by Beth Shriver
“Why is he on the street, Zeke?”
“Humph. We’ll go to into town tomorrow and sort this all out.”
John took a step closer to him. Zeke backed away. “You’ll tell me now.”
Zeke heaved a sigh and went for his glasses as an excuse to dodge John. “If you insist, I’ll tell you what I know, and we’ll leave the rest for the officers to answer.” He sat in a large chair.
John remained standing, hovering over him. “What did you tell the police when Amos sent them to you?”
“Amos sent them to me to decide the best course of action to resolve the issue.” He wiped his sweaty brow with his hand.
“That should be decided in court.”
“The Beiler girls would have to take the stand in order for that to happen.”
John leaned over, his face directly in front of Zeke’s. “Then let them.”
“It’s crossing a line, John. Has Annie’s influence caused you to fall away as well?” No sooner had the words left his mouth than Zeke recoiled, as if knowing he’d pushed too far.
“Then cross it.” John turned and walked out. He needed to cool his temper. He felt Zeke’s mouse-like eyes on him as he collected his horse and road down the trail from their house. By demanding that Zeke cross a line of Amish law, he’d crossed the minister of his community. There would be a penance to pay.
They went to the local police station early the next morning. The red brick building with cracks in the mortar looked its age. A sign with chipping paint claimed the place as the police department and gave the precinct number.
As they walked to the witness room, Hanna reached for Annie’s hand. They had come to identify the man who came to the Beilers’s home and to see whether it was indeed the same man who had hit them. Annie was reminded of walking through the sterile hallways at the adoption agency.
The thick glass between them and the six men standing on the other side called for caution. One man’s gaze seemed as if he was looking right into Annie’s eyes. “Can they see us?”
An older officer answered and guided them closer to the glass wall. “No, ma’am. We wouldn’t have very many willing witnesses if that were the case, now would we?”
His sarcasm made Annie feel even more uncomfortable than she already had. She knew Hanna felt the same, or she wouldn’t have made the gesture to take her hand.
Zeke walked in, making Annie’s heart heavy, knowing he would only make matters worse. “Minister,” Annie greeted him.
“Annie, Hanna.”
Hanna didn’t respond. She just stared at the men opposite the glass from them.
Zeke looked at the camera up high on the wall. “I’ve only come to offer moral support.” He shouted, directing his words toward the camera. “I’ll go back out to the waiting area.” He nodded to Annie and then to the officer and left.
Annie breathed a sigh of relief and decided to get this over with. “Can we start?” she asked the compliant but disinterested officer.
“Yes, ma’am.” He moved forward. “Do any of these men look like the man who came to your home, Ms. Beiler?” He stared at Hanna, making her squirm.
Each of the six men were so much alike in appearance it would be difficult to narrow them down. They were all in their early twenties with blond hair, but they didn’t all have the same color of eyes; but then, they were never close enough to see what color he had, anyway.
Her forehead began to perspire as she looked at each man. “The one on the end.”
“Which end?” he huffed out with annoyance.
“To the right,” she sputtered.
“You.” He pointed to Annie. “Is he the one?”
“I didn’t see him that night. Only the hit-and-run, and it happened so fast I’m not sure. I only know what the truck looks like.”
“So, we have one identification?”
Hanna and Annie looked at one another. “Jah, I guess so.”
He filled out a form on his clipboard and then led them to the door.
“Is that all?” Annie questioned.
“Thanks for coming, ladies.” He closed the door behind them.
As they walked down the hall, they saw Zeke and John talking. Their serious expressions told Annie not to interfere. “Let’s wait here.” Annie tugged on Hanna’s arm.
Hanna looked to where Annie was staring and sat with her on some metal chairs. “What are they talking about?”
“I’m not sure. But by the looks of it I’d say John’s in a bad way.”
It was a cold winter day when Zeke called the elders together to discuss John’s disobedience. John took it well. His goal had been to have justice done, and it had been, so the berating was well worth his efforts.
“Wait for me?” he asked Annie after church and council were held.
“I’ll go in.” She took his hand, and they walked in together. The council sat in a row at a long table with Zeke and Omar in the middle. They stopped their chatter when John approached.
Since Zeke was in charge, he brought the meeting to order as usual. “John Yoder, do you confess your insubordination?”
John replied with a simple nod.
Omar smiled at John with his thin, ruby lips. “What do you feel is a fair atonement, Brother John?”
John watched Zeke look sideways at Omar. He was learning to put his power aside when Omar expected it, and it seemed to humble him.
“I’d like to help Zeke plant his back field, come spring.”
Zeke’s eyes lifted. “That pasture hasn’t grown a good crop for years.”
“I hear a season of growing soybeans will liven up the soil enough to grow a healthy crop the following year.” John was obviously prepared with his offer.
“It sounds as if you’ve put some thought into this, John.” Omar sounded pleased.
Things were so automatic and fluid, Annie began to wonder whether the two of them had talked earlier.
Zeke raised his finger and opened his mouth, but John carried on. “Jah, I have.”
Omar turned to Zeke as if on cue. “Do you accept these conditions, Minister Zeke?”
“Well, jah…I—”
“Good, then.” He clasped his hands together. “Is there anything further?”
The elders grumbled their nees, and Zeke watched the meeting deflate before him. “Once this commitment has been completed, we will consider the matter closed,” Omar said, and stood.
John winked at Annie, who sat with her mouth open. “What just happened?”
He grinned. “I bet Zeke’s asking himself the same exact question.”
Chapter Forty-Three
BEAMS OF LIGHT filtered through the clouds, creating rays of illumination that looked as if Gott was reaching through the sky to connect with the earth.
Annie appreciated the picture in the sky and the calm of the day. The days of quiet seemed far away, but it had only been the last few months that life had turned upside down.
“The heavens are beautiful this morning, aren’t they?” John walked up the hill behind her from the path to his home.
She could feel him standing behind her like they had so many mornings before this one, but today felt different. The struggles they’d been through had eventually brought them closer than they had been before. They had grown up assuming what was to be between them, but now it was defined.
“I have news.”
“I hope its good news.” Annie turned to him.
He grinned and held out a letter. She grabbed for it, and he pulled it away. “Changed my mind. I want to tell you about Jeffrey Walker first.”
“Who’s Jeffrey Walker?”
“The guy Hanna identified at the station. It seems he has a rich daddy, a rancher who raises race horses. He’s bailed his son out of worse situations than this one.”
“So what’s going to happen?”
“His father paid off his crime again. He’ll do some community service and be under house arrest for a couple of months.”
“Is tha
t the way it’s always done?”
“The policeman I talked with seemed to be more bothered with us than the criminal. So I’m thinking it is.”
John nodded and then pulled out the letter again. Annie crossed her arms over her chest, not willing to play the game again. He smiled and handed it to her.
She read the return address. Harrisonburg. Her stomach jumped. It could be from her mother or from the Glicks. She looked at the street address, Timberlane Trail Road. “It’s from her.”
“I know.”
“You couldn’t have known her address.”
“It looked like a woman’s handwriting. I might not have given it to you if it had been from Rudy.” He grinned.
She pushed up on her tiptoes and laid her forehead against his chest. “I’m going to the house to read it.”
She leaned back, and he cupped her cheek in his hand. “I’m happy for you, Annie. And I’m sorry I didn’t understand before.”
Her eyes filled. “But you do now.” She took a deep breath to keep the tears at bay.
“I’m anxious to hear about it.” He pointed to the letter and began to walk back home.
Annie waved and hurried to the house. It would be too much to ask not to run into a family member on the way to her room. She wanted to keep this to herself. Abraham would only give the letters to her or John, and for now that’s the way she felt it had to be.
She squeezed the letter into the front pocket of her dress as she eased the back door shut and made her way through the kitchen with only her brother to pass by.
“Where are you going, Annie?” Eli asked as he placed the milk back into the cooler.
“Upstairs, just for a minute.”
“Are you sick?”
It was a fair question to ask. Everyone was always doing chores. “I’m fine. I just need a minute.”
He shrugged and headed for the door. “Mamm needs some beans from the cellar,” he informed her as he walked out the door.
Annie fought off the anxiousness that zinged through her. She opened the creaky cellar door and took two steps at a time down the stairs. She knew exactly where the beans should be and went straight for them. As she grabbed the glass jar, she turned to her left, staring at the black space that had always frightened her. Her vivid imagination as a child had fabricated all kinds of creepy things in the dark hole.
She took a step toward the darkness, and then another, until she was in as far as she could go without ducking. Annie made herself close her eyes. They popped open, and she forced them shut again. She took in some air through her nose, smelling the musty aroma. She didn’t let the unknown scare her; just let the quiet calm her and listened to her breathing.
When she opened her eyes, the black had lifted. She could see the slant in the earthen wall at the end of the small tunnel. The intimidation that had filled her was gone. The ghosts her mother claimed she ran from deflated. Annie turned her back, and without turning around, she walked slowly up the stairs.
But when she turned the corner to the flight up to her room, Annie’s feet felt like bags of feed as she climbed the stairs. She couldn’t get to her room fast enough. When she opened the door, both Frieda and Hanna were in their room. “What are you both doing in here at this time of day?” Then she realized how ironic it was to ask.
“Why are you?” Frieda pinned her kapp and then helped Hanna with hers, who was milking the healing wound to her side as much as she could.
“I’m going to write a letter.” This much was true. Who she was writing to would be her own secret.
“Daed wants us all to help in the corn crib. The winter mold’s gotten to it, and we need to sort through to see what’s left to keep.” Hanna’s gaze dropped for a second to where Annie’s hand held the letter in her pocket.
“I’ll be there shortly.” She sat at the desk and took out a piece of paper and pen.
As they left, Annie let out a long breath. Finally alone, she opened the letter. The first words warmed her heart.
Annie,
I can’t tell you how happy I was to receive your letter.
After weeks of waiting for a response and finally getting one she had still felt unsure about how her outreach would be received.
Some people think peace is something you can learn. So they pretend they have that serenity about them, but inside they’re in a fury. I used to be that person, Annie, until I met you. I tried to block out the feelings of self-hate because of what I’d done to you with noise and activity, never sitting still or letting in the quiet.
After you came to visit I felt a kinship with you for trusting me enough to take the chance for us to meet. After you left that day I wanted to contact you but didn’t know if you’d want me to. I’d never forgiven myself for my actions, and I never thought you could either.
Then I got your letter, and I felt new mercy. For all of these eighteen years (and yes, I’ve counted them) I recognized I’d always have a rotted piece in my heart, one that I wouldn’t let the Lord cut away. But in bringing you to me He did.
I loved hearing about your world, Annie. Since you came to see mine you know what I do and the people I see. But know there’s always a place for you here in my life, if you ever want to take it.
This has probably put you in an awkward situation with your people in the community. I’m sorry for that. But I’m sure you’re loved and accepted because of the Amish people’s way.
If only she knew. But Annie wouldn’t tell her. That would only bring more heartache, and neither of them needed that again in their lives.
Please continue to write, call if you’re allowed, and if ever possible, come to see me again. Under the circumstances I know my presence wouldn’t be understood, but know that I would come if I could.
I learned that a mother would do anything for her child once you were gone to me. Just as our heavenly Father did for us by giving His Son. I lost you once, Annie. I don’t want to lose you again.
Truly yours,
Your Mother
The page wet with tears could not have felt more real in her hands, the words more meaningful, or the emotion so clear. She had done the right thing to seek out her mother. This union was worth the rejection, frustration, and confusion that had come of it. She would have no regrets. In finding her mother, she had found her truth.
Epilogue
ANNIE HEARD JOHN’S boots on the porch. Their new home was bare inside. No knickknacks or calendar adorned the house to give it character, but Annie would make it their own. She sat in the rocking chair Amos had made them for a wedding gift, swaying as she worked on John’s quilt. He had already given Annie her wedding present—a handmade rug with orange, yellow, and dark threads, a sunshine-and-shadow.
John took off his boots and sat next to Annie in the only chair they owned. He was hard at work to stain a table that was given to them as a gift, but the daily chores came first, and there was a lot to do for a man with no able-bodied children to help him.
“You’re so good to take off your shoes, but it will have to be walked on someday.” She put the thread she was working with between her lips and bit it in two.
John looked down at the large, colorful rug at the tip of his toes. “It reminds me of your journey and mine, finally realizing everything that happened to us was through Gott’s will. If you hadn’t left, the change in us would have never happened. He was preparing us to be together.”
Annie pulled up the quilt and laid it out for John to see. “It’s all Gott’s design.” Mamm had pieced the quilt together but left it unfinished so Annie could complete it herself.
“Look here.” She showed him the few pieces she had stitched together. “Hardships and joyful events, coming of age, our journeys and marriage. But this is what holds it together.” She pointed to the thread she was using, three pieces twined together. “A cord of three strands is not quickly broken. It represents the two of us with Christ, throughout the entire quilt, even what’s not complete yet.”
His ey
es softened, and he reached for her. “I thought I knew the meaning of your experience, but I understand even more. You couldn’t be as content as you are now without discovering who you were and finding peace in that.”
She stood and placed the quilt on the rocker, sat on his lap, and put her arms around his neck. “You were so good to let me go. It helped me see things so much clearer. I wasn’t trusting the Lord while I was gone. Only myself and…” She hesitated and glanced at John, unsure whether he was able to be that forgiving yet.
“Rudy. You can say his name. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t have ever found Monica. You might still be wondering and waiting, and we couldn’t be happy together until that happened.” He tightened his arms around her waist to look her in the eyes.
She brought his big, rough hand to her cheek and held it there. She didn’t deserve this wonderful man, but here he was, had always been there for her. But then, she didn’t deserve the forgiveness Gott had given her either.
She glanced around the room that held so little and felt that she had so much. When she turned back to John, she could see a vision of their future, and she admired the view.
Glossary
ach — oh
bann — excommunicated
danke — thank you
dawdi — grandfather
ferhoodled — enamored
gmayna — church board
God — Gott
grumbeere — potatoes
gut — good
hallo — hello
haus — house
Ich bin anschaffe — I am working
jah — yes
kapp — hat
komm esse — come eat
mammi — grandmother
meidung — avoid
narrisch — crazy
nee — no
ordnung — order of Amish ways
puh — ugh
rumspringa — teenagers running around
shunned — disregarded
sod — in the secular world
