The Betrayal

by Beverly Lewis

  Why didn’t I think to tell someone besides Aunt Lizzie? she thought.

  The farther she went, the less visible the sun became, its light blocked by thick clusters of branches overhead, webbed and interlocked like an enormous barrier between heaven and earth.

  By late afternoon Ida was beside herself with concern. Abram was out running errands, and she didn’t dare try to set off looking for Leah on her own. She wouldn’t consider sending her frail father to search, not with his bad hip, nor the twins. With Lizzie gone, the only other option was Sadie, but Ida didn’t feel comfortable sending her eldest off to the dark woods. Until her rumschpringe Sadie had always been a home-body, and Ida hoped to nurture that in her again. Besides, it would never do if two of their girls got themselves lost up there.

  Pacing back and forth between the barnyard and the kitchen door, she spied Gid strolling through the cornfield big as you please. ‘‘Say, Gideon!’’ she called to him, and the smithy’s son came running. When she explained Leah had been gone since morning, ‘‘didn’t even come home for the noon meal,’’ Gid’s face dropped and turned nearly ashen.

  The young man sprang to life. ‘‘I’ll take King along for some company,’’ Gid said, calling to the German shepherd.

  Ida was ever so glad; she felt she could rely on Gid to bring their girl home safe and sound. If anyone could, he could. She hoped and prayed it would be so.

  The first signs of Leah were a few snippets of creamcolored stationery, torn to shreds. Gid picked up several, noticing the words Dear Jonas in Leah’s own hand. Having attended school with her through eighth grade, he could have recognized her handwriting most anywhere. Truth be known, he was more than impressed with her neat writing, not to mention everything else about her, from as early as preschool days on. But lately he’d become more cautious, guarding his heart. He wouldn’t allow himself to picture the day Abram’s Leah tied the knot with someone other than himself because in his opinion she was the sweetest girl in the Gobbler’s Knob church district. Sometimes he thought he might explore another district just once to see what other girls were available, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it, not yet. He couldn’t imagine another as pretty and sweet as Leah, nor as kind.

  Leah’s dog sniffed the ground, as if trying to pick up her scent in the depth of the woods. The dog, though intelligent, had not been trained for tracking. Still, Gid was mighty glad for King’s company today.

  He glanced at the torn pieces of Leah’s letter, feeling awkward with them in his hand. Had she changed her mind about something important, tearing up the letter this way? Gid pushed the idea aside. After all, Leah was a girl who knew what she wanted, always had. Just as he and Leah had been friendly since childhood, Leah and Jonas Mast had also been chummy, though even closer, evidently, or so the grapevine had it. Who was he to think otherwise?

  Except now, with this torn letter . . .

  Cupping his hands around his mouth, he began to call Leah’s name loudly. He hoped she was safe, not hurt or frightened in any way. There were enough chilling tales associated with this forest; it wouldn’t do for a young woman to come wandering up here alone, especially at night. And, best as he could estimate, dusk was less than three hours away.

  He’d heard tell by his father—Abram’s closest friend— that something terrible had happened to Lizzie Brenneman one night in the midst of her rumschpringe in these very woods. As a result, Lizzie had ended up with child, or so he thought the story went. Providentially, only a handful of folk had been aware of the circumstances at the time, and Bishop Bontrager had promptly ordered the whole thing hushed up.

  But now, in the midst of his own ‘‘running-around years,’’ Gid was surprised to discover more than a few young people held an alarmed apprehension of the enormous, dark Gobbler’s Knob forest—especially the girls. It was as if Lizzie Brenneman’s secret had slowly trickled out over the years.

  Leah, however, must not have heard the warnings, though he didn’t see how, being Lizzie’s niece and all. How was it possible for the Ebersol girls not to be privy to at least some of the dark rumors? For Lizzie’s sake, he certainly hoped Abram’s daughters had been protected from the truth. It wouldn’t do to harp away on a close relative’s painful past, even a shameful sin—though thoroughly repented of, to be sure.

  When Gid finally found Leah, he had been tramping through the wilds for a good forty minutes or longer. There she was, perched forlornly on a fallen oak tree, a mystified frown on her pretty face. ‘‘Did you hear me callin’ back to you?’’ she asked when she saw him. ‘‘I heard you ahollerin’ . . . heard King’s barkin’, too. Oh, I’m so glad you found me!’’

  He hurried to her side. ‘‘I heard you, all right. I’m glad you’re safe.’’

  ‘‘I’m just tuckered out, is all. I’ve been wanderin’ round and round in these woods—for hours, seems to me.’’

  ‘‘Do you know what time it is?’’ he asked, kneeling in the leaves.

  ‘‘Past dinnertime, I’m sure.’’

  Knowing Leah as he did, he was fairly certain she was being plucky for his sake. She must have been awful concerned . . . and hungry. Then he saw tears well up in her eyes. At once gone were his former intentions, his determined stand against getting too close. Where Abram’s Leah was concerned, his heart was still tender, though he would have liked to think otherwise. ‘‘I could carry you home if . . . well, that is, if you’re too wore out to walk.’’

  ‘‘Oh, I think I’ll manage.’’ She looked at him and smiled, then glanced at her stationery pad in her lap.

  ‘‘Your family is awful worried, Leah. We daresn’t delay,’’ he said, enjoying these stolen minutes more than he cared to admit.

  ‘‘When I got lost this morning, I realized I’d mistakenly told only one person where I was goin’ . . . Aunt Lizzie.’’ She paused, looking at him with inquisitive eyes. ‘‘She must not be back from Grasshopper Level yet.’’

  ‘‘Far as I know, she wasn’t.’’ He nuzzled King, too aware of the awkward silence between them. To break it, he said, ‘‘Your dog here is a mighty gut companion. And even though he ain’t a trained hunter, he sure seemed to know where you were.’’

  ‘‘He prob’ly followed the smell of the barn on me,’’ she replied.

  This brought a peal of laughter, and his heart was singing. Was there any chance for them? Any at all?

  King went and licked Leah’s face, and she put her head down and talked to him like he was one of the family. Then she looked up at Gid. ‘‘I’m so grateful to you,’’ she said, still smiling. ‘‘And to your dog.’’

  ‘‘He’s yours, don’t forget.’’ He watched her face, the brightness in her eyes. No, he thought, groaning inwardly. I must deny my affection for her. Soon she’ll be married to another.

  For now it was enough to see Leah smiling, knowing she’d been found.

  Sadie watched as Dat, Mamma, Dawdi John, and the twins all stood out in the backyard, eyes trained in anticipation on the woods beyond the barn. She had to wonder if such a fuss would be made over her once she turned up missing. The look of dire consternation in Dat’s eyes just now was ever so telling.

  ‘‘How long ago did you send Gid to search?’’ Dat asked Mamma, his right hand resting firmly on his lower back, as if in pain.

  ‘‘More than an hour ago.’’ Mamma shifted Lydiann in her arms.

  ‘‘Why’d she have to go and get herself lost?’’ Sadie spoke up.

  ‘‘Now, daughter . . .’’ Dat came walking toward her. He lowered his hat and his voice both at the same time. ‘‘You’ve done things twice as dumb as this,’’ he said so only she could hear.

  His remark took the breath clean from her.

  She had nothing to say in response and wished she could run fast away. But she waited till they, one by one, headed inside for some cold drinks, Dat declaring up and down for her to holler right quick if she saw Leah or Gid, either one. She stared at the back door, her bare feet pl
anted firmly in the grass as she peered past the screened-in porch and into Mamma’s big kitchen beyond.

  Once she was sure they were all preoccupied with ice-cold tea and whatnot, she stole away to the outhouse. Stopping to look back from that vantage point, she checked to see if they’d even noticed she was gone, then hurried on up the mule road, fast as she could go, to the woods herself.

  Out of breath, she stopped for a moment near the old stone wall that surrounded Aunt Lizzie’s vegetable and flower gardens. From far in the distance she heard the music of a harmonica and spirited laughter, and she caught a glimpse of Gid and Leah, the dog on their heels. Carefree-like, they made their way down the long rise together.

  Sadie stared at the smithy’s son and her own sister with unbelieving eyes. She never would’ve expected to see them like this. Not with Leah planning to marry Jonas here in a few months, if not weeks.

  Yet there they were, Gid and Leah, holding hands and laughing and talking, looking like they felt awful cozy together.

  She crouched behind the ivy-strewn barrier, making sure neither one could spot her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The family gathered around Leah and Gid, making over Leah.

  ‘‘The lost is found,’’ Dat said, eyes shining. Mamma nodded, hovering near.

  Hannah glanced around and noticed yet another sister missing. ‘‘Well, now, where’s Sadie?’’ she asked Mary Ruth, who stood close by.

  ‘‘I just saw her here. But maybe she’s up there.’’ Mary Ruth looked toward the outhouse.

  Hannah didn’t think so, but she kept silent. Instead, she continued to stew over Leah having disappeared for so long as all of them thanked Gid repeatedly for bringing her home safely.

  Dat followed close beside Leah as they headed toward the house, his arm out slightly as if he might scoop her up and carry her inside. Once indoors, Mamma insisted on sitting Leah down in Dat’s hickory rocker in the kitchen and giving her some fresh-squeezed lemonade. Then she poured some for everyone.

  All the while, Gid’s face kept changing colors from pink to red and back again, and Hannah wondered what that meant. She kept her eyes wide open, noting how he spoke ever so kindly, if not tenderly, to Leah. And she knew, right then and there, why Dat had set his sights on Gid Peachey for Leah. Such a thoughtful young man he was. What’s kept Leah from losing her heart to Gid? she pondered. Did Jonas simply catch her attention first?

  Just then Gid began to recount how he’d found Leah in the woods. ‘‘King, here, sniffed his way to her, just like a trackin’ dog.’’

  ‘‘But we know he ain’t that!’’ Dat said, having himself a hearty laugh, surely aware even the dog was fond of Leah, just as they all were.

  Especially Gid, Hannah noticed again.

  Except for Sadie now being the absent one, it looked as if things might return to normal this evening. She hoped so because she didn’t ever want to endure another day like this. She wanted her family, each one, to remain sheltered and altogether free from care. It wasn’t good for a body to get as worked up as they all had been.

  A few hours after Leah’s return, Aunt Lizzie and Sadie came wandering into the kitchen together. Smithy Gid had been gone for quite some time, and the rhythm and routine of the family was as expected, even though supper was to be served much later than usual.

  Leah was relieved to be home. Gladly, she helped Mamma and the twins with the cooking and took turns keeping Lydiann occupied and happy.

  Due to her own difficult decision made while in the woods, Leah felt her joy had evaporated—her month-long visit to Ohio was not to be. Yet she believed her idea was Sadie’s best and only hope.

  The minute she and Sadie were alone in their room, she revealed Jonas’s written invitation and their father’s unexpected decision. ‘‘Dat gave me his blessin’,’’ she said, then paused. ‘‘But now . . . I’m startin’ to think it might be best if I don’t go at all. Why don’t you go instead?’’

  Sadie, suddenly wide-eyed, stared at her. ‘‘You want me to?’’

  ‘‘Jah, and stay with the Mellingers’ elderly mother—you’d have a right nice visit.’’

  ‘‘You’re giving up your time with Jonas?’’

  Slowly at first, Leah opened her heart to her sister, sharing what she felt was of the greatest importance. ‘‘The bishop there might help you, Sadie.’’

  ‘‘You really think this is a gut idea?’’ Sadie rose and walked the length of the room and then turned to face her sister. ‘‘Do you honestly think Dat might agree to this—me tradin’ places with you?’’

  Leah’s heart sank. ‘‘It would keep me on here longer— helpin’ him outdoors and all.’’

  ‘‘I wasn’t goin’ to tell you this, but I had once thought of headin’ to Ohio.’’ Sadie paused a moment before continuing. ‘‘Aunt Lizzie got me thinkin’ that way last spring, said she’d give me money for a bus ticket. . . .’’ Her voice trailed off.

  Leah remembered her conversation with Lizzie in the hunter’s shack. ‘‘But this is better; it’s the perfect situation,’’ she said. ‘‘And you’ll be back before too long.’’

  Leah spoke up again quickly, sharing what Jonas had said of his bishop being so knowledgeable about the Scriptures. ‘‘Now, what do you think of that?’’

  To this Sadie nodded. ‘‘I wouldn’t mind attendin’ the Mellingers’ church.’’

  Leah was startled, really, at how easy it had been for the light to dawn in Sadie’s heart. But wouldn’t Dat and Mamma nix the idea? Unless they didn’t have a chance to. . . .

  Why not help Sadie leave secretly . . . not tell a soul? she thought. But how could that happen, and with what money?

  ‘‘How soon can you be ready to leave?’’ she asked Sadie.

  ‘‘By tomorrow if need be.’’ Sadie’s reply was not only swift but certain.

  ‘‘That quick?’’ Leah asked, quite startled. Seemed her sister would be gone before Leah even got accustomed to the idea.

  After milking the next morning, Leah returned to the house from having used the telephone at Dr. Schwartz’s clinic to call Jonas. Right quick she sought out Mary Ruth, knocking on the twins’ bedroom door.

  ‘‘Hannah, is it you?’’ asked Mary Ruth.

  When Leah opened the door, she found Mary Ruth dressed, all but her long apron. Her face registered surprise.

  ‘‘Oh, it’s you, Leah. I thought maybe Hannah forgot somethin’,’’ she said.

  Leah got to the point. ‘‘I need to borrow some money. I could pay you back in a few months. Is that agreeable?’’

  Promptly Mary Ruth went to the bureau, opened the second drawer, and pulled out her pay for the past several days. ‘‘Here, take what you need.’’

  Leah was both stunned and grateful that the way for Sadie’s leaving seemed to be ever so smooth. Thus far.

  If Sadie had to go, at least she’d be safe with the Mellingers. And perhaps she’d have a change of heart while there in Millersburg. Leah could only pray so, because nothing changed the fact that if Sadie didn’t return, the People here would shun her—for sure and for certain. Leah hung on to the hope that a short time away from Gobbler’s Knob, with Jonas and his minister, was the best thing for her troubled sister. After all, she believed the whole idea had been given her by the Lord God.

  Chapter Sixteen

  At this time of year—less than a week before the school year resumed—everyone was so keen on cooler weather they wanted to taste it in the form of Strasburg Bakery’s famous and exceptionally delicious sweet rolls. ‘‘Sticky buns,’’ as they were commonly referred to, were always added to the specials board every year just before September, and at a discount. Any number of Sadie’s relatives and neighbors might have easily made up a batch of them, but there was something special about going to the cheerful shop to eat them.

  But this Thursday was not a typical day for either Sadie or Leah. Long before Dat or Mamma had awakened, Sadie had taken her suitcase out to the buggy, and s
hortly afterward, she and Leah had slipped away to the quaint village of Strasburg, which was a good, long ride in the dark.

  By the time they arrived, the sun had begun to peek over the eastern hills. The window shades on the bakery shop had been raised, inviting early risers inside to enjoy the freshly brewed coffee and a variety of pastries.

  Entering the bakery, Sadie noticed the place was already buzzing with folk. Word of mouth was always the best advertisement for both English bakeries and Amish roadside stands. She and Leah stood in the line and waited their turn, knowing full well they had plenty of time before the Strasburg trolley left for Lancaster.

  She eyed a large wall poster. Annie Get Your Gun, an Irving Berlin musical were the words most prominent. ‘‘Annie,’’ who must be Ethel Merman, the woman named on the poster, was all decked out in glittering western attire, staring back at her from the wall as the line to the counter inched ahead.

  Once their purchase was made, they found a vacant table, talking softly all the while in their common language, Pennsylvania Dutch, to guarantee the privacy of their conversation— precisely how Sadie preferred it this day. While she and Leah wondered aloud about Mamma’s and Dat’s ultimate reaction to her unexpected leaving, not to mention Leah’s assistance, other customers around them had their own concerns.

  At a nearby table there was hushed, somber talk of war casualties, even this long after America’s boys had returned to the homeland. The enormous loss of life continued to be on the minds of those whose families had been ravaged by war’s calamity, though the community of the People in Gobbler’s Knob had scarcely been touched by the horror. At another table, plans for building a new shed were being discussed, and at yet another, women spoke of sewing new Girl Scout uniforms. Sadie briefly considered asking Leah about Gid Peachey and seeing them in the forest the day before, but she quickly dismissed the idea. This wasn’t the time or the place to ask Leah such a question. Surely she and Gid were simply friends, as Leah had always declared.