The Covenant

by Beverly Lewis

  “Saw you rode over with Adah Peachey and her brother,” he said.

  “Jah . . .’cause Sadie’s not feelin’ so well.”

  He showed some concern. “Is it the flu, then?”

  “Must be. Both she and Mamma have it something awful.”

  Then he touched her elbow gently, guiding her to a more private spot under the haymow where they could talk without being overheard. “Leah, I was hoping . . .” His blue eyes were blinking fast. “What I mean is . . . would you like to . . . uh, will you allow me to see you home after a bit?”

  Smiling, she gave her answer. “Jah, that’d be awful nice. Denki for asking.”

  His face lit up as if he wouldn’t mind asking her the selfsame question for a good many singings to come. As if he was right now ready to leave and go driving with her. Of course, he shared with her what was expected. They would stand round and visit together, munch on popcorn and other snacks, watch some of the boys pull practical jokes on each other and other antics. Then, close to eleven o’clock, couples would pair off and head outside to the buggies for a nice, slow ride home under the stars.

  Hearing from his lips how the evening was supposed to be, she could hardly wait for the rest of it. Yet it would be unthinkable to wish to rush the next full hour, knowing she had Jonas’s full attention, and him right here by her side. Jah, her best dreams were coming true this very night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  In the morning Leah took charge of cooking breakfast, since both Mamma and Sadie were resting quietly, a rare thing for Mamma, at least. Sure was taking a long time for both of them to get back on their feet, Leah thought. But she was more than happy to help, to have another practice run at frying up the eggs and bacon, especially after the last time. Her family had been oh so polite, not saying a word about how awful bad the food tasted, sinking like a stone in the stomach. Come to think of it, maybe her sorry cooking had added to Mamma’s and Sadie’s digestive miseries. Could be. But today would be different. Maybe she would try her hand at poaching eggs for Sadie and Mamma instead of frying them. For Dawdi Brenneman, too. Might be more soothing. That and a bit of oatmeal.

  She was setting the table, thinking back to last night’s singing . . . and dear Jonas, when here came Aunt Lizzie, wanting to help. “Mamma’s upstairs,” she told her, “still not so gut.”

  “Ach, and Sadie?” asked Lizzie.

  “Sadie, too. But this flu bug hasn’t traveled through the house yet.”

  “Well, now, that’s something to be thankful for, jah?” With that, her aunt headed up the steps, calling out softly, “Ida . . . are you presentable? It’s your sister Lizzie.”

  Leah smiled, thinking how dear and close Mamma and Aunt Lizzie had always been. Sometimes Lizzie would show up clear out of the blue, without warning . . . no one telling her she was desperately needed or that something was up. No, she just seemed to know when to wander on down to them. And to tell the truth, Leah was awful glad to have Mamma’s sister around this morning, because Leah was beginning to be stumped at what could be ailing her mother. As for Sadie, it was fairly obvious. She’d worn herself out running off to see her English boyfriend, Derry somebody. But, praise be, all that seemed to be a thing of the past. Now Sadie was merely catching up from all the nights she hadn’t gotten a speck of sleep, probably.

  When the poached eggs looked firm enough, she tested them with a fork. Sure enough, the yolk was only a little runny, the way Mamma liked hers. Leah found the wooden “sick” tray in the pantry and arranged it with a plate of eggs and buttered toast, a small bowl of warm oatmeal, and a cup of raspberry tea, awful gut for settling the stomach.

  “Knock, knock,” she called through the closed door at the top of the stairs, aware that Mamma and Aunt Lizzie were having themselves a quiet chat.

  “C’mon in.” Lizzie opened the door, her eyes wide when she spied the tray in Leah’s hands. “Well, lookee here who’s cooked up a right healthy-lookin’ breakfast for you, Ida.”

  Ever so slowly, Mamma pushed herself up in bed at the mention of food. Aunt Lizzie went over and helped prop her up with several more pillows. “How nice of you, Leah dear,” her mother said.

  “I trust this meal is tastier than the last one.” She set the tray down on top of the covers over Mamma’s lap once she was situated. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “Well, why don’tcha look in on your sister Sadie, if you don’t mind,” Mamma said. Her face had a pasty look to it and her hair was still in a single long braid down her back.

  “I’ll check and see if she’s feelin’ hungry yet.” But Leah wasn’t really so keen on the idea of tending to her big sister. More and more, she felt it best they keep their distance. That way Sadie could work through whatever was bothering her here lately. Just maybe giving up her fancy man for the church was starting to sink in some. Jah, probably was, because Sadie wasn’t nearly as cheerful as Leah had expected her to be after offering up her life and all her days to almighty God.

  “Denki, Leah,” said Mamma softly.

  “Just tell Aunt Lizzie if there’s anything else you need or want. Have her call it down to me, and I’ll bring it on up for you.” She felt almost like a short-order cook. A right nice feeling, really.

  “Sure, I’ll let Lizzie know,” Mamma said, motioning to her sister to come sit on the bed. “You’re awful gut to your old mamma, Leah.”

  Leah smiled. There was nothing old about her mother. Maybe she was just all tuckered out for some reason. Pulling the door nearly shut, she left it open a crack, then hurried down the hall to see about Sadie. She poked her head in the door. Her sister was stirring a bit but still in her nightclothes, stretched out in bed. “Will you be wanting anything to eat?” Leah asked softly.

  Sadie, her hair in two thick, long braids, turned in bed and looked at Leah. “Maybe some tea, but that’s all for now. Denki.”

  “You sure you wouldn’t like some oatmeal? I made more than enough for Mamma.”

  “Later on, maybe.” Sadie groaned a little, pulling the sheet up round her neck. “So Mamma’s still under the weather, too?”

  “Seems so.”

  “I wonder what she’s got.”

  Leah shook her head. “Don’t know.”

  “Well, whatever it is, I’m exhausted. Is Mamma, too?”

  Leah recalled their mother’s pale cheeks. They were usually a healthy, rosy hue. “Mam looks all washed out, same as you.”

  “Maybe after I eat a bite I’ll feel better . . . like yesterday.”

  And the day before that, thought Leah.

  She was on her way back down the hall when she heard what sounded like someone weeping softly. Stopping in her tracks, she heard Mamma talking, trying to tell Aunt Lizzie she thought she must surely be coming into the change of life.

  “Well, if that’s all ’tis, no need to fret so, Ida. If you ask me, I was wonderin’ if you might not be in the family way.”

  Mamma laughed out loud. “Ach, don’t be silly.”

  “Well, if you’re right, then some raspberry tea oughta do the trick,” said Lizzie.

  Goodness’ sakes, Leah had heard more than she cared to. Mamma going through the change at forty-two? She knew of other women getting teary eyed and sluggish come their midforties. It was just awful hard to think of her mother slowing down, when she’d always been one of the first to finish a chore at home or at a work frolic. Just couldn’t be, could it?

  Jonas Mast and his brothers, Eli and Isaac, found their father at the northernmost corner of the apple orchard just after breakfast. Mam had sent the three of them out with a thermos of hot coffee, “for later, if Dat gets chilled,” and she shooed them out the back door. Jonas and thirteen-year-old Eli planned to help Dat gather up all the many apples that had fallen to the ground. Bruised apples made for gut cider, they knew. Isaac, who’d just turned eleven, said he’d stay for only a couple of hours, then he must return to his yard chores. That way, according to Mam, they could all sit down togethe
r for the noontime dinner.

  Dat agreed. “You best work fast. No shirkin’ today, son.” To which Isaac nodded and set to work.

  Picking up the fallen apples, Jonas’s thoughts flew back to last night, where the sweetest girl of all had consented to ride home with him from singing. And what a buggy ride they’d had. Why, they had talked a blue streak, covering nearly every subject under the sun, too. The moon, really. Yet he had never tired of the lively conversation with his agreeable second cousin. On the contrary, she was one of the most interesting girls he thought he’d ever known, including his four sisters, and some of their first cousins, not to mention a whole bunch of girls in his church district—some had made it clear with either their enticing eyes or words that they wouldn’t mind being courted by him.

  The topic of their childhood promise had come up, but neither of them was able to recall exactly what they’d said to each other years ago. Still, he knew he loved Leah now more than anyone else on God’s green earth. And Lord willing, he would marry her one fine day.

  Oh, what have I done? Sadie thought, pulling herself up to a sitting position in the bed. Tucking a pillow behind her, she let her tears fall freely. That thing she’d greatly feared had come upon her.

  Thoughts of shunning filled her mind; ach, the sin and the shame of it all. Holding herself together, she was worried sick about Mamma’s reaction once Sadie told her wicked secret. Dat might want to send her away, force her to give the baby up for adoption . . . she didn’t know any of this for sure, but she fretted what would happen to her and the baby. As far as the church was concerned, she was an immoral young woman, an out-and-out lawbreaker. Unless she offered a kneeling repentance before the membership, she would be kicked out, forced to live separate from the community of believers.

  Any joy she might’ve had, even for a moment— had she been a young bride instead of the way things were—faded quickly. Truly she was panic-stricken, unsure of just what she should do now. Or in due time. What would happen when her birth pangs began? Just who on earth would help deliver her baby? She couldn’t think of contacting the Plain midwife; then for sure the word would get out.

  Ach, a whole multitude of troubling questions clouded her mind.

  Worst of all, she was alone, having to bear the blackness of sin’s consequences. “Be sure your sin will find you out” was written in the Good Book, along with “The wages of sin is death.”

  And Dat wouldn’t hesitate to remind her, no doubt. Soon as he knew.

  By the noon meal Leah thought Mamma seemed to be feeling somewhat better. Aunt Lizzie had stayed through the morning to help redd up the house; then she’d peeled a pile of new potatoes for a big pan of scalloped potatoes. Hannah helped, too, since school was out for the English observance of Columbus Day. Mary Ruth was outside checking on the wash hanging on the line, seeing if some of the things might not be dry already. Soon she was bringing in an armload of clothes and had them all folded before Aunt Lizzie ever set the table.

  Meanwhile, Leah’s morning had been awful busy, too. She’d gathered the eggs from the chicken house, as well as emptied all the chamber buckets from each bedroom. Washing her hands now at the sink, she was glad that chore was completed. Of all her indoor responsibilities, it was the worst job of all. Mamma could never get Mary Ruth to help Leah with it, even if Leah pleaded and offered to do one of Mary Ruth’s chores for her. Some things just had to be done . . . like it or not.

  On her way out to call both Dat and Dawdi to dinner, she caught herself looking across the fields toward the smithy’s farmhouse. Ach, she still felt a little sad inside—for Smithy Gid and what had happened last night. She hadn’t known, really, how to tell him that she’d already been asked to ride home with Jonas when he came over to her, all red-faced and shy. Oh, she had tried to let him down ever so gently, even though she’d never promised or led him on in any way. Adah, thankfully, had been talking with a boy she liked; otherwise, it would’ve been even more awkward, Leah was sure. And poor Gid— she’d heard through the grapevine—had ended up driving his buggy home all alone. Hadn’t bothered to ask another girl at all.

  What could she do? Both boys were awful nice. And she could say, if asked, that she truly liked Gid. Such a friendly fella he was. Ever so loyal, it seemed. Which made her wonder just how faithful Jonas might’ve been if he hadn’t asked her first. Would Jonas have ridden home alone, the way Smithy Gid had? She assumed so but didn’t know. Not for sure.

  Still, she felt blessed to have enjoyed the very best first singing a girl could ever hope to have. And she already had another date with Jonas to look forward to—in two weeks. The Saturday night before their off-Sunday, he wanted to take her riding again. This time their meeting was to be kept secret. So they were truly a courting couple. Glory be!

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hannah was anxious for a visit with Dawdi John, no school today and all. She knew he’d spent several hours working with Dat in the barn earlier, so he was sure to be tuckered out. An hour or so after the noon meal, she wandered over next door to find him waking from a nap.

  Stretching a bit, he was sitting in his favorite wing-backed chair, all smiles. “Well, hullo, Hannah,” he said, a light in his gray-blue eyes at the prospect of some company.

  “Didn’t mean to wake ya.” She sat on the deacon’s bench near the front-room window.

  “Glad you come over.”

  Glancing out the window, she could see her father hurrying about the barnyard from where she sat. “Is Dat expecting you outside again?” she asked.

  Dawdi laughed softly. “I ’spect your pop’s had ’bout as much of me as he can stand in one day.”

  She didn’t have the slightest notion what her grandfather meant by that. Sighing, she waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, she asked if he wanted some hot coffee, because he was pulling his gray sweater closed just now, a bit chilly maybe.

  “I’ll have me some coffee, denki. Make it black.”

  “Jah, Dawdi, I remember,” she called over her shoulder, heading out to his small kitchen. Next thing she knew, here he came, ambling out to sit at the little square table. Seemed he was as eager for a nice visit as she was.

  One thing led to another—talk of the harvest, of upcoming doings over at Hickory Hollow, Dawdi reminiscing of days spent at Uncle Noah’s place— and perty soon their chatter was focused on Gobbler’s Knob. Hannah talked of growing up on this farm, having been the only place she’d ever known.

  “Well, now, this here’s the third house I’ve lived in,” he said with a wry smile.

  “That’s right. First, ’twas your own farm . . . then Uncle Noah’s, and now this Dawdi Haus.”

  He nodded. “Guess I’m tryin’ to keep up with your aunt Lizzie.”

  “Oh, has she lived in several different places, too?”

  “Three. Same as me.”

  Hannah clicked off in her head the places Aunt Lizzie had lived. “Hm-m, guess I only come up with two. Your house with Mammi when Lizzie and Mamma and their siblings were growin’ up in Hickory Hollow, and later the log cabin. Was there another?” Far as she knew, Lizzie had gone directly from her parents’ farmhouse to the log cabin, once she was considered a maidel.

  Dawdi was nodding his head. “Didn’tcha know Lizzie lived right here in this little house?”

  “Here, really?” Such peculiar news, though she didn’t know what to make of it.

  “Jah, for a time . . . shortly after her rumschpringe. Lizzie joined church here in Gobbler’s Knob, coming to live near your mamma and pop.”

  “Aunt Lizzie and Mamma were always close, ain’t so?” she said, knowing it was true.

  Dawdi smiled at that. “Guess you could say Ida—your mamma—was Lizzie’s second mother back then.”

  “That wonders me, what you said,” Hannah spoke up. “Why should my aunt need a second mother if she was grown up enough to join church? And why didn’t she ever marry, perty as she still is?”

  Things got ever so q
uiet. In fact, Hannah thought she could hear the murmuring of a housefly’s wings as it flew past her just now.

  When Dawdi finally did speak, it was in a whisper. “Might not want to be askin’ too many questions.”

  She was feeling more befuddled by the second. “But if Aunt Lizzie lived here once she was baptized, just when did she move to the cabin on the hill?”

  “I ’spect once the place was built.” Dawdi sighed, as if he was becoming restless. “Your pop and his brothers set to buildin’ it for her.”

  “So she could live near Mamma?”

  Dawdi rubbed his long gray beard. “Most maidels want a bit of independence, I ’spect. As I recall, Lizzie wanted that, jah. Yet here she could still be close enough for family activities and whatnot.”

  She thought on this. Aunt Lizzie was awful fond of them, which was mighty nice. And they loved her, too, same as all their aunts and uncles. “I’m glad Lizzie lives near us.”

  “Well, now, I am too,” Dawdi declared.

  His coffee needed warming up, so she got up from the table and poured some more for him without asking. “It’s nice you’ve come to live here,” she said.

  “This way I can get to know my granddaughters better over in this part of the world.”

  She had to smile at that. Surely Dawdi must feel as if his children and grandchildren were scattered all round Lancaster County. And they were, come to think of it. Which was the reason Dat and Mamma hardly ever made the trip over to see Aunt Becky and Uncle Noah and all those cousins. Such a long way it was.

  Suddenly she said, “You’re the last of my Grossel- dere—grandparents.” Oh my! She hadn’t meant to say it out in the open thataway. Still, she’d been thinking—pondering, really—the fact that both Dawdi and Mammi Ebersol had gone to heaven, and Mammi Brenneman, too. “So you’re all I have left.”

  Dawdi smiled the kindest smile and reached out his hand to her. “Don’t fret over such things or I’ll hafta name you a worrywart. I’ve got lots of living to do yet, Lord willing.”