Secret Sister

by Sarah Price

  One Bible. One slip of paper. And Grace knew their lives would never be the same.

  2015

  The group of visitors stood just inside the entrance, waiting for their van to arrive. Outside, the sky was gray and overcast with a strong hint of more snow on its way. Grace stood there beside Hannah and listened to the women chatter while she stared around at the lobby. People were smiling as they walked past one another. The fresh flowers on the receptionist’s desk livened up the welcome area. A young Amish woman walked with an elderly man, undoubtedly a great-granddaughter visiting a relative.

  “This isn’t such a bad place,” Grace said, mostly to herself, but Hannah overheard her.

  “Oh, come now!” Hannah said, a mixture of disbelief and discouragement in her tone. “You’d not want to come live here, Grace! You’re the picture of health and have a lovely haus!”

  Lizzie turned her attention toward them when she heard Hannah’s comment. “What did Grace say?”

  Hannah shook her head, clicking her tongue. “She said she likes this place and would consider living here.”

  Holding up her hand as if to stop Hannah, Grace tried to argue back. “That wasn’t exactly what I said.”

  “Oh, now, Grace!” Lizzie jumped into the conversation. “You know that Menno would be sorely disappointed if you chose to move into such a place.”

  Grace wanted to ask how Lizzie would know such a thing. Who knew what Menno would want? He hadn’t left a letter for her. Neither one of them had expected the cancer and subsequent health issues. After all, he too was once the picture of health. Her silence answered Lizzie’s unspoken question.

  Taking the hint, Lizzie tucked her arm around Grace’s and led her a bit farther from the group. “It wouldn’t be proper for you to retire here, Grace. You have family to tend to you when that time comes. It’s our life-right! They must take care of us!”

  “What about these people?” Grace asked, a little sass in her voice. “Where is their life-right?”

  Pressing her lips together, Lizzie frowned. “It’s different, Grace. You know that. You are still young, and you have time to reconnect with your two children and grandchildren.”

  “Oh, Lizzie! Do I really have to say it? For sure you know about that situation,” Grace responded. “Menno always believed that God chose him because he followed his vows. God chose him because he did not bend to his daughter’s choice for worldliness and his son’s choice for rebellion.”

  Lizzie gasped. “He thought that was why?”

  Grace nodded. “Ja, Ivan and Susan.”

  “I know the elders always respected him for standing so firm, but I never thought that God chose him because of that!”

  “So you can see,” Grace continued, “I may have no choice but to consider relocating to such a place when I can no longer care for myself.”

  For a moment, Lizzie seemed to contemplate her next words. But Grace already knew what she was thinking: How could a bishop’s wife retire to a home?

  Menno had been a preacher for just a year when Bishop Riehl died. During that time, Menno studied the Bible and met with Preacher Yoder and the bishop. The three men spent hours discussing the growth of their g’may and how to deal with the issue of land development because Amish farmers were selling parcels of their property. Many afternoons, the three men traveled to the farms in their church district, talking with the farmers and trying to find a solution so that younger Amish couples wouldn’t be faced with a choice of leaving Pennsylvania for another more remote community in another less expensive state.

  But when Bishop Riehl died, everything changed.

  Another lot selection was scheduled, this time between the two preachers. Neither Grace nor Menno slept for several nights before the selection. With only two members in the selection, they both recognized the reality of the odds.

  The members-only meeting was held on Sunday after worship. Grace had sat on her hands to keep them from trembling. If she had prayed that Menno not be selected for a preacher, now she begged the Lord to make him choose an empty Bible.

  But he didn’t.

  Indeed, Menno picked the Bible with the slip of paper and became the next bishop.

  In hindsight, Grace recognized that Menno had been destined for this role. His faith in God and devotion to the Ordnung, a devotion that had split apart her family, made him the perfect candidate. The older church members respected him for his commitment, even if it had caused Grace so much pain during her life. But he was a good bishop: stern but fair. During his short tenure, he visited each family at least once a month, encouraging Grace to come along with him.

  She usually found an excuse unless it was one of the older women in the g’may, for she didn’t want to visit the younger women, with their children clinging to their skirts or running around the kitchen. It reminded her too much of what she had sacrificed in order to obey her vow to abide by her husband’s authority.

  While Menno was bishop, she often wished her parents were still alive. The irony of her father thinking that Menno was a wild young man during his rumschpringe was not lost on her.

  And then he had the stroke.

  He hadn’t been a bishop for more than a year. With his speech impeded and his mobility limited, the g’may was forced to choose a new bishop. This time, the lot fell on David Yoder.

  “Grace,” Lizzie said. “I understand how your Menno felt, but you cannot consider moving into a retirement home.” She lowered her voice, glancing around quickly to make certain no one would overhear. “A bishop’s wife does not go into a retirement home.”

  Grace frowned and shook her head. “Doesn’t say that anywhere, Lizzie. And it’s better than living alone, ja? I have to consider these things. What if I fell and broke a hip? You know that happened to Mary’s maem. No one found her for a few hours! And she was living in the grossdawdihaus! I could fall, and it might be days before someone found me.”

  Lizzie dismissed her with a wave of her hand. “That’s just living for the unlikely, Grace Beiler! You’re making excuses now!”

  But she wasn’t.

  Deep down, Grace knew she had some serious thinking to do. Even though Menno had died not quite six months ago, enough time had passed that she needed to begin thinking about her future. She wouldn’t make any decisions. Not yet. But she couldn’t continue living on her own for the rest of her life. It wasn’t healthy, mentally or physically, nor was it sensible.

  During the ride back to her house, for the first time in her life, Grace dreaded the thought. Without Menno, the house was just that: a house. What she longed for was a home.

  CHAPTER TEN

  December 18, 2015

  FOR THE FIFTH time that afternoon, Grace walked to the window, pushing aside the sheer curtain and gazing outside as she wondered what was keeping Hannah and James. They had promised to stop at her house on their way to the children’s program. Where are they? Grace thought, her anxiety level rising as she turned away and began pacing.

  Her bag of little gifts for the children sat on the edge of the kitchen table, which she already had set for Ivan and his family. The food was prepared too; all she would need to do was heat it when she returned. For two days, she had fretted over Ivan’s visit, making list after list of what needed to be done, in which sequence and at what time. Her small trash can was filled with crumpled pieces of paper, each one representative of her indecisiveness.

  The pretty china plates that she had used for this special supper had been in Menno’s family for two generations. Barbara had indicated in her last letter, the one that was tucked in her hope chest with her wedding dress, that she wanted the china to be left to Menno and Grace.

  Grace had found the letter when she had gone searching for that dress after Barbara passed away. Just as Grace had her own wedding dress neatly folded and stored in a white cardboard box, so did Barbara. After all, it was the way of the Plain people to have Amish women buried in their wedding dresses, which they usually stored in their ho
pe chests. And, folded within the dress, the women often had a farewell letter that outlined any special bequeathments, such as a quilt to be given to a daughter, a vase to a grandchild, or a set of china to a son and his wife.

  Staring at the china, Grace remembered that letter and how, for the first time, she realized the true meaning of faith. Life was a cycle that ended the same way for everyone: death. But for believers, those who turned their lives over to God and lived according to His Holy Word, death was only the beginning of a joyous new journey in heaven, a place where pain and sorrow did not exist.

  The thought of Barbara’s last letter reminded Grace of Menno. Had it been only less than six months ago that he died?

  She shut her eyes, swallowing the wave of grief that began to wash over her. She remembered that particular morning, one that had started out like every other morning. She had awoken and hurried into the kitchen to start some coffee before he would need her help getting out of bed. Only he never called for her. After the coffee was ready, she wondered why he was still sleeping. She took her time, actually finding the time alone enjoyable as she began to prepare breakfast so that when Menno woke up, she’d only have to cook the scrambled eggs and heat up the morning sausage.

  But he never woke up.

  When she entered the bedroom, she noticed a certain stillness in the air. Outside their bedroom window, the familiar birds’ chirping that normally accompanied her early morning routine was nonexistent, as if her surroundings were trying to tell her that something important and unusual had just happened. The room simply felt different from the way it had felt on other mornings. She called out his name, not once but twice, with no response.

  And then she knew.

  For a long while, Grace sat by his side, just staring down at his face. Death seemed to have robbed him of age because, to her, he looked younger and at peace. She fought the urge to cry, instead taking his cold hand in hers and just praying that he knew how much she had loved him throughout their long journey together.

  Later, she stood up and forced herself to go through the motions of the morning, getting dressed and fetching his burial clothing, his freshly laundered Sunday suit. She knew better than to look for a letter, his stroke having deprived him of the desire and ability to write, at least clearly, and for Menno, if it couldn’t be done properly, he wouldn’t do it at all. And then, knowing she would never have another moment alone with her husband, she paused one last time to stare at his earthly body and prayed one last time that she would see him again in heaven with their son James and all of their family members who had gone on before them.

  The walk to Hannah’s house had seemed very long that morning as she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other, not eager to alert people to her husband’s passing.

  Now, almost six months later, she was facing a long afternoon and evening. While she was looking forward to the school program, she couldn’t help but fret over Ivan’s impending visit. She had seen him only twice since the funeral, and that had been back in August. As for Linda, Grace hadn’t seen her at all since Menno’s death.

  Her oldest daughter’s lack of familial interest had begun long before the rest of the family issues, something Grace had never quite understood, though she suspected that her daughter felt more comfortable with her in-laws, especially since she lived with them. And who wouldn’t want to avoid the pain and guilt that had fallen upon their home after the rebellion of Susan and the tragic death of James? Just as Anna Mae, in marrying a widower with children, had fled the gloom that fell upon their home after Benny died, so had Linda busied herself with her own young family, rarely visiting Menno and Grace and studiously avoiding the issue that divided their family: the shunning of Susan.

  The destruction of a family, all because of one decision made during the heat of an argument, weighed heavily on her.

  When James and Hannah finally arrived at her house, the horse and buggy pausing in the driveway, Grace quickly picked up her bag of gifts and hurried to the door. She saw Hannah smile at her from inside the buggy, and immediately Grace began to feel better. She would enjoy the program, and then, with God’s blessing, she would enjoy her visit with Ivan and his family.

  By the time they pulled into the parking lot, it was already full of horses and buggies. In the distance, Grace saw two more buggies headed down the road toward the school.

  “Oh my!” she said as she took Hannah’s arm to walk toward the door. “There’s a full crowd tonight, ja?”

  Indeed, the schoolhouse was filled with people, all relatives of the students: grandparents, parents, brothers, and sisters. Lizzie Yoder motioned to Hannah and Grace that she had reserved seats for them toward the front of the classroom. With the desks moved out and benches lined across the floor, there was enough room for most of the people to have a seat.

  Lizzie reached over and grasped Grace’s arm. “I’m so curious as to what Catharine has these little ones doing tonight!”

  Grace smiled but did not reply. There were so many memories of forty-nine previous school pageants, all with Menno nearby. Tonight, however, she felt more alone than ever and wondered if she should not have come at all.

  Her eyes scanned the room. Battery-operated candles with one small pine branch sat in each of the deep windowsills. The light glow and fragrant scent created a warm and welcoming room. Around the tops of the walls was a familiar ABC border that Grace remembered well from the schoolhouse she had attended so many years ago. She smiled as she turned her head back toward the front of the classroom where the children stood at attention, their eyes on their teacher as they waited for her cue.

  Catharine waited until the last guest arrived before she took a step forward toward the gathered audience. Grace saw the confidence in the young woman’s eyes as she looked out at the many faces staring back at her.

  “Wilkum to our school program,” she began, her voice loud and clear so that everyone could hear. “The students have been working very hard this year as we have a special project that someone asked us to work on.”

  Grace felt Lizzie shift her weight, perhaps sitting up a little bit straighter as Catharine spoke.

  “Tonight, we’d like to start the program with something a little different than in past years,” Catharine continued. She paused and smiled again, her eyes lighting up as she stood there in front of her students’ families. Then she turned toward the children and nodded her head.

  In unison, the older children began to sing, the voices lifting as they used the tune of another song, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” to sing a special greeting song:

  As we greet you at this season

  With our hearts so full of cheer

  We would like to tell the reason

  Why we are gathered here

  This is Jesus, God’s Son’s, birthday

  Born in Bethlehem long ago

  Wrapped in swaddling clothes and resting

  In His manger bed so low.

  Then the younger children took over and continued with the second verse. Grace couldn’t help but feel joy spreading throughout her as she watched their cherubic faces, so happy and pure, singing with love and faith:

  We’re so glad to have you with us

  As we celebrate this day

  May our hearts feel the true meaning

  Jesus came for us this way

  Not for presents or for candy

  Did he come to earth to live

  But God sent Him down from heaven

  Here for us His life to give.

  When the song finished, the students stood still for a moment. The silence let everyone take a moment to reflect on the last two stanzas of the song. And then one of the older students, a young girl whom Grace knew as Susie Eicher, stepped forward and said, “‘And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name Jesus: for he shall save his people from their sins.’”

  The younger children began to sing:

  Christmas time again is here

  Grand
est time of all the year

  That is why we like to sing

  Honor Christ the newborn King.

  Susie Eicher stepped back and a younger boy, Timmy Hostetler, took her place. He avoided eye contact with the audience, his pale cheeks flushed with patches of pink as he recited another verse from the Bible, this time from the book of Luke: “‘And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.’”

  Once again, the younger children sang:

  No room for them, no room for them

  None in the inn of Bethlehem

  Mary and Joseph, night is nigh

  But in the stable you must lie

  No room for Jesus—small and wee

  But in a manger He must be

  Wrapped in his swaddling clothes He lies

  Jesus the King of Paradise

  No room for Jesus yet today

  Many to him are saying nay

  Open your hearts and let Him in

  Jesus will cast out every sin.

  And so it continued: an older child would step forward and recite a verse from the book of Matthew or Luke that related to the birth of Jesus Christ, and the younger children would sing a short song that corresponded to it. Grace found it a clever way to tell the story of Christmas, one that was, indeed, quite different from years past. She watched with delight as the children continued telling the story of Jesus’s birth. The room took on a new level of energy, one that pulsated with genuine interest from the audience.

  When it was time for the verse about the wise men visiting the young child Jesus, the last of the older children standing in the back row came forward and recited his Bible verse: “‘And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense and myrrh.’”