The Forbidden

by Beverly Lewis

  Rebekah nodded. “So will you tell Nan . . . hush-hush?”

  At Nellie’s nod, she sighed as though a great burden was lifting. “I’ll wait along the road, if your parents won’t mind pickin’ me up.”

  What’ll David Yoder say when she’s not at home next Sunday?

  “I must do this . . .” Looking down, Rebekah blinked. “Even if I’m . . . disowned, or worse.”

  Ach, what could be worse?

  “Be prayin’ for me, all right?” Rebekah gripped Nellie’s hands again.

  Nellie was startled by this turn in their conversation. She hadn’t the slightest inkling what to say, nor did she know how to go about sharing any of this with Nan.

  Just then they heard the sound of heavy boots on the cement beneath the strewn hay.

  Ephram, maybe?

  The girls ducked down, and Nellie Mae held her breath for a long time before she exhaled slowly, too aware of her own heart’s pounding. “Who was that?” she whispered after a time.

  “Sounded like Caleb. His walk—I’d know it most anywhere.”

  Nellie had seen him outside earlier, looking as if he’d spotted her but didn’t want to let on—not with his father calling to him.

  “Ach, Nellie, my brother’s head over heels for you,” Rebekah said softly, “in case you don’t already know.”

  Nellie’s heart fluttered at Rebekah’s admission, but with Caleb going behind his father’s back in order to see her, she wasn’t about to let on that she felt the same about him. If he was working on a way for them to be together without jeopardizing his birthright, then woe unto her to mess things up.

  “We best be goin’.” She glanced around them at the dozens of milk cows waving their tails above the manure ditch.

  “I’ll go first.” Rebekah smiled sweetly before slipping away.

  When Nellie rose, she spied the top of a man’s black hat. Was it her beau, hoping for an opportunity to talk secretly?

  Not at all sure of herself, she walked slowly, assuming that if Caleb was there waiting, he would call to her to tell her not to leave.

  She was pushing the barn door open when a man’s voice rang out.

  “Nellie Mae Fisher!”

  She froze in her tracks.

  Caleb’s father? She turned and there he stood, his face glowering and red. His black felt hat was tipped forward, nearly concealing his eyes.

  “You stay far away from my son, do ya hear?” David Yoder demanded.

  Has someone spied on me and Caleb? Who?

  Without thinking, Nellie bolted directly out the barn door and ran all the way to the shelter of Ephram’s house.

  Caleb was downright furious. To think he’d been caught merely darting outside to see Nellie Mae. His hands shook with frustration as he hitched his courting carriage to his horse. He was in the mood to do something crazy—like have a wild buggy race. If only this were any other day but Sunday. He had to blow his stack somehow . . . somewhere.

  Worse yet, Daed had threatened to go find Nellie. First, though, his father had raised his voice to Caleb, saying he suspected him of sneaking around with Nellie Mae all along—something Caleb had done only once.

  Now his father was threatening to cut him off if he did it again . . . and he was requiring Caleb to promptly make amends or be disinherited immediately. His father’s way of having him do this—his demand—struck Caleb as utterly ridiculous.

  Caleb rubbed his hand across his face. He could hardly believe he was considering doing his father’s bidding. Yet what choice did he have?

  It wasn’t such a difficult demand to fulfill, really. And it would buy him more time. Susannah Lapp was, after all, a treat for the eyes. Why not satisfy his father’s unreasonable order and spend a little time with her? Nellie wouldn’t have to know. Now that they were no longer able to regularly see each other, she appeared less interested in going to the old church’s Singings. And if she did find out, he could simply explain himself. After all, he’d be doing it for Nellie Mae . . . to preserve any hope of a future together.

  He’d do anything to be with his beloved, and now his father’s blessing was tied to Caleb’s agreeing to see Susan-nah— just once.

  Clucking his tongue, he hastened the horse, glad for the openness of his courting buggy. He wished Nellie were there, just the two of them. Later . . .

  For now, he must prove to his father that neither Susan-nah nor any other girl held any interest for him. Maddening as it was, there was no getting around the fact Daed held the reins of his life. His father’s land was everything . . . he must have it; otherwise he could offer nothing to his bride. Nellie deserved everything he had to bring to their marriage and much more.

  Unnerved, Nellie stayed around to help with the kitchen cleanup, prickles of uneasiness plaguing her. She stopped drying dishes to talk with Maryann, who asked her to hold the new baby—a darling girl named Sadie—while Maryann hurried upstairs to tend to young Becky and Katie, putting them down for a nap. So convenient since Preaching service had been held there at her own home.

  Never had Nellie enjoyed gazing into a baby’s tiny face so much. Will Caleb’s and my babies be as pretty? she wondered, then silently chastised herself, wishing also for inner beauty for each of her children . . . some sweet day.

  Even after her sister-in-law returned to the kitchen, Nellie continued holding Sadie, fondly admiring her newest niece’s soft hands and face. Oh, she could just hold this little one all day and never get a speck of work done. Sadie’s company was a balm after the alarming run-in with David Yoder.

  Cousin Kate and her family followed Rosanna and Elias all the way home, never bothering to ask if it was a convenient time for her to visit. She hopped out of the –Beilers’ family buggy when Elias pulled up to the back door, leaving her six young children and husband, John, as she scurried up the snowy walkway on Rosanna’s heels.

  The gentle shifting of the buggy had lulled both babies to sleep in Rosanna’s arms. She couldn’t think of anything more pleasant than a nice long nap, but Cousin Kate’s unwelcome presence made that impossible for her now. Kate stepped in close, face glowing as she eyed Eli, still in Rosanna’s arms. Rosanna longed for Elias to come and rescue her, but he was unhitching the horse and buggy in the barn . . . obviously keeping his distance.

  Without a word, Kate took Eli from Rosanna the moment she’d shed her coat. She carried him into the front room, cooing into his ear, acting for all the world as if this were her home rather than Rosanna’s. Suddenly Kate began to cry. No, it sounded like she was out and out sobbing.

  “Well, for goodness’ sake,” whispered Rosanna, handing Rosie to Elias when he stepped into the kitchen. What could be done to soothe her cousin’s wounded heart?

  Elias shrugged and marched toward the back door, peering out as if wondering whether he should go solicit John’s help.

  He muttered something under his breath before coming over to whisper, “If things get out of hand, come get me.” Then he lifted Rosie to his shoulder, taking her upstairs and leaving Rosanna to console Kate.

  She supposed it was a good idea to simply let her cousin cry it out. Kate was bawling now, and Eli’s irritated wails blended with her keening.

  This just ain’t right. Rosanna paced the kitchen, stewing up a storm. Was it possible to hold her tongue any longer on this Lord’s Day?

  She went to the window and looked out. Kate’s husband was also pacing out there in the snow, talking occasionally to the children, who were piled into the back of the buggy as they waited. No doubt they were all wondering how much longer Kate would be, and why Elias would let them sit in the cold like this.

  “What a knotty problem,” she said right out, gripping the shade at the window and firmly pulling it down.

  By now, Elias was surely resting upstairs, like she wanted to be.

  The cries from the front room continued, and Rosanna knew she must speak up. Heading through the sitting area and into the front room, she stood over her cousin—this
woman who’d done the unthinkable for her and Elias. “What is it you want?” she asked softly. “What will make you happy again?”

  “I don’t know,” Kate said as Eli continued to howl, his arms and fists shaking. “Here, you take him.”

  Rosanna pulled all of her will together and took her son calmly. “Your husband’s weary of waitin’, I daresay.”

  “Jah, I s’pose I best be goin’.” Kate wiped her eyes and rose.

  “Before you leave, I have something for you.” Rosanna headed to the kitchen, swaying as she went to soothe poor Eli. She took the instructions for the blessed thistle tea from beneath the cookie jar.

  Kate accepted the card without ever looking at it. She kissed Eli’s hand before heading for the back door, and Rosanna did not feel obliged to see her out.

  By the time Nellie Mae arrived home, she discovered an empty house. She’d completely forgotten about Dat’s plans to visit Dawdi and Mammi Fisher.

  Going to the kitchen table, she spied an apologetic note in Mamma’s quick scrawl, declaring they’d “waited and waited” for her, but Dat had urged them on so that they could return before dark.

  “Phooey!” She poured some milk and took a chocolate chip cookie out of the jar to soothe herself. “How’d I forget?” Yet even as she voiced it, she knew the answer: The events at Preaching, first with Rebekah and then David Yoder, had been most distracting.

  Heading upstairs, she passed Rhoda and Nan’s bedroom. Immediately she backtracked and went to sit on their bed, pondering what all of them might be doing right now in Bird-in-Hand. Were they laughing and listening to Mammi Hannah’s tellin’s? Enjoying her famous apple pie with gobs of real whipped cream?

  Nellie wished Dat might have been content to wait a bit longer before leaving. Was this his way of making a point to her? Was this how life would be once the whole family joined the New Order?

  Feeling truly left out, she stood to inspect Rhoda’s necklaces. Curiously she reached up to touch the only long golden pendant, which she’d never seen before. Running her fingers lightly over the chain, she wondered if the gold was real. If so, where had Rhoda gotten it? Surely not as a gift from a beau. Or was an Englischer interested in her out there in the world of the fancy Kraybills? Was that why she had come in late this past Friday night?

  “Oh, to return to simpler days.” Nellie placed the necklace back on the mirror and went to stand at the window, staring at oodles of snow in all directions. Soon, very soon, the bishop would reinstate the Bann, and where would that leave them? Which side of the fence would Rhoda be on by that time? And Nan? Was she leaning toward joining up with the tractor and car folk?

  According to Dat, giving up one’s will for the sake of God’s was the key to salvation. The prospect sounded very hard, if not impossible, yet could she be truly content otherwise?

  Without a doubt, Nellie knew she wanted to marry Caleb. How could she possibly be happy without her beloved? She didn’t want Preacher Manny’s church to dictate the future to her differently, or to force her to choose between her dearest love and Suzy’s Savior.

  CHAPTER 17

  The silo behind Dawdi and Mammi Fisher’s glittered like highly polished silver, but sunbeams lacked warmth on this harshly cold Lord’s Day afternoon. Even so Rhoda stood outside, watching Nan fling dried bread crumbs on the snow for the birds, chirping quite like a winter bird herself.

  They’d both bundled up to wait while Dat and Mamma talked privately with their grandparents indoors. Rhoda figured what was up; it was obvious Dawdi wasn’t so keen on living clear over here in Bird-in-Hand when most of his immediate family was back in Honey Brook. Dat likely saw this as another opportunity to discuss the new church with his parents—it seemed to Rhoda that anymore he was always seeking to recruit folk into Manny’s fold.

  The minute they arrived home, she would talk to Mamma about having her own space in the house. She craved more privacy and freedom, even though her first real attempt to satisfy the latter had backfired. Of course, she hadn’t given Glenn Miller a second thought in a romantic sense since running away from his clutches. What a hard lesson indeed, and one she would not repeat.

  She and Nan were nearly as frozen as icicles when Dat finally began to hitch up the family carriage to the horse. Rhoda realized again how tired she was of traveling so pitifully slow. Twenty-five minutes by car, she thought. There were plenty of things she had become weary of—a wood-warmed house, the same dull evening chores, endless Bible reading, and an early bedtime. She’d seen the way Mr. and Mrs. Kraybill lived, with their toasty warm central heating, a fine compact radio in the kitchen . . . and a nice-sized color television in what they called their living room, where they actually spent most of their leisure time. Nothing like the front room where her family went only to shiver the evening away, far from the woodstove and the warmth of Mamma’s big kitchen, the place they usually gathered. No, their front room was not the family’s gathering place at all, but merely the room located at the front of the house. As such, it was used primarily for setting up large quilting frames and—when it was their turn—to hold the congregation for Preaching.

  Lately word had it that the tractor and car folk had already located a meetinghouse in which to worship, splitting the original splinter group down the middle. But the New Order, as Preacher Manny called his group, would continue to turn their front rooms and kitchens into temporary houses of worship.

  She heard Mamma saying her good-byes to Mammi, the two of them hugging as Dat and Dawdi shook hands amicably. Good. Maybe Dawdi will return to Honey Brook.

  She found out differently on the ride home. Fact was, Dawdi and Mammi had no intention of moving in with them on Beaver Dam Road, not as long as their family was “cluttering up” their minds with the “wrongful message” being spread far and wide by Preacher Manny—no matter that he was Dat’s first cousin.

  Rhoda gathered all of this from the things Dat and Mamma said in snippets to each other, as if they’d managed to forget Rhoda and Nan were sitting in the seat behind them, fully able to read between the lines. It was quite clear what had transpired while Nan was out feeding the birds and Rhoda was bored silly.

  The painfully slow clip-clop of the horse made Rhoda more determined than ever to buy a faster means of transportation— and escape—even if doing so meant plunging herself into great debt.

  Elias turned to face her as Rosanna lay down to rest, and he began to discuss Kate. “What do ya think your cousin was doin’ coming here right after she saw the babies at Preaching? Didn’t ya say she’d nursed Eli there?”

  “Well, you didn’t make matters any better,” –Rosanna replied softly. “You could’ve gone outside to talk to John.”

  “What good would that’ve done?”

  She wanted to cry. Ferhoodled Kate had messed everything up, and Rosanna could scarcely bear it.

  Elias fell silent, and she had the thorny sense she’d overstepped her bounds. Immediately she was sorry.

  She knew him well . . . he was undoubtedly rehearsing what had occurred earlier. Why hadn’t he intervened with Cousin Kate, sending her home?

  He closed his eyes and sighed. “Ach, Rosanna . . .” Then he rolled over, away from her.

  “Doesn’t matter, really. Kate’s gone now,” she whispered. “Just rest, love.”

  He lay still, hardly breathing, and she assumed he’d fallen back to sleep. She ought to do the same if she was to be wide awake enough for suppertime and tending to the babies’ needs, as well as being good company for Elias later.

  Rhoda stood in the doorway of James’s former bedroom first thing Monday morning. Oh, the things she could do with a spot like this!

  Stepping boldly inside, she eyed the double bed, with its pretty oak head and footboard, pieces made by her father when James was only a boy. Mamma would be suspicious of her when she asked—if she had the courage. Yesterday had not presented an opportunity, but today, this very day, she would request the move.

  Touching the lo
vely bed quilt, she noted the striking purple, red, and navy blue Bars pattern, delicately double stitched by Mammi Hannah long before James was even born—before Mamma was married, too. Mammi Fisher, along with Mamma and her sisters, had kept this family warm for many years with many layers of quilts.

  Smiling, Rhoda hoped against hope Mamma would agree. Making this empty room—presently kept for overnight guests—her own was but the first of two things she wanted, and wanted badly. She’d take steps toward the second today, when she went with Mrs. Kraybill to look at used cars after work.

  Mamma startled her, mop in hand, and Rhoda stepped aside. “Oh, sorry.”

  “No . . . no, that’s all right.” Mamma glowered. “How would you like to dry mop and dust this room?” She squinted. “Seems you’ve got some time on your hands.”

  “Honestly, I best be goin’.”

  Mamma pressed the mop to the wide-plank floor. “Guess you’d rather clean an Englischer’s house.”

  There was a surprising sting in Mamma’s words, but Rhoda refused to react. She headed down the hallway to her room with Nan. So much for talking to Mamma about James’s room.

  Later, she poked her head into Nellie’s bedroom and said, “We missed you yesterday at Mammi’s.”

  Nellie nodded. “I lost track of time, is all.”

  “Well, it’s too bad, ’cause it would’ve been nice to have you along.” Pausing, she sighed. “How long before we get over there again, ya know?”

  “I know, and I feel just awful ’bout it—not seein’ our grandparents and all.” Nellie put down her brush, her rich brown hair flung over her shoulder and draped like a thick curtain down to her waist.

  Rhoda hesitated for a moment, then said, “Seems you and I have something in common.”

  “Oh?”

  Slowly she nodded. “Jah, you’re far removed from this family, so to speak, just as I am.”