The Betrayal

by Beverly Lewis

  Ach, what can I say to you, my beloved? A woman’s obedience to her husband came first after her submission to almighty God and the church. This had been ingrained in Leah since childhood, having been taught by Mamma’s example and in nearly every sermon.

  It was kind of Jonas to ask her in such a manner as to make her feel she had a choice. But truly, Leah knew she had none at all. Only one way could she possibly reply; this she knew instinctively. She must write back quickly and say she was ever so glad for him, that if he was able to obtain the bishop’s go-ahead and blessing, and he believed the Lord God was leading them to live and raise their future children in Ohio, then so be it.

  Jonas had begun to think perhaps Abram was counting on a measure of moral support—waiting till Jonas made Leah his wife—before revealing Lizzie to be Leah’s mother. It seemed strange to him that Leah had not written a word about it. Her silence on the matter was unlike her. Undoubtedly, Abram would have informed Leah that he’d also told Jonas the facts regarding Lizzie—on their baptism Sunday, no less. And Leah would just assume he was waiting for some word from her, wouldn’t she? Unless there was some other reason she seemed so evasive.

  He’d thought of writing Abram to inquire, but that might put his future father-in-law on the spot. No need to open the door to a clash. There was enough potential for that, with Smithy Gid still lurking in the wings and Abram Ebersol all for it.

  Was it possible Abram had confided in Jonas hoping the news of Leah’s parentage might cause him to abandon his wedding plans, leaving Leah in the dust? Was it for the purpose of running him off? If so, this would definitely make room for Smithy Gid. But Jonas rejected the notion as absurd.

  Based on the things his sister Rebekah had told him the last evening he was home, he might have had reason to think hard and long about getting right back to Lancaster County to spend his final weeks as a single man closer to Leah. But the memory of his darling girl’s fervent kisses persuaded him otherwise.

  Still, he put enough stock in Rebekah’s observations to be somewhat concerned. He did hope to question Sadie soon, when he helped her with some chores tomorrow evening. They would go downtown together in the market wagon to make a delivery of quilted goods for Vera. This time he hoped the wagon might stay hitched to the horse. It wouldn’t do for him to get stuck somewhere at dusk with Leah’s beautiful blond sister. People talked. Everyone here rumored he was betrothed to marry a girl from back home . . . and that the girl was not Sadie, but her younger sister.

  Leah gathered eggs and fed the chickens the next day before helping Mamma with the washing that hadn’t been completed on Monday washday. Yesterday the skies had darkened, making down rain, and she’d rushed to take in the neardry clothing. Because of the change in weather, Mamma had decided to break with the schedule and wash the rest of the clothing today.

  ‘‘Cousin Fannie wrote me a nice letter,’’ Mamma said as they worked together at the hand-wringer. ‘‘She wants to invite you and me to a quiltin’ bee in your honor.’’

  ‘‘Really?’’

  ‘‘I guess this is Rebekah’s idea—hers and Katie’s.’’

  Leah couldn’t help but recall the last time she’d spent time with Fannie’s daughters. Downright uncomfortable, it had been . . . such pointed questions about Sadie and all. She’d had a difficult time dismissing the cutting remarks, especially from Rebekah.

  ‘‘Why do you think they want us to quilt with them?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘They’re welcomin’ you into the family as a sister.’’ Mamma gave her a smile. ‘‘We’ll make whatever quilt pattern you like.’’

  So Rebekah and Katie wanted to make amends—was that it? How awkward, otherwise, to marry their brother with such unsettled feelings. ‘‘I’ll go, sure. Sounds to me like fun.’’

  ‘‘The first week in November it is,’’ said Mamma, holding on tight to a pair of Dat’s work pants as the wringer did its work.

  ‘‘Won’t be long after the quiltin’ frolic and Jonas and I will be wed.’’ She remembered, too, that Naomi’s wedding service was coming up soon. Naomi had said no more about it, but Leah had heard from Mamma that Luke was putting pressure on Naomi to see a doctor. Leah didn’t quite understand what Mamma had meant by that. But when she asked, Mamma indicated in hushed tones the bishop himself had taken steps to determine just how pure the young woman who was to become his grandson’s bride really was. Evidently, he had taken to heart Naomi’s rumschpringe with Sadie.

  Leah blushed to think the bishop had that much say. Dat had often indicated by dropping hints along the way that this ‘‘minister with full power’’ ruled somewhat mercilessly amongst the People. But this? She didn’t care to dwell on it. She assumed it remained to be seen whether or not Naomi Kauffman would end up becoming Naomi Bontrager.

  ‘‘When do you think our bishop will contact the Ohio ministers?’’ she asked softly, thinking now of Sadie.

  Mamma could not respond. She simply shook her head, eyes filling with tears.

  By this reaction from dear Mamma, Leah understood the letter of warning had most likely already been written and sent. The wheels of excommunication and shunning had been set in motion. The People did not slap the Bann on a church member easily or swiftly unless the nature of the offense allowed for no other alternative. In Sadie’s case, once she returned home, the six weeks probationary shunning would go into effect so she could have a taste of it and want to repent of her sins. Whether Sadie returned home or remained in Ohio, if she did not repent, she would end up shunned. Just as Leah and Jonas would be if they left Gobbler’s Knob and Bishop Bontrager did not rule on the side of leniency.

  Leah’s greatest dread was that Sadie might simply decide never to come home.

  Promptly at four o’clock the mail arrived, and Sadie hurried out to bring in the bundle of letters. She made her stop on David and Vera’s side of the big brick house, depositing a third of the mail in the designated spot on the corner of the kitchen counter. She noticed yet another letter from Leah to Jonas and shoved it down toward the bottom of the pile. Then she hurried to the Dawdi Haus to bring great joy to Edith with five letters bearing the widow’s name. Edith had begun to share many of her pen-pal letters with Sadie. One of the women she wrote to had a grandson, a courting-age boy Edith wondered if Sadie might like to get to know. Even though courting amongst the People was kept secret, it seemed to Sadie that Edith was bound and determined to play matchmaker.

  Sadie also held a letter from Leah to her, along with one from Mamma. She was fairly sure Mamma’s letter would carry the same urgent message she’d stated by telephone. Precisely, Mamma was making a determined, obvious plea for Sadie to come home immediately and repent. Spare yourself the shame of the ministers there having to contact you. Oh, Sadie, my dear girl, you must do this! Dat has also requested this of you.

  She cast aside Mamma’s letter in favor of the one from Leah. The first letter her sister had bothered to write to her . . . another sure sign Leah had helped to get her out here, only to betray her once she was gone. What both Mamma and Leah didn’t know was that there were plenty of interested fellows here, something she could never now hope for in Gobbler’s Knob. Both Ben Eicher and John Graber had scrapped amongst themselves to get Sadie’s attention at the last singing. She’d ended up riding home with Ben, having secretly promised John her presence at the following singing. Either of them would do just fine for her to marry. She didn’t mind that Ben lived over in Walnut Creek or that John made his home much farther away in Allen County. Indiana, Ohio—wherever she ended up meant she didn’t have to be a Pennsylvania maidel. It would be all right with her not to be within earshot of either Leah or Mamma—especially Leah, though Sadie did miss Aunt Lizzie terribly. One of these days she must write Lizzie a long letter.

  Seeing the smile on Edith’s face, Sadie helped open each of the pen-pal letters for the old woman, then excused herself to the light and airy bedroom that was for now her home away from home.


  The second-floor bedroom was smaller than the one she’d shared with Leah back home. Still, it was all her own, with a double bed to stretch out in and a wide oak dresser with plenty of space for her few clothes. She had already started sewing some new dresses and aprons for the coming autumn using the dress patterns from the Millersburg church district, with Vera’s input on style and cut. Easily, she had stitched up the long seams of two blue dresses in short order. Since Vera was soon to give birth, Sadie felt she ought to do this sewing herself, as well as some for Edith.

  Now she pulled the only chair in the room over next to the tall window and tore open the letter from her sister.

  Dearest Sadie,

  How are you? All of us here are all right, except we miss you something awful. I’ve waited to hear from you, but when you didn’t write, I worried you were miffed. And rightly so.

  I did not tell Mamma about your baby on a whim. Honestly, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, breaking my promise to you. You must believe me. In one way I despised it, but in doing so I felt the burden of guilt lift from me. Our sisterly covenant was ever so wrong. I see it clearly now. Oh, Sadie, I can hardly ask your forgiveness.

  For all the time I did keep mum, I thought hard about those things you shared with me, especially that day in the garden. I weep sad tears, knowing how you struggle to forgive yourself, dear sister. And I pray you will let God, our loving Father, restore you to the church. He alone can grant grace and mercy.

  I know (and you do, too) that soon you will be called upon to make things right with the brethren here, and I’m worried this will cause a terrible rift between us. Surely you must live in fear of the shun; I myself tremble to think of it. It seems all of Preacher Yoder’s sermons nowadays call us to live as a holy generation. How could I possibly do so while carrying a heavy weight of deceitfulness?

  One thing I hope to accomplish in this letter is to let you know, once again, that I love you and will never stop. What I did I would expect you to do if ever I strayed from the narrow way. Oh, please come home and make amends, dearest Sadie.

  Will you write soon?

  With much love,

  Your sister Leah

  Sadie slumped back in her chair, sighing. Obviously her sister had taken great care to write such a heartfelt letter. Torn between fond memories of their early days together and blaming Leah for spilling the beans on her, Sadie let the letter slip from her fingers and drift to the floor.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The stately trees lining the road had already begun to turn to golden, red, and orange hues. Because of this and the fact he felt rather glum, Jonas did not rush the mare to his final destination. As a boy he had often gone out this time of year, past his father’s orchard to where giant maples and oaks dropped their leaves in such abundance he liked to gather up a select few, choosing the most colorful to press between the pages of the largest book in the house, Martyrs Mirror.

  His mother had once discovered a red sugar maple leaf marking the page where the account of ‘‘four lambs of Christ’’—a brother and three sisters—had been sentenced to death as heretics, though they were indeed followers of Christ. He was stunned when he read the middle sister came to her death singing, then prayed aloud, ‘‘Lord, look upon us, who suffer for thy word. Our trust is in thee alone.’’ All four commended their spirits into the hands of the Lord God, offering up their blood sacrifice, their very lives, for their unfaltering faith.

  From that day forth, he had often wondered if he, too, might be given the heralded ‘‘martyr’s grace’’ if ever he were to come to such a fate. For that reason, he had purposed to give his life fully to spreading the goodness of the Lord above, wherever his feet may trod.

  This evening, though, there was no need for that kind of grace. But empathy, perhaps. Sitting next to him was a young woman who seemed as sad as she was lonely. The sooner he got her back home the better.

  Sadie said not a word as they rode along, evidently waiting for him to do the talking. He held the reins too high, tense as can be. ‘‘What do you know of Smithy Gid?’’ he blurted out his question.

  She replied softly. ‘‘He’s the only son of my father’s closest friend, the blacksmith. Our neighbor, as you know.’’

  Jonas contemplated how to phrase his next question. Or should he?

  They rode along, too quiet for several minutes. At last he brought up the August Sunday singing held in Abram’s barn. ‘‘Did you happen to see Leah and Gid together there?’’

  ‘‘I didn’t go to the singin’ that night.’’ He noticed out of the corner of his eye that she turned to look at him. ‘‘I did see Leah and Gid walking through the cornfield over to his house after attendin’ the singing.’’

  He could only guess why Leah had even gone to the singing, let alone left with Gid. Nevertheless, this information wasn’t earthshaking enough that he should be concerned. Although it did seem odd for a betrothed young woman to spend time with a single man.

  ‘‘Do you have any reason to believe Leah might be interested in Gid?’’ Everything within him rebelled against asking such a thing—Rebekah’s report made not one lick of sense. He knew Leah was as devoted to him as he was to her. And yet the tone of her last letter made him wonder if something wasn’t amiss.

  ‘‘I saw them . . . one other time, too,’’ Sadie added somewhat hesitantly.

  ‘‘When was this?’’

  ‘‘Not too many days before I left for here.’’

  Tension spread down from his jaw to his neck and now his shoulders. ‘‘Are you sure you saw Leah with Gid?’’

  She sighed, fidgeting now. ‘‘It happened the day Leah got herself lost in the woods. When she didn’t come home for the noon meal, Mamma sent Gid out lookin’ for her, with the German shepherd—a gift to Leah from Gid last spring.’’

  He tried to recall if Leah had ever mentioned the dog. Inhaling, he held his breath before continuing. ‘‘Does your father hold out hope for the two of them gettin’ together?’’

  ‘‘Oh my . . . ever so much.’’

  That fact still did not establish a reason to suspect Leah of being unfaithful. ‘‘Can you be more specific about what you saw the day Leah got lost?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘Well, they were walkin’ out of the deepest part of the woods. Gid was playin’ his harmonica for Leah, and they were laughin’ together. And . . . I’m not sure I ought to say much more.’’

  ‘‘Go on, please. . . .’’ he said, her hesitancy causing his heart to pound. ‘‘What is it?’’

  ‘‘I . . . I saw them holdin’ hands.’’ She paused. ‘‘I had an awful hard time believin’ it then, but it was so.’’

  He clenched his jaw. No! This had to be purely innocent on Leah’s part. Then he remembered how Leah had refused his two invitations to come here . . . to be near him this summer. Why had Leah sent her sister instead?

  He had never thought to address the question, not in connection to Leah wanting to stay home for Smithy Gid. She’d indicated her mother needed help with the new little one, though at the time, he had wondered why Sadie or the twins couldn’t have pitched in, freeing Leah up to make the visit.

  Keeping his gaze on the road, he never once looked at Sadie to his left. Could she be trusted? He wasn’t certain.

  Why was she here and not Leah?

  I’ll write to Leah immediately about this, he thought. I must know her side of things.

  Observing the road ahead as far as he could see, he followed the line of every ridge and valley, each soaring tree, till his eyes found the sky. He was struck by the coming nightfall— something of a lemon color—not the predictable rosy hue of setting sun.

  ’Tis the end of summer, he thought, hoping it was not also signaling the end of Leah’s affection for him. Yet with each dying moment, summer ebbed toward autumn . . . and there was nothing he could do to slow its progress.

  When Leah received Jonas’s letter, she didn’t have time to read it in sweet solitude. Da
t expected her to help with as many of his barn chores as possible, more than usual this week since smithy Peachey and several other farmers nearby needed his help digging potatoes. Due to severe back pain, he’d finally given in and paid a visit to Dr. Schwartz ‘‘to get me some pain pills.’’ Being able to offer his help with the harvest had always been of utmost importance to her father. He enjoyed the make-work-fun mentality of the People, wanting to be counted on by the neighboring farmers.

  She hurried upstairs to her room right after dinner, knowing she must not dawdle. There she read the letter from Jonas.

  Right away she determined something was wrong: Jonas wanted to know if she’d ‘‘spent time with Gid Peachey at a singing in August’’ . . . and could she explain his gift of a German shepherd?

  I hope to hear from you as soon as possible, Leah. Since we are betrothed and plan to marry in a few short weeks, I trust you will clear this up for me.

  Surely it is nothing more than a misunderstanding. I pray so!

  I’ll watch eagerly for your letter.

  With love,

  Jonas

  Oh, her heart ached for him. None of this had any bearing whatsoever on their love. She must answer him immediately, even take time tonight to write before going to bed. For dear Jonas’s sake, she would write long into the wee hours if necessary.

  To think that someone—who?—wanted to cause a falling-out between them this close to their wedding day! She could not imagine how such a thing had come about.

  She slipped the letter into the top dresser drawer and hurried downstairs to help with kitchen cleanup so Mamma could nurse Lydiann.

  All of a sudden, a distressing thought occurred to her.Was it possible Sadie had something to do with this?

  Getting Edith settled this night was a chore and then some. Edith wanted to sit by lantern’s light in the front room and read one pen-pal letter after another aloud—this humorous happening and that event—till Sadie was plain tuckered out. On top of that, she was having trouble giving the woman her full attention, recalling how miserable Jonas looked since their trip to town. He was nearly silent at mealtime, not engaging so much with either David or Vera in the goodnatured sort of conversation they’d obviously enjoyed all summer long. Even Mary Mae and Andy, the two younger Mellinger children, weren’t successful in getting him to play evening games, she noticed.