‘‘Might do her some gut, don’t you think?’’
‘‘ ’Tween you and me, she’s put off by our baby sister.’’
Lizzie nodded. ‘‘You think on it, honey-girl. Can you really expect she’d be any other way . . . considering everything?’’
The notion was talked over till the horse made the turn off the road and pulled the carriage into Dat’s long lane.
‘‘So maybe Mary Ruth or Hannah, then?’’ Lizzie pulled back on the reins. ‘‘I’ll clear it with your father first, though I doubt he’ll be any too eager.’’
‘‘Prob’ly he’ll nix the whole idea . . . wouldn’t surprise me.’’
Aunt Lizzie smiled, a twinkle in her eye. ‘‘You just leave that to me.’’
Leah was puzzled at Lizzie’s confident response, but she said no more, hoping they’d take themselves off for a walk in the woods.
In the midafternoon light, they moved quickly up the hillock. Leah and Lizzie stopped for a moment to take in the sounds—every little crack and rustle they might expect to hear—garter snakes seizing centipedes, and other tiny creatures stirring beneath layers of brushwood and leaves teeming with life.
Standing there in the midst of the woods, Leah was struck with a startling thought, one she spoke right out. ‘‘What do you s’pose would’ve happened if Sadie had delivered her baby full-term . . . if her infant son had lived?’’ she asked. ‘‘How would Dat and Mamma have reacted—Sadie not havin’ a husband an’ all?’’
Lizzie paused for a moment. ‘‘Well, now, that’s not so hard to say.’’
Surprised, Leah studied Lizzie. ‘‘Would Dat and Mamma have taken it in their stride?’’
‘‘I didn’t say that . . . just that I think in time they would’ve come to accept the baby—their flesh-and-blood grandson, after all.’’
‘‘Something we’ll never know for sure, prob’ly.’’
‘‘But when all’s said and done, the Lord knew best. He saw fit to call the precious little babe home to Glory.’’
‘‘Just think how torn Sadie would’ve been her whole life long over the baby’s father bein’ fancy and all . . . not having him by her side.’’
‘‘I doubt the lad much cared,’’ Lizzie broke in, moving up the hill again.
Leah suddenly wondered who the father of Sadie’s baby might’ve been. All she’d ever known was his first name— Derry. Even that made her squirm; it sounded to her like someone who might double-dare you to do something you’d later regret.
She matched her stride to Lizzie’s, pleased to see the locust tree not four yards ahead. ‘‘You found it. How on earth?’’
Lizzie hurried to pat the thick, grand trunk. Such an immense and powerful tree. ‘‘Well, there aren’t so many like this one, ain’t so?’’
‘‘It’s mighty special . . . even scarce, I’d say.’’ She turned to look from whence they’d come. ‘‘How hard would it be to find my way home from here, do you think?’’
‘‘I’ll mark the way back.’’ Aunt Lizzie reached down for a medium-sized stone to mark the trees.
‘‘Then, you won’t fret over me coming here alone?’’
Lizzie’s smile faded. ‘‘Oh, I’ll never say that.’’
The sun broke through the uppermost canopy, causing a thin stream of light to illuminate the grassy patch near their feet. ‘‘Lookee there!’’ Leah felt more confident than ever. ‘‘ ‘Let there be light.’ ’’ ‘‘Now, don’t be thinkin’ this is some heavenly sign or such nonsense.’’
At that Leah laughed along with Lizzie, yet she did wonder why the sunbeam had found them at that precise moment.
When the kitchen was redd up after supper and Mamma had gone to her room to nurse Lydiann, Dat and Leah sat together at the table, the large family Bible open between them. Sadie and Mary Ruth played a game of checkers on the floor while Hannah embroidered a bluebird on a white cotton handkerchief. Dawdi John, who had come to share the supper hour with the family, sat in a hickory rocker near the door leading to the back porch, a relaxed smile on his tanned and wrinkled face.
‘‘We’ll begin with the Lord Jesus being baptized by John,’’ Dat said, his finger sliding down the page as he read. ‘‘ ‘I indeed baptize you with water unto repentance. . . . ’ ’’
‘‘Is that John the Baptist speaking?’’ Leah asked. Dat nodded. ‘‘Our Lord set the example for us, even though He was the sinless Lamb of God.’’
Leah listened with rapt attention.
Dat continued. ‘‘Now, here’s my favorite passage in this chapter. ‘And Jesus, when he was baptized, went up straightway out of the water: and, lo, the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon him: And lo a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.’ ’’ Leah’s ears perked up at the mention of a dove. Jehovah God had sent a gentle white bird, a symbol of peace, to rest on the Son of Man’s head as a blessing.
‘‘You must not take lightly this thing you’re ’bout to do.’’ Dat folded his callused hands on the Bible. ‘‘Membership in the church is a sign of repentance and complete commitment to the community of the People. It’s also the doorway that leads to adulthood.’’
At this comment Leah noticed Sadie’s head bob up as if she were listening, which was right fine. ’Specially now, thought Leah, recalling their recent prickly exchange.
Dat began to quote Mark chapter sixteen, verse sixteen. ‘‘ ‘He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned.’ ’’ ‘‘A divine pronouncement, and ever so frightening,’’ Leah said, in awe of the Scripture.
At this Dat closed the Bible and reached for another book, Martyrs Mirror, over eleven hundred pages in length. It was their recorded heritage of bloodshed and abuse—in all, seventeen hundred years of Christian martyrdom. ‘‘Obedience to God leads to a path of redemption, though it is exceedingly narrow . . . and few will ever find it,’’ Dat said before beginning to read.
‘‘We are a people set apart—we walk the narrow way, jah?’’
Dat nodded reverently. ‘‘ ’Tis our very life and breath.’’
‘‘Without spot or blemish,’’ Leah added, knowing the truth taught to her all the days of her life.
‘‘Now I want to read to you about my mother’s ancestor— a great-grandmother several times over.’’ Dat turned the pages of Martyrs Mirror carefully, as if it were a holy book. He began to read the testimony of Catharina Meylin, who was fire branded on her fair cheek for her beliefs. ‘‘ ‘She held tenaciously to the doctrine of adult baptism,’ ’’ he read.
Leah struggled with tears for the courageous and devout mother of eleven children, wondering if she herself had that kind of commitment. Am I willing to die for the Lord God? At the very least she wanted to strive for strength of faith and character.
‘‘Did she . . . live on?’’ Leah asked softly.
‘‘ ‘Her feet were bound hard, and she was carried off to the convent prison, where she was given only bread and water for many weeks,’ ’’ Dat read in response.
He sighed loudly, glancing up. ‘‘She was allowed to write only one time—a testimonial letter to her grown children.’’
Leah listened intently. ‘‘Read the rest of the account, will ya?’’
Her father nodded and followed the words with his finger. ‘‘ ‘Daily, Catharina was beaten, and when she would not deny her faith she was, in due time, delivered by the grace of God from her earthly bonds.’ ’’
Starved and beaten to death? Leah wondered, though she felt too pained by what she had learned to ask. Truly, Dat’s ancestor was a faithful servant of the Lord God.
Dat’s voice wavered a bit. ‘‘She wrote this to her dear children: ‘Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing.’
’’ She g
ave up her life for what she believed. . . .
Leah felt ever so convicted. Was she worthy to present herself to the almighty One in baptism?
Dawdi John grunted out of the rocker, standing there all wobbly in the middle of the kitchen. Leah looked to Dat for a signal, and his brow crinkled slightly, letting her know the end of their study time had come.
‘‘Come along, Leah,’’ said Dawdi John at last, leaning hard on his cane.
She hurried to her grandfather’s side, steadying him as they made their way to the front room and the connecting door to his little Dawdi Haus. Gladly she would ponder the Scriptures and Dat’s great-grandmother’s stalwart conviction, as well as the many important things Dat had said this night. For now she was thankful both Deacon Stoltzfus and Preacher Yoder had given consent for this discussion of the Scriptures. Something Sadie had never consulted Dat about, far as Leah knew.
Chapter Eight
The letters from Jonas continued to arrive in the Ebersol mailbox, and fast as she possibly could, Leah penned back a response. She still hadn’t mentioned his father’s visit to Dat. She tried not to ponder it too much, ignoring the gnawing nervousness that something might go awry.
Saturday, August 16
Dear Jonas,
Tomorrow we’re having Preaching service here. Actually, Dat’s thinking we ought to hold it in the barn, since it’s a bit cooler out there. We’ve been having fairly regular afternoon showers now, which is nice for the ground but not so helpful for the workers—the third cutting of alfalfa is in full swing.
I’ve been spending several evenings a week with Dawdi John, who tells interesting stories of his youth. Might be nice for you to visit him when you return for baptism a month from now. We could go together, maybe.
I’ve agreed to be a bridesmaid in Naomi Kauffman’s wedding, which is November 11. After observing her at baptismal instruction classes the past weeks, she seems to be ready to turn her full attention to serving the Lord God and the People. Maybe you and I will have some good fellowship with her and Luke once we’re all settled in as young married couples.
Sometimes I worry about Sadie, with both Naomi and me being younger and soon to be married. It can’t be easy for her.
I want to share something with you. Dat’s allowing Mary Ruth to do some light housekeeping and cooking for our English neighbors, the Nolts—the new parents I wrote you about. It’s puzzling to me because he was so steadfast about keeping us younger girls separate from the outside world after Sadie attended public high school. Do you think this is wise, letting one so young and innocent work for English folk?
As for me, I’m ready to follow the Lord in the ordinance of baptism and can hardly wait for that most holy of days when I will bow my knees before the bishop and the church membership.
Oh, Jonas, I can hardly wait to see you again! To think we’ll be joining church together.
All my love,
Your faithful Leah
She folded the letter and slipped it into the envelope. In no hurry to leave the quiet woodland setting, she leaned her head against the locust tree and stared high into its leafy structure. Her life was about to change forever. No longer would she live under the protective covering of her father, though she would always love and respect him and Mamma both. Her place amongst the People would be that of Jonas’s helpmeet and wife, and the mother of his children in due season.
Since Dat had read to her Catharina’s final testimony of faith, Leah had been thinking constantly of the Anabaptist martyrs. She struggled with the thing that separated her from the dedicated church members right here in Gobbler’s Knob—the terrible secret she kept locked away inside. She truly felt the Holy One of Israel was calling her to repent of the sisterly covenant made last year, though she dreaded what such a thing might do to her and Sadie’s relationship.
In the end Dat would understand if she broke her vow to Sadie. With his concern about Sadie’s rumschpringe, he would undoubtedly accept the dire revelation of his firstborn’s misconduct as true, but would it cause him undue grief?
Mamma, though she would agree with Dat, would understand why Leah had made the covenant in the first place.
And what of Aunt Lizzie? Leah felt her cheeks burn, knowing Lizzie was unyielding when it came to the tie that binds. She’d made her promise to Sadie, as well.
The battle within Leah’s heart between doing what she knew was the right thing and keeping her word to Sadie was causing her to lose her appetite. She found herself whispering rote but fervent prayers, not just at mealtime and bedtime, but all the day long.
Walking barefoot to the Nolts’ house, Mary Ruth heard a pair of woodpeckers hidden in the trees that rimmed the road. Though she couldn’t see them just now, she knew they were much larger than the bats Dat sometimes spotted in the barn rafters of a night. Their wedge-shaped tails steadied their black bodies as they flew from tree to tree, driving hard bills deep into tree bark in search of a succulent insect dinner.
She kept to the left side of the road, still baffled by her father’s voluntarily allowing her to work for fancy folk. To be sure, Aunt Lizzie had played a part. Seemed most anything Lizzie wanted lately she got, especially if Dat had much to say about it.
Awful surprising, she thought as she headed off to her first day on the job with the nice Englishers and their infant son. When she’d gone to meet them with Aunt Lizzie yesterday after supper, she’d noticed right away the baby’s dark hair, unlike his blond and blue-eyed parents, though neither of them seemed to pay any mind. Dottie Nolt had quietly shared with her that baby Carl was indeed adopted, not common knowledge. Now in their midthirties, the Nolts were pleased to have a little one to love as their own. Mary Ruth thought they must be churchgoers because Dottie had told her yesterday they were planning to have their baby dedicated to God in church soon. There was something awful special about knowing they wanted to raise their little one with the Lord God’s blessings. It made her respect them, English or not, though she scarcely knew them.
‘‘Hello again, Mary Ruth,’’ Dottie greeted her at the front door.
‘‘Hullo,’’ she replied. Stepping into the thoroughly modern front room, Mary Ruth felt such gladness to be here again. She had an uncanny connection to the larger world here. It was just as some of her older girlfriends had described their first visit to downtown Lancaster—that unspeakable, somewhat delirious feeling of rumschpringe—being allowed to experience something other than the society of the People . . . truly the only thing she knew.
After she was offered a glass of lemonade, freshly squeezed just like Mamma’s, Mary Ruth agreed to sweep and scrub both the entry hall and the kitchen floors. ‘‘I’ll even get down on all fours like Mamma does at home,’’ she told Dottie.
Her employer appeared somewhat surprised, eyebrows arching as she smiled. ‘‘I can see I’m going to become very spoiled with you around, Mary Ruth.’’
So she took extra care to reach far into all the corners and crevices, washing the floor by hand. When that chore was complete, she dusted the front room. Carefully removing knickknacks and magazines from the sofa tables, she hummed, enjoying herself far more than she’d ever dreamed possible— in a worldly home, of all things. Except she’d seen an open Bible in both the kitchen and now here, on what Dottie called the ‘‘coffee table.’’ Interesting, to be sure.
Moving upstairs, she couldn’t help but think of the extra money she was going to earn. What a good idea to put it away for future schooling needs. Dat would have a fit when he put two and two together and discovered what she was saving up for. Yet it wasn’t as if she had sought out this work. The whole thing had fallen into her lap, thanks to Aunt Lizzie.
Hannah, on the other hand, had appeared startled about this opportunity. ‘‘How will ya keep up with your homework once school starts?’’ she had asked Mary Ruth in the privacy of their bedroom last night.
‘‘Dottie Nolt wants me only two or three times a week. That’s all.’’
‘‘Twice oughta keep the house clean enough, seems to me,’’ Hannah replied.
‘‘Maybe so, but I want to please my first employer. I’ll still have plenty of time to help Mamma at home.’’
So, after talking it over with Mamma, Mary Ruth agreed that if the job interfered with schoolwork, she’d ask Sadie to fill in for a while. But she doubted that would work, what with Sadie seeming to recoil at the sight of her own baby sister. Mary Ruth truly wondered about that.
Just now, going into the darling nursery, she stopped to admire a framed wall painting above the dresser—a small boy with suntanned legs making chase after a lone orange-brown butterfly that appeared to be just out of reach. She’d seen bright-colored butterflies like that many times in the high meadow over near Blackbird Pond, out behind smithy Peachey’s bank barn and blacksmith shop.
The painting made her smile, and she set to work dusting the dresser thoroughly before moving on to the oak rocker, cleaning the rungs beneath. A peek at the empty crib let her know baby Carl was either cradled in his new mother’s arms or tucked away for a nap in the wicker bassinet near the kitchen. Such a wondrous thing, these folk opening their home and their joyful hearts to an orphaned baby.
Eager to complete her housekeeping chores in an acceptable manner, Mary Ruth attended to every detail. When the rocking chair was polished, she moved to the round lamp table nearby. To her surprise, there on the table lay yet another open Bible, same as the two downstairs. She saw that a verse from the Psalms was underlined in red—As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.
Why so many copies of the Good Book in the house? she wondered. Was Dottie a follower of the Jehovah Lord? Were there Englishers who were also devout like the People? For sure and for certain, the idea of an open Bible in every room—and in a fancy home—was ever so curious.
Distracted and restless, Abram worked up a sweat redding up the barn for the Lord’s Day gathering and the young people’s singing that was to follow tomorrow evening. He’d made the decision to have the church benches set up on the threshing floor, where an occasional breeze might do some good keeping folk awake instead of the way it had been two weeks ago, when he and everyone else had been helpless to fight off the heat-induced stupor. And with Ida still tending closely to their infant daughter, the housework of removing all the rugs and rearranging the furniture would have fallen to the girls and Lizzie. Truly, it was better to have church in the barn, where he would plan the seating arrangement and direct the People to their seats.
The Betrayal Page 6