The Betrayal

by Beverly Lewis

‘‘Do you mean to say my Leah is unaware of her own mother?’’

  My Leah . . .

  Put off by Jonas’s quick tongue, Abram said, ‘‘She looks to Ida as her mamma . . . so I ask you not to speak of this to her.’’ He paused, reflecting on the precarious circumstance. ‘‘Do you plan to spend more time with Leah today?’’

  ‘‘Maybe so . . . to say my good-byes.’’

  ‘‘It was Lizzie’s hope Leah be spared this knowledge till she reached the age of accountability. Which has now come, her bein’ a baptized member of the church.’’ He didn’t go so far as to reveal the recent stress between himself and Lizzie and, more recently, Ida regarding the how and when of telling Leah. That was of no concern to Jonas.

  Removing his hat, Jonas ran his long fingers through his light brown shock of hair. ‘‘Are Leah’s sisters also in the dark ’bout this?’’

  ‘‘In due time they will know.’’ He paused, then—‘‘I repeat myself: If this causes you grave concern—Leah’s life havin’ issued forth from a corrupt union—speak now or forever hold your peace.’’

  Jonas inhaled and appeared to grow an inch or more taller. ‘‘I won’t be speakin’ my mind on this issue just now. There’ll be plenty of time for Leah to share with me her feelin’s. . . .’’

  Abram was perplexed. ‘‘By letter, do ya mean to say?’’ Such a weighty matter for written correspondence.

  Jonas nodded. ‘‘Until that time comes, I’ll be makin’ this a matter for prayer.’’ He returned his hat to his head and said, ‘‘Is there more to discuss?’’

  ‘‘You have not asked for my blessing on the marriage.’’

  ‘‘I have my Father’s blessing,’’ Jonas said. ‘‘And if Leah is strong enough to follow through with our wedding, I will ask for your blessing, as well.’’ With that he turned and headed straight out of the cornfield, toward the house.

  Abram suffered a sudden and fleeting light-headedness. He had lost this round with Peter Mast’s son, that was clear. Wishing for a piece of straw to put in his mouth, he yanked on a cornstalk instead, bending it and pulling off a handful of tassel. Staring down at it, he frowned and changed his mind. He tossed it onto the ground, then stamped his hard shoe on it, muttering as he did.

  Jonas had felt downright sure of himself while being sheltered by lofty cornstalks. But now, as he walked over the grazing land toward the house to Leah, he was somewhat befuddled. He could see her where she was sitting on the front porch, beside the woman whom she’d known all her life as her aunt Lizzie but who, in all truth, was her biological mother. And also next to her was Ida Ebersol, who had taken Leah in as her very own baby daughter but who was, in brief, her aunt.

  How would Leah take such shocking news? He hoped his sweetheart would not be distressed—and to think he would not be anywhere near when Abram broke the news. He would be too far away to offer any reassurance, too far to hold her when she cried for all the years her family had deceived her. Certainly, he did not know all the particulars or just why it was Abram and Ida had abided by Lizzie’s wishes and withheld the truth from Leah. It might not be such a good idea for him to second-guess the wisdom of it.

  Leah spied him from her cozy spot on the porch and stood to wave. My dear girl, he thought, waving back. Oh, the urge to run to her was nearly uncontrollable, yet he kept his pace, lest Ida and Lizzie notice how compelling his attraction was to Leah. Yet, here she came running across the rolling green turf to him, her bare feet flashing white beneath her long skirt.

  Darling Leah . . .

  ‘‘Did Dat offer us a bit of land?’’ were the first words out of her mouth.

  He had completely forgotten she expected her father to have discussed the dowry. This the supposed reason for their walk in the first place.

  Before he could admit no such topic had been brought up, she was nestled in his arms. He embraced her gladly, noting Ida and Lizzie must have slipped inside, for they were now nowhere to be seen.

  ‘‘What did Dat say?’’

  He hadn’t actually promised not to tell Leah the truth of her parentage, yet he would honor the elder man’s request. ‘‘Let’s go for a ride,’’ he said, taking her hand.

  ‘‘Where to?’’

  ‘‘Somewhere quiet—away from here—where we can walk and talk awhile.’’ He wanted to hold her close and never let her go, to shield her from the coming revelation.

  ‘‘I’ll go an’ get my shawl.’’ She pulled away from him and scurried to the house.

  While hitching up the horse, he struggled with the reality of Abram’s words. Leah was the outcome of Lizzie Brenneman’s youthful lust. What would his family think? Would Dat advise him against marrying his second cousin . . . if he knew? And Mamma, would she weep with the news? Or did she have the slightest inkling? After all, Mamma and Ida Ebersol had been fairly close through the years, sending letters back and forth occasionally, and Abram and Peter were known to put their heads together at farm auctions and the like.

  A stern yet somewhat compassionate man, Abram had given his life for a secret, possibly turning a dreadful situation into a seemingly happy one for all concerned. Till now.

  What would become of Leah once she was told? He’d have to await her letter—surely by this coming Wednesday he would have some indication. Such a dear she was about writing and sharing her thoughts with him. Soon enough Jonas could expect to know her heart on this.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Leah and Jonas spent what was left of Sunday afternoon sitting side by side in a grassy, unfenced area not far from the perimeter of smithy Peachey’s farm. Long and unpaved, the one-lane road had led them to a vast meadow with a small pond in the north corner of the property. Seemingly, this area was not used for grazing land, though Leah wondered why.

  ‘‘Who owns this acreage?’’ asked Jonas.

  ‘‘I don’t know, really. For as long as I remember, no cows or horses have ever been on it.’’ Her mind wasn’t fully on Jonas’s question just now. She was thinking about him leaving tomorrow . . . and what, if anything, Dat had said to Jonas earlier. But she’d decided while running to the house to get her shawl that she would be patient and not press for answers. Knowing Dat, it was possible he’d had other things on his mind than the dowry.

  ‘‘Most any piece of property can be had for a price.’’ Jonas leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

  So . . . Dat must not have offered Jonas land as a wedding gift, she thought sadly. Just looking at Jonas, she knew. The brightness was gone from his eyes. Something was troubling him, all right.

  ‘‘Do you think the smithy might know who owns the land we’re sittin’ on?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘Maybe. You could ask, if you want.’’

  He turned to her and smiled hesitantly. ‘‘Well, no, that could be awkward, ain’t?’’

  She knew what he was getting at, of course. Gid’s father, if he owned this land—well, then, they were trespassing—and Jonas was thinking it would be right tricky to approach the blacksmith, given the circumstances. ‘‘Did you want me to find out?’’ she asked.

  He picked a blade of grass and held it between his fingers, staring hard at it. ‘‘I’ll think on it.’’

  Not only troubled, Jonas seemed a bit aloof, too . . . and this just since his talk with Dat. She’d watched for him to come back from the rows of corn with Dat, wondering why they’d had to go in so deep she couldn’t see them at all. To talk man to man? But she stuck to the promise she’d made herself—she wouldn’t put her nose where it didn’t belong.

  Jonas let the long piece of grass fall from his hand and looked at her. ‘‘Will you write to me . . . like before?’’ he asked suddenly.

  ‘‘Jah, and will you, too?’’

  He nodded and was quiet for the longest time. Turning back to gaze toward the southern horizon line, he sat there amidst the grassland and a thousand insects, some of which kept crawling up her legs. She remembered the time when Jonas, but a boy, had slipped h
er a pair of his work trousers, bringing them out in a makeshift backpack to his father’s milk house. She had asked if he had a pair he’d outgrown, some she could borrow for the summer because she hated being bit by mosquitoes and other insects, working out in the fields with Dat. Besides, back then, she’d felt more like a boy than the girl she was. Nobody, not even Sadie, ever knew of the trousers. One of the silliest things she’d ever done. But even then she’d recognized the irresistible bond between herself and her second cousin.

  After a time Jonas turned to look at her again, searching for her hand. Finding it, he smiled with both his mouth and his eyes. She felt the sweet warmth of his hand; then he lifted it to his lips and kissed the back of her wrist, oh, so gently. She had to smile; he was ever so dear and certainly not distant now. Not in any way. ‘‘I truly wish you were comin’ back to Ohio with me.’’ He pressed her hand against his face.

  ‘‘Mamma couldn’t begin to manage with both Sadie and me gone. It’s best for Sadie. . . .’’ She paused, biting her lip. ‘‘I’m sorry, Jonas, honest I am. I wish things had worked out differently.’’

  ‘‘You never said why it was more important for Sadie to go than you.’’ His eyes were trusting, yet questioning.

  ‘‘Someday . . . things will become more clear’’ was all she dared say.

  That seemed to satisfy him, and he sat there enfolding her hand in both of his. ‘‘I’ll count the hours till I see you again.’’ He turned and gathered her into his arms. ‘‘Oh, Leah . . .’’

  Leaning her head on his shoulder, she felt both happy and sad. ‘‘November twenty-fifth will be our day for always,’’ she whispered.

  Then, she didn’t know quite how it happened, but his head was close to hers, ever so near. ‘‘My precious girl,’’ he whispered. ‘‘Dearest Leah.’’ He nuzzled her nose slowly, yet playfully with his own, and before she could resist, his tender lips found hers. She was startled at first but did not pull away. The kiss was sweeter than she’d ever imagined, and, oh, she longed for more. No wonder Mamma had said to save lipkissing for after the wedding!

  When briefly they pulled away from each other, the longing in his eyes could not be denied. Truly, he adored her.

  His arms encircled her yet again, and she was enraptured by his affection, even fervency, as she snuggled near. His second kiss led to yet another, till she felt breathlessly woozy.

  ‘‘Oh, Jonas . . .’’

  ‘‘Are you all right?’’ He touched her cheek.

  ‘‘Maybe not.’’

  They smiled then, faces aglow. She laughed a little shyly and leaned away from her darling beau. ‘‘I love my husband-to-be,’’ she told him.

  His eyes were intent on her, and he shook his head slowly. ‘‘I am the happiest man on earth.’’ He caught her hand in his and looked down at their entwined fingers.

  She thought she might cry. ‘‘Nothin’ dreadful will come of this, I hope.’’

  ‘‘Ach, Leah . . . never. No . . . no. How can it be? We’ve sealed our engagement with three kisses, our mutual promise to wed.’’ He was frowning now, his eyes searching hers. ‘‘Don’t you agree?’’

  ‘‘So . . .’tis not a bad omen, then?’’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘‘I honor and respect you, dear. You’re the light of my eyes. I can’t say I believe in omens, really.’’

  ‘‘Well, gut,’’ she said, and because she was convinced what he said was true, she leaned over and kissed him square on the lips.

  ‘‘Let’s walk,’’ he said, standing now. He lent a hand and pulled her up, and they went strolling happily together, talking over the ins and outs of their wedding day soon to come. A warm breeze caressed their faces, and Jonas leaned down and picked a wild yellow daisy. ‘‘What a happy day it will be,’’ he said, giving the flower to her.

  ‘‘Jah, ever so happy.’’ She lifted the delicate petals to her cheek.

  They walked a bit farther, and Jonas pointed out a curious, rectangular-shaped mound. ‘‘What is that, not three yards away? Do you see it?’’

  She squinted, looking hard in the direction of his hand, quickening her pace to match his.

  ‘‘How peculiar.’’ He stooped to examine what looked to her to be a small grave. ‘‘Someone must’ve buried either a little child or a pet dog here,’’ Jonas said.

  She saw where the ridge of grass had been cut away, and the slight rise. ‘‘But who would bury someone here and not in a cemetery? ’Tis awful strange.’’

  Jonas agreed. ‘‘And seems to me, a private burial place would require at least a simple marker.’’

  ‘‘You’d think so, jah.’’

  ‘‘But why a grave dug here in the middle of a deserted pasture?’’ he mused aloud.

  ‘‘This is wasted grazing land,’’ she spoke up. ‘‘I can’t imagine it should become a cemetery, can you?’’

  Jonas shook his head. ‘‘Hardly. But fancy folk do the strangest things sometimes, ain’t so?’’

  She wondered why Jonas now assumed the owner was English. Right surprising it was, really.

  Jonas drove Leah home and walked with her to the back door. They said their good-byes rather swiftly—no lingering, so the family had no opportunity to observe, the way of the Old Order. Serious courting was done in secret, under the covering of night.

  Not wanting to shed a tear in front of him, she waved and hurried inside, bypassing any conversation with Mamma and the twins, who were rushing to get supper on the table. She headed straight to her bedroom and lay down, thinking back on her afternoon with Jonas and their kisses, hoping the Lord God would not punish them for disobeying Mamma’s strict wishes.

  Recalling the warmth of Jonas’s embrace—his face ever so near—a small part of her began to understand how it was Sadie had succumbed to forbidden hours with the Schwartz boy, one thing leading to another till she’d found herself in an awful bad way.

  Leah was most thankful Jonas was an upstanding young man and that they were now baptized church members. They had made their promises to God and her church this very day. Realizing the reality anew, she felt even worse for having lipkissed on the day of holy baptism.

  She went to the window and looked out toward the woody hillock, wishing she might visit with Aunt Lizzie. But in a few minutes Mamma would be calling for supper. For now she must put on a smile or else her family might wonder what she’d been up to. Kissing Jonas, beau or no, would not be fitting supper talk. Besides, Leah wanted to be a shining example to Hannah and Mary Ruth, who would experience similar feelings in the not-so-distant future.

  ’Tis a gut thing Jonas and I will be married soon, she thought, blushing as she hurried down to the kitchen. I must tell Mamma the date we’ve chosen for the wedding.

  Jonas hurried his steed toward Grasshopper Level. He hadn’t spent much time at all with his family this visit, though his twin baby brother and sister held great fascination for him. His married sister, Anna, and her husband, Nathaniel King, had been vying for his attention, as well as Mamma. Next month when he returned, he hoped to make up for lost time. Along with Dat, his brother-in-law, Nathaniel, and younger brothers Eli and Isaac, they would all help bring in the apple harvest, as planned. There would be plentiful time for some good fellowship then. He hoped he might be able to complete the apprenticeship he and David had agreed upon— a few weeks shy of seven months. Though he was working diligently to make that happen, if he could not, he would simply extend his stay in Ohio and trust his father could make do without him during harvest. If so, his final return home would fall very close to his wedding day.

  Tonight, however, he looked forward to an enjoyable time around the long kitchen table. Mamma, more than likely, would put on a big spread for him, another sure reward for riding all that way on the train and back. At supper he must let Dat know there was a slim chance he might not make it back home by apple-picking time.

  The horse whinnied and he settled back in the carriage. He thought of Leah’s vague comment
about Sadie, made without so much as a blink of an eye: Someday . . . things will become more clear. . . .

  He was somewhat apprehensive, having heard a few rumors over the years about Lizzie Brenneman—all confirmed this day. Could it be Sadie suffered a related problem? Certain sins ran in families, his father often said.

  It wasn’t fair to point fingers, if only in his mind, not the way his own passions had flared this afternoon. He should have stopped with a single kiss, yet Leah’s eager response had taken him by surprise. She loved him greatly, that much was clear.

  So his sister’s unexpected letter a month back, warning him of Leah’s interest in Gideon Peachey, had to be false. Still, he planned to speak to Rebekah tonight, hear her out about whatever she thought she’d witnessed at the August singing in Abram Ebersol’s barn. Not that he had ever given her foolish letter a second thought, anyway.

  He let the reins rest loosely across his knees. Recalling the afternoon’s pleasures, the time he’d spent with his darling girl, he determined it was best, even wise, that Leah remain here in Gobbler’s Knob for the next four weeks or so. A separation of hundreds of miles was a good idea for now. He could not imagine anything more embarrassing than having to answer no to the deacon’s appointed question, ‘‘Have you remained pure?’’ prior to the wedding service. At all costs, he must protect and keep as sacred his love for Leah.

  Abram sat at the head of the table and bowed his head. He took his time saying the Lord’s Prayer in his mind, following the silent blessing for the meal Ida had cooked for them. He knew full well his time had run out. Lizzie had been demanding the truth be revealed ever since Leah turned courting age. And because Jonas Mast was now aware of it, Abram could no longer put off what he had to do. Tonight the story of Lizzie’s sorry rumschpringe was to unfold.

  Sometime after supper he and Ida would arrange to speak privately to the girl they considered to be their second child. To Abram, she was all a daughter should be—everything he and Ida could hope for and more. And considering the shameful path their firstborn, Sadie, had chosen, having to talk to Leah weighed even more heavily on him.