“I’m still waiting for the truck to be repaired,” Daniel said. “I figure I’d stay here until then, since Aunt Frieda and your brothers are gone. I can share David’s room. It’ll be only a few days.”
Samuel stroked his grizzled beard. “You’re going back to Montana?”
Hesitating, Daniel nodded.
Without responding, Samuel pulled on his winter jacket, dropped on his black felt hat, and slipped out of the door.
Gertrude led them along the snowy backcountry lanes to the Stahley farm, where services were to be held. Mark, who was driving, pulled her more toward the center of the lanes since the English snowplows had left cumbersome berms along the shoulder. The English did their best to keep the shoulders clear for the local buggies, but sometimes their efforts fell short.
Crammed in the backseat, Elisabeth, holding the snoozing Leah on her lap (her junior-sized wheelchair was strapped to the back), whispered to Daniel, but not low enough to appear they were sharing a secret. “Too bad Aiden couldn’t spend the holiday with us. I wonder why he left in such a haste without saying goodbye.”
Daniel chewed his bottom lip, realizing how harsh he must’ve been with Aiden if he’d rushed off without saying goodbye to the family. He knew how much Aiden had regretted not saying goodbye to them the last time he’d left unexpectedly. That time Daniel’s father had been the one who’d banished him. Had Daniel, in some way, done the same?
Aiden’s leaving was for the best, he told himself again as the guilt pressurized inside him. The best. For him. For everyone. Good everything had come to a head last night. Their quarrel had pushed Aiden back to where he belonged. To Montana.
“He’s sorry for not saying goodbye,” Daniel said, swallowing his pesky remorse. “He wanted to, but he was in a rush to make his flight.” Aroma from his mother’s homemade cinnamon rolls and donuts she’d brought along for the noon feast filled the buggy, yet instead of comforting Daniel the way it usually would, the delicious smell exaggerated his sullen mood.
“I hope nothing’s wrong.” Grace, seated in the backseat closest to them, spoke in a low voice. “He’s not still sick, is he?”
“Nay, nay.” Daniel shook his head, his eyes focused on his hands clasped over his scrunched knees. “He had business to take care of, some article or something he had to get written.” He hated lying to his family, especially his sisters, but what else could he say?
“None of that whispering,” Rachel said, turning her head around briefly to glare at her kinner with Gretchen squirming in her arms. “Especially on a Church Sunday when we’re to celebrate da Hah’s birth.”
They heeded their mother’s words the remainder of the way to the Stahleys’. At church, Daniel continued to keep his mouth shut. He sat on the men’s side with his brothers and father. Droning hymns from the gmay flowed around him. He sang along but mostly mouthed the somber lyrics. Everyone was waiting for the ministers to descend from the upstairs, where they were discussing essential community affairs.
Daniel wondered if the ministers were, at that precise moment, deliberating about him. Today they’d likely want to speak to him about whether he should be shunned. They would corner him during the noon feast or wait until after the services. Christmas would not deter them. They would keep their words untangled, Daniel figured. Daniel too must speak frankly. He had to commit to a definitive answer. No dillydallying like the last time when they’d harangued him in the barn.
Pinpricks covered his body as he thought about the shunning. There would be no more contact with his family—at least not openly. No more interacting with friends and neighbors. His association with Uncle Eldridge, who supplied him with a steady stream of woodwork orders through the website his English friend administered, must be severed.
He knew of only two others in the community who had been shunned. One was a woman who, ten years ago, had moved in with her Englisher lover soon after she had been baptized. Daniel assumed after three years, neither could take the ostracizing, and they’d fled in the night. The community hadn’t heard from either since.
The other was a young woman who had run off to attend college in Virginia two years after being baptized. Six months later, like a dog with its tail between its legs, she had scampered home, asking to be allowed back into the community’s fold. After repentance, the ministers forgave her, and they lifted the shunning. He spotted her now from where he sat, her two-year-old twin boys bouncing on her lap, seemingly content and glad to be in everyone’s good graces once again.
The black shoes of the ministers appeared on the staircase. Nudging unpleasant notions aside, he gripped his knees. Once the ministers moved to the makeshift pulpit, the singing came to a gradual stop. Most Church Sundays, Daniel sought to glean something from the ministers’ words. Now he only scorned them. He believed in God’s grace and strength, but he suddenly wondered who these men were to interpret Scripture. Did they know any more than he? They had been elected by the community, but what did the community know? They were all yet ignorant of Reverend Yoder’s crime.
The more he considered it, the more Aiden’s accusation seemed probable. Reverend Yoder had murdered his son, Kyle, and he’d gone on with his life as if he’d done nothing less offensive than use modern machinery on his farm.
He held back a grimace, wondering how he and that young mother of twins should face the harshness of the shunning when Reverend Yoder had done far worse. A murderer had been preaching to the community each Church Sunday for the past almost ten years, and no one seemed the wiser.
When Reverend Yoder stepped up to the lectern, he kept his icy blues on his Bible. Daniel understood why he avoided looking at anyone with those eyes. He had much to hide. Like any criminal. Disgusted, Daniel could barely look at him either.
He shifted his gaze to Tara, sitting on the women’s side of the room. Pink and proper-looking, she seemed pleased to be leaving soon after Christmas to meet her boyfriend in Maryland. He was happy she had found someone new.
He had near abandoned Tara kneeling before the bishop on their wedding day, and now she was moving on with her life, with someone she apparently cared for. Daniel, on the other hand, wondered if happiness would sidestep him. He recalled the bitterness in Aiden’s voice before he had left last night.
Had he done the right thing, letting Aiden leave?
He was surprised during the noon feast that the ministers kept their distance. Bishop Hershberger glanced at him from across the large oak table where he nibbled off his plate, but no words were exchanged. When the family was crammed back in the buggy heading for home, Daniel could hardly believe that he had not even swapped one single word with any of the ministers.
Perhaps they had determined it best to leave him be for Christmas. Or perhaps no shunning would be issued at all. They might avoid him entirely during his stay in Illinois, and he could return to Montana and still keep his connection with his family and everything in Henry. But Daniel realized that was unlikely.
The ministers were probably plotting a surprise attack, waiting for when he was alone and vulnerable and his guard was down, like how cougars pounce on unsuspecting prey.
Chapter Seventeen
“YOU seemed distracted at church,” Samuel said to Daniel at the kitchen table, where Elisabeth had served them stovetop-brewed coffee and warmed-up apple pie. The others were busy going about necessary chores or their personal needs. Daniel had begun to relish the quiet, on the verge of attacking his second slice of pie, when his father had sat at the table across from him.
“I’m a bit tired, been a long week.” Daniel sipped his coffee, finding the hot liquid soothing and revitalizing. Never much of a coffee drinker, today he needed a boost wherever he could find one. His spirits dragged like a shaft after a horse had broken loose from its buggy. He only hoped his father’s interrogation of him would be short.
“Do you plan on leaving for Montana as soon as you get your truck?” Samuel asked.
“I haven’t decided.” Dani
el figured maybe he’d stay a bit longer, since Aiden had already settled back in Montana. He had the luxury to remain, especially if the ministers stayed clear of him. But he held back from expressing this thought to his father. He did not want to award him with a false sense of victory.
“Why did Aiden leave so suddenly?” Samuel’s tone emanated a lightness, a lilt of delight that Aiden and Daniel were not heading back to Montana together.
Daniel shrugged. He took a bite of his pie and washed it down with a sip of coffee. The steam from his mug washed over his face. “He had a sudden change of plans,” he said. “I already mentioned it.”
“You did say he lives near you in Montana, ya?”
“Ya,” Daniel said, his head heavy. “He lives near me.”
“How close?”
Daniel lifted his eyes and ogled his father. Suddenly, he felt like a cocked hunting rifle. “You’d be surprised how close.”
With a grunt, Samuel pushed his empty plate to the center of the table and stood. Wordlessly, he strode into the hallway. A moment later, the front door shut. Suspecting he’d gone out to do chores, Daniel grabbed for his coat, hat, and gloves and followed him outside through the utility room.
Elisabeth called to him. “What about your slice of pie? You haven’t finished.”
“Keep it warm for me,” he said, marching out the door.
Samuel was already shoveling snow from the door to the buggy shed when Daniel drew near. This time, Daniel aimed to cross-examine his father. Standing silent as he watched his father’s bent form pile snow off to the side, he waited until Samuel took notice of him.
With Samuel peering at him over his shoulder, Daniel said, “Why did you ask Aiden Cermak to leave Henry last year?”
The shovel in Samuel’s hand froze. Briefly, Daniel worried his bold question might topple his father. He was glad he had the shovel ready to steady himself. He softened his tone when Samuel refused to answer. “Why, Dad?”
“I’m glad he left last year, and I’m glad he’s gone now.” Samuel began shoveling with extra vigor, his bare knuckles white from gripping the handle. “We were mistaken to ask him to come here that first time. I was mistaken to allow him back for Mark’s wedding.”
“Then why did you?”
“I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“Why are you afraid of him?”
“It’s not fear, it’s common sense. He doesn’t belong here, he’s English. The Amish and English shouldn’t mix.”
Daniel’s exasperation with his father subsided, and a new sensation, something akin to pity, filled him. He watched Samuel shovel around the shed door. His father was well into middle age now, and he was only getting older, older and slower, and perhaps more cemented into his orthodox ways.
“Remember what he did for us?” Daniel said. “Remember how he swerved his car in front of that crazy drunk driver to save us? Do you remember all that?”
For the first time, Daniel actually thought he witnessed his father blush. He was unsure if the red in his cheeks came from hard work, anger, or what he suspected, embarrassment. Samuel clearly did not wish to dwell on the topic of Aiden Cermak. Yet Daniel needed to get to the root of the rot.
“He’s a hero to the family, don’t you think?” Daniel kept a tight look on his father.
Spiking the shovel deep into the snow and grasping the handle, Samuel turned to his son with flickering eyes. A shot of cold breath erupted out of his mouth and nostrils. “There are no such things as heroes, Daniel Schrock,” he said. “God’s will is all that exists. Aiden did nothing special; he was guided by the hand of da Hah. You should understand that by now, unless you are questioning your faith. That’s what I worry for, that Aiden might make you question your life here in Henry, and all we stand for.”
Daniel shook his head. “Dad, I do not question my faith. I believe more strongly than ever. Aiden actually makes me appreciate my Amish upbringing more. That’s why it’s all so sad.”
Silent a moment, Samuel seemed to pry deep into Daniel’s mind, as if he wanted to grasp onto his thoughts. To make sure he understood fully what Daniel was saying. Daniel almost wanted to laugh at his father’s discomfort but, stemming from a long history of respect for him, refrained.
Drawing in his lips, Samuel said, “It’s Christmas. This is when we spend time with the family.”
Daniel watched his father lumber into the house, his shoulders drooped. With a heavy sigh, he pulled the shovel from the snow bank and began finishing his father’s chore.
ONCE the house began humming with that Christmas energy that gets trapped indoors like harried field mice on winter days, Mark and Daniel put on their coats and told everyone they were going to the barn to get some peace. Neither were interested in playing Aggravation at the kitchen table. To the surprise of the others, they said they would milk Peppermint, the family’s one dairy cow, as an excuse to get away.
“But I already milked her,” Grace said.
“We’ll milk her again,” Daniel said. The milking would not go wasted, Daniel suspected, since Grace often did a haphazard job.
Inside the barn, Daniel led Peppermint from her stall and hitched her to a post before a trough of oats. He pushed his wide-brimmed hat higher on his head and wiped down the cow’s udder. Sure enough, the sometimes careless Grace had left the udder half filled.
Mark swapped places with Daniel and grabbed hold of the cow’s teats. Daniel sat on a bale of hay and watched him milk. Steam from the milk rose up underneath the cow.
“How does Heidi like being a wife?” Daniel asked, picking off a piece of straw and chewing on it.
“She likes it fine,” Mark said. “Her parents and sisters left for Texas Friday. She’s already missing them, but she’s a sturdy girl; she’ll get used to things.”
“She getting along okay with Mom and Dad?”
“Good enough, I figure,” Mark said. “Heidi’s here more than me. She says Dad stays out of the house a lot. But that’s fine. You know how Heidi is, fairly upfront. Not sure Mom and Dad are used to that.”
“No,” Daniel said, “I don’t figure they are.”
The steady jets of steaming milk hitting the stainless steel bucket filled the ensuing silence until Daniel mentioned how much he liked Heidi. “She’s a good choice for you,” he added. “I think you’ll both be right happy with each other in the years to come.”
Mark adjusted his squeezing and smiled up at his big bruder. “Danke, she’s the best girl I coulda found, for sure. Going down to Texas for rumspringa was a good idea. God sure did put me on the right path.”
Daniel smiled over Mark’s words. God did have a funny way about Him. At one time, he’d believed Aiden was an obstacle to overcome. After they’d met by chance at Glacier National Park six months ago, he’d realized God had meant for them to be together. Or at least he had thought. Now he was unsure. Did Aiden want to remain a couple? He had left so suddenly and angrily. And now he refused to answer his cell phone.
Daniel had attempted to call him six times since returning from church at the Stahley’s, and each time his phone had gone straight to voice mail. Aiden hadn’t even returned his text messages. Daniel had switched on his ringer to be sure not to miss his call. He did not care if his family eyed him when his phone went off in his pants pocket. But it had remained mute.
Peppermint mooed, kicked at the straw with her hind legs, settled her snout into the oats.
“I wish you weren’t going back to Montana,” Mark said, following Daniel’s thoughts. He glanced at Daniel from under his straw hat, his mouth taut. His brown eyes told Daniel he wanted to say more, but in their silence Daniel understood to let the moment pass.
How much did Mark truly understand? Had Aiden been right? Had Mark sent that letter back in August, asking for him to find Aiden, knowing already that they were living together as a couple, like he and Heidi now were? Was the letter merely his way of showing approval without being upfront?
“I won’t
be far from reach,” Daniel said as the warmth of brotherly affection surged inside him, mixed with that ever-present dread. He was proud of his younger brother. He had come far in a mere few years. Mark used to be self-indulgent and unresponsive. Now he was as outstanding a community member as the Amish could hope for. As outstanding as any community could hope for. But Daniel was skeptical he could be truly open with him, for both of their best interests. Even if Mark had put two and two together and accepted Daniel in his own way, they could never discuss his lifestyle candidly.
“You can reach me whenever need be,” Daniel said. “You got my address, and you can always call me on my cell phone from the phone shack.”
“So you’re going to leave the church? It’s final?”
Daniel gathered no reason to string Mark along. Any moment the ministers might show at the farm and confront him again. This time he would not mince words. He would tell them plainly he was not remaining in Henry and that, unless they decided he could live in Montana and still keep a connection with the community, which was a long shot, he would be leaving the church.
“I think I have no choice now,” he said toward the straw-covered ground. “Not much else I can do.”
“You were baptized, there’ll be the shunning, you might not be able to come back here.” Mark’s tone was not preachy. He merely stated a cold, hard fact.
Kicking the unpleasantness aside, Daniel jumped up and tossed his toothpick to the ground once he noticed the cow’s udder near drained. “Let’s not talk about that now.” He stood over Mark. “I want to give you something. Something for you and Heidi.”
Mark squeezed the last drop from Peppermint. He stood, the steaming bucket weighted by his side, and faced Daniel. “You already gave us a wedding gift. You made us those night tables, remember? Heidi keeps telling me you’re more gifted in woodworking than her father and me.”
Daniel allowed the feeling of pride to fill him. The ministers frowned upon immodesty. None of that mattered now. “I want to give you something more,” he said to Mark. “Let’s get the milk into the refrigerator, and then we can take a ride.”
Between Two Promises Page 16
