Annie's Truth (Touch of Grace)

by Beth Shriver

  “This is not the Annie I once knew. Surely this attitude comes from the influences of the world you came from. We will speak more about this at the appropriate time. Until then, I advise you to remain silent about—” He was about to go on when John walked by and stopped beside them.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but Annie’s family needs her.” He offered his arm, which she gladly took.

  Annie walked away without a second glance. She’d never felt more rescued. Although she’d held a firm front, inside she was melting. The change in the way Zeke treated her tore at her heart. She’d never seen this side of him, but then she’d never broken the rules before, either. Now she understood how it felt and what was to come.

  John looked over his shoulder to see the bishop approach the minister. They walked together in deep discussion. The look on Annie’s face told John of the hurt and confusion she felt. As angry as he was at her for so many things, he couldn’t stand by and watch her be mistreated.

  “Are you okay?” He pulled her arm in closer to him.

  He seemed to draw her from her thoughts as Annie’s eyes flashed up to his then back to the cold ground.

  “Danke, John.” Annie kept her head down, watching each step she took.

  “Annie, there are a lot of things I don’t understand…”

  “Then ask me.” She stopped and pulled away.

  John looked over at the bishop and Zeke. He didn’t want to see Annie’s sad brown eyes. “I can’t right now.”

  “Why? Because of the bann?” She scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. He’d rarely seen Annie sarcastic and knew she was at her wits end to act in such a way.

  “No one has said I can’t talk with you.”

  “But most don’t.”

  When Annie looked away, John took advantage of the opportunity to stare at her pretty face, one he’d dreamt of for many days to keep her image in his head. With no pictures allowed in his community, he had to rely on his memory to keep her face alive in his mind.

  “Zeke will eventually talk to the elders, but with your dawdi’s passing and the Nickel Mines incident, he’s held off with anything formal.” John leaned in closer. “But he will, Annie. So just keep quiet, and let’s pray for the best.”

  Annie grunted. “Why? To give me some sort of punishment for finding my family? They won’t let me defend myself when I meet with them, so now might be my only chance.” She pushed her foot down into the grass, her black shoe tip digging into the hard dirt. “The Glicks were banished from the community because their son wanted to stay in school.”

  John knew her love for reading and learning. She always had a book in her hand, and when she couldn’t be found, he knew he could find her behind a haystack or in the loft reading.

  “I remember them. But I never knew why they were asked to leave.” He studied her face, hardened and rigid. “You don’t agree with the reason why they left?”

  “I never really thought about it before. The life we live doesn’t require you to have a higher education, but should one be excommunicated for wanting to expand their mind?” She shook her head.

  “You admire him because of his intelligence.”

  “Jah, and because he knew of ways to help me.”

  “Placing yourself before another creates pride.”

  Her stunned expression let him know he’d brought her back to Amish thinking and one reason education was to be kept equal.

  “But Rudy has so much potential. It would be a shame for someone like him not to go to college, especially since he wanted to so badly.”

  John’s head snapped up before he’d even realized it. “Who’s Rudy?”

  “The Glicks’s son. He goes to the Mennonite University in Harrisonburg.”

  “They’re Mennonites now?” John said it with cynicism. He didn’t mean to; he just didn’t like the way she’d said Rudy’s name.

  “Jah, it seems to suit them. Rudy’s going to be an engineer. He’ll make a good one. I’ve seen his sketches.”

  John had never had any real reason to be jealous. He and Annie had always been together, and everyone knew it. But what was flaring up inside his chest at this moment, no doubt, was a flame of jealousy. “Sounds like you spent a lot of time with Rudy.”

  “He helped me with my research. I don’t know what I would have done without him.”

  “Does he have anything to do with why you were gone so long?” John felt a muscle in his jaw twitch as he tried to hold back from what he really wanted to say. All this time he’d felt guilty about Hanna, and now he was finding out about some guy she’d spent the entire time with.

  “He knew how to help me, John.”

  John nodded and felt he needed to leave, fast, before he said something he shouldn’t. “I need to go.” He turned and took long, hasty steps away from her.

  “If there’s any question, it should be about you and Hanna,” Annie said with an even tone, knowing she had him.

  He stopped and almost turned back but decided to let her wonder about them, just as he had wondered about her for weeks while she was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ANNIE STOOD LOOKING out the window, rubbing her hands back and forth across her arms. If it was going to get this cold, she wished it would snow. The brown, barren fields needed a white covering to coat their dull plainness until spring. She watched as the midwife’s buggy pulled up in front of the house.

  She heard the back door slam and her mamm’s voice. Alma came into the room with Mamm trailing behind. “She doesn’t need to go anywhere.” Mamm placed her fists firmly on her hips.

  Alma stood as tall as her five-foot frame would allow and challenged Mamm with her eyes. “I need her help. I’ve already delivered three babies this week, and four more are due. Annie, get ready. Time’s a-wasting.”

  “She doesn’t need to be out amongst the community yet.” Mamm followed after Alma, who was heading to the back door.

  “She’ll be with families who are birthing babies, Sarah. They’ll have other things on their minds.” Alma was quiet until Annie went to get her coat and mittens. “They might even be the very people whom Annie should be around.”

  Mamm leaned back as if she’d been slapped. “Don’t you get in the middle of this, Alma. You don’t know what we’ve been through these last months.”

  Alma stopped at the door and placed her hands on her wide hips. “I missed her too, Sarah.” She turned and stepped down the stairs and was soon out of sight. Mamm stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen floor as Annie passed her.

  “Bye, Mamm,” Annie said without much thought, just hope, and wishing it was still the normal custom between them.

  Mamm grunted and held a hand to her mouth, as if to catch the words. It was then Annie realized Mamm wanted to talk to her as badly as she wanted to speak with her mamm.

  “Of course she misses talking to you.” Alma handed Annie a bag filled with supplies and took another full of sterile rags and sheets. “She feels she’s doing what’s right by not speaking to you about anything that happened while you were gone until Zeke does whatever it is he’s going to do. Actually, it’s for your own protection. If she knows of anything you did that would get you into trouble, she’ll have to tell Zeke. She’s just a rule-follower.” They walked to the door, and Alma knocked once then walked in. “You got it from somewhere, you know.”

  Annie couldn’t deny her mamm following their ways but expected an exception in her situation. “She seems angry.”

  “Hurt. Maybe angry too. Give it time.”

  Alma went immediately into the kitchen, where the family was gathered. “Melvin, take yourself and the rest of your brood into the next room.”

  Annie accepted Alma’s curt ways, but some didn’t. Melvin raised a skinny finger toward her and wagged the tip back and forth. “Slow down there, Alma. I appreciate you helping out, but if Wilma wants me, I’m staying.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. His towering height failed to intimidate Alma as he stood in f
ront of her.

  Alma all but ignored him, gathering supplies as Annie brought them in and laid out fresh towels. Clean towels were a constant worry, because they had no electricity. Alma rationed how many she used on busy weeks like this one, especially in the winter when they couldn’t count on the sun to dry them. She’d confessed once to Annie that one time she did go into town and use Abraham’s dryer when five babies were born in two days. Annie assumed it was battery powered, so she wasn’t keeping anything secret.

  Alma pulled over a stool and sat at Wilma’s feet. “Two inches dilated.” Alma stood and brushed past Melvin, who was watching her bop back and forth giving orders and organizing. He stayed nearby until the first shout from Wilma and then disappeared.

  Alma took Wilma by the hand and said what she always did before a birth. “Are you ready to see another of Gott’s miracles?”

  Wilma nodded as red curls bounced onto her perspiring, freckled face. “I don’t think I’ll do this again, Alma.”

  Alma lifted Wilma’s foot and began massaging the soles of her feet. “That’s what they all say.”

  Wilma’s head rolled back and forth on her pillow. “No, I mean it.”

  “They all say that too.”

  Annie took the other foot and began the acupressure. Alma found the anxiety dissipated when she performed the method. It helped the birthing process move along more smoothly, as well. Alma moved away when Wilma arched her back and moaned. Wilma reached for Annie’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Annie.”

  Alma met Annie’s eyes. She’d been right to keep Annie busy doing something she had a knack for. It made her feel useful. She enjoyed seeing new life being brought into the world, and after meeting with Monica, it changed her in a way she couldn’t quite comprehend.

  Annie squeezed Wilma’s hand. “Me too.” More than she knew. This gave Annie hope that others would accept her too, if given the opportunity.

  Two hours later baby Irene was born. The younger girls carried her back and forth from the bassinet to Wilma and brought trays of food. The children knew when the baby was sleeping. There were never the warnings of “shh” or “be quiet,” as she’d heard in the city.

  Even though Wilma had heard Alma’s spiel about children being a blessing five times before, she told her again and tapped Melvin on the shoulder as they left. “Congratulations, Melvin.”

  He took the pipe from his teeth but kept his eye on his wife and the bundle she held. “I’ll be dropping off a few chickens at your place tomorrow.”

  “I appreciate that, Melvin.” Alma reached for her riding gloves and headed for the door.

  “They stopped laying, but they’ll make for a few good meals.” He clenched the pipe between his teeth and put on his coat.

  Alma and Annie packed up the buggy and were just starting down the lane when they saw him again. Melvin reached for a piece of wood and raised his ax. He brought it down with fervor. The sunset barely gave off enough light to see, but as far as Annie could tell, he didn’t lift his eyes or a hand in gesture as they rode by.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s angry.” Annie kept watching as he grabbed another log and split it clean through.

  “I think he wanted a boy.” Alma adjusted herself on the squeaky bench.

  Annie shook her head in disgust. “What is it with men?”

  Alma gave a quick response back. “If I knew the answer to that I’d be married.”

  Annie sat in silent thought. “Why didn’t you ever get married?” The role of midwife fit so well with Alma, Annie had never wondered about her being single before. It was just Alma.

  “I was a teacher for a while when Benjamin was courting me.”

  Annie tried to think which Benjamin, as there were a handful to pick from. Then it came to her, but it still didn’t quite fit. “Benjamin Quinter?” He was her parents’ age, a bit older than Alma, now married, with half a dozen children.

  “The very one.”

  “What happened?”

  “I wanted to study medicine. Be an obstetrician. Benjamin said I had to make a choice. So I did.” She kept her eyes on the road and spoke as if it were someone else she was referring to.

  Annie looked ahead with her, thinking it would take the scrutiny off her. But Alma knew there was none on Annie’s part. Annie was becoming more disappointed that her people didn’t acknowledge higher education.

  “So you never did go to school.”

  “I took some mail-order classes, but I didn’t want to stop being Amish.”

  “Neither did I when I left. I just wanted to know more about myself.”

  “And you think you’ve been ill-received. Just think if I would have left for years to educate myself.” Alma’s face went taut.

  “I guess I expected it on some level, but not from certain people. Then again, the ones I thought sure wouldn’t accept me have.”

  “It’s hard to figure. But it will pass. Zeke probably wants to make you an example. Being baptized and all, you can’t even trim your nails on the Sabbath or you’ll be chastised for it.”

  “I think it would help if Mamm would find it in her to forgive me. After all, she’s the one who gave me names and places so I could go.”

  “She’s got to forgive herself first.”

  “She’s not the one who left.”

  “It feels like it to her. After all, she is the one who helped you on your way out the door.”

  Annie had wondered if her Mamm’s help had hurt her in any way since she left. Now she knew the answer, and it pained her even more.

  Alma gave the horse a quick snap of leather. The sound broke through the night air, which hung thick with humidity.

  Annie looked to the dark sky cut with gray and prayed for a cleansing rain.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  ANNIE WRUNG HER hands as the three-hour church service came to an end. She glanced at John, in the front room with the other men, for the eightieth time. She’d caught his eye a few times, but his face was unreadable. This time one side of his mouth tipped, which gave her cause to stare a little longer. She received the same void of emotion from her family as she studied them. Eli and Augustus sat together next to Daed, and the rest sat next to one another with Mamm at the far end, opposite from Annie.

  Three preachers and two bishops gave the sermon in German, which many didn’t understand, with the exception of her grandparents’ generation. They sang hymns from the Ausbund between the sermons. The one they sang seemed appropriate for what was to come.

  We alone a little flock,

  the few who still remain,

  are exiles wandering through the land

  in sorrow and in pain.

  We wander in the forests dark,

  with dogs upon our track;

  and like the captive, silent lamb,

  men bring us, prisoners, back.

  They point to us, amid the throng,

  and with their taunts offend,

  and long to let the sharpened ax

  on heretics descend.

  All knelt for silent prayer, and then those who were not baptized were dismissed. The men took some of the benches and tables to prepare for the midday meal, and the church spread was laid out. Jams, apple butter, red beets, pickles, cheese, and snitz were set out for a light lunch. Mamm made her specialty, peanut butter and marshmallow on bread.

  Annie felt lightheaded from so many bodies in the room, and even more so knowing what was to come. “The body of members, please draw together,” Zeke called, avoiding Annie’s gaze.

  She squeezed her shaking hands between her knees and took in a deep breath, watching as the elders sat next to Omar and Zeke in silence. She turned just as John walked in. He glanced back and gave her a gentle smile, but his eyes were sad, turned down at the edges, as if he knew how upset she was.

  Zeke waved her forward, but Annie couldn’t find the strength to stand. When she finally did, a rush of anxiety filled her. She grasped a chair back and stood for a momen
t—a moment long enough for Daed to move forward so she could see him. He nodded, and she moved forward to a bench and sat in front of the ones who would decide her fate.

  “Ann Beiler,” Zeke bellowed, louder than he needed to. “We are here to deal with the issue of your disobedience.”

  Her thighs felt numb against the hard board she sat on. Her usual intention to make things right and just had left her. She felt unworthy of her cause and wanted to take the punishment due. She only prayed they didn’t ask her to tell them specifics, details that would lead to the truth about her, who she was and what she’d really come from. She was not the Annie they knew and one time thought of so highly.

  Her face and neck felt as if they were on fire. She bowed her head and listened to them talk to drown out the thoughts in her head. An elder read scripture from Romans. “Now I beseech you, brethren, mark them which cause divisions and offences contrary to the doctrine which ye have learned; and avoid them.”

  Zeke’s narrow eyes found hers as he began. “You have been in the sin of the flesh?”

  The verse twisted in her head. Understanding it to mean those who do not believe in Christ, she wasn’t a “them.” “Jah,” she said before she knew she’d formed the word.

  Zeke was about to continue, but Omar stopped him with a raised hand. “Is that all you have to say, Annie?”

  Annie nodded. But then she thought, she had been in the flesh but not of it.

  “A baptized member living outside our community without the blessing of your family or the council is unorthodox, and for an excessive length of time. There is no defense,” Zeke spouted, his ruddy neck pouring over his white collar. His eyes narrowed as he spoke to Annie. “It should be a relief for you to have this opportunity to confess and begin to heal from your sins.”

  Annie half listened as he talked and thought if she’d only waited to be baptized, this would have all been avoided. But she couldn’t regret the decision. She’d felt led and followed the calling.