The Forbidden

by Beverly Lewis

  If her coming could provide Rosanna even a small respite, Nellie was ever so glad.

  When Nellie returned home from Rosanna’s that evening, Nan and Rebekah were curled up near the cookstove, reading the Bible Nan and Rhoda had purchased some time ago. Nan encouraged Nellie to join them, but Nellie declined, using as her excuse the recent circle letter. Then, when she had finished updating her cousins on recent happenings, she wrote a private letter to Cousin Treva, as well, hoping to mail both at the same time.

  That done, she looked up and found solace in observing Dat and Mamma, their heads together as they read Scripture, like two lovebirds. Dat still read aloud to all of them every night, but increasingly he and Mamma took extra time to study further.

  At moments like this, Nellie missed Rhoda the most. Things were out of kilter here without her oldest sister. It seemed strange knowing Rhoda was staying at James and

  Martha’s, though Nellie was glad Rhoda was living with family, even if that family had “fallen into the world,” as Dat complained.

  She hoped the rumor mill was mistaken and that James hadn’t bought a car like Rhoda had. If Caleb’s heard there are two cars in the Fisher family, no wonder he’s pursuing Susannah!

  CHAPTER 31

  By midmorning the next day, the fertile farmland, long since buried beneath more than a foot of snow, looked hemmed in by heavy clouds. Nellie Mae pulled on long johns beneath her dress and wore boots and several layers for the jaunt out to get the day’s mail. She breathed ever so lightly on the walk back to the house so that her lungs wouldn’t ache with the below-zero temperatures.

  When will all this ice and snow begin to thaw?

  Spring would arrive eventually, but a thaw in the attitudes of the People seemed less likely. The impending fate of many still hung in the balance, and they all knew what was coming. Would the split succeed in destroying the unity of families and the community despite Uncle Bishop’s decision to temporarily stay the Bann?

  Nellie glanced through the letters as she carried the thick stack of mail toward the house. Her heart leapt up, then sank nearly as fast when she saw Caleb’s handwriting. A sad little groan escaped her. Was he writing to break things off? She must hasten to read this, not waiting as she sometimes had before, wanting to savor his words of devotion.

  She looked to see if Mamma might need her at the bakery shop. For a change customers were scarce, so she went to the house and tugged off her boots. Still wearing her coat and scarf, she ran up to her room and closed the door before opening the letter. She scanned it quickly and was relieved to see it was a letter of explanation.

  So the encounter with Susannah Lapp had been a requirement of his father’s? What sort of man demanded such things, especially when aware of his son’s love for another?

  Despite Caleb’s attempt to explain, she couldn’t dismiss the troubling realization that her beau would do nearly anything for his father’s land. He’d taken a terrible chance with their love, even though things must not have gone well with Susannah or he would have invited her to ride home.

  Instead it was Caleb’s sister Rebekah by his side following the Singing that night, not the flirtatious Susannah.

  She read the telling line again: 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.

  As skeptical as she felt about Caleb’s motives, she tried not to cry. She’d spent enough time weeping over Caleb Yoder; loving someone so deeply seemed to involve pain.

  Just look at Nan’s mess with her former beau.

  For sure and for certain, love and falling into it could bring a profound measure of sorrow. Who could argue that?

  Except maybe Mamma, who got the pick of the crop with Dat.

  Nellie refolded the bewildering letter and placed it under the mattress, alongside Suzy’s diary, and went downstairs to don her boots. Making her way back to the bakery shop, she was hesitant about her decision. She felt as bleak as could be, thinking about the wedge Caleb had created between them—all in the name of obedience to his father. She con- tinued to deliberate. Should she give Caleb another chance? Was their love strong enough to weather this gale?

  She must stop second-guessing and make up her mind. Jah, maybe it’s a gut idea to hear him out. Once again she would brave the wretched cold to meet her beau, though this time her enthusiasm would not help to keep her warm.

  Rhoda enjoyed Mrs. Kraybill’s attempt to suppress her laughter. “Well? What do you think?” Turning around twice, Rhoda stopped and stood still. She was modeling a chocolate brown midi-skirt, ginger-colored fashion boots, and a gold satin long-sleeved blouse with a fitted deep chocolate velveteen vest—the most striking outfit she’d ever seen. Rhoda had purchased it only yesterday in Lancaster, on the square at Watt and Shand’s Department Store, after deeming it the perfect look for this Sunday night at the Kraybills’ beautiful home—the night she was to meet Ken.

  The enterprising store clerk had also tried to steer her in the direction of the makeup counter, saying how very “mod” false eyelashes were now, to which Rhoda thought the ones the Lord God had given her were thick enough. It was easy to see that the clerk herself had false lashes pasted on her own eyes, because a glob of glue showed on her eyelid. Rhoda had barely managed to keep from smirking. Mod indeed! That was one mistake she could easily avoid making.

  “I suppose from your turning around repeatedly, you’re hoping I’ll say I like it, is that it?” Mrs. Kraybill smiled and touched the fabric of Rhoda’s soft sleeve.

  “You’re teasin’ me?” Rhoda asked, suddenly less sure of her purchase.

  Mrs. Kraybill stepped back. “Rhoda Fisher, you are quite stylish. Our nephew will be pleased . . . and that is your desired goal, isn’t it?”

  Rhoda blushed uncontrollably. She wouldn’t come right out and admit to wanting to look pretty—fancy, too. But she knew the cut of this outfit hid a multitude of pounds while emphasizing her best features, and that was more her objective than anything. “I don’t want to embarrass myself . . . is all.”

  “Oh, Rhoda, you surely don’t worry about that, do you?”

  “Well, I don’t really fit in round here with your family.

  I’m like a kernel off its cob.”

  The way her words tumbled out made Mrs. Kraybill smile yet again, and soon Rhoda’s own silly laugh was mixed with her employer’s wholehearted amusement. Such a good time they were having!

  Mrs. Kraybill motioned for her to sit on the living room sofa. “You’re lovely as you are, Rhoda, even when you dress Plain. Never forget to be yourself. No need to mimic anyone else.”

  Mrs. Kraybill must not sense how dissatisfied Rhoda was with her weight, her looks, and her life in particular.

  All that aside, she wouldn’t pump for more compliments, which only made her feel more self-conscious.

  Folding her arms, Mrs. Kraybill continued to regard Rhoda, obviously pleased with the skirt, blouse, and vest combination. “If you wear that or your regular Amish attire— either one—you’ll be fine. It’s your decision alone.”

  Rhoda felt wonderful-good, hearing that. There weren’t many areas of life where she had been encouraged to show such confidence, especially by another woman. Mrs. Kray-bill’s remarks were foreign to be sure. The women she knew best, Mamma included, curtailed all inclinations toward independent thinking.

  “I’ll wear this outfit, then.” With a flair, she adjusted her glasses. “Maybe I’ll take off my Kapp and get some new eyewear, too.”

  “So it’s settled.”

  “Thanks for givin’ me your opinion,” Rhoda said, glad she’d asked. James would soon return to take her over to his place, where Martha could use her help with the children.

  Rhoda considered how Mamma had trained her in the ways of submission and total respect for authority. Beachy Amish though she now was, Martha’s daughter, Emma, would be raised in a similar, though less strict, fashion. Plain girls grew up to become
compliant young women, knowing nothing else.

  Why must I crave something different, then?

  Even though Martha was becoming more progressive with each passing day, Rhoda knew exactly what both Martha and Mamma would think of her fetching outfit and bold plan to snag a man. She knew . . . and cringed.

  Between brushing down the foals—growing before his eyes—and forking hay to freshen the stall bedding, Reuben managed to slip away to pay a quick visit to his brother Bishop Joseph.

  He found him slumped over with sleep in his chair near the woodstove, his big German Bible lying open on his lap. The bishop looked up when Reuben was led into the kitchen by Joseph’s eldest granddaughter, who quickly made herself scarce. She headed into the front room, returning to the quilting frame, where she sat with Anna.

  He waited as Joseph made an excuse for reading the Good Book in the middle of the day. “And not studying it, mind you,” the bishop said before closing it. “What brings you out in such inclement weather?”

  Reuben pulled up a chair—no sense stalling. “S’pose you’re aware of the Beilers’ change of mind and heart ’bout their youngest son, Eli—one of the twins they gave to the Kings.”

  Joseph narrowed his already-squinting gaze behind his spectacles. “Heard as much.”

  “Then you must know Kate’s taken Eli back?”

  Joseph nodded slowly.

  Reuben sighed, not sure he was getting anywhere with his brother, whose eyes appeared to long for the remaining forty winks. “I was over talkin’ with John about it the other day when Elias showed up, beside himself. In the end I spent some time with both of them, and finally I suggested bringing this matter to you.”

  “I see.” His brother looked as serious as Reuben had ever seen him.

  “Rosanna’s in deep mournin’ for the baby boy she was all set to raise, and Kate’s equally set on keepin’ him. As for Elias, I witnessed his sorrow myself.”

  “I gave my blessing for the Beilers to give up their children months ago, jah?”

  “Must’ve taken some deliberating on your part, Bishop,” he offered.

  Joseph rose and walked to the sink for a glass of water.

  “Seems you’re talking now ’bout the present time . . . and the future.”

  “The present is fraught with sadness and pain for Elias and Rosanna.”

  Joseph turned, holding his tumbler of water. “And the future of the children?”

  “That’s why I’m here . . . hopin’ you might have some wisdom in the matter. The People are torn. Not just over the church split, but a good many are takin’ sides concerning the twins, too.” He shook his head.

  “Siblings bein’ raised in different families?”

  “At least for the time bein’.”

  Joseph scratched his gray head. “Till when?”

  “Until you intervene in this tomfoolery. John and Elias are in agreement on that. They’ll do your bidding, seems.”

  Joseph shrugged, smacking his lips. “Very well. I’ll meet with ’em next week.”

  Reuben hated to question his bishop brother. “That long?”

  “I say, leave plenty of time for it to work itself out.”

  Again he felt obliged to speak up. “A whole week will seem like an eternity to Rosanna.”

  “And to the wee twins?”

  Reuben hadn’t quite looked at it that way, but he supposed that was also true. He nodded. “Seems there’s great sorrow in the little ones’ hearts. Both of them.”

  Joseph bunched up his wrinkled forehead into a deep, searing scowl. He tugged hard on his beard, the length of it seeming to grow. “Mighty prickly situation, I’ll say that.”

  Not wanting to press the issue, Reuben chose not to ask yet again for an earlier meeting. His brother was known to rule on the side of mercy and usually had a sensible approach to the conflicts amongst them. They’d simply have to wait. “So next week it is,” Reuben stated.

  Joseph gave a quick head bob. “Jah. Tell them I’ll see to it then.”

  He thanked Joseph and hurried out the back door. Hopefully he’d gained some ground for both families, though he couldn’t begin to guess how Bishop Joseph would decide.

  ’Tis not for us to know the times and the seasons, nor the hearts of men . . . but to simply trust.

  During the ride home Reuben prayed for a satisfactory and pleasing outcome for both parties, one that would allow Eli and Rosie to grow up as siblings, not as cousins. But what Reuben prayed most of all was for them to come to know their Savior, however the Lord willed it.

  CHAPTER 32

  Her father was out hitching up the family carriage to the horse on Saturday evening as Nellie made her way out the back door after supper. Not wanting to be noticed, she hurried down the lane toward Beaver Dam Road.

  “Where ya headed, Nellie Mae?” Dat called after her.

  “Oh, just out for a bit.”

  “Why not ride with me, then?” he offered. “I’m heading over to visit Elias King. That the direction you’re going?”

  Altogether baffled, she accepted, welcoming the chance to be warmer when she arrived at the stone mill. “Denki, that’d be right nice.”

  He tightened the girth and checked the straps. Once he was seated and holding the reins, he said, “Hop in, Nellie.”

  She’d never felt so awkward before, riding alone with her father on the night meant for pairing up with a beau.

  “This here cloud cover’s goin’ to bring us more snow,” Dat said, making conversation.

  “Can’t say I’m eager for more.”

  “Me neither, tellin’ the truth.” They rode for a distance and then he added, “Weatherman says there’s a change comin’, starting tomorrow.”

  “Really?” Nellie was surprised her father would be privy to such news.

  “Heard it over at James’s.”

  She tensed up. “My brother’s got himself a radio?”

  Dat seemed reluctant to talk more on the subject.

  “Appears he’s facing in the wrong direction, least for now.

  No telling if he’ll keep heading thataway. He’s just itchin’ to be somewhere he’s never been.” Dat sighed. “Make sense?”

  “I think so.” She assumed her father was saying James wasn’t solidly on the wrong path, only toying with it. “There are some who have to find out for themselves that what they’ve been missin’ ain’t what they want.”

  Dat turned to her, smiling. “That’s exactly what I mean, Nellie Mae.”

  No wonder Mamma found Dat so interesting. With her many siblings, Nellie had rarely gotten time with him all to herself.

  “I have to say there’s plenty of hope to go around.” He leaned forward, looking up at the sky.

  She didn’t say more, and neither did Dat. His last words merely floated between them.

  Hope . . .

  Soon, when Elias’s drive came into view, Dat stopped on the road and offered to let her out there. She got out and waved at him, thankful he hadn’t asked where she was heading. With no moon to guide her, she was glad the old mill was only a short distance away.

  Nellie spied the back of Caleb’s open buggy as she made the bend in the road and experienced again the torrent of sadness she’d felt at seeing him with Susannah Lapp. There he was, waiting for her, parked around the corner from the mill.

  She willed herself not to cry and kept walking. She would not make a fool of herself running to him, though she was hungry for his embrace, longing for the good Caleb she knew and loved.

  “Nellie Mae . . . over here,” he called, stepping down from his courting buggy. He must’ve heard her boots on the snow.

  “I see you, Caleb!”

  He moved swiftly toward her. “I’m so glad you came.” He wrapped his arms tightly around her.

  After a time, she stepped away.

  “Ach, you’ve been walkin’ a long ways.” He reached for her hand and led her to the buggy. Then, lifting her up like a doll, he settled her in his buggy and
hopped up to join her.

  “I was fortunate to get a ride with my father.” She explained that Dat was going to visit Elias King. “Such a sad story that is.”

  “But the Kings made a poor choice, ain’t?”

  Nellie bristled. She recalled comforting Rosanna. “ ’Tis true Elias has moved away from the Ordnung. That’s made John and Kate furious.”

  “S’pose it’s understandable.”

  This night was starting out on the wrong foot. Why had he continued in this vein when his letter had indicated he wanted to patch things up?

  “I’d say a promise is a promise . . . and it must be kept.” She’d said what she truly thought about the Beilers’ offering their twins to Elias and Rosanna—what she thought about Caleb, too.

  She stuck her neck out even further. “Along the same lines, how am I to understand what you and Susannah Lapp were doin’ together last Sunday night?”

  “Nellie Mae . . . honey, surely you read my letter.”

  He slipped his arm around her. “That’s why you’re here, jah?”

  “I’m here ’cause I want you to tell me how you could go back on your word, being with another girl. We’re betrothed, Caleb.”

  “I told you . . .” He paused. “If I could do it all over again, I’d stand up to Daed and not seek out Susannah.”

  She stared at him, not yet sure whether to believe him.

  “Susannah’s nothin’ but trouble,” he said.

  “I’d hate to think where you’d be if you had defied your father.”

  “Out on my ear, like Rebekah.” He looked at her. “And I’d lose the land.”

  “And where would you go if your father kicked you out?”

  He was silent for a time. Then he sighed loudly. “I don’t know. Maybe Mamma’s folks—they have a vacant Dawdi Haus.”

  She couldn’t see his eyes, nor all of his face. His reply made her wonder. Was he merely throwing out an option to sound persuasive?