Blessings

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

A smile quavered on Trina’s lips. She shook her head. “No, sir.”

  The man slapped his knees. “Very well. I’ll speak to the bishop, and when he gives his approval, your intentions will be published.” He started to rise.

  Graham held out his hand. “There’s something else we need to discuss.”

  Mr. Muller sank back into his chair.

  Graham rose and took two steps to stand at the end of the sofa. He put his hand on Trina’s shoulder. Although he didn’t look at her, he sensed her turning her face upward. Her muscles felt tight beneath his hand, and he gave a gentle squeeze of assurance before speaking.

  “As you know, Trina has spent time studying—”

  “Behind our backs,” Mr. Muller inserted, his brows coming down into a sharp V.

  Graham nodded. “Behind your backs. But I was aware of her actions. She shared them with me.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Muller exchanged a quick glance.

  “You’re aware she had plans to take a test to get a high school diploma and then attend college.”

  Mr. Muller’s cheeks became streaked with banners of temper. “And you’re aware we’ve forbidden her from further pursuit.”

  Graham nodded. “Yes, I know. But I’d like to humbly ask you to reconsider.”

  Mr. Muller gaped at Graham as if he’d suddenly broken out in purple polka dots.

  Trina’s mother leaned forward to peer into Graham’s face. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

  Graham offered a quick, silent prayer for guidance before replying. “Trina believes God has called her to this task. And the Bible verses read in service only this morning say that a woman should be allowed the fruit of her hand. I believe God is telling me this is His will for Trina.”

  Trina’s father came out of his chair. “You speak nonsense! We have always followed the belief that a woman’s place is in the home.” He whirled on Trina. “Not in a barn!”

  Trina recoiled, her shoulder connecting with Graham’s side. He curled both hands over her shoulders. She trembled beneath his touch, stirring his ire. He opened his mouth to respectfully request the older man to calm himself, but Mrs. Muller bolted to her feet and stepped in front of her husband.

  “Troy, please do not raise your voice. The neighbors needn’t be aware of our business.” She spoke reasonably, as a wife should, yet an undercurrent of tension carried through.

  Mr. Muller’s lower jaw jutted forward. “If my voice is raised, it’s because of great frustration. They’ve both lost their senses!”

  Trina’s mother lowered her head for a moment, her shoulders lifting and falling as if she took mighty breaths. Finally, she returned to the sofa and sat next to Trina. Her face was white, but her eyes flashed with a fire Graham had often seen in Trina’s eyes.

  Taking Trina’s hand, she spoke directly to her daughter. “Trina, you know I’ve always been strict with you.” She paused, and Trina offered a small nod that seemed to encourage her mother to continue. “We’ve never told you this, but. . .before you were born, your father and I lost three babies. I couldn’t carry them to term.”

  Graham took a step back. The subject matter was personal— something reserved for families. “Maybe I should leave.. . .”

  But she held her hand to him. “No, Graham. If you’re to marry Trina, you need to know this, too.”

  Mr. Muller moved to his wife and sat beside her, putting his hand on her knee. His expression softened. Graham returned to his spot at Trina’s back and once more placed his hands over her shoulders.

  Mrs. Muller continued. “When I found out I was expecting you, I told God if He let me have this baby, I would raise it right. The child would learn early to respect and follow His teachings. I would make no mistakes, and He wouldn’t regret allowing me the privilege of motherhood.” Tears spilled from the woman’s eyes. “I’ve taken that promise seriously, Trina, but I fear in my attempts to teach you respect, I didn’t give you freedom to grow into your own person.”

  “Oh, Mama. . .” Trina raised her arms to embrace her mother. “You’ve been a good mother to me. You did raise me right. I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you.”

  Pulling free, Mrs. Muller shook her head fiercely. “You haven’t disappointed me. You’ve always been obedient, always meeting your father’s and my expectations, never giving us a reason to distrust you. Until. . .”

  Graham finished the sentence in his mind. Until now. Silence fell—a heavy, uncomfortable silence. Trina hung her head, and her mother sniffled while her father sat stern and stoic. Graham stared over their heads, wondering if he should speak in Trina’s defense. What she’d done—sneaking behind her parents’ back—was wrong, yet her reasons were good. How to reconcile the wrong with the right? Before he found an answer, Mrs. Muller turned to face her husband.

  “Troy, has Trina ever defied us before. . .before this time?”

  Mr. Muller shook his head.

  “No, never. Not until now.” Spinning, she faced Trina again. “Trina, I don’t agree that you should have misled us. That was wrong. But. . .I think. . .maybe. . .you should go ahead and take that test.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Trina held her breath, anticipating her father’s explosion. Graham’s warm hands on her shoulders gave her strength to face the tirade, but she still wished it could be avoided.

  But instead of jumping up and spouting in frustration, Dad shook his head, narrowed his gaze, and stared at Mama. “Has everyone in this house gone crazy?”

  He nearly whispered the words, and Trina resisted the urge to giggle. He must be remembering Mama’s admonition about the neighbors hearing. It was the only logical explanation. But all other logic seemed to have fled the room. Was it logical that Graham would ask her parents to allow her to go to college? Was it logical that Mama would agree? Was it logical that Dad, after exhibiting his temper, would respond calmly? Trina felt as though she were caught in a dream, where nothing made sense.

  “Please listen to me, Troy.” Rarely had her outspoken Mama seemed so hesitant. Trina listened, spellbound. “The very fact that our daughter has always abided by our wishes tells me she wouldn’t do this thing without having solid reasons—without having solid beliefs that it is right. She isn’t rebellious. She isn’t thoughtless. Yes, she made a mistake in going ahead without our permission. She’s young, and the young can be impetuous. Even us, once. . .”

  For a moment, Mama and Dad locked gazes, and Trina suspected they were both reliving some youthful activity known to no one but them. She tried to imagine her parents young and foolishly impetuous, but the picture wouldn’t gel. Dad broke away to stare at his clenched fists in his lap.

  “Of course, Trina’s wish to attend a college could be denied by the bishop.” Mama went on softly, thoughtfully. “Our sect, unlike some others, has never allowed our young people to go beyond grade nine. But I think, given the usefulness of the profession, and her strong conviction that it’s God’s will, we should let her ask.” In an uncharacteristic display of affection, Mama placed her hand over Dad’s fists. “Please, Troy?”

  Graham slipped to one knee beside Trina. “Mr. Muller, as Trina’s intended husband, I should have the greatest reasons to object. Trina knows how much I have objected when she’s spoken to me of her desire. I fought her, telling her she needed to be a wife and mother only. I was afraid I would lose her to this dream.”

  Trina looked at Graham’s chiseled profile, her heart expanding with love for him. To hear him openly support her ideas gave her more joy than she could have imagined.

  He continued in a steady, courteous voice. “But God has softened my heart. I would like to pray with you and your wife for God’s will to be done. If Trina is meant to become a veterinarian, then surely the leaders will grant permission.”

  “And if they say no?”

  Trina chose to answer her father’s question. “If they say no, I will accept it as God’s will.”

  Dad looked at her for a long time, his thick brows pulled down, his lips p
ressed tightly together. No one spoke, waiting for him to make a decision. Trina’s heart pounded with hope. Although she inwardly begged for a positive response, she knew a part of her had been restored with Graham’s and Mama’s understanding and acceptance of her longing. Even if Dad said no—even if the leaders said no—there would always be the knowledge that someone believed in her.

  Finally, Dad shook his head and pushed to his feet. “I still don’t understand, Trina. I’m still very disappointed in your deceptions. But I am willing to allow you to speak to the minister and deacons for permission to ask the bishop. Whatever they deem acceptable, I will also accept.”

  Trina leaped from the sofa and threw her arms around her father’s neck. He stood with his arms at his side, allowing her embrace, but he didn’t hug her back. Trina understood that, too—she had hurt and displeased him. It would take time to regain his trust and affection. Arms still tight around his neck, she whispered, “Thank you.”

  He caught her shoulders, set her aside, and left the room without another word.

  Trina hung her head. Tears stung behind her nose at her father’s abrupt dismissal. Arms embraced her—Mama, offering a rare hug. Trina rested her head on Mama’s shoulder, savoring the comfort provided. In time, Mama pulled away and cupped Trina’s cheeks.

  “You and Graham go sit on the porch, talk about your plans. You have much to consider if you’re to be married. I’ll. . .I’ll go speak with your father.”

  Trina grasped Mama’s wrists. “He’ll be okay, won’t he?”

  Mama sighed. “His father was a deacon, Trina. He feels very accountable to the fellowship and its teachings. But he’ll be okay. You go on now.” Her gaze lifted to include Graham, who stood behind Trina. “I want you to know I approve of your relationship. I haven’t openly welcomed you—just as you feared Trina’s dream would rob you of her presence in your life, I’ve feared you would take her from us. But children grow up and make their own lives—that’s the way it should be. You’re a fine young man, and I trust you to take good care of my daughter.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  With tears distorting her vision, Trina watched Mama leave the room. She had received more warmth from her mother in the past few minutes than she could remember in all of her growing-up years. She marveled at the change.

  Graham took her hand. “Come, let’s go sit as your mother said.” They went to the porch and sat side by side on the top riser, their legs in the sun. Graham asked Trina about the GED test and what would happen next. She shared all she had learned from the Internet searches.

  “Before I can train as a veterinarian, I have to take two years of basic courses. Beth says a community college will be less expensive, and Barton County Community College in El Dorado allows online classes,” Trina said. “So I will take as many classes from Beth’s computer as I can. But eventually, I’ll need to go to a college campus and finish.”

  Graham nodded solemnly. “That means moving away from Sommerfeld.” He chewed his lower lip, his brows pulled down, but the expression was thoughtful rather than stern. “Do you want to wait to be married until after you’ve finished your schooling?”

  Trina tipped her head and toyed with one white ribbon. “If I become a licensed veterinarian, it will take at least five years, Graham. That’s a long time for us to wait.”

  He drew in a deep breath, his blue eyes narrowing. “A very long time. . .”

  “No one knows that you’ve asked Mama and Dad for us to be published. If. . .” Trina swallowed. “If you want to court someone else, I’ll—”

  “I don’t want to court anyone else.” His firm tone convinced her of his sincerity. “I love you. I want to marry you.”

  Trina sagged with relief. “I want to marry you, too.”

  “Do you want to wait five years?”

  “I want to marry you tomorrow,” Trina said. The warmth of his smile nearly melted her. “But I’ll do what you want. I know your dad relies on your help at the lumberyard. Being away from Sommerfeld would create a hardship for him.”

  “There are others who could work there if I needed to be away for a while.” Graham looked outward, his hands on his knees. “And I could find a job in a city, I’m sure.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I just can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

  Trina sighed. “Me neither. I truly love Sommerfeld.”

  Graham looked at her. “So you’re sure, if you go away to college, you’ll want to come back here?”

  She blinked at him in surprise. “I’ve never wanted to leave Sommerfeld. Or the fellowship.”

  “But being away might give you other ideas.”

  Trina thought about her friendship with Beth McCauley, and how Mama and Dad had worried Beth might pull her away from the fellowship. Now it seemed Graham was worried time away from Sommerfeld might keep her away. But in her heart, she knew where she belonged—here, with her family and friends and fellowship. God might be opening a door to learning, but she was certain it was a door that wouldn’t close behind her as she went through.

  “I’ll be back.” She said it with conviction, and Graham’s shoulders seemed to wilt. She placed her hand over his. “I know where I belong. I want to use the skills I learn to help the people in my own community. I know it’s right.”

  “Well, then,” Graham said, turning his hand over to link his fingers with hers, “we need to make arrangements to speak with the deacons and minister. But for now. . .” Rising, he pulled her to her feet and aimed her toward the house. “Go find your schoolbooks and study. You have a test to pass.”

  “So how do you think you did?”

  Beth adjusted the dial on the car’s air-conditioning system, and a blast of cool air twirled the ribbons on Trina’s cap. Trina caught the dancing tails of the ribbons between her fingers and toyed with the ends. “I’m really not sure. It was hard! But I know I did my best.”

  “That’s all a person can do.” Beth’s warm tone offered Trina some reassurance. “And remember, if you don’t pass the first time, you can always retake it.”

  Trina sighed. “I know. But the next date is three weeks away, and the longer it takes to get my GED in hand, the longer I prolong enrolling in a college. Waiting for the fellowship’s approval took up almost two weeks. We’re already near the end of August! I don’t have much time to spare.”

  Beth glanced in her rearview mirror before switching lanes. “Well, no sense in worrying over it. Just proceed as if you already have the certificate in hand. Then, when you do have it, you’ll be ready.”

  Trina looked out the window at the passing landscape, eager to return to town and tell Graham how things had gone. Although Graham had wanted to take her to Hutchinson for the test, his father had insisted he stay in Sommerfeld and work. Trina suspected Mr. Ortmann, like many others in Sommerfeld, wasn’t in favor of Trina’s plans to be a college graduate. But the deacons, minister, and bishop, after long discussion, had granted permission. The others in the community would eventually have to accept the decision.

  “Do you realize”—Beth’s voice cut into Trina’s thoughts—“you are being a trendsetter?”

  Trina faced Beth and released a light, puzzled laugh. “What?”

  Beth grinned, her eyes sparkling. “A trendsetter. You’re paving the way for change. Just like the Mennonites before you who wanted to use electricity or wanted to drive a car.” With an impish smirk, she smacked the car’s horn. “Now, because of you, other young people from Sommerfeld will be able to get an education if they want to.”

  Trina stared at Beth. “But I didn’t want to change rules. I just wanted to be a vet.”

  Beth laughed. “I know that, silly. But don’t you see? Now that you’ve been given permission, they’ll have to give permission to others, too. You’ve opened the door of opportunity to every person in Sommerfeld! I’m really proud of you, Katrinka.”

  Trina shook her head wildly, her ribbons slapping against her shoulders. “Don’t give me too much cr
edit. The deacons made it clear this is experimental and conditional. If I can attend college without jeopardizing my personal faith or becoming a stumbling block to others, then I’ll be allowed to continue. But they’re watching, believe me.”

  Beth snorted. “Oh, I believe you.” Then she flashed Trina a smile. “But if there’s anyone who could do it—who could attend college without losing one inch of her belief system—I think it would be you.”

  Trina’s heart thumped in appreciation of Beth’s support, but curiosity drove her to ask a hesitant question. “Why me?” She hoped Beth wouldn’t assume she was fishing for compliments. Mama would certainly frown at that activity!

  “Because of what you told me when we first started exploring on the Internet.” Beth tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you remember? You said you loved living in Sommerfeld and loved your fellowship. You didn’t want to leave it; you just wanted to help the residents by being able to treat animals. So I believe, even if you have to live somewhere else for a while, you’ll come back to Sommerfeld, still wearing your cap and modest dress, still firmly entrenched in your faith.”

  Tears pricked Trina’s eyes. “Thank you for believing in me, Beth.”

  Beth shrugged. “Believing in you was easy. Believing they would actually let you do it—that’s another thing entirely.”

  Trina understood Beth’s doubts. Although Beth and Sean lived in Sommerfeld and socialized occasionally with Beth’s cousins, she knew the worldly couple still felt like outsiders. Beth, although rarely openly disdainful, didn’t pretend to support the community’s restraints, which created conflict in relationships with residents. Trina wished everyone would recognize the good Beth’s business did for the community—not only providing jobs for a handful of people, but also bringing business to town. Shoppers who visited her stained-glass art studio also visited other Sommerfeld businesses.

  In Trina’s opinion, Beth’s presence was a positive thing for the community, but others still looked at her blue jeans and T-shirts and kept their distance. Why, Trina wondered, was it so hard for people to look on the heart instead of the exterior? But then, she mused, worldly people had a difficult time looking past her simple attire and seeing the person underneath the cap, so Mennonites weren’t the only ones who struggled with looking on the heart.