‘‘He’s small but mighty,’’ Fannie spoke up, coming over to touch his wrinkled brow with her pointer finger. ‘‘His squeal can rouse me out of the deepest slumber—right up out of bed and onto my feet! Peter thinks he’ll catch up with his twin sister in no time.’’ She paused for a moment, then—‘‘We were a bit worried at the outset, truth be told.’’
‘‘Oh, why’s that?’’ Mamma was next to Aunt Lizzie, with Lydiann blinking her bright little eyes at her youngest girl cousin.
‘‘He had quite a lot of trouble . . . couldn’t suckle so well—just awful tiny—didn’t seem ready to face the world. Yet the twins weren’t said to be premature.’’
Leah noticed Hannah’s eyes grow wider with Cousin Fannie’s every remark. ‘‘Do you think . . . um, Mandie took away some of the nourishment from Jake . . . that is, before they were born?’’
Since Hannah scarcely ever spoke up, all of them turned their heads toward her at once. ‘‘Well, now, I gather that’s altogether possible,’’ Fannie replied. ‘‘I never thought of it thataway.’’
Mamma nodded in agreement. ‘‘Jah, there are times when one twin snatches the food away from the other during the developing. But such was not the case with you and Mary Ruth.’’
Leah couldn’t help but smile. Mamma’s eyes sparkled with love just now.
Quietly Leah slipped out of the room and into the hallway, still holding Jake, who was beginning to stir. Aunt Becky Brenneman in Hickory Hollow had once said—and quite adamantly— that talking about an infant in front of him or her ‘‘makes for a self-conscious and shy child,’’ and she felt she ought to spare baby Jake.
‘‘Just look at you,’’ she whispered, smiling down at him, his eyes blinking up at her. ‘‘I think you’re right handsome myself . . . ev’ry bit as healthy as any baby round here. So what if you’re small. Babies are s’posed to be, ain’t so?’’
He gurgled at her, wiggling, too. She wandered down the hallway, cooing all the while, thinking it providential Sadie was in Ohio instead of here with Fannie’s babies.
‘‘My turn.’’ Mary Ruth tapped her on the shoulder.
‘‘Aw, I just got him,’’ Leah protested but reluctantly handed over the sweet bundle. ‘‘Careful, now.’’
Mary Ruth nodded. ‘‘Didja forget already that I help with Lydiann . . . and Carl Nolt?’’
‘‘I know,’’ she replied, still eyeing the full head of brown hair framing Jake’s miniature face. Her heart was ever so drawn to the delicate boy, and she wished she could help protect him somehow, though it wasn’t her place. Still, if she and Jonas lived at all closer, she had the feeling she would be over here quite often.
‘‘In all gut time I ’spect you’ll have your own little ones to love, jah?’’
Leah truly hoped so. Many a bride gave birth nine months after the wedding day. But whenever the Good Lord saw fit to bless her future union was right fine. Truth was, she wouldn’t mind having a son first, someone to carry on the respected Mast name and help with Jonas’s carpentry work or yard work. But then again, she refused to do as Dat had done, wishing too hard for a boy and getting another girl—like when she came along after Sadie. No, she would be grateful for any son or daughter the Sovereign Lord chose to give her once she and Jonas were wed.
They had all gone walking, the five of them—Leah, the twins, and Rebekah and Katie Mast. They talked and strolled barefoot across a low ridge near the barn, past the windmill, and up to the high meadow, leaving the farmhouse far behind.
Right off they talked about piling into the pony cart for a laughing good time. But both Katie and Rebekah suggested they best not be too rowdy, what with the Lord’s Day just around the bend. Leah could hardly disagree, and they heeded the call of prudence and headed toward the apple orchard for a lighthearted romp through the trees.
Rebekah was grinning as she asked, ‘‘When do you’s start goin’ barefoot over in Gobbler’s Knob—in the spring, I mean?’’
‘‘Whenever it’s warm enough.’’ Mary Ruth was first to answer.
‘‘My feet are so callused it scarcely matters,’’ Katie spoke up.
‘‘Well, let me tell you when Mamma says we can run barefoot,’’ Rebekah said, walking just ahead of Leah and Hannah, with Katie and Mary Ruth on either side of her. ‘‘We wait till the bumblebees fly,’’ Rebekah announced as if it were some important revelation. ‘‘You know, the big, fat ones?’’
‘‘Our mamma says the same,’’ Mary Ruth added.
Leah agreed. ‘‘Jah, ’cause too soon in the season, and your toes might get frostbit.’’
To this, the girls let out a peal of unrestrained laughter. They felt a convincing sense of freedom out here, far from the ears and eyes of their elders.
‘‘Looks like we’ll be seein’ each other several times this year . . . with Jonas and Leah’s weddin’ coming up,’’ said Rebekah, glancing at Leah.
‘‘ ’Course, us girls—and Dat and Mamma, too—are s’posed to be in the dark about it,’’ said Mary Ruth, grinning now. ‘‘But as fast as Jonas’s letters keep comin’, well, we’d all have to be blind not to see the handwritin’ on the wall.’’
‘‘Just think,’’ Katie spoke up, ‘‘once they marry, our parents will be in-laws together ’stead of just cousins. But what will that make us girls?’’
Mary Ruth clapped her hands. ‘‘Second cousins and then some, I’m thinkin’. Glory be!’’
Leah smiled with delight. The Mast girls were evidently eager to be as closely connected as they could be. After all, Cousin Peter and Fannie Mast, along with their ten children, were soon to become her second family. Five more sisters. And four brothers—a first!
When they’d quieted down a bit, Rebekah asked, ‘‘What’s Sadie doin’ out in Ohio?’’
Leah’s heart jolted. She bit her lip and remained silent. She would wait for either Hannah or Mary Ruth to say what Dat had shared with all of them. She guessed Mary Ruth would be the one to answer.
And Mary Ruth it was. ‘‘Most everyone, at one time or ’nother, needs some thinkin’ time. Sadie will be home soon, you’ll see.’’
Leah was relieved. Seemed Mary Ruth most certainly had accepted their father’s explanation—hook, line, and sinker.
‘‘But ain’t it strange she should be livin’ so near to your beau, Leah?’’ Rebekah said, turning around and looking right at her.
‘‘How do you know this?’’ Leah asked, standing still with the others.
Rebekah seemed eager to volunteer the information. ‘‘Vera Mellinger, Mamma’s cousin’s wife, wrote and said how worried she was over Sadie.’’
‘‘Jah, Sadie cries most ev’ry night, Vera writes,’’ Katie added, joining arms with older sister Rebekah. ‘‘Just why would that be?’’
‘‘Could be she’s missin’ home, but if so, why’d she go all the way out there in the first place?’’ Rebekah asked, eyes wide.
Leah shook her head and was starting to speak when Mary Ruth said, ‘‘There’s nothin’ wrong with Sadie that a little rest won’t help. And that’s all there is to it.’’
‘‘The same kind of rest your aunt Lizzie Brenneman needed back when she was a teenager?’’ said Rebekah.
Perplexed and uneasy, Leah said, ‘‘Seems to me we’re talkin’ foolishness now. What can you possibly mean?’’
‘‘Well, if you don’t know, I best not be the one to say.’’
With that Rebekah spun around and headed on her way.
‘‘Come back!’’ Mary Ruth called to her, exchanging bewildered glances with Hannah and Leah.
‘‘There’s only one reason your parents would send a courting-age daughter away!’’ Rebekah hollered back. ‘‘Think on that.’’
Heartsick anew, Leah suggested she and the twins return to the house. ‘‘Let Rebekah say what she will,’’ she said softly. ‘‘Come, let’s go.’’
Mary Ruth and Hannah followed, but Katie Mast turned and bounded after Rebekah, deep int
o the orchard, the opposite direction from the house. ‘‘What do you s’pose she meant to imply about Aunt Lizzie?’’ Mary Ruth asked.
‘‘I wonder . . .’’ said Hannah.
Leah felt she ought to put a halt to this. ‘‘Sadie needs our understandin’, not hearsay.’’
For a short while they trailed the creek as it fell over rock and twig, looping past small oak trees and patches of moss.
Then, when the house and barn were again in sight, Hannah stopped walking. ‘‘Last year Dawdi John told me the strangest thing,’’ she said. ‘‘Did either of you know Aunt Lizzie lived in our Dawdi Haus at the tail end of her rumschpringe?’’
Mary Ruth looked startled. ‘‘You sure?’’
‘‘Since Dawdi has a clear mind and wouldn’t think of lyin’, I tend to believe him,’’ Hannah replied. ‘‘He said Lizzie joined church in Gobbler’s Knob ’stead of the Hickory Hollow district.’’
‘‘News to me,’’ Leah said. ‘‘Did Dawdi say why that was?’’
‘‘I guess ’cause for a time, Lizzie needed Mamma’s love to get her through some rough days. Just what . . . I don’t know.’’ All at once Hannah turned pale.
‘‘What is it?’’ asked Leah, her own mouth suddenly dry.
‘‘You don’t s’pose . . . the reason Aunt Lizzie never married was—’’
‘‘Uh, don’t let’s be speculatin’!’’ Mary Ruth interrupted, her face crimson red.
‘‘I should say.’’ Leah deliberately took the lead and began walking faster than they had before, hoping her sisters might follow her back to the house—and quickly at that.
Chapter Nineteen
Sunday, following Preaching service, Sadie climbed into the Mellinger family two-horse carriage. She sat in the second seat with Edith Mellinger. Edith’s grown son, David, his wife, Vera, and their young family—Joseph, Mary Mae, and Andy—sat up front, the two smaller children perched on their parents’ laps.
The ride back to the Mellingers’ farmhouse dragged on and on. She had already sat through the main sermon, which was miles long, much like the Preaching service back home. Yet today she’d felt the hot pangs of conviction from the first hymn and Zeugniss—testimonies—till the benediction. The passages of Scripture read were some not so emphasized by either Bishop Bontrager or Preacher Yoder. Today’s main sermon had been about Galatians, chapter six, verse eight—For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption—which put the fear of the Lord God in her. Did this mean ‘‘sowing wild oats,’’ like she had done during rumschpringe and beyond? The part about the flesh reaping corruption had her stumped, really. Did it mean she could be punished further for her immorality, even more than she had been already, losing her baby and all? Ofttimes she worried God might not allow her to have more children if she was ever to marry. Oh, she trembled at the thought!
The minister had also preached on the latter half of the verse: but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting. That part had caught her attention but good, and she pondered it still.
She didn’t know what it was about the church out here. Honestly, she wished she might put her finger on it, might know exactly why she’d felt so disgraceful sitting there with the other women—even corrupted, just as the Scripture stated. Was this what both Leah and Aunt Lizzie had been talking about for so many months?
Thinking back to Leah’s repeated pleas for her repentance, and today’s meeting, Sadie fought hard a feeling of utter sadness. But out here in the fresh air and sunshine, her guilt was beginning to lessen again. She had thoroughly enjoyed the common meal and some good fellowship with the young people. Just today she’d met two handsome young men, Ben Eicher from Walnut Creek and John Graber from Grabill in Allen County, Indiana, both here for oat harvesting and shocking. Recalling their spontaneous smiles, she felt she just might manage through yet another Lord’s Day this far from home.
Does Mamma miss me? Does Leah? She thought of picking up a pen and finally writing letters to them. Tonight I will, she decided.
‘‘How long are you gonna visit?’’ David’s youngest son brought her out of her musing. The little boy, a miniature of his father complete with a wide-brimmed black felt hat, turned round in the front seat and was smiling at her with inquisitive blue eyes.
‘‘Now, Andy, that’s not polite to ask.’’ His mother helped turn the towheaded youngster back around in his seat, saying, ‘‘Our boy’s awful sorry, Sadie.’’
‘‘No, I ain’t sorry, Mamma,’’ said Andy outright. ‘‘I like Sadie, and I hope she stays put here for a good long time.’’
So do I, she thought, smiling in spite of herself. She was not eager in the least to return to Lancaster County with Jonas in October. How could she go back only to witness her younger sister’s wedding service before her own? Of course, Sadie knew that if she’d chosen to, she could have been courted by a respectable boy from Gobbler’s Knob. It was her own fault that when Jonas had first started courting Leah, Sadie herself was secretly seeing an English beau.
’Tis past history, she thought. Now there was only one thing to cling to: her recurring dream of being happily married and coddling her baby boy. Before coming here she had been hopeful the sound of a crying infant might cease once she got settled into her new surroundings, but it had continued, haunting her wherever she went—if not stronger than before. However, she was fully convinced now that what she’d been ‘‘hearing’’ was no more than her imagination.
Sitting next to her, Edith made a slight moan. Sadie turned to look at the snoring woman, her long chin nearly bumping the cape of her dress as she slept.
In order to stay on here, I’ll have to live with poor, ailing Edith, she thought. Not much of a life, really, till Sadie got married. If she ever did.
Once she was alone in her room, Sadie began to write her promised letters, beginning with Mamma’s.
Sunday evening,
August 31 Dearest Mamma,
Greetings to you and Dat from Ohio. I should’ve written sooner, but the Widow Mellinger needs near constant looking after. Honestly, I don’t know how much time Leah would’ve had to spend with Jonas if she was doing what I do here. Except courting couples always tend to make time for each other, no matter.
How is everyone? Are the twins enjoying school? I hope all of my kitchen duties haven’t fallen on your shoulders, Mamma.
I’m guessing Lydiann is rolling over already, ain’t so?
With the mention of her baby sister, she felt overcome with sadness. She was beginning to miss little Lydiann, missed working alongside Mamma, too. And Leah? A close and caring sister could never be replaced, that was sure. The evening hours had always been best, when they talked most personally in their bedroom.
She continued her letter.
The Preaching service here is a lot like at home, but the Scriptures are new to me. The ministers here say teaching from the whole Bible is necessary for us to reside quietly in Christ, so I guess it’s time I learned more about the sayings of God’s Son. Bishop Bontrager might take issue with this, especially since he preaches the same favorite Scriptures sermon after sermon.
She felt she best not go on too much about that. If Mamma shared the letter with Dat, which she more than likely would, such news might stir up even more concern about her being gone from home.
No doubt you were upset when I disappeared with Leah’s help . . . and I ought to be saying how sorry I am if this caused you stress, Mamma. I’m thinking long about many things here while I keep busy with Edith, as well as having fun with the Mellinger children.
Tell Leah I’m still considering hard her request I be one of her bridesmaids. Next letter I’ll say for sure, one way or the other.
I’ll write again soon. Tell Dat I love him, too!
With loving affection,
Your daughter Sadie
Finished, she folded the letter and left it on the little writing desk near the window. Then, too tired to think of writing y
et another letter, she undressed quickly for bed.
I’ll write my sister soon enough, she decided, feeling certain Mamma would share this letter around with the family.
On Monday evening Leah accompanied Dawdi John next door after supper. Unable to dismiss Hannah’s haunting words about Aunt Lizzie, she wanted to ask a tactful question or two of Dawdi.
For a time they sat quietly in his front room. She lingered there awkwardly till he spoke at last, worrying aloud over the prospect of colder weather setting in ‘‘here ’fore too much longer.’’ Nodding, she listened with the hope of putting him in a favorable mood.
After a solid half hour of weather talk, she rose and went to his alcove of a kitchen just a few steps away and poured a glass of water for herself. ‘‘Would you like somethin’ to wet your whistle?’’ she asked.
‘‘I’m fine, Leah. Come sit with me.’’ His voice seemed suddenly strained.
She brought with her the glass of cold well water and hurried back to sit across from him on a cane chair. ‘‘What is it, Dawdi?’’
He leaned his head back as if glancing at a particular spot on the ceiling. For the longest time he sat that way, his untrimmed gray beard cascading down to his chest. Then, ever so slowly, he lowered his somber eyes to meet hers. ‘‘I mayn’t be the smartest soul on earth, but I know when my granddaughter’s fit to be tied.’’ He paused, still holding her gaze, then continued. ‘‘Truth is, you’ve been wantin’ to talk with ol’ Dawdi for some time now. Ain’t?’’
She wondered how he knew. ‘‘Guess I have.’’
‘‘Your perty face gives you away. Them hazel-gold eyes of yours, well . . .’’ He smiled then, a slow, soft smile that made his gray eyes shine.
She decided to forge ahead. ‘‘I have been thinking an awful lot about Aunt Lizzie. For the longest time, I’ve wondered why she never married. She’s fun lovin’ and kind— would make a right gut wife and mother.’’
‘‘Well, why not ask her all this?’’ Dawdi said.
The Betrayal Page 15