“Small comfort.”
Tessie went on, urging Marnie not to move in with Katie and Dan, insisting it would be a blight on her. “It’ll look like you’re in favor of their leavin’ the People.”
“Maybe so.”
“Just bide your time. Please don’t go an’ live at Fishers’.”
Marnie hugged herself, glad for a warm coat and scarf. She looked at the clear sky. “Isn’t it peculiar, really, how someone like Jenny Burns can come in and be so devoted after only a month’s time?”
“Does it make ya feel guilty?”
“Something awful.” Marnie pondered that. Oh, the irony of it all, when she’d played such a big part in Jenny’s life-altering choice. “Makes me wonder what’s wrong with me.”
“Well, it’s not like you’re going fancy. You’ll still be Amish.”
“Daed won’t think much of the difference. He’ll say I’m scarcely Amish, wanting to attend Bible studies with my beau and all.”
Tessie nodded. “And I still say you’ll be honoring the Old Ways, no matter.”
“If only my father could look at it the way you do.” The way I do . . .
“Besides, wouldn’t he want you to marry for love?” Tessie asked.
“I’d hope so.” Marnie wished the night weren’t so cold and the walk home so far. And she wished, too, that she might see her sweet beau again. But how?
Maybe Ella Mae will have some ideas, she thought, determined to visit the Old Wise Woman, and soon.
It was late when Jenny reread the card wishing her A happy English Thanksgiving. Andrew had also printed the reference to a Scripture verse at the bottom, below his name. She didn’t even have to look it up, because it was one she had memorized a few years ago.
“Psalm 84:11,” she murmured. “‘The Lord will give grace and glory: no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly.’”
She bowed her head and thanked God for bringing so many new and wonderful Plain friends into her life. Especially Marnie and Andrew, she added with a smile.
Then she sat down on her bed and wrote a short note of thanks to Andrew, determined to mail it in the morning.
The atmosphere in the house was so tense by Saturday that Marnie hurried through her chores, not saying much to Mamm. As soon as she was finished dusting and dry mopping, she went to her room and locked the door, longing for solitude . . . and to be held in Roy’s arms.
She pulled out a page of stationery and began to share her thoughts with him.
Dear Roy,
I hope you are doing well. How I miss you!
You must know that I love you dearly, and nothing has changed, except our present circumstances. I’ve been found out—Preacher Yoder saw me at last week’s Bible study. Honestly, though, I can scarcely handle the pressure here at home—the disapproving glances, the harsh words from Daed. Mamm struggles not to say much, yet I see the pain in her eyes. My parents are sorely disappointed, and that’s the hardest of all.
The Fishers’ meetings are off-limits for the time being, so I cannot go with you, at least not as long as I’m living here.
Ironically, Katie has invited me, along with another girl, to stay with her family until you and I wed next year. Can you believe this? It would be against my parents’ wishes, and I don’t know what to do. My heart belongs to God, and soon to you, my dear Roy. What do you suggest?
When you write back, please send your letter to Ella Mae Zook, who will get it to me. She’ll soon know about this plan . . . and I appreciate your understanding and prayers.
With all my love,
your girl,
Marnie Lapp
The Wednesday after Thanksgiving was blustery with snow and arctic wind. Jenny headed across the field to baby-sit for the bishop’s youngest girls. She’d taken Rebecca’s advice and worn an extra layer of long underwear beneath her dress. “Lots of the womenfolk do, at least this time of year,” Rebecca had said, indicating that some of the younger women even wore leggings under their skirts if they worked out in the barn.
She leaned into the bone-chilling wind, fondly recalling Andrew’s gift, which she’d been reading daily. She found it most interesting that Rebecca had not mentioned the gift or card, though she assumed both Rebecca and her husband must have surmised who had dropped by in their absence. Who else?
When Jenny arrived at the bishop’s, she removed her boots and coat and put them neatly away in the utility room. The farmhouse was becoming familiar to her, and she cherished her time there with the girls.
Emily raised her arms to be picked up, saying, “Aendi,” and patting Jenny’s cold cheek as Mary came smiling into the kitchen.
Jenny twirled Emily around and set her down to play on the floor with some blocks. At the playpen, Jenny leaned down to tousle Anna’s silky hair, cooing at her in Deitsch, “Mei lieblich Boppli—my adorable baby.”
“You’re getting more confident with our language, I see,” Mary said.
“It’s about time, jah?” Jenny laughed softly, and Emily looked up at her, chattering in Deitsch, asking what their snack would be.
“Chocolate Millich,” Jenny replied.
Emily grinned back at her.
“You’re makin’ gut strides forward, Jenny. Wunnerbaar!” Mary reached for her purse. “By the way, Mary Mae is over at my sister’s house playin’ with her preschool cousins this morning.”
“Okay, be sure to tell her I missed her.”
Mary nodded. “I surely will. And I won’t be gone more than a few hours—Naomi should be here very soon.” She kissed each child, then smiled at Jenny. “I hope you’ll get along nicely with Naomi.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Jenny said, wondering just how far on the fringe the bishop’s niece really was.
After a few minutes, Naomi Beiler arrived at the back door, carrying a big quilted bag. Jenny went out to greet her, playing hostess as Mary and Rebecca always did. “Did you walk over, too?” she asked.
“Jah, but not very far . . . just from up the way.” Naomi pointed east. “Feels like a snowstorm comin’.”
“I noticed that fresh, crisp smell hanging in the air.”
“Jah, we’ll get it when it comes,” Naomi said, grinning. “Mamma always says that. My father likes to walk through the field in the springtime and pray, ‘Lord, give us all the rain we need, and not one more drop.’”
Jenny liked hearing that, another example of the People’s profound trust.
When Naomi had hung up her coat and scarf, she came into the kitchen and sat on the opposite side of the table, her back to the window. She talked in Deitsch to Emily, who smiled brightly and jabbered about her block tower.
With the children happily settled, Jenny poured some hot coffee for Naomi and herself. And Naomi shared some pumpkin cookies she’d made before coming, offering them to Emily, too.
“Aunt Mary Beiler urged me to get acquainted with ya,” Naomi said with a glance at Emily, who wasn’t paying attention and couldn’t understand English, anyway. “She hopes you and I might become friends in due time.”
Jenny nodded, smiling. “She told me that, too.”
“How long have you wanted to be Amish, if ya don’t mind me askin’?” Naomi leaned her elbows on the table, her fists under her chin.
“Since I was fairly young.”
Naomi wanted to know what triggered it, and Jenny said she thought that at first it had come from an appreciation for the culture and a craving for a simpler life. “Things changed, though, as I grew older. I became disillusioned with modern society . . . felt I belonged in a different era.” She studied Naomi, who began removing colorful squares of fabric from her bag, placing them on the table. “Can you understand that?” Jenny really wanted to know.
“Makes me all ferhoodled, really.” Naomi stared at the ceiling and shook her head. “Honestly, I must be just the opposite of you.”
Jenny glanced over at baby Anna, who was babbling softly and playing with her toys. “We’re al
l different,” she told Naomi. “I know that much.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Naomi slowly began to open up. “I really just hope to learn how to make it out in the fancy world . . . someday. With a little help, though.”
“So you’re leaving Hickory Hollow?”
“When it’s time.”
Jenny watched Naomi move the cloth squares around to her liking. “What would make you change your mind? Anything?”
Naomi looked up suddenly, her pale blue eyes meeting Jenny’s. “I can’t imagine what.”
“Well, until you do go, I like the idea of being friends.”
Naomi reached for two squares, trading them with two others. “Ain’t that I’m ungrateful . . . I hope ya understand.” She again raised her eyes to Jenny. “My beau wants to leave, too.” She said it softly, almost reverently, like it was a well-guarded secret. “And here you are, Jenny . . . from the outside and wanting to be . . . well, like us.”
“Remember, it’s human nature to want something other than what we already have, right?”
“I guess that’s true. Rarely are we content with what we’re given.” Naomi smiled. “For example, I’d like to wear pretty necklaces and learn to drive a car.” She fixed her gaze on Jenny. “I think everyone’s curious to know how you gave up your wheels.”
“Oh, it wasn’t easy,” Jenny admitted. “I sometimes wonder if one reason I have such trouble hitching up is that I subconsciously miss my car. Actually, I’ve never voiced that to a soul.”
“Not to worry. I won’t make a peep.”
Jenny helped Naomi rearrange the squares an assortment of ways. “It’s always seemed to me that Amish folk are the salt of the earth, you know.”
“Well, sometimes we’re more earth than salt,” Naomi replied, laughing. “As you’re finding out.”
Naomi’s remarks echoed in Jenny’s mind until well after Mary Beiler returned from her errands.
Chapter 37
Rebecca got up much earlier than usual the next morning, not knowing where to keep the letter Katie had sent. Well, now there were two—both private responses to Rebecca’s earlier one saying she’d heard from Rachel Stoltzfus that Dan and Katie were causing a stir with their Bible studies. Katie, bless her heart, had jumped to the conclusion that the bishop must be “under conviction from God,” putting such clamps on the youth who were in Rumschpringe and entitled to decide spiritual things for themselves. Katie had even gone so far as to encourage Rebecca and Samuel to come to their Tuesday night Bible studies, which were growing so rapidly Daniel had to borrow more folding chairs from their church. Forget the bishop’s demands, Mamma . . . please! Trust the Lord instead, Katie had written.
Thus things had begun to change between Rebecca and her daughter—she’d felt it clearly the last time she’d gone over there, during the dark phase of the moon. Rebecca had felt so guilty during her walk there, fearful of being caught by someone other than Jenny, she’d nearly returned home, shaken. All Katie had talked about during the visit was the spiritual renewal they, and those who were attending their Bible study, were experiencing.
Presently, Rebecca sat in the front room near the heater stove to reread Katie’s most recent letters while the house was ever so still. She’d considered destroying them, but wouldn’t she be wiping out the last remnants of their relationship in doing so? What’s it matter whether we’re seeing eye to eye?
It was truly peculiar to think that Katie and Dan were praying just as hard for her and Samuel to “see the light of God’s truth” as Rebecca was for them to return to their Amish heritage, “to stay in Jesus.”
In the end, she went and hid the letters upstairs in the sewing room, in a drawer where she kept extra pillowcases. Knowing him, Samuel would never look there.
Jenny awakened with the pleasant thought of seeing Andrew Lapp later that evening. How quickly the week had passed, yet she still struggled with concerns about not measuring up to the People’s standards, domestic and otherwise. She was beginning to wonder if her own yardstick was perhaps too high, considering she compared her cooking ability to Rebecca Lapp’s. She felt it was a good idea for her to meet with her new prayer partner to continue to ask for divine help and patience in her struggle.
As for the secret she carried, Jenny had convinced herself that it was best to turn a blind eye to Rebecca’s nighttime comings and goings. In fact, Jenny now closed her shades at dusk to keep from spotting her. She did, however, want to know more about Rebecca’s daughter. Shockingly, the shunned young woman had somehow managed to convince Marnie Lapp to move in over there sometime after the New Year. Marnie had told her yesterday afternoon, only hours after Jenny had returned from talking with Naomi about her wishes.
Jenny and Marnie had walked down near the springhouse, as Marnie had been anxious not to be overheard. She was experiencing mixed emotions, she’d said, loving her family—and not wanting to hurt or disappoint them—and wanting to do what she believed was God’s will. The whole thing put Jenny on edge, and she’d told Marnie so. She didn’t want to lose her closest friend. Jenny wondered if Marnie had been influenced to make this decision by Katie and her husband. But Marnie was her own person—Jenny knew that to be true. So, hard as it was to grasp, it must be that Marnie actually wanted to live with the shunned couple until she married Roy Flaud.
“I won’t be able to visit you there,” she’d told Marnie, who promised to visit Jenny at Samuel and Rebecca’s. Yet Jenny wasn’t convinced things would ever be the same.
Getting out of bed, she put on her slippers and strolled to the windows to pull up the dark green shades. She looked out, glimpsing the first rays of dawn on the far horizon, and suddenly realized if she positioned herself in the window just so, she could see all the way down to the springhouse. There was a dusting of snow on the pond, and her heart warmed once more at Andrew’s surprise invitation. He’s willing to take a chance on me. She wondered if meeting him had been providential, as Ella Mae liked to say.
Jenny went to the dresser for her brush. When she pulled back her hair, she noticed her bangs had grown enough to pin back more easily. She reached for one of her newly sewn dresses, glad for Rebecca’s treadle sewing machine. Funny, but working the ancient contraption was already old hat to her. Who knew?
At least she was making some progress, because Jenny’s talks with Andrew made her all the more determined to pass her Proving with flying colors.
As Andrew had indicated, Jenny was glad to meet several of his female relatives at the quilting circle that morning at Mary Beiler’s, including his own mother, Maggie Lapp. Andrew’s tall, slender cousin Tessie Miller was present, too, her pretty reddish-blond hair parted down the middle and pulled back on both sides like Jenny’s. Tessie smiled gaily when she spotted Jenny and hurried over to talk with her.
Jenny was quick to say how grateful she was for Tessie’s offer to help her get her bearings in the community.
“Cousin Andrew must’ve told ya, then?” Tessie asked, her delicate blue-green eyes questioning.
Jenny wondered if it was okay to confide that Andrew had spoken with her. Glancing about, she nodded and noticed the other women still appeared very curious.
Tessie stepped near. “I think he’s got his eye on ya, Jenny. I guessed as much your very first Sunday.” Her eyes sparkled with fun. “I saw you two talkin’ out on the porch—remember?”
Jenny certainly did but wasn’t about to say so.
When it was time to sit at the quilting frame, Tessie and Marnie decided to “share Jenny,” as they said, with one sitting on either side of her. They guided her patiently as they demonstrated how to use the small needle.
As they worked, Jenny still sensed the gaze of the other women, especially Rebecca and her quilting partner, Maggie Lapp, Andrew’s attractive mother, who kept one eye on the quilt—and the other on the seeker in their midst.
The evening air was icy, but without snow, and Jenny easily made her way down the lane to the springhouse steps.
It crossed her mind that Andrew might not remember their prayer appointment. Even if he didn’t show up, she would pray alone. Whether she bowed her head and heart in the privacy of her room or outdoors, this quiet time was the highlight of her day.
Christmas was coming soon, and she wanted God’s direction on how to connect with her family back home. This had been on her mind for days now because, for the most part, gifts weren’t typically exchanged among Amish adults, and she wanted to respect that. On the other hand, she doubted her family would understand not receiving gifts from her, just as they didn’t comprehend any other aspect of her choice to be Plain. She wanted to honor them in some special way, as well as demonstrate her love. But how?
“Hullo, Jenny,” Andrew called quietly to her from the murkiness.
She followed the steps to the entrance of the springhouse, where he stood with his flashlight shining on the ground. “You’re early,” Jenny remarked.
He nodded and motioned her inside. “I’ve just been here a few minutes.”
She hesitated about going into the small space with him; it seemed nearly too intimate. “We could pray outside, too.”
“Jah, but you’ll be warmer in there.”
Not wanting to dispute him, Jenny stepped inside, where he offered her the only wooden ledge, with just enough room for one. He insisted she sit and be comfortable while he stooped across from her, near the waters of the spring.
“Is this a good idea?” she said, thinking suddenly of Emmalyn. With the flashlight lighting up the space, could their shadows be seen from outside?
“All’s well.” He hunkered down as he folded his hands.
They began to pray, silently at first and then aloud, with Andrew leading in prayer “for wisdom on the part of the restless youth in the church.” He prayed a while about that as Jenny offered her silent agreement.
Later, Jenny gave praise for God’s many blessings, large and small, and then asked for help in knowing how to respectfully approach her family over the Christmas holidays.
The Secret Keeper Page 19