by Kelly Irvin
Eureka was a small town. Nothing escaped the notice of its residents. Not unfaithfulness, drunkenness, accidents, disloyalty, deceit, nothing. If only uplifting incidents of kindness and joy spread along the grapevine so quickly. “Her house burned down—”
“As did yours.”
“I know, but—”
“Enough, Dochder. This issue was of such great importance all three of your elders felt it necessary to visit us together.” Father’s voice held a note of disappointment she’d never heard before—at least not directed at her. “Take heed of their words and their concerns. They’ll be the same concerns of every parent who has kinner in your classroom, including your mudder and me.”
“Did Hope or Job say something? They love her. She made learning fun.”
“I’m not concerned with them having fun.” Father didn’t raise his voice, but it held determination. “I want them to be guided on a path of righteous and clean living. Juliette and her family are our friends, but we still must use caution when Englisch influence might be hurtful to the kinner.”
Mercy swallowed against hot tears. It was unfair. Were they not also expected to show kindness and compassion toward their fellow human beings, whether believer or unbeliever? Juliette languished somewhere in the middle and she needed special care in order to bring her closer to God, not cast her farther away.
“Do you understand this concern?” Noah’s voice softened. “Or do we need to arrange counseling sessions? I don’t want to have to remove you from your post and appoint another teacher.”
Joy became a speck in the distant past. She’d arranged her life around teaching. She’d chosen it over the possibility of marriage to Caleb. “Nee, nee, please don’t do that. I love to teach.”
“You’ll consult with us before you make an important decision like this in the future?”
“I will.” She managed a whisper devoid of any stubborn denial or anger. “It won’t happen again.”
Tobias picked up a cookie and nibbled while Lucas took a swig of tea. Mercy breathed and stood. She still had to help with supper and the cleanup before she could escape. She would not cry. She would not sniffle.
“And then there’s the matter of an evening stroll in the company of a stranger, an Englisch man.” Tobias brushed crumbs from his beard and fixed her with a stern glare. “The same Englisch man seen with Juliette earlier in the evening.”
Mercy sat.
Mother’s intake of air was audible. Had Father not told her about Spencer’s visit? Surely they’d discussed it. How had the elders found out? Not that it was a secret. It had been innocent and, as such, not something she’d tried to hide.
Mercy gripped her hands in her lap and raised her gaze to meet Tobias’s. “Spencer McDonald, you mean.”
“So I’ve been told that’s his name. I haven’t met him myself.” Noah leaned forward in his chair. His gaze drilled her. “I know that being in Eureka makes everything seem catawampus, but the Ordnung hasn’t changed. Our faith hasn’t changed. We’re to hold ourselves apart from the world, especially when that world is so distant from what we believe.”
“It was only a walk.” Mercy bit back more words. Her father’s ominous stare forbade her to argue with their bishop.
“A walk with Spencer McDonald, who spent part of his evening in a tavern with Juliette Knowles. These are the people you want to associate with in the evening and teach our kinner during the day?”
“They knew each other in high school and I can tell you Spencer hadn’t been drinking alcohol.”
“Be that as it may, your outing with him is cause for concern.”
“May I ask why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Lucas’s scorn burned through his words. He of the three was the most difficult to like. The most ponderous in speech and thought. The most unwavering in judgment. “You’re a young, unmarried Plain woman. You’re the teacher of our kinner. He’s an Englisch man, a worldly man who frequents taverns and comes to Eureka after years away to visit a mudder who is an alcoholic.”
“He’s a smoke jumper with knowledge of fires and how they are fought. He offered insight—”
“That should be shared with your elders, not with you.”
What Lucas meant to say was with the men of her district. Spencer sought her out, not vice versa. She should’ve said no. She’d convinced herself a walk would have no consequences. She’d been wrong. “I understand.”
“I’ve talked with Lucas and Tobias about this at length.” Noah rubbed his forehead. He winced as if in pain. “Again, you teach the scholars. The kinner learn from the example you set. You must always be aware of this.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You recognize the truth of what we’re saying?”
“Jah.”
“Gut. I trust it won’t happen again.” Noah tapped on the table in a one-two-three rhythm. “I told Tobias and Lucas I believed counseling would be all that was necessary. You’ve always been gut about following the Ordnung. There were no problems even in your rumspringa. I expect this conversation to be the end of it.”
Her rumspringa had been quite average. A stretching of her wings with English clothes, a few movies, talking on Juliette’s phone when she came home from college in the summer, an occasional foray into makeup and costume jewelry, but none of the more worrisome—for parents—experiments such as dating an English boy or driving a car or drinking alcohol at keggers on some unsuspecting English parents’ property.
She’d never felt the need or the interest. She nodded. “I understand.”
“Gut.” Noah pushed back his chair and stood. “I’m so hungry I could eat a cow.”
“Chicken will have to do.” Flapping her dish towel, Mother laughed in a high, nervous cackle. “I hope you have room for mashed potatoes and gravy. And corn, we have lots of corn.”
“We’ll get out of your way so you can prepare to serve it.” Father’s meaningful stare told Mercy more discussion would follow.
She waited until they sauntered from the room, already discussing the fire and when families might be able to return to Kootenai. She turned to her mother. “I’m sorry.”
“Surely you knew better.” Mother’s cheeks darkened to a dusty rose. “I used to worry about the path Leesa might take, but never you. I knew you would be faithful in your efforts to do what is right.”
“I never thought helping a friend would be seen as wrong. You’ve known Juliette since she was a bopli.”
“And I’ve watched her struggle.” Mudder sighed and shoved a loose strand of silver-blonde hair under her kapp. “I pray for her just as I pray for you. Your rebellion is different from what I see in other young Plain boys and girls. It’s more muted. More of an undercurrent. More in your head than in your heart. You think too much. You mull and stew and pick apart our faith and our rules. You read too many books that take you into the world even when physically we keep you close to us. It causes me pain to watch you struggle.”
Regret blew through Mercy. Her mother saw much more than she should. “I’m not rebellious. I have a need to think things through, to study on them.”
“Which is why Gott made you a teacher.”
“I’m sorry you have suffered for my actions.” Mercy picked up a pitcher and poured water into glasses for her brothers and sisters. “I seem to be floundering. I thought it would get better as I got older. I still wonder if I’ve made the right choices recently. Choosing teaching over the possibility of marriage.”
“Yet you take a walk with an Englisch man instead of the Plain man who would take you back despite your refusal of his offer of marriage.”
“I don’t know that Caleb will take me back.” Because Caleb never seemed to speak his mind. Instead, he expected her to interpret his actions. “He doesn’t talk much and now he’s angry because Spencer was here. I didn’t invite Spencer to come. He simply showed up.”
“And you didn’t send him away.” Mudder settled fried chicken legs, breasts, and thighs onto
a thick ceramic platter. Her distant expression spoke of memories recaptured. “Your daed and I courted for two years. For me, love grew over time, but I longed to see him more and spend more time with him, getting to know him. Men aren’t always able to speak about their feelings. Your daed doesn’t say much, but I know from the way he acts that he cares.”
Criticism played hide-and-seek in her mother’s words. “I was surprised by the proposal because he never indicated he felt . . . like that.”
Not even a simple kiss. How could she tell her own mother of her concern over this lack of physical affection? She didn’t dare. Did the physical grow out of a love nurtured over time? Maybe she hadn’t given Caleb a fair chance. The air crackled between Spencer and her. They’d only known each other a few short days. Confusion enveloped her. “It didn’t feel right.”
Her mother dumped mashed potatoes into a big bowl and scraped the edges of the pan with more vigor than necessary. “You must trust your feelings, then. Better to wait than to be married to the wrong man.”
“How can I trust my feelings when they always seem to get me in trouble?”
“Remember what you’ve been taught since you were little. Pray. I have prayed for you since before you were born.” Mudder picked up the platter of chicken. “Come, let’s do the other thing we are called to do.”
Serve the men.
Mercy grabbed the bowl of corn and the potatoes. An acute sense of relief swept over her. She had made the right decision once. She could do it again.
Caleb with his pale-blue eyes that held a hint of sadness and smoldering heat never expressed. His love of books and all things cowboy. His firm command of his faith and a mysterious past. The way he said her name lingered in her ears long after he left her sight. His aggravating silence filled with unsaid words and unspoken feelings.
Leesa peeked her head in. “The table is set. The men are getting restless.”
“We’re coming. Bring the rolls and the salad. We’ll come back for the water.”
Leesa did as she was told, but curiosity shone on her face. “Why is Daed mad?”
“He’s not mad.” Mother’s response sounded halfhearted. “Only disappointed.”
“I got my hands spanked.” Mercy summoned a smile. “But we’re fine. Noah says money is available for the rebuilding.”
No need to share the negative when there were positives to be had. “And our friends from the other Gmays are preparing to help us rebuild.”
They chattered about the future as they served the meal, the elders looking on with good-natured impatience.
A future that loomed differently than it had only the day before.
31
Eureka, Montana
Supper under the watchful, assessing gaze of a bishop didn’t lend itself to good digestion. Mercy parked her bike next to two others in front of the ice cream shop on Dewey Street in downtown Eureka. Her stomach grumbled. Most of the chicken and fixings on her plate had been scraped into the trash can under her mother’s disapproving gaze. Cleanup had been unusually quiet. No one objected when she donned her sneakers and announced she wanted to take a bike ride.
Evenings like this she missed Nora and Christine the most. She needed their counsel. ASAP. Juliette’s crazy perspective always made her smile too. But Juliette couldn’t know that her foray into substitute teaching had been called into question. Ever. Mercy would have to settle for a banana split instead of a girl huddle.
She pushed through the double glass doors into the store painted in green, pink, and blue pastels. The bell tinkled a cheery tune and AC-cooled air washed over her warm face. Her spirits lifted. Noah had spoken his piece. Her father had done the same. It was behind her.
Except for one small detail. She wasn’t sorry.
One big, fat detail.
Mercy tried to wring one ounce of sorry from her less-than-contrite heart. She couldn’t. The walk with Spencer had been interesting. Thought-provoking even. Learning how others saw the world wasn’t necessarily dangerous. It stretched the mind. It helped a person know what she believed and why.
A scary thought for people who held themselves apart from the world so as not to be sucked into it. Mercy edged between Formica-topped tables full of high school kids eating ice cream and thumbing texts on their phones. She waited in line behind an older couple grumbling about teenagers and their endless selfies.
As for Juliette, she needed help. Why she stumbled remained a mystery. Despite the determined happy-go-lucky bravado plastered all over her face, pain occasionally made a mad dash across her expressive features. She had a good heart, but some wound festered inside her. A thorn in her side that couldn’t be relieved. Just like Paul’s.
Gott, am I wrong to help a friend?
She moved to the front of the line and returned the cashier’s smile before perusing two dozen barrels of creamy, heavenly flavors of deliciousness. Banana split or hot fudge sundae or milk shake or a bowl of her favorite flavors? She reveled in the possibilities. When it came to ice cream, choices were good.
“Decisions, decisions.”
Mercy turned at the familiar bass. Her heart did a strange kerplunk. His smile tentative, Caleb stood behind her. His faded blue shirt and his black pants were dirty, but he still made her heartbeat stumble a step or two. His smile grew less tentative, more inviting.
His pale-blue eyes were so different from Spencer’s deep sapphire that saw right through her. Caleb’s eyes held her with bridled feelings as if he were on the brink but holding back. If he ever let go, an explosion surely would follow. To be there that day would be a gift. One she might never receive.
“I know it’s tough, but you probably should decide soon.” He chuckled but the two kids behind him weren’t smiling. “The line’s getting longer.”
“I’m having a banana split. I’ve decided.” Decisions regarding ice cream were easy. What to do with this man standing behind her, not so easy. “And you?”
“One scoop of Mississippi Mud, one scoop of peanut butter chocolate, and one scoop of Oreo chocolate ice cream.”
“I guess you like chocolate.” She returned his grin. “That might be the most chocolate I’ve ever heard a person order.”
“You don’t know my sister. She can eat a half gallon of chocolate chocolate chip by herself.”
Caleb never talked about his family. After two years, he was still an enigma. Mercy liked that word. A mystery. Before she could take the piece of paper from the cashier, Caleb swiped it and handed both to the cashier with a twenty-dollar bill. After all his anger on Saturday night, now he was determined to be nice. More confusion.
“You don’t have to do that.” Her salary from teaching was small, but she’d saved most of it. There weren’t many ways to spend money in Kootenai. She held up her ten. “I have my own money.”
“Let a friend treat you.”
A friend? Their relationship had a new name. “Danki. Which sister? I know you have three.”
He took his receipt and they moved to the end of the railing where the worker was preparing her banana split. “Emma, the one that’s nineteen. Rosie is the pie-eater. Karen prefers cake.”
“You hardly ever talk about them.”
“I know I don’t talk as much as you would like.”
“Not everyone talks nonstop.” She picked up her banana split and studied the people around them. Most of the tables were occupied. “It’s busy tonight.”
“Sit with me, why don’t you?”
Did he feel obligated or did he really want to sit with her? After everything they’d been through, he’d probably prefer to sit anywhere but with her. Mercy groaned inwardly. “Lead the way.”
Caleb took his bowl, grabbed some napkins, and moved to a table near the back, away from the throng of football players discussing their opponents in the upcoming season. Mercy followed with her oversized banana split. It was big enough for three people.
He pulled her chair out for her and then sat. Maybe Mother was right. A wo
man had to take her time and learn to draw a man out. Gradually over time until feelings surfaced. “Why don’t you talk about your family?”
Caleb took his time wiping his face with a napkin. It seemed he wouldn’t answer. Finally, he met her gaze. “There’s not much to tell. My daed died when I was eight years old. Karen was a tiny mite. Mudder has never remarried even though everyone thought she should. Onkel John ran the farm until Mark took over last year when he retired.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need any pity.”
“It’s not pity.” The words stung. “It’s sympathy. It’s a hard row to hoe.”
“Sorry, that’s why I don’t like to talk about it. It was hard for my mudder. She worked nonstop to make a life for us. She had five kinner ages ten and under.”
Mercy took a bite of ice cream and banana to fortify herself. They’d started down this road. No stopping now. She swallowed and stared him straight in the eye. “What happened to your daed?”
Caleb stared in return. His blue eyes swam with emotion. “He fell in a manure pit and drowned. Him and his brother Isaac.”
His words were matter-of-fact, even as his face reflected her thoughts. A horrific death. Mercy struggled to swallow. The next breath didn’t want to come. “Gott’s will is sometimes hard to fathom.”
“It was a long time ago. Mudder never questioned. She went on as if nothing had changed.” Caleb’s gaze skipped to the window, but his expression said he was thousands of miles and years away. “My groossmammi and groossdaadi moved in with us. They had just lost two suhs, but they never whispered a word of unbelief. They never cried, not even at the funeral.”
That pattern was repeated in Amish communities across the country. Plain children learned early that they were simply passing through this world. Pain and heartache were to be expected. God’s will was not to be questioned. “And you?”