Secret Sister

by Sarah Price

  Neither David nor Grace responded. Their silence hung heavy in the air, but Lizzie didn’t seem to notice.

  “Why, those Englischers with their fast cars and no regard for Plain people! Wasn’t it just last summer when two young ones were killed when a truck ran into the back of their buggy at a stop sign?” She looked at her husband and then back to Grace. “Hmm? And so many youth aren’t even joining the church, either! Why, I heard tell that in a family of ten, one or two often don’t join the church at all!”

  “Lizzie . . . ” David’s voice was low, as if warning her.

  Despite the way her breath caught in her throat, Grace forced a smile and stood up. “Mayhaps I might fetch you some more coffee, ja?” She reached for their mugs and hurried into the kitchen. For a few moments, she stood at the counter, gasping for air as she willed her heart to slow down.

  Whether it was because Lizzie forgot or merely chose not to remember, those two comments had cut through Grace. Besides her multiple miscarriages in between Linda and Ivan, Grace still harbored the pain of losing both Susan and James. How could Lizzie have been so insensitive to speak as carelessly as she did, when surely she should have remembered Grace’s losses?

  1995

  Grace stood by the kitchen sink, pretending to wash the dishes. At that very moment, she wished she could be anywhere but there. In all the years she had been married to Menno, she had never heard him so angry or using such a harsh tone. She wished she could shrink or simply disappear. To hear him raise his voice was one thing, but it was quite another to know that his anger was directed at Susan.

  “I absolutely forbid it!” he yelled for the third time.

  Without turning around, Grace could picture Susan, standing stoically as she faced her father. Pretty little Susan who used to bring Grace flowers from the back meadow and cuddle on her lap in the evening to listen to a bedtime story. How was it possible that her special child, her dear sweet daughter of both her body and heart, was having this conversation—nee, this argument!—with her father?

  “I’m doing it, Daed.”

  He slammed his hand against the tabletop and Grace jumped.

  “Maem!” Susan suddenly said, turning her head to glare at her mother. “Speak up for me!”

  “Leave your maem out of this!” Menno said in a low voice.

  Grace shut her eyes and prayed for God to guide her through this situation.

  “Maem?”

  As if an invisible hand guided her, Grace felt herself turn around. Menno glowered at Susan, his green eyes flickering toward Grace as if daring her to speak at all. Her mouth opened and the words that came out seemed to come from another person.

  “I stand behind your daed, Susan,” she heard herself say.

  Susan’s mouth dropped open, clearly stunned by her mother’s announcement.

  Menno’s dark glare returned to his daughter. “I am the head of this household, and you may not straddle the outside world while living under my roof.”

  “You straddled the world!”

  At this insolent remark, even Grace spoke up. “Susan, that is not any of your business.”

  Susan shot a dark look in her direction. “You married Daed, even if your parents didn’t like him.” She gave an angry laugh. “They thought he was wild.”

  “Your father is a righteous man.” Grace lifted her chin, her voice stern and sharp. “He has proven himself to honor God and the church in ways you have no right to question.”

  “If you decide that this . . . this decision. . . is more important than your vow of baptism, you know the consequences.” Menno paused as if trying to find the courage to speak words that he surely never thought would slip past his lips. “The bishop will shun you, and you will not be permitted to return to this house or family.”

  Wincing at his words, Grace looked away.

  Menno’s voice grew stronger. “‘And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.’” He stood up and took a step toward Susan, his tall frame looming over her. “If you would go against your vow to God, a vow that you took just last year, to renounce worldly goods, you will not be welcomed here. You cannot serve two masters, Susan.”

  “I confessed that Jesus Christ is the Son of God,” Susan retorted. Behind her, the kitchen door quietly opened and James slipped inside. Grace saw him standing in the shadows, obviously having overheard Menno’s loud words before entering. “Nothing has changed. I still believe,” Susan added.

  “You are breaking the Ordnung.”

  “I love him.”

  Menno shut his eyes. Grace felt the pain that he felt, Susan’s confession like a knife cutting through their hearts. It was painful enough to have a child refuse the baptism, but to take it and then leave the community? And for the love of a non-Amish man?

  “You barely know him,” Grace whispered.

  “Oh, Maem,” Susan said, her voice pleading for understanding from the one person whom, apparently, she had presumed would defend her. “The world isn’t like it used to be. It’s changing, and it will change the Amish. You too will be forced to conform to the world. Will you shun yourself then?”

  Menno moved his body so that he stood between Grace and Susan. “I will not have you speak to your maem in such a way. I have no choice, Susan, but to speak with the bishop tomorrow. When his decision is made, you will leave this house until you see the error of your ways and repent.”

  Even though he tried to shield Grace, she couldn’t help but see the defiance in Susan’s face.

  When did she change? Grace wondered. Only last year in October, Susan had taken the baptismal vow. She spent the winter working at market three days a week, and when spring came, she seemed relieved to cut back, since her help was needed on the farm. In the summertime, she used to spend quite a lot of her free time with her friends at different church-sponsored youth activities. And then autumn arrived.

  As the leaves changed on the trees, something began to change in the house as well. Susan started to stay out late, and Grace presumed that she was courting a young man. In the mornings, Susan seemed sullen and often unusually quiet. Grace didn’t ask, and thankfully, Menno didn’t notice—until the night when the lights of an Englische automobile shone down their driveway, lighting up their bedroom through the window.

  “What on earth?” Menno asked, tossing back the covers and dressing as quickly as he could. He motioned with his hand for Grace to stay put before opening their bedroom door and disappearing into the darkness.

  That had been two weeks ago.

  Now, in afterthought, the change that had previously seemed so sudden was clearly more apparent.

  “I can do better than that,” Susan said. “I can leave tonight.”

  Grace made a motion to step forward, reaching out her hand. “Don’t do that, Susan; it’s dark and the roads . . . ”

  Menno lifted his hand, stopping her from continuing. Grace stepped back, ever obedient to her husband. If only he would let Susan sleep on this decision, spend time talking to the bishop, perhaps things would work out. After all, her own parents had eventually forgiven Menno for his wild rumschpringe. He had explored the world and dated that Englische girl. The only difference was that once he had decided to join the church, Menno had held tight to his vow of honoring God, living Plain, and avoiding sin as much as any righteous man could.

  Susan’s decision was quite different.

  Without waiting for a response, Susan climbed the stairs, stomping her feet heavily on each step. Neither Menno nor Grace moved from where they stood, listening to her shuffling around her room overhead. Once, Grace thought she saw movement from where James stood, but all that was left was an empty space, the shadowy outline of his form already gone. She prayed that he had returned to the barn and not witnessed that scene.

  The door that separated the main house from the grossdawdihaus, the house where Ivan and Jane resided,
opened and Ivan entered, a concerned look on his face. “Everything all right over here?” He looked from one parent to another. “Daed? Maem?”

  Grace didn’t dare to answer.

  Susan came tromping down the stairs, dragging her small suitcase with her. She let it bounce on each step, the noise loud in the quiet of the room.

  Stepping forward, Ivan reached for his younger sister’s arm. “Wie gehts?”

  “I’m leaving,” she said, anger in her voice. “I’ve made a mistake, and Daed says I am no longer welcome in this house.”

  Ivan looked over at his father.

  Menno remained silent.

  Ever sensible, Ivan tried to intervene. “Whatever is going on, I suggest taking the time to talk further. It’s dark outside, Susan. And the roads are icy.”

  Sidestepping her brother, Susan headed for the door. She grabbed her heavy black jacket and slipped her arms into the sleeves. The determination on her face made her seem like an entirely different person than the daughter Grace had raised. “I would have thought, Maem, that you, of all people, might have showed more understanding instead of always being so obedient and submissive to Daed.”

  And then she was gone.

  Ivan ran his fingers through his hair, stunned by what he had just witnessed.

  “We shall never speak of this again,” Menno said in a strange voice. “She has made her choice and done so willingly. A vow to God is not something to be taken lightly and broken so easily.” Then, with hunched shoulders and vacant eyes, he turned away from them and walked toward the stairs. He ascended slowly, each step seeming forced and painful.

  “Maem? What happened here?”

  Grace didn’t want to disobey Menno. “Ivan, I’d best not be talking about such things.” After all, Menno had been very clear that Susan’s departure was not to be discussed further. Nervously, she glanced toward the now empty staircase. In the distance, she could hear the sound of a horse and buggy. The noise distracted her for a moment.

  Ivan approached his mother and placed his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “Why did Susan leave?”

  “It’s . . . it’s not my place . . . ”

  To her surprise, Ivan shook her. Just once. But it was enough to snap her out of her stupor.

  “An Englischer,” she whispered. “She’s chosen to leave because of an Englischer.”

  She thought she saw Ivan catch his breath. He too knew the seriousness of Susan’s choice. Grace saw his expression change as he digested this information. “That’s insane,” he said, lowering his voice. “Why would she do such a thing?” He lifted his eyes and met Grace’s. The realization finally hit him. “She’ll be shunned!”

  As far as the Amish community was concerned, once the bishop declared her shunned, Susan would no longer exist. It would be as if she had died.

  Grace shut her eyes tight, fighting back the tears.

  “But the bishop hasn’t talked to her yet?”

  Grace shook her head, opening her eyes and letting the tears fall.

  A puzzled expression crossed Ivan’s face. “Then why did she leave tonight?” He glanced over Grace’s shoulders toward the window. “It’s dark and freezing out there! Where does she think she’s going?”

  “Ivan . . . ”

  He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. “You let her leave. You could have stopped her, spoken to Daed, made her stay.” He started toward the door, and Grace knew his intention was to retrieve Susan.

  “Don’t!” she called out. “Your daed has spoken, Ivan. You cannot go against him in this matter.”

  At the door, his hand upon the handle, he looked over his shoulder at her and frowned. If he wanted to say something, he didn’t. But Grace didn’t need to hear the words from his lips. She knew what he was thinking, regardless of his silence. He felt anger toward her for not taking Susan’s side. She always stood by Menno’s decisions, obeying her marriage vow that she would submit to her husband. Instead of saying the words, words that would wound her, Ivan merely shook his head, grabbed a coat that hung on the rack by the door, and disappeared through the doorway.

  Turning away from the door, Grace lifted her hands to cover her face, unable to stop herself from sobbing. She managed to sit in a chair at the table and held her head in her hands, her tears now falling freely down her cheeks as she realized the impact of the exchange of words as well as what had been left unsaid.

  Silently, she prayed that God would give her stronger shoulders in order to carry this burden. She prayed that she would forgive herself for not having defused the situation, for not having spoken up or calmed down either one of them. Instead, she had stood by and let Susan leave without any idea of where her daughter was going.

  What have I done? she asked herself.

  She prayed harder, asking God to show her how to find a way to face this without asking that ever troublesome word: Why? She had to believe in God, trust in His plan, and follow His will. In her mind, she tried to seek comfort by reciting part of the verse from the song sung at her baptism:

  It is truly a narrow way

  Who now wants to go this heavenly path

  He must surely keep himself

  That he does not stumble on the path

  Through affliction, misery, anxiety, and need.

  While that verse had given her comfort in the past, this time it did not. The realization shocked her that after all these years, when tragedy struck, she still found the urge to question God. Was her faith that fragile? Did she not truly believe?

  “Grace,” Menno called from the top of the staircase.

  She glanced at the grandfather clock, the light from the kerosene lantern illuminating the two hands. How much time had passed? How long had she been sitting at the table, alone and praying?

  “Come to bed, Grace.”

  His voice sounded defeated. She sensed that he needed her to help him just as much as she needed God to help her. As she arose from the table and started walking across the kitchen, she heard the sound of a horse and buggy racing down the driveway. Pausing in midstep, she tilted her head and listened. Surely that was Ivan leaving to retrieve Susan, she thought. But then why was the noise increasing as if approaching the house instead of leaving?

  “Maem!” Ivan called out as he flung the door open and ran inside. His cheeks lacked color and his eyes grew wider when he saw her standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Maem, you’d best sit down,” he said firmly. Without waiting for her response, he led her to the table.

  “What’s going on now?” Menno started down the stairs in time to see Ivan kneel before Grace, holding her hands in his. “Ivan? I said we weren’t to speak of this anymore.”

  Ivan ignored his father. “I went after Susan,” he said slowly.

  “Don’t mention her name in this house!”

  Ivan took a deep breath. “I didn’t get far.” He paused, glancing momentarily at his father with a stone-cold expression on his face. “James . . . ”

  The mention of her youngest child caught Grace’s attention. Suddenly she felt more alert as she stared at Ivan. “What about James? He was just standing there . . . ” She pointed toward the shadows where she had seen him. But it hadn’t been “just”; it had been well over thirty minutes ago.

  “He must have gone after her too,” Ivan whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. He paused, trying to catch his breath as he whispered, “There was an accident on the road.”

  “James?” Quickly, Grace tried to stand up as if to make her way to the door, but Ivan forced her to remain seated. She turned her face toward her son’s and asked the question to which, from the expression on Ivan’s face, she knew she didn’t want to hear the answer. “Is he all right?”

  Menno hurried across the room. “What did you say?”

  Ivan answered both of their questions with silence.

  Grace reached for Menno’s hand, not caring that tears once again streamed down her cheeks. Dear Lord, she prayed silently, protect our
son James. Shield him with Your loving hand. Through the window, she could see the flashing of red lights. In the distance, she heard sirens, faint but present. The flashing lights grew brighter, and she knew that a police vehicle was approaching the house.

  “Go away,” she whispered. Then, looking up at Menno, she pleaded with her eyes. “Tell them to go away.”

  The stoic expression on his face reminded Grace of her baptism. Not once had Menno looked at her. Instead, he withdrew into himself and focused on something else. Over the years, she had learned that in those moments apart, he was reflecting on God, especially during times of crisis and hardship.

  Releasing her hand, he walked toward the door, greeting the police officers standing on the other side, hats in hand, as Menno opened the door to invite them inside. Grace barely heard what they said, their voices sounding distant and far away. Nothing made sense to her. Why had Susan left the house at night? Why had James gone after her? Why would God let a car hit her son?

  And there it was.

  The question.

  The one word she had refused to ask after all these years: Why?

  The world seemed to spin. She started to push against Ivan before the spinning increased and darkness clouded her field of vision. Light-headed, she put her hand on Ivan’s shoulder to steady herself, looking over his shoulder at Menno. He stared at her, the most sorrowful look in his green eyes that she had ever seen. Gone was the sparkle. Gone was the glow. Instead, what she saw was a dull look of defeat. It was the last thing she saw before she fainted.

  2015

  “Oh, Grace,” Lizzie said as she placed her hand on Grace’s shoulder. The pressure of the gesture startled Grace and she turned around to face her friend, the bishop’s wife, who had followed her into the kitchen. In the dim light from the lantern on the counter, Lizzie’s face with her downturned mouth and raised eyebrows expressed how terrible she felt. “I’m ever so sorry. I . . . I didn’t know, not everything anyway.”

  Grace wanted to tell her that it was fine, but the truth was that it wasn’t.

  In one night, twenty years ago, she had lost two children: Susan to the world and James to God. How could anyone accept such tragedy with unwavering faith? Menno’s response to all of the upsets and tragedies during their fifty years of marriage had been to turn to God. With her husband’s constant support and devotion to God guiding her along their long journey together, she had managed to get through each progressively worse event. Now that he was gone, she found herself faltering as she fought the urge to ask those unanswered questions.