The Bishop's Daughter

by Patricia Johns

  All eyes swept toward Elijah, and he looked down at the infant in his arms. So small, so fragile, and already being cast out. He knew that he was letting his friend down in one way, but he could make it up with this offer.

  “Absolom, I know we said we’d open that business together, but what if I stayed here? What if I took the kids and loved them like my own until you could come for them? I won’t have Chase rejected again. I’ll raise him. I’ll love him like my own. And I’ll raise this little girl, too.”

  “How?” the bishop demanded. “You’re a single man!”

  “My mamm will help me. She’d never turn away helpless children. She’ll be glad to have some kinner in the house again.”

  Heaven knew she might not ever get grandchildren from him.

  Absolom rubbed a hand over his face, his shoulders seeming to deflate. “I don’t make enough to raise them. I’d keep them with me if I could, but if I knew they were safe, and if I could visit them—”

  Elijah turned to the bishop. He was their spiritual leader. As much as Elijah wanted to do right by his friend, he could not do so without the bishop’s blessing.

  “Please, Bishop Graber,” Elijah said quietly. “I am asking your permission to accept these children into my home. I will raise them as Amish, and I will make it my life’s duty and sole goal to give them the faith of my forefathers. I’m not family, but I’m Absolom’s friend. I want to do right by Absolom, and by you. If you’ll allow it.”

  The bishop was silent, and he turned toward Sarah, his eyes searching her face for answers.

  “Mamm?” he murmured. “What do you say?”

  Sarah nodded slowly. “You will maintain the community’s respect for standing by what is right and true. You’ll spare them seeing any weakness from you, and you won’t be the cause of any weaker member to stumble.” She reached out and took his weathered hand in hers. “And the kinner could be safe and loved with the Fishers.”

  “What about my shunning?” Absolom asked quietly.

  “That is up to the community, my son,” the bishop said, his voice tight with emotion. “The community will speak. That is out of my hands.”

  Absolom crossed the room and eased the baby out of Elijah’s arms. He looked down into his daughter’s face, and tears spilled down his cheeks.

  “I will visit, little one,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’ll love you always, and I promise to visit just as often as I can . . .”

  Sadie rose to her feet with the boy in her arms, his short legs wrapped around her waist. Samuel stood at her side, his eyes wide and his blond curls rumpled. Elijah had just taken on a family—and chosen to stay. His heart hammered in his chest, and he searched his own emotions, looking for a sign that he was making a miserable mistake. Would he regret this—staying here—if it meant that Sadie still married another man? The Amish life ran deep, and there could be pain in that plunge. Not everyone chose an Amish life out of religious certainty—at least Elijah hadn’t. He’d always question, but maybe he could repay his friend a little bit. Maybe he wouldn’t ever be a wealthy man, but he could make a difference for two little children who needed to be chosen just once.

  “Thank you, Elijah,” Absolom said, tears in his voice. “I don’t know how I can repay you—”

  “Just come home . . . someday,” Elijah pleaded. “Find a way to come home.”

  Elijah had found his way home, and as he looked down at Sadie beside him, her gentle gaze met his. He loved her . . . oh, how he loved her. She’d been his plumb line and his foundation for years, even when he was away. And she’d continue to be, even if she married a man more deserving than he was.

  Sometimes the way home hurt more than the road that led away, because instead of spreading wider, it carved down deeper. There was nothing easy about the narrow path, but looking at these children, Elijah knew he was making the right choice.

  They needed him, and he would need this community to support him in this new role. His faith wasn’t based on certainty—it was supported by hope and a sense that the God who required the narrow path of the Amish could accept his wayward heart, too.

  Chapter Twenty

  The sun had already set as Sadie walked with her brother to his car. Back inside the house, Samuel was already in bed. Mamm gathered up some cloth diapers and baby girl clothes for little Sarah while Chase dozed off on Elijah’s lap. The children’s lives would never be the same, and they would discover that bit by bit. She pitied them—especially Chase—whose faith in everyone would be shaken now that his mother had broken her promise to always come back. How did a child recover from that?

  Sadie crossed her arms against the chill in the air, and she eyed her brother sadly.

  “Are you sure you can’t stay? Even for a little while?”

  Absolom shook his head. “I love all of this, I do—” He looked around at the house, the familiar old tree in the front, the buggy barn beside them . . . “But Sadie, I’m too different now. I can’t just walk away from everything I’m learning. I really think I can make something of myself—more than just a road worker. I’m going to go start my own business.”

  An Englisher life. She swallowed hard. “And the kinner?”

  “I’ll visit them,” he replied with a small smile. “Even if I’m shunned. They can’t take my kids away from me. There are laws against that. So they can stand with their backs to me all they like—I’m visiting my kids.”

  Sadie smiled mistily. “If I’m forced to stand with my back to you, I’m going to cross my fingers behind my back so that you know I’m saying hello.”

  “My sister, the rebel?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I believe this.”

  Tears welled in Sadie’s eyes. “I’m going to miss you, Absolom.”

  He nodded. “Me, too.”

  Sadie licked her lips. “I’ll get married again. You have to promise to hate my next husband less.”

  “If you promise to marry a man worthy of you,” her brother shot back, and they exchanged a wobbly smile.

  “Is there any chance you might come back—for good?” she asked.

  Absolom was silent for a moment, his gaze trained on the house behind her. Then he said, “I don’t believe what the church teaches, and that’s big. I used to believe it, so there was no problem in that respect. My issue was with Daet and his demands of us. . . . I’m glad I got to see him again, but I can’t pretend to believe something I no longer believe, or just go through the motions.”

  “For the children?” she asked hesitantly.

  “I’ll get an education—that’s for the kids,” he said. “And a better job, and live in a safer part of town. That’s for them, too. I’ll find their mother, and I’ll remind her about the woman I know she is . . . but I won’t fake belief for my kids. They need to see better from me than that.”

  It was impossible now—as she’d suspected. Once someone left, they changed in elemental ways . . . the secret was to never leave to begin with. Was that it? And her heart clenched a little tighter. It was her deepest maternal fear.

  “And for all that,” her brother went on, his voice thick with emotion, “they’re still my parents, Sadie. But no one comes back for theology.”

  Sadie fell silent, her mind working over it all. The church was central to the Amish life, and they believed that there was no salvation outside of it. Not for those who were born to it, at least. So when children left, parents wrote long letters explaining the church’s position, defending the reasons for the narrow path they walked. What better reason to return than for eternal salvation? They couldn’t imagine their child viewing faith differently—the Amish weren’t exposed to religious differences.

  But Absolom had changed so much—she could see it. The old arguments fell impotent. If he did come back, it wouldn’t be for theological argument, but because he loved them.... If he ever came back, it would be for them.

  Sadie wrapped her arms around her brother’s neck and hugged him tight.

  “Come home a
s soon as you can, Absolom,” she whispered shakily. “We miss you so much.”

  Her brother hugged her back just as fiercely, and then he let her go.

  “Keep an eye on Chase and Sarah, okay?” he said, blinking and pressing his lips flat to hold back the tears. “Bring Chase to the creek—I think he’d really like it. He needs to catch fish and balance on rocks . . . and Sarah likes the old hymns. I used to sing them to her at night when everyone else was asleep, so I know that will comfort her. Maybe it will remind her of me.”

  “You’ll be back to visit them soon,” she said firmly. “And I’ll keep close tabs on them. That’s a promise.”

  “Thank you. I’d better go. It only gets harder.”

  Sadie nodded, and Absolom pulled open the car door and got inside. The engine rumbled to life, and Sadie watched as the car turned around and headed back down the drive. She stood there for several minutes after the red taillights had disappeared, the cool evening breeze billowing her dress in front of her.

  Life had been simpler before she’d gotten a glimpse of her brother’s life with the Englishers. There had been the right way and the wrong way . . . there had been the narrow path and the road to perdition. And while she had no desire to live apart from her Amish upbringing, the Englisher world seemed that much more daunting, because it no longer appeared to be composed of aimless, chaotic sinners. She could see how easy it was for a disillusioned Amish boy to go Mennonite . . .

  She’d been so afraid of Samuel growing up with too permissive of a father, without the structure to keep him Amish, that she’d forgotten what would draw him home again. It was love—that was the invisible thread that wove them all together. Samuel needed what Chase and baby Sarah needed—parents who loved them as deeply and widely as the human heart could stretch.

  Sadie heard the house door open behind her, and she turned to see Elijah on the porch.

  “Sadie, I need to bring the kids back to my place,” Elijah said. “Would you help me? I can drive you back after my mother has them settled, if that’s okay.”

  If only her father hadn’t drawn the line at caring for Absolom’s children. She should be the one tucking them in, and waking up at night to give little Sarah her bottle. She could have opened her heart to these children . . .

  “Yes, of course,” Sadie said, wiping an errant tear from her cheek. “You hitch up the horses, and I’ll get the children ready to go.”

  * * *

  Elijah held the reins loosely in his hands, the peacefulness of the drive home settling in around him. He was staying . . . the choice he’d made in the Grabers’ kitchen was starting to feel suddenly real. He knew this was the right thing to do, but it certainly wouldn’t be easy.

  The draft horses knew the way home, and Elijah looked over at Sadie, who sat with the baby in one arm and her other arm around Chase, who had drifted off to sleep against her side.

  “What were you thinking?” Sadie asked with a soft laugh.

  “It was when your father told Absolom no, that he would do nothing to help him unless he came home and repented,” Elijah said. “I couldn’t let the children face that kind of rejection. It was wrong. I had to set it right.”

  “You’re taking on two children, Elijah.”

  “Yah. It seems so, but I owed your brother. He needed someone he could count on. Besides, there would be no changing your daet, or mine, so I decided to be the difference for someone else.”

  The stars twinkled in the dark sky. An orange moon hung low on the horizon, large and luminous. He’d pull Sadie close if they didn’t have a four-year-old between them and a baby in her arms.... He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about those things with Sadie anymore—he was trying to have self-restraint in that respect. But he couldn’t help it. There was something about the moonlight reflecting off her pale skin, the way her eyes glittered when she glanced over at him, and the tender way she cradled the children.... It made the rest of their problems seem far away.

  “You think you can do this alone?” she asked after a moment.

  “I don’t have much choice, do I?” He flicked the reins.

  He looked over at her, and those glittering blue eyes were fixed on him. She was beautiful, and just close enough for him to . . . he leaned over and brushed his lips with hers. “I promise I’ll stop kissing you . . . starting tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” She laughed softly.

  “Always tomorrow. I can’t face it today.” He smiled into her eyes, then straightened.

  “I talked to my brother before he left, and I realized something,” she said.

  “Yah?”

  “The thing that pulled him back wasn’t theology or agreement with the Amish ways. He’s tugged back because he loves us, and we love him. If he ever finds a way to make a life here, it will be for that love.”

  Love . . . it could be the sweetest of experiences, and the most painful.

  “I’ll never stop loving you, you know,” he said quietly.

  What did it matter if he was changing? It wouldn’t be enough to turn him into a solemn farmer. He’d only be more of himself, and like his daet had said, if he pretended to be otherwise, he couldn’t keep it up.

  Sadie’s hand touched his arm. “You need a wife to help you, Elijah,” she said quietly.

  “I need you, Sadie.” The words came out before he could help himself, and he sighed. “But if I’m not the man for you, then I’ll muddle along on my own. But don’t toy with me. When I say I love you, I mean that with more depth than you might imagine. I’ll never be a stern and pious farmer, Sadie. I can only be myself—the man I am with all the experiences that have formed me. But I can offer something that no one else can . . .”

  “What’s that?” she whispered.

  “I’d cross oceans for you, Sadie. And I’d cross oceans for our children, too. My daet obeyed your father’s orders like a good Amish man. And while a rebellious husband might not be what you want, if Samuel went English, Sadie, I’d go after him. The bishop’s orders be damned. I wouldn’t sit around writing letters—I’d go bring him home. Love is action—isn’t that what you say?”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “Absolom said he wouldn’t come back for religion anyway.... He’d come back for family.”

  “I could be that family, Sadie.” Elijah reached over and ran a finger over hers. “I’m not the kind of man who’s afraid of the Englisher world, or of oceans to cross. But I am daunted by the thought of a life without you. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine. Anything less is misery.”

  “I want that, too.”

  Elijah’s heart hammered in his chest, but if she was saying what he thought she was saying, then she needed his full attention. He reined in the horses at the side of the road. They were alone, the only sound that of a far-off owl. He turned toward her, and slid an arm behind her back. Chase shifted in his sleep, and Sadie patted the child gently, lulling him back into slumber.

  “Marry me, Sadie,” Elijah whispered. “If you’re saying I could be enough for you . . . I’m not going to be like Mervin or some somber church elder. I’m going to be me—but I can love you and Samuel with all my heart. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take you both to the creek.” He smiled tenderly. “Would you be a mamm to these two until Absolom can come for them? I know it’s a lot to ask—”

  “Loving them? That’s not much to ask of me,” she whispered. “That’s the easy part.”

  “Then marry me. Please. Be mine, and I’ll spend the rest of my life convincing you that I was the best choice you ever made.”

  Sadie’s eyes glistened. “You’ll have to go speak with my father, you know. You’ll have to ask his permission.”

  Elijah chuckled softly. “I can handle that. But the wedding will have to happen soon, Sadie. I don’t want to put this off until next year. I want to marry you this fall—whether or not there’s enough celery.”

  Sadie nodded, teary eyes fixed on his. “I’ll marry you the first Tuesday my father will agree to.”<
br />
  “Good enough.” Elijah leaned carefully over the child between them, and his lips came down onto hers. Sadie’s eyes fluttered shut. When he pulled back, he added, “Sadie Fisher. I always did like the sound of that.”

  Her cheeks colored. “Well, you did tell me to marry a man who could kiss me breathless.”

  He shot her a grin. “And I stand by that. When we get the children settled with my mamm, I’ll drive you home and make good on it.”

  Sadie laughed softly. “Promise?”

  Elijah picked up the reins again and gave them a flick. The horses started moving once more, and he looked over the rolling pasture at the round full moon. He’d marry her on a Tuesday, and every day after for the rest of his life, he’d love her with everything he had. If a loyal heart was enough, she’d have all of his.

  And he realized as the horses slowed at an intersection, ready to turn onto the road where he lived, that he’d finally found home. Today, he’d vowed to be a husband and a father, and instead of panicking, with her simple “yes,” his heart had settled. Home was in the heart of the one woman he’d loved since he was a boy and she was a girl, and all he could think about was holding her hand.

  The Amish life was deep and narrow, but for once he wasn’t afraid of that plunge—his love ran deeper still. He’d be the difference for the children, and for Sadie, too. He’d love her like she deserved to be loved, and every night when he pulled her close in his arms, he’d remind her just how loved she was.

  That beautiful Tuesday could not come quickly enough.

  Epilogue

  Elijah was baptized the first weekend in September, and the very next Tuesday, Jonathan and Mary were married. Mary’s dress was let out to be a little looser than was typical, and it effectively hid her early pregnancy, although everyone knew at that point. The Morinville Amish community might be conservative, but they were also discrete, and since the couple were getting married, it was graciously overlooked. Babies were blessings—always. As for Jonathan and Mary’s marriage, well, time would tell. They’d have to make the best of it. The community was also pragmatic.