Abram straightened, recalling the day Gid had gone in search of Leah in the woods, bringing her home wearing an unmistakable grin. ‘‘Seems to me Gid would be a right fine man for my Leah,’’ he replied. ‘‘Ain’t no secret how I feel ’bout that. If he wants to spend time with Leah, I have no problem with it.’’
‘‘So . . . it’s true, then?’’
‘‘Gid’s awful fond of her. As for courtin’, well, ’tis hard to be exact about what goes on under the coverin’ of night.’’
‘‘Gideon Peachey has your blessin’, is that what you’re sayin’?’’ Peter’s face had turned as red as a ripened beet.
‘‘He’s had the go-ahead since he turned sixteen.’’ There, he’d said it all, though clouded over with a shade of gray.
‘‘Then, I guess that’s that.’’ Peter turned tail and headed back through the paddock without so much as a good-bye grunt or a tip of his black hat.
Heading toward the barn, Abram felt torn. He was fully persuaded Gid was Leah’s best chance for happiness. Even so, he could not bear to see her heart broken. He was caught between his dear girl’s hopes and wishes and what a father knew best. Downright angry he was at Jonas Mast for instigating a breakup. No doubt in his mind—Peter’s boy had made a deliberate turn away from Leah, starting that day in the cornfield.
The telephone in the woodshop was jangling as Jonas hurried to answer it. David was nowhere around, so he picked up the phone. ‘‘Mellingers’ Carpentry.’’
‘‘Jonas? Is that you?’’
He perked up his ears. ‘‘Dat?’’
‘‘Jah, thought I’d make a quick call to you, son.’’
‘‘Gut to hear back from you.’’ He wondered if his father had some important news. Why else would he resort to using a telephone?
‘‘I don’t want you to waste any more time troublin’ yourself over the likes of Leah Ebersol.’’
The words slapped him in the face. ‘‘You spoke to Abram?’’
‘‘This morning . . . and, believe me, you’re better off this way than findin’ out your girl was disloyal after you married her.’’
Jonas was aware of the pounding of his heart. His precious Leah untrue? His throat went dry. How could this possibly be?
He recalled again Leah’s decision not to spend the summer here with him. How frustrating it was not having solid answers for why she had refused. Yet he’d trusted her, respecting her right to remain in Gobbler’s Knob as she wished. Then, when he’d invited her a second time, what had she done but call him on the telephone, of all things, to ask if he could make arrangements for Sadie to come in her stead! Just why had Leah sent Sadie to him? He could only imagine.
Feelings of total frustration flooded him, and he knew not what to say or think. Knowing Leah through all the years of their friendship, he would never have thought she might purposely set out to betray him. Such a thing was unthinkable, truly.
‘‘Son, are you there?’’
He drew in a breath and expelled it suddenly. ‘‘I can’t begin to understand this, Dat.’’
‘‘ ’Tis essential for you to come home. You made a covenant with the Gobbler’s Knob church. . . .’’
I can’t think of living anywhere near Leah if I can’t be with her myself, he thought. But to his father he said, ‘‘David’s offered me a partnership and perhaps I oughta be thinking on that.’’
‘‘Jonas . . . son, you’ll be shunned if you don’t return.’’
Bishop Bontrager was one of the most austere ministers in all of Lancaster County, the spiritual head of the Gobbler’s Knob and Georgetown church districts. Responsible for recommending excommunication and shunning, the man of God had the power to seal Jonas’s fate.
‘‘I’ll write to him and plead my case if I have to,’’ he said. ‘‘But if he refuses, I’ll make a life here for myself without Abram’s Leah. . . . Somehow, I will. With God’s help.’’
His father continued to argue for Jonas to return home, saying he couldn’t think of going on without him.
When the time came to say good-bye, Jonas offered, ‘‘God be with you, Dat. Tell Mamma I love her . . . and my brothers and sisters, too.’’
‘‘Son, please think hard about this. You mustn’t throw away your life. . . .’’ There was great heaviness in Dat’s voice. Then he said, ‘‘I’m through with the Ebersols, kin or not, for what they’ve done to us!’’
Jonas stared at the telephone after hanging up. It seemed unbelievable. Leah must have given in to Abram’s wishes . . . and now preferred Gid.
It was going to be a warm afternoon, much nicer than the morning had started out to be; this was clear to Sadie by well past the noon meal. She helped not only Edith with some light cleaning but also Vera, offering to dust the front room and bake a pie for supper while Vera read to Mary Mae and Andy before putting them down for a nap.
With the cherry pie nestled safely in the oven, she hurried back to the Dawdi Haus through the connecting door. She saw Edith dozing in her rocking chair, white-gray head tilted back, mouth gaping open. Tiptoeing past her, Sadie headed for the stairs.
In her room, she sat near the window, looking out. She felt at once guilty and even sad for having thrown away Leah’s letter to Jonas. But the very next morning, after a sleepless night, she had gone to look through the kitchen trash, only to discover someone had gathered up the refuse in the house and taken it out to the large trash bin. When she inquired of Vera about the trash pickup, she was told the county collectors had already come and hauled it away.
For more than a week, she struggled immensely. She’d had no business taking Jonas’s letter, nor should she have thrown it in the trash. Angry or not, though, she could reason Leah had it coming—her telling on Sadie and all. She honestly felt she could overlook, even forgive Naomi Kauffman for going to Preacher Yoder to rid herself of sin prior to baptism. Naomi’s knowledge of Sadie’s rumschpringe was scant in detail compared to what Leah was privy to. Besides, sisters were supposed to keep vows of the heart. And Leah had not.
What misery I’ve caused Jonas, she thought, having daily witnessed his despair firsthand. And the act of tampering with mail was a crime, she knew. The all-seeing eyes of the Lord God heavenly Father roamed to and fro over the earth. Her list of sins was ever lengthening.
She had wrongly interfered in the fate of two people’s lives, delving into the most personal regions of the heart. Yet she felt helpless to confess her wrongdoing to Jonas, though she knew she must. She was worried sick what he would think of her.
By being in the kitchen when Jonas came in for a refill on his Thermos of iced tea, she might force herself to come clean. She was prepared to confess the whole thing, and she’d calculated the timing of their encounter, hoping he was punctual with his afternoon break. Since Vera had gone upstairs with the children, this was Sadie’s best opportunity.
Now here he came, hurrying across the lawn and up the steps into the house. ‘‘Hullo,’’ he said flatly, the smile gone from his face.
His greeting distressed her; she was at fault. Even so, no matter how solemn he looked, she must follow through. ‘‘I, uh, wonder if I might talk to you right quick.’’ She leaned hard against the kitchen sink.
‘‘In fact, I’m awful glad I bumped into you,’’ he said, taking her off guard. His eyes were red-rimmed yet unwavering, and he glanced about, as if checking to see if they were alone. ‘‘You were right, Sadie. It’s true what you told me . . .’bout Leah and Gid. They are a couple.’’
She didn’t know what to think and felt her face go flush. ‘‘Are you sayin’ you heard from someone back home?’’
Jonas nodded and told of his father’s telephone call. Then he startled her by saying, ‘‘I owe you much gratitude.’’
She could hardly believe what she was hearing. So she had been right about what she’d seen in the woods that day? She could see by the stricken look in his eyes that here was a young man in need of comfort.
‘‘I
’m ever so sorry, Jonas,’’ she said in a tender voice.
He smiled then, a shattered kind of smile that did nothing to disguise his hurt. ‘‘No, no. This is not for you to worry over.’’
She glanced at the oven. ‘‘I baked a cherry pie hopin’ to cheer you up at supper.’’
He attempted to force another smile, she could see. ‘‘I’ll look forward to your pie,’’ he said. Then he returned to his work.
She watched him hurry toward the back door. I spared Jonas by discarding Leah’s distressing letter, she thought in amazement. And surely it was that, because there are no more coming.
Hours later Sadie was outside sweeping the little box of a back porch to the Dawdi Haus when she saw the ministers walking toward her across the yard.
They’ve wasted no time, she thought, noting the stern look in both the preacher’s and the deacon’s eyes. Suddenly she felt as if she were headed to the gallows.
Chapter Thirty-One
Leah came in the kitchen door and saw Mamma sitting at the table, her face stained with tears. ‘‘Ach, what is it?’’ She rushed to her mother’s side.
‘‘I worried something like this might happen.’’ Mamma looked down at the letter in her lap. ‘‘It’s the worst news ever.’’
‘‘What is?’’
Mamma shook her head. ‘‘Sadie’s not comin’ home. Already she’s had a visit from the brethren there. But everythin’ hinges on her willingness to repent.’’
‘‘Still she refuses?’’
‘‘Awful sad, ’tis.’’ Mamma pulled out one of Hannah’s embroidered hankies hidden beneath her sleeve and wiped her eyes. Her voice faltered. ‘‘If the Bann is put on her—even a short-term shunning—Bishop Bontrager might put a stop to her letters.’’
‘‘Then we’ll lose touch with her. . . .’’ Leah felt strangled. She laid her head on her mother’s soft, round shoulder, keenly aware of her own grief but even more so of Mamma’s trembling. When Dat came indoors for a drink of water and spotted them there, his mouth dropped open. ‘‘What’s wrong, Ida . . . somebody up and die?’’
Mamma said nothing, holding up the letter for him to see.
Removing his hat slowly, Dat planted himself in the middle of the kitchen, his eyes moving back and forth across the page. His lips formed every silent word.
When he finished reading, he frowned. ‘‘If Sadie’s diggin’ her heels in about comin’ home, then I ’spect there might be a reason for it.’’ His words sounded convincing, but his voice was right wobbly.
Leah held her breath and Mamma said, ‘‘Just what could that be, Abram?’’
He folded the letter, staring down at it. ‘‘Who’s to say, really. But I’m a-thinkin’ . . . could be Sadie has herself a new beau.’’
‘‘Who’d have her if she’s to be shunned?’’ asked Mamma.
Dat fell silent for a time. When he looked up, his eyes were awful watery. Leah felt her skin go prickly. ‘‘Maybe Jonas, for one,’’ he said.
‘‘Ach, Abram!’’ Mamma clasped a hand to her heart.
Leah was devastated at Dat’s remark, though the idea had crossed her mind. Could it be Sadie was the reason for Jonas’s ongoing silence, the reason why his letters had ceased? Surely not, she hoped, her mouth going dry.
‘‘What’ll become of our Sadie?’’ Mamma asked, sniffling.
Dat glanced at Leah somewhat ruefully. Unexpectedly, he went and sat next to Mamma at the table. Slipping his arm around her, he stared at the checked oilcloth. ‘‘We do as the Lord God calls us—to live as a holy example. . . . Sadie knows the way, Ida.’’
Leah felt as distressed as Dat and Mamma looked. She leaned hard against the table, wishing the stillness might be broken—if not for happy talk, at least for her burning question.
Finally she asked, ‘‘What’ll happen if Preacher Yoder has already written and told the preachers there . . .’bout Sadie’s iniquity?’’
Dat raised his head and looked at her. ‘‘Seems to me, they’ll want to keep all that tomfoolery under their ministerial hats,’’ he said. ‘‘In fact, I ’spect they’d prefer to keep it hush-hush, them eager to bring new blood to the community and all.’’
‘‘What about the Proving?’’ asked Mamma. ‘‘Won’t Sadie be watched closely for a time?’’
Dat nodded his head. ‘‘If she passes scrutiny for six months, she’ll be welcomed into the Ohio fellowship, as long as they hold to believers’ baptism, separation from the evil world, and reject going to war. Far as I understand, anyway.’’
Leah had heard tell of the Proving. She’d also heard of certain church districts where the People intermarried so frequently the children born to such unions suffered physical problems—sometimes mental.
So, in the process of time, if she repented there, Sadie would be allowed to join the Millersburg church district. But she’d be shunned in Gobbler’s Knob.
Mamma spoke up. ‘‘Ach, the worst is our girl will be cut off from us—unless she has a change of heart and comes home.’’
‘‘Not likely now, I’m afraid,’’ Dat said, getting up.
‘‘What’ll happen to Jonas?’’ asked Leah quietly.
Pulling at his beard, Dat eyed Mamma. ‘‘I daresay he must’ve gotten special permission from the Grasshopper Level bishop to take his apprenticeship out of state.’’
‘‘Jah, he did,’’ Leah said. ‘‘Jonas told me so last spring before he left.’’ She sighed, wondering if she ought to say more. Then she could hold the words back no longer. ‘‘Will he be shunned, too, if he doesn’t return?’’
‘‘That’ll be for his bishop to work out with both Bishop Bontrager and the Ohio brethren.’’ His eyes showed deep concern toward her.
A groan escaped Leah’s lips.
Dat went on. ‘‘Unless Jonas gets himself home by the end of next month, he’ll be subject to the vote of the People. But . . . I’d say there’s still hope he’ll be spared the shun.’’
Not if Sadie’s caught his eye, she thought, cringing inwardly. I was naïve, sending my beautiful sister to Millersburg in my stead!
Leah could no longer deny her sorrow. How on earth could she sit here while Dat speculated, when her future with the only boy she’d ever loved was at stake? She wondered if she should now make some attempt to contact Jonas besides her letter. Should she hurry to a telephone and call him?
No, that was much too bold on her part. She wouldn’t put Jonas on the spot. Indeed, he must have a reason for not writing, though she couldn’t imagine what. Patience . . . and a meek and gentle spirit were of the utmost importance. No respectable Amishwoman would behave otherwise. Hard as it would be, she must allow him to get in touch with her on his own terms.
Without saying more to either Dat or Mamma, she hastened out the back door, hurrying down the lane to the road. She ran so hard she lost track of where she was going, and by the time she slowed to catch her breath, she’d come upon the boundary line where Peacheys’ land and Dr. Schwartz’s empty field met up—where she and Jonas had exchanged their first kisses not so long ago. What could have gone wrong in such a short time?
Weary now, she sat on a nearby rock, indifferent to trespassing. Moments crept by and it felt that the world—her world—had come to a halt. She looked out over the fertile grassland to the approximate area of the small grave, though she could not see it from here. The lonely place, without even a marker, lay in the tall grass, representing the death of everything she had come to hold dear.
There lies my future without Jonas, she thought, realizing just how terribly depressed she felt.
Then, quite unexpectedly, another sad thought crossed her mind. For all she knew, Sadie’s little baby lay lifeless and cold in that grave. Such a devastating turn of events this all was, beginning with the sins of Sadie’s rumschpringe. Everything— everything—had spun out of control, shattering their lives, from Sadie’s first curious look at a worldly English boy.
Heavyhearted, she rose and labor
ed back up the long road toward the Ebersol Cottage, as she’d always called her father’s abode. The limestone house with its grand front door and wide porch seemed to smile a welcome to friend or foe alike. If the things Dat said were true—and no doubt they were— the family home would remain a place of refuge for her well into a bleak and lonely future. Not the house of her wedding service, nor her wedding night. Not the happy dwelling place where she and Jonas came for visits with their new babies. . . .
She would remain Abram’s Leah for a long time to come. Maybe forever.
After outside chores were done, Leah kept busy sewing a blue bridesmaid’s dress for Naomi’s upcoming wedding—when she wasn’t helping Mamma. In spite of her busyness, she could not get her mind off Jonas as each day passed and no more letters arrived.
She and Adah spent their leisure time sewing together. But, though Leah tried to conceal her sadness, she couldn’t fool her best friend.
‘‘Oh, Leah, as much as I would like to have you as my sister-in-law, I can see clearly how much you love Jonas.’’
They had been working side by side at Adah’s mother’s trestle table, stitching by hand the side seams. With no one in the kitchen except the two of them, it was a rare and quiet moment, indeed.
Leah looked into Adah’s pretty green eyes and sweet face. ‘‘You’ll always be like a sister to me, no matter. . . .’’
Adah stuck her needle into the pincushion and stopped her sewing. ‘‘If you ask me, I’d say you should go find a pay telephone and call your Jonas.’’
Leah gasped. ‘‘Ain’t proper.’’
‘‘But you can’t live without knowin’ for sure, can you? I’d be glad to go with you. Honestly, you must call him!’’
She stared at her friend. ‘‘Surely you don’t mean it.’’
‘‘You said you two could talk ’bout anything, jah?’’
For sure and for certain, that was true. At least that had been the case before his letters stopped.
The Betrayal Page 24