Ken chuckled, and Rhoda watched the corners of his mouth turn up, accentuating his handsome features.
Rhoda took another little bite of the pie and was reaching for her teacup when Ken addressed her. “Have you lived in this area long?”
“My whole life.”
Mrs. Kraybill intervened. “Rhoda’s father raises horses not far from here.”
Not a peep about her Amish background. Was that purposely left out? Try as she might, Rhoda did not recall Mrs.
Kraybill ever saying that Ken was aware of her being Plain.
But now that she was here, flaunting fine and fancy clothes and a loose, English-style bun, she guessed it might not be such a good idea to come right out and spoil things—not with the admiring way Ken looked at her.
Pushing away the memory of another Englischer’s gaze, she asked, “How long have you lived in Strasburg?”
“Nearly three years. My family lived and farmed in the Georgetown area, southeast of Strasburg, where I grew up.” He paused to take a sip of his coffee before continuing. “I purchased an old house listed on the National Registry of Historical Buildings, right on Main Street. It’s something of a real-estate investment. I live on the third story and rent out the first and second floors.”
“Like a bed and breakfast?” Rhoda blushed, realizing he probably was not a cook, unless he hired someone to do that.
His smile lingered and she had to look away. “Interesting you mentioned that, because I’ve thought I might want to go that route someday.”
She wondered suddenly if he was looking for a cook, perhaps. But no, surely that was not why he was sitting here at the Kraybills’ candlelit table. His presence was, after all, Mrs. Kraybill’s doing, or so Rhoda assumed.
“Shall we move somewhere more comfortable?” Mrs. Kraybill asked, getting up.
Rhoda rose as well, reaching for her plate and the teacup, thinking she would help by carrying them into the kitchen.
“Leave everything on the table,” instructed Mrs. Kraybill in a near whisper.
The adjournment into the front room, or living room as Mrs. Kraybill was fond of calling it, was more relaxing for the three of them than it was for Rhoda, who was seated next to Ken on the sofa.
Glancing occasionally at Mrs. Kraybill, who seemed very pleased with herself, Rhoda put two and two together.
Here was a young man who looked to be in his mid- to late-twenties, yet with possibly no prospects for a wife. Had he, too, been passed over for some reason? She studied Mrs.
Kraybill’s demeanor, wondering.
The talk turned from Ken’s favorite movie star, Sean Connery—whoever that was—to Mr. Kraybill’s obvious concern over the cost of the war in Vietnam. “Over twenty-five billion dollars a year. Imagine that!” he said with a fierce frown.
Well, Rhoda certainly couldn’t begin to. She wasn’t even certain how to write a number that big, let alone comprehend how it might otherwise be spent. Mr. Kraybill obviously had no such difficulty himself as he sat with one leg balanced on his other knee. “Really,” he said, leaning forward as if to emphasize his next point, “this war has become too personal for LBJ.”
Rhoda listened carefully, concerned that Ken might think she was a bump on a log. She’d heard the president referred to by his initials before, but she didn’t know enough about politics to express an opinion.
Just now she felt like a fish flopping on dry land. How might she ever fit in with fancy folk, really? It was one thing to work for them, but to socialize? She must start reading the newspaper more carefully, during her morning break.
More interaction with English folk was key if she truly wanted to be part of their world.
When it came time for the Kraybills to put their children to bed, Rhoda and Ken found themselves alone. Unexpectedly, he asked if he might call her sometime, and she felt terribly shy. He seemed very gentlemanlike—nothing like the dreadful Glenn Miller—and Rhoda thought it might be nice to spend more time with him. Another way to get better acquainted with the English world. Demurely, she nodded and smiled before giving him James and Martha’s new phone number.
“I’ll look forward to it.” Ken smiled a most pleasant smile.
“So will I,” she replied, glad she hadn’t said “jah.”
CHAPTER 35
All six of them, including babies Eli and Rosie, were situated in the bishop’s front room Wednesday afternoon. The two couples faced each other, Rosanna cradling Rosie as she sat beside Elias, and Kate holding Eli, next to John.
Bishop Joseph stood before them, all in black, except his white shirt. He explained to them the purpose of the meeting, his expression grave. Swallowing hard, Rosanna could hardly keep her eyes off little Eli, sound asleep in Kate’s arms. Oh, but if he hadn’t grown in the past week! She longed to hold him again, to breathe in his sweet baby scent, but she refused a single tear, determined to keep a sober face, no matter what might result from this most awkward and difficult gathering.
“Are the four of you in unity?” the bishop asked.
John and Kate shook their heads no.
“Elias and Rosanna?”
“We pray only for God’s will.” Elias’s voice was steadfast.
“The outcome, then, is not your concern?” asked the bishop, singling out Elias.
“We desire what is best for these little ones” was his confident reply, and Rosanna regarded him with a healthy dose of pride.
“And you, John? What is your answer to that?”
John’s face turned red. “This here’s my son, and –Rosanna has our daughter . . . over there with her.” He breathed slowly and Kate momentarily put a hand on his arm. “We’ll be raisin’ the twins as cousins, if you see fit, Bishop. ’Tis how we look at it.”
Everything within Rosanna began to churn. “No . . .”
The word slipped out before she could stop it. She looked to Elias for support, groaning inwardly.
“My wife thinks of Eli as her own—we both do. We love him just as we love Rosie and intend to follow through with our agreement to raise them both.” Elias looked across at Kate. “You’ve broken your cousin’s heart, Kate. Truly you have.”
The bishop cleared his throat. “No stone throwing, Elias.”
A strike against them; the air went out of Rosanna.
Bishop was leaning toward the Beilers, it seemed.
“Kate, you’ll have your say-so now.” The bishop gestured to her.
“Eli’s the fruit of my womb. He belongs in the church of his forefathers.”
“Jah, growin’ up in the Old Ways,” John spoke up. “We can’t think of our son learnin’ heresy!”
Elias rose to his feet. “Did not the Son of Man come to show us the way to the Father? Aren’t we all sinners, in need of redemption? You call that heresy, to be counted among the saved?”
John leapt from his chair. “Our son should be shielded from the lies of Satan. Declarin’ you’re saved? That’s the worst of it!”
“And Rosie?” The bishop stepped forward. “Is it right for her to know and embrace such teachings?” He eyed John and Elias. Making a motion toward the chairs, he said, “Please sit.”
Both men took their seats. The room became hushed once again.
The bishop shook his head. “No amount of reasoning will solve this knotty problem. I see it as being a bone of contention all the days of these youngsters’ lives . . . and yours.” He scrutinized each couple.
Rosanna prayed silently, trembling within and without. Show mercy, dear Lord . . . give us your grace.
Bishop Joseph continued, “There will be no end to the strife ’tween your families.” Alternating his gaze between the couples, he pulled on his long beard. “I’ll leave the four of you to have one last chance to hash this out. When I return, I want you cousins to have come to a reasonable solution.” Turning, the bishop left the room.
Rosanna looked down at darling Rosie—her tuft of light brown hair was so thin and silky. Somehow she managed to
rest peacefully amidst this storm of wills.
Elias sat stiffly, tension emanating as he spoke suddenly. “John and Kate, don’t you see what we bear . . . the pain we have lived with these few days without Eli? We love that little boy dearly.” Elias paused as if trying to maintain his grip on his emotions. “His sister Rosie has been cryin’ all week without him next to her in the playpen. Multiply that by all the years ahead . . . it ain’t right.”
The silence was broken only by Eli’s quick gurgle as he moved in his sleep.
“Kate, won’t you take pity on your cousin? On Rosie?”
Elias asked.
“We’ve said our piece,” John replied. “You’ve made a poor choice, leaving the church of your baptism . . . and we’re takin’ back our gift.”
Kate spoke up. “Out of the kindness of our hearts, we’ll allow you to keep Rosie as your own. That’s more than fair.”
“Aw, Kate,” Elias said, his voice quavering. “Can’t ya see? That’s awful wrong.”
The bishop returned, wearing a deep frown. “Is there no resolution, then?”
“We’ve offered Rosie, but they want both babies,” John told the bishop.
“Well, then. I have no choice but to rule in this unspeakable situation.” The man of God straightened to his full height.
Rosanna noticed the room brighten as unexpected sunshine streamed in from behind a cloud, filling the front windows with light. They’d gathered in this large room many times over the years for Preaching, blending their voices in one accord with their kinfolk . . . including John and Kate.
“The Lord God created these young ones as unique and separate people, yet they are bound fast by unseen cords.”
Going to Eli first, the bishop touched his head, lingering there. Then he moved across to Rosanna and placed his hand on sleeping Rosie’s head.
Kate scowled at Rosanna, who remained silent.
Looking helplessly at her husband, Rosanna held back her tears. All the happy days and years ahead . . .
Then, though her heart was breaking, she could no longer keep still. “Bishop?”
He looked at her tenderly, his eyes filled with understanding, as if he knew what she was compelled to say. “Speak your piece, Rosanna King,” he urged her.
“Ach, the babies shouldn’t be torn apart.” Her chin trembled. “Eli and Rosie must grow up as brother and sister, as the Lord God created them in their mother’s womb.”
“Rosanna . . .” Elias touched her arm. “Love . . .”
She dared not look at her dear husband or she might lose heart. Continuing, she said, “I believe it is better for John and Kate to raise both babies.” With that, she rose and carried Rosie to John and placed her in his arms, blanket and all. Then, faltering as she went, Rosanna returned to Elias, who took her hand as she sat down again without saying more.
The bishop wiped his own tears. For more than a minute, silence reigned. “You, Rosanna, are a true and faithful mother,” he pronounced. “I pray you might birth many-a wee babe, should the Lord God see fit.”
Ashen, Elias looked at her. But there was no protest in him as they stood in unison and made their way through the kitchen toward the back door, neither looking back.
Dear Lord, please give me strength, thought –Rosanna, suppressing a flood of tears till she was safely in the carriage.
Much to Nellie Mae’s delight, the sun was making a steady reappearance, and the glossy white acres stretched out to touch the brilliant blue of the sky. She had been hankering for a walk all morning, so when Nan offered to stay at the bakery shop with Mamma, Nellie stepped out for some air.
I feel much lighter without all those layers. Making her way toward the one-lane bridge, she headed east on the narrow strip of road. It wouldn’t be long till the creek was running free. She smiled at the memory of splashing its waters on her face one long-ago spring morning at Suzy’s suggestion. How surprised she’d been at dipping her hands into its cold—like liquid ice. Suzy had delighted in its freshness, claiming, “It wakes a body up clean to the quick.”
She hadn’t been walking for more than fifteen minutes when a car came toward her and slowed to a crawl. A man who looked about her age rolled down his window.
“Excuse me, miss . . . you must live around here. I think I’m lost.”
She hadn’t had much contact with English men, so she was leery of going near the car. Even so, she stopped.
“I’m trying to locate a particular Amish family,” he went on. “I’ve already counted more than a dozen Fishers on the mailboxes. Like looking for a needle—”
“In a haystack?”
He laughed merrily, his gaze softening.
“Which Fishers?” she asked, keeping to her side of the road.
“They had a daughter Suzy, who drowned last year.”
The air went out of her. Surely she was staring at this stranger. What could this be about? she wondered. “Suzy was my younger sister,” she admitted ever so slowly.
His eyes registered momentary sadness. “Then . . . you must be Nellie Mae.”
She nodded, wondering how he knew.
He opened the door and stepped out. “I’m Christian Yoder . . . my younger brother, Zachary, was your sister’s boyfriend.”
Startled, she noted a slight resemblance to Caleb as he drew near. How long ago was it that she’d determined to search for Suzy’s friends, and here one of them was smiling at her?
“This is a surprise,” she managed to say.
“It sure is—all those Fishers, and I run into you.”
He was taller than Dat, and his hair looked nearly golden in the sunlight. In a burst of memory, she recalled Suzy saying this brother had invited her rowboating the day she’d drowned.
Christian reached into his jacket and pulled out a photograph. “Zach wanted Suzy’s closest sister to have this. That’s you, I guess.” Slowly he handed it to her, as if uncertain whether she’d take it.
She gasped to see Suzy’s familiar freckles, warm smile, and pretty blue eyes looking back at her. Behind her sister, sunbeams danced on the water of a lake. Tears sprang to Nellie’s eyes. “Oh, Denki, it’s wonderful-gut to see Suzy again.” She brushed back her tears.
“I realize your loss is still raw for you . . . for all of your family.” He paused, glancing down at his feet in the snow before lifting his gaze again. “Suzy talked of you often, Nellie Mae.”
A little sob escaped her. “Ach, I’m ever so sorry. . . .”
“Don’t apologize. I can’t imagine losing Zach or any of my brothers.” He dug into his jacket pocket again. “Here’s something else.” He held out a gold bracelet. “Zach gave this to Suzy not long before . . .” His voice trailed off.
Nellie stared at the bracelet. “Suzy must have loved it.”
“My brother was going to ask her to go steady that day.” Christian hesitated momentarily. “Zach’s young, but he loved her. Everyone noticed the special something they had. An amazing pair . . . they would have been great in marriage someday . . . in ministry, too.”
“Ministry?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Zach loves to preach, and Suzy was encouraging him in that direction.”
Suzy was in love with a preacher?
She listened, soaking up every word. Again, she studied the bracelet, noting its inscription: Not by works of righ-teousness but by His mercy He saved us.
“Based on the first verse Suzy ever memorized,” Christian explained.
She couldn’t believe he was offering the bracelet. “Doesn’t your brother want to keep it?”
“Not anymore. The bracelet’s for you or your family.”
“Thank you ever so much.” She didn’t know what more to say, though she cherished both gifts. She found herself looking at the forbidden picture again, knowing she would treasure it most of all. A far better reminder of Suzy than her Kapp strings!
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Nellie Mae Fisher,” Christian said, smiling a little.
She
felt nearly too embarrassed to speak, yet she knew he was only being friendly. “Will you tell Zach how much this means to me?”
He smiled again. “I’ll do it. He’ll be glad to hear you liked them.” He leaned slightly forward. “Please extend our condolences to the rest of your family, especially from Zach.”
“So kind of you . . .”
He seemed reluctant to leave, or at least she sensed as much. “Were you heading somewhere?” he asked.
“No,” she said quickly, lest he offer her a ride. “Just out getting some sun.”
He nodded, gave a half wave, and headed back to his car.
Nellie turned, walking swiftly as she carried Suzy’s bracelet and picture. As Christian Yoder’s tan car pulled away, she dared to raise her eyes to follow it all the way down the road, toward Route 10, till it became a shiny dot in the distance.
CHAPTER 36
Upon their return from the bishop’s, Rosanna washed away her tears and dried her face. She asked Elias to help her set up her quilting frame, determined to return to making quilts for sale, just as before. Keeping her hands as busy as possible was the best way to keep from breaking down and weeping. Her two sisters-in-law might not be interested in helping anymore, now that she and Elias were attending the new church. But Elias reminded her that the Lord both gives and takes away, and His name was to be praised, no matter.
Before today, she’d feared how their jumping the fence might affect extended family relationships. Yet despite the hard events of this morning, peace prevailed in her heart. Who besides the Lord could possibly know the future?
Returning without the twins to this house, the place where she and Elias had intended to raise Eli and Rosie, was the second most difficult thing she’d done today. The first was placing precious Rosie in John Beiler’s arms. Now she must relinquish the babies in every way, praying for the strength to do so . . . and for the ability to forgive.
The loving gift Kate offered me is gone.
Unable to hold back her tears, Rosanna folded up the playpen in the sitting room. At least her darlings were together, and she and Elias would surround them daily with prayer.
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