A Plain Leaving

by Leslie Gould

  Odd that we hadn’t seen him since the service. I sighed. Perhaps Bishop Jacobs had been up to see Arden. And he’d probably been over to see Vi too. Maybe he’d stopped by to see Mamm when I’d been gone.

  The bishop then listed other concerns in the community. A broken leg. A cancer diagnosis. I cringed and thought of Mildred Stoltz, even though she wasn’t in our district. He mentioned a stillborn baby. My stomach dropped. Life was full of heartache. I’d grown up knowing that. But somewhere along the way, I began to think that my heartache was special. My change in thinking went against the teachings of the church. Is that what led to my leaving? Or had my leaving led to my change in thinking?

  The deacon returned and read another scripture and then closed the service. As we filed out, I noticed Silas outside coming into the shed through a side door, probably to help move the benches.

  After Aenti Suz and I had a bowl of soup and bread with peanut butter spread, she asked me if I was ready to go. Of course I was.

  Edith overheard us and asked if she could get a ride home. “Silas will be staying to clean up,” she said, “and I’d rather not wait that long.”

  Of course Aenti Suz agreed to give Edith a ride. The truth was, it hurt for me to be around Edith. For years I believed she’d be my mother-in-law, and honestly, I got along with her better than I did my own mother. It was hard for me to be around her, but not as difficult as it was to be around Silas.

  She sat up front with Aenti Suz while I sat in the back. The day had grown warmer and the constant wind from the week before had finally calmed down to a breeze. Daffodils waved as we drove by. Green shoots peeked through newly planted gardens. A pair of lambs frolicked along a fence line.

  The day Silas’s Dat died, the two of them had been working for a farmer, cutting the first crop of hay. The tongue to the baler broke and the workhorses dragged his Dat. Silas ran to the phone shed and called 9-1-1. Silas stayed at the road to show the EMTs where the gate was, so they could drive the ambulance into the field. But when they all reached his father it was too late. He’d died from internal bleeding.

  Silas blamed himself. He should have gone back to his Dat instead of waiting for the ambulance. Everyone told Silas it wasn’t his fault. It was his Dat’s time to go. There wasn’t anything to be done. My Dat explained, in detail, that there wasn’t a thing he could have done to stop the internal bleeding. Still, it weighed heavily on Silas.

  I wondered if Gail and Silas would move to Ohio where her family had relocated. Maybe Edith would go with them. There wasn’t much to keep them in Pennsylvania. I remembered Arden telling me, several times, that if I wanted to live on a farm I should marry someone besides Silas.

  Edith invited us into her house. “How about a cup of tea?” she asked.

  Without consulting me, Aenti Suz accepted her offer.

  The Kemp home was much smaller than most Amish houses. It had two bedrooms but wasn’t much bigger than Suzanne’s Dawdi Haus.

  Aenti Suz went into the little kitchen with Edith, but I settled on the couch. Of course the room was spick-and-span. The sunlight coming through the picture window made the linoleum shine. There was no clutter and only a few books on a single bookshelf. A Bible. Martyrs Mirror. An Ausbund, our ancient Anabaptist hymnal.

  By Englisch standards, it might seem sterile. But it wasn’t. Just extremely tidy.

  When the women returned with the tea, I was surprised that Edith asked me about my life in Harrisburg. No one besides Leisel had. I told her about my job and apartment. Then she asked about the Englischman who’d been with me at Dat’s service, who had helped save Arden’s life.

  I told her I worked with him.

  “Oh?”

  I cringed a little, knowing she could see right through me. “And we’ve dated some.”

  “I’m happy for you,” she said. “I really am.” She smiled, but it didn’t seem to be exactly sincere. I couldn’t imagine her not being happy about Silas courting Gail, but then I realized I hadn’t actually seen her interact with Gail at all. Not at our house. Not during Dat’s service or burial. And not during the church service or meal either.

  “Denki,” I managed to say.

  During a second cup of tea, a buggy turned into the driveway. I doubted Silas was home already, but no one came to the door.

  Edith remembered the arrangement of dried flowers she’d forgotten to give Aenti Suz. “Jessica,” she said, “would you go out to my shed and get it? It’s the only one on my workbench.”

  I guessed she could just grab it when we left and wondered if she had an ulterior motive, but I went anyway. There was no sign of Silas as I hurried to the shed. A basket held the arrangement—larkspur, statice, avena, dried wheat, and millet grass. I picked it up carefully from the bench, not wanting to damage it in any way.

  As I headed back to the house, I heard whistling. Silas. I kept my head down and charged ahead, not looking up until I saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye coming around the side of the house.

  Silas and I collided, crushing the dried bouquet between us. As he stepped away, I tried to hold on to the arrangement, but it slipped through my hands to the ground. Then I stumbled over it and started to fall. Silas grabbed my arm and steadied me. His warm hand felt soft against my skin.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “I didn’t see you,” I muttered, kneeling down to gather up his mother’s work that we’d just destroyed.

  He bent down, too, and plucked up the wheat that had broken off. He raised his head just as I did mine, and we collided again. His hat went flying, and his long bangs fell across his forehead.

  “Sorry,” he said again, starting to stand. I stayed put. He reached for my hand and helped me up.

  “I’ll pick up the pieces,” I said, wanting to avoid another collision. Once I had all the flowers collected, I held them up, not sure what do. I felt horrible about Edith’s arrangement.

  “Put it back on Mamm’s bench,” Silas said, retrieving his hat and placing it back on his head. “She’ll put it back together.”

  I headed to Edith’s little shed, expecting Silas to go into the house, but instead he followed me.

  “How are things going at home?” he asked.

  “All right. Milton and I are managing. Arden may come home tomorrow, but of course it will be quite a while until he can help.” I met Silas’s gaze. “How are you doing?”

  “Good. I’m looking for another farmhand job.”

  A light bulb went off in my head. “I know of someone looking for help. John Stoltz, way over on Garden Lane. I met him on Friday.”

  Silas cocked his head as if asking why.

  “He leased out his land, for fracking. Then his well got contaminated.”

  Silas’s expression darkened. “Oh.”

  “Anyway, he’s partially disabled, and his wife has cancer. He leased out his fields before, but he figures he can make more if he hires someone to farm for him.”

  “I’ll go by tomorrow,” Silas said. I expected him to leave the shed, but he stayed by the doorway, smiling just a little.

  I fidgeted, itching to get to the door but not wanting to be obvious about it. It was hard being in the same county with him, let alone in the same tiny shed.

  “I should get going,” I said. “I need to tell your Mamm I destroyed her work, and I think Aenti Suz is ready to get home for her Sunday afternoon nap.”

  He nodded. “When are you returning to Harrisburg?”

  “Soon. We’ll need to find someone to help Milton. . . .”

  Silas grimaced. “I feel bad about that. . . .”

  “You could go back to working for Arden once I leave, right? Or I could go back to Harrisburg tomorrow and you can start up again.” I wished I could thank him for sticking up for me, but it would be foolish to bring it up. “I’m the problem, right?”

  He shook his head. “No, you’re not the problem at all. What Arden wants to do with the land is the problem. And . . .” His voice trailed off.
>
  “Any drama caused by me will soon be over.”

  He shook his head. “But the hearts behind the drama won’t have changed,” Silas said. “The way one sister treated another. The way another person treated an outsider.”

  I shrugged. “They were only following the directions of the leader of this community.”

  “Who, by the tone of today’s sermon, is hopefully changing.” Silas lowered his voice. “Remember Elijah? His youngest son?”

  I nodded. He was Marie’s age.

  “He went off to Florida, to Pinecraft, to work last year, before joining the church. It sounds as if he’s been partying some, that sort of thing. Anyway, all of the other kids in the family towed the line. They’re getting their first taste of dealing with a rebel.”

  I shrugged again. However—and for whatever reasons—Bishop Jacobs might be changing hardly had any impact on me, not now.

  “Go back to the farm,” I said to Silas. “Pretend I never came back.”

  He leaned against the doorframe of the shed, crossing his arms as he did.

  I took a deep breath. “I’m not saying this to gossip, but I think it would be good for you to know. Gail defended you”—I smiled—“defending me. She was quite impressed with you. I can tell she cares for you deeply.”

  Under the brim of his hat, his eyes met mine. But he didn’t respond.

  I began to feel uneasy by his gaze, which caused me to continue rambling. “So tell Arden you’ll take the job back. If you’d like, I can get word to him today.”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m going to go talk to this John Stoltz. It would be good for me to work with someone else. It meant a lot to me to work with your Dat, but Arden is an entirely different person.” His gaze intensified. “You should probably know where he keeps his important papers.”

  “What?”

  “Just in case. On the bottom shelf of the cupboard behind—”

  The back screen door banged shut and then Aenti Suz called out, “Jessica!”

  Silas stepped out of the shed. “We’re over here,” he said.

  I followed him out, not sure why he’d want me to know where Arden kept his important papers. Unless Silas had seen the fracking plans on the desk too. . . . If he was trying to help me with that, it was a kind gesture. But it didn’t matter. No one believed I had a right to an opinion concerning the farm, especially not Arden.

  Edith followed Aenti Suz out of the house, and I quickly explained that I’d dropped the arrangement and apologized for it. But then Silas said it was his fault, that he’d clumsily bumped into me.

  Edith smiled and assured us she’d put it back together. “Don’t give it another thought,” she said.

  After Aenti Suz and I told Edith and Silas good-bye, we climbed into the buggy and headed up the drive. The day had grown even warmer—so different than the day we’d buried Dat. The daffodils along the fence line swayed in the breeze like a hundred little suns.

  “Silas seems a little lost again,” Aenti Suz said as she pulled onto the highway.

  I didn’t respond.

  “Edith was worried about him when you left. He mourned as if someone had died.”

  A lump began to form in my throat. I’d felt the same way. But he’d gotten over it. We both had.

  Aenti Suz didn’t say any more for quite a while. I stared out the window, watching the fields go by. Even in the few days I’d been in Lancaster the grass had grown greener.

  “I’m sorry,” Aenti Suz finally said.

  “For what?”

  “I know how much you and Silas cared about each other.”

  I nodded but didn’t turn my head toward her. I’d tried to convince myself we hadn’t really loved each other, that we were too young, that we didn’t know what we wanted back then. But none of it was true. We had loved each other.

  “I don’t know if you’ve ever heard about this or not, but I was in love way back when.”

  I shook my head. No one had ever mentioned it.

  “With a Mennonite man.”

  “Really?” I turned toward her. “What happened?”

  “He was killed.”

  I gasped. “How?” I imagined a buggy or farming accident.

  “He was with your Dat in Vietnam. They went to work as orderlies in a hospital.”

  Wanting more information about this part of my Dat’s life, but sad about Aenti Suz’s loss, I leaned forward and asked, “What happened while they were there?”

  “The hospital was attacked by the Viet Cong. Jake was injured badly. Your Dat tried to save him but couldn’t.”

  I sat back, too dumbfounded to know what to say.

  “Your Dat came home soon after that. It wasn’t as if I’d vowed not to wed anyone else, but I never found anyone else I wanted to marry. I never found anyone else I wanted to live with, day in and day out.”

  “You were going to leave the church?”

  She nodded. “He was conservative Mennonite. So there’s that.”

  I didn’t intend for the pitch of my voice to increase with each word, but it did. “But you were going to leave?”

  “Jah,” she answered.

  “Like I’ve left?” I was a note away from being shrill.

  She shook her head. “I was going to leave to marry one specific man. You left for other reasons, right?”

  I nodded.

  “My great-aunt told me the story of Ruby Bachmann as a cautionary tale, hoping to persuade me not to marry Jake.” Aenti Suz looked me straight in the eye. “But that’s not why I’m telling you.”

  “What are you saying?” I’d expected a predictable story, especially if it had been wielded as a cautionary tale.

  Aenti Suz gave me a pathetic look. “I’m not going to give the ending away.”

  “Then tell me the rest of the story,” I said.

  “I will,” she answered. “Well, some, anyway. When we get back to my place.”

  “I thought you wanted to take a nap.”

  She smiled. “I’ll have plenty of time to do that after I tell you a bit more.”

  I nodded in agreement, and then focused my eyes back onto the landscape. When we reached the farm, I squinted over to the neighbors’ property in the distance, sad that the oak tree Ruby had chased the calf around had been cut down. “So did Duncan take Zachary’s place? Did he do that for Ruby?”

  “I said once we get back to my place,” Aenti Suz said, “and make a pot of tea.”

  We rode along in silence the short distance to the farm. I guessed Aenti Suz was thinking about Jake. And I was thinking about Silas. I leaned back against the seat, forcing myself to think of Ruby instead.

  16

  Ruby

  Ruby stepped around the table and faced Captain McLeod. By the light of the fire his square jaw appeared set.

  “You know Duncan can’t go,” she said. “And we don’t have the money to pay the tax.”

  “Then I’ll seize your land. I’d be satisfied to have this parcel for myself. I’ve come to appreciate the Lancaster countryside.”

  Even in the dim light, Ruby could tell Duncan’s face was growing red. “Don’t be ridiculous, Bert,” he said. “You’ll not seize the land of these people. That’s unconscionable.”

  Captain McLeod shrugged. “No, it’s quite reasonable. This is war, and they’re not doing their duty.”

  Duncan groaned, as if in disgust. “Like I’ve already said, I’ll go.”

  “You can’t,” Ruby answered. Panic nearly overcame her. Duncan had survived his time in the Continental Army once—what if he didn’t a second time? It would be her fault.

  Captain McLeod ignored Ruby and focused on Duncan. “Very well. We’ll leave for Valley Forge tomorrow.”

  “Wait until spring,” Ruby said.

  “No, I’m going now. Who knows when I’ll be back this way. I can take your land—or either Zachary or Duncan with me in the morning.”

  “There aren’t enough supplies there.” Ruby could feel her voice
grow louder with each word. “Soldiers are starving. Why add yourself and Duncan to the chaos?” She couldn’t bear the thought of Duncan being sent there, not after they’d just rescued Zachary from it.

  “I’ll go too,” Isabelle said to Captain McLeod. She turned to Duncan. “We can go home first and ask for Father’s help.”

  Ruby didn’t want Isabelle to ask their father for help. Not for her and Zachary. She wanted to be able to take care of things herself—or for her family to at least see to their own problem. But she didn’t have the resources to save Zachary on her own. Panic gripped her again, this time tighter. “Casting all your care upon him.” How many times had Mamm recited that through the years? Ruby had barely listened because she’d never had much to feel anxious about—until now. Thank goodness the scripture had stayed with her, regardless.

  She said a silent prayer and then asked out loud, “May I speak with you, Duncan? In private?”

  She led the way to the back door and registered he was following as his cane clicked against the floor. She stepped outside onto the back stoop. The snow had stopped and the moon now rose in the sky, casting a measure of brightness across the wintery world.

  Duncan stopped beside her, leaning against his cane.

  “I appreciate you wanting to help us, but I can’t let you do this,” she said. “I’d rather lose our farm than have you go to Valley Forge.”

  “Rubbish,” he said. “Nothing is going to happen to me. And hopefully Bert is only bluffing anyway.”

  Ruby swallowed hard.

  His eyes grew tender. “We work well together, remember? We’ll figure this out.”

  We’ll. Her heart lurched. But it could never be. And, regardless, he hadn’t meant it that way.

  “Please don’t go” was all she could manage to say.

  “I’ll come back as soon as I can, I promise. Then we’ll figure out a way to get you on your way to Canada. I’ll even drive you there myself, if needed.”

  She appreciated his kindness, but at the same time her heart sank at the thought of telling him a final good-bye. And of him being willing to deliver her to Paul. “No, I’ll send for Hans,” she said. “Or if he’s too ill, I’ll ask Paul to come down and help us sort it all out.” That was how it should be. After all, Paul was the man who would soon be her husband.