He was mighty glad to have a strong helping hand this afternoon with the heavier duties. Far as he was concerned, Smithy Gid could easily become a necessary right arm to him, what with John suffering a hip ailment clear out of the blue.
Working with Gid, he shoveled manure out of the stable area. Then they raked and swept clean the widest area of the threshing floor, where the People would sit as hearers of the Word.
‘‘ ’S’mighty gut of you to help,’’ Abram said, pushing hard on the long-handled broom.
‘‘Glad to do it.’’
‘‘Ain’t so certain how I’ll manage here in a few weeks.’’
Gid nodded but kept working. ‘‘I wonder ’bout that, too, Abram. But more and more Pop needs me to help him with some of the smithy work.’’
Abram knew that, all right. But there was no real need to address the event both men dreaded. The topic of Leah’s impending marriage was something they avoided discussing altogether. Abram had witnessed firsthand Gid’s feelings for Leah, saw the hopeless longing in the young man’s eyes whenever she was anywhere near.
Abram’s feeble attempt to get Jonas Mast out of town and off to Ohio had backfired. The time apart had served only to solidify their love, visible by the number of Ohio letters arriving each week. So Leah had fallen in love with the boy she believed was to be her life mate . . . although Abram would be surprised if she and Jonas ended up together.
He heard the sound of the horses and buggies now, the womenfolk arriving to help Ida make ready for the common meal tomorrow. Plenty of baking would take place in the Ebersol kitchen this day. Will Leah and Lizzie be on hand to help Ida? he wondered. The chummy twosome had gone to run an errand an hour or so ago.
Frankly, it was downright unnerving how Lizzie had inched her way deeper into their lives, all of them. First she’d gotten her grip on Sadie last year. Now Leah. Worst of all, Lizzie had pressed Abram to make a hasty decision over an English housekeeping job down the road a piece—giving him no breathing room. He had little choice but to do things Lizzie’s way to keep her hushed up . . . for now. Alas, Lizzie Brenneman was railroading him down a path of her own choosing. Downright unbecoming of her.
Ida, on the other hand, wasn’t much help, either. Seemed his wife and her sister were out of check, and the bishop would tell him so if he sought out spiritual counsel. He was losing sway over his family in more ways than one, and growing weary before his time.
As for the upper hand, he also felt at a loss when it came to his father-in-law. It struck him as peculiar that John’s bum hip, if real, had come on the heels of a fiery discussion concerning none other than Lizzie and her past blunders, though long ago confessed. Thus Ida’s sister was causing strife at every hand. He’d have to put a stop to it before things spun completely out of control.
Turning his attention back to the barn cleanup, Abram knew he’d be tuckered out by this time tomorrow. No doubt he and Ida would rise early and dress for the Lord’s Day right quick after Lydiann’s early-morning feeding, around three-thirty. There was much to be organized before the membership began to arrive—two hundred thirty-eight strong, and many more wee ones on the way.
So he and the young man who he hoped might still become his son-in-law continued that most honorable and sacred task: making an acceptable place of worship in the sight of the Lord God and the People.
Chapter Nine
The morning mist took too long to burn off, revealing at last a cloudless, pure sky. By the time Dat and Leah had finished the milking, Sadie, Mamma, and the twins had cooked up a full breakfast of fried eggs and bacon, along with some fresh fruit, toast, jelly, and milk. ‘‘Best not dally,’’ Mamma chided the girls, though they knew better than to linger on this Lord’s Day. ‘‘There’ll be folks arrivin’ well before nine o’clock, to be sure.’’
Sadie didn’t much care when the People came. They were all going to be sitting on the church benches in the smelly barn—the last place she’d like to be today. But go she must.
Her parents’ closed-door conversation of four nights ago still rang in her ears. Pity’s sake, she’d thought so long and hard about what she’d overheard she’d made herself sick. One thing was sure, she was convinced they knew something of her reckless year with Derry, that good-for-nothing boy who’d brought an everlasting stain on her life.
Thinking on all this, she decided then and there . . . maybe she was just too ill to attend church today. She could take herself off to the high meadow and try to keep from being queasy. Dat might not believe her, but Mamma would— and so would Aunt Lizzie if it came to that.
Before the womenfolk were to file into the barn prior to Preaching, Leah was surprised to see Naomi come running over to join her and Adah Peachey, along with the twins and Mamma—babe in arms—and the Ebersol family cluster. The main thing on Leah’s mind was Sadie, who wasn’t where she was supposed to be just now. Boldly, her sister had gone up to the outhouse right quick before the service was close to beginning. Never mind her, thought Leah, dismissing her errant sister. If she comes, she comes.
Leah got herself into the line for church, behind the baptized single girls at the front. The earthy scent of cats and hay and cattle filled her nose. Best smells on earth, she thought, ever so glad to be alive as she shook hands with Preacher Yoder and the visiting minister from Ninepoints.
She noticed Ezra and Elias Stoltzfus turn their heads in unison when spotting Hannah and Mary Ruth, but the twins reverently walked toward the benches set up for the womenfolk and young children. Though Leah did not crack a smile, inwardly she was amused and gladly so. Someday her younger sisters might end up married to the deacon’s boys. Who was to tell? But if so, her nieces and nephews, Hannah’s and Mary Ruth’s babies—the whole lot of them—now, wouldn’t they resemble each other? Cousins, for sure, but even closer.
What a bright future they all had, including Sadie if she’d just get her tail feathers down here to settle in for the Preaching service. And not only did she need to hear the Word of the Lord . . . but Leah had just this minute decided Sadie might benefit from another straight talk. Life was too short to take risks with eternity, and her own conscience weighed ever so heavily.
The raucous come-hither trill of a group of blue jays cut the stillness at the end of the long, final prayer after the three-hour meeting. Once the People were seated again after kneeling, Deacon Stoltzfus rose and announced the location of the next Sunday Preaching, ‘‘in two weeks at smithy Peachey’s place.’’
Then, when the meeting was opened up for any business to be conducted relating to church discipline, there was an issue involving ‘‘a reckless teenager,’’ or so the member reported. That being the case, the closing hymn was sung and the youngsters began silently filing out of the barn, followed by the unbaptized, single young people. Another forty minutes or so of pointed discussion was to follow, including the humiliating possibility of the wayward youth having to confess before the People.
Leah shivered, wishing Sadie had been present at Preaching today. Aware of the secret members’ meeting now going on, she felt sure it might have put the fear of God in her sister.
Mary Ruth hurried with Hannah to help Mamma, Leah, and Lizzie with a smorgasbord-style spread laid out on long tables in the sunny kitchen. Today being a perfect day for a picnic, the People would eat and fellowship on the grounds. Bread and homemade butter, sliced cheeses, dill and sweet pickles, strawberry jam, red beets, half-moon apple pies, and ice-cold lemonade—the standard light fare for a summer Sunday go-to-meeting. Not that a body could eat himself full on such a menu. It was merely intended to squelch growling stomachs till the People could ride horse and buggy back home.
‘‘Has anybody seen Sadie?’’ Mary Ruth asked of Leah and Hannah.
‘‘Sadie’s sittin’ up in the meadow, head between her knees like she’s under the weather,’’ Aunt Lizzie offered.
Mary Ruth joked, ‘‘ ’Cept ain’t it an awful nice day to—’’ ‘‘Now, leave her be
,’’ Mamma spoke up.
At this Mary Ruth turned to Hannah and frowned.
‘‘You heard Mamma,’’ Hannah whispered.
Still, Mary Ruth wondered how Sadie could get by with skipping church, soaking up the sunshine instead. Unless she was ill. But if she was simply having a sulk, well, then it didn’t make sense. Why would Sadie bring unnecessary shame to her parents on the day they hosted the church meeting?
After the noon meal, enjoyed on the rolling lawns, the young men gradually began to gather in the barnyard. There they congregated in one of two groups: the more pious teens—some baptized and some not—and the known rebels who typically ignored the rules of dress, conduct, and were allround less serious minded.
Elias stood with the teens known for following the letter of the law, even though he was also hipperdiglipp—the type of fellow who rode his new pony cart to the limits of speed and daring.
On her way back from the outhouse, Mary Ruth stumbled upon Elias and had to swallow her nervousness. She’d never been this alone with him, except for that one time at the vegetable stand, nearly a year ago. Her resolve not to pay him any mind flew out the window. She was ever so eager to reply if he should happen to speak to her.
And speak he did, removing his straw hat. ‘‘Hullo, Mary Ruth. How are ya?’’
Well, she might’ve thought the Lord God himself had descended and stood before her, she was that tongue-tied. ‘‘I . . . uh, hullo.’’
She wanted to say more, truly she did. Not lose her words in this hopeless stuttering, of all things. Should she try to talk again? She might not get a second chance today, and the next time to prove herself to be a bright and expressive young woman would be another two weeks away. Be calm, she told herself. Breathe deep . . . stand tall.
He scratched his tousled red hair and nodded. He was looking at her, sure as anything, and she tried ever so hard not to stare back. Yet his eyes drew her, pulled her like iron to a magnet. For what seemed like a full minute, he stood smiling down at her. ‘‘Awful nice seein’ you again, Mary Ruth.’’
‘‘Denki—thank you’’ was all she managed to say before he was on his way. Oh, she could just kick herself for being so jittery. Was this how it felt to be falling in love? She hoped not, because she absolutely must dismiss her feelings for Elias.
Her thoughts turned to the singing in the barn after nightfall. Of course she wasn’t free to go. At just fourteen she longed to be older—an adult, to be sure. But she was too young for the true freedom she longed for and too old to be treated like a girl with hardly a care in the world. For truth, in spite of seeing Elias just now, she wasn’t too sure she’d ever be happy living amongst the People forever, being treated the way the menfolk seemed to manage the womenfolk—under the thumb, so to speak.
Lately, though, she’d observed one woman whom she wouldn’t mind imitating at all. Aunt Lizzie. Her aunt had a lip that wouldn’t quit, and Mary Ruth knew it firsthand because she’d heard Lizzie talking mighty straight to Mamma just last night. ‘‘I’m telling you, time’s running out for Abram,’’ Lizzie said. ‘‘Put that in your work apron and mull it over, Ida. I’m fed up with him muzzling the ox.’’ And with that Mary Ruth had darted back into the front room, hiding behind the doorjamb, changing her mind about heading straight for the kitchen. It wouldn’t be wise to barge into such a squall.
For tonight she and Hannah would simply sit out on the back lawn, listening to the courting-age young people sing their ‘‘fast’’ songs, having themselves a good time.
Sadie wouldn’t be going, either, not the way she’d kept herself away from the meeting today. No, Dat would see to it Sadie was nowhere near the barn singing. As for Leah, being engaged to Jonas would keep her away unless Adah Peachey or Naomi Kauffman talked her into going with them. Jah, tonight would be an interesting sight, with more than likely not a single one of Abram’s daughters showing up at their own singing.
Dawdi John was a bit sluggish, but sharp as a nail. Tonight he wore his white ‘‘for good’’ shirt, tan suspenders, and black broadfall trousers, same as he’d worn all day. Because of the exceptionally warm evening, no coat was needed, and he’d left his black bowtie in his dresser drawer. His weak eyes, when he removed his glasses, were somewhat pained as he sat on a folding chair next to his granddaughters in the backyard.
‘‘Nice to hear the young people lift their voices in song, ain’t?’’ Leah was quick to say. Ever since she’d known of his hip problems, she’d gone out of her way to show extra kindness to Dawdi.
‘‘They sing as heartily as the youth did back when I was a lad.’’ He nodded, smiling.
Hannah and Mary Ruth were caught up in their own talk, sprawled out on a large green quilt, frayed round the edges. As for Sadie, she had been sent upstairs following the common meal to contemplate her irreverent behavior this morning. Dat had ordered her off to the hot and stuffy bedroom, called after her that she was ‘‘never, ever to feign sickness on the Lord’s Day again!’’ and she was not allowed to leave the premises for a full week.
Leah couldn’t blame Dat, really. Sadie had it coming, plain to see—although Mamma had actually winced when Dat raised his voice. Even Hannah and Mary Ruth had put their heads down, squinting to beat the band. But Leah knew the punishment had come forth in such a fiery way due only to continual problems. Before supper tonight Sadie had refused to hold Lydiann, though their baby sister was as sweet as pudding. She wouldn’t budge even when Mamma spoke directly to her. ‘‘Take your baby sister for me, please.’’
Sadie had actually backed away when Mamma held Lydiann out to her, shocking all of them. Mary Ruth came to Mamma’s rescue, taking Lydiann in her own arms, and Sadie made a beeline to the back door, sobbing as she ran.
Leah, chagrined, had been sent out to fetch her sister, ordered to do so by Mamma, then Dat . . . then both her parents in chorus.
She hoped—and prayed often—that Sadie might snap out of her cantankerous mood. Unknowingly, Dat and Mamma were being pulled into the thick of it. Won’t Mamma, at least, put two and two together if Sadie keeps behaving in such a questionable manner? she had wondered.
Just now she saw Adah Peachey running through the cornfield. Leah waved to her, noticing Gid was nowhere in sight.
‘‘Won’t ya come along with me?’’ Adah called to her.
‘‘I’m keepin’ Dawdi company,’’ Leah replied.
‘‘Aw, please come?’’
Leah, wanting ever so much to accompany Adah, turned to ask Dawdi, ‘‘Will you be all right here for a bit?’’
‘‘Sure, go on, Leah. I’m just fine. Besides, Hannah and Mary Ruth will look after me, won’tcha, girls?’’
The twins nodded, and Leah rose to meet Adah. Mary Ruth hopped up from the quilt to claim Leah’s vacant folding chair. ‘‘Have yourself a nice time,’’ Mary Ruth said, plopping herself down.
Hurrying off with Adah, Leah realized suddenly that she hadn’t bothered to dress for the singing, since she hadn’t planned to attend. For sure and for certain, she would not impress any of the young men in attendance. No need to when she was engaged to marry Jonas in a few months. Adah, on the other hand, had combed her hair, taking care to wash her face, Leah noticed, because it was shiny from the scrubbing. ‘‘What’re you thinking?’’ Leah asked as they stood in the gaping opening to the barn, peering in.
‘‘Just that it’s time you had yourself a bit of fun.’’
‘‘Oh, I’m okay, really I am.’’
‘‘You don’t convince me.’’ Adah smiled thoughtfully. ‘‘You look worried most of the time.’’
‘‘I do?’’
‘‘Honestly, I’ve been wonderin’ if you have second thoughts ’bout Jonas.’’
‘‘What makes you think that?’’
Adah fell silent suddenly as, one after another, the young folk made their way into the barn.
Leah waited for her friend to respond, but when she didn’t, Leah added, ‘‘If I didn’t know better,
Adah, I’d think maybe it was you who’s worried.’’
That got Adah talking again. ‘‘Whatever for?’’
‘‘I daresay you don’t like the idea of us not bein’ sisters-in-law, for one thing.’’ As soon as Leah said it, she knew she’d been needlessly insensitive.
‘‘Well, jah, ’tis ever so true. . . .’’
Leah was deeply sorry. ‘‘What I meant to say was—’’
‘‘No . . . no, you should never have said such an unkind thing.’’
Beyond doubt she hated what had just happened; she’d had no intention of exchanging sarcastic words with her dearest friend. ‘‘I’m sorry, Adah, honest I am. I don’t know what got into me.’’
‘‘Well, I ’spect I do.’’ Adah breathed in ever so deeply. ‘‘I think you’re upset at Sadie. Naomi Kauffman told me the most revoltin’ story the other day.’’
‘‘You know I don’t care to hear gossip,’’ Leah replied.
‘‘Ain’t hearsay. Naomi says she knows what she’s talkin’ ’bout.’’
Leah panicked. Naomi probably did know something she oughtn’t to be telling. Things concerning Sadie and their Friday-night adventures in the English world. ‘‘Is this so necessary to say?’’ she asked softly.
‘‘Come with me.’’ Adah led her away from the barn, up toward the mule road. ‘‘I’m not happy to be the one to tell you this, but . . .’’ She paused then, still walking hard. ‘‘I think you might already suspect as much. Could be the reason you’re on edge.’’
The Betrayal Page 7