by Senft, Adina
Amelia shook her head. “Next they’ll be tying butter knives to their boots to go skating.”
“Shh!” one of the other women said. “Don’t give anyone ideas.”
“I’d better go out and have a look. I don’t want Elam to get warm and take off his coat. Not in this weather.”
Out of the blue, Emma appeared at her elbow. “I’ll show you where they are.”
Amelia had been coming to this farm her whole life—had gone sledding herself on the back hill with Emma and her siblings when they were all children. But she said nothing, only nodded and got ready to brave the cold yet again.
“Thanks for giving me an excuse,” Emma said as they went down the back steps. “Mamm would notice if I went back to the Daadi Haus.”
“Are you all right?” Amelia gave her the once-over, but she looked just the same despite being muffled up to the nose in a scarf. “I don’t remember you being this antisocial before.”
“I’m not antisocial. I guess I should thank you for warning me earlier. Now I know why everyone is looking at me as though I’ve just told a big joke.”
“They’d better not say anything to you.” Though Amelia didn’t know what she’d do if people did rib poor Emma about her new beau. Give them a talking-to?
In the distance, behind the barn, Amelia heard the shrieks and calls of the children as they coasted down the hill on whatever bits of flat material they’d been able to find. With the moonlight reflecting off the snow, there was plenty of light to see by. When the barn door swung open, Amelia actually had to blink and wait for her eyes to adjust to the brightness of the Coleman pole lamps inside. The man who had come out closed the door, and it took a moment before she saw who it was.
“Bishop,” she greeted him, and beside her, Emma murmured a greeting as well.
Daniel Lapp blinked at them both. He could obviously see a pair of women, but it took him a couple of seconds to identify them under their wrappings. “Amelia? Who’s that with you?”
“Emma Stolzfus. We’re going up to make sure my boys aren’t killing themselves on the hill.”
“Emma.” He smiled. “I’m afraid Aaron King isn’t out here. Most of the Youngie are at Mandy and Philip’s new house.”
Amelia heard Emma’s slow, controlled intake of breath. “I’m a little past those kinds of gatherings. It’s my mother’s birthday, so my place is here.”
But he didn’t seem to hear her. “I have to say, I think you might look for someone older. Aaron hasn’t joined church, and it’s not fitting for you to be seeing him.”
Emma had her hands jammed into the pockets of her coat. Amelia took her arm, gripping her elbow in a silent warning to hold her tongue.
“Emma and Aaron aren’t dating, Bishop,” she said clearly, as though he were deaf. “Whatever you’ve heard, it’s a silly rumor.”
“Too many people are talking, and when that happens, there is usually a basis for it.”
“Well, there isn’t in this case.”
“Don’t be too sure of that, Amelia.” Emma stepped away, so that Amelia was forced to let her go.
While Amelia shook her head, trying to keep her friend from this foolishness, Daniel Lapp’s brows drew together, white under the black brim of his hat. “So the talk is more right than these things usually are?”
“I’m saying people shouldn’t be so quick to judge,” Emma replied lightly, as if it didn’t matter in the least that the news would be confirmed and all over the settlement before breakfast. “Amelia, if you want to visit with the bishop, feel free. I’ll just run up and make sure Elam and Matthew aren’t turning into snowballs.”
Amelia hadn’t yet recovered her powers of speech. But she didn’t need them. Daniel Lapp was already focusing his frowning gaze on her. “The two of you are a pair,” he said. “One in a courtship unbecoming to a spinster in her middle age and one in a business unbecoming to a widow.”
“Emma isn’t middle-aged,” Amelia managed. “She’s only thirty.”
“Don’t quibble. I want to know why you are going against the advice of those who seek to help you and pursuing this Mexico scheme.”
“I—”
“I just spoke with Joshua Yoder, and he tells me that you are entertaining offers for your shop because you need the money for a medical matter.”
“Y—”
“Moses Yoder and I have diligently sought the will of the Lord in this matter, and it has come to us that you should not do this. You are not the only one of us who has been stricken with this disease, Amelia. Be content with the medicines that were good enough for others. Don’t make yourself of more importance than they.”
Her very insides rebelled against the unfairness of his thinking. But an Amish woman would never argue with a man set in authority over her, never mind the bishop. There was only one thing she could say—and it was the truth. “I have to think of my boys.”
“Then think of them. Think of them without a mother while you go off spending their future in a foreign country. Think of the example you set for them in taking your own course instead of listening to those who would guide you. Think how they will feel when you come home, poorer in every way except your own self-will.”
Dismay and rebellion rose up in her throat and choked her, forcing her to bow her head. She could say nothing. Because in the eyes of the church, he was right.
But did it make her wrong to want to be healed? How could that be?
“It is causing a rift among our menfolk, the sale of your shop,” Daniel Lapp said, more gently. “If you do not go for this treatment, you will not need to sell your business, and our men can turn their minds to the work of their own hands. We will have peace in our barns again and talk about the weather forecast and what kind of seed we’ll plant in the spring, instead of whether or not Amelia Beiler will sell her husband’s shop to an Englisch or an Amish man.”
It was her fault that the Whinburg men hadn’t the sense of a goose? That they were squabbling among themselves like children instead of acting like sensible adults?
Unbidden, a picture of Carrie on her knees in front of her mother-in-law’s bare feet flashed into Amelia’s memory. Carrie had humbled herself before the whole church in order to be obedient to the will of God. To do the right thing for peace in her household.
Could Amelia live with that example set for her and not be encouraged to do the same? Did she have the strength to bend so that there would be peace in the Gmee?
Daniel Lapp nodded at her and took a step in the direction of the house. “You think it over. On your knees. I know you will do the right thing.”
He was correct about that at least.
She’d be happy to do the right thing—if her heart would only tell her what it was.
Chapter 18
She was not under the Bann yet, but if she willfully disobeyed the guidance of the ones God had chosen to lead their community, she soon would be.
Bishop Daniel had shone the light on her path.
And yet Amelia could not walk in it.
She and the boys trudged home from a family dinner at Chris’s, the snow squeaky clean as soap powder under their boots. There would be more snow by morning—which meant Amelia would be walking with the boys to Mamm and Daed’s for dinner tomorrow night. At least tomorrow was an off Sunday, so she would not have to navigate drifted roads in the buggy with a horse who had been cooped up too long without exercise. Once in the house, she stripped the wet clothes off them and hustled them into the washroom for a hot bath, and when their skin glowed pink with cleanliness, she could only hope there would be no runny noses and coughs at this time next week.
Elam may have been willing for a bath, but when he got to the bottom of the stairs and looked up into the dark stairwell where his brother had run up moments before, his little body stiffened with resistance. “Mamm, can’t I sleep with you?”
Instead of hauling him up the stairs by one arm as her own mother might have done, Amelia put the lamp on the floo
r, sat on the bottom tread, and pulled him into her lap. “You’re a big boy. You haven’t done such a thing since you were a baby. Why would you want to now?”
Elam looked up again, as if Matthew might come jumping out from around the corner, ridicule in his voice. “I’m afraid,” he whispered.
“Of the dark?”
He nodded. The lamplight limned the rounded curve of his cheek and shone on blond hair that would darken as he got older. Her Bobbel, so small and so afraid.
“It’s only dark, my little one. It’s so weak that the lamplight chases it away. It can’t touch you or hurt you.”
“But it comes back. And Daed isn’t here to protect us.”
And suddenly she understood with heartbreaking clarity what was really going on. Why hadn’t she seen it? Because she’d been so concerned with herself that she hadn’t spared enough time or thought for her children, that was why. Father, forgive me. And give me words that will comfort him.
“But there is One who is, Elam. And Daed is with Him right now, whispering in His mighty ear, asking Him to watch over us and protect us.”
She waited a moment in silence. Matthew was the one who acted first and thought later, when he got into trouble. Elam was slower, more careful, thinking things out before he did them. Maybe that was the problem; as she knew herself, lying in the dark gave you far too much time to think.
“How do you know?” Elam whispered.
“Because I have prayed for that very thing, too, Daed and I together. And I know God has heard us, because I feel peace in my heart. He has taken away the scary things in the dark, and I’m able to close my eyes.”
“If you close your eyes, the bad things will come.”
“If I close my eyes,” she contradicted him gently, “I can see God’s great hand cup itself around our house and barn and everyone in it, keeping us safe until morning. No bad things will get past that hand, Elam.”
“None?” His voice was stronger, and she took heart.
“Well, maybe a mosquito in the summertime.”
His body shook in a silent giggle. “And He protects us all? Even the cat?”
She held him away a little. “What cat?”
“The one that comes at night.” His cheeks reddened. “Sometimes I feed her.”
Enoch had been allergic to fur, so the boys had never had a pet, making do instead with the barn cats at Maami’s house. “Is this cat wild?”
“Maybe she was, but now mostly she’s just hungry. I’m sorry, Mamm. I hear her outside, and I come down in the night to give her something to eat.”
“Elam Beiler. I thought you were afraid of the dark, and here all the time it’s been a delaying tactic.”
“Nei, Mamm, honest. I was afraid, but…” A little moment of growing up seemed to happen, right before her eyes. “I guess I’m not, am I, if I can come down and feed her?”
“See? You’re protecting this cat the same way the good Gott protects us.”
He smiled, and his shoulders straightened, as if a load had been removed. “Can I feed her now?”
“You can give her some of the scrapple we had for breakfast. And see if she’ll spend the night in the mudroom. It’s too cold out there for cats.”
Elam slid off her lap and went into the kitchen, where she heard the clinking of a spoon on a saucer. She must be sleeping better than she thought if she hadn’t heard those sounds late at night. She hadn’t even realized that food was missing. When the kitchen door opened, she leaned on the jamb of the mudroom to see a little gray cat not much older than a kitten slip inside and welcome the food with feline joy. Elam was careful to shut the outside door, and she drew him into the kitchen, closing the mudroom door behind them.
“Can we keep her, Mamm?”
“Is she a good mouser?”
“I think she is. You can’t see her bones.”
“If she will earn her keep, she can stay.” Elam hugged her, and she held him close, her little boy whose kindness had overcome his fear. “And now upstairs with you. It’s way past time for bed.”
“Mamm, why don’t you sing with us anymore?” Elam wanted to know after prayers, as she tucked him into bed next to Matthew.
She sank into the low chair beside the bed. Another delaying tactic. “I sing with you.” Why, it had only been…ach. Just how long had it been?
“Not in days, you haven’t.”
“Weeks.” Matthew turned over and propped himself up on one elbow. “I want to sing the golden song.”
Two weeks—maybe longer. Had she been so self-centered that she hadn’t given her boys the minute it took to sing a verse—a little ritual they’d been keeping since babyhood—in that long?
“Then we’ll sing it,” she said. “Denkes for reminding me. How does it go?”
Each day I’ll do a golden deed…
They knew the simple tune by heart, so she took the bass line and sang the responses, playing a different character—a fat man, a crotchety old lady, an angel—with each repetition. By the time they got to the end, the boys were giggling so hard they couldn’t get the words out. Even when she’d kissed them good night and turned out the lamp, she heard Elam muffle a snort under the quilt. That made Matthew jostle him, which made Elam squeak and snuffle with the effort to be quiet.
But she pretended not to hear it as she went downstairs. An opportunity for a good laugh was all too rare these days. Who was she to shush one into silence?
As she cracked the mudroom door, she saw that the saucer was empty and the cat had curled up on a discarded jacket. Even the smallest members of the household were safe. Through the window she could see the snow falling faster, growing thicker by the minute. It’s going to be a wild one tonight—please, Lord, keep every last one of our folk safe as they make their way home. Thank goodness the boys had brought in lots of wood earlier in the afternoon. With her good hand, she maneuvered two more logs onto the fire and thanked Gott for small blessings like a stove that could heat a whole house and keep them cozy on a night like tonight.
Why are you not content with the small blessings?
Mamm might as well have been in the room with her.
I am content with them. I am even content with an unexpected pet. And isn’t my health a blessing? Shouldn’t I do everything I can to preserve what God has given me?
Was she really putting herself above Lila Esch—thinking herself so much more valuable than any other sister in the faith?
I don’t think that. I just want to be a mother to my boys. Why is that so bad?
Lila had probably wanted the same. And there was Victor Stolzfus, too—God had seen fit to take his mind and leave his body hale and strong. Had Victor struggled against His will and cried out in his most private thoughts, Why me, Lord?
Time and chance happened to all men. Maybe God wasn’t in this at all. Maybe viruses and bad cells just were, and God allowed them to run amok in people, not because He had a plan but because humans were frail and that’s just the way life was.
Amelia looked down at Matthew’s pants in her lap, wondering how the mending had gotten there. She didn’t remember sitting down and getting out her sewing box. It wasn’t like her to lose track of herself—or to think rebellious thoughts such as these. Of course God had a plan. If He didn’t, life would be too frightening, wouldn’t it? She couldn’t imagine going through the days without the knowledge that the Lord of the universe kept her in the palm of His hand, safe and warm, just the way she had explained it to Elam.
What she needed to do was get down on her knees for some serious prayer. Seek His face. Find out His will for her. Not sit here speculating about why viruses attacked one person and not another when both were in the same house—in the same room, even.
She set the mending aside and slid to her knees in front of the chair.
Lord, please help me to know Your will. Am I to go ahead and sell the shop and travel to Mexico for the treatment? Or is it Your plan that I stay here and do as Lila did, taking medicine each
day and trying to keep up hope? If that’s so, Lord, I will have to move back to Mamm and Daed’s. Do You want them to bring up my sons in their old age?
An idea bounded into her head like a deer into the garden.
When her brother Mark moved here in the spring, the solution was not to live here while he and his family moved in with Mamm and Daed. No. She could deed this house over to him and take the boys back to the farm. It would be a trial to her soul to live under Mamm’s thumb again, but at least the boys would not be forced to give up their prospects to nurse her. Mark would be close enough to walk over for the day’s work, and Mamm would have guinea pigs in the house for her remedies. And Amelia would have somewhere to live until…until a wheelchair was not needed anymore.
She shut her eyes more tightly, hands clasped under her chin and feeling the prick of the scratchy carpet under her knees. How could she not have thought of this before? She’d been so worried about the boys and living arrangements and the details of life that she’d left the Lord out of the equation. And suddenly He’d sent the solution to her like a gift.
A solution that would wither her heart to dust even as her body withered to uselessness.
Behind her closed eyelids, darkness whirled, shot with erratic light that showed nothing. Is this truly Your will, Lord? That I give up hope of health and bow to the will of those You’ve chosen to be my shepherds?
She waited, the house silent and still save for the crackle of the fire, muffled behind the window in the door of the stove.
Thump. Thump.
Something heavy crashed against the front door.
Amelia’s heart kicked in her chest, and she leaped practically out of her skin. She scrambled to her feet and staggered to the window, willing blood back into her tingling legs. She could see part of the front porch from here.