“A little,” Susan agreed.
“I’ll go check on Samuel,” Teresa said, heading for the stair door.
“He’s been sleeping for the past hour,” Mamm said. “He settled down really nice. I think he’s starting to like me.”
“Samuel has always liked you,” Teresa said just before disappearing through the door and up the stairs.
“Did I see tears in her eyes, Susan?” Mamm asked when Teresa’s footsteps had faded.
“James spoke with her tonight,” Susan said. “He’s got Teresa all disturbed. I can’t believe this is happening. It’s not like Teresa doesn’t already have enough problems on her mind with the wedding to Yost coming up.”
“Please sit down and talk sense, Susan,” Mamm said. “I can’t understand a thing you’re saying.”
Susan sat down with a sigh. “I’m not sure where to start really. Perhaps I should have told you what’s been going on before this, but it didn’t seem like it would amount to much. But now…”
“What’s happened?” Mamm asked, leaning forward.
Daett lifted his eyes from The Budget and looked at Susan closely.
“James has been making eyes at Teresa for some time,” Susan admitted. “I know that’s shocking, and I warned Teresa about it. But really, she couldn’t do anything about it.”
“James?” Mamm questioned. “Deacon Ray’s James? Surely Teresa isn’t returning his attentions. She’s promised to Yost.”
“She didn’t encourage him at all, Mamm,” Susan said. “I talked to her about it. Then tonight James comes out as bold as he can be and asked to speak with her. I told him no, that Teresa didn’t want to speak to him because there would only be trouble. Well, it didn’t do any gut. James asked Teresa directly, and she said she would speak to him. They went off a ways and talked in private.”
“Daett,” Mamm said, “I think you’d better get involved here.”
Susan didn’t wait for her daett to intervene.
“Can we just sit here and allow this marriage to Yost happen?” Susan asked Mamm. “You know in your heart it isn’t right.”
“Nee, I do not know that,” Mamm said. “But it’s not up to me anyway. We are a community, Susan. You of all people should know this. I like Teresa, just like you do. She’s a wonderful girl, but she is what she is. And she has done what she has done. Nothing can change that. We certainly can’t have her dating one of our young men. Yost was a compromise already, mainly because Deacon Ray felt sorry for him.”
Menno cleared his throat. “What did James tell Teresa tonight?”
“I couldn’t hear what they said,” Susan said. “But Teresa said James wants to see more of her, perhaps even bring her home on Sunday nights. He said she doesn’t have to marry Yost if she doesn’t want to. That he could work things out for her somehow.”
Menno sighed. “The boy is being very reckless. But at least it’s his doing and not Teresa’s. You’re sure she didn’t give him any encouragement?”
“I didn’t hear them talking, Daett,” Susan said. “But Teresa said she didn’t.”
“Well, I’ll have to speak to Deacon Ray about this,” Daett said. “I’ll give him to understand that Teresa didn’t try to hide anything and that she didn’t encourage the boy. That should place the blame for this matter where it belongs. Hopefully Deacon Ray can talk some sense into his boy’s head. Just because he’s the deacon’s son doesn’t give James the right to flaunt the rules. He has to live by the will of the community just like the rest of us.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” Mamm agreed.
Susan cleared her throat.
“While everyone else is making their confessions,” she said, “perhaps I’d better make one of my own.”
“You haven’t been thinking about leaving again?” Mamm gasped.
“I’m afraid I was,” Susan said. “I’m sorry, but such thoughts still cross my mind.”
“I will take care of this problem tomorrow,” Menno said. “Perhaps that will help with your temptation to leave.”
“Thank you,” Susan said, getting to her feet. “I think I’ll call it a night.”
They both nodded as she closed the stair door behind her.
At the top of the stairs, she knocked gently on Teresa’s door.
“Come in,” Teresa answered softly.
Teresa was nestled under the covers with baby Samuel beside her fast asleep.
“Daett is going to speak with Deacon Ray tomorrow,” Susan said. “They know this is not your fault.”
Tears formed in Teresa’s eyes and she mouthed thank you to Susan.
Susan nodded and closed the bedroom door behind her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The dream was a rush of Englisha automobiles, of faces he didn’t know, of long, winding blacktop roads in big cities, and of fear. Menno tried to fully awaken. He rubbed his eyes. Breathless, he sat up in bed and pushed back the covers. Beside him Anna slept, her breathing steady and deep. Moving his stocking-clad feet across the bed, he dropped them to the floor and stood and then pulled on his clothing in the darkness. Walking over to the open bedroom window, he looked out across the dark night. He bent over to lean closer to the windowpane, listening.
Faint sounds rose in the night air coming from the barnyard, the noise of horses banging in their stalls, the low sigh of cattle breathing in mass. Why was his heart so troubled again tonight? Da Hah had blessed him beyond measure with possessions, with a frau who loved him, with children who were gut members in the church. His dreams should be happy, not troublesome.
Was it the temptations of the world coming back to draw him again? Surely it wasn’t. He had turned his back on his sin those many years ago. And yet, even now his face burned with the shame. He had left behind a girl with a great pain in her heart, simply thankful to have gotten off so easily.
Walking past the bed, Menno paused and listened to Anna’s deep breathing. She was still sound asleep, but even if she should awake, she would understand him being up. A man visiting his barnyard even in the night hours was understandable. What she would not understand was what he needed to ponder. But there was no reason she should know of such things, even now after all these years.
The bedroom door squeaked on his way out, but he didn’t slow his steady pace toward the washroom. In the darkness he found his shoes and slipped them on and then draped his work coat over his shoulder. Stepping outside, the brisk spring night air felt gut on his face.
Walking past the barn door, he leaned over the wooden yard fence, watching the outlines of the cattle in the field. They lay in the grass, their mouths moving shadows in the starlight as they chewed their cud.
Thoughts ran through his mind, his dream a background of noise from another time and place. It had been so many years ago. Why was this coming back now to disturb his peace? Was Carol looking for him? That was not likely and almost impossible. Why would she wish to see him?
The child would be the only reason, but even that made no sense. Carol had said the child had been lost. His eyes traced the horizon which danced with a thousand twinkling stars. The outline of the cattle below blended in with the hue of the darkened grass.
He saw Carol’s face again as it had looked on the day she told him about the coming child, the hope written on her face, the longing in her eyes. How quickly those eyes had darkened when he showed no joy at her news. But surely she hadn’t expected him to follow her into the world?
One of the cows stood in the field, stretching and staring at him. He pushed the new thought away, but it came back with greater force, presenting itself again. What if the child had not been lost? His fingers dug into the wooden rail of the fence. This was not possible. Carol would not lie. Yet, had he not lied when he spoke to her of love? Had he not lied with his silence upon his return to the community?
So was it also possible Carol had lied to him? Such a lie would have made it easier for both of them. Especially him. Had she loved him enough to have spared h
im the decision to leave his people for her world?
“Gott im Himmel,” he whispered to the night air. “Is it possible that I have an Englisha child?”
But it could not be true. It simply could not. Even if Carol had lied he would have known. He would have had to know. True, he had left the next month, his term of service over, but surely he would have felt the truth. He was not that stupid. Or perhaps he was, and perhaps that was why Carol never came around again, not even to say goodbye on that last day. The day when all the others had gathered to wish him well on his return home. His heart had burned with the pain of her rejection, thinking she had blamed him for everything, while all the time he was the one who was rejecting. He was the one who was placing the blame on another person’s shoulders. And she knew and had made it easy for him. Was it possible?
“Dear Gott,” he said. “I am a greater sinner than even I knew. Why have You not destroyed me those many years ago? I am a hypocrite. A wolf in sheep clothing. One thing to myself, and another thing to You and the others.”
Menno hung his head and began to weep, the sobs shaking his shoulders. A cow moved closer from the shadowy grass, coming over to stand a few feet away. A low moo escaped its mouth, a sort of moan full of questions. He glanced back toward the house. What if his frau awakened now and came looking for him? He would have time to move inside the barn before her dim light came to the door, but at the moment it hardly seemed worth the effort.
What a relief it would be to tell her everything. To speak the words inside of him, express the fears roiling in his heart, tell her of the nightmares that haunted him. She would understand, would she not? He hesitated, his eyes on the windows of the house, but no flickering light appeared from the deep shadows.
The moon would be up soon, and he would be visible from the house. Well, let Anna see him. Perhaps then the thoughts would come into form more easily. This weight on his chest which smothered his heart might be removed by the questions in her eyes, by the sheer force of her will to know. But she had never doubted him, never asked why, never probed the things he had done during those long-ago years.
What did she think Amish boys did while serving their times in Englisha hospitals? Spend their time keeping the Ordnung? He hung his head. This was not a time to blame the others for what he had done. Likely few had fallen as low as he had, driven by the intoxicating freedoms of the great city.
Even those who hadn’t come home, choosing instead to stay in the world with their Englisha girlfriends, had behaved better than he had. Always he had thought of them as making the worse choice, but had they? He studied the stars, seeking an answer, and finding only the pain rising in his own heart. He had made his choice, and they had made theirs. Perhaps the agony pounding in their hearts was worse than his, but it hardly seemed possible.
Should he be making confessions to Bishop Henry? But what confession? That I think I have fathered an Englisha child? Bishop Henry would wish to know on what grounds he made such a statement, and he had none. Only his fears driven by desperate dreams in the night.
He had made confessions at his baptismal vows. Confessions, and promises to forsake the world and all its allurements. Bishop Henry would certainly want further confessions now if he knew about the Englisha girl, but what gut would that do? He had already made his peace with Da Hah and with the community. Living one’s life in holiness and humility was a penance and confession all of its own. A life lived was more powerful than words spoken. Did not his people believe this?
“But I have sinned greatly,” he whispered to the stars, “if I have fathered a child who lived and then I walked away from my responsibility.”
The nearby cow lifted its head, mooing again, her nose only inches away now. He jumped back in surprise and moved further down the fence. He placed his weight back on the top rail. The cow looked at him and then moved the other way, settling back on the grass with a solid thump.
A dim light came on in the house, and he watched for a long moment before walking toward the doorway. Anna met him at the front door, holding her robe shut with one hand, a kerosene lamp in the other. Her long hair spilled out from under her night kapp and hung over her shoulders.
“What are you up for?” he asked, stepping inside.
“I could ask you the same,” she said. “But I assume it’s because you’re troubled like I am. I just had an awful dream.”
“Come,” he said, “dreams are not always true. We must not let them bother us. It is Da Hah alone who remains ever faithful and true.”
“But does He not speak through dreams?” she asked. “I believe He does, and I believe you need to hear this one.”
“Come, let us go into the bedroom,” he said. “Lest we awaken someone.”
Sitting down on the bed he waited while she climbed under the covers.
“It was an awful thing,” she said. “It was all rushed together like dreams are, but yet it all seemed so clear. I saw the wedding right after the baptism. Poor Yost Byler standing there in his new suit, his heart full of joy. Teresa took his hand and made her promises. I saw Yost take her home, and she was placing food on the table for him. You should have seen how happy Yost looked.
“Then I saw the children—two, maybe three. They were all gut-looking children, and Yost was so happy. And Teresa looked happy from what I could tell. Then I saw Teresa leaving, just like that. Running down the road, leaving the children, leaving Yost, leaving the house they lived in. She left everything. That’s so unlike her, Menno. Why would I have such a dream?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “But dreams are not always to be trusted.”
“Is it just my fears talking?” she asked, nestling under the quilt. “Teresa wouldn’t do something like that. I don’t think so anyway. What do you think?”
“Yah, perhaps it is just your fears,” he said. “I don’t think she would do such a thing either.”
They both settled themselves and moments later Anna’s even breathing filled the room. But Menno stayed awake, staring at the ceiling until the moon rose, flooding the world outside the bedroom window with white light. Eventually he drifted off, awakening to the loud clanging of the alarm clock. The first light of dawn was already written in the sky.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Menno finished his chores after breakfast, leaving the harnessing of the horse till the last minute. The day had dawned clear, without a cloud in the sky. He really ought to be out in the fields finishing the spring plowing, but he had promised. The trip to Deacon Ray’s place must be undertaken today.
Teresa was hanging out the first load of wash when he led Toby out of the barn. She smiled and waved, nearly losing the wooden pins she held in her mouth. How like an Amish woman the girl was becoming, and so determined to make a go of things. The least he could do was put in a gut word for her with Deacon Ray. And there might even be more he could do, but that would have to wait. By now James would surely have spoken with his daett, and this visit might well be expected.
With the horse fastened to the buggy shafts, he swung the lines in through the storm window and climbed in.
Teresa gave him another wave as he drove by the wash line. She shouted, “Have a good trip now!”
“Don’t work too hard,” he hollered back. Once out on the road, he slapped the reins, pushing Toby to a faster pace. Who knew how long this conversation might take, and he needed to get back to his farmwork. In the meantime, he might as well lean back and enjoy the ride. Not often did he get a chance to travel alone. Mamm and Susan were usually along on Sunday mornings, and during the week any good farmer stayed close to home. There was so much work on any farm in the community.
Menno sighed. He needed help around the place, but from the looks of things, Susan didn’t plan to patch up her differences with Thomas anytime soon. He might as well look for a hired hand, but those were difficult to find. Young married men with their need to support growing families wanted to run the whole place and move into the main house. Any unmarrie
d farm boys were usually kept busy on their own daetts’ farms. Perhaps he could mention his need to Deacon Ray this morning. The man visited many Amish communities in his travels with Bishop Henry.
Menno waved as he passed Emery Yoder’s wife traveling the other way. She must be going down to Livonia to the Dutch Barn for shopping. A trip into Salem would usually require a much earlier start.
In the open fields to the west, a team of horses plowed the land, the black soil rolling over in a steady stream as one of the Esh boys handled the reins. Menno leaned out of the buggy, ready to wave, but the intent gaze of the driver never came his direction. Now there was a true farmer at heart, intent and eager at his work. Perhaps Ezra would allow his son to take a job away from home? Menno settled into the buggy seat again, pondering the thought. It was unlikely. Ezra needed all three of his sons for the nearly 200 acres the family owned. Besides that, they raised garden produce to sell to Englisha customers. There was not a chance Ezra would allow one of his sons to work for another farmer. And soon the boy would have a girlfriend, be ready to marry, and want to move somewhere on his own farm.
Why not ask Ezra if he knows of someone? It could do no harm. And there was Ezra walking out of his barn right now. Menno slowed down and pulled into the driveway.
“Gut morning,” Ezra greeted, approaching the buggy with a ready smile. “What brings you out on the road this morning?”
Menno pushed open the buggy door and leaned his head out. There was no reason to tell Ezra where he was going and why.
“Saw your boy out plowing,” Menno said, motioning toward the field with a tilt of his head. “Mighty fine young boys you have coming up there. Any chance you have a spare one?”
Ezra laughed. “I think you know the answer to that question.”
“That’s what I thought,” Menno said. “Any chance you know of a young man looking for farmwork? I sure could use one come spring. I’m not getting any younger these days.”
Following Your Heart Page 18
