by Mary Ellis
Unfortunately, he still didn’t make a connection. He shrugged in bewilderment.
“Don’t you see, Jonas? They were going against God’s plan. They didn’t want to keep traditional Amish ways. Instead, they amended the rules to suit their own selfish desires. God sent nothing but hardship, forcing them to eventually abandon their farms in the new land.”
Jonas knew his wife well enough not to contradict her logic outright. He chose his words carefully. “On the surface a person could draw such a conclusion, but that might not be the case. Sometimes a string of bad years is nothing more than that, not necessarily the result of adopting a liberal Ordnung. We can’t say for sure after nearly a century and limited recorded information. I know no one Amish person kept a written account of their hardships in Missouri. We have only the opinion of English neighbors.”
Emily’s face puckered into a frown. “But doesn’t it make sense as a likely probability? We know what happened in the days of Noah.”
“Noah wasn’t the only man described in the Bible. Did God judge Saul on the road to Damascus? Did He strike him down for persecuting the early Christians? No, He gave him a new life as Paul, both while on earth and in the hereafter. God’s judgment isn’t always swift and merciless.”
Emily nodded but looked less than convinced. “That’s true, but if it’s just the same to you, I’ll keep researching the surrounding counties. Maybe there were other Amish settlements that died out.” She carried their cups to the sink.
“That’ll be fine, fraa. You do love to read.” Jonas headed wearily up the steps to some overdue sleep. I couldn’t stop you from chasing this notion if I tried.
Nora folded the wheelchair and put it in the back of the buggy. Then she helped Violet get settled on the seat. She took the reins, and with a shake of the harness, the horse left the parking lot of Grain of Life at a fast trot.
“Your third date with Elam,” mused Violet. “Sounds like you two are getting serious. Is that why Emily let us leave work an hour early?”
“I do have a date and that’s why she released us on the bakery’s busy day, but no, Elam and I aren’t serious. We barely know each other. One volleyball party and a cookout don’t allow much talk time.”
“Emily certainly isn’t how bosses are portrayed in novels. She’s so sweet to me—to both of us. I love working at Grain of Life. Next week she’ll teach me how to make bread. Mamm will be pleased because I’ve shown zero interest in learning at home.”
“Emily will be able to perch on her stool with a good book, just as she has always wanted.” Nora relaxed a little, now that the conversation no longer centered on her date. Her relief didn’t last long.
“You two are going to dinner in Columbia, right? That should allow plenty of get-acquainted time. What color dress will you wear? Do you think he’ll hold your hand? What kind of restaurant will he take you to?”
Nora sighed, shaking her head. “‘I don’t know’ answers all three questions. Why are you so curious about my date?”
“Because I’ve never been courted before. No one has even asked to take me home from a singing.” Violet focused on young corn, growing in the fields beside them for as far as the eye could see.
Nora could have kicked herself for being so thoughtless. “I haven’t been on that many dates either. I’ve only had one boy court me, back in Lancaster, and that didn’t turn out well. Besides, you make little effort to strike up conversations. You’re friendly enough with females, but with males you tend to hide.”
“Who would want to put up with a girl with these?” Violet slapped her leg braces through her skirt.
“Don’t be ridiculous. There’s almost nothing you can’t do. It might take you a tad longer, but men aren’t looking for partners in a relay race. You’re pretty, Violet, and sweet, and the funniest person I’ve ever met. It’s time you let people get to know you.”
“You think I’m pretty?”
“I do.” Nora grasped her arm and shook it.
“My daed says I am, but I thought that was only because he’s my father.”
Solomon Trask encouraging vanity in his dochder? Would wonders never cease.
“You’re daed speaks the truth.”
Violet filled the rest of the drive with amusing tales from her last doctor’s appointment, so Nora didn’t have much opportunity to fret about the evening. She dropped off her friend close to the porch steps and carried up her wheelchair.
“Wish me luck,” Nora called on her way back to the buggy.
“Good luck. Remember, tomorrow is a preaching Sunday, so don’t stay out until sunrise.” Violet waved as though they would be apart for weeks.
Out until dawn with Elam? The idea set a shiver of anticipation through Nora’s veins.
With Emily at the bakery and Jonas at the lumberyard, she had the bathroom for a full hour. She soaked in strawberry-scented bubble bath, washed her hair with raspberry-scented shampoo, and then misted herself with lemon-scented body spray before she dressed. Elam would think he was going out with a bowl of fruit, but the fragrances made her feel feminine and desirable.
Her hair had barely dried before she heard his car spinning gravel in the drive. Nora swiftly wound it into a bun and pulled on a kapp just as his boots stomped up the steps. She opened the screen door before he could knock. “Hi, Elam. You’re right on time.”
“Wow, look at you in that pretty blue dress. And you smell nice too.” Elam sniffed the air and produced a bouquet of daisies from behind his back. “I bought these, although I considered pillaging my landlady’s garden.” His grin stretched from ear to ear.
Nora stuck her nose into the flowers. “They’re beautiful, danki. I’m ready to go.” She stuck the bouquet into a jelly jar of water and then picked up her purse, remembering to also to grab an umbrella because of a light rain that had begun to fall. She tried not to stare at Elam’s long, straight hair tucked behind his ears, his blue jeans, or his soft chambray shirt open at the neck. He looked about as handsome, and as English, as anyone she knew.
“Anxious to leave before the Gingerichs get home?” he asked. “Suits me fine. I’m not eager to run into Jonas until Monday morning. Funny, isn’t it? You work for one Gingerich and I work for the other.” Elam held the umbrella down the walkway and swept open the passenger door gallantly.
“How is your new job at the lumberyard?” Nora stepped into the car as modestly as possible.
“Good, up until last Monday. The foreman has been causing trouble. Jonas said he’ll fire me if I don’t get to work on time.”
Nora braced herself as the Chevy accelerated onto the pavement. “Have you been late?”
“Only because of old Betsy here.” He patted the steering wheel. “But it’s not her fault. A buddy at the lumberyard said I shouldn’t pump the pedal when I turn the key. That sends too much gas to the engine, causing it to stall out. Then the car won’t restart until some of it evaporates. I should have figured that out from using chainsaws.” He sighed as he slicked back a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes. “Anyway, that guy is coming over tomorrow to change the oil and tune things up. Betsy will be purring like a cat once we’re finished.” He caressed the dashboard affectionately.
“On the Sabbath? That sounds like work to me.” Nora rubbed her collarbone as though she had indigestion.
“It can’t be helped. Sunday is the only day neither of us works. My other day off is different than his. I need the car fixed to keep my job, Nora.”
She watched the passing scenery, not wanting to argue during their first fifteen minutes together.
“Did I mention how pretty you look?” Elam tugged one ribbon so hard he pulled her kapp off her head. He pressed it to his nose and inhaled the raspberry scent. “Mmm. Even your bonnet smells good.”
“Give me that,” she demanded.
“No one will see you in Columbia. Why not leave your head uncovered for one night? In fact, I would love to see your long hair. Why not take it down?”
She stared at him, wide-eyed and aghast. “Have you lost your mind? I could never do that!”
“But you haven’t joined the church yet. Technically, you’re still on rumschpringe.”
“Rumschpringe or not, I’m still Amish, and Plain women keep their heads covered.” She yanked the kapp from his fingers and pulled it on. Noticing his disappointment, she tried to make light of the situation. “How would it look? In this dress and apron with hair down to my waist? Englischers would think I’m an imposter playacting at being Amish.”
Elam slanted a wry smile. “We could easily remedy that. We’ll drive past a discount store on our way to the restaurant. I could buy you jeans, a T-shirt, and sandals. Then you can wear your hair anyway you wanted. And you could change back into your dress before you got home.”
Nora pivoted on the seat. “It sounds as though you’ve given this some thought. But no, I’ll just stay as I am. Don’t you wish to be seen with someone Plain?” Color flooded her cheeks.
“It’s not that at all,” he said, reaching for her chin. “I think you’re gorgeous, Nora King, however you’re dressed. I just thought you might want to be adventurous.”
Funny how adventurousness was no longer appealing now that she had the perfect opportunity. “What kind of food will we eat?” she asked, changing the subject. At the rate he was barreling down the freeway, they should arrive any minute. His high speed frightened her, because the drizzle had escalated into a downpour.
“A man at work recommended a Mexican place. Its name means ‘three horsemen’ in Spanish. I have directions.” He patted his shirt pocket.
Nora began chatting about the bakery, but before she could share too many stories, they pulled into the parking lot. Elam came to her side with the umbrella and snaked an arm around her waist. All the way to the arched entrance she felt cherished and protected by his attentiveness.
Standing guard near the door was a life-sized ceramic horse with a fancy-dressed rider holding the reins. “Pretty, no?” he asked.
“Pretty fancy, I would say.” She couldn’t imagine what that size decoration had cost.
At the tall desk, a pretty hostess greeted them with a smile. “Table for two?”
Elam nodded, while Nora asked, “Where are the other two horsemen? I only saw one outside.” When the girl looked confused, she added, “Your name means three horsemen.”
“Oh, that. The owner only ordered one display. He’s as tight with décor as he is with our paychecks.” The hostess shook her shiny hair. “This way, folks.” She led them to a dimly lit booth.
Nora studied the huge menu to no avail. “It’s too dark in here to read.”
Elam moved to her side of the booth. “Don’t worry. I’ll order for both of us.” He was sitting so close she could smell his bath soap. When the waitress arrived, he ordered an inordinate amount of food.
Nora tried a little of every dish and discovered she loved guacamole, didn’t care for tamales, and could eat corn chips with mild salsa all night. They ate and laughed and talked, and then ate more until she thought she would explode. Suddenly, two drinks in odd-shaped glasses appeared before them. “What are these?” she asked, as unease tickled the back of her neck.
“The mandatory drink in a Mexican restaurant—margaritas.” Elam carefully lifted one and took a long swallow.
Nora studied the glass. “What’s on the rim?”
“Salt. Give it a try.” He took another gulp.
She sipped and scrunched her face. “Goodness, that’s sour. Does it contain alcohol?”
“Yes, but not much.” Elam moved her glass closer.
“Nein. I don’t want to drink and neither should you. You’re driving tonight.” She pushed the glass away.
Elam studied her with one eye. “One drink won’t make me drunk.”
“I’m sure that’s what all drunks say.” Her words flew out without care for the consequences.
He stared at a painting of children batting at a paper cow in the booth. “All right, Nora, as you wish.” Pushing his glass away, he rose to his feet. “I’ll go pay the bill and then meet you at the door.” Without waiting for a reply, he strode off in search of the waitress.
Nora walked to the front of the restaurant on weary legs, trying to forget his attempt to ply her with alcohol. On the way home, they made polite conversation about the weather and the St. Louis ball team. Just when she thought the evening might turn out pleasant after all, Elam showed his true colors. He parked his car in the Gingerich driveway under a tree but made no move to get out. Nora turned on the seat to thank him for the delicious Mexican meal. Suddenly, he grabbed hold of her face and kissed her hard on the mouth.
“Stop, Elam.” She tried to pull away, but he locked his arm around her back, drawing her close without lessening his grip on her chin. He kissed her again, harder and deeper than before. Not for the first time, fear churned her belly, along with the spicy food. She struggled against him, pushing against his chest with all her strength. “Stop!” she demanded.
Suddenly, he released her and Nora fell back against the door. “It was just a kiss, Nora,” he muttered, surprised by her reaction. “Not the end of the world.”
“I know what it was, Elam Detweiler, but maybe I didn’t want to kiss you.” Nora pulled the handle and almost fell out into the rainstorm. Slamming the car door behind her, she bolted into the house. She didn’t stop running until she reached the safety of her bedroom. She leaned back against the door and closed her eyes. Only then did her emotions well to surface like a bubbling kettle. And Nora didn’t know whether to cry, or shout, or fear for her life.
EIGHT
Wash all my sins away
Sunday Morning
Solomon Trask gazed out the window at dawn into the heaviest downpour he could remember. Rain pounded the metal roof like drumbeats, while the air was thick with humidity. He dressed carefully for preaching in his black coat, pants, mustfa vest, and starched white shirt, knowing his clothes would be damp by the time he reached the service. At least the hosting family lived only a few miles away.
“Ach, ehemann,” moaned Rosanna. “The hem of your coat has come loose in the back. And with this weather, I’ll have no time to mend it before church. Our mare always walks turtle slow in heavy rain.”
“Who can blame her when neither man nor beast can see ten yards ahead?” Sol straightened his collar. “Don’t worry about my coat. I’ll be sure to face the congregation all day long. No one will be the wiser.” He sat down at the kitchen table and bowed his head.
After a silent prayer, Rosanna fixed him with a glare. “I wish you would let me buy new fabric. It’s about time we replaced that coat. I’m starting to patch the patches from the underside.”
Sol poured cornflakes into a bowl. “Let’s wait a bit longer. I prefer we use the money for Violet’s therapy. Those legs of hers are getting stronger, no?”
Before Rosanna could answer, their daughter rolled into the room. “I heard my name. Are you two saying good things about me?” Violet pulled herself up to the table and reached for the box of cereal.
He smiled at her fresh young face. “What other kind could they be?”
“Do you think it will be a light crowd at preaching?” she asked. “It didn’t stop raining all day yesterday or all night.” Violet poured milk in her bowl. “Do you think the Gingerichs will be there? I can’t wait to see Nora.”
“Might be a sparse turnout if there’s flooding. The routes we’ll take, as well as the deacon’s family, should be fine, but roads in low-lying areas could wash out. Eat up, dochder, so we can leave.”
Violet and Rosanna hurried through breakfast, donned their black capes, and climbed into the enclosed buggy, where Irvin and his wife, Susanna, waited in the backseat. Sol’s other children from adjoining farms would drive their own buggies. As his fraa predicted, Nell pulled slower than moss growing on a rock in the shade, delivering them to the Yost farm barely at the appointed hour. Everyone was already i
nside the barn and seated on the long benches. After the opening hymns and prayers, Sol walked to the front to deliver the first of two sermons.
Clearing his throat, he gazed over a crowd half the normal size. “Welcum, and bless you for venturing out on a day such as this.” Thick humidity hung in the air, and buckets had been scattered across the floor to catch steady drips from the leaky roof. The windows rattled in their frames as the wind buffeted the barn.
“In the book of Exodus,” Sol began, “we learn that Pharaoh oppressed the Israelites mercilessly. God instructed Moses to lead his people out of Egypt, but when Pharaoh refused to release them, God delivered ten plagues to the Egyptians.” Sol paused as a crack of thunder startled his flock. “The first plague turned the Nile to blood, killing all of the fish and polluting the drinking water. The second plague unleashed a swarm of frogs that overran their homes. Pharaoh asked Moses to remove the frogs, and when God complied, the king went back on his word.
“The third plague sent lice and the fourth sent flies, yet Pharaoh’s heart remained hard. The fifth killed the Egyptian cattle yet spared the cows of the Israelites. The sixth brought festering boils to cover the faces of every man, woman, and child. A hailstorm on the land of Egypt was the seventh plague. It rained hail mixed with fire, destroying crops and livestock everywhere except in the land of Goshen, where Moses’ people lived.”
Sol scanned the congregation, meeting the eyes of those who didn’t avoid his gaze. Everyone sat very still, listening with rapt attention. “Once again Pharaoh showed signs of repentance and made false promises. Moses entreated God for the hail to cease, but Pharaoh still wouldn’t release the people. Next God sent a plague of locusts to eat every plant and flower not already destroyed by hail. The ninth plague brought unrelenting darkness for three days. No one could see the hand in front of their face. Yet Pharaoh kept the Israelites in bondage, knowing his own people were starving.
