by Sarah Price
Of course, with almost three weeks gone by since their move, Eleanor often wondered about her future. Unlike Mary Ann, she was not prone to sharing her emotions so openly. The lack of communication from Edwin disappointed her, to say the least. At night she often lay awake and worried that something happened to him, although she suspected John or Fanny would have contacted them had that been the case. She missed their morning talks and evening walks. Still, she knew that God had plans for her, and she certainly would not step outside of her sense of propriety by reaching out to him.
There was no more time to discuss anything as another horse and buggy raced down the lane toward the house. With no one else expected to join the gathering, everyone turned to see who it was. The speed at which the horse ran indicated there was a problem, and Christian hurried to meet the visitor.
“Preacher!” an older man called out through the open door of his buggy. “I’ve a message for you.” No sooner had he stopped the horse than he jumped out and thrust a white paper at Christian.
“Oh, help,” Maem said. “I hope nothing has happened.”
“Something must have happened,” Eleanor said, concern etched on her face. “Otherwise there wouldn’t be such urgency.”
The gathering of people watched Christian, his back toward them, as they waited for a reaction. When he finished reading the letter, his arm fell to his side with the letter still clutched in his hand. After taking a moment to compose his thoughts, he turned to face them, the color drained from his cheeks.
“I must leave at once,” he said, his words stressing the importance even if his tone remained even.
Widow Jennings gestured toward the picnic table, which was already covered with food. “And leave your own gathering?”
Jacob offered his own opinion. “Whatever it is can wait, ja?”
“I’m afraid not.” He crumpled the letter into a small wad and shoved it into his pocket. “Please stay and enjoy the day.”
“At your home without you?” Jacob asked. “What’s happened, Bechtler? Is it one of our church members?”
“Has someone taken ill?” Widow Jennings asked.
“Nee, nee,” Christian responded with a soft voice as if his mind had wandered elsewhere. Eleanor had never seen him so distracted. “Vell then,” Jacob said. “If no one is ill, surely it can wait.”
“Not one hour longer than it must,” Christian added. He turned to the man standing beside the buggy. “You’ll take me to the bus station, ja?”
“Bus station!” Widow Jennings could barely contain both her concern and her curiosity. With her mouth open, she turned to stare at Christian.
He, however, looked at no one. His eyes did not seem to register that everyone was watching him. “I must leave at once,” he mumbled. He didn’t waste any time climbing into the left side of the buggy and urged the other man to hurry.
Eleanor stepped forward. “Will you be back soon, then?”
Christian merely shook his head as the man turned around the horse and buggy before guiding the already sweaty horse down the lane.
“My word!” Widow Jennings said. “I’ve never seen such a thing!”
Eleanor walked over to her, placing an arm around the older woman’s shoulder. “It must have been something dreadful to call Christian away so suddenly. I think it is best that we pray for whatever the situation is and that it is resolved quickly as well as favorably for him.”
Chapter Thirteen
MAEM HURRIED ELEANOR and Maggie toward the front door. “Come, girls!” she said anxiously, gently pushing them along. She wore her black dress and apron, which made her appear austere and serious. It was Sunday, and as they did not have a horse and buggy, they needed to walk to the worship service. Given the distance and the fact that they were still new to the church district, the last thing Maem wanted was to arrive too late to enjoy the social time before the service.
Eleanor suspected, however, that Maem’s jitters were also because she had something else on her mind, for, on this particular day of worship, Mary Ann was not joining them, a situation boding one thing: a private conversation with Willis that would undoubtedly result in an engagement.
The previous evening Willis had spent the better part of the evening with them. His light humor and gentle teasing had made all the Detweilers laugh. Even Eleanor had smiled when he imitated Widow Jennings with her loud laughter and penetrating questions. After their evening meal Willis had asked Mary Ann to walk with him down the lane. Later she had been only too happy to report that he asked if she would grant him some time in the late morning while the family attended worship service. Apparently Mary Ann relayed to her attentive audience of three, he had something of great importance to discuss with her.
“Now don’t forget to offer him tea,” Maem said to Mary Ann. Her giddiness at leaving Mary Ann home alone was far too apparent. She had taken time to cut some fresh wildflowers and leave them in a plain white pitcher on the table. “I made some meadow tea and baked muffins last night.”
Maggie lingered at the door, her hand on the recently painted door frame. In her light green dress she looked young and pretty, even though she had grown and it was too small for her. The dress’s color offset her tan from having worked all week with Mary Ann in the garden. After clearing out the weeds and tilling the soil, Mary Ann had deemed the small plot of land halfway presentable, even though it was too late to plant anything.
“How come we can’t stay to hear him propose?” Maggie asked.
“Whatever Willis needs to say to Mary Ann is a private matter,” Eleanor said more harshly than she intended. A pang struck her heart at the idea of Mary Ann marrying Willis. Their acquaintance had been brief, but even Eleanor could not deny that they shared a strong emotional bond, although she felt hesitant to call it love. The one problem with Mary Ann marrying anyone, Willis or not, was that she would move away from the cottage. That thought alone made Eleanor feel especially irritated. Without Mary Ann living at home, she didn’t know what she would do.
“If he’s going to propose, I don’t understand why he didn’t just ask you last evening!” Maggie complained, pulling at the sleeve of her Sunday dress. “Then we all could miss worship service.”
“Maggie!” Eleanor frowned at her. “We don’t know what he wants to discuss with Mary Ann, and we could all do with a little more worship and a little less frivolity!”
Mary Ann laughed. “Frivolity? Is that what you call what we have? I think we are working just as hard here as we did at the Manheim farm. Perhaps harder.” She smoothed down the front of her dress and plucked off a piece of lint. “I, for one, would much prefer working on my own farm and gardens once again.”
It was the first time Mary Ann had made such a comment. Eleanor stared at her, realizing how difficult the move to Quarryville had been on her sisters. Without her job or her garden, Mary Ann’s days had been spent indoors, canning food that was donated to them for winter or helping with painting the upstairs bedrooms, a job none of them liked doing. Maggie happily was excused from that chore as she had started school. And while Maggie liked her new teacher and classmates, she did lament the loss of her old friends.
“We’ve certainly been busy in the evenings as of late.” Eleanor glanced at her sister. “Some of us more than others.”
“Perhaps if you had expressed more emotion,” Mary Ann said absentmindedly, “Edwin would have come calling by now.”
“Mary Ann!” This reprimand came from Maem. “For shame!”
Mary Ann looked up at her mother, an innocent look on her face. “What? It’s the truth. She’s been after me so much about letting Willis know how I feel about him. What has her reserved manner awarded her? Not so much as a letter! He probably didn’t even know she cared about him!”
Eleanor pressed her lips together, willing herself to remain silent.
How could Mary Ann know what she felt toward Edwin? Perhaps Edwin was more traditional in his approach to courtship, but that did not mean he di
dn’t care for her. Of course Eleanor was also very aware that he had never made any comments or promises to her. Had she behaved toward Edwin in the manner that Mary Ann did to Willis, Eleanor would have felt not just the pain of a broken heart but also the insufferable insult of people talking about her.
Hearing Mary Ann actually suggest that his absence was her own fault, however, hurt almost as much as Edwin’s silence. Eleanor turned on her heel and hurried out the door, starting the long morning walk to the worship service. Behind her she heard her mother scold Mary Ann, but it didn’t soothe the sting of her sister’s words.
By the time they arrived at the worship service, Eleanor had finally shaken off the hurt from Mary Ann’s careless slip of the tongue. She knew how her sister felt, that Edwin’s affections should have been met with more enthusiasm. But Eleanor had not wanted to presume that his friendship meant anything more than just that. In hindsight, despite her aching heart, she was grateful to have maintained her discretion, if only to shield herself from the pity of others.
Inside the Eshes’ home the large gathering room was set up for the worship service. The pine benches lined the sides of the room, facing the center where the bishop, preachers, and deacon would sit. While the men waited outside, talking until the designated time, the women lingered near the kitchen. Widow Jennings stood with her two daughters, eager to greet the Detweilers.
“Such news!” she exclaimed after greeting them with a handshake and the customary kiss bestowed on each other before service. “Preacher Bechtler has yet to return!”
“Oh, help!” Maem pressed her hand against her chest. “I wonder what was of such great importance.”
It was just the opening that Widow Jennings hoped for. Leaning forward so that eavesdroppers could not overhear, she whispered, “I reckon that it had something to do with his dochder.”
Even Eleanor could not resist gasping at Widow Jennings’s news. “His dochder?”
“Ja, his dochder.” The widow nodded her head. “Born out of wedlock, of course.”
Because she knew Christian had never married, Eleanor had already gathered that. She couldn’t imagine Christian Bechtler engaged in such illicit behavior, even if it had occurred during his rumschpringe and before he had taken the kneeling vow to become a baptized member of the church. It didn’t make sense. “I find that hard to believe.”
“At least that is the way the story goes,” the widow added.
Gossip, Eleanor thought, stiffening her back and lifting her chin. “The Amish grapevine produces more rotten fruit than any other, Widow Jennings.”
“Mark my words,” she replied tartly. “His love for that girl during his rumschpringe ruined him for any other. But she wasn’t Amish and would not convert. And he would not refuse the baptism.”
“That may or may not be true,” Eleanor admitted. “But to jump to the conclusion that he had a child with her—”
“And speaking of out of wedlock,” Widow Jennings said abruptly. There was something about how her eyes began to glimmer with a sense of self-satisfaction that disturbed Eleanor. She quickly found out why when Widow Jennings said, “I do not see Mary Ann with you today. Is she feeling poorly?”
There was no time for Eleanor to defend her sister’s honor. The door opened and the bishop walked into the room, followed by the rest of the church leadership with the exception of Christian Bechtler. Inside Eleanor fumed at the widow’s insinuation, barely able to look the bishop in the eye when he paused to shake her hand.
Oh, Willis! she thought with anger in her heart. What have you done to my sister’s reputation? Immediately she shifted her anger toward her sister. Whatever Willis had done, Mary Ann had certainly encouraged it. At least he was proposing to her now, and with the October baptism only a few weeks away, they could announce their plans immediately afterward.
During the entire service Eleanor could barely concentrate on what was being said. Her mind wandered to Willis and Mary Ann and then to Edwin. Without any word from him in three weeks, she held little hope of seeing him again anytime soon. She was certain that he had finally left John and Fanny’s farm, for he had his own responsibilities to tend. What John was doing to manage that large farm by himself, Eleanor could only speculate. Certainly Fanny would be forced to work alongside him, and Eleanor could not help but feel a sweet justice at the thought.
The bitterness in her heart seemed to have invaded every aspect of her world.
When it came time for the kneeling prayer, she covered her face and rested her elbows on the bench, begging God to forgive her for feeling any delight in the suffering of others, even if it was only Fanny.
After the worship service Maem found Eleanor and whispered that they could skip the fellowship meal to return home. The anxiety she felt was certainly shared by Eleanor, so after making an excuse of feeling poorly, Maem led her two daughters away from the gathering to begin the walk home.
Forty-five minutes later, when they walked through the front door of the cottage, what greeted them caused Eleanor a momentary pause. Instead of Willis and Mary Ann sitting on the porch, as decorum would dictate, they were inside the house. Willis stood by the fireplace, staring at nothing, while Mary Ann remained seated in the rocking chair, her head in her hands as she wept.
“What’s this?” Maem asked as she hurried to her daughter’s side. “What’s happened, Willis?”
Eleanor gathered Maggie into her arms, holding her younger sister close as if protecting her. She stared wide-eyed at Willis, imploring him to explain the situation.
“I . . . I must return to the family farm,” he said. “Immediately.”
“Immediately?” Eleanor repeated.
“When will you return?” Maem asked.
“I . . . ” He looked away from them. “I don’t know.”
“Willis?” Eleanor gently pushed Maggie to the side and took a step toward him. “What is going on?”
“It’s just that . . . well . . . they need me to help with their market stand in Maryland. I’ll be there four days a week. It’s just”—he hesitated, searching for the correct word—“ just easier to travel from there and too far to visit here.”
“Why the urgency?” Maem looked as confused as Eleanor felt.
“I . . . oh, it’s something I cannot explain . . . ” He seemed to fidget as he stood there, clearly uncomfortable with the confrontation that required explanation. “Oh, why should I torment myself further!” he declared. Without another word he hurried to the door, brushing past both Eleanor and Maggie without so much as a good-bye.
Mary Ann continued to weep, and Eleanor’s heart broke for her. How Willis could simply abandon her sister was beyond bewildering! His affection for her could not be denied, especially given his daily attention to her. While Eleanor might disagree with his manner of courting, she could not doubt that he cared deeply for Mary Ann.
She crossed the room and knelt before her sister, peering up at her tear-stricken face. “What happened, Mary Ann? Talk to us.”
“Leave me alone!” she cried and rose to her feet. A sob escaped her throat as she ran from the room, dashed up the stairs, and slammed the bedroom door behind her.
Maem began to pace the floor, wringing her hands before her. “Oh, Eleanor! What awful thing has happened?”
Standing up, Eleanor shook her head. “This doesn’t seem like Willis. That he adores her is more than apparent. Even I can see that.”
“Will he return, Maem?” Maggie asked in a soft voice.
“Oh, Maggie, my dear!” They had forgotten that Maggie witnessed the unhappy exchange and abrupt departure. Maem hurried over to embrace the young girl.
Neither Eleanor nor Maem answered right away. Willis’s abrupt departure and Mary Ann’s unusual display of histrionics had left them both speechless. What on earth could have set him running off in such a manner? What could he possibly have said to upset Mary Ann in such a way?
“I’m not certain he will,” Eleanor finally said.
&
nbsp; “First Edwin and now Willis?” Maggie cried, the tears beginning to well up in her eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever want to court someone if this is what happens!”
To Eleanor’s amazement Maggie began to cry, and like Mary Ann, she ran up the stairs and slammed shut the door to her bedroom.
“Oh, help,” Eleanor muttered, turning to face her mother. “Not her too!”
Her mother appeared ashen faced and in as much shock as Eleanor. “I never knew her to harbor as many sensibilities as Mary Ann.”
“Such times we are experiencing,” Eleanor managed to respond. “Surely something good must come out of this. I just wish I knew when.”
Chapter Fourteen
FOR THE FIRST part of the week Mary Ann did little more than wander outside, her eyes searching the horizon as if her wishes alone would produce the image of John Willis riding toward their house. Eleanor found herself setting down her sewing at least once an hour to check on her. Each time, however, that she peered out the window, she saw the same image: the lone figure of Mary Ann standing in the middle of her garden patch, nothing but dirt beneath her feet. Occasionally Eleanor would spot her standing toward the farthest end of the garden or pacing the edge. But Mary Ann never moved from that area because it provided the best vantage point of the road.
On Thursday morning two gray-topped buggies rode up the road, each one causing Mary Ann to start and fuss until she realized that neither was driven by John Willis. They were merely neighbors dropping off some clothing. The word had spread about the Detweilers’ sewing service, and women were eager to take advantage of their assistance.
“I’m off to market tomorrow at four in the morning,” one woman said, her voice emotionless but the dark circles under her eyes speaking volumes. “My maem is watching the kinner, and I’ll be back Saturday late. Mayhaps I can pick it up on Monday, then?”