by Adina Senft
“But you can’t have fellowship with me,” Henry said.
Something was rising in her chest—the same feeling she would get when Caleb was little and had fallen down and hurt himself. The same feeling she got when a bird fell out of its nest and a cat was on its way to investigate. Someone had to do something—and she and her boys were right here at hand.
“We could pray for you.” She lifted her chin. “And you could pray for us. The Word of God is open to anyone. Do you still remember your hoch Deutsch?”
“I think it might come back to me. But Sarah—”
“No one’s going to tell on you,” Caleb pointed out, his eyebrows waggling. “It’s not like a crime or anything.”
“I hope Bishop Daniel wouldn’t differ with you on that,” Henry told him. “I have to say that I’d like to, but…Simon? What do you say? I don’t want to intrude on your family time.”
Simon’s lips had thinned a little, and his jaw flexed, as if he were chewing the inside of his cheek to keep from speaking. Sarah could practically follow his thoughts through the corn maze of a young man’s logic. While it was true that they could not have real fellowship with a man who had left the faith, to refuse to pray for that same man was not godly. And for Simon to refuse a man whom his mother, to whom he owed obedience, had already invited, would be even worse.
She saw the moment when her son realized the best thing to do would be the thing that was right under these particular circumstances, even if it might not be right strictly by the letter of the law.
“You would be welcome to pray,” he finally said. “Come into the other room. We’re reading from the book of Ruth.”
They took turns reading the verses, which were some of Sarah’s favorites in the whole Bible.
And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God:
Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.
Tears came into her eyes as she read softly. This had been Michael’s favorite passage, too…because while her parents had both passed on some years before they’d met, she had still left her sisters and their families in Mifflin County after their wedding to move with him to Whinburg Township.
Caleb took up the reading when she stopped, and then Simon, and before she took her turn again, she allowed a little silence to fall. And then Henry read two verses, hesitantly, his mouth working around the shapes of words that had become strange to him.
When he stopped, Sarah picked up smoothly, and then the chapter was done. “Caleb, will you say the Lord’s Prayer for us? And then we will pray for Henry.”
Caleb did, not racing through the words by rote as some might, but taking care over them despite their familiarity. They said this prayer morning and evening, and over meals, too, but Thy will be done was not a promise to be trifled with. It was a reminder of to whom they owed their lives. When they had said “Amen,” Sarah took a breath and spoke in Deitsch, the language of home and family, not in English, the language of the world.
“Oh Lord our Father, we come before Thee on Henry’s behalf to pray for peace for him. He has made a hard decision, one that may have him fighting battles in the days to come. We pray that Thou wouldst give him strength to do the right thing according to his conscience, and also according to Thy will. We pray that Thou wouldst come into his heart and find willingness there, that Thou couldst draw him to Thyself in love and give him true peace. We ask it in the name of Jesus.”
“Amen,” chorused the boys softly, and after a moment, Henry whispered, “Amen.”
The boys got up from their knees in front of the sofa and said their good nights. Soon Sarah heard the sound of water running as they got ready for bed.
“Would you like me to light your way up the hill?” she asked, crossing the kitchen to take the lantern from the table.
Wordlessly, he nodded, and turned his head—but not before she saw a suspicious hint of moisture in his eyes. How long had it been since he had prayed? Or had anyone to pray for him? Did he and Ginny not pray together?
But of course she could not ask such a thing, and break the silence that seemed wrapped around him. She almost got the feeling that if she said any more, this delicate filament of connection that God might have spun among them tonight would be torn.
She could not risk it.
So instead, she opened the kitchen door and preceded him out into the windy night, across the lawn, and up the path on her side of the hill, lighting the way before him.
Chapter 15
As Priscilla made her way into the Hostetler meeting shed with her buddy bunch on Sunday morning, she saw that Jesse Riehl had not gone home yesterday, but in fact he and the brother and sister he’d come with had stayed over a second night. Since Amanda was older than she was, she’d already gone in, but Pris was dying to know what she thought of it. Was she the reason Jesse had wangled an invitation to stay with one of the local families?
He’d certainly thought ahead, because he was wearing Sunday clothes, and unless he’d borrowed some, he would have had to pack them in advance.
“That’s interesting,” she whispered to Rosanne, sitting next to her.
“I know. I heard that Jesse has a reputation for being a little wild. I hope Amanda is careful and doesn’t give him too much encouragement.”
Pris couldn’t imagine anyone more careful than Amanda Yoder, but Mamm was already looking over her shoulder, so she subsided into a more respectful silence.
The sermon was on the Shepherd, and when the last hymn had been sung, Bishop Daniel got to his feet. “As you know, there will be a baptism two weeks from today at the Jacob Yoders’. There are several who have been taking classes, and we look forward in grateful humility to welcoming our brothers and sisters into the church.”
Would Benny Peachey really go through with it when baptism classes began again? Priscilla hadn’t seen much of him lately, which was probably a good thing, now that Joe was home. By then Benny would know exactly what the step of baptism entailed—and that joining church was a serious business that involved giving his life completely to God. It meant marrying a girl who had been baptized, too, and being willing for the lot to fall on him and possibly make him a minister or a preacher or even a bishop. The thought of harum-scarum Benny Peachey preaching as solemnly as Young Orlan Stoltzfuss had done this morning was enough to make a person burst out into incredulous giggles, but the power of God had made stranger things happen.
After a light lunch of Bohnesupp and more homemade bread with peanut butter spread than was probably good for her waistline, Priscilla and Rosanne met Joe, Jesse, and Amanda outside on the lawn.
“A harder frost this morning,” Joe said, looking out at what remained of Betsy Hostetler’s garden. “That means we’ll be digging up die Grummbeere and sweet potatoes this week for Mamm.”
“Do you always think about work on the Lord’s Day?” Jesse nudged him, teasing.
“Do you ever think about work?” Joe shot back, apparently not too bothered. “Better that than girls.”
“Hey!” Pris said, pretending indignation.
“Except you.” Joe smiled down at her, and while of course he couldn’t take her hand in front of the whole Gmee, in that smile Pris felt as though he had.
“So, Pris,” Jesse said, “Joe and I were thinking of taking you girls for a drive. That sound all right?”
“A drive where?” Amanda said softly.
“That would spoil the surprise,” Jesse told her.
Pris resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Probably over to Millers’,” she said. “That’s where supper and singing are tonight, but they’re way over on the other side of the district from here. At least it’s close to home.”
Jesse nodded. “Sam and Mamie are heading back Strasburg way with some of the other
s this afternoon, but I thought I’d stick around and go back after singing.”
“How can you do that?” Pris wanted to know. “It’s a long way—you’d be getting home just in time for milking, probably.”
“We don’t have a dairy, but never mind. It’ll be okay.”
Priscilla couldn’t imagine it, but how this boy got himself around the county was none of her business. Besides, if Amanda was okay with it, then it must be fine. “All right. I’ll just let Mamm know that I won’t be going with them.”
Pris felt a little bad when Rosanne declined to come…though not exactly surprised, given what she’d said about Jesse earlier. Pris couldn’t see anything wrong with five in the buggy—they’d fit perfectly well and it wasn’t like Rosanne would be forward enough to wedge herself between Jesse and Amanda, even as a joke. Amanda was so sweet and self-effacing that Pris couldn’t imagine playing jokes on her.
No, she thought as Rosanne crossed the lawn and rejoined their buddy bunch, she would have to make an extra effort not to leave her best friend out. While it was natural to want to do things with Joe, her friendships with the girls in her buddy bunch meant a lot to her—and would for the rest of her life. Mamm still got a circle letter once a month from the women who had been in hers, even though some were as far away as Indiana. Pris might be only seventeen, but she already knew that her friendships with her female friends would stand for her whole life. They wouldn’t bloom without care and attention, though, just like plants.
Joe hadn’t brought the courting buggy this morning because of the cold. Instead, he had the family’s old one, which still shone with good care and had recently had new wheels put on. She and Joe sat in the front, while Jesse and Amanda climbed into the back. It was a good eight miles from Hostetlers’ back through Willow Creek and then west and south again toward Millers’…except that right in the middle of town, Jesse leaned forward and said, “There, Joe. Behind the gas station.”
“Are we stopping to pick something up?” Pris wondered aloud. “On a Sunday?”
Willow Creek was deserted on Sundays, except for the Englisch ladies’ quilt shop, the gas station, the Dutch Rest Café, and the Hex Barn, which never seemed to close no matter what time you went by. Even if Dat hadn’t forbidden her to get a job there, the chances were pretty good that when she refused to work on a Sunday, they’d have fired her anyhow.
Joe guided the horse past the gas pumps and around the corner of the building. There was nothing there except an old white car and some trash cans—not even a rail to tie the horse.
“Here we are,” Jesse said with a smile. “Hop out, Priscilla.”
“Here we are where?” Pris got out. “I thought we were going to Millers’.”
“Neh, actually we’re going to Gap for a hamburger and some fries.”
“Oh, ha ha. If we leave now, we might get there in time for breakfast.”
“If we leave now, we’ll be there by three.” He pulled a set of jingling keys from his pocket and walked over to the old car. “Hop in.”
It took a lot to deprive Priscilla of the power of speech. Gaping, she looked from Jesse, sliding in behind the wheel, to Amanda, who was actually walking over to the passenger door.
“Are you joking?”
“We don’t have to go, Pris, if you don’t want to,” Joe said.
“He has a car,” she said blankly. “How does he have a car, much less know how to drive it? Has he been hanging around with Jake?”
Jesse just laughed and started the engine, which coughed, blew out a cloud of black smoke, and got itself going, even though it sounded like an old tractor. “Are you coming or not? The cheeseburgers at the Burger Shack are great—fries—and they give you a big milkshake with any kind of fruit you want in it.”
“We can’t let Amanda go in that car with him,” she said urgently to Joe in an undertone. “She only met him two days ago.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to go, too. You get in while I find a place to leave Atlas where he has some grass.”
So five minutes later, Pris found herself doing something she never would have imagined—racing down the county road at fifty miles an hour in what she was informed was a 1965 Ford Falcon, unearthed from someone’s barn and driven by a boy who most certainly was not about to join church if he’d gone out and gotten his driver’s license and spent all his money in such a crazy way.
Amanda had already joined church. What was she doing here? What were any of them doing here?
“Do your parents know you have this?” she asked a little breathlessly from the backseat. There were bench seats in front and back, but they in no way resembled the seats in a buggy. She made sure her seat belt was good and fastened.
“Maybe. I’m not living at home.”
“Where do you live, then?”
“With my aunt and uncle. They’re Mennonite, so driving is no big deal to them. My uncle even helped me study for the test, and helped me practice.”
“So, what…you drove here and then your friends picked you up so you could look Amish when you came to church?”
“I am Amish,” Jesse said with what looked like a show of patience instead of the real thing. “I’m dressed Amish, just like you, and I listened to the preaching and sang the ‘Lob Lied,’ just like you. And I’m riding in a car, just like you.”
“Neh, not like me. You’re driving it and you own it. The Ordnung doesn’t forbid riding in a car, but it certainly does the other two.”
“Pris, are you going to argue all the way to Gap?” Joe asked. “You got in of your own free will, so no sense hounding Jesse about it.”
I got in because of Amanda, and so did you. But she couldn’t very well say that, because one, Amanda and Jesse were both older than she and Joe, and two, Amanda probably didn’t need either of them looking out for her. For all Pris knew, she’d wanted to be alone with her new friend and Pris and Joe had come along and messed it all up.
“I’m sorry, Jesse,” she finally said. “It’s not my place to criticize. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
“I wish my brother Jake had had the sense to study up and get his license before he got behind the wheel of that girl’s car,” Joe went on, as if they’d been talking about that all along. “As it is, he’s lucky the police didn’t charge him.”
“They didn’t?” Amanda asked. “I thought he went to jail.”
“They took him down to the station and kept the car in their back lot until the girl’s parents came to get it. But they let him off with a warning.”
“What did your father have to say about that?” Pris couldn’t resist asking.
“Plenty.” Joe grinned. “Enough that Jesse here is safe from me ever wanting to take his place behind the wheel.”
“You’re assuming I’d ever let you behind the wheel.”
“Hey, I can drive a tractor—as long as it’s got lots of horse power.”
Jesse and Amanda laughed, and while Priscilla smiled, too, her mind was busy on another subject. Jesse Riehl was probably the last person she would ever have imagined Amanda Yoder taking up with. Had something happened that had propelled her behaving so out of character? Or had she just decided that she needed to come out of her shell, and picked the unlikeliest boy she could find to help with the project?
She didn’t get a chance to say anything privately to Amanda until they got to the Burger Shack in Gap, a town that was busier and bigger than Willow Creek by about ten times. Pris was already hungry, and ordered a cheeseburger, fries, and a raspberry milkshake, which was so wildly out of season that she had to do it just because she could.
“We’ll go get a table while you boys wait for the order,” Amanda suggested. But the place was crowded, so they had to go outside, where it was cold, in order to all sit together, collecting stares from the Englisch folks as they did so.
“They must not see many Amish kids here,” Pris ventured, pulling her jacket more closely around her and making sure her purse was safely in her lap
and her arm through the strap.
“Not on a Sunday, probably,” Amanda agreed. “I’m a bit surprised about it myself.”
“Then why did you come?” Pris couldn’t help it—the words just jumped out.
“Because he asked me,” Amanda said simply. “And because I wanted to do something completely different. Something that wasn’t me.”
“Why?” The Yoders were a wonderful family. What was wrong with being Amanda Yoder? She ought to try being Priscilla Mast sometime, and working two jobs, plus looking after her remaining chores at home.
Amanda gazed at her across the plastic all-weather table as the breeze picked up her Kapp strings and blew them back over her shoulders. “It’s easy for you. You’re pretty and lively and boys want to date you.”
“But you’re all those things.”
“Not young. Not pretty. Most girls in my buddy bunch are planning their weddings this fall—like Sylvia Esh. The first bride of the year—and she used to be my sidekick. That’s why I don’t go to singings so much anymore. I’m one of the oldest ones there. It’s hard to play volleyball when you’d rather be planning a home with someone.”
“Someone like Jesse Riehl?” Try as she might, Pris couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her tone.
“Neh. But he’s the first one to ever see past my bad skin and the fact that I can’t talk to people very easily, to someone who might have a brain in her head and want to do something other than stay at home and sew for her brothers’ Kinner.”
Pris had never heard so many words come out of Amanda’s mouth in all the time she’d known her—and that was her whole life.
Maybe she had a point.
“What would you do?”
But Amanda’s attention had shifted to the door, where the boys were coming out burdened with boxes and bags of gloriously greasy, non-homemade food. And in the commotion of eating and joking around and having a food fight with the last of the French fries, the subject didn’t come up again. Which was fine. There were things you couldn’t talk about in front of boys. Priscilla was still recovering from the fact that Amanda had opened up that much to her, a girl so much younger than she. And, Pris had to admit, it was very strange that Amanda looked up to her in some ways. That she thought she, Pris, was pretty and lively and didn’t think of herself that way. Humility was one thing, but did Amanda really not see her own good qualities?