by Anna Schmidt
“If your only purpose was to seek a wife, why not the elder one?”
Luke had never imagined that this would be so very difficult. “Because I understood that marrying was not something that she wanted. Unfortunately her father would not listen to reason. In the end there was an accident involving the elder sister. She did not survive.”
“Oh, Luke, how horrible. But then the father—surely he would want his younger daughter— I mean, in time...”
Luke shook his head. “There is more,” he said, his throat closing around the words making it nearly impossible for him to speak.
“That’s enough,” Greta said softly as she sat forward, pulling away from him and folding her arms protectively over her chest. “I don’t need to know anything more. I am sorry for the loss of this woman and for what her family must have suffered but, Luke, this is our time—our happy time.” She turned to him and in the lamplight he saw her eyes go wide with pleading. “Can we not just let the past go?”
And once again, against his better judgment, Luke agreed. But as she settled back into the curve of his arm and he rested his cheek on her fair hair, he realized that he had allowed himself to set aside his past. A past he had hoped to put behind him by coming to Celery Fields. But that was not possible—not now. Before their intent to wed was published, he had to find a time to tell Lydia the whole story. If Lydia still accepted him as a proper husband for Greta in spite of his past, then they would go forward. If not, he would seek the promise of Levi and Bishop Troyer to say nothing of the plan to wed Greta so that she would not have to suffer the pity of others yet again. Then he would make Greta hear him out so that she would understand once and for all why he would not tarnish her good name with his past and why he would leave Celery Fields for good.
Chapter Thirteen
On Monday evening before the Sunday that the union between Luke and Greta was to be published at services, Lydia and Greta were at supper discussing the plans for the wedding when there was a knock at the front door.
“That will be Luke,” Lydia said. “He has asked to speak with me privately.”
Before Greta could question her, Lydia went to the door and Greta could not have been more surprised to hear her sister exclaim, “Why, Josef Bontrager, you’re back from your travels. Come in and share our supper.”
Greta took that as her cue to set another place at the small kitchen table. She offered up a quick prayer to keep her high spirits and excitement about the coming wedding in check so as not to wound Josef. “Hello, Josef,” she said when he entered the kitchen. “Did you have a good trip?”
She waited until he sat down and then filled his glass with sweet tea before taking her own place next to him and offering him a helping of the meat loaf and mashed potatoes that she had made. The sisters sat in silence while Josef bowed his head in a brief prayer.
“I was not traveling for pleasure,” Josef stated as if she had somehow accused him of frivolity. He snapped open his napkin and tucked it into the neck of his shirt.
“Business then,” Lydia said and offered him the bread.
He helped himself to two thick slices and reached for the butter. “I am afraid that I have returned with some news, Greta. News that will no doubt wound you in the telling but that will nevertheless save you from making a mistake that could...”
Greta set aside her fork and folded her hands in her lap. She was all too familiar with this side of Josef. He liked to deliver bad news preceded by a lecture. “Just tell us what you came to say, Josef.”
He ignored her request and continued to set the stage for his news. “It would seem that things between you and the blacksmith have moved forward at a faster pace than I would have hoped, Greta.”
“What makes you say such a thing?” Greta asked, casting a worried look at Lydia.
“My Uncle Cyrus went to see Levi Harnischer the other evening but he was away. Hannah said he had come to town. My uncle saw Levi’s buggy parked outside your house and as the deacon was leaving Cyrus heard him say that he would tell the bishop to publish the news.”
“Your uncle spied on us,” Greta said flatly, not in the least surprised that Cyrus Bontrager would stoop to such tactics.
“Oh, Josef,” Lydia entreated, “you really must accept that Greta has...”
“So now you know the news. It’s true, Josef. Bishop Troyer will publish our intent to wed at services next Sunday.”
“You cannot allow this,” Josef exclaimed, turning to Lydia.
“It is not for you to decide...” Lydia protested but Greta interrupted her.
“Let him say what he has come to say, Liddy.” Her fists were clenched now and she was having trouble breathing. The panic she had felt that day weeks earlier when Josef had quit her was back. Only this time it was ten times worse. She focused all of her attention on Josef. “Just tell us why you have come here, Josef.”
Josef helped himself to the meatloaf and mashed potatoes that Greta had prepared for her supper with Lydia. “Luke Starns is under the Bann,” he said as he scooped food onto his plate without looking at either sister.
Lydia glanced at Greta and smiled uncertainly. Greta focused all of her attention on her plate.
“He was excommunicated by his church in Ontario,” Josef continued, stuffing his mouth with the food as if he had not eaten in days. “And that is why he left there and started up his business here. That is also why he had no letter from his bishop to present when he joined our congregation. He has deceived you, Greta. He has deceived all of us, allowing us to do business with him and welcome him into the fold of our community when all along he knew...”
“Surely there is some explanation,” Lydia challenged. “What were the circumstances?”
“I will say only that the circumstances were not dissimilar to the situation here in that they involved two sisters.” He paused to take a long drink of his tea before adding, “One of them ended up dead and the circumstances surrounding that death were at the very root of Luke’s being cast out.”
“You are accusing Luke of murder?” Greta was outraged.
“I am not accusing Luke of anything. He stands accused by his own congregation and shunned by his own family. Some say her death was an accident but, by and large, most believe that she died by her own hand. All are convinced that she died of a broken heart when Luke rejected her.”
“Without knowing all of the circumstances, you cannot hold him responsible for a decision made by another,” Lydia argued but her voice shook and Greta saw that she had been completely unnerved by Josef’s news.
Josef took a bite of his bread—bread that Greta wanted to rip from his hand. How could he drop such news on them and go on calmly eating his supper? He was enjoying this. She wanted to tell him that she already knew about the sisters in Ontario, that she already knew that the elder one had died—although it was true that Luke had failed to tell her the details. On the other hand, she had not asked—had not wanted to know of anything so sad in the face of her own joy.
“Liddy is right,” she argued, determined to defend Luke. “If this woman did not die by his actions, then of what could he be accused?”
“Arrogance in his refusal to accept the accusation made by the woman’s father and to make any amends or seek any forgiveness.” He sopped up the last of the sauce on his plate with the crust of bread. “I have already spoken to Bishop Troyer and presented him with a letter that the bishop in Ontario asked me to bring back with me. A letter insisting that our congregation uphold the Bann on Luke or risk creating disunity within the larger church.”
“Why have you done this?” Greta whispered, her hands shaking so hard now that all she could do to still them was to knit her fingers together.
For the first time since his arrival, Josef turned all of his attention to her. He set his fork on the plate and pulled the napkin from his shirt, wiping his mouth with it before explaining. “Can you not see that I did it for you, Greta? It was for you that I left my farm with the
fields barely plowed and traveled to Canada. It was for you that I sought to learn the truth about this man—to save you from possibly becoming his next victim. We have long known that the circumstances that brought Luke here were never fully revealed and...”
“You did not do any of this for me, Josef Bontrager. You did it for you—out of your sense of wounded pride that I had moved forward with my life after you quit me.”
“I had hoped, of course, that you and I could find our way back to each other—that is still my hope. But even in the absence of that I could not allow...”
A strength born of outrage roiled through Greta, bringing her to her feet. He could not allow? He was not her father or brother and certainly not her husband. He had no right to decide what was best for her. “I must go,” she said tightly even as she took down her bonnet and tied it in place.
“Greta, wait,” Lydia called after her.
But Greta was already halfway across the yard that separated their house from Luke’s shop. He would still be working and not yet aware of the doom that Josef Bontrager had brought back with him from his trip to Ontario. For the moment she had every reason to believe that Luke was still as happy and excited about their future as she had been just before Josef showed up on their doorstep.
She knew she was too late the minute she rounded the corner of the shop and saw Levi Harnischer’s buggy parked outside. Levi rarely came to town on a weekday unless he had business to attend to in his role as deacon of their congregation. And although there was the possibility that he had come to town on other business, that was unlikely at this late hour. Greta slowed her step as she edged her way toward the open double doors. She heard the murmur of male voices, surprisingly calm if the conversation was what she thought it must be.
She peered around the frame of the door and saw Luke sitting on the chair he had offered her that day that now seemed so very long ago. He was holding a paper while Levi and Bishop Troyer stood quietly by. He handed the letter back to the bishop and stood up. Although she could not make out his words without moving further inside the shop and revealing her presence, Greta could tell by his gestures that Luke was telling the two church elders the story.
It was a story that he had tried to tell her, she realized. They were to be married and she understood now that before the news was made public he had wanted to make sure that she knew about his past—all of it. She realized that in trying to tell her about the sisters, he had wanted to see if perhaps she would be willing to forgive him. Now the entire business would be made public—as was right, she understood. But allowing everyone to learn of Luke’s past could destroy their happiness.
For if the people of Celery Fields knew that he had left Canada under the Bann, then they would have had no choice but to honor that. No one in Celery Fields could do business with Luke or invite him to join them in their homes or sit down for a meal with him. And what was she to do? She who loved him more than she had ever thought she could love a man?
She jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find Lydia standing next to her.
“Come home, sister,” Lydia pleaded. “It is out of our hands now.”
“Josef?”
“I sent him home.”
Greta nodded and gave herself over to her sister’s steadfast strength and comfort as she had all her life—as she no doubt would need to for the remainder of her days. Once again there would be no publication of her coming wedding at services, no happy exclamations of surprise from the other women, no moments of doubt as others tried to decide if this was good news or if they should pity Lydia. There would be instead the shocking revelation that this man, that all of Celery Fields had taken into their homes and hearts, had deceived them all by keeping a secret that in their world was unforgivable.
* * *
Luke was trying to explain the circumstances alluded to in his former bishop’s letter when he saw a flash of movement at the door of his shop. Greta. There was no reason she would have come to him at this time of day. They had made plans for him to come to the house after dark, where they would sit together as they had through so many evenings now planning their future. No, Bontrager had gotten to her. He must have gone straight there after delivering the letter to Bishop Troyer.
Every fiber of his being wanted to go to her, to hold her and tell her that they would find their way through this. But then he saw Lydia take Greta away and he knew that to involve her in any way was to do her irreparable harm. She would be forgiven for associating with him while everyone assumed that she had no knowledge of his past, but if she had anything to do with him now...
“Luke?” Levi placed a hand on his shoulder.
From the moment the bishop and Levi had entered his shop, the two men had talked to him in tones that spoke of the seriousness of the situation and yet their kindness toward him was evident. He understood that they hoped—as had his family and friends back in Ontario—to find a way to resolve things so that he could be reinstated into the good graces of the church.
“I will seek the congregation’s forgiveness for not revealing my past,” Luke said.
There was a silence that Bishop Troyer and Levi filled with the exchange of worried looks. “I’m afraid, Luke, that seeking our forgiveness will not be enough. You must resolve this business with your former congregation in Ontario.”
“Don’t you think I tried to do that?” Luke said. “But the deacon there is the woman’s father and in his understandable grief he would not hear of anything less than my admission that I had caused her to take her life. It was a lie, Bishop Troyer. And to my dying day I will never believe that Dorie took her own life.”
“That is the story,” Levi said, pointing to the paper they had shown Luke.
“That is their story. Dorie often walked along the river when she needed to think or work something out. The rains had made the path slippery and soggy. I believe that the bank gave way and she was washed into the swift current.”
“And that may have been the way of it,” Josef Bontrager announced, stepping out from the shadows at the back of the shop and coming forward. “But the fact remains, Luke Starns, that this woman felt the need to think on that day because you had rejected her. She would not have been there had it not been for your cruelty in quitting her for her sister.”
Luke clenched his fists at his sides and forced his voice to remain calm. “Everyone knew that it was Dorie’s father who wanted the match between us. Dorie had stated her intention to remain unwed, but her father would not hear of it. What Dorie overheard that day was her father offering to pay me in land and cash if I would agree to marry her.”
“How can you possibly know what this woman overheard?” Josef sneered.
“Because I spoke with her later that same day and she told me. I asked her to come with me so that together we could talk with her father but she refused, saying that she needed some time to think. That was the last that I or anyone else saw of her until her body was found the following morning.”
“So you say.”
“So says the entire congregation,” Luke replied. “Every person voted in favor of my reinstatement save that Dorie’s father. As you are well aware the vote must be unanimous and so I was excommunicated. I lost everything.”
“But surely you can recognize that the disunity your actions created within the community...”
“What actions?” Luke challenged. “Somebody tell me what I did wrong and I will own it, but I cannot admit to something that I did not do nor can I seek forgiveness if I have no knowledge of what the accusations are.”
Levi held up the letter. “You were charged with arrogance, Luke.”
Luke drew in a breath to steady himself. It was all happening again. “Because I would not admit to something I did not do, I was accused of arrogance. Was I to surrender to the lie that I had caused the woman to take her life when it was not true and everyone knew that?”
“There is, in the Ordnung, the requirement that we be submissive t
o the greater good of the community,” Josef reminded him.
“I...” Luke threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. What was the point? In trying to defend himself he could be accused of arrogance again for in their faith a man did not put himself above the whole—the community. “What do you wish me to do?” he asked the bishop, turning his back on Josef and any more pronouncements that he might decide to make.
“On Sunday following the service we will publicize this entire matter to the congregation. I will advise that we take the next two weeks to pray for guidance and at the following service I will bring my recommendation for their vote. Until then we will abide by the situation as it is stated in this letter. And,” he added, turning to face Josef directly, “we will not speak of this matter to anyone outside this building until that is all in place.”
“But at the very least for those two weeks, Luke Starns, you will be...”
“Meidung,” Luke murmured. “Shunned.”
Levi placed his hand on Luke’s forearm. “Of course, you may continue to conduct your business and reside in the community. However...”
“I know how this works, Levi,” Luke said gently for he understood that the other man was only trying to be as clear as possible without being cruel. “I endured that punishment for months before I decided to leave Ontario and come here. To this day I have not heard from my father or brothers, although I write to them regularly.”
Bishop Troyer grasped Luke’s shoulder briefly and then walked away. “I find that I am quite weary, Levi,” he said. “Would you be so kind as to drive me home?”
“Yah,” Levi murmured. “Coming, Josef?” he asked but Luke gratefully understood that this was not a question but an instruction to the man who had managed to destroy any chance Luke might have had for happiness.
“Greta will try and see you,” Josef said in a low voice as he hesitated before following the others outside. “I will do my best to console her but...”