Saloma had her face buried in her husband’s shoulder, but she glanced up and attempted a weak smile through her tears.
Debbie wiped her own eyes as she went out the door. These were all dear people and close to her heart. Why they must experience this day when their hearts were so torn was beyond her.
Lois was already on the blacktop by the time Debbie got into her car and caught up with her. She pulled up alongside Lois and pushed open the passenger door. “Climb in, Lois.”
Lois continued to stare straight ahead as she marched along with her suitcase.
Debbie called louder, “Lois, get in!”
Lois paused and turned her tear-stained face toward Debbie. “And where’s everyone else?”
“Throw your suitcase in the back and climb in,” Debbie ordered. “You’re making a scene.”
Lois finally responded, but her face still looked determined.
Debbie sighed as she drove the short distance to her parents’ place. “What did you expect, Lois? You knew your parents were going to take this hard. That’s why you haven’t done this for so long. We don’t come from the same world, so your family isn’t going to get over this right away. And the Amish community will suffer too. This is going to cause major trouble for everyone. My leaving the world didn’t result in those things. That’s the difference between what you’re doing and what I did. And you know that.”
Debbie stopped the car by her parents’ garage. She gave Lois a direct look. “Will you let me take you back before it’s too late? I’ll run in and tell Mom. She’ll understand.”
Lois considered it for a moment, but resolution set in. “I’m not going back. Not ever. I don’t care what anyone says. Thank you for bringing me over. It was nice of you.”
“I don’t want Mom to think the Beilers and the Amish are heartless,” Debbie said. “She won’t understand how deeply this is hurting your parents.”
Lois looked away.
“Are you going inside?” Debbie asked. She waited for a response.
Lois opened the car door and climbed out. She grabbed her suitcase.
Debbie got out of the car too and led the way to the front door. It opened before they arrived.
“Good morning, Mom,” Debbie said.
“Gut morning, Mrs. Watson,” Lois said.
“Good morning girls. And Lois, you’re to call me Callie.”
“I’ll try,” Lois said. “It will take some getting used to.”
“Yes, dear. I think there will be a great many things you’ll need to get used to. Now tell me, how was it at home? Was there a little…what do you Amish call it…a kafuffle over your decision?”
“You can’t imagine the half of it,” Debbie said.
Callie shrugged. “They’ll get over it. I did.”
It’s not the same! Debbie wanted to say, but she held back her words. Her mother wouldn’t understand.
“Well, come on in, girls,” Callie said. “Lois, your room is ready.”
“I think I’ll run on home,” Debbie said, taking a step back. She immediately realized the impact and awkwardness her use of “home” would be to her mother. “Lois will settle in on her own. I’ll stop by sometime next week to see how she’s doing.”
“You do that.” Callie nodded. “I assume your dresses are fair game for her use.”
“Of course, Mom.” Debbie turned to go. “I don’t need them any longer.” She realized those were brave words at the moment. She didn’t know how long her welcome at the Beilers and in the community would last after today. Debbie walked back to her car and climbed in. Starting her vehicle, she allowed the tears to come. The world had just gone from difficult to impossible, and she had no idea what she should do about it. “Please help me, Lord,” she whispered.
Eleven
The next day was Sunday, and Minister Kanagy preached the main sermon. He was a short, thin, nervous man and walked with quick steps back and forth in front of the minister’s bench. He was in full cry since beginning some 15 minutes ago.
His high-pitched voice is grating, Ida thought. The man was clearly agitated, as he should be, she decided. Daett’s news of Lois’s departure yesterday couldn’t have done anything but unsettle the ministers, as it had the entire Beiler family. She’d been surprised that Daett hadn’t reported the matter to Deacon Mast yesterday, if only to soften the blow and give the ministers time to take in the news before the church services.
Saturday had been a devastating day at their house. Mamm had walked around as if preparing for a funeral. Every once in a while Ida had gone to the kitchen window to take a peek toward the house across the fields where the Watsons…and now Lois…lived. There had been no sign of her sister, even when a car left the driveway to head toward Lewistown. Lois could easily have been inside and ducked her head until she was out of sight. She would do that, Ida thought. And Lois would also wish to head into town at once to enjoy her newfound freedom.
Ida interrupted her sad thoughts long enough to steal a look at the married men’s section. Normally she wouldn’t look over there, but she now had a reason to. The widower Melvin Kanagy had glanced her way earlier. Ida was sure she saw intent in his gaze. At the moment he was busy with his youngest daughter, Lisa. Ida was certain she’d felt his gaze more than once this morning…and also last Sunday at the meeting. She hadn’t returned his attention so far. Her spirits had been too low to think of romance, and she’d been too focused on Paul. And yet now that she’d resolved to consider Melvin, she felt he might give up if she didn’t respond before long.
Her heart certainly didn’t pound at the thought of a smile sent by Melvin, nor did she blush when she considered him. That might come in time, Ida told herself. She mustn’t judge the matter too quickly. And if those feelings didn’t come, was a red face and weak knees something one had to have? None of that had helped her with Paul Wagler. At her age she should be thankful she even had a suitor—well, a prospective suitor hopefully.
What a sorry mess, Ida mused. She turned her thoughts back to the happenings at their house yesterday. Debbie had stayed out of sight all day. She’d hardly shown herself except at mealtimes. And then she looked like she was the one who had run away from the Beiler household instead of Lois. Debbie clearly took a large portion of the responsibility for what had happened. That wasn’t right. When Debbie had gone upstairs after supper, Ida had approached Mamm. “You surely don’t blame Debbie for any of this?” she asked.
“Nee, of course not.” Mamm’s tone had been mournful. “Lois has been talking of this since she was a teenager. I had my hopes up that she would grow out of it. And with Debbie’s coming and her appreciation for our way of life, we let our hopes get even higher.”
“Perhaps you should go tell Debbie this,” Ida encouraged. “She feels horrible. What with Lois down at her parents’ place, I’m sure she believes she’s to blame. Or at least that you and daett hold her responsible for some of Lois’s decision.”
“Lois would eventually have thought of a way to go.” Mamm’s voice caught. “Yah, I will speak with Debbie.”
Ida had sighed with relief as Mamm went up the stairs. What Mamm told Debbie, Ida never learned. The two were together for some time before Mamm came back down again and joined Daett in the living room. Mamm didn’t look upset, so the conversation must have gone well.
Minister Kanagy now waved his arms around with quick motions and grabbed Ida’s attention. “And in our battle with the world and the devil—we all know that not everyone is always victorious. This is a sad situation that weighs heavy on our hearts—when a brother or sister falls into error. This grieves us more than we can find words to express. In those times it is up to the strong among us to bring both correction to the fallen and comfort to the ones left behind. And we wish to do this today. As our dear bishop himself has told us over the years, Da Hah’s vineyard needs much work to upkeep it. And this is not always easy or pleasant work. I hope that we are all praying today—and in the days ahead—for those
who have strayed and for those whose hearts are bleeding from their great fall.”
It wasn’t hard for Ida to figure out that Minister Kanagy was speaking of Alvin Knepp and possibly Lois. The first step of Alvin’s discipline would no doubt be on the agenda today. This was already a heavy burden on Daett’s shoulders, and now he had the added weight of his own daughter’s flight into the Englisha world. When the whole community found out, the shock would be great. Mamm had sent her over in the buggy yesterday afternoon to break the news to Verna. Even now Verna sat in the married women’s section in tears. People would think she was crying for Alvin’s sake. But if they only knew…well, they soon would. Ida wiped tears from her own eyes.
After she’d told Verna the news yesterday, her sister had clung to her for a long time barely able to speak. “I had so hoped Lois had outgrown this thing.”
“I know,” Ida said. “Especially with Debbie at the house.”
“How’s Debbie doing?” Verna asked as she lowered herself onto the couch.
“Troubled, I suppose. She takes a lot of the responsibility on her own shoulders.” Ida’s sadness wrinkled her face.
“I will speak with her after church,” Verna said. “Debbie mustn’t think this is her responsibility at all. Lois has been talking about doing this since she was young.”
Verna was right, Ida thought, but the community would likely not see things that way. As she sat in church this morning that point was being driven home. Perhaps it was the way Minister Kanagy spoke or the tone in his voice. He would surely look for a reason why these things had happened. And Debbie would make an easy target. It made too much sense to those who didn’t know everything that had transpired at the Beiler household. And explanations would do no gut…even if it was decent to speak of family matters in public, which it wasn’t.
Minister Kanagy paced back and forth with his hands by his sides. “I bring this time to a close now, beseeching each and every one us to search our own heart. Do we have the love of the world hidden away in even the most secret part of our lives? If we do, let us not think this won’t be found out. The pressures are simply too great to hide such an awful thing. We might think the shame of others knowing our secret thoughts too much to bear, but it’s better if we confess our thoughts and actions to each other than to let them build and then perish in the coming storm. And a tempest is coming into all our lives. As surely as the winter follows the fall, and summer follows spring. Da Hah Himself has told us of this thing. We are to build on the foundation of His Word, not on the shifting sands of the world’s opinion. Those are established today and changed tomorrow. Oh how those sands move about when storms come. And how great is the fall of that house. Brothers and sisters, be not one of those whose house is caught off the foundation of Da Hah’s Word. Confess your sins today and seek forgiveness. This is the only way we are ever to survive in this present evil day.”
Finally, Minister Kanagy took his seat looking quite distraught. He asked for testimony on what he’d said from several of the older men. They spoke, saying they agreed with everything that had been preached. Ida’s mind drifted again as she felt Melvin’s gaze upon her. She wondered if all girls could feel such a thing. It was something she hadn’t felt in a while. Not since Daett had forced her to turn down the last man who had asked to take her home from a hymn singing.
Those bygone days when Daett was so strict with his daughters seemed a long, long time ago—even though it wasn’t really. Verna’s successful courtship and marriage to Joe had changed Daett’s thoughts on the matter. With all the trouble Verna and Joe had run into, they’d persevered and everything had turned out okay.
Would Lois’s departure change all the gut Verna had accomplished? Would Daett recoil in fear if she mentioned that Melvin Kanagy might have an interest in her? She’d better not say anything until Melvin actually asked her home from the hymn singing. But if he did, surely Daett would allow it. Melvin was a decent man, and he’d never shown any love for the Englisha world. And that would, no doubt, be Daett’s biggest fear.
Ida didn’t blame Daett for the way he felt about it. The thought of the Englisha world did make one’s spirits sink. How could she give Melvin some encouragement before the service concluded and everyone went home? It would be good to do before he found out Lois had left for the Englisha world. If Ida had known that was going to happen this soon, she would have paid attention to Melvin sooner. That way their relationship might weather the shock when he found out the awful news.
Ida snuck a quick glance toward the married men’s section. Melvin was indeed looking at her. His daughter Lisa sat straight beside him. Obviously she anticipated the close of the service. Ida dropped her eyes for a moment and gathered her courage. She looked up again and attempted a sweet smile in Melvin’s direction. It came off tense, and Ida chided herself. But she consoled herself with the fact that Melvin looked pleased in those seconds before she’d dropped her gaze. Well, it would go better next time—if there was a next time.
The silence after the finished testimonies interrupted Ida’s thoughts. Someone shouted out a song number, and they all joined in. When the song was over, Daett stood and said, “That concludes our service today, and we can be dismissed with Da Hah’s blessing. We would appreciate it if those who are members will stay behind for a meeting.”
This was followed by the usual dash of the younger boys for outside. They weren’t old enough to understand the seriousness of what happened when their parents stayed behind. They would know before long. Their turn would come to shoulder the responsibilities of the church. Ida intended to do her part, though there wasn’t much a woman could do. She would show her support for her daett today. And she would leave the world a better place in the end, while those who chased the things that lay out in the world would be left with only the possessions and emotions that soon passed away.
Ida wiped a tear away as Daett got up to speak. All the non-members had gone outside, including Debbie, who had disappeared into the kitchen. This was something Debbie had experienced before, and she knew to offer her help to the younger girls as they set up a table in the basement and fed the younger children while the members talked of church matters.
“Please help us all, dear Hah,” Ida breathed as her daett informed the members that a letter had been sent to Alvin Knepp reminding him of his church member responsibilities and asking him to return and repent of his error. Alvin’s mamm sniffled over in the married women’s section.
Daett stood for a moment with a bowed head. “And now, I have something I must say that also tears at my heart. But you need to hear this from me. My own daughter Lois left our home yesterday to live with an Englisha family. I know she was not yet a church member, but I wish to tell you what’s happening because as your bishop I’m responsible to lead the church and keep you informed of what is necessary. With that said, you can all be dismissed.”
Feet shuffled as some of the men rose to leave for the barn. The full implications of what Daett had said didn’t register on their faces yet. Maybe it wouldn’t until they arrived home and spoke with their wives. The women, however, seemed to fully understand the implications. A few gathered around Mamm and whispered encouragement in her ear. Daett hadn’t said who the Englisha family was that Lois was staying with, but it wouldn’t be long before someone asked or figured out it was Debbie’s parents. Poor Debbie would be caught unfairly in the fallout.
Ida stole a quick glance toward the place Melvin had been sitting. He was still there, and he gave her a warm smile. She tried to smile back, but she was afraid it came across crooked. Still, Melvin looked pleased. Hopefully he was still interested in her—at least for now. Maybe he also didn’t understand fully what it meant that the bishop’s daughter had left for the world. With a sigh Ida walked to the kitchen. She would help serve dinner to get her mind off her family and herself.
Twelve
On Thursday evening of the following week, Alvin opened his mailbox at the Park Heights Apartme
nts. He was on his way in from work and had walked several blocks from the nearest bus stop. It wasn’t the best arrangement, but Mr. Rusty, the motel manager where Alvin had stayed first, had suggested the place. Alvin figured he didn’t know much about the wild world of the Englisha, so if Mr. Rusty said this was a gut deal, then it probably was. And Mr. Rusty, who ran the Hyatt downtown, had proven himself an honest man in his business dealings with Alvin. That he did know something about.
Alvin had made no secret of his past when he’d asked at the front desk of the motel for employment opportunities in the area. The man at the desk had summoned Mr. Rusty, who had conducted a job interview on the spot. Their relationship was based on trust.
“If you grew up around old farm machinery, you might be just the man I’m looking for,” Mr. Rusty said. “And the Amish have a reputation for being honest, right?”
Alvin nodded and thought about the “old machinery” comment. He hadn’t expected his farming background to carry much weight. In fact, he’d thought it would be a negative in the Englisha world.
“Then why don’t we give it a try!” Mr. Rusty had given him a slap on the shoulder. “Handymen are hard to come by, especially in the winter when everything’s breaking down. I’ll start you out at a decent wage and give you all the overtime you can handle. What do you say?”
“That’s fine.” Relief flooded through him. And the wages—once Mr. Rusty had named an amount—had been much more than he’d dared hope. How Da Hah could bless him after he’d done such wrong was hard to imagine, but Alvin was still thankful.
Now Alvin squinted into the mailbox. At first he saw nothing because the letters had been set up on edge. They fell over just before he closed the lid and caught his eye. Alvin reached in and took them out. He turned them over to see Deacon Mast’s return address on one. The other one was from Mamm. So things had come to this so quickly, he thought. Mamm had written a letter last week too. And she must have given the deacon his address. Not that he’d asked her not to or made any effort to hide. That would have been a useless endeavor anyway. Church discipline was what it was, and one couldn’t postpone things for long. Even if a man hid out in a big city, things happened at home at their usual pace.
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