by Sarah Price
After the accident, everything changed.
Again.
Kate understood exactly what Becca meant. The change in their home environment affected everyone, not just David. The burden on each person’s back felt heavy, causing shoulders to slump forward and feet to shuffle across the floor. It was not healthy, and anything but happy. Still, it tugged at Kate’s heart that Becca’s world, too, had been turned upside down.
“The before days were good,” Kate admitted, wrapping her arm around Becca’s shoulders. “The after days will get better soon.”
“When?”
“In time.” It was the only answer that Kate could offer. She gently squeezed Becca, the closest gesture to a hug that she felt comfortable offering her sister. “Trust me, Becca. It will get better in time.”
Becca frowned and tilted her head, looking up at her sister. “Did it ever get better after Jacob, then?”
Kate froze. That was unexpected. “I . . . I best finish getting ready, then,” she managed to say as she stood up and returned to the small mirror. Without another word to Becca, she began fixing her hair, smoothing back any strands that escaped her tight bun.
She was only vaguely aware of Becca sighing before she shuffled out of the room, to where Kate didn’t know and, frankly, wasn’t certain if she really cared. Alone again, Kate dropped her hands to her side and leaned her forehead against the wall, the coolness of the plaster helping to calm her nerves. Jacob, she thought. Why on earth did Becca have to bring up Jacob?
It wasn’t that she didn’t think of Jacob. No, that wasn’t true at all. But he had been just a toddler when he died. She pushed the memory from her mind, knowing that dwelling on it would only send her into a tailspin again. Twelve years had passed in a blink of an eye and yet the wound remained opened as if it had happened just yesterday.
With another deep breath, she reached for her black sweater and slipped it on. Downstairs, she could hear Daed call out for her. Although she dreaded arriving at the singing alone, she knew better than to argue with Daed. His mind was set. The only thing she could do was to clear her mind and focus on what needed to be done that evening.
The singing was being held at the Millers’ house in the same room where the worship service had been held earlier that day. Once again, the benches were set up, but, unlike earlier that day, both the young men and the young women were in the room, gathered in groups as they visited before the singing began. Near the back of the room, a long table was set up with bowls of pretzels and chips as well as pitchers of water and lemonade.
As she stood in the doorway, Kate put on a brave face. Despite the pit that grew in her stomach, she forced herself to walk into the room, trying to look cheerful. She felt as if the small clusters of people stared at her. For a moment, she froze as she looked around and all their faces blurred together.
Were they whispering about her? If they were, it wasn’t about whether her dress was wrinkled or her hem torn, the typical chitchat and gossip among the different groups of young women. No. This time, they had something else to talk about, for the very fact that her daed had dropped her off at the youth singing and immediately left, without so much as a wave of his hand, warranted the stares and whispers, both imaginary and real.
They know, she told herself. Surely they knew she was to blame for the accident. Surely they knew she could have saved Ruth’s life, if only she had spoken to her daed earlier, when she’d first discovered her brother’s problem with whiskey . . . if only she hadn’t kept David’s secret.
Her eyes glazed over as she approached the refreshment table, trying to steady her hand as she reached for a glass of lemonade.
“You came!”
Kate spun around, lemonade splashing out of the cup and onto her hand. She laughed, a nervous laugh, and dabbed at her hand with the edge of her black apron. “Verna! You startled me!”
“I see that!” Verna smiled. “I’m glad you’re here. I wondered if you’d show up.”
“My daed insisted,” Kate said. “I . . . I wasn’t feeling very good about it.”
Reaching out to take her hand, Verna tried to reassure her. “There’s nothing to feel less than good about, Kate. Everyone has missed you.”
Kate’s eyes flickered across the room, too aware that others seemed to be watching her interaction with Verna. She wondered what they were thinking, feeling confident that they had whispered among each other after the accident . . . about David and Ruth . . . and about her role in what happened.
It wasn’t my fault, she wanted to scream, to no one in particular. Most of all, she wanted to scream it to herself, because part of her wished she could begin to forgive herself. Deep down, however, she couldn’t. She knew she was to blame. Likewise, she felt certain they knew it, too.
“Sit with us, then?”
Kate shook her head, lowering her eyes to stare at the floor. “Maybe in a spell,” she offered as a concession. They both knew she wouldn’t. Still, Kate saw how her presence pleased Verna and felt rewarded. It was just that by showing up, she’d used all of her courage for one day.
No sooner had Verna rejoined her friends when another person approached Kate from behind. This time, however, the voice that called out “Hey, Kate!” did not belong to a female friend.
At the sound of her name, she jumped.
“Care for some pretzels?”
Samuel stood beside her, a bowl of tiny pretzels in his hand. She could tell they were her favorite kind: the small home-baked pretzels that had been seasoned with Hidden Valley Ranch spices. The women often served bowls of these pretzels at the fellowship dinner following worship service, and Kate simply couldn’t get enough of them. There was something tangy about the seasoning. Seeing Samuel holding out a bowl to her caught her off guard.
With a shaky hand, she took a pretzel and lowered her eyes. “Danke,” she whispered.
He took a deep breath and glanced around the room. “It’s right gut to see you tonight.” He looked back at her and hesitated, just long enough for her to feel uncomfortable and lift her eyes. “Saw your daed dropped you off,” he said.
She nodded.
“What changed your mind?”
Kate didn’t want to confess that her daed forced her to attend. That might seem rude or, even worse, prideful. Some people might think that she felt she was better than them, too good to attend singings anymore. Of course, other people would know the real reason, which was the complete opposite: that the accident had made her a sinner who wanted to hide in shame.
So, rather than answer directly, Kate looked around. “Lot of people turned out for the singing, ja?”
He followed her example and glanced around the room. “Reckon so. Hadn’t paid much attention before.” She noticed that Ella Riehl stood on the other side of the room; more than once, she looked in his direction. Samuel did not return her meaningful looks. “Is your daed coming to fetch you later?”
Truth was that she didn’t know. He never had been the one to bring her to and from singings, and it might not even occur to him to pick her up. With the early morning chores ahead of them, she highly doubted it. If anything, he was already home and in bed. “Nee,” she said. “I don’t think he is.”
“Mayhaps I could take you home, then?”
The gasp came from someone else. Kate’s eyes shifted toward the sound, but she could not see who had been responsible. She did, however, understand what it meant. Surely some in the community disapproved of her and therefore registered shock that an upstanding young man like Samuel Esh would be so kind to her. The last thing she wanted was to negatively affect his reputation.
She shook her head. “I . . . I prefer to walk, Samuel,” she said, quickly adding, “but danke for asking.”
At that, Samuel took another deep breath, his chest rising and then falling as he exhaled. For a moment, he kept silent and didn’t respond, as
if he were at a loss for words, but she could feel his eyes still studying her face. She tried to avoid making eye contact. It was impossible. When she finally relented and met his gaze, he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. “All right then, Kate.”
She thought that he would walk away, that the discussion was over. One rebuff was usually enough. She was wrong.
“If you don’t mind,” he said. “I shall walk with you, then.”
Her mouth fell open at his announcement. While certainly very kind, she also knew it presented a rather undeniable inconvenience to him. If he walked her home, he’d have to walk back to get his horse and buggy. Clearly, he was intent on accompanying her. That was for sure and certain. Now, it was up to her whether she chose to make it more difficult for him.
“I reckon you could accompany me,” she said slowly, her heart racing. The unexpected request to take her home had caught her off guard, and now his persistence was even more surprising. Would he really insist upon walking with her? “But I . . . I sure wouldn’t want to walk past . . .”
He held up his hand. “We can walk the long way, Kate.” And with that, it was settled. He gave her a quick smile before returning to his group of friends, only once looking over his shoulder to check on her before the singing started.
She sat on the periphery of a group of young women whom she’d attended school with years ago. Normally, theirs were familiar faces, as she saw them at worship service every other Sunday. But due to the winter weather and Kate’s self-imposed isolation, she hadn’t seen them in a long while.
“Why, hello there, Kate,” a voice said in her ear.
She turned and saw Katie Ellen smiling at her. With her round glasses and cherubic face, Katie Ellen seemed genuinely pleased.
“Been a while since you came to a singing.”
As if Katie Ellen needed to point that out, Kate thought. “I reckon so,” she mumbled.
“How’s the family been?”
“As gut as can be expected.” It was the only reply that Kate could muster.
“And your bruder?” Katie Ellen hesitated. “David?”
At the sound of her brother’s name, Kate caught her breath. She knew the questions would come. Certainly people were curious. Why wouldn’t they be? After all, it was David who caused the accident. Of course, she had come to realize that she shouldered as much of the blame as David did . . . perhaps more. But talking about any of this directly with Katie Ellen was impossible.
“He’s getting along better, I reckon.” Noticing that several other young women shifted their attention toward what she said, Kate lowered her eyes. “Still can’t walk and doesn’t talk much.”
Katie Ellen clicked her tongue. Tsk-tsk. It wasn’t a judgmental gesture. No, it was one of pity.
That reaction was how Kate felt most of the time. Every day, she watched David sitting in the borrowed wheelchair, gazing out the window at the fields that he would never plow. The farm, once intended to be his to work and raise a family on, now remained unclaimed for the future. Who would take over and raise the crops and tend to the cows? Her older brother had married years ago. The plan had always been that David would be the one.
“And . . . have you heard how Ruth’s family is doing?” Kate hated asking the question but knew it was appropriate. After all that the g’may had been through, Ruth’s family deserved that respect.
Katie Ellen took a deep breath before she answered. “Her maem stopped by the other day. Guess she’s doing all right. She didn’t say nothing about Ruth.”
Kate wasn’t surprised by Katie Ellen’s remarks. To lament the passing of a person was to question God. Many Amish families never spoke about people who passed away. They certainly did not grieve publicly.
Thankfully, the vorsinger began the first song at that very moment, singing the first few notes as an indication that it was time for the rest of the youth group to join in. Kate tried to pay attention to the words, as it was a faster song than what was typically sung during worship service but still expressed a tribute to God and His love for the righteous.
While her lips moved, her mind wandered, contemplating that word: righteous.
Ever since the accident, she had questioned the true meaning of that word. Was it possible for her to be righteous? For anyone? She often wondered if, once fallen, she would be able to ever achieve the moral standards that God expected of His people and the bishop expected of his g’may. She knew, of course, that no person could ever achieve perfection. People were destined to sin. Perfection had been saved for only one person: Jesus, the Son of God. Still, her failures ran too deep and worry had kept her awake at night more often than not, especially when she remembered all the times she contemplated telling her parents about David’s drinking.
His pleading had convinced her otherwise.
Now, because she had listened to him and said nothing to her parents about the hidden bottle of whiskey she’d found behind the mule shed, a cloud of guilt hung over her head. Even worse, he spent his days in a wheelchair and Ruth spent hers six feet under the ground, waiting for the Second Coming of Jesus.
“You ready to leave, then?”
Kate looked up, her thoughts broken by Samuel’s soft words in her ear. She glanced around, noticing that she stood alone. Being so absorbed in her own tragic thoughts was a social hazard, that was for sure and certain. She hadn’t even noticed that the singing group had taken a break and dispersed to visit with one another. Surely Samuel had noticed Kate standing alone, oblivious, when he decided to approach her.
“The singing isn’t over.”
He shrugged, pushing his hands into his front pockets. “Nee, it isn’t. But mayhaps you’ve had enough?”
She couldn’t control the look of gratitude that washed over her face. She felt relieved to have an excuse to escape the singing, so without any hesitation she nodded her head.
“I thought so.”
Slipping through the open door, Samuel guided her through the darkness down the lane. When she paused as he passed the long line of buggies parked along the fence, he turned and she sensed, rather than saw, his smile.
“Your buggy?” she asked.
“You said you wanted to walk.”
“But then you’d have to walk back.”
This time, he laughed. “Don’t you worry about me none, Kate Zook. I’d much rather spend the extra time walking beside you anyway.”
The darkness hid the color that rushed to her cheeks. For that, she was grateful.
During the first few minutes, they walked in silence. She listened to the noise of their shoes on the roads, the slight crunching of the gravel beneath their soles. It made a musical rhythm and, once again, she found herself counting the notes of the song: one, two, three, four. She shivered once and buttoned her jacket so that it kept her throat warm.
“You cold, then?”
She liked the way he talked. He seemed to read her mind, and when he asked a question, there was a raised inflection on the final word. His deep voice matched his tall, broad-shouldered physique. Many of the Amish young men were tall and skinny. Not Samuel Esh.
Before the accident, when Kate had attended the singings, she hadn’t given Samuel Esh much thought. After all, he was closer in age to her older brother, Thomas. Additionally, every one had known that Samuel was escorting Ella Riehl home from singings, and most in the g’may suspected the courtship would end in marriage. Most courtships remained secret until the bishop announced a couple’s wedding banns at a worship service in October, but it wasn’t always easy to keep things under wraps.
Of course, back in those days, before the accident, she’d focused her attention more on her girlfriends. At that time, they were more important to her than any of the young men. But time stood still for no one. Slowly, each of her friends paired off with a young man, while she did not. She never thought twice about it. Not r
eally.
As she walked, however, Kate realized that it was happening to her: for the first time, a young man was escorting her home from a singing. She had to admit, of all the young men in the g’may, Samuel Esh was the last person she’d thought would ask to walk her home. His age and work ethic clearly indicated that he was ready to settle down. She wondered what happened between him and Ella. Being older than Kate, Ella would have made him a right gut wife!
Besides, Kate thought, Ella had surely never sinned . . . not like she had.
“Seems like the weather is changing,” he said. “A bit warmer. Days are longer, too, now that we’re on slow time. I like slow time better.”
Kate realized that she’d neglected to answer him regarding being cold. If she remained unresponsive to his last comment, she risked him thinking she was rude. “Ja, me, too,” she said. “Don’t have to get up so early on Sundays for worship.”
He laughed, his breath forming a small cloud in the chilly air.
“I never understood why the bishops don’t change the worship time when the clocks move back!”
Despite taking the long way, it only took fifteen minutes to walk her home. Along the way, she listened to Samuel talk about working his daed’s farm and how they were preparing the fields for the spring planting. As the time passed, she felt increasingly comfortable around him and even enjoyed his story about finding an Indian arrowhead in the field.
“Can you imagine? That farm’s been in our family for over a hundred years! I wonder how many times people overlooked that stone!”
“People don’t often pay attention to the little things,” she responded. “Lucky for you that they didn’t.”
He laughed again. “Why, I never thought of it that way!”