The Forbidden

by Beverly Lewis

  Without even a glance out the window, Caleb knew there was a racket in the barn. It sounded like the driving horses had gotten out—galloping off—and he dashed outside to investigate, leaving The Budget behind on the kitchen table.

  Caleb checked the barn and confirmed his suspicion, then went promptly to search for the horses in the deep pinewood, hoping to use the newly fallen snow to his best advantage by following the fresh horseshoe prints.

  Something had obviously spooked the spirited horses, and he hoped they might soon be noticed by another farmer.

  He’d known of horses sprinting off into the cold and, having a mind of their own, being found dead in the snow the next day. For this reason he persevered, continuing his search through the knee-high snow, wishing he’d taken time to at least put on an extra layer of socks.

  What caused them to run off in this weather? Eventually he turned back toward the house, where his father stood out on the front porch, waiting.

  “I couldn’t catch ’em,” he called. “What do you want me to do?”

  “You should’ve thought of that before leaving the stable door open, son.”

  So he hadn’t latched the gate. . . .

  But it was not the runaway horses that his father wanted to address as he headed down the steps and around the side of the house to the back door. “Come with me, Caleb.”

  He followed his father inside to the kitchen, where Mamm was pushing wood into the belly of the old cook-stove. He was told to “sit awhile,” and he did, though not at his usual spot at the table. Instead he purposely sat at the foot, down where Rebekah had always sat.

  “What’s on your mind, Daed?” He was taking the lead, an impertinent thing to do.

  “Your sister Rebekah.” Stopping for a second, Daed looked at Mamm. “Your mother and I want to know where you took her last night.”

  He’s asking only now?

  Caleb inhaled. “Rebekah wanted to go to the Fishers’ . . . so that’s where she is.” He wouldn’t reveal that she’d slipped into the house unknown to anyone. Surely Nan and Nellie welcomed her with open arms.

  Mamm sat to the right of Daed, her hair a bit unkempt as it sometimes was this late in the day. Her eyes seemed all washed out, almost gray where there was usually color, and the wrinkles in her face were deeper than he remembered, settling hard on her laugh lines. “Was she . . .” Mamm paused, reaching up her sleeve for a handkerchief. “Was Rebekah terribly upset?”

  He nodded slowly.

  “Weeping, I s’pose?” Mamm’s lower lip quivered uncontrollably.

  “No . . . not that.”

  She stared at the tablecloth, tears spilling over the knobs of her cheeks.

  It was obvious how worried Mamm was—and how angry Daed was, too.

  “She’ll be fine over there with Nan . . . and Nellie Mae,” he added, thinking of the letter he must write to Nellie. He had hoped the conversation with Daed would have made their predicament less dire, enabling him to offer her some word of hope along with his woeful attempt to explain.

  “That’s the last place you should’ve taken her, son.”

  “Where, then? It was awful late,” he protested. “And so cold . . .”

  Daed shook his head emphatically. “Reuben Fisher’s house was not the place, and you know it. That’s two misdeeds in less than a day’s time.”

  Caleb cringed, chafing under his father’s rebuke. He was glad when Daed headed upstairs to retire for the night, Mamm following dutifully behind. Caleb poured himself a glass of milk, downing it quickly. As he set the glass on the counter, he was amazed to hear the muted sounds of wayward horses galloping on the snow-packed lane, heading toward the barnyard.

  “They’re back!” Caleb dashed outside to thank their neighbor to the south, who had driven them in, then made sure the horses had no gashes or scrapes. When he was satisfied they were in good shape, he muttered his own disgust at his second transgression, as Daed had declared it, and latched the barn door, this time double-checking.

  As soon as Nellie finished setting up the display case Tuesday morning, she left Nan and Rebekah in charge of Nellie’s Simple Sweets and rode over to see Rosanna.

  Entering the King home, she unloaded her baked goods onto the kitchen table and then threw her arms around Rosanna. Her friend seemed to have shrunk since Nellie had last seen her. Teary-eyed and frightened, Rosanna looked young and lost, and Nellie suddenly felt the older of the two, though Rosanna was nearly four years her senior.

  “I am so sorry, Rosanna. Awful sorry,” Nellie said softly. “Mamma’s completely aghast at Kate’s behavior. And Dat, too.”

  “We shouldn’t hold anything against her.” Rosanna helped Nellie off with her heaviest coat and two scarves. “Kate’s not herself.”

  “How are you and Elias holding up?”

  She shrugged. “It still doesn’t seem real. I keep thinking I’ll turn around and there he’ll be, in the playpen.”

  “Kate hasn’t changed her mind, then?”

  Rosanna shook her head. “Elias went over there yesterday afternoon, but . . .” She bit her lip, unable to continue.

  Tears filled Nellie’s eyes and she squeezed her friend’s hand.

  Rosanna turned to warm a bottle for Rosie, and Nellie offered to feed her. Holding the little one in her arms near the corner stove, Nellie relished Rosie’s sweetness as she took her bottle. Smiling, she glanced up from Rosie’s face and saw the heartbroken look in Rosanna’s eyes.

  She could imagine how quickly one grew attached to a baby like Rosie. What a loss! She was tempted to remind Rosanna that it wasn’t as if she’d never see Eli again—she wasn’t losing him to death the way her family had Suzy. But Nellie thought better of it.

  “I don’t see how we can go on this way, without our baby boy.” Rosanna’s words tore at Nellie’s heart. “Surely, the Lord will bring Eli back to us. . . .”

  Nellie didn’t know what to say.

  Rosie had slowed her anxious sucking now, eyes mighty droopy, and she began to succumb to sleep.

  Rosanna took Rosie from her, going to lay her down in the playpen. When she returned, Nellie gave her another long hug.

  “I hope your son comes home to you very soon,” she whispered.

  “Thank you, Nellie Mae.” Rosanna smiled through her tears. “From your lips to God’s ear.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Following Tuesday supper, Reuben headed to John and Kate Beiler’s, wishing he’d had an opportunity to do so when Betsy had first told of the dismaying news. Yesterday’s horse buyer had remained into the evening, staying on for supper after purchasing several fine Morgans. Thankful as Reuben was for the business, his mind had been elsewhere. Oh, but goodness, he felt someone ought to have a man-to-man talk with John, even though John was known to have a will like a wolf trap.

  Reuben couldn’t help but wonder if John had been influenced solely by Kate. Or was there more to it?

  Navigating the horse along the icy roads, he wondered about his own son James, out learning to drive a fancy car in such treacherous conditions. How awful spoiled a body could become in short order—so much comfort on four wheels—especially on a miserable night like this.

  Holding the reins with both hands now, Reuben rode past one farm after another. It was a bright yet freezing night. Following the area’s recent heavy snows, livestock were safely stabled in all the farms up and down Beaver Dam Road. Passing Deacon Lapp’s place, it looked to him as if the deacon’s pasture gates and horse fences were nearly buried in white drifts.

  He could see in his mind the deacon swaying from side to side as he walked, something like a grandfather clock. The kind and hardworking man had survived several farming accidents over the years. Despite the many changes of the past months, Reuben still considered the former ministerial brethren as his own, even though he assumed that eventually his brother would cease to oversee the New Order group.

  Old things are passed away . . . all things are become new. Thankful for th
at Scriptural promise, he clucked his tongue to spur the horse along, wishing the Amish brotherhood might eventually see the light of divine grace.

  In God’s own way . . . and time.

  Now that he was out alone in the darkness, Reuben realized he hadn’t eaten his fill, and he was sorry he’d refused the tasty coconut cream pie. It certainly had tempted him, but he’d excused himself, pushing away from the fine turkey and stuffing dinner—practically a holiday feast, thanks to dear Betsy. But the wonderful-good pie was all Nellie’s doing.

  Seeing John Beiler’s house, he made the turn into the driveway and wondered how the conversation might go. It wasn’t his place to tell John and Kate what to do, but he’d come on Betsy’s persuasion, and, well, here he was. Too late to turn back now.

  Won’t the bishop have something to say about Kate’s wicked deed? He’d heard his elder brother had permitted John and Kate to give their babies to the Kings in the first place.

  Reuben contemplated the man of God who had been wise enough to suspend the Bann for nearly three months, though that time was rapidly coming to a close. Nearly everyone had marked the date in red on their calendars—

  February eleventh. Well, everyone safely settled in the new churches had.

  But tonight it wasn’t so much the church split on Reuben’s heart as two little babies being pulled apart from each other . . . and the family raising them.

  Unbelievable.

  He’d suffered enough loss for the rest of his life, with Suzy’s drowning the worst blow of all. But what about Elias and Rosanna . . . all the unborn babies they had lost, only to come to this? Wasn’t anyone willing to speak on their behalf? This went much deeper than two women squabbling over babies, he felt certain. The way Betsy had described it, Rosanna could have Eli back, but only if she renounced her interest in the New Order church.

  But she hadn’t, and now he had appointed himself to defend Elias King, brand-new convert that he was.

  One by one, people are coming to Christ. . . .

  Hastily Reuben tied up his horse, glancing at the old stone farmhouse where the Beilers resided. With a prayer on his lips, he walked to the back door.

  Caleb slid his long legs under the desk in his room, tuckered out from single-handedly unloading more than three tons of hay for a neighbor whose supply was running low due to last summer’s drought. Tomorrow would bring more of the same. He leaned back in the sturdy chair, relaxing at last.

  He eyed the pulled-down green window shades that blocked the moon’s white radiance. The shades were like the shadows on his soul. Never before had he felt so hemmed in there, in the very place he stood to inherit, assuming he bowed to Daed’s demands. Caleb thought he had done so—had jeopardized his relationship with Nellie in doing it—but the end result was not to his father’s liking.

  Did Daed think Susannah could actually beguile me . . .change my mind about Nellie Mae? If so, what sort of man would I be? And what sort of husband?

  He felt ensnared, trapped by his father’s impossible expectations, yet unwilling to abandon his love for Nellie. His frustration gnawed at him. I have to find a way to make this work!

  But first things first. Picking up his pen, Caleb began to write to his sweetheart.

  Dear Nellie Mae,

  I hope you’re all right, even though by the looks of your sad eyes Sunday night I fear you aren’t. Frankly, neither am I. To think I might lose you because of this ridiculous deed . . . well, I simply can’t stand by and let you think the worst of me.

  Truth be told, I went against my better judgment.My father insisted I spend time with Susannah Lapp, hoping I would regard her as a future bride. Now, I realize you have merely my word on this, but what I’m telling you is true.

  Talking once with Susannah was the only way for me to say I’d obeyed my father’s bidding, something I was anxious to be done with. Then you came into the barn and saw us together, when she and I were already in disagreement, to put it mildly. That girl is more trouble than I ever suspected.

  I want nothing more than to see you again, Nellie.Will you meet me at our special place this Saturday night?

  I’ll bring my courting buggy, so we can at least ride a bit. Please hear me out. Won’t you give me a second chance?

  Until then.

  With all my love,

  Caleb Yoder

  Satisfied he had explained things adequately to his darling, he slid the letter into his bureau drawer to mail later.

  Mamma appeared absolutely chagrined at the news of who’d placed the ad. “Susannah, you say? Why, that schemer!”

  “Nan thought so, too.” Nellie cut generous wedges of coconut cream pie for Mamma, Rebekah, and Nan as they gathered around the table. Dat was out paying someone a visit.

  “Sure would be nice to have Rhoda home,” said Nan, changing the subject. Nellie and Mamma muttered their agreement.

  “It was your sister I’d set out to see yesterday when I felt impressed to stop in and visit Rosanna instead,” Mamma mentioned. She didn’t bring up again the heartbreak –Rosanna was enduring, yet Nellie knew it was on all of their minds.

  They sat quietly, savoring their pie for a while before Rebekah said, “It’s been awful nice of you to let me stay here for the time being.”

  “Won’t your father ask you to return home?” Nellie asked gently. Was David Yoder so hard as to forbid his daughter to ever come home?

  “I doubt it.” Rebekah took another bite of pie, her face serious.

  “Well, girls,” Mamma said, “let’s not forget God does impossible things. He’s surely at work in your father’s heart, jah?” Mamma’s eyes were suddenly bright with tears. “You’re welcome to stay with us as long as you wish, Rebekah dear.”

  Rebekah reached for Mamma’s hand. “Will ya remember my family in your prayers? I’d be so grateful,” she said, surprising Nellie—Nan, too, apparently, because her eyes looked like big blue buttons.

  “How about right now?” Mamma opened a hand to Nan, as well, and Nellie slowly put hers out, too. They all bowed heads. “Our heavenly Father, will you look over our broken hearts—each one—and mend and heal those who are in need of mercy? Please give your grace to Rebekah.

  Watch over her parents and her brothers and sisters and their families . . . and give her peace this night.”

  Mamma paused as if to keep from breaking down, releasing Nellie’s hand to blow her nose. Nan and Rebekah kept their eyes closed, evidently waiting for the amen, which was only slightly delayed by Mamma’s addition of “poor Rosanna and Elias” to her prayer, as well as “dear Rhoda.”

  When she said Rhoda’s name, her voice cracked.

  Nellie wondered what Rebekah thought of such fervency, but Caleb’s sister seemed unfazed and actually inquired about what Mamma thought was the “best way to pray.”

  “Anyone can talk to God,” Mamma explained, looking at Nellie now—“like you would to a close friend or family member.” Mamma was undoubtedly hoping to win her over yet.

  Sighing, Nellie wondered if she shouldn’t get Suzy’s diary out of hiding again. She’d felt so tenderhearted after reading the last third of it. Suddenly she recalled Rhoda’s request for it. She’d refused, afraid of what Rhoda would think after reading of Suzy’s wild months in the world. But with Rhoda gone, Nellie wondered whether it might have done her oldest sister some good to see Suzy’s path to transformation. If Rhoda had read the journal through to its sweet end, maybe she’d still be here with them now.

  She looked at Mamma, who had endured such painful losses in the past year. Presently her mother was talking about “trusting in our Savior, even when people around us disappoint.”

  “Sometimes it’s terribly hard, though.” Rebekah sniffled.

  “Well, sure it is. But it’s not so much how we manage to get through the hard things as it is being willing to cling to God’s promises while we’re gettin’ there, ya know?”

  Nellie was surprised at the way her mother described things. She couldn�
��t deny being somewhat curious about her parents’ loyalty to their newfound faith . . . a faith shared by Nan and Rebekah. Elias and Rosanna, too. And to think the Kings’ choosing the New Order had taken little Eli from them and put him back in Kate’s arms!

  When Reuben knocked on the Beilers’ back door, he was quickly met by John, who did not usher him inside with his formerly cheerful welcome. Rather, he gave a single nod and stepped aside awkwardly to let Reuben pass.

  Immediately it was clear Eli was the center of attention that evening. A doting Kate held him, surrounded by all the children.

  Reuben’s heart sank but he didn’t dare let on. As pleasant as the scene before him was, he could think only of grieving Rosanna King. How was he to broach that thorny subject over the soft buzz of voices?

  Kate tenderly kissed Eli’s cheek, and the two youngest children leaned in on either side of the rocking chair, kissing him, too. John moved to his wife’s side, leaving Reuben to merely observe.

  For a moment he almost forgot why he’d come, but Eli began to cry as if he was downright hungry. The oldest girls shushed and made over him, but nothing seemed to work.

  “What do ya think’s wrong?” asked the older of the two.

  “He just ate, and he’s wearin’ a fresh diaper.”

  The domestic peace broken, John finally turned his attention back to Reuben. “What’s brought you out on such a wintry night?”

  Normally by now Reuben would have been offered a seat at the table and a slice of pie, but there was no sign of hospitality from either John or Kate, and Reuben felt increasingly disconcerted.

  Lord, please keep a rein on my temper. Help me to know how to bring up Kate’s heartless deed.

  Just then someone pounded on the back door, and John hurried to see who it was.

  There stood Elias King, his face ashen. “Hullo, John . . .

  Reuben.” Elias’s expression registered surprise.

  “Elias . . . good to see ya.” Reuben’s throat tightened up. He felt for this fine young man; it was obvious Elias had come to beg for the child’s return, as awkward as it seemed.