I shook my head, trying to comprehend her words. “You wouldn’t be…disappointed in me?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Of course not. I love you. And I will always love you, no matter what you decide. And you will always be welcome here, as will your husband.”
“What about Daed?”
“He’ll come around.”
I didn’t think so, but I couldn’t bear to have conflict between us without at least trying to resolve it. I grabbed my cape and headed out the back door. A light shone in the window of his shop at far end of the barn. A minute later I pushed open the door. He stood with his back to me, his hands flat on an oak table.
“Daed, I’m sorry.”
He turned around, slowly. “I shouldn’t have left like that.”
“I understand. This isn’t easy.”
He took a deep breath and then asked, “What did your mother say?”
I told him, ending with, “She said the most important thing was that I follow the Lord.”
He ran his hand through his gray hair and then said, “She’s right.” He shook his head, looked out the window, and then back at me. “How you follow the Lord is your decision, Izzy, including whether to join the church or not. Will I be disappointed if you don’t? Ya.” He paused, exhaling slowly. “But I will love you no matter what you decide. Not everyone is cut out for this life.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“And not everyone must stay. But everyone born into an Amish family must decide what they will do.” He stepped across the divide between us and wrapped his arms around me. “There was a time when I would have been ashamed to have you go, but not anymore.”
I was sure I’d never heard my daed say so much. I leaned my head against his chest.
He continued. “Izzy, you are kind and humble and a model Amish woman.” His voice teased a little as he said, “Except for being so easily overwhelmed and not wanting a large family.” He tightened his hold on me. “I guess what I’m saying is…what I’ve already said. Your future is between you and God.”
“Danke,” I whispered.
As he let me go he asked, “So what do you plan to do?”
“I don’t know.” I had no idea what was best for Zed and me. At this point I honestly couldn’t imagine either option.
I left my daed in his shop and to his own thoughts as I hurried back through the cold to the house and then down the hall to my little room for some solitude and prayer.
Until that moment, much of my reluctance about leaving the Amish church had to do with not wanting to disappoint my parents. But now that I had their blessing regardless, at least to some extent, I still felt hesitant about what to do.
I finally understood it wasn’t about pleasing my parents—it was about pleasing God. I listened for that small voice inside of me as I closed my eyes against my own thoughts and asked Him what I should do.
Wait.
As clear as day, I knew that’s what He wanted, for me to wait.
And so I would.
Zed was at work Monday morning, so Lexie picked me up from home and took me back to Frannie’s. On the way she told me the family was excited about watching Zed’s movie.
“He’s showing it tonight. And the most excited one of all is Mammi.”
I couldn’t have been more thrilled.
When we got there, I was dying to see Frannie, but I needed to put my stuff away first. So as Lexie headed for the front door, I grabbed my bag and went straight to the daadi haus. By the time I was inside, my hands were icy cold even though I had gloves on.
I put my bag in the room I’d been sleeping in, relieved to find out that at least everything in there was as I’d left it, even the books I’d borrowed from Frannie’s room. The bed had been perfectly made. Ella was so industrious, I had a feeling she had probably come out here and changed the sheets while I was gone. I exhaled slowly, admitting to myself that I was relieved to be back. I felt at ease with Zed’s family in a way I didn’t with my own. I hated to admit it, but it was true. Part of the reason was shared interests. Part of it was similar personalities—the Lantz women, except for Klara, seemed to be more contemplative than the women in my family. More like me. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my family. I just didn’t feel understood by them.
I headed back to the main house, eager to take a turn caring for Frannie and spend time with her family. But as I crossed the porch, it struck me how very much had changed in my own life since leaving here on Saturday morning, just two days ago.
Zed had told me he loved me. And my parents had freed me to make my own decision about the Amish church.
As I pushed open the back door, I said a prayer of thanks to God for such tremendous blessings.
That evening Giselle sat with Frannie in the living room as I straightened up in preparation for our big movie night. Klara was in her room, where she’d been since supper, and Alexander was off somewhere outside, doing his end-of-day chores with the help of James and Luke, both of whom had arrived over the weekend while I was gone.
Zed wouldn’t get off work until eight, but he had instructed the whole family to be assembled and ready by the time he got here. Around seven, I heard voices on the porch and realized they had begun to arrive.
I opened the door to see that Lexie was here, and that she’d brought Alice Gundy, Will’s grandmother, with her. I was glad Alice had come to visit, as I knew she and Frannie had been best friends for years.
What I had forgotten, until I saw the enthusiastic way she and Giselle greeted each other, was that they were friends as well. Alice had gone to Switzerland on the same trip as Ada, Christy, and Will several years before. Of course she would want to see this movie, as Abraham Sommers had been a central focus of their time there in Switzerland.
After saying their hellos, Alice settled into a chair near Frannie’s bed and Giselle asked Lexie if she could run her up to the nearest convenience store, saying, “There’s something I need to pick up for tonight.”
Soon the two of them were off, leaving Frannie and Alice alone but for me.
Looking their way as I moved to the sink, I decided Alice seemed extra thin. I knew she wasn’t helping Ada much with the children anymore. Thankfully, Christy was done with school and had been able to take her place.
The two old women began to chat, and as they did, I watched Alice reach for Frannie’s hand and hold it gently in hers. I retreated to the kitchen to do the dishes, marveling at the longevity of their friendship and how close they seemed still.
I wondered why I had no special girlfriends like that. Even my siblings and I just barely connected. My sister Tabitha and I were only two years apart, but we weren’t close at all. She’d always been a take-charge person compared to me, and I’d never liked her telling me what to do. My youngest sister, Linda, didn’t seem to mind, and she and Tabitha were good friends. My older sisters, Sadie and Becky, were best friends too. That had always left me as the odd one out.
As different as I was from my mamm in other ways, I knew that in this way we were much alike. She’d never had many close women friends either that I knew of. Her sisters were nearly twenty years older than she was, not to mention they lived several counties over. Every once in a while, Mamm would hire a driver and go see them, but other than that, they weren’t close. I went with her once. Neither of my aunts seemed happy to have us visit and they both complained a lot.
I plunged a bowl into the soapy water and swished it with the scrubber.
Mamm didn’t have a best friend in our district, not the way Alice and Frannie had. And neither did I.
A lump began to rise in my throat until I realized that was wrong, I did have a best friend. Zed. He’d been my best friend for the last four years. He’d been the one I shared my thoughts and feelings with. He’d been the one who cared most about how I was doing.
Of course, I’d had friends through school and church. Girls I would eat lunch with. Girls I’d share books with. Girls I stayed on the fringes with.
>
But perhaps having Zed as a best friend had kept me from befriending other young women in the last few years—or at least from further developing those friendships from my childhood.
I thought through the other women my age in our district. Most were sweet and would make fine friends—but I felt so different from them. Our faith and lifestyle connected us, but that seemed to be all.
I felt more of a connection with some of the women in this family than I had with anyone else in years. First Ella, then Frannie—and now I was even starting to feel close to Giselle. She wasn’t very touchy-feely, yet in many ways she was a kindred spirit.
I finished the dishes, glancing out the kitchen window now and then, eager for more family members to arrive. Lexie and Giselle returned from the store, and as Giselle unpacked the bag, I couldn’t help but smile. She had gone out for popcorn kernels and some fresh butter. Just the sight of it made me tear up, in a good way, thinking of Verna and her trip to Ben Hur.
“It’s not a movie without the popcorn,” Giselle told us, and then she began to root through the cabinets for the right-sized pot to cook it in.
Marta arrived soon after, looking tired from her day but pleased to be there. Ella came with her, and soon the kitchen was filled with the happy feminine chatter and laughter—mine included. I felt more at home here, in that moment, than I ever had at my house.
Zed, Will, and Ada showed up at eight fifteen, at which point Klara came down and Alexander, James, and Luke returned from outside. Luke greeted me warmly, and then he introduced me to Lexie’s husband, James.
“I’ve heard so many great things about you,” James told me, shaking my hand. Not surprisingly, he was quite handsome, with curly golden hair and green eyes.
“You too,” I replied, glancing toward Lexie, who gazed lovingly at him from across the room.
As he turned and moved toward her, I looked around at the assembled family members. Earlier, I’d been a little concerned that some of them might be hesitant about watching a film, even one like this, but apparently they had all cleared it with their various bishops. As I was still technically on rumpspringa, I didn’t need permission, which meant we were free to watch it and enjoy.
Zed set up everything, but before calling anyone to attention, he took advantage of the general chaos to pull me aside, saying he needed to talk to me about something. It was too cold to go out, so we waited until Giselle and Ada were carrying bowls of popcorn into the living room and then we moved into the nook off the living room, by Alexander’s desk. I couldn’t imagine what he needed to say, but as soon as I looked into his eyes I realized it was something important.
“I’ve been thinking, Izzy Bear.”
“Ya?” Smiling, I inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of pine that lingered on his clothes and skin from his work among the Christmas trees.
“About the whole Mennonite–Amish thing.”
I nodded, suddenly afraid he was going to ask if I had told anyone about the new developments in our relationship. He probably would have been surprised but pleased to learn that I had, indeed, discussed the situation at length with my parents. But I wasn’t ready to tell him that yet. It’s not that I didn’t want him to know; it was just that I needed to think about it some more first. I wanted to process things and gather my thoughts—especially given that sense I’d had afterward, that quiet urging to wait.
Zed placed a hand on my arm and gave it a squeeze. “I’m going to become Amish.”
My eyes widened and I couldn’t help but take a step back as I whispered, “What?”
He nodded. “Last night, while you were at home, I came over here and talked to Alexander. He said I can farm with him.”
I was speechless for a good thirty seconds. Finally I blurted out, “Did you talk to your mamm about this?”
His eyes narrowed. “No, not yet. I wanted to work out some of the details first. So far, the only person I’ve spoken with is Alexander.”
My mind raced. This was wrong, all wrong.
“Izzy?”
“You can’t farm!” I cried.
“Why not?”
I lowered my voice, my heart pounding. “You weren’t made for farming.”
He seemed taken aback. “I do okay on Will’s Christmas tree farm. I can learn the rest.”
“Zed.” My mind raced as I looked him in the eyes. “You can’t join the church for me. For God, maybe, but not for me.”
“What does it matter?” He took a deep breath and attempted to give me a reassuring smile, but I could tell it wasn’t a peaceful one. “My relationship with God will be the same no matter which of the two churches I go to, but it will make all the difference as far as my relationship with you. So I’ll do it.”
“But what about school? And filmmaking? And all the research projects you want to do? What about Los Angeles? And the endowment? And the movie about the Conestoga?”
“That’s just it. If I become Amish, I won’t have a need for any of that, ever. That’s what I realized last night, that I shouldn’t waste any more of my time—or my tuition money—if that’s the step I’ll be taking in the end anyway.”
Before I could even think of how to respond, our conversation was cut short by Giselle, calling out from the living room.
“Come on, guys. What’s the holdup? Let’s get this show on the road.”
Zed and I shared one final, lingering glance and then he squeezed my arm again and whispered, “We can talk more later.”
He turned and moved toward the crowd gathered for the viewing of the film. I followed slowly, my heart racing, my mind a jumbled mess.
Zed was willing to join the Amish church for the sake of our relationship?
I should have been pleased. I should have been thrilled. Instead, all I could think was, Why does this feel so wrong?
TWENTY-SEVEN
I raised the head of the bed, bringing Frannie to a near sitting position and then pulled the hospital-bed table across her midsection. Zed positioned his laptop on the table so she could see the screen and then called out to the others, “Gather around.”
They did, crowding the bed on both sides, Mel and Mat in front of Ada, and Will behind her holding Abe. Christy stood beside Ella. I stayed up by Frannie’s head with a perfect view of everyone and the screen.
“Everybody ready?” Zed called out, and then he turned down all of the lamps.
Standing there in the dark, watching the glow of the computer, I felt a thrill of anticipation. Zed had made the movie we were about to watch. My Zed.
He leaned in to hit the button that would start it going, and then he stepped back, making room for the rest of us to see. Instantly, the black screen came to life with a beautiful photograph of a wooden bench and then the title, Carving a Legacy. As music swelled and the picture faded to an image of a small Swiss village, I realized I was holding my breath and had to let it out.
The movie focused on Abraham Sommers, their ancestor who had been a wood-carver back in the 1800s and lived in Switzerland. It was all about his journey to faith, as well as his appreciation of place. Nowhere were those things depicted more beautifully than in the three boxes he’d carved that had been passed down through generations in the family. Zed had film footage of all three boxes—the one of the family bakery in Frutigen, Switzerland, that was now in Ada’s possession; the one of the estate Amielbach in Switzerland that had inspired Lexie to search for her birth family and belonged to her; and the one of the Home Place in Indiana that was given to Ella by Frannie. Zed told the story of the family by describing the significance of each box.
As the film played, Ada commented that the bakery, which she had seen on her trip to Europe, still looked much the same as in the carving.
“I hope I can visit Amielbach someday,” Marta said, in a voice so wistful that I had a feeling she might just make that happen eventually.
“Shhh.” Zed was clearly annoyed.
“Oh, that would thrill me so, to think of you going to Switzer
land and spending time with Giselle,” said Frannie.
The sisters, who stood beside each other, locked eyes and smiled.
Zed crossed his arms. “Don’t you people know you’re not supposed to talk while you’re watching a film?”
Klara said, “I can’t imagine traveling all the way to Switzerland. It’s so far from home.”
Zed threw up his hands.
Lexie smiled and Ella shook her head, seemingly in disapproval at her brother’s antics, but no one else responded. At least the kids were being quiet, even little Abe.
Next the film focused on still shots of landscapes in Switzerland. Then a current photo of Amielbach faded onto the screen as a voice told how Abraham had wandered away from the flock.
“In the end,” the voice-over said, “Abraham confessed his sins and reconciled to God, continuing the faith of his childhood. That legacy of reconciliation has been passed on through the generations of his descendants, along with the beautiful carved wooden boxes. It lives on in his family today.”
Klara sniffled. Surprised, I looked around the bed. Lexie wiped away a tear. Then Marta. Ada pulled a Kleenex from her pocket and blew her nose.
I glanced down at Frannie, afraid she may have faded out again, and though she wasn’t crying like the others, she was alert and glued to the screen.
The last image was of the hands of the carver, or at least the actor who was representing him, putting his tools away in an old wooden desk. I smiled as I watched it, thinking it looked similar to my mamm’s old desk.
Music came up as the image of the man’s hands faded away. Then the screen went black and the credits rolled.
Lexie, James, and Giselle both burst into applause, startling me. As the lone Englischers in a room filled with Plain folk, their reaction wasn’t exactly something we were used to. Applause could lead to pride, so it wasn’t often doled out. But then Marta joined in as well, saying, “That was lovely, Zed. Just lovely.”
He gave her a modest smile and then moved to Frannie’s side. He took her hand. “What did you think, Mammi? Did you like it?”
The Amish Seamstress Page 33