The Covenant

by Beverly Lewis

  He released her, though reluctantly, stepping back with defiance on his face. “Sadie Ebersol, I wish I’d never met you.”

  “Jah, well, I wish it more than you.” She spun on her heels and began to run. She ran until her callused feet were numb to the sting of the hard pavement. She ran away from what might’ve been— all her wishes and dreams bound up in one horrible boy—and rushed toward her father’s house, where she would do her best to hide her sin over the next months, sew her dresses and aprons ever wider, till she could no longer hide her secret. The People would then know the truth about her and her false covenant. They could either help her live as a maidel with a child, or they could reject her, cast her out—shun her. At this moment, she knew she was too stubborn to repent to a single soul.

  Soon the rambling farmhouse came into view, and she quickened her pace, glad that Derry had chosen to turn round in the road and head back. She was sure she’d never see him again. She hoped so with all her might.

  Leah heard Sadie coming up the stairs and stood in the doorway, waiting. “Gut, you’re home at last,” she whispered.

  “I never want to see Derry again as long as I live.”

  Such a relief, thought Leah, but to Sadie she said, “I’m glad you’re here, sister.”

  And then Sadie turned and looked at her, falling into her arms. Patting her sister ever so gently, Leah said no more, letting Sadie sob onto her shoulder, hoping her sister’s cries were muffled enough to keep from waking Mamma.

  Ida was put out with herself, having to get up several times in the night, rejecting the idea of the outhouse. She was thankful for the chamber bucket, especially here lately when her sleep was ever so deep. Like a rock, she felt, of a morning. Was this how her older sister-in-law, Becky Brenneman, felt come the change? She could talk right frankly with Becky face-to-face, she recalled. But it had been such a long time since Abram had agreed to drive all of them over there. “Too far to the Hollow,” he’d said when she asked last week. “Not during harvest,” he’d said just this evening. So she wouldn’t be asking Abram again. Not till after the wedding season, but then it would be too cold, probably, too much snow on the road. Then his excuse would be the sleigh couldn’t begin to hold all six of them. Seven, really, if Lizzie went, which she’d want to, Ida was awful sure.

  Truth be known, Abram and Noah hadn’t gotten along for the longest time. “We don’t see eye to eye,” Abram had often said. Which puzzled Ida when she thought of it, because there wasn’t anyone else round the community who rubbed Abram the wrong way. He was a loyal and good friend to all the men in the church here. She sometimes wondered what peeved her husband about her elder brother. But, lying here in bed, she was grateful to have met and married such a man as Abram, who slept next to her breathing softly, not like many husbands, whose wives complained of their snoring. No, Abram’s sleep was always placid. He could slumber through most anything, seemed to her. Even the mournful sounds coming from Sadie and Leah’s bedroom just now.

  What the world? she wondered. Sounded like Sadie crying, and when she leaned up to listen, jah, she was sure it was. Ach, she’d be ever so glad when all four girls were safely past their rumschpringe. To think that now Leah was coming into hers . . . and the twins not so far behind.

  Dear Lord Jesus, help us through the comin’ years. May we, each one, commit our ways to you, she began to pray.

  When the sounds of sadness had ceased, she fell back into a stuporlike sleep where not a single dream invaded her serenity.

  In the morning, before Abram rose to pull on his work clothes and go out to get started with milking, the wind swerved round to the northwest side of the house; and in those early-morning hours he lay next to dear Ida, who was sleeping soundly and, he noticed, snoring to beat the band.

  Listening to the droning, whistling sound of a pending rainstorm, he thought of his father-in-law, John Brenneman, over in the Dawdi Haus. It hadn’t struck him before, but here lately, John was beginning to remind him of Noah, his wife’s outspoken oldest brother. Not always, just once in a while, the retired farmer would speak his mind to the point where Abram wished he’d keep his comments to himself.

  Take yesterday, for instance, when the two of them were out working in the barn. John was pitching hay to the animals and Abram redding up the place a bit—something Leah had been doing till she decided she liked women’s work better. Anyway, Abram had mentioned this fact about Leah.

  Well, John spoke up, saying, “ ’Tis time the girl made her own decisions, ain’t?”

  Abram didn’t rightly know what to make of it, not really. Same thing had happened back some days ago, when he’d got to talking in confidence with John about Leah and Smithy Gid—that he thought the two of them would make a wonderful-gut match, and didn’t John agree?

  Well, about all John had to say was, “Let Leah be. If ya ask me, she oughta be allowed to fall in love as she pleases, same as you and Ida did.”

  Truth was, Abram regretted ever asking John’s opinion. The man just seemed too eager to let his voice be heard about things that didn’t concern him. Abram sure didn’t want a steady diet of John’s yap. He and Ida were doing the man a favor having him move to their neck of the woods . . . looking after him the way they were. And Lizzie was helping out, too. All the girls, really. Jah, everyone seemed to be fussing over the man.

  Just now, thinking on all this, Abram wondered if it was such a good idea to take John with him today. That is, if the rain blew away and things dried out some. He and Smithy, along with several other men from the church, had hoped to go down the road a piece and help harvest their neighbor’s corn crop. Wasn’t such a smart thing to tax the older man, but then again, if John found out and wasn’t included in the work frolic, well, Abram would catch it later.

  So the more he thought on it, the more he was leaning toward asking John to go along. If his father-in-law tired out, he could always go inside with some of the womenfolk and have himself some hot coffee or a catnap, or both.

  Gideon Peachey was glad for the blustery winds, which had already started blowing away the dark rain clouds. He had his harmonica tucked away in his pocket and was headed in his open buggy over to help Dawdi Mathias Byler put a new roof on his old shed out behind the house.

  On his way he happened to glance over his right shoulder at Abram’s big farmhouse and the expanse of land surrounding it. And, lo and behold, if he didn’t see Leah come out on the front porch and shake out a long braided runner. He wanted to wave but realized she wasn’t looking his way anyhow, so what was the use? And hadn’t that been the story of his life with Leah, at least as long as he could remember? She was always looking off in a different direction completely.

  He could kick himself for confiding in his father about Leah’s refusal at the recent singing. He’d only wanted to share his disappointment with someone was all. Of course, Dat’s reaction wasn’t so encouraging, really. “Best take yourself over to Ebersols’ and do something to get Leah’s attention,” his father had said.

  Do what sort of thing? he’d wondered, and why should he force the issue if Leah didn’t feel the way he did about her?

  So there she was beating rugs with a broom on a Saturday morning, and he’d missed the chance to wave her a greeting. But it wasn’t his place to come between Leah and Jonas Mast. He’d seen the way they’d looked at each other over in the corner of the barn that night. Just wasn’t the right thing to do, no matter what Dat said . . . Abram neither. It wasn’t the way to win a girl’s heart, Gideon didn’t think, trying to vie for Leah’s attention against her will. No, he’d let things play out between Leah and Jonas, let them decide if they were sweet on each other or not. So he’d wait his turn.

  After about an hour or so, Abram knew he should’ve gone with his first hunch and left his father-in-law at home. Back where Ida and Lizzie could jump at his every beck and call. Wasn’t so much that John needed attention this morning, he was just far too interested in Abram’s conversation with Smith
y, who said in passing that Gideon had been rebuffed by Leah.

  “Well now, are you telling me Leah didn’t ride home with Gideon?” asked Abram.

  Smithy nodded his head hard. “That’s what I’m a-sayin’, all right.”

  John spoke up. “Did Gideon even ask her to?”

  “Asked her right away,” Smithy said. “But someone else got to her first.”

  “Did Leah ride home with that fella, then?” John asked.

  “From what Gideon told me, jah, Leah did.”

  Abram didn’t have to guess who that “someone else” was. The culprit was Jonas Mast. No doubt in his mind.

  “The early bird gets the worm,” announced John just then, having himself a good laugh.

  Abram and Smithy didn’t find it so amusing. And Abram tried to change the subject to the German shepherd pups Gideon was breeding for extra money, but John didn’t show much interest.

  “I’d say, if it was me, I’d set myself up with her long ’fore the next singing.” John’s eyes were beaming.

  This irked Abram no end, but he held his tongue.

  “Gid’s not one to push himself off on folk, least of all girls,” Smithy added. “There has to be a better way.”

  “Hoping the other fella sets his eye on ’nother girl, maybe?” John chuckled again.

  “That other fella is none other than Peter Mast’s son, Ida’s cousin’s eldest,” Abram announced. There, he’d said it right out. See what they thought of this news.

  “What’re ya saying, Abram?” John’s frown carved out deep lines on his already wrinkled brow. “ ’S’nothing wrong with second cousins marryin’. Happens all the time.”

  Abram nodded. They all knew it wasn’t something to bother disputing. However, here lately he’d heard of babies born with physical and mental problems, especially the offspring of married first and second Amish cousins. “Does raise the chances of deformity and other problems, though.”

  “Puh! That rarely happens round here,” John retorted.

  Abram shrugged. John could say what he wanted. What he really cared deeply about was Leah, Gideon, and their future offspring. He wanted only the best for his gentle yet hardworking girl, nothing less. And that sure wasn’t Jonas Mast. Not in his book. Besides, Gid Peachey needed a strong, sturdy wife—like Leah—to help him raise beef stock on the grazing land he was to inherit someday.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jonas Mast worked alongside Derek Schwartz boxing up potatoes, preparing them for market. Katie and Rebekah, his sisters, would sell many of them at the roadside stand out front, but the bulk of the potatoes was headed for Central Market at Penn Square, in downtown Lancaster. Anna, the oldest of his sisters, was making lists with Mamma, getting ready for her wedding in a month. Anna had been too busy to help with selling potatoes and apples this year. But she and Nathaniel King were planning on living just down the road from the Mast orchard, so Jonas knew he and Dat could count on Nathaniel for help with cultivating and whatnot next year . . . making up for their loss of Derek Schwartz.

  “We’ll miss you round here, come next summer and the harvest,” Jonas told his English friend.

  Derek nodded. “I’ll be long gone by then.”

  “Pop wishes you didn’t hafta sign up for the military.” Jonas didn’t need to remind Derek of the People’s disapproval of violence and war. The doctor’s son surely knew or had heard of the Anabaptist stand against aggression and revenge.

  “I’m glad to be leaving here,” Derek said unexpectedly, surprising Jonas as they worked.

  “Why’s that?”

  Derek shrugged. “It’s time for me to see the world. Get a new perspective. You know how it is, small-town boy meets big-time world.”

  Jonas didn’t identify with Derek’s twaddle, and, truth be told, he didn’t care about either seeing or meeting the wide world. “You’ll still be round here for Christmas, though, jah?”

  “I leave sometime before the New Year.”

  “Where to?”

  “Won’t know until I receive my orders.”

  Receiving orders . . . leaving home . . .

  All this made Jonas uneasy, really. He had no interest in giving up his present life or leaving the community of the People behind. The one and only thing that would make him even consider moving away from his father’s house was marrying Leah Ebersol. And after several months of courting her— by year’s end, maybe—he was fairly sure she’d be in agreement with him about their future together. Wouldn’t do to rush things, though. He’d take his time winning her, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t take much, seeing that bright smile on her perty face all the way home from singing. Jah, Leah was the girl for him, and he’d known it since he was thirteen and even before that.

  “Say, Jonas,” Derek said as they loaded the last crate of potatoes into the market wagon. “I was wondering . . . would you happen to know of an Amish family who might want to . . . well, adopt a baby?”

  “A baby?” Jonas wiped his brow. He found this mighty curious, coming from Derek, who didn’t impress him as having an ounce of paternal concern. “Wouldn’t know offhand. Is this someone who’s a patient of your father?”

  Derek shook his head. “No . . . I just heard about a young girl who’s in the family way.”

  “Well, then maybe you oughta ask your father, since he’s in the business of family medicine and all. Maybe he’d know of a couple.”

  Jonas’s response didn’t seem to sit well with Derek. “Just forget it,” Derek said quickly.

  “Well, Mam’s in the family way herself, so she’ll have her hands full.”

  Derek shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking of your mother.”

  “If it would help, I could ask her, though. She might know of a couple who could take in a baby . . . or folk who can’t have any of their own.”

  “No . . . that’s all right. Don’t bother.” And with that, Derek walked round the market wagon, said he needed a drink of water, and headed for the kitchen door.

  Hannah had been dutifully following her twin around at school recess for quite a few days now, Mary Ruth having been convinced that Elias Stoltzfus wanted to visit with them. Of course, this was based on Elias’s recent stop at their produce stand, Mary Ruth insisted. But they’d kept missing him, or he was involved in a baseball game or some activity with the other boys.

  Watching for him today, Hannah spied him coming. He waved and ran over to say, “Hullo, Mary Ruth . . . and Hannah.” He seemed happy to see both of them, yet Hannah felt like a third wheel and fell silent, which was how she preferred to be anyway round boys. She observed Mary Ruth’s face brighten to a peach color and Elias, too, had a flushed face. Well, now, what was this? Were they embarrassed to talk together? Surely seemed so.

  But, no, Elias was telling about his plans for fixing up an old pony cart his uncle was going to give him “here right quick,” he said.

  When the school bell rang and Elias dashed over to line up with the boys, Hannah whispered, “What was that all ’bout, Mary Ruth?”

  “My guess is he’s itchin’ to have a way to get around. You know how Elias is when he drives his father’s market wagon.”

  It was no secret that Elias Stoltzfus took a shining to anything that had some get up and go. His sisters all declared, up and down, if he was Mennonite he’d probably be out driving a fast car.

  So the talk at afternoon recess—amongst the seventh-grade girls, anyways—was that Elias was going to have himself a pony cart.

  “Maybe he’ll hitch it up to his older brother Ezra,” one of the girls said. That brought a big laugh.

  Hannah could hardly wait to leave school and get home again. Who cared what Elias wanted with a secondhand pony cart? Truth be known, she was more interested in what Ezra had on his mind. Ach, but she was ever so shy. Too bashful to ever talk with a boy the way Mary Ruth could. All Hannah cared to do was busy herself with embroidery for the next few days. She wanted to give Anna Mast a special surprise. A blue cotto
n handkerchief with a white dove in the corner to carry in her pocket on the day she wed Nathaniel King.

  Jah, Anna would be ever so pleased to receive such a gift, Hannah knew. She could hardly wait for that exciting day—the Mast wedding. There she would see Ezra Stoltzfus yet again, if only secretly. Though, being fifteen and all, he surely had his eye on an older girl. More than likely, he did.

  At half past nine Lizzie decided to walk down to Ida’s for a bit. There she found both Leah and Ida in the kitchen, working shoulder to shoulder, companionably tending the wood stove. The cozy sight warmed her heart and she called out as she closed the back door behind her, “Yoo-hoo, anybody home?”

  Leah and Ida looked up at the same time, smiles on their rosy faces. “Come in, come in, Lizzie,” Ida said. “Nice to see ya, sister.”

  Lizzie felt special somehow, hearing Ida’s usual warm greeting whenever she dropped by . . . as if Ida truly missed seeing her, even though it had been only a little over twelve hours since last evening’s suppertime visit. Ida was a hospitable woman in every way, and Lizzie was mighty blessed to have such a dear big sister in her life. “Well, now, aren’t the two of you lookin’ chirpy,” she said, making a beeline for the stove and sniffing at the kettles of homemade soup. “I take it you’re feelin’ better, Ida?”

  “Oh my, ever so much better now.” Ida’s face lit up just then, and she turned back to the stove, where she busied herself with two big pots of soup, chattering instructions to Leah a mile a minute in Pennsylvania Dutch.

  Lizzie looked round. “Where is everybody this morning?”

  Leah spoke up. “The twins are at school, and Sadie rode along with Miriam Peachey over to Strasburg to purchase some yard goods.”

  “Jah, we need to get busy sewin’ new dresses. The girls are growin’ like weeds, and it ain’t even summer anymore.” Ida laughed softly at her own remark.

  Leah had a twinkle in her eye. “Mamma thinks we grow more when it’s hot out.”