The Sacrifice

by Beverly Lewis

  Chapter Six

  Hannah said not a word to Mary Ruth as they slipped into the house through the kitchen door. She was so upset with Elias—and Mary Ruth for egging him on—all she wanted to do was hurry and undress for bed. At least in my dreams I won’t be ridin’ with the likes of Elias Stoltzfus! she thought, heading for the stairs.

  Once the two of them were situated in bed, scarcely needing even a sheet, with the room so stuffy and warm, she was careful to sigh ever so lightly, hoping Mary Ruth wouldn’t mention anything. She felt done in from having clung to her seat for dear life, and literally, too! Goodness, she was fairly sure the driver of the car coming straight at them tonight scarcely had enough time to sound the horn, let alone pray that the wild buggy driver could get out of his way.

  “I know what you’re thinkin’,” Mary Ruth whispered on the pillow next to her.

  Hannah inhaled and held her breath for a moment, then let it out gradually. “Honestly, I felt I saw my whole life flash in front of my eyes tonight.”

  “I don’t think we were ever in any real danger, Hannah. For pity’s sake!”

  “Oh, but we were! Didn’t you see how close that car came to hitting us?”

  Mary Ruth was quiet, stirring only enough to turn her back to Hannah.

  “Weren’t you frightened, Mary Ruth?”

  “I did feel the hairs on my neck stand straight up, but that was only from excitement, nothin’ more.

  Frankly it was lots of fun.” Mary Ruth pulled on the sheet, leaving little for her twin. “Besides, Elias is a right gut driver, really he is.”

  Hannah thought her sister was sadly mistaken.

  “Well, if that’s what you call fun, then maybe we’d best not go double courting anymore.”

  “If that’s what you want” came the empty reply.

  She has no sense of good judgment, Hannah thought. Maybe Mary Ruth preferred to court alone, after all. If so, Hannah didn’t quite know how she felt about that, though it would give her and Ezra more time to get to know each other. That might be a good thing; however, she wasn’t so sure it would be wise to encourage Mary Ruth and Elias to court alone. She hated to think of her twin ending up the way Sadie had . . . and like Aunt Lizzie evidently, too, according to Mamma’s account of things most private.

  Leah was becoming more and more eager to get home, back to the comfort of her soft bed. The carriage seat felt awful hard now, and Gid seemed too eager to keep driving around in circles. Adah and Sam were silent in the second seat behind them, and she wondered if Adah had dozed off on Sam’s shoulder. Surely they weren’t smooching, knowing Adah.

  Looking to her left, away from Gid, Leah recalled her first-ever kiss. Jonas had shown no hesitancy whatsoever, and as much as she had delighted in the feel of his lips on hers that afternoon in the meadow, she’d also heard clearly Mamma’s admonition: Save lip-kissin’ for your husband. . . .

  Well, obviously she and Jonas had been only betrothed, not married, so according to Mamma, she had no business yielding to his embrace. And every day that passed, she pushed away the warm thoughts of her former beau, wishing to high heavens she’d waited to let her husband be the first to kiss her, whoever that was to be.

  She had been meaning to ask Aunt Lizzie about all this, or Mamma. If they knew, would they say her disobedience had caused her to lose Jonas in the end? Might Mamma admit such a thing? Was the lip-kissing rule passed down from all the People’s mothers to their daughters as keenly important as that? She knew of a good many young married couples that never kissed till their wedding day; some stricter groups even forbid holding hands before marriage.

  Wishing the road was better lit than by an occasional yard light whenever they passed the English farmhouses, Leah wondered what time it was and how much longer she’d have to wait to return home.

  Out of the blue, Smithy Gid got a talk on, and as tired as she was, she thought it best to lend her ear . . . show respect. “What would you think of going to Strasburg again sometime?” he said.

  She wasn’t sure if he meant to ask if she enjoyed the visit to the neighboring village or if he was asking her for another date. So, not to confuse him, she mentioned the nice supper they’d had, how awful kind it was of him to include her.

  “Didja like the food?” he asked.

  “Right tasty, it was. Denki.”

  “ ’Twas my first time eating there. Sam has been tellin’ me off and on for several weeks that we oughta go.”

  “So Sam knew of it, then?”

  He nodded cheerfully. “That’s how I heard of the place.”

  She was feeling sorry for Gid, truly; he was trying to draw her out of her shell, wanting to make good conversation. “I liked it just fine,” she said, putting on a smile. “As gut as home cooking, really.”

  She saw him glance down to see where her hands were just then, and she was glad she’d folded them on her lap. No sense making things more complicated than they already were, him wanting more than mere friendship and her content with things as they were. For now.

  “How would you feel ’bout going to the next singing?” he asked.

  “I haven’t been for the longest time. Might seem peculiar.”

  “Maybe you and Adah could ride together, and then . . . I’d be happy to bring you home.”

  She didn’t know what made her say it, but without thinking twice, she simply said, “Sure, Gid. That’d be fine.” She hoped they might not end up with Adah and Sam again, though. It was awful complicated riding around the countryside with them when all they talked about was renting or building a house, what they needed in the way of furnishings, and whatnot—typical talk for a serious couple. Surely Gid must either know or strongly suspect this about his sister and Sam.

  She looked off toward the horizon line to the west, her thoughts straying hard to Ohio . . . wondering if Sadie and Jonas were still living there. Were they happy as larks? Was it even possible for Sadie to find joy with Leah’s first and only love? Quickly she felt ashamed, because it was wrong to begrudge her sister and Jonas anything.

  “Sometimes you seem almost lost without your older sister,” Gid said unexpectedly.

  “Is it that noticeable?”

  They rode along in silence for a ways. He surprised her when he slipped his arm around her shoulder, barely touching her as he did. “It pains me so . . . you must know this, Leah.”

  Then and there, she felt the oddest twinge. She turned and looked at him—really looked. Such compassion in his face, his eyes much too serious now. Usually he was easy to talk to, but this minute she felt awkward, unable to speak. She wanted to please him, to let him know how grateful she was for his caring about her, yet what should she say? What could she say?

  Slowly he drew her near, letting go the reins and reaching for her ever so gently. “Oh, Leah. I’m awful sorry for what you’ve been through. . . .”

  She couldn’t help herself as she began to cry, at once glad Adah and Sam were asleep sitting up in each other’s arms. “You’re so nice to me, Gid. You’ve always been so.”

  He held her fast, and she was surprised at how good it felt to rest in the strength of his arms. Like he was truly a dear and trusted friend, not an anxious young man wanting to get on with courting, hoping she might fall in love with him so he could marry before his younger sisters. No, there was a genuine consideration in his warm embrace, and she laid her head against his burly shoulder.

  Two long, sad years had come and gone, and she’d behaved nearly like a widow, never attending singings or corn huskings where young men and women paired up, so distraught she was. She had made up her mind all she wanted was the love of the Lord God and whatever He had in store for her life. She’d even turned her back on the idea of marrying, thinking that if Aunt Lizzie could be happy as a maidel, then why couldn’t she?

  But now, with these familiar feelings stirring within, what was she to do? Yet, when all was said and done, Leah was free to love again. If I choose to, she thought, surprising he
rself.

  Sitting this close to Gid, she felt genuinely cared for, looked after . . . even cherished. She was wary of the feeling—she’d missed it so desperately after she and Jonas split up. Now she was afraid it might overcome her, because as they rode along, she suddenly knew she wanted more, wanted to drown her resentment toward Sadie in Gid’s loving arms.

  When they neared the turnoff to the Peachey farm, he asked, “Do you mind if I walk you home? We could cut through the field, if that’s all right with you.”

  She said she didn’t mind, and right then she realized how glad she was. This happy night had completely changed her outlook. Gone was her impatience to get home. Something tender that had died in her was beginning to revive, and at this moment, she felt she might at last be able to cast aside the stranglehold of sadness and animosity hindering her path. Just look at the smithy and Miriam Peachey . . . how happy they are, she told herself. If Gid’s father was as loving to his mother as Leah had always observed him to be, then Gid would also be a compassionate husband, wouldn’t he? How foolish of her to pass up the chance to be loved so dearly, to be so completely adored.

  She found herself thinking ahead to what it might be like to accept Gid’s hand, to live with him and cherish him, to care for their little ones . . . to be his devoted helpmeet. As thoughtful and kind as he was, how hard would it be to follow her heart—if truly her heart was coming round, as it seemed to be?

  Lest Leah was getting ahead of herself, she chased such thoughts away, but she was altogether pleased she and Gid had yet another few minutes to spend together this night.

  They were enveloped in the green scent of jagged grass and the dank smell of cow pies as they strolled through the wide field between the Ebersol and Peachey farms.

  The roof of her father’s barn caught Leah’s eye, the brilliant reflection of the moon dousing the silvery tin with its whiteness. She heard what she thought was one of their mules braying. Mules weren’t nearly as stubborn as some folks seemed to think. They could be coaxed, not easily, but persuaded nevertheless to work the narrowest sections of the field. And mules required less feed and had greater fortitude than horses.

  Gid glanced over at the barn. “What’s the racket over there?”

  “Must be a bat tormenting the livestock.” She looked up at Gid. “Ever see one lunge at a mule?”

  To this they both laughed, and she welcomed his hand finding hers. His companionably firm clasp made her own hand seem small and almost fragile, and once again she was startled at the long-dormant stirring within. She moved along at his side, keeping pace with his stride.

  “Speaking of mules,” Gid said halfway across the field, “didja ever hear of certain long-ago ministers sayin’ it was offensive to mix God’s creatures because our heavenly Father didn’t create such an animal in the first place? Like breeding a horse and a donkey to produce a mule.”

  “Jah, Dat’s said as much . . . but we all have mules these days, ain’t? So what do you make of that?”

  “Sure beats trying to get the field horses to go into steep places or some of the more narrow spots in the field,” Gid replied.

  They talked slowly as they walked, both seemingly hesitant to call it a night now that they were getting on so well. Now that they were alone with only the moon, the stars, and the blackness of the sky.

  Leah’s impression of the last full hour with Gid had grown as a little garden in her heart. Never in the most secret landscape of her soul could she have foreseen the joy she felt as she walked with Gid Peachey, picking her way through the thick grazing land, her hand snugly in his.

  “What would you say if I told you this is the happiest night of my life?” he came right out and said.

  A lump crept into her throat, and she was afraid she might cry again. She dared not try to answer.

  He must have understood and squeezed her hand, turning to face her. His wavy light brown hair seemed almost colorless in the glow of the moon. “I hope it’s not too forward of me. . . .”

  She wondered what he might say and, composing herself, she asked, “What is it, Gid?”

  He paused but for a moment. “I’d like to court you, if you . . . well, if you might agree.”

  She didn’t once glance sheepishly at the Ebersol Cottage as she often did when talking with Gid here lately. No, she kept her gaze on him, studying the rugged lines of his face, the unabashed attraction he displayed for her as he leaned slightly forward.

  She knew she’d traversed the gamut of feelings, from reluctance at the outset of the evening to this strange yet wonderful sincerity, the way she felt at this moment—surely it wasn’t the moonlight and gentle sweet breeze of the wee hours, was it?

  Smithy Gid’s invitation was hard to resist. “Jah, I’ll go for steady with you,” she replied.

  Then and there, he picked her up and swung her around and around. Her joy knew no bounds, because she had been so sure—in that most secret room of her heart—she would never, ever feel this way again. Yet here she was . . . and she did.

  Chapter Seven

  June’s fair weather swept into the soaring temperatures of midsummer, and Mamma’s lilies flourished, amassed in a solid bed of eye-catching pink.

  On her way to the outhouse, Mary Ruth happened to brush past them, deep in thought, not paying any mind that her for-good purple dress had gotten some of the golden red pollen smeared on it. When she did notice it, she tried to brush it off with her hand, setting the stain but good. Realizing what she’d done, she hurried back to the house and told Mamma.

  “Ach, you must always use adhesive tape to get lily pollen off,” Mamma said.

  “That or wipe it off with an old rag . . . anything but your hands,” Aunt Lizzie said, explaining the natural oils from the skin set the stain.

  Mamma continued. “If the stain stays put after using the rag, let the sun bleach it out.”

  Mary Ruth sighed and looked down at the smudged mess. “Well, now I have nothing to wear to the singing. My other good dress is too snug through the middle.”

  Aunt Lizzie shook her head. “Then you may just have to stay home and sew a new one tomorrow.”

  “What?” Mary Ruth didn’t catch on to Aunt Lizzie’s kidding at first.

  Lizzie’s face broke into a smile. “Come, let me see what I can do.”

  Mamma left the kitchen to tend to Lydiann, who was wailing upstairs, and while Aunt Lizzie scrubbed with an old rag, Mary Ruth bemoaned the fact that Hannah was refusing to double court with her. “My twin’s not herself,” she confided.

  Lizzie seemed to perk up her ears. “Why would that be?”

  Mary Ruth wouldn’t go so far as to say more than “Hannah’s persnickety these days . . . been so all summer, really.”

  “Well, in some cases, that’s not such a bad thing,” Lizzie said, still scrubbing. “All depends on what a person’s bein’ particular about, ain’t so?”

  Good point, thought Mary Ruth. “Still . . . ever since Hannah started taking baptismal classes, she seems aloof.”

  “For gut reason, I ’spect.” Aunt Lizzie stepped back to look over the pollen stain and Mary Ruth herself.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “I daresay if you consider it carefully, you prob’ly already know.”

  She knew, all right. She just hated to admit it to anyone, especially Aunt Lizzie. For the longest time it seemed Hannah had been too quiet, almost downhearted. Was it the absence of Sadie . . . the unending silence from Ohio? Or was Hannah peeved at her for not following the Lord in holy baptism as Hannah herself hoped to do come fall? No one but her twin knew that Mary Ruth had refused, of course. It wasn’t something you went around telling, not amongst the People. The women folk would frown and carry on something awful if they knew the Ebersol twins—close in looks and upbringing—might be heading in different directions, one certainly not in the Old Ways of their forefathers. Aunt Lizzie was still scrubbing the spot awful hard, and Mary Ruth wondered if she might be attending the s
inging with a hole in her best dress—or, just as bad, a smeared stain.

  “Have you asked Hannah to loan you one of her dresses?” Aunt Lizzie’s question cut through the stillness. She hadn’t thought of that. “I best not be askin’ her for anything.”

  Lizzie’s hands rested hard on her slender hips. “Pity’s sake, the two of you have shared nearly everything since you were both just little ones.” She frowned and cocked her head, looking awful curious.

  “If you promise not to tell, I’ll say why,” she whispered back.

  But Aunt Lizzie surprised her—startled her, really— by backing away and waving her hands in front of her. “No . . . I’m not interested in hearin’ or keepin’ any more secrets. I’ve learned a mighty hard lesson.”

  Aunt Lizzie’s response made Mary Ruth feel even more alone and made her want to tell her aunt all the more. But it was no use to plead. Truth was, contrary to what Hannah might say or think, Mary Ruth hadn’t fully decided whether or not to join the Amish church. What was the rush, anyway? Hannah could make her covenant this September if she chose, without Mary Ruth tagging along just because they were twins and all. Then, when Mary Ruth was good and ready, she’d decide, and not one moment before. Meanwhile, she wanted to take her time with rumschpringe, just as Dat had said to do back last year. Joining church, after all, was for a lifetime, so it could wait . . . for now. She had too much fun ahead of her to get bogged down with required membership meetings where the People sat and voted on weighty issues like shunning wayward and sinful folk. No, she didn’t think she was ready for that kind of responsibility. And, if the full truth were known, she sometimes resented the People for ousting Sadie the way they had when all the girl had gone and done was fall in love with the wrong boy. Sure, Sadie had known better, but putting her under the Bann for life was so awful harsh, wasn’t it? Unforgiving too. Mary Ruth wasn’t certain she could set herself up as a holy example amongst the People . . . not the powerful way she longed for Elias’s hugs and kisses, though Mamma would have a fit if she knew. With Hannah and Ezra courting on their own, the temptation would be stronger for her when with Elias, especially when the moon was as bright and beautiful as it would be tonight.