by Amy Clipston
Cindy brought a notepad, pen, and envelope from her room and then began writing at her sewing table, a tear escaping her eyes with nearly every word she put to the paper.
When she was done, she patted her cheeks dry and quickly repaired the quilt. Then she folded the quilt before depositing it into a large shopping bag from the fabric store. She slipped her letter into the envelope and shoved it to the bottom of the bag, where it was safely hidden from curious eyes.
Cindy walked downstairs to the kitchen, a smile plastered on her face. Then she placed the bag with the quilt on the floor near the mudroom before sitting down across from Gertrude. She said a silent prayer and then busied herself with building a ham and cheese sandwich while Florence droned on about how perfect Roy’s wedding would be.
When Florence took a breath, Gertrude said, “Cindy, were you able to fix the quilt?”
“Ya.” Cindy nodded. “It was no trouble at all.”
Gertrude seemed to study her. “It’s all fixed, then?”
Cindy could read between the lines. “Ya, it is. It’s safely stowed in the shopping bag for you.”
Gertrude smiled. “I know the quilt will be just perfect now, and everything will be as it should.”
Cindy’s response turned to sawdust in her mouth. Perfect? No, nothing would be even close to perfect again.
* * *
Cindy retreated to her sewing room after Gertrude left. She sat down at her table and touched the pocket of her apron, where Drew’s letter hid. She planned to keep the letter with her as a reminder of him. She stared at the pile of customers’ projects she had to complete, but she’d lost her ambition when she read Drew’s letter. All she wanted to do was curl up into a ball on her bed and cry.
She looked out the window at the beautiful September sunshine and listened to the birds singing in the trees. They all seemed to ridicule her and her bleak mood. She needed someone to talk to, someone to listen and sympathize with her.
Cindy considered borrowing Roy’s horse and buggy to visit Priscilla, but she didn’t want to tell her sister-in-law too much. If she did, Priscilla might finally feel obligated to tell Mark, and that would lead to disaster.
Instead, Cindy hugged her arms to her chest and tried to keep the tears at bay. She looked back out the window and noticed a bird sitting on a branch and singing, as though it were trying to give her solace.
“Is that you, God?” she whispered. “Are you trying to tell me everything will be all right? Gertrude insisted I had to let Drew go, but it hurts so much that I don’t know how to make it through another day. I’m still here with my family, but I feel like I’ve already left them because I can’t talk to them. I can’t be honest. I’m surrounded by people who love me, but I’m all alone. Please send me a sign, God. Please show me your will and where I belong.”
Her thoughts turned to Drew, and she dabbed at a tear that escaped her eye. “Please comfort Drew as he reads my letter. Help him remember I’ll always care for him. And help us both figure out how to move on without our friendship. You are the great comforter. Please comfort us both.”
With a shaky breath, she picked up the first sewing project and tried to shove away her memories of Drew and the wonderful times they’d spent together.
* * *
Drew climbed out of his pickup truck and grabbed his backpack before closing the driver’s side door. He looked toward the Lapps’ house and spotted Gertrude coming down the back steps. He wasn’t surprised to see her making her way toward him.
He’d struggled to pay attention in his classes this morning, wondering about Cindy’s reaction to his letter. Now Gertrude approached him with an envelope in her hand, and a queasy fear filled him. This was it. Gertrude held the letter that would officially end his relationship with Cindy. And he wasn’t ready to face it.
“I have this for you.” Gertrude held out the envelope. “I saw her earlier today. She read your letter and then responded.”
“Thanks.” The word was barely a whisper.
“As I told Cindy, this is for the best.” Gertrude’s tone was firm, yet also held a thread of empathy. “Now everything will be as it should. You’ll go on with your English life, and she’ll stay Amish. Trust me. You made the right decision.”
Drew wanted to nod, but he couldn’t convince his neck to move. No, this didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right at all.
But he had been taught to respect his elders, and he couldn’t disagree with her. At least, not aloud.
Gertrude patted his arm. “I’ll see you later.” Then she pivoted and headed back to the house.
Drew was left alone in the driveway, staring at the envelope. His name was written in beautiful handwriting with a flourish at the end. He gripped the envelope as he headed up the porch and then unlocked the door.
Bruce met him with a happy bark and the smack of a paw.
“Hi, buddy,” Drew said. “I bet you need to go out.”
He let the dog out, set his backpack on the floor, and then stepped back out onto the porch before sinking onto the bench where he and Cindy had sat together so many times. This was where their friendship had formed, and this was where it would end as he read this letter.
Drew’s chest rose with an unsteady breath as he opened the envelope and pulled out the light-blue paper. As he unfolded it, a dull thump started at the back of his eyes. Mustering all his emotional strength, he read the letter.
Dearest Drew,
I’m not even sure how to start this letter. I’m so overwhelmed and confused by your words. So many emotions are rolling around in my chest that I don’t know how to begin to tell you how I feel. However, Gertrude is downstairs waiting for my response, so I don’t have time to find the perfect words.
First, I need to tell you that I’m honored that you said I am a beacon of light to you. You’re the same to me. You’re also my best friend and confidant, and it’s killing me that I can no longer be with you or talk to you. I’ve never felt so alone while living in a house with four other family members.
I’m sorry Gertrude and Ervin found out about us. As of today, my family still doesn’t know, but I’ve been tempted to tell them the truth. I know I can’t, but I want to. I want the world to know about us, but you’re right. It’s just not possible to continue our relationship.
I’ll miss our talks and our middle-of-the-night meetings. I had such a wonderful time with you—watching the movie, then swimming, and then driving around in your truck while learning more about your childhood and family. While I’m tempted to keep visiting you at the Lapps’ farm, I’m afraid Gertrude or Ervin will tell my father or the bishop about us. I can’t risk hurting my family, but my heart still craves your presence. I miss your smile and your laugh. I also miss Bruce. Please give him a hug for me.
You said I should take Sarah Jane up on her offer to introduce me to her future boyfriend’s brother. I hope you know I’m not interested in meeting anyone else. And I’m not ready to join the Amish church. I’m still floating aimlessly between two worlds.
I hope you will cherish our friendship and the quilt I gave you. I’ll always miss you, and I’ll continue to think of you and pray for you daily. You’re important to me, and I will carry you in my broken heart forever.
Always,
Cindy
Drew read and reread the letter until he had nearly committed it to memory.
It was over. Cindy was no longer a part of his life, and he had no idea how he would face another day without her.
“God,” he whispered. “Give me strength. I can’t face another loss without you. This is too much for me to bear alone. Help me through this.”
Covering his face with his hands, he shielded his eyes as tears poured down his cheeks.
eighteen
Cindy folded her arms over her chest as she sat next to Sarah Jane on the backless bench in Karen’s father’s barn. The cool October weather did little to stir the stuffy, humid air in the barn packed that afternoon with close to t
hree hundred community members. They’d all come to celebrate Roy and Karen’s wedding.
While Sarah Jane smiled and wiped her eyes during the service, Cindy had to try her best to keep a pleasant expression on her face. It had been a month since she’d sent her letter to Drew, and she couldn’t recall the last time she’d smiled or laughed. Her frown felt as if it had been etched on her face.
Cindy had followed along with the service as if she were in a fog. The ceremony had begun with Karen and Roy’s meeting with the minister while the congregation sang hymns from the Ausbund.
When the hymns had been sung, Karen and Roy returned to the congregation and sat with their attendants, Karen facing her sister, Lena, and Roy facing his brother, Walter. The two men wore their traditional Sunday black and white clothes, and both Karen and Lena were clad in the purple dresses Karen had made for the wedding.
As Cindy studied those beautiful dresses, she couldn’t help but imagine what she would wear if she were to get married. Since she’d been a young girl, she’d imagined sitting at the front of her father’s barn with Laura as they wore the peacock-colored dresses she’d sewn.
But that would never happen. The man she loved wasn’t welcome in their community, and she couldn’t marry him unless she walked away from the Amish church, leaving her family behind. The only other solution was for Drew to join the church with her—but Cindy still wasn’t even sure about joining the church herself. And how could she ask him to give up the only life he’d ever known for her?
Once again, she felt the same empty spot inside her expand into a dark, lonely cave filled with sorrow that threatened to swallow her whole. She tried for the thousandth time in the past month to shove Drew out of her mind. But it was too late. He had burrowed in, dug in deep, and stolen a piece of her heart. He was a permanent fixture in her mind, and no amount of prayer seemed to erase him from her mind or soul.
After another hymn, the minister delivered a thirty-minute sermon based on Old Testament stories of marriages. Cindy glanced around the barn as he spoke, taking in the familiar faces of her congregation as well as those of strangers she assumed were members of Florence’s former congregation, the one she’d been a part of before she married Dat.
Cindy’s gaze moved to the married women’s section, and she studied her older sister. Laura was beautiful in her blue dress and black apron as she listened to the minister. She fanned her face with one hand while resting her other hand on her expanding abdomen. She was now seven months pregnant and looked radiant. Her baby should arrive on time, shortly before Christmas.
While Cindy was thrilled for Laura and her growing family, jealousy slithered through her like a snake. The thought of living her days as a spinster, like several of the older women in their community were, made her slump down even farther on the uncomfortable wooden bench. She couldn’t imagine a lonelier life.
Kayla and Priscilla sat on either side of Laura, and they each wore a serene expression as their eyes remained fixed on the minister. They also seemed to enjoy happy marriages. It wasn’t fair to be prevented from having a happy marriage too. Even Sarah Jane had started dating Anthony Zook a month ago, and she seemed content. Why couldn’t Cindy have what her sisters had? Why did the community have the right to dictate whom she loved?
Cindy bit her lower lip and turned her focus to holding her hands still. She ran her fingers over her white apron and sighed.
Sarah Jane turned and nudged Cindy with her elbow. “Cindy?” she whispered. “Are you all right? Do you need a tissue? You look like you’re about to cry.”
“I’m fine.” Cindy looked down at her lap.
“Weddings always make me cry. You don’t have to hide your tears.” She handed Cindy a wad of tissues.
“Danki,” Cindy muttered before pressing her lips together.
Sarah Jane was too clueless to comprehend how Cindy felt. She’d spent the past month nagging Cindy to join the church so she could date her boyfriend’s brother. She’d never understand the depth of her grief over losing Drew.
Cindy kept her head down and squeezed her eyes shut as she joined the rest of the congregation in kneeling for the silent prayer. Then she opened her heart to God and poured out her sorrow.
Lord, I’m trying to understand how my pain is your will. Do you truly prefer that I live in grief and sadness instead of finding joy with Drew? Am I truly supposed to watch my siblings’ families grow while I stay at home and try to drown my misery with the chatter of my sewing machine, with nothing but loneliness in front of me? I don’t believe that’s true. My alternative is to join the church and search for a man who will love me despite my broken heart after losing Drew, but how would that be right for me or that man?
I can’t fathom that being trapped in a marriage with a man I don’t love back is your will. You call us to bear fruit, but I don’t want to bear fruit without marrying my true love. I believed—I still believe—Drew is the man you’ve chosen for me. It makes no sense to me, then, that you would allow us to meet and become attracted to each other. If we can’t be together, though, then what is the holy purpose of our special friendship? Please lead me on the path you want for me. Lead Drew. Show us your will. Help me understand.
As she finished praying, everyone rose for the minister’s reading of Matthew 19:1–12.
Bishop John Smucker then stood and began to preach the main sermon, continuing with Genesis, including the story of Abraham and the other patriarchs in that book. While the bishop spoke, Cindy kept her gaze focused on the edge of her apron and thought of nothing but Drew.
Sarah Jane leaned over to Cindy again and tapped her arm, yanking her from her thoughts. “I can’t believe Roy is getting married,” she whispered.
Cindy smiled as bittersweet joy filled her. How could she be angry about someone else’s happiness? “I know,” she whispered back. “I’m glad Roy and Karen are so froh together. I’m sure they’ll have a wunderbaar life.” And she was.
“I hope I’m next.” Sarah Jane rubbed her hands together. “Anthony is amazing. I’d love to marry him and raise a family with him.”
Cindy nodded.
“You really need to meet his bruder Neil. You’d like him.”
Cindy bit back the urge to ask Sarah Jane how she could possibly know what Cindy looked for in a man. Did Sarah Jane know her at all? Did any of her family members truly know her? Was that the real root of all their problems with Drew? They just didn’t understand what she needed in her life? Whom she needed?
“Just think about it,” Sarah Jane whispered. “Maybe you can come to youth group with me on Sunday.”
Cindy looked toward the soon-to-be newlyweds. Karen beamed at her groom, whose eyes shone with love for her. Then her eyes moved to the sea of young, unmarried men at the other side of the room, and she tried to envision Drew sitting there, despite her reservations about asking him to join the church—that is, if she decided joining was what she wanted too. Would he blend in with her community? Would the other young men welcome him?
But how could she ever expect him to give up the Englisher life into which he’d been born? It was presumptuous and selfish for her to even entertain the notion. If only they could find happiness together despite the rules and traditions that separated them . . .
With a trembling breath, she turned back to the bride and groom, who seemed to be listening intently to the bishop’s lecture about the apostle Paul’s instructions for marriage in 1 Corinthians and Ephesians.
After instructing Karen and Roy on how to run a godly household, he moved on to a forty-five-minute sermon on the story of Sarah and Tobias from the intertestamental book of Tobit.
When his sermon was over, the bishop looked back and forth between Karen and Roy. “Now here are two in one faith, Karen Rose Miller and Roy Sylvan Esh.” He looked out at the congregation. “Does anyone here know of any scriptural reason for this couple to not be married?” He paused for a moment, and when the congregation remained silent, he continued. “If it
is your desire to be married, you may in the name of the Lord come forth.”
Roy took Karen’s hand in his, and they stood, coming before the bishop to take their vows.
While the couple responded to the bishop’s questions, Cindy wiped at the wetness now gathering under her eyes. Despite longing for a different outcome, she had to accept that she could never celebrate a marriage with Drew. But how could she convince her heart not to hold fast to hope? He still haunted her thoughts during the day and her dreams at night.
Oh God, please either help me accept what I must or show me a way to be with Drew. I can’t go on like this.
Cindy dabbed her nose as the bishop read “A Prayer for Those About to Be Married” from an Amish prayer book called the Christenpflict.
Once the bishop returned to his sermon, Cindy slipped her hand into the pocket of her apron and touched Drew’s month-old letter. She had carried it around with her every day, and even though it was only a piece of paper, Cindy felt as if it represented a piece of Drew’s heart.
She ran her fingers over it and silently recited the words, which she had memorized weeks ago. Although she wasn’t allowed to speak to Drew, she doubted her feelings for him could ever evaporate.
When the sermon ended, the congregation knelt as the bishop again read from the Christenpflict. After he recited the Lord’s Prayer, they all stood, and the three-hour service ended with another hymn.
Then the men began rearranging furniture while most of the women, including Cindy, headed to the kitchen in the house to prepare to serve the wedding dinner. Cindy had been hearing about the menu for months. They’d be having chicken with stuffing, mashed potatoes with gravy, pepper cabbage, and cooked cream of celery. The bountiful desserts included cookies, pie, fruit, and Jell-O salad.
Cindy followed Sarah Jane out the barn door and was relieved to be greeted by the cool October air. She started toward the house, but when she felt a hand on her arm, she stopped and spun. It was Priscilla.
“Can we please talk in private?” Priscilla adjusted Annie in her arms and nodded toward one corner of the barn.