Holding a Tender Heart

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Debbie waited until they’d given their orders before she answered. “Sorry, Doug. I’m off in my own world right now. The truth is that what you think of as success, I think of as drudgery. A successful career and all that goes with it—the money, the ambition, the climb to the top—just don’t interest me.”

  “Then what does interest you?”

  Debbie smiled as she answered. “You’ll never understand, Doug. But I think I’d like to move into the Amish community. I’m wondering if they’ll let me.”

  “This is a joke, right?” Doug asked, his gaze piercing hers. “I’m not getting it. What’s the punch line?”

  “There’s no punch line, Doug.”

  Doug leaned forward. “You’re not serious are you, Debbie? I mean, all of us have our fantasies, but joining the Amish never was one of mine. And for you I never imagined it either.”

  “I probably couldn’t join their faith…at least not at first,” Debbie said, not looking at Doug. “Mom wants me out of the house as soon as possible. If I have to pay room and board somewhere, I’m hoping it can be with the Beilers. They have the rooms upstairs their two boys left when they married. It would be perfect for me—if they’ll have me, of course. That’s the big question.”

  Doug was dumbfounded. “Debbie, you’re not making the least bit of sense!”

  “Does my life make sense now, Doug?” Debbie leaned forward on the table. “Ask yourself that question. Do I really fit in with your world…your plans…your future?” There! She’d said it. Let the chips fall where they may.

  The waitress arrived with their food, so neither of them said anything for a while.

  Doug picked up his pizza, broke off a small piece, and popped it into his mouth.

  For once Debbie knew what she wanted to say. “Would you mind if we prayed before we eat?”

  “Whoa!” He wiped his brow of imaginary sweat. “What has gotten into you, woman? We’ve never done that before.”

  “Maybe it’s time we did. Or time I did, anyway.”

  He laughed and put down his pizza. “I don’t get you, Debbie. Really, I don’t.”

  “Well, I’m praying,” Debbie said, bowing her head. When she looked up moments later, she noticed Doug had done the same, although he appeared red in the face.

  “You’re really getting out of my league, Debbie. I don’t know what to say. You’ve changed.”

  “Yes, I suppose I have,” she said. “I guess finally finishing college and getting a job have made me change. Made me take stock of what I really want.”

  He touched her hand. “What do you really want, Debbie? I asked you to come here to talk about our future, hoping that is what you want. We go back many years. All through college I’ve waited for you, Debbie. I haven’t dated any other girls because I like you. And occasionally you’ve given me encouragement to believe you feel the same way about me as I do about you. Has it all been for nothing? Is that how this is going to turn out?”

  She met his gaze. “I honestly don’t know, Doug. It’s just that I’ve been thinking the past few days. Wondering how I can find peace with the way things are in our world.”

  “So you’re serious about the Amish thing?” His fingers moved on her hand.

  Debbie sighed. “I’m serious about finding out if I might fit. Although with me, who knows? I go up and down like a yo-yo. Scared of my own shadow. Afraid to step out and pursue what I really want. This morning an Amish girl embarrassed me. She has more nerve than I do, Doug. She’s surrounded by a family and a community who oppose her feelings and beliefs, yet she dares to express them. Maybe nothing will come of it, but she at least speaks what she wants. And yet I don’t dare say similar words to those I love. What kind of courage is that?”

  Doug leaned back in his chair. “So where does that leave us, Debbie? Are you saying I’m wrong for you?”

  “Doug, please.” She touched his arm. “I didn’t mean it like that. This really is about me.”

  “Sounds an awfully lot like you’re sending me off gently into the night.”

  “Doug, I don’t mean to hurt you. I’d never intentionally do that. I guess I’ve told you this because you were the closest person to me when it first wanted to spill out.”

  “Doesn’t that tell you something?” he asked. “I’m you’re listening ear. You need me.”

  “Doug, you’re sweet.” She tried to smile. “You’ve always been sweet to me. You are a good listening ear. But I think it’s obvious we need to take a break in our relationship. I need the freedom to find out what I really want my future to look like.”

  He looked away and let out a long breath. “I wish we’d had this talk a long time ago.”

  Doug finished his pizza slice, and Debbie nibbled at her piece. Further talk seemed unnecessary. When they’d finished, they stood and walked to the counter. Doug paid at the register, and she waited until he was ready to walk outside.

  “Thanks for the dinner,” she said. “I’m sorry it worked out this way. You deserve better…”

  “Thanks for the years we’ve known each other, Debbie. I don’t understand what you really want, but whatever it is, I hope you find it.”

  “You’ve always been kind, Doug,” Debbie said. She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. That it had turned out like this surprised her. She hadn’t known what would happen, but now that it had, maybe it was for the best. At least she couldn’t turn back now. She knew she had to pursue her dream. “Goodbye, Doug.”

  He nodded and turned and walked down the street. He gave a brief backward glance but kept moving.

  Five

  The following afternoon Verna Beiler stood in the kitchen tapping her fingers on the table. Outside, the late-Sunday-afternoon sunlight flooded the yard. Shadows danced across the kitchen sink as the branches of the old oak moved in the gentle breeze. Why does Lois have to ruin everything? Verna wondered. Handsome Joe Weaver had taken Verna aside at the youth gathering and asked if he could bring her home tonight. Her first decent offer from a man in a long time, and it came at the same time Lois was creating a kafuffle about attending Englisha college like Debbie Watson had done. Yesterday when she’d come home from Debbie’s graduation, Lois couldn’t stop beaming and going on and on about her plans to “make something of herself.”

  After that scene, Daett wouldn’t be in any mood to hear Verna out. But at twenty-four, wasn’t she old enough to make some of these decisions on her own? Daett kept too close a watch on his daughters, Verna told herself. She’d thought this for some time but hadn’t dared say so. She knew his strictness was in part because he was the bishop for their community. If he wasn’t, then he might not care about appearances as much.

  Daett couldn’t help that he was a bishop. He hadn’t chosen his station in life. The responsibility had been thrust on him by Da Hah’s will, expressed all those years ago by the sacred lot. Neither must she hold ill will against the community when they expected their bishop’s daughters to hold a higher standard than everyone else.

  The problem was Daett went well above and beyond that standard. At least that’s what her rebellious side whispered to her. Mamm reminded her often of the dangers of rebellion. That was why both she and Ida had stayed away from anything radical during their rumspringa and had quickly joined the church afterward. Lois hadn’t done anything radical so far either. But neither had she joined the church. And she probably never would if her words about going to an Englisha college were any indication. But she shouldn’t care so much about what Lois might do. Verna had her own life to live, and Mamm encouraged all her girls to seek having a heart that was submissive and graced with inner beauty. At least Lois was trying to heed those lessons even with her admiration for fancy Englisha ways.

  So Verna worked hard to remember the words her mamm had spoken to warn her. She especially tried in the times when Daett had made her turn down another request of courtship from a man. This had been especially hard when Evert Stoltzfus asked last year for the privilege of driving
her home from the Sunday night hymn singing. He’d consider her consent a great privilege, Evert had said. Her heart had beat faster at the very sound of such fancy words. How could it be that handsome Evert Stoltzfus considered it a privilege to have her in his buggy?

  She should have said yah on the spot. Instead, she’d stood speechless, finally managing the words, “I’ll have to ask Daett.”

  From the look on his face, Evert hadn’t liked that answer. Nor had he liked what Daett had told her. “You’d better wait a while on that one, Verna. Tell him nee—for now.”

  With Daett it was always “wait.” He had a cautious approach to life, enforced on him, no doubt, because he had to lead the community through many difficult spiritual decisions. But Evert had no plans to wait. She could tell at the following youth gathering by how he frowned when she told him her answer. Though to Daett’s credit, his evaluation of Evert’s character had proven correct. The young man had left the community for the Englisha world not two months later.

  It was Daett’s only clear victory. All the others—two boys who had asked before Evert (one of which she would have turned down herself)—had gone on to date other Amish girls. Mose Yoder—the one she wouldn’t have turned down—would be married in this fall’s wedding season if the rumors in the community were correct. And she might have been the one who stood beside Mose on his wedding day if Daett had been able to overcome his fears.

  And Daett did the same thing to Ida. He’d turned down two boys already. Thankfully, both of them were boys Ida didn’t particularly care for.

  Lois, on the other hand, had received no offers so far even though she was twenty-one. Whether this came from Daett’s reputation or from Lois’s own choosing, one couldn’t be certain. With what the people of the community expected from them as the bishop’s daughters, Lois didn’t do anything to help her cause by blabbing all the time about her admiration of the Englisha world.

  Last night, though, had been the worst yet. Never had Lois spoken so outright about her plans to take action. Hopefully her feelings would blow over before long and nothing would become of this. Verna and Ida certainly didn’t need a sister who had jumped the fence to add to their already difficult reputations. If Lois did something wild like that, they might never find suitable husbands—and already the field was getting quite thin.

  Not many men were left who hadn’t either chosen girlfriends or were well on their way to saying their marriage vows. In fact, Joe Weaver wouldn’t have asked Verna home if his girlfriend, Rosy—whom he’d dated for two years—hadn’t broken off their relationship a month or so ago. Because of this, Joe’s request had come as a total surprise. Verna hadn’t even noticed him make eyes at her at the Sunday meetings. But then neither had she paid much attention, which only confirmed that her heart had been given over to despair that the right man would ever come along. At least someone Daett would approve of. So what exactly could Daett have against Joe Weaver? He lived north of the district, and he was the second boy in his family. The Weavers had been farmers for generations, and his family had a decent reputation. Joe was even gut friends with the handsome and loud-mouthed Paul Wagler, whose reputation no one doubted—at least when it came to whether he was a decent Amish man.

  Surely Daett could find nothing wrong with Joe Weaver. And so when Joe asked her last Sunday, Verna had said yah on the spot. For this man she would put up a fight if necessary. And perhaps Mamm would give her support—if it came to that. But now she had to tell Daett, and her courage failed her. Verna thought back over the week and figured she should have approached Daett at once. But how did she know Lois would have her meltdown last night?

  Verna turned toward the kitchen sink just as Ida walked in. She took a look at Verna and said, “You’re still troubled over Lois, aren’t you?”

  “Why? Has she been saying anything more?”

  “Nee, and I hope it’s blown over.”

  “So do I,” Verna said and then fell silent.

  “So if it’s not Lois, then what’s really bothering you?” Ida asked.

  Ida saw right through her, but that was Ida—always caring. “Oh, it’s nothing really.”

  “You can’t fool me. Now come. You should tell me.” Ida pulled out a chair and motioned for Verna to sit.

  Verna did so with a sigh. “Joe Weaver asked me home last week, and I said yah.”

  Ida’s eyes grew large. “Did Daett agree to this?”

  “I haven’t told him yet.”

  Ida’s eyes grew even bigger thinking of another kafuffle ahead. Still, it might not happen. She whispered, “There’s nothing wrong with Joe.”

  “That’s what I keep telling myself. But I still can’t bring myself to face Daett.”

  Ida glanced toward the living room where both of their parents relaxed in their rockers, Mamm reading The Budget and Daett deep into his Sunday-afternoon nap.

  Ida’s face lit up with inspiration. “I know! Let’s make popcorn and squeeze fresh oranges.”

  Verna clasped her hands together. “Why didn’t I think of that? You’re so wise, Ida.”

  Ida basked for a moment in the praise before she crept down the stairs to the basement. Verna had the popcorn popper warm by the time Ida came back with her arms full of ripe oranges.

  Thankfully, Mamm had ordered their stock replenished only this week from the bulk food store in Mifflinburg. They didn’t always keep the expensive treat around, but it would be put to gut use this afternoon, Verna decided. Daett must be brought to see the wisdom of allowing Joe Weaver’s attention for her.

  Ida squeezed oranges at the table while Verna twirled the popcorn lever. Soon the sound of popcorn popping filled the kitchen. Some of the kernels spilled onto the floor when Verna jerked off the cover. The prepared bowl caught most of the rest. She would sweep later. Right now she was so nervous it was a wonder the whole popper-full hadn’t ended up on the floor.

  Ida smiled her sympathy from across the room.

  Verna returned the smile. Her sister was a jewel. Why didn’t someone ask Ida home on Sunday nights? Someday surely some nice Amish boy would notice her. But right now Verna needed to be concerned about her own future. Oh, what if Daett said nee about Joe Weaver? There would be an awful fight inside of her—she just knew it. How much would come out, she didn’t know. She had yet to be pushed to such an extreme.

  Ida poured the orange juice into tall glasses, and Verna filled individual serving bowls until they almost overflowed with popcorn. They glanced at each other for a moment before they headed into the living room.

  Mamm looked up. “I thought I heard something in the kitchen. Are we in for a treat this afternoon?”

  Verna didn’t say anything. Mamm might think this an innocent gesture, but it wasn’t. And, in fact, from the look that crept across Mamm’s face, perhaps she already understood.

  Daett’s face beamed though. He boomed, “Oh! Now this wasn’t necessary, girls!” But he took the popcorn eagerly enough.

  Ida made sure a tall glass of orange juice was within his reach. With a quick sideways glance at Verna, she retreated into the kitchen.

  Verna wished Ida had stayed, but perhaps she’d best face this on her own. She sat down on the couch and cleared her throat. Daett was already reaching for his weekly copy of The Budget when she began to speak. “I have something I have to tell you, Daett. Well, both of you, really.”

  Daett’s bowl of popcorn teetered a moment in his lap. “Yah, Verna? Are you still troubled about Lois last night? I suppose I was a little too upset myself, but Da Hah has given me assurance that Lois will see the error of her ways. If we pray…”

  Verna cleared her throat again. “It’s not about Lois, Daett. It’s about me. Joe Weaver has asked if he can bring me home tonight, and I told him yah.”

  “You told him what?” Daett’s hand clutched his popcorn bowl. He turned to Saloma. “Do you know anything about this, Mamm?”

  Mamm shook her head. “Verna has told me nothing. But please think about
this before you say anything, Adam.”

  Daett didn’t wait even a second. “I will have no heartbroken man bringing my daughter home. I don’t believe in my girls playing second to anyone.”

  Daett keeps an amazingly gut tab on what all the unmarried men do, Verna thought. It was one of the inconveniences of a talk like this. As bishop, he always knew every fault and discrepancy that lay within any suitor’s character.

  “I have already said yah.” Verna tried to keep her voice calm.

  Daett glared at her. “Have you thought about this, Verna? Joe Weaver isn’t fit to ask any girl home until he gets over that Rosy of his. And I won’t have you hang around him until a decent amount of time has passed.”

  Verna didn’t hesitate. “He’s not a widower, Daett. Girls drop their boyfriends all the time. It’s not a disgrace. And I plan to avail myself of this opportunity. And I will not insult Joe by making him wait. It’s not like I’m getting any younger. I’m twenty-four years of age. Do you want your daughters living at home with you all your life?”

  Daett grunted and looked away.

  She had obviously scored some points, but not enough yet. If Mamm would only help! Verna kept her voice steady. “He’s bringing me home tonight, Daett. I think I’m old enough to make up my own mind.”

  Daett’s gaze turned toward her. “I will not have you speaking like that, Verna. Lois is already causing enough trouble in this house.”

  “Please, Adam,” Mamm joined in.

  Verna felt relief rush through her.

  Daett ignored Mamm. “Give the boy some time, Verna, and we’ll talk about this in a few months.”

  But Verna dug in. “He’s not a boy, Daett. Joe is a man. He’s a year older than I am, and I intend to bring him home tonight, with or without your approval.”

  A kernel of popcorn flew from Daett’s fingers. “What is the world getting to, anyway? My daughters are all defying me in my own house!”

  “Adam, please!” Mamm tried again.

  Verna tried once more. “I have a right to date the man, Daett. There’s nothing wrong with him.”