Abel's Obsession

by Lynn Burke

  The bishop’s voice muffled in my ears as the memory of flashing green eyes crossed my mind. An image of her bound by ropes and on her knees before me, mouth open and wanting to suck me slammed into my brain. I bit back a groan.

  Father, Gott, forgive me, please. Remove this iniquity from my heart.

  “Yes,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I do renounce this world.”

  “Do you also promise before Gott and His church that you will support … faithfully attend … help to council … not to forsake it, whether it leads you to life or death?”

  “Yes.” I forced the word past my lips, my eyes clenched tight against the lust deeply rooted in my heart and flashing images behind my eyelids.

  Water trickled down over my head a moment later.

  “They that believe and are baptized shall be saved. Abel Beiler, I pronounce you baptized in the name of Gott the Father, Jesus Christ the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” Bishop Stoltzfus took my hand. “Rise, and welcome into the church.” He offered a firm handshake and a holy kiss of peace as his wife kissed Rebecca beside me as was tradition.

  Bound by the regulations of the church, I thought to myself as the Sunday morning service ended. Bound for a life that I had hoped once baptized would be free of temptation and sinful struggles.

  I had been wrong in my assumption—so very wrong.

  The Amish had stood the storms of persecution because of tradition, because of the Ordnung’s guidelines based on biblical principle. Turning against those guidelines set by the church leaders would be a self-centered sin. Obedience to the church and Gott’s will and self-sacrificing would generate peace, contentment, and love.

  None of which I had felt or experienced since seeing Red. I had also hoped baptism would heal my soul, but as Eli would say, I had shit for luck.

  For the communal meal, I sat beside Rebecca and focused on the ham on my plate and the potato salad I dished beside it.

  I was a member of the church like the young woman alongside me. It was time to turn my thoughts toward a future—a fraa and children.

  All my mind cared to linger on, however, was how Red’s breasts would feel beneath my hands. How her tongue would feel caressing my length before she took me deep into her mouth.

  Father, forgive me, I mumbled in my mind once more, nearly choking on a bite of ham.

  Quiet murmuring rose from those around us. Small smiles and the occasional subdued chuckle. Even the children behaved in a restrained manner sitting in silence to eat their meals. Afterward, they would be given freedom to play, but mealtime required proper manners and a humble spirit of thankfulness for the women who had prepared the food Gott provided. The quietness made the noise in my head all the more distracting.

  “Father tells me another large order came in from the furniture store,” Rebecca said, drawing my attention. As usual, her gaze remained downcast as though I intimidated her.

  I nodded even though she wouldn’t see. “Enough for my father to hire him on for a few weeks and keep us busy over the winter months.”

  She pursed her lips and dipped her head in acknowledgment.

  “But, not so much that I won’t have free time now and then.”

  A small smile finally lifted her lips as she glanced at me. “That’s gut.”

  I had already apprenticed long enough that I knew I could provide for a bride should I make the decision to marry.

  Rebecca turned toward her food again as I considered her down-turned head and the kapp covering the bulk of her mousy-brown hair. She would make a gut fraa. A selfless, demure woman who knew how to bake like no other.

  I searched inside myself for a flicker of desire toward her—any spark or indication of want beyond the friendship we’d had for eighteen years.

  Nothing.

  Frowning, I too, returned my attention to my food. Perhaps desire would come with wedding vows. A pure want, not lustful sin like the kind that gripped my mind like an owl’s talons.

  Perhaps marriage was what I needed to pass beyond the temptation of my flesh. Better to marry than burn, the Apostle Paul had written.

  “Would you care to go for a ride with me this afternoon?” I forced myself to ask.

  Rebecca’s face paled for a second, but she glanced across the table at Bishop Stoltzfus’s son Melvin and pink stained her cheek. “I’m sure our parents would like that.”

  I nodded, glancing over at the smaller young man who didn’t seem to know we existed a few feet away. “Still, I suppose I ought to have asked your father first.”

  “He would offer his blessing, I’m sure. You’re already like a son to him.”

  Rebecca had seven siblings—all sisters. I expected she spoke the truth.

  Chapter Four

  The whine of the diesel engine died as Daed shut down the line shaft system in the woodshop. One last swipe of sand paper and I ran my hand along the edge of the table top I had been working on, checking for roughness.

  “That piece turned out nicely,” he said, coming to stand beside me.

  I tossed the sandpaper onto the work bench and stepped back, brushing my hands together to rid them of the fine grit coating them. “It’s ready for the stain and poly.”

  Daed nodded. “We’ll be finished with this order early. I’ll go by the Johnsons later this week and give the store a call to let them know we’ve finished.” He lingered by my side, and I waited. “Are you enjoying your time with Rebecca?”

  “Yes,” I said after a brief hesitation. I had been courting her for a few months, constantly praying Gott would give me wisdom with our relationship—and a reverent, mann-like desire for her. Neither came, and I hesitated from asking her father’s permission to marry her.

  He peered at me. “Have you made any future plans?”

  “No.” I picked up the sandpaper and smoothed down an imaginary splinter from one of the legs.

  “Are you happy with the life you’ve chosen, Abel?”

  I inhaled until my lungs hurt while considering. “I am, but I confess, a part of me twinges on occasion. I’m not sure why.” The truth came out easily enough, lightening some of the burden on my shoulders.

  “The same thing happened to me from time to time after my baptism.”

  I glanced over at Daed, gripping the sandpaper tight. “It did?”

  “It was a daily struggle. Once I married, my choice to be baptized into the church solidified in my soul, and I knew without a doubt that I was exactly where Gott wanted me to be.” Daed gripped my shoulder and squeezed before ambling away, leaving me to my thoughts.

  I had expected the memory of Red to fade from my mind over the course of courting Rebecca, but neither the green eyes and smile—or my desire for her—lessened. At least once a week, I thought of Red while stroking myself, imagining myself in every sexual scenario Eli had told me about.

  Trying to replace Red’s image in my mind with Rebecca’s softened my hard-on every time. A sure way to kill the desire, I thought for the ten thousandth time, a grimace on my lips. The thought of marrying her—regardless of Daed’s indirect advice—turned my stomach. I couldn’t imagine lying in bed with Rebecca Lapp … waking up beside her every morning.

  The door to the woodshop squeaked open, letting in a lilac-scented sweet breeze.

  Naomi stuck her head in. “Lunch time!” she called with a sing-song voice, smiling like the spring sunshine.

  ****

  Out of convenience and the hope my heart would change, I continued to court Rebecca over the summer. Harvest time kept us all busy on our farms, but I didn’t mind the lack of socializing.

  I took Mamm and Naomi to the farmer’s market on an Indian summer day in early October, the open carriage allowing us to enjoy the dry, warm breeze rustling the turning leaves overhead.

  Cars sped by without care along the two-lane highway, but my horse was well acclimated to traffic and the noise accompanying passing cars. The gelding’s shoes clopped on the blacktop as Naomi and Mamm spoke of the bountiful harvest an
d canning they had gotten done. More than enough to see us through a long winter.

  I drove them to the farmer’s market every first Wednesday of the month. It’s where Mamm did most of her staples shopping—flour, oatmeal, sugar, and other necessities we weren’t able to grow on our small farm.

  I trailed along after them through the crowd, their purchases loaded in my arms. We greeted a handful of people from our community, but for the most part kept to ourselves.

  A flash of red caught my eye over by where I had hitched my horse, seizing my heart. I stood on tiptoe and strained to see.

  “I’m going to take these to the buggy,” I told Mamm. At her nod, I hurried through the usual throng, offering an occasional “excuse me” when needing people to move out of my way. I saw the red hair again as the woman stopped at a produce stand. She turned, offering her profile, and my racing heart slowed along with my pace a few yards away from her.

  Not my Red. The nose was too long, the eyes dark.

  Heaving a sigh, I continued on past her toward the buggy and stowed Mamm’s purchases. Hands hanging at my sides, I started back.

  “Abel!”

  I grinned as the familiar voice called out. Stopping, I turned to my right to find Eli hurrying toward me. It had been months since I had seen my cousin last. He had filled out a bit more and had grown a goatee.

  He grinned and grabbed me in a one arm hug and back slap. “How ya been, Cuz? God, it’s been months.”

  “Doing well. You look gut.” I stepped back and checked out Eli’s jeans and wrinkleless striped button-down shirt.

  “Glad to see you still come down here the first Wednesday of the month. Been missing you, man.” He clasped my shoulder and squeezed, smiling like I had never seen before.

  “I’ve missed you too, Eli.” And I had. More than I realized. My best friend—my only friend outside of my family. I had been without a confidant for far too long.

  “So guess who is getting married?”

  My brow shot up. “Really?”

  “Next summer. Her name is Jane.”

  Although I felt joy for my friend, a twinge of jealousy knifed my gut. I forced my grin to remain. “I’m happy for you.”

  “I found love. The real, life-long commitment kind. Damn, I wish you could meet her. She’s a nurse and works day shift at the hospital, so she couldn’t come with me today.”

  “I’d love to meet the woman who finally got you to settle down.” We shared a laugh, but quickly sobered as Mamm and Naomi drew near.

  “Abel.” Mamm said, striding past me and ignoring Eli as the community would expect me to do as well.

  I noted the disapproval in Mamm’s voice, but couldn’t bring myself to care.

  Naomi, a half-step behind Mamm, glanced at Eli and gave a small smile and nod before hurrying past.

  “I have to go. It’s gut to see you, Eli. I wish…”

  He hugged me again. “I wish, too, Cuz. Shit. I forgot the whole reason I came!” Eli pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to me. “I have a new cell number.”

  I tried for another grin while shoving the paper into my pocket. Throat tight, I glanced after Mamm who neared the buggy. “I’m here every first Wednesday of the month, just like always.”

  “I’ll stop by again soon.”

  “Gut to see you.” One last half-hug and I strode toward Mamm.

  It took me a long counting of my blessings on the way home—namely my family—to remember why I had chosen the path to obey the Ordnung and the scriptures.

  ****

  Naomi turned sixteen in mid-October. The night of her birthday, we sat alone on the porch swing, the sounds of the rest of our family playing their Friday night Monopoly game floating through the open window beside us. Another abnormally warm fall day, Naomi and I had decided to enjoy the still evening outdoors rather than heat up from the propane lamps in the living room spilling light over us.

  Naomi picked at her forehead.

  “Would you stop that?” I said, not for the first time.

  “Why didn’t you ever get blemishes like these?” She huffed and dropped her hand to her lap. Much to her constant discomfort and disdain, a handful of zits dotted her forehead.

  “Picking at them will make you scar,” I reminded her of Mamm’s chiding.

  “They’re just so annoying. So ugly.”

  “Well, you’re sixteen now.” I bumped my shoulder against hers and pushed off the plank floor to swing us. “You can go buy that makeup you’re always talking about. The cover stick or whatever you call it.”

  “Ya.” She mumbled the word, her head turning toward the fields to the south.

  Jedidiah raised his voice at Jacob over his cheating, initiating a stern word from Daed. The voices through the window quieted down at once.

  “You don’t sound as excited as you used to,” I said, my gaze on the side of her face.

  She turned toward me with a smile. “I’ve changed my mind on quite a few of those plans I made while thirteen.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’ve been such a gut role model, and honestly, I can’t bear the thought of disappointing Daed and Mamm.”

  I understood her reasoning all too well, but if she only knew the secret sin I wallowed in—I was no role model. “So it’s a pure and undefiled Rumspringa for Naomi Beiler?”

  Her light laughter tickled my ears, but peace filled her big blue eyes. “Yes. Naomi Beiler will obey Gott’s word in all ways and honor her parent’s wish for the future.”

  “You’ll be a perfect fraa someday,” I said, quoting almost word for word what she had said to me on the day I had seen the object of my desire—the reason for my downfall.

  Pink tinged her cheeks. “Hopefully, I’ll find a gut man like you.”

  She leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder.

  I enjoyed her warmth and the affection, my lips smiling, my feet swinging us back and forth.

  The front door opened at the same time Mamm called out, “Levi!”

  My baby brother raced across the porch and slammed into my knees. “Up!”

  Almost three, we still called Levi the baby, and more often than not, the little tyke sat atop my shoulders.

  “I have him, Mamm,” I said, leaning toward the window while picking Levi up.

  He snuggled into my lap, laying his head on my chest. “Swing!”

  Ever the obedient one to Levi’s demands, I pushed off the porch once more, swinging us back and forth. For the first time in months, contentment filled my heart, and I smiled from actual happiness rather than forced necessity.

  ****

  Levi was the first to come down with the flu in early November. As usual, I was the last. While everyone else in the family had recovered, I was still too weak to attend the first of many weddings in our community that fall.

  I lay in bed listening to my family’s light chatter as they readied to leave, the twins bickering as usual, Mamm’s soft admonishment enough to stop them—for a time.

  A knock sounded on my door.

  “Ya,” I called, clutching the quilt up beneath my chin against the chill in my bones.

  “How are you, favorite big brother?” Naomi asked, moving into the room.

  “Awful.”

  “I’ve brought you a cup of elderberry tea since I didn’t think you’d want any food.” She set the steaming mug on the bed stand and brushed the hair from my forehead. “You’ve still got a fever, but it should break soon.”

  I grimaced against the throb in my head and closed my eyes. “I’ve only been sick for two days, while you suffered for over a week.” I groaned. “How did you stand it?”

  “Lots of prayer and hymn singing in my head.” Her light laughter tempted me to smile, but I couldn’t. “Do you need anything before we leave? Another blanket? Pillow? I can get a book if you want to read.”

  I opened my eyes and met her blue-eyed stare. “I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, Naomi.”

  “Only by
the grace of Gott.” She smiled again and leaned down to kiss my forehead. “Rest now. We’ll be home later tonight, and I’ll check on you again.”

  ****

  Pounding on the front door roused me from fevered sleep. Unsure if I was hallucinating, I glanced out the window to find it dark as pitch outside. With a groan, I closed my eyes once more.

  The pounding came again.

  I strained for sounds of someone hurrying down the stairs to answer the door, but it seemed as though my family hadn’t yet returned from the wedding.

  With a muttered curse, I climbed out of bed, pulling the quilt along with me, and lit the kerosene lamp as our insistent visitor knocked yet again, a male voice calling my name seconds later.

  “Abel!” he called again, this time from inside the house.

  “C—” I coughed until my lungs hurt and tried again while opening my bedroom door. “Coming!”

  Wrapped up in my quilt like a cocoon, I shuffled down the stairs.

  Bishop Stoltzfus and Deacon King stood in the living room, small kerosene lamp in hand. Pain and grief lined both of their faces, drawing me up short.

  “What’s happened?” I heard myself ask through the sudden ringing in my ears as a shiver slid down my neck and tingled in my underarms.

  “There’s been an accident, Abel.” Bishop Stoltzfus gestured to the couch. “Please. Won’t you sit down?”

  Numbness crept up through my legs but proved ineffective at easing the vice clamping my chest as I stared at the two men, unmoving. “Tell me.”

  Bishop Stoltzfus glanced at Deacon King. “An eighteen-wheeler,” he said, turning once more toward me, compassion in his eyes, “hit your father’s buggy as they traveled home tonight.”

  Father, Gott…

  “H-how bad?” I swallowed, my head feeling light. “Is everyone alright?”

  “No, son.” Deacon King moved toward me and placed his hand on my shoulder, the bishop stepping close to clasp my other.

  “Tell me,” I said again glancing from one man to the other, thinking perhaps I dreamed in my fevered head.

  “Naomi is the only one who wasn’t killed immediately.”

  I slid to my knees, clutching the quilt around me as though the soft, worn fabric could protect me from their words.