“Don’t thank me, Betsy. I fear there’s little I can do. We had all better pray.”
Betsy nodded and breathed a prayer right then and there. Please, dear Lord. Help Kate come to her senses!
Rhoda reclined on Mrs. Kraybill’s luxurious sofa, reading the entire article on weight loss from start to finish, glad to be alone a while. Mrs. Kraybill had come to pick her up for a half day of work, then promised to go over the Pennsylvania Driver’s Manual. Meanwhile, with the youngest daughter playing quietly in her room, Rhoda and Pebbles the cat were the only ones downstairs.
Rhoda liked the Kraybill home for more than its niceties.
She was fairly content living with James and Martha, helping with the cleaning and tending to her niece and nephews.
But after being surrounded by all the bustle and noise of her brother’s house, she enjoyed the relative quiet of the Kraybills’.
Stretching out on the long tufted sofa, Rhoda closed the magazine and imagined how trim she could be in a matter of weeks if she stuck to her plan. Could she do it? Oh, she dearly loved to eat. Ever since Suzy’s death, she had found such solace in eating—especially sweets, which the article said was the worst possible fare for a person like her, already in need of a serious change in her diet.
She daydreamed about what sort of handsome fellow might come along to court her. Would he find her pretty in every way? What about her beautiful car?
There were several good-looking boys at the Beachy meetinghouse. She supposed if she continued attending and began going to the various youth activities, she might just get to know one or two of them.
She rose and headed to the kitchen to peer out the window at her LeSabre, parked in the snow. Having the black-and-white beauty within sight made her as happy as tasting one of Nellie’s shoofly pies. Truth was, she dreamed of the day when she could take it for a spin. After her ill-fated “driving lesson” with James and cousin Jonathan, she realized she had a great deal to learn. But she loved having the car near, a symbol of the direction her life was taking.
Soon, very soon, she would drive wherever she wanted to go, thanks to Mrs. Kraybill, James, and Jonathan—they’d all offered to give her the instruction needed to put her in the driver’s seat.
Come the spring thaw, she thought, eager for ice-free roads.
Right now, though, she had more on her mind than obtaining her license. The Kraybills’ unmarried nephew, Ken, was coming to supper next Sunday night. Mrs. Kraybill had invited Rhoda, as well—insisted upon it, really. But Rhoda felt odd about it, even though Mrs. Kraybill said that this was not to be a “blind date,” whatever that was.
Rhoda would think about it and hope to lose a few more pounds before then, maybe. What if I didn’t wear my Plain dress and apron, for once?
Rosie simply would not stop crying, no matter what comfort Rosanna gave her. She wailed as if her heart were breaking, her little tongue curled back in the wide opening of her mouth. The more Rosanna walked her and rubbed her back—even offering an additional warm bottle—the more inconsolable Rosie seemed.
Her crying made Rosanna want to be strong for her precious baby daughter, but it was nigh to impossible to swallow back her own sobs.
When Elias arrived at last, she fell into his arms, weeping as she held Rosie near. “Kate’s taken our Eli away.”
Such a look of shock came to his dear face. “What do ya mean, Rosanna?”
She explained the sequence of the day, beginning with all the talk of the Old Ways and the word that had obviously traveled about the New Order church service they’d attended. “Kate—well, John, too—they want Eli raised in the old church.”
Misery masked his features. “Well, we shouldn’t be surprised. They’re prob’ly upset at us.”
“Kate said as much.”
He pulled on his beard. “Rosanna . . . love, where were you when this happened?”
Her heart stopped. “Down in the cellar, doin’ the washing . . . with Rosie.”
“And where was Kate?”
“With Eli, in the front room . . . nursing him.”
He shook his head slowly. “You’ve been through this before . . . you should’ve put a stop to it.”
She nodded her head, covering her trembling lips.
Then Elias took Rosie from her. “No . . . no, I’m sorry. You aren’t to blame.” Gently he led her to the table, where he pulled out a chair for her. “I’ll head right over there . . . as soon as Rosie here settles down.” Their little daughter was snuggling close to Elias now.
She surely senses his strength. . . .
And in a few short minutes, Rosie was sound asleep.
“What about your dinner, love?”
“Food is the last thing on my mind.”
“Oh, Elias . . . what’re we goin’ to do?”
“We’ll trust the Good Lord. What else is there?” His eyes softened. “How long ago did Kate leave?”
She told him, and he kissed her cheek and laid Rosie down in her playpen. Then he turned toward the back door with another wave over his shoulder. Oh, how weary she felt. Too fatigued to get up and see him out.
Instead of eating anything herself, she glanced at the now sleeping Rosie and went to the back door to lock it— something she’d never done before in this house, nor in any other. Quite unnecessary amongst the People. Nevertheless it was essential, this day, for her own sanity.
She rushed downstairs to check on the clothes hanging in the cellar—far warmer than outside, where they’d surely freeze. The clothes remained quite soggy, so most likely the makeshift clothesline would be laden with her family’s clothing come tomorrow.
Good thing Elias has an extra shirt and trousers.
She touched Eli’s tiny sleeping gowns and booties and wept again. If God had called Cousin Kate to give up Eli and Rosie, how was it possible she’d changed her mind?
CHAPTER 27
Chris Yoder was ecstatic Monday afternoon when he saw the 97 percent on his calculus test. The teacher tapped him on the shoulder as he returned to his desk from distributing the exams. “Fine work, Mr. Yoder.”
Truth was, he’d hardly cracked open the textbook, but thanks to what he assumed were his genes, he was a natural in all things related to mathematics. His father had noticed this ability early on, which was one of the reasons why he was a shoo-in to run the family’s landscaping business if he wanted, keeping the books.
Yes, numbers Chris could understand, but Zach was another matter. His greatest concern at present was his younger brother’s seeming inability to get over his obsession with Suzy Fisher. And now he had something new to be preoccupied with—the gold bracelet they’d found at the lake. He’d spent hours yesterday lying on his bed, arm outstretched, staring at the bracelet, letting it dangle as it caught the sunlight. Strange, thought Chris, and he was worried enough to pause right there and silently ask God to help Zach.
He’d tried to talk Zach out of keeping the bracelet. Why not give it away to someone, as a gift? After all, it had a
terrific Scripture inscribed on it, one that Suzy had chosen herself. Zach had told her he wanted to purchase something special, asking her for a life-changing verse. Her favorite.
Life-changing is right, Chris thought, recalling his brother’s excited talk about the gift last June, and seeing Suzy’s delight when Zach had placed it on her wrist that terrible Saturday.
Now the bracelet was back, and Chris feared his brother would spend a lifetime gazing at this sad reminder of the first love Zach had embraced fully—and still did.
Caleb located his father in the barn, knowing it was best to get a discussion started . . . not let things just hang and fester. He knew he was taking a big risk, what with Rebekah being told to leave home last night.
He found Daed spreading straw on the floor, and immediately Caleb was handed a rake to help. He set to work, realizing now was not going to be the time after all. His father’s scowl was hardly an invitation to begin the much-needed conversation,
so he raked for the next hour, finishing the chore while Daed oiled the harnesses.
Later, around four o’clock, when they were spraying the cows’ teats in preparation for milking, he said, “I’d like to talk to you, Daed.”
His father’s head bobbed up. “What’s on your mind, son?”
Caleb swallowed, consciously raising himself to his full stature. “I did your bidding.”
“What’s that?”
“Susannah Lapp. I made a point of seeing her at the Singing last night.” He resisted the memory of Nellie’s observing them. “Frankly, she’s of no interest to me, Daed.”
Now it was his father who straightened, putting a hand on the rump of the Holstein. “You speak nonsense, Caleb. Any young man would find her . . . completely appealing.”
“She’s beautiful, I’ll give you that.” He would not continue with this line of talk. “This may not be what you want to hear, but I hope to be marryin’ someone else come next fall.”
A knowing look passed between them. Typically this announcement would be met with congratulations, marriage being the prerequisite for Caleb’s receiving the land.
Daed exhaled forcefully. “Thought by now you would’ve put that girl out of your mind.”
Caleb paused, stunned at Daed’s disregard. “Nellie Mae’s who I want for my bride.”
“Well, then, you ain’t thinking straight.”
Caleb held back lest he speak disrespectfully.
“How can ya dare to think she’s the one for you?”
“I love her.”
His father scoffed, making a sweeping gesture. “Love, you say? So you’d give up our plans—your future here?”
Caleb crouched down to wash the next cow’s udder. He hadn’t said anything of the kind. He was not interested in giving up the chance to provide well for his bride and their children someday. He didn’t know all the ins and outs of this sticky situation, but he did know that Nellie Mae would be a wonderful-good wife, and he cared deeply for her.
“I love Nellie Mae,” he repeated. This was the most awkward discussion ever. His father had no right to even know whom he was seeing, let alone his intended—at least not until closer to the wedding season, nearly ten months away yet.
“I forbid you to marry a Fisher!”
Fury rose in Caleb’s chest, and he stood up. “I best be goin’.” He rushed toward the barn door.
“Caleb . . . son!”
It went against everything Caleb knew to be respectful and good, but he ignored his father and strode straight to the house, leaving the milking wholly to him.
As Nellie, Nan, and Rebekah closed up the bakery shop for the day, they talked about the “sad, sad story” Mamma had relayed to Nellie, who couldn’t imagine how her friend Rosanna must be feeling.
“You’d think Kate would’ve had more sense,” said Rebekah as she wiped down the display case.
“Taking one twin, you mean?” Nan asked.
Rebekah nodded. “That and giving the babies away in the first place.”
“Jah . . . seems strange, ain’t?”
Nellie spoke up. “Well, the way I understand it, the Lord God supposedly impressed on John and Kate to give their twins to the Kings. I don’t understand all that, but it seems some folk tend to hear from God more than others.”
“Well, I can’t imagine the heavenly Father directing Kate to take back her son now,” Nan said. “Such a cruel thing.”
Silently Nellie agreed. She couldn’t help but wonder whether Jehovah God was indeed responsible for the initial decision. And, if so, what about Kate’s change of heart now? Nellie herself had always feared something like this might happen, though she had never voiced it to Rosanna, not wanting to spoil her friend’s excitement over the babies.
As Nellie pondered this, she refused to fret about the fact that Caleb’s own sister was right now in their home, redding up her bakery shop, of all things. According to
Rebekah, her brother had brought her here late last night in the wee hours. So it was Caleb who’d done the good deed for his outcast sister, in spite of David Yoder’s having sent her away—such a willful thing for her beau to do, considering he was already on shaky footing at home.
As he is with me.
But no, she could not dwell much on Caleb, or she would feel as despairing as she had following their brief encounter at the barn Singing last night. She did not want to relive that scene with her beau and Susannah looking so cozy together.
Nellie fixed her thoughts instead on dear Rosanna, whom she wanted to visit and comfort as soon as she could get away.
Half asleep, Rosanna held Rosie while sitting in the rocker in the kitchen, expecting Elias any minute. Her husband had been gone much too long for her liking, though she’d had plenty of time to practice her praying—talking aloud to God.
She glanced at her sleeping daughter, who’d struggled yet again after her bottle, refusing to give in to sleep. Could Rosie sense her twin brother wasn’t there?
Getting up, she placed Rosie in the playpen, gently tucking her blanket around her and looking fondly at Eli’s matching one. Running her hand over it, she wanted to trust the Lord God to return her son to them somehow. Today? Tomorrow?
She fought a battle of wills—what she knew she wanted, and what God had allowed. Was this His sovereign will? She’d been taught her whole life not to question His doing. But with all of her heart she wanted Eli back. Even so, if Elias did not succeed in getting Kate to change her mind,
Rosanna must not allow herself to be bitter. At all costs, they must show Kate the love of the Lord. Somehow.
When Elias finally returned, he was red in the face— whether from his encounter with the Beilers or from the cold wind, Rosanna wasn’t sure.
Rosanna said little as she warmed up his supper. She hurried to get the food on the table, sitting with him, watching him eat. He prayed an extra-long prayer of thanksgiving, both for the food and for “every good and blessed gift.”
Before he began to eat, he said thoughtfully, “I spoke at length with John, who certainly supports Kate’s taking Eli.
They both feel it’s necessary to have their son raised under the Ordnung.”
She listened, taking in his every word.
“I had a mighty good opportunity to talk about our recent experience at the new church, ’bout seeking a relationship with God’s Son. But John washed his hands of it, said he wants nothin’ to do with such things.”
“Rosie . . . what’ll happen to her?” She held her breath.
“They’ll let us keep her without a fight. That’s what they said.”
Rosanna let out a whoosh of air. “They don’t mind if Rosie’s raised in the more progressive church?”
“I guess they’re hopin’ she’ll marry an Old Order boy, when the time comes. Honestly, I think they just assume the new church will lose its steam eventually, and those who’ve left will come to their senses and return. I don’t see that happening, though.”
She didn’t, either. The groundswell was strong. Freedom to worship, to study Scripture—well, it was too powerful to stop.
Elias pulled his suspenders, looking at her. “But the way things are with Kate, I guess we can’t count on anything.”
“You mean she could go even more ferhoodled and come take Rosie away, too?”
“As John kept sayin’, ‘Things are different now.’ ”
Something she could not contain rose up in her. “It’s wrong, Elias! Wrong as anything! Eli and Rosie must grow up together.” Shaking now, she described Rosie’s crying nearly all afternoon as if her little heart was aware of the separation. “I won’t stand by and let Kate do this!”
“I know how you feel, but getting worked up won’t help.” His gaze lingered on her. Then slowly, deliberately, he put his hands to his face and covered his eyes for the longest time. He, too, was weeping.
“Aw, Elias . . . love. You want your son back, same as I do.”
He nodded, his face still
buried in his burly hands. “Jah, more than I dare say.”
CHAPTER 28
After supper, while Nellie, Nan, and Rebekah were redding up the dishes, Nan asked Rebekah, “So, did you like helpin’ out at Nellie’s Simple Sweets?”
Rebekah nodded, drying a platter before handing it to Nellie to put away. “The Englischers are so friendly and chatty, jah? I was surprised how many asked for recipes.”
“And I don’t mind,” Nellie said. “Here lately we’re getting all kinds of new folk in the shop. Repeat customers, too.” She hoped she wasn’t boasting.
“Oh! About that,” said Rebekah. “I almost forgot! You’ll never guess who’s responsible for all the fancy folk makin’ a path to your door.”
Nellie exchanged glances with Nan.
“Who?” asked Nan.
“Susannah Lapp.”
Nan’s mouth fell open. “You don’t mean it.”
Rebekah nodded. “It’s true. Caleb mentioned it last night. She all but admitted she’s been spending her egg money on newspaper ads. Appears she’s intent on stirring up the staunchest Old Order folk.”
Nellie was befuddled. “Why on earth?”
“Well, finally. One mystery solved!” Nan said, laughing.
“What a schemer.”
Nellie didn’t feel any too kindly toward Susannah for the boost in sales. It seemed clear the girl was trying to build a wedge between herself and Caleb. And after last night, she’d accomplished it, too.
“Well, her plan didn’t work exactly as she hoped, now, did it?” Nan went on more gently, perhaps recalling what Nellie had confided. “The ads have helped more than the tittle-tattle hurt us.”
Nellie wasn’t so sure. Truth was, she found Susannah’s trick to be downright conniving, in spite of the beneficial influx of customers.
Wait a minute . . . could that be what Caleb was talking to Susannah about at yesterday’s Singing?
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