“But Dat says it’s up to the Lord God on Judgment Day whether we go to heaven or to the bad place,” Lydiann spoke up. “He says we can’t know if we’re saved just yet.”
For sure, just as all the brethren were, Dat was adamant about that Day of Days being the first and only time a person would know where he or she was to spend eternity. Still, she knew there were some who believed differently amongst the People, as she did. Silent believers, Aunt Lizzie liked to call them.
“Always remember this, Lydiann—the Lord Jesus came as a baby to give us life. And not only while we’re alive here on earth. In heaven, too.”
“For certain, Mamma?” Lydiann asked, eyes wide with the hearing.
“Sure as God’s love . . . that’s the honest truth.”
Lydiann seemed satisfied and turned to scamper around the cemetery, peering down at the small markers, reading the names and dates aloud in Pennsylvania Dutch.
Meanwhile, Leah sat beside her mother’s grave. We all miss you, Mamma, she thought. Except for Dat, I daresay I miss you most of all.
The wild ferns growing close to the road were nearly ankle-deep as Leah and Lydiann walked leisurely home from the cemetery. Leah pointed out one bird after another and yellow buttercups growing in clusters with no rhyme or reason.
“Why do ya think the Lord God made such perty colors every place?” asked Lydiann.
“Well, just think of all the different colors of people there are—red and yellow, black and white . . . we’re all precious in His sight.”
“That’s the song Mary Ruth sings to me, ain’t so?”
Leah nodded. She’d heard Mamma singing “Jesus Loves the Little Children,” too, but Lydiann couldn’t have remembered since she was only two when Mamma died. Mary Ruth, on the other hand, had sung it all the time to Lydiann and Carl Nolt when he was little. Here lately Mary Ruth had been saying she thought it was a shame young Carl and Lydiann hadn’t gotten acquainted as playmates, since they were neighbors and all, but truth was, Dat had no interest in either Lydiann or Abe rubbing shoulders much with Englishers. When all was said and done, Mennonites surely were Englishers, at least in Dat’s book. Preacher Yoder’s, too.
Thinking about the highly revered minister, she recalled he hadn’t been able to attend Preaching service several times in a row. Word had it he was suffering from a bad heart—that, and some serious problems with asthma, which she guessed only worsened his heart ailment.
She and Lydiann had been walking for a while, working up a sweat, when Lydiann began to count the tiny white moths that fluttered here and there. Enjoying the sun and warm breeze, Leah happened to look off to the north and, lo and behold, if she didn’t spy Dr. Schwartz’s automobile parked in the field just down from Peacheys’ property.
Curious, she strained to see, but what she saw startled her so much she stopped in her tracks. Why’s he kneeling in the grass . . . near that little mound of dirt? she wondered, recalling the day she and Jonas had stumbled upon the peculiar plot.
“What’re we stoppin’ for?” asked Lydiann.
Promptly Leah started walking again, lest her young charge continue to ask questions or, worse, realize who was over there tending a grave with hand clippers and ask to go and talk to her Dokder.
“Come along, now.” She picked up the pace. “You and I best be getting home for milkin’.” She pointed out the Kauffmans’ farm on the left side of the road, hoping to distract Lydiann from whatever was going on over on the right. She succeeded, or thought she had, saying they ought to go visit Naomi and Luke here before too long, down near Ninepoints, where the couple had built themselves a nice new house with plenty of room for their growing family of young sons.
Thankfully they were nearing home when Lydiann piped up. “That was our doctor in the field, jah?”
Leah didn’t say it was or wasn’t; she simply hurried up the lane leading to the barnyard.
When they approached the house, Lydiann asked again.
“Dr. Schwartz owns that field” was all Leah cared to say.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hannah must’ve wanted to talk to Leah in the worst way, because she followed her up to the outhouse. “I know something ’bout Mary Ruth, but you can’t tell a soul,” she said, hurrying to keep step.
Leah had made several promises in her life that had cost her dearly, so she was rather hesitant for Hannah to say more. “Happy news, I hope?”
Hannah’s face shone with the secret. “You’ll be so surprised, I’m thinkin’ . . . and jah, it’s right happy. Wanna guess?”
“I’m afraid I’m too tired for that.”
“Ach, don’t go spoilin’ my fun.” Hannah looked hurt.
Leah couldn’t have that. “I do want to hear what’s on your mind. It’s just, well . . . I’m not so interested in hearsay, ya know.”
With a most sincere smile on her face, Hannah said, “This came straight from the horse’s mouth, so ya don’t have to worry none.” She stopped to bend down and pull a weed out from between her toes. “Mary Ruth must’ve forgiven the English driver.”
“Who?”
“You know . . . the young man who hit and killed Elias Stoltzfus.”
Robert Schwartz? Leah suddenly felt tense.
“She’s seein’ the doctor’s son, that young minister she and I heard preach in Quarryville years back, remember?”
“Are you certain of this?” She knew she must sound like a mother hen talking so straight, but, if true, this was interesting news!
“Mary Ruth told me . . . and agreed only you could know, too. Ya know, if Robert Schwartz should end up marryin’ our sister, well, she could be a schoolteacher and a preacher’s wife someday. Now, don’t that beat all?”
Actually, Leah was somewhat startled at Hannah’s apparent enthusiasm. “I didn’t think you cared two cents ’bout Mennonite beliefs. So . . . why are you happy?”
“After Elias died so young and all, I’m awful glad Mary Ruth’s not grieving anymore,” Hannah said.
“She’s lookin’ ahead to her future.”
“The doctor and his wife are fine folk,” Leah said.
“I would hope their older son is just as nice, ’specially if he’s a preacher. But can you imagine him falling for an Amish girl?”
“Well, she ain’t so Amish anymore.”
“Jah, ’tis true.” Leah couldn’t help but think how odd it was that another one of the doctor’s sons had fallen for a Plain girl.
“Mary Ruth says Robert’s completed his Bible studies in Virginia and has been offered a part-time job at the Quarryville church. I guess he’ll fill in for the head pastor at times and teach Sunday school some, too. Mary Ruth will see him plenty . . . gut enough reason to attend services.” To this Hannah laughed softly.
“I wonder if she realizes what might be required of her if they were to, well . . . marry,” Leah said.
“I s’pose that remains to be seen. But for now she’s all smiles. For sure and for certain.”
Leah pondered the news. If Mary Ruth continued to see Robert, more than likely she’d never return to join the Amish church. Dat would be awful disappointed over that. Mamma, on the other hand, wouldn’t care one bit up in heaven. But then again, a crush wasn’t much to worry about, was it?
Robert sat behind the wheel, waiting for the gas station attendant to wash and dry the car’s front and rear windows. He made some quick notes for his upcoming sermon, and when the time came to pay the bill for the gasoline, he dug into his pants pocket for the required cash while the tall attendant stood patiently.
On the ride home, his thoughts turned to Mary Ruth Ebersol, the young lady he was presently dating. It was she who had once loved and lost Elias Stoltzfus, the boy he had accidentally struck and killed nearly seven years ago. Though trusting the Lord for victory over his intense struggle, in all truth, recurring nightmares of the accident continued to haunt him. To think he had fallen hard for young Elias’s intended, a homegrown Old Order Amish girl who
’d converted to the Mennonite church of her own volition. Yet his association with her, pleasant and even exciting as it was, caused him to have to face the catastrophe yet again.
Redirecting his thoughts to his sermon outline, Robert pondered the Lord’s own Sermon on the Mount, taking comfort in its promises. Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.
Leah’s bare feet took her across the cornfield to the Peacheys’ house. Dat, Lydiann, and Abe had all gone fishing, and with some unexpected hours to herself, she had a hankering to see Miriam today. She felt nearly carefree enough to skip across the way.
When Miriam saw her from the porch swing, she called out, “Hullo, Leah!”
“Wie geht’s?” she asked, happy to see Miriam looking so well.
“Oh, I’m fair to middlin’. Come sit with me here on the swing.” Miriam slid over to make room. “It’s awful pleasant today, but this weather won’t last. The heat of June is just round the bend. We’ll be tryin’ to escape the sun in a few weeks.”
“And the mosquitoes will be out in full force.”
“How are your little ones, Leah?”
She smiled. “They’re sweet as strawberry jam.” Seemed everyone considered Lydiann and Abe hers now. Too soon, though, they’d be itching to try out their wings and fly, to create their own families; it was the way God set things in motion for humankind. Leah wasn’t sure where she’d live or what she’d do once that time came, though it could be she’d end up living in the Dawdi Haus with Aunt Lizzie once Dawdi John passed on. But since no one but the Lord God knew the end from the beginning, there was no need to worry over the future.
She remembered, quite unexpectedly, Mamma saying the same thing to Hannah, especially when the twins were younger. Even Aunt Lizzie liked to point out that “Worryin’ ’stead of trustin’ just ain’t the way of God’s children.” Leah sometimes wished she could be consistently cheerful, more like happy-go-lucky Lizzie. Someday I will be . . . if I live long enough.
“What can I do for ya?” Miriam asked.
“I’m curious ’bout one of Mamma’s old recipes. It’s not written down anywhere, since Mamma knew it by heart, but she’s not here and . . .”
Miriam glanced at her and gripped her hand. “Aw, honey. You miss her, of course ya do. We all miss Ida so.”
She hadn’t come here just to ask about a recipe, nor to get sympathy—neither one. Truth was, she enjoyed talking to Miriam, and though she saw her several times a week from afar and at church twice a month, there were certain times when Leah felt she simply needed to look into Miriam’s eyes and see and know the understanding Mamma had always found there.
“Which recipe are ya thinkin’ of?” asked Miriam.
“Mamma’s pineapple upside-down cake. I can’t seem to remember how much of the shortening, baking powder, or vanilla. All the pinches of this and that tend to get stuck in my head.”
“Seems to me that happens to all of us at one time or ’nother. Come inside. I’ll try ’n’ write it down so you’ll have it.”
“Denki.” She followed her into the big spotless kitchen. Waiting for her to get a pad of paper and pen, Leah felt suddenly warm inside, most pleasantly so.
Having this special recipe in her possession would be yet another connection to Mamma.
At precisely that moment she realized why Mamma might’ve risked disobeying, keeping back the forbidden letter from Sadie. It’s about losing and trying desperately to hold on, she thought.
Even all these years later, she felt almost too glad to have destroyed the evidence, lest Dat, the preachers, or the bishop had gotten wind of it and thought less of Mamma than she deserved. Truly, coming to visit Miriam this day was one of the best things Leah could’ve done for both herself and her memory of Mamma.
Even the meadowlarks sang more sweetly as she accepted the cake recipe from Miriam and hugged her good-bye, heading back across the cornfield toward home.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mary Ruth insisted on helping Robert’s mother set the table for the evening meal. “You mustn’t treat me like a guest,” she told Lorraine as they moved about the table, placing linen napkins and silverware in their proper places.
“Since you’re Robert’s steady girlfriend, you’re nearly family,” Lorraine replied, smiling across the table.
Robert strolled into the dining room. “What’s this whispering I hear?” Mary Ruth caught his flirtatious wink.
Dr. Schwartz came in and stood behind his chair at the head of the table. “Are we ready for supper, dear?”
Lorraine’s rosy cheeks seemed brighter than usual. “Please, be seated . . . and you, too, Mary Ruth. I can manage just fine.”
Mary Ruth sat on one side of the table with Robert directly across from her. Having enjoyed one other fine spread at this grand old house, Mary Ruth knew what to expect. The lovely lace tablecloth reminded her once again that she had turned fancy rather quickly following Elias’s death—so long ago now it seemed. Never had she questioned her chosen teaching profession, even though she knew it aggrieved her father no end; that, and the fact she’d abandoned the People. Surprisingly the tension had lessened somewhat over the years, and for this she was grateful. She could come and go as she pleased at the Ebersol Cottage, thanks in part to Leah and Aunt Lizzie. Maybe seeing Lydiann and Abe grow up, having little ones around again, had prompted Dat to be more flexible. Maybe, too, God was at work in his heart. This, she prayed for daily.
“Here we are,” Lorraine said, carrying a tray of roasted chicken surrounded by an array of cooked vegetables—onions, cauliflower, broccoli, and new potatoes. She disappeared again and returned with a Waldorf salad and homemade applesauce sprinkled generously with cinnamon.
Once his wife was seated, Henry looked to Robert for the blessing. “Son?”
Robert bowed his head, as did the others. “Thank you, Lord, for these bountiful blessings laid out here before us. Bless the hands that prepared the food, and make us ever mindful of your love and grace, and your suffering and death on the cross for our sins. In Jesus’ precious name. Amen.”
“Thank you, Robert,” Lorraine said, looking at her son with obvious affection. Then she directed Henry to pass the large platter to Mary Ruth.
The matching silver candlesticks with twinkling white tapers graced the meal, as well as the evening, and by the time the dessert was served, Mary Ruth felt almost too full, but grateful for this time spent with Robert’s parents.
Sadly Henry and Lorraine had slim hope of having good fellowship with their younger son. Robert had shared that they scarcely ever heard from Derek. Mary Ruth found this to be distressing, especially because it was clear how fond Robert was of his parents. Just then she wondered if the opportunity would ever present itself for her to tell Robert what she knew of Derek— his illicit relationship with Sadie. Too soon yet, she decided.
When it came time to say their good-byes, Robert offered to walk with her over to the Nolts’ house. On the way, he asked, “What do you plan to do with yourself all summer?”
“Oh, I have a few ideas.” She told him how she had been lending a hand in Leah’s vegetable garden. “And on washday, I help her heat up the water and whatnot. Of course, I do enjoy my little sister and brother, as well, so spending time with them means Leah can rest once in a while.”
“I like the sound of this,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Have yourself a good time with Leah . . . dear sister of yours.”
“Do you pity her, Robert?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I just thought . . . well, maybe I heard it in your voice.”
He paused. “Your sister’s an example for us all. A measure of a person’s character is what’s done in run-of-the-mill daily life, when no one is watching.”
“Sounds like you could write that into one of your sermons.”
“I just might.”
She was aware of the sound of their shoes on the road but said no more.
At last Ro
bert spoke again. “In your opinion, how did it happen that Jonas Mast left Leah behind, jewel that she is?”
“He was a fool, that’s how.” The words flew from her lips. “I mean . . .” She caught herself. I mustn’t say such things. It’s not becoming of me, she thought. “I guess when it comes to my sisters and Abe, I have to say I have a tendency to be outspoken. I’m very sorry.”
It wasn’t until later, after she’d said good night and was nestled into bed, that it dawned on her how she must have come across to Robert. Still, she felt he must surely know her well enough to understand she wasn’t as docile as some young women, though she was trying to mellow . . . on a day-by-day basis, with the Lord’s help.
Her biggest struggle was thinking ahead to how things might work out if Robert kept looking at her the way he did . . . if he happened to ask her to marry him someday. Just how would such a thing affect her relationship with her family? Would they turn their backs on her, the way they had Sadie? She knew they would never shun her, but she was almost sure the wedge between her and Dat would grow.
On top of that, sometimes she had second thoughts about Robert because of his younger brother, Derek, and what she knew of his loose morals. What kind of boy would do such a thing to an innocent girl—that is, if Sadie had been innocent. Only the Lord knew such things. Even so, the more time she spent with Robert and the Schwartz family, the more Mary Ruth found herself pondering these things.
The day after her evening with the Schwartzes, Mary Ruth was delighted to see Hannah standing at the front door of the Nolts’ house. Before her sister could knock, Mary Ruth scurried to the screen door and opened it wide. “Aw, where are the little ones?” she asked, faintly disappointed Hannah hadn’t brought her children.
Hannah smiled a bit wearily and stepped inside. “I took Aunt Lizzie up on her offer to stay with the girls awhile.”
“Some grown-up talk should help some.” Mary Ruth understood the amount of energy it took keeping up with youngsters. “It’s draining being round children all day, although I must say I enjoy being a teacher as much as I thought I would.”
The Sacrifice Page 22