The Crossroad

by Beverly Lewis

  “What is it?” Annie asked.

  “Perty drawings, that’s what. I’ll be right down, dearie.”

  Annie nodded and pranced out of the room. And Lavina hurried upstairs to see about Rachel, poor thing.

  “You still sufferin’, child?” Lavina asked, going quickly to the side of Rachel’s bed.

  Rachel kept her hands on a wet cloth that was wrapped ’round her forehead. “No need to worry over me, ’cause what I have to tell you is ever so important. My cousin Esther said some mighty interesting things on her latest tape.”

  “I’m all ears,” Lavina said, perching on the edge of the bed.

  Rachel’s face was drawn, her eyes downcast. “I think you should know what Esther said ’bout the hex put on Gabe Esh.” And she went on to tell her what was told to Esther’s husband about Bishop Seth’s “death charm.” “Must’ve sprung out of Seth’s anger against Gabe for not comin’ under his authority. Gabe was a right stubborn fella—stubborn for God, you know.”

  Ach, she was shamed to hear such horrid things ’bout the man who’d led the People all these years. Lavina clamped her hand over her mouth when Rachel mentioned the hex and the encounter with the white dove.

  “But remember, Lavina, the enemy will use anything—even superstitions—and you know how we Plain folk are ’bout that,” Rachel added. “Esther says it’s ignorance and irrational fear that make superstition work.”

  Lavina couldn’t agree more. “Jah, but it’s time we took back our families, our community, for God!”

  Nodding, Rachel whispered, “I’ll be prayin’ for you when you go to the bishop, and I’m ever so sorry I can’t go with you … on account of this horrible headache.”

  “I think your father’s comin’ with me. And I’m hopin’ and prayin’ he’ll stay and listen … when I talk to Bishop Seth ’bout the hex … and the dove.”

  Rachel frowned. “What’ll you say if the bishop asks you to repent for goin’ to the Beachy church?”

  Truth was, she couldn’t show remorse. “The Lord will hafta give me the words to say. That’s all I know.”

  Seemed to be what Rachel needed to hear, ’cause her face brightened, and for a moment, Lavina wondered if the pain in the poor girl’s head just might be lettin’ up some. “You just stay here and pray, and I’ll go and do the speakin’ for the Lord,” she said before getting up and kissing Rachel’s cheek.

  “You can count on me,” Rachel replied, still rubbing her forehead.

  Lavina headed back downstairs to show Annie the perty artwork by the little’s girl very own great-great-uncle Gabe.

  The phone rang almost as soon as Lavina and Dat left by way of the front door. Rachel had heard the doors close behind them, and when the phone rang, she was glad Mam had stayed home. That way she wouldn’t have to bother getting up to answer it.

  Soon, though, it was Mam calling up the steps to her. “Rachel, are you up to talkin’ to Mr. Witwer?”

  She was sure their Mennonite driver must have some information ’bout “Auntie” Nancy Beiler. Maybe located her, though she wished the call had come on another day. When she felt better.

  “Jah, I’ll take it up here,” she succeeded in saying loud enough to be heard. Hobbling down the hall, she sat on the small chair next to the phone table.

  Turned out Calvin Witwer had found where Nancy Beiler was living. “She’s stayin’ with her married sister, over near Gap.”

  “Really, so far away?” Rachel replied.

  “I just now talked to her, and she says she wants you to give her a call sometime, when it’s convenient.”

  She memorized the woman’s number, still holding one side of her head with one hand, the phone cradled in the other. “I’ll be glad to. Thank you ever so much, Mr. Witwer.”

  Hanging up the phone, it was all she could do to make it back to bed. Yet she’d promised to pray for Lavina, so she lay there on her back, her head stinging with every pulse of her heart, trying to make sense of her prayer. “Dear Lord, please help my father’s cousin as she goes and talks to the old bishop ’bout you. Help her remember the deliverance prayer she learned from Esther’s tapes.”

  She sighed, hesitant to ask the Lord for her healing again. “Help Seth Fisher show grace and mercy to Lavina … help her not to feel rejected if the shun is put on her for gut. Oh, Lord, just help her. And help me, too.” That was all she said ’bout herself. She wanted to “rest in the Lord,” as Lavina had instructed so wisely yesterday. With everything in her, she was trying her best to do just that.

  So she would set her mind to resting. Then in a few minutes, she would get down on her knees and pray again, remembering her dear friend and relative Lavina, whom God had called to testify for Him.

  Thirteen

  The elderly bishop lay lifeless—gray ’round the gills—his bed marked only by the colorful blues and yellows of the quilts and the modest walnut headboard and footboard. His plain white nightshirt was visible, though only the neckline, as he was covered securely with a mound of blankets and quilts. His gray hair was damp with perspiration at the crown, and strands clung to his wrinkled brow. His beard, grizzled and untrimmed, was schlappich—disheveled. Overall, he looked downright wrung out.

  The room was typically Plain with rag rugs scattered here and there—one rug on either side of the low double bed and a long narrow one directly in front of the dresser. A lone rocking chair sat near the corner windows across the wide hardwood plank flooring. Lavina noticed that the bishop’s wife had draped her bureau mirror with jewelry—mostly glittery necklaces and bracelets. Truth was, many Amishwomen decorated their bedroom mirrors with colorful jewelry and shiny trinkets, since they weren’t allowed to wear such things.

  “I’ve sent for Blue Johnny and his black box,” Rosemary Fisher said, her wrinkled face solemn and drawn as she stood near her husband’s bedside.

  Lavina hoped Rachel was callin’ her name out to the Lord just now. Oh, she needed divine wisdom! She could scarcely hear the bishop breathing, but then she set her gaze on his chest and saw that it was rising and falling ever so slowlike.

  She found herself concentrating on the beloved bishop, the tall, dignified-lookin’ man who’d overseen her baptism into the Amish church back when she was only eighteen years old. Now he lay still as death, looking like a bag o’ bones beneath the many bedclothes. “Is he conscious?” she whispered.

  Rosemary shook her head. “He’s been sleeping ’round the clock, so it’s all right if you wake him.” Then, she asked, eyeing Benjamin Zook, “Are ya here to confess for sinning … against the Ordnung?”

  The sick man perked up a bit, his eyes fluttering open. Just in that instant, Lavina remembered how those serious dark eyes could pierce a body through, although just now there seemed to be a flicker of relief in his countenance. Mighty confusin’ to Lavina, to say the least. She recalled, too, his stern preachin’ voice, the way he used it to exhort the People.

  “Lavina Troyer’s here,” Ben said softly, stepping back to allow her to move closer.

  Rosemary also moved toward her, stooped over and leaning on a cane. “So you’re here ’bout confessing, then?” She seemed anxious for an answer, her gaze intent on Lavina.

  “I’ve come in the name of the Lord.” Lavina was somewhat surprised at her own sudden boldness.

  “That don’t answer my question.” The bishop’s wife, feeble as she was herself, was unyielding, and Lavina couldn’t blame her for wanting to protect her husband, as ill as he seemed to be.

  “Jah, I’m here to ’fess up, all right. I own up to bein’ right headstrong ’bout attending preachin’s over at the Beachy meetinghouse. Guess I ain’t been forthright with the bishop ’bout that, and I’m sorry. Should’ve spoken up weeks ago ’bout the way the Lord’s touched my life over there … how He’s taught me things I never knowed were in the Bible. Jah, I’m just sorry I didn’t speak up sooner.”

  Rosemary took a step or two back, frowning and looking ever so befuddled.r />
  “What’s that, Rosie?” the bishop was saying, struggling to raise his head off the pillow. “What’s the woman want?”

  “Lavina Troyer says she’s sorry,” Rosemary told him. “She wants to tell you that—”

  “I’m here to give you a message from the Lord who loves you, Bishop Seth,” Lavina interrupted. All she could think to say was the Scripture passage in Luke she’d memorized just this week. She began slowly, deliberately, sayin’ the words as clearly as she could. “‘In the synagogue there was a man, which had a spirit of an unclean devil, and cried out with a loud voice, saying, Let us alone; what have we to do with thee, thou Jesus of Nazareth? Art thou come to destroy us? I know thee who thou art; the Holy One of God.’”

  The bishop’s eyes blinked several times, and a scowl settled on his brow. “What … what do you want with me?”

  It was the pitch of his voice that made Lavina wonder. Didn’t sound like Seth Fisher’s voice at all. Sounded eerie-like. Dark and distant, too.

  She sensed an unusual heaviness in the air. Yet in spite of the troublesome oppression, she felt something else just as strong, if not stronger. She recognized the presence of God in the room. The very closeness of His Spirit.

  “‘Hold thy peace,’” she spoke the Scripture, “‘and come out of him.’” Without warning, the bishop began to shake and twist on his bed, winding the ends of his sheet into what looked like a coiled rope, holding on to it as if convulsing. His face broke out in heavy perspiration, and his eyes kept rollin’ back in his head. Then he began to cough and sneeze repeatedly.

  “What’s happenin’ here?” Ben Zook gasped, his face turning ashen.

  “The power of God’s on him … and evil spirits can’t stay where God is,” Lavina answered, praying silently all the while.

  “Well, whatever it is, I best be gettin’ Blue Johnny, but quick,” Rosemary said, leaning hard on her cane.

  “Won’t be needin’ him,” Lavina was quick to say. Again, she was unsure where the words were coming from, so fearless were they. “Just wait a bit … and pray for God’s peace to pour over him.”

  The bishop’s wife scratched her salt-and-pepper head through her formal veiling.

  Ben was shaking his head in amazement, staring at both Rosemary and Lavina. “This ain’t ’bout the powwow gift, is it? This writhing and whatnot?”

  Lavina explained as best she could. “If you’re thinkin’ I’ve got the conjurin’ gift, no … no. But if you’re a-thinkin’ the magical powers—and the curses—are comin’ out of the bishop just now, jah, I’m trustin’ and believin’ the Lord Almighty for that.”

  Ben’s face turned from white to bright red, and he spun on his heels and fled the room. Rosemary stayed put, though, wiping her husband’s brow with a cloth, trying to soothe him. “I’d heard tell of things like this,” she muttered. “Just never seen it with my own eyes.”

  “Let’s pray,” Lavina said, not wanting to get caught up in idle talk. “God’s been wantin’ to deliver our bishop ever since Gabe Esh died of the hex.”

  Rosemary’s mouth dropped open. “Whatever are you talking ’bout? How do you know ’bout …?” She clapped her hand over her own mouth.

  “The hex … the white dove … and the allconsumin’ fear that surely must’ve killed Gabe and his friend that night on their way to Gordonville—that’s what the Lord wants out in the open. Once and for all.”

  “But that happened a long, long time ago.”

  “Jah, but the Lord sent me to pray for Bishop Seth ’bout all that. I can’t think of disobeyin’ the Lord God, now can I?” Lavina could see the sick man was beginning to relax, sighing, and taking long, deep breaths. His eyes were still fluttering, but his expression seemed to be changing—softening—right before their eyes.

  “I wanna pray for you, Bishop Seth,” she said, leaning closer. “The Lord wants to save your soul ’fore He takes you home to heaven.”

  “Now, you wait just a minute,” Rosemary asserted, eyes casting fiery darts her way. “My husband don’t need no soul-savin’. He’s the bishop, for pity’s sake!”

  At that, Seth Fisher motioned with his finger to his wife weakly, but motioning all the same. “Closer,” he muttered.

  Rosemary, quite shaken, bent down while the bishop whispered something in her ear. “Well, I’ll be!” She straightened to her full height.

  But the bishop gestured to her again. “Come closer, Rosie.”

  Turning pale herself, the bishop’s wife leaned down again to hear what her husband had to say.

  Lavina was beginning to wonder if the Lord would allow her to finish the work He’d started here and was greatly relieved when Rosemary stood to her full height once again. Facing Lavina, her eyes glistened as she spoke. “My husband insists on hearin’ what you’ve got to say.”

  “He does?”

  “Jah, but best make it snappy.”

  Seth Fisher’s voice was raspy and weak. “I had a vision earlier this morning … hours before you came. Never has such a dream haunted me like this one, and I didn’t know what to make of it. But now I understand that it was God preparin’ me, for I saw an angel of the Lord come to me, tellin’ me that what I’ve been doin’—hexing and powwowing—is wrong, dead wrong.” His voice, though thin, was every bit normal sounding now.

  “Don’t wear yourself out, Seth,” his wife said, stroking his shoulder with her free hand.

  But he persisted. “The vision was as real as you are standin’ right here, I tell you.” He looked right at Lavina. “God knew you would be comin’ today to wake me up out of my sin-sickness … to cast the evil out of my soul.”

  The gray pallor was slowly disappearing. Even as the women stood over his bed, the color began to return to his face. A moment passed, and the room was still as night.

  Lavina felt it was time for her to speak again. “Bishop Fisher, God wants to forgive you for the death hex you put on Gabriel Esh,” she said gently. “And for the way you’ve kept the People in the grip of the enemy all these many years.”

  The bishop’s eyes grew moist, and a tear slid down his crinkled cheek. His deep brown eyes shone with compassion, like beacons in the darkness, yet he remained silent, not speaking for a gut long time.

  At last, the words poured forth. “I’ve been waitin’ for this day. Who would’ve thought the Lord God would send a simple-minded woman to me.” He sighed, eyes closing. “But it don’t matter, not no more. I’m ready to receive forgiveness.”

  “I can help you say a prayer,” Lavina said, glad that she’d learned how to in the past weeks since attending Rachel’s church. “Is that all right?”

  There was no hesitation. Bishop Seth nodded his head, the muscles in his jaw relaxing as Lavina looked on him in mercy and kindness, this man who’d shunned her unfairly.

  “Lord Jesus, I come to you,” she said.

  He repeated her words, slowly, purposefully.

  “I believe you are the Son of God … the only way to the heavenly Father.” She paused for him to recite the simple, yet all-important words.

  “You died on a cruel cross for my sins, took my place there, and rose up from the dead.” While the bishop repeated after her, she inhaled slowly. “It’s high time I gave up the fight against you, Lord. I won’t resist you no more. I repent of all my sins. Take me, Lord, I’m your child … your servant from this day forth.”

  Rosemary was sniffling now, and Lavina wasn’t sure, but she thought the woman might be whisperin’ the words right along with her husband.

  “I’m askin’ for your forgiveness, Lord … ’specially those sins of my forefathers, who passed down curses and their consequences on me and my children. Make us free from the sinful patterns of our ancestors, in Jesus’ name.”

  The bishop recited every word without questioning her. Lavina continued her prayer. “I turn my back on the devil and cancel the claims wickedness once had on me. And I ask to be forgiven for Gabe Esh’s death, for the evil that I harbored in my hea
rt.”

  Not only did the bishop say the prayer after her, he cut in and finished it himself. “And, Lord God in heaven, I do ask to be forgiven for the many hexes and charms I called forth.” He stopped to cough several times. “I pray you’ll see fit to forgive me for denyin’ the People your truth … all these years. And for not livin’ up to my own name, Seth, which I understand means ‘anointed one.’ Jah, I want your anointing on me … now as I live out my final days.”

  Lavina held her breath, believin’ that the Lord might keep him alive a bit longer because of the witness his life could be… .

  “Please, Lord, heap blessin’ on our bishop where once there was cursin’,” Lavina ended the prayer. “In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Rosemary repeated, then reached over and gripped Lavina’s hand. “Oh, dear girl, thank ya for comin’ … today of all days.”

  “Thank the Lord.” She didn’t want to go on and on, not really, tellin’ the bishop’s wife ’bout the divine help she’d been given. She’d just have to let the Lord do His work in Rosemary’s life.

  The bishop breathed a long ragged breath and looked straight up at Lavina. “I saw the mercy of God’s Son, Jesus, in your eyes today, Lavina Troyer. Bless you for coming … thou wise and righteous woman.”

  Lavina felt mighty happy and could hardly wait to share the miraculous account with Rachel. My, my … who would’ve thought?

  Soon after, she left for home with Benjamin Zook, who was visibly shaken over the visit to the ailing bishop. He tried to put the blame on her for upsetting the poor man, but she turned a deaf ear to him. No, she wouldn’t begin to argue the truth or describe what she’d seen with her own eyes as the bishop was released from the evil spirits that had controlled him for so long. And she didn’t wanna spoil things by recountin’ the blessed moment just now.

  Lavina heard from the bishop’s wife, later in the afternoon, that Blue Johnny had shown up at last, though his services “weren’t needed … or wanted, neither one,” Rosemary said when she phoned from an English neighbor’s house. “Denki for whatcha did, Lavina. I can’t say thank-you enough for the miracle that happened between my husband and God today.”