by Marta Perry
“All right, all right.” He held his hands up, palms out in surrender, but his dark eyes twinkled. “I guess I wasn’t very convincing.”
“I’m raising four boys, remember? I can tell when someone is evading a question.”
“Ach, you always did see right through me. If Isaac hadn’t snapped you up so quickly—”
“Joseph,” she reminded him.
He nodded, opening a flap in the counter so that she could step through. “Come in back and we’ll find him. He’s around someplace, and you can see my little business.”
“Not so little,” she said as they emerged into a large storage area with racks bearing all sorts of metal parts whose use she couldn’t imagine.
“We do all right.” Frederick gestured toward a row of boxes, clearly labeled and ready for shipping. “These are parts we made for an Englisch manufacturer. They were skeptical at first that we could produce quality products, but we convinced them.”
A young Amish man she vaguely recognized as a member of an adjoining church district glanced at them, nodded, and returned to his work, guiding a machine that was cutting a piece of metal in an intricate form. She gave Frederick a questioning look. “The machine is computerized, ain’t so?”
He nodded. “All approved by the bishop and ministers. It’s the only way to cut the precise parts, so it’s necessary to the business.” He grinned. “It’s not as if Ben here can use it to browse the Internet.”
“I wasn’t questioning . . .” She felt herself flushing. “I didn’t mean to sound disapproving. I’m just wondering what Joseph is doing here.”
Fred stared at her for a moment, a frown gathering on his face. “He hasn’t talked to you, then. I’ve told him he should be honest with his family.”
Judith swung to face him, shaken by the implication that he knew more about the boy she’d raised than she did. “What do you mean? Talked to me about what?”
“Don’t put me in the middle, Judith,” Fred said quickly. “The boy should tell you himself.”
“It seems to me you’ve already put yourself in the middle. I will deal with Joseph, but I want to know your part in this, and I want to know it now.”
He shrugged. “Are you always this bossy? All right, I’ll tell you. Joseph is fascinated with the work we do here, and he’s talented. Very talented. He actually helped one of the men with the design for a new metal harness part that we’ll be selling before long.”
Judith absorbed the impact of his words. Joseph’s visit today wasn’t a one-time thing, then. He must have been coming regularly. And keeping it secret.
“He’s always been interested in such things. But I didn’t realize . . .” She let that trail off, not sure she wanted to face the implication.
“You didn’t realize that this is the work he wants to learn, ain’t so?” Frederick’s usually jovial voice was serious for once. “I tell you the truth, I’ve never seen a boy of fourteen with so much aptitude. I only wish one of my own kinder had the gift he does. I’d take Joseph on as an apprentice today if you and Isaac agreed.”
She closed her eyes for an instant, imagining Isaac’s reaction to such an offer. “And what about the dairy farm? It’s intended for Joseph. Isaac has worked so hard—” She stopped, knowing she didn’t want to share her family’s issues with Fred.
“Well, I guess that’s for you to work out.” Fred’s gaze slid away from hers, as if he was embarrassed. “I think he’s in here, working with Zeb Esch.”
He led the way through another door to a noisy room filled with machinery and workers. They seemed to be focused on different tasks, none of which made much sense to her.
She saw Joseph at once. He was bending over a machine, wearing protective goggles, and he had an expression of such total absorption that she almost didn’t recognize him.
“Joseph.”
He jerked upright at the sound of her voice, spinning to stare at her, his blue eyes wide and distorted by the goggles.
“J . . . Judith.” He stammered her name. “What are you doing here?”
She’d never thought to see the boy look frightened at the sight of her. She had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could speak, giving her an instant to think. The only thing that could make this even worse would be to embarrass him in front of the other men.
“I’m here to give you a ride home.” Judith fought to sound normal, struggled to smile. “Are you ready?”
Obviously Joseph knew the question for the command it was. He stripped off the goggles, nodded to the men, and followed her without speaking back through the building.
Wait, she told herself. Don’t say anything where the others might hear. But her mind was running on ahead of her, her thoughts tumbling like pebbles in a stream.
It wasn’t until they’d started down the road toward home that she collected herself enough to speak. “I am disappointed in you, Joseph. Running off to the machine shop without telling me where you were going—”
“I couldn’t.” The words burst out of him. “Judith, how could I tell you? You know what Isaac would say about my going there. He doesn’t want me to be thinking about anything but the dairy farm.”
Please, Lord, give me the words. “The dairy farm is your inheritance. Isaac just wants to help you get ready to run it.”
“I don’t want to run it!” The statement seemed to explode, rocking Joseph nearly as much as it did her. “I know Isaac thinks I should, but I don’t want to. I never did.”
Her thoughts reeled wildly. What on earth was the boy saying? He couldn’t mean it. “But your father planned—”
Joseph seemed to shake that off before she could even get the words out. “The dairy farm was his dream. And it’s Isaac’s dream, and maybe Levi’s, too. But not mine! Don’t you see?”
She stared at the familiar road ahead, trying to make sense of it all. Careful. She had to be careful in what she said, or Joseph might stop talking to her altogether.
“I know you’ve always been fascinated by how things work. You like machinery. That’s a good thing. That’s what I was telling Isaac just this morning. I tried to show him that it would be a fine idea for you to take that class. Every dairy farmer has to use machinery. Maybe he’ll say yes, if he doesn’t find out . . .”
She stopped. Was she really thinking of keeping Joseph’s visits to the machine shop a secret from Isaac? She couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right not to be honest with her husband. But how could she tell on the boy and see his relationship with Isaac fall apart?
“I don’t want the dairy farm,” Joseph repeated. “What sense does it make for Isaac to give up what he loves for me when I don’t want it?”
Judith wanted to have an answer for that question. But she didn’t.
After a long moment, she shook her head. “I don’t know, Joseph. You and Isaac are brothers. You should be able to talk together about this problem.”
“We can’t. You know he won’t understand.” Joseph drooped on the buggy seat, head averted, and Judith sensed that he was close to tears.
“If you won’t talk to Isaac about it, what will you do?” She asked the sensible question, wondering if Joseph had a plan at all. She’d like to think this was just a case of teenage rebellion that he’d outgrow, but in her heart she suspected he wouldn’t. Joseph just didn’t have the feeling for the animals that even little Levi had.
Joseph shrugged miserably. “I don’t know. Maybe . . . you said he was thinking about letting me take the class. Maybe, when he sees I do well, he’ll understand that I really mean it. Maybe then he’ll let me go as an apprentice to Fred.”
“That’s a lot of maybes,” she said, her heart wrenched by his obvious pain.
“I know. But . . .” He looked at her, his eyes filled with tears he seemed determined not to shed. “You’ll help me, won’t you, Judith? You understand. You can convince Isaac.”
“If we don’t get home before Isaac does, all the convincing in the world won’t help. If only you’d told me—”
“Well, you didn’t tell me you’d talked to Isaac about the class.” At her look, he flushed. “I didn’t mean that you’re to blame. But we’re almost home. We’ll be there first. And you’ll help me show Isaac that my way is right.” Joseph had the quick resiliency of youth—and what she felt was unjustified confidence in her ability.
But if she didn’t agree to help him, what might he do? Run away? Jump the fence to the Englisch world where he could do what he pleased? If he did, it would be her fault.
And if she did try to help Joseph, and Isaac realized she’d kept Joseph’s plans a secret, what would that do to their marriage?
It seemed she was in for grief no matter what she did. Judith’s breath caught in her throat. What did she believe, in her own heart, was right for Joseph? That was the question, and she seemed to see the answer in the handwriting of a woman who’d been faced with difficult decisions over sixty years ago.
All we want is the freedom to choose what’s right for us.
Mattie’s words echoed in her heart, and Judith confronted the answer. “All right. I’ll try to help you if I can.”
And she’d pray that the price of that help wouldn’t be too much for her to bear.
Lancaster County, August 1953
Adam would probably be arriving soon, and Mattie’s fingers fumbled on the late beans she was snapping for supper. How was she to behave normally toward him, with her mother-in-law’s words still bouncing around her mind? Her hands stilled on the colander of beans in her lap, and Anna, next to her on the porch swing, grabbed a handful.
“I’ll beat you, Mammi,” she declared, snapping a bean almost in half in her enthusiasm.
“No, no, just the stem, remember?” Mattie guided her small daughter’s fingers to the proper place on the bean. “That’s right. Gut work.”
Anna grinned, a dimple showing in her cheek. “I can help, ain’t so?”
“You are a wonderful gut helper.” Mattie dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
Movement caught her eye, and she looked down the lane to see Adam coming toward her. Rachel was walking next to him, maybe having met him at the mailbox by the road. His head was bent, and he seemed to be listening intently to what she was telling him.
Mattie’s heart gave a little lurch. One thing that her mother-in-law had said rang true. Adam did care for the children, and they turned to him quite naturally for help, for advice, even for the kind of gentle teasing that a father did so well.
But how could she feel for anyone else the way she had for Ben? She couldn’t, that’s all.
Adam and Rachel drew closer, and she waved, but his face didn’t break into its usual smile. She felt her throat tighten. “Was ist letz? What’s wrong?”
Adam exchanged looks with Rachel as they mounted the stairs. He tapped Anna lightly on the nose. “You run along and find your brothers. Mammi’s going to take a break from doing the beans for a few minutes.”
Anna pouted a little, obviously knowing she was being gotten rid of. But Mattie gave her a look, and she scooted off.
“What is it?” she asked as soon as Anna was out of earshot.
Rachel sat down on the swing in the spot she’d vacated, while Adam leaned against the railing. Rachel’s sweet oval face was drawn and serious. She held out a long white envelope to Mattie. “This was in the mail.”
Fingers suddenly awkward, Mattie turned the envelope over so she could read the return address. It was from the office of the superintendent of schools. Her breath caught in her throat. “What . . . what is it?”
“I didn’t open it, Mammi. It’s addressed to the parents of Rachel Lapp.”
Rachel’s voice seemed to shake a little on the words. Mattie understood the feeling. It was very rare to get something so official-looking in the mail. And Rachel had only one parent, not two, as the address indicated.
Steeling herself, Mattie ripped the envelope and pulled out the single sheet inside. It wasn’t even a letter, just a sheet of directions.
“‘This is to inform you that Rachel Lapp, age fourteen, is assigned to the ninth-grade class at Valley Consolidated High School, Room 204,’” she read aloud. “‘School begins on September third. Your child’s bus pickup schedule will be sent to you separately.’”
She broke off then. “Well, we knew it was coming.” She hoped she sounded calmer than she felt.
“There’s more.” Rachel took the paper and read the final lines. “‘Failure to report as assigned will result in prosecution under the Pennsylvania Public School Code.’” She dropped the paper and looked from Adam to her mother, her eyes wide and suddenly frightened, so that she looked like a little girl again. “What does that mean? Will they put us in jail if I don’t go?”
“Ach, no, I’m sure it doesn’t mean such a thing.” Mattie wasn’t sure at all, but she had to take that frightened look from her child’s face. “No one could do something like that. You must not worry about it.”
“I heard from a couple of other people who’d gotten their letters today,” Adam said. “They seem to think that’s maybe just a formality, the way they phrase the letter. Or the other side of it is that the school board is trying to make us afraid, so we’ll do as we’re told. Anyway, it’s the parents who are responsible, not the young ones.” His tone was the easy, gentle one he used with the kinder, but Mattie could see past it to the deep concern in his eyes.
Rachel turned to Mattie in a quick, impetuous movement. “No. They can’t punish you. What would we do then?”
“Don’t fret yourself, Rachel.” She held her daughter’s hands in hers. “It won’t come to that, you’ll see. And if it does . . . well, we must do what is right in the eyes of God, not men.”
“Maybe . . . maybe I should just go to the school, the way they want me to.” Rachel stumbled on the words.
Mattie’s grip tightened. “Do you want to go there?” Did she know her daughter as well as she thought?
“No.” Rachel blinked back the tears that filled her eyes. “I don’t. I want to do what we planned for me, the way it’s always been. I’m Amish. I want to live Amish, and I have enough school learning already. It’s time for me to learn my job, from Ada, and how to be an Amish wife and mother, from you.”
“That’s what I want for you, too.” Relief flooded through her. For a moment she’d half feared she’d been wrong about her daughter.
“But if it means keeping you from being hurt by the law,” Rachel added, “I would go to the school, no matter what.”
“Stop, now. We can’t let being afraid keep us from following our ways.” She looked to Adam, longing for his assurance.
“That’s right,” he said quickly, as if he’d recognized her wordless plea for help. “Besides, this is for the bishop and the ministers to decide. We obey God’s laws, not men’s laws, ain’t so?”
Rachel nodded, wiping away a tear that had escaped. “What will you and Mammi do?”
Mattie’s heart jolted as she heard Rachel’s obvious assumption that Adam would be part of whatever they decided.
“There’s a school board meeting next week.” Adam’s glance at Mattie seemed wary, as if he wasn’t sure how she’d react to whatever it was he intended to say. “Bishop Thomas thinks he and all the fathers of school-age children should attend. Even if they don’t allow us to speak, just being there will show how we feel. And maybe they will hear us.” He seemed to make an effort to sound hopeful.
“So I must go.” Mattie forced the words out.
“No, no, that wasn’t what I meant,” he said quickly. “No one expects you to attend. Others of us can represent the family for you. Onkel Jonah and I will go.”
>
Adam was trying to give her a way out, just as Rachel had with her offer to attend the new school. One part of Mattie longed to take it—to hide from the responsibility that was being thrust upon her. But she, no one else, was Rachel’s parent.
“All we want is the freedom to choose for ourselves,” she said slowly. And if she truly believed that, she could not hide and let others do what she should be doing. Hadn’t she just said to Rachel that they mustn’t let fear keep them from doing what was right? If she expected her child to trust those words, then there wasn’t any doubt about what she should do.
“Denke, Adam.” She looked at him steadily. “I will be glad of your support. But I must go as well.”
CHAPTER SIX
Isaac wiped his hands and face on the towel that hung next to the sink by the back door. Installing that sink had been one of the best things he’d done when they’d rebuilt the house. He had to grin. It didn’t matter to him where he washed, but Judith didn’t like grubby hands in her kitchen sink, and on a farm there were plenty of those.
He walked through the kitchen, which was sparkling clean but with the aroma of the fried chicken they’d had for supper still in the air. By this time in the evening, Judith would be getting Noah ready for bed.
Sure enough, she sat in the living room rocker, her voice a soft murmur as she read to Noah, who was snuggled on her lap. Isaac paused for a moment, enjoying the way her head bent over the nearly asleep child. Even back when they had been in school together, it had been obvious that gentle Judith would be a wonderful gut mother one day.
When he took another step she glanced up, smiling when she met his gaze. Noah didn’t stir—too close to dreamland even to realize his daadi had come into the room. He nodded to the boy as Noah’s eyelids drifted closed.
“He’s asleep,” he said softly.
She craned her neck to look into the face that was turned into her apron. “Ja, I think so.” She slid the book onto the table next to her, where the slanting rays of the setting sun turned its cover bright with an image of farm animals. “He wears himself out trying to keep up with the older ones all day.”