by Murray Pura
“But what good did it all do?”
“The crowds loved it. They cheered so loudly everywhere we went. It gave them joy for a few hours.” Becky lifted her head despite herself and the two young men were treated to a dazzling smile that struck right through both of them. “You should have seen the kids. How excited they were when we took them up for a couple of dollars and they saw the world the way an eagle sees it every day.” She looked at Moses. “My dad told me your grandfather went up with him and shouted praises to God.”
Moses was startled. “My grandfather? I never heard of such a thing.”
“He loved it. Dad reckons he would have been a flier too if the Amish hadn’t decided to ban planes at the same time they said no to cars and electricity.”
Moses took this in.
“So then you also learned to fly?” Joshua still hadn’t returned to his food. “You are a pilot? A woman?”
Becky surprised herself by laughing instead of growling. “Yes. A woman. God’s woman. Up there with the angels and the eagles and the swans—I did see a flight of white swans once.” She drank her lemonade, her eyes gleaming over the rim of the glass. “I flew alone for the first time when I was fifteen. It was while we were in Kenya.”
“And the Caribbean?” asked Moses. “What happened there?”
“More flying. Talking to people about the love of God. Medical supplies. Food. Clean water. Such beauty in the Caribbean. Flying over it all like a cloud. Or like the trade winds. That mission was one of the greatest blessings of my life.”
Joshua ran a hand through his straw-colored hair. “Now I know why you are Ausnahme.”
Moses grinned. “An exception. And exceptional.”
Becky smiled at him. “Thank you, Moses.”
“With all of that you must be ready to settle down now, ja? Is that the good news? Becky Whetstone has returned to Paradise for good?”
“Oh, I don’t know anything about that. I’m pretty sure we’re just here for the summer. After that, I have no idea.”
Moses’ eyes settled into a dark green like Becky had often seen in deep water off the coast of Turks and Caicos. “Surely you’re going to stay? Don’t you consider this your real home?”
“My father and mother might, Moses. It’s really more their home than mine. Africa has that part of my heart. And the Caribbean. But mostly Africa.”
“But we are your people. You come from Amish. You belong with Amish.”
“I’ve never taken the vows, Moses. Never been baptized.”
“But you will, won’t you?”
“I—” Before she could finish, her mother approached the table.
It looked as if Moses and Joshua were going to bolt but she smiled at them. “Joshua Miller. Moses Yoder. Good day. How was the meal?”
“Very gut, Mrs. Whetstone.”
“Everything was perfect, Mrs. Whetstone.”
“I’m so glad to hear it. You will have to excuse Becky and me. We must help the women clean up. And the men will soon be wanting your help with the benches and tables.” She glanced down at Joshua’s plate. “What’s this? Were your eyes bigger than your stomach?”
“Oh. I forgot.” Joshua quickly attacked the food that he had left. “We were all talking so much.”
“I see that. Well, perhaps you can visit again after the singing tonight. Good afternoon.”
Joshua dipped his head. “Guten Tag.”
Becky stood to leave with her mother and Moses got to his feet. “Good afternoon, Rebecca, Mrs. Whetstone.”
A few minutes later as the two women walked toward the house carrying dirty dishes, Lyyndaya asked, “So how are you?”
“Oh, I’m all right. But things got awkward when they asked about our family being missionaries and flying planes. They don’t seem to understand why we would do either of those things.”
“No, of course not. They’ve been taught that missions aren’t necessary and that airplanes are to be shunned. You’ll just have to be patient and find other things to chat about.”
“Mom, how much school do they take?”
“Usually up to grade eight.”
“Grade eight? That’s it?”
“They don’t feel that any more than that is required. You know much more about the world than they do. Keep that in mind and don’t push them too far.”
“How…how can I talk with them? That’s like being with kids who are fourteen.”
“But they aren’t fourteen, are they? They are strapping young men in their early twenties with all sorts of farming know-how and a great deal of common sense and Christian faith. And both are very good-looking. There are plenty of things to talk about that you don’t need a grade-twelve education for.”
Becky pouted, her lower lip fattening. “You made me finish grade twelve. And that was a hard year.”
“So you are Ausnahme. That’s why.”
“Ha. I wonder if they will let us be Ausnahme forever?”
Lyyndaya shook her head. “They won’t. I’m sure they’ll speak with us about the matter before the summer is over. And they will certainly want to talk to you.”
“To try to make me Amish?”
They climbed the steps into the house where women bustled about washing and drying and stacking dishes. “They won’t make you do anything. It will be your decision. But Bishop Zook and the pastors will want to know what you’re thinking. Hush now. We can talk later.”
Long before the singing was to begin at seven o’clock, Becky wandered around the farmyard and eventually sat down alone in the barn. It held within it now not only the scent of the fresh hay she had pitched the day before, but the aroma of the food eaten. As she sat there thinking and praying she was certain she could smell the soap Moses used, which reminded her of long green fields and clover.
“Ah. Rebecca. May I?”
Becky half rose at the sight of Moses. “Oh. I didn’t hear you come in.” She sat back down and he took a seat next to her on the bench. “They won’t let us sit together when the singing starts.”
“I’ll move when I must. How are you?”
“Much the same as I was a few hours ago.”
“Listen. I’ve been turning over everything that was said during the meal. Joshua, myself, you, all our words. I’m certain we troubled you.”
“No, Moses, it’s just—”
“Nein, nein. We don’t understand the world as you understand it. That’s not your problem. It’s Joshua’s and it’s mine. As you say, you haven’t taken your vows. It’s only right you should explore, travel, wonder about other ways. I’m twenty-one now and I didn’t have my baptism until last year. So why should I be pushing you?”
“I didn’t think you were pushing me.”
“But I was. Because I…I find you intriguing. So different. So…beautiful…”
Becky felt the blood come swiftly to her face. “Moses—”
“And because of this I want you to stay. I want to see more of you. Want to listen to you talk. I want to hear what it’s like to fly. How a person like Rebecca Whetstone feels when she sees lions in the great African fields. How alive a man may become if he swims in water the color of your—”
Moses stopped and looked away. He got to his feet. “I’m sorry. I rush ahead. So often this is my greatest fault. Words come tumbling out. I mean them, but they’re not always appropriate. I’m saying to you things that are too soon.”
“Moses. Please sit back down. You didn’t do anything wrong. A woman doesn’t mind being told she’s beautiful. Please sit back down.”
She patted the part of the bench where he had been a moment before. Slowly he took his seat again and removed his straw hat. He didn’t say anything but when he finally looked at her she was smiling a small smile.
“Moses, I have no idea what I’m going to do. Mother tells me Bishop Zook is going to ask me how I feel about taking my vows and being baptized, and I don’t know what to tell him. I’m flattered that you want me around and that you like me. I
like you too. It’s pleasant to be in your company. I like to listen to your voice and thoughts as much as you do mine. I don’t know what is going to happen when it comes to the Lapp Amish and Becky Whetstone. But for now it’s very good to be here. And very good to hear a beautiful man tell me I’m beautiful too.”
Moses’ face reddened under his tan. “Now I have no words at all. The Amish girls don’t speak this way.”
“Well, I do. I believe in being forthright.” She touched his cheek with her hand. It seemed as if he would pull away but a different kind of light came into his face and he did not. “So I’m also going to ask you this, even though you say you have no words. Water the color of—yes? Can you finish your sentence for me?”
“What?”
“A moment ago you said a man could come alive swimming in water that had a special color.”
He didn’t look away. “The water would have the color of your eyes.”
“Ah.” Everything in her body and her face smiled.
He leaned toward her and Becky caught herself leaning his way as well, then straightened. “Maybe you should move to another bench now. They’ll all be coming soon…”
FOUR
So you’ve been here three weeks. What do you think?” Ruth was changing out of her dress into a nightgown.
Becky was lying on her stomach on her bed. Her head was pillowed on her arms. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Did you see Moses again today?”
“Yes.”
“How did you two manage it this time?”
“He had a gift of fresh-ground flour for Grandma. One hundred pounds.”
Ruth began to laugh. “He never runs out of ideas. The other day a big container of grease for our wagon wheels. Before that it was twenty pounds of cheese he said his mother didn’t need. He likes you for sure. Is the feeling mutual?”
Becky’s mouth was pressed up against the skin of her arm and her words came out muffled. “Of course it’s mutual.”
Ruth sat down on the edge of her bed, let out her hair, and began to brush it slowly. “If you’ll get ready for bed I’ll brush out your long golden locks for you, princess.”
Becky didn’t budge. “A month ago I just wanted to visit and leave. Now I don’t know what to do.”
“Are you thinking of staying?”
“If I stay I can’t fly. All my life, God and flying have been the biggest things. There were no boys or men to complicate matters. Now I meet an Amish farmer who looks like a dream and suddenly everything is in a mess.”
“A mess?” Ruth stopped brushing her hair. “Has he asked you to stay?”
“Oh, from the first day he wanted me to stay and I thought, You’re cute but I’m not becoming Amish just to stick around you. But now…”
“Have you told your mother and father about this?”
“No. Mom watches me with the guys like a hawk anyway. If she thought I was getting serious about Moses she’d lock me up.”
“Lyyndy won’t be that bad.”
“Would you like to place a wager, Auntie Ruth? On whether or not she’ll impose further restrictions on my movements and who I spend time with?”
“I don’t place wagers.”
“I could do what I want, you know. I’m a woman of nineteen, not some skinny fourteen-year-old.”
Ruth began brushing her hair again. “What became of the other knight?”
“What?” Becky turned her head to look at her aunt. “You mean Joshua?”
“Mm-hm.”
Becky stared back at the ceiling. “He lost interest right from the day I argued with him about the importance of having missionaries. And he’s uncomfortable with my flying. He doesn’t know what to do with me. Any more than his father, Pastor Miller, does. So now he hangs around Rachel King a lot.”
“You’re okay with that?”
“Do you think I need three or four young men on a string to make me feel good about myself? I’m more than happy getting to know Moses. If I only knew how to stop feeling like a washing machine.”
“And what does that feel like?”
“Well, like being the butter in a butter churn. But I’ll be lucky if I come out looking like anything as good as butter.”
“Eventually you’ll settle down inside.”
“When?”
“A year or two.”
Ruth grinned. “Come. I said I’d brush your hair out for you and it’s getting late. I want to go to bed. So get into your nightgown and sit beside me here.”
Becky reluctantly got up, washed her face and hands at the washstand and toweled them dry, changed into her nightgown, and sat down by Ruth. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep.”
“I noticed you didn’t eat much supper either. I’m surprised my sister didn’t pick up on it.” Ruth began to run her brush through Becky’s blond hair.
Becky rolled her eyes. “The only reason Mom never saw how little I had on my plate was because she was too busy darting back and forth from the oven to the table. Her and her angel-food cakes.”
“It’s not as if no one sees what’s going on. It’s quite obvious the bishop’s grandson is attracted to you. But the community knows nothing can come of it unless you’re baptized into the faith.”
“I think, This is so foolish. I can’t give up flying. Then Moses looks at me with his green eyes, those deep-water eyes, and says something like, ‘You are this special person. It’s like watching the sun come up over the fields and I’m all alone and the air is so good.’ What am I supposed to do with that? God throws this curveball at me—this handsome Amish farmer who is some kind of love poet too.”
“What is a ‘curveball’?”
“In baseball. A difficult pitch to hit with the bat.”
“Hm. But you don’t love him, do you?” Ruth stroked Becky’s hair with her hand. “You’ve let it grow almost to your shoulders. I’m surprised. Usually you keep it short.”
Becky mumbled. “Well. He says my hair is like—” She stopped. “Never mind what he says.”
“The Bible says a woman’s crowning glory is her hair.”
“Moses says that too.”
“The only man who may see it among the Amish is the husband.”
“Yes. So he told me.”
“And does he want to be the husband?”
“Just so he can see my hair?” Becky began to squirm. “Are you done yet?”
“With the longest hair I’ve ever seen on Rebecca Whetstone? Oh, no.”
“Ouch!”
“You see? A snarl.” Ruth slowed her brushing down. “You haven’t answered my question.”
“What question?”
“Do you love him?”
“How should I know? I told you. Everything is mixed up in my head.” She groaned. “It’s easier to fly upside down and do the kind of stunts where one mistake turns you into strawberry jam.”
“Ugh. Please don’t talk like that, Becky.”
“Saying it doesn’t make it happen, Auntie Ruth.”
“Still. I don’t want the image in my mind.” She set down the brush. “There. That will do. It’ll gleam like gold in the morning when Moses sees it.”
“What makes you think he’s going to see it tomorrow morning?”
“I thought you knew. He will be here at five to help your father repair the fences. The dairy herd escaped yesterday. And some of the horses got into the hayfield and almost ate themselves to death before a neighbor spotted them. Luke and Daniel and Harley are helping too.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“It was just decided after supper. When you came up here to lie down.”
“You thought I knew? How would I know?”
“Shh. Now I suppose you’re going to have an even harder time falling asleep.” She hugged Becky with one arm. “I’m going to pray for you. None of Grandma’s homemade medicines will work on what ails you, my dear.”
Ruth prayed in German for several minutes. Becky didn’t understand a
ny of it but by the time her aunt said amen she was calmer inside even if she still didn’t feel like going to bed. Once she was sure by Ruth’s breathing that she was asleep she peeled back the sheets and got to her feet. Moving quietly and quickly she left the room and went down the staircase and out the front door of the dark and silent farmhouse. The moon was half full, and she stood by one of the fields looking at the silver lighting up the heads of the tall hay.
So I will pray in English—if you don’t mind. I’ve always felt you wanted me to fly and be a missionary pilot. Are you having second thoughts? Do you have a new plan? Is Moses part of it? I really can’t think straight—half of me doesn’t object to becoming Amish if he is the man I lie with every night and get up and face the day with every morning. It would be nice to have a sign from you, Lord. I would be grateful if you showed me something, anything, just so long as I understand what you’re showing me when I see it. Thank you. I love you. Amen…and good night.
She made her way back to her bed and for the next several hours slept off and on, until four when she joined her mother for the milking. She heard her uncles—Luke, Daniel, and Harley—arrive in their wagons and saw Moses pull up in a buggy as she glanced through the open barn door. He looked around after greeting her father and her uncles and she felt like he expected to see her. Her mother noticed that Becky had her head up and was staring out at the farmyard.
“Finish your work. You’ll see him at breakfast.”
Becky leaned her head into the cow’s side. “At breakfast? With all the noise and talk there will be at the table today I’ll be lucky if he even hears me say hello.”
Lyyndaya smiled as she worked the teats of her cow. “No matter. Your father thinks they will be at it tomorrow too. Just him and Moses. Would that sort of breakfast table suit you better?”
Becky stopped milking. “Just Dad and Moses tomorrow? Why?”
“He only needs one other pair of hands Thursday.”
“And he chose Moses?”
“Yes.”
“Out of the goodness of his heart?”
Lyyndaya picked up her bucket and milking stool and lantern and moved to another cow. “No doubt he was thinking of you.”
“Me?” Becky started working on her cow again. “Ha. That probably means he wants to grill him. Am I right?”
