The Imposter

by Suzanne Woods Fisher

  But one thing was sure, like Thelma, Katrina had learned how to say no.

  She saw Andy stride up to the house for the evening meal, Keeper trotting behind him. She couldn’t help herself from comparing the differences between John and Andy. She never had to say no to Andy because he didn’t push her. She didn’t feel manipulated when she was with him. She knew that he was attracted to her. Many times throughout a day, he would find her wherever she happened to be on the farm. Just checking in to see if she needed help, he would say, but she knew he had missed her. He had a tender way of looking at her, just at her, that tugged at her heart: his smile deepened, his eyes warmed.

  She knew Andy would like to kiss her if she’d let him—but after that one time, when she told him no and why, he never tried again. But kissing wasn’t all he wanted. He liked to talk to her too.

  John had never been much of a talker. Well, no, that wasn’t quite right. He talked plenty, and he was always joking around. At first, she’d liked his lightheartedness; it was a breath of fresh air compared to the sadness that filled her home after her mother’s death. He seemed so upbeat, filled with big ideas, and it was flattering to have an older man like him pursue her.

  But looking back, she realized that he never talked about things that mattered. And listening? He never listened to her. It was a one-way conversation. No, hardly even that. It was a monologue.

  Andy liked to listen to her ideas about the moss farm. Many times, after supper, he would stay and help her with the dishes, then they would sit in the living room, warmed by the woodstove, and work on plans for expanding Moss Hill. He would take her thoughts seriously, like changing the name of the greenhouse to the mossery. He never referred to it as a greenhouse again, only as the mossery. A small thing, really, and yet it was meaningful to her. He listened.

  Now that she thought about it, if she measured it just on word alone, Andy talked considerably less than John ever had. But he managed to say a whole lot more.

  On Sunday evenings, Birdy went up to the Big House for supper. She was helping her sisters-in-law in the kitchen when she heard snippets of conversation between Freeman and Levi in the other room. She stood by the doorframe, unnoticed, to listen more closely.

  “I never thought we’d be facing this kind of thing,” Levi said.

  “No, but I’m not at all surprised,” Freeman said. “David’s far too independent-minded. If we wish to destroy a weed we must pull it up by the roots.” Freeman clapped his hands against his knees. “I’ll make a call to a couple of bishops I’m friendly with—Isaac Fisher in Gap, and Sam Smucker over in Leola. They’ll help get him quieted.”

  Birdy gripped her elbows, hugging herself to stifle a sudden chill. This was wrong, what they were planning to do. Wrong and malicious and deceitful. When her brothers noticed she was standing by the door, they abruptly stopped their conversation. Freeman’s gaze swept over her, holding her quiet and still and frightened, and then he smiled. The way he could go from that hard look of a moment ago, his eyes all flat and cold, to the way he was now, warm and friendly. It disturbed her, but she only blinked innocently back. “Supper’s almost ready,” she said in the sweetest tone possible.

  All throughout the night, and over the next few days, Birdy wavered about what to do. She felt that familiar pluck in her chest, a need to make sure everyone else was happy. But after she heard her brothers discuss that they were setting into motion the process to have David quieted, she knew the time had come to do something she should have done months ago.

  Katrina went into the mossery and found Andy transplanting moss. She smiled at his concentration, the comma of his body arched over the shelf, his precision in placing the gathered moss into the substrate like he was creating a picture of mosaic tiles. His face was nearly perfect in profile—the high brow and angled cheekbones, his strong Roman nose and full lips. So very handsome.

  Keeper, curled up by Andy’s feet, scrambled up to meet her, his tail wagging like a flag. Andy straightened. He stared at her for what seemed like forever. She was having a hard time meeting his eyes, the way he looked at her lately. Then came one of those unexpected and dazzling smiles. “Morning.”

  All business, she reminded herself. Keep everything all business. “I just received a call from a florist in Lancaster. She wondered if Moss Hill could provide reindeer moss for a wedding this weekend.”

  “Well,” he answered, drawing out the word long and slow. “First of all, reindeer moss isn’t a moss, it’s a lichen. And if anyone does provide it for her to use in a wedding, he should be drawn and quartered.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s endangered in most states. It’s very slow growing, takes thirty to fifty years to recover after it’s been removed or trampled on. Reindeer and caribou rely on it for their winter diet. It’s highly nutritious. They can smell it through the snow and paw down to eat it.”

  Katrina put her hand up in the air to stop the lecture. “Thank you, Professor Miller. I’ll tell her that we can’t provide reindeer moss and that she should be ashamed of herself for depriving animals of their winter food.”

  He laughed, a soft laugh. “Tell her we’ve got something even better. A specialty moss called Hedwigia. Looks somewhat similar to reindeer moss but she won’t have to feel guilty.”

  “She needs two trays by Friday morning.”

  “Sounds good. She can even come get them today and put them in the refrigerator for a few days. They’ll keep fresh.”

  “I’ll let her know.”

  He stared at her again in that intense way he had, his head slightly tilted.

  “What? Is there something else you’ve thought of?”

  A trace of color rose under his fair skin. “To be perfectly honest, I’m still thinking how much I’d like to kiss you.”

  She flushed, looking away. “No.” Yes.

  He read her mind and took a step toward her and leaned his head close, but she reacted without thought. “No! You mustn’t.” She put her fingers against his mouth and felt as if she got a spark from touching him, like you might get if you pressed your fingertips to a window during a lightning storm. She took her fingers off his lips the instant she had touched him, but the strange tingly feeling remained. “Andy, any girl in town would be flattered by your attention.”

  He backed up a step, studying her as if he didn’t quite know what to make of her. “Any girl except you?”

  She conceded with a tilt of her head. “Not me. Not right now. It’s not a good time to start something. Not for me, not for you. I think it’s best to stop it before—”

  “Right.” He held up a hand, shaking his head. “We’re not even involved.”

  Yet. She heard the word clearly in his head.

  On Saturday morning, David had barely opened the Bent N’ Dent store when Freeman Glick burst in the door. “There’s going to be a Members’ Meeting after church tomorrow.”

  “Good morning to you too, Freeman.” David tried not to show any reaction, though he could feel his whole body and soul tense up. “Any particular reason?”

  Freeman sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “David, I think you know why we’ve come to this point.”

  “Actually, I don’t.”

  “It’s my duty to inform you that you will be asked to confess your sins before church on Sunday.”

  “Which particular sins are those?”

  Freeman drew in another deep breath. “Neglecting your children.”

  Not controlling them, he meant. Pretending they weren’t separate and unique individuals who had their own journey of faith to discover. “Freeman, have you ever had a herding dog?”

  “Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”

  “My father raised sheep and always counted on a border collie to help him with the sheep.”

  Freeman sighed.

  “A smart herding dog never nags or drives or frightens the sheep, never nips at their heels or rushes them. It goes back and forth from the rear
, gently guiding the sheep into the fold.”

  “Your point?”

  “My point is that I’ve always considered it to be an illustration from the natural world of good parenting.”

  “Well, maybe that’s the problem right there. You’re letting a dog guide you.” He leaned forward with a sneer. “And just look at the results.”

  “Freeman, I don’t deny that Anna was a better disciplinarian than I am. I’m not a perfect father, not by any means. I can certainly confess to making mistakes as a parent. But neglecting my children? That, I don’t agree with.”

  “That’s the sin that’s been laid on you.”

  That’s the one you can build a case on. David was aware there were a number of rumors circulating around and that he was not held in high regard in the church right now; the balance sheet at the store gave credence to that fact. But Freeman, as bishop, would have the most influence over the Members’ Meeting on Sunday. He’d been trying to get rid of David for a long time now and, at last, he’d found what seemed to be a legitimate way to oust him.

  David crossed his arms against his chest. “And just what will happen if I don’t confess to the sin of neglecting my children?”

  “Then we will have you quieted.” Freeman strode out of the store, leaving only the sound of the bell ringing on the door.

  So. The rumor was true.

  That evening, after he read stories to the girls, David worked on his sermon—possibly the last sermon he would ever give. The text for that Sunday would come from the book of Exodus, the life of Moses. He kept sensing a distinct impression: power through weakness. God chose Moses, a man who showed little courage and less wisdom. A man who responded to God’s divine call with five different excuses. A weak man. God used a weak man to shame the strong—Pharaoh and his multitude of armies.

  David sat back in his chair and thought of how often that very principle displayed itself throughout Scripture: God’s power operates best in human weakness.

  He read, then reread this moment from the book of Exodus, when Moses and the Israelites faced the Red Sea in front of them, Pharaoh’s pursuing army behind them: “And Moses said unto the people, Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will shew to you today: for the Egyptians whom ye have seen to day, ye shall see them again no more for ever. The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace.”

  A wave of understanding washed over David’s mind. This was what the biblical phrase “wait on the Lord” was all about: committing our Red Sea situations to God in prayer, trusting him, and waiting for him to work. God alone could part the waters. And he could hold on to his peace.

  He went outside to look at the stars. He lifted his hands toward the night sky, handing to God the outcome of tomorrow’s Members’ Meeting. Again, that one verse of Scripture filled his mind: “The Lord will fight for you and ye shall hold your peace.” A gentle hush of God’s Holy Spirit overtook him and he could hardly speak. He hadn’t felt God’s presence like that in a long, long time.

  If Freeman wanted to have David quieted, so be it.

  16

  There was an atmospheric condition known as earthquake weather, a blanket of stillness that forecasted a shaking up. This day felt like such a day to Jesse.

  After church on Sunday, everyone who wasn’t baptized—mostly children—was asked to leave and wait outside. Ruthie had organized a softball game in the yard for the children while the young adults gathered at a picnic table. “It’s times like these that I think I should just go ahead and get baptized,” Katrina whispered to Jesse. “Freeman is making Dad his scapegoat and I can’t do a thing about it.”

  That was enough for Jesse. He slipped away quietly and walked the perimeter of the house, stopping when he spotted an open window. Just what he had hoped to find. He peered cautiously over the sill and saw the backs of the four old sisters from the Sisters’ House, sitting like pigeons on a telephone wire. He waved to Katrina from the corner of the farmhouse. “Hsst! Kumm mol!” Come over here! When she started toward him, he cupped his mouth and whispered, “Bring Andy!”

  Katrina and Andy walked over to join Jesse. He put a finger to his lips to be quiet. “I can hear everything,” he whispered, crouched beneath the open window. “Freeman is explaining why Dad needs to confess and mend his ways.” Jesse was insulted. “Why, it’s because of us! You and me. We’ve veered off the straight and narrow path, Freeman is saying.”

  Katrina was amazed. “Did you truly just figure that out now, Jesse Stoltzfus?”

  Andy sat down, his back against the house, his head tilted to the open window to listen. Katrina crouched down next to Jesse.

  “David Stoltzfus,” they heard Freeman say, “do you refuse to make things right?”

  “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  “Your daughter must get baptized, right away. She needs to marry the father of her baby.”

  “Katrina is not going to marry him.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s engaged to someone else and, apparently, that young woman is also with child.”

  Katrina gasped, her eyes wide with shock. “Jesse, did you know that?”

  Jesse shook his head. “I didn’t. I would have said so if I’d known! Aunt Nancy must have told him.”

  “My daughter will make her vows when she is ready,” she heard her father say. “I can’t think of anything worse than to force baptism on a person.”

  “What about that son of yours? He’s lost to the world, and you do nothing about it.”

  “Lost to the world? He’s only sixteen!”

  “He gambled away Hank Lapp’s life earnings.”

  “Jesse will be making a full restitution to Hank Lapp.”

  “JESSE AND ME ARE ALL SQUARED UP,” Hank piped up.

  Jesse smiled. “He’s a fine fellow, that Hank Lapp.”

  Freeman had a differing opinion. “Jesse Stoltzfus spiked the punch with the devil’s brew at Hank and Edith’s wedding. He was seen doing it.”

  “By whom?” Jesse whispered. He had been so careful.

  “Hush!” Katrina said. “I can’t hear what Dad is saying.”

  Apparently, neither could Freeman. “So,” he said, “you have nothing to say for yourself.”

  “No,” David said. “I have no defense.”

  “Well, then,” Freeman said. “There’s nothing left for us to do but to call for a vote to have you quieted.”

  Jesse climbed on the sill to peer into the window, searching past the sisters of the Sisters’ House, over the rows of white and black prayer caps to see the front bench, needing suddenly to see his father. He noticed that his father’s knuckles were white where they clenched at his side, and his arm muscles were taut, as if poised to jump. Jesse wished he would.

  “Get down, they’ll see you,” Katrina whispered.

  “Not a chance,” Jesse said. Everyone’s attention was riveted on Freeman and his father.

  Then he saw Birdy stand up. “But there is something else,” she said.

  Jesse saw several worshipers shift their bottoms on the hard benches to turn to her.

  “Speak up, Birdy,” Freeman said. “No one can hear you. Do you have something to lay against David?”

  “I said, there is something else,” she repeated, projecting her voice with effort. “But it’s not about David. I have something to confess. I have kept some information from all of you. My brothers took part in a sinful deed. A few months ago, when we voted to nominate a new bishop, they fixed the lot in the hymnal so Freeman would receive it and not David Stoltzfus. They put lots in each hymnal, but Freeman made sure to pick it up first.”

  Suddenly the very air itself seemed suspended with tension, the way it felt in the time between a strike of lightning and a blast of thunder.

  After some moments, Freeman found words. “Sie verschteht ken Buhn davun.” She doesn’t know a thing.

  “But I do. I saw you do it, Freeman. You and Levi. And I’m ashamed t
hat I did nothing. Der Verhehler is graad so schlecht as her Schtehler.” The concealer is just as bad as the stealer.

  “Schtehler!” Freeman walked right up to her. His breathing was strident, the wool of his beard quivered. Jesse saw it all. Freeman pointed a stiff finger at her. “Narrisch!” Foolish! His lips twisted hard with revulsion. “Narrisch, narrisch, narrisch!” His big farmer’s hands were clenching and unclenching rhythmically, his powerful chest shook.

  “I’m only ashamed that I didn’t say something on that day.”

  “How dare you accuse me of such a thing?” His voice roared, as if shouting her down could make his own words truer.

  Thelma rose slowly to her feet and Jesse saw people crane to look at her. “She dares,” Thelma said in a shaky voice, “because she’s telling the truth. She dares because she’s much braver than I’ve ever been. It’s time to bring it all out in the open, Freeman, and admit something that should have been told years and years ago.” She looked around at the worshipers, who were all staring back. “This terrible deed goes back further than Freeman and Levi. It started with my Elmo,” she said, nearly choking over her husband’s name.

  The quiet that followed was immediate and complete, as if the very heart of the earth had suddenly stopped beating. Yet it seemed to Jesse as if he could still hear Birdy’s words ring in his ears: he fixed the lot. Freeman fixed the lot.

  “It was wrong from the start,” Thelma said, “and I told Elmo as much but he wouldn’t listen to me. It started after Bishop Caleb Zook passed, and there was a dearth of good leadership in our church. Elmo thought it was best to keep the leadership in the family. He fixed the lot when he was nominated to be bishop, then he brought in Abraham as deacon, then Freeman as minister. He didn’t see what it would do, down the road. Elmo could make himself believe that fire wasn’t hot. Just like you can, Freeman. You’ve all become imposters, and it started with Elmo.”

  Jesse glanced behind him to exchange a shocked look with Katrina. He turned to Andy, but his head was bowed down, his chin tucked low on his chest.