The Forbidden

by Beverly Lewis

  “Aw, Nellie Mae . . .” But his voice trailed off as he lifted the reins and held them firmly.

  “The tabernacle over at the Tel Hai campground played a big part in Suzy’s life last spring.”

  Caleb let out a low groan. “She had no business there.”

  “But she went all the same.”

  “You’ve never told me this, love.” He slipped his arm around her. “You’ll get all this salvation talk out of your system, sooner or later.”

  Nellie was still. Bewildered as Caleb no doubt was at her admission, she believed that if he loved her, he would understand.

  A fleeting thought nagged at her, and she shuddered to think she might lose her beau forever. Pushing her fear aside, Nellie yielded to his loving embrace.

  Rhoda leaned against the car door as Glenn Miller continued to talk a blue streak. Several times now he’d reached beneath his seat to bring a small bottle up to his lips. This being her first experience with anything like a real date, she wondered how Nan and Nellie Mae managed to stay out all hours. She was in no way accustomed to being up so late, and she was second-guessing her decision to allow this stranger to drive her home.

  “I’ll take you car shopping if you’d like,” Glenn offered, reaching for her hand. “How about it? Tomorrow?”

  She pondered her response, not sure she wanted him holding her hand right now. “I have chores with my mamma after work.”

  A frown crossed his brow and he squeezed her hand. “Now, honey-bunch, you’ve surely got yourself a host of sisters. One of them can cover for you this once.”

  He slid across the front seat toward her, and she became aware of his dreadful breath. Why, it smelled like the moonshine some of the wilder church boys brewed and brought along to Singings, unbeknownst to the brethren.

  What’ll I do?

  Her free hand fidgeted near the door. Why should she have such conflicting feelings when she’d yearned so long for a man to give her the time of day?

  Glenn’s arm was around her shoulder now as he inched closer. His reeking breath annoyed her.

  But even as Rhoda leaned away, he asked if he could see her again. “Why not tomorrow evening? I’ll pick you up wherever you say.” He stroked her cheek slowly with the back of his hand.

  She clenched her jaw. What if he tries to kiss me? She had always assumed her first kiss would be ever so special, saved for her husband after the preacher said they were joined as man and wife, “under God.”

  “I have chores after work,” she repeated, hoping her words wouldn’t provoke an angry reaction.

  Glancing at the door, she noted the handle. She didn’t think the door was locked, but she was already leaning so hard against it she doubted she could get it open. Even if she did, wasn’t it a terrible idea to leave the car’s warmth on a night like this?

  I could freeze to death.

  “Let me take you to look for cars tomorrow. I know the best used-car lot. You’ll have your pick of the place.” He raised her hand to his mouth, his lips brushing her knuckles. “Aw, honey, you know you want to.”

  “I . . . I’d rather you didn’t do that.”

  He ignored her request. “I can help you, Rhoda. Take time with you . . . teach you . . . things.”

  “You mean hunt for a car?” She pulled her hand away.

  “That, too.”

  The slur of his words put the fear of the Lord God in her. “Glenn, please—”

  “Oh, you’re asking me now, are you? Well, sure, honey. You say please mighty nice, don’t you?” He leaned in and kissed her cheek before she could stop him.

  Tilting her head against the ice-cold window, she said, “No!” She spoke the single word loudly—louder than she’d ever raised her voice to anyone.

  “Rhoda, my little girl . . . you can’t mean it. You’re so pretty, honey. You’re just the sweetest thing I’ve—”

  “Let me go!”

  Scrambling quickly, Rhoda managed to get out of the way as she yanked on the handle. The door flew open and she leapt out. Glenn toppled partway out, too. She didn’t stop to look back to see if he pulled himself back into the car or was now making chase.

  Rhoda ran as hard as the coyotes in the nearby woods. Soon her lungs burned from the fierce cold, but she struggled to keep up the pace, certain from the position of the moon that she was heading west.

  Surely I’ll reach a crossroads somewhere.

  She heard no sound of pursuit behind her, but her noisy panting and the crunch of her own feet on the snow-packed road could easily block out all else. To think that what had for a while seemed so exciting and enjoyable now had her running for her life. A few unwelcome kisses might not kill her, but they would certainly spoil everything she hoped for . . . and put a blight on her, for sure.

  Ahead a light flickered. With new energy, she forced her legs still faster and ran toward a distant farmhouse, her heart pounding hard against her rib cage.

  Suddenly she heard the sound of a car motor coming up alongside her on the road. She dared not look over her shoulder lest she accidentally plunge off into the uneven snow. Terrified, Rhoda willed herself to press forward as the car drew ever closer, slowing as it came.

  CHAPTER 13

  Rhoda spied an open gate at the end of the long lane leading to the farmhouse. Quickly she dashed up the drive. The car had stopped out by the road. Was it Glenn’s?

  Oh, she wished she’d never darkened the door of that restaurant. What had she been thinking, asking Mr. Kraybill to drop her off there?

  She ran up the porch steps, rapping hard on the front door, glancing over her shoulder to see if Glenn was indeed in pursuit of her.

  A tall young man wearing a navy blue bathrobe appeared in the doorway, eyes squinting against the light. He peered at her sleepily. “Hello?”

  “S-someone’s . . . followin’ me,” she sputtered.

  The man looked past her and she froze with fear. What if he didn’t let her inside?

  “Teresa, come quick!” he called over his shoulder. A woman, presumably his wife, rushed into the front room as he opened the door to Rhoda, who swiftly stepped inside. “Call the police,” he instructed Teresa.

  “Nee—no! Just let me stay here . . . till it’s safe.” Rhoda turned to look out the window, and her heart dropped at the sight of Glenn but a few yards from the porch. “Ach! Don’t let him in, whatever ya do. Oh, please don’t.”

  “Come!” Teresa reached for her hand and led her back into the kitchen. “You’ll be safe here, I assure you.”

  The blond, soft-spoken woman couldn’t have been more than twenty-five or so, Rhoda guessed, but her lack of terror was remarkable. Her eyes radiated a calm strength that reminded Rhoda of Mamma.

  A loud exchange commenced at the front door, and Rhoda trembled as she covered her ears to block out the angry, slurred words of the man she’d thought was a newfound friend.

  You’ll be safe here, the young woman sitting next to her at the table had promised. This same woman was folding her hands in prayer.

  Say your prayer aloud, Rhoda thought suddenly, removing her hands from her ears, curious to hear what this unruffled woman might be asking the Lord God.

  In a few minutes the front door closed and she heard the husband set the lock. Then he made his way to the kitchen, where he stood next to his seated wife. Teresa looked up from her praying.

  “I’m going to take this intoxicated man to his house. He has no business driving.” He looked kindly at Rhoda. “Are you all right, miss?”

  “Now I am.”

  “If you’d like a ride someplace, I’ll be glad to drive you when I return.”

  She nodded. “Denki ever so much.”

  His gaze indicated his bewilderment—why had she, an Amish girl, been chased down by such a man?

  Rhoda felt obliged to explain why she’d found herself in a predicament that justified interrupting the couple’s sleep. She gave a quick summary, stopping short of admitting her interest in the stranger. “It
was a rather stupid thing to do, I realize now. Thank goodness you were home.”

  “We’re glad to help,” Teresa said when Rhoda stopped to catch her breath. “By the way, we’re Timothy and Teresa Eisenberger.”

  “And I’m Rhoda . . . Rhoda Fisher.”

  Teresa rose to boil water for tea as Timothy excused himself to drive Glenn home. “The Lord sent you to us, I believe,” Teresa said softly to Rhoda as she removed two teacups and saucers from the nearby cupboard.

  Rhoda had heard of divine guidance at Preacher Manny’s meetings, but she’d never thought of it as a reality.

  “God leads us in our distress.” Teresa took out a box of chamomile tea. “I’ve experienced it firsthand.”

  Jah, distress it was, Rhoda silently agreed as she offered to help with the tea. She couldn’t believe her foolishness in having needlessly put herself in harm’s way. The thought crossed her mind that if God had truly directed her here, then she ought to pay closer attention to Preacher Manny’s sermons from now on.

  It’s the least I can do.

  Betsy heard Nellie Mae’s bed creak and was relieved her daughter was home at last. Breathing a prayer, she was determined to set aside her frustration over Caleb Yoder’s pursuit of her youngest. She had overheard his mother say in passing at a work frolic that her husband planned to have Caleb take over the family land as soon as he was wed. Betsy was smart enough to know the Yoder farmland was tied to Caleb’s staying in the Old Ways. A stern man like David Yoder would have it no other way.

  Tomorrow being the Lord’s Day, Nellie and the rest of the family would undoubtedly go their separate ways, as had sadly become the norm. Nellie had made it plain she was not interested in joining them for worship.

  Sighing, Betsy rolled over. She looked at Reuben, sound asleep. It was highly unusual for him not to be already awake and nuzzling her neck. Had he awakened in the night, walking the hallway to pray over the family as he often did?

  She sat up and pushed a bed pillow behind her, leaning against the headboard to await the sunrise. Her thoughts wandered from Nellie to Rhoda, who’d only recently returned home in a stranger’s car, of all dreadful things. Had her eldest daughter fallen in with a fast crowd, like Suzy? She’d seen the driver who had dropped Rhoda off, definitely an Englischer. The young man had accompanied Rhoda all the way to the back door.

  She must trust in the Lord’s care more fully. With that in mind, she turned her thoughts to Reuben’s parents, Noah and Hannah, wishing she and Reuben might make a trip to Bird-in-Hand. Perhaps tomorrow, after the common meal? It was high time they visited, or they might appear to be distancing themselves.

  Betsy leaned forward, lifting her long, heavy hair and letting it fall behind her. No need for their family to slip out of reach just because they no longer saw eye to eye. They were kin, after all, and she missed seeing her mother-in-law and hearing her stories at quilting bees. How was Hannah feeling since her minor stroke?

  Glancing again at the sleeping Reuben, she wondered how he, too, was dealing with the painful rift. He and Noah had always been close.

  She rose to turn on the gas lamp and then picked up the Bible from the small table next to the bed, opening to the book of Proverbs. Preacher Manny had said it was a good idea to make a point of reading a proverb each day. It’ll change your life.

  So much to absorb, really. Betsy had been largely unacquainted with the knowledge in God’s Word for so long, she wanted to glean as much as possible from every reading. She was glad for this quiet moment while Reuben lingered in his slumber.

  Even as she began to write, there was a stirring within Rosanna. She had stayed up instead of returning to bed after the twins’ early morning feeding. Now was as good a time as any to jot down instructions for making blessed thistle tea. One of her aunts had claimed it worked miracles for her own struggle with baby blues.

  Pour 1 cup boiling water over 1 1/2 to 2 grams of crushed blessed thistle. Steep for twelve minutes. Drink one cup 2 to 3 times per day, before meals.

  “Maybe Kate’ll try this,” she muttered to herself, sitting in the kitchen as the day began. She hoped it would settle her cousin.

  She folded the small paper with the tea-making directions on it and set it squarely beneath the cookie jar. Pleased with herself, she prepared to bake bread for the noon meal. In no time now Elias would be up and dressed, looking forward to having a quiet breakfast before he headed outside for another day of helping the next farmer over with repair work on some bridles. Later he planned to go to a farm auction near Smoketown.

  “If I’m quick, maybe I can make sticky buns, too,” she said, liking the idea of filling up the kitchen with the delicious cinnamon scent.

  Maybe I can even offer some to Cousin Kate this morning . . . along with her tea, of course!

  Elias would find that amusing. He would lean his head back and laugh heartily before taking her in his arms to kiss her.

  Rosanna smiled. Elias would have every right to chuckle. Anything to cure peculiar Kate!

  Rhoda breathed deeply, stretching as she opened her eyes. Thank goodness I’m home . . . and safe. She glanced over at Nan, who was still sleeping, despite a thin ray of sunshine peeking beneath the green shade. She considered what might have been, but she did not allow herself to linger on that; the memory of last night still caused her turmoil.

  Hadn’t she wanted a peek into the world of fancy men and cars? Cars she could take, but fellows like Glenn Miller she could do without.

  Even so, how did a girl tell a good apple from a rotten one? Fact was, Glenn had fooled her but good.

  She got up and tiptoed to the window and lifted the shade a bit, careful not to awaken Nan. What had happened last night seemed like a bad dream now that she was secure in Dat’s house, having shared the comfort of the bed with her younger sister. Why had she placed herself in such jeopardy?

  Nan must never know about Glenn, she resolved.

  Rhoda looked out at the sky, clearing to the east as the dawn penetrated the dreary gray. A ray of hope, perhaps?

  Turning, she stared at the pretty necklaces she’d collected and strung along her side of the dresser mirror. Was it wrong to feed her fancy desires in this manner?

  Brushing aside her musing, Rhoda went to the row of wooden wall pegs and reached for her bathrobe. She slipped it on and headed downstairs to the washroom, where her father had gone to the trouble of putting indoor plumbing in their house. Even so, the small bathroom was nothing compared to the thoroughly modern, even glamorous two at the Kraybills’ house.

  She closed the door and ran the water for her second bath in less than twenty-four hours, preparing to wash away the memory of Glenn—his offensive breath on her neck and face, his arms around her. . . .

  Rhoda shuddered. Had he planned to lose his way all along, tricking her by saying they were lost? Was he like some of the church boys who whispered sweet nothings, hoping to get a girl to let her hair down before her wedding night? She’d heard some terrible stories from Nan, especially, about a handful of young men in their church district—well, their former one. She honestly didn’t know much about the new church’s youth, because she’d refused thus far to attend any gatherings. She was tired of being overlooked by Amish fellows, even though her sisters and Mamma all had told her she was plenty pretty.

  As had Curly Sam Zook, five long years ago. But though that was an eternity past now, she couldn’t forget how he’d held her hand and said the nicest things out behind the barn one cold night, only to break her heart a month later. Like Nan’s beau had done not so long ago.

  She shivered anew, thinking what a Dummkopp she’d been with both Sam and Glenn. No way would she let such a thing happen again. I won’t be anybody’s fool!

  “One day I’ll have me a fine automobile and a nice young man, too,” Rhoda promised herself while staring into the small mirror over the sink. She slid her glasses up the bridge of her nose and then opened the mirrored medicine cabinet, looking for an aspirin t
o alleviate her headache. But the aspirin bottle was empty.

  Frustrated, she was determined to get a bottle of her own and put it in one of the drawers in the room she shared with Nan. Stepping into the warm bath, Rhoda wondered why it was suddenly so important that her things belong solely to her, just like her future.

  CHAPTER 14

  Before Saturday breakfast, while Reuben was pulling on his work trousers, Betsy brought up the daily ad for Nellie’s Simple Sweets. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes—just ain’t befitting us at all.” She stood near the loveseat at the window, holding the very paper.

  “Why do ya say that, love?”

  “Because it isn’t. Honestly, I see no reason why Rhoda would do such a thing.”

  He stopped dressing, suspenders pulled midway up. “You know for sure she did?”

  “Nan assumes it, and since they’re ever so close, I guess she should know.”

  He found Betsy’s conclusion flimsy. Just because Nan said Rhoda placed the ad, why should Betsy blindly believe it? Nan had been known to misinterpret things in the past. But he refused to point that out. If more customers came to Nellie’s bakery shop because of the ads, then the tables and chairs he’d made might come in real handy.

  “Why not simply ask Rhoda?” he suggested.

  “Jah, I will.”

  “Well, gut.” Reuben had more on his mind than Betsy’s notions. For one, he was still put out with Ephram—Bishop Joseph, too. Not only had he butted heads with his son, but his frustration over his conversation with his older brother— revered as the man of God—continued to escalate in his mind.

  He combed his oily hair, wishing it were closer to bathing time tonight, when he would wash for the Preaching service over at Cousin Manny’s place. Presently Bishop Joseph was overseeing both Manny’s New Order church and the Old Order group, as well as trying to persuade those who were still inclined toward the Beachys to say no to cars and telephones.