Amish Promises

by Leslie Gould

  Eve inhaled sharply. If only it were that easy.

  “May I pray for you?” Leona finally asked.

  With all of her heart, Eve wanted to decline. She didn’t deserve Leona’s prayers.

  But she couldn’t tell the sweetest woman she knew that she felt so unworthy. “Okay” was all she could manage.

  “Dear Lord,” Leona prayed, “please guide Eve. Please show her your will. . . .”

  A sob welled up inside of Eve. The children’s needs had to come first. She couldn’t risk being shunned and having Tim treat her the way he did Leona and Eli. She’d never see the children. She had to honor her promise to Abra.

  “We ask these things in Jesus’ name,” Leona prayed. “Amen.”

  The woman reached over and squeezed Eve’s arm. “Abra would want you to marry the man you love—whether he’s Englisch or Amish.”

  Eve shook her head. She was pretty sure Abra would want her to marry Gideon.

  Leona stood and, with Trudy still in her arms, hugged Eve just as the children crashed through the kitchen door.

  At bedtime, as Eve took off her apron, she felt for the slip of paper in the pocket. She’d been transferring it from her dirty apron to her clean apron each day since Shani gave it to her.

  She read Charlie’s number again, but the truth was she had it memorized. It was nine fifteen. He’d be awake. Maybe out with his old girlfriend. Or perhaps at his house, alone.

  He’d said he would pray that the visit would go well. He’d asked her to phone him. She’d been clear about their relationship. Could it hurt to call?

  Phoning Charlie just to tell him the afternoon had gone well wouldn’t hurt anything. He probably wouldn’t be coming back to Lancaster anytime soon. She might not ever see him again. A last conversation would give her the closure she needed to turn her thoughts toward Gideon.

  She wouldn’t tell Charlie she’d broken down in tears in front of Leona—or about Leona’s advice to marry for love. That wasn’t anything he needed to know. She’d simply give him an update and then tell him good-bye, for good.

  She slipped the piece of paper back into the pocket and retied her apron. She glanced at Trudy again. She slept on her back, her arms over her head, settled into a deep sleep.

  Eve put her nightgown on her bed and turned off the lamp. Then she stepped into the hall and listened. A rattle came from down the hall—Tim was snoring. She listened a little longer. The older children must have all been asleep too.

  She tiptoed down the hall, through the living room, and into the kitchen, slipping her feet into her boots and then grabbing her cape and the flashlight. She carefully opened the door and just as carefully shut it behind her, slinging her cape over her shoulders.

  A light drizzle fell, and the dark cloudy sky hid the stars and moon. Eve hurried along, not turning the flashlight on until she reached the barn. One of the horses snickered as she entered, and a starling fluttered above her head. She flicked on the flashlight and headed toward the room where Tim kept his files for the dairy business. On his desk was the phone.

  Picking up the receiver, she took a raggedy breath, trying to calm herself. Her fingers fell to the numbers but didn’t move. Finally she dialed, slowly.

  After the first ring, her heart began to race. After the third, she contemplated hanging up. After the fifth she was relieved. God was protecting her against her own foolish decision. But as she moved the phone away from her ear, someone came on the line.

  “Hello?”

  It was Charlie.

  “Hallo,” she said.

  “Eve?”

  “Jah, it’s me.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  She stepped to the side of the desk and leaned against the wall, calmed by the sound of his voice. “Jah, everything’s fine. I just called to say thank you for praying for our visit with Abra’s parents. It went well.”

  “I’m so glad.” The relief in Charlie’s voice was noticeable. “Let me call you back,” he said. “So the call isn’t on your dime.” She knew he meant Tim’s. She hadn’t thought about him seeing the call on his bill. At least that would be a month away.

  She hung up and Charlie called back. She briefly described the visit—Rose talking about school, the older children helping their grandfather, Leona holding Trudy. Then she said, “I wanted to tell you about the children because you said you’d pray, but I also called to tell you good-bye.”

  “Good-bye?”

  “Jah, you won’t be coming down as much anymore, right?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “And even if you did, it’s not a good idea for us to even be friendly with each other.” Her heart began to race. “This is the last time we should talk.” She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead.

  “In that case,” he said, “couldn’t we talk a little longer?”

  She exhaled. Charlie kept on talking. About the sheep. He said the ewe was fine—Zane had called that afternoon. He talked about his job as an EMT and how much he enjoyed caring for people. He asked what jobs she’d had in the past.

  She gave in and told him at one time she’d wanted to be a teacher. Then she found herself telling him about Abra and how they’d met their first day of school and had been friends since they were younger than Rose.

  Her voice choked up a little, and Charlie said, “I’m sorry.”

  Eve swallowed hard. “I should let you go.”

  “I should let you go,” he said. There was an awkward moment of silence when she wondered if she should simply say good-bye and hang up, but then Charlie cleared his throat. “Could we talk tomorrow?” he asked. “You can call when it’s convenient for you and then hang up. I’ll call back.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I understand if it won’t work,” he said quickly. “Or if you change your mind.”

  “What more would we talk about?”

  He was silent for a moment. “Our work. The children. Even about Gideon, if you’d like.”

  She didn’t want to talk about Gideon.

  “I can give it a try,” she finally said, her heart racing again.

  “Tomorrow, then,” he said.

  “Jah,” she answered.

  On the way back to the house, the clouds parted, showing the quarter moon above the bare maple trees on the other side of the field. Eve hummed as she hurried along, her step quick. She wouldn’t think of what the ramifications of the call might be. Not now. Charlie was her friend. Like her friendships with Monika and Shani and Leona. That was all.

  22

  Wednesday after work, as Shani drove her van down the lane, she peered into the field. Tim’s getting a job at the lumberyard was the best thing to happen to her son. It seemed Tim wasn’t home most afternoons. Pretty much every day after school Zane played with the Lehman children for an hour, and when it was time for them to go do their chores, he went home to take care of the sheep and the chickens.

  It was Shani’s last day shift. She’d asked for the next day, Veterans Day, off and then she’d start working swing shift on Friday. She’d be able to take three months off when the baby came. Hopefully, after that, Joel’s leg would be healed and he’d be able to—with Zane’s help—care for the baby.

  She reached the house without seeing any of the children, but as she climbed out of the van, Rose stepped out onto the porch. The little girl ran down the stairs and gave her a hug. “We were just using the bathroom,” she said, her face red and cheeks chapped.

  The older kids followed her, all except Simon with an apple in their hands. Zane tossed one to Rose. No wonder Shani couldn’t keep any food in the house. Simon stopped in the middle of the porch, turned back to the house, and said in his stilted way, “You can tell me more about the war tomorrow.”

  Joel sat in the open doorway. “See you then.”

  Shani cringed. Joel hardly spoke about the war at all. Why in the world would he talk with Simon about it?

  “It’s time for chores,” Shani
said to Zane.

  He hurried down the steps. “Can’t we head back to the creek for a while?”

  She shook her head, pulling her jacket over her bulging belly. The late afternoon had grown chilly. “Walk the kids home—then come right back and put the sheep in.”

  Simon bolted toward the field. Daniel shouted, “Last one home is a rotten oy.” Lila took after her brothers. Rose started running but dropped her apple. Zane scooped it up for her as Shani headed up the steps into the house.

  The lights in the living room and the TV were off, but the kitchen light was on. “In here,” Joel called out. He was moving faster and faster in his chair.

  Shani found him with the dishwasher open and one hand clasping knives, forks, and spoons. “You’re home early,” he said.

  “A little bit. We got through report faster than usual.”

  With his free hand, he turned the wheel of his chair around to the drawer.

  “Zane should’ve unloaded the dishwasher,” Shani said. “Before he went to school.”

  “He was running a little late.” Joel sorted the silverware. “One of the chickens got out. He had to sprint all the way to the bus stop as it was.”

  “Sorry the kids all traipsed through here.” Shani put her purse on the table and then started stacking the clean plates.

  He shrugged. “It breaks up the monotony.”

  “Do they come in often?” Shani asked.

  “A couple of times an afternoon.”

  That was pretty often, considering they only played together for an hour.

  “Do we have a supper plan?” Joel asked.

  “Oh, it’s supper now?” she teased. They’d always called it dinner before.

  “Jah,” he answered, “the neighbors are rubbing off on me.”

  “How about grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup?” She put the plates in the cupboard.

  “Too bad Eve’s cooking isn’t rubbing off on you,” Joel teased.

  She ran her hand through his hair. “What do you mean? That’s practically a gourmet meal for me.”

  He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

  “So what were you telling Simon about the war?”

  Joel let go of her hand. “Not much. Just answering his questions.”

  “Like?”

  “How old I was when I joined the Army. Have I ever shot anyone.” He shook his head. “Just the basics.”

  Shani groaned.

  “Don’t worry. He won’t say anything to Tim.”

  Shani wasn’t so sure. “Maybe you could change the subject next time.”

  Joel shrugged. “I’m just trying to be honest. It’s not like anything I say would encourage him.”

  She wasn’t so sure about that either.

  After Joel finished putting away the silverware and the plastic bowls in the bottom cupboard, he drifted back to the living room and the TV, turning the volume up too high.

  As darkness began to fall, she looked out the window for Zane. She headed out the back door to check if he was in the barn. The sheep were still grazing in the side field.

  “Zane?” she called out.

  The ewes lifted their heads and then startled as Tim shouted, “Daniel!” He sounded furious.

  “Jah, Dat!”

  “Hurry!” It was Lila’s voice.

  Simon hooted. The sheep ran toward the fence.

  Shani hurried to the edge of the field. In the dim light, she could make out Tim’s shape marching down the field. He looked like Goliath.

  Daniel and Simon walked ahead, followed by Lila, who held Rose’s hand. Zane waited in the trees along the creek.

  “Daniel, you’re neglecting your responsibilities,” Tim shouted.

  Daniel didn’t reply but started to run. Simon kept moving at a slower pace.

  Shani watched as Daniel headed straight toward the direction of the barn, followed by Simon, and the girls veered off toward the house, all of them bypassing their Dat without saying anything more. He caught up with Simon, said something, and then put his arm around the boy’s shoulder as they continued on toward the barn.

  “Come on,” Shani called out to Zane.

  “He got home early,” Zane said.

  “It’s nightfall.” Shani put her arm around him, brushing her hand against his cold face as she did. “You need to keep better track of time.”

  He nodded. “We were finishing up our fort.”

  “Do your chores. Hurry.”

  He grinned. “I will.”

  He’d always been a content child, but she didn’t think he’d ever been this happy. He adored the Lehman children, all of them. And caring for the animals had brought out a tenderness she didn’t know he had. With all of their moving, they’d never even had a cat or dog before.

  When she stepped back into the kitchen, Joel called for her.

  “I’m here,” she said, hurrying into the living room.

  He sat in the dark, the TV off. “Where’d you go?”

  “Just out to check on Zane. He’s doing his chores.” She headed for the floor lamp and turned it on.

  Joel was pale.

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  He nodded. He didn’t like dusk. And he often grew anxious if she was late or he didn’t know exactly where she was.

  “Do you want to go to one of the American Legions tomorrow?” She’d done a search at work, because the Internet at the house still wasn’t working, and she’d found one close by.

  Joel shook his head.

  “How about breakfast out tomorrow? Zane doesn’t have school.”

  He shook his head again. “I don’t like you swinging my chair in and out of the van.”

  “Zane can do it.”

  Joel shook his head again, his eyes heavy. She put her arms around him. “Come in the kitchen with me while I fix our gourmet dinner.”

  He shook his head a third time but didn’t say anything. Shani let go of him and walked away, thinking of Joel with his gun in his lap back in Philly.

  She hoped she wouldn’t be finding him sitting in the living room with a gun in his hand again. She wasn’t sure she could bear it.

  Veterans Day morning got off to a lazy start with a late breakfast of waffles. Zane couldn’t believe the Amish children had school. “Why don’t they get it off?” he asked.

  Joel sighed.

  “It’s a private school,” Shani said, prying another waffle from the iron. The first one wasn’t done enough but this one was nice and crispy—probably too crispy. “They don’t have the same holidays.”

  “And they don’t honor veterans,” Joel added. “They’re pacifists. They don’t believe in war.”

  “Actually,” Shani said, “they’re nonresistant. It’s not just that they won’t fight, they refuse to retaliate or even defend themselves.” She’d researched it on her break at work.

  “Simon’s not nonresistant when we’re playing Roman soldiers.” Zane grinned.

  “You play Roman soldiers?” Shani almost dropped the fork in her hand.

  “In the field. After school.”

  “Zane . . .” Shani glanced at Joel and then back at her son. “You need to play something else. Like the Oregon Trail—”

  Joel laughed.

  “Or . . .”

  “How about Manifest Destiny? Or American Colonialism?” Joel asked. “Or, I know, the Reformation!”

  “Stop it,” Shani said. “Because, in fact, lots of Anabaptists were murdered during the Reformation because they wouldn’t fight back.” She’d found some horrendous stories during her Internet search. “That’s how they ended up here.”

  “Yeah, because there are those of us who have—through the centuries—fought for the religious freedom of our neighbors.” Joel wheeled away from the table. “I’m glad the Amish can be so idealistic, while the rest of us are forced to live in reality.”

  Shani didn’t reply.

  “Keep playing Roman soldiers,” Joel called over his shoulder to Zane as he wheel
ed away from them. “Or choose something else. Just know, no matter what, it will involve conflict. And no matter how hard you try, you’ll never really win.” He rolled through the door. “That’s the way life is and has always been.”

  Zane gave Shani a confused look.

  She didn’t address it, but instead said, “Tim would be really upset if he knew his children were pretending to be soldiers.”

  “But we chose the Romans because there weren’t any guns back then. Just spears and bows and arrows. Well . . . and daggers. And catapults.”

  Shani shivered. “Can’t you play farmer?”

  Zane shook his head. “They are farmers. What fun would that be?”

  “How about explorers?”

  Joel called out from the living room, “Explorers without conflict? Didn’t happen. Life without conflict? Impossible. Speaking of—don’t you think the neighbors’ dairy smells worse than usual?”

  Shani ignored him, and then was grateful when the phone rang. Zane popped up to answer it. Clearly it was for him. After a few seconds he said, “I’ll ask and call you back. But I’d have to be home by three.” He grabbed a pen and scribbled something on the pad of paper on the counter and then hung up.

  Turning toward Shani, Zane said, “Anthony wants me to come over and hang out.”

  Hang out. Funny that he used the word play when he was talking about the Lehman children.

  “Who’s Anthony?”

  “One of the bus-stop kids.”

  “When?”

  “Anytime. I just told him I had to be home by three.”

  “Is his mother home?”

  “I think so . . .”

  “What would you be doing?”

  “Basketball. Football. Video games.”

  “What kind of video games?”

  “Not bad ones—I promise.”

  “Let him go,” Joel called out from the living room. “The kid needs to have some normal friends.”

  Shani lowered her voice. “Do you want to go?”

  He shrugged. “It’s not like I’m doing anything around here today.”