Holding a Tender Heart

by Jerry S. Eicher

  “No wonder Rosy cut off their relationship.”

  “Rosy’s woman’s intuition was working, I would say.”

  “That Verna’s blinded by her fear of being an old maid.”

  “Yah, there are not many chances left for her, you know.”

  And yet Verna knew Joe was innocent. She would stand by him no matter what. She stared at the darkened wall of the bedroom. From what Debbie said, a guilty verdict could bring a long prison sentence. Longer than even she could imagine. Fifteen or twenty years, maybe. The raw number stared back at her from the darkness. She would wait for Joe. They would be wed after he came out and made things right with the church. Her years of childbearing would be close to an end by then, but perhaps Da Hah would have mercy and still grant them a child. Were not Da Hah’s compassions new every day? She had to believe they were or she would lose her mind.

  Verna climbed out of bed and knelt to pray. “O dear Hah, this is a burden too much for me. I can’t carry it, and yet I can’t let go of it. I see my life with Joe as it could have been. We were so happy with each other. Like we had finally found what both of us were looking for. Surely this was not a sin? Did You not plant this love in our hearts? Why then are You allowing it to be torn away?”

  Verna was unable to continue. The pain of what she hadn’t dared dwell on throbbed in her heart. Joe’s trial would be held very close to the date they had originally chosen for their wedding—the last week of November.

  Verna’s voice choked as she managed to pray again. “O dear Hah, what have Joe and I done to bring this upon our heads? Is this really Your will? How can it be? And yet it must be. You control the world and all that is in it. You name the stars and know the thoughts of every man. How can You not see our pain? You must see it! And You must know that it’s for our best. Oh, I cannot bear this, and yet I must believe in You.”

  Verna pulled her head up as soft footsteps came from the hallway. Her sobs must have disturbed someone. She crept into bed and pulled the covers over her head even as a timid knock came at the door. When Verna didn’t answer, it was repeated.

  “Come in,” she said, trying to sound sleepy.

  Debbie’s face appeared in the soft starlight that flittered past the drapes on the open bedroom window. “Were you crying, Verna?”

  I’m crying all the time, Verna wanted to say.

  Her hesitation gave her away. Debbie came in and sat on her bed. “We can talk, you know. Sometimes that helps.”

  “I think I’ve found some peace, Debbie. I don’t want to keep you up.”

  Debbie didn’t move away. “You haven’t been sleeping much lately, have you?”

  Verna didn’t answer. Debbie didn’t need the details of her travails thrown upon her.

  Debbie found Verna’s hand in the darkness. “I think that’s like most nights, isn’t it? So why don’t we talk about it?”

  Verna struggled to sit up. “You know what’s going to happen. You told me yourself.”

  “There’s always the hope the jury will believe Joe’s testimony. And perhaps I shouldn’t tell you this, but…” Debbie squeezed Verna’s hand. “I didn’t want to give you false hope. But my guess is Joe’s lawyer, Ms. Hatcher, will subpoena Paul. She’s a tough cookie, and she’ll do her job. After that Paul will have to testify regardless of what the ministers say. And you and Joe will have a chance, Verna.”

  Verna clung to Debbie’s hand. “I’m sure Joe has told his lawyer by now that Paul is not to testify.”

  Debbie shrugged. “The lawyer has to act in the best interest of her client. Joe doesn’t have final control over the people she calls to testify.”

  “But Paul will not speak.”

  “They’ll make him.” Debbie sighed. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel worse, Verna. And I know there are no guarantees.”

  “Then you must tell the lawyer that she can’t call Paul to testify. You’re from the Englisha, she will listen to you.”

  “But, Verna, this may be your best chance for Joe to go free.”

  “Nee, you’re wrong, Debbie,” Verna whispered. “If Paul is called to the stand, he will refuse to testify no matter what the Englisha court says. And that will look very bad for Joe. Besides, Debbie, Da Hah is my last chance, and I have made my peace with Him. We must not destroy another life trying to save our own. I’m glad you have told me this. None of us know the strange ways of the Englisha court. So you must go to Joe’s lawyer and tell her that she must not do this…this subpoena thing. Surely she will respect our wishes. Tell her I will wait for Joe while he’s in jail—until Da Hah’s will has been accomplished. Tell her that Joe’s heart won’t fail him because he will know that he’s loved.”

  “But, Verna!” Debbie protested. “This is a great sacrifice. And Ms. Hatcher might not listen anyway.”

  “You will still tell her, Debbie. Please? I have prayed tonight, and what Da Hah has decided is gut enough for me. And I’m sure Joe feels the same way. If you doubt me, you may go ask Joe before you carry my request to his lawyer.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Debbie finally said.

  Verna pushed Debbie’s hand away. “I’ve kept you up long enough now. The road ahead may be hard and long, but Da Hah will walk with us as He has for so many others. There have been those of our people who lost loved ones to death for reasons they couldn’t understand. What we are being asked to carry is not an unreasonable load. Go now, Debbie. And thank you for doing this for me. Da Hah has you here for a reason. I know that even more now.”

  Debbie retreated and closed the door behind her with a soft click.

  Verna lay back on the bed. Finally peace had come to her heart. She had found acceptance, but at what cost? She had expected joy to come with the peace or perhaps have light cast on the future. But there was none of that. Just the soft stream of starlight that shone through her bedroom window. Her soul felt light and held up by strong arms. Da Hah has come near, she thought. And what He would do, she would accept. It was the way of her people, and the way it should be. She closed her eyes and soon drifted off to sleep.

  Forty

  Debbie paced the floor at Destiny Relocation Services. She’d been at her desk most of the day coordinating the moving crews. They had a record number of jobs this week, including two long-distance moves. One relocation went into Texas, and the other to Florida. These required arranging motels for the crews and monitoring their progress. The crew bosses were both longtime employees of Mr. Fulton’s and reliable, so her stress wasn’t work related. Rather it was Joe and Verna and their situation that weighed on her. She’d finally finagled another meeting out of Joe’s attorney, Ms. Hatcher. Their appointment was for today after work.

  The truth was, she’d put the meeting off for some time even after she’d finally promised Verna she would contact the lawyer. Only Verna’s whispered question a few days ago, “Have you spoken with the lawyer yet?” forced her hand. She had made the phone call.

  It seemed such a shame to throw away what little hope there was to turn the case in Joe’s favor. And she wasn’t certain Ms. Hatcher would follow Verna’s request, but it was likely. The weight of her client’s wishes, his family, his church, and now his fiancée might be enough to tilt the balance that direction. Debbie would deliver the message to Ms. Hatcher. That was her duty to Verna.

  Of all the lessons she’d learned so far from Amish life, this passive acceptance of one’s fate was the most difficult to grasp. This surrender of a situation to God when struggle seemed the best response was odd. Did the Beiler family expect a miracle? Some gift from heaven that would make this go away? If they did, they never said a word about it. Lately even Verna walked around with newfound peace on her face, though sorrow obviously still lay heavy on her shoulders. There were moments when a smile would flicker across her face. Sometimes this happened at evening devotions when her daett would read a passage. Last night Verna’s reaction had occurred when a psalm had been read, the one where King David wrote, “Rejoice in the
LORD, O ye righteous: for praise is comely for the upright.”

  Perhaps Verna’s peace came from the righteousness of her soul? Debbie could think of no other explanation for a smile on such a sorrow-lined face. Indeed, the life Verna lived would have to make one feel righteous. She had surrendered the future and her innocent boyfriend into the hands of God. Debbie was sure Joe was innocent. If there had been any doubts in her mind, they had long flown away. Last Sunday at the church service, Joe had also appeared surrounded by peace. No guilty man would look so calm, Debbie told herself. Only the innocent could walk with that depth of humility.

  Now she had one last appointment at the office today that must be gotten out of the way. Then she’d be done for the week. Someone had called the secretary two days ago wanting a meeting with Debbie for the last opening on Friday. The odd thing was that the man had given his name as Henry Yoder. But that made no sense to Debbie. Why would Henry wish to see her? But there were many Yoder families in Snyder County. The man could well be someone else who needed advice about moving.

  A sharp knock on her office door interrupted Debbie’s thoughts. Before she could answer, it opened and Rhonda from the front desk peeked in. “Your appointment is here.”

  Debbie raised her eyebrows. “What does he look like?”

  “Some kind of Amish man.” Rhonda’s gaze swept over Debbie’s attire. “Are you dating an Amish man?”

  Debbie laughed. “I am not.”

  “So shall I let him come back or are you coming out?”

  “I’m already here,” a man’s voice said in the hallway.

  Rhonda whirled around.

  Before Debbie could move, Henry Yoder appeared in the doorway. Or at least she thought he looked like the Henry Yoder she’d known. She hadn’t seen him since before the excommunication. His beard was gone and his hair was shorter, but he still wore suspenders and looked about the same otherwise.

  “You know who I am?” A hint of his old boldness played on his face.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “May I sit?” Henry motioned toward an empty chair.

  The man sure didn’t seem shamed by his excommunication, but then he’d always been bold. A vision of Henry when he directed things at his house at that Sunday evening hymn singing flashed through her mind.

  “You’re the one in the bann,” Debbie blurted.

  He didn’t appear offended. “Yah, according to the Amish, but perhaps not according to Da Hah.”

  Debbie stared at him. “I don’t know much about such theology. You wanted to see me for some reason? Is there some way I can help you?”

  Henry tilted his head. “In fact, I do. I believe I have some information that would be beneficial to the Beiler family. I figured it was useless speaking with them…being in the bann stands in the way. So I’m speaking with you. You live with them, and I figure you understand these Englisha things better than they do anyway. You probably aren’t under the Amish church obligation to discard the information as they would be just because, well, since I’ve been thrown out, let’s say.”

  “You want me to tell them something?” Debbie asked.

  He sighed. “What I have may benefit the Beiler family, but the information is not for them. At this time I think it would be best if they don’t know what I have to share. The Amish can be strange about such things. I even heard the ministry’s cut off Joe’s defense completely.”

  Debbie didn’t wait for him to say more. “And you don’t agree with that so you want me to do something that would defy their counsel but possibly defend Joe? I’m afraid there is nothing I can do.”

  “Nee! Nee!” He waved his hand about. “That’s not it at all. I have new information to give to Joe’s attorney.”

  Debbie’s ears perked up. “New information…about Joe’s case?”

  Henry took a moment to shift in his seat. “It’s like this…see…I now associate with a different church. I’m meeting different people, and they often see things differently than the Amish do. And they don’t want an innocent man to be punished. Those of us who know Joe want to help out in this case. We feel sorry for Joe…and for Verna too, of course.”

  “We all feel bad for them,” Debbie agreed. “But I don’t see how you can help. There are two witnesses against Joe.”

  Henry didn’t move. “You haven’t yet heard what I have to say.”

  “And why would you want to help the Beiler family? Bishop Beiler and the ministry excommunicated you.”

  Henry made circular motions in the air with his hand. “Perhaps I want to sprinkle a little of those ‘coals of fire’ on Bishop Beiler’s head. But then maybe I’m just acting out of the goodness of my heart put there by Da Hah. I’d like to think that also.”

  “Coals of fire?” Debbie asked out loud, searching her memory. “Oh, the biblical reference on how one should treat the enemy.”

  “Yah, that one.” Henry appeared satisfied. “Although Bishop Beiler isn’t my enemy—at least not on my part.”

  Debbie glanced at the clock. “I have to leave in ten minutes for another appointment…”

  “I’ll make this quick,” Henry interrupted. He held out a crumpled paper he pulled from his pocket. “Here is the phone number of a member of the church I now attend. One Willis Helmuth. He is willing to testify to repeatedly making cheap purchases of merchandise from the owner of Slick’s Bar and Grill. A Mr. Tom Hendricks, I believe. Hendricks is the one who wants to undermine testimony on Joe’s behalf. Willis was once Amish himself—from another district. He was in his rumspringa around the same time as Paul and Joe. He’s discussed this with our church leaders and me, since I know Joe. It’s our belief that if this merchandise Willis purchased is checked, it will match some of the stolen goods from those robberies Joe is supposedly tied to. Here’s the bottom line. Willis still has these items, and he is willing to turn them over along with his testimony to Joe’s defense attorney and the police, if things come to that.”

  Debbie took the paper, her heart pounding at the possibility. “But this Willis may come under suspicion himself if he knowingly purchased stolen goods.”

  Henry shrugged. “Willis bought these items cheap suspecting they might be stolen but not sure about it. He asked questions, and Mr. Hendricks assured him they were not. One can hardly go to jail for being an Amish skinflint, huh?” Henry grinned.

  Debbie hardly knew what to think. She stood and paced behind her desk. This seemed too fantastic to possibly be true, and it was dropped into her lap on the very afternoon she was to speak with Joe’s lawyer! Was this the miracle the Amish had looked for?

  “You will pass this on then?” Henry asked, standing up.

  “Yes, I think I must,” Debbie said. “And thank you!” She held out her hand, and Henry shook it. Then he nodded, turned, and disappeared down the hallway without another word.

  Debbie stared at the paper with the name and details spelled out in black and white. Had God moved right in front of her eyes? She rushed to finish her work and close up the office. As she hurried past Rhonda, she offered a rushed, “See you, Monday!” She unlocked the car, threw her things in the back, and pulled out into surprisingly light rush-hour traffic. When she arrived at Ms. Hatcher’s office, she found a parking space right in front and hurried into the building. She took a seat in the lobby after a quick nod to the secretary.

  Moments later she found herself seated across from the serious Ms. Hatcher.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Watson. When you made this appointment on the phone, you said you had some bad news for me. I sure hope that’s not the case because I’m already about to pull my hair out over this Amish stubbornness. I’ve been told that Mr. Wagler, my only witness, is refusing to testify. If I’m ever assigned to defend an Amish person again, I do declare I’ll have to…”

  Debbie handed her Henry’s crumbled paper. “Maybe this will help.”

  Ms. Hatcher read in silence for a moment. “What is this, and where did you get it?”

  “A certain
stubborn Amish man named Henry Yoder gave it to me this afternoon. Only his stubbornness cost him his membership within the Amish community, I’m afraid. I’ll spare you the details. Suffice it to say, he has his reasons for coming forward. The paper is a list of items a Mr. Willis Helmuth purchased from the owner of that bar and grill Joe and Paul went to. The owner of that bar is one of the prosecution’s witnesses against Joe. Because he was able to purchase the items so cheaply, Mr. Helmuth believes they may have been stolen and might be listed on the police report in Joe’s case.”

  Ms. Hatcher devoured the details on the paper again. “My, this does look good! If the numbers match, I might come out smelling like a rose after all. This ought to send the prosecutor racing off in another direction like a mounted Englishman after his hound.”

  “That’s what I hoped,” Debbie agreed. “But I have a request. Can you keep the identity of these witnesses and the source a secret from Joe until the trial?”

  Ms. Hatcher rolled her eyes. “You people are certainly strange!”

  Debbie repeated, “Can you keep them a secret?”

  “If they all don’t change their minds about cooperating,” Ms. Harper said. “If I go to the district attorney with this, the case might not even go to trial.”

  Debbie got up to leave. “That would be good news indeed.”

  As she turned to go, Debbie noticed Ms. Hatcher was already reaching for her phone. She smiled all the way back to her car. Now the question was whether she should tell Verna. She’d been confident enough in the face of Ms. Hatcher’s questions, but what if something should go wrong? Would it be fair to raise Verna’s hopes only to have them dashed to pieces again? And how would she keep the identity of the people involved a secret? She would wait, she decided as she climbed into her car. She would tell Verna she’d been to the lawyer’s office like she’d promised. Verna wouldn’t ask any questions beyond that.

  Forty-One

  The following Tuesday night it was late when a buggy pulled into the Beilers’ driveway. Supper and the evening devotions were finished, and the family was sitting in the living room visiting.