“Hmm,” Caleb mused aloud, “should I choose Antarctica or Katydid?”
Those reprehensible nicknames from school! Irritation rose from Katy’s middle. She balled her fists and jutted her chin. “Don’t even think about trying to kiss me, Caleb Penner! I’ll smack you so hard it’ll knock your freckles off!”
Caleb came to an abrupt halt. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped open like a fish gasping for air. The boys slapped their legs and roared. After a moment of stunned silence, the girls also began to laugh.
Taryn slung her arm around Katy’s shoulders and shook her finger at Caleb. “Oooh, she told you, Caleb. Better drop that ear of corn and step back!”
Other comments followed, but Katy didn’t stick around to listen. She wiggled loose from Taryn’s grip and ran from the barn toward the house. The sun had set, and only an electric lamp high on a wooden pole threw out a scant yellow glow. She was forced to slow down or trip in the deep shadows. Halfway across the yard, someone grabbed her arm and turned her around. Even in the dim light, Katy couldn’t miss the anger snapping in Annika’s eyes.
“Why’d you do that? Yell at him and then run off?” Annika shook Katy’s arm. “He said ‘Antarctica or Katydid.’ He might’ve kissed me if you hadn’t acted all huffy and made such a big deal out of things.”
Katy jerked her arm free. “And he might’ve kissed me. He was coming straight at me. I don’t want to be kissed by Caleb Penner!”
“Well, maybe I do!” Annika grabbed her again. “You’re going to a big school where there are lots of boys. Here in Schellberg, how many boys are there our age? One!” Annika thrust her finger in the air and nearly hit Katy in the chin with her fingertip. “Caleb Penner. And now you’ve chased him off with your snooty actions. What’s wrong with you, Katy? Why can’t you have fun and be like everybody else? It’s just a game! Why do you always have to be so weird?”
Katy pulled away from Annika and backed up several steps. Just because she didn’t want Caleb Penner kissing her didn’t make her weird. Wasn’t she entitled to her own feelings? And why did she and Annika have to fight over everything? They were finally getting along again, and now everything fell apart over a stupid red ear of corn in a shucking game.
“Well, I hope you’re happy,” Annika went on. She folded her arms over her chest and glared at Katy. “I don’t know how I can go back in there and face everybody after you ran off like a big baby.”
Katy’s nose stung, and she knew she was about to prove Annika right about being a big baby. “I need to use the bathroom,” she blurted out and ran for the house. She burst through the porch door, and Mrs. Penner jumped up from the kitchen table.
“Oh, Katy!” The woman placed her hand over her throat. “You startled me.” Then she frowned. “Are you all right?”
Katy blinked back tears. “I’m not feeling very well, Mrs. Penner. I think I need to go home.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, honey. I hope it wasn’t something you ate.” Mrs. Penner bustled forward and patted Katy’s shoulder. “You stay right here. I’ll go get Caleb and have him—”
“No!” Katy almost yelled the word.
Mrs. Penner jumped back.
Katy shook her head. “I mean, he’s having fun with his friends. I don’t want him to have to leave. Maybe I can just…walk home.” It was only five miles or so.
“Oh no you won’t! Not in the dark.” Mrs. Penner guided Katy to the table and pushed her into a chair. “You sit here and rest. I’ll go get Mr. Penner and have him run you home.” She hurried out of the room before Katy could reply.
A few minutes later, Mr. Penner walked Katy to his pickup truck. Happy sounds came from the barn—laughter and singing. An odd feeling welled up inside of Katy. Part of her wanted to hurry home, escape to her bedroom, and climb into her bed, and part of her wanted to return to the barn and stay for the rest of the party. She paused beside the truck. “Mr. Penner…?”
“Yeah?”
Then Annika’s words returned: Why do you always have to be so weird? Did the others think she was weird too, for running off that way? Suddenly she didn’t want to know. “Nothing. Never mind. I’m ready to go.” She didn’t look back as Mr. Penner started the engine and turned the truck toward the road.
Chapter Fourteen
Katy tossed the covers aside and crept from her bed. She rolled a towel and tucked it along the doorjamb before flipping on her little desk lamp. She didn’t want any light sneaking under the door and alerting Dad that she was still awake. He’d sent her straight to bed when Mr. Penner delivered her home, assuming she must be ill to leave her very first party so early.
Katy was ill, in a way. Not physically ill, but heartsick. Her chest ached like a bad tooth. Confusion rolled through her, and she needed to sort out her thoughts. She sat at her desk and pulled her journaling notebook and pencil from the drawer. But then she just sat, pencil poised above the page, unable to capture her thoughts and put them into words.
Images from the two parties she’d attended—the one at Shelby’s, and the one at Caleb’s—flashed in her memory. She intentionally drew on cheerful moments from each: batting the Ping-Pong ball across the table while Trisha and Cora cheered, standing elbow to elbow with the Mennonite girls and cheering for the boys who shucked corn, lying on her stomach and whispering late into the night with Shelby and Bridget, and talking with Mrs. Penner as they stirred butter and salt into the popcorn.
Then two very strong, opposite remembrances battled for prominence: Shelby hugging Katy after she made the teasing comment about dancing in the streets, and Annika grabbing her arm and accusing her of ruining the party. Confusion made Katy’s head ache. She was Mennonite. Shouldn’t the happiest memory come from her time with her Mennonite friends instead of with Shelby, a worldly girl?
She didn’t want to be like her mother, drawn from her community of faith into the world. Yet the hurtfulness of Annika’s harsh words made her want to escape to a different place…She shifted to look out her bedroom window at the gray late-evening sky, and the gently swaying branches of the tall pin oak between the house and barn caught her attention. Nearly all of the leaves had fallen already, but her eyes focused on one lonely leaf dangling from the tip of a slim branch.
Katy pressed the pencil’s point to the paper and words began to flow.
A single leaf clings to the tree;
On branches bare it dares to be.
Maintaining, alone, its tenuous hold
While threatened by a wind, so cold.
On the ground below so many leaves
Look up and challenge, “Come with me.
Why hang there, friendless and alone?
Come with us—just let go!”
The last leaf moans and holds so tight—
It won’t give up without a fight.
The wind comes stronger, pulling hard…
Her heart pounded so hard, her hand shook. How should the poem end? Would she hold tight to her bonds within the Mennonite community, or would Shelby’s acceptance, warmth, and friendliness draw Katy away? Her fingers gripped the pencil, and she wrote the final line in wobbly letters:
The last leaf falls upon the yard.
Katy put her head on her desk and began to cry.
Sunday morning, Katy stumbled into the kitchen wearing her nightgown and robe. Her head throbbed from last night’s crying, and a look in the little mirror that hung above the sink made her groan. Red, puffy eyes peered back at her from beneath tangled hair. If she had some of that makeup from Cora’s bag, she might be able to make herself look presentable for worship. Not that showing up at the meetinghouse with makeup would be considered presentable.
Katy sighed and pulled the cast iron frying pan from its shelf. She’d better get Dad’s breakfast made. Before she could break eggs into the skillet, Dad stepped through the back door with a full milk jug in his hand. He stopped when he spotted Katy. His eyebrows formed a deep V.
“Katy-girl, are you still sick? I thought yo
u’d feel better after a good night’s rest.”
Katy hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest. She smoothed her hair with her hand and yawned. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
He shook his head. “Well, just fix me some oatmeal for breakfast, then go back to bed.” He put the milk jug in the refrigerator and headed for the stairs.
Katy watched him go, an intense longing making her chest feel tight. If she had a mother, surely she’d be tucked tenderly into bed with a cool cloth on her forehead to ease her headache. But Dad expected her to fix breakfast and tuck herself in. He seemed more aggravated than sympathetic. Tears threatened again. She sniffed hard and reminded herself he was willing to let her stay home instead of going to service. She couldn’t ever remember missing service when she wasn’t really, really sick.
As quickly as possible, she prepared a pot of oatmeal, adding raisins and cinnamon the way Dad liked it. Just as she set the finished oatmeal at the back of the stove to keep it warm, Dad entered the room, dressed in his dark suit and white shirt for service. He spooned gloppy oatmeal into the bowl and sent her a puzzled look over his shoulder. “Are you going to eat?”
Her stomach spun. She shook her head.
“Then go back to bed, Katy-girl. You need to be better by tomorrow so you won’t miss school too.”
Katy scuttled toward the staircase, leaving Dad alone. Halfway up the stairs, she paused and listened to the clink of Dad’s spoon against his bowl. She envisioned him sitting at the table alone. A funny lump filled her throat. Did Dad ever pine for his lost wife the way Katy longed for her lost mother? She wished she had the courage to ask, but she knew better than to talk about her mom. Dad’s mouth always went into a firm line when her name was mentioned. She’d better keep her thoughts to herself.
Back in her bedroom, she retrieved her journal and pencil and burrowed under the covers. She intended to record her thoughts, but the warm, comfortable bed lulled her to sleep. The next thing she knew someone knocked on her door, waking her. She sat up and called, “Come in.”
Gramma Ruthie stepped into the room. Her wrinkled face pursed with concern. “Katy-girl, your dad says you’re sick.”
Happiness welled up and spilled over in two tears. “Oh, Gramma Ruthie, I’m so glad you’re here!”
Gramma bustled forward and perched on the edge of Katy’s bed. She ran her hand over Katy’s forehead. Katy closed her eyes and leaned into the touch. Gramma’s cool, smooth hand felt so good. “No fever…Are you throwing up?”
“No.”
“Throat hurt?”
“No, ma’am.”
Gramma clasped her hands in her lap. “So what’s wrong?”
Katy flumped back against her pillows. “I don’t know, Gramma. I just…” Her words fell away. She couldn’t confess her deepest fears. Gramma had already suffered with Dad when Katy’s mother ran away. It wouldn’t be fair to make Gramma worry about Katy following her mother’s example.
For several minutes Gramma sat and looked into Katy’s face, waiting in silence. Then she squeezed Katy’s knee. “You’re not really sick, are you, Katy-girl?”
Katy’s chin started to quiver. She clamped her teeth together.
“You’re just feeling…a little lost and confused?”
Very slowly, she nodded her head.
Gramma chuckled. “Ah, Katy-girl, I suspected this would happen when you were allowed to go to that high school. But I didn’t think it would happen so soon. I should have known better. You’re too curious to let anything be for long.”
Katy wriggled to sit up higher. She leaned toward Gramma. “Did you ever feel lost and confused?”
Gramma’s eyes twinkled. “Does a chicken have feathers?”
Katy grinned.
“I think every young person goes through a time of wondering.” Gramma rested her palm on the bed. Suddenly her forehead crinkled and she tapped her knuckles on the spot where her hand had landed. A muffled thud sounded. Katy quickly reached beneath the blankets and pulled out her journal.
With a puzzled expression, Gramma held out her hand. Katy started to hug the notebook to her chest in refusal, but then she remembered Gramma’s journal. If anyone would understand Katy’s need to pour her feelings onto paper, surely Gramma would. And maybe the words on the page could tell Gramma how Katy was feeling. She flipped it open to where she’d written the poem about the leaf. “W-would you read my poem?”
Gramma didn’t even blink. She nodded soberly and then bent her head over the page, her white ribbons swaying above Katy’s lines of print. Her lips moved silently as she read. And then she gave Katy a tender look. “Are you the leaf, Katy-girl, being pulled from the tree?”
Katy couldn’t answer. Her heart pounded. Would Gramma be disappointed in her for even thinking about being tugged away from the faith of her family and community?
Gramma closed the notebook and sighed. “Did you know that the Amish people have something called rumspringa, where they let the young people have a time of…well, running around?”
Katy had heard the word, but since it wasn’t practiced in her faith, she hadn’t paid much attention. She shook her head.
“It’s a way for the kids to get all the restlessness and worldliness out of their systems before joining the church,” Gramma explained. “Every young person is curious about the world. I don’t know whether I approve of the rumspringa or not—maybe it’s good to let the kids see both sides so they know for sure what they’re choosing when they join the church, and maybe it’s just allowing them to roll in sinfulness. But I do know that a person needs to enter willingly into faith or it’s not a faith of freedom, but bondage. Does that make sense to you?”
Katy tipped her head. “I think so. But, Gramma, I already joined the church. I don’t want to drift away.” Tears filled her eyes. She gave the moisture an impatient flick with her fingers.
Gramma smiled and squeezed Katy’s knee again. “And that’s exactly why you’re not feeling good, my girl. Because your flesh and your spirit are at war with each other.”
Katy opened her journal again and read the last line of her poem. The last leaf falls upon the yard. She swallowed. The words seemed ominous. “So how do I make sure the spirit wins?”
“How?” Gramma clicked her tongue on her teeth, her eyes twinkling. “Well, Katy-girl, you already know how. You trust God to give you the strength you need to rise above temptation. What does the Bible teach us? God will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you can bear.”
“But, Gramma…” Katy’s mouth went dry. She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. “My mom. She…” She licked her lips. “She went away. Away from Dad, away from me, away from the church. Temptation got control of her. What if…” Katy couldn’t bring herself to ask the question.
Gramma took both of Katy’s hands. Tears winked in her eyes. “God always provides a way out, darling girl, but it’s up to you to take it. Choose wisely, my Katy. Choose wisely…”
Chapter Fifteen
Choose wisely…Gramma Ruthie’s words followed Katy to school on Monday. When kids goofed off in biology and Katy was tempted to giggle in response, she turned her attention to her work instead. On Tuesday in the cafeteria, several students began chanting, “Meatloaf sucks! Meatloaf sucks!” Katy wholeheartedly agreed—the school cooks could learn a thing or two from Gramma Ruthie. But before she got caught up in joining the throng, she remembered her grandmother’s words and chose to scrape her uneaten portion into the trash can and leave the cafeteria.
Wednesday morning she waited outside the doors for the bell to ring, as had become her routine. She missed Shelby, who was already inside with the others who came early for Bible study. Katy wished she could join them, but the rule stated you came on time or you couldn’t come at all. Being a bus rider, she couldn’t make it on time, so she stood outside alone. Much to Katy’s surprise, Jewel sauntered up and leaned against the window.
“Hey, Kathleen. How’s it goin’?”
Kat
y flicked a quick glance at Jewel. The girl always looked either bored or snooty. This morning she wore her bored face. Katy preferred it to the squinty-eyed glare Jewel had perfected. “All right, I guess. How are you?”
Jewel snorted. “Oh, I’m just great. I’m livin’ with a bunch of Bible-thumpin’, church-pushin’ goody-goodies who are about to drive me over the edge with their big smiles and constant hugs.” She rolled her eyes, and her lips curled into a snarl. “I can’t wait to get back home again. Won’t be long now…”
Katy stared at Jewel in amazement. Shelby hadn’t said much, but what little she had revealed made Katy believe Jewel would be delighted to be away from her unpleasant home. “Really?”
Jewel shot her an impatient look. “Yes, really. I mean, get real. There are more rules at the Nuss house than you’ve probably got in your old-fashioned church. Don’t swear, don’t stay out late, don’t wear tight clothes. Don’t, don’t, don’t!” Jewel’s voice rose. “Then there are the stupid do’s—do your homework, do your chores, do get up early on Sunday for church. I never get a minute’s peace!” Jewel swore softly, shaking her head. “They’re so stupid. Like they’re gonna change me or something…” Jewel tossed her head, making her long, dyed red hair bounce. She announced dramatically, “I am who I am.”
Katy examined the stubborn jut to Jewel’s jaw. She braved a question. “Do you miss your mom?”
“Well, duh.” Jewel gawked at Katy. “Wouldn’t you?” Then she snorted again. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. Shelby said your mom’s dead. Sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry. A dreamy smile lifted the corners of Jewel’s mouth. “My mom’s totally cool. She lets me do whatever I want to, whenever I want to. So unlike the Nusses.” Her shoulders heaved a huge sigh. “I don’t know why the stupid social worker had to stick her big nose into our lives. We were just fine.”
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