Pretty soon, Mahlon came from the potting shed with a spongy orange ball that he tossed to Samuel, who threw it to Brownie.
“My father and I taught him to catch and fetch when he was just a pup,” Gloria said quietly, her eyes still on the dog.
Leona noticed how subdued she sounded.
Maggie joined them, bringing a large bowl of popcorn and setting it on a small table between the rocking chairs on the porch. “Are yous planning to go to any of the farmers markets while Gloria’s in town?”
“We sure are.” Gloria gently poked Leona in the ribs, then reached for some popcorn. “I definitely want to go to the one in Quarryville on Saturday, so we can see your mother and Aunt Salome’s table.”
“What if we stayed to help them for a while?” Leona suggested. “If that’s okay with you, Gloria.”
“I don’t mind one bit.” Gloria smiled at her. “Work’s my middle name.”
She still has the Amish mindset, for certain. It was one more thing to be thankful for, yet Leona couldn’t help but feel she and Gloria were running out of time. She thought of Orchard John’s surprise visit . . . and the book he’d given Gloria.
I need all the help I can get!
CHAPTER
37
That night Gloria kept thinking about Maggie’s children, and how wonderfully happy they were. Oh, their squeals of delight, their contagious laughter . . . and their obvious appreciation for one another. And their parents. She could not imagine how any children she might have with Darren, if she married him, would possibly enjoy such a carefree, joy-filled life living at the pace of most English families. The idea bothered her as she brushed her hair. She eyed herself in the small dresser mirror and thought how peculiar she would look Sunday with her hair down to her shoulders, instead of up like all the other young women’s. So for fun, she tried to put it into a small bun at the base of her neck, struggling to twist the sides perfectly.
Quickly, she realized it would take more than one attempt to make her hair look respectable for the Lord’s Day. If there’s any chance of that!
Leona knocked at the slightly open door. Her mouth gaped when she saw Gloria in front of the mirror, her hair in a slapdash bun. “Looks like ya need some help.”
“Do I ever.” And not just with my hair, thought Gloria, glad to see her. “Show me what I’m doing wrong.”
Leona entered the room. “For one thing, your hair’s too short to work into a bun.” She began to remove the bobby pins and started over, biting her lip.
“It doesn’t have to be perfect—just better than this.” Gloria laughed.
Leona continued to pin and twist until at last she stepped back to take a look. “What do ya think?”
Gloria regarded herself in the mirror. “Much better. Now if I could just borrow one of your head scarves for church, I’ll be set.”
“A dark blue one would be best.”
Gloria moved to sit on the bed, where she’d left Orchard John’s book.
Leona picked it up and opened to the first proverb. After a time, she asked, “Any idea why John gave ya this?”
“Well, isn’t he hopin’ I’ll be Plain again?” Gloria told Leona about their visit with Benuel that afternoon. “Your Dawdi and cousin are both working to convert me back to my Anabaptist roots.”
“I’m sorry I missed that,” Leona said, eyes serious. “How’d it make ya feel?”
“Wonderful, in fact . . . and terrible, too,” she admitted. “It’s pretty overwhelming. I couldn’t be more confused.”
Leona’s expression turned hopeful. “Ya mean, you’re actually giving some thought to what they’re saying?”
“This may sound strange, but I guess I had it in my mind that if I didn’t commit to marrying Darren, I could buy myself some time.”
“Time for what?”
Gloria sighed loudly. “Time to figure out what I want, I guess. I thought that I could push off joining church till later in life . . . if I get disheartened with modern life, that is.” She sat down on the bed beside Leona. “That way, I wouldn’t close the door too quickly on the Amish option.”
“In other words,” Leona said, “if ya marry Darren, you can’t change your mind later.”
“Kinda messed up, huh?”
“I’m thrilled that you’re actually considering it.”
Gloria remembered a verse her father had once read during family worship about being either hot or cold toward the Lord God, not lukewarm. He’d read it twice and looked over at her mother, holding her gaze for the longest time. Shortly after that, they’d quit the Hill View Amish church.
They went cold, she thought. Stone cold.
“Not being Amish doesn’t mean I’m not a Christian,” Gloria said. “I would still be faithful to my church.”
Leona said nothing, and Gloria could only imagine all the things Leona was thinking just now.
“You’re my precious friend,” Leona said softly. “We were both raised to know what was right and good and pleasing before God.”
Gloria bowed her head, fighting back tears. My sister, I called her . . . she knows me best. “I guess it boils down to what I can live with and what I can’t.” She paused. “Thanks for not judging me.”
“Ain’t my place.”
“Well, there may be some who think it is.” Gloria wasn’t necessarily thinking of Orchard John and Benuel, but the memory of the discussion on the Dawdi Haus back porch still lingered. She’d felt quite pressured.
“You can’t go wrong following God’s bidding,” Leona said, reaching again for the book. “John did the right thing in givin’ you this . . . if you’re ready to read it.”
“Part of a divine plan, maybe?”
“I think so.” Leona nodded her head. “With all of my heart, I do.”
Gloria reached for her hand. “I’m grateful for your prayers all these years.”
“Better than stewin’, jah?”
Oh, how she loved Leona. “You’re really something, you know? You really are.”
“Remember when we said we’d do anything to live like sisters for the rest of our lives?”
The question rippled through her heart. “I remember.”
Later, after Leona left for her room, Gloria went downstairs to shower. After she returned to her room, it was Rules of a Godly Life that she opened and read for an hour before turning out the lantern for the night.
Leona offered to line up a driver to take them to Quarryville on Thursday morning, but Gloria insisted on taking her car for the rather short distance. They passed Leona’s uncle’s vast orchard and savored the beauty of white apple blossoms—the fruitlets would be noticeable once the petals fell away. “Just imagine all the bees in there workin’ to pollinate,” Leona said as they drove by.
“I can almost hear them buzzing!” Gloria laughed.
Leona was so glad they could spend the day together just out and about.
They poked around at BB’s Grocery Outlet, then wandered over to Lapps Family Restaurant for a bite to eat at noon.
That afternoon, just for fun, they stopped in at Good’s Store to peruse the bolts of quilting fabric. Gloria admitted to Leona that she hoped to find the time to take up quilting again. “Maybe someday.”
The next day, they strolled on foot together down past the Amish one-room schoolhouse, Leona barefoot and Gloria in her fancy running shoes, recounting their school days.
Later, Gloria suggested they return home to cook supper for Leona’s mother. “Let’s make a haystack dinner. What do you say?”
“Gut idea,” Leona readily agreed, knowing how fond her parents were of the dish.
She loved that Gloria seemed so eager to spend time with her and Mamma, especially in the kitchen. It gave her all the more hope that something was happening to move her friend’s heart toward the Old Ways. Could it be?
A good part of Saturday morning was spent at the Quarryville farmers market. Leona delighted in tending to Mamma and Aunt Salome’s market stand
with Gloria at her side. She let herself imagine what it could be like if Gloria were to eventually grasp her need for the People there. What if she and her dear friend could raise their little ones together? What if they could live close by, able to encourage each other through life’s hard knocks and rejoice together in the victories along the way?
Is it possible? she thought. Or just wishful thinking?
Congenial Ada Miller and her daughter, Rebekah, the former schoolteacher, dropped by the table to say hullo, making small talk with Mamma, who was doing a brisk business selling her specialty peanut butter made with marshmallow creme.
Gloria leaned down to coo at the identical twin boys in their double stroller. She touched the babies’ dimpled chins. “Aren’t they sweet?” she said, looking up at Leona, her eyes sparkling.
Leona agreed, her mind still lost in what-ifs. She remembered how she and Gloria used to talk about having lots of children. Did Gloria still want a large family? And if so, did Darren have any idea?
Later, after buying hot dogs wrapped in soft pretzels at the market deli, as well as delectable chocolate whoopie pies, they drove back to the house. It was Leona’s idea to walk out to the clearing together, enjoying the clement breezes and the many birds flying about. She took pleasure in the thought that her future home with Tom Ebersol would be situated just beyond this knoll of woods.
She took Gloria exploring, the two of them talking all the while, enjoying how far they’d come in reestablishing their friendship. “It’s been so much fun havin’ ya here, Gloria, a little like revisiting my childhood.”
“I know what you mean.”
Leona picked a flower. “It also reminded me of my old secret wish . . . seems so silly now.”
Gloria laughed. “What was it?”
“You never suspected?” Leona held her breath a moment. “I was sure I was born into the wrong family.” She paused. “I wanted to belong to yours.”
Gloria’s mouth gaped. “You’re kidding.”
“Nee, ’tis true. Well, it was then.”
Shaking her head slowly, Gloria finally spoke. “I felt that way, too, at times, growing up. I wanted to be your honest-to-goodness sister, I guess. Your mom is always so sincere.”
They laughed together, dismissing it as a phase most youngsters almost certainly went through. But deep in Leona’s heart, a piece of that wish was still very much alive.
After evening devotions, Leona found Gloria sitting on the bed reading the book Orchard John had given her. Near the dresser, her suitcase was packed and ready to zip shut. She had told Leona earlier that she’d called Hampton to say how grateful she was for the extra time off, and that she planned to arrive home sometime late Monday, after spending the night somewhere Sunday night. “I hope to be back at work in time for the Tuesday evening shift.”
Leona nodded. “I’ll be praying for ya.”
“Thank you,” Gloria said, glancing up at her. “After reading this book, I feel like the thirsty deer mentioned in the Forty-Second Psalm. I just want to know what God has in store for me—not just for the trip, but for afterward, too. Do you ever feel that way?”
Wonderful, Leona thought, nodding. Keep your heart wide open, dear friend.
Gloria awakened Sunday morning to a powerful sun and a sapphire sky, anxious to get ready for her first Preaching service in years. She leaped out of bed like a calf out of the chute at Arkansas’ Fulton County Fair Rodeo, knowing she would need extra time with her unruly hair.
The house was still, at least for now. Pete had surely gone out to the barn already, and Millie was most likely washing up and getting dressed before the breakfast of cold cereal, toast, and coffee. Thinking she ought to wet her hair down before trying to style it, Gloria hurried downstairs in her bathrobe and slippers. After dousing her head in the bathroom sink, she wrapped her thick hair in a towel and went back upstairs.
As she towel dried her hair, Gloria caught herself praying for the courage to do what she felt she must this afternoon when she visited the deacon. I’ll ask Pete if he can take me. She slipped into Leona’s plum-colored dress, making sure to pin all seventeen straight pins in the correct spots—quite an accomplishment.
When she finished, she took time to admire her handiwork in the mirror . . . until it dawned on her how prideful this was. Moving away to the window, she looked over the fields to the north, where Sol Speicher’s orchards were in full bloom.
Help me know Your will . . . guide me, lead me, O Lord, she prayed for the first time since arriving in Colerain.
CHAPTER
38
Wearing the navy blue head scarf, Gloria stood on tiptoes at the end of the line of women outside the farmhouse, the temporary house of worship for this Lord’s Day. Up ahead, she could see Leona with other women near her age, some married, some even considered Maidels by now. Maggie and Millie Speicher were farther back, with the other married women. Gloria had spotted Maggie when they first arrived, her two young daughters at her side, pretty as could be, dressed in matching pale rose-colored dresses and white organdy pinafore-style aprons.
Gloria was struck by the lines divided by gender and age. It was something she’d taken for granted growing up, but now this ritual stood out as markedly as the holy hush that would eventually come over the congregation once they were settled inside, with the men’s section facing the women’s. All around her, children, young people, and adults wore their Sunday best—the men and boys in their traditional black with white long-sleeved shirts, and the women and girls primarily in the royal blue or the plum Leona had allowed Gloria to borrow today.
Very soon, she was seated with the other unbaptized young women in the back of the congregation. One of the men rose and called out a hymn number from the Ausbund, which Gloria held reverently on her lap. The songs of the Anabaptist martyrs, she thought. My own ancestors. Then the halting voice of the Vorsinger cut through the stillness as the appointed man led out with the first few notes before all the People joined in unison.
The congregational singing lasted nearly forty minutes, and once the ministers returned from their customary meeting, the Abrot, the first Scripture was read and the first sermon began, an introduction to the second, longer sermon to come. Gloria quickly realized how much she missed the well-padded pews of her church back home—the backless benches were uncomfortably hard, though she wouldn’t think of admitting this to Leona or anyone else. It was just something the People had always endured.
One of the ministers read a verse from chapter nine of the Gospel of Luke, verse sixty-two. “‘And Jesus said unto him, No man, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.’”
The words of Christ were convicting, and she felt heartsick. I haven’t followed through, just like my parents, she thought ruefully. Each of us has abandoned the Plain life. But I can’t keep blaming Dad for that.
Just in front of her, two teenage girls were passing notes between them, stealing occasional glances.
Must be something about a boy, she guessed, wondering if Leona would go to Singing tonight. Of course Gloria would be well on her way home by then. She hadn’t decided where she’d spend the night, but she wouldn’t push it as hard as she had coming back here, that was certain.
Momentarily, she let herself imagine what might happen if she did stay to attend the Singing. If Orchard John was there, friendly as he was, he might ask her how far she’d read in Rules of a Godly Life. Truth be told, she’d felt too miserable to read any further this morning. The devotional readings last night had caused her to cry herself to sleep.
Straining to see her friend, Gloria wished she were up there sitting with Leona. Tears welled up, and she quickly brushed them away. What would the young people there in the last few rows think of her weeping, of all things?
Following the end of the first sermon, the People turned to kneel at the benches where they’d sat. Gloria wished she had a tissue handy, and she dabbed at her nose with the back of her hand t
ill she could reach for her purse.
There, during the silent kneeling prayer, in the quiet depths of her heart, where the seeds of God’s Word had long ago been planted, she believed she knew the answer to her deepest yearnings. It was the thing she’d longed for on some level ever since blindly following her parents out of the Hill View Amish church district. But how would she be received by the deacon on the matter? Her father’s transgressions clouded her thoughts.
Deacon Ebersol will be surprised—and, hopefully, pleased—this afternoon, she thought, eager to set forth her plan.
———
Gloria breathed a silent prayer as the benediction was offered, then filed out of the service with the other unbaptized youth to wait for the fellowship meal. Leona had been scheduled to help her mother and Aunt Salome on the kitchen committee, so Gloria went to stand alone beneath one of the shade trees, not fitting in with the other young women her age. Several of them had looked twice at her, but it didn’t bother Gloria. The Lord sees my heart.
Unexpectedly, she noticed Orchard John clear over on the side porch by himself, even though all the other young men his age were congregating near the stable, not far from the galvanized watering tub for the horses. If she wasn’t mistaken, he’d seen her, as well, and he bobbed his head toward the road each time he caught her eye.
Surely not, she thought but walked over there anyway, going around the side lawn. He walked along the wraparound porch to meet her, then hurried down the front steps.
“Ain’t easy to get your attention,” he said, falling into step with her. He looked handsome in his black Mutze coat and vest.
“We’ll be seen together, John. Not such a good idea for you.”
He motioned for them to slip out to the road at the end of the sweeping front lawn, out of sight.
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