“I’d rather go to Preachin’, really.” Nellie disliked standing up to Mamma this way, torn between loyalty to her family and love for her beau.
“Well, remember you live under the covering of your father, dear.”
Nellie wasn’t surprised at Mamma’s words. After all, a young woman her age was expected to follow the rules of her father’s house without question.
Mamma stood behind Dat’s chair at the head of the table, her eyes softening, as if she might be thinking that maybe, just maybe, Nellie had found a beau. “I hope we won’t be divided on Sundays . . . you, Dat, and me on the opposite sides of the fence, ya know?” she said sadly.
But she and Dat have moved away from the right side, thought Nellie. I haven’t gone anywhere.
Without saying more, Mamma turned quickly to make her way out to the summer porch to don her work coat—going to feed the chickens, no doubt.
Feeling glum, Nellie moved to the window. Oh, the weight Mamma must carry, and now I’m adding to her sorrow.
Later, after washing and dressing, Nellie was met with a cool response from Nan, who glared at her when they passed in the hall. None of her usually cheerful, “How’d ya sleep?” or “Gut Mariye, Nellie Mae!” Nan must’ve had an earful from Rhoda, for certain.
She felt terribly alone as she left the house to make the long trip on foot to Caleb’s uncle’s house for Preaching service, glad for her warm snow boots and knitted mittens. Just as her grandparents had refused to live with them because of her parents’ beliefs, Nellie was turning down her parents by striking out on her own today, following her heart. And the tradition of the People, she thought as she slipped along the snow-packed road.
I’ll look ever so odd, sitting alone without Mamma and my sisters, she realized. Odd . . . and a magnet for attention, which she despised.
She hadn’t walked but half a mile when Ephram and Maryann, with their children huddled near, came along and stopped the horse and sleigh for her. “Hullo, Nellie Mae! Want a ride?” It was Maryann, looking ever so sympathetic.
Nellie got on board, and chubby Katie crawled over to snuggle on her lap.
“Such a perty Lord’s Day, jah?” Maryann said, turning to look at Nellie, but her sad eyes and lifted brow seemed to say, Sorry you’re all alone today. . . .
Filing into the house with Maryann and her little ones, Nellie felt nearly as conspicuous as if she’d been by herself. She noticed that John and Kate Beiler were absent, and she hoped Kate was improving quickly and that the babies were all right, too. All told, there were several dozen folk missing, and she assumed most were over at Preacher Manny’s and not at the hospital with the Beilers. Even Nellie’s own grandparents were absent, though on doctor’s orders. Dear, dear Mammi, she thought, hoping her grandmother would remain on bed rest for a while as suggested. She’ll be fine if she does.
Fine physically, but what about otherwise? How can Mammi and Dawdi reject their son and family?
The service began, and Nellie Mae sang every song, as she always did; however, she was conscious of the tightness in her throat during silent prayer, when they knelt at the wooden benches. And she was ever so conscious of Caleb . . . and his family. What must they be thinking?
After the first sermon, offered by Preacher Lapp, the bishop rose and began to speak in more conversational tones than she’d ever heard at a Preaching service. He even read the Scriptures in English rather than High German so everyone could understand. She realized at once why he had chosen to do so as he read from the third chapter of Colossians: “ ‘And let the peace of God rule in your hearts . . . ye are called in one body. . . . ’ ” He went on to build his sermon on that text, admonishing them to avoid disunity and to steer clear of those claiming “a strange belief.”
Nellie found it interesting that the entire sermon was, in fact, pointing fingers at Preacher Manny and his group. The bishop’s stern words—“those who uphold such a way of thinking put on a treacherous kind of pride . . . as unto death”—echoed in her memory all through the common meal.
Settling in at the table with Ephram and Maryann, she felt as if all eyes were on her. Some of the older folk went so far as to extend their concern to her, coming up and inquiring of Mammi Fisher, which dispelled some of the tension.
But the awkwardness returned when Maryann took the children off to the washroom, leaving Nellie alone with her obviously brooding brother.
“Dat’s mighty foolish, I have to say. I pity you, havin’ to live at home.”
She wouldn’t agree with him, so vicious were his words.
“Looks like our grandparents won’t be stayin’ with us, after all.”
“Well, it’s Dat’s fault, don’t you know?”
“Nothin’ either of us can do.” She looked at him. “Is there?”
He ignored her. “Dawdi Fisher’s havin’ to move all the way back to Bird-in-Hand, mind you.” Shaking his head, he mumbled something she couldn’t make out. Was he cussing under his breath?
“Look on the bright side,” she said softly. “They’re goin’ where they’ll fit in.”
“Puh! They belong in Honey Brook—not clean over there, where we have to go so far out of our way to visit and whatnot.”
“So it’s an inconvenience, is that it?”
Now it was his turn to pale at her remark.
“You’re not thinkin’ of Dawdi and Mammi at all.”
“Just like Dat ain’t thinking ’bout all the trouble he’s in,” he shot back. “Or ’bout how all this affects us.”
So he’s peeved because what Dat does reflects poorly on him.
“By the way,” Ephram added quickly, “I’m mighty glad to see you here, toein’ the line, Nellie Mae.”
You sure have an interesting way of showing it, she thought, ever so glad when Aunt Anna Fisher came over and sat next to her. Anna asked about the possibility of Nellie’s helping with kitchen cleanup at one of the upcoming weddings, and Nellie was quick to agree. All the same, secretly she hoped this wedding wouldn’t be one that Caleb and his family might attend. If so, she would not be able to see him much at all.
When Aunt Anna rose and moved to another part of the long table, Nellie noticed her brother had disappeared. She sighed with relief, well aware of her own floundering feelings this day . . . something akin to swimming up a stream, the current so strong it threatened to drag her under.
She considered Preacher Manny, her own relative, of all things—the man of God’s choosing for the People. She felt terribly frustrated, suddenly wondering if she shouldn’t hear him out. After all, he had been appointed by God, so what did it mean that he was moving away from his original calling? Here where so many were still honoring their life vow to God and the church.
Preacher Manny was partly the reason her parents had abandoned the church of their childhood and hers. Where was she expected to take her kneeling vow to the People now? Where was she to make her marriage promises someday, to become a good Amish wife to her dear Caleb?
Right here, she told herself. I’m staying put.
She was about to help clear tables when Caleb’s father stormed toward her, wearing what looked to be an out-and-theParting_ out scowl. She turned to glance behind her, certain he was heading for someone else.
She was just getting up when he surprised her by speaking to her. “Nellie Mae, mind if I sit with you a minute?”
It was highly unusual for a married man to talk with a single, unrelated young woman. At the request, her neck felt too warm and her heart thumped much too hard. And Caleb . . . where was he?
“Nellie Mae,” he began, “I’m mighty curious—where might your parents be today? Your family, as a whole?”
She wanted to remind him of Ephram’s family and their presence here, but she felt terribly awkward speaking up to this man.
“My father’s . . .” If she finished by telling the truth, she might not see Caleb again, and she was fairly sure that’s where this conversation was leading. Oh, she wanted
to search out her darling with her eyes. Where was he?
“Nellie?” David Yoder leaned forward, expression sober. “Has your father joined up with Preacher Manny?”
She looked at him, afraid she might burst out crying.
“Would it trouble you to ask Dat instead?” It took all she had, but she’d said precisely what she wanted to—what she had to. She must put him off somehow. Would this suffice?
“Well, Nellie Mae Fisher, I believe I’m talkin’ to you here and now.”
She could not keep her tears in check any longer. Just when her lip began to quiver and she felt as though she might either rise and say something out of order—either that or bawl like a child—just then, Caleb appeared at the back of the room, coming her way.
Ach, thank the Good Lord!
Fearless, as if he’d encountered such confrontations himself, Caleb walked right up to the table and stood to his father’s left. “Nellie? I’d like to have a word with you.”
He’s as forthright as his father. Yet she knew without a doubt he was rescuing her, and she loved him all the more for it.
“Daed,” he said, turning to face him, “Nellie Mae’s comin’ with me for a while.”
She wanted to laugh—oh, she wanted to clap. This beau of hers, wasn’t he the best? She knew she’d follow him no matter where he led her today, which turned out to be clear to the end of the cornfield and beyond, to the high bluffs overlooking Honey Brook. It was a spot she’d always loved, and there she stood, hand in hand with Caleb . . . then swiftly she was in his arms.
“You are one brave girl,” Caleb whispered in her ear before kissing her forehead.
“I was so . . . speechless,” she admitted.
He nodded, his forehead pressed against hers, seemingly already aware of the line of questioning his father had taken with her. “Don’t feel put upon, Nellie Mae. Please don’t.”
Well, she had, but no longer, not with Caleb’s kind and comforting manner. Goodness, she believed she could go through most anything with him by her side . . . with his encouragement. She could tell by his admiring glances and the squeeze of his hand that he adored her all the more for choosing the Old Ways today. And him.
But eventually Nellie had to return home and endure the disapproving glances of her family, knowing Dat would give her a good talking to sooner or later. Suddenly, waiting a full year to wed Caleb seemed much too long.
CHAPTER 33
All Dat could talk about upon arriving home was Preacher Manny’s meeting . . . how it had nearly doubled in size this Lord’s Day. “What will it be like by next Sunday, with word spreading as it is?” he wondered aloud. Mamma was simply glowing. As for Rhoda and Nan, they seemed to have been won over by a single visit.
The four of them chattered excitedly at the supper table, but Nellie did not feel too left out—not with Caleb’s support. She would not embrace the “strange belief” Uncle Bishop had hammered against for two full hours in his sermon.
With the family’s topic of talk seemingly limited to one thing, nightfall couldn’t come soon enough to suit her, and Nellie slipped away to her room. On the way, she spotted Rhoda and Nan in their own room, their heads bent low over Dat’s King James Bible. For this further proof of their companionship, Nellie was envious. Wasn’t it bad enough to lose Suzy? Now must she also lose the remainder of her family . . . and to a foreign faith, at that?
She lay down to rest, clinging to the hope of having some good fellowship with Maryann once again—and Rosanna, too, when the new babies were safely home. Perhaps she would spend time with Kate once she was completely well again. She didn’t see much chance of enjoying that with Ephram, as it didn’t seem to matter which side of the fence you were on with him. Either way, she could not seem to please that brother!
She turned on her side in an attempt to get more comfortable, willing herself not to think about Caleb’s father’s approaching her. She took solace from the fact she would soon put an end to Suzy’s dark secrets . . . tomorrow, after she closed the shop for the day, she would destroy the diary.
Suzy’s wicked life will never touch another soul. . . .
Washday dawned mighty quick, and since Mamma was in bed and under the weather, the time-consuming chore fell to Nan and Nellie, because Rhoda had to leave for work earlier than usual. Rhoda didn’t say why, which annoyed Nellie, what with having to juggle the washing and the larger-than-normal amounts of baking.
Down in the cellar, Nan talked to Nellie of wishing for an electric washing machine—“maybe even a dryer, too, someday. Lots of folks at yesterday’s meeting said such things matter little in the eyes of God.” Nellie sighed inwardly and was mighty sure this sister had missed out by not being present for the bishop’s warning yesterday at Preaching. Goodness—seems she’s already set on goin’ fancy.
As kindly as was possible, she put up with Nan’s evident enthusiasm for modern conveniences, paying closer attention when Nan said she saw “two new groups rising among those at Manny’s gathering.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I said.” Nan pushed more clothes into the gaspowered wringer washer. “There’s one group that’s mostly concerned about knowledge of salvation, like Dat. And there’s another group wanting to own tractors and cars and other useful things.”
“What’s Preacher Manny think of all this?” Nellie had assumed Preacher Manny’s splinter group would be consumed with Bible study, like her parents were—not the yearning for fancy things like Nan indicated.
“I don’t know exactly,” Nan admitted. “He talked only about Scripture, really.”
“Can you imagine Dat ever drivin’ a car?” Nellie had to ask.
Nan shook her head. “Never.”
“But he could fall prey to the other group eventually—like the Beachy Amish—and desire those things, ain’t so?”
Nan laughed a little. “Mamma will keep that from happening, don’t ya know?”
Nellie agreed that was probably true.
“I’ve heard some talk of Dat’s cousin Jonathan bein’ interested in cars,” Nan added.
“Does he own one yet?”
“He will soon, I ’spect . . . according to the grapevine. Doubtless he’ll have himself electric next and a tractor with rubber tires, too. Why not, when he’s already shunned.”
Nan went on. “You should go to Preacher Manny’s with us and see for yourself, Nellie Mae. I think you’d be surprised, just maybe.”
She stiffened. “I’m not interested in turnin’ my back on the Old Ways.”
“Ach . . . the Old Ways.” Nan chuckled. “Just imagine not havin’ to hang all these clothes on the line, and on such a frosty day, too.” With that she flounced upstairs with another wet load, leaving Nellie to ponder every speck of their conversation. If nothing else, she was glad Nan was at least speaking to her again.
Rosanna sat in the hospital waiting room, exerting some degree of patience as she awaited further word on Cousin Kate’s condition. Being the only Amishperson in the room made her feel like a pea out of its pod, yet she was determined to see Kate. Unfortunately, she didn’t know precisely how to go about requesting a visit, what with so much hustle and bustle in the hallways as doctors and nurses came and went.
After a time, she rose and searched for what looked like an information desk to ask about her cousin.
“Are you related to Mrs. Beiler?” the woman asked, recognition in her eyes.
It’s the head covering, no doubt.
“I’m her first cousin,” Rosanna replied.
The woman paused, nodding and glancing down at a list of names. “Mrs. Beiler’s one popular woman, or so it seems. She’s had a total of nine cousins visit her already.”
Rosanna didn’t see how she was going to convince her that she, too, was a cousin. She might have turned to leave without seeing Kate at all, if Aunt Rachel hadn’t walked toward her at that moment. Rachel came up and slipped her arm around Rosanna’s waist, leading her down the hall.
“Are they keepin’ you from Kate?” she asked.
“Not sure, really.” Rosanna paused. “Is she goin’ to be all right?”
“Well, she’s terribly weak . . . they’re watchin’ her closely.
She lost an awful lot of blood. You haven’t heard?”
Rosanna shook her head. “I’m so sorry to learn of it. Will she be able to go home soon?” She didn’t dare ask about the twins, because she wasn’t sure if Aunt Rachel even knew yet that her grandbabies were going to be raised by Rosanna.
“Jah . . . soon.” Rachel gazed seriously at her, then whispered, “Ach, Rosanna, I think what Kate’s doin’ is downright peculiar, ’tween you and me. I just yesterday heard from John what he and Kate decided to do for you and Elias.” Her aunt seemed a bit put out; then her eyes brightened some. “Even so, it seems the twins will know who their first Dat and Mamma are, jah?”
Rosanna recalled that awkward conversation and nodded her head. “That’s what Kate wants.”
Aunt Rachel touched her hand. “I’ll be wantin’ to see my grandyoung’uns quite a lot, I’m sure you know.”
Rosanna agreed, feeling sorry for Rachel, who was only now getting used to the idea of her flesh-and-blood grandbabies going home with someone else. “You can come see them anytime. In fact, I’ll be happy for the extra help.”
Rachel smiled suddenly. “Oh, you’ll have all kinds of help, trust me.”
“Denki,” whispered Rosanna, grateful Rachel seemed accepting of the plan. “Thank you ever so much.”
Nellie was grateful when Nan stopped by the shop midmorning with the last of the baked goods, even going so far as to help unload them into the display. Once her sister left to start cooking the noontime meal for Mamma, however, Nellie took great care to rearrange the gingerbread and oatmeal cakes. “I’m a fussbudget,” she muttered, knowing it was ever so true.
Going around the front of the display case, she stepped back, pretending to be a potential customer, surveying the place. Just then, dark-haired Joy Landis entered. Nellie was surprised to see her on a school day. “Hullo,” she said. “Can I help you?”
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