The Covenant

by Beverly Lewis

  Now that she really thought on it, she was certain she’d taken the butterfly handkerchief along. And she worried that if she’d dropped it in the lean-to itself, someone might recognize her sister’s stitching, so well known was Hannah’s handiwork on tiny handkerchiefs amongst the People. If found, a body might put two and two together and know that one of the Ebersol girls had spent time there in the hunters’ shack . . . and just why would that be? Especially since the drafty old place was supposed to be for grown men—Englishers—in need of a haven against the elements. A place to sit and drink a steaming hot cocoa or coffee. She’d noticed two abandoned thermoses on separate occasions recently.

  To her the little shanty—their shanty—was a paradise of sorts. A home away from home; for when she was in Derry’s arms, the world stopped spinning round, seemed to stand still just for them.

  Now, in the dim light of the bedroom, she lay very still, awaiting Leah’s steady, deep breathing that was sure to come. She stared across the room at the nearest window, where the tiniest crack of light from the moon had sifted beneath the shade like a silver splinter at the sill. She thought back to the night Leah had tearfully confided in her, telling of Dat’s “arrangement” with Smithy Peachey. Gentle Leah was so close to her own rumschpringe. Just how would she handle her courting years? Would she submissively bend to Dat’s wishes . . . be courted by the blacksmith’s son—marry him and bear his children?

  Sighing, Sadie wished she didn’t have to change out of her nightclothes and scurry into the darkness. The evening breeze might chill her further. She’d felt so queasy and dizzy earlier. She stared at Leah next to her, almost asleep if not already. No need to have Leah wonder again where she was going at this late hour. No need to have more pointed questions asked of her. Not after the way Leah had lashed out earlier tonight.

  Here, in the privacy of their shared room, her usually calm sister had gone much too far in her quest, asking . . . no, demanding that Sadie start going again to Sunday singings, spending more time with the church young people. “Why must you run off to the world for your fellowship?” Leah wanted to know, her eyes probing deep into Sadie’s heart. Then her voice had softened suddenly, and she’d said, “Won’tcha come along with me to my first singing, Sadie? Sei so gut—please?”

  Sadie hadn’t known what to say, so she’d said nothing. She was befuddled, torn between Leah’s angry, accusing words, followed by the unexpected question, spoken with such tenderness. Oh, she wanted to be the kind of older sister Leah needed. She wished they might be as close as they had been in childhood. But now . . . now she was caught up in a world of her own making. She couldn’t let go, even if she tried. She even struggled to breathe sometimes if she didn’t see Derry every few days, wondering if this was how a girl felt when she’d met the boy of her life. A boy the Lord God surely intended to become her husband.

  What seemed like an hour later, Sadie lifted herself silently out of bed, pulled on her choring dress and apron, and hurried outside, lantern in hand. Searching along the thin woodland path she’d carved out over the weeks, Sadie hunted for her hankie. I must be more careful, she told herself, mindful of a single oil lamp still burning in the back bedroom of Aunt Lizzie’s cabin as she crept barefooted but a few yards away, through the soggy underbrush of Gobbler’s Knob.

  Out of breath, she finally arrived at the shanty, having not found the handkerchief along the way. She pushed hard on the door. Stuck! Turning, she set the lantern on the ground, then pressed her full weight on the door, leaning on it with all her might. When it gave way, she rushed inside, tripping over her long skirt. Brushing herself off, she went to retrieve the lantern and began to look for her handkerchief, hoping it might be somewhere near . . . where she might’ve accidentally dropped it.

  She was beginning to think she’d made a wasted trip when she spied something white over on the window ledge. The very spot where she’d sat and daydreamed, watching the rain drizzle down the windowpane, waiting for Derry. Hurrying to the wide sill, she found the butterfly hankie, folded ever so neatly, placed there for all to see . . . for her to see.

  Someone else knows, she thought, her heart sinking. There was only one who would dare set out so far, past the clearing and into the depths of the knoll. Only one other person felt as comfortable in these dark woods as Derry Schwartz.

  Part Two

  Their heart is divided;

  now shall they be found faulty. . . .

  They have spoken words,

  swearing falsely in making a covenant:

  thus judgment springeth up as hemlock

  in the furrows of the field.

  —Hosea 10:2, 4

  Chapter Ten

  Sadie spent part of Saturday morning refilling the lamps and lanterns in the house with kerosene, in spite of her ongoing nausea. Mamma, who was still a bit pale, and Hannah and Mary Ruth were busy redding up the Dawdi Haus, the smaller addition connected to the main house, built on years ago when Dat’s parents were still alive. But now Dawdi Brenneman was coming to live next door so Mamma could keep an eye on her widower father. It wasn’t that Dawdi was being asked to leave his eldest son’s place over in Hickory Hollow. The decision had come since Uncle Noah and Aunt Becky Brenneman were themselves getting up in years, and their youngest son and his wife were ready to take over the dairy farm.

  So it was time for Dawdi John to come live in Gobbler’s Knob. And all well and gut, for Sadie was fond of Mamma’s father. At age seventy-seven, Dawdi wasn’t the least bit ailing, and she felt sure he had many pleasant years ahead. Not even a trace of arthritis. Truth was, Dawdi seemed almost as spry as Dat on some days. Sadie hadn’t thought of this before, but now she wondered if Leah had gone and pleaded with Dat to let her do less of the barn and field work and come inside to help Mamma. Jah, she thought that was probably true, though she didn’t know just yet. Maybe that was even the reason why Mamma and Dat had eagerly agreed to have Dawdi come live here. Seeing as how he could help with the easy barn chores and whatnot in Leah’s stead. Come to think of it, what better way for her sister to finally get her wish.

  Sadie had to smile thinking of Leah’s sudden interest in sewing and quilting, baking, cooking, canning, cleaning, all the many things the women were expected to do. Made her wonder if Leah might not be looking ahead to courting days and marriage here before too much longer. If so, she’d be attending baptism classes next year, from May to August, beginning after the spring communion, just as Sadie had.

  As for the prospects of her own baptism, she’d suffered the embarrassing situation of having Dat quote to her Romans chapter twelve, verse two, all because Eunice Yoder had tattled that Sadie had missed meeting with the preacher for the next-to-last class.

  A deep line of a frown marked Dat’s suntanned face, and his gray eyes were as solemn as she’d ever seen them. “ ‘Be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God,’ ” he’d quoted. Out of the blue, he’d sat her down in the kitchen—with Mamma near—reminding her that the good and acceptable thing for her to do was to follow the Lord in holy baptism into the church, “as you planned to do.” He went on to say that if she ever hoped for his and Mamma’s blessing on her marriage, “whenever the time came,” or on the Haush-dier—the house furnishings that fathers were expected to provide— then she’d best to die Gemee nooch geh—follow the church.

  Humiliated and irked, she hardened her heart as Dat continued to lay down the law to her, and unbeknownst to her parents, she made a decision. Outwardly, she would meekly apologize to Preacher Yoder and attend the final Saturday session prior to baptism—where the articles were read to the members. The young candidates would then receive the consent and blessing of the membership into fellowship. The following day, Sunday—after the second sermon—Sadie would make her covenant to God, false as it was.

  Wearing the weight of the world on her shoulders, she returned each of th
e oil lamps to their spots in the bedrooms, the front room, and kitchen. Back near the door in the utility room, she set down the big lantern on the floor for use if one of them made a quick trip to the outhouse after bedtime. Of course, Mamma preferred they used the chamber buckets; they were much handier than the outhouse when your eyes were groggy with sleep. And she would put lye soap shavings into each one, which kept the odor down but made for plenty of suds in the night.

  Before heading over to the Dawdi Haus to see if her help was needed, Sadie sat down at the kitchen table and jotted a note to Derry. She didn’t know when she’d be seeing him again, since he was working longer hours for Peter Mast, he’d said. Ach, how she hated the thought of missing him so. Why couldn’t he simply meet her down at the end of their lane on the weekend, pick her up in his car, take her for a sandwich somewhere—spend just a little money on her? Or why wouldn’t he think of taking her to the Strasburg café, where they’d first met? After all, it was coming up on one whole month since that wonderful-gut night of nights.

  She wrote a quick note to send through the mail, hoping that just maybe he’d take the hint and return the favor. Oh, how she would treasure having a letter or card, something tangible from him. Something she could look at and be reminded of his love for her.

  Dear Derry,

  How are you? I’m doing fine here, helping round the house and looking after the roadside stand during the afternoons. I help Mamma get quilting squares ready for a quilting bee, coming up soon over at Grasshopper Level. That and fall housecleaning, which is always a busy time of washing down the walls, shining windows, and whatnot. My mother’s father is coming to live on the other side of our house in two days—Monday afternoon. I’m looking forward to that.

  Well, I must close now. But I miss you something awful. Thought I’d just say so and drop this in the mail to surprise you.

  All my love,

  Sadie

  P.S. If you happen to have the time, would you like to drive over while I’m tending the produce stand next Wednesday? We could talk then while you pretend to be a customer. All right with you?

  She didn’t bother to read what she’d written. She was so eager to get the note folded and into the envelope, addressed and stamped. In the telephone book, she looked up Derry’s home address, not knowing just where he lived. It was under the name Dr. Henry Schwartz that she located the correct mailing address, which was but half a mile away, up Georgetown Road to the northwest, then over on Belmont Road just a bit. Within walking distance, really.

  Honestly, she felt she might do most anything to see Derry again. Wanting to be alone with her beloved, she longed to be told yet again that she was the only girl for him, delight in his whispered adoration and his promise that “somehow, someday” they’d be together. Oh, she would willingly run the risk of losing her parents’ blessing, even all that was rightfully hers, to spend time with the boy whose deep brown eyes held an irresistible sway over her, tugging at the core of her Anabaptist beliefs . . . at the underpinnings of her very soul.

  Jah, she knew now what it was Derry had seen in her that first night. She wasn’t just a perty face to him, no. They were cut from the same mold, sharing a common bond, in spite of their contrary cultures. In all truth, she was the murky, irreverent replica of him. He’d met his match, so to speak, and so had she.

  Hurrying outside, she deposited the envelope in the mailbox at the far end of the lane. Come Monday, her beloved would hold her written words in his hands. What would he think of her invitation to drop by? Would he be pleased rather than put out with her being so vorwitzich—forward? Mamma would be ashamed of her if she knew. But Mamma didn’t know, and if Leah even so much as hinted at taking back her word, well, Sadie would threaten her sister with spilling the beans to Dat—that Leah and Jonas Mast had made a silly childish pact between them. Jah, that would take care of that.

  So Sadie had nothing to worry about, nothing at all, till Dat spied her and called to her, “Get your tail feathers over ’n’ help your mamma and sisters!”

  She didn’t quite get why her father was so short with her just now, but she picked up her pace all the same and headed straightaway to the Dawdi Haus.

  The chickens behaved much better this morning, the way they always had before Leah hurt her ankle. Jah, even the lone rooster was mighty pleased with her soft clucking as she stood there in the pen. Sometimes she actually liked to chatter to them, always quietly with a smile on her face. “Eat gut, now,” she would coo at them. “Enjoy your dinner.”

  As soon as she finished her outdoor chores—less than half the farm duties she’d been used to—she planned to dash across the backyard to the Dawdi Haus and help Mamma and the twins, and Sadie, too, with the dusting and sweeping, washing down the walls and windows, getting the little house ready for Dawdi Brenneman. Ach, how Sadie’s eyes had lit up at Dat’s announcement yesterday that Dawdi was moving in. Far as Leah was concerned, it was a wonderful-gut thing he was coming to live so close. Because Sadie was in need of some wise counsel. Someone to take her under his sensible wing, since she didn’t seem to heed Dat’s admonition much anymore. Sadie did as she pleased these days. Take last night, when she must’ve thought Leah was deep in sleep, waiting ever so long to leave for the woods. Yet Leah had felt the bed heave, heard her sister shuffle across the room for her clothes, then head for the hallway and tiptoe all the way down the stairs. Listening for the creak of the back screen door, Leah must’ve fallen asleep before Sadie leaned low to pick up the lantern at the back door, stealing out of the house yet again. Headed to who knows where.

  Mamma greeted Leah with a welcoming smile, though she looked rather tired and probably should’ve taken a nap instead of cleaning out the Dawdi Haus in a single day. “We can use your help, Leah. Why don’tcha go and strip the bed, then take all the rugs outside and beat them with a broom.”

  Hannah and Mary Ruth were cleaning the old wood stove in the center of the medium-sized kitchen, using plenty of elbow grease, though from where Leah stood, the stove didn’t look dirty at all. The kitchen wasn’t nearly as big as Mamma’s. Still, it would serve Dawdi well if ever he wanted to take his meals separate from the family, though she’d be surprised if Mamma would hear of such a thing. There might well be times when Aunt Lizzie would come over and cook up a pot of oyster stew or Yankee bean soup. Jah, she was perty sure Lizzie would spell off Mamma a bit, take over some of the Dawdi Haus chores, probably. And here was yet another opportunity for Leah to practice her cooking and baking skills on someone who’d be happy, more than likely, to eat most anything she fixed. She had to smile, almost laughed out loud, and could hardly wait till Dawdi was just a hop, skip, and jump from their own back door.

  Carrying the throw rugs down the steps, she saw Sadie coming up the sidewalk, looking for all the world as if she’d lost her only friend. “What’sa matter?” Leah asked, dropping the rugs in a heap on the grass.

  “Nothin’, really” came the hollow reply.

  “Nothin’, then?”

  “ ’S’what I said.”

  Leah bristled. “You sound miffed . . . are ya?”

  Sadie shook her head. Leah picked up the first rug and went to hang it on the clothesline so she could beat it free of dust. “Sounds to me like you need a gut Sunday meeting.”

  “I’m gonna join church next Sunday,” said Sadie.

  “Didn’t know you were thinkin’ otherwise,” Leah spouted, secretly thrilled.

  “No . . . guess I wasn’t.”

  “So, then, why’re ya tellin’ me this?”

  Sadie shrugged. “Just thought I’d tell someone.”

  Someone . . . so is that what she’d become to Sadie? Just a someone, not the closest sister and best friend Sadie had ever had, before rumschpringe came along. “What’s gotten into you anyhow?” she blurted without thinking. “What’s wrong with you, Sadie?”

  Sadie’s eyes flashed anger. “I don’t know what you’re talking ’bout!”

  “You mo
st certainly do so!” Leah shouted back.

  “Girls . . . girls, no need to raise your voices,” Mamma rebuked them from the doorway.

  Sadie turned and marched right past Leah, up the steps, and into the Dawdi Haus. Leah was left there, the mound of rugs at her feet.

  “Didja think a yelling match was best, Leah dear?” Mamma said, walking toward her.

  “Sorry, Mamma.” She kept her eyes lowered, truly sad about what had just happened, though she didn’t understand the extreme tension between herself and Sadie. Didn’t like it one iota. Then, raising her head, she could see that Mamma didn’t, either.

  “Come along now . . . we’ll have us a nice walk over to Blackbird Pond.”

  “But, Mamma . . .”

  “I’ve waited long enough. It’s time you told me what you know ’bout Sadie.”

  Leah’s heart sank as sure as the clods of grass she, Adah, and Smithy Gid used to toss and let sink into Peacheys’ pond. “Sadie’s well into courtin’ age, ain’t so, Mamma?” She didn’t have to remind her mother of the People’s secretive courting tradition. What went on under the covering of night was always kept quiet till the last minute; then the second Sunday after fall communion in October, couples who planned to marry in November were “published” by the bishop. That’s how it had always been in their Old Order circles, the way it had been nigh unto two hundred fifty years.

  “Won’tcha consider confiding in me, Leah? I’m ever so worried.”

  “Well, I can tell you this . . . Sadie said she’s joining church one week from tomorrow.”

  Such joyous news brought a flush of color to Mamma’s cheeks, and she stopped walking and kissed Leah’s face. “Denki for tellin’ me. Oh, Leah!” With that, she promptly headed across the meadow.