“Out to Bird-in-Hand.” Katie would have gladly said more but feared she would be letting herself in for all kinds of questions. Besides, Annie Lapp knew nothing about ladies’ dress shops and boutiques. She was a good, upstanding Amishwoman. Women like Annie were never tempted to peek into worldly English shops.
Annie’s eyes seemed fixed on her now, Katie thought, probably because she was trying to figure out why she wasn’t wearing her kapp. “Well, my goodness, what were you doing way over there?” Annie blurted.
Katie flinched. Should she tell? Should she divulge the secret pleasure of a few hours away from home, trying on the fanciest chiffon party dress in all of Lancaster County?
She took a good look at Annie—Daniel’s beloved sister. She looked so like the boy with blueberry eyes! And oh, dear Lord, her baby would probably look like him, too. Katie shuddered to think of being haunted by Dan’s expression on the faces of her own nephews and nieces. Of course, Elam’s offspring would carry some of his traits, as well. But as spirited and attractive as Daniel Fisher had always been, Katie suspected that her big brother’s children would bear a strong resemblance to her one true love. Just as I must look something like my real mamma. . . .
The notion startled her and she shrugged it off, trying to remember what it was that Annie had asked her. She was relieved when her sister-in-law brought it up again.
“Were you distraught today, Katie? Is that why you left the wedding ceremony?” Annie asked softly. “Because if ya need to talk, well . . . I’m here for you. Anytime.”
Touched by the offer, Katie reached across the table to squeeze her sister-in-law’s hand. “I just might be taking you up on that,” she whispered as the guilt crept back, threatening to spoil her moment of freedom. She stiffened her back, determined to make every minute count.
Elam came in noisily, bumping around in the utility room and shutting the door with a resounding bang before making his way into the kitchen. One glance at Katie, and he began to shake his head. “You need to be findin’ your kapp and wearin’ it, don’tcha think?”
Katie tilted her head and surveyed her oldest brother. “I don’t have to find it,” she stated. “I know exactly where it is.”
“Then why isn’t it on your head where it belongs? And what’re those knots all the way down your hair?”
Annie’s eyes caught her husband’s in a meaningful stare, much the way Mam and Dat often exchanged glances. Katie almost expected to hear Annie speaking up on her behalf, but when she didn’t, Katie knew she was on her own. Rebecca Lapp was the one and only woman who had ever taken her side against a man.
Elam was close to scolding her now. Katie could see the telltale signs—his twitching eyes, the flaring nostrils. She didn’t want to risk humiliation, not in front of Annie.
“I got a bit ferhoodled, maybe.”
“Ferhoodled? Jah! And when Dat gets ahold of ya, you’ll be wishin’ you’d walked up to the preacher with John Beiler at your side and gone through with your weddin’ vows!”
“Don’t speak to me that way, Elam Lapp!”
“It’s about time someone did,” he said, barely able to check his anger. “Dat never could, that’s for sure.”
“Leave him out of this!” Katie demanded. “Dat’s done just fine raising me and you know it.”
“I’m tellin’ ya right now,” Elam went on, “if you go home with your hair lookin’ like that, you’ll be regretting it long before mornin’.”
Her brother was right. Tonight there would be a tongue-lashing from Dat, and first thing tomorrow, either Elam or Dat would report her multiple transgressions to Preacher Yoder or Bishop John.
“I’m ashamed of ya, Katie. You must try and stay in Jesus,” he said. “You must try.”
Katie stood and headed for the back door. “I’ll be going now. And don’t call me Katie anymore. My name is Katherine.”
“Since when?” Elam sneered.
“Since the day I was born,” she said over her shoulder as she reached for the doorknob. Suddenly she felt uneasy, fearful that she had stepped into forbidden territory, a place that could only lead to betrayal.
“You’re talkin’ nonsense. Better get your hair done up in a bun. And don’t say ya weren’t warned,” Elam called after her. “Sinning against the church is no laughing matter . . . it’s sinning against God.” Elam sat beside his wife at the table, his head bowed now.
“Good-bye, Annie,” said Katie, completely ignoring her brother.
Annie’s farewell was a whispered “Da Herr sei mit du.”
————
The afternoon was still hot, and the sun shone heavy on the round, full hills south of the road.
You must try and stay in Jesus. Elam’s words echoed in her mind. But the logical side of her brain argued back: Did staying in Jesus require her to wear the kapp at all times? Must she wear her hair long and forever parted down the middle—squeezed into a bun? Was this the only way?
Daniel Fisher had not thought so. Salvation came, he’d often told her, through faith in Jesus Christ—not by works, not by following man-made rules.
She sighed, letting Satin Boy plod along at his own pace. If need be, she would get out and walk the rest of the way home.
Why hadn’t she paid more attention to Daniel back then? Why had she gone along with the teachings of her parents’ Meinding church without question, ruling out the other Christian churches outside of Hickory Hollow?
Katie knew why, of course. She was young, too unsure of herself to leave the Old Ways and embrace the New. Too ignorant of the Scriptures to debate them. Dan, on the other hand, had secretly joined a Bible study group somewhere. Not only had he memorized several chapters of the Bible, but he was learning what they meant and how their truths could change a life committed to Christ. Wisely, he’d kept his activities hidden from the rest of the People. Only Katie had been aware of his secret. Of this she was fairly certain.
If Dan had lived, she knew he could help her now. He could lead her to the truth—wherever it was to be found.
An ominous feeling settled over her as the red sandstone house came into view. The truth, she was almost assured, was not found in wearing a head covering or denying oneself an occasional braid now and then.
In defiance of it all, she sang—a vigorous rendition of “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” Satin Boy, apparently inspired by the rhythm of the melody, began to pick up speed.
“Gut boy!” Katie called to him and promised a long brushing and some fresh hay and water when they got to the barn. They passed the wide front yard and turned into the dirt lane leading to the barnyard.
She put off going into the house as long as possible. Finally, when she heard Mam call to the men, she slipped out of the pony stall and headed for the kitchen door.
Tiptoeing into the utility room, she remembered the festive atmosphere of the house just hours before—the multitude of wedding guests, the greeting lines, the sermons, and the cooks preparing for a feast. Its present somber appearance convicted her.
Quickly, she began to wind her hair around her hand, ready to put it up into the usual bun, but changed her mind and let the tresses fall down her back. It was too late now to make amends. What was done was done.
“Katie, you’re back!” Mam cried, spotting her. She hurried over and wrapped her arms around the prodigal, appearing not to notice Katie’s unruly hair springing free of the confining kapp. “I came looking for you after ya ran out of the house,” she babbled. “I went out to the pond and called and called. Where on earth did you go?”
Katie shook her head. This wasn’t the time. “Maybe you won’t understand this, Mamma,” she said, looking at the woman who had cared for her from infancy, “but I can’t talk about it just yet.”
“Well . . . it’ll keep ’til after supper, then.”
Katie held her breath as she entered the kitchen with Mam at her side. Even with Elam’s warning, she was not prepared for Dat’s display of righteous indignation. �
�Where’s your head covering, daughter? Don’t you have any respect at all for God’s laws—not to mention the poor bishop’s feelin’s tonight—without a wife to warm his bed or a Mam for his children!” He ranted on for minutes that seemed like hours while, at her side, tiny gasps of emotion escaped Rebecca’s lips.
“I know for a fact that Preacher Yoder’ll be comin’ to talk to you in a couple of days,” Dat went on as the Lapp family sat down around the supper table.
“I’ll speak to him,” Katie agreed quietly.
“Gut, I’m glad you’re coming to your senses.”
Katie breathed deeply. “I don’t mean that I’ll be confessing, though, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s just that I want to ask him some questions—about the Scriptures.”
There was no audible response. But when Dat bowed his head for the silent prayer over the meal, the ritual lasted at least twice as long as usual.
Eli gave her a long, cold glare and would not accept any of the serving plates she passed him.
He’s treating me like I’m a shunned woman, Katie thought.
Benjamin, however, was kinder, passing the bowls of buttered potatoes, carrots, and onions, and the ham platter to his brother on behalf of Katie.
Halfway through the meal, Dat exploded. “I will not eat another bite until ya go put up your hair the right and holy way!”
Startled at this outburst, Katie got up from the table and ran upstairs to her room. With trembling hands, she brushed her hair and wound it into a bun, without even checking the straightness of the part in her hand mirror. Then, finding a clean, pressed kapp, she placed it on her head and scurried back downstairs like a frightened mouse.
Meanwhile, Dat had pushed his chair away from the table, still muttering about the disgrace she’d brought on the Lapp family.
Katie said nothing. She was wounded to the depths of her spirit. But she would not allow her father the satisfaction of witnessing the pain he had caused. In fact, his reaction—though not unexpected— only fueled her resolve to speak to the preacher when the time came.
Later that night, after the kitchen was cleaned up, but before evening prayers, Benjamin whispered to Katie that she must come outside with him. Katie, unwilling that Dat be aware of some vague conspiracy, agreed. They waited for the best time to slip out—during one of his longer snoozing sessions in front of the woodstove.
Once outside, Benjamin headed for the milk house at a brisk stride.
“What’s so important?” Katie wanted to know, doing her best to keep up.
“I have to tell ya—Dat’s not just encouraging you to confess,” he said, his breath pluming in the frosty air. “He’s madder’n a hornet at whatcha did today.”
“Well . . . he’s got every right.”
“Jah, and he’s not the only one who’s plenty angry.” Benjamin opened the heavy door and held it for his sister. It was warmer there in the milk house. “You spurned the bishop in front of all the People, for goodness’ sake! Such a shameful, awful thing ya did.”
Katie nodded but resisted the guilt that inched nearer. “I didn’t expect John to be angry, really,” she thought aloud. “Hurt or disappointed, maybe . . . but not angry.”
“Jah, and here’s what I wanted to tell ya before tomorrow. If you don’t go ahead and promise to confess in front of the whole church come Sunday, you’ll be in danger of the Ban, Katie. The Ban!
” She felt a sliver of fear—like an icicle—cold and tingly. Still, she shouldn’t have been surprised to hear it. After all, she’d as much as announced publicly that John Beiler was not her brother in Christ.
In the eyes of the People, she was a sinner. She deserved to be excommunicated.
“Better be thinkin’ things over, Katie. I’d hate to see ya put through die Meinding, really I would.”
Die Meinding—the shunning. The mere thought of it sent another tremor rippling down her spine.
“There’s been talk already. . . .” Ben paused and scratched his head, as if wondering if he should have kept his mouth shut.
“What’re you tellin’ me, Ben?”
“Well”—he glanced around, looking toward the house—“Mam asked Eli and me to go over to the bishop’s and get your cedar chest and suitcases and things and bring ’em back home.”
“Jah?” She felt her throat constrict.
“While we was there, Eli heard Bishop John talkin’ things over with his friend, Preacher Zook.” He paused, his eyes growing soft. “I’m tellin’ ya, Katie, things could get real bad for ya. And awful quick, too.”
“I can’t confess. I just can’t.”
Benjamin stared at her in disbelief. “You can’t not confess.”
“But it would be a lie.” She reached up and plucked off the kapp again, pulling out the hairpins that held her bun in place. “Look at me! I’m not the person you think I am, Ben. I’m not Amish.”
He frowned, shaking his head.
“I ain’t Plain. The kneeling baptism never happened to me—not the me you see standing before you here.”
Ben was obviously puzzled. “You’re talkin’ in riddles.”
“Jah, I am. But my whole life has been a riddle.” She shook her head sadly. “I wish I could, but I honestly can’t say any more about this now. Someday I’ll be able to tell you, promise I will.”
“Someday will never come if you’re shunned, Katie. And ya don’t want to wait and see, I guarantee!”
Ben’s prophecy bore deep, plunging a shaft of terror into the very recesses of her soul.
Seventeen
The next day the weather turned chilly again with needlelike pellets of rain pounding the frozen ground. Plumes of vapor from the horses’ warm breath hung in the air, mingling with thready fog, as the People made their way to quiltings or weddings and an occasional farm sale around Hickory Hollow.
Katie still had no answers to the questions that plagued her like a swarm of mosquitoes on a summer day. Preacher Yoder would surely be able to set her mind at ease over the biggest question of all—the one she was hoping might solve all her problems and put an end to the talk of the Ban and shunning. But in order to inquire about it, she would have to tell Preacher Yoder her parents’ secret.
Would Dat consent to it? After the blowup last night, would he allow her to reveal such a thing?
She decided to approach her mother instead. And while the two of them were working together, unpacking Katie’s suitcase and rearranging her linens in the cedar chest, she brought up the idea.
“No, no, no!” Rebecca was adamant. “There’ll be no telling it around that you’re adopted!”
“But I have to tell Preacher Yoder.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” The look in the hazel eyes was almost fierce.
“But don’t you see?” Katie went on. “If Preacher knew the truth— that I’m not Amish by birth—then everything else would make sense to him.”
Mam shot her a curious glance. “What would make sense?”
“My troubles with being Plain,” Katie mumbled under her breath, so softly she wasn’t certain she’d been heard.
The silence hovered between them for the longest time, and Katie wondered if she should repeat herself. She touched her braid, feeling the series of ripples up and down the length of it, and wondered if her father would force her to put her hair up again today.
Finally, Mam spoke up. “Your troubles don’t come from being adopted, Katie,” she admonished. “Your troubles come from a disobedient spirit.”
Katie shrugged. “Still, I should be telling the truth about my birth mother, don’t you think? My English background?”
The next outburst was such a shock that Katie could only gape in amazement. Was this the sweet-tempered mamma who’d never raised her voice in anger in her life? “No! You can’t tell, Katie”—she was actually shouting now—“because I forbid it!”
Turning away, Katie hid her face in her hands and tried to calm herself. When she looked up, Rebecca was gone.
Katie tossed the remaining items of clothing into the only dresser in the room, and eyes filling with angry tears, she located the rose baby dress in a compartment of the suitcase. Then, stuffing the dress into a pocket of her apron, she hurried downstairs and out of the house, letting the storm door slap hard against the frame.
She would not wait around for Preacher Yoder to come to her; she’d go to him. What she was about to do would bring hurt to her mother, she knew. But her own agony was so raw, so deep, she simply could not bring herself to care.
————
The preacher was helping a customer when Katie arrived at the General Store. “I’ll be right with ya,” he called, glancing over to see who had come in, jangling the bell above the door. His friendly smile vanished when he spotted her hair—done up fancy in a long braid— and the missing head covering.
Stepping away from the counter, Katie waited for him to finish making his sale, wondering how she should begin the conversation with the elderly man now that she was here.
The making of change and the final ding of the cash register signaled the end of business. It was her turn. “Preacher,” she began, a bit sheepish now that the sting of Rebecca’s words had abated somewhat, “I heard you wanted to speak to me.”
Preacher Yoder, wearing a purple shirt and heavy homespun trousers, cut wide and full in the legs, scanned the store for prospective customers, then pointed Katie in the direction of a small back room behind the counter.
The place was sparsely furnished, except for rows of shelving that occupied one entire side of the room. The wide shelves stored odd bolts of fabric, arranged in an orderly fashion.
Preacher Yoder’s countenance registered concern as he pulled out a chair for Katie, and the two of them sat facing each other. “Well now, I must say I’m glad to see ya comin’ forward to confess. Will it be this Sunday?”
“No, no, I’m not here about confessing.”
He frowned, creating deep furrows in his already wrinkled forehead.
“I have something to tell you in confidence,” she added softly. “It’s something that nobody else must ever know.”
The Shunning Page 18