by Sarah Price
Later that evening, shortly after supper, Wilmer explained that he had been down with his sons at the Bechler farm, helping Christiana with the late August haying. Since Wilmer did not have enough land to farm, he had the time and inclination to help Christiana with hers.
“We have been invited to Sunday dinner at the Bechler farm tomorrow,” Wilmer said, glancing at his three guests as if they should be impressed. “It’s a visiting Sunday, and as bishop, we often are invited to others’ homes for the noon meal.”
Charlotte nodded from the plain rocking chair where she sat, a lukewarm cup of tea in her hand. “Christiana is quite generous with her invitations,” she explained.
“Indeed,” Wilmer stated, taking charge of the conversation once again. “A more generous woman has never graced God’s fine earth. Her willingness to let my kinner work her farm is also a true testament of her godliness. They will learn farming while doing God’s work helping a fine woman who has been left alone in this world.”
“No kinner?” Leah seemed horrified at this prospect and shook her head. Lizzie, however, saw a different reaction from William, who seemed to realize the predicament that Christiana Bechler faced and was simultaneously relieved that his own dochder had avoided the same.
“She lost those that she had and then, sadly, was never able to conceive more,” Wilmer replied. “She has, however, taken her husband’s niece into her care, a poor girl who was orphaned at a young age. I imagine that whoever is to marry Anna will inherit the entire Bechler farm.”
“Oh, my,” Leah gasped.
“An advantageous marriage for some young farmer,” William quipped.
“And the Beachey farm?” Lizzie dove headfirst into the conversation. “I should like to know how Jacob Beachey fares, all these weeks having passed since his illness befell him and whisked our new neighbors away from Leola.”
“Interesting that,” Wilmer said, leaning forward in his chair as he removed his glasses and wiped the lens on the edge of his sleeve. “There is talk that Charles may not return to Leola but may, in fact, marry Frederick Detweiler’s young schwester.” He placed his glasses back onto his face and blinked twice. Satisfied that he could see better, he turned to look at Lizzie. “With Frederick’s encouragement, I have heard.”
Had she heard him correctly? Lizzie felt her heart lurch inside of her chest, and she fought the urge to jump to her feet. “At the encouragement of his own friend?” She looked to Charlotte, who merely lowered her gaze, too aware that Charles had openly courted Jane, a fact that Frederick was certain to have known. “Such matters are meant to be private, ain’t so?”
“Times change,” Wilmer said with a simple shrug. “I heard that Frederick was not impressed with Leola for Charles’s future. In fact, Charles was intent on returning, more so for a young woman than the farm, or so I heard. However, his friend convinced him to stay here and not return to Pennsylvania.”
“Indeed!”
Immediately recognizing the mistake that he had made, Wilmer apologized profusely. “No insult was intended, my cousin. My own fraa is from Leola. I do believe that he meant from a farming perspective. However, truth be told, the culture of the Pennsylvania Amish is different than this of Holmes County. It would be better to marry from within one’s surroundings,” he said with a serious look on his face before adding, “for not all men can be as fortunate as I to find such a suitable and mindful companion from so far away.”
Lizzie knew that her cheeks had flushed red, more from the humiliation of the insult than anything else. If she did not care for Frederick Detweiler before she had learned of his treachery, she knew that she would have to pray for forgiveness for simply despising him now. If Christiana Bechler was the most generous woman who ever walked God’s good earth, clearly Frederick Detweiler was the most despicable man.
For the next half an hour Lizzie barely heard any of the conversation that was shared among Charlotte, her parents, and her husband. When enough time had passed, she excused herself to escape to her small room, retiring for the evening. After changing into her sleeping gown, she forced herself to kneel by the side of her bed and pray to God, asking for forgiveness for the darkness that had consumed her heart, all the while knowing that it would take more than a prayer to God for such darkness to be lifted off her soul.
Chapter Fourteen
IT WAS LATE Sunday morning when the five adults and four kinner headed down the lane to cross the road in order to walk to the Bechler farm. While Wilmer had professed that it was located directly across the road, that had been more of an exaggeration as the property was rather expansive, even for Ohio. The walk took almost twenty minutes, for they had to walk along the road rather than cut across the fields as Wilmer and his sons typically would do.
Lizzie felt numb, still reeling from Wilmer’s disclosure of the previous evening. She had wanted to write immediately to Jane but knew that such news was better presented in person. Besides, the letter would only make it back to the farm a day or two before Lizzie. There was no sense in further upsetting her dear, special sister until she was certain of the facts.
The Bechler farmhouse was small and quaint, tucked on the edge of a hill. Everything looked neat and tidy, no display of ostentatious flowers or decoration. In fact, it was the picture-perfect Amish farm: clean and well tended yet plain at the same time. The driveway was long and winding with paddocks and pasture on either side. Everything was well maintained, despite the lack of a man to tend to the property. Wilmer, however, was quick to point out all that he and his sons had done over the past few months to assist Christiana Bechler in her time of need.
Upon approaching the house, Wilmer pointed out that a buggy stood beside the stable, although no horse was harnessed to it. Clearly someone was visiting and had been invited for the noon meal besides Wilmer Kaufman and guests. However, nothing could have prepared Lizzie for what she saw upon entering the house: standing immediately before her was the very same man that she had determined to loathe for the rest of her life.
Without even waiting for a proper introduction to Christiana and her niece, Lizzie narrowed her eyes and stared at the man before her. “Frederick Detweiler!” she said, her voice sounding both surprised and irritated at the same time. Of all the people in the world whom she might have expected to see standing before her, he was the last on the list.
A mild silence befell the room, and Frederick took the opportunity to clear his throat and nod his head at her, acknowledging her presence but remaining silent.
Wilmer tried to make a proper introduction, but the older woman seated in the rocking chair lifted up her hand for him to stop. Her dark eyes flashed from behind her glasses, as she stood and walked toward the newcomers. “I see you know my nephew, then,” she said, her eyes quickly assessing the young woman from Leola who stood before her. It was clear that she did not like what she saw. “From Pennsylvania, ja?”
Ignoring the way that Christiana had uttered the word Pennsylvania as if it were a disease, Lizzie turned to face the woman and immediately reached out her hand. “I am Lizzie Blank,” she replied, introducing herself while trying to regain her composure and improve her behavior. She was not only surprised to see Frederick standing in the same room, but she was also taken aback by how old Christiana was. With her black dress and tight-fitting kapp, she looked austere and stern, far too old to be such an essential influence in her niece Anna’s life. “I trust you are well on this lovely August day, ja?”
The older woman’s eyes flickered, first to Frederick and then back to Lizzie. She was trying to determine something, that much was apparent. However, she merely lifted an eyebrow in response. “I much prefer autumn weather,” she stated sharply. “The crisp morning air suits me better.”
Wilmer moved forward, introducing his in-laws and thanking Christiana for her generous hospitality in hosting him and his guests for Sunday dinner. His abundance of praise left Lizzie feeling awkward and embarrassed, sensing that even Christiana found his
tribute to her kindness overbearing. She did, however, notice that Charlotte seemed immune and merely stood there, her hands clasped before her and a small smile plastered on her face.
In order to avoid speaking to Frederick, Lizzie stayed glued to Charlotte’s side. She tried to stand with her back toward him but felt the heat of his eyes boring a hole into her shoulders. Twice she managed to glance in his direction and was not surprised to find him watching her.
There was little doubt that she would not escape the visit without sharing a word with him. When the opportunity finally arose, Lizzie took a deep breath and approached him, too aware that he was still standing in the same place, one hand behind his back while the other held a glass of tea. His dark eyes seemed piercing and bold, following her every movement as she neared.
“I’m rather surprised to see you here, Frederick,” she said, trying to sound light and cheerful rather than angry.
“I should say that I am equally as surprised,” he replied, his voice even as usual.
“Charles’s father must be in quite a state of ill health for Charles to stay away from his Leola farm,” she dared to say. “I do pray for Jacob’s speedy recovery.”
Frederick seemed curious about her remark, but as always managed to keep a straight face. It was the tilt of his head and look in his eye that Lizzie caught, knowing that she had captured his attention. “Jacob is faring quite well, Elizabeth,” he said. “I shall extend your prayers and words of goodness.”
Lizzie frowned, feigning confusion despite the growing anger within her regarding his role in keeping Charles in Ohio. “Then if he is well, Frederick, what keeps Charles from returning?”
There was no time to respond, for Christiana called them to the table. Yet he managed to stare at her for a long moment, and she knew that he was wondering how much she had been informed about his role in separating Charles from Jane. Without another remark she turned and headed toward the table, pleased that he was aware of her knowledge.
As luck would have it, Frederick was seated next to Christiana and opposite Anna. With Wilmer at the other head of the table and the kinner on the bench beside Anna, Lizzie had no choice but to sit between Frederick and Charlotte. The silent premeal prayer gave Lizzie time to collect her thoughts before giving a quick word of gratitude to God for their safe trip the previous day and the food on the table that had been provided by Christiana.
“You are most fortunate to have encountered such fine weather for your visit,” their hostess said, starting the conversation prior to passing around the plates of food. “Just the week prior it was rather hot, was it not, Wilmer?”
He readily agreed, affirming that, indeed, it had been unusually hot. Lizzie had the distinct feeling that, had Christiana mentioned that a blizzard had passed through the previous week, he would have agreed to that too.
“It’s been rather hot at home as well,” Lizzie offered. “But August is usually rather hot and muggy. Our haying, however, has certainly been bountiful. God has blessed our farmers, for sure and certain.”
Christiana raised an eyebrow. “Do you work in the fields, Elizabeth? Where are your brothers?”
Setting her fork down beside her plate, Lizzie shifted her weight so that she was facing Christiana. “We have but five dochders in the family. I prefer the outdoor work, so I do help my daed with the crops, including haying.”
“No one from the community helps your daed? No hired boys who could learn farming?”
Sensing that this was a horrifying admission, Lizzie merely shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. She wasn’t going to engage in a discussion that hinted of negativity and differing opinions, especially with someone like the woman seated before her.
“Five dochders, you say?” Christiana seemed to digest this information. Surely it must have seemed bittersweet to a woman who had lost all of her children at young ages, if she had been able to birth them at all. “Are any of them married?”
“Nee,” Lizzie admitted. “Not one.”
“And you are the . . . ”
Lizzie knew where this conversation was headed and inwardly cringed. “The second eldest.”
“I see,” Christiana said, tapping a wrinkled finger against the tabletop. “And the youngest?”
“She turns sixteen this week,” Lizzie admitted.
With her eyes riveted on Lizzie, Christiana seemed to find this prospect completely unnatural. “Five dochders, all of marriageable age, and yet not one with a prospect?” She looked down the table at Wilmer first, and then Frederick. “No prospects at all? Why, I must admit that is a most unfortunate situation.”
The offensive comment all but bounced off of Lizzie. She was astonished by the pompous nature of this woman that Wilmer had regarded as being so generous of heart and spirit. She witnessed no generosity in Christiana Bechler except for her generosity with insults and unwanted opinions. “I find it rather fortunate, don’t you?” Lizzie offered, knowing full well that she was being sassy to this elderly woman, despite the sweetness of her tone. “The youngest shall learn from the eldest, and a sisterly bond will be had by all. I think we are fortunate indeed, and I am quite happy with my family situation and upbringing.”
“You speak most freely,” Christiana observed, her eyes narrowing as she studied the young woman before her. “Most freely for a young, unmarried woman . . . with no prospects.”
“Aendi,” Frederick interfered suddenly, interrupting the conversation and handing her a plate. “Your favorite: pickled red beets!” Without waiting for an answer, he began to dish some of the food onto his aunt’s plate. “I stopped at the market just yesterday to make certain you had plenty of these for today.”
Distracted, Christiana pushed several of the red beets onto her plate before passing the dish to her niece, a quiet and timid mouse of a young woman who rarely spoke unless a question was directed at her by her aendi. Lizzie managed to take a few short breaths to calm her beating heart and took advantage of the shift in conversation to watch Anna, trying to see how a match with Frederick and the pale, frail woman would manage to succeed. Anna’s personality was clearly lacking, whether from poor health or low self-esteem, Lizzie could not guess which. With Frederick’s composure and reserve, she could scarcely think of a better match for him, she told herself, knowing that the thought was something about which she’d have to pray later for forgiveness.
After the meal was served, Lizzie quietly excused herself and, without being asked, began to clear the table and tend to the dishes. Charlotte joined her, and the two women worked side by side, washing and drying the plates and utensils while the formidable Christiana proceeded to question Wilmer about his plans with the church regarding the new tendency for young girls to hang out the side of the buggies, their dresses blowing and exposing their bare legs to indicate their “availability.” She caught the insinuation in Christiana’s voice that such a practice must certainly have come from the youth being exposed to the Amish of Lancaster. She even berated him for not having found a solution after his trip to Pennsylvania almost two months prior.
Lizzie rolled her eyes and almost giggled, but both she and Charlotte kept quiet, pretending to focus on the task of drying the dishes. Instead they were eagerly listening to Wilmer stuttering and fumbling with his words as he tried to address this most serious of concerns from Christiana Bechler, the wife of the late bishop. It was clear that he preferred to gauge Christiana’s outlook on any situation before he ventured his own opinion, for he wanted to please the elderly woman by appearing to take her advice or simply to agree with her perspective.
With permission, the Kaufman brothers excused themselves and disappeared outside, the younger ones racing across the paddock and scurrying under a fence while John, the older son, followed behind, his hands shoved into his pockets and his shoulders slumped forward. Anna, however, remained seated at the table, her pale hands pressed together and placed primly on her lap. If she had wanted to go outside—something Lizzie would have highly re
commended, for the girl was paler than fresh snow—Anna gave no indication of it.
Wilmer and Christiana were deep into discussion when, with the plates cleaned, dried off, and returned to their cupboard, Lizzie indicated to Charlotte that she too wanted to go outside and enjoy the fresh air. Slipping out the door, Lizzie took in a deep breath, shutting her eyes for a moment as she felt the sun on her face. Inside, Wilmer was still stumbling around how to address the situation of the Amish girls exposing their legs when sitting on the buggy’s floor. She smiled to herself, shaking her head as she began to walk down the porch steps and head down the driveway and toward the road.
She was amazed about how familiar everything looked while showing some slight differences at the same time. Most of the farms were painted white, just like at home. Many of the larger farms had windmills, and she loved hearing the gentle whirling of the blades in the breeze. However, there were not as many tall silos as she was used to seeing back home, and that took her by surprise.
“Mind if I stretch my legs with you?”
She was startled to find Frederick walking to catch up with her. She had not heard him following her, and when he spoke, he was only a few strides behind. Her surprise was so great that she could not answer but merely kept walking as he fell in stride with her pace.
