The Betrayal

by Beverly Lewis

  Chapter Twenty-One

  One more day till baptism, Leah thought as she awakened early Saturday morning. Her time with Jonas the evening before lingered fresh and sweet in her mind, yet she worried her beau must surely suspect something was amiss with Sadie.

  With Naomi counting the hours until she talked to Preacher Yoder today, and with Gid’s sister Adah wondering what in the world Sadie was doing so far away, Leah dreaded Jonas might get wind of something. After all, unsuspecting Hannah had learned the full truth from Sadie’s own lips. Wasn’t it just a matter of time before Sadie’s secret leaked out?

  For sure and for certain, the things Naomi would tell Preacher at the final instructional class paled compared to what Leah knew of Sadie’s wild side. Naomi doesn’t know the half of it, she thought, embarrassed anew. Her heart beat heavily in her chest.

  She felt the Lord God’s urging ever so strong and could no longer resist on the side of honoring her sister’s wishes. She must cast aside her promise, difficult as that would be, to answer a holy call.

  Making her way to the barn in the predawn hour, she found Dat busy watering the driving horses and the field mules. ‘‘ ’Mornin’, Leah,’’ her father said, glancing over his shoulder at her.

  ‘‘ ’Mornin’, Dat.’’ She forced her bare feet to move quickly, lest she lose heart and falter. ‘‘I need to talk with you,’’ she blurted.

  He looked at her with solemn eyes. ‘‘What’s on your mind?’’

  When she didn’t answer immediately, Dat rubbed his beard. ‘‘Your mamma and I feel you may have done the right thing by Sadie, after all . . . if that’s weighin’ on your mind.’’

  ‘‘Then, you aren’t so upset?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘ ’Tis not easy, all this happenin’ so suddenly. Heaven knows . . .’’ He paused for a moment, looking back at the house. ‘‘And your mamma’s goin’ to need some extra attention from you—all of us, really.’’

  ‘‘I ’spect so. . . .’’ How easy it would be to simply go and wash down the cows’ udders and dismiss what she’d set out to do. ‘‘I . . . uh . . . must speak with you about something else,’’ she said, stepping forward. ‘‘It’s about my baptism . . . makin’ ready for it in my heart.’’

  Dat removed his black wide-brimmed hat, holding it in both hands. ‘‘ ’Tis all right, Leah. If something’s causin’ a stir in ya, ’tis best to air it.’’

  She nodded, aware of a lump in her throat.

  ‘‘Are you prepared to follow the Lord in holy baptism?’’ he came right out and asked. ‘‘Or is there some resistance on your part . . . about the ordinance?’’

  ‘‘I simply want to ask your forgiveness, Dat.’’

  ‘‘Well, now, whatever for?’’

  She paused, the tug-of-war awful strong, then plunged forward. ‘‘I need to tell you I’ve known of somethin’ . . . of a terrible sin Sadie committed and had me promise not to tell.’’

  Dat stood mighty still just then. ‘‘How terrible do you mean?’’

  She glimpsed the pain that registered in her beloved father’s eyes and had to look away. ‘‘Sadie had a baby,’’ she whispered, reliving the frightening truth of it. ‘‘I was there the night she birthed a baby boy. And if Aunt Lizzie hadn’t helped, well, I hate to think what might’ve happened. Sadie was in such an awful bad way.’’

  Dat’s face grew ever more solemn. ‘‘Lizzie was on hand, you say?’’

  ‘‘She had a part in savin’ Sadie’s life.’’ She went on to describe how she’d ridden bareback on one of the horses ‘‘to fetch Dr. Schwartz, though I knew ridin’ thataway was a sin of my own makin’—and I’m right sorry ’bout it. There was just no other choice to make . . . unless ’twas to let my sister die.’’

  Dat stared down at his hat, moving it slowly around in his hands. ‘‘Do you mean to say Lizzie knew Sadie was in the family way?’’

  Leah was afraid of this. Dat seemed miffed, even angry. ‘‘Sadie didn’t tell Aunt Lizzie till the night the baby came. Ach, don’t be upset at Lizzie, Dat. She did only what she had to.’’

  ‘‘And what of the baby? What became of him?’’ Dat’s words hung in the air for a moment before she could answer.

  ‘‘The poor little thing gave up the ghost . . . and died.’’ Fighting back tears, she pressed on. ‘‘Oh, Dat, with all of my heart, I had to tell you these things. I’ve waited much too long, I fear.’’

  His eyes, wide and moist, were fixed on her. But he said no more.

  ‘‘When I make my confession of faith and join church, I want to present myself a clean and willin’ vessel. . . .’’

  He surprised her by reaching for her right hand and holding it in both of his.

  ‘‘May I have your mercy for keepin’ this dreadful secret?’’ she asked.

  A single, slow nod came from him, and she knew he was offering his understanding, even forgiveness, at her burning request.

  Hours later Leah met with both Preacher Yoder and Deacon Stoltzfus, along with Jonas and the other baptismal candidates. Upon first entering the Yoders’ farmhouse, she caught a glimpse of Naomi talking quietly with Preacher in the front room. As expected, Sadie’s former best friend had followed through with her warning. More than likely, Naomi was reporting Sadie’s misconduct and deceit this minute.

  Naomi turned to look at her, and the blood instantly drained from her face. Sadie’s former best friend had come clean, all right.

  Leah waited her turn to speak with Preacher Yoder, not willing to call attention to herself. It was true, there had been plenty of time for Sadie to repent on her own. But today, before Leah filed into the Preaching service with the other candidates and offered her life as a ‘‘living sacrifice’’ to the Lord God heavenly Father, she, too, must open her mouth and confess. She and Sadie—Aunt Lizzie, too—had made a hasty, even unwise covenant last year; it was past time to set things right between herself and God. Because if the day ever came that Sadie bowed her knee at last, she would realize what Leah was about to do was right and good in the sight of the Lord. When all was said and done, this act of obedience on Leah’s part might just turn things around more quickly for Sadie.

  When it was her turn to speak to Preacher Yoder, he offered her a handshake that could make a man out of a boy, she decided, careful not to wince. She began to acknowledge her sins of omission. ‘‘It is my understanding certain transgressions have been committed by my baptized sister. . . . Sadie Ebersol. For some time now, I’ve known of them,’’ she began. ‘‘Yet I have failed to bring them to light. . . .’’ She went on to tell all she knew of Sadie’s sinning, grievous as it was.

  Here the minister glanced at the deacon and nodded his head slowly. ‘‘I commend you, Leah,’’ he said. ‘‘May you find your forgiveness in Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.’’

  Now, upon Sadie’s return from Ohio, there would be a serious confrontation with the brethren. She would be given a chance to confess or be shunned. Sadie would no longer have the consolation of simply biding her time. Her sin had found her out.

  When the final instructional meeting got under way, the ministers discussed with great sobriety the difficulty of ‘‘walking the straight and narrow way.’’ Leah soaked up every word, steadfast in her decision. She and the other applicants were given ample opportunity to turn back from the baptismal covenant, but she sat tall in her chair and said jah with confidence when asked.

  Jonas answered with a similar assent. When the young men were asked if they would pledge to accept the duties of a minister if the lot should ever fall to them, Leah noticed he was emphatic in his affirmative response.

  The heaviness she’d carried for nigh unto a year was lifted, and she felt as light as a driving horse without its harness. Only one nagging worry remained: How would her confession affect Sadie?

  Ida felt so awkward, there in the cramped phone booth. The fact that Abram was squeezed in with her made it even more confining. Abram was still smarting over the truth of Sad
ie’s iniquity, having shared with Ida Leah’s confession in the barn this morning. Both were suffering, truth be known.

  Now here they were in the one-horse town of Georgetown. They felt it of great necessity to speak to Sadie without delay, and to use an English telephone, of all things. Ida found it altogether curious Abram already had David’s woodworking shop number in his possession. Leaning around her, he wasted no time in dialing.

  When David answered, Abram told who he was and that he wanted to speak to Sadie ‘‘right away, if at all possible.’’ Ida thought he might’ve at least chatted some about the weather, not been so quick to get off the phone with the man who was making it possible for their Sadie to have a roof over her head.

  ‘‘Hullo, daughter? Jah . . .’tis your mamma and me callin’,’’ Abram said.

  There was a short pause; then Abram asked, ‘‘How’re you getting along there?’’

  Abram waited for Sadie’s answer.

  ‘‘We’re fine, just fine,’’ he said back to her.

  Then Ida heard him get right to the point. ‘‘It’s sadly come to our attention that you were guilty of improper courtship practices. Is this true, Sadie?’’

  Ida held her breath for the longest time. She simply couldn’t bear to listen to only one side of the conversation. And about the time she felt she could no longer contain her frustration, Abram turned and held out the phone to her. ‘‘Sadie’s cryin’ . . . wants to talk to you.’’

  She put the black receiver to her ear. ‘‘My dear girl . . .’’ So eager she was to hear her daughter’s voice again. Please come home to us, she thought.

  ‘‘Oh, Mamma . . .’’ was all she heard from Sadie, then a bit of sniffling.

  ‘‘We best talk over some things. Can you speak freely?’’

  More sniffles. Then, ‘‘Jah, I can.’’

  ‘‘It’s come to light since you’ve been gone that you were . . . well, that you birthed a child,’’ she managed to say.

  ‘‘Did . . . Leah tell you . . . this?’’ Sadie sputtered.

  ‘‘I best not say just yet.’’

  ‘‘Well, I won’t go before the ministers. I hope you didn’t call to ask me to—did you, Mamma?’’

  ‘‘It’s the only way, the only thing to do.’’ She inhaled, looking to Abram for moral support. ‘‘You wear a stiff upper lip, Sadie, but I’ve heard you weepin’ in the late-night hours. Dat and I . . . we both hope you’ll return home and make things right.’’

  ‘‘I don’t see how . . . not now.’’

  Ida ignored the comment. ‘‘This pain you carry . . . let it lead you to repentance, Sadie.’’

  ‘‘I’m a lot like Aunt Lizzie, ain’t so, Mamma?’’

  It was Ida’s turn to sputter. ‘‘What—whatever do you mean?’’

  ‘‘Lizzie sinned in the selfsame way.’’ Sadie was silent for a moment, then—‘‘It’s ever so foolish for me to repent.’’

  ‘‘ ’Tis foolish not to. If you refuse, then I’m sorry to say, but Dat and I—oh, it’ll be ever so difficult—we’ll have no choice but to go along with die Meindung—the shunning—if it should come to that.’’

  The shun . . . Ida went cold at the thought. Surely such harsh discipline could be prevented.

  ‘‘I don’t care.’’ Sadie’s words echoed in her ear. ‘‘Let the People do as they must.’’

  Ida began to weep and Abram comforted her as best he could, the two of them nearly nose to nose in the cramped space.

  ‘‘This is all my sister’s doin’,’’ Sadie said. ‘‘I’ll never speak to her again!’’

  ‘‘Oh, Sadie . . . no.’’ The dreadful words tore at Ida’s heart, and she could talk no longer.

  Abram kindly took the telephone and spoke slowly into the receiver. ‘‘We best be sayin’ Da Herr sei mit du—the Lord be with you, Sadie. Good-bye.’’

  Then he hung up.

  Sadie was distraught as she returned the phone to its cradle. It was a good thing David Mellinger had made himself scarce while she spoke on the phone. Hearing Dat’s voice on the telephone line seemed mighty peculiar. But nothing could compare to the realization Leah had betrayed her!

  Mamma, no doubt, would hope to shield Hannah and Mary Ruth from the pitiless reality. This, when Sadie thought of it, gave her the slightest bit of comfort, except she wondered how long the twins could be kept in the dark.

  Such a blight she was on her family name, in more ways than one. Even so, her father had offered a blessing before he’d said good-bye. This, along with Mamma’s pressing remarks—from a compassionate and concerned heart— helped to quell Sadie’s anger.

  But it was the knowledge Leah had broken her promise that was most troubling. Resentment lingered long after supper, deep into the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  At first rosy dawn, Leah was awakened by robins tweeting out a ‘‘Lord’s Day . . . Lord’s Day’’ pronouncement. Dozing off and on, she dreamed that upon arrival at Preaching, she discovered Jonas gone. Cousin Peter Mast was there, telling the ministers his son had changed his mind and returned to Ohio. Brokenhearted even amidst her grogginess, Leah lay in bed, tears trickling over the bridge of her nose as she struggled to escape this partial wakefulness. She felt herself brush away the tears, fully awake now. Such peculiar and troubling imaginings on this most reverent day!

  Truly, she could not conceive of Jonas leaving Gobbler’s Knob without following the Lord in joining church. What the sacred ordinance meant to her, it also meant to him. Baptism was the essential next step in being allowed to marry with the blessing of the People. This was nothing more than a fuzzyheaded predawn stupor.

  She sat upright in the bed, shaking her head and pushing sleepiness and the alarming dream aside. Reaching over, she placed her hand on her wayward sister’s pillow. Will you understand what I had to do? she wondered, missing Sadie.

  Leah chased away her troublesome thoughts and embraced this most blessed day.

  Almost immediately upon dressing for church, after milking and breakfast were finished, Leah heard a knock at her door. Quickly she went to see who was there.

  ‘‘Do ya have a minute for your ol’ auntie?’’ Lizzie said, standing there smiling wistfully.

  What with this being an extra-special Sunday, Leah wasn’t too surprised to see her. ‘‘Come in, come in. And since when are you old?’’ She reached for Lizzie’s hands and pulled her gently into the bedroom.

  Strangely enough, Lizzie closed the door firmly behind her. Then she turned back to face Leah. ‘‘I’m old, jah . . . when my nieces have grown up enough to join church and give themselves to the Lord God. Ain’t so?’’

  ‘‘No . . . no, no. You’re as young as you’ve always looked to me.’’

  Apparently there was more on Lizzie’s mind than talk of growing older. ‘‘I’m here to offer a heartfelt blessin’ to you, Leah.’’

  She sighed. ‘‘If only Sadie were here to witness the day.’’ Aunt Lizzie nodded. ‘‘I daresay we should never have promised to keep that wretched secret of hers.’’

  ‘‘What’s done is done,’’ Leah said. ‘‘Now we must forgive ourselves, just as the Lord God has forgiven us through Jesus Christ.’’

  ‘‘Abram told me you confessed quietly of Sadie’s baby boy,’’ Lizzie said.

  Leah had wondered when Dat might reveal this to Aunt Lizzie. He surely had not wasted any time.

  Sighing deeply, Leah continued. ‘‘I must tell you I feel ever so light now—a burden’s lifted from me, truly. Yet in the selfsame way, I bear such heaviness in my heart for Sadie.’’

  ‘‘Surely our Sadie knows how dearly loved she is,’’ Aunt Lizzie said, embracing her.

  ‘‘And I pray my confession will bring her heart home to the People, once and for all,’’ Leah replied.

  Suddenly tears welled up in Lizzie’s eyes. ‘‘Let me look at you.’’ She paused, reaching for Leah’s hands. ‘‘Oh, my dear girl, I’ve waited so long for this day of days, when you
would choose to follow in obedience the path of righteousness. The way of the People. May the almighty One bless you abundantly.’’ Leah was greatly touched by her aunt’s thoughtfulness and, most of all, by her unexpected blessing—something a father ordinarily bestowed upon his son or daughter.

  ‘‘Oh, Aunt Lizzie, it’s good of you to come up here just now.’’ She was at a loss for more words.

  ‘‘ ’Tis a day to ‘come out from among them, and be ye separate,’ ’’ Lizzie quoted the well-known Scripture. She continued. ‘‘ ‘Be a light to the world,’ honey-girl. Without spot or wrinkle.’’

  ‘‘With the help of the Lord above, I will,’’ Leah replied.

  Then, as quickly as she’d come, Aunt Lizzie turned, opened the door, and hurried down the hall to the stairs.

  Downright edgy, Mamma brushed Dat’s black felt hat as Leah and the twins gathered in the kitchen. Mary Ruth insisted on making a fuss over Leah’s freshly ironed white organdy Halsduch—a triangular piece of cloth, also called a cape—and the long white apron over her long black dress. Mamma kept looking at Leah, an odd glint in her eyes. And all the more when Lizzie went and stood right next to Leah.

  It wasn’t long, though, and they heard Dat calling to them to ‘‘come now, and let’s be goin’ to the house of worship.’’

  They heeded the call and hurried out the back door.

  Leah stooped to pet her dog quickly, wondering how awkward things might be for Smithy Gid this day. Undoubtedly, he’d be watching—and praying, too—when Leah filed into the service with the other girls who were to be baptized.

  She spied Dat standing near the horse, talking low and soft to the animal, the way he often did, while the family stepped into the spring wagon for the short ride.

  ‘‘Be a light to the world. . . .’’ Aunt Lizzie had said upstairs.

  ‘‘Mustn’t keep the ministers waitin’,’’ Dat was heard to say as Leah climbed into the backseat with Aunt Lizzie.