The Forbidden

by Beverly Lewis

  Kate rose and wordlessly walked out of the room with Eli, who was still wailing. All six children followed, like ducklings scurrying after their mamma.

  When John waved them toward the table, Elias eased himself onto the bench, pain on his face. He folded his hands on the table and eyed Reuben. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “You’re witness to the things I mean to say.” He then directed his gaze at John.

  “Elias, you won’t be changin’ our minds, no matter how many times you come over here.” John reached for his coffee.

  “Now, wait a minute,” Reuben spoke up. “Look at this man. Hear him out, for pity’s sake.”

  John’s posture stiffened. “Eli is my son.”

  “That he is, though I feel as though he is mine, too.” Elias took in a long breath and offered a thin smile before becoming more solemn. “But hear me out. A baby girl is cryin’ without end for her brother, over yonder.” He glanced toward the window. “And my wife’s pining for Eli, too.”

  “Eli will be raised here,” John stated. “With God-fearin’ people.”

  “We are God-fearing people, John. And in the fear of the Lord, you gave Rosanna and me a son . . . and a daughter. They belong together.”

  John’s neck and face were red, although thus far he appeared stubbornly in control of himself. “My son belongs with us, here, where he will grow up in the Old Ways.”

  “What Eli needs is to grow up knowin’ the saving grace of the Lord,” Elias stated, his voice firm but calm.

  The tension in the air was palpable. It was agonizing to watch this exchange over a single baby—a man-child. It seemed to Reuben there was no satisfying either person, and he again beseeched the living God for aid.

  A flickering thought crossed his mind that a third party was needed, someone to guide them in the right direction. In the same direction. “Bishop Joseph should decide,” Reuben said suddenly.

  “No, I’ve already made up my mind. I won’t allow my boy to be raised by folk professin’ an alien gospel.”

  “But surely you trust the bishop? The wisdom of the Old Order?”

  John looked at Reuben, as did Elias. A mutual hope filled both men’s eyes. “If that’s what it’ll take,” John said, and Elias nodded in agreement.

  “Then I’ll speak to my brother on your behalf.”

  Surprisingly, John reached over to shake Reuben’s hand as all three men stood.

  “I’ll let Rosanna know,” Elias said gratefully to Reuben as he made his way toward the back door.

  “And I’ll tell Kate,” said John with confidence.

  Reuben bid John good-night and headed home to Betsy.

  He wondered if what he’d proposed had been divinely dropped into his heart, perhaps.

  I’d dread to be in the bishop’s shoes!

  Rosanna had been walking the floor with fussy Rosie for more than an hour, not understanding how such a tired baby could simply refuse to give in to sleep. So she held her near, talking softly during the short intervals when Rosie would let up to catch a breath, only to begin howling again. Rosanna tried humming, cajoling, rubbing her back, her tummy—everything that had always helped in the past, but to no avail.

  When Elias finally arrived home, she was ever so glad.

  He took Rosie from her, kissing her little forehead, then the top of her head. Even so, she continued to cry.

  “What do you s’pose is wrong?”

  “Could it be she senses Eli is gone?”

  She’d considered that earlier. “Could be, jah. We’ll simply give her more attention . . . till her brother’s home again.”

  Elias’s face sagged; he must have been dead tired. But she knew it was more than that.

  “Kate might not bring Eli back, Rosanna. You must know this.”

  “No . . . no, let’s not think that way.”

  “Well, the decision’s not ours anymore. Nor is it John and Kate’s.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He paused as Rosie gave in to sleep. “Where Eli should grow up is the bishop’s choice to make now,” he told –Rosanna, who followed when he carried Rosie upstairs to her cradle.

  “But no! Bishop Joseph will surely rule in their favor.” She began to cry.

  He reached for her, tenderly pulling her into his arms. “Come here.”

  She felt the strength of him, the great affection he had for her, in the gentle brush of his lips against her cheek and then her mouth. “Oh, Elias . . . I’ve worried so.”

  He took her hand, leading her to their room. “We must trust God for Eli’s future. Not a speck of worry will change a thing.”

  She agreed, trying to focus on her darling as he sat on the bed, drawing her to him.

  “You’re so perty, love.”

  She forced a smile as she sat next to him, his arms around her now. His kisses were ever so light, comforting her, if only for this moment.

  “I love you, Mrs. King.” He often said this somewhat comically during their most intimate moments, but tonight his tone was wholly serious. “Let me ease your sadness . . . for now.” He cupped Rosanna’s chin as his kisses grew more fervent. Their tears of joy and sadness mingled as they comforted each other with their love.

  CHAPTER 30

  By nine o’clock Wednesday morning, the bakery shop was filled to capacity and abuzz with fancy talk. Nellie was glad for the extra help as Mamma served up warm muffins and sticky buns oozing with icing and glazed sugar. Nan and Rebekah periodically delivered more freshly baked goodies to the bakery shop from the kitchen at the house. Soon, though, the most requested items on the “menu” were hot coffee and cocoa, which were plenty easy to make on the hot plate Dat had rigged up to a small gas-powered generator.

  Next thing, he’ll want to put in an oven, Nellie thought with a smile. More and more of the People were having electricity installed, along with phones—her own brother James and family were among the latter. So far, though, there was no talk of such happening under Dat’s roof. Nellie was secretly glad, although there was no reason now to worry over whether Caleb and his family approved of them—not after what she’d witnessed last Sunday evening. She truly wanted to look on the bright side of things, as Mamma often encouraged her children to do, but she was consciously bracing herself for a breakup letter from Caleb.

  Several regulars were sitting at the table farthest away, where Miss Bachman was indulging in her usual treat— peanut butter fudge—saying nothing else could quite compare. Laughter cascaded from the middle table, where all four chairs were occupied, as was also the case at the first.

  Twelve customers in all, and every one having a wonderful-good morning together.

  Nellie refused to puff up with pride, but she was delighted to see the pleasure they took in enjoying her creations. Oh, she wished she could bottle up some of this happiness and carry it over to Rosanna. If Kate Beiler hadn’t seen the light and returned Eli by now, there was surely great sorrow in the Kings’ house again today. Sadness seemed to abound in any number of hearts here lately, including poor, displaced Rebekah’s.

  Even so, David Yoder’s loss is Nan’s and my gain, she thought, glad they could receive Rebekah during her plight.

  Spending so much time with Caleb’s dearest sister was an unexpected gift.

  Sudden hilarity sprang from the second table as a customer told of putting up elderberries for the first time. “I made such a mess. I kept finding purple stains on tea towels and my clothes for months,” the woman confessed.

  More ladies chimed in about harvesting and canning “like Plain folk.”

  Nellie headed to the door to meet Nan, who was arriving with yet another basket of cookies—hopefully snicker-doodles and chocolate chip.

  “Word has it twin babies were separated near here,” one woman said rather loudly, nearly stopping Nellie in her tracks. “The baby boy was taken from his adoptive mother by the biological mom, no less.”

  “I heard that, too,” said Miss Bachman. “Evidently the birth mothe
r changed her mind and took the boy back.”

  “How awful!” exclaimed another woman.

  Nellie felt awkward eavesdropping and was glad for the momentary distraction Nan provided. “Would you mind tending the store with Mamma, following the noon meal?” Nellie asked as they worked side by side behind the counter to unload the basket.

  “I’ll have plenty of time, jah.” Nan explained that Rebekah had gone on foot to her job as a mother’s helper for the Amish family less than a mile away.

  “What do you think’ll happen with her?” Nellie asked.

  Nan looked sober. “You know David Yoder as well as anybody.”

  Nodding, Nellie Mae squeezed her sister’s hand, grateful she’d confided her woes to Nan earlier.

  Nan returned to the house to put the finishing touches on dinner when the crowd of customers emptied out, closer to the noon hour. Nellie Mae was happy to have a few moments alone with Mamma.

  Smoothing her apron, Mamma slipped her hand into her pocket, pulling out two Kapp strings. “I found these on the floor in the cellar, near the wringer washer.”

  Ever so sheepish, Nellie was reluctant to own up. “What on earth?”

  “You snipped ’em off your sister’s Kapp, ain’t?”

  So Mamma knew already. “Jah.” She braced herself for the reprimand. “That’s my doing.”

  “Oh, Nellie Mae, you loved Suzy so. Here, keep them close to your heart, or wherever you’d like.”

  Wiping tears, she put the Kapp strings safely in her own dress pocket. She would be more careful with them, not wanting to raise eyebrows with Nan or Dat . . . or even Rebekah. “Denki, Mamma,” she whispered, reaching to embrace her. “Denki, ever so much.”

  When Chris and Zach arrived home from school, Zach headed up to their room while Chris made his way to the kitchen. He found his dad sitting at the table, listening to the radio and drinking a cup of coffee.

  “Where’s Mom?” Chris set down his books and opened the old Frigidaire.

  “We’re out of milk.” Dad glanced toward the stairwell.

  “Zach barely said a word to me. Everything okay?”

  Chris closed the refrigerator, empty-handed, and sat heavily in the chair across from his father. He knows Zach’s still taking Suzy’s loss hard. . . .

  Neither spoke for a while. Finally Dad set his coffee cup on the saucer. “Things any better these days?”

  “Sometimes,” Chris hedged. “Sometimes not.”

  Dad took another sip of coffee. “Your mother’s quite worried. She thinks maybe Zach should see our pastor.”

  Chris nodded. “He’ll be okay.”

  “Do the two of you . . . talk about it?”

  “Now and then.” Chris shrugged. “Hasn’t helped much, though.”

  His father smiled. “I’ve attempted a few conversations, but Zach seems so closed.”

  “He’s always been . . . oh, I don’t know.”

  “Independent?” his father chuckled. “And stubborn?”

  Another moment passed as he drained his cup. Then he got up and went to the sink. Coming back, he placed his hand

  on Chris’s shoulder. “Listen, the two of you have always been close. More than anything, you’ve been the best for him, Chris.”

  “His faith is strong.”

  “I don’t doubt that.”

  Dad headed toward the back door and turned. “He’ll pull out, stronger than before. I’m praying that way.”

  “Yeah.” I hope Zach gets past the worst soon.

  A half hour later, Chris was still sitting at the table, thinking . . . praying. Zach came wandering down just as he was about to head upstairs to change into sweats.

  “Wondered what happened to you.” Zach pulled some ice cream from the freezer. “Want some?”

  Chris gestured toward the seat his father had vacated.

  “What?”

  “I’ve been thinking . . . about Suzy Fisher.”

  Zach dipped into the half-gallon container. “That’s my job.” He scooped ice cream into a bowl. “Last call. Double fudge dip.”

  “Seriously, Zach.”

  Frowning now, Zach sat down.

  Chris took a deep breath. “I need to play older brother for a sec.”

  Zach groaned. “Not this again.”

  Not wanting to start off on the wrong foot, he paused. Then, he said, “We’re all starting to worry about you.”

  “Who? Dad? Worry about what?”

  Chris sighed. This wasn’t going so well. He rubbed his chin. “Look, Zach . . . do we really believe the Good News?”

  “C’mon, Chris.”

  “I mean, sometimes we act like what we believe doesn’t hold up in a world where suffering’s real. Like the Gospel works as long as things are going well, you know?”

  Zach’s frown deepened, his jaw clenched. “But you weren’t in love with her, Chris.”

  Chris felt the familiar tension between them. He thought of Suzy’s picture, the one Zach continually stared at. “Suzy was a simple Amish girl, right? How do you think she’d feel about that big photo hanging on your bulletin board?”

  Zach nodded, glancing out the window. “She wasn’t going to stay Amish.”

  “Maybe not. But it’s like you’ve created a shrine or something.”

  “I just don’t want to forget her.”

  Chris leaned toward his brother and Zach looked away. “Did it ever occur to you that pictures are forbidden by Amish because they can become like idols?” Chris locked eyes with his brother. “Maybe you’ve done that with Suzy.”

  Zach clenched his teeth again. “I feel guilty, okay? That’s not going to go away. She was a lousy swimmer, Chris. We messed up.”

  Chris swallowed hard. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Well, then—what do you want from me?”

  “To do what we ask others to do.”

  “What?”

  “To accept God’s forgiveness.”

  Zach blew out a breath and looked down, shaking his head. At last he nodded, tears falling freely. “All right. I get it. And I’m trying, okay? I’m trying. . . .”

  Chris cuffed his brother’s wrist. “Well, don’t try so hard, goof. Stop fighting it. Let God work it out.”

  “I need more time,” Zach whispered, swallowing. “It’s not easy.”

  “Take all the time you need, but don’t shut me out. And don’t push Mom and Dad away, either.”

  Zach sniffed, wiping his eyes. A long moment passed until a trace of a smile crossed his lips. “You know, you can be really annoying sometimes.”

  Chris grinned. “ ’Cuz I’m right?”

  “No, ’cuz you’re annoying.”

  “It’s my birthright, you know. The older brother thing?”

  Zach sighed again, his smile fading. “Okay. I’ll take the picture down.”

  Chris nodded. “Hey, I just want my brother back.”

  Staring hard at his ice cream, Zach said softly, “It’s hard to feel forgiven.”

  “I know, man. I know.”

  Zach finished eating and then the two of them trudged up the stairs. Chris carried no illusions. Things weren’t going to change overnight, but for the first time in a long time, he sensed a glimmer of hope. The old Zach was definitely not gone for good.

  Nellie Mae visited Rosanna again that afternoon and could tell her friend hadn’t slept much, if at all. Her eyes were swollen and red, and the apples of her cheeks were puffy, too.

  Rosanna helped Nellie off with her coat. Then Nellie embraced Rosanna and encouraged her to sit down.

  Rosanna complied, sitting in one of the chairs near the stove. “Elias went over there again last night. Your father, too, I understand . . .” Her voice was weary.

  Nellie nodded.

  “Kate and John won’t change their minds. We’re going to wait and see what the bishop says now.”

  They sat quietly for a few minutes while Nellie got warmed up. She didn’t want to hold tiny Rosie with such cold hands. Besides, R
osie was sound asleep, and Rosanna was saying how she’d struggled to get her settled since Monday morning, when Kate had left with Eli.

  “It’s not like her,” Rosanna said. “Could it be she senses my grief?”

  “Guess she might.” I sure do, Nellie thought sadly.

  “You know I lost babies before, Nellie Mae . . . before they were even born. But this . . .” She sniffled. “Oh, this is the hardest thing, havin’ a babe taken away after he’s been in my arms for nearly two months.”

  Nellie’s eyes filled with tears, and she reached over and squeezed Rosanna’s hand. Then she said, “And to hear Mamma’s stories about Thomas and Jeremiah—twins are ever so close. Could be Rosie misses Eli, too.”

  “Jah, I think so. Growin’ in the womb together must make them closer than other siblings.”

  Nellie remembered all the talk among the English customers earlier. “Some folk say it’s unhealthy to separate twins.”

  The words slipped out before she could stop them.

  “Oh, I believe I know as much.” Rosanna glanced toward the playpen, which was just out of reach of the woodstove.

  “You don’t have to tell me Rosie’s missin’ Eli, in her own way. Either that, or she’s got one fierce case of colic.”

  It felt so good to spend time with Rosanna two days in a row, like they had as girls. Under different circumstances, of course, they would be working on a quilt or sewing dresses and aprons all afternoon. She didn’t dare ask if Rosanna had a quilt in the frame, or if the frame was even set up. She

  knew better. Lately Rosanna’s time had been wholly spent tending to Eli and Rosie.

  Nellie had an idea. “I’ll make supper for you and Elias, if you’d like to go up and rest a bit.”

  Rosanna brightened. “Oh, would ya?”

  “Whatever I can do to help.”

  Rosanna smiled, nodding. She showed her where Rosie’s next bottle was kept in the refrigerator. “The formula is all ready. Just shake it up a bit and warm it on the stove if she wakes up.”

  “I’ll look after Rosie. Not to worry.” Shooing her dear friend off for a nap, Nellie watched her amble over to the stairs and climb them slowly. She’s clearly exhausted.