The Betrayal

by Beverly Lewis

  She prayed silently as they rode along a bit faster than was a typical Sunday go-to-meeting pace. Dat must be eager to get her into the Fold, she thought, lest something should surface to keep that from happening. No doubt he was terribly upset over Sadie’s wrongdoings—probably hoping Leah would remain pure before the Lord God.

  Looking out at the pre-autumn landscape—tobacco fields reduced to green stubble and cornstalks rising to new heights—she thought of the personal matters she and Jonas had discussed well into the night on Friday. For one, he was planning to approach her father—this very afternoon—about the possibility of purchasing a corner of his land to build a house, possibly in the spring of next year. As newlyweds they wouldn’t need a place to call their own just yet. Jonas wanted to follow the Old Way of doing things. They would simply visit amongst their many relatives, staying with different ones for the first six months after marriage. During this time they would be given free lodging, as well as an assortment of wedding gifts at each house, as was the People’s custom. Just yesterday Mamma had hinted she hoped they might spend their wedding night in the spare bedroom downstairs.

  Naturally the biggest hurdle of all would be whether or not Jonas and Dat saw eye to eye on the matter of land. The more she thought on it, the more she felt embarrassed Dat had not initiated such a plan, offering to give his son-in-law and daughter a bit of land as a dowry . . . a blessing on their marriage. But she had an irksome hunch Dat was still holding out for something to go wrong between Jonas and herself . . . even at this late date.

  Sometime this afternoon they would know one way or the other what Dat’s reaction to Jonas’s request might be. She hoped her years of working closely alongside Dat might somehow make a difference.

  In contrast to last year’s baptism Sunday, which was overcast and gray—when Sadie had been one of six girls baptized— this Lord’s Day the sky was a spotless blue with no indication of a single cloud. A good sign.

  And now here were this year’s applicants, eight girls and six boys—Jonas being the only one who had not grown up in the Gobbler’s Knob church district. Leah was grateful to Bishop Bontrager for making it possible for Jonas to be baptized along with her. She hoped to have the opportunity to tell the bishop so at some point, when the time was right and with Dat by her side.

  The massive barn doors gaped wide, propped open for the Preaching service to allow for additional ventilation. The People poured into the meeting place, some with additional family members and friends from other church districts for the special ordinance. Latecomers were assigned to sit on the back benches, near stacked bales of hay, which often poked the spine—a sure incentive not to be tardy.

  With head bowed, Leah sat on the middle bench with the other girls, up front near the ministers. Across from them on a wooden, backless bench, the boys sat, their spines straight as ladders, while the next hymn was sung in unison by the People.

  Seven ministers entered the area set up amidst the long granary and alfalfa bales, including Bishop Bontrager, Preacher Yoder, Preacher Lapp, Deacon Stoltzfus, and three other visiting ministers and deacons. They removed their large black hats and shook hands with different folk nearby, on their way to the ministers’ bench.

  After two sermons were given, each an hour long, Bishop Bontrager stood and offered personal remarks directed to the candidates. This was Deacon Stoltzfus’s cue to leave the meeting and bring back a pail of water, along with a tin cup.

  The bishop continued. ‘‘You are to be reminded that your lifelong vow is being made to the Most High God . . . not only to the ministers here and this church membership.’’

  Fully aware of the meaning of the covenant—what it required of her all the days of her life—Leah was eager to go to her knees when the bishop said, ‘‘If it is still your intention to be baptized and become a member of the body of Christ, then kneel before Almighty God and His church to obtain your salvation.’’

  As she knelt, Leah prayed silently for the strength to take this holy step.

  The bishop asked the first question. ‘‘With the help and grace of our Lord God heavenly Father, are you each willing to renounce the world, your own flesh, and the devil and to be obedient only to God and His church?’’

  The repeated jah was heard as each of them answered.

  ‘‘Now, can you promise to walk with Christ and His church and remain faithful through life and until your death?’’

  Again the answer came in a stream of jahs.

  ‘‘Do you confess that Jesus Christ is the Son of God?’’

  When it came Leah’s turn, she said, ‘‘I confess that Jesus Christ is the Son of God.’’

  The membership and children in the congregation stood for prayer after the last vow was audibly sealed. Leah and the others had been instructed to remain in a kneeling position, in an attitude of humility. The deacon’s wife untied the ribbons of Leah’s prayer cap; then the bishop laid hands on her bare head as Deacon Stoltzfus poured water into Bishop Bontrager’s cupped hands. She felt the water dripping onto her hair and running down her face and neck, and at that moment she wept.

  ‘‘May the Lord God in heaven complete the good work He has begun in each of you and strengthen and comfort you to a blessed end,’’ prayed the bishop. He reached out a hand to Leah. ‘‘In the name of the Lord God and the church, we extend to you the hand of fellowship. Rise up, Leah Ebersol.’’

  She rose, struck by the solemn responsibility she now had to the People under God Almighty. The deacon’s wife greeted her, then offered the Holy Kiss. Leah and the other newly baptized church members took their seats, and each girl retied her prayer veiling once again.

  Leah sat motionless, mindful of the lifetime commitment she had just made. Understood within the vow was the promise she would help to uphold the Ordnung—rules and order— and forsake not the exceptionally strict church of her baptism.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Mary Ruth felt more at ease today than she had the last time she’d stumbled upon Elias Stoltzfus after Preaching. Today the People had gathered at Uncle Jesse Ebersol’s farmhouse. Though older than her father, Uncle Jesse was on hand after the meeting to pump well water to quench the thirst of a good many folk while a half-dozen women headed for the house to help with the common meal. Mary Ruth and Hannah helped Leah and some of their girl cousins set out the food—bread and butter, two kinds of jam, sweet and dill pickles, red beets, fruit pies, and black coffee. She knew they’d be setting and resetting the table three or four times, and the youngest children would eat last.

  Still, encountering Elias had occurred quite unexpectedly— out in the barnyard, once again on her way to the outhouse. Not so embarrassed this time, she had been the first to say, ‘‘Hullo!’’ And he had returned the smile and greeting in kind.

  She was more than pleased when he said he’d seen her walking on the Georgetown Road several different times in the past weeks. ‘‘Wouldja ever let me take you to where you’re goin’?’’ he asked.

  She was markedly aware of other people milling about the backyard. ‘‘I . . . well, do you think that’s a wise thing?’’

  ‘‘Why, I’m thinkin’ it’s a mighty gut idea. It’ll save your feet, for one thing.’’

  She had to cover her mouth quickly to halt the laughter that managed to break loose anyway. They stood there, both of them laughing.

  ‘‘I s’pose I can take your smile as a jah?’’ he asked, still grinning, his black hat off and resting flat in his hands.

  Goodness’ sake, this is abrupt, she thought. What would Dat say if he knew she was agreeing to let Elias take her to the Nolts’ house in a pony cart?

  ‘‘When will ya be out and ’bout again?’’ he asked, not one bit shy.

  ‘‘In a couple-a days.’’

  He returned his hat to his head and gave it a pat. ‘‘Well, then, I’ll just plan to be happenin’ by of an afternoon.’’

  She felt her face grow warm. ‘‘I’d say if you were to be arou
nd the stretch of road ’tween my house and ’bout a mile west of there—round four o’clock or so—you might see me walkin’.’’

  He nodded. ‘‘Done!’’ he said and was on his way.

  ‘‘What have I gone and agreed to?’’ she whispered to herself.

  ‘‘Hullo, Dawdi!’’ Leah called to her grandfather where he sat rocking on the small, square porch at home.

  Dawdi John’s eyes lit up as Leah and Jonas walked toward him across the backyard an hour or so after the common meal at Uncle Jesse’s place.

  ‘‘Well, now, who’s that you got with ya?’’ he said, grinning.

  ‘‘Jonas Mast . . . my beau. And one of the few young relatives you’ve yet to meet.’’

  Jonas leaned down and extended his hand to Dawdi. ‘‘I’m mighty pleased,’’ he said.

  ‘‘John Brenneman’s my name. I hail from Hickory Hollow, the reason I’ve never laid eyes on you, I daresay.’’ Dawdi slowed down his rocking. ‘‘Welcome to the family.’’

  ‘‘This is Mamma’s father,’’ Leah told Jonas. ‘‘Soon to be your grandfather-in-law.’’

  Slipping his arm around her, Jonas stood tall, eyes beaming, as the three of them exchanged comments about the weather and, soon after that, the baptism. ‘‘ ’Twas a right nice group of young folk this year,’’ said Dawdi. ‘‘I daresay all of ’em will be hitched up by December.’’

  Leah smiled at his bluntness. ‘‘Now, that’s not the only reason to join church, is it?’’ Even though it might appear Amish young folk had marriage on their collective mind when thinking through their lifelong covenant, they best be heeding the promises made for more than just the purpose of marriage. She felt ever so sure about that.

  ‘‘Well, it won’t be long and the two of you will be man and wife, jah?’’

  Jonas smiled down on her. ‘‘Not long at all.’’

  ‘‘Where do you young ones plan on livin’, come next spring?’’ asked Dawdi.

  Leah expected her grandfather to ask this. ‘‘Jonas and Dat plan to talk through that in just a bit.’’

  ‘‘Well, I have a notion Abram won’t make it any too easy for you, Jonas . . . just a warnin’ from your ol’ Dawdi-to-be.’’ With that he winked at them both. ‘‘Used to be a Lancaster County bride could expect her father to offer expensive gifts, but anymore—’’ ‘‘Dawdi! Remember, Dat’s got to be prudent in the matter,’’ Leah interrupted but quickly covered her mouth, realizing what she’d done.

  ‘‘Go on, speak your mind, honey-girl.’’ Dawdi lifted his black hat and scratched his head underneath. ‘‘What were you sayin’?’’

  ‘‘Sadie should be the recipient of such a gift, really—bein’ the eldest daughter. And the twins are comin’ along close behind . . . and someday, Lydiann. If Dat gave each of us girls a parcel of land, wouldn’t be long and there’d be none left for him to farm.’’

  Dawdi was nodding his head, pulling on his gray beard. ‘‘You’ve got a point there, but I doubt Abram will use that as his excuse today.’’ Here he looked up with wise and gentle eyes. ‘‘Best steel your heart, young man. Don’t expect anything from Abram Ebersol, and you won’t be disappointed.’’

  Leah’s hopes fell a bit. Truly, she didn’t want her Jonas feeling the same way. After their visit with Dawdi, Leah walked with Jonas out to the bank barn. They headed all the way around the back, where the second-level door opened up to the haymow. They stood outside, some distance from the gaping entrance, lest Dat overhear them.

  ‘‘Dawdi John makes Dat sound like a hardhearted man. Dat can be difficult, to be sure, but he’s also compassionate,’’ she said.

  Jonas nodded, reaching for her hand. ‘‘It’s not necessary for me to ask anything of Abram. I’m a frugal sort; we can manage fine without land.’’

  She felt ever so glum. ‘‘Maybe it’s best to wait an’ see if Dat offers on his own.’’ That was unlikely. Dat would want to hold on to as much land as he possibly could for all the reasons she’d given earlier. Maybe it was wise for Jonas to forget about talking to Dat—at least this afternoon.

  ‘‘We can always rent the house you wrote about,’’ Jonas suggested. ‘‘Save up our money and buy land later to build on.’’

  ‘‘Jah,’’ she said, still wanting her father to treat her as special as she’d always felt she was to him.

  Looking up, she noticed Aunt Lizzie running down the mule road, waving and calling to them. ‘‘Oh, look who’s comin’,’’ she told Jonas. ‘‘You remember my aunt Lizzie, don’t you? Come, let’s chat with Mamma’s sister.’’

  Before Lizzie, Jonas, and Leah could greet one another there in the barnyard, here came Dat hurrying out of the stable toward them, and Mamma running out the back door, skirt on the wing.

  Leah found it both humorous and odd as they stood in a small but not so cozy circle in the barnyard. High in the sky behind the barn, the windmill creaked and whispered as Leah reintroduced Jonas to her aunt. ‘‘You remember Jonas from our visits to Grasshopper Level, jah?’’

  Aunt Lizzie grinned. ‘‘Why, certainly I do.’’

  Mamma nodded, forcing a smile. Dat looked green around the gills, and Leah wondered what on earth that was all about. She felt the mood was severely strained, with most of the tension coming from Dat, though Aunt Lizzie’s face looked awful pink, too.

  After a while Dat suggested he and Jonas ‘‘walk out to the field for a spell,’’ and with that, Mamma, Leah, and Lizzie strolled toward the house, the three of them linking arms.

  ‘‘I have a feelin’ Abram might talk to Jonas concernin’ a dowry,’’ Mamma whispered as they went.

  ‘‘Can you be sure?’’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘‘Well, I s’pose not, but I wouldn’t be surprised.’’

  ‘‘I’d say ’tis past time for Abram to show some charity,’’ Lizzie piped up.

  Leah glanced at her aunt and gave her a frown.

  ‘‘Honestly, I’m wonderin’ . . . what’s Abram been waitin’ for? After all, Jonas is the man of Leah’s hopes and dreams,’’ Aunt Lizzie continued, talking now more to Mamma than Leah.

  Mamma pursed her lips like she wasn’t sure what to say, and Leah was ever so glad her mother was quiet. If Mamma got started, no telling where any of this might lead.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Dat and Jonas heading for the tallest stalks of corn, Dat moving slowly as he went, and Jonas swinging his arms carefree-like. They walked together a ways; then—much too abruptly—they stopped and faced each other, silhouetted like two tall blackbirds against rows and rows of corn.

  It might not have been the best timing for this man-to-man talk with Jonas. For some months, Abram had been calculating the risks, wondering just when he ought to take the lad aside. Should he speak straight from the hip this far removed from the wedding season, as Peter Mast had demanded back in August? Or wait till closer to November, maybe? What was best?

  The risks were ever so many. His relationship with Leah was on the line, not to mention his and Ida’s. And what a lip his wife could have at times, though he knew she had every right to be outspoken about this matter.

  All that aside, he wanted to know what Jonas Mast was made of—if the boy had a speck of grit in him. He wanted to observe this blue-eyed boy Leah had fallen for when she was but a girl, witness for himself the kind of reaction the startling truth, so long held, might trigger in Jonas. And if Leah’s beau hightailed it for the hills, all the better.

  ‘‘No doubt the two of you have picked your weddin’ date,’’ he began as they walked.

  Jonas nodded. ‘‘Leah and I discussed it Friday night.’’

  ‘‘I ’spect Leah will be talkin’ to her mamma ’bout all of that.’’

  ‘‘Seems so.’’

  They meandered to the edge of the cornfield and turned and stood there, still wearing black hats and Sunday-go-to-meeting black trousers and frock coats, the long sleeves of their white shirts rolled up.

  A waft of wind came up,
and cornstalks hissed as the two slipped through the golden fringe. They followed a narrow path single file through a maze of straight rows.

  When they were completely cloaked by tall shoots of near-ripened corn, Abram stopped walking. Jonas, barely a yard away, looked almost too young to be taking Leah as his bride. ‘‘The time has come to speak bluntly,’’ Abram began.

  Another current of air rustled the stalks so strongly they thrashed against the wide hat brims the men wore. Quickly Abram secured his with one hand while Jonas tilted his head against the gust, his hands still deep in his trouser pockets.

  ‘‘The dear girl you have chosen to be your bride is not who you may think,’’ he continued.

  Jonas fixed a silent gaze on him.

  Where had the wonderful-good years flown? It was mindboggling that he should be standing here, on the verge of revealing this momentous news to Leah’s young beau.

  He straightened a bit and pressed on. ‘‘When Lizzie Brenneman was in her rumschpringe, she was found to be with child.’’ With his next breath, he laid out the truth. ‘‘For nearly seventeen years now, my wife and I have raised Leah as our own.’’

  Eyes blinking steadily, Jonas scarcely moved. ‘‘Why do you tell me this?’’

  ‘‘ ’Tis only fair that you know. And . . . if this truth in any way discourages you from marryin’ the girl who believes herself to be Ida’s and my daughter . . . well, then, I give you this chance, here and now, to reconsider.’’

  ‘‘I love Leah’’ came Jonas’s emphatic words. ‘‘This information doesn’t alter how I feel.’’

  Abram expected as much.

  Just then thousands of blowing cornstalks threatened to flatten him. He leaned his head back and looked up at the sky, blue as the ocean, with flimsy white cotton for clouds. Oh, Father in heaven, help this your defenseless servant. . . .

  Attempting to compose himself, he looked directly at Jonas. ‘‘Ida and I will talk with Leah tonight concerning this.’’