Despite couples’ attempts at secrecy, parents and grandparents whispered amongst themselves. It was a known fact that most mothers of the bride had more than an inkling about the groom’s identity prior to the couple’s intention to marry being announced at church each fall.
Folding the letter, Nellie thought again of Caleb, wondering how to get word to him from time to time. Maybe that was not what the Lord God intended for them. Maybe she was supposed to bide her time—their time, since Caleb, too, had his hands tied. Thing was, she had no idea what was going on between him and his father, no idea what good thing was being accomplished, if any, by their painful separation. She felt totally in the dark. Still, she clung to the hope that if she stayed true to the Old Order long enough—proving herself faithful—David Yoder would eventually change his mind about her and allow Caleb’s and her marriage.
I must trust that all will be well. . . .
When the house was still and everyone was deep in slumber, Rhoda found the flashlight she kept under her side of the bed for emergencies. She slipped out from under the quilts and into the cold hall, shining the light on the floor. Going to Nellie’s room, she tilted the light inside, reluctant to shine it on the bed lest she awaken her younger sister.
Once she’d determined that Nellie Mae was indeed asleep, she turned off the light and knelt on the floor, keeping her head low so as not to be seen if Nellie should awaken. Opening the drawer to the bedside table, she reached inside.
Empty.
She moved her hand all the way to the back of the drawer, wondering if it had slid over to the left side, perhaps. But still she found nothing, even though Rhoda had once seen Nellie stash the diary in there when Rhoda had walked in on her reading it.
Where’d she hide it?
Picking up the flashlight, she managed to crawl out of the room, not wanting to take unnecessary risks by searching further. It was mighty clear Nellie had moved the diary, suspecting Rhoda or someone else would try to snatch it away.
Must be some big secrets in there.
Heading back to bed, Rhoda felt rather defeated. First by Mamma’s resounding denial, and now by Nellie’s silent rebuff.
CHAPTER 20
It was hard at times to remember just how close she had been to Suzy, although it had not even been a year since her sister’s death. Nellie’s dreams of her sister only added to the confusion as the dreams and the memories joined together like the pieces of a quilt. Except what remained was not something whole at all, but rather wispy fragments.
Snuggling now beneath several layers of Double Nine-Patch quilts, she wished she had the nerve to ask the Lord God to keep her from dreaming. She needed a reprieve. A good solid night of sleep would be much appreciated.
As she lay there, knowing it was nearly time to begin Tuesday’s baking, she wondered if she ought to let Nan in on her secret. She felt bad about shutting her out yesterday, when they’d shared such a sweet moment together alone in the bakery shop. And then if she hadn’t gone and spoiled things!
She must seek out Nan and open her heart to her, trusting that her sister would keep this confirmation of Caleb’s and her forbidden relationship in strict confidence.
Nellie pushed back the quilt and sat up, yawning and hoping she would be doing the right thing by her beau.
Today is the day! Rhoda thought as she left the house that morning, bundled up with so many layers she could scarcely move, heading to work at the Kraybills’. If she and her father were on better footing, she might’ve asked to borrow the buggy, but that would have tied up his transportation all day long. Besides, she had no business asking—not considering what she looked forward to doing this very day.
Over the noon hour, Mrs. Kraybill planned to drive her to the nearby bank preferred by the Plain, where she’d fill out the necessary loan paperwork. The thought gave her the willies. If all went well, they would head back to the car lot and make her purchase. Rhoda could hardly wait.
She realized it was premature to purchase a car, but she wanted what she wanted and was tired of being denied. Now was the time to make the leap into the world. Then, once all this snow was gone from the ground, she’d have herself some driving lessons.
Meanwhile, Rhoda would hide her secret out behind the Kraybills’ house, where Dat could not be privy to her deed.
Betsy knew one thing for sure—January held the power to signal the first hints of springtime. Most people would look at her with surprise if she dared say it, but she knew it was true firsthand.
So busy was she in the bakery shop with Nellie Mae there was scarcely time to say three words to her daughter. But she was breathing silent prayers for her dear girl in response to Nellie’s request. Once things settled down a bit and there was even the slightest letup in the continuous stream of customers, she would tell her what she’d discovered in the cold cellar.
Meanwhile, she was taken aback by Nellie’s bold question to a customer, a middle-aged woman wearing a loud red woolen coat and white knit scarf and gloves to match.
“If you don’t mind . . . did ya happen to see a newspaper ad ’bout the bakery, ma’am?”
The woman smiled and shook her head. “No, I actually heard about this place from my neighbor here.” She turned to the younger brunette standing nearby. “But she saw the ad in yesterday’s paper.”
The ad’s still running? Who on earth would spend that kind of money?
Betsy was quite surprised at the revelation but said nothing, simply glancing at her Nellie-girl. She knew better than to ask, “What on earth?” That never worked with this daughter. Come to think of it, it didn’t work with Rhoda, either. And that one, well, she was up to something for sure. Betsy had seen it in her steady, determined gaze that morning at breakfast. Jah, Rhoda has her secrets, no doubt about that.
Nan, bless her heart, had resumed the work of cleaning house and cooking nearly all the meals, now that Betsy was helping Nellie Mae in the bakery shop once again. Nan much preferred the quiet of the house, or so it seemed. Was it a way to mourn the loss of her beau?
Opening the display case and removing two pies, Betsy personally was glad to be working alongside Nellie Mae. So good of Reuben to allow it, she thought, grateful he, too, was past the very worst grief. Sometimes Betsy awakened with tears on her face, not remembering ever weeping. Silent tears of loss and of deep joy, as well. Their youngest was with the Lord.
For that reason, September, the season of great salvation for this house, would always be for Betsy the most wonderful-good month of all.
To think it began with my dear Reuben.
Glancing out the window, she noted the low-lying clouds. Winter days were too short, and even this early in the day, sunshine fought to get through the gray haze. Like the light trying to shine forth in the heart of a rebellious soul.
She sensed such in Rhoda and could only pray, because confronting her had never worked in the past. Now she wished she had listened to Reuben from the outset; they’d made a serious error in allowing their eldest daughter to work away from home.
“Mamma . . . look, we’re runnin’ out of pies.” Nellie disrupted her reverie. “Yesterday it was cookies, today it’s pies.”
Betsy smiled, motioning for Nellie to come and sit with her, since it looked as though there might be time to catch their breath.
Nellie commented how thankful she was for her father’s contribution of these sturdy, even pretty, oak tables and chairs. Betsy, too, enjoyed having a place to sit and rest a bit, and they could easily see from this vantage point if customers were driving up the lane.
“I’ve been prayin’ for you.” She looked right at Nellie Mae, who inhaled slowly and nodded.
“I want to do the right thing, Mamma. Truly, I do.”
“And you will . . . the Lord will lead ya.” Betsy folded her hands.
Nellie was silent. Then she said, “I sometimes wonder what might’ve happened if Suzy’d lived a full life. Would she have stayed Amish, do ya think?”
“She may not have been as conservative as Dat and I are . . . but once Plain, always Plain.” Betsy smiled. Folks said it was ever so hard to get the Old Ways out of the soul if you were raised in them.
They sat quietly for a time. Then, eager to share what was mighty close to bursting forth, Betsy began. “Yesterday I happened to go to the cold cellar to fetch two jars of peach jam for supper. Guess what I found in the potato storage rack? Sprouting potatoes. Both the red and white potatoes are just a-springin’ to life already.”
Nellie listened, glassy-eyed, obviously daydreaming.
“Beyond a doubt, the buds have begun to rise . . . and all this in the cool darkness.” She sighed. “Of course, we don’t count on using those potatoes to see us through the winter, but for cuttin’ apart, an eye for each section, to plant when the ground is thawed.”
“All this is happenin’ in the dark,” Nellie said flatly. “When everything else seems dead . . . or is.”
Betsy smiled. “Jah. On one of the darkest of days comes the first hint of life. ’Tis that way for everything . . . even potatoes.” She wanted to reach over and pat Nellie’s hand, because all of a sudden her daughter looked to be quite taken with the comparison. But Betsy remained still, letting her remarks sift into her daughter’s mind.
Nan surprised Nellie by coming to help carry the few leftover baked goods back down to the house so they wouldn’t freeze overnight. Actually, Nan urged Mamma to go ahead of them and leave the work to her. While alone with her sister now, Nellie took the opportunity to apologize. “I was snooty yesterday afternoon, and I’m sorry.” She added, “I’d like you to come to my room tonight, after evening prayers. Will ya?”
A flicker crossed Nan’s eyes and then she offered a warm smile. “Oh, Nellie Mae . . . I wondered if you’d ever ask.”
“I want to tell you something very dear to me.”
Now I have to keep my word.
Nan looked both surprised and pleased. “I can’t wait. Oh, sister, you have no idea!” With this, Nan kissed her face.
“Well, if you feel as lonely as I do sometimes, then I do know.” Nellie set about gathering up the last pie and a few assorted cookies, unable to squelch her own smile.
Am I wise to tell her my secret? she wondered, but she pressed on with the chore at hand, refusing to second-guess her resolve.
During supper, Dat talked of the cold having turned a corner and become dangerously severe. He glanced outside now and then at the heaviness of the snow as it fell silently, covering the earth with yet another layer of white.
Then, during a dessert of pie and cookies, the focus of his comments took a marked turn, and he leaned forward, looking directly at Rhoda. Nellie flinched, wondering what now.
“Rhoda, it’s come to my ears that you’ve committed a most disobedient deed.”
At the accusation, Rhoda’s eyes turned a stony gray. She pushed away her plate of pumpkin pie, her frown as deep and as harsh as the cold beyond the kitchen walls.
Dat did not beat around the bush about the reliability of his source. “Your brother James spilled the beans ’bout your car.” His eyes tapered into stern slits. “He saw you at the car lot this afternoon.”
Like-minded souls those two—James and Rhoda, Nellie thought. Dat must have gone over to try to talk sense to James today, only to find this out!
“So, then, under God, I ask you, Rhoda, where is your heart in all this?”
Rhoda raised her eyes, her expression moving quickly from embarrassment to anger and suddenly to bitterness. “Am I not of age, Daed?”
Nellie was struck by Rhoda’s use of the more formal address of their father. Daed was the word Caleb used to refer to his father.
“Are you not living under my roof, under my authority, daughter? And don’t you eat my food? Enjoy the warmth of this house . . . the fellowship of this family?”
Squirming, Nellie held her breath. Rhoda was treading on dangerous ground, and everyone at the table, including Mamma, awaited her respectful response.
“My heart just ain’t here.” Rhoda rose from the table. “I’m leavin’—tomorrow, first thing.”
Mamma gasped. “Rhoda . . . no!”
“Let her be.” Dat touched Mamma’s arm.
Rhoda left the table and the room, her feet pounding fast on the stairs. It was all Nellie could do not to run after her and beg her to think hard before carrying out what she’d so daringly declared.
Nellie’s original plan to tell Nan about Caleb took a backseat to their worries about Rhoda later that night. Mamma’s lip had quivered all through Bible reading, and Nellie wished something could be done to smooth things over with their oldest sister. “What’ll she do out there in the world, anyway?” Nellie sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard, while Nan sat facing her, her back against the footboard.
“Well, ’tween you and me, I don’t see Dat backin’ down,” Nan said. “I’m worried she’ll do what she says and leave tomorrow.”
“And then what?”
Nan shook her head sadly. “She may never darken the door of this house again.”
“Why do you thing that?”
“ ’Cause she’s so headstrong.”
“You oughta be spendin’ time with her.” Nellie felt bad saying this on the first night Nan had come to talk. So ill-timed, really . . . like most things these days.
“I’ll go over there in a minute, but you had something you wanted to share with me, jah?”
“It best be waitin’,” she said, thinking only of Rhoda.
Nan studied her. “You sure?”
“If Rhoda goes ahead with what she’s threatened, we’ll be losin’ another sister.”
Nan agreed. “I’ll see what I can do.” With that, she climbed off the bed, saying good night and leaving Nellie to wonder what Nan might say to take the stinger out of Rhoda. And if she did convince Rhoda to change her mind, would Dat change his, too?
By sheer coincidence, Caleb had seen Susannah Lapp at a farm sale that morning, though not for more than a few seconds. She’d arrived with her mother, bringing a hamper of food to her deacon father for the noon meal.
He had offered a tentative smile when their eyes met. In all truth, he’d felt deceitful doing so, but he’d hoped a smile might be enough to set up the possibility of a longer encounter at the upcoming Singing. No sense putting it off.
Now, ready for bed, he leaned on the windowsill, looking at the inky black sky, recalling the way the dense atmosphere had added to the depth of color, making the sky appear flaming red at sundown, hours ago. He had been on his way out to the barn to check the livestock—his responsibility— when he’d noticed it. He was glad to do whatever he could to prove to his father and grandfather that he was up to the task of taking on this large operation. Willing and ready, minus one small piece of the future—a bride.
Well, he was on his way to fixing that. Once he could honorably report back, man to man, that the deacon’s daughter was of no romantic interest whatsoever, Caleb understood he’d be at liberty to pursue the young woman he truly loved. All it would take to finally obtain his farmland was doing things his father’s way.
Sunday’s the day. . . .
Putting out the gas lamp, he climbed under the bedcovers, leaning his head back on his crossed arms. He felt a peculiar rush of excitement at the thought of seeing Susan-nah again—excitement that quickly turned to mortification, even though she had been as pretty as ever today when he’d bumped into her. He knew his heart belonged to Nellie Mae and to her alone.
Susannah is the only path to Nellie Mae, he reminded himself.
CHAPTER 21
Rosanna King was up and pacing the floor in the wee hours Wednesday morning, but not with a babe in arms. She simply could not rest, let alone fall asleep. Not with what Cousin Kate had pulled last night before supper. She’d arrived with three of her youngest ones to see “their baby brother and sister,” as she put it, propping Rosie in her blanket on the lap of her two-year-old.
>
Elias had frowned all the while, evidently expecting –Ros–anna to put her foot down. They’d had words again after she’d fed and tucked in the twins, who continued to sleep soundly now.
The growing tension between herself and Elias gnawed at her. How she resented Kate’s coming to visit for more than the agreed-upon midmorning feeding—and she’d worn out her welcome with even that. It was time someone put a stop to it and mighty fast, lest next time Rosanna stoop to sinning and spew fiery words at Kate.
Fuming now as she relived the intrusive visit, Rosanna went to look in on her sweet babies. Kate’s undermining my mothering. Slowly but surely.
She felt nearly desperate, wishing she could confide in the bishop’s wife, Anna, or in one of the preacher’s wives, since her own dear mamma was long deceased. Perhaps Nellie’s mother would have some wisdom to offer. Sighing, she knew she and Elias needed help with this mess. The empathy she had repeatedly attempted to show her cousin was dwindling fast.
Oh, how Rosanna had longed for a child, and now she loved these babies to pieces. Her family was at Kate’s mercy, and things had gone awry faster than either Elias or she could ever have imagined. Truth was, Kate’s visits were starting to feel like something completely different from how they had started out.
Something frighteningly different.
Tossing on his robe, Chris Yoder slipped quietly down the stairs and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. He couldn’t sleep—not with Zach in bed on the other side of the room, talking on and on about Suzy’s bracelet. His brother had even tried to convince Chris to drive him back to the state park after school instead of waiting for the weekend. He wanted that frozen bit of gold from the ice near the lake, and he wanted it now. Chris had firmly refused; he didn’t have time on school nights. Besides, that shiny gold object encased in ice wasn’t going anywhere, and it was most likely not the bracelet, anyway.
The Forbidden Page 13