Alvin took the elevator to the fifth floor. He held the letters in one hand, and with the other he found his key and let himself inside. The room was plainly decorated. Mostly bare walls. He didn’t have any money to splurge, he’d told himself. Besides, it felt more like home this way. His life in the Englisha world still had a painful feel to it. This feeling might never go away for all he knew. His heart throbbed at moments like this when he came home to an empty apartment. It was a different feeling than the pain the deacon’s letter in his hand would surely cause. Mamm’s letter would make the other ache return too. He already knew that.
Homesickness was a common affliction everyone suffered. But he found that wasn’t a very convincing argument. If this was homesickness, he might die from it before this was over. He should be able to bear up better, but the truth was that the things of home ran deep in his heart and soul. What he wouldn’t give for some of Mamm’s cooking right now, meager though it had been the past few months. Homemade cornbread smeared with butter would taste like heavenly manna, to say nothing of Mamm’s bread, fresh from the oven. Those things would always be at home regardless of how bad the financial situation became. The community would see to that, which was one of the problems really.
Alvin believed he couldn’t bear the shame of his daett’s downfall, and yet he wasn’t holding up well in his escape to the Englisha world either. I must do it! Alvin told himself. He pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat down. He might as well begin with what the deacon had to say. Cutting open one end of the envelope with a kitchen knife, Alvin unfolded the single page.
Our dear brother Alvin:
I need not tell you, I suppose, what the purpose of this letter is. I and the others of the ministry are deeply grieved in our hearts and troubled in our minds by the news of your departure from home. We have joined your parents in mourning this great tragedy, and we pray fervently that Da Hah might begin his gut work in your heart and draw you back to the truth.
As you know, Da Hah’s vineyard needs much work. If we have failed to minister to your needs or if anyone else in the community has done so, we beg your most heartfelt forgiveness. We hope you will remember that we are all frail human beings and subject to mistakes like anyone else. May Da Hah grant us all grace to live better lives than what we are living.
I hope this letter finds you well and not too settled in where you’re staying. Our hopes are that Da Hah and home will be calling you soon, and that we will see your face again.
Whatever happened, Alvin? You seem to have left without telling even your parents what the problem was in your life. Please don’t allow this matter—whatever it is—to bring a gulf between you, your parents, and the community. Perhaps Da Hah will need much time to repair the hurt, I don’t know. But we want you to know that you are welcome back, as you always will be. Coming home would be as simple as giving us your confession of failure, which you must surely know by now has occurred. How can leaving for the world do anyone any gut, Alvin?
Please consider returning and making things right with your dear parents. Their hearts as well as ours would have a great burden lifted from them. The church was told of this matter on Sunday, and they were also notified of this attempt to reach out to you. I don’t need to say what will happen, Alvin, if you don’t respond with repentance and return. It grieves me unbearably to even say such words, but Da Hah’s rod is with us for a purpose.
The Holy Scriptures say, “Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” Allow Da Hah’s comfort to reach you, Alvin. Return home and visit me. Not that much damage has been done yet. Nothing that a few words spoken and a heart turned from wickedness cannot make right.
Think on these things, Alvin, and do not throw them away lightly.
Yours truly,
Deacon David Mast
Alvin closed the letter, and slid it away from him. He’d expected something like this, but the pain still cut all the way through him. How did Deacon Mast know exactly the words to say to drive his point in the deepest? He could almost see last Sunday morning’s meeting when the announcement was made at church—the sober faces, the tears in Mamm’s eyes, the burden on Bishop Beiler’s shoulders. Deacon Mast managed to bring that picture and a thousand thoughts to his mind. All Alvin had to do was return home and express his sorrow. They would forgive him and take him back with open arms. If not, then surely the bann was only weeks away. Deacon Mast hadn’t said that, but he didn’t have to.
Alvin stood up and paced the floor between the kitchen table and the window that overlooked the parking lot. He paused and gazed out at the vehicles. Most of them were dirty from being driven through the snowy streets marred by the city’s grime. Snow here didn’t look the same. It wasn’t pure like the snow at home. There the fields didn’t leave stains on the flakes. The farm animals made a mess in the barnyard, yah, but clean straw and hay lay inside the barn. Here the earth didn’t reach one with its soft touch preserved from last summer’s sun-kissed fields. Here there was concrete and asphalt that covered much of the earth, and the buildings and his apartment smelled of things he had no names for.
Perhaps he should repent and return home. Yet how could he? It would be one more failure on his record. He tried it out there in the world and couldn’t make it. Paul Wagler would snicker at this idea and make no attempt to hide his disdain after services or at the Sunday dinner table. And it would be true. Alvin had tried something new, something out of desperation, but had changed his mind. Yah, but this was entirely his own decision for once.
He wanted to at least stick it out for a year or so. Deacon Mast and the ministry would have Daett’s financial situation well under control by then. Alvin wouldn’t have been the one required to reveal the truth of his daett’s poor farming ways. Nee, Alvin couldn’t run back home before that problem was solved. He might have to bear the pain of excommunication. They would release him from the burden and shame when he returned and repented. And perhaps this experience would help make him the man he wished to become. Yah, he should have done this during his rumspringa time, but his family was known for their objection to rumspringa and their strong support of the Ordnung so Alvin had minimized it. He’d wanted to please his daett. But even in that obedience, he’d failed.
Alvin cut open the second letter and unfolded it. Tear stains were clearly visible on the bottom edge. Mamm must have cried as she wrote. Alvin bit his lower lip as he read.
My dear, dear son, Alvin,
I need not say that you are often in our thoughts and prayers because you know you always are. I struggle with my health at times and lie awake at night thinking about where you might be and what trouble you might be facing. I cry out to Da Hah for your safety. I ask that you might be protected from the evils of the world. Oh, if you would only come home, Alvin. Whatever the problem is, it can surely be worked out. There is nothing on this earth that could have been so bad that you had to leave home. Surely there wasn’t, Alvin. I refuse to believe there could be even for a moment.
I suppose you have received a letter from Deacon Mast. It was announced in church today that contact with you would be officially attempted. You know what that means. I hope you will have sense enough to straighten things out with Deacon Mast before you are lost to us in spirit also. Such a thing is unimaginable to us, Alvin—you being shut out into the darkness by yourself. Please come to your senses and return home. Our hearts do nothing but ache and long for you.
Your daett is almost out of feed this week—as you know, I’m sure. I’m not saying that’s your fault because it isn’t, Alvin. We’ll make it somehow. He will have to ask for help soon, and Deacon Mast will see that your daett gets what he needs for the spring planting—if things come to that. Da Hah knows we try our best, but for some reason we are not blessed as others are even if we have some of the best farmland in Snyder County.
I’ve been wondering, Alvin. Did Daett’s farming methods and troubles these past years have anything to do with your leaving? I think it must have,
and I can’t quite forgive myself for not seeing that possibility before. Now that I look back, I think you’ve been troubled for some time.
I thought it was only about that Englisha girl you took such a shine to, but I believe that is another subject entirely. You really need to get her out of your mind, Alvin. I’ve heard that Paul Wagler is making quite a fuss over her. I say Paul can have her.
We’ve been faithful church members for generations now, Alvin. What’s gotten into you that you have made such a change? That you have done this to our family? Was it that Debbie? Did she put ideas into your mind that shouldn’t have been there?
I fear this is true. I’m sure you haven’t heard yet, but Bishop Beiler’s youngest daughter, Lois, also left for the Englisha world. Although that is no comfort to you, it might make it easier for you to return. People will not see your leaving in the same light. They will be extra glad because you chose to come back.
Come home, Alvin. We can work things out. I’ll speak to Daett about giving you more charge over the farm. That will make things better for you, won’t it? You could even try some of those new farming methods you kept talking about. Again, I’m sorry I didn’t see how much this troubled you before. Consider the matter well, my son. I trust you will not make the wrong choice.
Your loving Mamm
Alvin stuck the letter back into the envelope. So Mamm didn’t like Debbie. He wasn’t surprised even though she hadn’t protested his interest up to this point. Perhaps that was because she thought nothing would ever come of his love for Debbie. Now Mamm was striking at what she thought could be the second root of his problem—the failing farm. Well, Mamm was partly right, but her solutions wouldn’t make anything better.
So it was true that Paul was making progress in his advances to Debbie. Well, so be it. What could he do about it? Alvin set his chin firmly and began to prepare his supper. It wouldn’t be much, but after those two letters he needed the comfort food might bring.
Thirteen
Debbie awoke with a splitting headache. Even Emery’s soft footsteps as he crept past the bedroom doorway on the way to his chores vibrated in her head. And the squeak of the stairs as he descended was even worse. She held both hands to her face, and got out of bed. With care she lit the kerosene lamp and then pushed aside the drapes. A full moon hung low on the horizon. Already the rough surface of the round orb was dimmed by dawn’s rays in the east that gave the snow banks in the west a soft, red glow. Before long another February winter day would be upon them and the duties of farm life would continue. At least it was a Saturday, and she wouldn’t have to go to her job.
Two weeks had passed since Lois had left for Debbie’s parents’ place. No one from the Beiler household had visited her, and her absence hung like a heavy quilt over the house. They were all trying their best to ignore it.
Debbie groaned. It wasn’t Lois who had sent her head into this blistering ache. No, it was the tense talk with Paul last night. That and the worry of what would happen if she turned down his offer to bring her home Sunday evening. Debbie sat on the bed and ran through the incident in her mind. She’d told herself time and again to be ready for the moment, yet she’d been so unprepared once it arrived.
The youth had played volleyball last night at the Waglers, and Paul had made no effort to have her situated beside him during the game—even though he was captain and could have done so easily. Perhaps that was what had disarmed her and raised her hopes that he’d seen her resistance to his attentions and accepted her decision. That had been dashed after the game. Paul had stepped out of the shadows of the barn when Debbie was leaving. His fingers had brushed her arm.
“Debbie, may I speak with you for a moment?”
She was walking beside Ida at the time. Paul must have wanted his attentions noted. That would be so like him. In fact, she was surprised he hadn’t commenced the conversation in front of the whole youth group. Debbie knew that her bad attitude was quite inappropriate for a young Christian woman. She couldn’t imagine any of the other girls harboring such feelings. And to make matters worse, she’d seen the look of brief sorrow that had flashed across Ida’s face. Debbie turned to follow Paul away from the buggy.
“I hope you’ve enjoyed the evening,” Paul said, turning toward her.
I did until this moment! Debbie wanted to snap. She smiled instead. “It’s been a good evening.”
Paul returned the smile. “I always enjoy these winter volleyball games. Spring will get here soon enough.” He paused.
She waited in silence for him to continue.
His smile didn’t dim as he said, “Spring is also a gut time of the year, although I do so love winter and the slowing of the rush from summer.” His face had brightened as he paused for a moment to think about what he would say. The words came out more of a statement than a question. “You’d consider it a gut thing, Debbie, if I took you home on Sunday evening, yah.”
The dreaded moment had arrived. Why was she so tongue-tied? She had rehearsed her answer for when this moment would finally arrive. She hesitated. She was about to stammer her answer, when Paul took her hesitation in exactly the wrong way.
He nodded. “I thought so. Well, I’ll be looking forward to it then, Debbie. I know this thing with Alvin Knepp must still weigh heavy on your heart, so I didn’t wish to rush things too much. But surely you’ve seen by now what kind of stuff Alvin is made of. And his daett, of course, the problems he’s having with that farm.”
“Ah…I…” she tried to interrupt, but Paul had already rushed on.
“I think you know which buggy I drive and how we do these things. You’ve been in the community long enough to know. And tell Ida she needs to get a ride with Emery, but I guess she knows that since you both drive with him now that Lois is out in the Englisha world.”
He was worse than any man she’d yet encountered, Debbie decided. So in charge. So confident. He clearly didn’t expect no for an answer. In a way she could almost let herself go along with his self-deception. It would be like falling asleep on a raft afloat on a fast-moving stream. The only problem was there were rapids ahead, to say nothing of the falls just down the river.
Paul had already turned to go, when she pulled on his shirt sleeve.
“Umm, Paul…wait.” She took a gulp of air and plunged ahead. “The thing is, I can’t do this. I just can’t.”
He couldn’t have looked more thunderstruck. “You’re…you’re saying nee? You’re saying nee to letting me take you home?”
“Something like that, yes.” The words came out squeaky.
Paul studied her face for a moment. “You surely know Alvin’s not coming back, Debbie. He wasn’t the man for you anyway. You have to know that by now…or was it worse than I thought and you need more time to heal?”
She tried again. “I’m saying no, Paul. Like in never. It’s not about needing time for me to heal.” Her words didn’t register.
“You can’t be serious! What are you doing here in the community then, Debbie? You surely know you can’t go on like you are. Not with Alvin gone and Bishop Beiler’s daughter out in the world. And she’s staying at your parents’ place. Do you know what that means, Debbie?”
“You would force me into a relationship with you?” she managed to whisper. It was the wrong thing to say.
“Of course not, Debbie!” Anger crossed his face as he stared. Then he relaxed and began again. “So, do you want to drop this question for a while? Maybe that would be wise. I see you do need to heal more, and I’m sure the people of the community will understand. Sometimes things take a little time.”
She should have screamed no or stomped her feet or done something to drive home the point that she would never consider going out with him as her boyfriend, let alone her husband. But it was easier to say nothing. She looked at him and then stared at the ground.
Paul gave her arm a quick squeeze and walked her back to Ida. A few of the girls who stood nearby glanced their way. They had soft smiles on their f
aces. Everyone approved of the match apparently, Debbie thought. And Ida was among them. She gave her the warmest smile of all.
Ida’s attitude affected Debbie the most and almost brought tears to her eyes during the ride home. Her friend couldn’t have forgotten her feelings for Paul, and yet once Ida decided something was the right thing to do, she proceeded ahead with such a sweet spirit.
“I’m so happy for you!” Ida had whispered as Emery drove them through the chilly darkness.
“Ida, I turned him down,” Debbie said.
Her friend was unable to say anything for a moment.
“Turned who down?” Emery asked as he pulled back on the reins to stop at an intersection.
“You’re blind as a bat, Emery!” Ida scolded. “Don’t you see anything?”
“Paul Wagler,” Debbie offered in Emery’s direction. There was no reason to keep this hidden. They’d been seen together, and the news would spread anyway.
“Paul Wagler?” Emery stared at her for a moment before he slapped the reins to urge the horse forward. “You turned down a date with him?”
“Is that some kind of sin?” Her anger had finally returned, but it was a little too late. And besides, she shouldn’t make Emery the target.
Emery laughed. “Turning Paul down right now is dangerous, that’s all I say. Though I kind of like it.”
“Emery, don’t say that!” Ida said.
“I still like it.” Emery chuckled, and Ida fell silent. Her silence hung over them until they got home. They unhitched the horse, and Emery led her to the barn. Ida even remained silent on the walk to the house. Debbie and Ida went inside, said good night to the elder Beilers, walked upstairs, and then parted in the hallway with a mumbled “Good night.”
Seeing Your Face Again Page 9
