by Sarah Price
Spinning around, she almost knocked into Christian Bechtler. “Ach! Christian! You startled me!” she cried out, half laughing.
He steadied her by placing his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Eleanor. I didn’t mean to,” he said, his eyes darting in Mary Ann’s direction. She hadn’t even turned to acknowledge him, although Eleanor doubted she was aware of anything other than the longing of her own heart. “I see that everyone is doing well here,” he said, a solemn tone to his voice.
Deflecting the unspoken question about Mary Ann, Eleanor gestured toward the table. “Might we interest you in some baked goods, Christian?” she teased. “The bread is doing quite nicely.”
“Ah, the bread.” He exhaled and turned his attention to their table. He assessed the baked goods with a serious expression on his face, as if studying a horse before an auction. “Such uniform baking, I must say. I would be remiss in denying others the sweet taste of fresh white bread. So I shall pass on your offer today, Eleanor.”
She laughed, aware from Charlotte that he had already made a hefty financial donation to the firehouse and certainly did not need any food since he was staying with a local Amish woman who would have been offended if he purchased bread elsewhere. “I imagine the other people who purchase the bread today would thank you if they could,” she said lightly, “so I shall express their gratitude for them.” He smiled, obviously enjoying the teasing banter. For a moment Eleanor caught a glimpse of a different side to Christian, and she realized that there was more to this man than anyone suspected. His devotion to his niece touched her, as did the story of how people thought he had fathered her out of wedlock. Instead of calling out his brother, Christian had remained a man of righteous substance, displaying an amazing strength in letting the gossip spread, rather than feeding into it. She suspected that he had not wanted to add more to the Amish grapevine. His silence on the matter must have convicted him in the eyes of others until the truth came out about who the real father was.
Eleanor was convinced that his handling of the situation was the real reason Christian Bechtler, a lifelong bachelor, had been nominated for the role of a preacher within the church district. He was, after all, a true role model to others on how to behave under such trying circumstances.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard her sister cry out, “There he is!” Mary Ann turned to look at Eleanor, the ecstatic joy on her face undeniable. “Oh, Eleanor! He’s here! I knew it!” Without waiting for a response from her sister, Mary Ann dashed into the crowd, heading in the direction of John Willis.
“Mary Ann! No!”
Eleanor dashed around the side of the table and chased after her, trying to dodge the different people without shoving them. She kept her eyes on the back of her sister’s prayer kapp, knowing that if she lost sight of Mary Ann, she’d never find her again.
A break in the crowd displayed exactly what Eleanor feared. Mary Ann stopped short, and just as Eleanor ran up behind her, she shouted, “Willis!”
At the sound of his name he turned in her direction. For a moment Eleanor saw a glimmer in his eyes as he recognized Mary Ann. In that split second Eleanor wondered if Christian Bechtler had been mistaken. What if his entire tale was merely gossip gone awry? The way that Willis looked at Mary Ann . . . Eleanor saw love in his expression.
But as soon as it came, it disappeared, the suddenness of his initial reaction to seeing her replaced with a new expression, one Eleanor never would have imagined Willis to feel toward Mary Ann: resolute coldness.
Mary Ann didn’t notice that people were staring at her. Instead, she ran up to Willis and grabbed at his arm, her face beaming as she sought to meet his gaze. She stood far too close to him, and he took a slight step backward, withdrawing his arm from her grasp. Instead of greeting her with joy, he extended his hand for her to shake, a proper yet surprisingly impersonal response.
The gesture startled Mary Ann. She looked at his hand and then back up into his face quizzically. “Willis?”
“It is good to see you again, Mary Ann.” His voice was cold and unfamiliar. Even Eleanor could hardly believe her ears. “I trust you and your family are faring well?”
“What is this about, Willis? Haven’t you received any of my letters?”
The color drained from his cheeks and his eyes shifted in another direction. That was the moment Eleanor realized he was not alone. A young Amish woman stood next to him. With her pale pink dress and rosy cheeks, the blond woman looked more like a little doll than a real person. Her heart-shaped prayer kapp, much larger than Eleanor was used to, looked like a halo framing her face.
“I have not received anything,” Willis said. “You will give your best to your maem, ja?” And with that he turned his back on her, returning his attention to the group of people standing around him, the young woman reclaiming her space next to him.
Eleanor stood behind Mary Ann, gently placing her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Let’s go,” she whispered.
“I . . . I don’t understand.”
Guiding her sister back toward their table, Eleanor kept ahold of her arm. Mary Ann did not speak, and when Eleanor looked at her, her eyes stared at nothing, her face completely devoid of any expression. The noise of the crowd seemed to disappear around them. Instead, all Eleanor heard was the echo of her sister crying out Willis’s name and seeing the look in his eyes. It broke her heart to remember how quickly his expression had changed from love to coldness.
Back at the table Charlotte stood beside Widow Jennings. Neither one seemed to notice that Eleanor had her arm placed around Mary Ann’s shoulders. With her color drained from her face, Mary Ann did not look up to greet either woman. Instead, she stared into the distance, and Eleanor knew her sister was trying to understand what had just happened.
“Where have you girls been?” Widow Jennings asked, a slight edge of irritation to her voice.
“I apologize. We’ve only been gone a few minutes,” Eleanor said, still tending to Mary Ann. “Have there been many people?”
Widow Jennings dismissed her with a wave of her hand. “Oh, that’s of no consequence. I do, however, want to tell you what I have learned!”
Eleanor started to shake her head, trying to indicate to Widow Jennings that whatever she had to say, now was not the time. Certainly she had some news about John Willis. Whatever gossip she had, Mary Ann certainly did not need to hear it now.
Oblivious to Eleanor’s head motion the widow took a step forward so that she could stand closer as she prepared to share her news. Over the widow’s shoulder Eleanor noticed Christian Bechtler approaching the small group. He looked concerned and stared directly at Mary Ann. Certainly he had witnessed some of what just happened.
At the very moment he stood behind Widow Jennings, the widow leaned forward, and with her eyebrows knit together in a frown and her lips pursed together, she said in an angry tone, “All the hopes that we put into that John Willis for our Mary Ann are shattered! He’s to wed some young girl whose daed is giving him the farm! I dare say that his aendi will be rather put out by that news!” She shook her head, unmindful of Mary Ann’s reaction.
Beside her, Mary Ann fell limp against Eleanor, the soft sound of an intake of breath barely audible. Eleanor tightened her hold on her sister’s shoulders, trying to hold her up.
“A scoundrel, I tell you,” the widow added. “The worst sort of Amish man!”
And with that Mary Ann began to swoon, her legs slowly collapsing beneath her. Eleanor called out her name, doing her best to keep her upright. Quickly Christian Bechtler stepped forward and swept his arm beneath the falling young woman. Eleanor felt the weight of her sister’s body against her disappear as Christian lifted her into his arms.
Mary Ann fell against him, her eyes shut and her head limp, hanging to the side. Eleanor gasped, reaching out for her sister’s hand, holding it as Christian carried the unconscious Mary Ann through the throngs of curious onlookers.
It was only when Eleanor loo
ked back that she saw Willis still standing with his soon-to-be wife on the other side of the parking lot, completely unaware that the announcement of his upcoming wedding had just destroyed Mary Ann’s heart and quite possibly the chance for her ever to love again.
Chapter Twenty
HAS SHE EATEN yet today?”
Eleanor looked up from where she sat at the kitchen table, the Bible open before her. For the past three hours the quiet of the house gave her time to read and reflect, the perfect distraction from the events of the previous day. She had been reading through her favorite verses of Psalm 34:
The eyes of the LORD are on the righteous, and His ears are open to their cry.
The face of the LORD is against the ones doing evil, to cut off the memory of them from the earth.
The righteous cry out, and the LORD hears, and delivers them out of all their trouble.
The LORD is near to the broken-hearted, and saves the contrite of spirit.
Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the LORD delivers him out of them all.
Earlier everyone else had departed to attend worship service at the neighboring farmhouse. Knowing that she wouldn’t leave Mary Ann, no one bothered to ask if Eleanor intended to join them. That hadn’t sat well with Charlotte, and for a few minutes she tried to convince herself that she needed to stay with the two Detweiler sisters. Luckily for Eleanor, her husband insisted that Mary Ann was in capable hands and that Charlotte simply could not leave him alone with three young boys.
After they had finally left, Charlotte still fussing and clucking her tongue over leaving the two young women alone, Eleanor stood for a few minutes in the center of the kitchen and prayed. She needed God’s support. Her heart felt heavy, both for her own loss as well as her sister’s. She knew God’s plan would reveal itself when and if He intended. However, the heavy feeling in her heart made her pray for deliverance. She wasn’t certain how much more she could bear.
The last several months had been long and painful for the Detweiler family. So much change, all unexpected and emotionally draining. But after she finished praying, she reminded herself that at least they had each other. And as past trials had proven, together they could survive anything.
But now Widow Jennings and Charlotte had returned from worship at the neighboring farmhouse. From the looks of it they had returned ahead of Charlotte’s husband and children. They hovered around the kitchen table, looking at Eleanor with concern etched in their faces.
“She has not eaten,” Eleanor admitted. In fact, Mary Ann had barely moved. She had lain in the bed, her back to the door, and merely stared at the wall. No matter how much Eleanor tried to coax her to eat or drink something, Mary Ann had not responded.
Charlotte wrung her hands before her. “Oh dear, what a dreadful visit this has been for poor Mary Ann.”
For a moment Eleanor thought Charlotte would begin her fussing all over again. She prepared herself for another round of fretting. Fortunately her mother thwarted it by scowling and pointing out the positive side to the distressing situation.
“It’s best she learned of his true character now,” Widow Jennings said. “Mary Ann, like many others, will survive a broken heart. She may feel as if her world has collapsed, but she will doubtless pull through.”
“Such trouble, such trouble,” Charlotte mumbled. “And to think we were to visit with the Glicks down the road a spell.” She pondered this for a moment and then looked up at Eleanor. “You don’t think Mary Ann will be interested in visiting, then? I haven’t been there in almost two months. I was so looking forward to going.”
Since the previous evening, when Christian Bechtler had brought them back to Charlotte’s house, Eleanor seated in the back of his buggy and Mary Ann seated beside him with her head pressed against his shoulder, there had been no response from Mary Ann. The only thing she finally did was weep, a terrible sound, one Eleanor had never heard before. Soft, silent, and serious, Mary Ann’s weeping lingered far into the night. Eleanor had slept with her arms around her sister, holding her as tight as she could and praying for God to lift this burden from her sister’s heart.
“Nee, I do not think visiting is on Mary Ann’s schedule today,” Eleanor responded.
The last time Eleanor checked on Mary Ann, she had been sleeping. When Eleanor placed her hand on her sister’s brow, she heard her whisper Willis’s name. Her skin took on a translucent appearance, the lack of any color in her cheeks making her appear sick, almost deathly looking.
“I do believe I should go check on her.” Eleanor rose from the table and started to walk toward the staircase.
Holding up her hand, Charlotte stopped her. “Nee, Eleanor, wait for a moment. My niece Lydia was right behind us. She was quite intent on seeing you.” She turned toward her mother, the plight of Mary Ann quickly forgotten and her focus on what she deemed more important: social niceties. “Such a great thing, ja? The budding relationship of young friends.”
The smile on her face and the happiness in her voice contrasted far too greatly with the heartache being felt by Mary Ann at that very moment. Knowing that she could not, and would not, say anything to Charlotte, Eleanor excused herself and hurried up the stairs, eager to see how her sister fared after the past hour of solitude. Behind her she heard Charlotte continue talking to her mother about how much she missed her own friends from her days as a young woman.
At the door Eleanor rapped lightly and turned the doorknob. She let it swing open and peered inside. Mary Ann sat on the edge of the bed, still facing the wall with her hands folded on her lap and her shoulders hunched over.
Slipping through the opening, Eleanor quietly shut the door behind her and hurried over to her sister’s side. She sat on the bed and reached out her hand to take her sister’s. “Mary Ann,” she said in a soft voice, “you need to eat something, schwester. You’ll take ill if you don’t.”
“I am already ill,” Mary Ann replied.
The comment caught Eleanor off guard. She studied her sister for a long moment and noticed Mary Ann’s pale skin and the dark circles under her eyes. For the first time Eleanor felt a moment of panic. “What do you mean you are already ill?” Silence met her question, leaving Eleanor’s imagination free to run wild. “Oh, Mary Ann!” she gasped. “Please tell me that Willis did not . . . ”
“Nee!” Mary Ann said, the hint of force spoken in that one word immediately reassuring Eleanor that her worst suspicions were unfounded. “But my behavior. Everyone knew. He knew.” She spoke these words in a whisper. “I’m so ashamed of myself.”
Rubbing the back of her hand, Eleanor tried to reassure her. “You had no reason to doubt his intentions, ja? He openly courted you too.”
“Ja,” Mary Ann affirmed. Then she paused. “Nee.” She reached up with her free hand and rubbed her forehead. “Oh, I don’t know what I believe anymore. Did he? Or did I misinterpret his intentions? Mayhaps he never had any true feelings for me, only lust. The uncertainty will haunt me, Eleanor. I . . . I let myself . . . ”
When Mary Ann hesitated, her eyes shut and her face turned toward the light of the window, sunlight brushing across her cheeks. For all of her bravado and assertions in regard to the way relationships should be, she was still an innocent young woman, just shy of eighteen years of age. But the shadows of wisdom aged her in ways no woman should know.
“You let yourself what?” Eleanor prodded.
With a long sigh Mary Ann turned to look at her. The emptiness of her eyes startled Eleanor. Gone was the spark, just as Christian Bechtler had asked about the other day. “I let myself believe. That is my sin, Eleanor. Nothing further.” And with that she sank back down into the bed, her head turned to the side and away from Eleanor. When it became clear that Mary Ann was finished speaking on the matter and wanted to be alone, Eleanor did the only sensible thing: she left the room.
Which was worse, she wondered as she walked down the stairs. To love someone without it being known or to love someone without it bei
ng returned? Perhaps there was nothing to compare, for they both caused the same amount of heartache.
By the time Charlotte and her mother left to continue their Sunday visits with neighbors, Lydia arrived. She waited patiently in the hallway to see her aunt and grandmother leave before she shut the door and turned around, smiling at Eleanor but avoiding her eyes. Something about the way Lydia walked into the room and, without being asked, sat down in the recliner near the wall caused Eleanor to wonder about the exact purpose of this visit.
With her back to the doorway Lydia waited patiently for Eleanor to join her. The strained look on her face led Eleanor to believe that Lydia had heard the story of Willis and Mary Ann, a fact Lydia wasted no time to confirm.
“Oh, Eleanor, I’m so terribly sorry for your schwester!” Lydia said. She clutched a handkerchief in her hands and twisted it around her fingers. “What a horrible thing to happen to her! She’s such a lovely young woman. I do, however, wonder if she had been a bit more discreet, if she might have saved herself some of the speculation.”
“Speculation is just another form of gossip,” was the only response Eleanor could give without sounding bitter or irritated. It didn’t surprise Eleanor that Lydia was so forthright in expressing her opinions. What did surprise Eleanor was Lydia’s comment about discretion. Hadn’t Lydia shown a complete lack of discretion when she confided so quickly in Eleanor? The insinuation that Mary Ann may have contributed to the situation was clear. And Eleanor felt defensive for her sister’s honor. “Neither one is fine in the eyes of God.”
When Lydia shrugged off her rebuke with silence and tightened lips, Eleanor knew her initial instincts about Lydia had not been misguided, and she had been right to resent the intimacy Lydia had forced on her. Eleanor had tried to move beyond her own broken heart and crushed dreams, recognizing that, technically, Lydia could not be blamed for them. But to listen to her judge Mary Ann’s situation? If Eleanor were not someone who honored God’s wish for peace among His people, she would have given Lydia a piece of her mind.