“God be with you, Leah.” He held both her hands lightly now.
“And with you, Jonas.” Though she said she could walk to the house on her own, he wouldn’t hear of it.
Turning to tie up the horse, he then accompanied her down the lane that led to the barnyard. Yet another opportunity for Jonas to reach for her hand, and she had to smile, already having missed his tender touch.
Then, of all things, they got to talking again about how she had always worked outdoors with Dat, how that was just the way things had been. “I guess it happened ’cause Mamma and Dat were sorry they ever let Sadie go to high school, even though they could’ve gotten her a domestic permit when she turned fifteen.” Leah had been hesitant to bring up her older sister tonight. She had no way of knowing just what rumors had been floating round . . . what Jonas might’ve heard of Sadie’s careless rumschpringe. “So when I finished eighth grade, Dat put his foot down . . . decided to keep me home, continue workin’ outside with him.”
Jonas stopped walking. “I’m so sorry, Leah. I wish you hadn’t had to work that way . . . just to keep from goin’ to school.”
“I didn’t mind, really. Dat and I get along just fine. And for the longest time, honestly, I didn’t so much care for women’s work . . . women’s talk,” she admitted.
“And now?” He was looking down at her, eyes searching hers in the moonlight.
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I never felt I fit in with the womenfolk. Wasn’t like them, really.” What she meant to say was that she didn’t think she was as perty as the rest of them. But she dare not say such a thing. Jonas might think she was fishing for flattery.
“So you really are Abram’s Leah?” whispered Jonas.
Her heart sank. “Where’d you ever hear that?”
“My sisters say it sometimes.” He started walking again. “But I don’t think it’s right. To me, you’re ever so perty. Maybe the pertiest girl I’ve ever known.”
She wanted to say “no foolin’?” but she kept walking.
“Like a lovely bluebird, that’s what you are,” he said.
She could scarcely believe her ears. He had remembered her favorite bird from way back when! “I’d always thought of myself as a common brown wren.”
“Well, if you’re comparing yourself to Sadie, best not.”
She swallowed hard, hoping he’d go no further.
“You’ve got it all over your older sister. You have such a gut heart.”
“Well, that’s awful nice of you, Jonas, but—”
“No, I mean it. You’re my bluebird, Leah, and always will be.”
His words startled her a bit. How could such a handsome boy be saying that she was perty? And besides, wasn’t this too soon for him to offer such words of devotion?
But once Jonas was gone, and the clatter of carriage wheels on the road was but a memory, she was glad he’d spoken up like that. So they felt the same way about each other. After this many years, they still did.
At half past nine Sadie headed off to bed, not to sleep but to read her library book on pregnancy and childbirth. She had been careful to close the door securely, though there were no locks on any of the bedrooms—none in the house at all, not even the outside doors. So she sat in bed, the oil lamp propped up on a chair next to her, devouring every word, marveling at the information tucked away in one book. This, she thought, was a smart idea tonight, since Leah was gone with Jonas Mast— where she didn’t know.
At ten-thirty she set the book aside, going to look out the window. No sign of Leah anywhere. At once she thought she might have to laugh, thinking that the tables were turned, her worrying over Leah this way.
Then, before creeping back to bed, she marked her place and hid the book deep in her hope chest, just as her secret was well hidden for now within her own body.
Yet she did not sleep, lying awake . . . waiting for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. And come along they would, fairly soon, she hoped. Leah had surely made it clear to Jonas that she wouldn’t be staying out so late. Not on this, their first real courting night. Besides, Jonas would have a half-hour ride back once he brought Leah home. Because of the slightly longer distance between here and Grasshopper Level, Sadie wondered if Leah might not allow Smithy Gid to court her some, too, if for no other reason than for the sake of convenience. Most boys didn’t care to drive too far to pick up a girl and take her home. She’d heard plenty of complaining about such things from some of her boy cousins, while waiting for the common meal after Preaching service. But no, Leah had her heart set on Jonas.
Sadie thought she just might go along with Leah to the next singing. Find out what was up. Wouldn’t hurt none. Nobody at singing would have to know of her situation. Maybe, too, she’d find herself a nice boy. If she could get somebody to fall in love with her, then tell him her secret . . . well, if he consented to marry her even still, then her disgraceful state could come to an end. But who on earth would that boy be? Certainly not anyone she knew in their church district. No one she’d care to consider as a husband.
Putting out the lamp, she climbed out of bed and stood in the window looking down at the barnyard. So here she was, waiting for Leah to return, when she might’ve been out having some fun of her own on such a pleasant night. If only she hadn’t been so foolish.
Chapter Twenty
The days passed quickly enough, just as Jonas said they would. Yet Leah often caught herself joyfully brooding over him, thinking ahead to the next wonderful-gut time, careful not to share too much with Sadie, who was ensnared in her own contemplation. The difference between them now was Sadie’s tightlipped response to most everything, while Leah could scarcely contain her happiness.
Mamma must’ve noticed, too, saying that Leah was nearly as bapplich—chatty—as Mary Ruth. This observation didn’t seem to bother Mary Ruth at all, just made for livelier canning frolics in Mamma’s big kitchen with Aunt Lizzie and Miriam and Adah Peachey.
Days grew shorter as the time neared for Anna Mast’s wedding. One mid-November morning Leah awakened with the cold creeping in from outside, rousing her from deep slumber. Turning over, she saw that Sadie had pulled the heavy woolen quilts over to her side of the bed. Leah tugged at them, trying to get her fair share back, so she could at least sleep a bit longer before morning chores.
Here lately, though, Dat had said she didn’t need to get up and come out in the cold for the first milking of the day. Kind of him, she thought, rolling over, her back against Sadie’s.
Even after pulling her half of the quilts back over herself, Leah was still a bit shivery. But the weight of the heirloom quilts was always a comfort and a reminder of Mamma’s love. Just as Jonas’s wool throws kept her snug and warm in his open buggy each time they went riding.
At the last singing Sadie had surprised her by going along. They’d had such fun together, one of the first times recently—almost like their former days of childhood—though Sadie had latched on to her, hardly letting her talk with Jonas alone at all. And then, since Leah and Sadie had both ridden over with Smithy Gid and Adah, they had ended up riding back to Gobbler’s Knob with Jonas, which was an interesting howdy-do.
Honestly, Leah had felt Sadie was spying on her and didn’t appreciate it one bit. Jonas, on the other hand, took Sadie’s presence in his stride, including her in their banter, paying nearly as much attention to Sadie as he had to her. Jah, Jonas had joked openly with Sadie, politely of course, who sat directly behind them in the second seat, clutching her own woolen lap robe. Such a peculiar thing, really—three in a courting buggy!
After that night, though, Sadie said she thought Leah ought to attend singings on her own. “Oh, why’s that?” Leah had asked, sticking her neck out only for Sadie to wave her hand and say, “No reason. ’Tis just better for courtin’ couples to be by themselves.”
So now Sadie sat home nights while Leah entertained Jonas in the kitchen, near the wood stove, after the family had gone upstairs to bed. And Leah was grateful t
hat Jonas was not so much interested in the hops or hoedowns so frowned upon by the church yet attended by some of his “buddy groups.” She felt he was ever mindful of the People’s rules. The best beau, he was.
Two nights prior to Anna Mast’s nuptials, Dr. Schwartz’s wife reminded her family of the Amish wedding “this coming Tuesday.”
Amidst obnoxious groans from Derek, Lorraine rose and went to the kitchen, returning with a tray of dessert and hot coffee. “It’s a rare opportunity,” she said, eyeing her husband for support. “One we will enjoy . . . all of us.”
Henry spoke up quickly. “Derek, it is important that you honor your employer at his daughter’s marriage ceremony.”
The boy muttered something unintelligible and stabbed a fork into his baked berry pudding. About then Robert spoke up and asked Henry’s permission to drive the family car to a church meeting in nearby Quarryville. “When will yours be in running order again?” Henry asked.
“The mechanic said tomorrow. So if you wouldn’t mind, Dad . . .”
“Sure.” Henry pulled the car keys out of his trouser pocket. “When shall your mother and I expect you home?”
“Nine-thirty, if not earlier,” Robert replied, to which Derek snorted loudly.
Henry’s eyes locked with Derek’s. This unspoken exchange was registered, and the belligerent son sat up straighter, his spine now flat against the dining room chair.
From the entryway, Robert called good-bye and waved to them and turned toward the coat closet. Henry was filled with paternal pride at the sight of Robert, tall and honorable. Such dire things he’s seen and survived, he thought, disconcerted but not surprised by his son’s sudden interest in the ministry.
Though not a religious man, Henry believed in a Creator-God, one who had the power to grant life and take it away. A God who dwelt in the heavens somewhere, afar off. Only once in Henry’s life had he ever prayed, and that was out of desperation, nothing more—when Robert had sent word by letter of the bloodshed on the battlefields of Europe. Never had he done so since, not even to offer a heartfelt thanks for Robert’s safe return.
Just this morning his son had enthusiastically mentioned that he hoped to attend a nearby Mennonite church meeting. Robert had even gone so far as to inquire of his mother about Grandpa Schwartz’s ministry and life, to which Lorraine had responded by promptly leaving the room, only to return with a tattered scrapbook. She said it had been in the family for many years, though Robert avowed he had never laid eyes on it. He had looked at the pictures with great interest, making note of his grandfather carrying a Bible in one photo.
Presently, Henry watched Robert open then close the front door behind him. The war had certainly turned their young ex-soldier inside out. What would it take to get Derek on better footing in general? The upcoming stint in the army? Henry was banking on it.
Derek was undeniably closed to any discussion, and Henry was breaking no new ground. “What’s bothering you, son?” he asked, truly frustrated.
“I can’t wait to get out of here” was the surly reply.
“You’re looking ahead to the service, I assume?”
“Not just that . . . leaving Lancaster behind forever.” The remark cut deep. Why should our boy feel this way? Henry wondered.
Lorraine kept her distance, pinching off leaves from the many African violets in the far end of the parlor. Occasionally she glanced at him kindly. Henry and his dear wife had certainly had their times with Derek and might have had similar difficulties with Robert had he not come home from Europe a changed man.
Not a father to pry into the private facets of his sons’ lives, Henry had concealed the fact that he’d silently witnessed the heated exchange between the Amish girl and Derek in the yard some weeks ago. Though he had heard nothing of what was said, he worried that something was amiss, even at stake, between the two of them. Then when Derek had bolted after the girl—who had taken off on foot— revving up his car like a maniac and racing down the road after her, Henry felt grave concern.
Now Derek’s words agitated him further. “Besides, I want nothing to do with this stinking life—yours and Mom’s!” His son leaped up from the table.
“Just a minute, young man. I’ve worked all these years to establish our good family name. I’ll not have you speak—”
“Save it, Dad!” With that, Derek brushed past him.
Stunned at this outburst, Henry looked at Lorraine, who sadly shook her head. She came and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Incorrigible,” he heard her say.
Then Henry stood up and reached for his wife, enfolding her in his arms. “I’m sorry you must suffer our son’s antagonism, dear,” he said. “It makes me realize what I must have put my own parents through.”
“Derek will grow up soon enough, just as we all do.” With that, Lorraine rose on tiptoe to kiss and hug him tenderly.
Leah and Jonas had been out riding about a half hour or so, meandering round the county roads, taking their time getting Leah home. The most picturesque farmhouses had a way of rolling down across the meadows and settling back a ways from the road. Jonas surprised her by asking what sort of house she’d want to live in when she was married, and, of course, she said a house something like Dat’s . . . “a house that’s been in the family for generations, you know.”
“Something real old, then?”
“Oh, jah.”
Turned out, Jonas agreed. So they were getting awful close to the topic that mattered most to Leah, and she was mighty sure to her beau, too—the subject of marriage, just when they might tie the knot, and all.
But as Jonas talked, she realized they weren’t going to be discussing that subject just now, probably. At least not tonight. He was more interested in his sister’s wedding in just two days. “Anna’s awful ferhoodled,” he said, laughing. “Both Mam and Pop just look at each other sometimes—I’ve seen ’em— like they can’t believe how harebrained she is.”
“What sort of young bride will she be, then?” Leah ventured, hoping she wasn’t stepping on anyone’s toes.
“Oh, Anna will be right fine, just as any newly married woman is . . . given time.” And here he reached around her and drew her near. “Just the way you’ll be someday.”
“ ’Cept for one thing,” she spoke up quickly.
“What’s that?”
“I know my way round a barnyard better than most brides!”
This brought the heartiest laughter she’d ever heard from Jonas. And he made no attempt to disagree with her.
Chapter Twenty-One
The day of the Mast wedding dawned ever so bright. Sadie would have rather stayed home. But, of course, she didn’t. The whole family—and Aunt Lizzie—piled into the family buggy and headed over to Grasshopper Level for the long day of festivities.
When they arrived at last, she and Leah walked up to a group of other girls their age waiting in the barnyard. They would remain there till they were given the signal to go inside for the service.
Naomi Kauffman and several other girls eyed her and smiled but stayed in their own little circle of fellowship. Sadie didn’t let that bother her, though. What was troubling was seeing the Schwartz family drive up and get out of their car, the four of them walking up the lane toward the farmhouse.
For a fleeting moment, while glimpsing Derry, she wondered if her baby would resemble the Schwartz side more than the Ebersols. And how awful would that be!
She quickly dismissed the niggling thought. Yet seeing Derry, even from afar, was sure to spoil her time at Anna’s wedding. She scarcely could wait to get home again. Why had she come at all?
Quickly, before Anna’s wedding service ever began, Hannah sneaked up to the bride’s bedroom, knocked on the door, and handed the embroidered dove hankie to Anna herself. Hannah stared at the special handkerchief in Anna’s hand. A dove stitched all in white against a pale blue background.
“Oh, Hannah, this is so perty!” the bride said. “I’ll be needing the dove of peace on this
day, what with all the doin’s, ya know.”
Hannah caught the meaning. Anna was obviously a bundle of nerves. “But you mustn’t be anxious,” she spoke up, surprising herself. “This is the day you and Nathaniel have been waiting for, to become husband and wife. Such a wonderful-gut day ’tis.”
Then, quite pleased with herself, she kissed Anna’s cheek, wished her “Happy day,” and scurried down the back steps and through the summer kitchen. Outside, in the midst of the swell of wedding guests, she looked for Mary Ruth, swinging her arms just a bit. Not only had she given Anna Mast something to treasure for always, she’d offered a kind word to an anxious bride. Even though she’d had to exert herself a bit to do so.
After the main sermon, the bridal party—three young men and three young women—took their seats near the ministers’ row in front. Then, toward the end of the three-hour meeting, in front of the bishop, Anna Mast agreed that she was indeed “ordained of God to be Nathaniel King’s wedded wife.” And Nathaniel was in agreement, too.
When they were pronounced husband and wife, plenty a tear was shed, especially after the words “till our dear God will again separate you from each other,” pertaining to the duration of the couple’s union under heaven. So solemn was this lifetime promise between two people.
Meanwhile, Sadie stuck close to Aunt Lizzie, steering clear of the likes of Derry Schwartz. Even so, the good doctor’s gaze found her at one point, just as the fancy guests were preparing to leave before the wedding feast began. Sadie looked away quickly. Such embarrassment she felt, recalling how she’d made a fool of herself going over to the Schwartz home. Ach, she’d sat right down on their front porch steps, waiting to talk to their rat of a boy. She sometimes wondered what had gotten into her, going over there like that. But it had been the close of a final horrid chapter in her life. She hoped so, anyways, because she’d be paying dearly for her transgression once her secret was evident for all to see.
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