The Forbidden

by Beverly Lewis

  Fact was, she had no way of knowing, because he had already made the choice to follow his father’s bidding. He’d flirted with Susannah, trying to . . . what? But no, Nellie wouldn’t ask what he’d had in mind, or what his father had hoped might come of the encounter. Too painful.

  Caleb broke the stillness, reaching around her to pull her close. “Ya sure you’re warm enough? You’re shiverin’ so. I’d hate for you to get sick again. What if we stopped off and got warmed up at my grandparents’ place? I could show you the Dawdi Haus I’m talkin’ about.”

  “Ach . . . I don’t know, Caleb.”

  “It’s where my Daed’s parents will move once you and I are married. Mamma’s folk live in the main house . . . so the Dawdi Haus is empty.”

  “Empty?”

  “Jah. There’s even a second smaller addition built on to that one, too . . . both vacant, though only for the time being. Someday it’ll be all filled up with our aging relatives— yours and mine.”

  She’d seen as many as four additions attached to a farmhouse, all graduated in size, so this was no surprise. It was his suggestion about spending time there that surprised her.

  “Well, are you sure it’s all right?” she asked.

  “What better place to pass the time on a freezin’ cold night? Courting in an open buggy in the dead of winter is downright silly, don’t ya think?”

  She heartily agreed, beginning to shiver already.

  “No one’ll know,” he said. “If that’s what you’re worried ’bout.”

  Before she could challenge him further, he added, “It’s not as if we haven’t been alone before. As a courting couple, we could even spend time in your bedroom, too.”

  Nellie was well aware of that—she had a special courting loveseat for just such an occasion—but she wasn’t sure why he was so quick to mention the latter now. All the same, he was quite right. No matter where they went, they’d be alone, so why not take shelter from the cold beside a nice fire?

  A golden light streamed from Rosanna’s kitchen as Reuben lifted the woolen blanket off his driving horse, preparing to head home. He would never forget the look of innocent anticipation on both Elias’s and Rosanna’s faces.

  He’d offered a brief prayer for them, asking God to protect and keep the young twins safe, as well. Elias had offered his own request for “wisdom from above” at the tail end, which gave Reuben hope. The youthful couple had grown in the knowledge of the Lord in a very short time, and already they were being tested beyond what Reuben himself thought he might be able to bear.

  He and his Betsy had never had trouble conceiving or birthing their nine children. There was something particularly tragic about having your first son offered under the guise of a heaven-sent gift, only to have him stolen away.

  Martha had asked Rhoda to read a selection from Uncle Arthur’s Bedtime Stories to Emma and Matty while Benny and Jimmy were having a shared bath. Feeling quite obliged to her brother and sister-in-law for offering her a place to stay, Rhoda was eager to do whatever she could to ease Martha’s nearly endless duties. Tonight Emma and Matty were clean and cozy in their nightclothes, ready for Aendi Rhoda to read the “Susie and the Scissors” story.

  Matty curled up next to her on the bed while Emma sat nearby, legs crossed beneath her long cotton nightgown and bathrobe. Midway through the story, Matty decided he wanted Mamma reading instead, and soon Emma was mimicking him. “Mamma, Mamma . . .” Rhoda realized she was a poor substitute for their mother.

  “How about I sing a song?” Rhoda asked.

  “Sing ’bout Jesus,” Emma suggested, smiling.

  Rhoda didn’t know what sort of songs she meant. “You sing one, sweetie.”

  “Yesus liebt mich . . .” Emma sang in her childish voice, Matty joining in as best he could. When they’d finished,

  Emma grinned and looked her full in the face. “ ’Tis true, ain’t so?”

  Rhoda scarcely knew what to say. Till now, she hadn’t thought of Jesus loving her. The preacher at the meetinghouse talked that way to be sure, but Rhoda had never thought of it so casually.

  Martha appeared in the doorway and came to kiss the children, signaling bedtime. Rhoda likewise said good-night and kissed their soft foreheads and said, “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

  “If they do . . . squeeze ’em tight.” Martha chuckled.

  Rhoda had to smile as she looked over her shoulder at them before closing the door. Such cute little ones. Now it was her turn to bathe, but she wanted to share tomorrow’s plans with Martha first, so she followed her down the hall, pausing at Martha and James’s bedroom door. “Do ya mind if I come in?”

  “Sure, Rhoda.”

  “Mind if I close the door, too?”

  Martha’s face brightened. “Ah, secrets?”

  “Not really.” But she thought again. “Jah, I guess ’tis.” She began to tell about Ken Kraybill and her supper plans for tomorrow night. “What do ya think?”

  “Sounds like you’re inchin’ away from the People mighty quick, jah?”

  That she was, and with little remorse.

  “My mother always said you should only date the kind of man you’d want to marry.” Martha went to sit near the foot of the bed.

  “I can see the benefit of that,” Rhoda said.

  “So what would ya want with an English fella?”

  “He ain’t Amish, that’s what.” Her words probably sounded brazen.

  Martha scrutinized her. “You’re ready to leave the Plain life behind?”

  “ ’Tis a puzzle.” Rhoda sighed. “Some days I think I am. Others, no.”

  Martha had a big talk on. “I s’pose you’ll discover some good out there in the world—look at us, we’ve got ourselves a radio . . . and a car, for goodness’ sake. James says we can spread the Gospel better because of it—gives us a way to see more believers and whatnot, too.”

  “So are ya saying you’re staying Plain, even though in some ways ya ain’t?”

  “We’re set apart but keen on traveling to church more than twice a month. With a car, we’ll get to the meetinghouse more quickly, maybe pick up others along the way. To us it’s simply a better buggy, not somethin’ to take pride in.”

  “It’s all so confusing,” admitted Rhoda.

  “The way James sees it, it’s hard to say you know you’re saved and still be Amish.”

  “You’ll dress Plain but drive a car and dial up folk on a telephone, ya mean?”

  “Why not?”

  Rhoda thought on that. It sure seemed like Martha had this figured out. If only she herself could be just as certain.

  Nellie felt awkward, even shy, as Caleb led her into the darkened house, pushing the door open for her and swiftly closing it behind him. He leaned back against it, gently pulling her into his arms. “Come here, love. . . .”

  They scarcely moved as their eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, even though if she were to admit it, she kept her own mostly closed. In spite of herself, in spite of all that had happened—all the forces that threatened to keep them apart—she savored how wonderfully near he was. Her broken heart seemed to mend in his reassuring embrace, and she pushed away the memory of all the sad hours after last Sunday’s scare, hoping . . . wishing what she’d seen with Susannah Lapp was a bad dream.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her ear. “Forgive me?”

  Could she? She felt herself starting to cry.

  “I had a choice, and I made the wrong one, I know now.” He caressed her face with the back of his hand. “I didn’t need to talk with Susannah to know she’s not who I want.”

  Nellie could scarcely speak for her tears. “I wish to believe ya . . . I do.”

  “I’ll make it up to you, love.”

  “Jah, I forgive you.” She wiped away her tears.

  He nodded. She could see him faintly in what little light reflected from the snow outside. The black silhouette of the barn, where he’d put his courting buggy and unhitched horse, filled m
uch of the view through the back window of the Dawdi Haus.

  “You’re sure this is a good idea . . . being here, Caleb?”

  He kissed her cheek, then the tip of her nose. “We’re together now. Someday soon we’ll always be.”

  Should she give in to his ardent affection and simply enjoy his nearness—this almost too-special closeness?

  “I love you, Nellie Mae.” He pulled her still closer.

  An unfamiliar, nearly delirious feeling swept over her. It was probably wrong to yield, but, oh, she wanted to. “My Caleb . . .” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

  He kissed her hairline, bumping back her Kapp in his enthusiasm. “I was scared I’d lost you.”

  Nellie tried to breathe, her face against his. Something clicked in her, like an alarm somewhere in the distance.

  Their fondness for each other was far too powerful to be given much rein. They shouldn’t linger here in this tantalizing seclusion. Slowly, consciously, she pulled back, holding him at arm’s length. “We . . . shouldn’t stay. . . .”

  “Why not?”

  She inched back. Being this close to Caleb made her all ferhoodled. “I think we’d best be goin’, truly.”

  “Let’s just talk awhile. Come, I’ll build a fire.”

  Even without the woodstove fired up, the kitchen of this snug Dawdi Haus was far warmer than Caleb’s open carriage. She shivered at the thought of returning to the elements for the long ride home.

  “What is it?” He gently tugged her back to him. “Are you frightened?”

  “A little, jah.”

  “There’s nothing to fear. I promise.” He led her through the darkness of the small kitchen to the equally cozy sitting area, where an upholstered settee was positioned near a black stove.

  She let him kiss her hand, unsure how long he planned for them to remain. “Caleb . . . I . . .”

  He pressed his finger on her lips. “You’re worrying needlessly. Let’s just enjoy this evening.”

  She longed to do exactly that . . . but without realizing it, she’d stepped away from him.

  Caleb pursued her. “Just pretend we’re riding in my courting buggy, Nellie Mae . . . how ’bout that?” He kissed her cheek. “Can you think of our time here like that?”

  Can I? This setting was far different than a ride in his open buggy, or even sitting beside him on the wrought-iron bench by the millstream. Anybody knew that.

  This time Caleb trembled as he held her near, and her only thought was how much she liked being this close to him.

  “Jah . . . I can,” Nellie said at last, her worry fading as she surrendered again to his tender embrace.

  CHAPTER 33

  The settee was nearly too small for the two of them, yet she and Caleb had been whispering for nearly an hour now, reveling in the warmth of the fire and each other. Her feet were tucked beneath her and she leaned on his chest.

  After a time, she stretched her legs and went to stand closer to the woodstove. “I like this little house. It’s perfect for two, jah?”

  “Well, too small for the family we’ll have someday.”

  He was right, of course—she wanted as many babies as the Good Lord saw fit to give them.

  Caleb patted the settee. “Come sit with me again, Nellie Mae.”

  She found her way back to him in the firelight, and he reached for her hand. Snuggling again, they talked for a while longer of the family they longed to have someday. Then Caleb gently caressed her face. “You’re ever so lovely. I can’t imagine a prettier wife. . . .” He paused, reaching up to touch her Kapp, letting his hand rest there momentarily. “Would you think poorly of me if I asked you to take your hair down, love?”

  Nellie was startled. Wasn’t it enough that they’d hugged so intimately?

  “I’ve seen it down before, remember?”

  She did recall the night he’d seen it unwound, long and flowing. The night she’d rushed to the door, sure he’d come to ask her to marry him in the privacy of her room. She had been robbed of that special time. They both had.

  Unexpectedly, she thought of Susannah. Wouldn’t she do Caleb’s bidding if the tables were turned? A jealous fury rose in her at a vision of Susannah reaching for Caleb.

  Slowly reaching up, she removed her head covering, slipping it off with ease. Then she began to slide the hair pins out, one by one.

  Caleb leaned over and, before she could respond, his hands mingled with hers, as together they undid her long, thick hair.

  He turned her face to him, and he cupped her face in his hands. His touch took her breath away. Was he going to lip-kiss her, their first real kiss?

  “You’re mine, Nellie Mae, no matter what my father says.”

  Nellie fought her senses. The distant alarm she’d sensed earlier had returned. What she knew was right—what Mamma had taught her—clashed against what she wanted to do with all of her heart. Suzy had written about feeling the same way in her diary, including a Scripture about despising what was evil and clinging to the good.

  But Caleb was miles different from other boys. She believed that much even as his hand slid down the full length of her hair. “I can’t count the times I’ve imagined this moment, Nellie.”

  She raised her face to him.

  He ran his thumbs lightly over her eyebrows before leaning near to kiss her lips softly. Lingering there, he backed away for a moment, looking longingly into her eyes. Then his lips found hers again with such fervency she felt dizzy. But she did not wince or move away, delighting in this new thrill.

  “Nellie . . . we’ll be together soon. Married. I promise.”

  She nodded slowly and then leaned forward and kissed him back.

  “Oh, love . . .” Caleb’s voice was husky as he rose to put out the gas lamp.

  Still nestled in Caleb’s arms, Nellie Mae fought hard the sleep that threatened to overtake her. Caleb had already succumbed, his head back against the settee, his chest rising and falling slowly.

  Nellie had always thought she’d wait to lip-kiss till after she’d said her wedding vows, but the warmth of the room and the tempting privacy here, in this tranquil place, were more than she’d bargained for.

  Glancing again at Caleb, she slipped her hand into his limp one. How long should she let him sleep before they headed back into the blistering cold? She must not stay out all night; nor did she want to worry Mamma, most of all.

  Nellie wished she might pin up her hair again, for she felt worldly with it cascading all over her, caught between her back and the settee and Caleb’s shoulder. Yet lest she awaken him too soon, she decided to let her hair remain long and flowing, trapped between her desire to fully embrace this night and the reality of the passing hours.

  No longer able to keep her eyes open, Nellie eventually gave in to the heaviness behind them. Just for a few minutes, she told herself.

  “Wake up, Caleb! Wake up, I say!”

  Someone was shaking him, and when he opened his eyes, Caleb looked into the glowering face of his grandfather.

  “Du muscht mir here! Hearken to me!”

  Gradually he became aware of his surroundings—the Dawdi Haus . . . and Nellie Mae asleep on his shoulder. And his grandfather, who was staring at Nellie, too, with her lovely hair strewn over her shoulders.

  Caleb sat up quickly.

  “I’ll be havin’ a word with ya, son. Upstairs.”

  Caleb rose without speaking, first releasing Nellie, who must also have slept through much of the night on the settee. The old stove was now as cold as it had been warm earlier. Nervously he followed up the narrow steps. Without a doubt, he would catch what for.

  Were the private hours alone with his beloved worth the tongue-lashing he was sure to receive? As Dawdi closed the door to the front bedroom, Caleb was suddenly concerned for Nellie Mae, who was all alone now. Would Mammi go in and speak straight to her, too?

  Her hair being down is an abomination.

  He recalled how responsive Nellie had been last evening. />
  How, once he’d assured her there was nothing to fear, she had seemingly enjoyed his touch, leaning toward him as they kissed. But there was plenty to fear, he knew. What have I done?

  Wide awake now, he sat down on the cane chair as Dawdi instructed. “Listen here, Caleb, if I were your father, I’d be out and out angscht—concerned.”

  Eyes cast down, he nodded. He knew better than to speak too soon, if at all. He must wait till Dawdi had his say and only then offer an apology. He had to do something to keep this mum, though. What a foolish thing . . . not count-ing the cost beforehand. Nellie was far more prudent than he—she’d asked repeatedly if they were taking unnecessary risks, and her fears had been proven true. For putting her in such a bad light, he was most sorry.

  “You ain’t turning out to be like your big brother Abe, are ya?” Dawdi bellowed.

  At the mention of Abe’s name, Caleb blanched. Abe was the family’s black sheep, as his father had called him for a full year following—that and so much worse. No, Caleb was nothing like that brother.

  “I’m waitin’ for your answer, Caleb.” Dawdi’s eyes were black as stones.

  “My intentions toward Nellie Mae have nothin’ to do with Abe’s mistake.” Caleb swallowed his dread and considered how shallow his defense would sound. After all, his grandfather had found the two of them asleep together.

  “Well, my guess is that you’ll be marryin’ this girl, jah?”

  “This year.”

  “The sooner the better, ain’t that right?” Dawdi’s eyes narrowed, growing more solemn. “I’ll let you in on a secret, Caleb. What you feel for Nellie Mae has nothin’ at all to do with marriage or a future together. Not commitment, neither.”

  Inwardly, Caleb disagreed. He loved holding Nellie in his arms, kissing her—he’d scarcely been able to stop. She was to be his bride, after all.

  Dawdi rose and stood in the window, his outline dark in the predawn light. “You like this girl a lot, that’s apparent. But if you love her, you’ll make sure she’s pure on your weddin’ night.”

  Caleb cringed. This Dawdi was more plainspoken than his own father, who had never talked about the birds and the bees or suchlike. “We did not sin as you believe,” he spoke up.