Winter of Faith Collection

by Rachel Stoltzfus

  ***

  After Samuel had left, Micah called Esther downstairs. After calling her several times and waiting, he glanced at Rebekah, shook his head and ran upstairs to knock on Esther’s bedroom door.

  “Esther! Open the door! Now!” Micah ordered.

  In her room, Esther shook her head, bringing herself out of a daydream that felt . . . so real. Hearing her father’s loud voice and knuckles hitting the door, she looked around, orienting herself again. Scurrying to the door, she opened it.

  “Ya, daed? What is it?” she asked.

  “Come downstairs. Your mamm and I have to talk to you,” Micah ordered.

  “But . . .”

  “Esther, no arguments. Come downstairs now,” Micah said. He sighed tiredly, wiping his hands over his eyes.

  Esther followed him slowly, wondering what was wrong.

  “Sit,” said Micah, pacing back and forth in front of the kitchen sink.

  After taking her seat, Esther looked up at her father with questioning in her eyes.

  “Esther, it has come to our attention that you have been . . . pushing . . . your attentions onto John Fisher, and he does not welcome them. He is courting Miriam Beiler and you can get into significant trouble with what you are trying to do!

  I forbid you from ever trying to get that young man’s attention ever again.

  His father was here a few moments ago, telling us what you have been doing. He told us that his son raised his voice at you, and that he raised his own voice at you. Are you aware that they have been putting in many long, hard hours, getting their crops ready for a neighbor to care for while they attend and testify at a criminal trial? They do not need or want your silliness, Esther. It will stop. Today,” Micah said, glaring at his wayward daughter.

  “But, daed! He hasn’t promised to marry her officially! He’s still free to meet and interact with other young Amish women like me!” Esther said, with an obstinate set to her chin and mouth.

  “No, you will not! If I must restrict you to the house except for meeting days, I will. Do you understand me?”

  “Daed! You will not do that! I have my friends to visit. You and mamm send me to the store on errands . . .”

  “That is stopping. You are no longer allowed to take the horse and buggy. How could you ignore the Ordnung’s rules on courting, Esther? How?”

  “I should be able to associate with anyone I want to! That includes my female friends from school – and Amish men my age. I don’t believe the Ordnung can restrict my life so severely,” Esther said with confidence.

  “Esther, if you keep up with this behavior, you will ruin yourself in this district and other Amish districts. No decent Amish man will want to associate with you, much less marry you,” Micah said, glaring at Esther. “He is courting another young woman! You cannot try to attract the interest of a man who is courting another. Go upstairs, think and pray about what I have been telling you,” ordered Micah, striding back and forth in the kitchen.

  Esther, released, popped up out of her chair, running upstairs. Tempted to slam the door, she forced herself to shut it quietly, beginning to fume about the injustice of it all.

  I should just leave Ephrata and have the rest of my rumpsringe in New York City or Philadelphia, where I can be free. Who knows? I might not even come back for my Kneeling Vow! I know I won’t be able to take part in very many family activities, but I want to have a free life. As Esther thought and fumed, she quite overlooked the fact that, if she didn’t become a full member of the Amish community, John would not be able to marry her.

  The evening shadows in Esther’s room lengthened as she began fantasizing about being John Fisher’s wife. Standing up slowly, she began to act out the fantasies as they filled her mind.

  John, come in! Supper will be ready in a few minutes. Go ahead and wash up. There is hot coffee on the table. Ya, I made your favorite chicken and dumplings with vegetables . . . washing and putting his clean laundry away, smoothing her hands over the freshly washed shirts, dark pants and underwear . . . caring for their bopplis and kinner, breast feeding them, making pureed baby food and feeding the bobblis as they grew . . . reading to the children as they grew up, running outside in the huge yard . . .

  If John, his parents and Miriam and her parents had been aware of that last fantasy, they would have been much more than just irritated and concerned – they would have been frightened at what was happening in Esther’s mind.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Very early the next morning, Miriam woke up. Remembering what this day was, she sighed, not wanting the day to begin. Looking at the dark window, she saw it beginning to lighten. Finally, she knew she could no longer hold the day off. Sighing once more, she threw the covers back and got dressed. Combing and braiding her hair, she coiled it into a large bun, which she covered with her prayer kapp.

  Downstairs, she tried to smile.

  “Guder mariye, mamm. How are you?” she asked.

  “Nervous. But God has it in his hands. How about you?” Sarah asked as she made breakfast.

  Miriam, helping Sarah, thought.

  “I want this over, but I wish I didn’t have to be in the same room as Lance Newman,” she said, turning the slices of bacon.

  “How is your stomach?”

  “Fine. It’s my spirit.” Miriam lifted the cooked bacon out of the sputtering fat and set it on a folded paper towel. Next, she scooped fluffy, steaming scrambled eggs into a large bowl. Hearing Joseph walking in, she surveyed the table and turned to pour the fruit juice while Sarah poured the coffee.

  Forty-five minutes later, with the kitchen clean, the three waited in the front yard for their driver. He pulled up smiling at them.

  The Beiler family climbed into the mini-van, greeting the Fisher family.

  “Mr. Andrews, we will alternate paying you every day so you can put gas into your vehicle,” said Joseph as he struggled with the seatbelt. Miriam, turning slightly, took it from him and pushed it into the catch until it snapped.

  “Denki, daughter,” murmured Joseph with a gentle smile.

  Twenty-five minutes later, they were at the court house, arranging a time to meet the driver for the return trip home.

  As they had for the preliminary hearing, both families waited in a small room just off the courtroom.

  “Miriam Beiler!”

  On the stand, Miriam breathed deeply and said a quick prayer for calm and help. With a shaking hand, she sipped water from the glass on the witness stand.

  “Miss Beiler, thank you for coming her today. Would you please describe your first encounter with the defendant?” asked the D.A., pacing back and forth.

  “I was coming home from the Amish market . . .” Miriam began. Hearing Lance’s soft, derisive laughter, she stopped distracted.

  “Excuse me. Mr. Newman, please stop laughing and distracting the witness,” ordered the judge. “You can proceed, Miss Beiler.”

  “I was thinking of the huge order I had just gotten from a tourist couple. It was my largest order and I was quite excited and worried . . .”

  “Mr. Newman! Please stop your laughter!” the judge ordered.

  “I was thinking of all the work I would have to do to make all the quilts the family needed. My horse whinnied and reared because Mr. Newman nearly hit him with his vehicle. I told Mr. Newman to be careful. He told me he was lost, looking for the Englischer high school north of our district, so I gave him the directions. I just wanted to get home so I could begin working on my plans. Mr. Newman wouldn’t let me go unless I told him my name. I told him . . .”

  “Liar! She’s lying!” Lance shouted, standing at the defense table.

  “Mr. Adams, make your client sit down and make it clear he’s to stop disrupting these proceedings!” the judge ordered.

  “I told him I couldn’t tell him my name. He wouldn’t back his truck up and I couldn’t move my buggy because I would have gone off the road. The only way he would allow me to get past and go home was if I told him my na
me,” Miriam finally finished.

  At the defense table, Lance glowered at Miriam from under light-brown eyebrows. Two beefy sheriff’s deputies stood on either end of the defense table, just waiting for Lance to burst out again.

  “Now, would you tell me how Mr. Newman tried to get you to spend time with him?”

  “He came back to Ephrata. My beau – boyfriend – and his father were working in their field when Mr. Newman stopped at their farm, telling them that he was lost. He told them he needed to find me so he could hire me to make a quilt for his mother. He told my beau that I had given him a business card. But we Amish don’t use business cards. That goes against our beliefs.

  “Instead, we rely on word-of-mouth for advertising. John told him that and he also told him to stop trying to find me. When John came to my parents’ house, we talked and I told him what Mr. Newman had told him. My parents also talked about him and we all decided to go for a ride. My parents took their buggy and I rode with John in his buggy.

  “Mr. Newman was parked at the side of the road, just waiting. My father pulled up to him and asked him what he wanted. When Mr. Newman admitted he had come to Ephrata to find me. My father called John and I up and I saw Mr. Newman with an angry expression on his face.”

  “Objection! She can’t know what his expression meant!”

  “Overruled. Go ahead.”

  “We told Mr. Newman to leave me alone and not come back to Ephrata. I told him that I didn’t want his attentions, that John and I are courting. Finally, he left and we went back home.”

  As Lance listened to Miriam’s testimony, he grew more and more angry.

  “Miss Beiler, would you please educate the jury about how your Ordnung affects Amish youth?”

  “Certainly. When Amish youth, who are in their “running-around time” begin to pair off, they court only with each other. They cannot see anyone else. We’re allowed to test the limits, but not break rules. But our parents make it clear what we are and aren’t allowed to do. When I told this to Mr. Newman, he scoffed . . .”

  Lance couldn’t stand it anymore. He stood up from his seat and tried to rush to the witness stand and Miriam. The deputies, alert to anything he might try, grabbed him by his shoulders and arms, forcing him out of the courtroom.

  Miriam sat back in the witness box, frightened. She had never before witnessed this level of violence or force.

  “Miss, I’m sorry for that. Do you need a few minutes to compose yourself?”

  “Ya – yes, please,” Miriam said in a shaky voice. The D.A. escorted her back to the small room, explaining to her parents what had just happened. After several minutes, she had pulled herself back together.

  “Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes. I can continue,” she told the D.A.

  Lance was brought back to the courtroom.

  “Mr. Newman, if you have even one more outburst, you will be watching these proceedings from a video camera feed in a holding cell. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, your honor. I’ll behave,” Lance promised sullenly.

  Despite Lance’s promise, he grew visibly angrier and angrier with every recollection Miriam testified to regarding his refusal to accept her wishes.

  Miriam, seeing the progression of Lance’s anger, continued to testify, but she scooted back once again in her seat, becoming ever more fearful that Lance would burst out and attempt to attack her once again.

  Miriam was relieved and worn out when she was finally allowed to leave the stand. John came in and gave her a small smile, then took the witness stand.

  “Mr. Fisher, would you please explain your relationship to Miss Beiler?”

  “I have been courting Miriam Beiler for over a year and we are engaged to be married,” John said.

  Hearing this, Lance let out a long, rolling and rude snort. He restricted his reaction to this noise, so the judge gave him a stern warning about any outbursts. Lance, wanting to hear everything, promised he would behave.

  “Mr. Fisher, please explain to the jury what you told Mr. Newman about his attentions to Miss Beiler.”

  “Mr. Newman stopped at our farm, telling us he was lost and trying to find the Beiler farm. He told me that he had a . . . business card . . . from Miriam, that he needed to order a quilt from her. I told him that we don’t rely on any of the traditional Englischer ways of advertising, only on word-of-mouth. Then, I told him that Miss Beiler and I have been courting and that any attentions from other men could ruin her reputation in our district and beyond.”

  Finally, Lance could restrain himself no more.

  “He’s lying! He never told me that! I wanted to get to know her, but when she told me she wasn’t . . . AGGHGHGHG! Let go!”

  The deputies had grabbed him and began to pull him out of the courtroom. This time, he stayed in the holding cell, forced to watch the proceedings via the video feed.

  Miriam, hearing the commotion, heard his voice becoming more and more faint. Despite his outburst, she felt better. She knew that, from the holding cell, Lance could not hurt her.

  ***

  The rest of the week took on a boring sameness for Miriam. She, her parents and the Fishers rose early every morning, had breakfast, met their driver and spent the day in the county court house. Upon returning home every evening, Joseph and his young helper cared for the livestock, Sarah made supper and Miriam did an hour or two of work on the final quilt of the large order.

  The D.A. called his witnesses to the stand as he built his case against Lance Newman. Joseph, Sarah, Emily, Samuel and even Bishop Stoltzfus all testified. Miriam was surprised to see Lance’s Englischer friend testifying against Lance. He testified that he had loaned his old Saturn to Lance, believing that Lance’s truck was in the shop and that he needed to meet with a college baseball prospect.

  Finally, the district attorney rested his case, and the defense attorney began.

  Again, Miriam was the first witness called. In stark contrast to her treatment by the district attorney, the defense attorney was derisive, attempting to show the jury that Miriam had been playing Lance and John against each other.

  “You were bored with your farm life down in Ephrata. You decided you wanted a little excitement, didn’t you?”

  “No! No! I love my life in our dist—”

  “You tried to attract my client so you could find an easy way out of that little community. Then, you got scared that you’d get in trouble. You got cold feet, didn’t you, and you falsely accused my client of a crime!”

  Miriam was stunned. Remembering the D.A.’s instructions, she looked at him, her eyes huge and questioning.

  “Objection! Badgering my witness!”

  “Sustained. Go easy on her. Ask your questions and allow her to get a word in edgewise!”

  “Didn’t you try to get Mr. Newman . . .”

  “Objection!”

  “Sustained . . .”

  “Were you bored . . .”

  “Objection!”

  “Sustained! If you try to lead this witness once again, you’ll be facing a contempt of court charge!”

  “No more questions for this witness,” the defense attorney muttered.

  “Miss Beiler, you can go now.”

  Miriam escaped from the witness box, sobbing and wiping hot tears from her face. She felt dirty, as though she had tried to entice Lance Newman.

  After Miriam’s testimony, the defense attorney called the rest of his witnesses – former girlfriends, former coworkers and fellow students Lance had gone to school with.

  After he rested his case, the judge gave his instructions to the jury and sent them to the jury room to begin deliberating.

  Miriam waited in the small room for the jury to return.

  “If they aren’t back by about four, I’m going to call the driver so we can go home,” Joseph decided.

  “Ya, that’s good. At least we’ll get home a little earlier,” Samuel said.

  However, the jury worked fast. Going through the exhibi
ts and testimony, they arrived at a decision in about two hours.

  “Jury’s back. You can sit in the visitor’s gallery and listen to what the jury decided,” the bailiff announced.

  Sitting in the front row, both families watched, wondering what would happen next.

  Lance was finally permitted to come back. Miriam felt a cold shiver run down her body as she saw his cold glare. She inhaled as she saw him mouth, “I’ll get off and I’ll come and get to you.” She began praying for her safety and that of her family and the Fishers. Looking at Lance’s ankles, she saw the heavy shackles, relieved that he was restrained.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lance sat on the hard bench, shackled at the ankles and wrists. He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position as he waited for the jury to march in with his fate.

  After the judge gave his instructions to the witnesses, visitors and defendant, the foreman stood, holding a folded piece of paper.

  “Mr. Foreman, what say you?” the judge asked in the archaic language of the courtroom.

  “Your honor, we find the defendant, Lance Newman guilty of stalking; guilty of assault and guilty of kidnapping.”

  “Is this the verdict of . . . SIT DOWN, Mr. Newman!” the judge shouted.

  Lance had erupted once again. Shouting, he turned toward Miriam, anger and madness in his eyes. Forgetting about the shackles and cuffs holding his ankles and wrists restrained, he stumbled toward the low wall separating the visitor’s gallery from the rest of the courtroom. Raising one knee, he tried to climb over the wall and, teetering precariously, he overbalanced. He was unable to regain his balance and fell forward, hitting his nose and forehead on the hard wooden bench.

  Miriam screamed as she saw Lance lying on his belly, not moving. She screamed again as she saw blood seeping from his nose, mouth and one ear.

  Lance had hit his face against the bench, knocking him out immediately. As his body continued to fall, he struck his nose hard on the floor, breaking it. The impact forced bits of bone backward into his brain.

  Lance, transported to a nearby hospital, was diagnosed with a huge blood clot which pressed on his brain. The clot began to grow even larger, causing a dangerous buildup of pressure on his frontal lobe and the top of his brain. Despite having a piece of his skull removed, he slipped into a coma. The pressure continued rising in his brain and he was soon declared brain-dead.