Gladden the Heart

by Olivia Newport

  “Then perhaps we are not as far apart as I thought,” Shem said. “You are thinking wisely. I am certain we will be of one mind again soon.”

  Niklaus shook his head. “Shem, my decision is that I will best serve the congregation by withdrawing. Then there can be no confusion in leadership.”

  “Withdraw?” Shem eyed another hoof. “I do not understand. Yohan and I will simply handle the preaching until you are ready to resume.”

  “I must withdraw,” Niklaus said. “I do not regret the sermon that disturbed you, and I do not believe I ever will. I will step aside so that there should be no animosity between us in the midst of the congregation.”

  “Surely this is temporary,” Shem said.

  Niklaus shook his head. “You are awaiting repentance. At the risk that you will think my heart hardened, I must honestly say the wait will be futile. I have chosen another way forward.”

  At the sound of the galloping horse, Susanna looked up from her dye vat. Her brother Timothy did not slow the animal as he passed her shed and continued toward the house.

  “Timothy!” Susanna called as she reached for the poker and gave the wood one last separating shove. The yardage she had simmered that morning was already spread on the lines. But her brother could not have heard her cry beneath his horse’s hooves. On foot, Susanna chased him toward the house. By the time she reached him, breathless, Timothy was off his horse and broadcasting his news to their mother.

  Veronica’s face paled.

  “What?” Susanna said. “What is it?”

  “Your Adam will have something to say,” Timothy said.

  “He is not my Adam.” Susanna fished for the memory of the errand her father had sent Timothy on after breakfast. “Is everyone all right?”

  “This is just the kind of influence I try to protect my children from,” Veronica said.

  Only one topic would make Veronica make that statement. Noah.

  “What is it, Timothy?” Susanna asked, striving for a tone calmer than her nerves.

  “Niklaus plans to withdraw from the church.”

  “Oh no. Who would tell you such a thing?”

  Jonas.

  “It is speculation,” Susanna said.

  Timothy shook his head. “Niklaus told the family himself as soon as he spoke to the bishop.”

  “But why?”

  “’Tis the preaching,” Timothy said. “They cannot agree.”

  Veronica sobbed. “Your daed should never have agreed to any of this. Susanna, you must spend more time at home for the sake of your family.”

  “But Noah is our family as well,” Susanna said. “Noah and Phoebe are our family.”

  Susanna had been a timid child, and Noah always made room for her. When she hid, he found her. When she laughed, he laughed with her. The thought that she might be removed from him against her will made her chest burn.

  “You will be safer if you remain on the farm,” her mother said.

  “And Phoebe?” Susanna challenged. “And Noah? Are we to turn our backs on them?”

  “We will discuss this later, once your daed is here,” Veronica said.

  Susanna contained her sigh. She could not refuse her mother’s wishes, but her father’s return would not be for hours.

  “Phoebe is expecting me soon.” Susanna avoided her mother’s eyes as she whistled for the old mare in the pasture. The horse was the slowest creature on four legs, but Susanna managed to busy herself in preparations long enough for the mare to come to the pasture gate. She would take her back down to the shed and hitch her up.

  Her head pounded with the rising conundrum, and she was unsure how long she had overlooked the sound of a second set of hooves before twisting to look.

  “Timothy, what are you doing?”

  “I am going with you.” He pulled his horse up beside the cart.

  “You know Mamm will be displeased.” Susanna did not slow down.

  “More and more people are talking about Noah, and I have not even heard him for myself except for a few minutes the first time it happened.”

  “What will you say to Mamm?” Susanna said. “Go home before you make things worse.”

  “Will you go home?”

  “No. That is a different matter.”

  “How?”

  “Phoebe is expecting me, and Daed has given his blessing.” At least he had until this point. He might change his mind.

  “I can do a man’s work, if need be. I looked after their animals while you were gone. If it is all right for you to hear Cousin Noah and help on their farm, why should it not be so for me?”

  Susanna blew out her breath. “He might not preach.”

  “I hear tell that it happens every day.”

  Susanna nudged the mare faster. “You may stay for a few minutes. Then you must go home before Mamm misses you.”

  With Susanna’s help, Patsy settled the slouched and sleeping Noah on the davenport. Phoebe finally had rearranged the room so the davenport where Noah recovered from falling under was near the window. If he wandered while preaching, he nearly always returned to the window before speaking the Lord’s Prayer.

  “Another fine sermon.” Patsy did not have to lower her voice. A trail of children could march through the house beating pots and leading bleating goats and Noah would not stir.

  Susanna rubbed her eyes. “Which of us shall go outside and encourage folks to go home?”

  “I’ll go this time.” Patsy straightened her skirt and checked to be sure the blouse was well tucked at the waist.

  “Thank you,” Susanna said. “I am glad Phoebe is napping herself. I fear she hardly sleeps at night. I will tidy the kitchen and put something in the oven for a late supper when they wake.”

  Patsy nodded, spread a nine-patch quilt over Noah, and padded to the front door.

  “Noah is resting now,” she announced. “He will not preach again today.”

  Not many people could spare the time to remain on the Kauffman farm for the entire three hours that Noah was likely to preach. They had their own suppers to go home to, so the crowd had thinned already. Patsy would like to think that those who stayed until the end were the most devout, but more likely they were the most suspicious. Seven people remained, all of them Amish.

  “I suppose your kind are very pleased.”

  Patsy did not know the woman’s name, but her tone held no mystery.

  “My kind?” Patsy said.

  “Your father is the Methodist minister, is he not?”

  “He is.”

  “He might do well to reconsider what he is doing.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Patsy said. No one coerced anyone to hear Noah preach. If this woman was displeased by Noah’s actions, why had she come—more than once?

  “We have no hard feelings about what your father chooses to preach to his own flock, but I would think he would understand the harm he causes by his evangelistic spirit.”

  Evangelistic spirit? “If you read the New Testament,” Patsy said, “you will find that Jesus Himself had an evangelistic spirit and that the apostles Paul and Peter did not hesitate to preach the good news.”

  The woman gasped. “Young woman, I will pray for your soul.”

  “And I yours.” Patsy glared.

  Behind her the front door opened.

  “May God go with you all,” Susanna said. She yanked on Patsy’s elbow and pulled her closer to the house.

  “I am not certain you are much different,” the woman said. “You encourage Noah when you know how the bishop feels about this. ’Tis no secret that you journeyed with them on the Methodist preaching tour.”

  “I did not intend it should be,” Susanna said.

  Patsy turned, surprised at Susanna’s stance.

  “If Noah had not gone with Mr. Baxton, perhaps this would have died out by now.” An Amish man spoke.

  “Why should it die out?” Patsy said. “If you come to hear him, you must find some merit in the experience.” />
  “Then perhaps we shan’t return.”

  Patsy raised an eyebrow. With Susanna’s hand still on her elbow, she waited until the yard was cleared.

  “Do you think that was wise?” Susanna said.

  Patsy faced her friend. “Do you think it was avoidable?”

  CHAPTER 21

  For Adam, Friday morning was consumed with work inside Jonas’s addition. Jonas had brought Anke to admire and anticipate, and her visit had turned into an inspection as well, as she ran her fingers over freshly installed woodwork.

  Shem was earnest when he said he would leave the rest of the project to Adam, as evidenced by his absence from the Zug farm except to attend church. Niklaus tried to spend more time on the room, deferring to Adam’s instructions in the details, and made sure Jonas was available for any remaining task that demanded the vigor of youth. Adam felt he had been thrown into an icy lake. Nevertheless, every day brought the project closer to completion, well before Jonas’s wedding day.

  After informing his household that he would not be attending church but they should feel free to do so, Niklaus did not speak of his conversation with the bishop. Jonas had. Adam had interrupted a conversation between Jonas and Timothy Hooley. Susanna would surely know by now. The entire congregation would surely know, and Niklaus’s absence from worship on Sunday would be final confirmation of his intent.

  Adam dropped his hammer into the toolbox and moved it to the corner of the room. He had built a room for his cousin’s bride. Someday he would build a house for his own bride.

  Susanna.

  He avoided going to the Kauffmans’ during the hours when he knew that Noah might be having one of his spells, especially after his last visit, when Mr. Grauman pestered Noah with pebbles. But Susanna spent as much time there as she could. Regardless of his personal opinions, if Adam wanted to see her, he would have to go to the Kauffman farm. It was much closer than the Hooley farm, but he missed the way Susanna used to wander through the Zug land on her collections and how easily he slipped into joining her.

  Adam stepped into daylight, lifting his eyes to judge the time. It was late enough that Noah would have finished but early enough that Susanna might still be there helping Phoebe while Noah rested. Adam glanced at his horse and decided to walk. If he took the back paths that cut through the pastures, the distance was barely a mile and a half, and a brisk walk would settle his nerves.

  When Adam emerged from the Kauffmans’ fields—which looked as if they could do with some tending—he spied Susanna’s cart. He was barely in time. In another few minutes, she would be finished hitching it to the old mare and on her way home.

  “Susanna!” Adam called to her.

  Susanna’s head lifted, the bonnet rising first and then tilting back far enough for him to see her dark eyes. He knew the expression well—her impulse to be glad to see him. But it shifted, like a once vibrant color washed out and now only harboring memories.

  “Hello, Adam,” she finally said.

  “Is your cousin well?” Now that he was close, he slowed his steps.

  “Resting.” Her eyes dropped to the shafts of the cart she gripped with both hands.

  “Let me help you.” Adam placed his hands next to hers on the shafts and breathed in her fragrance, a mixture of bark and berries and flowers that no English perfume maker could ever hope to duplicate.

  Susanna released her grasp and allowed Adam to run the shafts to the waiting leather loops.

  “Before you go,” he said, “I want to invite you on an outing.”

  Her shoulders rose and fell with a breath. Had they become thinner?

  “Jonas and Anke and some of the others will take a walk and a picnic supper tomorrow afternoon. I would love to have you with us.”

  She sucked her lips in slightly.

  “Will Patsy be here?” Adam asked.

  Susanna nodded.

  “Then perhaps you can leave a little early and join us.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “We can hunt for what you need in your dyes.”

  “I do need a few things.” Hesitation faded.

  “Shall I come for you here?” Adam said. It almost felt like their old ways. The words were right for the most part, at least, and did not seem to be leading to a quarrel.

  “I will walk over here tomorrow,” she said, “so we will not have to worry about my horse and cart.”

  Adam nodded. She would want him to take her home. And he would want to.

  “And if my mamm does not object,” she said.

  Adam smiled. Veronica Hooley objected to many things, but he was certain he was not one of them.

  Susanna and Adam straggled behind the others. Although on the surface it was simply a group outing of friends from the same church, everyone was well paired. These young men took these young women home from church and singings and picnics so predictably that parents looked out windows with slight smiles at their arrival—most of them. Trina’s father was not fond of LeRoy, but Susanna doubted he would forbid their union when the time came. Once they got over their initial suspicion of Adam’s reasons for moving away from his home district, the Hooleys never once suggested that he was unsuitable for their daughter. Susanna never spoke of it with her mother, but more than once she had seen Veronica’s eyes in the candlelight of the upstairs window when Adam drove her home in his buggy, holding a mother’s natural observance but no disapproval. He had even had supper with the Hooleys three times.

  “Over there.” Adam pointed.

  Immediately Susanna saw what had caught his eye. “Wintergreen berries,” he said. “Am I right?”

  She smiled. His eagerness warmed her.

  “You are exactly right,” she said.

  “Can you use them?”

  Susanna nodded. The basket dangling from her fingers contained drawstring bags made of muslin for just this purpose.

  They crossed the road to the prolific patch of lower shrubs growing with newly-ripened red berries against leaves of green. Adam squatted to pick berries and Susanna held open a bag.

  “The leaves make good tea,” she said. “Do not hesitate to take some.”

  He broke off some leaves and stacked them in one hand while continuing to drop berries into the tiny open sack.

  “How many do you need?” he asked.

  “A few will go a long way in altering a hue.” She had little demand for fabric dyed the bright red of a wintergreen berry. Few of the Amish women would wear a color that drew such attention to themselves. Though they might use it in a quilt, they would first use scraps from their clothing. Susanna thought of the stacks of folded yardage in the English mercantile. What if she were to dye short lengths in brighter colors? The women of her church might purchase them for small piecework.

  Susanna sighed as Adam placed the leaves in her basket and gently laid the berries against the cushioning he had created. She handed him another bag.

  “More?” He raised his eyebrows.

  She nodded. If no one else wanted the color, she would use it herself in her next quilt. And she would always remember this day that Adam found the berries. Not many men would walk the edge of the forest or go up the mountain with an eye for color. But Adam would. In the beginning, it was a guise for being able to walk and talk privately. In those days, Susanna had done all the spotting of bark and berries and roots. But Adam had learned well.

  His devotedness was very sweet.

  They could have decades together spotting color in God’s creation and imagining how they might bring its beauty into their home. Certainly they both felt the possibility of this happiness.

  But when Noah had begun preaching, everything changed.

  Susanna’s basket overflowed by the time the group reached their intended picnic spot. Adam, who had taken it from her as it filled with berries and dandelion roots and acorns and leaves, set it safely in the shade of a tree before joining the men in spreading a couple of blankets and salivating at the food the women had packed. Cold sl
iced ham. Potato salad. Black bread. Juicy tomatoes. Peach and apple pies.

  It was right that Adam and Susanna felt at ease among these friends. If any of them were not married by this time next year, Adam would be stunned. Certainly he wanted to be. He wanted more days like this, more days of just the two of them wandering the forest or one day guiding their toddling boppli to know the difference between safe and poisonous berries.

  “Jonas,” Seth said, “I heard about your daed.”

  Everyone knew. Adam controlled his exhale, wishing that the perfection of the day were not sullied by such a discussion.

  Jonas shrugged. “He is acting on his conscience. Is that not the way of our people?”

  “Have you been to hear Noah?” LeRoy asked.

  “I have not,” Jonas said. “If you want to know about that, Susanna is the one to ask.”

  “So I understand,” LeRoy said.

  Adam scanned the group. Of the dozen gathered, at least three others had been to hear Noah. Why must they single out Susanna?

  “I think I will go,” Anke said. “I understand it happens every afternoon. Surely I can find the time one day.”

  “What of how the bishop feels?” Jonas said. Adam saw the surprise in his cousin’s face that his betrothed would make this suggestion.

  “If your daed is willing to make the decision he has, can there not be some merit?” Seth commented.

  “I want to go,” Anke said. “I just want to see for myself. We should all go. It would be a fun outing.”

  Beside Adam, Susanna bristled. Adam sat a little straighter, abandoning the bite of pie on its way to his mouth.

  “Noah is not a spectacle for entertainment,” Susanna said. “If you do not come seeking spiritual edification, it is best to seek other amusement.”

  “Of course I did not mean that,” Anke said quickly.

  Adam rearranged his legs, foundering to change the topic of conversation. What could they talk about that did not have to do with the church?

  “We should come out here more often,” Adam said, “especially before the harvest takes all our time and then the weather turns cold.”