by Beth Wiseman
“How did you get this photo?” He stared at the picture and reread the note on the back.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Isaac thought about how long he’d kept the secret about what he saw. He’d planned to take it to his grave. But if Mary believed that knowing the truth would help Hannah be able to move forward, then maybe it was time to talk about it.
Hannah busied herself tending to chores that she normally dreaded, but she wanted to keep herself occupied so she wouldn’t think about Mary and Isaac on a blanket at the park. Her parents were enjoying a breezy Saturday afternoon napping, and Hannah had no idea where Jacob was. She ran the feather duster over the mantel for the second time, but eased her way to the window when she heard a buggy coming.
Sighing, she tried to force herself away, not to look when Mary and Isaac said their good-byes, but her feet were rooted to the floor. She waited, but there was no kiss before Mary stepped out of the buggy. Isaac walked behind her, and right before she got to the porch steps, she turned around and said something to him, then came up the steps. Hannah gasped when she saw Mary holding a bloody handkerchief between her palms.
Hannah rushed toward the door. “Ach, Mary! What happened to you?” she asked as the screen slammed behind Mary.
“I’ll let Isaac tell you.” She nodded outside. “I need to get cleaned up.”
“Do you need help?” Hannah eyed Mary’s hands as her cousin shuffled past her, shaking her head.
“No. I’m fine.”
Hannah walked out on the porch just as Isaac was heading back to his buggy, but he turned when the door shut.
“What in the world happened to Mary?” She walked toward him, holding her palms faceup. “Did she fall down?”
Isaac shook his head. “Nee, but an Englisch woman pushed her down.”
Hannah gasped. “Nee! What happened?”
When Isaac finished the story, he added, “Mary would have gone after the woman if I hadn’t held on to her arm.”
“Was the woman really beating her child like that?”
“It wonders me if beating is the right word, but she was hitting him hard enough to leave marks.”
Hannah stared at Isaac, feeling like she was seeing him for the first time. She’d been so lost in her relationship with Ethan, then in her grief, she’d forgotten how much she enjoyed being around him.
She pulled her eyes from his. “I should go check on Mary.” But Hannah’s feet were rooted to the ground, and as she dug her toes into the cool, moist grass, Isaac smiled. She smiled back at him, feeling like they were communicating without words. She wondered if their hearts were saying the same thing.
Charlotte lay back on the bed, thankful her hands had stopped bleeding, but wishing the throbbing would stop. She’d have to be so careful when washing her hands and doing things around the house. Not that she did all that much.
“Wow, Charlotte. I’m so sorry,” Ryan said after she told him what happened.
Charlotte sighed. “I can’t believe she pushed me, but it’s probably a good thing Isaac kept me from going after her. She was considerably bigger than me.” Cringing, she looked down at her hands. The left one was worse than the right. “But maybe she’ll think twice before she hits her kid again.”
“I bet your boyfriend was shocked, but I’m not surprised he kept you from going after the woman. The Amish are passive. They don’t fight. Not even in self-defense.”
“You know he’s not my boyfriend.”
“How much longer are you staying?”
“I’m not sure. But I was right about Isaac. He did know more about Ethan than he let on. When I told him that any information he had might help Hannah to move on with her life, he spilled it. Apparently, Ethan did cheat on Hannah. I don’t know how frequently or for how long, but Isaac saw Ethan and Edna together when they thought no one was around. And get this. You’ll never believe how he stumbled upon them.” She took a breath. “Isaac delivered a piece of furniture to a customer in Lancaster, about twenty minutes by car. He’d hired a driver and took the hutch in a van. After they’d delivered the furniture, the driver asked Isaac if he wanted to get lunch before they headed back. They stopped at a restaurant—coincidentally, it was called Isaac’s Famous Grilled Sandwiches. Isaac had never heard of it. So, imagine his surprise when he and the driver were walking to their table and he spots Ethan and Edna holding hands across a table.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. And neither were dressed Amish. He said Ethan was wearing jeans and a T-shirt . . . and Edna had on a dress, but her hair was down, no prayer covering. And she was wearing makeup.” Charlotte grunted a little. “When they looked up and saw Isaac, they released each other’s hands and avoided eye contact. Guess they thought their disguises in a place not frequented by the Amish might be safe.”
“Did Isaac confront them?” Charlotte could tell Ryan was hanging on her every word.
“He said he just kept walking, but a few minutes later, Ethan found him, asked to talk, then begged him not to tell anyone.”
“Wow.”
“I’m so disappointed in Ethan,” she said as her voice cracked.
Ryan was quiet for a while. “Well, we still don’t really know what happened. Maybe it was a onetime thing. A secret lunch, a couple of stolen kisses. Maybe that was it.”
“I don’t know.” She sniffled. “Isaac said Ethan tried to downplay it, but over the next few weeks, Ethan asked Isaac several times if he was going to tell Hannah.” She was quiet as she thought about how it all played out. “And the thing is, Isaac told Ethan repeatedly that he wouldn’t tell anyone. But there is no mistaking the way Isaac and Hannah look at each other. He could have told her, broke them up, and maybe had a shot with her.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know, though, since Isaac has spent so much time helping out his parents with the house and yard.” She couldn’t control the tears anymore as she told him the rest. “Isaac said that he wasn’t very close to Ethan, but he could tell that Ethan was depressed. He didn’t know if it was because he loved Edna, didn’t want to hurt Hannah, or what. Isaac was clearly harboring some guilt, feeling like maybe he could have helped Ethan. I tried to tell him Ethan was responsible for his own life, but it was so hard not to cry listening to these details. But I’m tired, Ryan. I’m tired of the lies. No matter what happened, nothing can bring Ethan back.”
“Sweetie, don’t cry.”
Ryan’s gentle voice just made Charlotte sob harder. “And I feel terrible for thinking Hannah might have been the guilty party. Ethan left her, for whatever the reason. And he left me.”
Charlotte thought about her empty apartment at home, then glanced at the ivy growing in a planter by the window. There was nothing growing in her apartment. No pets to feed. “I know I need to get home and back to work. And the sooner I get straight with these people, the better I will feel,” she said softly. “But the weather is so pretty here this time of year. And I feel like I’m a part of a real family. It’s going to be hard to say bye to them all, especially since I don’t know if they will want anything to do with me once they know the truth.”
“Don’t stay gone too long. I might start missing you.”
Charlotte heard the flirtiness in his voice, so she dabbed at her eyes, sniffled again, then threw it back at him. “I think you already miss me.”
“I was starting to, until you latched on to that Amish boyfriend.”
Charlotte couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, well . . . whatever.” She glanced at her bandages. “I don’t think my scraped up hands are going to get me out of church service tomorrow.”
“I thought you’d started to like going to their church services.”
“I also like sleeping in on Sundays.” Charlotte thought for a few moments. “Actually, I like the feeling I get when I’m there, the fellowship, but I don’t understand most of it. During the devotions, the family speaks English so I can understand, but the bishop and deacons don’t during the worship ser
vice. And it’s always awkward when someone new comes up to talk to me in Dutch, and then I have to explain, again, about how I wasn’t raised Amish. I’ve told the same lie so many times that I’ve started to believe it myself.”
She reached for the box of tissues on her nightstand. Empty. She tossed the box on the bed and walked with her arms bent at her sides and cell phone held to her ear with her shoulder, carefully turning the knob on her bedroom door. “Hey, I better let you go. I need to go down the hall to get some more tissues from the bathroom closet. I’ll let you know when I decide to come home.”
Charlotte pulled the door open, then gasped. Jacob was standing there.
She swallowed hard as her phone fell from her shoulder and hit the wood floor. “Jacob. How long have you been standing there?”
Twelve
Charlotte searched Jacob’s expression, but she couldn’t tell if he was on to her.
“I was just coming to see if you were okay. Hannah just told us all what happened.” He scrunched up his face as he leaned down and looked at her hands. “Ouch. That doesn’t look gut. Mamm is mixing up some of her goat-milk stuff, her cure-all for everything. She’ll be up here in a few minutes.”
Charlotte had momentarily forgotten about her hands. “Um . . . have you been standing out here long?” She tried to ask the question casually, but when Jacob grinned, her heart skipped a beat.
“Long enough,” he said, winking, before he walked off.
Charlotte followed him, shuffling down the hall with her arms bent at her side. “Jacob,” she said in a loud whisper. “What does that mean?”
He faced her and rubbed his chin. “What do you think it means?”
They both turned toward the stairs when they heard footsteps.
“Let’s have a look at those hands.” Lena had a bowl of white goop in one hand and some bandages in the other, along with a washrag draped over her arm. She frowned as she took inspection. “Are you in pain?”
“A little, but I’m okay, really.” Charlotte tried to smile.
Lena gently latched on to her arm. “Come, come. Let’s get you on the mend.”
Charlotte glanced at Jacob, but he had already turned to go to his bedroom.
Lena motioned for Charlotte to sit down on the bed, then Lena sat down beside her. “Hannah said you got upset with a woman for hitting her child.” She dipped the washrag into the bowl, pulling back a gob of thick white stuff. Charlotte flinched as Lena dabbed it on her palms.
“She was beating her child.”
Lena finished up quietly, and when she was done, she pushed back a few strands of Charlotte’s hair and gently kissed her on the forehead. “It’s not our way, Mary, to involve ourselves in other people’s business, especially the Englisch.” She paused, gazing into Charlotte’s eyes. “I know it’s hard to see a child being over-disciplined though.”
Charlotte was tempted to show her the scar on the back of her left thigh and the smaller one on her back. Neither were disfiguring, just a reminder of one of the many beatings she’d gotten from her mother, her foster-mother, her father . . . and the list went on. For years, she just assumed she was a bad girl, unlovable. It wasn’t until she got older that she realized that not every parent hits.
“Mary, it is not for you to worry about, though.” Lena must have seen that she missed a spot since she dipped the rag in the mush again. Mush that smelled a little like garlic, but mixed with something she couldn’t quite identify. “That woman and her child are children of God, and He will be the one to call the woman to judgment. It’s not for us to do that.”
“I know,” Charlotte said, blinking back tears.
“Ach, sweet girl.” Lena smiled. “Do you remember when you arrived and I asked you what your special gift was?”
Charlotte nodded.
She chuckled. “I couldn’t figure out what yours was. You don’t like to cook, garden, or sew.” She pointed a finger at Charlotte. “But I knew your gift would reveal itself, and today it did.” She smiled broader, even though Charlotte couldn’t imagine what Lena was about to say.
“You are a defender of goodness. A protector, someone who will stand up for justice.”
Charlotte couldn’t look at Lena.
“But . . .” Lena gently cupped Charlotte’s chin. “We have reasons for staying apart from the Englisch. We are unequally yoked with them. And I don’t say that in judgment of the Englisch. Many of those in the outside world are strong Christians, as committed to their faith as we are. But the difference between them and us is that when we meet another Amish person, we know that person is of the same beliefs, there’s no questioning it. But with the Englisch . . . we can’t know what their value system is at first glance.” Lena paused, the rag in her hand, as she looked at Charlotte. “We live by the rules of the Ordnung, and there’s no need for us to question each other. I would think that it would be easy for you to make that comparison since you have lived in both worlds. And I also caution you against righteous anger. Even though Jesus got angry, and there are many instances of anger throughout the Bible, it is hard for us to discern between being righteously angered and being tempted by human impulse.”
“She pushed me down,” Charlotte said softly, knowing she sounded like a child.
Lena dropped her hand and smiled. “And if you were five years old, we would be having this same conversation. If you had not approached the woman—had remained separated—this would not have happened. But since it did happen, the right thing to do would have been to walk away. I’m sure your Amish family instilled these beliefs in you from the time you chose to be baptized into the faith. It sounds like Isaac had to keep you from making the situation even worse.”
Charlotte knew she was being disciplined, although she’d never had anyone do it without yelling and hitting. Lena was mothering her, and Charlotte wished more and more that she could just stay in this bubble of love forever.
“God’s love is more powerful than any misgivings we might have about righteousness, ours or others’,” Lena said. “The best thing that you can do for that woman and her child is to pray for them.”
“And ask for what?” Charlotte blurted out without thinking. But her hands throbbed, and now Lena’s words were making her feel even worse. Not to mention that simmering on the back burner of her mind was how much of her conversation with Ryan that Jacob had heard.
“You ask for God’s grace, for His mercy.” She cupped Charlotte’s cheek. “You should ask for that in everything you do.”
A tear rolled down Charlotte’s cheek. “Lena . . .”
“Ya?”
Charlotte sniffled, unable to choke back the tears in her throat. She put her arms around Lena’s neck. “Thank you for having me here.” I love you.
Following a long nap, Charlotte joined the family for supper. As much as she loved the homemade bread, even a warm, buttered slice wasn’t enough to cheer her up, and she was keenly aware that Amos was watching her. Several times, she’d made eye contact with the head of the household, but he’d scowled and looked away. She’d tried to connect with Jacob, but he wouldn’t look at her, adding to her worry that he’d heard enough of her conversation with Ryan to implicate her entirely. Did Lena and Amos know that Jacob was sneaking out at night? Maybe that was her ace in the hole.
Charlotte’s thoughts were starting to carry her back to the real world. Even though she’d notified the editors she worked with that she would be taking a month’s vacation, she’d started getting requests via e-mail to schedule more jobs for when she returned, which meant her time here was coming to a close if she planned to stay employed.
She couldn’t stay in Lancaster County forever. She’d been paying her bills on her cell phone, and Ryan had checked on her apartment a couple of times, but sadly, life had gone on without her with barely a notice. She’d put away money over the past few years, so she wasn’t at risk of depleting her savings. But she was going to prolong her stay a little longer, pretend to be a good person and a p
art of this family. Plus, she still had one more person to talk to before she left. Charlotte had to confront Edna Glick.
Charlotte also wanted to talk to Hannah about several things, so she struggled through supper and Amos’s glares, biding her time. After supper, she helped Lena and Hannah clean the kitchen as best she could with her injured hands, something she hadn’t been very good about doing in the past. Devotion time was forthcoming, so she asked Hannah if she wanted to sit on the front porch for a while to enjoy the cooler weather.
“Is there something you want to talk about?” Hannah kicked her rocker into motion with her bare feet. Charlotte had put on some socks earlier in the day. She’d loved the freedom of walking around barefoot when it was warmer, following Hannah and Lena’s lead, but the wood floors were cool in the evening now.
“Your father is really mad at me. I could see it on his face all through supper.” Charlotte hadn’t realized until this evening how much Amos’s approval mattered to her. She crossed one leg over the other and settled into a gentle rocking. Pulling snug the sweater she borrowed from Hannah, she looked at the clear sky filled with thousands of stars. She would miss this, too, when she went home. The only twinkling lights she could see at home were flickering atop the high-rises surrounding her apartment building.
“I think that with each generation, we tend to get a bit more liberal about some things, but violence of any kind is still looked down upon, and Daed especially doesn’t like it.” Hannah turned to her and smiled. “Thankfully, you didn’t go after the woman, but he knows this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t approached her. But he will get past this, Mary, so please don’t worry about it. How are your hands?”
Charlotte glanced at her bandages. “I think your mom’s miracle mush actually helped.”
Hannah smiled. “Surprisingly, it always seems to.”
They were quiet for a few moments. Charlotte had several things on her mind, but she was sorting her thoughts into an order that made sense.
