The Parting

by Beverly Lewis

  Unable to sit still and hide her feelings a moment longer, Nellie rose abruptly from the table. “Who wants ice cream with Nan’s cake?” she asked.

  Nan frowned, obviously not pleased at Nellie’s attempt to usurp her role of server. Rhoda’s mouth gaped open, and she appeared ready to reprimand Nellie. Of course, she had every right to, being older.

  “Girls, please sit down, the both of yous,” Dat said, surprising Nellie and obviously Mamma, too, who wore a concerned look on her sweet face.

  “I’ve got something on my mind,” he continued when Nellie and Nan had taken their seats. “Something that will change the direction of our lives.”

  Suzy’s shenanigans lingered in Nellie’s mind in spite of her father’s words. What possibly could alter her life more than what she’d already discovered? “Your mamma and I have accepted all the teachings of Jesus.” Dat’s face turned solemn as he spoke the words, and Nellie’s stomach clenched. “We want to know more, to study the New Testament with others who are saved, as we are.”

  Rhoda raised her eyebrows, and Nan turned white.

  “Saved?” Nan blurted out.

  Nellie gulped, immediately thinking of Caleb. Ach no, not that!

  CHAPTER 26

  Nellie felt as though she were drifting, her mind pulling her backward to Dat’s frightening announcement . . . and forward, into the future, which seemed less clear than ever. She tried her best to get her bearings in the midst of a steady stream of customers all Friday afternoon. But her attempt to remain rooted in the here and now was futile.

  It seemed inevitable that the People would band together against this notion of Dat’s and follow the bishop on the matter of salvation. Declaring it as a completed act was ever so prideful, or so they were taught. Yet the way her father talked, one of their own preachers wanted to have meetings to study the Bible with as many families as were interested.

  Dat had quoted the verse “as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” as his prayer for his family. Naturally he would desire his offspring to follow him in his beliefs, although it would be a real miracle if all five of her brothers abandoned their baptismal vows for this. Ephram, for one, was headstrong—and firmly tied to the Old Ways. So was Benjamin. Wasn’t the Ordnung supposed to be obeyed, without exception?

  Ach, how can Dat expect us to follow in this?

  Between customers, Nellie stepped outdoors to soak in some of the sunshine and promptly developed a headache. A tightness wrapped around her head, like a wide rubber band pressing on her brain. Still, she lingered outside, inhaling the spicy fragrance of midautumn. The sky shone as if newly washed.

  Suzy’s first missed autumn . . .

  Nellie spotted several sugar maples, their leaves turning to reddish orange at the edges. She took heart in the promise of blazing splendor soon to come.

  Her thoughts turned to Mamma. No good thing could come of handing over the diary to her mother or anyone else. And Nellie knew she should not have given in to such impulsive crying yesterday.

  Watching a car filled with more customers pull into the lane, she realized suddenly that their English neighbors, or even some of the People, surely must have bumped into Suzy last spring in town during her wild times. She would have been difficult to miss, spending time with such a crowd in her Plain attire.

  Suzy did nothing at all to conceal her rebellion. How far did word spread?

  Nellie feared that this, coupled with Dat’s announcement at the dinner table, was merely the beginning of their sorrows. “So the rumors were true,” she said to herself.

  Do I dare admit this to Caleb?

  Nellie couldn’t help but think the life Suzy had lived—as well as the one Dat seemed determined to live—could doom her chances with her beau.

  Betsy had never dreamed she would do such a thing as violate the privacy of a daughter’s bedroom. Yet she felt convinced this search for Suzy’s diary was justifiable. Even so, she hadn’t decided how she would explain the deed to Nellie Mae. In some strange way, Suzy’s writings struck her as Nellie’s rightful possession.

  She had sensed something change in Nellie nearly overnight. Her daughter appeared terribly depressed, and it worried Betsy no end. She felt the tension in her neck and shoulders as she relived the heartbreaking sound of her Nellie-girl crying her eyes out.

  Betsy stood at the threshold and scanned Nellie’s room—the bed, the dresser, the large rag rug. Am I strong enough for this? Do I really want to read Suzy’s account of things?

  Betsy knew what to look for because she’d seen Suzy writing in her little book . . . her head tilted down close to the page, hand fisted around a stubby pencil. Oh, but the very memory triggered pain—an intense one at that. Do I need to know whose influence our Suzy was under?

  She wondered where Nellie Mae might keep such a book of secrets . . . and why Nellie herself had felt the urge to learn more about Suzy’s rebellion.

  Going to sit on the bed quilt, Betsy touched the small table where Suzy had set the lantern at night. Betsy recalled the many times she herself had sat in this very spot, soothing Suzy’s feverish brow with her hand or bringing a homemade chicken corn soup to either daughter when she took ill. Her heart felt a pang at the memory of Nellie Mae and Suzy sitting on the bed, dangling their short legs as they hugged each other, giggling over their little-girl secrets.

  This room holds so many memories. She rose and went to the dresser, seeing an unfinished circle letter lying there. She picked up the small hand mirror and frowned into it, aware of new lines in her face—all the not-so-subtle changes created by the sadness around her mouth and eyes.

  Setting the mirror down, she wanted more than anything to know what would have caused Nellie Mae to weep here, in this room.

  Both Nellie and I want answers, evidently, she thought. Even Reuben had so many unanswered questions; he just hadn’t voiced them, at least not to her.

  Betsy walked back to the bed and gently lifted both pillows, glancing beneath them. Moaning softly without meaning to, she worried she might be walking over Nellie Mae’s still raw emotions if she pressed forward. It wasn’t like her to trample on the trust of her daughters. Nellie might be horrified to know her mamma was snooping about while she was out closing up the bakery shop for the day.

  Such a hardworking girl she is.

  Fluffing the pillows and smoothing the coverlet quilt, Betsy eyed the bedside table yet again. Would Nellie bother to hide the diary? Or simply keep it nearby?

  When she opened the drawer of the small table, the air went out of her for a moment. Slowly she reached for it, lifting Suzy’s journal to her lips and pressing it there for ever so long, like clasping a gem to her heart.

  It was enough to merely feel the book in her hands, against her cheek. “Oh, Suzy, I wish I might’ve helped keep you innocent. . . .”

  She placed the diary back in the drawer. She was not as upset with herself for intruding on Nellie’s special bond with her sister as she was sorrowful for a life lost for all eternity.

  Lingering there, her eyes fixed on the diary, Betsy decided not to read a single page unless Nellie offered it. Otherwise, I might lose her, as well.

  Caleb lifted the reins and clicked his tongue. Four months ago this week, Suzy Fisher drowned, he thought. How’s Nellie Mae taking the terrible anniversary?

  The hay wagon jolted forward, and he remembered precisely where he’d stood in the tobacco-drying barn when the astonishing news had reached his ears. A group of carefree Englischers drove to the lake at Marsh Creek State Park for a day of fun. None was wearing a life jacket. One Amish girl drowned. . . .

  For days he’d walked in circles, concerned for the girl who’d stolen his heart in a single glance, realizing his pursuit of her would have to be pushed back. He’d thought at the time that it didn’t matter what you’d done up till the point of your death—when your number was up, that was that.

  Yet deep inside, where he squelched the more difficult questions, Suzy’s death
was to him like a night without a single star. Venus snuffed out, never to shine like the white jewel it was.

  His gaze roamed over the alfalfa field. He had always enjoyed the way the breeze rippled through it in waves. All the many acres surrounding him called to his sense of beauty . . . and pride. To think this fine spread would someday be his. He was ready to claim his inheritance, even though it would be yet another year before he could do so, Nellie Mae by his side. Daed had said at breakfast that any day now they’d sit down and talk over the plan for the farm’s transition to Caleb. He couldn’t imagine being more grateful for the gift that was to be his. For this reason alone, he would always defer to his father, including him in the day-to-day management of the farm. Daed and Mamm would be well cared for. He’d see to that.

  He chuckled outright. His hope of writing Nellie Mae a letter had not been acted on as the busy week wore on. No time had surfaced to sit privately in the kitchen, what with Mamm and his sisters hovering. Besides, he saw more wisdom in directly telling Nellie Mae the things in his heart.

  Jah, all the things . . .

  He looked forward to the day when he could make her his bride . . . but first things first; he had yet to pinpoint the location of her bedroom window, for when the big day arrived. Of course he could learn it by merely waiting around after letting Nellie out by the road tomorrow, following the hog-butchering frolic—watch to see which window lit up. A good plan.

  Caleb thought how ridiculous he must look out here in the middle of the field with the mule team and a big grin on his face.

  Daed will think I’m a man in love . . . or a fool.

  Reuben rode fast after an early dinner Saturday, passing Ephram’s place as he headed toward his firstborn sons. Jeremiah and Thomas would hear from him today about God’s plan for man’s salvation, as stated in the Good Book.

  Although he had been praying for this encounter for a while, he asked now for divine wisdom and the right words to say.

  Thomas and Jeremiah were the best starting place among his grown children, because if he could persuade them to get involved in Bible study, they would more than likely encourage their younger brothers to follow in their footsteps.

  Reuben’s heart sang with praises as he rode toward the sunset, making his way along Beaver Dam Road, then turning south on Plank Road. God had already worked a miracle by turning Betsy’s heart toward Him so swiftly—Manny’s, too. He noted a few dozen feathered stragglers perched high on a telephone wire. When all was said and done, how many of the People would heed Preacher Manny and pursue saving grace? He couldn’t help but wonder how he’d feel if he and Cousin Jonathan were the only ones sticking their necks out; he was mighty thankful they had Manny to look to for direction.

  He thought of Bishop Joseph, concerned about his older brother’s health. Would he respond soon to his and Manny’s request? Perhaps having a minister conducting the studies would somehow suffice. He could only hope for a yea.

  All in God’s hands . . .

  Spotting his sons’ big farmhouse on the left, he slowed the horse, seeing his eldest sons putting away the sickle-bar hay mower. So they’d been making hay today, too. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

  Though eager to share those things Reuben wished he’d known years ago, he took his time turning into the drive. He marveled at the brilliant orange, gold, and white mums in the flower beds in front of the porch and running alongside the house; nearly the same color arrangement as Betsy’s own flower garden. Esther and Fannie—Thomas’s and Jeremiah’s wives—were known to work well together, painstakingly planning the color scheme. A laughing good time they always had, especially with their daughters alongside.

  O Lord, help us keep our closeness as a family in spite of the upheaval ahead.

  “That wasn’t so bad, now, was it, Nellie?” asked Caleb as they rode away from the hog butchering.

  Nellie had to admit she’d enjoyed herself, thanks in no small part to Rhoda. Her eldest sister had chosen to work alongside her, mixing seasonings into the sausage, while Nan spent her time with Rebekah Yoder, helping grind the meat.

  For a change, Rhoda didn’t seem like a stranger, thought Nellie, happy for some time with her.

  She leaned close to Caleb presently, her hand in his. “Thank goodness for that good, stiff breeze . . . it cleared out the awful smell.”

  “You and your smells.”

  “Must run in the family,” she said, thinking of Suzy’s famously sensitive nose—quick to savor a lovely fragrance, swift to wrinkle at a foul one.

  “Aw, love, maybe that’s partly why you enjoy bakin’ so much—all the wonderful-gut scents.”

  Love? Her heart sped up. Dat calls Mamma that!

  He let go of her hand and slipped his arm around her. “Come here closer.”

  “Closer?” A giggle burst out. “That’s just about impossible, Caleb.”

  He kissed her cheek. “Well, now, it won’t have to be like this forever.”

  He’s thinking of marriage, surely he is!

  He leaned his head on top of hers. “You’re my girl, Nellie Mae. Don’t forget.”

  She sighed, fully content to be riding into the twilight with him. She didn’t want to ruin the special moment, but she felt she ought to be forthright about the things happening with her parents, and the sooner the better. Better he doesn’t hear more tittle-tattle ’bout our family from the grapevine.

  “Um, Caleb, mind if we talk frankly?”

  “Why sure. What’s on your mind?”

  She took a breath for courage, hoping what she had to say wouldn’t create a wedge between them.

  “My father’s taken a shinin’ . . . well, to studying.” That was all she could get out at first.

  “You had me uneasy there for a minute. I thought you were goin’ to bring up all the tractor talk.” He turned to look at her.

  “Jah, but Dat has no interest in goin’ fancy. What he’s mighty interested in is the Good Book.” She continued, her heart in her throat. “He’s waitin’ on word from Uncle Bishop to see if he and Preacher Manny can hold meetings on the no-Preaching Sundays.”

  “What for?”

  “Bible study.”

  Caleb fell silent.

  He’s displeased. She could almost hear the beating of her own anxious heart in the quiet.

  “I’ve heard of Amish in other districts wanting this,” he said at last. “But I can’t imagine our bishop allowing it. It’s not in keeping with the Old Ways.”

  “Seems so.” She sighed sadly. “What do you think will come of this, Caleb?”

  He squeezed her hand. “No matter what, you and I won’t be affected by it. Will we?”

  She loved Caleb and wanted to say it right then, but now wasn’t the time. Such a profession of devotion must come from him first. “I hope not,” she said softly.

  Truth was, Dat’s determination to have the entire family follow his beliefs could pose a problem. She dearly hoped Caleb’s and her relationship would not suffer as a result.

  CHAPTER 27

  This was a day of wonders, the way Reuben saw it. Not only had his twins eagerly joined ranks with him, but James and Benjamin, as well—his youngest son a bit more hesitant—agreed to unite in learning Scripture at the meetings Preacher Manny planned. They’d also voiced keen interest in tractors and electricity, but Reuben hoped that was not the motivation for his four sons’ ready agreement. Still, he was anything but ignorant.

  It was Ephram who would have to see the light, in good time, he told himself as he made his way toward his father’s place. Ephram had refused to hear him out, as Reuben had supposed he might; his son had not wanted to make any trouble with the bishop. Reuben could only pray that his father would not greet this unexpected news the selfsame way. For certain, he felt as nervous as a young boy just now.

  Mamm ushered him into the front room, where Daed was reading The Budget. Reuben sat down across from him, praying silently for wisdom.

  “How’s Bet
sy?” asked Daed right off.

  Reuben guessed his reason for asking. “Well, she’s surely missin’ Suzy yet.” He paused. “We all are.”

  “’Tis God’s doin’, and we must accept it as His plan.” Daed hung his head for a moment. “Mighty hard to understand why she’d go off with worldly folk, though.”

  “Daed . . .” Reuben didn’t want to get his father worked up before he’d even begun. “I came to talk ’bout other things.”

  “Oh?”

  Reuben leaned forward. “I want you to hear this from me . . . from your son who loves you and respects all you’ve done for me.” He paused briefly. “You and Mamm, well, you brought me up in the fear of the Lord God. I appreciate that. But there’s more to God’s ways.”

  “What’re ya sayin’, son?”

  He stopped, weighing the moment, then continued. “I’m a believer, Daed—saved by the blood of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

  Daed rose swiftly, his face nearly ashen. “Nee—no, Reuben! This is the last thing I want to be hearin’ from you.” He walked away, stopping to stare out the window, his back to Reuben.

  “Hear me out, Daed. I want to explain what I’ve learned . . . all that God is teachin’ me through Scripture.” Reuben went to his father and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Get out of my sight!” Daed spun around, frowning. A glint of a tear was in his eye. “Be gone!”

  Reuben did not want to risk upsetting him further, though he would have welcomed a conversation without such turmoil on Daed’s part.

  How did I expect him to respond? Reuben wondered, stopping to kiss his trembling, bewildered mother on the cheek before heading out the back door.

  Long after supper and spoken evening prayers, Reuben sat with Betsy in their bedroom. “Ephram flat-out rejected the idea of attendin’ any Bible study, just as I supposed,” he told her. “Said he didn’t want to make trouble with the bishop, which is understandable.”