by Kelly Irvin
“That’s what Mudder said.” Fresh tears trickled down Hannah’s face as she collapsed against Laura’s chest. “I’m so sorry I shamed her and you and Daed and everyone.” She straightened and wiped her face. “I promised myself I would stop crying.”
“You want to get it out of your system before you face everyone?”
“Jah, something like that.” She accepted the tissue Laura offered and blew her nose with vigor. “Ben came to me and Mudder and Daed earlier. The elders met with Thaddeus. He didn’t want his parents there. Ben didn’t tell us much, except that it was agreed that if Thaddeus did not wish to marry me, he would not be forced to do so. He chose not to confess and repent with me. In return, the elders agreed that his decision made it impossible for him to be a part of our Gmay.”
“He chose to leave rather than confess and repent?”
“He doesn’t want to leave the faith. He told Ben he would go on to Nappanee and meet with the bishop there.”
“A hard road for a young man who’s never lived anywhere but Jamesport, never been away from his family.” Laura sought compassion in her heart. She should pray for him, but right now her heart and soul were with the woman he’d abandoned. “He’s seeking a new beginning, I’m sure, but they can be hard to find when old transgressions are left unaddressed.”
“I know life isn’t fair, but it doesn’t seem right—”
“That he should escape this moment?” Laura stood next to her great-granddaughter at the window. A north wind forced tree branches to dip and bow. “He’ll have to face it eventually. And it’ll be so much worse because he didn’t do the right thing to begin with. You’re doing the right thing, the brave thing, the righteous thing.”
Hannah grabbed Laura’s hand and squeezed so hard it hurt. “It helps to know your kind face will be out there.”
“I’ll be there every minute, I promise.”
“It’s time.” Cyrus’s deep voice sounded at the door. He stuck his head through the opening. “Come, Hannah.”
Laura went first and found her seat with the other women. She gripped her hands in her lap and kept her chin up as Hannah moved to the front of the room and knelt before the congregation. The girl’s gaze remained steadfast on the feet of the men sitting in the first row. Her hands fluttered. Her fingers touched her throat, but she didn’t make a sound. Her thin shoulders shook. The wind whipping in the eaves of Solomon’s house and the crackle of the wood in the fireplace broke an otherwise unrelenting silence.
“We are gathered to hear Hannah Kauffman’s confession. Hannah has freely confessed her Fehla of fornication to the minister.” Ben’s voice was gruff and almost unrecognizable as Rosalie’s lighthearted, kind husband. Cyrus lifted his hand to cup his ear. Ben’s voice rose in volume. “She has confessed that she is with child.”
No murmur from the congregation. None of this came as news to a single person in the house. As much as Plain folks didn’t talk about this sort of thing, they did. Quietly. Behind closed doors. With hands lifted to their mouths, gazes shifting left and right. Laura closed her eyes for a second, but the image of Hannah’s anguished face lit up the breadth and depth of her mind. Oh, child, child, what have you done to yourself?
And how could it be right that the father of this baby should not share in this confession and penitence? Not for Laura to question. Her only concern in this moment should be with this soul before the congregation.
Mary Katherine’s hand crept onto Laura’s and squeezed. Her face spoke of her sorrow and understanding of Laura’s pain. Of Seth and Carrie’s shame and embarrassment.
Tears threatened. Laura refused to give them heed. This needed to be done. It had to be done. So much was at stake for Hannah and for her unborn child. For that baby to grow up in a community of faith, to know the Ordnung, to know the Holy Word, and to live by it, repentance and punishment were necessary.
A hard truth. Laura took a breath and let it out. Just breathe. Please, Gott, give her strength and the courage to bear this shame and to learn from it. I know You have a plan for her. Please, Gott, let Your grace envelop her and give her healing.
She wanted to pray for a husband and a father for the child, but she couldn’t. God’s plan was God’s plan. He knew what was best and it wasn’t her place to school Him in how to bring up His child.
“Hannah, are you sorry for what you have done?” Ben’s voice held a slight tremor, one that said the emotion of the moment held him prisoner as well.
“Jah. I am.” Hannah’s whisper quavered. “I truly am. I’m so sorry.”
What must it be like to kneel before her parents, her friends, her family, and admit to doing something Scripture taught was sacred and special, only for a husband and his wife? Plain folks didn’t speak of it in private, let alone in public.
Now every person in the community would look at Hannah and remember her sin.
And think of their own temptations. Their own frailties and failures. The image of Eli’s handsome face flooded Laura’s mind. Those long buggy rides in the evenings. Time spent alone at the pond. Sweet kisses.
One thing could lead to another and Hannah simply had not been strong enough to fight temptation. It could happen to any one of them.
No judgment.
“Has your heart changed, Hannah?”
“It’ll never happen again.”
While it was true, Hannah would have a permanent physical reminder of the Fehla, once she had completed the bann and had this baby, no one would castigate her. She would be forgiven. The grace of God would be extended through each member of her family, her friends, and her community. Laura hung on to that thought. After repentance, came forgiveness and grace. The beauty of God’s plan.
“Leave us then.”
With a sob Hannah scrambled to her feet. She wove on unsteady legs down the aisle between the men’s and women’s benches. Carrie stood. Ben shook his head. She sat.
A young man rose from the back row. Phillip Schwartz. Without looking left or right, he shoved open the door. Hannah trudged through the opening. Phillip gently shut the door.
A small thing. A simple kindness. But still it touched Laura’s heart. Phillip’s actions reflected an understanding of what went on here today. Repentance. Punishment. Forgiveness. Grace.
“The ministers have met. We recommend six weeks in the bann.” Ben wiped at his face with a faded blue bandanna. “All in favor.”
Six weeks took them well into the new year. Through the holidays. Even two weeks would’ve been better, although Hannah would still miss Christmas with her family. They would get glimpses of her at church services, but she would sit near the ministers. After meeting with the ministers for admonition during the Abrot at the beginning of worship, she would sit bent over, a hand covering her face during the opening sermon. She wouldn’t be allowed to join the meal after the service. But it was called punishment for a reason.
Laura swallowed against the lump in her throat and raised her hand. The vote was unanimous.
Once again, Phillip scurried to open the door. Solomon escorted Hannah back into the house. Her head down, she likely never saw Phillip or the way he looked at her, like a man longing to give a single word of encouragement. He knew better. Her white skin now had a green tinge to it. Hands out as if to catch her, the minister walked behind her to the front of the room. She faced the congregation. Her chest heaved. Her hands went to her mouth.
She looked as if she might vomit on Freeman’s and Zechariah’s shoes. Please Gott, no. Spare her that shame.
The desire to rush to the front and wrap her in a hug overwhelmed Laura. She gritted her teeth and stared at her hands. Let this be over. Let this be over. Please, Gott, let this be over.
Not the prayer of a strict Plain member of the Gmay. The prayer of a great-grandmother who couldn’t bear to see her girl in such pain and misery.
She hazarded a sidelong glance at Carrie. As hard as this was for a great-grandmother, how much harder it must be for a mother and father
. Her face red and tear streaked, Carrie gripped her daughter Jonelle’s hand on one side and Evie’s on the other. The lessons they were learning today were important for them too.
So important.
“Your penitence has been set at six weeks of bann. Are you willing to take on the discipline of the church?”
Hannah nodded.
“Speak up, Hannah.”
“Jah.”
“The bann will commence immediately. Cyrus and I will meet with you later to talk about the terms of your punishment. You may go first. Solomon will drive you to the dawdy haus at Martin’s. You’re to stay there during the bann. You’ll be visited by the midwife. And by the deacon. Your needs will be met.”
Ben sounded so severe. His job. He’s doing his job as a bishop chosen by God.
Cyrus shepherded her from the house this time. No one could miss the fierce glance he cast at Phillip, a glance that would keep a hardier man in his seat. Hannah’s gaze stayed on the plank wood floor. That small path from the front of the room to the door surely seemed like a journey of a thousand miles.
The door closed.
“We still have the behavior of Thaddeus Yoder to consider.” Ben’s voice turned icy. “He chose not to be here today. He has left the Gmay.”
A soft murmur ran through the crowd and dissipated. Laura couldn’t help herself. She sought out Thaddeus’s mother. Susie Yoder’s hands covered her face. Her shoulders shook. One of her daughters patted her back.
She surely wondered how much she had contributed to her son’s waywardness, just as Seth and Carrie agonized and rehashed their own parenting.
“He was invited to come before us and repent of his Fehla. He declined.” Ben stared out at the crowd, his gaze filled with sadness mingled with stern purpose. “Therefore, we are called to determine if he should be allowed to continue as a member. I am calling for a Rat of the congregation. All those in favor of terminating Thaddeus Yoder’s membership, vote by raising your hand.”
The vote was unanimous. How difficult it must have been for Declan and Susie to vote to excommunicate their own son. Shame heaped upon heartbreak for his sin and for his refusal to acknowledge it or his unborn child.
One did not compare sin. One prayed for mercy and grace and the gentling of a headstrong soul.
But for the grace of God, there go I.
Ben pronounced the membership renounced. “If Thaddeus chooses to return and confess his Fehla at any time, his membership can be restored by Rat. Until then, he is subject to Meidung. That concludes this meeting of the Gmay. You are dismissed.”
Laura nodded at Mary Katherine and made her way against the flow of bodies toward Carrie. The woman needed support. She needed to know she had not been judged and found wanting as a mother. Children became adults. When they strayed, they had to take responsibility.
As hard as it could be to let them. Laura had been through much with her children’s rumspringas. But never this. Never a public confession and bann.
Was that Eli’s influence or hers? Both combined. Eli could be brutally swift when it came to punishment. He accepted no excuses for poor behavior. He acted equally swift in loving-kindness.
The knot in her throat grew. On days like today she missed him as if the anguishing, gaping wound had occurred only days earlier. His even keel, his measured words, the soft stroke of his fingers in her hair.
The fingers brushed against her skin as real as the bitter December wind.
And then they were gone.
What kind of father had Zechariah been? The question came hard upon the fleeing memories. She let her gaze wander around the room. There he was. Flanked by Abel on one side, three of his sons on the other. All good men. Every one of his children had been baptized and married in the church. A good father.
The memory of his hand in hers cloaked her like a warm shawl she wore everywhere she went. True, he’d made no move to follow up since that day in the kitchen when their connection had been as real and alive as any she’d ever felt, but neither had she. They needed time to understand what had transpired. If they moved too quickly, the fragility of that shared moment might cause it to be shattered.
If it was real, it would last. No need to rush in where only fools dared to tread.
He turned. His gaze met hers. He didn’t look away. He smiled.
The sweet taste of blueberries in summer lay on her tongue.
He might have kissed her that day if Delia hadn’t called out at that moment.
What would a kiss have been like? Like Zechariah. A mixture of rough and softness, gruff and sweet, flannel and worn cotton.
“Stop making goo-goo eyes.” A knowing look on her face, Mary Katherine tugged at Laura’s arm. “This is no place for mooning over a man. Take it outside, my sweet freind.”
“I’m not mooning. Old women don’t moon over men.”
“Sure they do.” Mary Katherine waved at Ezekiel and pointed at the door. They would meet outside. “Just not in public.”
How could she moon—as Mary Katherine so delicately put it—over another man so close to the anniversary of Eli’s death? She’d always felt his presence this time of year. His tantalizing nearness during the season of his parting always came with a mixture of reluctance and longing. Reluctance to experience it again and longing to feel his touch one more time.
To hear him sing Christmas hymns in that singsong, off-key way as he brought in the wood and started the fire. To hear him hum when he ate gingerbread cookies because they made him so happy. To hear him laugh at the skits performed by the grandchildren on Christmas Eve.
Now, she longed for the touch of another. I’m sorry, Eli. So sorry.
But not sorry this Christmas she’d received the surprising gift of sparkly hope that life could still surprise her, still take her breath away, still make her giddy.
What a Christmas present.
Tamara stepped into Laura’s path. She leaned in close, her hand on Laura’s arm, and whispered in her ear, “That was barbaric.”
TWENTY-ONE
WHAT KIND OF WORD WAS BARBARIC FOR A TIME-HONORED, God-fearing Gmay ritual of confession and repentance? Laura scowled at Tamara and placed her index finger to her lips. A discussion of the pros and cons of punishment and repentance did not belong here or now. Tamara had dipped not just her toes in the English ways but her entire body, from the sounds of her impertinent statement.
Laura grabbed her granddaughter’s arm. They two-stepped through the barn door, past the corral, toward the long row of buggies. “What are you thinking, talking like that during a Gmay meeting?”
“Hannah made a mistake. She said she was sorry.” Tamara scowled back. She jerked her arm from Laura’s grip and plowed to a stop. “She’ll be alone for the first trimester. She looks like she has severe morning sickness. She could become dehydrated, sick. She has no boyfriend, no husband. It is barbaric.”
“Ben will allow the midwife to check on her. He and Cyrus will meet with her before the Sunday sermons. She’ll be able to attend. We’ll see her. She’ll be taken care of. She’s not completely abandoned.”
They were strict but not inflexible. A punishment imposed with love, not cruel intent.
“She’s practically a child herself.”
The woman standing in front of Laura took on the aspects of a stranger. “In the Plain world, she’s not. She’s old enough to commit the sin and old enough to know it’s wrong. She took responsibility for her Fehla and she accepted her punishment.” A far more grown-up behavior than Tamara exhibited. “She wants to do this so her family can help her raise her kind. Eventually, I hope there will be a man wise enough to see she has learned from her mistake and will make a gut fraa.”
“How many people in the congregation failed in the same way and never admitted it? The only reason Hannah did was because she got pregnant. Basically, she got caught.”
Laura couldn’t answer the question and Tamara’s point was surely well-taken. “Why? Have you?”
; “Nee. I don’t . . . I’m not.” For once Tamara looked flustered. “The opportunity has never presented itself.”
“But if it did?”
“I would never do anything to jeopardize my chances of becoming a doctor.”
Laura had once said the same thing. Then Eli entered the picture.
Tamara needed her own Eli. “What about your chances of being a fraa and a mudder?”
“They don’t call to me like medicine does.” Her cheeks red from the cold wind that whipped in her face, Tamara tugged on her mittens. “I’m sorry. I know you’re disappointed. I know Mudder and Daed are disappointed, but that’s the point, isn’t it, of rumspringa? If I can’t take the vows of baptism with the certainty that I want to live by the Ordnung for the rest of my life, then I need to figure out what I do want. And that is to be a doctor. Stop changing the subject. We’re talking about Hannah, not me.”
“There’s nothing more to be said. Her punishment has been decided.”
“And then what? She’ll bear the mark of shame on her forehead for the rest of her life? I want to talk to her.”
“Nee. You’ll only muddy the water more.”
“Why? Because I’ll offer her other options? Because I’ll tell her that her life isn’t over? Because I’ll tell her to hold her head up?” Tamara’s eyes blazed. She put both hands on her hips and stared at Laura as if she were the enemy. “She could come with me. I could take care of her. She could live with me.”
The hubris of youth. “How will you support her and a baby and still go to college? Don’t create castles in the air. She’s mixed up enough without you filling her head with figments of your imagination.”
“I know people would be happy to help her—”
“Stop, Tamara. Just stop. Now.”
Her anger’s ferocity surprised even Laura. She took a breath, then another. “You have gut intentions, but you’ll only make the situation harder for her. I promise I will make sure she doesn’t suffer. She will be forgiven. Her child will be loved. She will always be loved. Let it be. Please.”