“Simon, what are you doing up?” she asked. He had suffered bouts of sleepwalking and night terrors, but it had been a while since he’d roamed the house in one of those spells.
“It’s too hot upstairs, and I wasn’t tired anymore.” He looked down at the scooter. “Where are you going?”
She had already hung her makeshift satchel on the handlebars, though that didn’t seem to concern him.
“I need to go into town,” she said.
He scratched his head. “Okay.”
She stepped onto the scooter, then paused to reach out and hug him.
He hugged her back. “What’s that for?”
“Nothing at all. Bye, Simon.”
“See you.”
Holding her breath, she stepped on the scooter and rolled down the lane. Heading toward freedom … scary freedom, she thought, her eyes on the rosy glow of light rising beyond the horizon.
As she scootered down the road, she made some plans. After the cemetery, she would ride her scooter to Halfway and find a way to call Frank. One of the Englisher shopkeepers like Nancy Briggs would let her use their phone for a short call. He would be happy to hear her news about the tour. It would be a chance for everyone in the band to be heard on the East Coast—a fitting way to end the summer after all the good music they had made together.
She thought of herself on tour. She didn’t favor the same music as Frank, but maybe … if she could talk the others into adding more hymns, this tour might be the right place for her to be.
Could that be?
Could the path of so many tears and much sorrow be the way the Heavenly Father wanted her to choose? She didn’t know the answer to that. These days she had more questions than answers.
And she would ask Frank for his help getting another cell phone. She had enough money, and she was counting on her daily talks with Mike to get her through this tour.
Her heart ached at the thought of not seeing him for weeks, but she knew he would understand. Mike got her, more than anyone else. He understood about the thing burning inside her, the need to share her light with the world.
The corner of the cemetery caught the early morning sunlight, the grass warm but still damp with dew. This time Sadie had garden tools, but there was no need. The grass had taken root and small green sprigs soaked up the warming sun.
Ruthie would be happy to hear that the neighborhood critters had moved on to make a home elsewhere.
Sadie stood before the graves, suddenly feeling foolish.
Why had she come?
Because she wanted to say good-bye?
No. Mamm and Dat were in heaven above; she knew that. These graves held just the dust of their earthly bodies.
Still, something had tugged her here, like a calf pulled by a rope.
She sat on the grass, cradling the slender red book of poetry Katherine had loaned her. It was comforting to touch the smooth leather of its cover.
“I’m going away for a while,” she said aloud. Emotion was a knot in her throat. “Maybe forever.”
She didn’t blame Adam, but it angered her, the way those men of God placed such a burden on her. They would not be satisfied until she chose baptism.
She opened the poetry book and smoothed back the pages. “This is a poem about a girl who misses something wonderful because she is an hour too late,” she said. At least, that was what she thought Emily Dickinson had been writing about. “It’s called ‘Almost.’ ” It made her think about the things that God put within everyone’s reach, though people missed them. She didn’t want to miss something important just because she was too meek or afraid to break a rule.
There was a poem by Robert Frost in the book, which she knew her dat would have liked. “A Minor Bird,” it was called. She found it in the book and read it aloud. In the poem, the writer kept shooing a bird away, annoyed by its song. At the end, the man knew he was the one to blame for trying to stop a song.
“ ‘And of course there must be something wrong,’ ” she read, “ ‘in wanting to silence any song.’ ”
Her voice would not be silenced. Something about that seemed right; but her choice had been a painful one.
Don’t cry for the things you’ve lost, she told herself. Think of the good. Good things will come from sharing God’s light.
Oh, how she hoped that was true.
TWENTY-NINE
As Remy rode on a scooter borrowed from Adam’s cousin Rachel, she was grateful for the cool summer morning, a festival of green on the roadside. She passed fields where half-grown hay and corn reached up to heaven, and the birdsong was so active, it reminded her of a tropical jungle.
She was glad for her plans to take Leah, Susie, and Ruthie to the market today. Selling quilts and cheese at the market always entailed a social day of conversation with tourists and locals. It would also give her a chance to see Adam this morning and find out how things had settled between Sadie and him.
Mary stood at the kitchen stove, frying bacon. “Good morning! You’re here bright and early.”
“I always enjoy a day at the market,” Remy said, helping herself to the pot of coffee on the stove. “Where are the girls?”
“Still up in bed. Sleepyheads.” Mary pulled two strips of bacon from the pan to the platter. “I think everyone had trouble getting to sleep last night.”
“Too hot?” Remy asked.
“That, and worries for Sadie. That’s how it is in a family. When one person is hurting, everyone feels it.”
Sipping her coffee, Remy considered what a lovely gift that was—a family so close that the members empathized with one another. That hadn’t been the case in her family with her father, Herb, and her stepmother. And to think she’d been blessed to be invited into this family. The thought gave her goose bumps.
The sound of footsteps popping quickly down the stairs turned her attention to the wide doorway, where Ruthie appeared looking disheveled. She was still wearing her nightgown and her hair was in a braid that hung down the center of her back.
“Good morning, morning glory,” Remy teased. “You’d better go back upstairs and get dressed. We’re going to have to head off to the market right after breakfast.”
“Something terrible has happened!” Ruthie held a small piece of paper up. “I found this note on Sadie’s bed.”
Her heart sinking, Remy scanned the note.
“And where is Sadie?” Mary asked, slicing a loaf of cinnamon bread.
“She’s gone,” Remy said. “She wrote that she had to leave.”
“What on earth …?” Mary stopped slicing.
“She’s run away!” Ruthie’s voice cracked with emotion. “Her bed is made, and her fancy clothes are gone. I checked.”
“She must have left during the night.” Mary frowned, leaning close to Remy to read the note herself. “Probably took her scooter.”
“Sadie’s gone!” Ruthie pressed her hands to her face as her eyes grew shiny with tears. “We have to go after her. Tell her to come back.”
“No, liewe.” Mary put her knife down on the cutting board and folded Ruthie into her arms. “No, darling girl. Sadie’s eighteen now. An adult. I want her back as much as you, but we can’t force her to stay here.”
Remy looked back at the note.
Don’t worry about me, because I’m going to a job with pay and a place to stay and food, too. The band is going on tour, and I’ll be their singer. I feel ashamed for being fired from my job at the hotel, and I hope this makes up for me not being responsible there.
“She’s got a job with the band,” Remy said.
“I know she loves to sing,” Ruthie lamented, “but I don’t think she wanted to go. She was sick with sadness last night.”
“Our Sadie always was the bold one,” Mary said. “But this is a worry. There’ll be real trouble when the bishop hears of it.”
Remy looked up. “What kind of trouble?”
Mary shook her head, her face pinched with worry. “Sadie was already warned. If
she wants to come back to us and become a baptized member, she’ll have to go before the church leaders. They may demand a public confession of her wrongdoings.”
Ruthie closed her eyes and sighed. “That would be too much shame for our Sadie to bear.”
“No use worrying over it now.” Mary put a hand on her younger sister’s shoulder. “With the way Sadie’s been acting, there’s a strong chance she won’t be choosing to live Plain.”
Tears glistened in Ruthie’s eyes, and she swiped them away with one fist.
The heartbreak of losing Sadie was too much to bear, Remy thought as she looked back at the letter, missing Sadie already.
“She says she’ll be back in August.” Remy turned to Ruthie. “Something about a promise to you?”
Ruthie nodded. “August eighth; it’s Susie and Leah’s birthday, and Sadie promised me she would be here to lead the birthday clapping song.”
“It’s a family tradition,” Mary said.
“I was here for Sadie’s birthday, though I think she had to wake up and help us out with the singing.” Remy remembered everyone filing into the girls’ room to wake Sadie on the morning of her birthday. She had been touched to see the family gathered round, sleepy but giddy.
“At least we know she’s coming back.” Ruthie stepped out of Mary’s arms, her amber eyes glistening with tears. “That’s the silver lining in the cloud.”
“It is.” Remy touched her shoulder. “Whenever we miss her, we’ll remember that she’ll be back soon.”
Ruthie sniffed. “I’m going up to tell Leah and Susie.” She turned and hurried up the stairs.
“And tell them to get ready for the market,” Mary called after her. She turned to Remy. “Breakfast is about done. And Adam needs to see that letter. Would you take it to him?”
Remy nodded. “Do you know where he is?”
“In the Doddy house garden with the little ones. They set out to find some ripe tomatoes for breakfast.”
Remy stepped out into the sunshine. The weather was promising—sunny and not too humid—but her focus was on the letter that tugged at her heart.
I love you all very much, but I can’t stay here. I feel like I’m torn in two, but I have to listen to God, and the voice in my heart tells me to go.
Go with God’s blessing, Remy thought, and she realized that was very un-Amish of her. In this faith, anything that led a person away from the community was considered to be wrong. But Remy understood Sadie’s quest.
In Sadie’s current frame of mind, she was better off away from home, exploring and questioning. Remy had learned a lot from the bishop’s classes. The four principles of Amish life—the four S’s, she called them: surrender, submission, separation, and simplicity in day-to-day life. It was clear that Sadie was not ready to surrender and submit to the Amish way of life.
For herself, Remy still had a few qualms, though they had eased as she grew more and more accustomed to life here in Lancaster County. When she’d first approached the bishop back in March, he had told her she would have to wait until the fall for baptism, and that time had proven helpful. At first it went against her social conscience to agree to be obedient and submissive to someone else, but in everyday life she had come to see how the social order and the Ordnung were necessary to keep Amish society functional.
And her day-to-day life was chock-full of love, work, and satisfaction. Never one to shy away from work, Remy enjoyed her full days of chores at Nate and Betsy’s farm, as well as helping out here. A former city girl in the country, she had a lot to learn. It was a whole new world when the milk on your table didn’t come from a carton in the fridge. But whether she was cooking or cleaning or tending to one of the little ones, she felt alive here. Alive and at home.
Ironic that she and Sadie were traveling on such very different paths. And early this morning, Sadie had set off on a journey in the opposite direction, away from home, from farm to city. Dear God, please keep her safe out there, she prayed. Sadie was spirited, but kind and genuine. Remy hoped she would find what she was looking for.
As she came upon the Doddy house garden, Katie’s chipmunk voice floated about the rows of green. “That one is red! Red, red!” she said, speaking in the unique dialect Remy was learning to understand.
“Who has red tomatoes?” Remy called as she passed through the garden gate.
Katie was pointing to a plant, and her brother Samuel was reaching in to pluck the tomato. Beside them sat a bushel basket half full of shiny red orbs.
“I found the red one!” Katie hurried over and attached herself to Remy, hugging her leg.
“Katie has an eye for a good tomato,” Adam said from the rear of the garden, where he held a watering can.
“Good job, Katie.” She bent down and hugged the little girl to her, and was rewarded by a smile.
“Tomatoes bad. They taste like dirt,” the little girl said, scrunching her face.
Remy smiled. “Then maybe I’ll gobble yours all up.” She made some chewing noises and tickled Katie’s belly.
Katie laughed and touched Remy’s cheek. “Tomato on your face,” she said.
“And you are a funny bunny,” Remy replied, straightening to find Adam again. “But I came to talk to brother Adam. Sam, can you and Katie take this basket back to the house? Mary wants to serve them for breakfast.”
“We can do that.” Sam picked up the basket and headed toward the gate. “Kumm, Katie.”
Watching them go, a five-year-old leading his two-year-old sister, Remy felt a pang of love for them, the children she would be raising with Adam. Her new family.
“Did you have a craving for tomatoes?” Adam asked. He took his straw hat off as he moved close to steal a quick kiss. “Or were you just trying to chase me down?”
“I was most certainly chasing you down.” She looked over at him, soaking up the angles of his jaw, the smoky darkness of his eyes and brow. He’d been a hard person to win over, but somehow she’d found the way to his heart and never looked back. “I have some bad news. Sadie is gone.”
His dark brows strained. “I’ve been thinking that might happen.”
And I’m ever so sorry for lying to you, Adam.…
When Adam read the note, he winced.
“This is what I was afraid of.” He frowned, reading over the letter again as if it contained clues. “I didn’t want to drive her away, but I couldn’t abide the way she was acting. Breaking rules, right and left.”
“I know that.”
He folded the letter, his dark eyes full of rue. “I’ll need to tell the little ones. The truth is the best, but a gentle truth for them.”
She nodded. “But there’s a hopeful side. Sadie says she’s coming back in August,” Remy pointed out. “Apparently she made a promise to be here for Leah and Susie’s birthday.”
Adam shook his head. “I wouldn’t count on it. Sadie’s proven herself to be mighty unreliable these last few months. And if she’s got the will to leave this way, she’s probably lost to the community.”
“That sounds so final.”
“But it’s what happens. I’ve seen young people leave the community before. It’s hard to let go, but there’s no stopping them.”
Remy touched the bud of a straining plant. Tight and small, not yet ready to unfurl. “But she’ll always be your sister,” she said. “You can’t stop caring about her.”
“I’ll never stop caring, but I can’t worry about things that only Gott has power over.” He put an arm around her. “Kumm. Let’s get breakfast.”
As they walked up the lane, Remy thought of how much Sadie had changed in the months since she’d met her. “I’m afraid I nurtured Sadie’s desire to leave,” she said. Sadie had been so wide-eyed at Remy’s apartment, and Remy was the one who had given her the tweezers. Remy had given Sadie a taste of what it was like to be fancy.
Adam pulled her close as they walked side by side. “It’s not your fault. Sadie was on this path before any of us met you.” He released
her as they drew within sight of the farmhouse. “If it’s Gott’s will, she’ll come back to us.”
He was right. Change was all around them, in the seasons, in nature, in people’s hearts. The peach trees, now thick with leaves, had been covered with vivid pink blossoms only a month ago. To everything, there is a season.…
PART THREE
So Far Away
“Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid.
Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick;
and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.
Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works,
and glorify your Father which is in heaven.”
—MATTHEW 5:14–16
THIRTY
In the first week on tour, Sadie quickly learned that freedom had its price.
With her new cell phone using the same old number, she was able to call Mike most any time of day. She loved hearing about funny things that happened at the bakery or about Gran’s progress with walking. Once he even had his friends from the choir sing her a song over the phone. They spent many wonderful hours talking, but sometimes she looked at her little silver phone and thought that she didn’t like it so much. It was the closest she could get to Mike, and that was very annoying.
She missed her family too, and she hated sitting around on the tour bus. Being on tour wasn’t much freedom at all, when you considered that you had to spend most of your time either traveling or sleeping on a bus. It could be cozy, but sometimes, when Mac, the driver, was waving them onto the bus after a show, she felt like one of the cows being prodded into the milking barn.
She missed the rhythm of the days on the farm, from waking up to the old rooster’s crowing, to shooing off pesky Lumpig, to breakfast around the big table in the kitchen, to mucking and sweeping and mopping the milking stalls. All those chores that kept her hands busy also gave her a simple feeling of satisfaction.
She missed the Plain life with forthright people who say what they mean. Tara was sulky. Red was kind but awfully quiet. He could go for an hour without speaking a word, much like her brother Jonah. He shared new songs with her and he knew the history of any song you could imagine, but Sadie didn’t want to talk about music all the time.
A Simple Spring: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel Page 26
