by Sarah Price
“It’s our last service before the autumn baptism,” he added. “Four youths are taking their kneeling vow in two weeks.”
A moment of reverent silence fell over the group, each person undoubtedly thinking back to the day when they too had knelt before their own g’may and acknowledged that Jesus was their Savior. Additionally, they had agreed to forego conformity to the world, to reject worldliness, and to live a plain life.
Once undertaken, the vow could not be reversed . . . at least not easily. To leave the church after accepting the baptism meant being shunned from family, friends, and community. So the seriousness of the decision was understood by all of those who had already made the same commitment.
And, of course, two weeks after the baptism service would be the autumn communion. Anna knew what that meant: a flurry of weddings would soon follow.
She suspected that Hannah and Caleb’s announcement would take place shortly after Communion Sunday. She had long ago noticed Salome’s garden, full of growing celery plants—always an indicator that a wedding was being planned. But as she sat at the table, listening to the men talking and hearing the women laugh, she wondered if there might be another match at the table.
“Now, you women head on up to bed,” Rebecca said as she stood to clear the dessert plates. “It’s after eight o’clock. You’ve had a long day and we’ve another one that starts early tomorrow.”
While Leah, Hannah, and Mary bid their good nights to everyone, Anna refused to let Rebecca wash all of the dishes on her own. Even though she knew that she needed to get up at six o’clock in the morning, Anna also knew that she couldn’t, in good conscience, let someone else clean up all the dishes, plates, and utensils alone.
“Many hands make light the work,” she said to Rebecca. Without another word, she grabbed a towel and began drying the plates and pans after they were washed. In silence they worked, but it was comforting to Anna. She had grown to like Rebecca, her lighthearted nature and quick smile reminding her of her own mother, someone she missed very much. While no one in the community spoke about Anne anymore, Anna often wondered how her absence had impacted her development. Perhaps, had her mother not passed away, Anna would have received different advice so long ago, advice that would have taken into consideration the deepest desires of her heart.
That night, she lay in bed, her eyes adjusting to the dark as she stared out the window. Darkness blanketed the outdoors but she could make out a few twinkling stars. After two almost sleepless nights, she hoped she would soon fall asleep, for the next day was a worship Sunday, and she did not want to risk dozing off during the long, three-hour service. Lunch and a long day of visiting would follow the service, and she wanted to be rested enough to enjoy all of the new sights and people. As she shut her eyelids, her breath deepening, her last thought before succumbing to slumber was how much she was actually looking forward to worshipping with the Esh family and their g’may.
Chapter Eleven
WHAT DO YOU mean you’re going to leave me here? And all alone!” Mary’s shrill and boisterous voice cut through Anna as she emphasized the word alone.
With her back to her sister, Anna shut her eyes and said a silent prayer to God for an extra dose of patience. Her usual ability to remain calm and composed, under even the most stressful of circumstances, was being stretched today, and it wasn’t even 7:15 a.m. Although she always rose to the occasion to tend to the ill or injured, Anna felt resentment building inside of her, causing her to count to ten and actually let out a sigh before she could address her sister.
When she had awoken that morning, Anna had felt refreshed and vibrant after finally sleeping soundly through the night. Her dreams had taken her back to Charm, to the creek that ran behind her father’s property along the dip of the neighbor’s property. As a child she had often walked barefoot through the water, looking for small frogs or pretty salamanders. Until her mother passed away, she often played with Elizabeth and Mary. But when their mother died and their father put so much responsibility on Elizabeth’s shoulders, their personalities had changed and their relationships divided. Elizabeth became more matronly, almost a psychological replacement for their mother; Mary became the helpless, hapless youngest child. Lost in the middle, was Anna.
In her dream the three Eicher girls walked together, no differences or role delineations separating them.
Shortly after awaking, however, reality returned. She was not a young girl and her sisters were no longer her playmates and friends.
“Anna! You can’t leave me. I’m sick!”
Slowly turning around, Anna managed to maintain an even tone as she responded. “I’ve been looking forward to attending the worship service. I’d be ever so disappointed if I missed it, Mary.”
She had arisen early and taken great care to properly pin the front of her black church dress before combing her long dark hair so that it shone. When she twisted it into a neat bun at the nape of her neck, not one hair was out of place. Her black prayer kapp, the one she wore only to worship, rested comfortably on the back of her head. Everything about her appearance spoke of her desire to attend the service with the others. Unfortunately something was missing—there was not one ounce of sympathy on Mary’s face.
“Must you have someone stay with you, then?” Anna asked. “I’m sure you’ll feel much better in a few hours. Most likely you’ll sleep, anyway.”
Smoothing the sheet around herself, Mary pursed her lips and scowled. Clearly the idea of being left alone was not to her liking. Anna should have known better. Her sister wasn’t one to sit in the shadows without being noticed. When they were children, Mary loved the attention of adults and pandered to their laughter. As she grew older and was no longer the cherubic toddler, she resorted to tantrums and tears. While their mother had known how to handle her, she had been the first and the last to do so.
“You know how I’ve been feeling, Anna. Especially in the mornings.” Mary rested her hand on her stomach, the slight bulge underneath the sheet visible, indicating what she hadn’t acknowledged yet. “I’m in a strange house and might need something. I wouldn’t even know where to look!”
Anna gave a short laugh. “As if I would?”
“You know what I mean. Besides, you are, after all, the most reliable person for tending people’s needs.”
Immediately a cloud hung around Anna’s shoulders, a formidable fog of disappointment. There would be no sense in arguing with Mary. She never did, for Mary always won; persistence trumped selflessness every time. Taking a deep breath, she tried to clear her mind, hoping to think of a counterargument against her sister’s request. Unfortunately, her mind went blank. With a deep sigh Anna acquiesced and agreed to stay at the Eshes’ farm in case Mary needed her.
“Let me go tell the others,” she finally said. “They’re waiting for me.”
She shut the bedroom door behind herself and headed down the stairs. She knew that everyone was waiting in the kitchen. They had been ready five minutes ago when Anna realized that Mary was not among them. Cris had started to walk up the stairs to fetch his wife, but Anna offered to go in his place. She knew that, in her delicate condition, Mary often fought off the morning sickness.
At the bottom step she paused and forced a smile. Six pairs of eyes stared back at her, each one dressed in their Sunday best: a sea of black dresses and suits. “She’s not feeling well and won’t be attending the service.”
“Poor lamb.” Rebecca shook her head, genuinely expressing sympathy. “She did look a bit peaked yesterday after the horse auction, I must say.”
Leah and Hannah exchanged a look, ignoring Rebecca’s concern.
Likewise, Cris gave an exasperated sigh. “Reckon I’ll need to stay with her too, then.”
“Nee, Cris,” Anna said quickly, holding up her hand to stop him. “She’s requested that I stay. I don’t mind.” She knew it wasn’t true, but she also knew that God would forgive her for saying so. She didn’t want anyone else to feel as if they shoul
d sacrifice attending the worship service.
Despite Anna’s words, Hannah stepped forward. “Oh, Anna, you were so looking forward to attending worship! Let me stay in your place,” she offered.
But Anna knew better than to agree to Hannah’s offer. If Mary requested that Anna nurse her, it was best to oblige her. “Danke, Hannah, but no,” she replied, noticing Freman scowl as if finding her words distasteful. Without a word, he turned his back on the group and silently slipped out the door. Anna wondered at his reaction but kept her attention focused on the others. “It’s better if I stay . . . since that’s her wish.”
Less than fifteen minutes after they left, walking to the service since it was nearby, Anna settled into a chair, her own Bible in her hands. Since Mary was no doubt sleeping and most likely wouldn’t even call upon her, Anna sought comfort in the Psalms.
The transgression of the wicked saith within my heart, that there is no fear of God before his eyes. For he flattereth himself in his own eyes, until his iniquity be found to be hateful. The words of his mouth are iniquity and deceit: he hath left off to be wise, and to do good. He deviseth mischief upon his bed; he setteth himself in a way that is not good; he abhorreth not evil.
Thy mercy, O LORD, is in the heavens; and thy faithfulness reacheth unto the clouds. Thy righteousness is like the great mountains; thy judgments are a great deep: O LORD, thou preservest man and beast. How excellent is thy loving kindness, O God! therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of thy wings.
They shall be abundantly satisfied with the fatness of thy house; and thou shalt make them drink of the river of thy pleasures. For with thee is the fountain of life: in thy light shall we see light. O continue thy loving kindness unto them that know thee; and thy righteousness to the upright in heart. Let not the foot of pride come against me, and let not the hand of the wicked remove me. There are the workers of iniquity fallen: they are cast down, and shall not be able to rise.
She shut her eyes and leaned back in the chair for a moment, reflecting on the words. Oh, how she wanted God’s mercy. She tried to walk in His light and knew that, like every other person, she was a sinner. Even that morning, when Mary had requested that she stay to comfort her, Anna’s initial thought had been self-centered instead of philanthropic toward her sister’s morning sickness.
Even the previous day, when she had watched Freman talking with Hannah and Leah, she envied his attention. Instead of yearning after what she had so carelessly thrown away, she should focus on being satisfied with her own lot in life, the one that a loving and kind God provided to her.
With her eyes shut she silently prayed for Mary’s health and also for her own salvation. She wanted to walk in the light and not with the wicked. Only then, she thought, might I rise to righteousness and please God.
An hour later she set aside her Bible and went about preparing a light broth for Mary. She glanced at the clock and knew that the worshippers were most likely listening to the first preacher of the day. She tried not to think about what message he was giving to the congregation. Instead she hummed one of the hymns from the Ausbund. The words kept her mind preoccupied as she poured the broth into a large coffee mug.
Anna climbed the stairs and peeked around Mary’s door. Seeing her sister’s eyes were open, she slipped into the room. “Are you awake now? I’ve brought you some broth.”
With a great deal of effort, Mary sat up and positioned a pillow behind her back. “Danke, schwester.” She reached for the coffee mug and for a moment seemed puzzled. Then, in a rare moment of pleasure, she smiled. “How clever of you! A coffee mug for broth!” Puckering her lips, she blew on the liquid before sipping it. Another smile. “See, Anna? You are more conscientious than anyone else! How could I have anyone else tend to me when I’m feeling so poorly?”
The compliment was almost as rare as her smiles.
“Are you feeling better then?”
Mary shook her head. “Nee, I’m not. But the broth will help settle my stomach.” She took another sip then handed the mug to Anna to set upon the nightstand. “I do believe that yesterday just took its toll on me, all that time at the auction and with such noise.”
“Mayhaps more sleep might help?”
Mary slid back down and nestled her head into the pillow, shutting her eyes. “Mayhaps,” she mumbled. “I do so hate these first months of pregnancy! You have no idea how dreadful it is to feel so sick!”
No, Anna thought as she stood by the bed and stared down at her sister. I do not.
There was a bitter taste in her mouth as she quietly exited the room, her sister’s words echoing in her head and hurting her heart.
Certainly after the worship service, the Eshes and their guests would stay for the fellowship meal. Afterward Benjamin and Freman would visit with the young men, introducing Cris, while the women helped to clean up the plates. On their way back to the Esh farm, if they did not stop to visit with another neighbor along the road, Freman would certainly walk alongside Leah, for Cris tended to favor his younger sister, Hannah, when Mary was not around.
The clock on the shelf in the sitting room ticked, the sound loud in the silence of the house. There was not much for Anna to do. On Sundays women were not permitted to quilt or crochet since it was an activity that did not focus on fellowship or God. Her eyes already ached from having read the Bible all morning, and her stomach rumbled from hunger.
By noon, she needed to get out of the house. The early-morning chill had gone from the air, and the afternoon promised the warmth of an Indian summer. Anna opened a few windows as well as the front door to let in fresh air. Then, after checking on Mary, who still slept soundly, Anna slipped outside and wandered toward the barn.
Not having grown up on a farm, she found the atmosphere of a dairy barn both interesting and relaxing. While the Eshes derived most of their income from farming the land, certainly a nice income came from the thirty black and white cows that lined the barn.
There was a pungent odor in the barn, but she didn’t mind it. It reminded her of Charm and the farms surrounding her father’s house. It was a musky smell with a sharp hint of ammonia to it. She knew that most of the tourists wrinkled their nose at the smell and commented about it. Back in Charm, the Amish often made remarks about how the Englische enjoyed the fruits of their labor without appreciating the actual labor itself. The remark stuck with Anna, for she knew it to be true.
Careful that she didn’t get any manure or dirt on her dress, she leaned forward and tugged gently on a cow’s ear. It looked at her, its deep brown eyes so soft and gentle. Never once did the cow stop chewing, its pink mouth moving in a steady rhythm: chomp, chomp, chomp. Anna laughed, a soft sound that caused another cow to lift its head and stare at her.
“Am I interrupting you, then?”
She jumped at the sound of Freman’s voice. Spinning around, she pressed her hand to her chest and took a step backward. “You scared me!”
The corner of his mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile.
“You are back already, then?”
He nodded his head. “Leah and I walked back to see how you fared. When we couldn’t find you in the house, I offered to see whether you had gone out to the barn. She brought a plate of food for you, in case you were hungry.”
“That was kind of her.” With a final glance at the cows, she started forward and walked beside Freman toward the barn door. Outside, the sun warmed her face and she squinted in the light until her eyes adjusted. “I trust the service was nice?” she asked as they strolled towards the house.
He nodded. “A good preacher, Deacon Lapp. I’ve missed his sermons.”
She had forgotten how long Freman had lived in Leola. He would be used to the different style of sermon which, she had heard, focused on how their daily behaviors needed to mirror God’s Word. Bishop Troyer, however, tended to preach about the sacrifices Jesus made for their salvation.
“We do become so used to the familiar that we aren’t often
open to new or different things,” she said absentmindedly. “But I would have liked to have heard his sermon anyway.”
“Even if those new or different things are not pleasing to others?”
There was a peculiar look in his eyes, almost a gleam of curiosity. Anna wondered what he found so curious about her statement and his question in response. “I imagine it would depend, then,” she said slowly, thinking carefully about her words. “We have a duty to please certain people, even at the risk of making ourselves unhappy, I suppose. Take the issue of cell phones. I’ve heard tell that some communities are having problems with their youth not wanting to give up their cell phones when they become baptized members of the church.”
“A frivolous trifle,” he commented.
“I agree.” She paused at the steps that led to the wide porch at the Eshes’ house. “And, as such, I would have no problem supporting the Ordnung for any g’may which won’t allow the cell phones.”
“When would you stand your ground, Anna?”
The way he spoke, her name rolling off of his tongue as if eight years of separation had never happened, brought her back to a time long gone. For a moment, she was a teenager again, sitting beside him in the buggy, talking as they rode home from a singing. Immediately, she understood what his question truly meant: he referenced her inability to stand up against her father and Lydia’s opposition to their marriage.
She lowered her eyes, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “A young woman might find it uncomfortable, even unseemly, to stand for anything if others disagree.” She bit her lower lip and forced herself to speak the following words.
“However, as a mature woman I see the folly in that and, as such, know there are certain things I would adamantly support, even if I were to offend those who so often guide me and offer advice.”
