A Heart Once Broken

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Finally the moment arrived. The clock on the living room wall read a quarter to twelve. Bishop Henry rose to his feet when the last sermon was concluded and turned to face them. “If the two of you are still willing to enter into the holy state of matrimony,” he said, “you may rise to your feet.”

  Sandra knew the back of her dress shook as she stood before the community. She said “yah” over and over again to the questions. After the last one, Clyde’s familiar hand was placed in hers by Bishop Henry.

  The bishop’s voice echoed through the house. “By the power invested in me by the state of New York and the Lord as a minister of the gospel, I declare you man and wife. May the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob bless your union and give you many happy years together. Amen.”

  The room went in circles as Sandra sat down. She clung to the sides of the chair with both hands until Clyde’s handsome face slowly came into focus again. Someone gave out the song number and the singing began. Sandra wanted to jump up and hug Clyde and kiss him right there in front of everyone, but that wasn’t how things were done. She held still and allowed the thought to sweep over her.

  She was Clyde’s frau now.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  It was a Wednesday night, as the last shadows of the evening stretched across the Beilers’ lawn. Rosemary, her bed now set up in the living room, tried to raise her arm to reach for the glass of water beside her bed but failed. As Rosemary drooped over the edge of the bed, Mamm and Daett both hurried to their daughter’s side. Rosemary sighed, but allowed Mamm to lift her head to take a small sip before Rosemary closed her eyes again.

  Mamm’s voice reached Rosemary through the fog. “Ann has gone for Ezra.”

  Rosemary formed the words with effort. “Don’t bother him tonight. He was here only last night.”

  “Nevertheless, he’s coming.” Mamm’s voice was firm. “You need him.”

  Rosemary opened her eyes. “Am I dying, Mamm? Is it tonight?”

  “Ezra is coming,” Mamm repeated, then hurried away toward the kitchen.

  Yah, this must be dying, Rosemary told herself. She had avoided the truth even as she felt the strength seeping from her body these past few days. Each evening found her weaker than the night before, and each morning brought a little less relief from the long dark hours. Was her battle nearly over? Perhaps this was for the best. The experimental treatment had obviously failed, and even the pain medication Dr. Katz had given her only dulled the pain to a bearable ache. This was not living. Though hope still knocked on the door, the sound was dim—and grew dimmer tonight. Her road on this earth was near its end, and she was afraid. She didn’t want to fear death, but the truth was the truth. She was very afraid.

  “Mamm,” Rosemary called out, but the sound came out in a cough, faint and distant.

  Mamm appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Yah, Rosemary?”

  “Perhaps I do need Ezra tonight.”

  “He’s coming, dear.” Mamm came near to stroke Rosemary’s forehead. “And Bishop Henry and Deacon Schrock are also coming along with their wives. Ann is stopping in at their places on the way back with Ezra.”

  Fear again filled Rosemary’s face. “They shouldn’t be bothered.”

  Mamm didn’t answer as a tear trickled down her face. Rosemary looked away. She knew what that meant. Bishop Henry and Deacon Schrock wouldn’t be on their way if it wasn’t going to be her last night on this earth. Rosemary tried to sit up, but her head didn’t leave the pillow.

  “Lie still,” Mamm chided. “They’ll soon be here.”

  Rosemary stared out the living room window. Daett stood near her bed, silent, with his head bowed. Her life was over, and she had only lived a few years. The pain medication couldn’t remove the sting of that truth. She had given herself up to the Lord’s will many times, but she still wanted to live. Leaving this earth meant that she had to leave behind the wunderbah gift of Ezra’s love. Yet, hadn’t that gift been given to help her through this time? There seemed no other explanation. Yet, what if she could have lived and become Ezra’s frau? What would it have been like to say the wedding vows with him? If there had been time to wed Ezra, she could have borne him a child before she left this earth. Other women were allowed to see the faces of their kinner. Shouldn’t she be allowed to see one of her own?

  Mamm’s voice broke through Rosemary’s thoughts. “Ezra’s here now.”

  Rosemary forced a smile as the front door burst open and Ezra rushed in with Ann close behind him. Worry lines were deep across his face. Daett nodded to him and left to put away Timber. Rosemary managed to lift her arms to Ezra, and they embraced. Mamm hurried off again to the kitchen, but Rosemary didn’t care who saw her embrace Ezra. She loved the man more than words could ever say.

  Ezra’s hand slowly stroked her face. “How are you tonight, dear? Ann came and said I should come.”

  “You look so tired,” Rosemary whispered. “I wish…”

  Ezra shook his head. “Don’t say anything. I was glad to come.”

  “I think the time has come,” Rosemary said. “I’ve tried not to be afraid, but I am.”

  Ezra wrapped his arm around her again and pulled Rosemary’s thin frame close to his strong one. “We must pray and beseech the Lord,” he said. “While there is breath, there is hope.”

  “Just comfort me,” Rosemary whispered. “Pray that I have strength for the journey. The waters look so dark.”

  Ezra choked and didn’t speak for a long time.

  “I haven’t told you this before,” said Rosemary, “but I must speak the words before I go. Lydia—”

  “No! You must not!” Ezra ordered. “You must rest your mind.”

  “I must say what I have to say,” Rosemary insisted. “You have been kind to me, Ezra. You have loved me when I am so unworthy of your love. I know you were sent by the Lord to see me through this moment. I know that with all my heart, so don’t tell me otherwise. Only the Lord could have filled your heart with the tender love you’ve shown me, but that will soon be over. You must move on with life. That’s what I want to say. When I’m gone, you must open your heart to Lydia. She’s not in love with Harvey Miller, because she’s always been in love with you. And don’t protest. After I’m gone, remember my words. You were meant for each other from the beginning, Ezra. Lydia is the frau who can walk by your side through life. Lydia can bring you the honor you deserve.”

  Ezra released Rosemary back onto the bed, and she laid her head back and tried to breathe. All her strength seemed to have gone into the words. Maybe she could go now, right at this moment when she had done her duty. Would the Lord not honor her heart once she was gone? Ezra would have to listen. “You must,” Rosemary added out loud.

  Ezra didn’t answer as he held Rosemary’s hand.

  Mamm reappeared from the kitchen. “You’d better take your medicines,” Mamm interrupted. “Bishop Henry and Deacon Schrock have just pulled in the driveway. Daett is helping them put their horses away.”

  Rosemary shook her head. “I don’t want any medications. Ezra is here.”

  Mamm hesitated, but Ezra spoke up. “You can always take them later if it’s necessary.”

  “I want a clear head,” Rosemary whispered, “while I have Ezra here.” Things were hazy enough without the medicines. She wanted to experience fully her last moments with Ezra—if that’s what this was. And from the look on Mamm’s face, it was.

  Mamm hurried to the front door. “Hello,” Mamm said to the arriving guests. Ezra’s hand left Rosemary’s when the voices came closer. He greeted the visitors with a smile and a nod.

  Bishop Henry looked pleased to see Ezra, and worried at the same time. He turned to Rosemary and asked, “How are you feeling, dear?”

  “Weak and dizzy,” Rosemary managed. “But you didn’t have to come.”

  “We wanted to, Rosemary,” Deacon Schrock said. “We are here to help where we can.”

  Both ministers’ wives, Lena and Ruth Ann, came to stand be
side Rosemary with Mamm, Daett, and Ann behind them. Ezra stepped sideways to make room. They all stood in silence until Deacon Schrock said, “Let’s pray.”

  They all bowed their heads as Deacon Schrock led out, “Dear Father in heaven, the merciful one, we ask for Your presence this evening and in the night ahead of us. Have compassion on us all as we confess our sins and seek Your guiding hand in this time of trouble.”

  Rosemary closed her eyes until Deacon Schrock said “Amen.”

  Bishop Henry broke the silence that followed. “We should have communion.”

  Deacon Schrock nodded. “There’s no reason why we can’t break holy bread with Rosemary.”

  A sob escaped Mamm before she hurried off again. Moments later she returned with a small loaf of bread and a glass of wine, which she handed to Deacon Schrock. Bishop Henry held one hand over the bread and wine and the other over Rosemary’s forehead. Softly he prayed, “We give You thanks, oh Lord of heaven and earth, for Rosemary and the life she has lived with us. Rosemary has been a great gift to us, and she has loved You as an obedient and faithful child. Bless this food that we take in remembrance of Your death, and bless Rosemary, whatever Your plan is for her life. Keep Rosemary through this night, and take her spirit into Your hands in life or in death. For we know that those who believe in You shall never really die. Amen.”

  “Amen,” echoed Deacon Schrock.

  Ezra said nothing, but his hands clasped Rosemary’s tightly. Rosemary clung to him as Bishop Henry broke off pieces of bread and passed them around. He placed one in Rosemary’s mouth with a gentle touch. Rosemary closed her eyes as silence filled the room. Ezra soon lifted Rosemary’s head so Bishop Henry could place the glass of wine to her lips. Rosemary took a small sip and swallowed, and the others took their turn with the cup.

  “And now to the God who has redeemed us, be all the praise, honor, and thanks,” Bishop Henry intoned. “May His name be exalted in all the earth and in our humble lives. Let His glory fill the whole world and receive now our unworthy praise and the feeble utterances of our lips. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Deacon Schrock echoed.

  “Let us sing now,” Bishop Henry said. Rosemary listened to their voices rise and fall, and drifted off to sleep. She awoke and slept again as the time passed. She couldn’t see the clock in the times she was awake. But what did it matter? Ezra was still by her bedside. The other faces faded in and out.

  Lydia and Sandra arrived with Clyde. Lydia, overtaken with grief, turned to Ezra and cried on his shoulder. Rosemary smiled at the sight. It was to her a holy sight. Now the Lord had everything under control. Why else were her last hours so peaceful? And the singing went on—voices raised in the familiar songs she had grown up with. Now the voices sang with sorrow and weariness, but also joy.

  “You must be tired of singing,” Rosemary muttered once.

  “Hush,” Ezra ordered. And she didn’t argue. There was no strength if she had wanted to.

  Sandra bent low to kiss Rosemary on the cheek.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your wedding,” Rosemary said.

  Sandra wrapped Rosemary in a tight hug and hushed her. “Don’t you say a word. We’re the ones who are so very sorry.”

  Mamm brought another blanket and wrapped it around Rosemary’s shoulders. She was cold, but she hadn’t noticed that, either.

  “Do you think this is it?” Sandra whispered from somewhere off in the distance.

  “She’ll leave us with the dawn,” Ezra said. “Let us pray for strength.”

  The dawn, Rosemary thought. What did that mean? The room was dark. It had been dark for a very long time. What would the dawn look like? Would she see it? Another dawn. The thought was pleasant…and yet…

  Rosemary drifted off to the soft singing still in the room. Bishop Henry and his frau left sometime in the night, as did Deacon Schrock and Ruth Ann. Lydia, Sandra, and Clyde stayed awhile longer, but they too left as Rosemary slept. She awoke to silence and to still forms seated around her. She stirred, and Ezra’s hand was on her forehead at once. The dim kerosene lamp cast faint shadows on his tired face. When Rosemary managed to reach up to touch him, the stubble on his chin bristled under her hand. How she loved the man.

  “Is it morning?” Rosemary asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Is it?” Rosemary insisted.

  “The dawn is breaking,” Ezra admitted. His gaze shifted to the living room window where the first streaks of light stirred the horizon.

  “Hold me,” Rosemary whispered.

  Ezra’s strong arms lifted her out of bed, as the others stirred around them. The soft murmur of voices was silenced by Ezra’s order. “Be still, everyone.”

  Silence fell, and Rosemary allowed herself to sink into Ezra’s strength. He was distant now and fading away. He seemed to lift her higher, but Ezra hadn’t moved. Sounds reached her, at first distant, but beautiful until they filled the room. Songs she had never heard.

  “Are they singing again?” Rosemary asked.

  “No,” Ezra said.

  “But they are singing,” Rosemary insisted.

  “They must be angels,” said a voice.

  Rosemary struggled to sit up, but she sank back into Ezra’s arms. It was the strangest feeling. Try as she might to reach upward, only one hand would raise up before it fell back on Ezra’s knee. Yet she was lifted from within, drawn upward with a pull of a mighty force. A light more brilliant than the sun rose through the living room window, and yet she could look straight at it.

  “The dawn,” Rosemary whispered. “It has come.”

  Ezra held her in his arms. She could feel him, and then…

  “She’s gone,” Ezra said after long moments had passed. He laid the body tenderly back on the bed. “Rosemary has left us with the dawn.”

  He stood for several moments with a bowed head. Then he walked out of the house to look toward the east, where he shielded his eyes against the bright rays of the blossoming sunrise.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  In the early afternoon, on the day of Rosemary’s funeral, Lydia stood among the crowd of people huddled in the graveyard. Mamm and Daett stood a short distance behind her. Ezra was with the immediate Beiler family, his head bowed, as the casket was lowered into the ground. Emma and Rhoda had attended the service at the Beilers’ house, but they hadn’t come to the graveside service.

  “I’ve seen enough sorrow for one day,” Emma had whispered before she left with Rhoda.

  And Emma was correct. There had been much sorrow today, but there was also an undercurrent of joy. On the morning of Rosemary’s passing, Deacon Schrock had brought word to the Troyer home and had spoken about his final evening with Rosemary. He said the presence of the Lord seemed to be in the room, and that Rosemary’s sister Ann had reported, “We all heard the angels singing when she passed.”

  Emma and Rhoda had been skeptical of that report. “Anyone can hear anything at those moments,” Rhoda declared, and Emma had agreed.

  But Lydia realized her sisters just didn’t want to open their hearts to any divine comfort, for fear they would be drawn away from their determination to leave the Amish faith. Neither Emma nor Rhoda had been a friend to Rosemary, so they hadn’t understood the depth of Rosemary’s suffering or the loss Lydia and Sandra had felt.

  Lydia had certainly felt the loss deeply. In her grief, she even had embraced Ezra at Rosemary’s bedside—and without hesitation or embarrassment. Somehow it had seemed right that Ezra had embraced her right there in front of Bishop Henry and Deacon Schrock—and even Rosemary herself.

  Ezra’s face was steadfast today as he stood with Rosemary’s family. That was Ezra’s rightful place. He had been Rosemary’s boyfriend, and had been with her until the end—even holding her in his arms as she passed over. They gathered now around the open grave as the casket was lowered.

  “I’m so glad Ezra was there to help Rosemary cross over,” Ann had said. “And the singing was beautiful at the
end. It was so faint, but Rosemary heard clearly. You could tell by the look on her face.”

  Lydia glanced over at Mamm as a song was begun at the gravesite. Mamm’s head was uplifted, and tears filled her eyes. The beautiful words of the German song rose and fell in the stillness of the open air. “Oh, great are the works of our God, He gives life and He receives it unto Himself again. Each morning His face is lifted with mercies anew, and each evening finds us again in the hollow of His hand…”

  Lydia caught sight of Harvey Miller among the mourners. She should be at his side as his girlfriend, but theirs was a strange relationship. They saw each other every Sunday night, but Harvey still went home early most of the time. Not infrequently he simply dropped her off at the end of the sidewalk and said good night. She was comfortable with the arrangement since it kept any questions Deacon Schrock might ask at bay. Harvey must know about the six-month mandate, but he never mentioned it. If Harvey intended to woo her, he still hadn’t made the effort. Maybe she was just pleasant company in his dreary life and nothing more. Strange as their situation was, she had no energy or inclination to break the reverie before the six months were complete.

  What would happen afterward, she had no idea. Her heart still mourned Ezra, but she had no right to the man, despite what Rosemary had said. That whole thing was unthinkable. It felt as confusing and meaningless as Rosemary’s illness and passing.

  Lydia brought her attention back to the present. The third song had ended, and silence filled the graveyard. Faint sounds of dirt being shoveled came from the graveside. Men came forward with bowed heads to offer their help. Ezra, his face focused and serious, was one of the first to take his turn with a shovel. Lydia watched him lift each shovel of dirt with ease and drop it carefully into the grave. When he finished his turn, Ezra handed the shovel to the next man, straightened his back, and gazed off toward the east and the open blue sky. He seemed to be remembering something.