“Back when she turned sixteen, Sadie started goin’ to singings, and she seemed to enjoy it for a time. Here lately she hasn’t been going.” Ida wished she might turn the topic of conversation to something else completely, talk of other relatives or recipes, anything at all.
“Well, why do you ’spose that is?” came Fannie’s next question.
Lizzie rose and went to the back door, looking out.
Ida shook her head. “Can’t always put much stock in some of the young people. You know how it is before they join church. They want to have their fun.”
Some of the young people . . .
Why on earth had she clumped Sadie in with so many others thataway? Fannie would surely guess that something was amiss—after all, her cousin’s wife wasn’t so thickheaded. She was a bright woman, a few years younger than Ida, who’d seen her share of trouble amongst the young folk in the area during rumschpringe. Just probably hadn’t bumped into any of her own daughters sneaking into the kitchen door in the middle of the night, carrying their fun much too far.
Ida glanced out the window, watching their youngsters playing a game of near-silent volleyball. Her gaze found Sadie—tall, slender, and beautiful. What a shame that such a girl wasn’t nearly as perty on the inside. Sighing, she watched Leah for a time. Quite the opposite was true of her tomboy girl. A lily white heart, for sure and for certain—as perty as can be, whose radiance shone through to her pleasing countenance. Ach, such an odd pair . . . complete opposites. Just the way she and Lizzie had been in their youth. Not so anymore. Life’s hard knocks had a way of pushing you down on your knees. Both she and Lizzie had become prayerful women, almost like good Mennonites they were, talking silently to the Lord God heavenly Father about everybody and everything.
Fannie broke the silence. “Peter and I . . . we’re gonna have us another baby next spring—end of March.”
“Well, now, won’t that be nice.”
Lizzie turned, a grin on her face. “Ach, how nice!”
“Haven’t told anyone just yet,” Fannie said, eyes bright with the news. “Peter is ever so glad. And Jeremiah will have a playmate.”
Ida was happy for Fannie. The new baby would be the very youngest of all her many first cousins’ children. Jah, a wee one would bring joy to all, especially at their many family gatherings.
“Have you ever thought of having another baby, too—maybe a boy this time?” Fannie asked unexpectedly.
“Why, no, guess I haven’t, really.” She was a bit taken aback by Fannie’s bluntness. “I’m movin’ past childbearing years, I ’spect.”
“After four girls, wouldn’t it be awful nice for Abram to finally get his son?” came Fannie’s too-quick reply. “To carry on the family name.”
Ida thought it but didn’t say that Leah had always been considered Abram’s son. That was fairly common knowledge amongst the People. Of course, Leah was blossoming more and more as a young woman here lately. Chances were that someday Leah would get weary of the outdoor work and start wanting to prepare for marriage . . . learning to quilt and sew at long last.
She found it awkward that Fannie would talk so. The truth was, neither she nor Abram had ever worried their heads over the Ebersol name not being passed on. “We’ve always trusted the Lord for our children,” she said. “If God wanted us to birth boys, well . . . I do believe we’d have some by now.”
That silenced Fannie right quick, and Ida was more than relieved.
Sadie was startled when a car drove into the dirt lane, and she wouldn’t have known who the driver was if she hadn’t looked just then between plays. Her side of the volleyball net was rotating positions, getting ready for young Isaac to serve the ball, when a shiny gray car pulled up next to the house.
Once she realized who the driver was, she had to will herself to turn her attention back to the game. But she only half succeeded and watched Derry Schwartz get out of the car and hurry to the back door—as if he was family or something. His boldness further shocked her. Nobody but relatives and friends would knock at the back door of a Plain house. Anyone else used the front door. But Derry hadn’t knocked on the door at all; he’d gone immediately inside, as though Peter or Fannie had been expecting him.
How odd, she thought. Does Derry know Mamma’s cousins?
It wasn’t but a few minutes and he came back out again, carrying a large basket.
That’s when Jonas called to him from the server’s position, “Hullo, Derek! Did you finally pick up the strawberry jam for your mamma?”
Derry paused before getting into the car. “I was out this way, so thought I’d drop by,” he said, his hand on the door. “Need to make some brownie points at home.”
Sadie had no inkling what Derry meant by that. And she was trying her best not to call attention to herself, when Jonas invited Derry to set the basket down and come meet some of his father’s kin.
Derry still hadn’t noticed her there; otherwise, she doubted he would have put the basket of preserves in the backseat of the car and come over to meet them at all. She was afraid she might breathe too quickly and pass out, so nervous she was.
When Jonas brought him over to her, Derry only smiled and said, “Nice to meet you, Sadie.” Just as he had before when meeting Leah, Hannah, and Mary Ruth. He’d treated her the same, as if she wasn’t his sweetheart-girl at all. Just a distant relative to Jonas Mast and his family, playing a game of volleyball on a hot Sunday afternoon.
She could hardly stand there and keep herself in the game, especially when Derry seemed to catch her eye for an instant as he turned the car round in the lane, slowing some as he waved out the window at all of them, heading for the road. Jonas had introduced her English beau to them as one of his father’s hired help. So Derry was working for Mamma’s cousin, Peter Mast. Doing what? And why hadn’t he ever told her on their many woodland walks that he worked for an Amish farmer?
Her thoughts flew ahead to the next time she was to see Derry. Would he explain why he’d pretended not to know her today? Why he acted as if he was meeting her for the first time?
Leah collided midplay with Mary Ruth, both of them reaching high for the ball. Her sister wasn’t hurt at all, but when Leah lost her balance and fell, she wrenched her ankle and lay there in the grass, unable to move her foot. Jonas rushed to her side first, asking whether or not she could walk. Then, while moaning and holding her foot—the pain was unbearable—she bravely tried to get up and see if she could take a step.
But before she could, Jonas reached down and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her across the yard toward the house. “I’ve got you, Leah,” he said softly again and again. “You’ll be all right.”
She nestled her head against his blue shirt, embarrassed to have fallen, and feeling nearly as light as a pigeon feather the way Jonas was carrying her so confidently.
“I’m sorry . . .” she muttered.
“Ach, ’twas an accident, Leah.”
The steady throbbing from her ankle may have clouded her ability to hear, but she almost thought Jonas had said “my Leah” as he strolled up the back steps with her and into the kitchen. So maybe he hadn’t forgotten their childish secret engagement!
Ida, Fannie, and Lizzie all turned and looked at Jonas bringing Leah into the kitchen, carrying her, of all things, their conversation abruptly interrupted. Ida was rather relieved to have a diversion from the direction their talk was taking. But, goodness’ sakes, she was sad to see Leah in so much pain. What on earth had she done to herself? And what was that odd look of triumph on Jonas’s face?
“Leah’s hurt her ankle,” Jonas announced, still holding her.
Fannie fairly flew to Jonas, instructing him to put Leah there in the straight-backed chair near the wood stove. “Now . . . careful, that’s right . . . don’t jostle her too much.”
Ida and Lizzie were close behind, kneeling quickly to tend to Leah’s bruised ankle. “Best to get the pained foot iced,” Ida said.
“And elevated above
your heart, so the swelling can go down,” Lizzie broke in.
“Jonas, go get some cold packs down cellar,” said Fannie. Once he was out of earshot, she mumbled, “And make yourself useful, for pity’s sake.”
Ida frowned. Wasn’t it clear that Jonas had done his part by bringing Leah inside? Holding Leah’s swollen left foot in her right hand, she touched it lightly where black and blue streaks marked the painful area. Silently she prayed—for two things: that Leah’s ankle was not broken, and that Jonas’s intentions were simply helpful ones.
Yet, bristling at the memory, she recalled the snowy January day—nearly six years ago—when Abram and she had brought their young brood here to Peter and Fannie’s for dinner to celebrate “Old Christmas,” or Epiphany. Leah had been only ten at the time, and Jonas thirteen—a new teenager. She’d noticed them looking at each other across the table off and on during the meal, grinning to beat the band. But then later in the afternoon, she’d happened upon them outside in the milk house. Of course, they were only talking, but it was that rapt gaze in Jonas’s azure eyes that worried her enough to mention something to Abram later after they returned home. Her husband, who had already decided that Leah should fall in love with the smithy’s boy, was mighty quick to give the poor girl a tongue-lashing. Much later, in the privacy of their bedroom, Abram told Ida, “Nothin’s getting in the way of Gideon Peachey becoming Leah’s husband. Not even your cousin’s eldest.”
She shuddered, remembering the fury in Abram’s voice and eyes. He had paced like a mad dog, back and forth across their upstairs room, stopping only to stare out the window for a moment, then turning, had paced some more, his hands pulling on his brown bushy beard, gray eyes flashing. “I’ll be fleabit if Leah doesn’t end up with Smithy Gid!” he’d said.
But, ach, this wasn’t the time to dwell on such a day. Best to keep her attention on her dear girl’s painful ankle, get Leah into the main-floor bedroom, have her recline so her wounded foot could be propped up higher than her heart, as Lizzie had said to.
Chapter Seven
After Bible reading and evening prayers that night, Leah hobbled up the stairs before anyone could offer to help her. She wanted to be alone— needed a reprieve from the events of the day. The one pleasant thing that still made her heart flutter was Jonas being concerned enough to carry her into the house thataway. She thought again of her face against his shirt, his strong arms holding her safe, his words of comfort and reassurance. Why hadn’t he waited to see if she could walk after she’d stumbled to the ground? Thinking back on the accident, she felt she might’ve been able to limp to the house, given half a chance. But Jonas had been so impulsive, eager to help her himself.
In the stillness of the shared bedroom, she stood on one foot—her good one—and peered into the hand mirror, trying to find the beauty Rebekah had seen in her. But the reflection staring back just now wasn’t near as perty as Sadie’s or even Anna’s face, not the way she thought of a girl being attractive. Maybe it was because her sisters had such light hair; could that be it? But no, she knew within her soul— made no difference that her hair was brown, she just didn’t feel perty. Tomboys weren’t supposed to be attractive. The truth came home to her yet again, pounding its way into her temples, causing pain in her head as well as her wounded ankle.
Mamma and Aunt Lizzie were mighty kind to her during the next few days, insisting she remain indoors, keep her left foot elevated either while in bed or on the downstairs couch. They brought her breakfast, dinner, and supper on a wooden tray, coaxing her to eat more than she needed, probably, but it was their way of demonstrating their love. Dat was shorthanded outside, what with early potato digging and the second alfalfa cutting coming on real soon. But there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Smithy Peachey and son Gid came over several times to help out during the week, but other than that, the work fell entirely on Dat’s shoulders.
Aunt Lizzie said she was willing to walk to a nearby doctor, have him come take a look at Leah’s ankle, tell whether or not it was broken. But Mamma didn’t think it was, especially since Leah could move her foot—wiggle her toes, too—without causing her additional pain. So it was mutually decided that the ankle was just sprained. “Which,” Lizzie reminded her, “can be as painful or worse than a break.”
After the first few days Leah yearned for the outdoors, in spite of Hannah and Mary Ruth showing her how to embroider, Mamma giving her pointers on mending clothes by hand, and Sadie and Aunt Lizzie teaching her how to make the tiniest quilting stitches—things she might’ve never learned till now, since she was rather laid up. So, in some ways, her sprained ankle was turning out to be a blessing. Providential, she began to think, and she was more determined than ever to become a real woman. The kind of woman Jonas would be proud to have stand alongside him.
She enjoyed a good many unexpected visitors throughout that week. Two being Fannie and Rebekah Mast, which was awful nice of them to come all this way.
The next day Jonas Mast surprised her by dropping by with two blueberry pies and a burnt sugar cake for the family. While he was delivering the desserts from his mamma, Leah, who was reclining in the front room, happened to see him just where he stood in the kitchen. Of course, Mamma put her foot down about him going any farther than the doorway, only allowing him to call to her—“Hullo, Leah . . . hope your ankle’s healing quickly”—before he was herded out the back way.
Adah Peachey stopped in one afternoon and stayed for two hours, reading the Bible and some of her own writings—she called them “personal essays on life and other things.” Leah found her dear friend’s sharing so interesting, even lovely, and told her so. “Mamma just won’t let me do hardly anything till my ankle’s better,” she explained. “I’m ever so glad you came to visit.”
They were upstairs in Leah’s room, where Adah sat on the chair next to Leah, who was perched on top of the yellow-and-green quilted coverlet. “There’s something else I’d like to read to you before I go,” Adah said, her sea green eyes soft and glistening. She opened an envelope and removed the folded letter. “Well, on second thought, I ’spose you could read it for yourself.”
Leah accepted the letter, and when she spied Gid’s handwriting she knew Adah’s brother, still sweet on her, had sent it.
“Go ahead, open it. My brother has a nice way with words,” Adah encouraged her.
Honestly, she was tempted to push the letter back in the envelope.
“Aw, Leah, for goodness’ sake, read the note.”
Lest she hurt Adah’s feelings, or worse—how would Gid feel if Adah recounted this moment to him later?—Leah opened the letter from the young man her father seemed to admire above all others. She began to read.
My dear friend Leah,
Greetings to you in the name of the Lord Jesus.
I happened to hear that you are under the weather, suffering an injured ankle. My sister Adah promised she’d deliver this letter to you in person, and I hope you will accept this heartfelt gesture as one of great concern and friendship. Please take care to stay off your bad foot and know that our family’s prayers follow you daily.
Very soon, you will be up and around, going to the Sunday night singings—you, Adah, and I will be. Mend your foot quickly.
Da Herr sei mit du—May the Lord be with you.
Most sincerely,
Gideon Peachey
She was touched momentarily by the tender tone of the letter, but she knew she ought not to reveal this to Adah. No, she knew she must be very careful not to lead Adah to think her brother had a courting chance. “Denki,” she said softly. “Tell Gid the letter was right thoughtful of him.”
Adah’s face shone with delight. “Jah, I’ll be sure ’n’ tell him.”
Her heart sank just a bit seeing the look of near glee on Adah’s face. So then, no matter what nice thing she might’ve said about Gid’s note, his sister would have probably misunderstood, so hopeful Adah was. Ach, Leah felt she couldn’t win for losing.
/> The afternoon could’ve easily been mistaken for early evening, so gray it was outside, with drenching rain coming down like Noah’s flood. Not even the hearty fork-tailed martins who resided in the four-sided birdhouse next to the barn attempted to take flight this day. They preened their white torso feathers, waiting not so patiently for the sun to shine again.
Leah sat in the front room, her foot still propped up with cold packs, listening to the boisterous music of the rain on the roof. She didn’t mind being alone, sitting there embroidering yellow and lavender pansies on a new pillowcase. Actually, she was beginning to enjoy the domestic “indoor” work of womenfolk and wondered what Dat might think if she joined ranks with Mamma, Sadie, and the twins. She knew she’d miss the infrequent yet meaningful chats with her father, would miss them terribly. Still, she couldn’t help but feel she’d purposely been kept away from her mother and sisters all these years. Besides being the “sturdy girl” of the family, she didn’t know, nor did she care to speculate, on the reasoning behind Dat’s initial plan to keep her busy outdoors . . . except for the farm permit, so she wouldn’t fall prey to higher education, as Sadie had.
Just as soon as her ankle was strong again, she’d be right back outside helping in the chicken house and elsewhere. Meanwhile, she found she rather liked the glide of the needle and thread weaving a path through the fabric. She hoped she might have more opportunities to sew and quilt, though not with a bum foot for company.
Aunt Lizzie surprised her by coming for another visit the next day. Leah was pleased, hoping for some quiet time with her favorite aunt. With eight years between Lizzie and Mamma, Leah had often marveled that the two seemed closer than Mamma and her other siblings, though some were only a couple of years or so younger or older. Goodness, how the two of them loved to joke and laugh together while out gardening in either Mamma’s or Lizzie’s vegetable patches!
The Covenant Page 7