When there was little or no direct response to her comment, she forged ahead. “Have you ever thought of putting cattle out there? Such nice grazing it would be.”
The good doctor scratched his head and looked nearly disoriented for a few seconds. Then he said, “I’ve thought of different things over the years. Everything from building a house and barn on it . . . to putting up a stable for horseback riding. In the end, I always come back to its being too great an effort to bother with putting cattle or anything else on it, though.”
She paused to study him. Tall and lean, he was a man with plenty of options flitting in his head. But he fell silent, and in a short time another patient came up the walk and in the door.
Leah was surprised to see her mother’s cousin Fannie Mast, with young Jake and Mandie in tow. She at first felt sheepish standing there, then pained, remembering Fannie was to have been her mother-in-law. Without meaning to, she found herself gawking at the twins; she hadn’t seen them in two years and they’d grown so much.
This woman, equally as plump as Mamma now, if not more so, had always been a bubbly hostess when the Ebersols visited the Mast orchard house on Grasshopper Level, not but a thirty-minute buggy’s ride from Gobbler’s Knob. Today, though, when Fannie caught Leah’s eye, her mouth drooped and she turned away, taking the twins’ hands and guiding them to the far corner of the waiting room.
Undaunted, Leah slipped into the short hall, hoping to watch her little cousins toddle with their mamma to one of the examination rooms. She stood behind the doorjamb and peered out as the threesome made their way.
Jake was tall and skinny, much like his big brother Jonas, though his hair was a deep brown and he limped slightly as he tottered along. Leah couldn’t tell if he’d hurt himself or if he was still discovering his own stride as a two-year-old. She recalled the first time she’d held him, how she had sensed his helplessness as an infant— a frail one at that.
But it appeared his mother’s nurturing touch had made all the difference, just as it had for the sickly lambs and struggling houseplants Fannie was known to nurse back to health.
Dr. Schwartz appeared in the hallway and called Jake’s name, then scooped him up in his arms. He touched the top of Mandie’s head, speaking quietly to Fannie.
Observing Mandie now, Leah was taken with her dainty features, though altogether different from Jake’s— her blue eyes and blond hair showing hints of highlights the color of honey, much lighter than Jonas’s.
Attempting to redirect her thoughts from her former beau, she wondered how Fannie must feel seeing her here after all this time, knowing—surely she did—how devoted her firstborn son had been to Leah from his earliest teen years. Until he’d turned his attention to Sadie, of course. Did Fannie have any knowledge of Jonas and Sadie, perhaps where they were living in Ohio? Would she even care to say if Leah got up the nerve to ask?
Having been in attendance at the required membership meeting where Bishop Bontrager called for a vote for or against shunning Jonas—most excruciating for her— she understood fully that he had been cut off from his family as entirely as the rest of the People. Unless he returned and repented for breaking the strict covenant, Jonas would be estranged from both the communities of Gobbler’s Knob and Grasshopper Level all the days of his life. Leah felt strongly that the bishop had found fault with him because of his keen interest in carpentry. For Jonas to abandon the idea of farming was near heresy!
Sighing now, she was tormented with the image of the smiling Mast children, as well as the solemn face of Fannie, Mamma’s once bright and happy relative. Why is she sour toward me? she wondered. Does she blame me for the shun on her son?
It was Lizzie, not Ida, who spent a good part of the morning picking strawberries with Miriam Peachey when she came to lend a hand. Ida remained indoors, trying to keep herself cool, and all for the best since she had complained of nausea today. Lizzie was more than a little concerned about her sister.
She was glad for the white-pleated candlesnuffer-style sunbonnet Hannah had presented to her just this morning after the twins had hung out the clothes to dry.
“It’ll keep the sun off your face,” Hannah had said sweetly, entering the kitchen wearing a green choring dress.
“So your nose won’t peel something awful . . . like last summer’s sunburn,” Mary Ruth had added, glancing approvingly at her twin.
Since Ida had already taken herself upstairs, Lizzie felt she ought to see who was doing what chores, both indoors and out. Mary Ruth spoke up, declaring she would be the one to look after Lydiann while the clothes dried, and then she’d single-handedly fold everything neatly after the noon meal, once Lydiann was down for a nap. Hannah, on the other hand, volunteered to hoe the large family vegetable garden after the dishes were washed and dried.
With Leah gone for the morning at the clinic, it seemed they might’ve been a bit shorthanded with Ida resting, but thanks to Miriam, the morning duties would be accomplished in a timely manner.
“Awful kind of you to come over,” Lizzie said as she and Miriam moved through the strawberry patch. “Did you suspect Ida might be suffering another bout of mornin’ sickness?”
Miriam nodded. “Jah, and she has no business bein’ out here in the hot sun.”
“Aside from that, I’d have to say she’s feeling perty well. She’s a strong one, Ida.”
They worked together without saying much more for a time. Then Miriam asked softly, looking over her shoulder, “Ida bears most of her pain in silence . . . what with her eldest gone, ain’t so?”
“Oh my, ever so much. The girl’s shunning has taken its toll. None of us understands why she refused to repent here in Gobbler’s Knob. The silence and separation is almost a punishment for all of us, too.”
Miriam stretched a moment, then resumed picking.
“On top of that, Ida tells me she gets ever so blue not hearin’ a speck from Fannie.” She shook her head sadly.
“Why she keeps on writing letters, I just can’t figure. If it were me, I’d plain quit.”
Lizzie knew well why her sister continued to send letters over to Grasshopper Level. “Bless her heart, she hopes Fannie might write back with some word of our wayward girl . . . though the Masts must be in the dark as much as we are.”
“How awful sad for Abram and Ida, having no contact with either their eldest or their only son-in-law,” Miriam replied. “And the Masts have kept mighty tightlipped. Surely something will give sooner or later.”
“I can only imagine what it might take to get the two families talking again.” Lizzie’s pail was nearly full now, and a glance at Miriam’s let her know now was as good a time as any for them to hurry inside and cool off a bit with a nice tall glass of iced tea.
Chapter Five
Hannah stole away to the bedroom during the hottest hour of the day and took from the bureau drawer her makeshift writing journal, a simple notebook with yellow lined paper. She wanted to catch up on her diary before it was time to dress around for a double date with Ezra, and Mary Ruth and Elias.
Saturday afternoon, June 25
Dear Diary,
I haven’t put my thoughts down on paper every other day like I’d set out to. Now, more than ever, I ought to be recording the events as they happen to my dear twin and me. If Ezra Stoltzfus and his younger brother Elias are to become my and Mary Ruth’s husbands someday, it would be an awful shame not to have faithfully written about our double courtship. Goodness knows, my children and grandchildren might one day wish I had.
So . . . I am making an attempt to be more thorough, beginning with what happened today. Mary Ruth confided she has been seriously considering extending her rumschpringe for several more years. This is such a disappointment; I’d hoped she would join church with me. We’ve done everything else together. Why not this?
Life is ever so unpredictable—makes me wonder if Elias, too, is thinking along the same lines. Obviously he isn’t headed toward making his kneeling vow before th
e membership this fall, since he’s not taking baptism classes with Ezra.
Naturally I pleaded with Mary Ruth not to tell another soul, “not till you think gut and hard.” Such news would hurt Mamma and Dat even worse than they already are. And Leah . . . oh my, I hate to think what it would do to her if Mary Ruth stalled too long and ended up going her own way. Leah has had more than her share of heartache.
Come tonight, I’m hoping Elias and Mary Ruth sit in the front seat of the courting buggy. They might not be so inclined to smooch that way . . . though it’s more awkward for Ezra and me, sitting behind them and having to see what’s going on.
When all’s said and done, liking a boy so much that you turn your back on the Lord God and the People isn’t worth a hill of beans all summer. Knowing Mary Ruth, I expect she’ll come round sooner or later.
Respectfully,
Hannah
She closed the notebook and placed it back in the drawer, concealing it with several woolen scarves. Then she went to fill the washbasin with water to freshen up for supper and her evening with Ezra, who had suggested going to Strasburg for some store-bought ice cream. The thought of seeing him again made her feel light inside, and a peace settled over her.
Leah was content with the quietude of the house. Lydiann was napping while Mamma read the Good Book in the big bedroom. Aunt Lizzie worked downstairs in the kitchen, cooking as silently as she could, and Mary Ruth and Hannah were down the hall in their room, most likely preparing to go riding in someone’s courting buggy.
Standing at the window, Leah looked down, appreciating the bright green of the enormous trees and the meadow. Dashes of color from the wild flowers scattered here and there caught her eye, and she wondered, What’s Gid thinking? Is he counting the minutes till we sit side by side in his open buggy?
Slowly she turned from her window, wandered to the corner of the room, and sat in the single cane chair, leaning her elbows hard on her legs, palms cupping her chin. With a great sigh, she began to remove her head covering and the pins in her bun. She shook out her hair, untangling it with her fingers and going over and over the length.
As she began to brush her hair vigorously, she recalled the many times she had brushed or combed Sadie’s beautiful blond locks. Often the two of them had taken turns doing so at day’s end.
When she was satisfied all the snarls were out, she rose and walked to the bed—the one she and Sadie had shared from the time they were but tiny girls, once Leah was able to sleep in a bed and not roll out.
Do you miss me, sister, as sorrowfully as I miss you?
She felt the strength drain from her legs, and she was compelled to lie down. A short rest might rejuvenate her for the long night ahead. Almost immediately her muscles relaxed as she stretched out on the bed.
Sadie’s plump pillow was a constant reminder of their many late-night talks, sharing dreams of the future as schoolgirls and on into the early teen years . . . and finally rumschpringe. They had always talked of living neighbors to each other as married women. “Our babies will grow up together just like brothers and sisters,” Sadie had promised in the fading light.
Leah couldn’t bear to think of the children Sadie would give birth to. Such things were too painful still.
Reaching over, she slid her hand beneath her sister’s pillow, aware of its utter coolness to the touch. Will I ever see you again? she wondered. The thought left her torn, and tears came all too fast . . . missing Sadie yet not wanting to truly know about her life as Jonas’s wife.
No, ’tis best you stay wherever you are. . . .
When it came time to go out and hitch his horse to the courting buggy, Gid simply told his mother he had “some business in town.” It was a common phrase used among the young men in the community on a Saturday night before the no-church Sunday. This, to explain the reason for having cleaned up, put unruly hair to order with a comb, and dressed around in clean black trousers and colorful shirts, though Plain parents all over Lancaster County were mindful it was courting night.
“Oh?” his mamma said, her face shining her delight. “Well, have yourself a good time, hear?”
Pop nodded slowly, smiling faintly before recovering his solemn look. Gid was downright certain his father had at least an inkling Leah would also be going along “to tend to business.”
“We won’t be waitin’ up for you, son,” Mamma said, a twinkle in her eyes.
Pop agreed they’d be “goin’ to bed with the chickens,” so Gid felt assured of their trust, just as all young Amishmen did on such a night. Though he knew they would not interfere with his choice of a girlfriend, he would attempt to guard his relationship with Leah, whatever it was to be, from the eyes and ears of the People as a whole for as long as possible. In fact, he must remind Adah once again to keep quiet about Leah going along with them tonight, just as he wouldn’t think of breathing a word that Leah’s cousin Sam was seriously courting Adah and, more than likely, soon to marry her. The age-old custom of secrecy was so ingrained into the ritual of courtship, Gid felt sure no one would guess whom he was engaged to when the time finally did come. No, he must woo and win Leah’s heart and require his sister to vow absolute secrecy.
Nothing must go wrong, he thought. I must do things the respectable and right way. Beginning tonight.
Locusts sang a percussive song as Smithy Gid’s best horse pulled the open buggy west from Gobbler’s Knob, past the dense woods on the north, heading toward the town of Strasburg. Gid’s sister pointed out how pretty the sky was, and Sam Ebersol said he wouldn’t be surprised if there was a downright beautiful sunset tonight.
To Gid’s left, Leah sat straight and stiff in the seat, as if she wasn’t wholly committed to being there. Or, more than likely, she was uneasy with double courting, what with Adah and Sam nearly engaged already. How awkward for her—for them, really. Yet I’m determined for her to have a right nice time, thought Gid, holding the reins. Leah must feel comfortable not only with me, but with my sister and her beau.
Surely the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle, the shimmer of the first evening star shortly after sunset, and the fact Leah’s best girlfriend was along for the ride would enhance her first outing in his black courting buggy. Gid dared not to go so far as to think his mere presence might make the evening altogether pleasant for her.
Behind them in the second seat, Sam began to tell a joke to Adah. Both Adah and Sam laughed out loud when the tall story was over. Gid felt like letting loose with hearty laughter himself, but Leah was only smiling, not laughing at all, so he remained silent. He was, in general, much too self-conscious. He wanted to be himself, to relax and enjoy the ride, the night air so warm and agreeable for such a trip. Frankly he felt nearly helpless to wind down, and it was obvious Leah felt the same.
He was indeed thankful for Sam’s wholehearted chortle, which continued for several more jokes, at least until well past Rohrer Mill Road. Soon the horse turned north at Paradise Lane, taking them closer to the Strasburg Pike and then west, past the railroad depot and into the town of Strasburg.
“Did ya hear of the boy who attended his first singing, hooked up with a wild bunch, drank himself full of moonshine, and passed out on the front seat of his own carriage?” Sam asked.
“Ach, what happened?” Adah asked innocently.
“From what I heard—and this is true—his horse simply trotted on home, the drunk youth sleepin’ all the while in the buggy.”
Gid had heard such stories, too, and he said so but added quickly that there were “some fatal accidents happening under those kinds of circumstances, too.” He didn’t especially want to be a wet blanket, but, truth was, several young men had been killed that way when their horses galloped right through a red light at a dangerous intersection, the carriage hit broadside by an unsuspecting automobile.
His comment stirred up some talk from Leah, and a few minutes later Sam jumped in with more jokes.
With an inward sigh, Gid realized the evening was going to turn out ju
st fine. He felt the tension drain from his jaw, and when he could do so discreetly, he saw that Leah, too, seemed much more tranquil now, her hands not so tightly clasped in her lap.
It was on the ride home from Strasburg, as they made the bend onto Georgetown Road, that Gid spotted two open buggies riding side by side at a fast pace.
“Look at that!” he said.
Both Leah and Adah gasped.
“Pity’s sake, what’re they doin’?” Adah hollered.
Leah held on to the seat with both hands. “Somebody’s a Dummkopp!”
“Worse than a blockhead,” Gid added.
“I should say!” Adah said.
“Let’s not get too close, in case. . . .” Leah’s voice trailed off.
“Don’tcha worry none,” Gid reassured her, wanting to touch her hand but refusing to take advantage of the harrowing situation. Instead, he steered the horse onto the right shoulder and slowed down, allowing some distance between his buggy and the two speeding carriages ahead.
Suddenly he heard a girl’s voice from one of the buggies. “Elias, stop!”
“Ach no,” Leah whispered.
“What?” Gid leaned near. “Do you recognize someone?” “My sister . . . Hannah.” She turned in her seat now that they had rolled to a halt. “She may be dating one of the deacon’s sons.”
“Then he oughta know better!” Adah was standing up behind them now for a better look.
The deafening sound of a car horn pierced the stillness. Quick as a wink, one of the buggies fell behind the other, and Gid breathed a sigh of relief. “Too close for comfort.”
“You can say that again.” Leah put her hands on her throat.
Gid waited a few more minutes, then clicked his cheek and his horse pulled forward. “We could follow the buggy your sister’s in,” he suggested.
“Gut idea,” Adah said.
“Jah, let’s follow ’em!” Sam said.
Leah said no more, and Gid wondered if she was worried the Stoltzfus boy might feel threatened somehow, that trailing them might cause a rift between herself and her younger sisters. He certainly understood if she was thinking that way. Leah might’ve told him, if the two of them had gone riding alone, that Abram’s other daughters—she and Sadie, at least—had surely endured enough strain between them to last a lifetime.
The Sacrifice Page 4