The Betrayal

by Beverly Lewis

  ‘‘I’m sure you are.’’ Ida straightened and then continued to stir the wilting cabbage in the kettle of boiling water. ‘‘But I think you best be waitin’.’’

  ‘‘Waitin’s all I’ve been doing Leah’s whole life long.’’ Lizzie wished to push back the years. Back to when her daughter was but a toddler—so cute Leah was—and Lizzie wished she might whisper it was she who was Mamma. But with the help of Bishop Bontrager, the three of them had made an agreement to last until Leah reached courting age. Lizzie had stuck by her word, keeping the hardest promise of her life.

  ‘‘Just when do you think Leah should know ’bout me?’’ Lizzie asked hesitantly.

  ‘‘Soon as Abram says’’ came the expected answer.

  Wanting to say more, she bit her tongue. She was distressed these days, even worried, knowing the wedding season was just round the bend—desperate, really, to share her maternal affection with Leah. Not that she hadn’t always demonstrated her love to her birth daughter—to all of Abram’s daughters, really.

  Abram’s daughters . . .

  Oh, there she’d gone and forgotten the truth yet again. One of the Ebersol girls was really her daughter. Would heart and head never agree?

  Honestly Sadie had been glad to see Jonas Mast return to Millersburg. She didn’t let on to anyone, and certainly not to Edith, who nearly every day now was telling about one ‘‘nice Amish boy’’ or another, several of whom had come in from surrounding counties for the potato and corn harvests. ‘‘All kinds of young fellas are here. My goodness, Sadie Ebersol, you picked a right gut time to visit!’’ The frail woman had a clacking tongue, except when she was deep in slumber for the night or napping during the day, which was much of the time, depending on what was happening in the house.

  ‘‘What sort of lookin’ boys are they—the ones from surrounding counties?’’ Sadie found herself asking.

  ‘‘Oh, blond or dark haired, it don’t matter none. All of ’em be mighty attractive, same as you,’’ the widow said. ‘‘You’ll see for yourself if you go to one of the singings. That’s where the lookin’ gets the strongest, ya know.’’ Edith sighed, her slight chest heaving. ‘‘I daresay the most wonderful-gut thing on God’s green earth is a match well made.’’

  ‘‘I s’pose so’’ was all Sadie said in response.

  A rumble was heard next door in the main house, and Sadie went to see if one of the children had fallen. But Vera signaled all was well—‘‘just a bit of confusion ’tween Joseph and Mary Mae’’ was the excuse. Which meant there must have been a scuffle, a battle of wills common to any household with children.

  Vera Mellinger had her hands full with three lively youngsters and another on the way. Young Andy suffered with severe asthma, the reason a telephone was permitted in the woodworking shop. As if she weren’t busy enough, Vera often hosted Bible studies for the church women, too. Sadie had repeatedly been invited to attend but felt she should look after Edith next door, a right good excuse for not sitting a full hour while reading Romans or Corinthians, epistles written by the apostle Paul the People here liked to study.

  So many things were different here in Millersburg. She was still becoming accustomed to the pitch-black color of the buggies, instead of the gray color of Lancaster County, not to mention the curious shape of the carriages. Men’s hat brims were only three inches wide, and the single, baptized young men grew beards right away, instead of waiting till they were married, like in Gobbler’s Knob. Here, too, the men’s hair was medium-length and notched—squared off at the ear—compared to the bowl-cropped, shorter style back home.

  The local women wore their bodice capes more frequently, and their prayer caps had numerous ironed pleats in the back. She was the only girl with a pleasant-looking, even pretty, heart-shaped head covering, she realized. This fact alone attracted plenty of attention from young men—also, that she was visiting the Mellingers, a well-respected family.

  The flourishing countryside reminded her of home, for sure and for certain, except there were more rolling hills. Once chores were done, Sadie often walked the back dirt roads, dodging the deep grooves made by the metal wagon wheels and looking out over the miles and miles of ripening corn.

  She felt like a foreigner with a name like Ebersol. More common were the surnames Schlabach, Hershberger, and Stutzman, and she sometimes wondered why Mamma had never mentioned David Mellinger’s family was connected to Fannie Mast’s side or that their ancestors had put down early roots here.

  If asked, Sadie might have said she liked being round a whole houseful of shirttail cousins who doted on her at times, embarrassingly so. It was as if they felt somewhat sorry for her but at the same time liked her for who she was. Still, if they’d had any idea what she’d done and refused to repent of, they might have packed her up and sent her home promptly. She was awful sure of that, seeing as how they were forever discussing Scripture—sometimes even in heated debates, which she found to be curious.

  One such conversation had taken place last night, when Jonas returned from Pennsylvania. He and Cousin David were having themselves a fine time disputing the cut of a man’s hair. ‘‘The rounded style looks mighty fancy to me,’’ David had said, staring at Jonas’s bowl-shaped cut.

  ‘‘Not to me, nor to the brethren back home.’’

  ‘‘But there’s a problem with it, I’d have to say,’’ said David, looking serious. ‘‘For one thing, if you were ever stuck out in the middle of nowhere and had no way to shape the curved ends, you’d be in a pickle, jah?’’

  Jonas’s eyes had brightened. ‘‘I guess I can see your point, but I’d have to say the notched style would be that much harder to keep up . . . if you were away from civilization, so to speak.’’

  This had brought rousing laughter. Even Vera and droopyeyed Edith were smiling.

  ‘‘What about the length?’’ Jonas asked. ‘‘Ain’t it a solid issue in the Bible?’’

  David got up and went to get the Good Book. Then, sitting back down at the table, he began to read. ‘‘ ‘If a man have long hair, it is a shame unto him.’ ’’

  ‘‘I agree, ’tis a sin and a shame,’’ Jonas said, a twinkle in his eye. ‘‘The longer the hair is, the more shame, I’d say.’’

  David had agreed with a smile, his own hair at least two inches longer all around than Jonas’s cropped style.

  Sadie wondered if the Lord God paid any attention to a Plain man’s hair. Wasn’t it a person’s heart that made the difference? That’s what Dat and Mamma had always said. Maybe four inches or more too long was an issue if a man wanted to follow hard after the Word of God. But two inches?

  She tried to imagine Dat sitting here talking over such things, but she knew her father had no use for nitpicking Scripture.

  Jonas, though, had seemed to enjoy the debate. Such fun I’d have with him as my brother-in-law, she thought, knowing she’d never have the chance to enjoy the relationship because the Bann and eventual shunning would put a wedge between her and Jonas, as well as her entire family.

  The afternoon found Sadie on her way downtown to the old general store, where Vera and other Amishwomen sold their handmade wares. This day there was a whole batch of potholders, aprons, sunbonnets, and embroidered dish towels to deliver.

  The air had the slightest chill to it, and she was glad she’d worn Vera’s navy blue sweater, though she missed her shawl from home. Being it was now toward the end of September, she should have planned for the change in weather. But she’d packed quickly to come here, so fast she hardly had much of anything to choose from. Soon, though, she would be sewing more dresses, and she’d have to figure out a way to bring in some spending money for fabric and sewing notions. She couldn’t expect Vera and David to pay her way in life, though she was providing a live-in care service for their mother.

  Rain was forecast, so she hurried the horse just a bit, eager to get where she was going.

  It was on her way back to the Mellingers’ that an almost eerie wobble m
ade the buggy shake and groan . . . then bang! Somehow the hitch either broke or came loose, and she sat helplessly while the horse, complete with its harness dragging, kept on going, trotting away in spite of her calling, ‘‘Come back! Ach, you mustn’t leave me here like this.’’

  Still, the mare hightailed it down the road, paying her no mind. So there she was, cockeyed in the wagon, fortunately on a dusty side road where scarcely any automobiles dared to venture.

  At first she considered getting out of the now slanted buggy, its front pitched forward so that it was impossible to sit in the seat. She thought of getting out to walk the long way back. Too far. Still, she couldn’t just sit there and wait for night to fall.

  Gazing out at the fields of corn on all sides so similar to those back home, Leah came to mind. What nerve, her younger sister sending her off on a train to the Midwest, then telling Dat and Mamma on her once she was gone! How could Leah up and betray her like that?

  Irritated to no end, Sadie managed to climb down out of the horseless carriage. She went and balanced herself on the split-rail fence by the side of the road. She knew it wouldn’t be right to abandon David’s family carriage—wasn’t the kind of thing a visiting relative, though awful distant, would do. Sooner or later she hoped someone would miss her and begin to wonder where she was, especially come suppertime, which, best as she could guess, was in another two hours or so.

  Sadie might have sat and fumed for the rest of the day about her situation if Jonas Mast hadn’t happened along in David’s market wagon an hour later.

  ‘‘Well, now, where’s your horse, Sadie?’’ He jumped down and hurried over to her.

  She told him what had happened, and he was surprisingly calm. ‘‘Wasn’t your fault,’’ he said. ‘‘I’ll get you back to the Mellingers’, then go lookin’ for the horse. David can help fix the hitch.’’

  Glad for his kindness, she got settled into the wagon. She was ever so relieved and anxious to talk to him, but she wanted to be careful about appearing too forward. ‘‘Your baptism— and Leah’s—was the weather nice for it?’’

  ‘‘ ’Twas a sunny day . . . and the best day of my life, so far,’’ he said, holding the reins. ‘‘Aside from weddin’ Leah, I can’t think of anythin’ I’d rather do than kneel before the bishop and promise my life to the Lord God and the church.’’

  His answer got her goat; she wasn’t prepared for this. Yet she should expect him to say such things, shouldn’t she? After all, he was just as devout as Leah seemed to be. Maybe more so.

  ‘‘How was Leah? Did she shed a tear?’’

  He clucked his tongue, urging the horse to hasten along. ‘‘Leah was ever so happy. Too bad you weren’t there for the ordinance yourself.’’

  ‘‘Jah.’’ Suddenly she was at a loss for words. The People would have expected her to be present at her sister’s baptism, no question. But soon enough they’d all know why she’d left—and why she was never going back.

  They rode along in silence, except for the chirping of the birds, too loud for her liking. She longed for the quietude of Edith’s back porch, where no one could bother her and the barn cats could roam up and purr their soft contentment while she held them in her lap.

  It was then that Jonas spoke again. ‘‘Next week I plan to drive Sarah Hershberger, next farm over, to the Sunday singing. A girl with not a single brother to drop her off. I’m doing it only as a favor for her father, a carpenter friend of David’s. She’s about your age, I’d guess. How would you like to ride along?’’

  She had to laugh a little. Jonas was as kind as he was wellmannered, acting as a big brother to David’s close friend . . . and to her, as well. She liked the idea of going somewhere in the coming week, so she said, ‘‘Jah, I’ll go,’’ and left it at that.

  On Wednesday Jonas received Leah’s first letter since their baptism. He wasted no time in beginning to read it, hoping she might indeed share her thoughts on what she’d learned Sunday night from Abram and Ida. But surprisingly, there was no mention of anything out of the ordinary. Had Abram decided against telling her? For what reason would he not?

  One thing was quite interesting: Leah had written that the local doctor was the owner of the property where they’d spent the sunniest part of Sunday afternoon.

  Dat says Dr. Henry Schwartz, down Georgetown Road a mile or so, owns the land. We best not go back because it’s trespassing, just as you said.

  Lydiann is babbling a lot now, and today I almost thought she said, ‘‘Mamma.’’ Sadie won’t know her when she returns home next month.

  I asked Mamma if she thought November twenty-fifth was all right for our wedding, and she agrees it will be just fine.

  I’m missing you already, Jonas. Something awful, truly!

  Reading this, he almost wished he’d stayed on in Lancaster County. How could he have left his sweetheart-girl to deal with the harsh reality of her birth without his loving support? She might think him coldhearted, though by his kisses she knew better.

  Without a doubt, he felt all but guilty for knowing what Leah did not. His bride-to-be was Lizzie Brenneman’s own daughter! Once Abram and Ida revealed the truth to her, she would be sorting through a gamut of feelings. Alone.

  Mary Ruth had been anxious for the chance to see Elias again. Scarcely had she stepped out the front door of the Nolts’ house when here he came in his pony cart. Nearly flying down the road, his black felt hat was high in the air as he waved and beamed a smile at her. He likes me, she thought, her heart racing as she walked barefoot along the road.

  ‘‘Hullo, there, Mary Ruth!’’

  ‘‘How are you, Elias?’’ she said, feeling oh, so comfortable with him.

  He leaped down and went around to help her into the small cart, which wasn’t at all necessary, since it was considerably lower to the ground than a buggy.

  ‘‘Didja think I’d remember?’’ he asked cheerfully.

  She wanted to say, ‘‘I knew you would,’’ but instead replied, ‘‘I’m glad you did.’’

  The russet pony pulled them much faster than she thought possible. Too fast, maybe, but it wasn’t her place to say so. She must learn not to talk so much, to let others speak their minds, especially a young man as interesting as this jovial boy next to her.

  ‘‘When will you turn sixteen?’’ he asked, as if he didn’t know.

  She smiled, keeping the laughter inside for now. Once she got home, she’d tell Hannah all this, and they’d giggle together. ‘‘Well, not till February tenth, year after next.’’

  He wasn’t a bit shy about his answer. ‘‘I’ll be waitin’ for that, Mary Ruth.’’

  ‘‘Hannah will be sixteen the same day,’’ she offered, wondering if he might think to include his older brother, Ezra, in his plans—whatever they might be—so far ahead in time.

  ‘‘I hope you like ice cream.’’ He made a high-pitched sound that his pony recognized as a signal to speed up even more.

  ‘‘Jah, I do. Mamma makes it homemade. Do you?’’

  ‘‘Sometimes, if we have blueberry pie to go along with it.’’

  She didn’t know why that sounded funny to her. ‘‘A little pie with your ice cream, then?’’

  ‘‘That’s right, Mary Ruth.’’ His pony was working up a lather, and she felt a bit uneasy, the two of them speeding along in the cart. Yet she kept her peace, not wanting to spoil the delight of this special afternoon.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  After leading the animals out to pasture, Leah helped Dat shovel manure, then mowed the front, side, and back lawns— fertilizing them for the final time this year.

  That done, she followed Aunt Lizzie’s markings, heading for the honey locust tree, a letter from Jonas in hand.

  Friday morning, October 3

  Dearest Leah,

  I am always glad to receive your letters, and I cherish each one. Often I read them over again before drifting off to sleep after a long day of work; that way I can be sure you will show up
in my dreams.

  Even so, there are times when I wish I received only one letter each week from you. Why, you may ask? In all truth, it is difficult for me to bear your sweet letters because they fill me with longing for you, dear Leah. Especially now, when the memory of our kisses still lingers. . . .

  My heart beats only for you. There is no other way to put it.

  Now, I hesitate to tell you this, but I’ve just been offered the prospect of establishing a partnership with David Mellinger here in Millersburg. This may be God’s providence at work, and I wanted you to hear this good news directly from me.

  I don’t mean to alarm you, but what would you think of us living in Ohio after we’re married? We would have to get Bishop Bontrager’s permission and blessing on such a thing, but we’ll cross that bridge later.

  I look forward to your next letter!

  All my love,

  Jonas

  Leah’s hand shook as she finished reading. Jonas was surely excited, and his words—this good news—clearly indicated her beau was more than willing to pull up stakes and leave Pennsylvania permanently.

  Yet how could she leave her family behind? Jonas knew firsthand how close she was to her sisters . . . and to dear Dat and Mamma. Aunt Lizzie, too. And how empty would her life be without her lifelong best friend, Adah Peachey? Besides, at the time of baptism, she’d made her promise to both her father and the bishop that she would never permanently leave the Gobbler’s Knob church district—as had Jonas.

  A graceful lark swooped down from high overhead before it soared up again, disappearing from view over the treetops and toward the densest area of the forest. She pondered what to write to him, how to share her heart yet not hold back on her happiness for him—for this remarkable chance to own a carpentry business. Most any girl would be thrilled at such a prospect, were it not for leaving everything she knew and loved behind. Except for Jonas, of course.