by Jan Drexler
“But you were so sad when we had to leave them behind in Brothers Valley.”
“Ja, I was. I still am. But I can rest in the knowledge that God loves them even more than I do, and he will take care of them.”
While Mamm went back to the house for more hot water for the rinsing tub, Naomi stirred the clothes again, making sure every inch of fabric would be exposed to the wash water. Of course God would watch over Annie. She was sweet and beautiful, and a good wife and mother. But there was nothing special in her own life. Nothing to make him take a special interest in her.
She let the washing paddle fall to the side of the tub and reached in the water for a shirt. It was Davey’s Sunday shirt, with a stain on one sleeve. She propped the washboard up against the tub and rubbed the sleeve against it. She swished the shirt in the wash water, then scrubbed again. And again. What had that boy gotten into? Slowly the stain lightened as she scrubbed it. She swirled it in the wash water again, then held it up to inspect it.
“Can’t you get it out?” Mamm grunted as she poured steaming water into the rinse tub.
“Davey got something on his shirt. I got most of it out, but the shadow of the stain is still there.”
“We’ll have to let the sun bleach it. If it doesn’t come out, Davey can still wear the shirt. You’ve gotten most of it out.”
Naomi rubbed the dark stain between her fingers. “It might be too set in for even the sun to get it out.”
“Then he’ll have to wear it for an everyday shirt.” Mamm reached into the wash water and pulled out Daed’s white shirt. “He won’t be able to wear it on Sundays with that stain.” She twisted the shirt in her hands, wringing out the soapy water.
“But it’s a new shirt. He only wore it one time.”
Mamm inspected the stain, rubbing it between her fingers. “It’s too bad, but it can’t be helped.”
Naomi dipped the sleeve in the wash water again and scrubbed at the stain. When Mamm laid quiet fingers over her frantic hands, Naomi stopped her scrubbing.
“Let it soak while we take care of the rest of the whites, then try again.”
Pushing the shirt back into the water, Naomi sorted out an apron from the swirling clothes and swished it in the water before pulling it out and inspecting it for stains.
“That stain on Davey’s shirt reminds me of something.” Mamm swished Daed’s shirt in the rinse water. “We have stains on our consciences all the time. Stains from our sins.”
“You don’t sin.” Naomi swished the apron in the water once more.
“We all sin. The Good Book tells us that not one of us is righteous. The only man that never sinned was Jesus Christ.”
Naomi pulled the apron out of the water and watched the soapsuds run back into the tub.
Mamm went on. “The only way we can be clean is to take our sins to God, repent of them, and let Christ’s blood wash us clean.”
Naomi almost let the words wash over her without hearing them, the way she had every time she had heard them, but something caught at her. If God was real and his words were true, then what Mamm was saying was true too.
She wrung the wash water out of the apron, twisting it tightly in her hands. When the apron was rinsed clean, and then hung in the sun to dry, it would be as clean and white as a fresh snowfall.
Like an itch she couldn’t reach, an uncomfortable thought came to her. If all people sinned, then she must sin too. Sins that couldn’t be washed away by taking a bath on Saturday night.
She pushed away the thought as she wrung out the apron and tossed it in the rinsing tub. She found Davey’s shirt again and searched for the stain. Had the soaking helped? She turned the sleeve over and saw it. Nothing she could do would get rid of that stain.
15
Shem broke the twig he had been worrying in his hand into two pieces and threw them into the underbrush. Life wasn’t fair.
Here he was, ready to start a new life for himself as a minister in a new, growing church district, and they voted him down.
He slumped against the tree trunk.
And on top of that, he had spent the last four days sitting here in these woods because Tall Peter thought he was looking for land to buy. He’d sooner buy land in Hades than in this swamp-ridden, mosquito-infested hole.
He gritted his teeth as he scratched at a patch of poison ivy on his wrist. It was all Cap Stoltzfus’s fault. All of it. If he hadn’t suggested that they go ahead with the election on Sunday, Shem could have drummed up more support. He would have gotten so many nominations that they would have had to give him the position. But as luck would have it, the paper had been in Christian Yoder’s book.
That was another thing that set him off. Christian Yoder was a cripple. A dying man. How could anyone think he could be a minister?
So a cripple, half a man, was going to have the position that should be his.
Shem stood and paced in front of his log.
And instead of shepherding the flock and making something of this community, he was stuck. No power. No influence. No one looking to him for leadership.
The only thing for him to do was to leave. Move on.
Unless—
Shem stopped short. The crowding trees faded away as the idea took shape in his mind.
This Indiana church was already fractured. The two halves of the district were already separated by the swampy lands between them and the distance. And then there were the differences between the change-minded people who had come from Ohio and the old-timers from Pennsylvania. It wouldn’t take much to turn that fracture into a split. A word here, an argument there.
Shem sat on the log again. With the district divided in two, the Elkhart County people would need another minister.
He took his hat off and ran stiff fingers through his sweaty hair. Tossing the hat aside, he ran both hands over his hair, letting the slight breeze cool his head. He needed to plan his moves carefully.
He rose to his feet with a rush, grabbing his hat. The first task to do was to buy the farm he was supposed to be looking for. There was a likely looking spot just a half mile west of the Gingerich farm. He had looked at it once, but then dismissed it because the man selling it had already cleared much of the eighty acres and had built a house. He was asking much more than a man would expect to pay for eighty acres of untouched land.
Shem picked his way through the woods to the road. A nicely built frame house already stood on the property. He smiled. No living in some backwoods cabin for him.
That evening, Shem returned to the Gingerich farm just in time for supper.
“Any progress today, Preacher Shem?” Tall Peter’s Mary poured a cup of coffee for him, smiling at him.
Shem reached for the pitcher of cream. “I bought my farm today.” He grinned at the response around the table and then dared to meet Susan’s eyes. She would be a welcome visitor once he moved into his new house.
Tall Peter reached for the cream when Shem was finished. “Where is it?”
“I bought the Taylor place, just down the road here.”
“Richard Taylor is selling?”
Shem stirred a spoonful of white sugar into his coffee. Mary knew he liked the fine sugar and kept it on hand for him. “He said he was going back home to Tennessee. The winters are too much for him, and since his wife died . . .” He shrugged and took a sip of the hot liquid. “He said there is nothing left for him here. She was the one who wanted to live here. I guess her folks live nearby.”
“You’ll be close enough to visit often,” Mary said. She laid a platter of sliced ham in front of him. “I hope you’ll feel welcome to drop by for meals whenever you wish.”
Tall Peter’s half-grown sons set in to eating as soon as Shem passed the platter their way.
“Will your wife be joining you soon?” Tall Peter shoveled a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth, then spoke around them. “The Taylor house is a fine one, and she should be pleased.”
Priscilla. Shem put a somber look on h
is face and shook his head. “I haven’t gotten any letters from my wife since I came here. When I left Ontario, she was feeling rather ill, and no one expected her to recover for several months.” Shem pushed at the delicious ham with his fork. “I’m not certain that she’ll survive this illness.”
He had to struggle to keep from smiling as Mary and Susan both uttered sounds of dismay. Priscilla could die. She might have already. Then he would be free to seek a wife who was both pretty and pliable. He forced himself to keep his eyes on his plate and not glance at Susan. He had to be patient.
Tall Peter put his fork down. “Should you return to Ontario to see her?”
Shem shook his head. “She is in good hands with her parents. And I need to be here. My work is here.”
“Even though you aren’t officially a minister of our church?”
Shem waved the words away as if they were unimportant. “The ministers aren’t the only men needed to lead in a church. As far-flung as this congregation is, every member is needed to minister to the rest.” He took a bite of ham and chewed it slowly, as if he was considering his own words. “In fact, there might even be an advantage in dividing the district into two parts. It is nearly large enough, as far as the number of families goes, and it is certainly large enough in distance.”
“I would welcome a division like that.” Tall Peter scraped the last of his potatoes from his plate with the edge of his fork. “The folks in LaGrange County dig their heels in whenever one of us makes a suggestion that they think is too progressive.” He waved his fork in Shem’s direction. “But change will happen, and must happen, if we are to survive.”
“You’re talking about meetinghouses?”
“I’m talking about farming. Now that we have nearly forty acres cleared for farming, I could use one of those new inventions. The McCormick Reaper.” Tall Peter helped himself to another scoop of mashed potatoes from the bowl in front of him. “Now if we had a machine like that, our harvesting time would be more efficient. The boys and I could raise enough grain to sell at the market in Fort Wayne.”
Shem allowed himself to smile. With Tall Peter’s enthusiasm for change and technology, he was just the man Shem needed to carry out his plans.
“So you consider the reaper to be a tool to increase efficiency. A prudent use of our resources.”
Tall Peter slapped his hand on the table. “Exactly.”
“We could also institute other changes—just for efficiency.”
“Such as?”
Shem shrugged, as if he was thinking about the question. “Such as a meetinghouse. One building where we could meet for worship as well as community gatherings. A focus for the congregation.”
Tall Peter met his eyes. “And we wouldn’t have to haul the church benches from one end of the district to the other every two weeks.”
Shem picked up his coffee cup and Mary refilled it with fresh coffee. “Perhaps you could mention the idea to others in this end of the district.”
“The LaGrange County folks wouldn’t like the idea.”
Shem nodded his thanks to Mary. “They wouldn’t need to like the idea if they were in a different district.”
Tall Peter met his eyes again with a grin. “You’re right. Maybe it’s time for a change.”
Cap leaned on the top rail of his new pasture fence. The horses cropped the rich blades of grass that had grown in thick clumps since he had cleared out the trees. It was a beginning. He turned his back on the horses to look over the rest of the clearing. Everywhere he looked, work loomed. He needed to keep clearing the forest to make more open land for crops. The garden he had planted with a few vegetables, corn, and oats needed to be weeded constantly. And before winter, he needed a barn to shelter the horses.
Hard work, but good work.
Leaving the horses to their grazing, Cap fetched his ax from the lean-to he had built next to the back door of the cabin and started through the woods. He had looked forward to this morning all week. Friday was his day to help with the heavy chores at Christian’s farm. Both times that he had been there in previous weeks, Christian had been happy to welcome him to sit and visit for a while. Today he anticipated talking with the older man about the events of Sunday.
As he emerged from the woods at the edge of the Schrock farm, Davey ran from the house to meet him. He was carrying a small black kitten.
“Did you come for a visit? Can we go fishing?”
Cap pulled Davey’s hat off and tousled his hair before wrapping an arm around him in a hug. “Hallo to you, too. I’m on my way to Christian Yoder’s to chop some wood.”
“Memmi said to invite you in.” Davey pulled out of Cap’s grasp. “She’s making a cake.”
“Cake?” Cap folded his arms and frowned, pretending to think. “I don’t know. Is cake good to eat? Do kittens like it?” He reached out a finger to scratch the little thing underneath its chin.
Davey hopped around him. “Kittens don’t eat cake.” He tugged at Cap’s arm. “You will like this kind. Memmi used cinnamon.”
Cap grinned. “I’d be glad to have a piece of cake and a cup of coffee too.”
“Ja, ja, ja. That’s just what Memmi said.”
By the time they reached the porch, Naomi had the door open, waiting for him.
“So Davey talked you into coming in for a visit.” Her smile lit her face with a glowing beauty.
“He told me I was invited.”
“Ja, for sure you are.” She turned and he followed her into the house where the aroma of cinnamon filled the air. “The coffee is ready, and the cake has just come out of the oven.”
“Should I tell the others?” Davey hadn’t come in the house but leaned in the door, the kitten still in his arms.
“Ja, go tell the others it’s time. And leave the kitten in the barn with the rest of the litter.” Naomi set the steaming cake on the table as Davey disappeared. “Ever since I put this in the oven to bake, Davey has been beside himself. He couldn’t wait to have some.”
She pointed to a chair and Cap sat down while she poured a cup of coffee for him.
“Were you coming over for a visit?”
Cap breathed in the rich coffee smell. “I’m on my way to Christian’s.”
“That’s right. You took Friday’s chores, didn’t you?”
She sat down across from him and leaned over her own cup of steaming coffee, breathing in. “Davey wants to see our sheep before dinner and I’ve been wanting to pay Mattie a visit. I haven’t seen her since Sunday.”
“Then you could walk part of the way with me.”
She looked into his eyes and smiled. “You’ll have to walk pretty fast to keep up. Davey runs all the way there.”
Cap looked into the cup of dark liquid between his hands. “So he gets there before you?”
Naomi laughed. “I run with him.”
“Why don’t you just have him walk if you don’t want him to go ahead?”
Naomi’s smile disappeared. “Have you ever tried to get that boy to walk when he wanted to run?”
The comfortable kitchen faded away as Cap faced her. He took a deep breath and let it out. He didn’t want to have this conversation with her now, but it was here. “I always make him walk beside me whenever we go anywhere. It’s important that he learns to rein in his own desires and submit to his elders.”
“You sound like you heard that from the Ordnung.” She didn’t look at him.
Cap shrugged, trying to relieve the tension in his shoulders. “It’s what I know.”
“There is more to raising children than following the Ordnung.”
“From what I’ve seen, you give him too much freedom. He has no discipline in his life.”
Naomi blinked rapidly, her hands wrapped around her coffee cup. “He’s happy.”
“There are more important things in life than being happy.”
Her face was flushed. He should be quiet or he would make her angry with him. But the words wouldn’t stay inside his mouth. “A b
oy needs to learn responsibility and humility.”
Her gaze flashed at him across the table. “And you would teach this to him? How? With a whip?”
“Only when necessary. He needs a better foundation to his life than a mother who worships him.”
Naomi stood so quickly she knocked her chair over. “I don’t worship him.” Her voice was shaky. “He’s just a little boy who needs—” Her voice caught in her throat.
Cap stood and took his hat from the hook next to the door. “He’s a little boy who needs to grow to be a man.”
“He’ll grow up to be a man who can live by grace instead of rules.”
Cap shoved his hat on his head. “Grace without rules spoils a child.”
“And following rules for their own sake is . . . ,” tears spilled down her cheeks, “. . . is cruel. That’s what the Ordnung can be, and the men who follow it blindly.”
She ran into the back of the house. He heard a door slam.
That was it. He had told her what he thought and she grew angry. More than angry.
He ran his hand down his face.
Ja, ja, ja. He was angry too.
He left the house just as the rest of the Schrocks reached the back steps.
“Is anything wrong?” Eli asked, catching Cap’s arm as he tried to shove past.
“Everything is fine.” Cap forced a smile.
Lydia’s expression was troubled.
“Naomi and I had a bit of a disagreement, but we’ll patch it up. Don’t worry about it.”
Lydia took Davey into the house. Henry followed them, but Eli waited until they were inside.
“If you and Naomi disagree about something, you shouldn’t let it fester. You need to talk it out.”
Cap looked toward the house, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I think she needs to have some time alone first.”
Eli chuckled. “Madder than a wet hen?”
Cap nodded.
“Lydia can get that way too. But she gets over it.” He reached up to grasp Cap’s shoulder and shook it slightly. “Grace is what women need. Grace and understanding.”
