by Sarah Price
Chapter 19
FANNY AND SUSAN sat in the kitchen, both of them feeling uncomfortable but for different reasons. Susan kept wringing her hands, quietly looking around and taking in the vast differences of the Bontrager family’s home. Ever since their arrival the previous evening, Susan appeared uncomfortable, certainly feeling out of place and less confident than she had been in Westcliffe. But Fanny remained grateful for her company and the opportunity the Bontragers offered to provide her with a better future, even if the timing of their arrival coincided with Miriam’s unfortunate turn of events.
Julia had left the house just after supper, Fanny presumed to go visit her friends and to escape the heavy tension that encompassed the house. Meanwhile Elijah had spent the better part of the day and the early evening in the barn. When he finally entered the house and headed to the bedroom to sit with Thomas, he paused only to glance in Fanny’s direction and offer the slightest of smiles. He too appeared distraught and grief-stricken by the recent turn of events.
Fanny worried about Elijah more than she worried about Thomas or Miriam. Certainly Henry’s involvement with Miriam would negatively impact Elijah’s relationship with Mary. She couldn’t imagine that it wouldn’t. How could he possibly marry Mary, Fanny thought, after her brother had ruined Miriam’s marriage? No, she corrected herself, both Henry and Miriam ruined it. But it didn’t matter. Elijah certainly could not bring Mary Coblentz into the Bontrager family now. She would be a constant reminder of what had happened, the link between the two families that would never go away.
Where are Henry and Mary now? she wondered. She had not dared ask, fearing the question would only rub salt in the wounds that needed far more time to heal.
Fanny stood up and walked over to the stove. Without being asked, she poured some coffee into several mugs and carried them over to her aunts and uncle. Timothy shook his head and Naomi scowled at her. Unconcerned, Fanny handed one of the mugs to Martha and took the other two over to the table.
As the two sisters sat at the table, Fanny on a chair and Susan on the bench with her back to the sitting area, Fanny focused her attention on Martha. She held the coffee mug in her hands, her shoulders hunched up to her ears and her head hanging so that her chin almost touched her chest. Naomi, however, paced back and forth, rambling on about Miriam and what could have caused her favorite niece to commit such a heinous act.
The more Naomi talked, the farther away Martha drifted.
Fanny wondered where she was. A meadow, perhaps, she thought, looking at dried stalks of goldenrod along the edge of the back field, just barely visible in the evening gloom. Or perhaps Martha had returned to her past, remembering a much simpler time in her life, when she too was young and perhaps a little foolish. She had, after all, married Timothy.
“And to think,” Naomi said, her voice wavering between angry and distraught, “that I introduced her to Jeb Riehl! Why, my reputation will be sullied as well!”
Fanny glanced at Susan, who sat quietly across from her. Neither one of them spoke. There was nothing to say.
“Your reputation?” Timothy shook his head. He stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back, and stared across the empty fields. “I imagine it will be none the worse for wear,” Timothy mumbled.
Naomi ignored him—or perhaps she just chose not to hear!—and continued pacing as she complained about Miriam and Henry. “Such a match between Miriam and Jeb!” Naomi shut her eyes as she sat down in the rocking chair. With a big sigh, she rubbed her temples. “How could she possibly have engaged in such dishonorable behavior?”
“Possibly?” Timothy said in a sharp tone. He turned around and glared at Naomi. “Why, Jeb walked in and caught them holding hands! In his family’s hay loft, of all places! She even had hay on her clothing. The way Jeb described it, they most certainly had at least kissed. Lord knows what else they may have done. And just weeks after she wed Jeb!”
Martha sighed and shook her head. “A disappointment, indeed.”
“Disappointment?” Naomi huffed. “You are very lackadaisical about this situation. Why, that daughter of yours is a full-blown disgrace, Martha!”
“Susan,” Fanny whispered as she leaned over to her sister. “You should get ready for bed, ja? You must still be tired from our long journey yesterday. I’ll be up to join you soon.”
The look of relief on Susan’s face didn’t surprise Fanny as she quickly stood up, leaving her untouched coffee where Fanny had left it, and hurried to their bedroom so that she could escape the tension in the kitchen. Fanny was glad that she thought to send her younger sister away. While it was not an ideal situation for Susan, meeting the family while everyone was dealing with such a stressful circumstance, she didn’t need to be exposed to hearing the details.
“What will happen to her?” Naomi asked, wringing her hands and staring at Timothy as if hoping he had a solution for the situation. Focused on her own woes, she didn’t even notice that Susan had left the room, nor care that a young newcomer had witnessed the family’s disagreement.
“And Julia!” Martha suddenly spoke up. “Who will want to marry her?”
“Oh, hush, Martha! It isn’t as if Julia broke her wedding vows!”
Naomi’s scolding left Martha silent and suddenly devoid of any interest in the conversation. Instead, Martha set her jaw and stared at the wall, her eyes glazing over. Clearly Naomi had just added insult to injury.
“Will she be shunned, Timothy?” Naomi asked, redirecting her question to him. “Has Jeb said anything? Will she be permitted to stay with the Riehls or will they send her back here?”
It struck Fanny as odd to hear the genuinely worried tone in Naomi’s voice. Usually her aunt sounded so confident and in control. She gave directives and rarely asked for advice. Now the color was drained from her cheeks as she stared at Timothy, looking to him for guidance when, not so long ago, it was she giving the advice to him.
For the first time as Fanny studied the older woman, she noticed how old Naomi looked, her hair grayer and wrinkles deeper than she ever observed in the past. No one had ever before dared to betray Naomi’s good opinion. Miriam had certainly achieved that with her wayward conduct with Henry. How frightened she must be, Fanny thought. She was a widow living off the goodwill of her brother-in-law. Despite her years of promoting how righteous and good her husband was, his death had not left her in a good financial situation. The only thing she had to hang onto was her previous position in the community as the wife of the bishop. She used that to her advantage far too often to have the stain of scandal mar her reputation.
“She will most certainly be shunned,” Timothy admitted, his voice catching as he said the word shunned. “And Jeb will surely expect her to leave his home. I’m surprised that he hasn’t kicked her out already! No man wants a wife who has shown a propensity for such scandalous behavior.”
“Shunned?” Naomi looked horrified at Timothy’s words that were spoken with such conviction. “This is horrible. Dreadful. Surely she will return to us then and such a position that will put us in! Living with a shunned woman. And why? All because of a situation that could have been avoided,” Naomi snapped, her previous concern about Miriam’s precarious position within the community shifting to concern over the inconvenience to the family, or, more likely, to her in particular.
“Avoided?” Timothy turned to look at his sister-in-law. His eyes studied her, an incredulous expression on his face. “I fail to see how,” he said.
“Why, it’s quite simple, Timothy. None of this would have happened if only Fanny had accepted his marriage proposal!” Naomi said at last, turning her attention toward her niece. “How tragic that you could not see the ramifications of your denying him!”
“Me?” Fanny could hardly believe her ears, even though she’d been expecting this accusation. Still, the forwardness of Naomi’s allegation and the vindictiveness of her tone shocked her and she felt the heat rise to her cheeks.
Timothy turned to look
at her. Her heart pounding, she braced herself for his tirade. If only Susan were here! Surely he would not have berated her in front of her sister.
But Susan was not there. Fanny had sent her sister upstairs. And now Timothy’s attention was on her.
“Fanny,” he said in a soft, even voice. The word wasn’t directed at her, but more as if he was merely thinking of her. “It is true that Fanny rejected Henry Coblentz, ja.”
Paralyzed, Fanny stared at the steam still rising from Susan’s deserted coffee mug, waiting for what seemed an eternity to have him turn on her and accuse her.
But he didn’t. So Naomi renewed her attack.
“Ja, Fanny! You!” Naomi snapped. “You thought only of yourself when you turned him down, and now look at the consequences of your selfishness.”
Timothy lifted his chin as his eyes shifted toward Naomi. He held up his hand as if to stop her from speaking. “Nee, Naomi,” he said in an equally sharp voice. “You judge Fanny in error. If anyone should be blamed, it would be you, for not watching over Miriam more closely in my absence. Clearly this flirtation had been going on for a long time, long before the wedding. Miriam made a bad decision, while it appears that our dear Fanny made the only good one in this family!”
Our dear Fanny. How Fanny had longed to hear those words spoken from his lips. During her formative years Timothy had been the closest thing to a father that she had. His endearment startled her. Since her return just the night before, Timothy had barely looked at her, never mind spoken to her. Neither had Naomi. Now Fanny knew why. While her aunt sought to blame Fanny for contributing to Miriam’s situation, Timothy had exonerated her from all blame. In fact, based on what he had just said, Fanny now realized from the way that he averted his eyes from her that he felt shame for himself, not blame for her! Had he truly seen the error of his accusations that she was ungrateful and unappreciative? Did he now realize that Fanny had known all along that Henry was a wolf in sheep’s clothing? It appeared so!
“Mayhaps I should go check on Thomas,” Fanny said in a quiet voice as she stood up and started to walk toward the master bedroom door.
“Such disappointments,” Timothy muttered. “The lot of them!” And she knew that he was referring to all his children who had fallen from grace.
As she opened the door, Fanny saw Elijah seated beside the bed. He was hunched over and, from the looks of it, either dozing or reading. The kerosene lantern cast an orange glow onto the walls. Quietly Fanny shut the door behind herself and tiptoed over to the bed. Immediately Elijah looked up from the Bible he held in his hands.
“Fanny,” he whispered as he stood and motioned toward the chair. “Sit, please.”
“How is he?” Once seated, she leaned forward and pressed the back of her hand to his brow. “Oh, help. His fever hasn’t broken yet?”
Elijah shook his head. “Nee, not yet.”
“Poor Thomas,” she said. “To think he could have frozen to death! God was surely protecting him.”
Elijah knelt down beside Fanny’s chair, his knee brushing against hers. “Protecting him from himself, ja. So foolish! Racing horses at nighttime! And to think his friends just left him there!” He stressed the word friends with such contempt that Fanny glanced at him. But Elijah was only staring at his brother.
Last night Elijah had met Fanny and Susan at the bus station, having accompanied the hired driver who waited in the parking lot. There was something different about him. Fanny saw it right away. He avoided her eyes and seemed nervous in her presence. After his initial inquiries about their journey, they had traveled the rest of the trip from the bus station to Mount Hope in silence. Elijah offered no commentary about Miriam’s situation nor an update on Thomas’s condition.
“With friends like those people . . . ” Elijah added, watching as Fanny dripped a cloth into the basin on the nightstand. She glanced at him as though waiting for him to finish his sentence, but Elijah merely looked away.
“It seems that some people we consider friends,” she said cautiously, “are not friends at all. Such a shame to put our trust in people only to find out how deceitful they can be.”
He didn’t respond. Not at first. But after a few long seconds, he nodded his head. “Mary . . . ”
Once again Fanny braced herself. She wasn’t certain if she was ready to hear what he had to say about Mary. She swallowed and looked at him, waiting for his words.
He averted his eyes from her and licked his dry lips. When he didn’t continue talking, she knew that something was wrong. Had he already proposed to her? Perhaps before Miriam and Henry were caught in the hayloft?
“Elijah? What about Mary?” she heard herself ask. “You can tell me.” But she didn’t really want to hear it. Inside of her head she felt as if she was screaming, begging him to not say it, for she wasn’t prepared to hear him professing his love for another woman.
“This is very difficult, Fanny.”
For me too, she thought.
He cleared his throat, glancing at Thomas to make certain that they were not disturbing his sleep. “When Thomas fell ill,” he said in a slow, drawn out, and calculated manner, “her main concern was what would happen if he died.”
“I’m sure that was everyone’s concern.”
Elijah gave a shake to his head. “That’s not what I meant, Fanny. She was concerned about my own prospects if he lived.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
He raised his hand to his face and rubbed his eyes. “She thought that, since Daed wants me to take over the farm, he would give Thomas a property of equal value. Or money to start a business. To be equitable.”
Fanny squinted her eyes and stared at him, still confused. “Why would she be concerned about that?”
“Because she doesn’t want Daed to do that.”
She almost laughed. “Oh, Elijah! That makes no sense!”
“That’s what I thought. When I pressed her about it, she got defensive and said Thomas didn’t deserve any help from Daed, given his character. But I knew that was just a ruse to cover her true motive.”
The idea of laughing quickly faded from her mind as she realized what Elijah was saying. “Do you mean . . . ?”
He nodded his head. “Ja, I do.”
“Surely you are mistaken,” she whispered, her eyes wide.
As much as she did not care for Mary and her pull on Elijah, she certainly did not want to believe what Elijah was telling her.
“Her concern was not for his recovery, Fanny, but for her own prospects if she joined this family.”
With a gasp, she clasped her hand over her mouth. Mary had wished for Thomas to die? It couldn’t possibly be true. How could any person be so evil?
“You speak of trusting people and learning how much they can deceive.” He took a deep breath, his chest heaving upwards. There was sorrow etched in his face and Fanny knew that the realization of Mary’s true nature, especially on the heels of Miriam’s indiscretion, had come at a hefty price: he had lost faith in people. “I have been blinded so that I did not see just how deceitful people could truly be.”
“Not everyone is like that, Elijah. Not all people are so . . . ” She couldn’t finish the sentence. There was no word for what Mary had implied, though wicked came to mind.
“Plenty of people are that way, Fanny.” Elijah paused, deep in thought over something. Patiently, Fanny waited for him to continue. When he did, there was a hint of anger in his voice. “Look at the family. Why, there is not one of us who is not guilty of self-indulging behavior! Even Maem with her ceaseless—and very self-serving, might I add—depression!”
“Elijah!”
“It’s true, Fanny. It’s easier for her to withdraw into herself than to stand up to Aendi Naomi. Not once has Maem stood up to her, not before she moved into the grossdawdihaus and certainly not after. If she had not permitted Aendi Naomi to oppress her, and if she had taken her own daughters in hand instead of leaving them to Naomi’s care, we might not b
e in this situation today.”
There was truth to Elijah’s words. For many years Fanny had watched as Martha sank into listlessness and despair, yet she had done little to help herself climb out of it. And not only she but her daughters also had suffered the consequences of her failure.
“But as I have been pondering all of this,” Elijah added, his voice losing the bite so evident in his comments about Martha, “I have realized something else. You are not like the rest of us. Despite the supposed inferiority of your background that Daed and Aendi Naomi so often held against you, you are the only one that has lived a life that honors God.” He paused. “You always have.”
She blushed and looked at the floor.
Her modesty in accepting a compliment caused him to look over his shoulder at her. “Just think, Fanny, all these years my daed has prided himself on his children’s upbringing in this community, even lording it over you. Yet the only one who has held true to the principles and values of the church—and our upbringing!—is you.”
“I—I'm as much a sinner as anyone else,” she whispered.
“Your response just proves the very point that I made.” When he said this, his voice was low and his eyes narrowed as if he studied her, seeing her for the very first time. “What a disappointment the Bontrager children must be to our daed.”
“Not you!” Alarmed, she reached out and touched his arm. “Why, you are a righteous man, Elijah. Your hard work on the farm is only second to your faith in God. Surely you cannot feel as if you are a disappointment. Your daed is most proud of you, for sure and certain.”
But Elijah turned away, his eyes falling upon the sleeping form of his sick brother. “Mayhaps, Fanny, but the one thing I will never be is Thomas. He had such high hopes for his firstborn son and such great disappointments as a result. I’m not certain his pride in my following the faith will ever balance out his dismay in Thomas losing sight of it.”
The sorrow in his voice struck her heart as if it were pierced. Was it possible, she wondered, that Elijah lived in his own prison of trying to live up to the expectations his father held for Thomas? Had Elijah felt the same disappointment in Timothy that she felt for the past eight years? And if so, how could Timothy favor Thomas? After all, Thomas showed no signs of committing to Jesus, the one thing that Timothy seemed to hold in greater value than anything else.