Mary entered her bedroom and glanced at the rumpled quilt. She had to put her life back in order, but last night she had mourned and wept. She set the lamp on the dresser top and found the page buried in the dresser drawer.
In a whisper she read,
Are you still there, as you once were?
I wonder if it’s true.
How could you be, I ask myself.
This shadow gone, this dream awakened from.
Never real, you said, and yet we were.
So near, I reached, I touched.
You could have held me, claimed my heart.
I offered openhanded all.
But blind you were, and thought you saw.
The future clear, what lay ahead.
That was the dream, while I was real.
But now you hold what was not there.
Would you still be what you once were?
If we would meet, as we are now?
I ask because I wish I knew,
And yet I wonder if I do.
Would years gone by come pouring back?
Would they be strong and telling still?
Is that the fear which holds us far?
That we would break what we now are?
Must we this haunting in each other see?
This phantom of the best that’s past?
Must we forever wrong now be?
This dread that ever lasts.
No breath has pain to bring us life.
No solace for this deep regret.
No agony so clear within our grasp.
As was the hour, we might have been.
Mary folded the page and closed the drawer. Obviously, Josiah felt none of this, or he wouldn’t be marrying Susie today. She was the one who needed to awaken from her dream.
Mary gasped when Daett’s booming voice filled the hallway outside her room. “Time to get up, Gerald.”
He was not calling for her and her sister. He knew she already roamed the house. Mamm and Daett had probably knelt by their bedsides while she was in the kitchen and said a prayer for her. They might not feel the depth of her pain, but they knew she suffered.
A bedroom door slammed across the hallway, and she heard heavy footsteps going down the stairs. Lighter ones followed and paused by Mary’s bedroom door. The knob turned, and Betsy’s face appeared. “Are you okay?”
“Yah, I guess.” Mary tried to smile.
Betsy took in the rumpled bed, and the concern on her face increased. She stepped inside to slip her arm around Mary. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing,” Mary muttered. Tears threatened again.
Betsy caught sight of the closed dresser drawer. A piece of clothing was hanging over the edge. “Have you been writing something about this day?”
Mary looked the other way and didn’t answer.
“I should read it.”
“Why? To see if I’m crazy?” Mary asked with a stifled choke.
“I know you aren’t,” Betsy said, obviously wanting to comfort her sister. “But you should share it with someone. Being alone is the least helpful thing at the moment.”
“I suppose so,” Mary allowed. She brought out the paper and handed it to her sister.
Betsy read in silence. “That is dark, Mary.”
“Yah, I loved him.”
“I don’t know what more to say, but come.” Betsy tugged on Mary’s arm. “The sun will be up soon.”
“That’s exactly what I don’t want to see,” Mary retorted. “There should be clouds and thunder all day.”
Betsy clucked her tongue. “I’m sorry, and I know that you loved him—”
“I know,” Mary agreed. “I’ll get control of myself soon.”
“I think you’re doing very well, considering…”
“Thanks.” Mary gave her a quick hug. “You are such a dear.”
Betsy made a face. “I wish I could do more.”
“You could say all the things that everyone else wants to say—that I’ll find someone someday to fill a place in my hurting heart, that he’ll be much better than Josiah…”
“That wouldn’t be kind. And you are my sister, Mary. You know how I feel about Amish men.”
“Yah, I do.” Mary gave Betsy another hug. “But at least you are sweet and cheerful this morning.”
Betsy’s face darkened. “Don’t get me started. I’ll never get over what Josiah did to you.”
“Please,” Mary begged. “You were beginning to change. Don’t go back on your faith because of me.”
Betsy scowled. “Faith really worked for you, didn’t it? But see, I shouldn’t be saying anything this morning.”
Mary drew in a long breath. “You don’t really think—not really, Betsy—that a better life is out there than one in the community?”
“You know I do, but don’t blame yourself. Now come. Mamm will be up soon if we don’t appear. We don’t want her reading that poem.”
“Is it that bad?” Mary asked on the way to the door.
“Yah, it’s that bad,” Betsy said over her shoulder, “but I won’t say more.”
Mamm met them with a concerned look when they stepped out of the stairwell.
“She’s okay,” Betsy chirped. “Just mourning a bit.”
Mamm didn’t appear convinced. “I heard you get up earlier, Mary. Daett wanted to pray, so we did, but I know more should be done to help you through this day.”
Mary tried to smile. “There’s not much that can be done, Mamm. Josiah will say the vows with Susie today at noon, and that’s that.”
Mamm and Betsy exchanged glances.
“You should bless Susie on her wedding day,” Mamm suggested. “Forgiveness is an important part of healing the heart.”
“I know, but I can’t.” Mary looked away. Tears didn’t come, but her pain burned like fire inside.
“The Lord will heal you, Mary,” Mamm encouraged, “but there are things we can do to help. You must face things for what they are. Come.” Mamm took Mary’s arm and led the way to the front window. “This is Josiah and Susie’s wedding day. Let’s wish them well.”
“You shouldn’t, Mamm,” Betsy protested.
“I know what I’m doing,” Mamm insisted.
Mary lifted her head to gaze at the first streaks of dawn that rose over the Adirondack foothills. This should have been her wedding day. Today was the day when her dream of a home and a man who would love her would have been a reality. Yet the dream was gone, and the sun dared to rise upon a cloudless sky.
“I wish Josiah and Susie a blessing on their wedding day,” Mamm said from beside her. “Thank You, Lord.”
Sobs came from deep inside of Mary, as Betsy and Mamm held her tight and the sun crept higher on the horizon.
EIGHT
Mary wiped the last breakfast dish dry and glanced at the kitchen clock. The time was ten minutes till eight. She should have been on her way to open the doors of the Plain Food Co-op by seven thirty, but everything moved slower this morning. The elderly Amish owners would understand her running late today.
“You should go,” Betsy said from the kitchen doorway. “I told you I would clean up.”
Mary set her lips. “It doesn’t matter if I’m late.”
The truth was, nothing seemed to matter at the moment. She was empty of feelings after Mamm and Betsy had comforted her by the living room window this morning. She had faced reality, and the day should continue on its normal route—which included washing the breakfast dishes.
She felt Betsy’s touch on her elbow. “Shall I walk you down to the store?”
Mary forced a laugh. “I’m not a boppli.”
“Sometimes we feel like one, and I should walk with you.” Betsy spoke in a tone that wouldn’t tolerate further protest.
Mary hung up the towel and followed her sister into the living room.
“I’m going with Mary down to the food co-op!” Betsy hollered toward the sewing room, where Mamm’s foot-pedaled machine whirled.
&n
bsp; “Thank you, Betsy. That’s a goot idea,” said Mamm.
“See?” Betsy jutted her chin. “I can do some things right. I’m doing you goot already.”
Mary didn’t argue but followed her sister outside. Betsy was concerned for her sister’s welfare, and Mary did appreciate the effort.
At the bottom of the porch steps, Mary paused. “We should hitch Danny Boy to the buggy and drive down so you don’t have to walk back.”
“Now who’s the boppli?” Betsy retorted. “You walk back and forth each day. What’s the difference?”
Mary gave in, and they began the walk down Highway 163. Below them lay the town of Fort Plain, which wound along the river and made a sharp descent from the high ground where the community was built.
“I should have moved to Lancaster a long time ago,” Mary muttered.
Usually the old town tucked into the Adirondack foothills cheered her, but the sight had the opposite affect this morning.
“It wouldn’t have helped,” Betsy told her. “I know this hurts to hear, but there is nothing you could have done to keep him.”
“I wish I was so sure,” Mary replied. “I’ll always wonder what could have been.”
“Forget that poem,” Betsy advised. “It’s not healthy to look backward.”
“I know. At least I think so.”
They walked together, and then Betsy took the lead. She paused for a moment and said, “You should go out with me this weekend.”
“To your rumspringa gathering?” Mary gasped. “That’s going exactly the wrong way.”
“I’m just trying to help,” Betsy protested. “I thought you could use a distraction, and no one needs to know.”
“Don’t be delusional. The community will know.”
“I know.” Betsy faked a smile.
“You’re not jumping the fence soon, are you?”
“Not until I’m twenty-one.”
“I’m so sorry this has discouraged you further, Betsy. I am partly to blame.”
“Stop it, Mary. Don’t take responsibility for everything. You have a right to mourn for the way Josiah used you.”
Mary reached for her sister’s arm. “That’s what worries me.”
“Don’t you have doubts about your dream now that Josiah has done what he did?” Betsy’s glance was sharp.
“I…I guess not. I was in love with him and the plans for our home.” Tears stung. “But I don’t want to jump the fence. Trouble shouldn’t make us change our way of life. And I know I should have left you a better example. Instead, my life has melted down, which may be pushing you toward leaving our community.”
“I considered that option long before Josiah jilted you,” Betsy assured her.
Mary tried to slow her breathing. “I’ll say it again. You know how hurt Mamm and Daett would be if you didn’t come back from rumspringa.”
“I know, but at the same time, think of a home out there.” Betsy cast her arm outward to include the whole town and the mountains beyond them.
“The only home for our people is in the community.”
Betsy didn’t respond as they made their way down the incline into town. Sorrow had overwhelmed them and left destruction in its wake. Further apologies were useless. Mary would have to heal and do better in the future.
Ahead of them, the front door of Mrs. Gabert’s house swung open, and the elderly lady hollered across the lawn. “Good morning, Mary. Who is this with you on such a fine day?”
“Goot morning,” Mary called back. She walked closer with Betsy by her side. “This is my sister, Betsy. She was kind enough to walk with me on this morning, after…” Mary stopped. Her tears would come again if she went on.
Mrs. Gabert didn’t seem to mind the omission. “Good to meet you, Betsy. Is every Amish girl fresh faced and pretty?”
Betsy appeared pleased with the compliment. “That’s kind of you to say, but Mary’s the looker of the family.”
“Amish girls are also self-effacing and kind.” Mrs. Gabert smiled cheerfully. “Your sister stops in to check on me without being asked.”
“I’m not surprised,” Betsy replied. “My sister is a dear.”
“That she is,” Mrs. Gabert agreed. “And still single. But weren’t you planning a wedding, Mary? I know your people are secretive, but didn’t you let something slip months ago?”
“There is no wedding,” Mary told her, looking away.
Mrs. Gabert clucked her tongue. “Did something happen? I’m sorry to hear that. But someone will come along for you soon, or there is something seriously wrong with this world.”
“Today was to have been Mary’s wedding day,” Betsy blurted out. “That’s why I’m walking her down to the store. Mary should be in bed mourning, but she insists on working.”
Mrs. Gabert appeared startled. “You were jilted the morning of your wedding?”
Mary swallowed, but no words would come.
Betsy leaped in to help. “Not quite. The relationship was broken off six months ago. Mary’s fiancé had the indecency to use the same date to marry his new girlfriend.”
“There aren’t that many Thursdays in November,” Mary offered, her face pale.
“There were other Thursdays in November,” Betsy retorted. “That’s when most weddings happen in the Amish community.”
The two women shared a sympathetic glance. “This is terrible,” Mrs. Gabert said. “But better to know now than later.”
“I guess so,” Mary allowed. “But we really should be going. I’m late already.”
“Don’t mourn too much,” Mrs. Gabert called after them. “In the end this will be a broken road that leads you home!”
“Did you hear what she said?” Betsy said once they were out of earshot. “Take that advice to heart.”
“I’ll try, but it’s hard.”
“And see? You have people among the Englisha who love you.”
“I know, and I’m thankful for friends. Mrs. Gabert is a dear.”
Betsy cleared her throat loudly. “I meant…”
“You meant what?” Mary asked.
“You are obtuse sometimes. The point is clear to me. You should consider what I said earlier.” Betsy motioned toward the town again. “There is another life out there—a goot one. This friend of yours, Mrs. Gabert, proves that.”
“And you think I should hide my dark poem,” Mary muttered.
“Jumping the fence is not a crazy idea,” Betsy protested. “Young people from the community have done so before.”
Mary didn’t answer as they continued the walk through town. She didn’t want to argue with Betsy, and the effort was useless. Being a goot example was the best option to help Betsy—but Mary had obviously failed her.
When they approached the building from the street, they saw a buggy sitting beside the small co-op store. The beardless face of Stephen Overholt peered out at them. “Goot morning. The Lord’s blessing to you, to each of you girls,” he said in greeting.
Mary forced a smile. “Goot morning, Stephen. I’m sorry I’m late. Betsy was kind enough to walk down with me.”
Stephen eyed Betsy suspiciously. “Why is Betsy with you this morning? Wasn’t there something she could do at the house?”
“We have our priorities straight,” Betsy snapped. “Mary’s hurting this morning, and I wanted to walk with her.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that, I really am, and I’m sorry for my words. Mary hurting is not a goot thing. I suppose the hurt is coming from the wedding that was supposed to take place today. But I heard that Josiah will wed his new girlfriend instead.”
“How did you know about the wedding?” Betsy retorted. “That was none of your business.”
Stephen ignored the barb. “I have relatives back in Lancaster—that would be cousins and such like—and they know Josiah. It’s not as though everything, the going on of these two, was such a great secret. I wanted to have a few words, if Mary wouldn’t object, in private, and minister to Mary in her loss.�
��
Betsy was incredulous. “You would comfort Mary? I know what you are up to, Stephen, and why you are here. You are thinking it is now the Lord’s will that you take the place of the shifty Josiah Beiler. Hopefully Mary has learned her lesson and will send you home at once.”
Stephen winced. “My apologies for my forwardness, but I will say, with great boldness in my heart, that Josiah made a big mistake with your sister. He certainly did not, and I am sure of this, discern correctly the will of the Lord.”
Betsy opened her mouth to answer, but Mary silenced her with a quick touch on her arm. “What can we do for you this morning, Stephen?”
He regarded Mary for a moment before handing her a list. “That’s what I need, all of it, for my monthly trip into town. I came right after the chores, since I wanted to be on time. But I do understand, I really do, why you are late. My heart goes out to you, like I said. I am sorry that Josiah used you the way he did. Josiah, and I’m certain of this, made a grave mistake.” Stephen offered her a tentative smile.
Mary nodded and unlocked the door of the co-op, with the paper clutched in her free hand.
“That is a horrible man,” Betsy whispered once they were inside. “I had forgotten how horrible. Thank the Lord I came down this morning with you.”
“He’s perfectly harmless.”
“He’s an Amish man who has never married,” Betsy said, as if that encapsulated the evils of the world.
“Like an old maid who has never married? Don’t be too hard on him.”
“That’s different,” Betsy huffed. “And you’ll never be one anyway. How does he know about your wedding day?”
“He explained himself,” Mary answered. She began to check off the list as she piled bags of food on the counter.
“I mean, but why?” Betsy insisted. She followed Mary along the aisles to help. “That’s what I’m saying. Why the interest? Why’s he keeping track and showing up this morning? Does he always come in on this day of the month?”
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t pay attention,” Mary muttered, concentrating as she weighed out pecans.
“Why does the man want those?” Betsy asked with great suspicion.
“Maybe he’s an excellent cook,” Mary deadpanned.
They both fell silent when the front door opened and Stephen entered. Betsy scurried off in the opposite direction, while Mary carried the last of the items up to the counter. She gave Stephen her best smile. “There we are. I think I got everything right.”
Mary's Home Page 6
