The Rescued

by Marta Perry

  “Adam. I was afraid it was the bishop and the other parents arriving for our meeting already.”

  He stepped inside, greeting Rachel and the two boys. Nate and Toby tumbled off their seats at the study table, both eager to show him their homework, and for a moment it was too noisy in the kitchen for Mattie to hear him if he spoke. Smiling at her over the children’s heads, he looked at the papers and made suitable comments.

  “Enough now,” Rachel said finally. “Give Cousin Adam a chance to breathe. Mamm, do you want me to take them upstairs to get ready for bed?”

  The boys looked inclined to protest, but they subsided at a look from Mattie. “Denke, Rachel.” Mattie glanced at the clock. “I must prepare for the bishop and the other parents.”

  Bishop Thomas had arranged to gather with the parents to discuss the situation tonight, and he’d been thoughtful to set it up at Mattie’s house so she didn’t have to go out in the evening. The meeting was the reason for Adam’s visit, as well. Mattie would have his support, whether she needed it or not.

  Before Rachel could get the boys moving, Anna came rushing downstairs, barefoot and in her little white nightgown, her hair hanging in braids.

  “I heard you, Cousin Adam. I wasn’t asleep yet.” She ran to him, and he scooped her up to plant a kiss on her chubby cheek.

  “I’m sehr glad I get to say good night to you, then. Are you sure you weren’t asleep already? Maybe you’re dreaming,” he teased.

  “I am not.” She patted his face as if to be sure. “Do I have to go to bed, Mammi? I’m not a bit sleepy.” The words were interrupted by a yawn, making everyone else smile.

  “You’ll be sleepy by the time you’re upstairs in bed,” Rachel said. Adam set the little girl down, watching as she caught Rachel’s hand and went off, followed by the boys.

  He was still smiling when he looked at Mattie. “Rachel is wonderful gut with the younger ones.”

  “She is. She’ll be a fine mammi herself one day.” But there was a slight shadow in Mattie’s clear eyes as she looked after her daughter.

  “Is she bothered by the school business?” He took the dishcloth from her hand and finished wiping the table, not surprised when she started setting out a stack of small plates and forks. Mattie wouldn’t have folks meeting at her house without feeling she should feed them.

  “I don’t think so.” Mattie paused, balancing a cake on one hand and a plate of cookies on the other. “She doesn’t even look out when the school bus stops every morning.”

  He set the cake and cookies on the table. “And what about you?”

  Mattie made a face. “I still start feeling my stomach turn upside down when I see it. But that’s silly. They can’t force the children to go, can they?”

  Adam shrugged, not at all sure that was true. “I guess we’ll find out what’s happening from the bishop tonight.”

  “Is that why you came?”

  “We’re in this together, remember? Ben’s daad will be here, too. I just thought I’d come a little early in case you needed any help getting ready.”

  “I think I can get coffee and dessert ready myself,” she said, but she was smiling. “But we were all happy to see you anyway. I knew as soon as she heard your voice, Anna would be back down again.”

  “She’s a sweet girl. Not so serious as Rachel was at that age, I think.”

  Mattie seemed to be pondering something other than his comment. She studied his face, seeming to hesitate on the verge of saying something.

  He grinned. “Just say it, Mattie. You know you can say anything to me.”

  “You know me too well,” she said lightly, but her eyes were serious. “I just thought . . . I wondered, really, if it ever troubles you, seeing Anna and thinking of your little Sarah.”

  He took his time answering, sensing that this might be important. “Because they were born about the same time, you mean. Maybe at first, when I’d see Anna such a pretty, plump, healthy baby. But you see, Sarah never seemed like a real person to me. She was . . .” He struggled for the right words. “She looked like a little china doll, gone before she could even take a breath.”

  “I know. I remember.” Mattie’s eyes filled with tears at the memory of his little girl and her mammi, gone too soon.

  He needed to make her understand, for reasons that weren’t entirely clear to him. “After a while, seeing Anna grow and change . . . it helped me. It gave me back my Sarah, in a way, because I could imagine her doing all those things that Anna did. She wasn’t just a little doll any longer. She was a real person. I love all the kinder, but I’ll always be especially thankful for Anna.”

  One tear had overflowed onto Mattie’s cheek, and Adam reached out to blot it away with fingers that weren’t quite steady. Her breath caught, and their gazes met and held.

  And then they heard the rattle of harnesses and the clop of horses’ hooves, and knew the others were coming. Mattie turned away quickly, busying herself with the coffeepot, and he began lining up forks and spoons on the table, as if putting them in a straight row were crucial.

  There was an initial flurry as people arrived, one buggy after another. Adam stayed in the background, helping unobtrusively where he was needed. He was relieved when Onkel Jonah arrived. As Ben’s father, he had more right to be here than Adam, not that that fact would convince Adam to depart.

  Bishop Thomas finally had everyone assembled in the living room, settled in a semicircle on the extra chairs Adam had brought in from the kitchen. He cleared his throat as a signal that he was ready to begin.

  “I know we all want to thank Mattie for hosting us for this meeting,” he said, looking at her.

  Mattie ducked her head, seeming embarrassed to be the center of attention even for a moment.

  “You all probably know that we have made a start on getting our own Amish school. Matthew Esch has donated the land, and it’s a fine central location all the kinder in the church district will be able to walk to.”

  Matthew nodded, probably glad to know that his own seven children would have the school so close. Adam had seen the spot, and he’d already offered to help with the building, as everyone here had done, most likely. But putting the building up would be the easy part.

  “There are some difficulties about starting a school.” Bishop Thomas seemed to echo his thoughts. “Lots of forms to be filled in, and most likely some disagreement about who is qualified to teach our kinder.”

  “The education department won’t help us, I’d guess,” John Stoltzfus muttered, and several of the others nodded. Most folks had had run-ins with regulations of one sort or another.

  “Pastor Colby has offered to help us,” the bishop said. “It surprised me, for sure, but I’ve come to believe he is sincere in what he says. The other ministers and I will talk with him, and I’m hopeful that with his help, we’ll be able to work things out.” He looked around, as if for approval, and seemed relieved at the silent nods.

  Mattie was twisting her fingers together in her lap. She’d be glad to know her younger ones would go to an Amish school. But still, that didn’t help with the trouble Rachel faced right now.

  “Pastor Colby also suggested making up a petition to the school board, asking them to reconsider. He says that a number of Englisch people from his church would sign, and he thinks he could get some of the other Englisch pastors to sign as well, and talk to their folks about it. He thinks that sign of support for unser Leit might sway the board more than just hearing from us.”

  “If it’s the state law, what can the board do?” Samuel Fisher leaned forward in his seat, his face troubled. His oldest boy, young Sam, was in the group of fourteen-year-olds.

  “True, the law comes from Harrisburg,” Bishop Thomas said. “But every school board isn’t taking the action our local board has. Seems as if it’s up to each board how they enforce the rules, so it may be that we can s
way them to find some solution that satisfies us and them.”

  Most of the people here had been to the board meeting, so they’d seen the local board in action. There hadn’t been a lot of room for hope, and Adam suspected everyone was thinking the same.

  Mattie cleared her throat, then flushed when everyone looked at her.

  “You have an idea, Mattie?” Bishop Thomas nodded in encouragement.

  “I just thought that maybe, if we all talked to any Englisch people we know about why we feel as we do, it might help.” Her voice faltered toward the end.

  “Ja, it might help,” Adam agreed, deciding a little reinforcement was a good idea. “Make folks understand that we’re not just being stubborn or backward.”

  Some people nodded, but John Stoltzfus leaned forward in his chair, slapping a paper against his knee. “That’s fine for you to say, Adam. You’re not in danger of being arrested.”

  The word seemed to echo in the quiet room, and Adam felt the tension drawing close around them like a fence wire.

  “Who is talking about arrest?” Bishop Thomas’s voice was grave.

  John gestured with the paper. “I am. I was harnessing the buggy horse to come here when a police car pulled in my lane. The officer gave me this.” He handed it to the bishop. “It orders me to send my boy to school tomorrow or they’ll arrest me.”

  A murmur of dismay spread through the room. Mattie’s hands clenched each other so tightly her knuckles turned white. Adam longed to reach out and take those straining hands in his, but he couldn’t, not here where everyone would see.

  Bishop Thomas read his way unhurriedly through to the bottom of the page, his face grave. Finally he looked around the circle. “It’s true. Our brother John is facing arrest.”

  The murmurs grew louder. Those closest to John touched his shoulder in mute sympathy.

  “We must decide how to combat this threat.” He shook his head. “I blame myself. Pastor Colby feared it might come to this, but I didn’t dream they would go so far. He offered to seek legal advice for us, but I held back.”

  They all knew why. The Amish didn’t go to the courts for relief of wrongs. If trouble came, it was because God had allowed it.

  “How do we know this man isn’t trying to trick us?” Behind John’s usual bluster, Adam could hear the fear. So must their ancestors in Europe have felt. Who could be trusted?

  “I have talked with the pastor several times,” Bishop Thomas said. “He may be sincere and still not able to influence what happens.” He looked slowly around the circle of faces. “I feel it isn’t right for the church to make this decision for all of you. Each parent is in a different situation, so each one must decide for himself. Or herself. No one must be held to blame for the choice.”

  Adam hitched his chair a little closer to Mattie’s and exchanged glances with his onkel on the other side of her. Mattie’s face was so white it seemed there was no blood left in her at all. She wasn’t going to pass out, was she?

  “Denke.” John’s voice was heavy. “I have decided. I will not send my son to the school. If I must go to jail, I will.”

  Adam had never admired the man more. John might be bossy and abrasive, but, like the martyrs, he was ready to sacrifice himself for what was right.

  Bishop Thomas nodded. “We will make sure that there is plenty of help at your place for however long this takes. And I think we must accept Pastor Colby’s offer to get legal advice for us. If we are to stand up against the Englisch law, we must know what to expect.”

  There was a murmur of agreement. Adam hadn’t expected anything else. For the most part, when it came to real trouble, people relied on Bishop Thomas’s wisdom.

  A few more people asked questions, but the group seemed to fall silent quickly. Each one of them probably anticipated a visit from the police. Each one questioned what he or she would do in that case.

  Adam looked at Mattie, and his thoughts were filled with such confusion that he barely heard the bishop’s final remarks or his prayer. Mattie must be protected. What was happening to John Stoltzfus must not happen to her.

  • • •

  “I’m sorry to take you away from your own chores on a Friday morning.” Rebecca whipped a sheet across the bed in one of her guest bedrooms, and Judith caught the edge and pulled it straight. “But with Barbie working all day at the bakery and last-minute guests coming—”

  “Ach, forget about it. My mamm is happy to have Noah all to herself for a few hours, and I was glad to come. It’s more fun to do someone else’s chores than our own, ain’t so?”

  Besides, Judith had her own reasons for wanting to be away from home for a bit. Maybe here she could stop going over and over what had happened with Isaac and Joseph. She might be able to keep herself from weeping in pain and frustration.

  “Barbie doesn’t usually work all day at the bakery, does she?”

  Rebecca shook her head, smoothing the double wedding ring quilt down the length of the bed. “One of the sisters is down with a bad cold, so Barbie is helping out longer. They’re usually busy over these nice fall weekends.”

  “Like you.” Judith plumped the pillow on her side and looked around to see if anything else needed to be done.

  “I’m wonderful glad to get these extra bookings now that summer is over. It’s unexpected money coming in. But with the wedding only a month away . . .”

  “I know.” Judith struggled to suppress her own sorrows and show the joy that Rebecca surely deserved. “Can you believe that you and Matthew will be married so soon?”

  Rebecca stopped what she was doing to stand still, smiling, a stack of clean towels hugged to her chest. “I really thought I’d never find love again, but God had a surprise in store when he sent Matthew to me.” She seemed to chuckle at her own enthusiasm. “Ach, listen to me, sounding like an eighteen-year-old. But love makes you feel that way, ain’t so?”

  The smile felt frozen on Judith’s face. Somehow she managed to mumble an agreement, but she was relieved when Rebecca went out of the room to put the towels in the bathroom.

  She let the smile slide away and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Dear Rebecca. She was as close as a sister. If only Judith could tell her what had happened.

  But she couldn’t. It wasn’t fair to disrupt her cousin’s happiness with her own pain and disappointment. Besides, telling anyone seemed disloyal to Isaac.

  A knife seemed to stab at her heart. Isaac was already convinced that she’d been disloyal to him, and she’d begun to think nothing could ever change his feelings.

  Twice she’d tried to talk to him about Joseph—once after the kinder were in bed and again this morning. Both times he’d walked away before she could get two words out.

  She’d hoped that in the privacy of their bedroom last night they might be able to talk, but when Isaac had come in, his face had been so stony she hadn’t had the courage to speak. He’d gotten into bed, turned his back to her, and gone to sleep. Or at least pretended to do so.

  And Judith had lain awake much of the night, trying to pray, trying to allow only silent tears to escape.

  “I think that’s everything up here,” Rebecca said, reappearing in the doorway. “Now for the baking.”

  “That’s even more fun.” Judith forced a smile. “What are we making?”

  “I thought shoofly pie and walnut streusel coffee cake for breakfasts.” Rebecca started down the stairs. “And I like to have plenty of bars and cookies on hand for snacks. At least these folks didn’t sign up to do suppers here, so I don’t have to worry about that meal.”

  Rebecca served big breakfasts to all her overnight guests, and she would provide other meals if they wanted them. It meant more money, but Judith guessed it probably got a little tiring, as well. She followed Rebecca into the kitchen, where mixing bowls and pans were already out on the counter.

  �
��At least the family eats whatever we put in front of them.” Without asking, Judith began chopping walnuts for the coffee cake. “I suppose your guests might be a little fussier.”

  “Barbie says as long as we call something by a Pennsylvania Dutch name, the visitors will eat it.”

  “That sounds like Barbie.” Their younger cousin seemed to have a frivolous attitude toward just about everything.

  Rebecca smiled, shaking her head. “Ach, she’s not so bad. She has a kind heart under her manner. Grossmammi thinks it’s high time she was getting married, but Barbie claims she’s having too much fun.” Her expression grew tender. “She doesn’t know what she’s missing, does she? Sharing a life with someone you love with all your heart . . .” She stopped, staring at Judith. “Judith, what is it? Was ist letz?”

  She couldn’t help it. The tears she’d been so determined not to shed spurted out, and her body shook. She dropped the knife she was holding and put her hands over her face, ashamed but unable to stop.

  Rebecca’s arm went around her as she guided her to a chair and sat down next to her, patting her gently and murmuring the soft nonsense words they might use to one of the kinder. But this was far worse than a scraped knee, and neither Rebecca nor Judith would know how to fix it.

  Finally the tears slowed. Rebecca moved to the sink and returned with a cool wet cloth. Judith took it gratefully, pressing it against swollen eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to . . .”

  “Don’t be foolish,” Rebecca chided. “You’ve seen me cry often enough. Tell me, but only if you want to.”

  Judith took a breath, trying to ease the tightness in her chest. “The trouble between Isaac and Joseph—” She stopped, shook her head. “I didn’t know what to do. All Isaac can think is that the farm should be Joseph’s, because that’s what his father had planned. And Joseph isn’t interested in the farm at all. He’s mad for working with machines.”

  “But Isaac did let him take that class he wanted, ain’t so?” Rebecca set a glass of water in front of her, and she drained it quickly.