutch of the valley. Sympathetically, she'd watch him until he disappeared as she kneaded dough to make fresh bread or a piecrust. It didn't take long for her kitchen to warm with the inviting and delicious aroma of the baking bread.
By suppertime, she'd have the table ready with thick slices of bread, homemade jam, and steaming chicken soup. Emanuel would hang up his hat and wash before coming into the kitchen. "Smells like you've been busy," he'd greet her. After the meal, when the dishes were washed and put away, Shana would sit at the table, nursing Noah while Emanuel read aloud from the Bible. By eight o'clock, on most nights, the kerosene lantern had been shut off and the Lapp farm settled in for the night, the noise only broken by the occasional bellow from one of the cows.
It was early-February when Shana realized that she was pregnant again. For a couple weeks, she kept the secret to herself, enjoying the pleasures of savoring the young life that grew within her womb. She found herself caressing her stomach, humming to herself as she hung laundry or cooking supper. She tried to imagine what the new baby would look like but she could only imagine Noah's sweet face with his vibrant blue eyes that so resembled Emanuel.
When she washed Noah or played with him in the afternoon by the kerosene heater, she couldn't help but smile. His six-month-old curiosity and fascination with everything amazed her. She'd watch him smile when she tickled his belly or blew warm breath on his bare feet. He could sit up by himself now and she's often find him sitting up in his downstairs crib, watching her as she cooked and cleaned. When she caught the baby's eyes upon her, she'd set down her towel and hurry over to smother him with kisses, which always bought that innocent, one tooth smile to his face.
By mid-March, as Emanuel, restless from the bitter winter, waited for the weather to warm, her secret escaped. She had just finished her first trimester and had almost gotten over her morning sickness, which hadn't been as harsh as during her first pregnancy, when he confronted her about the upcoming addition to their family.
"Noah's almost eight months now," he started as he sat on the sofa,
Noah asleep on his lap.
"Another week or so, I believe."
Emanuel watched as she kneaded some dough on the counter. She had become an expert baker during the winter months with no more accidental ingredients in her creations. "Ja, a big boy."
"Bigger than yesterday," she teased.
"Soon he'll be walking, ja?"
"And then he'll be helping you with the milking and going to school. Maybe he'll get married soon, too," she teased.
"Let's start with walking," Emanuel laughed.
"He'll be a handful by summer's end, I'm certain," she added.
Emanuel rubbed his son's back gently. Shana glanced over her shoulder at him. She loved watching him with Noah. His big hands that plowed the fields and worked the mules cared for the baby so gently and lovingly that tears sometimes came to her eyes. Emanuel looked up and caught her staring at him. "Perhaps Sylvia should come visiting again this summer. She's finished with all of her schooling and, as you pointed out, Noah might prove a handful."