Amish Love Be Kind 3-Book Boxed Set

by Rachel Stoltzfus

  “That’s my sorry husband’s truck. He told me to get it. Was that dent already there, or did one of you put it there?”

  The men’s faces bore the same look of shock. Bishop Kurtz recovered fastest and he responded. “That dent was there when the owner of this home, his wife, infant and I came into his yard. Please remember, ma’am, that it was your husband who chose to come here to harass a gut man. Now, if you don’t mind, Mr. Beiler and I are on our way to the sheriff’s office. Please take this vehicle. And, if I hear from this woman here”—he indicated Hannah—“that you hassled her, I will call the sheriff’s office to file a report.”

  The woman, hearing the censure in the bishop’s voice, retreated slightly. “Sorry. I’m just...mad, is all.”

  “The sheriff got a message to you as fast as he could. None of us are to blame for this truck being here or for the dent it now has. We’re sorry for the connection you have to the man who has been harassing this young man here. But that doesn’t mean that you get to accuse us of wrongdoing. Get your truck and go. Before I say something I’ll regret.” The bishop’s voice had a definite growl in it now.

  Hearing it, the Englisch woman hurried to get into the truck. Starting it, she roared off, leaving everyone waving a cloud of black diesel fumes away from their faces. Hannah coughed and quickly covered Eleanor’s face by pressing the baby against the bodice of her dress. “How inconsiderate!”

  “Get in the house, Hannah. I’ll be home soon.” Gently squeezing Hannah’s upper arm, Abram bounded into the buggy. After he came home, he sighed as he poured a glass of lemonade for himself. Indicating the jug, he asked Hannah if she wanted a glass, too.

  “Ya, but I can pour my own. What happened?”

  “We spoke to Deputy Scott and gave him your letter. He told us that this guy is staying behind bars until some hearing can be scheduled for him. It looks as though, because of all his harassment, he’ll be losing what’s called parole and serving the rest of his sentence in prison. It turns out that he also has a history of domestic violence against that woman who picked up his truck this morning. Only he’s not really complying with what the deputy said were the terms of his release. When I told Scott that this guy, Don, had been bothering me in town, he got interested. Real interested. I had to tell him that Don had accosted me at the hardware store at least twice. To think...if I had known that guy had a history of serving time in prison for assaulting his wife, then I would have known that I could have reported every incident, and I may not have lost my temper on you”

  “What did the bishop have to say about that?”

  “That it may just be time for us to relax our rules on interaction with Englisch law enforcement in cases like mine. Not for everything. Just in situations where the actions of non-community members endanger our families. We should be more open to reporting to the sheriff. I think the elders are going to talk more about that among themselves.”

  Hannah was stunned. She slowed down her movements as she pulled a large mixing bowl out of the cabinet. “Well! It seems that we’re finally coming into the twenty-first century when it comes to relying on law enforcement.”

  “So you agree with me?”

  “Ya! I do! Our ways are excellent. When we aren’t dealing with people like that Don person. But, when we have to struggle with domestic violence and other ills, a little support would surely help.” Hannah became aware of a creepy feeling. Rubbing her hands over her arms, she looked through the windows. Not seeing anyone through the back window, she moved carefully to the front. Gasping, she moved to the side so she wasn’t visible. “Abram! Out in the front! It’s that man’s wife!”

  Abram hurried to Hannah’s side. He pulled her back a little more. “Go upstairs with Eleanor. I’ll go to the Troyers’ and get Andrew.” He hurried out through the back door and, slipping through the back gate, he ran to the back of Andrew’s house. “Andrew, I need your help, please. The sheriff arrested the man that’s been harassing me in town. Now, his wife is out front, just staring at our house.”

  Andrew’s expressive eyes widened. “Where are Hannah and the boppli?”

  “Upstairs. I told her to get up there after making sure the doors were locked.”

  “Gut. We will go talk to this woman. Theresa, I’ll be back.”

  Theresa nodded. “Be careful!”

  Hurrying through the backs of their yards, Abram and Andrew slowed as they approached the front of Abram’s house. Peering around, they confirmed that the Englisch woman was still there, just staring at the front of the house. Tapping Abram’s arm, Andrew presented himself and began walking to the fence. “Ma’am? Is there something wrong?” Andrew had a skill for making himself appear simpler than he really was.

  “Just trying to figure out you Amish folk. Why do you not rely on the police more? Why do you refuse violence? Except when it’s man against woman? And you!” She pointed hard at Abram. “Why did you all of a sudden feel that it was right to call the po-po against my man? He’s not bad! Just a little...mixed up. And now, he’s going to probably have to spend ten years locked up. I should come out here every day of those ten years and just...hang out here.”

  Abram, feeling a little sick, looked at Andrew. Both men heard hooves clopping down the country road. Abram chanced a quick look and saw Bishop Kurtz and Wayne Lapp. He smiled widely, knowing just what was possible. “Bishop, Wayne! How gut of you to drop by!”

  “Denki! Who do we have the honor of meeting? Oh, this is the wife of the man who was harassing you today. Ma’am, is there a reason you’re still here? I see the truck is gone.”

  “I’m not leaving here until I know that you’re going to talk to the judge and convince him that Don doesn’t have to go to prison.”

  The bishop motioned to Wayne and the others that he would respond. “Oh? And why would we do that? He was caught here, by your own sheriff’s deputies, parked in front of this man’s house and harassing him.”

  The woman’s mouth opened and closed as she tried to respond. “Look! I need him at home! I don’t work and his is the only paycheck we got comin’ in.”

  Chapter 10

  Abram, Bishop Kurtz, Andrew and Wayne looked at each other. Wayne pointed at himself, indicating he would respond. “Oooh, thank Gott for saying that, dear woman! I have long wanted my wife to stay at home and allow me to earn the pay for our family.” Wayne’s eyes widened, giving him a spooky look. Then, he seemed to lose sight of where he was. “Lizzie! Lizzie,” he roared. “I told you that you aren’t to go back to work! Nee, woman! I don’t care that I’m not able to earn everything, just because of my bad arm!” He waved one of his arms around his head. “Gott said that we are to be the heads of our families. That means that WE earn the pay! Get back in the house! Right now!”

  The bishop caught on to what Wayne was doing. Approaching Wayne with hesitation, he spoke softly. “Wayne. Wayne? WAYNE LAPP! You listen to me! You were very nearly banned for going after Lizzie!” Everyone but Don’s wife was aware that the bishop was going along with Wayne’s act. “You tried to kill her the last time! If you don’t stop this caterwauling, you’re going back to the mental health center!”

  Now, Wayne’s voice bore a distinct whine. “But bishop! She’s right!” Wayne allowed his eyes to roll around as he looked wildly around him.

  The Englischer, looking at him, had a look of alarm on her face. She began to back away, moving toward her car. “I...uh, never mind. I’m leaving now!” Plopping down into the driver’s seat, she fumbled as she tried to put the key into the ignition, all the while keeping a wary eye on the “crazy” Amish man. Finally, she managed to shove the key in. Starting her car, she reversed as fast as she could, raising several clods of mud. In a second, she was gone.

  Wayne, Abram, Bishop Kurtz and Andrew all began laughing at the sight. “Wayne, you’re going to be our secret defense. You had her so scared!”

  A few weeks later, Abram found himself put to the test once more. He was with Deacon King, who also neede
d to make purchases for his carpentry business. As the two were moving toward the checkout aisles, Abram squeezed his eyes shut when he heard an unwelcome voice.

  “Hey! Beiler! Yo! You’re...he’s the one who beats up his woman! And, can you believe it? He had my husband arrested because he was tryin’ ta out him.” Don’s wife’s voice was now angry as she yelled. People around them were confused, looking from Abram to the woman.

  “Ma’am, stop. We warned you what would happen if you started to bother him.” Hannes turned to the counter clerk, “Miss, would you please call the sheriff’s department? They already have a record of one arrest on her husband for harassment.” Here, Hannes indicated the Englisch woman, who was still trying to ramp up outrage against Abram.

  Abram grinned. “Deacon, I sure wish Wayne was here. It’s too bad that he had to spend a few weeks in the mental health center, huh?”

  Abram’s comment caught the woman’s attention. “Who? What? Ya sent that crazy away?”

  Abram’s face was solemn now as he tried to keep his mirth from showing. “Ya, we did, ma’am. Because he thought he had the right to use violence against his wife, he was arrested. Only, he had some truly horrifying events in his background. You know his daed abused his mamm? And that he suffers from PTSD? Ya, he is on medication. As I am.”

  The woman, hearing that Abram was on medication, stopped advancing toward the younger man. Her face, which had been red, now blanched and her eyes grew comically wide. “Med-medication?”

  “Ya, I take an anti-anxiety medication. Because I have some bad memories from my own childhood. Of my late uncle...beating my auntie and female cousins.” Abram looked all around, seeing faces that were curious and, for the most part, sympathetic.

  He drew on his courage and kept on. “Ya. I hit my wife on two separate occasions. I am not proud of that, everyone. Like her husband, I spent some time in jail. My wife, Gott bless her, got me out and I told my therapist that I needed more help. Now, with this medication, I’m not so anxious. I don’t find it as easy to become angry. And I have learned that I can invite my wunderbaar wife’s opinions on things we’re considering. I don’t have to make the decisions all on my own, and worry that I’m deciding wrong. And the best thing is that I haven’t felt tempted to hit her in months. If I get frustrated by a situation and I’m unable to get through it, we have a process that allows me to let her know this. Once I’m not frustrated or angry, we talk about it. I don’t know her husband’s history here. But I believe that he might have a history of violence against her as well. And that he is trying to justify it by pointing out my mistakes. Mistakes that my family and I have paid greatly for.”

  The woman had been backing away from Abram. Now, she turned, as though to hurry out of the store.

  A youngish Englisch man in his forties spoke. “Mister, you don’t need to apologize over and over. It’s clear to me that you’re doing everything you can to leave violence behind you. I can tell you...you’re right. He’s been in and out of jail too many times to count. His poor, clueless wife here refuses to catch onto what he’s all about. He uses his anger as a crutch and as a weapon. And she could go to work so she could support herself by kicking his sorry body out of their house. But she won’t.”

  The woman—still standing on the edge of the scrum—wheeled around, her face bright red again. About to shout out at the other man, she shut her mouth as she saw the looks of mistrust being sent her way. Looking down at her feet, she shrugged and muttered under her breath. Now, she scurried out of the store.

  While seeking attention and recognition was anathema to the Amish, Abram and Deacon King knew that Abram had done the right thing. But, when the shoppers all broke into applause, the deacon waved his hands in the air. “Denki for your support. But he didn’t say what he said for attention. He said it to stop that woman over there. Abram, let’s pay for our things and get home.”

  In the wagon, the two men were quiet as they left the parking lot. “Abram, you did the right thing in there. You took away a lot of her power by making your admission. And, as we suspected, we know he’s an abuser as well.”

  “Denki, deacon. I just wanted to make her stop. She actually made a fool of herself in there.”

  At home, Abram was in a quiet, contemplative mood as he reflected on what had happened in the store. Hannah, seeing this, just waited. She knew that when he was ready, Abram would speak about what was on his mind.

  “You know what happened to me at the store today? I’m grateful the deacon was with me. Don’s wife tried to harass me. And she’s not going to stop bothering me. At least, that’s what I thought earlier.”

  “What? What happened?” Hannah paused in supper preparations.

  Abram explained the entire thing to Hannah. “And I feel perfectly fine!”

  Hannah, using her time-tested way of checking Abram’s words, moved forward, nestling herself against his chest. His heartbeat was regular and his muscles relaxed as he wrapped his arms around her. “Ya, you’re relaxed. This is a first!” She gave him a soft kiss on his lips, and then smiled at him.

  After cleaning up from their supper, Hannah joined Abram in the living room. She held Eleanor, who was now becoming sleepy. “Abram, what do you think of giving Eleanor a baby sister or brother once she’s about two?”

  Abram paused reading and thought. “Ya, that’s a gut idea. I think, by then, I should have made enough progress that I’ll be able to stop taking my medication. And looking at finishing therapy with Joshua.”

  Abram would soon find out that his decision to stay in therapy and on medication was a good idea. While he was well past the idea that Hannah wasn’t allowed to share major decisions with him, he still wrestled with his monster’s voice, which returned unexpectedly. Working on replenishing his supply of horseshoes one afternoon, Abram heard his deceased uncle’s voice. Startled, he nearly dropped a heavy tool onto his foot.

  You are failing to control your wife! She needs to be brought back into control. She doesn’t have the brainpower to make the decisions you should be making by yourself. And in fact, you should be checking on her decisions when it comes to the boppli and household matters.

  Catching himself and remembering his chosen coping method, Abram resorted to dark humor to quell the hateful voice. “Ya, like that worked so well for you. Auntie hates your memory and so do your kinder. When would you know about an action to take with one of them? You never paid any attention to them when they were little. Only when you wanted them to fall in line behind you were they ever present for you. Haha! When I think of how Auntie Emily was unable to get out of bed after you gave her that concussion, I can’t help but laugh at your efforts to cook supper for us.”

  Abram’s chuckles were hearty and genuine. He remembered his hateful uncle struggling to prepare even a simple supper of fried chicken with vegetables. It had been a complete disaster. Zeb had burned the chicken and even scorched the vegetables. As unpalatable as he found the meal, he forced the children to eat everything or suffer his rage. The older children weren’t surprised when, one by one, they all came down with upset stomachs after eating the horrible food.

  Abram’s laughter continued for several minutes. “Ya, Zeb. You thought you had the ability to control all of us even when you tried to do something that only Auntie Emily could take care of. You weren’t even aware that the two oldest girls were capable of cooking. You never asked!” Abram stopped speaking and just waited. He was listening for the voice of hatred and anger to sound again. After several minutes, he knew that he’d chased it away again. Pulling a pencil and sheet of paper from his notebook, he wrote down the entire occurrence so he could share it with Joshua in their next therapy session. At supper that night, he was relaxed and calm.

  SITTING IN JOSHUA’S office, Abram was relaxed. “Ya, I’m finding it easier to use my coping skills when I’m in the middle of a situation that used to enrage or frustrate me.” He told Joshua what had happened when Don’s wife had tried to harass him. Next,
he recounted the monster’s last visit. “I actually found it’s easiest to stop him if I find something funny to focus on. When I can laugh at him, he loses his hold on me.”

  “That’s wunderbaar! Ya, keep using the humor, Abram. How are you doing with the pills?”

  “Gut. But I am wondering when I can stop taking them. I don’t want them to become a crutch instead of a bridge.”

  “I like how you think of them. As a bridge from becoming overly anxious when you’re faced with stressors or triggers from your past. They shouldn’t be the only thing you use—that’s a gut insight. You are getting to the point where we should start weaning you down from them. Take them for four more weeks, and then we’ll start cutting back on your dosage. Have you felt woozy or as though you shouldn’t drive your buggy or wagon?”

  “At first, ya. But then I got used to that or the effect went away. I’ve been able to do everything that I could before taking them.”

  “Gut. And we should start discussing a possible termination date for your therapy sessions. I always tell my clients that even though we won’t have any more sessions, we can still stay in contact. Especially if things get difficult for you again. Keep my number and if something happens, definitely give me a call.”

  “So, how much longer will I have therapy?”

  “Twelve weeks, roughly. If anything happens and we need to extend, we’ll do so.”

  “That sounds gut, Joshua. Denki for everything!”

  “You are welcome! How is it going between you and Hannah? And with that sweet boppli?”

  Abram grinned. “Wunderbaar. Even though my monster tried to return and ruin all the hard work we’ve been doing, I haven’t had to struggle with overreactions and anger. It’s been... I don’t even know how long since I’ve had to show Hannah notes that said I was too angry or out of control to be around her and Eleanor. Dealing with Don or my monster is...what’s that expression?”