Gathering the Threads

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Cilla worked her way through the seventy-plus people inside the home and came toward them. Cold winter days like this caused everyone to remain inside after the meal.

  She nodded toward the washhouse, which, as Skylar had pointed out weeks ago, wasn’t a house at all but simply their laundry room.

  Emanuel grinned. “Go,” he whispered. “I’ll cover for you.”

  His brother-in-law seemed to understand there are times when you just need to talk to a girl, even on a Sunday before all the church benches are put away. But rather than using this time to talk about where Ariana had slipped off to, they could have a few minutes to talk about what was going on between her and Saul.

  They walked down the short hall leading to the washroom, and when they entered it, he realized another young couple had chosen this quiet room to talk. When he recognized Rudy’s back and saw that he was standing directly in front of a young woman, relief eased the tightness in his muscles.

  “Gut. You’re here,” Abram said.

  Rudy turned, and Susie peered out from around him.

  “Where’s Ariana?”

  “She went to the café. I gave her my key.” Susie’s eyes held undeniable anger. “I can’t believe what is happening. Someone needs to explain this to me. The ministers purposefully picked her out and said things that would embarrass her. It’s not fair.” Susie fisted her hands. “None of it.”

  “I agree.” Rudy looked like a simmering pot with a tight lid as he leaned against the wringer washer. His movements looked smooth and calm, but Abram didn’t buy it.

  “I was telling Rudy that Ariana needed time alone to think, maybe to call Nicholas or Brandi. I suggested she go to the café.”

  “You suggested that? Why?” Abram asked.

  “Because it’s ridiculous that she hasn’t been allowed to go to her café for the whole week.”

  “That was a dangerous thing to suggest,” Abram said. “You told her to disobey Daed. She’s doing enough of that on her own, and it’s not helping her fit in very well.”

  “Maybe she’s not fitting in because the ministers don’t want her to fit in.”

  “Who walked out during the service?” Cilla asked. “I only saw the back of her head as she was leaving.”

  Abram wished this whole thing wasn’t happening.

  “Berta.” His head began to pound. “The ministers had to see her leave, and because of it, she’ll have them on her doorstep later today or first thing tomorrow.”

  “Ya, well, I wanted to go with her,” Susie snapped. “And if I hadn’t been afraid of making things worse for Ariana, I would have. But Ari stayed put, so I stayed put.”

  “You’ve always had fire in your gut, Susie, and you need to douse it, not add to the flame.”

  “Douse your own fire, Abram.” Susie twirled a prayer Kapp string around her index finger, jerking it as she did.

  “Again, maybe she just needs to do what’s being asked,” Abram said.

  “Nee.” Susie released the string to her prayer Kapp. “Nothing they have an issue with is strictly forbidden, and Ariana knows it. I’m with her—hands down. Is that your life plan, Abram? If a minister puts a bull’s-eye on your back, are you just going to hand over your will to him?”

  Giving in to the leaders seemed like the right thing for Ariana, but Abram had been pondering a far more disobedient thing. Since Cilla’s appointment with the doctor, he’d been thinking that if they were to marry, he and Cilla would use some form of permanent birth control. From his days in construction work, he knew such a thing existed. Some of the married Englisch guys with kids joked about how they’d been “fixed.” But he wasn’t sure he and Cilla would inform the ministers.

  Abram shook his head. “Nee.”

  “Gut.” Susie drew a breath. “I’m glad to hear it. Because there are good ministers throughout Amish country, but ours aren’t requiring the same lines to be toed by everyone under their authority.”

  “Hallo?” Daed called from the doorway of the washhouse.

  The room fell silent.

  “Anyone know where I can find Ariana?” he asked.

  No one answered. Daed eased forward and looked each one in the face. “Either you are refusing to answer me, or you don’t know. Which is it?”

  Abram’s head pounded. Was he right to disobey his Daed? He didn’t know, and he refused to sell out Ariana while he tried to figure it out. “I know. But I can’t answer you. I’m sorry.”

  Susie nodded. “Same here.” She skirted past her Daed, but before going into the main house, she paused and turned back. “Just because people think they’re right doesn’t actually make them right, and that’s true whether they are a minister or a Daed. What about Judas? Jesus chose him, and Judas was following the letter of the law when he betrayed Him. Jesus knew who Judas was from the start, and yet He chose him for specific reasons. It seems to me Judas wasn’t put in that position because Jesus expected him to be wise and holy in his authority. He was there for other reasons. Maybe the ministers are not over us for all that’s wise and holy and you’re giving them free rein to hurt your daughter, a person you know to be good and loving.”

  Daed stared at Susie’s back as she left. He then turned and faced the rest of them, looking as confused and hurt as Ariana had during the church service.

  Tears continued to well, threatening to spill down Ariana’s face. Her hands trembled as she held on tightly to the reins while driving through historic Summer Grove toward her café. The streetlights gave off a warm glow, powering through the gloom of winter and dancing snow. She swallowed hard. She should bask in the beauty of this quaint town she loved so dearly, but instead of joy surging, her heart wept.

  How could the ministers have said those things about her and in front of everyone? The bishop, preacher, and deacon hadn’t called her out by name, but they used her incidents with the cell phone, her going to the B&B, and her meeting with two worldly men as indications of rebellion. If the listeners weren’t clear who the ministers were alluding to, the deacon said it was the same girl who, at fifteen years old, refused to hand over a letter she’d been given from a young man who’d left the Amish, taking a teen girl with him.

  Everyone then knew he was talking about her. Quill had put the letter in her hand five and a half years ago on the day he left the Amish, taking Frieda with him. His goal had been to share enough about what was happening that Ariana wouldn’t grieve as hard or as long over losing her two dearest friends. She had run home before reading it, hoping her Daed could explain what was happening. The deacon happened to be at her house and insisted she give him the letter. Fearing Quill had divulged something, such as an address, that would cause problems for him and Frieda, Ariana tore it up and held the remnants under the faucet.

  When it was the bishop’s turn to preach, he said the fruit of such rebellion caused that same girl to be with a worldly man as he gave a large donation to MAP. His captive audience gasped when they learned that. He used her unwillingness to submit to her Daed about the phone as a demonstration of how anyone who spent time in the world would return more rebellious. And he warned that if the willfulness didn’t stop, such a person would be in jeopardy of going to hell.

  More rebellious?

  The desire to look the bishop in the eyes and tell him what she really thought made her heart race. She hadn’t been rebellious in her young years. Never. Not at all. The ministers could convince themselves and the community otherwise, but they could not convince her.

  Her cell phone buzzed. She had retrieved it from the hayloft before getting into the buggy. It’d been in the loft a week, and the cold had drained the batteries, so how did it have enough energy to ring? She dug it out of her coat pocket and read “Dad” on the screen. She swallowed hard, not wanting to talk to anyone, not wanting anyone to hear her voice quiver and crack as she tried to control her emotions. But when she’d grabbed her phone from its hiding place, she realized he’d tried to reach her seventeen times since she’d r
eturned home from the B&B eight days ago.

  She swiped a cold finger across the screen and hoped she could force happiness into her voice. “Hey, how are you?” Her voice cracked, and tears threatened once again, but she forged ahead, hoping to avoid his asking too many questions. “I’m in a rig, driving, and it’s really cold.” Would that excuse cover why she sounded so weird?

  “That was more words than you used the entire first week you were here.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. You were even more quiet during driving lessons, and I…” He continued talking, but her mind couldn’t focus on small talk, so his voice faded.

  She had sinned. She would never deny that the ministers were right about that. Often she thought too highly of herself, convinced she could do anything set before her and much more. But when faced with the stress of action, she fell apart instead of being strong and having rock-solid faith. Unfortunately that same character deficit was trying to take over again. Or maybe it wasn’t a lack of character. Maybe it was just being human—her way and the wiring of her humanness.

  She turned onto the small street that led to the lot behind her café, drove onto the snow-covered area, and stopped the rig. The ministers blamed her for what was happening, saying that keeping bad company corrupted good morals and that if one’s biological parent is worldly, the child must follow Jesus and choose to let the dead bury their dead, choose to forsake family to follow Christ.

  The verbal assault was every bit as painful and humiliating as taking a physical beating. She hurt for her family and for Rudy. They deserved to be honored, not humiliated.

  Tears worked free, drizzling down her cheeks. The salty warmness turned frigid, burning her cheeks. Wind and snow swirled, threatening to freeze any tears, even inside the rig.

  “Ariana?”

  What had he been saying?

  “Ya, I’m here,” she whispered, unable to speak any louder because of the emotions pounding her.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “How are Brandi, Gabe, and Cameron?” She’d exchanged a few lighthearted texts with her mom, stepdad, and stepsister while at the B&B without revealing her state of mind or where she was. But she hadn’t spoken to them since leaving their house two weeks ago. It wouldn’t help them deal with her absence if they discovered she’d been home only one night before she needed to get away for a week. It would hurt and worry her mom most of all.

  “Fine. They’re ready to get more texts from you, and I know that because they texted me to see if I’d heard from you. I told them only during your first week away, just as they did.”

  “You didn’t tell them about the B&B, did you?”

  “Not a word.”

  “Thanks.”

  She missed them. Cameron would definitely have some choice quips about the bishop and lots of humor to get Ariana through this grief-filled saga. Brandi would take her out to the movies and to dinner and shopping. Spending money was the upper-middle-class Englisch answer for a lot of emotional upsets. “You won’t believe where I am. I’ve just pulled up to my café.”

  “Ari, you don’t sound good.”

  His concern flooded her, and thoughts of fun with Cameron and Brandi disappeared. “I…I’m fine.” She brushed away a tear. “You know, cold but just fine.”

  The windows of the rig were frosty, impairing her view of the café. Her hands trembled harder as she got out of the carriage. Were the ministers trying to run her off?

  She needed to keep talking. It was the stops and starts that allowed her emotions to overwhelm her. “The café looks so different from when I left here, even from behind.”

  There was a permanent lean-to in place to protect the horses of the café workers from bad weather. Horse blankets hung over a rail in the lean-to, and there were feed and water troughs. All those things had been on her to-do list, but they hadn’t ranked high enough to get done in the short time between purchasing the café and having to leave home.

  But there was one thing that hadn’t been on her to-do list: an ugly generator. It sat against the back of the café under another lean-to. “There is a generator outside the back door of the café.”

  Abram had said it was absolutely necessary for running the café successfully. Apparently the many types of coffee served were part of the success that only Skylar knew how to pull off.

  She took the key out of her coat pocket and went to the weatherworn wooden back door of the café.

  “Ah, but how well does the generator work?”

  “Great…” She jiggled the key until it turned. “Or so I’ve been told.” Why would she say that?

  “That’s what you’ve been told? You don’t know?”

  Her vision blurred with tears. “This is my first time to be in the café. I’ve been grounded since coming home.” Why couldn’t she just shut up? Two sobs escaped her before she gained control. “It’s such a mess. I’m right where I want to be, but the ministers are so angry with me, and it’s not just me they are taking it out on. They found a way to embarrass Mamm, Daed, my family, and Rudy.” She leaned her head against the door. “I don’t know what to do to make it better. And Daed…” She felt so bad for him, and yet he was being as difficult as the bishop. The difference was she knew Daed’s heart was in the right place, even if his understanding wasn’t.

  “What about him?”

  “Daed found my phone. Long story short, I took it back and refused to turn it over when he demanded. I think that more than anything else is why I’m grounded.”

  “Has he lost his mind?” Nicholas growled.

  “You’re going to judge him for jostling my life? He’s being no worse than you were when I first arrived there, and his fears are the same—that I’m going to ruin my life by not seeing the truth.”

  Nicholas sighed and said nothing for nearly a minute. “You’re right. I see that. You could give him the phone. I’ll get you another, and—”

  “I’ve thought of that, but no. Step into my shoes for a minute. Imagine being me, raised like me, poor and with Amish rules, and the phone is the first gift your real dad gave you.”

  “I see what you mean, and your description means a lot.” His voice was soft, as if her words had truly moved him. “Sort of ironic that you didn’t feel that way at all when I gave it to you, and two weeks ago as you were getting out of my car to go back to your Amish world, I had to beg you to keep it.”

  “I know. Since then, and maybe not fully until the last few days, I’ve realized that I’ve grown to like it, just like we grew to get along and understand each other.” Her mind cleared as she defended her right to hold on to the phone. It had every text she’d sent or received. It had the first pictures she’d ever taken. It testified to her first contact with Frieda in five years. It had the images she’d seen firsthand as she and Nicholas crisscrossed the country. “After a lifetime of walking to a community phone to make a call, I can’t explain how this phone makes me feel. It was my first taste of having any information I wanted at my fingertips. Information is power. You know that. This tiny device means I don’t have to rely on what I’m told. I can Google anything, read, and think. The GPS guided me while I drove. Somewhere in the past two weeks, I realized this device represents the Englisch side of me, and I’m not giving it up.”

  “You sure you’re not wavering on this topic?” Nicholas teased.

  Ariana’s whispery laugh was a mixture of tears and relief. “Apparently I’m suddenly positive of one thing about myself, and interestingly enough that piece of understanding is wrapped in the word no.”

  No, she wasn’t giving up her phone. No, she wasn’t yielding to what Daed or the church said she needed to do. No.

  A feeling of foolishness skittered through her. She sounded like a toddler. But then passages in First Corinthians about love came to mind. Scripture was clear on what love is, deliciously clear and encouraging. In the list that defined love, the first two items described what it is, and that was followed by eight things it
isn’t. After that, the list returned to what love is, but the list of what it isn’t helped to clarify what it is.

  When she and Nicholas ended this call, she should look up that passage on her phone.

  “Ari, is your cell the only problem? I ask because maybe we could come up with some other solution that would appease people and smooth things over.”

  “No, there’s more but nothing fixable.”

  “Indulge me, please.”

  She hesitated.

  “Ariana, if you’re surviving the thick of battle, I assure you I can handle hearing about it.”

  “You won’t like it, but word got back to the bishop that I saw you and Quill while at the B&B and that you made a donation to MAP.”

  “I’m so sorry, Ari. I didn’t think…”

  “You meant no harm.” One of the things whipping her emotions into an unbearable state dawned on her. “I really resent the bishop telling me that I’ll go to hell if I don’t do as Daed and he want.”

  Nicholas cursed. “He said that to you?”

  “In his own way—indirect directness—ya.” Ariana drew a deep breath. “Before I left here, before you shoved academia at me, I would’ve believed him, and now, even though it’s possible he’s right, I’m angry that he’s using it to try to manipulate and control me.”

  “He’s not right, Ari, and you should begrudge it.” A beeping sound came through the line, as if he was turning on his computer. “Listen, you need to leave there. I’ll come get you. We’ll buy a new café elsewhere. You can’t let these people use you to confirm they have the answers when they don’t.”

  What? “Walking away would never, ever be the answer. You think I should walk away while Daed and I are at odds like this? Do you know what that would do to him?”

  “I don’t care! He’s dead wrong. He’s not only hurting you, but he’s also allowing the ministers and the community to pile on you, and—”

  “Whoa!” She paced around the café. “No. Just no.” There was that word again, defining who she was on another topic. “That man you’re so very willing to criticize is the only reason I’m alive, the only reason my mom is alive. If she’d died, where would I be? Or maybe the question is where would Skylar be? With you?”