Bishop Beiler shifted on his feet and clasped his hands in front of him. “Our other brother, Joe Weaver, has admitted to driving Englisha vehicles at the auction barn in Belleville. Not out in front where his actions would be widely noticed, but behind the scenes. He claims his intentions were to help out when the auction people were short-handed. Joe understands he was in the wrong and has agreed to make his confession. We expect no further problems on the matter.”
Bishop Beiler’s gaze swept over the ministers’ bench. “If the ordained brethren will now take the voice of the church, we can proceed with this matter.”
Both ministers and Deacon Mast got up at once and began moving among the benches to ask each member if they agreed to the actions being taken. Men leaned toward the ministers and deacon and whispered in their ears. The women did likewise. Most didn’t take long, although a few of the men did. They were the ones who were usually longwinded in any response. It was their chance to exercise church authority, and they made the most of it.
Some men were like that, Verna knew, but she couldn’t imagine Joe would act in such a manner. He was much too kind and tenderhearted. In front of her, Deacon Mast moved down the unmarried girls’ bench. His head went up and down like Emery’s fishing bobber on late-summer afternoons down by the creek. As he drew closer, each girl whispered her line at lightning speed. Deacon Mast looked mighty uncomfortable surrounded by all these females even though he had four daughters of his own.
Verna managed to mutter her line once Deacon Mast arrived in front of her. “I have no objections with the solution the ministry has presented,” she said. The deacon was gone a second later, and he finished within minutes. Deacon Mast circled back, and joined the other two ministers on the front bench. Verna took a deep breath. The vote hadn’t taken that long, and now the moment she dreaded was here.
Bishop Beiler leaned over and motioned for Deacon Mast’s report. The deacon cleared his throat. “I found no objections to our proposal from any of the sisters or from the men I questioned.”
Bishop Beiler nodded. Minister Kanagy was next. He was a short, thin, nervous young man. “I found few objections. Most of the members were in full agreement with the counsel of the ministry. One brother did wish that things concerning Henry Yoder could be handled a little more discreetly. It seemed inappropriate to him that an Englisha should have learned about a church problem. But the brother said he would agree with the action we took.”
The bishop looked irritated by the rebuke, but he motioned for the next minister to report.
Verna realized her daett knew he was pushing a church boundary when he involved the Englisha, but she knew he must have done so for a very good reason. What that was, Verna couldn’t imagine. Did it have anything to do with Henry’s view of Joe? Was Daett concerned enough about her relationship with Joe to take a risk? If Henry had thrown a fit and refused to make the confession, his complaint against Joe might have been more difficult to clear up. The involvement of the Englisha neighbor might have shamed Henry into cooperation.
Verna turned her attention back to the ministers. Minister Graber, a thick, heavy-set man with a high-pitched voice, was in the middle of his report. Verna’s thoughts wandered back to her daett and Henry Yoder’s Englisha neighbor. Could Daett really have taken that risk for her? Did he care that she was growing older and had few marriage prospects? How wunderbah that would be to have his support. And why couldn’t it be true? Daett was kindhearted enough even under the weight of his church duties. Maybe Mamm’s talks with him in private had been effective. Either way, this might be the most comforting thing to happen today, and Verna needed something to soothe her soul. With Daett on her side, she had so much more hope for the future.
Minster Graber concluded his remarks, and Verna realized she had no idea what he’d said. Had everyone agreed to the ministry’s course of action?
Daett was on his feet. “We thank all of you for participating in this important church activity. As for the several concerns that were brought up about the Englisha neighbor’s involvement, I can assure you we will not be doing this as a normal practice. We proceeded on that issue with Henry’s knowledge and with the hope that it would help him. That is all I have to say on the matter. Deacon Mast, you may now call in the two men.”
Deacon Mast stood up, walked down the aisle, and disappeared outside. He returned within minutes with Henry and Joe in tow. The deacon sat on the bench by the ministers, and the two men sat down on a bench in front of them, facing the people.
Bishop Beiler approached the two men. “The vote of the church has been taken. We are in agreement with the measures we have spoken to you about. You may make your confessions now.”
Henry went first and spoke rapidly. “I confess before Da Hah and His church that I have failed. I beg their forgiveness and commit myself to walk in repentance and humility free from further transgressions on this matter.”
“It is granted,” Bishop Beiler said. His gaze moved to Joe.
Joe spoke slower and kept his head bowed.
Verna pinched herself to keep her sobs inside.
When Joe was done and the bishop had accepted his confession, the church members were dismissed.
Verna waited for a moment to calm herself and then headed toward the kitchen. She stole a glance at the bench in front where Joe had been seated, but he was gone. In spite of her surge of hope earlier, it was likely that Joe was gone from her life. But she mustn’t think such negative thoughts. Daett had been kind to her. He had possibly taken great risks for her benefit, so she must not despair. There must be something she could do to reach Joe. If he wouldn’t come to her, then perhaps she should make the first move. But what could that be? She’d already tried everything usually allowed Amish women.
Deacon Mast’s frau, Susie, appeared in front of her. Verna jumped.
“Sorry,” Susie said and smiled. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but we need help with the tables.”
“That’s okay,” Verna replied as an idea flashed through her mind. “I’ll help with the unmarried boys’ table.”
Susie nodded with appreciation. Not many girls volunteered for the task of waiting on the boys’ tables—not with the teases they usually had to endure.
Susie pointed toward the stair door. “Head right that way.”
Verna didn’t waste any time. She went into the kitchen, grabbed several bowls of peanut butter, and with weak knees went down the basement steps. Her daett’s voice rang out, calling for the first prayer. She waited at the bottom of the stairs until he finished.
“Well, well, service already!” Paul Wagler, the greatest tease of the unmarrieds, announced her presence. “Aren’t we all special today? Usually we have to holler our heads off to get any attention down here.”
“Consider yourself spoiled rotten today!” Verna shot back with a good-natured smile.
Everyone joined Paul in raucous laughter except Joe, who was seated at the other end. He didn’t even look up. Verna sidled that way, placing peanut butter bowls down the table. The boys in her wake got busy smearing peanut butter on their bread. Perhaps if she hung around Joe would eventually look up. She didn’t dare go up to him and speak.
“And what does the charming young Beiler girl have on her list for tonight?” Paul hollered in her direction.
“I’m certainly not going home with you!” she snapped.
Paul bent over with laughter, obviously enjoying the moment.
He was such a flirt, Verna thought, but gut looking at that. Why he didn’t settle down with some girl was anyone’s guess. He’d dated a few once or twice, but he always cut off the relationship. Not that she’d ever felt any interest in being asked home by Paul. He would make someone a gut catch though.
“Listen to the girl’s brave words,” Paul said now that he could breathe again. “That’s spoken like a true bishop’s daughter. Why is the young maiden still single, boys? Ask yourself that question.”
Before Verna could think of
what to say, another man spoke up. “Why don’t you answer that question, Paul?”
“Well, she might already be spoken for, if the truth were told,” Paul retorted before joining in the laughter again.
Verna studied Paul’s handsome face as she tried to think of what to say. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Joe finally look her way. He didn’t look displeased. Maybe Paul had done them both a favor with this public tease. And if Paul didn’t think they’d broken up permanently, that must mean Joe hadn’t told him they had. Paul was, after all, Joe’s gut friend.
Verna sent Joe a quick smile. He dropped his eyes but hope rose higher in her heart. For the rest of the meal, Verna raced up and down the steps and served the table. She stood still when her daett called for prayer again and watched afterward as the unmarried boys filed up the basement steps. Not once did Joe glance at her again. Still, she’d hang on to what hope she had. There was nothing else to do.
Sixteen
On the first Sunday in June, the morning sun hung just above the horizon. Debbie rode in the single buggy with Verna seated on the other side. Lois sat in the middle with Buttercup’s lines in her hands. Debbie could hardly believe she was finally going to attend her first Amish church service. For a moment she listened to the beats of horses’ hooves all around her and her excitement grew. The great moment of adventure had arrived, and now it seemed like the whole community had come alive in the stillness of the early dawn.
Debbie took deep breaths of fresh air and pulled her shawl tighter over her shoulders. Lois and Verna didn’t seem to mind the chill, but they were used to riding in a buggy. There was so much of the Amish life Debbie hadn’t yet experienced even though she’d grown up so close to the Beilers. Attending a church service had been the most unlikely possibility. That was a line one didn’t cross easily. It was a wonder now that Bishop Beiler was allowing her to attend. She’d asked him last night, and when he’d said yah Debbie’s heart had raced in anticipation. For Bishop Beiler to allow her to visit surely meant he thought well of her. She’d tried so hard these past three weeks to fit in, and apparently her efforts were succeeding. After the decision last night, there had been a mad rush upstairs with Lois to pick out a dress. She had tried on a few, accompanied this time by a few less giggles than the first attempt.
This morning Saloma had given her an approving look when she came downstairs. Debbie decided she’d still wear her regular dresses for work at Destiny, but from here on out on the weekends and evenings at the Beilers’ she’d wear Amish clothes.
Her makeup kit had sat unopened these past weeks. Debbie’s lack of adornment had provoked a few stares from Rhonda and Sally at work, but they soon got used to it. Debbie even wondered if she should drive to work in a buggy to fit her new lifestyle. She’d do it too if it weren’t so far and impractical. If she arrived by buggy she’d at least have rosy cheeks. That glow would be better than any touch of makeup. She was sure of that.
Verna leaned back and spoke around Lois’s back. “Are you cold, Debbie? There’s extra blanket on my end. Just pull on it.”
“A little,” Debbie said as she drew the blanket tighter around her knees. “But it’s okay. I’m enjoying the ride.”
Verna looked forward again. They heard the sound of a buggy coming up fast behind them, and soon it whirled past. The man inside leaned out with glee written on his face. He waved.
“He’s got nerve, that man!” Lois snapped. “It’s not even decent the way he acts.”
“Paul’s his own character,” Verna muttered. “He means no harm.”
“Surely you’re not after him now that Joe’s no longer coming around?” There was alarm in Lois’s voice. “Even I know enough to stay away from a boy like that.”
Verna sighed. “He was teasing me at church the other Sunday, and I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. But I know better, Lois. He’d be a catch, but he gets over girls quickly. Believe me, I’m still waiting on Joe.”
“You poor girl!” Lois was all sympathy. “Well, be assured that I think highly of Joe—as far as Amish men go. Better than Paul Wagler at least.”
“Be decent, Lois, please.” Verna turned around to peer down the road as another buggy approached.
What did they mean about Paul Wagler? Debbie wondered. Who was he? She didn’t dare ask. He seemed quite handsome and dashing in the brief glimpse she’d gotten. Wouldn’t any Amish girl be honored to have him pursue her? But that apparently wasn’t the case with Lois. Was he a flirt? Or too full of himself? The Amish made big issues out of such things. Now the sound of the buggy behind them was getting louder, pulling Debbie from her thoughts. But the driver didn’t attempt to pass them. Lois had let out the reins, and Buttercup was now clipping along at a faster pace. Lois must not want another buggy to whirl past them.
“Do you think Joe will get over his hurt before long?” Lois asked, giving Verna a quick sideways glance.
Debbie watched for Verna’s response. Lois wasn’t normally this sympathetic to her elder sister’s troubles, but this one had the whole family concerned. Debbie had heard their whispers at odd moments during the evening hours. She also saw it in their glances at each other whenever Verna’s face clouded over—which was often, it seemed. The problem of Joe wore heavily on all of them. Even the bishop had concern written on his face when a conversation near him broached the subject.
“I wish I knew.”
Debbie thought Verna’s voice sounded weary.
“But let’s talk of something a little more cheerful, shall we?” Verna continued. “Debbie’s coming to church for the first time. That will be quite a happy experience, I hope.”
“I went over everything with her last night,” Lois said, acting as if Debbie weren’t sitting beside her in the buggy. “She’s ready for all eventualities.”
Verna appeared amused. “Did Debbie teach you that big word?”
Lois sputtered, “I learned that word listening to the Englisha talk at the health-food store, mind you. And there’s nothing wrong with that. They talk so much more educated than we do.”
“Don’t start on that this morning,” Verna begged. “At least appreciate what you have. Take some examples from Debbie and how she acts.”
“Oh, she understands me.” Lois tossed her head so her bonnet shifted sideways. With one hand, she straightened it.
“I’m used to Lois’s feelings, Verna,” Debbie said, interrupting their conversation. “And I do understand, I guess. I come from that world, and there are exciting things out there. But I like this simple life much better.”
“See!” Verna sounded triumphant. “Debbie has much to say that you could learn.”
Lois didn’t answer. She stared straight ahead.
“She’s not angry,” Verna assured Debbie when Debbie glanced her way. “Lois doesn’t like being reminded of the decent heritage she has.”
Debbie settled back into the buggy seat. The last thing she wished this morning was to make an issue out of her Englisha ways. Lois was peeved regardless of what Verna thought. Maybe if Debbie maintained her cheerfulness, Lois would get over her hurt feelings. “All I can say is that I’m happy to be here,” Debbie stated. “And I’m sure Lois finds much to appreciate with this wonderful life, don’t you, Lois?”
“I like that you’re here.”
Lois didn’t sound too mollified.
Debbie noticed a smile flit across Verna’s face as they drove on. Lois said nothing more, but her fascination with the Englisha world was tempered for the moment. At least Lois hadn’t followed through on her threat to attend college this fall. And perhaps Debbie had played a small part in this change of mind. If she had, she was thankful. She was sure Lois wouldn’t find the Englisha world as fascinating as she thought she would.
Debbie pulled the buggy blanket tighter and lowered her head. Her face was turning colder by the minute. Her heart, though, was pounding faster the closer they came to the meeting place. She was going to see Alvin Knepp today, and he would see her
in an Amish dress. What would he think of her? Would he think of her at all? Yes, he surely would! Hopefully, he was developing an interest in her. Even Bishop Beiler’s eyebrows had been raised yesterday when Alvin drove in their lane again…to borrow a bag of oats, he said.
“It’s becoming quite a habit of the boy to stop by here on Saturday mornings,” Saloma had commented when the bishop had come in after Alvin left.
Bishop Beiler had nodded. “Yah, it does seem a bit strange.” He’d stroked his beard and puzzled over the matter. “There’s no reason for them to run out of oats this early in the spring.”
“Maybe he wishes to take the place of Deacon Mast,” Lois teased.
Everyone laughed except Debbie. She wasn’t quite sure what the joke meant. Apparently Deacon Mast’s duties weren’t considered the pleasant sort.
A twinge of guilt plucked at her heart, but Debbie pushed it away. She’d not been dishonest by keeping her silence. If it had occurred to one of the Beilers to ask her about Alvin, she would have admitted that he fascinated her. But Alvin wasn’t her motivation to attend church, Debbie reminded herself. She’d wanted to attend the Amish church the first chance she had, so she’d asked. From there—once she had Bishop Beiler’s approval—all it had taken was a quick trip down to her parents’ place to let them know she wouldn’t be attending church with them in the morning.
Her mom had appeared resigned before the words were out of her daughter’s mouth. It was as if her mother had expected such news. Her dad, on the other hand, had seemed pleased. “I wish you the best, Debbie, whatever this adventure of yours is all about. I don’t understand it, and neither does your mother. But we’ve always believed in supporting you when you’ve really wanted something. And this you seem to want.”
“Thank you, Dad,” Debbie had responded.
The blessing of Dad’s approval was wonderful, Debbie thought as she watched the road ahead of her. The well-kept, white farmhouse of Henry Yoder came into view. Lois had told her last night that this was where church would be held today. Debbie had gone silent for a moment before saying, “But isn’t that the man you told me about? The one who made a church confession the other Sunday, along with Joe Weaver?”
Holding a Tender Heart Page 12
