by Jan Drexler
“I did it. I can weave too.”
“You’ll make a fine weaver when you’re older.” Annalise shifted the harnesses to alternate the warp. “All right, now you send the shuttle back the other way.”
Margli made a few more passes with the shuttle, and then sat back down on the bench. “Will we take the loom with us to Indiana?”
“Ja, for sure we will. How would we make clothes for our family without the loom?”
“But where will we get wool?”
“Daed will take our sheep to Indiana.”
Margli was silent, and Annalise glanced at her. She had stuck her finger back in her mouth.
“What are you thinking, daughter?”
“I don’t want to move to Indiana.”
“You’ll learn to like it there. You’ll make new friends, and Daed will build a new chicken coop. You’ll see. Everything there will be like it is here.”
“But Liesbet won’t be there, and she won’t know where to find us.”
Annalise stopped the shuttle, closing her eyes. Margli had spoken the thought that she had been pushing away for weeks. Liesbetli. If she ever wanted to come back to the family . . . how would she know where they settled? Indiana was a vast wilderness. Annalise straightened and sent the shuttle back through the shed. “God will watch over our Liesbetli. He’ll help her find a way to come to us if she wants to.”
But would she ever want to? Liesbet had turned her back on them all. She had chosen a worldly path, and one full of sin and danger. Ach, Liesbetli!
“You go back and help Hannah with the carding now.” Annalise fought to keep her voice even. “She’ll be wondering where you went.”
“Ja, Mamm.” Margli slid off the bench and ran back to the parlor, where Hannah had set the baskets of washed wool near the fire so the two girls would be warm while they worked.
Annalise sent the shuttle flying through the shed again, over and over, each pass pushing the dark shadow farther back into the recesses of her mind. The new baby stirred once, and then settled into the rhythmic motion as Annalise swayed back and forth with the weaving.
Her spells had retreated—Annalise hadn’t fallen prey to that paralyzing darkness since before the snows came—but the threat still hung within those lingering shadows. The baby helped. Annalise paused to rub the round ball that was once her waist. A mother couldn’t forget her baby, and the anticipation of this new child was sweet.
“Mamm?” Hannah’s voice drifted to her from the kitchen. “We have visitors.”
Annalise left the shuttle on the loom and hurried to the kitchen. Magdalena Hertzler greeted her with a kiss, still wrapped in her snowy shawl.
“Magdalena, what a wonderful surprise!” Annalise reached out to take baby Veronica from Magdalena’s arms while Hannah and Margli helped the other girls take off their shawls.
“Elias wanted to bring some things over for Christian this afternoon, and he suggested we all come along. It’s been ages since we’ve had a good visit.”
“Ja, for sure it has.” She looked for Hannah, already deep in a conversation with Johanna. “I think we have some cookies, and I’ll heat up some water for tea. It’s certainly a cold day.”
“Ne, now you sit down with Veronica and I’ll make the tea.” Magdalena moved the kettle closer to the fire.
“And we’ll take the children up to the attic to play,” Hannah said, wrapping some cookies in a cloth. The children ran up the stairs, following Margli to the big, open attic.
“Between our two families, we have enough children to start our own school, I think.” Magdalena took two mugs from the shelf and measured tea into the teapot. After only a few years of marriage, Magdalena was just as much at home in Annalise’s kitchen as Barbara had been.
Annalise jiggled baby Veronica in her arms, thinking of her best friend, gone six years now. Magdalena, Elias’s new wife, was nearly young enough to be her daughter, but Annalise had grown to love her nearly as much as she had loved Barbara.
“When we get to Indiana, we may have to start a school.”
Magdalena poured hot water into the teapot and closed the lid. She held her lower lip in her teeth and looked at Annalise.
“Does it ever worry you?” she said, sitting on the bench across from Annalise.
Annalise tucked the blanket around the sleeping baby and looked at her friend. “You mean moving to Indiana?”
“Ja. It’s a long way to travel, and we have no idea what we’ll find along the way.” Magdalena glanced toward the stairway where the children’s voices drifted down from the attic. She leaned closer to Annalise. “There are Indians still living there and wild animals. It isn’t safely settled like we are here. And then there’s the journey. I know Christian and Elias have planned all they can, but what if . . .”
“What if?” Annalise smiled and reached for Magdalena’s hand across the table. “There will always be ‘what if,’ no matter if we travel halfway across the country or if we never leave home.”
“But so many things can happen on the trail . . .” Magdalena stopped, her eyes filled with tears. “Silly me.” She sniffed and reached for a handkerchief. “I know God will provide and watch out for us—” she blew her nose and gave Annalise a shaky smile—“but I just can’t stop thinking about it.”
The fears Annalise had been keeping at bay crowded into her mind. Turning her thoughts elsewhere wouldn’t work this time. Magdalena needed reassurance. Annalise needed to have enough confidence for both of them. “We both know terrible things happen.” Magdalena nodded at Annalise’s words. “Both our families have lost loved ones, but we’re still here. Think of our ancestors and the troubles they endured. They found their strength in God’s presence, and we will find nothing less.”
“I can’t help thinking of when Elias lost Barbara—what a tragic time that was for his girls. They were still missing her terribly when he married me, and there wasn’t much I could do to help them since I was so young, myself.”
Annalise averted her eyes, pretending Veronica’s blanket needed straightening. Barbara’s death, so soon after the death of her own little ones, was a terrible time, and she still missed her.
“You were just what Elias and his family needed, Magdalena. A mother for the girls, and you gave Elias his two sons and sweet baby Veronica. You brought happiness back to your family.” Annalise fell silent, turning her own words over in her mind. She had been too wrapped in her own grief to look for what happiness God brought to her own family . . . but she had Peter, Margli, William . . . and now this new little one. God had given her so much, even though her losses had been so great.
“But what if . . . what if something happened to one of us? Or one of the children?” Magdalena covered her mouth. “What if something happened to Elias or Christian?”
Annalise covered Magdalena’s hand with her own. “We are not to live in fear. Ja, terrible things could happen but so can wonderful-gut things. What is that verse in the Psalms? ‘My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth . . . he that keepeth thee will not slumber.’ God will not leave us alone and without help. We can trust in his care.”
Magdalena smiled, even though tears still stood in her eyes. “Where would I be without you, dear Annalise? I’m so glad we’re traveling together. I’ll need your wisdom and confidence every step of the way.”
Annalise gave her friend’s hand a squeeze. She had never thought of herself as a wise woman, but with God’s help, they could both be strong for their families on this journey.
After breakfast on Friday, Hannah was helping redd up the kitchen when Mamm beckoned for her to follow her to the weaving room.
“Margli,” Hannah said, handing her sister the broom. “Finish the sweeping, and then can you play with William?”
“Can we go outside?”
“Ja, but be sure to wear your warmest clothes.” Hannah paused in the doorway to the weaving room. “And Margli? Keep William away from the chickens.”
From her
slumped shoulders, Hannah could tell the chicken coop was exactly where she had planned to take William. “We’ll play in the orchard.”
Hannah went into the weaving room where Mamm waited, sitting on the bench.
“Shut the door.” When the door was closed, Mamm said, “I’ve been worried about Liesbet. The weather has been so cold, and I don’t know if she has enough food.” Tears stood in her eyes. “And I want to tell her that we’re leaving. I want to say goodbye.”
“I know.” Hannah sat on the weaving bench next to her. “But what can we do? Daed won’t go visit her.”
“You did before.”
Hannah shifted on her seat. “Ja, but Daed was right. I shouldn’t have.”
“Daed doesn’t have to know.”
Hannah stared at Mamm. If her face hadn’t been so serious, Hannah might have laughed. “You wouldn’t lie to him.”
“But I don’t need to tell him everything, either.” She laid her hand on Hannah’s arm. “I won’t lie to your daed. Rachel Troyer has been ill, and it would be a Christian and neighborly thing to do to take her a pot of soup. Christian can’t object to that, even if she is Mennonite. And we may stop in for a visit at the Hertzlers’ on the way home. If we go into Lancaster in between, then we do.”
“But won’t Margli or William say something?”
“We’ll go, just us two. Margli can watch William. Rachel Troyer’s illness may be catching, and we wouldn’t want to risk their health.”
“I thought she had rheumatism?”
“Your daed doesn’t need to know that.”
Then Hannah couldn’t hold back a giggle, and Mamm joined in. “It will be fun, won’t it? Just the two of us going visiting? Now, let’s get a couple pails of soup ready, and I’ve made some clothes for Liesbet, and some things for . . . for her baby.”
Hannah’s own throat felt full as her voice caught. This was Mamm’s first grandchild, and she might never hold it.
“Ja, let’s do it.”
Once Daed heard of their plans, he insisted that they take the wagon and a team of horses. “I know how you women get to talking, and I don’t want you walking home late.” Other than that, he had no reservations about the planned visits. “You go and have fun. Jacob and I will take care of things here.”
“What about Josef?” Hannah hadn’t seen him since breakfast.
“He went into town to take care of a few things for us, and he wanted to go to Ephrata for a visit while the weather was calm. I asked him to discuss some details of the move with Daniel. He’ll be home tomorrow.”
They set off, Mamm driving the team. Hannah was always surprised at how well she drove. She rarely had an opportunity to do it.
The Troyers lived a few miles down Butter Road, between home and Lancaster. Hannah shuddered as they passed the place where she and Josef had found Adam. She still hated to think about that day.
Rachel Troyer was happy to see them and invited them in for coffee.
“Ach, ne, but denki,” Mamm said as Hannah carried the pail of soup into the house and set it on Rachel’s gleaming stove. “We’re going into Lancaster to run another errand, and then I want to stop at the Hertzlers’ this afternoon.”
They were soon back in the wagon and on their way to town. Mamm slowed the horses to a walk as they approached the city. The road outside of Lancaster had been covered with snow, packed and rutted, but the streets in town were full of mud. Hannah pointed out the way to the tavern where she had last seen Liesbet, living in the room above.
When Mamm pulled the team to a stop outside the tavern, she sat, staring at the building. Shouts filled the air all around them, and horses, wagons, and ox carts were churning the mud to thick sludge. Hannah took her hand. She knew what she was thinking—Liesbet had turned her back on their quiet, peaceful home to live here.
“If you want, I’ll go up and see if she is at home.”
Mamm shook her head. “Ne, we’ll go together.”
Hannah picked up the remaining pail of soup while Mamm gathered her bundles. Hannah found a rock to step on between the wagon and the boardwalk, and neither of them soiled their high shoes too badly. Mamm’s eyes were wide as she took in the tavern and the rough workers gathered outside.
“Come this way.” Hannah tugged at her arm and they went to the side of the building where the steep steps led to the second story. The door at the top stood open.
Hannah led the way up the steps and she knocked on the doorframe.
“What is it?” It was a man’s voice. George’s voice.
“It’s Liesbet’s sister and mother. Is she here?”
“Mamm?” Liesbet appeared at the open door. Her blouse barely stretched to cover her swollen stomach, and her hair was dirty and hung on either side of her face. But her eyes, as blue as ever, shone with tears when she saw them. “Mamm, I never thought I would see you again! Come in, come in.”
She stood aside as they walked in. Hannah took in the dirty room, George sitting in the one chair shoving his feet in his boots, and a couch in the corner, covered with a rumpled quilt, but Mamm only took Liesbet in her arms, having no thought of anything or anyone else.
“Ach, mein liebchen, mein Liesbetli.” She murmured the words over and over.
George pushed past them and out the door without a word.
“We brought you some soup,” Hannah said, when Mamm released Liesbet.
“Mamm’s soup?” Liesbet breathed in the hearty aroma. “You can put it on the table there.”
Hannah pushed some papers out of the way and set the pail down. Liesbet looked more ill than the last time she had seen her. Her once pretty face was swollen, distorting her features, and her skin was tinged with a yellowish gray.
“Liesbet, how . . .” Mamm looked around them at the crowded room, and then back at her daughter. “Are you all right?”
“Of course I am.” She sat on the chair, motioning for them to sit on the couch. “George is looking for a new job. In the spring we’ll go to Philadelphia or Pittsburgh where it will be easier for him.” She spoke quickly but didn’t look into their eyes as she talked. “And we’re to have a baby, Mamm. Did you know that?”
“Hannah told me.” Mamm’s voice was quiet, a contrast to Liesbet’s brittle prattle. “We brought you some things. Some clothes . . .” Her words faltered as she looked at Liesbet’s clothes.
The blouse was pink, and her skirt a shade of red. Nothing else would have shown the change in Liesbet more than the disgust on her face when Mamm showed her the clothes she had brought.
“It was thoughtful of you, but George doesn’t want me to be Plain. I’m a town lady, now, and I wear town clothes.” Liesbet’s chin lifted. Just as stubborn as ever.
“At least take these things I made for the little one. He wouldn’t object to these, would he?”
Liesbet reached her hand out to stroke the tiny gown on the top of the bundle on Mamm’s lap. “Ne, he wouldn’t object to this.”
“Liesbet, if you ever want to come home . . .”
Liesbet shook her head. “Ne. I won’t. This is my home now. With George.”
“But if something should happen, and you needed us, will you know how to find us?”
“Ja, Mamm.” Liesbet sighed. Even after all this, she still turned from Mamm’s offer. “I’ll find you in Indiana. It shouldn’t be hard.”
Hannah turned from her sister and looked around the filthy room. She should never have let Mamm come here only to have Liesbet reject her again.
Footsteps pounded on the stairs and Liesbet grabbed the bundle, wrapped it up, and stuffed it under the couch. George stopped in the doorway, blocking the light.
“They’re still here? It’s time for my dinner.”
Liesbet’s face turned red and she looked down. “Mamm and Hannah brought us some soup. Would you like that for your dinner?”
Hannah rose and grasped Mamm’s hand. “We must be going. Daed is expecting us home.”
Liesbet looked at them, her ey
es wet. “How is he?”
“He doesn’t know we’ve come.”
As Hannah led Mamm out of the room, George was already dipping cold soup out of the bucket. Liesbet would be lucky to get a swallow of that nourishing food.
Liesbet closed the door behind them as Hannah stumbled down the steps, hardly able to see through her tears. They shouldn’t have come. Now this would be the memory Mamm would have with her forever, Liesbet living in this squalor.
“Hannah?”
She stopped on the boardwalk as she heard her name called. It sounded like Josef.
“Hannah? Annalise?” Josef pushed through some men in front of the tavern. “What are you doing here?”
Mamm’s tears were breaking through, and Hannah had to get her off the boardwalk. She helped her up onto the wagon seat, and then turned to Josef.
“We were visiting Liesbet.”
“Liesbet lives here? You told me she was married.”
Hannah dared to look into his face. His eyes were questioning, suspicious. What would he say when he learned the whole truth about her sister?
“She is married, but to an outsider. She lives in a room over this tavern.”
Josef turned to look up the stairs. George stood at the top, watching them.
Josef took Hannah’s arm and lifted her up into the wagon seat next to Annalise and then climbed up after her. This part of Lancaster was no place for two Amish women to be.
And Liesbet? He glanced back at the outside stairway of the tavern as he turned the horses toward the main street. She had joined the man on the landing at the top of the stairs and was watching them drive away. When Hannah had said her sister was married, he assumed it was to another Amish man, someone from their community. This wasn’t marriage. That man had ruined a good girl and was now using her for his own benefit.
Josef shook the reins and the horses responded, moving faster through the rutted and muddy streets to the outskirts of town. Once that baby came, the man would abandon the two of them. He had seen the same thing played out before.
Once they were away from the noise of town, Josef pulled the horses to a stop. He rubbed the back of his neck, stiff and sore. His head ached. He turned to Hannah.