Following Your Heart

by Jerry S. Eicher

  “I hope you enjoy it,” she said.

  “I know I will,” he said. “I certainly am enjoying being with you.”

  “Oh! Do people come right out and say things like that on Amish farms?”

  “I don’t know.” He kept his eyes on the road. “I’ve seldom talked to girls.”

  “You look old enough,” she said.

  “I suppose so,” he allowed.

  “Someone break your heart?” she teased.

  “No,” he said, relaxing at the sound of her laugh. “I just didn’t want to get involved before this thing was over.”

  She tilted her head, her face showing a question.

  “My service to the government,” he added. “Until after I’ve given my years for the war.”

  “Oh that,” she said. “Well, it’s not that awful, is it? You get to see me once in a while.” She smiled.

  He dared not look at her.

  “It’s better than shooting people, isn’t it?” she insisted.

  “Oh, much better,” he agreed, not speaking his thoughts aloud. Anything was better than maiming and murdering human beings. Bishop Bender had stood in front of all of them on those many Sunday mornings warning the Amish young people of the dangers of war.

  “Many of our people have given their lives for the faith in Europe rather than take up the earthly sword,” Bishop Henry had said. “We must also be strong, and not give in to the carnal desires for vengeance which belongs only to Da Hah.”

  “This war is a great evil,” Carol said, fitting right in with his thoughts. “The government has placed political and nationalistic policies ahead of human freedoms and dignities. What right do we have to tell the Vietnamese people what form of government they’re happiest with?”

  “I don’t know about that,” he said. “The Amish oppose all wars regardless of the reasons for it. Men were meant by God to live in peace.”

  “That’s awesome!” she gushed. “That’s absolutely awesome. I had no idea the Amish were such kind and thoughtful people.”

  “We try to live right with God,” he said, “and love everybody as God commands us to.”

  Her face shone. “Is love not always right?” she asked quietly.

  He smiled and nodded. He barely registered her comment about how wonderful the Amish were. All he could think about was what a sight she was, a vision dropped straight out of heaven. But was that not where the dark one had once been? Hadn’t he fallen out of heaven? Bishop Bender had reminded them often of that fact too. He pushed the thought aside.

  “Here we are!” she announced, breaking into his thoughts as she parked the car beside a well-kept white house. “We have the whole place to ourselves this weekend. Come on in, and I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

  They were all nice enough to him when they went inside. He heard a dozen or so names he wasn’t able to remember. He stayed close to her, even when some of the other young men paid her attention. The music started around dark, coming from a rotating machine he had never seen before. There was hardly a word in the music he could understand, but he quickly accepted her lead when she took him by the hand and led him to the middle of the living room with the other dancers.

  He tried to follow her movements, his feet stumbling.

  The smile didn’t leave her face. “Just relax,” she whispered. “Let your body feel the music.”

  He had thought then of the open farmland, the roll of the summer thunder across the horizon, the flash of lightning in the sky before a cloudburst. He leaned closer until their bodies touched. They moved together for what seemed like hours until he no longer cared about anything but her and the great passion for living that rose up in his heart. They finally stopped moving, and he pulled her aside to the couch. With both of his hands on her face he kissed her.

  With a lurch, Menno came back to the present. He pulled his head up and glanced around. No one was staring at him. He hadn’t fallen asleep or revealed anything during his reverie. Even if he had fallen asleep, that was an understandable offense. He looked ahead and listened, noting the first minister was wrapping up his thoughts before taking one last, long look over the congregation and sitting down.

  Menno shook his head again, running his fingers over his neck. It didn’t feel hot, but shame was running deep in his heart.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A group of wide-eyed girls gathered around Susan after the church service. Behind them in the living room, the last of the smaller children were being served lunch on the long church benches. Susan held baby Samuel in her arms, teasing his cheek with her finger. He grinned, apparently none the worse for wear even after the three-hour service and the lunchtime afterward that he spent on Mamm’s lap. “We’re going to make a little Amish man out of you yet,” Susan cooed.

  “Is that the Englisha woman’s baby?” a girl behind her whispered. “Mamm said he and his mother might be here, but I haven’t seen anything of her.”

  “She couldn’t come,” Susan said, not offering further explanation.

  “What does she look like?” another asked.

  “Just like you and me,” Susan said. “She likes our ways and dresses like us. She’s a very nice young woman.”

  “But where did she come from?” This question came from further back, and Susan didn’t recognize the voice. “My mamm said she was a really wild Englisha girl. Is that true?”

  “She lived the only way she knew,” Susan said while smiling at Samuel.

  “Did you live with her?” This question was asked quietly.

  “Nee,” Susan said. “I lived in an apartment over the bakery where I worked.”

  Silence settled over the group. Moments later the questions started again.

  “When is the child’s mother coming to church? You said she liked our ways.”

  “The ministers aren’t letting her,” another voice said before Susan had the courage to answer.

  “Oh,” someone else said. The silence settled around them again.

  “Okay, girls,” an older woman called from the kitchen doorway, “the last table is ready to clear. Come on.”

  The group broke up, leaving Susan on the couch holding baby Samuel. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to wipe them away. People might misunderstand why she was crying, thinking she was just glad to be home. But in a way, that might be the best thought for them to have. Sympathy for Teresa and her plight could be misinterpreted. And what would they say if they knew she’d gone out to dinner with an Englisha man? That she had invited him to her apartment for supper? Sure, she had not done what Teresa had done, but still those occurrences would be hard to explain. Still, it didn’t seem fair that she was allowed to come back and fit in again when Teresa was barred from even attending the services. The ministers hadn’t even talked to her directly.

  “Come, Susan!” Mamm called out. “Daett just left for the barn, and we need to get ready.”

  “Coming!” Susan called back, wrapping Samuel in his blanket. He squirmed and wiggled, a frown growing on his face.

  “Susan,” Miriam’s voice whispered near Susan’s shoulder as they walked toward the washroom, “is it okay if we come over this afternoon?”

  “If you’re not afraid of being polluted by Teresa!” Susan snapped.

  “Ooooh…” Miriam said.

  “I’m sorry!” Susan whispered. “I’m just a little angry right now. I’ll try to do better. Of course you’re welcome to come. We’ve been planning on it.”

  “Some of our sisters might come too,” Miriam said. “Is that okay?”

  “Of course,” Susan said. “We’ll be glad to have all of you come over.” She left Miriam and headed toward the washroom, moving through the crowded kitchen. No one said anything or paid her much attention. The din of conversation in the enclosed area was a loud murmur.

  Mamm handed Susan her bonnet and shawl when she arrived and then took Samuel from her arms. After slipping the items on, Susan and her mamm went out the door to find their buggy. Daett wa
s waiting at the end of the walk. Susan climbed in first and reached down and took baby Samuel from her mamm. Anna got in beside Menno.

  “Let’s go,” Daett called to Toby and then clucked his tongue. They were off.

  An unusual silence hung over the buggy on the ride home. Susan’s thoughts were on her mamm and daett. Surely they weren’t agreeing with what had been done today. Or perhaps someone had spoken to them about other, more strident measures being planned. Was that possible? Maybe Samuel would be required to stay away from the services too. It did seem like the second minister had taken a lot of time talking about how the church must keep itself pure from the world. Susan finally blurted, “You don’t think this can go on for long do you? It was simply awful today.”

  “I don’t know,” Mamm said. “It does seem kind of hard-hearted. For myself, I can’t see what would be wrong with letting Teresa attend the services.”

  “I can’t either,” Susan said, relieved that at least Mamm was on her side. “Perhaps she can come with me to the hymn singing tonight. Nothing was said about Sunday nights.” Susan waited. Her daett would surely have something to say on that, but he didn’t offer anything.

  Mamm spoke up a few minutes later, ignoring the not-so-subtle suggestion. “Some of the women asked whether Teresa is wearing our clothing. I told them she was, and they seemed surprised. I can’t see what in the world they were thinking. Like I would allow the girl to show up in church in Englisha pants or something.”

  “We must not let disunity gather in our hearts,” Daett said, clearing his throat. “The ministers know what is best even when we think sometimes they don’t.”

  “So what do you think about this idea of Susan’s?” Mamm asked. “Should Teresa be going with her to the Sunday night hymn singings?”

  “We should ask Deacon Ray first,” Daett said. “It makes little difference what I think about it. You know that.”

  “Then we might as well save our breath,” Mamm said.

  “You must not be too hard on the man,” Daett said. “He is only passing on what the ministers decide.”

  “I know.” Mamm turned around in her seat. “But at least we have Susan home with us now, and I can’t say how thankful I am for that. Da Hah is faithful even when we doubt Him.”

  “I’m sure Teresa thinks so,” Susan muttered, but Mamm had already turned around. The slow clop of Toby’s hooves filled the silence again. Susan pulled baby Samuel close and whispered, “Mommy will soon be here. It won’t be long now, and you can have some gut food instead of this stuff out of a bottle. Now won’t that be just yummy?”

  His face stretched into a grin as if he understood. Then he puckered up and let out a wail.

  “Ach,” Mamm said, turning around again. “Here. Give him to me. Maybe he wants to see out the front.”

  “He wants his mommy,” Susan said, handing Samuel across the backseat.

  Mamm sat the baby on her lap, bouncing him up and down on her knee. His wails ceased at once.

  “See, I still have the touch,” Mamm cooed. “After all these years.”

  “You’ve raised enough girls,” Daett said, keeping his eyes on the road.

  “But no boys,” Mamm added. “I always wanted a boy.”

  “We took what Da Hah gave us and were thankful,” Daett said.

  “You’re surely not upset because we were all girls?” Susan asked, leaning forward. This was something she’d never thought of before.

  A trace of a smile played on her daett’s face. “I love all my girls,” he said. “As well as I would have loved boys.”

  Mamm didn’t say anything as she continued to coo to Samuel and bounce him on her knee.

  Susan settled back into her seat and watched the countryside go past. Now, if everyone would decide to like Teresa, how wonderful the world would be. Perhaps in time Teresa will be accepted into the community. It’s possible. Wasn’t liking almost anything possible with time? That’s what Deacon Ray often said when someone had a hard time keeping the Ordnung. Perhaps it’s time he applies his teachings to himself!

  They soon arrived at home and pulled into the driveway. Susan climbed down, turning to take Samuel from her mamm. She wrapped the blanket around his face and rushed toward the house. Before she arrived, Teresa came bursting out of the house, her arms bare in the afternoon cold.

  “You’re finally back with my baby!” she exclaimed. “I worried that you had all disappeared and gone to heaven.”

  “Mamm said it would be late in the afternoon before we made it back,” Susan reminded her.

  “I know,” Teresa said, “but hearing it said and waiting all alone in the house are two different things.”

  “Here you go!” Susan said, handing Samuel over.

  Teresa took him, her eyes fixed on Samuel’s face. “Are you a little Amish boy already? Did you hear all the sermons?”

  “I think he’s mostly tired of cow’s milk,” Susan said as Samuel’s face wrinkled up again.

  “Oh, my little darling,” Teresa comforted as she walked back to the house with him. Once inside, Teresa and Samuel disappeared upstairs.

  Mamm came in the door behind Susan and sat on the couch. “Miriam said she might be coming over this afternoon,” she said. “I told her to ask you in case you were too tired.”

  “I’m fine, Mamm,” Susan said. “And I think more of the family might be coming.”

  “At least something is normal around here for a change.” Mamm sighed. “This turmoil is getting to be too much for me in my old age.”

  “You mean keeping Teresa here?” Susan asked, sitting down beside her.

  “It’s not just that,” Mamm said, staring off into the distance. “It’s going against the ministers’ wishes. That’s what troubles me the most. I can’t live long like this, knowing they’re opposed to what we’re doing.”

  “But Mamm!”

  “I know how you feel, Susan. But think about how we feel,” Mamm said. “Daett and I are both older, and we are supposed to be examples for the younger people. And here we have a girl in the house who is not even allowed to attend our services. In my wildest dreams I would never have thought we’d be in this position.”

  “But it’s not Teresa’s fault,” Susan protested. “She had Samuel because that’s the way she was raised.”

  “I know, Susan,” Mamm agreed. “But this is not the way we were raised. How much of Teresa’s thinking has already influenced you? I have to wonder sometimes. Surely you saw Thomas making eyes at you today. The boy couldn’t get enough of looking at you. Why are you holding back on him? Yah, he made a mistake, but he’s such an upstanding young man and exactly who your daett wants to take over the farm.”

  “Thomas doesn’t even know how to farm, Mamm,” Susan countered.

  “But the boy is willing to learn,” Mamm said. “And it would work out nicely in the next year or so. Menno can teach him everything he knows, all while we’re living in our dawdy haus.”

  “You don’t have a dawdy haus built yet,” Susan pointed out.

  “That can be done right quick,” Mamm said. “It can go up this spring in plenty of time for the wedding.”

  “I’m not doing it, Mamm,” Susan said. “I don’t love Thomas.”

  “You used to, Susan,” Mamm said. “You know you did.” Mamm seemed to sink deep into the couch.

  Susan said nothing. There was nothing she could say that would convince her mamm. A moment later there was banging in the washroom, and a few minutes later Menno stood in the kitchen doorway.

  “I think a good long nap would do you both wonders,” Daett said, looking down at them.

  Mamm groaned while sitting up straight.

  “You’re tired,” Daett said, coming over to sit on the other side of the couch. Susan got up as he wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulder. “Anna, I know it’s difficult, but we must do what we can to help the girl, even if it’s hard. I’ll try to do my part if you can stick it out.”

  She listened to t
heir soft voices rising and falling in the living room, Daett’s deep tones and Mamm’s lighter ones running into each other.

  Hopefully Teresa would stay upstairs with Samuel while they talked about her. Daett would win in the end, persuading Mamm to continue on. It was best that Teresa know as little as possible about the difficulties Mamm and Daett went through for her and Samuel.

  It was going to be hard enough for the girl to keep her spirits up as it was. She faced such changes. Not that long ago Samuel had been born, and then Teresa had left her home in Asbury Park and all that she had known for the unknown world of the Amish. Teresa thought she knew the Amish world, but had she ever been wrong. And yet Teresa carried on with a strength and courage which put them all to shame.

  Susan reached for the popcorn maker in the top cabinet. Perhaps popcorn would cheer them all up. Something was needed; there was no question about that.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The late winter sun was setting. The last of the day’s dim light seemed to hang from the clear sky outside the house. Deacon Ray lit a match, holding it up to the first of three lanterns before he opened the gas valve. With a soft burst of sound, light filled the room. He grabbed the lantern and hung it from the nail in the kitchen ceiling. The young folks’ supper before the Sunday night hymn singing had started ten minutes ago.

  Near the hiss of the lantern, Thomas stood behind his good friend James, Deacon Ray’s son. They were standing in the line of boys winding their way past the food table. Thomas took a plate from the stack and shoveled on a large helping of mashed potatoes. He moved down the line, adding a generous pour of gravy from the dipper.

  “Hungry tonight are we?” James asked with a laugh.

  “I’ve got to be ready for all that singing coming up,” Thomas answered.

  “Ha!” James said. “You know that doesn’t take much work. What you really need to get your strength up for is asking to take Susan home afterward and patching up all that mess you got yourself into.”

  “Who told you to mind my business?” Thomas growled good-naturedly, taking a large piece of meat from the simmering pot on the table.