by Marta Perry
“Hard to know when you’ve been uprooted the way you were. Kind of like seedlings that have been transplanted. They get confused sometimes, growing one direction, then the other.” Roman looked off in the distance. A blue jay cackled. “Your grand was a hard man, not just on you, but on himself. I always thought your mother should have kept you at home with her. You’d have gotten used to a stepfather. Joseph would have been fair with you.”
Eli shrugged. “Maybe it was best they sent me away. They say I’m like my dat. Maybe I’m his son, more than hers. Headed for a bad end.”
Roman grimaced. “I’ve heard that said, but I don’t believe it. I knew your father, Eli. There was a lot of good in him. If he’d lived, I think he would have come back to us…to his family and his faith.”
A lump rose in Eli’s throat, and he didn’t answer, afraid his voice would crack. He wasn’t exactly embarrassed by his emotion, but it wasn’t something one man shared with another.
“You hear what I’m saying?” Roman’s own voice filled with feeling, surprising Eli. “I knew him. And I don’t see the bad side of him in you.” He looked in the direction the two women had gone. “Just be sure you don’t take a path that’s not yours. And don’t take along somebody else with you. You’re better than that.”
Eli knew he was talking about Ruth. “I care about her. A lot. I’d do nothing to hurt her.”
Roman walked away, the dogs trailing him. “Then see you don’t.”
* * *
“Why did you have to say anything about marriage?” Ruth agonized aloud when she and her mother were alone in the buggy. She sat up straight and gripped the leathers in both hands as a pickup truck pulling a boat whizzed past them on the road. “And why did you mention the gossip about him? It’s not like you to be uncharitable.”
“And it’s unlike you to be caught holding hands with a boy in Fannie’s grape arbor,” Mam returned. “Fannie saw the two of you. What must she think?”
No other traffic was in sight, and Ruth used the break to cross the intersection onto the quieter road that led to the school.
Mam’s chin went up, and she planted both black leather shoes together on the floorboard. “There’s something you need to know for your own good. Eli had a letter from the girl.”
Ruth’s stomach turned over. She didn’t know what to say.
“You know who I mean,” her mother continued. “The girl who accused him.”
“A letter from her doesn’t mean that Eli’s guilty of anything wrong.” But it could mean that they still cared for each other, Ruth thought. Or it could mean she was trying to start trouble for him again. Now, here in Seven Poplars. “I suppose Fannie told you about the letter.”
“She did but not to hurt Eli or you. She wanted to protect you, to keep you from being harmed.”
“Fannie’s his aunt. She’s supposed to—”
“She thought I should know and that you should know. Fannie is a sweet woman. She’d never intentionally spread rumors and the letter wasn’t a rumor. It was real. She held it in her hands and read Hazel’s name on the envelope before turning it over to Roman, who gave it to Eli.”
Moisture clouded Ruth’s eyes, but she kept her gaze on the horse and the road ahead. “Do you know what happened to her? The girl? Her church didn’t shun her, did they?”
“Ne, but Martha says the girl ran away after the baby was born. No one knows where she is. Except Eli, maybe,” she added.
“She ran away with an infant?” Compassion flooded Ruth’s heart. “I can’t imagine. Her family must be so worried.”
“She didn’t take the baby, an older sister did. The sister and her husband live out west somewhere. They’d been married six years without being blessed with children. Martha said that it was Hazel’s idea to let them adopt the infant. The girl said she wasn’t ready to be a mother.”
Ruth had no answer for that. She couldn’t imagine giving birth to a child and not raising it. But considering the circumstances, perhaps the girl’s decision had been the right one. No one among the Plain people would hold a baby responsible for the mother’s mistake.
“So you see why Fannie thought you should know he’d heard from her.” Mam’s voice was gentle this time.
But Ruth didn’t want soft words. She felt all in turmoil inside: scared, angry. “Eli isn’t the type of boy who would get a girl in trouble and not marry her!”
“Ruth, Ruth, Ruth, what’s come over you?” Her mother stared at her, obviously not approving of her passionate outburst.
“Nothing. I simply refuse to believe such a thing about Eli.”
“So you do like him.”
“As a friend.”
“Sounds to me like more than a friend,” her mother said, shaking her head. “Daughter, I’m worried about you. You’re like an apron on the clothesline, flapping in the wind, one way and then the other.”
Ruth pulled hard on the right rein, guiding the gelding off the road and onto the grass shoulder before yanking the horse to a halt. The dapple gray stopped so quickly that the buggy swayed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that until Eli Lapp came to Seven Poplars, you knew your own mind. You said you knew what you wanted. You told me that you weren’t going to marry, that you would remain at home with me and Susanna. The past two weeks, you’ve lollygagged in the orchard with the boy, sat on the porch swing in the dark with him, and the two of you have been caught holding hands in the grape arbor.” She gestured outward with her hand. “Not to mention going to the movie or eating together at the school picnic. You say you’re not courting, but it looks like it to me.”
Ruth didn’t know what to say. How could she explain to Mam that she hadn’t intended to do any of those things with Eli? They’d just happened. How could she tell her how giddy he made her feel inside? She swallowed. “I don’t believe Eli would ever abandon his child. There must be more to the story.”
“Have you asked him?” Mam was angry. She never shouted like Aunt Martha, but the angrier she became, the lower her tone of voice.
Ruth slapped the reins over the horse’s back, and the buggy lurched forward. “I wouldn’t pry.” She glanced at her mother. “Aren’t you always telling us not to judge?”
“Ya, that I do say. So the Bible tells us. But it also speaks about children respecting their parents.”
Ruth nibbled at her lower lip as the horse broke into a trot. “Have I been disrespectful?”
“You just accused me of being uncharitable.”
“I didn’t mean it, not really. I’m sorry.”
Hannah sighed, sitting back on the buggy seat. “You have always been a good daughter, one your father would be proud of. But the time has come for you to make up your mind about what you want and follow that path. You need to think before you act. You need to set a good example for your sisters and the younger girls in the community.”
The horse’s hooves clicked rhythmically against the road. “We really weren’t doing anything wrong in the grape arbor,” Ruth said.
“An action doesn’t have to be wrong to give the appearance of mischief. What if it hadn’t been me who found the two of you, but your uncle Reuben or aunt Martha? Because we’re women alone, we have to guard our reputations even more than if your father was alive. Especially since I teach at the school.”
“You’re right. I didn’t think.” Shame flooded through Ruth. If people complained, they might think that Mam was at fault for not teaching her daughters proper behavior. The school board could decide not to renew her contract next year. “What do you want me to do, Mam?”
“I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Ya, but what I want is not important. You’re old enough to make up your own mind what your life will be. You must decide. You aren’t like Miriam. You’ve joined the church.”
“I feel awful, Mam. We never argue. I don’t want to upset you.”
&n
bsp; “And I don’t mean to be harsh with you, but it’s time you act like a grown woman.”
There was silence for a moment, except for the clippity-clop of the horse’s hooves, before Hannah spoke again. “Look into your heart, daughter. Your path will become clear.”
“I want to do what God wants,” Ruth said.
“You have only to listen. He will tell you.” She pulled a pocket watch from her apron and her expression softened. “Lunch break should be over.” She took a black lunch box from under the seat, opened it, retrieving a sandwich. “Have half of this,” she offered. “It’s your favorite, chicken salad.”
Ruth took her section of the sandwich, heading up the lane to the school. “I haven’t heard the bell yet,” she said between bites.
Mam folded the waxed paper and put it back in the lunch box to use again tomorrow. “I left Elvie in charge of the little ones,” she explained. “She might be so busy making eyes at Elmer over her lunch that she didn’t notice the time.”
Ruth couldn’t help smiling. “Elvie and Elmer? She’s too young to be thinking of boyfriends yet, isn’t she?”
“Elmer is more interested in Eli’s motorbike than girls, but Elvie has always liked him, and he could do worse. Her parents are good church members and solid, God-fearing people. Besides, Elvie is the oldest, and she has no brothers. She’ll inherit land.”
“Don’t tell me you’re matchmaking your eighth graders.”
Mam laughed. “Not me. But Elvie knows her own mind. Mark my words, when he turns eighteen, Elmer will be trailing after Elvie like a fly on jam. And we’ll be going to a wedding.”
By the time they reached the school yard, Ruth had acknowledged to herself the truth of her indecision. She had been vacillating, whipping in the wind, not knowing what direction she was going. It was just that Eli had confused her. The way he made her feel when he was close confused her. He made her doubt her decision to remain unmarried.
But it was clear what Mam thought and wanted. Ruth would pray, but obviously her duty was to her family. Mam was no longer a young woman. She’d reached her mid-forties, and she needed the care and devotion of a daughter.
It would never work out with Eli, anyway, Ruth told herself. He was too handsome for her, too good a catch to really be interested in her. He didn’t really want to court her. He was just pursuing her because she’d told him she wasn’t interested.
Ruth needed to just let the whole thing go. She wasn’t meant to be a wife. And in time, her deep attraction to Eli would pass. The happiness and well-being of those she loved most must come ahead of any personal desires.
It seemed like the right thing to do, but Ruth’s heart felt heavy. Never to marry…It would be a sacrifice, maybe a greater one than she’d ever expected, since Eli came into her life. The heaviness in her chest turned to an ache in the pit of her stomach and spread through her. Resolutely, she pushed back the image of Eli’s face and the sound of his voice. She would be strong…she would do what was right…what God wanted.
As she reined the horse into the drive that led alongside the school, Ruth saw that Mam had been right. The students were still at recess that followed lunch, some playing ball, others on the swings, and a few still finishing their lunches. Lydia’s Abraham, a gangly nine-year-old, was walking the top rail of the split-rail fence with his lunch bucket balanced on top of his head. Elvie, who was supposed to be in charge, was nowhere in sight.
“See, what did I tell you?” Mam said. “Recess should have been over ten minutes ago.”
Eleven-year-old Herman came running around the school, saw the buggy and shouted, “Teacher’s back!” As children hurried toward the building from all directions, Abraham lost his footing and tumbled off the fence. The boy rolled and came up on his feet laughing, none the worse for wear. One of his brothers had reached the steps and was ringing the cast-iron bell to signal the start of classes.
Mam got out of the buggy. “I don’t see Samuel,” she said. “He must have walked home. Can you take the rig back to his barn?”
Ruth nodded. “I’m sorry about what happened.”
“Let it be for now. But think on what I said. You have decisions to make.”
“I think I already have, Mam. Don’t worry. I’d never do anything to shame you or my sisters, I promise.”
The entrance to Samuel’s lane was only a few hundred yards south of the schoolhouse. Once Mam had her lunch box and notebook, Ruth guided the horse in a circle, preparing to drive out of the yard. But as she turned right, she noticed two boys wrestling on the ground next to the shed. “Hey, you two,” she called. “Recess is over. Didn’t you hear the bell?”
Irwin scrambled to his feet, grabbed his hat off the grass and shoved something into his pocket. The top button was missing off his shirt, and one suspender hung off his shoulder. Weeds were tangled in his scarecrow hair. The other boy, Samuel’s son Peter, had more guilt than dirt on his face, and his shirttail was out, but he seemed to have gotten the best of the tussle.
“Were you two fighting?” Ruth demanded. She got down out of the buggy and walked toward them. “Irwin, what did you put in your pocket?”
Peter’s face blushed a deep red, and he looked as though he were about to burst into tears.
Irwin hung his head and stared at his bare feet.
“Well, Irwin, I’m waiting.”
“What’s wrong?” Mam came up behind her. “Why are you boys out here when everyone else has gone inside?”
“I think they were fighting.” Ruth dropped her hands to her hips. “Irwin put something in his pocket, and he won’t show me what it is.”
“Were you fighting?” her mother asked.
A tear rolled down Peter’s cheek. “Ya,” he squeaked. “We was.”
“I’m ashamed of you both.” Ruth looked from one boy to the other. “Peter, what would your father say?”
“There is a better way to solve problems than violence.” He mimicked Samuel’s deep baritone voice so well that it was all Ruth could do not to smile.
“Your father is right,” Mam said. “Fighting is not our way. You both are old enough to know better.” She held out her hand. “Irwin? What do you have?”
He took a step backward and reluctantly dug into his pocket and produced a pack of matches.
“Is this what you were fighting over?”
More tears streaked Peter’s face as he nodded.
“Are these yours, Irwin?” Mam took them from him.
He didn’t answer.
“Peter, do you have anything you want to say about this?”
The boy shook his head.
“Very well. Peter, you take your father’s horse and buggy home and come right back. Tell him that you will be staying after school today. You will both write, ‘There is a better way to solve problems than violence,’ two hundred times in your best cursive. And you will both stay after tomorrow afternoon to scrub the schoolhouse floor, wash the blackboards and the windows. Is that clear?”
“Ya,” Peter said.
Irwin nodded.
“I will keep the matches.” Mam tucked them into her apron. “If I ever catch either of you with matches again, you and your father, Peter—and in your case Irwin, Lydia and Norman—will answer to the school board. Now, off with you. Irwin, I hope you remembered your math homework today.”
Both boys ran.
Ruth watched the boys go. “Something has to be done about Irwin before someone is seriously hurt.”
“Something has to be done all right, but I have a feeling there’s more to this than they’re telling. You see the look in Peter’s eyes? You, of all people, Ruth, know things aren’t always what they appear. I’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise you.”
“I just hope it’s not too late. He’s on our farm all the time. What if he burns our house down?”
“He isn’t going to burn the house down or hurt any of us. He’s an unhappy child, and we have to find a way to help him.”
“He’s a
bully. You saw him trip Rudy at the picnic. He’s always shoving or—” Ruth sighed in exasperation. “Mam, you’re too easy on him. He’s a real troublemaker. And he seems to have it out for Samuel’s twins. He picks on them the most.”
“And why is that, do you suppose?”
Ruth stared at her mother.
“What do Rudy and Peter have that Irwin doesn’t?”
“A father, but—”
“A father who adores them.” Hannah started across the grass toward the schoolhouse, and Ruth walked with her. “Their own ponies. New shoes and new lunch buckets.”
“But Lydia and Norman are good to him. It’s Irwin that makes people dislike him,” Ruth said.
“He has a good heart, daughter. And if we can find a way to reach it, Irwin will return the love we give him twofold.”
“I think you’ve already given him too many chances.”
“Doesn’t the Lord do that with us? No matter how many times we fail Him, His love is always there for us. We must try to do as much for Irwin, Ruth. If we can’t give him hope and a sense of belonging, he will be as lost to us as his family is to him. And that I couldn’t bear, as a teacher or as a mother.”
Chapter Fourteen
Morning sales at Spence’s were so busy that it was one o’clock by the time Ruth felt she could leave Miriam. She’d made plans to have lunch at the Amish Market with Dorcas and two of their girlfriends, and the girls were waiting impatiently to go. Charley’s sister Mary and her cousin Jane had already sold all their cut flowers and herbs and packed their wagon for the trip home.
“Go on.” Miriam waved them away. “I’ll be fine. John said he’d bring me back a sandwich and lemonade.”
Jane whispered something to her cousin, and the two giggled.
“I see how it is,” Mary teased. “Miriam wants to get rid of us so she can talk to the cute new vet.”
“Dr. Hartman is a friend of the family,” Miriam corrected, but Ruth noticed how merrily her sister’s eyes twinkled. Mam had called John, who had recently joined his grandfather’s large animal practice, to help deliver a calf that spring, and he and Miriam had hit it off. He often stopped to see Miriam at Spence’s when he grabbed lunch between appointments.