The Wish

by Beverly Lewis

“I hoped we might talk again,” he said, smiling at her. “You look mighty Plain today, Gloria. Real nice.”

  “Denki,” she said. “The dress is Leona’s.”

  “And your hair’s up, too.”

  “A challenge, let me tell you.”

  “You’re not the only young woman who’s left the Amish, chopped off her hair, and returned.”

  She looked at him, striking as he was. Should she tell him what she’d experienced during the kneeling prayer—that the minister’s sermon had spoken powerfully to her?

  His face beamed. “Gloria, I felt a sense of rightness, seein’ ya at Preaching. I was real pleased to see ya there. Just wanted you to know.”

  From the corner of her eye, she spotted Pete Speicher’s profile where he was standing behind the house, his straw hat shading his head from the sun. “Ach, if we’re seen, you’ll be in trouble.”

  “Well, I don’t want that. Really just wanted to see you, Gloria . . . to let you know that I think ya really belong here.” Then, turning, he said, “I’ll go around the side of the house, an’ you take the driveway.”

  She nodded, breathing easier now as she watched him go. But she couldn’t help feeling somehow elated that he’d sought her out despite the risk.

  ———

  Leona gasped when she saw Gloria in her head scarf walking with Orchard John.

  “For mercy’s sake!” Leona made a dash down the driveway just as Orchard John slipped away and as Gloria switched directions to return this way. Leona noticed Gloria’s flushed face and reached for her hand. “You surely have some idea of what jeopardy you just put my cousin in,” she said as they made their way back to the house.

  Gloria inhaled as if out of breath. “I told him that, too. But it was his idea to talk to me. We weren’t together long.”

  “Even so,” Leona said softly.

  “I hope your father’s willing to go with me this afternoon to visit the deacon. There’s something I must do before I leave.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem . . . if Dat can stay awake after the noon meal, that is.” Feeling less apprehensive now, Leona laughed a little, ever so curious what Gloria had in mind.

  ———

  “You look downright ferhoodled,” Tom told Orchard John when he came walking toward the stable.

  “Ach, I think Cousin Leona spotted me with Gloria,” John said, circling back around the barn with him.

  “Gloria?” Tom looked over his shoulder to see Leona and Gloria coming around the opposite side of the house, holding hands.

  “I told her how pleased I was to see her in church.” John couldn’t hide the broad grin that crept across his face.

  “You can’t let your heart run too far in her direction—she ain’t Amish anymore,” Tom said, perplexed.

  “But I have a strong feelin’ she might be inchin’ back. . . .”

  “Wait, then,” Tom cautioned. “Wait till she’s safely baptized and solidly in the church.”

  “Jah,” John agreed, but his mind seemed miles away.

  Tom moved toward the horses, finding his father’s mare and offering a sugar cube from his pocket.

  He glanced over beyond the thicket, where Leona and Gloria were still talking rather solemnly near the back porch. He wondered if Orchard John was right about Gloria inching toward the People, if that’s what he meant. If so, was it just his heart talking?

  CHAPTER

  39

  Gloria sat with Leona in the second seat of the family carriage on the ride home, reliving her time with Orchard John after church while they’d walked along the road. She hadn’t felt as guilty as she had at the coffee shop, and it surprised her.

  Something was changing in her. Was it that tug, that drawing, she’d felt while kneeling at the bench during prayer time?

  Now she just had to talk through the things on her mind with the deacon, difficult as it would be. What will he say?

  On the ride back to the Speichers’ farm, she wanted to test the waters with Leona’s family. It wasn’t her intent to get anyone’s hopes up, especially Leona’s. After all, there were many hurdles to overcome, namely Gloria’s acceptability to the deacon and all the other ministerial brethren.

  And the People themselves . . .

  She sighed. There was something else that continued to nag her, something that could derail everything.

  Nevertheless, she wanted Leona and her family to know what she was thinking. Gloria swallowed nervously before voicing it. “I was wondering if you might be willing to take me to see the deacon today, Pete.” At his ready nod, she continued. “I’m ready to speak to him about something.”

  Leona turned toward her, eyes wide with hope.

  Gloria’s throat suddenly felt dry. Have I opened a can of worms? “It’s about whether or not I might be able to join church . . . this fall, or even at some later point. That is, if I can pass the requirements.”

  “Praise be!” Leona reached to hug her.

  Benuel responded next. “I wondered if you were getting close to this decision.”

  “Talking with you and Orchard John definitely helped me sort through some important things,” Gloria admitted. “Denki for that.”

  Millie spoke quietly. “You’ll be welcome in our home, when you’re ready to move your things back.” She glanced at Pete, who nodded in agreement.

  “But only till wedding season, I daresay,” Leona whispered, grinning at her.

  “Ach, I can’t possibly know that yet,” Gloria said, uneasy now. “I also have certain things to take care of in Arkansas.” She wondered if Pete was surprised at Millie’s swift offer of a place to stay. Not rent free, though, she thought. I’d pay my fair share, like at home, as soon as I can find a job.

  Pete was quiet on the topic, although later, as they approached the turn into the driveway, he asked Gloria when she wanted to leave for the deacon’s.

  “As soon as it suits you,” she said, and when Leona said she could handle the chores so he could take Gloria right away, she felt another wave of nerves.

  The sunny afternoon was near perfect, a light breeze bringing with it the sound of crickets and cows mooing in the pastureland beyond the road and the rustling of leaves in the trees near the horse fence. The field grasses had inched ever higher since Gloria’s arrival a week ago, and it looked like the first cutting of hay was only three or four weeks out. All this and more Gloria noticed as she rode with Pete across the creek and up past her former house to Deacon Ebersol’s farm.

  Leona’s father said precious little as Gloria clutched her purse and embraced the landscape with her gaze, but she found Pete’s quiet strength encouraging.

  When they arrived, Pete took the lead, escorting her to the deacon’s back door, where, together, they waited.

  Deacon Ebersol came to the door still wearing his church clothes.

  “Hullo, Mose,” Pete said. “Gloria here wants a word with ya, if it’s no trouble. I’ll wait in the buggy.”

  The kind-faced deacon stepped out to join her on the porch, where they went to sit in hickory rockers just like her own father had made.

  Sallie Ebersol came outside almost immediately and offered Gloria a tumbler of homemade root beer.

  “Denki, but I’m fine.”

  “I’ll have some,” the deacon said, waiting for his wife to bring the tumbler to him before saying more. He took a long drink, then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Now, how can I help ya, Gloria?”

  He seemed as friendly as she’d remembered, and his calm demeanor gave her a semblance of confidence. “I’d like to take baptismal instruction here this summer . . . if you agree,” she began, making herself slow down a bit. “I’ve been attending a church out in Arkansas, but of course it isn’t Amish . . . and my heart is still Plain. What would you want me to do, in order to join church here?”

  “Well, this is a surprising turn. Is your family aware of it?”

  “Not just yet.” The air stuck in her throat.

&nbs
p; “I see.” He leaned forward. “This must be a recent decision, then.”

  She shared with him how, even prior to visiting this week and spending time with Leona and others, she’d felt torn about the direction of her life. And now, being here had filled her with a longing to return and make this her home.

  “That’s all well and gut,” he said quietly. “The Lord does work in mysterious ways—often different for each of us.” Then he inquired about the Ordnung of her parents’ former community in Arkansas.

  “I did get an opportunity to take a few baptismal classes there, but that church district wasn’t as traditional or as strict as yours.”

  “Are you willing to have sessions here with the bishop and the other ministers to prayerfully study the eighteen articles of the Dordrecht Confession of Faith?”

  She said she was.

  Deacon drew in a breath, his nose making a whistling sound. “I must ask—would you still want to be baptized and join this church fellowship if there were no eligible young men your age?”

  His serious gaze met hers, and she realized he’d surely heard the gossip. Most likely, she and Orchard John had been seen together.

  She paused for only a short moment. “I believe so.”

  There was a glimmer of something in the deacon’s eyes; he wasn’t entirely pleased with her answer. “And if there is such a young man, are you willing to wait till you’re a church member to be courted?”

  She considered how hard that might prove to be if Orchard John pursued her once she’d broken things off with Darren back home. “Would I be permitted to spend time with someone as a friend, if there was such a young man?” She tried not to smile.

  “Only in the company of other baptized members.”

  She had assumed this and felt it was not only fair but for the best. “And will I have a Proving time, following my move back here?”

  Suddenly, Deacon Ebersol looked puzzled. “I’ll discuss this with the other ministers, considering you were brought up Amish.” He looked at her, his brows pushed into nearly one long bushy line above his gentle blue eyes.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Smiling now, he nodded his head slowly. “Your attitude is one of sincerity, Gloria—a true sign of a humble baptismal candidate.”

  She didn’t thank him, thinking it wouldn’t be right.

  They talked further about her visit here and what had prompted it. “I’ve heard you’re havin’ gut fellowship with Leona Speicher.”

  Gloria smiled. “She’s my closest friend.”

  The deacon leaned forward. “If she wasn’t such a dear friend, would we be having this discussion, Gloria?”

  Her smile left her face. Goodness, she hadn’t been prepared for this question. “You mean—”

  “Would you be asking ’bout joining church if not for Leona?”

  Gloria hesitated. Probably not, she thought, unable to think of an acceptable answer, her heart sinking.

  The deacon continued. “Also, you said your parents don’t know of your hope to be baptized. How do you think they’ll respond?”

  Gloria bit her lip. “My plan to move here will surely be met with disapproval. Mainly from my father.”

  “I remember Joe,” Deacon Ebersol replied, his expression concerned. “Are you afraid to tell him?”

  She confessed she was, remembering his fierce opposition to her trip here with Leona.

  “Why might that be?”

  Surprised he would ask, considering he himself had been terribly wronged by her father, she didn’t know how to answer. Even though he had every right to, Deacon Ebersol had never pressed charges, instead being patient with her father, never trying to track him down for what he owed.

  Yet here I sit on his porch, a prodigal’s daughter, asking to be welcomed back with open arms, she thought. What am I thinking?

  Her hands felt warm and clammy. “Our family’s no longer Amish, for one thing,” she said at last.

  Before he could reply, she added, “Excuse me a moment,” and reached for her purse. Opening it, she removed the envelope she’d prepared earlier and handed it to him. “I want you to have this.”

  He frowned, then opened the envelope and removed the check she’d written for partial repayment of her father’s debt. Staring at it, his mouth fell open. “What’s this?”

  Gloria explained and apologized for not offering it sooner.

  “From your father, is it?”

  She said it was from the tip money she’d saved. “I’m a waitress.”

  He nodded. “This is mighty generous.” He looked again at the check. “However, I cannot accept it.”

  She was stunned. “I . . . I don’t understand—”

  “Your father’s debt is not yours to repay.” His eyes were kind as he returned the check for four thousand dollars. “I appreciate your heart in this, Gloria . . . truly, I do.”

  “But . . .” Gloria stumbled for the right words. “How could I possibly return to live here amongst the People unless I—”

  “Gloria,” he said, “have ya lived in fear of being judged by others because of your father’s indiscretions?”

  “How can I not?”

  His eyes shone with compassion. “I forgave your father long ago for that debt.”

  Gloria was speechless. “Even so, I don’t know how I could hold my head up, unless . . .”

  “Perhaps you’ve forgotten that grace cannot be bought,” he said. “It’s a gift, free for the taking.” He smiled. “I do appreciate your willingness to do this. But according to Scripture, the Lord does not delight in sacrifices. He desires a broken spirit . . . and a contrite heart. He will not turn us away.” Gloria swallowed as she took this in.

  “Do ya still carry bitterness toward your father?”

  Slowly, she nodded.

  Deacon was quiet again, his eyes squinting. Then he asked, “Have you considered letting go of that burden . . . that resentment?”

  “The thought of forgiving my father is next to impossible.” Gloria raised her chin to look directly into his ruddy face. “I’ve felt so ashamed and still do . . . for all those he hurt financially and otherwise.” She breathed in the fresh afternoon air. “You see, Deacon, I don’t deserve to be treated benevolently here, yet I’ve been shown nothing but kindness by Leona and her dear parents.” She paused. “And now by you.”

  His face radiated understanding, but what he said next cut her to the quick. “Alas, Gloria, you’re not ready to make a decision for the Amish church. You haven’t counted the cost.” He tugged on his beard. “I believe you’re attempting to find some redemption for your father’s misdeeds . . . and I doubt you’d be thinkin’ of returning if not for Leona. Neither is a sound enough reason to embrace the Plain ways.”

  She nodded and bowed her head, struggling with the weight of disappointment.

  “Most important, are you determined to follow the Lord God and His ways with a pure and single-minded heart?”

  She raised her eyes to meet his. “I want to.”

  “Wanting and doing are very different.” His mouth turned up slightly, then drooped. “Are ya able to stand up to your father’s opposition, if it comes to that?”

  She did not want to think how that dreadful scene might play out. After a moment, she said, “I’ll need all the strength I can gather.”

  “When we’re most weak, Gott is strong. None of us can do the hard things on our own.”

  Deacon knows my father all too well.

  “Give this some further thought . . . and prayer.” He added, “I’ll be here, if and when you wish to proceed.”

  How can my answers ever ring true for him? Instead of the relief she’d hoped for from this meeting, she felt crushed in spirit.

  “May our heavenly Father go with you, Gloria Gingerich.”

  “And with you.”

  When she returned to the carriage, she found Pete dozing, his chin resting on his chest.

  Poor, dear man, she thought. This is a da
y of rest, after all.

  Pete opened his eyes and seemed to read her expression as he straightened and reached for the driving lines.

  Tears slid down her cheeks as they rode back toward the house. She understood the reasons for the deacon’s hesitation, yet his undeserved act of mercy in refusing her check made her want to join his congregation all the more. Indeed, she felt overwhelmed by Deacon Ebersol’s kindness and wisdom.

  But he’s right, she thought. I haven’t counted the cost.

  When Pete turned into the driveway, Gloria’s eye caught her car parked out behind Benuel’s Dawdi Haus. It looked exceptionally shiny in the sunlight, perhaps more appealing than ever before.

  Am I really ready to give it up?

  She thanked Leona’s father for taking her and offered to help him unhitch, but he waved her on, secure in his own quiet world.

  Looking across the serene meadow, she longed to walk barefoot through the long grass, picking wild flowers come summer. Truthfully, she felt more conflicted now than before she’d left Arkansas. “Help me, O Lord,” she whispered heavenward.

  She turned to walk back toward the house, still glancing in the direction of the fields and the woods when she heard someone call her name. The intensity, the firmness—

  Turning in the direction of the voice, Gloria saw her father sitting on the back stoop in blue jeans and a red T-shirt, as stern faced as she’d ever seen him. “Gloria!” he shouted again.

  She felt her breath fade.

  What’s he doing here?

  CHAPTER

  40

  Looks like I got here in the nick of time, considering you’re already dressing Plain.” Her father rose from the steps as Gloria drew near. “You must have turned off your phone, too.” He shook his head. “How’s a man supposed to keep in touch with his daughter?”

  She took a step backward, suddenly feeling weak. “You came all this way just to talk to me?”

  “It’s been a long day . . . I took a cab from the airport,” he said tersely. “Time to come home, young lady. Your mother and I—”

  “Joe?” Pete said behind her, shouldering his way toward him.