Always Close to Home

by Jerry S. Eicher

  “But…” Nancy began again.

  Deacon William leaned forward. “You know this is true.”

  She nodded. What else was there to say? By her silence, she was lying. Nancy forced herself to focus as Deacon William spoke again. “The parents have complained, so we must do something. Can I at least have your promise that this will stop once and for all, and at the next communion time, maybe you can make a confession? Discreetly, of course. That should satisfy most people, and I can tell anyone who speaks to me before then what the plan is.”

  Nancy knew this was her way out. No one need ever know what had happened before this. She could tell Charles tonight that she would never see him again, and they could…But Nancy stopped herself. No, she could not live like this. She could not!

  “Is that agreeable?” Deacon William attempted a smile. “I’m trying to make this easy for you, Nancy. Surely it’s not that difficult to respect the wishes of the community. You are one of us and always have been. I want to assure you of that. No one is trying to make things miserable for you.”

  Nancy’s hands trembled, but she had to speak. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said. “I can’t deceive you and the community any longer. The Lord already knows that I have transgressed greatly.”

  Deacon William tilted his head. “You have done what?”

  “It’s more than you know,” Nancy managed, and the rest of the words burst out. “The Englisha man you refer to. His name is Charles Wiseman. I’ve been dating him for some time. He wants me to marry him. I love him, I really do. But I can’t marry him, but neither can I stop seeing him. It’s all a horrible mess!” Nancy closed her hands so tightly the nails dug into her palms.

  Deacon William could not have appeared more astonished. “You, Nancy? Our schoolteacher? Dating an Englisha man? Pretending that nothing is going on? How can this be?”

  “You heard right,” Nancy said. “I have been seeing an Englisha man. I haven’t been honest with you from the start.” She lifted her chin higher. “You’ll have to excommunicate me, I suppose, and find someone else to teach on Monday morning, because I—”

  Deacon William silenced her with an upraised hand. “Stop, Nancy. Start at the beginning. Tell me the whole story.”

  “There is no beginning,” she muttered, “and no ending, apparently. Charles stopped by the schoolhouse one day—that’s all. And we fell in love. I don’t know how else to say it. Maybe my heart was ready after all the years of sorrow I’ve been through with Yost’s rejection of me, but I know that’s no excuse. I fell in love with him. How else do I say it?”

  “Are you…?”

  Nancy winced. “No. Charles isn’t that kind of man, Deacon William. I’m the problem—that and my heart. I’ve lived a goot life, yah, but apparently there was a flaw in me that I didn’t see. After Yost rejected me, I never got over the hurt. Deep down there was still the desire to have a husband I loved and to bear kinner. When the Lord didn’t provide, I found my own way. That’s what it looks like to me.”

  “But you had offers of marriage in the community, Nancy. Or at least offers to date!” Deacon William exclaimed. “Is this not true?”

  Nancy kept her gaze fixed on the floor. She really didn’t want to discuss this with the deacon. She had already said enough. “I’m expecting my punishment,” she said. “I’ll make no objections. I’m sure you can find someone to fill in at the schoolhouse on Monday. Teachers aren’t that difficult to find.”

  Nancy pressed back the tears. At last she had finally spoken the truth. However painful the road, this was better than the one she had been on. Now she could marry Charles, even with the turmoil in her heart. He would be overjoyed when she told him.

  Deacon William stood to pace the room. “This is not acceptable. I’ve known you all of my life, and we can’t lose you like this. Not our best schoolteacher—to an Englisha man. Of all things, Nancy. Think…and stop this madness. There is still time.”

  She shook her head. “There isn’t, Deacon. I wish there was, but there isn’t. I can’t do this on my own.”

  He pounced. “See! But you wish you could, so there is hope.”

  She shook her head.

  “Yah, there is!” Deacon William declared. “We will not stand by while this happens. I know your heart, and I know what is right.”

  “What are you going to do?” Nancy asked. “I’m meeting Charles at the schoolhouse later this evening. I’ll invite him here and tell him that I accept his offer of marriage. From what he tells me, he’s willing to wed me quite soon. I don’t need many frills. I was raised Amish, I’ll tell him. Just a new Englisha dress is goot enough, and we can live here after the wedding if he wishes.”

  Deacon William stopped his pacing and said, “You speak out of your head, Nancy. I’m going to Bishop Ezra’s place right now. He’ll support me on this, and we’ll take care of everything.”

  “What do you mean?” Nancy asked, but the deacon was already out the front door. Moments later his buggy tore out of her driveway and disappeared rapidly up the road.

  Would she be excommunicated tonight? That didn’t seem possible. Even with her strong words there would be discussions, further warnings, and counsel taken with the whole community at a Sunday service. Nothing could be done tonight. Deacon William must have gone to Bishop Ezra for moral support. No doubt the two would be back to give her further directives in only minutes.

  Nancy busied herself in the kitchen. Charles would be here later for supper, and she should prepare something more than soup for their engagement celebration. She would keep up the preparations, even when Bishop Ezra arrived with Deacon William. That would demonstrate to both of them her determination—if there remained any doubt in their minds.

  Nancy slipped down the basement stairs and found two large potatoes and a jar of canned corn. She took both back upstairs and wrapped the potatoes in tinfoil. There was no time for mashed potatoes, so baked would do. She lit the stove, and twenty minutes later the corn was steaming in the bowl.

  Nancy was still working when she heard the sound of buggy wheels coming into the driveway. Deacon William didn’t knock but came straight in with Bishop Ezra and his frau, Rose, behind him. No one said anything, and Nancy kept busy until she heard their footsteps leaving again. She glanced up to see Rose seated by herself at the kitchen table.

  “Where have the men gone?” Nancy asked as the sound of buggy wheels went out the driveway.

  “You can guess,” Rose said. “I’m here to stay for the night. Ezra will pick me up tomorrow morning, and we’ll follow you to the services.”

  “But, I—” Nancy protested.

  “No ifs, ands, or buts,” Rose said. “Someone is staying with you until you come to your senses. And that Englisha man won’t be bothering you again. You have nothing to worry about, Nancy. The Lord can heal your heart and make things right again.”

  Nancy gasped. “The men are talking to Charles?”

  Rose nodded. “When he comes they’ll be waiting out on the road. It’s for the best. Now let me help you finish supper, and we can eat it together—just the two of us with the Lord’s grace.”

  “I…” Nancy tried again.

  This she had not expected, but it was useless to protest. She should try to reach Charles first, but Bishop Ezra and Deacon William wouldn’t allow it. Nor would Rose allow her to leave. Nancy steadied herself on the counter with both hands, and Rose stood up to slip her arm around Nancy’s shoulder.

  “It’s for the best,” Rose repeated. “Just remember that.”

  Nancy didn’t know if it was or wasn’t, but she didn’t feel anything either.

  “The potatoes,” Nancy managed.

  “I’ll check them.” Rose opened the stove door, and warmth rushed out to fill the room. “They’re not ready,” Rose said, closing the door again. “What else is there to do?”

  “Nothing. But I don’t think I can eat anyway.”

  “Oh yah, you will,” Rose chided.

 
; And she would, Nancy knew. She would obey because there was nothing else to do. She knew how to obey even when her heart was dead.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lydia stood rearranging the pumpkins at Uncle Henry’s roadside stand, placing the smaller ones in front and the larger ones toward the back. The first rush of morning customers had purchased well over half of what she had put out only a few hours before. Uncle Henry would be pleased. Halloween fell on Monday next week. With the stand closed on Sunday, that left only a few days to sell these pumpkins and the ones still on the vine.

  “We’ll sell them all this year,” Uncle Henry had declared at breakfast. “We have to, with all this high-priced help we have around here.”

  Uncle Henry had been teasing, of course, but Lydia believed he was right—especially after this morning’s rush. For her, the feeling of satisfaction was enough of a reward. Since Mamm’s funeral, her work seemed like an island of sanity amid raging seas. Maybe this was why the Lord had allowed her to work for Uncle Henry this fall. She wouldn’t do well at home with Mamm gone. Laura could handle the empty house and was the optimistic one who had great faith that the Lord would walk with them through their trials.

  Lydia paused to straighten her back. After the funeral she had supported Laura in her belief that everything would turn out right. But she wavered often, while Laura did not—and Laura’s faith had been rewarded in part. Yah, John was still blind, but his back had mended beyond the doctor’s wildest expectations. Now Laura wasn’t giving up hope for John’s eyesight. Her twin prayed every day, but did the Lord still give sight to the blind? The thought seemed impossible, and perhaps Laura didn’t think such a thing would happen either. The truth was, if John could walk, Laura planned to marry him even if he remained blind. Laura would consider his walking a miracle and claim victory.

  Laura was an inspiration. There was no doubt about that. But for Lydia, taking the practical attitude was so much easier. This was why she had encouraged Laura to consider Wendell’s offer of a date. In a way, she was glad Laura had refused. If Laura had faltered, what hope would there be for her own situation with Milton?

  Lydia sighed at the thought. Yah, Milton would take a miracle too. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Milton once and for all that their situation was hopeless. But neither could she consider jumping the fence with him. But if Laura continued to believe in the Lord, maybe she could do the same. At least her courage was stirred that an answer might come. What that answer would be, she couldn’t imagine.

  Yet miracles were that way, were they not? Miracles were impossible situations that the Lord solved for helpless human beings. The thought took her breath away. Could she one day be Milton’s frau? Could they both be happy and settled in the community? This question put Laura’s courage in a whole new light. The mountain looked even taller when she placed the obstacle in her own life. How brave Laura was.

  In the meantime, her heart pined for Milton’s affections. There was no question about that. This clouded her judgment. She wouldn’t have dared continue to hope, except for Laura’s example. Her sister was setting a worthy example for her to follow, even if hardly anyone else in the community agreed.

  Lydia sighed and searched the road in each direction for any sign of approaching automobiles. She needed a steady stream of customers to sell her pumpkins, but maybe the Lord also knew that she needed a few moments to catch her breath and think about Milton. He hadn’t said anything lately about his new Englisha automobile. Maybe the shock of her mamm’s passing had given Milton a more sober outlook on life. Maybe the miracle from the Lord was already at work? The choice that Milton should make seemed so simple to her. Why couldn’t Milton set his heart on continuing in the community instead of jumping the fence?

  The sound of a buggy came up the driveway from Uncle Henry’s house, and Lydia quickly rearranged a few more pumpkins. She must look busy when Milton drove up. The last thing she needed was for him to know how much she cared. Milton had to know that she liked him, but not…

  Lydia stood upright as Milton drove the open buggy loaded with fresh pumpkins out of the woods. He drove with a wild dash toward the stand, and Lydia watched him with an open mouth. At the speed Milton was traveling, it was a surprise any of the pumpkins remained on his buggy. But that was Milton for you. He lived recklessly, as if there were no consequences. She could almost imagine how he would drive that forbidden Englisha car of his. What she couldn’t understand was why she was so attracted to such a man.

  Milton brought his horse to a stop in a small cloud of dust.

  “Goot morning, lovely one,” Milton sang out.

  Lydia pulled up her coat collar to hide the heat creeping up her neck. Milton wouldn’t dare say such things if Uncle Henry was around. But since they were alone, Milton took advantage of the situation. Of course, she didn’t object, which was an awful thing, but…

  “Cat got your tongue on a cold morning?” Milton teased. He sailed off the buggy with one effortless bound, landing lightly on his feet.

  “I’m quite able to speak,” Lydia squeaked.

  Milton laughed heartily. He obviously knew way too much.

  Lydia tried to scold him. “It’s the way you come tearing up the driveway with pumpkins on the back of your buggy that chills my bones. What if you spilled them and split them wide open? Uncle Henry didn’t pay you to help raise them only to see you lose them.”

  Milton grinned from ear to ear. “Isn’t that a mouthful, even for you?”

  “You should behave yourself,” Lydia chided.

  Milton stepped closer, his grin growing wider. “Well, are you going to help me unload these pumpkins or not?”

  Lydia tried to breathe. Did all girls melt like butter in his hands?

  Milton lifted the first pumpkin off the wagon and regarded Lydia with a sober face. “I’m sorry for my teasing. You must still be mourning your mamm’s passing. I should be more…”

  “It’s okay,” Lydia said. Now she wanted to cry. Milton could change directions on a dime and still be perfectly on target. “I’ve been thinking of her.”

  Milton lifted another pumpkin off the wagon. “Losing one’s mamm couldn’t be easy.”

  “But the Lord allowed it.”

  Milton’s lips tightened. “Yah, I know.”

  Lydia still hadn’t moved. “You’re not losing your faith, are you?”

  “I don’t know much about the Lord’s doing. I just try to live each day at a time, and let things happen as they will.” Milton transferred another pumpkin.

  “But, we must—”

  As Lydia spoke, a car pulled up and a man got out. Lydia turned her attention to the new customer.

  “Mighty fine pumpkins you got here,” the man said, taking an apprising look at the display. He tapped several of them with his knuckles.

  “My Uncle Henry raises the best,” Lydia told him. “And besides the pumpkins, we still have our other produce as well.” Lydia gave a quick wave of her hand across the well-stocked shelves behind her.

  “I see,” the man replied with a smile. “But pumpkins it is for me this morning. I’ll take four of them.”

  “Which ones would you like?” Milton asked from behind Lydia. “I’ll carry them to your car.”

  The man grinned. “I’d like to choose from your wagon, if you don’t mind. Straight from an Amish farm to my front lawn. I like that.” The man laughed. “You should use that as your slogan.”

  Milton laughed along with the man, and followed him over to the wagon. The man chose each pumpkin carefully while Milton waited and chatted with him. When the last pumpkin was loaded into the car, the two were still laughing. Milton was right at home with Englisha people. Lydia had noticed that before, but Milton was also right at home with most people—including her.

  Milton chuckled when he returned to the stand. “Maybe I should learn how to carve pumpkins.”

  “You should not,” Lydia said. “You’ve learned enough Englisha ways already.”

/>   Milton gave Lydia a long look. “You should lighten up, girl. There’s time enough to settle down in the community.”

  “So you’re planning on joining the baptismal class soon?”

  Milton’s laugh was dry. “Not likely! Not after what’s happening to my sister.”

  “Nancy!” Lydia gasped. “What has happened? Surely she hasn’t…”

  Milton grunted at the heavy pumpkin in his arms. “Aren’t you going to help me?”

  Lydia forced herself to move. How could Milton be so blasé about such an important question? But if she wanted him to speak, she’d have to wait. Milton didn’t respond well to pressure.

  “I didn’t expect Nancy to fold so easily,” Milton finally said. “She was an inspiration to me, but now…” Milton let the words dangle in the bright sunlight.

  Lydia unbuttoned her coat and remained silent. Milton picked up another pumpkin before he asked, “Haven’t you heard?”

  Lydia tried to hide the tremble in her voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Milton grunted again. “I suppose you’ve been too distracted with your mamm’s passing, but that may be another reason Nancy gave in. Didn’t my sister almost marry your daett way back when?”

  “Would you talk sense, Milton?” Lydia said with exasperation.

  “I am talking sense! My sister was in love with that Englisha man, and now she’s given him up. Deacon William just took over Nancy’s life, and now…” Milton threw both hands up once he’d set the pumpkin down. “Nancy just gave it all up for a boring life in the community.”

  Lydia kept her lips pressed together. Was this goot news? She couldn’t tell from Milton’s rambled account.

  “Deacon William came right over and told Nancy she had to give Charles up,” Milton continued. “Of course the deacon would say that, but Nancy didn’t have to give in. Now they have someone staying with Nancy all the time. They even have one of the younger girls helping at the schoolhouse. Nancy’s never alone. I guess they’ll keep this up until your daett marries her.” Milton sent Lydia a glare. “That’s what I heard is next in the plans. They want the old wounds healed.”