An Uncommon Grace

by Serena B. Miller

  Except—as he approached the open kitchen door, he saw Zillah sitting at the table, sipping tea and eating a cookie, while Rose stirred something on the stove. The moment she saw him, Zillah jumped to her feet and made a show of helping his aunt.

  “Here, let me do that.” Zillah grabbed the spoon out of Rose’s hand. As he entered, she slyly glanced over her shoulder and pretended to see him for the first time.

  “Hello, Levi!”

  His mother was sitting up in the rocking chair for the first time since she had been home. He scanned her face trying to read her expression, hoping to see how she was faring with Zillah’s presence in the house. Was it tolerable? After one long look had passed between them, she turned away and began to fuss over the blanket she had wrapped around his little brother, and he was no more enlightened than before he had entered the room.

  All he knew was that he was grateful that he had built that room for himself over his stepfather’s workshop. That is where he would stay until Zillah was gone. He had no intention of sleeping beneath the same roof.

  “Bischt foddich shoffa heit?” Rose asked.

  “Yes,” he answered. “I’m done working for today.”

  Rose wiped her hands on her apron. “Have a seat. I’ll dish out the Buhnesupp.”

  “Bean soup is my favorite, Rose. Thank you for making it.”

  “The soup was no trouble.” For the first time since Rose had come, he heard a note of irritation in her voice. Even when little Daniel would not quit crying, his aunt had managed to be patient and steady. Was she simply missing her own family? Or was Zillah already getting on her nerves?

  Zillah helped carry some of the dishes to the table, constantly glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. Eventually, when the three of them were seated, they bowed their heads in silent prayer and then Rose stood and dished out a plate for his mother, who remained in her rocker. Rose then took the baby out of Claire’s arms so she could eat. Unfortunately, Rose chose to sit down on the bed with Daniel instead of coming back to the table—which left Levi and Zillah sitting at the table alone, across from one another. Like a married couple.

  It was worse than awkward. He could think of absolutely nothing to say to this girl . . . and so he ate in silence.

  His mother, gracious woman that she was, tried to carry on a polite conversation with Zillah from her rocking chair.

  “And how long will your father and mother be able to do without you in their home, Zillah?” Claire asked.

  He smiled inwardly at the polite way his mother had chosen to discover how long Zillah would be living beneath their roof.

  “Oh, they don’t need me right now.” Another flirtatious glance at Levi. “My father told me to stay for as long as I want.”

  If Zillah was as annoying to her father as she was to everyone else, he had no doubt that the bishop would be thrilled to have the girl off his hands for a while. He buttered some bread and concentrated on quickly filling his stomach. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could get up from the table.

  “In fact, Rose,” Zillah continued, “my father said to tell you that now that I am here, there is no reason for you to stay even one more day. He says that you should be getting back to your own family—and your own church.”

  He saw Rose bite her lip.

  Zillah dished a liberal dollop of mashed potatoes onto her plate and then forked two pieces of beefsteak on top of it. She had already piled her plate high with the green beans and corn that his mother had so laboriously raised, picked, and canned the summer before. There was, he saw, no birdlike appetite here.

  Zillah chatted on as though oblivious to the effect she was having on everyone in the room.

  “In fact, my father says that Rose should not be here at all.” Zillah stuffed a forkful of beefsteak into her mouth. “My father says that since you are Old Order, Rose, we should not even be eating with you.”

  Rose was pressing her lips together so hard now, they were growing white. The Amish could be a blunt people, and they were definitely an honest people, but they were seldom deliberately rude. Zillah, however, didn’t seem to care.

  It was the strangest thing. She truly was a beautiful girl. If one just looked at her face and her body, her demure clothing, her perfectly starched prayer Kapp, one would think that she was the epitome of modest, lovely, Amish womanhood. But all it took was a few minutes in Zillah’s presence, and any man with common sense would run for the hills.

  There seemed to be something critical missing from her heart. Levi had picked up on it in third grade, when she had pointed out another little girl’s scuffed and oversized shoes, which were obvious hand-me-downs from the child’s older brother. Zillah had made fun of her one recess until the little girl cried.

  Most Amish children, had they accidentally teased a playmate to the point of tears, would have been crushed and sorry for having caused such pain. But not Zillah. As the other little girl wept, he had seen a self-satisfied smile curl Zillah’s mouth, and her eyes had danced with pleasure. The memory of Zillah savoring her deliberate cruelty that day, and on other occasions, made him cringe.

  Why on earth she had developed an attachment to him, he couldn’t fathom. But she had, and it had been the bane of his life.

  When supper was over, he helped his mother back into bed and got Daniel situated on his little wedge-shaped pillow. Then he went into the kitchen and found Rose elbow deep in dishwater.

  “Isn’t Zillah supposed to be helping you with that?” he asked.

  “She went to the outhouse and hasn’t come back yet.”

  “I’ll help you, then.”

  “Dishwashing is not a man’s job.”

  He picked up a drying cloth and a wet plate. “Nor is it yours to do it all alone.”

  “I don’t mind washing dishes, but I do need to know something. Do you want me to leave, Levi?” Rose said. “Do you feel it is wrong for me to be here?”

  “As far as I’m concerned”—Levi picked up another plate and polished it dry—“you could stay here forever. But I know your Kinner are missing you.”

  “Thank you, Levi.” Rose sighed with relief. “But what will you do? Zillah doesn’t strike me as someone who is willing to take on the task of fully caring for this family, and yet with the bishop’s daughter living here I doubt the other churchwomen will see the need to pitch in. Especially since they’ve already spent so much time here and have so many chores of their own.”

  “It will be all right. Maam will heal. Little Daniel will get stronger. And we will send Zillah back to her father as quickly as possible.”

  “Be careful, Levi,” Rose said. “I don’t trust that girl. She looks at you like a hawk looks at a plump chicken.”

  Levi wasn’t thrilled with the comparison, but Rose had gotten her point across.

  “I have known Zillah for a long time,” Levi said. “I can handle her.”

  “But you cannot handle what she might say to others about living here. She has her Kapp set for you. If you are not careful she will be giving the church the news of your marriage before you even know what’s happening.”

  “Perhaps, but she cannot force me to say the words that will bind me to her.”

  Rose turned away from the sink and laid one damp hand against Levi’s cheek.

  “I am so sorry that Abraham was killed. And I would give anything if your mother had not been wounded. There is great evil in the world, and sometimes, no matter how careful we are, or how well we treat our neighbors, that evil will hurt us.” She looked deep into his eyes. “But remember that God will somehow manage to turn evil into good for those who love Him. Satan can hurt us, but he cannot destroy us.”

  “Truly said.”

  Rose removed the dishcloth from his hand and dried his cheek where she had touched his face. “There are some blessings that have already come, even from this tragedy. I have been allowed to know my sister again, and I have spent time with her children. One of the biggest blessings is that I’ve got
ten reacquainted with you—and you, Levi, are someone worth knowing.”

  “Only God is worth knowing. I am nothing.”

  “I know we are a plain people, and I know that we are to be humble people. I also know that there are those among the other Amish orders who make fun of the Swartzentruber sect.”

  “You mean calling us ‘woolly lumps’?” Levi smiled and rubbed his knuckles over his chin. “That does not bother me. I am as yet without a beard.”

  Rose did not smile in return. Her face was worried. “You are handsome and strong, and you have a valiant heart. You would make some woman a wonderful, good husband. But you deserve a good wife. Don’t settle for someone like Zillah. Marriage is too intimate to be shackled to someone who does not make your heart sing.”

  The door slammed as Zillah walked back into the kitchen. Levi could not help but think how his mother had taught her children to close doors gently to show respect for the house and the inhabitants within.

  He thought about Zillah’s mother. He did not know the bishop’s wife well. She was a quiet woman who rarely spoke, and too often had a sad, faraway look in her eyes. He did not blame the poor woman for being sad—what with living with Bishop Weaver and Zillah her only child. That ghostlike woman would be no match against either of those strong-willed people.

  But he was not the bishop’s wife, and he would go up against the strong-willed Zillah if it was necessary.

  chapter TWELVE

  Grace wiped her hands on the seat of the most ragged pair of jeans she owned. Elizabeth sat on a folding chair supervising as she worked on the vegetable garden that her grandmother had started back before her heart attack.

  “You’re planting those lettuce seeds a little too deeply, dear. They barely need a dusting of dirt on them.”

  “Are you still feeling okay, Grandma? You’ve had an awfully big day, what with going out for the first time since your surgery, and now this.”

  “I feel better out here than I did in the house.” Elizabeth turned her face to the sky as though soaking up the last rays of the late-afternoon sun. “Your grandfather always joked that I must be solar-powered. I never liked staying inside if I could be out.”

  “Teaching must have been hard for you.”

  “On the contrary. It was perfect for me. I had summers off to play outside.”

  “Even as a little girl I wanted a garden,” Grace said, “but Mom wasn’t interested. I think moving so much took the desire to plant and watch things grow out of her. She tried not to get too attached to the places where we lived. It feels good now to have my hands in dirt.”

  “Didn’t they have dirt in Afghanistan?”

  “Not like this.”

  She had just covered up the first row when a squad car pulled in to their driveway. A man wearing a sheriff’s uniform and a crew cut approached them.

  “Hello, Gerald,” her grandmother said. “What’s brought you out here on this fine spring day? Have you met my granddaughter? Grace, this is Sheriff Newsome.”

  “No, ma’am. I have not had the pleasure.” He took off his hat, a gesture of respect Grace had not seen from any Amish man.

  Grace stood up, put her hands on the small of her back, and stretched. “How can I help you, officer?”

  He pulled out a small pad and glanced at some writing.

  “You’re the nurse who was first on the scene at the Shetler home? The one who was with Mrs. Shetler in the hospital when my deputy came by?”

  “I am.”

  “You were also with Levi Troyer that day.”

  “I took him to Children’s Hospital to be with his younger brother.”

  The sheriff scribbled something on his pad. “Did you know Levi before this?”

  “I’d never met the man before.”

  “Did Levi say anything to you on the ride there? Maybe about enemies the family might have had? Threats they had not told anyone about?”

  “Levi is not much of a talker, Sheriff.”

  “That’s the problem.” He closed his pad and put it back in his pocket. “None of the Amish are talkers when we’re around, even when we’re trying to protect them. The Swartzentrubers are the best when it comes to being closemouthed.”

  “I wish I could help. Do you have any leads?”

  “Not one—and we’ve been talking to everyone we could. Strange thing—it had been raining the night before, a hard rain. If you noticed, the Shetler farm only has a dirt driveway—good enough for horses and buggies, not so good for cars.”

  “How is that significant?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I was the first one there after the ambulance left. I was able to see Grace’s tire tracks and the ambulance’s. I could see the hoofprints of Levi’s mare.”

  “But?” Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow.

  “There were no other tracks except the ones the children left when they ran for the barn. Whoever killed Abraham came on foot, and they probably came through the fields and backyard.”

  “On foot?” Grace asked.

  “We lost what we think were the murderer’s footprints at the creek behind the Shetler house. Couldn’t pick them up again. We’re afraid whoever did this might be local.”

  Elizabeth and Grace looked at each other with consternation.

  “You ladies need to be real careful for a while until we find this fellow.”

  After the outside chores had been done, after the kitchen had been cleaned, and after his mother had settled down to sleep with Daniel beside her, Levi moved his few things out of the house and up into his workroom.

  A few months earlier, he had created a private space for himself above his stepfather’s workshop. It looked as if the babies were going to be coming hard and fast, and so in anticipation of needing quiet from time to time, he had insulated and Sheetrocked and put down proper wood flooring.

  Because he had done all the work himself and paid for the supplies, his stepfather had not minded his creating a room where nothing had existed before. There was a cot up there, a couple of chairs, and a table. Most of his specialty weaving supplies were there, also.

  Beneath the window was his favorite thing in the room. He had built a low bookcase holding a collection of high school textbooks that he had been reading these past months. He had seen them spilling out of two broken cardboard boxes sitting atop an overflowing Dumpster near a used-book store in Millersburg one day. What had been trash to the used-book store owner had been a treasure trove to him. He would never have deliberately purchased such a collection of books, but it seemed a terrible waste to leave them there to ruin.

  On the long ride home, he struggled with his conscience, but his desire for learning held sway. He had carried the boxes straight up to his workroom. There were books on chemistry, geography, calculus, science, world history, geometry, and biology. Such treasures! There was even a thick book on American literature—which had been quite an eye-opener. He especially enjoyed the stories written by a man named Mark Twain and had read them over and over, chuckling at the man’s talented use of words.

  Of course, all these books were strictly forbidden by his sect. That very fact, to his shame, made the reading of them even sweeter.

  He rationalized his self-indulgence with the fact that these textbooks would not be forbidden in an Old Order household. He had even overheard an Old Order teacher, a young man near his age, patiently explaining to a tourist that even though the Amish did not go to school beyond the eighth grade, their learning never stopped. He explained that many studied various subjects on their own, as he himself did in order to become a better teacher.

  Levi sometimes thought he would enjoy being a teacher—but not in a Swartzentruber school, where the curriculum was so severely limited. He knew that he would soon be in trouble for trying to supplement the children’s education.

  The hour or so that he stole from time to time to read these books was a great luxury. It was, in his opinion, his greatest sin: this thirst for knowledge. He was ashamed of this vice. But s
till, he started a fire in the small woodstove he had installed against the chill of an early-spring evening, lit the oil lamp sitting on the table, and anticipated an enjoyable evening reading.

  He was lost in the study of a drawing of the human muscular system when he heard footsteps on the stairwell. He glanced at the clock. It was nearly ten, much too late for the rest of the family to be stirring—unless there was an emergency. Perhaps something else had gone wrong with Daniel, or his mother. Perhaps it was Rose coming to him for help. Before he could get to the door, there was a loud knock.

  He answered the door and his jaw dropped.

  It was Zillah. The foolish girl had followed him out here.

  The first thing he noticed was that she was wearing no prayer Kapp. He was seeing her hair unloosed for the first time. She had brushed it to a shimmering gold, and it hung down over her shoulders in waves. She looked stunning in the moonlight.

  “May I come in?”

  The only thing he could think to say was an abrupt “No!”

  Her head jerked back, as though she had been slapped, and her eyes widened in shock. Zillah was not used to being refused, but it took her only an instant to regroup.

  “When my father told me I would be living here for a while, my mother and I spent all day yesterday sewing my Nacht Rock. I knew that if I was living here, I would have need of a beautiful new nightdress. It’s pink, look.” She began to unpin her overdress.

  “You need to stop right there, Zillah,” he said. “Do not remove one more pin.”

  Her hands stilled, and she glanced up at him with a confused expression.

  He knew she would be wearing a modest new nightgown in a color that was forbidden to wear in public, but he had no desire to see the thing. It was not at all unusual for a mother and daughter to make these special nightdresses together, creating them specifically for the Swartzentruber tradition of Uneheliche beischlof—bed courtship—where a girl and a boy would chastely lie in bed together, talking and getting to know each other.