Dawdi made a vague gesture in the dim light. “I don’t mean to run this into the ground, but hear me out. The first kiss opens the door. You begin to crave more kissin’ and whatnot, and soon you yearn to have all of her.” His brow furrowed as he pulled on his long gray beard.
Dawdi walked toward him, paused, frowning, and sat down again. “There’s more, Caleb.”
He shifted in his seat. When would this stream of criticism cease?
“That’s Reuben Fisher’s daughter downstairs, jah?”
Caleb felt goose bumps down his back. “Jah, Nellie Mae is Reuben’s.”
A deafening silence, then—“I think you know your father’s stand on courting a girl from Preacher Manny’s bunch.”
“Jah, I do.”
“Yet you deliberately spent the night with her?” Dawdi harrumphed. “How do you think your father will react to this?”
My father? He stood up to protest. “I promise you, Dawdi, this will never happen again.”
His grandfather rose, eyes glaring. “That is for certain, and your father will see to it.”
Caleb groaned. “But, Dawdi . . .”
“How could you risk your land for a girl from the Fisher family? Haven’t you heard the stories—how Suzy died in the arms of an Englischer?”
Caleb dropped his gaze.
“Your inheritance hangs in the balance. Don’t be a fool.”
Dawdi eyed him, his meaning all too clear to Caleb.
Too stunned to speak, Caleb left the room.
Downstairs, he found Nellie weeping, her hair wound up in a makeshift bun, eyes red and swollen. Mammi sat erect in a wooden chair.
Because he’d brought all of this upon her, Caleb fought the lump in his throat as he helped her into her long woolen coat. Mammi gave them both a sour look as he ushered Nellie Mae out of the front room and toward the back door without another word.
Nellie could not speak for her embarrassment, not only for herself but for the dreadful things Caleb’s grandfather had presumed of them. Pressing her lips together to keep from crying, she shivered in the morning cold as she recalled the shouting concerning Abe Yoder, Caleb’s oldest married brother. Had Abe pushed the sacred boundaries as a youth? If so, to think David Yoder and his family had kept that secret till now.
Her thoughts whirled as Caleb hurried the horse, recalling how he’d shown such grave concern over Suzy’s sowing wild oats . . . over her suspected indiscretions—mere hearsay at the time. Yet, all the while, he’d been privy to his own brother’s very real sin.
It appeared no one was good enough. No matter how hard she strived, it was impossible to completely measure up. Preacher Manny had said so quite clearly the time she’d gone to the New Order church, adding that God’s Son did for us what we couldn’t do for ourselves.
With the way she’d longed for Caleb last night, Nellie was a sinner, too. She’d wanted him enough to prematurely push past the courtship boundaries, letting down her hair.
Even so, she mustn’t fret over what might come of her and Caleb’s recklessness. She’d made a poor choice, and now she must live with the consequences. She and Caleb had set themselves up for being found out, and that’s exactly what had transpired.
She shouldn’t have allowed her jealousy over Susannah Lapp to fuel her vulnerability. Yet she had no excuse. Nellie knew that she, and not Susannah, was responsible for her actions.
Knowing the truth as she did, she could easily let herself be disgusted with Caleb and his family. She thought of Caleb’s brother Abe and found herself grinding her teeth.
The Yoders were the biggest hypocrites she’d ever known!
Presently Caleb’s breathing was rapid, as fast as when suddenly they’d pushed apart last night, ceasing their kissing. But he also wore a look of both determination and frustration, one she had not witnessed before.
Truly, they were equally at fault. After all, hadn’t she encouraged his affection . . . giving hers so gladly?
Her emotions flew back and forth between love and sheer disappointment—with Caleb and with herself. She sat straight as a board as the horse galloped all the way back to Beaver Dam Road, coming to a halt at the end of her lane.
“When the dust settles, we must talk.” Caleb jumped out of the buggy and came around to help her down.
She needed no help and wished to go inside quickly.
Nonetheless, he pulled her up close and, before she could object, kissed her soundly on the lips. Nothing like the sweet yet passionate kisses earlier, this kiss felt reckless, even possessive. Slipping free, she stepped back and appraised her beau. “It was impossible not to hear what your Dawdi said ’bout your brother Abe.”
He looked her square in the eyes. “This doesn’t change anything for us, does it?”
She stared past him to the pale horizon. There was precious little time before her father would make his way to the barn. Mamma would be getting up, too, setting the table for breakfast.
I spent all night with Caleb, and now it is the Lord’s Day.
“Next time, we’ll play it smart and stay at the millstream,” he said quietly.
She looked back at the house, relieved the windows were still dark. “Next time? What next time? Didn’t you hear your Dawdi?”
“Oh, Nellie, have I wronged you so?” He reached for her hand.
“We can’t take back what we’ve already given.” She felt as guilty as if she’d lost her virtue. “Our first kisses will never be new again.” She whimpered in his arms, her face pressed against the harsh weave of his wool coat.
“No matter what Dawdi said, I can’t be sorry for what we’ve shared, Nellie Mae. I just can’t.”
She understood that. Oh, how she did! She loved him desperately, yet she was more afraid than ever for their future.
“I best be goin’.” Nellie made a move toward the door, but Caleb quickly seized her shoulders, turning her around.
“Nellie, wait . . .” He sighed loudly. “We may have gotten a bit carried away. I’m sorry for that.”
“So am I.” She turned and walked toward the house.
“This doesn’t change my love for you.” Caleb’s words hung in the air like frost clinging hard to a tree.
Nellie whispered his name with each snowy step . . . as guilt engulfed her.
CHAPTER 34
Nellie plodded out to the carriage bright and early to squeeze in along with Dat, Mamma, Nan, and Rebekah. This day she would be counted among those missing from the old church.
As dreadful as she felt over last night, she tried to dismiss Caleb from her thoughts while the buggy headed into the sun. All down the shimmering road, she wondered if the remorse she carried in her heart showed on her face. She’d peered into the small hand mirror in her room, searching for the slightest hint, fearing the People would suspect what she’d done.
A single moment had the power to alter one’s life, Mama had once told her. She’d thought the same of Suzy’s reckless living—her sister had learned of the perils of first love the hard way. Sometimes such affection was as short-lived as the morning dew. Mamma had always said it was old love—long love—that was best in the end.
Presently Mamma was commenting on how much warmer it was today than it had been for weeks.
Dat spoke up. “Months, it seems.”
Sitting behind her parents, Nellie tuned out the occasional remarks from Nan and Rebekah next to her, wishing for solitude. She was nearly too tired to sit up.
The fields were dazzling white as far as she could see.
Thanks to the unexpected sunshine, the day was brighter in all respects—a welcome change from the many gray weeks.
Nan and Rebekah continued their pleasant prattle, and Nellie went deep within herself, where the truth hurt most.
She’d thought more highly of herself than she ought. She was all puffed up, as Dat would say—filled with the pride of life, her life . . . thinking she could withstand temptation and putting herself right in the middle of it last
night. She had tempted Caleb and herself, believing she was invulnerable to sin. According to Suzy’s diary—which she’d opened and read part of again this morning—it was far better to be repentant than to continually try to be good enough . . . on her own strength.
Nellie in that moment realized why she’d attempted to be good and failed: She’d wanted to do things her way. That’s pride, pure and simple, Suzy had scrawled across the top of one diary page, when considering her desire to forge her own path.
Nellie and her younger sister had quite a lot in common.
Caleb stood outside the preacher’s farmhouse, dog tired. He looked around, aware that Nellie Mae was not present. Had he offended her beyond her ability to forgive him? Certainly she’d not been herself when he’d taken her home before dawn—and no wonder. He could kick himself now for setting them up for his grandfather’s accusations.
Today, following the common meal, Dawdi would seek out Daed and the hammer would drop. It was not possible to brace himself for a calamitous response from his father, but he would not hesitate to say that Nellie and he were actually innocent, no matter how things may have looked to Dawdi.
Looking now at Abe, where his brother stood in the lineup of men waiting to go into the house for worship, he noticed the set of his jaw. Was Abe always this solemn on the Lord’s Day? Or was he merely reverent, and nothing more? Not till today had Caleb paid much mind to Abe, who already had five children and another on the way. Was he content with his lot in life, without an inheritance?
I must get Daed to hear me out, he thought. If only I can get him to see the light . . . that Nellie Mae is still Old Order through and through.
It was foolish, perhaps, to hope, but after last night, Caleb was convinced he must have Nellie Mae for his bride at any cost.
In spite of a lack of appetite, Caleb forced himself to eat. He kept his eye on his grandfather in mute dread as the older man set down his coffee and rose unsteadily to his feet. Caleb watched over the rim of his own cup as Dawdi lumbered across the room with grim determination. Standing before Caleb’s father, Dawdi tilted his head to the side, beckoning Caleb to follow. At least the whole room wouldn’t be privy to the confrontation to come.
Realizing it was futile to avoid the impending clash, Caleb rose from the bench and followed his father and grandfather out of the room, pausing only long enough to squeeze his mother’s hand as he passed.
In the utility room, he pulled on his coat. From the small window, he glimpsed his father and grandfather already in the yard, their breath rising and mingling over their heads at the heated force of their words. There was no mistaking the reddening of Daed’s cheeks above his beard.
Caleb sighed and headed out to meet his fate.
His grandfather passed him on his way back toward the warmth of the house, his expression worrisome, though regretful nonetheless. Daed remained several yards off, hands on his hips.
“Son,” his father began, “I would not have believed it if your own grandfather hadn’t told me. Did I not forbid you to see that Fisher girl? That’s bad enough. But to carry on with her in your Dawdi’s house? What kind of—”
“We did nothing wrong.”
“All night, with her hair down—not wrong? What kind of son have I raised? And you wanted me to believe you loved this girl, respected her?!”
“I do, Daed, I plan to—”
“Were you hoping to force my hand? Well, you’re dreadfully mistaken if you think I would give you my land, my life’s blood, just so you can have your way with that loose girl!”
“Daed, please—”
“Do you reckon me ignorant? Just because you are— thinking with your body instead of your brain! New church indeed—a woman up to Eve’s old tricks, if you ask me!”
“I don’t deny I was foolish to take her to the Dawdi Haus. But that was my doing. On my word, Nellie is as innocent today as she ever was.”
“And how can that be?”
“It’s my fault, Daed, not hers. I bear the full responsibility.”
“Indeed you will, Caleb. A mighty heavy price you’ll pay. I demand you abandon your relationship with Reuben’s daughter and repent . . . to me. Then, and only then, will I consider handing over my land. Meanwhile, you have a single hour to pack your things and get out of my house.”
The words—and the cold calculation in which they were delivered—were a knife to his soul. He assumed his father would be angry, but he hadn’t expected this. Nor had Caleb expected to feel his father’s rejection so deeply. Still, this man was his Daed, his pillar and strength since boyhood. How could it not hurt to be condemned so mercilessly?
Since it was such a sunny, nearly balmy day, Rebekah suggested she visit the Old Order Amish family where she helped each week with the little ones. Nan offered to take her and invited Nellie Mae along. “Let’s get some fresh air.”
Even though Nellie had gone on the long ride to church, she jumped at the chance to ride with Nan and her friend. She felt disconnected and anxious for companionship.
It turned out Rebekah was invited to stay with the family, who offered to come by the Fishers’ later for her things. Nan and Nellie rode back home together, talking for a while about Rebekah’s eagerness to influence all of her old church friends toward saving grace. “She views livin’ with them as a way to witness . . . hopin’ to lead them to the Lord.”
Nellie Mae hardly knew what to think. Caleb’s sister had become a zealous soul in only a short time, a transformation she’d also observed in both Dat and Mamma, as well as in Nan. “God’s Word has amazing power to divide and to heal,” Preacher Manny had said that very morning. “Allow it to renew your mind . . . and your heart.” He’d quoted a Scripture, too, one she’d never heard. “Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus.”
Renew her heart? Would that remove the sting of her guilt?
I can be forgiven, she thought. Made clean—like new?
Looking out at the stark black trees as she rode, Nellie knew her goose was cooked, and by her own hand—just as Caleb’s was, only for a different reason. If she continued to soothe her conscience by going to the new church, which had pleased her family today, then Caleb would not want to court her.
How will he ever convince his father to relent now?
Deacon Lapp’s house came into view as they rounded a bend, and she saw Susannah outside with several of her sisters, playing with their dogs. Nellie’s heart sank at the sight of her.
Nan looked over at Nellie from the driver’s seat. “You’re so quiet all of a sudden.”
“S’pose I am.”
“Was ist letz?—What’s the matter?”
Nellie hesitated to tell Nan all that had transpired in the past twenty-four hours, yet here was Nan, wanting to chat, her face reflecting genuine concern.
Nellie took a breath, hoping she wasn’t handing off a burden to Nan. “Did you ever let your hair down for a beau? Ever even think of it?”
“Why would I?” Nan was staring at her. “Why’d ya ask such a thing?”
“Just wonderin’.”
“Well, I know some girls who do. But from what I’ve heard, it ain’t such a good idea. Leads to . . . well, worse things.”
Quickly Nellie changed the subject to Rhoda, and thankfully Nan latched on to that. “Should we stop over at James’s to visit? You miss her as much as I do, I’m sure,” Nellie Mae said.
“More than she prob’ly realizes.”
“We could drop in right quick.”
“Not today,” Nan said.
Nellie paused. “Surely she’s sorry she left, wouldn’t you think?”
Nan sighed and urged the horse onward. “She seemed bent on leaving, and we haven’t seen her since.”
A wave of renewed sadness swept over Nellie. “We can only hope she gets her fill of the fancy . . . and soon,” she replied.
It was a bit chilly in the Kraybills’ formal dining room, and Rhoda was glad to be offered some tea. When it was serve
d, piping hot, the steam floated above the dainty cup. She tried to hold it just so, the way she’d seen Mrs. Kraybill do. Mr. Kraybill, on the other hand, was having black coffee, as was Ken Kraybill, their blue-eyed nephew. His eyes weren’t the only appealing thing about him as he sat tall in his chair across from her, frequently singling her out with his friendly gaze.
The tea gradually warmed her, and when it came time for Mrs. Kraybill to serve her homemade strawberry cheesecake pie, Rhoda noticed both Ken and Mr. Kraybill waited until Mrs. Kraybill picked up her small fork—the only one left at each place setting—before reaching for theirs.
She felt rather ignorant, though relieved at having managed to somehow make it through the meal this far. The multiple forks and spoons on either side of the lovely china plates, the neatly pressed white linen napkins, and the crystal vase of flowers that graced the center of the table—all of it was a wholly new experience.
Even knowing when to speak was a challenge. She’d taken small bites, like Nan and Nellie Mae always did, to make sure it didn’t take long to quickly chew and swallow before replying when someone spoke to her. Thankfully the food was just delicious, all made from scratch, as she knew Mrs. Kraybill enjoyed doing.
Self-conscious in her outfit, despite Mrs. Kraybill’s— and even Martha’s—assurances that she looked very nice, Rhoda had to remind herself to breathe. Especially when she looked up only slightly to ask for the sugar and felt Ken’s eyes on her. Did he think she looked like a Plain girl masquerading in an Englischer’s getup? Or did he even know she was Amish?
Thank goodness for Mr. Kraybill, who had carried the conversation nearly the entire meal. Presently it was Mrs.
Kraybill who was telling an amusing story about having gone to the pantry and realizing one of the children had removed most of the labels on the soup cans. They’d had what she called “mystery meals” for weeks on end.
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