“You’re not supposed to be gawking at the men!” Mary said in her ear.
Josie nudged her friend. “Very funny.”
Mary grasped Josie’s hand. “I’ve heard things,” she murmured.
“About what?”
“John Beiler.”
Josie went stiff. What had she heard? Gossip was frowned upon and even preached against. So she shouldn’t be sitting there right before the preaching partaking in it, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“What about John?”
Mary lowered her voice further. “Something’s going on. There’s to be a special board meeting.”
Josie’s shoulders tensed. “I know.”
“Heard mention of a woman.”
Josie had trouble catching her breath.
Mary went on. “Is it you?” Her eyes were wide with concern.
Josie pulled her hand from Mary’s. She felt hot. What had happened to the breeze coming through the wide double-doors minutes earlier? Was it really only May? It felt like August.
Mary watched Josie, a frown creasing her forehead. “Josie?”
“It’s nothing,” Josie replied.
But it wasn’t nothing—and just when she thought all would be well. Her eyes again went to John, and he returned her gaze. He gave her a questioning look. Josie glanced away, right into the hateful stare of Ezra Crabill. Josie’s mouth opened in surprise. The hatred in his glare was so strong, actual fear spread through her.
Why was he glaring at her like that?
She had trouble pulling her attention away—as if she’d temporarily lost her own will. Mary shook her shoulder, breaking her focus.
“You okay?”
Josie didn’t respond.
“What’s wrong with Ezra? Did you see that look he gave you?” Mary clenched Josie’s arm. “He’s leaving!”
Josie’s eyes flew back to him, and she watched his black coat disappear around the door of the barn.
No one ever leaves service a few minutes before it begins.
Josie searched through the rows of married women. Was Amanda Crabill there? Had she seen her husband leave? Josie spotted her on the back row. She sat, looking like a lost waif, her face ashen and her eyes haunted.
She’d seen him leave, all right.
Three
Josie did her best to concentrate during the service. The second sermon, always long, seemed unusually so that morning. Mamm cared for Emmy and had a time keeping her quiet—even with the handful of dry cereal she’d brought along. More than once, Josie nearly went over to offer her help, but for some reason she resisted, not wanting to call attention to the baby. She instinctively knew that the less attention called to either Emmy Sue or John, the better.
A feeling she deeply hoped was ungrounded.
The noon meal consisted of cold cuts, bread, red beets, pickles, cheese, and snitz pie. As there wasn’t enough room to seat everyone at tables at once, they ate in shifts. When it was Josie’s turn to eat, she ate quickly, hoping to go home as soon as possible.
She planned to confront John about what was going on.
She’d held her tongue long enough.
****
Josie got her chance mid-afternoon. She had wandered outside, going around to check on the chickens, something she often did during the day. She routinely found them perched or pecking away at the dirt, scratching the earth, forever searching for one more bug or morsel of food. She didn’t know why the chickens drew her. Yet she often found herself grinning at their jerky bobbing heads as they strutted from one end of the pen to the other. At times, upon noting her presence, they would come strutting over to the fence in a pulsating mob, waiting for a handful of feed.
And even though she knew her dat wouldn’t approve, she sometimes threw out a handful or two, laughing as they nodded their heads with appreciation.
Josie needed a laugh that afternoon—which was one of the reasons she was there. She stood at the pen and hooked her fingers through the wire fence. “Come now, you silly fowl, entertain me,” she coaxed.
She’d no sooner uttered the words when she felt his presence behind her. She turned and looked up. The sight of his dark eyes and handsome face, nearly weakened her resolve, but she barreled right in.
“John, we need to talk.”
He bowed his head toward her and took her elbow in his hand. With gentle pressure, he led her to the back of the daadi haus.
Before she could say anything further, he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. She closed her eyes at his touch and stood still letting his tenderness sink into her.
“I’m sorry, Josie. Truly, I am,” he whispered. His face was so close to hers, she felt his sweet breath tumble over her cheeks. “I’ve wanted to tell you what’s been going on.”
She faced him. “What is happening with Amanda Crabill?” There, she’d asked it.
He shook his head. “Nothing.” His voice was sad and Josie stood motionless, waiting for him to continue.
Finally, he did. “I promised to remain quiet.”
Josie stepped back, but John pulled her close again. “I promised her. But I spoke to Bishop today.”
“The bishop?”
“She wouldn’t go to him, so I did.”
Josie blinked, trying to imagine why he would go to the bishop.
John ran his fingers down her sleeve and took her hand in his. “It’s Ezra,” he said, his voice tinged with anger. “He’s beating both her and Benjamin.”
Josie’s mouth dropped open. “What? Are you sure?”
Her mind raced. So the bruise she’d seen on Benji’s neck that afternoon, and the way Amanda walked with her head down, and why she wouldn’t face Josie to greet her—
“Ach! Poor Amanda!” Josie uttered. “I’m so sorry.”
She remembered the enraged look Ezra had given her before service had started. “But what about Ezra?” she started. “Does he know she told you?”
“He knows.”
Fear clutched Josie’s heart. “He gave me the most frightening look today.”
“That’s because he hates me right now,” John said. “That look wasn’t for you. It was for me. But at least the Bishop now knows. He’s calling the deacons together this evening to decide what’s to be done.”
“But Amanda and Benji … they must get away. They’re not safe.”
“She has family near Linnow Creek. I’ve urged her to go to them.”
“And she won’t?”
“She keeps saying Ezra will change. That he’s going through a tough spell. That he’s always sorry afterwards.”
Josie shook her head and heaviness filled her heart. “But then he does it again?”
“He does it again.” John pressed his lips together, and she felt the muscles in his arm go hard.
“What will the bishop do?” Josie asked.
“I don’t know. But he’s been told. Something will happen.”
Josie leaned against the side of the daadi haus and felt the rough boards through her dress. “Did Amanda come to you?”
“No.” John said. “I went to her. Benji told me about one fall too many. I knew something wasn’t right.”
Josie’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry for her. For them both.”
John blew out his breath. “I wanted to tell you. But the only way she’d admit it was if I promised to stay quiet. I was afraid if she found out you knew, she would deny it all.”
So that explained his painful silence on the subject. Josie felt a rush of relief at this admission and also shame for her own impatience.
John went on. “She has no money.”
“The Bishop will give her some. He’s done it before. We have an emergency fund like all districts. He’s a good man, John. You don’t know him well because you’re fairly new in Hollybrook, but he’s a kind man. He’ll make sure Amanda and Benji are safe.”
John looked into her eyes, and she saw both determination and compassion. “If he doesn’t, I will.”
Josie
touched his arm. “It’ll be all right.”
John took her hand and clasped it to his chest. She felt his heart pound beneath his muslin shirt. “I’m sorry, Josie. Truly sorry I couldn’t tell you before. I saw the hurt in your eyes.”
Josie swallowed. And the distrust. She was grateful he didn’t mention it, even though he had to have seen it. She straightened her shoulders. She’d make it up to him somehow. If it was the last thing she did. She would not doubt him again.
“Emmy’s sleeping,” John said. “I left her window open so I could hear her if she stirred, but I need to go in.”
He gave her hand another squeeze and slipped away back to the daadi haus.
****
All day Monday, Josie couldn’t get Amanda out of her thoughts. She prayed continually for her, beseeching God to protect and guide her. And she prayed for Benji—how confused and upset the child must be. How horrifying to witness his father—the person who was supposed to protect him at all cost—hurt his mother and him. What a tragedy. A horrible, heart-breaking tragedy.
Josie gave Emmy extra hugs that day, wanting to savor every minute with the precious girl. She thanked God that Emmy had such a fine father, a man of integrity and faith.
She had known Ezra for years. Admittedly, not well. But he’d always seemed to be a good man. She remembered once a few years back when he had joked with her about a three-legged goat he’d owned as a lad. They had laughed together for a long time over his goat’s antics. Ezra had a knack for storytelling, and she’d liked him.
So, what had happened?
What had gone on inside his heart, causing him to become violent?
She rested her head against the wood of the porch bannister and rolled a red striped ball to Emmy Sue. Emmy plopped down on the porch and batted the ball back toward Josie, her little face a study of concentration.
“Josie?” Mamm asked, poking her head outside the screen door. “John mentioned a meeting tonight. He said not to wait supper. I thought you could run to the school with some fixings for him.”
Josie looked up. “Jah. That’s a fine idea.”
“I’ll make a couple of sandwiches and put them in a basket. I thought maybe to add some of those pickles he likes so well. It won’t be the same as him eating here, but at least he won’t starve.”
Josie nodded and regarded her mother’s face, noting the fine wrinkles around her eyes and the way her mouth was set in the solemn line as it always was when she was in serious thought.
“Thanks, Mamm. He’ll appreciate it.”
Mamm came out onto the porch and sat in a rocker. “The meeting, Josie? I’ve been hearing things.”
Mamm, too? Was everyone hearing things? Josie tensed and rolled the ball again to Emmy.
“So the school board has called a special meeting?”
“Seems so,” Josie said.
“You know I’m not one to gossip, but I’m worried.” Mamm wiped the back of her hand across her forehead.
“I know you don’t like to gossip.”
“And the Bishop is attending?” Mamm glanced over at Emmy Sue, and evidently satisfied the boppli wasn’t paying any mind, she lowered her voice and continued. “Is John in some kind of trouble?”
Josie, too, glanced at Emmy. At fourteen months, she wasn’t sure what the little one might understand, but she was fairly certain Emmy knew the word trouble. But the girl was busy slapping her hands on the ball and watching it bounce against her chubby legs.
“It’s all right,” Josie told Mamm, not wanting to betray John’s trust by divulging too much. “Perhaps I can share more later.”
Mamm nodded and squeezed the dish towel in her lap. “All right then, daughter. I’ll say no more.” With that, she rose and reached over to pat Emmy Sue’s soft red curls before retreating back into the house.
Josie gazed into the blue sky where wisps of thin clouds filled the horizon. She breathed in the still spring air, catching the fragrant scent of the netted iris around the side of the house which had bloomed late that year. She sighed. She’d wanted to tell her mother about Amanda. And she had wanted to ask her why a man like Ezra would ever hit his own family. She had wanted to pray with Mamm about it. But she didn’t. For she couldn’t—it wasn’t her story to tell.
She caught her breath. So that was how John had felt—wanting to share with her, but unable to do so. She bowed her head and breathed a prayer.
Dear Gott, thank you again for John and for allowing me to love him so. Her eyes filled with tears at her last words. She did love John, so much that sometimes it hurt. She gazed at Emmy. And you, too, little one. I love you more than words could ever tell.
With that, she gathered Emmy in her arms and went in to help Mamm prepare sandwiches for John.
****
When Josie arrived at the school, she found John sitting at his desk, his head bent over an open book. He didn’t hear her come in so she cleared her throat. He looked up and gave her a warm smile.
She raised the basket. “Your supper. Mamm was worried you’d starve to death.”
John chuckled. “Not likely. But the food is much appreciated.”
She walked close and set the basket on his desk.
He glanced at the food. “Not sure I’m up to eating much.”
Josie sat at a student’s desk and curled her legs under her chair. She was instantly transported to her school days. Only back then, she’d never had such a handsome teacher, nor one she was in love with.
John observed her, the beginnings of a smile tipping the corners of his mouth. “You’re good for me, Josie. I was sitting here, deep in thought and sliding toward discouragement. And now look, I’m smiling.”
She felt a warm glow flow through her at his words, and then she became solemn. “I’ve been discouraged myself this day. I can’t keep thoughts of Amanda and Benji and Ezra from my mind. I’ve prayed for them most of the day.”
“As have I,” John said. “I fear I was a poor teacher today.”
“I doubt that,” she murmured.
John eyed the large clock hanging on the wall above the chalkboard. “They’ll be here soon.”
Josie stood. “Then I must be off.” She turned to go and then looked back at John. “It will be all right, John. The board will understand once the bishop explains.”
John let out his breath. “Jah. You’re right. It will be fine.”
“It will,” she said again, stressing her words. She sensed his hesitation and concern but felt that there really was no reason to fear for his job or other repercussions—not if the bishop was going to be there. Elder Dohner would understand once he was informed of the true situation.
So she wasn’t quite sure why she couldn’t shake the foreboding that tormented her all the way home.
****
Josie fell asleep on the couch in the daadi haus, with Emmy Sue lying heavily against her chest. She was startled awake by John nudging her shoulder.
“I’m home,” he said quietly, putting his hand on Emmy’s head. “Let me take her.”
He gently pulled her from Josie, cradling the baby against his shoulder. Emmy gave a little sigh and snuggled into his neck. Josie rubbed her eyes and stood, her legs a bit shaky from being so deeply asleep.
John carried Emmy into her room, and when he returned, Josie was waiting. She knew she should have gone directly home, but she yearned to know what had happened at the meeting.
“Well?” she asked, her voice full of questions.
John sat heavily on the couch, and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “It’s over.”
What? What did he mean over? For a split second, Josie feared John’s stay in Hollybrook was finished.
He must have seen the dread on her face, for he hurried on. “Ach, I’m sorry. I mean the meeting’s over.” He lay his head back and then straightened again to focus on Josie. “It was difficult. The Board was none too pleased with how I handled it.”
Josie sank to the edge of the couch and perc
hed next to him. “How you handled it?”
“They told me I should have gone to Bishop immediately. Plus they said I should have informed the school board.” John looked at her. “Maybe they’re right. I don’t know. I did what I thought best at the time.”
“Of course you did.” Josie gave him an encouraging half-smile. “It’s hard to know what’s right in such a situation.”
But then, how would she know? She’d never been in a situation even remotely like this one. Yet, she yearned to say something—anything—supportive to John. For the last week, he’d worn the same shadowed look he’d worn daily when he’d first arrived—when the grief over his wife’s death had been recent and raw. She hated seeing that look return to his face.
“They’ve asked that I formally apologize to the deacons.”
Josie’s eyes widened. “But why? You were only trying to help your student and his mother.”
John got up and began pacing over the rag rug Josie’s mamm and grohs-mammi had braided so many years ago. His stride was quick and agitated.
“And Amanda and Benjamin?” Josie asked.
“They’re being sent to Linnow Creek to stay with kin.” He pushed his hand through his thick hair. “And there’s a sort of sanitarium run by the Mennonites about seventy-five miles from here. It’s for people suffering from mental disturbances. The bishop wants Ezra to go. He needs help, and Bishop wants to ensure he gets it.”
Josie nodded. She’d heard of the place; although, she’d never known anyone to go there.
“Will Ezra cooperate?”
John stopped moving and looked down at her. “No idea. He’s angry right now. Real angry. The deacons are going to approach him tomorrow.” He shook his head. “I hope he’ll listen. The district will handle the cost, so there really is no excuse. Plus the men in the community can help with his farm while he’s away.”
“If that’s their plan for Ezra, why did they send Amanda and Benji to Linnow Creek?”
John sat again on the couch. “My reckoning is Bishop’s afraid Ezra won’t go.”
Josie wanted nothing more than to lay her head on John’s shoulder. She wanted to feel his determination and strength against her skin. She wanted to cuddle into him and reassure him. He looked so plum worn out, her heart desired to be of some comfort.
Amish Days: A Desperate Act: An Amish Romance Short Story (Hollybrook Amish Romance) Page 3