The Covenant

by Beverly Lewis

  “Five more days before we visit Mamma’s cousins,” Mary Ruth was saying, all smiles. “Cousin Rebekah wrote me a letter, telling ’bout the Bridal Heart quilt she and the others are makin’ for Anna. Seems it won’t be long and there’ll be a wedding on Mamma’s side of the family.”

  The news didn’t come as a surprise to anyone at the table, really. Both Sadie and Leah—probably Mamma, too—expected Mamma’s cousin’s oldest daughter and her beau, Nathaniel King, to be published soon in their own church district, come autumn. Of course, they’d all be invited to the November wedding.

  Sadie squirmed with talk of Anna Mast and a possible wedding. According to age, she would be next in line for settling down, and rightly so. Sadie knew this, though she balked inwardly at the thought. Her attraction to Derry Schwartz was complicating things. What was she to do?

  Inviting Aunt Lizzie for breakfast proved to be a mighty good idea. Leah felt nearly satisfied after Mamma’s delicious eggs, scrambled up with diced cup cheese. After the bacon and toast, she had little room for waffles. She took one anyway, sipping black coffee to tone down the sweetness of the maple syrup. She observed Sadie, who wasn’t herself at all, sitting nearly motionless across the table—not saying much—during the entire meal, her face pale, the color nearly gone from her eyes, too. Hannah was her usual quiet but smiling self, reddish blond hair gleaming on either side of the middle part, though she spoke occasionally, mainly to ask for second helpings of everything. Mary Ruth, bubbly and refreshed from a gut night’s sleep, entered into the conversation with Mamma and Aunt Lizzie.

  Dat said nary a word. Too hungry to speak, probably. As for Mamma, she looked happy to have her sister near, and she mentioned that maybe Lizzie would like to come along next Sunday “to visit Peter and Fannie and the children.”

  Lizzie seemed glad to be included in the outing to the Masts’ orchard house and wore the delight on her bright face. “Jah, that’d be nice,” she said.

  “We’ll be goin’ to pick apples in a few weeks, soon as Fannie says they’re ripe ’n’ ready,” Mamma said. “Why don’tcha come along then, too, Lizzie?”

  “When we make applesauce—can Aunt Lizzie help us, Mamma?” asked Mary Ruth, leaning round their aunt to see Mamma’s answer.

  Leah hoped her aunt would agree to attend the work frolic. There was something awful nice about having Mamma’s younger sister over. She was as cheerful and cordial as Sadie was sassy these days.

  “The Masts grow the best McIntosh apples, jah?” Aunt Lizzie said between bites.

  “Mm-m, such a gut apple for makin’ applesauce,” Mary Ruth spoke up.

  “So’s the Lodi . . . and Granny Smith apples, too,” Hannah said, grinning at her twin.

  Dat looked up at Sadie just then, as if all their talk had found its way to him, disrupting his thoughts. “Most folk have a preference for apples,” he said. “Ain’t so much the name as the quality and flavor.”

  Mamma continued where Dat left off. “Bruised apples, ones that fall from the trees, don’t usually end up in applesauce, ya know. They’re turned into cider.”

  Sadie frowned for a moment, her eyes blinking to beat the band. But she said nothing. It was Hannah who caught the subtle message, and when she did, her head was bobbing up and down, though she said not a word.

  Aunt Lizzie must’ve sensed the tension and remarked that even apples used for cider could have a right sweet taste—if they were tended to carefully, spices added and whatnot. She seemed to direct her words to Sadie, because she was looking straight at her.

  Leah understood what Lizzie was trying to say. In spite of falls from trees and bumps from the hard ground, your spirit—if it had been true and sweet to begin with—could be reclaimed in time and with the right kind of care.

  Aunt Lizzie seemed to know what she was talking about, which was the thing most puzzling to Leah. Gathering up the dirty plates and utensils for Mamma, she thought sometime it would be nice to know something of Lizzie Brenneman’s own rumschpringe, back when. Of course she wouldn’t think of coming right out and asking; that wasn’t something you did just out of the blue, not if you were as polite as Leah felt she was. Still, it would be nice to know.

  It was midafternoon, and Sadie, stretched out on the bed, woke up from an hour-long nap. How nice to have this chance to relax before Mamma and the girls returned from the store. Leah, she knew, was out puttering in the barn or the potting shed—two of her favorite places to be, though Sadie never could understand Leah’s unending attraction to the out-of-doors.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she yawned drowsily. She regretted having told Leah about Derry. She’d made a huge mistake in doing so and she knew it. She and Derry . . . well, their relationship was much too precious to be shared with a girl who had no idea what love was, probably, except for a smidgen of puppy love years ago. She recalled Leah’s youthful account of an autumn walk with Cousin Fannie’s oldest son. “Jonas says he wants to marry me someday,” Leah had said with smiling eyes.

  “Marry you?” Sadie had to snicker.

  “I know, sounds silly. . . .”

  “Sure does,” and here she’d eyed Leah for a meddlesome moment. “You, at the ripe old age of ten, are secretly engaged to Jonas Mast?”

  Leah had grinned at that, her face blushing shades of pink. “Jah, guess I am.”

  “You actually said you’d marry him?”

  “I can’t imagine loving any other boy this side of heaven,” Leah had declared, her big hazel-gold eyes lighting up yet again at the mention of the Mast boy.

  “Puh!” Sadie had exploded. But now she could certainly understand such romantic feeling. Back then she’d laughed out loud more than once at Leah’s immaturity, so green her sister was! How could you possibly know who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with when you weren’t even a woman yet? Such a big difference there was between herself and her spunky younger sister. There was not much, if anything, that could prompt Leah to ever think of straying from the fold.

  Outside, she found Leah in the tidy little garden shed close to where the martin birdhouse stood ever so high, next to Mamma’s bed of pink and purple petunias and blue bachelor’s buttons. Near the tallest maple in the yard, where a white tree bench wrapped its white grape-and-vine motif round the base of the trunk. “Hullo,” she called as she approached the entrance so as not to startle her sister. She couldn’t risk getting off on the wrong foot for this conversation.

  Leah turned only slightly, her fingers deep in potting soil. “Didja have a gut nap?”

  Sadie nodded, bleary-eyed.

  “What brings you out here?”

  Sadie sensed a chuckle in Leah’s voice. “Just thought we could chat, maybe. That’s all,” she replied.

  Nodding almost knowingly, Leah smiled again. “Half expected you.”

  Leah’s remark made it easy for Sadie to push ahead. “I hope you’ve kept things quiet, ya know, the way I asked you to.”

  “Haven’t told a soul.”

  The pressure in her shoulders and neck began to ebb away, as if Leah’s words had opened a tap in her, unlocking an inner serenity. “Not to anyone, then?”

  “Not Aunt Lizzie; not Dat and Mamma neither.”

  Sadie was ever so glad. Knowing Leah as she did, she’d simply have to trust that the name Derry would forever be kept out of all family conversations from here on out. The Lord willing.

  Chapter Six

  Peter and Fannie Mast, walking arm in arm, strolled out to meet all of them as Leah, her mamma and aunt, and sisters stepped out of the carriage. “Willkumm Familye!” came the pleasant greeting. It was nearly one o’clock in the afternoon when they arrived; the blazing sun beat down, making all of them a bit droopy, though the Sunday ride had been only a half hour long.

  Jonas and his seven brothers and sisters spilled out of the kitchen door into the backyard. Anna, Rebekah, Katie, and Martha Mast gathered round Sadie, Leah, and the twins, chattering in Pennsylvania Dutch, while Jonas, Eli
, Isaac, and little Jeremiah Mast hung back a bit, arms conspicuously behind their backs, merely smiling.

  Dat unhitched the tired horse and led him up to the barn to be watered, and Peter quickly turned and headed in that direction, too. Fannie invited everyone inside for spiced cold tea. “You children could take your glasses and sit in the shade under the willow,” she said, grinning over her shoulder as they all followed her through the back door.

  “Our mamma must want some quiet talk with your mamma and aunt,” whispered Anna to Sadie. Leah had overheard and wondered what that was about.

  “Might be cooler outside in the shade, anyways,” Sadie replied. “Might catch an occasional breeze, ya know.”

  Leah didn’t have to be coaxed. Far as she was concerned, it would be ever so nice to sit and chat with Cousin Fannie’s children outdoors, though most of them were either in their teens or nearly twenty, so they were closer to being grown-ups than kids. Still, she hoped for an opportunity to speak with Jonas again after such a long time.

  Before they left the kitchen for the backyard, Hannah passed round newly embroidered handkerchiefs to Cousin Fannie and each of her daughters. “Well, now, what a nice thing to do,” said Fannie.

  “Denki—thank you,” Anna, Rebekah, Katie, and Martha said in unison.

  Mamma’s face was wrapped with a smile. “Hannah just loves to surprise folk with her handmade things.”

  “ ’Tis better to give than to receive,” Mary Ruth said, leaning her head on her twin’s shoulder, and the twosome seemed to tilt toward each other like two birdlings in a nest.

  Aunt Lizzie nodded in full agreement. Then, in spite of the white-hot air, they carried their iced-tea glasses outside, finding ample shelter beneath the towering tree in the far corner of the yard. Jonas and his younger brothers, including three-year-old Jeremiah, sat cross-legged in a jumble, off to themselves a bit but within earshot of the girls. Sadie and Anna sat together, leaving Leah, Hannah, Mary Ruth, and the four Mast girls to sit in a circle nearby.

  “Won’t be long and we’ll all be goin’ to Sunday singings,” said Rebekah, eyes shining with expectation. “Now, ain’t that something?”

  Leah nodded. “How many are in your buddy group?” She asked the question of Rebekah, forgetting she was only fifteen.

  “I’m not in any group just yet,” Rebekah said, grinning. “Best be askin’ Anna ’bout such things. Or Jonas, maybe. They go to singings all the time.”

  Hearing her name, Anna turned round, as did Sadie. “What didja say?” Anna asked, dark, loose strands of hair dangling below her prayer cap at her neck. She looked almost too young to be thinking of marriage this fall.

  Rebekah wasn’t shy and said quickly, “Leah just wanted to know how many youth go to the singings in our church district.”

  “More than I can count, it seems” came Anna’s reply. “Just keeps growin’ all the time.”

  Now Sadie was talking. “And you’ve got yourself a beau, jah?”

  This brought a round of muffled laughter among the girls. Leah noticed the boys leaning back in the grass, chortling ever so hard. All except Jonas. He was staring right back at her, motioning his head just now, as if he was trying to get her attention . . . that he wanted her to go walking with him. Was that it? Or was he shooing a fly away from his sunburned face? She didn’t think she ought to be looking back at him like this, no. But she couldn’t help it, really. And, jah, he was motioning to her with his head. Of course, now, none of the others seemed to notice, so caught up in the mirth of the moment they were.

  Mamma wouldn’t approve, not one bit, of Leah going off with Jonas by herself. It wasn’t the time to be pairing off. Socializing was done at singings, where the church elders expected young folk to spend time talking, singing, and getting acquainted with each other—boys with girls—after sundown in one of the church member’s barns. Not here, in broad daylight, with the family gathered round, and now Dat and Cousin Peter meandering back from the barn, talking slow in Amish, the way the menfolk often did, walking right past them, across the broad green lawn toward the big white farmhouse.

  When Leah glanced over at Jonas again, he was busy with little Jeremiah; then he was talking to his brothers. She heard him say they should all play a game of volleyball . . . a quiet game, with no raising of voices, since it was the Lord’s Day. The rest agreed, even though it was unbearably hot. Right there they divided up teams, under the dappled shade of the willow, and Leah wasn’t surprised to be chosen on the side with Jonas, Eli, and their sister, eight-year-old Martha, along with Hannah and Mary Ruth.

  “Six players on one side, five on the other. All-recht—all right?” Jonas asked, and everyone nodded in agreement. “We’ll play in the side yard.” Smiling, he led his little brother up the back steps and into the house.

  “Jeremiah must be tired,” Anna remarked.

  “Jah, it’s time for his nap,” Katie said.

  Leah thought it was awful kind of Jonas, the oldest, to take time out for the youngest. He’ll make a wonderful-gut father someday, she decided.

  On the way round the house, past the well pump to the side yard, Leah hung back, walking alone. Because of that, she happened to overhear Rebekah ask Mary Ruth, “Would you and your sisters like to come over and help sew up the wedding quilt planned for Anna?”

  “Sadie, Hannah, and I might,” Mary Ruth replied. “But don’t count on Leah comin’. She doesn’t work on quilts, doesn’t do much sewin’ at all, really.”

  The look of surprise on Rebekah’s face amused Leah. “Are ya sayin’ Leah never quilts?”

  Mary Ruth lowered her voice, but Leah considered her answer all the same. “Nee—no . . . Leah works outside with Dat.”

  “Doing men’s work?”

  “You didn’t know?” Mary Ruth asked.

  Rebekah shook her head.

  “It’s not like she gets callused hands—she doesn’t. And Leah never lifts anything heavy. She’s not built at all like a man, ya know. She just helps wherever she can, alongside Dat . . . keepin’ him company. That’s the way it’s always been.”

  “Always?”

  “Jah,” said Mary Ruth.

  Rebekah said no more, and Leah was truly glad. She felt awkward having listened in. She rather wished she’d walked on ahead, up with Anna, Sadie, and Hannah, and resisted the urge to eavesdrop. Truth be told, she felt pained—stung, really. Rebekah’s startled reaction to her working with Dat made her feel less of a woman somehow. Caused her to think yet again that she was of less worth because she lent Dat a hand instead of helping Mamma with women’s work. At least in Rebekah Mast’s eyes, she was.

  Why did she care what Rebekah, or anyone else, thought? It hadn’t been her idea—not in the first place—to choose outdoor work over the chores Mamma and her sisters did. It wasn’t that she couldn’t cook or bake or clean house. She could easily do so, if need be. Yet, after all these years, she felt she didn’t fit in at quilting frolics or canning bees. Sure, she enjoyed making apple butter or things like weeding the vegetable and flower gardens and helping Mamma with potted plants. There had been no question in her mind whether or not to consider changing ranks, so to speak. At least not till just now—this minute—listening to her sister and cousin discussing her place in life.

  Still walking shoulder to shoulder with Mary Ruth, Rebekah spoke up suddenly. “I think Leah’s right perty, don’t you?”

  Mary Ruth shrugged her shoulders. “Guess I never thought of her thataway.”

  “Well, she is,” Rebekah insisted. “And I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if more than one boy takes a likin’ to her once she starts goin’ to singings. You just wait ’n’ see.”

  “Maybe so,” Mary Ruth said softly.

  Leah veered off to the right, making a beeline for the side yard, where the volleyball net was already set up and ready for play.

  She preferred that neither Mary Ruth nor Rebekah know she had heard every word they’d said. What Jonas thought of her was all that really
mattered. Did he find her attractive now, after all these years?

  The volleyball game was not so much competitive as enjoyed for the fun of it. That, and for one another’s company. Leah was especially pleased that Jonas kept setting up the ball for her to tap over the net. In fact, she found it curious just how many times that happened during the course of the afternoon. She had tried not to let Jonas distract her from playing well. For the sake of her teammates, she attempted to put aside the flutterings in her stomach, tried to ignore them so her feelings wouldn’t show on her face, where just anybody might notice how much she cared for Jonas Mast.

  Ida was ever so glad to have a peaceful yet short visit with Fannie, drinking ice-cold spiced tea with Lizzie, too, catching up on things here on Grasshopper Level. Abram and Peter had long since wandered into the front room, settling into a somewhat serene dialogue—voices subdued—man to man.

  “Guess ya noticed all the celery we planted,” Fannie said softly, leaning her chubby elbows on the trestle table.

  “Can’t say that I looked, really, but ’spose you’re thinking of marryin’ your daughter come November, jah?” She preferred not to be nosy over family matters, but Fannie had never been vague about things such as this.

  “Jah, Anna’s our bride-to-be, all right.”

  “Lizzie, the girls and I will be glad to help with whatever ya need for the wedding day,” Ida offered. When her own daughters became marrying age, the favor would be returned.

  “Won’t be too much longer and we’ll both be grandmothers, I ’spect.” Fannie sighed as she fanned herself with the new handkerchief from Hannah.

  “What a joyful day that’ll be.”

  “How ’bout your Sadie . . . has she caught a young man’s fancy yet?”

  Ida flinched a little, though she hoped Fannie hadn’t noticed. She didn’t know what to say to that, really. And Lizzie was keeping quiet—too quiet, maybe. Seemed it wasn’t anybody’s business that Sadie was spending far too much time outside the house come nightfall, two . . . sometimes three nights a week. She wasn’t about to share that with Fannie, whose children hadn’t given them a speck of trouble during their teen years. Not yet, anyways.