Annie's Truth (Touch of Grace)

by Beth Shriver

  Omar stood and cleared his throat, and then tapped his cup to get everyone’s attention. “We do not speak of the dead, out of respect, but I thought it should be known that five of our sisters in the Nickel Mines community were laid to rest yesterday. Gott rest their souls.”

  He looked around the room at the many faces. “I can only hope that we, in our own community, would respond in the same manner. Forgiveness does not prevent a tragedy or pardon the wrong but rather constitutes a first step toward a future that is hopeful.” Omar looked straight at Annie and then addressed the room again. “Keep their families in your prayers this day most specially.”

  She made her way through the room with Mammi by her side. “Did the bishop look at me when he spoke, or was it my imagination?”

  Mammi stopped and looked at Annie. “There have been as many conflicting opinions about your leaving as there have been about the Amish forgiving that man in Pennsylvania.” She cupped her palm against Annie’s cheek. “In my mind they can’t be compared. I think Omar was just trying to make a point, and I hope he did.”

  “I see.” So everyone had formed their opinion about her in her absence. Could she expect any less? Of course there had been talk, but with the enormity of the shootings at hand, couldn’t her small infraction be put aside? “I’m going to get a drink, Mammi.” There were refreshments in the receiving room, but Annie needed more than the water to cool her.

  As Annie stepped into the kitchen, John and Hanna walked in through the back door. She paused as the sight of him. Although all people were to be thought of the same in their appearance, Annie wondered how everyone could ignore certain attractiveness some held. John was one of those.

  Her eyes stopped on Hanna’s arm touching his. He had his hands nonchalantly in his pockets, but it caught her attention, all the same. When John noticed her, he stared so hard it hurt. Annie saw the wound, raw and overflowing, in his dark brown eyes. And she looked away.

  She set the image in her mind of the two of them. Arms touching, their stunned faces, both at her presence and of being found out this way. This couldn’t be—her closest confidants together. But after looking into his eyes, she knew it could be true.

  Annie lifted her head and tried to hide the shock and betrayal she felt. They were still, waiting for something that none of them seemed to know. John cleared his throat and moved away from Hanna. “I didn’t know you were coming back.”

  “I didn’t have much in the way of communicating.” Annie’s voice wavered. At the brink of tears, it was all she could do to get out a single word, let alone have a conversation.

  “How are you?” She was asking John. Annie realized she was hurt by John but angry with Hanna. The separation wasn’t clear to her, but those were the emotions that spilled out, on her sleeve and every other part of her.

  Hanna answered, which irritated her even more. “We’re all fine, Annie. The question is, How are you?” She took a step closer, next to John.

  So are they a united front? Against my coming back, or leaving? Are they together? Questions flew through her mind like a swarm of bees. She knew Hanna had asked a question but couldn’t think of an answer. Her mind reeled, and then all went black.

  When she woke she couldn’t differentiate whether she was in a dream, having the flashback she’d had at the Glicks’s, or whether this was happening in the present. It was all the same, but vivid, as if everything was now in vibrant color. The braided rag rug seemed to completely cover the floor. A quilt Mammi had made hung folded over a chair full of various hues, and the smell of her mamm’s cooking made her taste buds swell.

  Thomas sat in a chair beside the bed with his teddy. His eyes widened when hers opened. “Mamm!” He quickly jumped off the chair and ran to the door. A minute later her mamm was there with a bowl of soup in hand.

  Mamm didn’t say a word, just fluffed a pillow behind Annie’s head and leaned over to feed her the soup.

  “Mamm.”

  “Take a bite.” Her eyes never met Annie’s. She took a few bites but couldn’t stand the silence.

  “It’s good to see you, Mamm.” Annie reached up and wiped a drop of soup from her chin. Sarah’s face was still as stone. Her blonde-gray hair was neatly pinned under her kapp, and her dress looked newly pressed.

  Mamm handed Annie a napkin.

  “What time is it?” Annie waited for a response that never came. “You’re not speaking to me?” Annie felt the tears come but was too weak to cry. She was under the bann. What other answer could there be for her mamm’s silence?

  Do I deserve this treatment? Does Mamm feel shunned due to my relationship with my birth mother?

  “Why did the others speak to me?”

  Mamm leaned back and set the bowl of soup down on the chair and stomped out, her low-heeled shoes banging on the floor, even on the braided rug in the center of the room. She grabbed the door as she left. Just as it was about to slam, she stuck out her hand to catch it and eased it shut.

  Annie couldn’t put the pieces together. No one acted as she’d predicted. She had prepared herself for certain things, people to act specific ways, but nothing she planned for was happening the way she thought it would. Now she had no defense, no plan at all. She felt helpless not knowing who to trust and who to confide in, or talk to, for that matter. Nothing made sense.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  THE NEXT MORNING Minister Zeke came to prepare for the funeral. Annie helped in the kitchen to make refreshments for those who stayed after the ceremony. Thoroughly confused regarding who would speak to her, she remained silent for most of the morning.

  The furniture had been stored in the barn to make more room for people. The house couldn’t hold everyone, so many stood outside. More would come to the gravesite to grieve at the burial. Annie thought of the funeral for the five girls in Pennsylvania and was humbled. The miracle was that the other five had lived.

  Zeke stood near the coffin and addressed the congregation. No eulogies were given or talk of the deceased. He spoke from Genesis. “From dust we are created, and to dust we shall return.”

  He kept one hand on his protruding belly and held his Bible with the other. He turned slowly back and forth from one side of the room to another.

  Annie felt the weight of many eyes on her. This seemed so wrong in her heart. This day was about saying good-bye to her dawdi, not scrutinizing the one who left and came back.

  Zeke went on. “The New Testament says if Christ be preached that he rose from the dead, how say some among you that there is no resurrection of the dead? But if there be no resurrection of the dead, then is Christ not risen. And if Christ is not risen, then is our preaching vain, and your faith is also vain.”

  Annie stared into the coffin. Dressed in white pants, vest, and shirt, Dawdi looked like an angel. The Amish undertaker used no cosmetics, so her dawdi was more than pale. The lines in his face were pronounced, as was the white of his hair, much like Mammi’s. Annie looked to Mammi, now standing next to her. She held her head high, although her ruddy coloring revealed her emotions. Mamm held a white hanky that soaked up the tears that continually ran down her cheeks. Annie noticed her glancing in her direction more than at Zeke.

  Annie knew John was in the room. She had seen him briefly when he first came in. Hanna had walked over to him, and they spoke quietly.

  How could they be so blatant?

  Annie tried to avoid any contact with them by staying in the kitchen. She didn’t know what hurt more—the death of her dawdi, or the relationships she left behind. But this was her dawdi’s day, and she would keep her mind on him.

  Eli gestured for her to come into the kitchen as soon as the minister finished. He led her to the barn, where Daed was hitching up the team.

  “Why are we here? We should be with the other mourners.” Annie was annoyed at Eli’s silence and mystery as to why he had asked her to leave.

  “I thought you might want to see Otto,” Eli responded without emotion, as if he were comple
ting a chore.

  Annie stopped. “You want me to see a horse instead of pay my respects?”

  Eli turned to her. “With the mess you’ve made, I suggest you just do as you’re told and hope you come out of this without too many restrictions.”

  The shock sunk in deep. Eli had not been one to discourage her leaving, but in her absence he had obviously changed his mind. As Annie looked into his eyes, she decided not to have any expectations or predictions. She didn’t know anyone the way she had before and shouldn’t expect to.

  “Your choice has affected all of us, ya know.” He headed for the barn and opened the big, heavy door.

  John followed Annie out to the barn. His eyes flowed over her, taking in every detail. He knew how she walked, the way she swung her arms as if she were in a hurry but never was. With the exhilaration of a shooting star, her patience with children, and the love she had for her people, she always created an emotional eruption in him.

  When he realized Amos was in the barn, he lagged behind, not wanting to hamper their first conversation. But John’s heart swelled at the effort Amos made toward her. He hadn’t expected it, and by the look on Annie’s face, neither had she.

  He propped himself against the doorjamb and watched Annie slow her walk when she saw Amos. “Did you need me, Daed?” Her voice sounded small but steady. Amos didn’t tolerate weakness, which was why it was so strange he’d been the first to greet her.

  Amos pointed to Otto. He didn’t appreciate the practice of treating work animals as pets, but it was past that point with Annie and Otto. She hugged on the horse’s big head and spoke to him. Annie watched Amos begin to hitch Otto, but he stopped long enough to gesture for Annie to help. The silence between them stung. Even as an observer, John could feel their sadness, the misunderstanding, loss of time, and inability to talk it through. Annie’s wide eyes darted from Amos to the horse. That’s when John stepped forward to help harness Perry, the other horse.

  Annie startled at his presence. She gave him a smile and looked down at his boots. Unsure of what to say, he didn’t say anything until Amos noticed him. “John, can you finish up here?”

  When John agreed, Amos left without a word.

  John watched the buckle on the harness Amos had been working on dangle below the horse’s belly and knew he wanted them to be alone. Amos would never leave a chore undone.

  “It seems like such a long time…” Her eyes seemed to plead for the time that had passed between them.

  “It has been a long time.” John felt a spark ignite in his chest, making his heart beat rapidly. “Did you find what you needed?” He waited for her to answer.

  “No, but I learned so many things I hadn’t expected that the answer is also yes.”

  Her leaving had cut him deeply, even before she left, but he’d had no idea until now how badly. “It was worth the bann, or whatever else Zeke decides?”

  She took a moment to answer. “You can’t know unless you listen to what I have to say.”

  “You’re right. I don’t know why you left and hurt everyone you loved to go chasing around after some stranger.” He raked his hands through his hair, upset with himself for talking out of anger, and let out a breath.

  “The discovery of not knowing my birth mother stripped me of who I was. I thought finding her would fill in that loss. But it didn’t. Only coming home did.”

  “Then why did you leave at all? What did you find?”

  Annie leaned against Otto’s big, brown side. “I learned why it bothered me so much that I wasn’t a natural-born child of my parents. Because it made me different.”

  John bunched his brows. “But you were raised in the way of the Amish. Your situation was different, not of your choosing.”

  “But still set apart.” She folded her arms across her chest and looked up to the hayloft, holding back the tears. “You know, one of the Glicks told me I was more Amish than any he’d ever known.” Annie forced a sad smile. She pushed off of Otto and stared into John’s eyes. “That was the nicest thing any of them said to me.”

  John hadn’t realized until that moment what it was really all about. It wasn’t so much about finding her biological mother as it was knowing she was still accepted here, still Amish through and through. Some in their community sought things to make them different, but Annie lived the Amish life with joy and pride.

  “Did you ever stop to think about how hard it was for me not to know how you were?”

  “I had the same thoughts.” She took a step closer to him.

  “Then why didn’t you write to me?” John’s spark spread into a flame with the frustration of losing her.

  “Write to you? I did. Why didn’t you?”

  John stood back and stopped. Annie had the same look on her face that John was sure he did. “I did.”

  Her voice softened. “I didn’t get any letters.”

  “I never sent it. I never got a letter from you and didn’t want to ask anyone for your address. I figured you didn’t want to communicate with me.”

  “I wrote to you, Hanna, and Mamm.” She paused for a moment. “Mainly you.”

  When she turned toward Otto, John noticed her eyes close, and she took in a breath. “I didn’t send them all. It was more a journal for me, to keep in touch with all of you. It just made you seem closer.”

  As much as he wanted to believe in her again, he couldn’t—not yet. But with her here, he felt whole again. “I wish I would have known that.” He reached for the buckle still unattended. They both worked together in silence to ready the horses.

  John rubbed his chin in thought, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. His anger toward Annie had caused him to make a commitment he knew now he shouldn’t have. His impulsive words of retaliation would hurt the Beilers, no matter what he decided.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  JOHN PULLED his buggy in behind one belonging to Amos. The long caravan snaked along the dirt roads that led to the cemetery. Each buggy had a number written on it with chalk and a matching number assigned to them at the graveyard. They pulled up to their number in front of the white fence surrounding the burial ground.

  Annie was struck by how similar they all were. Even having been away just a short time, the formality of their black dress today was even more pronounced. Each woman wore a black dress and hat. Not even the unwed wore white aprons as they usually did, and married women wore black kapps today instead of the white. The men’s black felt hats varied in brim size, disclosing the wearer’s age and marital status. The number of shoulder straps and whether they crossed designated different church groups. One was of the New Order, which was less restrictive. Annie’s family was associated with the Old Orders, which followed the original ways upon which the community had been founded.

  She glanced over the uniform gravestones. Simple, white, rounded stone with basic information, they showed no status or wealth. The older stones were written in German, but newer stones were engraved in English.

  Minister Zeke found his place by the grave and opened his Bible. “Marvel not at this: for the hour is coming, in the which all that are in the graves shall hear his voice, and shall come forth, they that have done good, unto the resurrection of life; and they that have done evil, unto the resurrection of damnation.” Zeke stopped to push up his wire-rimmed glasses.

  When he began again, Annie whispered the last verse with him. “By myself I can do nothing. I judge only as I hear, and my judgment is just, for I seek not to please myself but him who sent me.”

  Those close around Annie set their eyes on her. “Him who sent me,” she repeated. Others turned to listen, knowing what she was referencing. Zeke’s face reddened, and he forced air through his nose as the pine coffin was lowered into the black earth. He cleared his throat and read a hymn as the pallbearers filled the grave.

  Everyone said the Lord’s Prayer together and then prayed silently. Mammi’s sobbing ceased as Zeke approached her, offering his condolences. Then he grabbed Annie’s
arm and walked down yards of white fences to the gate.

  He led her to a large oak tree and shoved his face into hers. “I would appreciate your silence during my homily, Annie.”

  Annie watched his nostrils flare and the lump of skin darken around his collar. “I’m sorry. I thought the verse held relevance to my situation, as well as my dawdi’s.”

  “We will talk of your situation after there has been proper time to grieve.”

  “I believe Gott intends everything to happen for a reason, Minister Zeke. My dawdi’s death happening at the same time I returned home holds great significance to me.”

  He took a moment then retorted, “A time of judgment for you both.”

  Annie couldn’t help but flinch. Zeke had always been a strict man in the way he conducted his ministry and handled situations that would arise in the community. His treatment of her had always been favorable. Did this one venture change his whole opinion of her?

  “I’d like to think that my dawdi now understands my need to leave and accepts me back without judgment now that I’ve returned.” She stopped and took in a breath.

  His fists were balled and breathing labored. Zeke being a heavy man, Annie worried for his health as well as his condemnation. It wouldn’t bode well if the minister passed out during their first conversation since her return.

  “Gott is the final judge.” He opened his hands and tightened them again.

  Annie tilted her head. “I hope that is true in my case, if I’m brought before the elders.”

  Zeke raised a hand in frustration. “You have brought this upon yourself, Annie.”

  “Is it a sin to want to know the person who birthed me?” Annie knew she was being disrespectful but didn’t feel she had much to lose. She had embarrassed him due to his puffed-up ego, something she’d not witnessed personally until now.