by Jan Drexler
“What was going on back there?”
Annalise took Hannah’s hand. The two women glanced at each other, and then Hannah said, “We wanted to visit Liesbet. Mamm hadn’t seen her since she left home to get married.”
“Is she under the bann?”
Hannah and Annalise glanced at each other again.
“Is she being shunned? Does the church know about this?”
Hannah shook her head. “Ne. She isn’t yet baptized, but Daed won’t let her come home until she repents.”
“But you thought it would be all right to visit her today? Did Christian know about this?”
“Daed knew nothing of our plans.” Hannah laid her hand on his sleeve. “Please, say nothing to him. It would upset him so.”
Josef swallowed against the thick ball rising in his throat. How did he not know about Liesbet? Why had Hannah, and Christian, hidden it from him? He pressed the heel of one hand against his forehead. The headache that had plagued him all day was only getting worse.
“You know Christian didn’t make his decision lightly, ja? He had his reasons, and a purpose. How will his decision stand if you take it into your mind to act as if his will doesn’t exist?”
Hannah glanced at Mamm. She had never seen Josef so angry. “We just . . . just wanted to see her before we leave.”
“So you went against Christian’s wishes because you missed her?”
“It isn’t like that, Josef Bender.” Hannah felt the heat rising in her face. “You saw the way she was living. Shouldn’t we show her mercy?”
Josef swung down from the wagon seat and handed the reins to her. “It depends. Is she repentant? Is she sorry for the way she’s living and what she has done to the family?”
Hannah took the reins and threaded them between her forefingers and thumbs. They still held the heat from Josef’s hands. He was right. Liesbet had shown no repentance. No sorrow. No wish that things could be different. She shook her head, and Josef gave her a quick nod.
“Then she should remain as she is—until she is ready to obey her vater and come back to her family, ja?”
She nodded as Mamm sobbed into her apron. The reins lost any warmth they had held. Her fingers were chilled, and the cold seeped up her arms and numbed her. She couldn’t look at Josef as he paced away from the wagon and then back.
“And what of us, Hannah?” She dared to glance at him. His eyes were stony. “I need to think again about how suitable we are for each other . . . if I should align myself with a family who has a wayward daughter, and another daughter who would think so lightly of her vater’s wishes.”
He turned on his heel and stalked away, up the Oregon Pike, toward Ephrata, leaving Hannah with a queasy stomach. Was he right? Was her sin as great as Liesbet’s?
“We must go, Hannah.” Mamm’s face was red and blotchy. “I’m sorry I ever suggested we make this trip. We must go home, and I will confess all to your daed.”
“Ja, we’ll go home.” Hannah clucked to the horses and shook the reins. She turned them to the right, up Butter Road.
As the team paced through the packed snow, Hannah’s misery turned to anger. What right did Josef Bender have, talking to her in that way? They weren’t married. They weren’t even promised. It was Daed’s place to determine if she and Mamm had been right to take the soup and clothes to Liesbet, not Josef’s.
If there was anything she needed to convince her to stay on the Conestoga, it was Josef Bender. He could go west without her. She and Mamm together could convince Daed to forget this idea of moving. Liesbet needed them, whether she acknowledged it or not. He had to see that. And they wouldn’t be able to help her—wouldn’t be able to keep their family together—if they were living in the western wilderness.
She slapped the reins on the horses’ backs. If only she knew how to convince Daed.
Regret dogged Josef’s footsteps the entire sixteen miles to Ephrata, each step like walking through sludge, his head throbbing. Had he been too harsh with Hannah?
Ne. His feet squeaked in the packed snow. Ne. If anything, he wasn’t harsh enough. Liesbet had chosen her path in life, and if Christian hoped to bring her back to the family and their faith, Hannah needed to obey his wishes. But from the glimpse he had of Liesbet, she had already taken herself beyond the hope of repentance.
It was too bad. The Yoders were a fine family. At least he had thought so. And to think he thought Hannah would make a good wife . . . He stopped in the road, stepping aside to let a wagon go past him. His head spun.
Hannah.
He looked behind him, down the road toward Lancaster. The sun was disappearing behind the trees, and it was nearly suppertime. She and Annalise would be home by now. Had they told Christian of their trip to Lancaster? What would his reaction be?
In the hours he had spent working with Christian and talking with him, he hadn’t seemed like one of the progressives who wanted to eliminate the bann from the church. He would apply the same principles in his own family.
“What would a church be without discipline?” had been Christian’s words, and Josef had agreed.
He took a step up the road again, and then another, his feet tired and sore. Only a mile or so to go, and then he’d be at the Nafsingers’. They’d let him stay as long as he needed . . . even until they left for Ohio. They wouldn’t need to travel with the Yoders and Hertzlers. He wouldn’t have to see Hannah again.
And yet . . . He rubbed the back of his neck as a sudden thought came to him. When he and Christian had discussed the bann, Liesbet was already married to that outsider. She had left her family. Christian was already praying for Liesbet’s return, and as painful as it must have been for him, he supported the bann.
So where did Hannah get her rebellion? From her mother? But Annalise seemed to be in complete agreement with her husband on matters of faith.
Josef rubbed his neck again, his hand cold against his hot skin. Something about this situation didn’t seem right.
He quickened his pace as the light in the window of the Nafsinger house came into view. Home. Or at least as close to a home as he had ever had here in America. A sick feeling went through his stomach again. He had thought to make a home with Hannah . . . but now that would never be.
Stepping onto the porch of the old log home, Josef knocked on the door as he opened it.
“Hallo? Anyone here?”
Mary Nafsinger turned from the fireplace as he came in. “Josef! My boy, it’s so good to see you, and such a surprise.” She grasped his arms and pulled him down to give him a kiss on either cheek. “And you’re just in time for supper. Did Daniel know you were coming?”
“I didn’t decide to make the trip until this morning. I thought I would stay for a few days, if that is all right with you.”
“Ja, ja, ja. Your room is just the way you left it, and we’ll welcome your company.”
Thumps sounded from the front porch, making Josef smile. Daniel stomped his feet on the porch before coming in, whether there was snow or not. Even summer dust got stomped off before he came into the house. It was another sound he had missed while he was away.
“I thought I heard Mary talking to someone,” Daniel said. He took off his muffler and coat before taking Josef’s hand. “Mama, you have a place set at the table for this boy, ja?”
“Ach, ja.” Mary bustled around the room, putting food on the table and setting a place for Josef. She was short and round, her skirts swishing as she moved on quick feet, and every time she passed by him, she patted Josef on the arm.
“What brings you this way?” Daniel motioned for him to sit at the table.
“Christian wanted me to discuss some things with you, and I had been wondering how you were both getting along.”
“We’re doing fine.” Mary patted him again as she leaned over to put a plate of ham on the table, and then she took her own seat.
It wasn’t until after supper was finished and the evening prayers were said that Daniel settled in his chair at
the side of the fireplace and was ready to talk business.
“What is it Christian wanted to discuss?”
Josef sat heavily in his usual seat beside Daniel. Why were his legs so tired? Today’s walk hadn’t been unusual, except for his worry about Hannah.
Mary sat on the other side of Daniel in her rocking chair. She was darning stockings while they talked.
“Elias Hertzler wants to leave a week later than what we had talked about. He hasn’t been able to sell all of his stock yet and asked if we could leave the second week of March.”
Daniel lit his pipe with a piece of kindling and then threw the stick into the fire. “That shouldn’t be a problem. The folks buying this place want to be in before it’s time to plant the garden, but they can go ahead and plant the early crops while we’re still in the house.”
Mary looked up from her darning. “What about that girl of yours? Will you have the wedding before we leave or hasn’t that been decided yet?”
Josef felt his face grow hot as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think I’ll be courting her any longer. In fact, I think I’ll stop in Ohio with you.”
“Has something happened?” Daniel leaned forward in his chair. “The last time we talked, you said she was the perfect partner for you.”
“I’ve learned some things about the family since then.”
Daniel leaned back in his chair again and drew from his pipe. “Things that prevent you from marrying Hannah?”
Josef’s head rang with the dull throbbing of a hammer hitting an anvil. The more he thought about seeing Hannah in Lancaster this morning, the stronger the headache became. He nodded, his throat tight and sore.
“I saw her and her mother this morning in Lancaster, visiting Hannah’s sister, who is living there. She’s married to an outsider.” He rubbed at his forehead, willing the pain away. “I can’t marry someone who disregards her vater’s wishes . . .”
The fire swam in front of his eyes. What was wrong with him? He leaned forward, sounds roaring in his ears, and then he hit the floor and knew no more.
31
Christian turned in his bed once more, trying not to disturb Annalise. Her body, growing larger with the child inside her, was cumbersome. She was uncomfortable most of the time, and while she could sleep, he didn’t want to wake her.
But why was sleep eluding him tonight? Most likely because of the same thing that had been preying on his mind ever since Friday, when Annalise and Hannah had come home with their confession of visiting Liesbet.
Liesbetli. His little Liesbetli. Late that night, when the children had gone to bed, Annalise had told him of how Liesbet was living. The dirty room above the tavern, the coarse language of the people around them, her husband’s crude ways. And he was helpless. Liesbet had chosen her life among outsiders, and all they could do was to let her go her way.
But why would she choose such a path? Why, when her home was here?
A horse grunted in the yard, and the jangle of chains and rumble of wagon wheels brought Christian to his feet. He had his trousers on and was pulling on his boots when the pounding came at the door.
“What is it?” Annalise’s voice sounded sleepy.
“I’ll go see. You stay here.”
The pounding sounded again as Christian made his way through the dark kitchen to the door.
“Ja, ja, who is it?”
He opened the door to a stranger. An Englischer. The man leaned against the doorframe on one hand as if exhausted. His face was drawn, his eyes haunted. He pulled off his cap and gestured to the wagon behind him.
“It’s Lizzie. She’s in a bad way, she is, and I didn’t know where else to take her.” He wiped his hand over his face and grabbed at Christian’s shirt. “You’ve got to help her. The baby. It’s coming, and it’s too early. There’s something wrong.”
The man’s words slowly filtered into Christian’s mind. There was a woman in the wagon . . . the man looked familiar.
“George McIvey?” Hannah’s voice came from behind him. “What are you doing here? Where is Liesbet?”
The pieces fell into place. This man was Liesbet’s husband. So the woman . . . He pushed past George and ran to the wagon. He could see nothing in the dark, but he heard the moans of his daughter.
“Liesbet, are you all right?”
“Daed? Daed, help me. I’m going to die.”
“Ne, daughter. Don’t say that. You’re home now. Your mamm will help you.”
George helped him pull the pallet of blankets to the edge of the wagon bed, and they pulled Liesbet to a sitting position. Between them, they carried her into the house. Annalise met them in the kitchen, and they took her into the warm bedroom behind the fireplace.
Annalise lit the lantern, and Hannah lit candles around the room to give more light. His Liesbetli lay on the bed, swollen and distorted. Her face was pale. She clutched at Annalise’s hand while Hannah lifted the sleeping William from his bed and took him out of the room.
“Mamm.” Liesbet’s voice was weak. “Mamm, it hurts so much.”
“Ja, ja, ja.” Annalise stood and shooed Christian and George out of the room.
Christian caught Annalise’s hand. “What is wrong?”
His wife caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m not sure. It could be that the baby is coming, but it’s too soon. It’s much too soon.” Hannah came back downstairs and Annalise pulled her into the bedroom. “Let us take care of this.” She glanced back at Liesbet lying on the bed. “And Christian, pray.”
She closed the door and he was left alone. Ne, not alone. He lit the lamp on the table and saw the man, George, staring at him.
“Will she be all right?”
Christian looked at him, this man who had stolen his daughter. The smell of stale liquor filled the room, and Christian longed to open a window. Even throw the man out of it. But this was Liesbet’s husband. The father of his grandchild. He could only shake his head in answer to the man’s question.
“It is in God’s hands. We will wait and see.”
Sounds filtered through the bedroom door. Liesbet’s moans. Annalise’s comforting voice. Christian motioned for George to take a seat at the table and then sat down across from him. He tried to pray, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the other man’s face.
Liesbet’s moans became a cry, and George stiffened. At least it seemed he cared for his wife. That was good.
Hannah came out of the room and took a kettle of hot water from over the banked fire.
“Hannah? Is she all right?”
She looked from him to George and laid her hand on his shoulder. “Mamm says she’s having the baby, and it will be soon.”
Christian squeezed her hand, and then she went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, leaving him alone with George again. Liesbet’s moans grew louder, the cries more frequent.
George rose to his feet at one loud cry, but Christian waved him to his seat again. “My Annalise has given birth nine times. She will do the best she can. We can only pray and wait.”
“But what if she . . .” George buried his face in his hands. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I thought she was like other girls . . .”
“What do you mean?”
George rubbed his short beard. “Other girls let you, you know, fool around. If something happens, they take care of it. But Lizzie—”
“Don’t call her that. Her name is Liesbet.” Christian’s own words felt hard and biting in his mouth.
He nodded. “But Liesbet, she got to me. She reminds me of my ma, back in Ireland. I didn’t want this to happen to her.”
“It’s too late now, isn’t it? You take a young girl from her home, you have no means to care for her, and you let drink rule your life. What did you expect would happen?”
“But I love her.”
Christian held himself in his seat so he wouldn’t smash the man’s face in. “You love her?” His voice rose in spite of trying to control it. “You love h
er? This isn’t love.”
Liesbet’s cries grew louder, and George buried his head in his arms. “I can’t stand to listen to her.”
“You can’t stand it? Think how she feels.” Christian’s voice broke. “Think what my Liesbetli is going through.” He rubbed his face, barely keeping himself from crashing the door down and going to Liesbet’s side. How could he help her? What could he do?
There was a last scream, and then silence.
George’s head snapped up. “What is it? What’s happened?”
The silence stretched into seconds. Minutes. And then sobbing. It was Annalise, sobbing as if her heart was breaking. Christian jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair, and ran to the bedroom door.
Hannah still grasped her sister’s hand when the bedroom door opened. Daed stumbled in to kneel next to Mamm on the other side of the bed, wrapping his arms around her as she wept.
George stood in the doorway, and then took one step into the room. “Is she all right? What happened?”
Hannah looked at Liesbet’s face, distorted in the agony of the pains she had endured, and reached to close the eyelids. She rose and went to George, pulling him out of the room, away from Mamm’s sobbing anguish.
“Liesbet is dead.”
George ran his hand over his face. He turned to look into the room behind them, and back at Hannah. “She . . . she can’t be. She isn’t. She’s only sleeping . . . you know . . . you know she sleeps so soundly.” He crumpled onto the bench at the kitchen table while Hannah righted the chair, setting it in its place.
Liesbet was dead. Her sister, lost to them forever.
“And the . . . the baby?” George whispered the question, as if he didn’t want to hear the answer.
“She died before . . . before . . .” Hannah couldn’t continue. She dashed away the tears streaming down her cheeks.
George rose, looking around as if he didn’t know where he was. “I can’t . . . I can’t . . .” He stumbled around the table, grabbing his discarded muffler, and then wrenched open the door. He turned to look at Hannah, his face twisted. “Tell your da . . .” He shook his head as if to shake away the events of the night. “Tell your da I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”