by Tricia Goyer
"I understand why he wants to wait. He told me in the letter that everything costs so much. A house, food. When I leave, I'll need new clothes."
"When you leave?" Marianna's eyes lifted, but the knife continued down the potato. "I thought Levi was returning?" Before she could take in Naomi's words, pain burned her hand, and she glanced down to see that the knife had sliced into her palm.
"Oh no. Oh, ouch!" The potato and the knife clattered to the table. Marianna rose and ran to the sink. Pain throbbed in her palm to the beating of her pained heart. She focused on the ache, on the blood dripping over her hand. She didn't want to think about Naomi's plan. A plan that would slice through the community and sting deep.
Naomi's words called after her. "Did you cut yourself?"
Marianna reached the sink, she turned on the cold water, placing her hand underneath. The cool water flowed clear over her hand, but then turned pink as it splashed into the sink.
"Do you need me to bandage it?" Naomi approached and rested a hand on Marianna's arm.
She nodded and swallowed down the tears. This couldn't be happening. She squeezed her eyes closed. The pain in her hand stung, but it wasn't noticeable compared to the anger that bubbled up inside.
For too long she'd tried to sympathize with Levi. He was alone. He was hungry. He was confused. But how dare he talk Naomi into following. She wasn't strong like he was. She was close to her sisters. She had a dozen nieces and nephews she adored. Didn't he understand what he was asking Naomi to do? Turn her back on that. To walk away. To be looked upon differently. To be talked about, especially if she was leaving to live with him. Even if she someday returned, knowledge of her actions would always trail her. Draped around her shoulders as a cloak of shame.
The anger tightened her shoulders, pinched her gut.
Marianna opened her eyes again and focused on the soft, wispy red curls that framed Naomi's face. She didn't dare look into Naomi's eyes, lest her friend think the anger was directed at her.
"Where are the bandages?" Naomi asked again. Her voice quivered as if she just realized what she'd shared wasn't what Marianna expected or approved of.
"In the cupboard behind the bathroom door. Second shelf." Marianna dared to look at her hand again, seeing it was a deeper wound than she thought, but not deep enough to distract her from the pain piercing her heart.
Naomi hurried to the bathroom. A moment later she returned with a strip of binding material Mem used for tending wounds. In her other hand was a cotton square. Naomi placed the cotton on the wound, adding pressure, and then wound the strip of cloth around Marianna's hand three times, tucking the end within a fold. She didn't speak. Instead she tilted her head to the right and ved her eyebrows, as if asking Are you all right?
Marianna looked away and curled her bandaged hand to her chest, covering it with her other one. She pulled it tight against her, wishing she could keep pulling, folding the pain inside until it was hidden away deep. Her knees softened, and she looked to the bench at the table, wanting to sit. But her feet were heavy. So heavy she expected them to sink through the floor to the root cellar. She sucked in a shuttering breath, and a small whimper emerged from her lips, surprising her.
"Do you think you need stitches? I can get your dad."
"No, that's not it." Marianna wiped at her eyes with the back of her bandaged hand, feeling the pressure of the world winding around her. What could she say for Naomi to reconsider? Marianna leaned with one hand against the counter and braced herself. It was the same motion she'd seen her mother do in labor pains, but the pain wasn't in her stomach. Her heart hurt. She again covered it with her bandaged hand.
Naomi placed an arm around Marianna's shoulders. "Don't be sad. We won't be far. Levi is finding us a house in town. We'll see you often, and with Levi's new job we'll have a good life. We will."
"What about everyone else?" The words fell from her lips and plopped onto the countertop with a wayward tear. "What will your family think? How will they feel?"
"I'm not the only one. My oldest sister left five years ago. I've had a few cousins—"
"Yes. So you know. You've seen the pain, which makes it all the worse. And you've no doubt heard their cries. Doesn't your aunt still wear black after your cousin's leaving? And didn't you see my mother today?" Marianna lifted her head and met Naomi's gaze. "How did she react when Levi came? Was she smiling? Full of joy?" Marianna stepped back, letting Naomi's hand fall back to her side. "What you choose affects so many. We're a fabric and when one thread unravels—"
"You sound like the bishop." Naomi's sad smile made the tightness in Marianna's chest even worse. No, it wasn't sadness but pity. Naomi stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest, not in defiance, but aloofness.
She still wore the long dress with cape. A white prayer kapp rested snugly on her head, but her face reflected the truth. She'd already left them. A strand of red hair curled against Naomi's cheek, but she paid it no mind.
Naomi jutted out her chin. "We each have a choice. That's what rumspringa is all about, correct? A time that allows us to experience life outside the community before deciding. Yet, in truth, there can only be one decision. I can see it in your face that you hate me already. I shouldn't have told you. You enjoy living here. You'll never understand."
"You're not leaving for anything other than my brother. You know if he came back you'd stay."
"Of course. But to me that is enough. He is enough." Naomi's eyebrows pointed down, into a red arrow and her nose scrunched up. "But think about it, Mari. Is my choice any worse than yours to stay—acting the part of a pure and perfect girl because of a man? I saw you and Aaron Zook talking the other day. I know your plans."
"I have no plans other than to serve God and family." Marianna looked to her hand again. Disturbing thoughts filled her mind. What if Aaron wanted to leave? She wouldn't go, but it would hurt, and she would question her life in ways she never had before.
She shook her head as if chasing away those thoughts. Aaron wasn't leaving. She didn't have to consider that.
Marianna saw movement through the window. Her brothers ran toward the house with a line of three fish dangling between them.
"I know the way." She jutted out her chin as she spoke, but inside a coolness filled her chest, pushing out the words—words she knew she had to speak. "And I don't need to wander. I've tried to be understanding of my brother, tried to allow him the space he desired to make his decision, but I'm sad for you. Sad you don't see how the life Levi's living is drawing him away from everything good. Sad to think you'd find anything in the world that can come close to replacing all you'll lose." Marianna cocked her chin, feeling much, much older than her nineteen years . . .
When had that happened?
The front door swung open, and though Marianna could see that Naomi wanted to respond, she pressed her lips into a thin line and glanced over her shoulder at the boys, offering a forced smile. Mem and Ellie followed right behind.
"Naomi, you staying for dinner?" Mem strode up and checked the bread dough. "Almost done rising, I'm sure the kids would love your help rolling the dinner rolls."
"I can help." Marianna went to Ellie, extending her arms to her little sister, thankful for the distraction. "Let's get you washed up."
"Mari, what happened?" Her mother grabbed her bandaged hand. The faintest tinge of red was seeping through the bandage. "Did you cut yourself?"
"It's nothing, my knife slipped while I was peeling potatoes."
"You need to be more careful, but maybe that goes to show you you should start spending more time in the kitchen and less tending to babies and animals. A good husband is to expect good food."
Naomi cleared her throat, and Marianna looked to her out of the corner of her eyes. Naomi was frozen in place and her eyes sent a silent plea.
"Yes, Mem." Marianna lowered her hands. "You're right. I'll finish the potatoes and then help the kids with the rolls. But first I'll walk Naomi to the door. The sun is already be
ginning to set, and we'd hate to have her walking home in the dark."
They walked to the door and Naomi paused on the porch.
"I won't say anything," Marianna whispered, "but only because I hope you'll reconsider."
Naomi nodded and moved to the steps. "Yes, of course."
Yet even as she strode away Marianna knew it was just words. Naomi's mind was set. The community was on the verge of yet another heartbreak.
CHAPTER SIX
The slightest breeze blew through the open kitchen window, ruffling the pages of the scenic calendar hanging on the wall. Her mother stirred the potato soup on the stovetop, and then sat down on the table bench with a heavy sigh. She looked tired tonight. Dark circles ringed her eyes. Levi's visit had taken its toll.
"Just break off a little piece of dough and roll it in the palms of your hands like this," Marianna explained to Ellie and Josiah, trying to keep her tone light. Trying to brighten the mood of her siblings. Charlie and David had set up checkers in the living room, which was connected to the kitchen, but they sat silently, not starting the game.
All the younger ones loved Levi, missed him. Twelve-year-old David understood the rules of the church and knew what Levi's leaving meant. But at eight and five, Charlie and Josiah hadn't fully grasped their brother's actions, and Ellie no doubt wondered what all the fuss was about.
"Like dis?" Ellie rolled the dough with her chubby hand.
"Yes, then we're going to line them up all in a row." Marianna placed a lump of warm dough on the cookie sheet. With a wide grin, Ellie plopped her dough next to Marianna's.
Ellie's navy blue kapp contrasted with her bright blonde hair, and her looks and coloring couldn't be more different from five-year-old Josiah's dark complexion, more like their dat. Marianna wondered again who Marilynn and Joanna looked like most. Her chest clenched when she realized Joanna hadn't been much older than Ellie was now when she died.
Marianna sighed as she looked at her sister. If only she could stay that innocent and sweet forever. If only she didn't have to hear the story of the night Marianna was born. To grow up and discover that, even though they lived a simple life, there was nothing simple about their losses. If only she could escape the pain that lingered like the May chill creeping in with the sunset, not allowing spring to occupy the night.
Her brother and sister lined up more misshapen lumps next to hers.
"Great job." She, of course, could make rolls better and faster, but her siblings had to learn—just as she'd learned from her mother. Even though she'd rather be rocking a baby or bottle feeding one of the new lambs, she did fine in the kitchen, despite her mother's admonitions.
The soup simmered on the stovetop, filling the room with an aroma that made Marianna's stomach growl. The steam from the pot also brought a moistness to the air, fogging the kitchen window and making it harder to see her father outside. He and Uncle Ike had been talking a good hour. A conversation that long could only mean their discussion was serious in nature. Dat never stood around, wasting time chatting unless there was a purpose. Working full time in the factory in town and caring for a family and a farm saw to that.
Her mother flipped through the stack of mail. Marianna liked nothing better than enjoying a quiet evening at home with her siblings. But there was no joy tonight. The truth of Naomi's plan seized her, chilled her. The secret like ice expanding from within.
"You received a letter from the Junes." Her mother set a small stack of letters on the table, then rose and checked the cook stove, readying it for the rolls.
Marianna turned to Josiah. "Can you finish these up?" He nodded, his dark bangs swishing against his forehead.
"Me too!" Ellie chimed in.
Marianna hurried to the stack of mail. She needed something to distract her. Something to get her mind off her heavy heart.
Levi and Naomi wouldn't be the first couple to leave. Though it wasn't common, Marianna had seen this type of thing through her growing up years. First one would leave, then the other would follow. Sometimes they came back after years of hardship. Life in the Englisch world wasn't easy. Some Amish didn't have birth certificates or Social Security cards. Even harder was their lack of education, and work was hard to find. Some got jobs and were paid under the table, a fraction of what other workers received. In the Englisch world they had to find new clothes and learn to talk different. Sometimes they were taken advantage of, and many times they had no choice but to take advantage of others, living with them, eating food and wearing clothes that they couldn't afford.
There were those couples who came back and lived within the community. Often just one would return, choosing God's way over the world.
"King me," David called from the checker game. He looked most like Marianna, with light brown hair and hazel eyes. In a couple more years, he'd no doubt be her height.
Marianna didn't need to look at the address label to know which envelope was hers. She pulled the large yellow envelope from the bottom of the stack and carefully opened the flap, turning it upside down. A stack of ten letters slid out along with a dirty penny, a pressed violet, and eight other small trinkets. Marianna didn't know who came up with the idea of sending small things with their letters, but she was glad they did. It added extra fun, even though the letters were entertaining in their own right.
"Read one letter, and then I need you to get those rolls in the oven."
"Yes, Mem." Marianna glanced to her siblings, who were making more of a mess than anything, then she focused on the loopy writing on the page.
Their circle letter started as a school project, writing to other girls who shared two things: the same birthday and the fact that they lived in an Amish Community in Indiana. They'd started with seventeen participants, but over time ten, including her, remained faithful—all of them born on June 7.
Marianna began reading the first page, which was always a letter from Beverly. Somehow in the midst of their chain letter writing, someone had decided to stack them in alphabetical order. Over time this became as closely observed as the trinkets in the envelope and the manner that the letters were sent around—each girl receiving the package, reading the letters from the others, pulling out her old letter, and adding in a new one before sending it off again.
Dear June-Sevenies, May 4 (1 month, 3 days)
I love that spring has come to Indiana. The flowers and grass popping up. Not the tourist popping up. I will never get used to them. Yesterday I was in the store and the clerk was telling me about her husband's experience. He is a police officer and he received a call about problems with an Amish man.
You know that our area (yours too) is often advertised as the place to see Amish. Well, this lady was quite upset because she wanted to take a photo of an Amish man while he was plowing. She wanted him to stand next to her husband with his horses, but he refused, stating he had work to do. Not to mention the problem of taking a photograph. The clerk said this woman went to the police station to report it! She wanted the police to fire him or to have him arrested. She thought the Amish man was working for the state of Indiana and that his job included entertaining the tourists. I suppose she thought he was an actor playing a part. Would you believe that?
Dat entered the room with quick steps and placed his flat-brimmed straw hat on a nail near the back door, distracting Marianna from her reading.
"Dat!" Josiah and Ellie called in unison, dropping their dough balls and running toward their father, reaching out with sticky, dough-covered hands and flour-sprinkled clothes. Marianna knew that most fathers in their community would have scolded their children for not washing up first, but Dat patted David and Charlie on the shoulder, where they sat at their game, and then squatted down to scoop the younger two up in a hug.
"Mem, I've found two more bags of seed. Do you know how these got in the house?" Dat tossed Josiah and Ellie over his shoulders and held them by their legs, their heads dangling down his back.
"Weez not seed bags," three-year-old Ellie countered, sna
pping her father's suspenders with her small hands.
"Yer, not? Good thing you said so, I almost put you out in the barn with the cows." He set the two down and ruffled their heads, before moving into the kitchen, sidling up to his bride. Knowing their game was over, the youngsters returned to their dough at the table. Marianna slid the letters and the objects back into the envelope, placing it with the other mail. After talking to Naomi, the letters seemed frivolous. And then there was the look on her father's face. Even as he joked, there was a seriousness in his gaze.
Without a word Marianna rose and moved to the table, sitting in the chair beside Ellie. She again pulled a piece of dough from the dwindling ball and rolled it in her hands.
"Ike's not coming in for supper, is he?" Mem's voice was curt.
"No. He's heading down to the Stoll's place. They invited him to eat with them."
"Hope Ike doesn't go telling his stories again. It's prideful, you know, talking so much about a place." Mem took down eight bowls from the open cupboard, by habit, before returning one.
"It's my brother you don't care fer, not the idea." Dat placed a hand on Mem's shoulder. "You have to admit seeing something new, taking an adventure with our children, doesn't sound like a bad idea."
"Some Amish man you are, speaking of adventure. You never were content just being a farmer, were you?" Her mother pouted. "Maybe that's why my dat never approved much of you. Then again." Mem's voice quieted and she peered over her shoulder to where Marianna sat. "So you really think it's a good idea?"
Dat lowered his voice. Marianna strained to hear, though she kept her gaze on her hands as she worked another piece of dough between her palms.
"Just for a year. That Zook boy is still working to build his herd, establishing his home. One year won't make much of a difference. Marianna's not planning a wedding yet."
