by Linda Byler
In time, it would all straighten out, she knew. Even if it wasn’t perfect now, God would provide. Placing her trust firmly in his hands, she fell into a troubled sleep. But she woke up crying, thinking Mervin had called her.
All this, however, was tucked into a hidden recess of her mind, and the face she presented to her mother at the breakfast table was one of sweet and unconfused innocence. Except for the lurking shadows Sarah was completely unaware of.
Mam watched her daughter and knew how much wisdom and patience it would take to keep her peace.
Chapter 25
BY MONDAY EVENING, the wind had died down and the air had turned crisp and cold. Dat spread clean, yellow straw in the horse stable, preparing for the horses that would be tied in the stalls.
As he fluffed up the clean bedding, his lips moved in prayer, putting this meeting of minds into God’s hands. He knew well how meetings could turn disastrous, with everyone voicing their own opinions, each one different, and sometimes espousing views that were poorly thought out and coupled with passion and self-will.
But it was good they could come together like this, and he walked through the barn with an optimistic outlook. He was glad old Aaron Glick would be among them, and he was pleased that there remained a measure of respect for the older generation.
Levi was in fine fettle, dressed in a blue shirt, his hair shampooed and combed with slow and deliberate care, his glasses polished, held to the light, and polished again. He knew this was a matter of importance, and he knew the fact that he had seen that white car would finally be noticed.
And the biggest highlight would be his mother’s warm cinnamon rolls, frosted with caramel icing. She said he’d be allowed coffee, although it had to be decaffeinated. Decaf. That’s what people said when they ordered breakfast at a restaurant.
Levi loved to drink coffee with the men. He didn’t particularly enjoy the bitter taste. But if he put lots of creamer into it and had plenty of cinnamon rolls on the side, it made him feel like one of the men, sitting there, grimacing that certain way, to show he could drink it hot, like a man.
So when the men began to stream through the door and take their seats around the kitchen table, Levi sat at the end, reaching up a heavy arm to shake hands enthusiastically, so glad to see Omar’s Sam and Abbie’s Ben’s Amos, Davey Esh, and Sammie’s Reuben, for he knew them all. Levi rarely forgot a name or a face, usually connecting the two within seconds.
Dat opened the meeting with a moment of silence, and Levi looked very grave when the men’s heads were lifted. He knew who God was, and he knew that it was important to include that invisible chap at times like this.
Dat spoke first, as minister as well as a victim. He spoke of the fact that they had no clues at all about the arsonist, other than his son Levi’s description of a white car, and he’d let Levi tell them exactly what had occurred that night.
Levi cleared his throat, looked around the length of the table to make sure he had everyone’s attention, and then drew his eyebrows down behind his glasses. He sighed with resignation when Melvin appeared at the kitchen door and said, “Come in, Melvin. You should have come earlier.” There was friendly chuckling as Melvin slid unabashed into the remaining chair.
Levi waited, then began, his voice low and strong, his demeanor one of pure enjoyment.
“As you know, the night the barn burned, I was sick with hals vay (sore throat). I was up and around.”
Dat hid a smile, his son so obviously holding court and his choice of words so clearly premeditated.
“I thought it was so strange that a white car would come in the lane at such a late hour.”
Here, Levi’s eyes narrowed, and he achieved that perfect cunning look of his, the one he assumed when he played Memory with Suzie.
“I went to the bathroom, and when I came out, the car was going past the house already.”
Dat’s head lifted, his gaze became intent. “You mean going back out?”
“Ya. Ya.”
“You never mentioned that, Levi.”
“Well, I’m not done, Davey. Maybe you’d want to stay sochta (quiet).”
The men exercised great restraint then, no one wanting to upset Levi, but they found it hilarious that he had called his father by his given name. Oh, he was a character, they said after the meeting.
“The shape of the tail lights was sort of round and down low, so I remembered them. I have a whole pile of football cards, you know, and then I started collecting car cards. Vehicles, you know. Scheena. Mascheena.”
He had everyone’s attention now, the roomful of faces turned toward him.
“Suzie, I need a glass of water.” Suzie, seated in the background, blushed and looked frantic, reluctant to be seen by all the freme (strangers). So Melvin got up and poured him a cold drink from the pitcher in the refrigerator and handed it to him.
As wily as a small bird, Levi’s eyes twinkled up at Melvin, “Is your name Suzie?”
With that, Levi slapped the tabletop with great hilarity, and no one could keep from laughing as he took his time drinking the water, for all the world an imitation of his father when he preached. He then looked around for a place to set his tumbler even though the tabletop was clearly in front of him.
Dat thanked God silently for the gift of his son with Down syndrome and the way he spread humor and goodwill around the table. Just stay with us, Lord, he begged.
“So,” Levi resumed, “as close as I can get to it, I think it was a little Volkswagen. An older model from 1978. Like this one.”
Taking his time, he pushed back his chair and turned, his wide back bent at a slight angle. Reaching into a drawer, he produced a card with a vehicle showing the distinguishable features of a 1978 Volkswagen.
“It’s a punch bug,” he said, grinning widely. “I believe the car the arsonist drove was an old punch bug.”
Murmurs broke out, but resonantly above the others, Melvin said, “Boy, that would really narrow it down!”
Heads nodded assent. Without being aware of it, Melvin took the floor, Levi listening with a resigned expression. He wasn’t finished yet.
“Well, if it is an old Volkswagen the way Levi says, I bet we could eventually find the driver. That wouldn’t be impossible. Hard but not impossible, if we get the cops in on this. And in the meantime, we need to take every precaution to stop this arsonist from becoming bolder yet. He obviously isn’t worried about anyone catching him setting fire to a barn, or he wouldn’t do it anymore. It’s just a matter of time till the next one goes up.”
“Ah, come on! He’s not going to have the nerve,” Abbie’s Ben’s Amos said confidently.
“That’s what you think,” Melvin shot back. “What’s going to keep him from it? We just sit here like a glook (hen) hatching peeps, doing nothing, so what else can we expect?”
There was a ripple of assent, but no one spoke up.
“I suggest, if you live close to the road, your chance is about 75 percent higher of having your barn lit. If you don’t, it could be lit anyway. So, if I had a barn, that’s where I’d sleep.”
Voices of disagreement broke through.
“I ain’t sleeping out there.”
“No way.”
“In winter?”
“Nobody could pay me to sleep out there.”
Now Melvin’s face turned red, his eyes glistening with the need to express himself.
“Well, be that way, then. If your barn burns, don’t come crying to me.”
At these hotly spoken words, Dat’s warning flag waved silently.
Old Aaron Glick was bent, thin, his hair and beard a banner of white in his old age. But his eyes were bright with wisdom and experience.
“I think Levi here is on to something. The Bible says a child shall lead them. Well, Levi is a man, of course, but we would do well to heed his words. However, Melvin is right. If you want to join the community effort to stop the fires, either sleep out there or spend hundreds—maybe thousands—of dollars insta
lling some smart smoke detectors.”
Merv Zook, who was somewhat ill-tempered too much of the time, cut him off. “By the time a smoke detector went off, the barn would be half burnt to the ground.”
“Well, then, sleep out there,” said Abbie’s Ben’s Amos, who was still annoyed that Merv had never fully paid him for the last load of straw, the money from which he wanted to spend on a new patio for his wife. The look Merv gave Amos was sadly lacking in brotherly love, but the meeting righted itself and kept moving forward.
Elam Stoltzfus, soft-spoken, ill at ease in a crowd, and never one to voice his opinion, came up with the most workable solution so far. “Could we install a bell attached to a wire that runs across the driveway?”
But without electricity? How would they work?
Inverters. There was a way.
Someone suggested putting an article in the daily paper, warning the arsonist of these three precautions the Amish people would be taking.
Dat shook his head no. “That would not be our way. We don’t want to appear as if we’re going to battle. I think each idea that has been offered is a good one. Each man must decide for himself. But I do agree with Melvin. We need to wake up, become more aware. No one knows the horror of a night like that unless you experience it firsthand. Let’s do what we can to avoid it. Melvin, you’re a young man with time on your hands during winter when roofing’s slow. Would you be willing to take the responsibility of talking to the police?”
“I could do that.”
Sarah was seated in the living room crocheting a white afghan. She looked up and smiled when Melvin spoke, noting the lack of humility, the joy of his elevated position.
“So,” Dat continued, “We have agreed to take Levi’s words seriously, right?”
Levi nodded vigorously, and Dat smiled at him.
“The rest of us will decide to cooperate with either a bell or a smoke detector or we will leave our good warm beds to sleep in the barn.”
Laughter broke out, but everyone was seemingly in agreement. Then Ez Stoltzfus said that if everyone trusted in the Lord with all their hearts, the way the Bible says, there would be no need for any of those costly solutions. An aura of shame arose, and no one had anything to say.
Finally, when the silence became uncomfortable, Dat spoke again, saying that was true, and if Ez’s faith was great, then it would be alright for him to do nothing.
Melvin, however, was visibly sputtering.
They exchanged ideas and solutions for another hour, until Levi said he believed he smelled coffee. He turned his head and wiggled his eyebrows at Mam and Sarah, who hurried to the kitchen to serve the men cups of coffee, fresh cinnamon rolls, stick pretzels, and sliced Longhorn cheese.
Levi was so clearly in his element, and it touched a chord in Sarah’s heart to see the kindness of these men around him. They knew he was special and treated him as someone who deserved just that. Special treatment.
Abbie’s Ben’s Amos’s wife, Lomie, had sent a package containing a new Sunday handkerchief, two packages of Juicy Fruit gum, and a pair of brown jersey knit gloves for Levi. He was beside himself, since it wasn’t even Christmas yet.
Mam served quietly, nodding her head at comments, smiling in that discreet way of hers, always showing good manners, living her life by example. Dat was confident in his wife’s dutiful maneuvers. It was clearly a blessing watching her parents interact with the men of the community, Sarah observed in silence.
What set a minister’s wife apart? Nothing, and yet a great deal depended on her support. She needed to supply quantities of it, always striving to build her husband’s confidence and his service by guta-rote (sound advice) as the lesser vessel. At the same time she was a powerful ally, and Sarah knew the power of her mother’s prayers better than anyone.
All she wanted from life was a marriage like her parents’ marriage, and Rose had told her not everyone could say that, after she sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes.
Melvin caught Sarah’s eye, beckoned her over, and then rose to go to the kesslehaus, where a dim kerosene lamp shone from its black wrought iron holder on the side of the oak cabinet.
“So, how’s my Sarah?” he asked, grinning cheekily.
“Your Sarah?”
“Yeah. Hopefully not Matthew’s yet.”
Sarah sighed and let it go. So now there were three of them. Genuine roadblocks. Mam, Melvin, and Priscilla.
“No, not yet,” she said quietly with restraint.
“Tell me about Edna.”
“Edna King? Oh, she’s great! Melvin, she is!”
They stood in the kesslehaus, two cousins who shared a rare and beautiful friendship. Under the cold December moon, in a world that had been fractured by three horrifying barn fires, the assembly of men in the kitchen, each one looking out for the well-being of the others, enjoyed warm cinnamon rolls and coffee as they tried to patch together a workable plan.
For Sarah, her personal world was no different—torn with indecision, doubt, and above all, the yearning to be Matthew’s wife. It was all she had ever wanted. Now it seemed so near and yet so completely unsure. Was anything ever certain in life?
Now it seemed every barn roof that gleamed in the moonlight on this night was in danger. The Amish men of the community knew this. They had formed a plan of sorts, but ultimately their faith ruled, and they knew it. So nothing was certain, nothing was worthy of confidence, at a time such as this.
It was faith, as stated in the book of Hebrews, that sustained them all: “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”
Sarah could only rely on her fledgling faith, as she chose to think of it. Her father’s faith was like an eagle, soaring on powerful wings, so many years ahead of her in the wisdom and learning she hoped to achieve someday.
Outside, the moon touched each carriage top with a dull gleam, spidery branches etching a pattern across them. Somewhere in the old apple orchard, an owl called, and another one answered, its hushed cry a warning to all the small creatures of the night, burrowed in their warm hollows and caves in the ground.
The warm yellow light shining from the kitchen was a small beacon of life, love, and caring. But the splendid light of human charity was the new barn, perfect in its entirety, the symmetry a banner of God’s gift to man—the serenity to accept the things they could not change, the courage to change the things they could, and the wisdom to know the difference.
And somewhere, a white older model Volkswagen puttered along the rural roads of Lancaster County.
The End
The Glossary
Bupplish—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect word meaning “childish.”
Chappy—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect word meaning “boyfriend.”
Chide—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect word meaning “right.”
Dat—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect word used to address or refer to one’s father.
Die Botschaft—A weekly periodical in which volunteer “scribes” report on the events of their communities. Its name is a Pennsylvania Dutch term meaning “The Message.” One way in which Amish communities stay in touch is by reading the same publications. In addition to Die Botschaft, many Amish families subscribe to the Connection, Keepers at Home, and the Ladies Journal—all periodicals about Plain life.
Fer-sark—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect phrase meaning “to take care of.”
Fore-gayer—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect word meaning “managers.” At a funeral, they take care of arrangements and hospitality for the family of the deceased.
Gaduld—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect word meaning “patience.”
Geb acht—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect phrase meaning “be careful.”
Gel—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect word meaning “right.”
Gook mol—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect phrase meaning “look here.”
Gros-feelich—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect word meaning “proud.”
Himmlisch—A Pennsylvania Dutc
h dialect word meaning “heavenly.”
Ich bin aw base—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect phrase meaning “I am mad.”
Ich gleich dich—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect phrase meaning “I love you.”
Kesslehaus—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect word meaning “wash house.”
Kopp-duch—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect word meaning “head scarf.”
Mam—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect word used to address or refer to one’s mother.
Mit-leidich—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect word meaning “understanding.”
Ordnung—The Amish community’s agreed-upon rules for living based on their understanding of the Bible, particularly the New Testament. The ordnung varies from community to community, often reflecting leaders’ preferences, local customs, and traditional practices.
Phone shanty—Most Old Order Amish do not have telephone landlines in their homes so that incoming calls do not overtake their lives and so that they are not physically connected to the larger world. Many Amish build a small, fully enclosed structure where a phone is installed and where they can make calls and retrieve messages.
Rumspringa—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect word meaning “running around.” It refers to the time in a person’s life between age sixteen and marriage. It involves structured social activities in groups, as well as dating, and usually takes place on the weekends.
Sei—A Pennsylvania Dutch dialect word meaning “his.” In communities where many people have the same first and last names, it is customary for the husband’s name to be added to that of his wife so it is clear who is being referred to.
The Author
Linda Byler was raised in an Amish family and is an active member of the Amish church today. Growing up, Linda loved to read and write. In fact, she still does. She is the author of the Sadie’s Montana series which includes these three novels: Wild Horses, Keeping Secrets, and The Disappearances. She has also written the Lizzie Searches for Love series, which includes these three novels: Running Around (and Such), When Strawberries Bloom, and Big Decisions. She is also the author of Lizzie’s Amish Cookbook: Favorite recipes from three generations of Amish cooks!
