The Covenant

by Beverly Lewis

  She smiled, fondly recalling the first time she’d ever talked with Jonas. The two of them had nearly missed out on supper, standing out in the milk house talking about birds, especially the colorful varieties that lived on Aunt Lizzie’s side of the woods, near where the wild flowers grew. She had told him her favorite was the bluebird. Jonas had wholeheartedly agreed, his blue eyes searching hers. And for a moment, she nearly forgot he was three years older. He was Sadie’s age. Yet, unlike any other boy, he seemed to know and understand her heart—who Leah truly was. Not a tomboy, but a real girl.

  In all truth, she hadn’t experienced such a thing with anyone ever in her life. Not with Sadie, for sure. And not so much with Mamma, though on rare occasions her mother had opened up a bit. Hannah and Mary Ruth had each other and were constantly whispering private conversations. Only with Aunt Lizzie and Adah Peachey, Gid’s younger sister, could Leah share confidentially.

  So she and Jonas had a special something between them, which was too bad. At least Mamma would think so if she knew, because young women weren’t supposed to open up much to young men, unless, of course, they were being courted or were married.

  Just now, Sadie glanced nervously toward the sunroom, where Mamma was still busy dusting. “Walk me to the outhouse,” Sadie whispered to Leah.

  “What for?”

  “Never mind, just come.” Sadie led the way, through the utility room and enclosed porch, then down the back steps, past the twins, who laughed as they worked.

  Silently they walked, till Sadie said, turning quickly, “Listen, if ya must know, I think I’m falling in love.”

  “In love? Ach, Sadie, who with?”

  “Shh! He lives down the road a ways. His name is Derry.”

  “So, I’m right then, a fancy boy.” Leah wanted to turn around right now and head back to the house. She didn’t want to hear another filthy word. “What’s happened to you? English boys are big trouble. You oughta know from going to high school and all.”

  “You sound too much like Dat.”

  “Well, somebody’s got to talk sense to you! Having a wild rumschpringe’s one thing, Sadie, but whatever ya do, don’t go outside the boundaries of the Ordnung.”

  Sadie’s eyes were ablaze. “Say whatcha want, but zip your lip.”

  “Maybe I should tell.”

  Their eyes locked. Sadie leaned closer. “You have a secret, too, Leah.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Call it what you will, but if Mamma finds out about me, I’ll know it came from you. And if you go and tell Mamma on me, I’ll tell Dat on you. And if Dat finds out you hope to marry Jonas ’stead of Smithy Gid, he’ll put a stop to it.”

  Leah’s heart sank. Sadie had her, for sure.

  Glaring at her, Sadie opened the door to the outhouse and hurried inside. The second Leah heard the door latch shut, she turned and fled for home.

  Sadie emerged from the outhouse, and not seeing Leah anywhere, she headed toward the mule road. The dirt path led to the outer reaches of the northwest side of the woods, where Aunt Lizzie’s perty little place stood. She felt the smooth dust against her bare feet, but her throat felt tight, almost sore. She regretted having told Leah anything at all about her English boyfriend. Might be nice to visit her aunt, get her mind off things.

  When she neared the white front fence, Sadie spied Aunt Lizzie opening the screen door. Her aunt came running and waving a dishrag, her long purple dress and black apron flapping in the breeze. “Well, hullo there. If it ain’t you, Sadie!” Lizzie wore the biggest grin on her suntanned face.

  Sadie quickened her step. “Hullo, Aendi— Auntie.”

  “Come round the back and sit a spell,” Lizzie said, leading her past the tall stone wall that rimmed the cabin—high enough to keep deer and other woodland critters out of her flowers—to the back porch, where three hickory rockers spilled out all in a row.

  The little four-room bungalow was tucked into the edge of the woods, “half in and half out,” Mamma liked to say. One could enjoy the benefit of both sun and sky, as well as towering shade trees flanking the back of the house. And there were ample sunny spots for Lizzie’s beloved roses, lavender, lilies, clematis, and a variety of herbs. Her vegetable gardens, too.

  Once they were seated on the back porch, Aunt Lizzie asked, “So . . . what brings you up here and all by yourself, yet?”

  “Just out for a short walk.”

  “ ’Tis a nice day for it.”

  “Jah, hope it’ll be nice tomorrow, too.” Sadie asked about Preaching service. “Are you comin’ to Peacheys’?”

  “Haven’t missed a single meeting for ever so long. Don’t plan to start now.”

  Sadie nodded, aware of Lizzie’s curious gaze.

  “I’m mighty blessed not to be prone to illness, seems.”

  “Must be all those herbs you grow in your garden. Mamma says they have healing qualities.”

  “The foxgloves, too.” Lizzie pointed to an array of snowy white, crimson, and yellow snapdragons growing wild and a golden throng of buttercups vying for attention.

  “Ach, how’s that?”

  “Them snapdragons open their little mouths and scare the sickness away.” Lizzie burst into her jovial laughter.

  “Oh, Auntie, they don’t really, now, do they?”

  Then Lizzie said unexpectedly, “You look a bit bleech—sallow. Not feelin’ so well?”

  Sadie was sure she didn’t look any more washed-out than she usually did. After all, being a blonde, her skin was rather pale most of the time, except when she had a sunburn. “A little tired is all,” she replied.

  Lizzie scratched her dark head, her hazel-brown eyes serious now. “Looks to me like you skipped near a whole night of sleep.”

  “I was out a bit late,” Sadie admitted.

  “Then I ’spect you’ll be heading for bed bright and early tonight?”

  “Maybe so.”

  Lizzie stopped rocking and reached a hand toward her. “Best be awful careful who you spend your time with, Sadie dear,” she cautioned.

  The silence hung awkward and heavy in the hot air. This was so peculiar, Aunt Lizzie poking her nose in where it didn’t belong.

  She was thinking what she ought to say, when who should show up just then but Hannah, carrying a loaf of bread. Her sister had appeared round the corner, grinning for all she was worth and coming up the porch steps.

  “Mamma just baked some raisin-and-nut bread.” Hannah planted a kiss on Lizzie’s cheek.

  Since there was only one rocker vacant, Hannah wandered over and sat next to Sadie, looking like a chipmunk chasing after an elusive acorn.

  Not one to jump to conclusions, Sadie watched Hannah’s rapt brown eyes. Just how long had her younger sister been standing round the corner of the cabin?

  Hannah found it ever so hard to sit still and listen to Aunt Lizzie chatter about her plans to dig up yet another garden plot—this time for marigolds— when the talk had been far more interesting before. So what she suspected was true.

  She wanted to say something about the fun they would all have tomorrow at the picnic on the grounds at the Peachey farm, but Aunt Lizzie kept prattling on about herbs and flowers. Sadie only stared; her eyes, pale and vague, were focused on the deepest part of the woods.

  “Tell your mamma I’ll lend her a hand with plantin’ kale and broccoli on Monday,” Aunt Lizzie said.

  “We’re always glad for extra help,” Hannah replied.

  “I’ll be down right after breakfast.”

  “Oh, but Mamma will say to come have scrambled eggs and waffles with us, won’t she, Sadie?” Hannah said, turning to her sister.

  “Wha-at?” Sadie stumbled over herself.

  Hannah rose, eager to get home. “We’ll see you for breakfast on Monday, Aunt Lizzie.” She leaned down and offered her best smile, hugging her aunt’s neck.

  Quickly Sadie stood and said her good-byes, too, and the two girls walked home, saying not a single word between t
hem.

  Chapter Four

  Out tempting the woods again.” Henry Schwartz muttered his complaint to the wind. One by one, he proceeded to pick raspberry brambles out of his son’s jeans cuffs, glad to help Lorraine, his wife, whenever he could. Derek never could stay away from that forest, he thought, wondering why his son had lied about going to Strasburg with friends when it was clearly evident where the boy had spent the bulk of his Friday evening.

  Henry held high hopes for Derek, wishing he might grow out of his aimless fascination with so many young women. Couldn’t he stay home once in a while like his older brother, an ex-GI back from the war? Except now that Robert was finally here safe and sound, he slept around the clock, and when he wasn’t loafing in his bathrobe, he was staring at the new television set. He also seemed to have lost any incentive for job hunting, enjoying his membership in the “52–20 Club,” his unemployment pay.

  “Give him more time, dear. He’ll get his bearings soon enough,” Lorraine had said when he voiced his concern. “He survived D day, for pete’s sake.”

  But Henry wasn’t sure it was a wise thing to let a boy coast on his wartime merits. Discharged soldier or not. After all, young Derek had the next thing to a full-time job working for Peter Mast, an Amish farmer over on Grasshopper Level, and planned to join the military once he turned eighteen in December. Robert, at twenty, needed something to get him up and going in the morning. What would be so wrong with his elder son picking up the phone and asking Peter if he had need of another hired hand?

  Gathering up the dirty jeans, Henry carried them into the house and down to the cellar, where he found Lorraine piling up damp clothes into the wide wicker basket at her feet. What a hardworking, devoted wife. He knew he was lucky to have married someone like her. She had helped him through most all the years of medical school, even stayed true to him during the year their marriage was sorely tested, looking after the needs of her trio of men. One of which Henry felt he must confront with last night’s walk in the woods.

  After lunch Mamma went off to her bedroom for a catnap, so Sadie decided now was as good a time as any to go to Naomi Kauffman’s and pick up the knapsack she’d given her for safekeeping—and to cover her tracks a bit.

  “Well, it’s gut to see you made it out of the woods last night,” Naomi said in the privacy of her bedroom. “I was so afraid you’d get swallowed up.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “You were lucky this time. Just don’t go back there again.” Naomi leaned over and pulled Sadie’s pack with its bunched-up clothing out from under the bed. “No one here suspects where we were last night, or what we were wearing. No one at all.”

  Be glad you don’t have a sister named Leah, thought Sadie. “Denki—thank you.”

  “So . . . did you let him hold your hand the whole time?”

  “For pity’s sake, Naomi, he’s a worldly boy.”

  “I’m not blind! I saw him reach for your hand when you got out of the car.”

  Sadie turned the tables. “Have I asked ’bout your English friend?”

  Naomi squelched a smile. “Ach, and he was ever so good-lookin’, too. Ain’t so? We oughta sneak out again next Friday night. I hear there’s a doin’s over at Strasburg. Wanna go?”

  “Might not be such a gut idea, for us . . . well, for me, at least, seein’ as how I’m taking instructional classes for baptism, ya know.”

  “But I thought . . .”

  “Nee—no, it’s time I settled some things,” Sadie insisted, hoping her friend wouldn’t suspect.

  “So, then, you’re finished with running round? Ready to join church?”

  That’s not what she’d said exactly. Sure, she was taking baptismal classes and all, but she was just going through the motions so far. She hadn’t decided whether or not she would follow through with the kneeling vow when the time came. Of course, she wouldn’t be the first young person to change her mind this close to the sacred ordinance.

  Sadie sighed. “How many times do you really think we could go to Strasburg dressed up—painted up, too—like fancy girls and not get caught?”

  “You never seemed worried before.”

  “I’ve been thinking. You’d best be goin’ to Sunday night singings from now on. Let some nice Amish boy court you, settle down some, get married in a year or so.”

  Naomi was indignant. “Ach, you’ve changed your tune, Sadie Ebersol!”

  “Well now, have I?” she said, turning toward the door. Naomi followed her into the hall and down the steps.

  “You said before you wanted some excitement and fun—adventure—out in the modern world. Wanted to see firsthand what you’d been missin’.”

  Sure, she’d said that. Said it with a vengeance, nearly. But now? Now she had what she wanted—a boy named Derry—but she couldn’t for all the world spill the beans to Naomi. No, such a thing would spread like a grass fire, and next thing she’d know, both Dat and Mamma would be talking straight to her, in front of Preacher Yoder, maybe. Or worse, the bishop.

  “Things change.” She was glad her friend stayed put at the end of the lane, Naomi’s bare toes curled, digging hard into the dirt.

  “Are you goin’ to start attending singings again?” Naomi asked.

  “We’ll see.” She turned to leave.

  “Sadie . . . wait!” Naomi hollered, stumbling after Sadie as if her life depended on it somehow.

  She kept walking. “Mamma’s expectin’ me home now,” Sadie said without looking back. No, she’d keep on walking alone this time, her knapsack close to her heart. No sense in prolonging Naomi’s disappointment. No sense lying outright, either.

  During the hottest hour of the afternoon, while Sadie went out for a walk, Leah crept up to their bedroom, closed the door behind her, wishing for a lock for the first time ever. Like a curious kitten, she hurried to Sadie’s hope chest and opened the lid. All day she’d thought of nothing more than wanting to have a closer look at the modern skirt and blouse Sadie had worn last night, and even the white-and-black two-toned shoes. She couldn’t imagine wearing anything on her feet at all, not till the first hard freeze, for goodness’ sake. Such things as shoes, of any kind, were much too confining.

  Pushing down into the depths of the trunk, Leah felt for the shoes. She moved sheets and pillowcases, enough for three beds as was customary. There were towels and washcloths, too, along with tablecloths, hand-hooked rugs, and cushion tops. At last her hands bumped the shoes, and she pulled first one, then the next out, peering at each one, holding them gingerly by their white shoestrings the way Dat held dead mice he found in the barn by their tails. So peculiar looking they were. Ach, she felt almost sinful just touching them, studying the fancy shoes with disdain, knowing who had walked in them, and wondering all of a sudden who might’ve worn them even before Sadie. The cotton blouse still smelled of cologne and the forest. The skirt was a light russet color, cut with a flair at the hem. Not so worn that she might’ve suspected someone else of having owned the garment before Sadie. Not the blouse, either. So then, did this mean Sadie had actually gone into an English dress shop somewhere and purchased these clothes? And if not, how had the fancy outfit landed in her possession? Through one of Sadie’s former high school chums, maybe?

  She thought of Sadie’s Plain girlfriends, those who were testing the waters, having their one and only chance to experience the outside world before deciding whether or not to become a full-fledged member of the Amish church. There were any number of girls who might influence Sadie in such a manner. Or, then again, maybe it was Sadie who was influencing them. Come to think of it, that was probably more likely . . . Sadie being the stubborn sort she was. Sometimes Leah felt sorry for her.

  Leah recalled the time when Sadie had wanted to stay home and nurse a sick puppy back to health, missing Preaching service to do so. Mamma had said “Nothing doin’,” but in the end, Sadie got her way. Leah, at the time, wasn’t at all so sure her sister was actually going to sit at home and car
e for their new puppy dog. She had a feeling what Sadie really wanted was to hop in the pony cart and take herself out to the far meadow, spending time gathering wild daisies on the Lord’s Day, yet. And Leah was perty sure that’s just what Sadie had done, too, because she found a clump of limp buttercups in Sadie’s top drawer later on. Besides all that, the sick puppy died that night. Hadn’t been tended to at all.

  Put out with herself, Leah honestly didn’t know why she was thinking such things just now. She oughta be on her knees, praying for her willful sister, she knew, asking God to spare His judgment on dear Sadie.

  Stuffing the defiled clothing and shoes back into Sadie’s hope chest, she sighed, breathing a prayer, knowing it would take more than a few whispers sent heavenward to save her sister from sinful pleasures. Sadly, she hadn’t the slightest idea how to rescue someone from the swift undercurrent of the world, especially when there was no sign of flailing arms or calling for help. Surely Sadie wouldn’t just let herself go under without a struggle.

  Leah shuddered to think that by keeping her sister’s secret, she just might be helping Sadie drown. Dear Lord, am I making a terrible mistake?

  Henry Schwartz had absolutely no success talking to his youngest son. First of all, Derek had made himself unavailable for the longest time, upstairs shaving. Then when Derek telephoned his friend Melvin Warner, he was interrupted several times by Mrs. Ferguson, who wanted to gab to her newly married daughter. But Derek put her off, tying up the party line they shared with twelve other families. Once his son did finish the phone call, Lorraine was signaling them to the dining room for breakfast.

  Finally Derek had come dragging to the table, where Lorraine and Robert were engaged in a lengthy conversation, discussing such heartrending topics as “friendly fire,” which had killed so many Allied soldiers, two hundred at sea alone. Robert had been only eighteen at the time of his enlistment, promptly being taken off to basic training in early 1944, just as the war was heating up, during the increasing attacks on Berlin.

  Sitting quietly, watching his family down their breakfast, Henry wondered if it was such a good idea to confront Derek today regarding his most recent woodland excursion. His son was in a hurry, obvious by the way he wiped his mouth on his napkin and crumpled it onto the plate, then muttered “excuse me” and exited the room with little eye contact. His footsteps on the stairs were swift, as well, and Henry assumed he was rushing off to work at the Mast farm.