She sniffled and nodded.
“Sometime, Nellie Mae . . . when you feel you can trust me, can we talk about this again?”
Instead of speaking her mind, she kept her eyes on the lap blankets that covered her folded hands. “I’d rather not,” she admitted at last.
“All right, then. Suit yourself,” she heard him say as he moved to put some distance between them.
So much for Caleb asking me out again.
Furious at herself for letting him push her into a corner, she wondered if his curiosity was the reason he’d wanted her to go riding in the first place. She hoped not, yet she wasn’t naïve.
Have I been duped?
CHAPTER 13
“I’ll be seein’ you, Nellie Mae. . . .”
Caleb’s final words echoed in her ears as Nellie lay in bed. Sleep did not come easily. She’d slipped into the house, noticing two Bibles side by side on the kitchen table. She’d wondered about that as she made her way up the steps as quietly as she could, even holding her breath, wishing to make herself lighter on the stairs.
Poking her head into her sisters’ room, she had seen Nan was not home and in bed as Rhoda was. This had made her feel better about coming in past two o’clock. Some girls stayed out till nearly dawn, and she’d heard of couples who pulled off to the side of a deserted road, or in a covered bridge, stopping to neck rather than talk. She couldn’t help but wonder if Nan was involved in such behavior even now with her beau. Perhaps Nan was close to becoming engaged and published by the minister. If so, all the better, especially if the fellow was whom Nellie suspected: David Stoltzfus, the blacksmith’s apprentice.
As for the slumbering Rhoda, Nellie figured she was going to be a maidel, which was just fine if that’s what the Lord God willed. From what she could tell, Rhoda didn’t seem too put out at the prospect.
Tired, she stretched her left hand out to the spot where Suzy had always slept. For as long as she remembered, they’d shared this room—plenty of other things, too, including secrets. Not all, though, she thought sorrowfully.
“I still miss you something terrible, Suzy.” Nellie pressed her hand firmly into the mattress—never before had she felt this cold in bed. A tremor went up her back, and she supposed she wouldn’t feel so chilled if Caleb hadn’t probed so hard about her departed sister.
Despite how things had soured, they’d managed to make small talk later, the evening not a complete letdown. Caleb had even asked her to ride with him again next Sunday. Her anger not yet forgotten, she’d thought momentarily of turning him down, except that the young folks were to gather at a Singing for their own district, which sounded ever so fun. She felt a twinge of sadness at the thought there would likely be no guitar players this time.
Presently she wasn’t as upset anymore as simply feeling guilty for not having been plainspoken with Caleb. What would he think if he knew the things she suspected of Suzy? The rumor mill had hastened to convict her sister of many sins. But really, what did anyone know for sure?
Reliving Caleb’s earlier comments, she felt even colder. Had the ugly truth managed to surface, even though she’d buried Suzy’s diary?
Shaking her head, she defended Suzy in her mind. Whatever rumors Caleb had heard, they couldn’t all be true. Maybe none of them were. Oh, how she hoped it were so. . . .
Breathing deeply, Nellie Mae slid her hand back toward the warmth of her own body and clasped both hands in a solemn pose for her rote prayers. When she’d finished, a new sense of resolve welled up in her. I’ll let Suzy prove her innocence. First thing tomorrow, she would head into the woods, even before helping Mamma with breakfast.
Nellie pondered the risk—Suzy’s account of her last six months might offer something helpful, or it might present secrets better left unknown.
Is digging up the diary a good idea? Will I regret reading it?
She rolled over and tried to rest, glad tomorrow was an “off” Sunday—no three-hour Preaching service to sit through. It would be a short night and she despised dragging all day, consumed by thoughts of slumber. There would be plenty of visiting to do tomorrow, too, as the family made their rounds to all her married brothers and their families, starting with Ephram. Then on to Jeremiah and Thomas’s place; the twins shared a large divided farmhouse with one side for each brother and his wife and family. Next they’d travel up the road a piece to James’s, finishing their day of visits at Benjamin’s.
Before Sunday became too busy, Nellie Mae hoped to dig up Suzy’s diary and bring it home where it belonged, to the sweet haven of their room, safe at last from the elements of the far-off woods. Somehow, she would prove to herself that she had spoken the truth to Caleb.
Nellie recalled the meadow twinkling with lightning bugs and the sound of crickets filling her ears the deep summer day Suzy had urged her to burn her diary should anything happen to her. At first Nellie had been bewildered. “What on earth do ya mean?” she had said at the outlandish request.
“Ach, you know, if I should die young or something,” Suzy had replied with a shrug.
Now Nellie thought it odd, wondering if Suzy had been given a forewarning of her own death. Nellie had heard of such things, but she’d never put much stock in them.
Reluctantly Nellie had given her word to her sister, never thinking she’d have occasion to follow through with it.
Staring at the ceiling now, she considered the trek into the woods three months ago and realized she might not remember exactly where she’d hidden Suzy’s diary. No particular landmarks came to mind. As distressed as she had been at the time, it was no wonder. Certainly she’d failed to imagine then that she might someday wish to retrieve the journal.
Suddenly Nellie feared Suzy’s last words might remain as lost to her as Suzy was.
Getting out of bed, she went to the window and looked out at the land to the west, awash in moonlight. Would she lose a whole night of sleep over Suzy and Caleb, both?
She sighed, staring at the sky. Was Caleb glad they’d gotten better acquainted? Were his toes curled up in anticipation of next Sunday’s date, as hers were right now? She laughed at the notion. Caleb was a brawny farmer. If his toes were curling, they were working their way into muddy work boots.
She closed her weary eyes, the moon’s light upon her face. Lord willing, I’ll remember where I buried the truth of Suzy’s last days.
The same fervency that had motivated her to conceal the diary propelled her now to find and read her sister’s words. For her own sake, Nellie must discover all there was to know.
Even in the gray tint of their semi-darkened room, Betsy could sense something amiss. Reuben was walking up and down the hallway, pacing as though he was either worried sick or too keyed up to relax. Was it good news he contemplated? Or something worrisome? She never could quite tell with Reuben, because normally he concealed his emotions so well.
Just then he entered their room to sit on the chair, moving his hands and looking as if he were praying. Betsy leaned up, unable to sleep much herself. She pushed her loose hair back, the weight of it spilling over one shoulder and her white cotton nightgown.
“You’re awful twitchy, dear.”
At first he did not respond, but when he did, he kept his face toward the window, its green shade pulled high. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Oh, you know me . . . a light sleeper, no matter what.”
He stood, coming to the bed and placing one hand on the footboard. “Something wonderful-gut’s happened, Betsy.”
“Oh?”
He nodded his head, moving around to her side of the bed. He reached for her hand, clasping it in both of his. “It’s too good to keep to myself.” His eyes fairly shone in the dimly lit room.
“I know what we’ve been missin’, love.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then her lips, lingering there, his fervor so pleasing. “All these years, really.”
“Oh, Reuben . . . what is it?” She reached up and linked her arms around his neck.
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He kissed her again, leaning into her. “Well, to put it simply . . . I’ve been born anew.”
Alarmed, she felt herself go stiff. She’d heard the passages he had read to her following supper, unmistakably different from the Psalms or Proverbs or other passages from the Old Testament he usually chose. “Best not admit that to anyone else, Reuben.”
He pulled her close. “Ach, I’m ever so happy! We must know this salvation together.”
She could feel his joy in the strength of his arms, the way his head tipped toward hers, the way he held her so tightly, yet tenderly.
“I want to read all of the Gospel of John with you—I myself have been up reading it through this night.” Reuben released her, but his breath was on her face and he held both her hands, bending down to kiss one.
“Can it wait till morning?” She chuckled, taken with his enthusiasm.
“First thing,” he said, going around the bed and climbing in next to her. “How fitting that we have the whole day to ourselves.”
Betsy didn’t know if he meant they would read the Bible instead of visiting their sons and families. Truly, she wanted to hug darling Emma once again! But she also sensed something was mighty different about her husband, talking as openly and excitedly as he was. What would it hurt for her to know more, too?
Nellie blinked and slowly awakened, briefly confused. When she was fully alert, she realized from the position of the moon that it was but an hour or so before dawn.
In the cold dimness of her room, she brushed her hair and twisted the sides into a low, thick bun behind her head. She then dressed quickly, choosing her gray choring dress and oldest black apron.
Momentarily poking her head out her bedroom door, she determined the hallway was empty before slipping out and down the stairs, quiet as a feather, as she often did mornings when she arose well before dawn to begin her baking.
She hurried to the summer porch, where Mamma kept their long woolen shawls and heavier coats for work and dress. Sitting on the wooden bench her father had made specifically for donning shoes, she pulled on her work boots and wondered how cold it would be with the sun not rising for another hour. She would do well to bundle up—and quickly, too. “Time’s a-wastin’,” she told herself, stepping outside into the predawn light.
As she did so she heard muted conversation coming from the road. She turned to see a young woman waving at a black open buggy. Right away Nellie assumed it was Nan bidding her beau a fond good-bye. She pitied her sister for having been out in this nippy weather all the night long—pitied her and envied her, both.
A split second’s delay and Nan would see her, and then what would Nellie say? I’m going digging for Suzy’s diary . . . want to come along?
She turned to head for the barn, but Nan was already calling to her. “Nellie . . . wait!”
“Hullo” was all she could muster when her sister drew near. “You’re getting in kinda . . . well, early in the morning, jah?”
Nan nodded, touching both hands to her face. “I’m nearly froze.” She looked at Nellie Mae. “What on earth are you doing just comin’ home?”
This was her out if she chose to be deceitful. But Nellie knew better. “Oh, I’ve been home a good long time already.”
“Oh?” Nan eyed her.
“I got in late, but not as late as you.” She had no idea what else to say. She surely wasn’t going to stand here and chat, not when she needed to move along.
“So you walked all the way home, then . . . after the Singing?”
“No . . .”
“Ah, so you met up with someone.” Nan was quick.
Nellie changed the subject, just as any sensible Amish girl might. At this moment, she was particularly thankful for the secretive nature of their dating rituals. “Well, if you hurry, you’ll have an hour’s rest, at least.”
“Jah, ’spect so.” Nan suddenly looked all in.
“You all right?” Gently, Nellie touched her sister’s arm.
But Nan merely turned away. “I best be getting some sleep.” With that she headed for the back door.
Nellie made her way to the barn and selected a shovel that was not too large to lug through the meadow and over to the woods. She hoped Nan wouldn’t mention to either Rhoda or Mamma having seen her out here so early. Likely it wouldn’t matter to Dat if she was out wandering in the dark, as he was known to do such things, too.
Grabbing the shovel, she spotted a small flashlight and snatched it up, as well. She headed out the back way, through the barnyard, to avoid being caught. She cut across the dewy pastureland, veering north to the treed area, where she tried to recall her steps last June, after Suzy’s passing.
She crept along cautiously, aware how easy it would be to stumble in the murkiness. Darkness had never affected her before Suzy’s death, but now she felt unusually conscious of the lonely nocturnal hours. She shivered, longing for the warmth of Mamma’s kitchen.
In any case, she needed to be back in the house and cleaned up before the rest of the family awoke, ready to go visiting. She enjoyed their no-Preaching Sundays when they went around to each other’s homes. Truth be known, here lately, as much as she honored and respected their Plain tradition, Nellie Mae was becoming weary of the church services.
Shining her flashlight around the thicket, she had a sudden notion that she might have dreamed she’d hidden Suzy’s journal. Had she been too caught up with grief, only imagining she’d come here?
But no, she recalled carrying the diary beneath her petticoats in a makeshift pouch, created out of quilting scraps. She’d felt she must, at all costs, do her best to respect at least something of Suzy’s request. Maybe she had done so, far too well.
Pointing the flashlight at a row of bushes, she sighed. “I can remember endless recipes, but I can’t remember where I put Suzy’s diary?” How can this be?
CHAPTER 14
Before the sun peeked over the eastern ridge, Reuben was up and lighting the tall gas lantern on the dresser. Without a word, he headed downstairs and brought up the King James Bible to read aloud. Betsy lingered in bed, a bit droopy, as she often was at this early hour.
She watched him, the way his eyes were intent upon the words he presently read to her. The lines around his mouth seemed softer in the flickering light, and he removed his glasses partway through the chapter to wipe his eyes.
He looked at her from across the room, tears welling up again. “To think what God’s Son did for us—taking our punishment.” He covered his mouth for a moment, his emotion apparently too great for words. “Oh, Betsy . . . I want you to share this joy, too . . . this most blessed salvation.”
The expression on his face was nearly as convincing as the Scriptures he read, for she had never, ever seen Reuben weep—not at the funeral for Suzy, nor the burial, where they had laid their precious daughter to rest in the People’s cemetery. No, Reuben was not one to shed tears at all.
“May I read to you every mornin’, love?” he asked, coming around to her side of the bed.
“In secret?”
He sighed and placed his glasses on the bedside table. “Well, I guess that’s what I mean. Jah, for now.”
For now?
“What about evening prayers? Will you be readin’ from this chapter then, too . . . in front of the girls?”
He closed the Bible. “I’ll think on that,” he said softly. “My prayer is that each of our family will come to know the Savior, as I have.”
“Know Him?”
“Jah, love.” His face was against hers. “We’ll study His ways together.”
She sat up, snuggling against him, her head on his chest. “We won’t be found out in time?”
“I’m trustin’ the Lord God for our future, Betsy. It’s His doing, so we must heed the command not to worry.” He held her near, as he often did of a morning. But today there was more urgency in the way his arms wrapped around her, as if his embrace alone might convince her to join him in his newfound belief.
If she were honest, she would admit to her husband, dear man that he was, that she was floundering terribly in a mire of sorrow. Perhaps Reuben’s keen interest in Scripture—in passages forbidden and otherwise—might be exactly what the Good Lord had in mind for her during this time. If trustworthy Reuben was willing to swim against the current sure to come, certainly it was a good thing for her to consider, as well.
“Let me read the passage for myself.” She reached for the book, glad he’d brought up the King James Bible.
“Here, I’ll show ya where to start.” He thumbed through the pages.
“Denki,” she whispered.
“No need to thank me.” He turned his face toward the ceiling and closed his eyes. What looked to be a heavenly light shone across her dear one’s face. Betsy felt as if she’d seen a glimpse of heaven . . . where she secretly hoped with all of her heart that darling Suzy resided.
Nellie Mae propped the flashlight in the crook of a nearby tree, shining it down at the spot in the ground, her third attempt near the base of the tree she suspected sheltered Suzy’s secrets.
How many holes must I dig?
She stopped briefly to catch her breath but then she pressed on, burrowing deep into the soil with the shovel. There had been only a single frost thus far, so the ground was yielding enough. She kept working the spot until she was certain the diary was not to be found there.
She straightened and wiped her face with a hankie, glad she’d remembered to slip it into her pocket; surely her face must be smudged. She stopped to adjust the flashlight and push the shovel into the earth, creating yet another hole.
Daybreak came and Nellie stopped to watch the sun peep over the horizon, its golden light pouring over rolling hills. Despite her frustration, she drank in the sight, surrounded as she was by trees and all of nature. Normally she would be up to her wrists in dough at this hour, too intent on her work to greet the day.
Fondly she recalled now the scent of wildflowers around her feet in early summer. Suzy had commented on the colorful variety when she and Nellie had come walking up here in early June. They’d gone even farther to find the area where as young girls they had planted their favorite red columbine—from the buttercup family—to brighten the spot and attract hummingbirds. Year after year, the five-theParting_ petaled scarlet flowers had propagated rapidly amid the sun-dappled area.
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