Gladden the Heart

by Olivia Newport

  “I must insist,” she said.

  He shook his head. “You weren’t here. You didn’t see what happened.”

  “Tell me.” Patsy hastened out of her saddle and approached the house.

  “It’s proof. No doubt about it.”

  “Proof of what?”

  “Proof that he is unconscious.”

  “I was not aware you had any doubt.” Patsy glanced up at Noah. Behind him, Susanna was unconcerned with the flower bed assembly. Or perhaps she had simply given up protesting.

  A woman wearing an atrocious green hat shook her head. “It is no proof at all, not in the eyes of that bishop.”

  “Bishop?” Fresh irritation filled Patsy’s chest.

  “If it’s trickery, it’s of the highest level,” the woman said.

  “It’s not trickery,” Patsy said. “What about the bishop?”

  “He went inside,” the man said. Then he proceeded to tell her about the doctor, the tussle with Susanna, the needle.

  Patsy fumed. “Is he still in the house?”

  “I don’t think so. My friend and I saw him in the back with Mr. Zug.”

  Patsy hadn’t tied up Galahad, but she would trust him not to gallop off. She raced to the back to find only Niklaus.

  “What have you done with the bishop?” she demanded.

  “He is gone now. That is all that matters,” Niklaus said.

  “That is not all that matters. I heard what happened.”

  “I sent him away by the forest path, and I do not believe he will return.”

  Patsy scoffed. “You must have seen for yourself what his attitude is like.”

  “I did indeed.”

  “I am not afraid to speak to him. I have nothing to lose. He is not my bishop.” The bishop could have gone far if the people out front did not yet know he had left Kauffman land. He was taking the sloped path at the base of the mountain, which would slow him. Galahad had more speed than any horse in the Kish Valley. She would catch the bishop within minutes.

  “If you want to help Noah,” Niklaus said, “you will not cause further disruption.”

  “I only want to settle the disruption Mr. Hertzberger seems intent to inflame.”

  “Have you so quickly forgotten our conversation a few hours ago?” Niklaus said. “Remember, we know God’s mercy by repentance. Is that not what your own father preaches?”

  Patsy balled her fists.

  CHAPTER 29

  Adam stood sentry beside Susanna. His ears heard the sounds coming from Noah’s mouth, the punctuated consonants and elongated vowels. Surely the vibrations formed words and sentences and paragraphs, but Adam’s mind could make no sense of them. He was stuck on Susanna’s proclamation that she might not go back to church.

  Would she change her mind if he suggested they become betrothed? Would she reconsider all that she was sacrificing, all she put at risk? Would he even want her to do that if it meant quenching the spirit he loved in her?

  “Patsy is finally here,” Susanna said. “I saw her getting people out of the flower bed. She just went around to the back. If anyone is there, she will make sure they disperse.”

  Adam nodded. He could still see Galahad where Patsy had left him.

  “You can go if you want to,” Susanna said. “The bishop is gone. The people who remain are back on the benches. Patsy will not let anyone else interfere with Noah.”

  Adam had no good answer. He hesitated to leave, but Susanna seemed not to want him to remain. Patsy’s footfalls were fast and hard across the kitchen floor, and she came into the main room. Adam nodded at her, passing her on his way out.

  Niklaus was still in the backyard, feet braced and arms crossed over his chest, looking in the direction of the forest path at the edge of the farm.

  Adam stood beside him, silent for a few minutes.

  “This is no trickery,” Adam said.

  Niklaus nodded. “I never suspected it was.”

  “It is befuddling,” Adam said, “yet you moved so quickly to approval.” Niklaus had even chased off the bishop.

  Niklaus turned his head. “Approval? Is that what you think?”

  “Is it not?”

  “Noah means no harm,” Niklaus said.

  “The bishop believes he is harming the congregation.”

  “Any harm that comes is not Noah’s doing. If folks would leave him be, the bishop would have no concern. If they did not trample Noah’s farm every day, there would be nothing to upset Shem.”

  “But you have withdrawn from being a minister because of Noah,” Adam said.

  “No.” Niklaus’s rebuttal came swiftly. “Do not attach my choice to Noah when he remains separated from his own words. He is responsible for none of this.”

  “Then what?” Adam said. “What made you withdraw?”

  “In all things I wish only to honor God.”

  Adam never doubted his uncle’s motive, but this statement was no answer to his question. Surely Shem would say the same thing. No one in the congregation would suggest that in some matters they were free of duty to honor God.

  “There are other sleeping preachers,” Niklaus said, “many among the English but occasionally among our people as well. At our last gathering, fellow ministers mentioned this. Noah is not the only one. Do I understand what causes these curious events? No. Do I need to understand? No.”

  “But you are a minister—or were. Still are? What do you believe the Bible says about this?”

  Niklaus rubbed the end of his beard between two fingers. “The Bible tells us to watch and pray. As far as I can recall, it says nothing about sleeping and praying.”

  “Onkel, you are confusing me.”

  Niklaus laughed softly. “I am sorry. You want me definitely to tell you the line is straight. But what if it bends and wiggles at times? Is not God present there as well?”

  Adam resolved to stay away from the Kauffman farm the next day. Hearing Noah, being near Susanna, seeing Phoebe’s weary distress—he could not think straight when he was there. At least he knew where the bishop stood, even if his actions had been shocking when he brought the doctor to see Noah. His uncle had offered little counsel. Adam needed time with his own thoughts to untangle the cryptic advice contained in his uncle’s words.

  Adam’s morning was committed to a group of friends who recruited him to help build an equipment shed on the small farm Nathaniel Swigert had just acquired. They argued that he was the expert among them, having been taught by Bishop Hertzberger, the master carpenter himself, and having constructed the addition for Jonas and Anke. His afternoon was promised to Jonas for chores that would ready them for the harvest, which would begin any day. A few farmers had begun their harvests, depending on what they had planted. When the harvest season was under way in earnest, most people would be fully occupied with the task, and Noah would be preaching to an empty yard. Then the colder weather would begin, and few would want to bundle up to sit outside in a biting wind for long sermons. Perhaps it was simply a matter of time and all would settle down.

  Except Niklaus would still not be in church.

  Except Susanna might not be there either.

  Except Phoebe and Noah would not feel welcome by their own bishop.

  The others lined up logs, and Adam swung his ax over and over, notching with perfection as if he had been doing it all his life.

  “I suppose they will be expecting you at the Kauffman place,” Seth said, lifting one end of a log and dragging it out of Adam’s way.

  Adam simply swung his ax again, first from one angle and then from the opposite, to send a chunk of wood flying and leave a clean notch.

  “We know you go,” Johannes said. “You told us that day at the picnic we should submit to the church, yet you go to hear Noah Kauffman.”

  He did not go to hear Noah but to help Noah. Even that was an excuse to see Susanna. Adam swung his ax again.

  “You must have an opinion,” Nathaniel said.

  Adam let the weight of his a
x fall to the ground and leaned on the handle. “The Bible says to watch and pray, not sleep and pray.”

  “Yet you go,” Johannes said. “You think it is wrong, and I agree, yet you go. Is that not also wrong?”

  The only reason any of these young men knew Adam sometimes went to the Kauffman farm was because their own family members or neighbors also went. Why did anyone go?

  “Noah Kauffman is my nearest neighbor,” Adam said. “Jesus told us to love our neighbors as ourselves.”

  “Do you believe what he does is right?” Seth said.

  Adam did not believe it was wrong. Was that the same as saying it was right? This must be what his uncle was trying to say.

  “Faith without works is dead,” Johannes said. “If you say one thing but do another, are you any better than the hypocrites James warns us of?”

  “If you do not believe it is a true calling that serves the church, then do not go,” LeRoy said.

  Adam swung his ax.

  Noah preached only two hours that afternoon, for which Susanna was grateful. She welcomed a bit more time between making sure he was settled on the davenport to sleep for a few hours and helping to get supper under way. Supper was late on the Kauffman farm. Phoebe saw no reason to rush the meal if Noah would not yet be awake to partake, and Susanna found no reason to argue with the sensibility of the plan. They ate late and retired immediately. Phoebe arranged her household chores to be occupied in the house while Noah slept, freeing Susanna to leave the farm if she wished to work by lantern light in the barn and sort out the jars and bags her mother had jumbled. Each time she placed a tin on one of the shelves Noah had cleared off for her, she felt traitorous, as if she expected never to go home to her family again. Now perhaps she would have no home to return to, only a wagon loaded for the journey to Indiana.

  Susanna’s errand today was specific and close—and had nothing to do with her parents’ impending decision. It seemed so long ago that she used to take her sagging mare and rickety cart and arrange to happen by the Zug farm in the afternoons at the same time that Adam would happen to be visible outdoors on his uncle’s farm. She smiled when she recalled how Niklaus would wink at them as they eyed the forest path with her collecting basket dangling from her fingers. Whether they found anything to fill it was never important. Only a few weeks ago Susanna was certain Adam would propose and that she would accept with joy. Now she was certain of nothing.

  But she did need Adam’s help. She could have hitched her cart to Phoebe’s most mild-mannered horse. She missed her old mare. The animal belonged to her parents, of course. Even the cart was not hers to take. Susanna was in possession of it simply because Patsy had not paused to ponder the technicalities of ownership the day she rescued Susanna’s supplies. But her destination was not far—only to the Zugs’—and the day was not overly hot, so Susanna walked.

  She saw Adam before he saw her and slowed her steps to watch his movements, a habit well rehearsed in the old days of happening by. The way he ran a finger under the brim of his hat to scratch where the straw made him itch. The way he never passed an animal without stopping to stroke a nose or offer an apple or carrot. The way he listened intently when his uncle spoke to him. The way he grinned at his aunt while feeding the chickens for her or elbowed his cousin to get to the well-pump first. She loved it all. It was not a difficult thing to imagine what life on a farm with Adam Yotter would be like.

  He caught sight of her now as he lifted his head up from setting a fence rail properly in its slot. He lifted a hand in a wave.

  She waved back and continued walking toward him.

  “I pray you are well,” she said as she approached.

  He nodded. “And you?”

  She nodded. She should have brought her collection basket, not because she expected a walk in the woods but because it would occupy her nervous hands.

  “I come asking a favor,” she said. “For Phoebe.”

  He stiffened—or perhaps she imagined he did.

  “’Tis the roof in the barn.” Susanna plunged in. “One can see daylight in several places, and they seem to be enlarging. For obvious reasons, Phoebe is not eager that Noah should go up on a ladder to do the repairs.”

  “So you would like me to go up on the roof?”

  Susanna nodded. “Noah keeps saying he is going to do it. It would ease Phoebe’s mind if someone else would do it so he would stop talking about it.”

  “Would he not be safe if he went up in the morning, before he … falls under?”

  “Likely, yes. But what if the pattern shifts once again? It would be one thing if he fell under while mucking a stall or plowing a row and quite another if it happened while he was on a pitched roof.”

  Adam nodded. “I see your point.”

  “So you will help?”

  He hesitated.

  “Adam?” Susanna said. Whatever was amiss between the two of them ought not to affect Noah and Phoebe. “It has nothing to do with the preaching. It has nothing even to do with the house where the preaching occurs. If you came in the morning, no one else would be there.”

  Still he hesitated, taking far too long to scratch the back of his neck.

  “Adam.”

  “You were honest with me when you said you might not go back to church,” he said. “Now I will be honest with you. I am trying to discern if I ought to keep going to the Kauffmans’. People draw conclusions from what they observe.”

  “Conclusions? So what? You know the truth.” Idle speculation should not keep him from neighborly helpfulness.

  He drew a long, slow breath and swallowed hard. Whatever he was working up to saying would be hard for him, and it would stab Susanna. This much she knew.

  “I must take leave of visiting the Kauffmans,” he said. “There is too much at risk for the church.”

  She wanted to screech at him, This cannot be your true mind! But he was quite set on what he was saying. When she had prayed that they would once again speak truth to each other, this was not the truth she had hoped for.

  “I see,” she said. “Then perhaps I will have a word with your onkel about the roof.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Susanna crept into Phoebe’s kitchen by moonlight. A slice of Phoebe’s egg bread might settle her stomach and allow her to sleep at last. If this effort did not succeed, she might as well dress, take a lantern, and go out to the barn to work while she awaited daylight. The grandfather clock Noah built as a wedding gift for Phoebe struck three just as Susanna swallowed the last bite of bread. She sat for a few more minutes in the kitchen, dreading the reality that she would not sleep if she returned to bed now even though in three short hours the household would liven. It might even be earlier, depending on what time Cranky Amos crowed.

  Was Adam sleeping? She had never seen his bedroom, of course, so any image in her mind of its furnishings or the quilt Deborah had pieced for him or how he looked when he slept under it were fancies of her own imagination, and she ought not to indulge them. Still Susanna wondered whether making up his mind to stay away from the Kauffmans’, at least for a while, had let him embrace restful slumber or caused a disquiet similar to what prevented her from sleeping.

  There was too much at risk, he said, and perhaps he was right. No doubt she had stirred the bishop’s ire, though he was more likely to name it righteous indignation. Any who had not already heard of the incident soon would, and were she to attend church, all eyes would be on her. And if she did not attend, a dozen conclusions would circulate.

  Her family would be drawn in. Elias would be stoic, Veronica agitated, Timothy nosy as usual, and the younger boys confused. Susanna could spare them all if she returned home and privately apologized to the bishop. And if Susanna ceased shouldering responsibility for Noah, perhaps her mother would cease planning for Indiana.

  Early, even before Cranky Amos announced daybreak, Susanna donned a dress borrowed from Phoebe, tidied the sparse room where she slept, and whisked a half dozen eggs into a bowl of cheese
and chopped bacon. She warmed the oven and placed the iron skillet inside to bake. Then she left a note Phoebe would find in a few minutes along with the egg dish and set off to walk to the Hooley farm. If she had her old mare, she might have taken the cart, but she was fortunate to have her dyes, and though Phoebe would have been glad for her to hitch up one of her horses, Susanna needed the miles to pray.

  Her heart pounded as she tried out one salutation after another and discarded them all as inadequate. How should she greet her mother, when Veronica was sure to feel ill-treated by her daughter’s friend on top of Susanna’s own insolence in the circumstances of her departure?

  But someone must take the first step if there was to be reconciliation. It had only been a few days. Susanna still lived as a guest at the Kauffmans’. Surely there was hope.

  In the end, Susanna said simply, “Gut mariye, Mamm.”

  Eyes of pain met hers when she stepped through the back door.

  “Susanna,” Veronica said, scanning Susanna’s garb. “I suppose you have come for the rest of your things.”

  Susanna would welcome her own dresses and aprons but shook her head. “I hope we can talk.”

  “What is there to speak of?” Veronica’s voice cracked. “I will always be your mamm, but you seem bent on no longer being my dochter.”

  “Do not say such a thing, Mamm.”

  “I have not changed my mind about Indiana. In time you will see that it was the right thing.” Veronica sorted the household clothing into piles in the kitchen. Wednesday had been laundry day at the Hooleys’ for as long as Susanna could remember.

  “I will help you with the wash,” Susanna said.

  “No need.”

  Susanna prayed for the right words, but they did not come. Instead, her throat knotted until she gasped for air.

  The resolute knock on the front door startled both mother and daughter.

  “I will go.” Susanna slipped past her mother and padded through the house to the front door, conflicted between relief that the conversation had been interrupted and dread that now she would have to muster the courage to begin again another time.