Ezra Weaver was walking from the barn to the house when Levi brought his horse to a stop. The bishop saw that Zillah was with him, and Levi could tell that he was not pleased to see her being brought back so soon.
“Your mother is feeling better?” the bishop asked.
“Much better,” Levi said. “We will be able to manage by ourselves now. My mother did not want to keep Zillah from her work here longer than necessary.”
“Does that mean her sister is gone?”
“Rose left with Henry this morning.”
“Good.” The bishop was visibly pleased. “The babe is doing well?”
“Very well, thank you.”
Levi helped Zillah retrieve her things from the back of the buggy and then he set the various bundles on the ground at the bishop’s feet. With any luck, he might be able to leave without Zillah causing a scene.
“Is there word from the sheriff?” Bishop Weaver asked.
“I have heard nothing.”
There must have been a tinge of bitterness in his voice that the bishop picked up on.
“Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,” the bishop quoted.
“Truly said. There is enough worry in each day now with my stepfather gone.”
“You need for me to send men to help?”
Part of Levi wanted to shout, “Yes!” but he did not want to appear weak.
“I can take care of my family.”
“Good.”
Zillah had evidently tired of the pleasant conversation between her father and Levi. Either that or she was tired of being ignored. Zillah, unlike any other Amish woman Levi had ever known, was seldom happy unless she was the center of attention.
She butted in, her voice high like that of a child tattling to a teacher. “Levi keeps forbidden books in his room, Father.”
“Is this true, Levi?” Bishop Weaver asked.
“I have no books in my room, except the Bible.”
It was true. Thanks to the bonfire last night, there were no books in his room except his stepfather’s German Bible, which he was planning on attempting, once again, to read.
“He is lying, Father.” Zillah reminded him of the small, spoiled girl she used to be. “He does have books in his room. I saw them with my own eyes . . . while I was cleaning.”
Levi chose not to correct her. It was fine with him if the bishop believed his daughter’s lie that she was cleaning his room.
“He had books on all sorts of forbidden things. There was one that was lying open and it had a picture of a man with no skin on.”
“It was a book on biology,” Levi tried to explain. “The picture was that of the muscular structure of a human.”
The way Zillah had put it made it sound so much worse than it was.
“Did my daughter truly see these things?” the bishop asked.
“Yes,” Levi admitted, “but I burned them after your daughter pointed out to me how wrong it was to own such books.”
“It should not be up to my daughter to point out your wrongs,” Bishop Weaver said. “You are a baptized believer. You should know right from wrong.”
“I am very sorry.”
“Then that is good. You have confessed your sin to me, and you have rid yourself of those evil things. You are still young and sometimes young people’s judgment is not good. That is why you must leave it up to your elders to guide you. We will speak of it no more. There will be no need to confess your wrongdoing to the congregation on Sunday.”
“Thank you, Bishop.”
“Come along into the Haus, Zillah,” the bishop said. “Your mother will be glad of your help.”
Levi’s heart lifted. It was over. He had made it.
And just at that moment, as the bishop and Zillah were headed toward their house, the unthinkable occurred. It was something so terrible that Levi could hardly believe it was happening.
The secret prepaid cell phone that he had purchased at Walmart two days after his stepfather’s murder, the cell phone he had paid the clerk to show him how to use, the cell phone he had asked the clerk to program to 911 only, the cell phone he intended for no frivolous use, the cell phone that no one on earth besides the clerk knew that he had, the cell phone to which no one on earth had been given the number—
That forbidden cell phone began to ring. And it rang. And rang.
He had never heard it ring before, and a distant part of himself wondered at the amazing amount of noise the tiny thing could make. The sound pealed out, splitting the quiet of the early morning. And it was not just any normal ringtone—no, it was some sort of rock-and-roll music the young clerk had chosen to program into it, probably as a joke.
Bishop Weaver froze in midstep.
Zillah whirled around, her face lit up with pleasure at his predicament.
Levi scrambled to pull the phone out of the top of his sock where he kept it. He fumbled with it, trying to turn it off. The clerk had shown him which button to push, and he remembered how, but in his nervous haste he felt as though he had sausages for fingers.
Finally, finally, he managed to press the right button, and the thing stopped its screeching. But the damage had been done.
“You keep a telephone in your trousers?” the bishop asked.
“In my sock,” Levi said miserably.
“And why do you keep this forbidden instrument upon your person?”
“In case there is another emergency like there was the day my stepfather died. Only for that.”
“And you think God is not able to take care of emergencies?”
Levi felt a great bitterness welling up, thinking about his mother lying alone, bleeding, while he raced to Grace’s for help. With this cell phone, he could have saved many minutes and would not have had to leave his mother and siblings alone.
“God was not much help the night of my stepfather’s murder. It was Grace Connor who came to my family’s rescue.”
He didn’t mean to say it. He was not even aware that he was harboring such thoughts. The words came out of nowhere and sounded blasphemous even to his own ears.
“This is something you will need to repent of. I will expect your confession come Sunday.” The bishop frowned so deeply, his shaggy white eyebrows came together. “And you will dispose of that pocket telephone before then.”
Levi did not agree to get rid of it—nor did he disagree. He simply clucked to his horse, did a U-turn in the bishop’s driveway, and left. Thankfully, he was a mile down the road before the cell phone rang again.
This time, he remembered what the clerk had told him. He pressed the green button and listened to the voice on the other end.
“Susan?” a male voice asked.
“I am not Susan,” Levi answered.
“Dwayne?”
He looked at the phone in disbelief before putting it back up to his ear. “I am not Dwayne.”
“Who are you anyway?” the man demanded. “And what are you doing answering my wife’s cell phone?” Then the voice grew belligerent. “Are you with my wife? Are you in that bar she said she was going with girlfriends? You better leave her alone, buddy, or I’ll . . .”
Levi quickly pushed the off button and sat staring at the small telephone that barely took up half the palm of his hand.
He was not Susan, he was not Dwayne, he was not in a bar, and he certainly did not want anyone else’s wife. It was, of course, what the Englisch called a “wrong number.” He knew that, and he hoped the man got the numbers right the next time, and yet it had been upsetting to have someone threaten him when the stranger did not even know him.
The Englisch world was much too complicated. He wondered how they dealt with all they had to deal with. His own simple world was complicated enough.
He was so tired of thinking and had gotten so little sleep the night before that he fell asleep in the buggy and dozed most of the way home. Fortunately, his horse knew the back roads as well as he did, and he arrived home safely.
Levi’s mother was washing dishes w
hen he came home. Sarah was playing happily at the table with some wooden blocks he had made for her.
“Maam,” Levi said, “you should not be up.”
“I need to push myself a little,” she said. “If I stay in that bed much longer, I’ll lose the ability to walk. Did you get Zillah home safely?”
“I did.”
“She is a strange one, that girl.”
“I have always thought so.”
“Sometimes I think some bad-tempered Englisch person must have left her on the bishop’s doorstep,” his mother joked. “And he and his wife were so happy to have a child, they never told us of it.”
Daniel stirred and snuffled upon his wedge cushion. Levi went over to check on him. The little guy had just awakened and now gazed up at him with solemn blue eyes. Levi lifted him out of the cradle. The infant was sopping wet. No wonder he was awake!
There were a few clean diapers lying folded upon a cabinet where his aunt had placed them. He made his little brother comfortable with a fresh diaper. This was not a man’s work, but it was quickly done, and he doubted it was easy for his mother to bend over right now.
He walked the floor with Daniel’s fuzzy head tucked up against his chin. After the scene he had just been through, it gave him comfort to hold the warm little bundle. He was debating whether or not to tell his mother about what had just transpired at the bishop’s. He hated to worry her with it, but in the end, he knew she had to be told, and it was best that it came from him.
“Albert and Jesse will be home from school soon and they can help you with the outdoor chores. I have been thinking about how we are to go about our lives now that Abraham is gone. It is time your two brothers rise earlier and help more with the milking—it will free up more time for you to be in the fields. School will be over in a few more days, and Albert is old enough to learn to work the horses now. He can help you.”
“Albert is small for ten, Maam, and our four Belgians are so large.”
“You were only ten when Abraham sent you out with a team.”
“I remember. That is why I want to give Albert a couple more years to grow.”
A look passed between them.
“You said nothing to me,” his mother said. “I thought you were all right with it.”
“I did what I had to do,” Levi said, “but I don’t think it’s wise to send a child out to control four large horses. The summer he is twelve, we’ll see.”
“Our income will be less with Abraham gone, no matter how hard you work, but I can sell some of my quilts if we need to. Timothy’s Mary told me after meeting last Sunday that she recently sold one of her quilts to a tourist for eight hundred dollars. Imagine someone spending that much for a quilt! Mine have a little more quilting and tinier stitches than Mary’s. They might fetch an even higher price.”
Levi listened miserably to his mother’s chatting. She was trying to make plans for their family and to be strong for them, even though she had put Abraham in the ground such a short time ago. He hated to bring something else into the house for her to deal with.
“Oh, and my brother Eli came by today with a pot of cabbage and noodles and a strawberry pie that his Martha made for us. That Martha is a good cook. It is on the stove whenever you get hungry.”
“What of your wounds?”
“We have had much company while you were taking Zillah home. Not only did Eli stop by, Grace came and checked on me. She put on fresh bandages, and she was very happy with how well I am healing. I don’t know why, but she was interested in how much canning I had done last year.”
He tried to act nonchalant when he asked, “Did she say if she will be coming back?”
“Grace is a healer,” his mother said, knowingly. “She will not be able to stay away.”
He kept his face turned away from her, not wanting her to see the mixed emotions that comment created inside of him. Yes, Grace was a healer—one with whom, unfortunately, he was realizing he wished he had the freedom to spend many hours.
“I need to sit down for a bit.” His mother dried her hands on a dish towel, walked over to her rocking chair, sat down, and held out her arms. “Give me the babe.”
He obediently placed little Daniel into his mother’s arms. The baby could already distinguish the difference in smell and feel between him and his mother. Daniel began to root around like the little piglet he was. Levi handed his mother the shawl with which she covered herself whenever she nursed the baby. He busied himself with disposing of the wet diaper while she got herself and the baby modestly positioned.
He had put it off long enough. It was time to tell her.
“Something bad happened when I took Zillah home.”
“Oh? Was in dei Velt is letz?” His mother’s expression was troubled.
“What in the world is wrong?” Levi repeated. “My cell phone rang.”
His mother’s rocking stopped. “What cell phone?”
“The one I bought to call for help if any other bad thing happened to our family.”
He waited for her to get angry, but that had been his stepfather’s way—not his mother’s.
“I understand,” Claire said. “I very much wished to have a phone in my pocket when I was lying on the floor bleeding.”
“The bishop thinks I am being rebellious.”
“You are not rebellious, but it is his duty to watch over our souls. When he dies, he knows he will be held accountable with a stricter judgment for having had that heavy responsibility laid upon him. What did he say to you?”
“I left before he could say too much.”
“You will have to destroy it now that he knows.”
“I know.”
“Who was it that called you?”
“Someone made a mistake. It was a wrong number.”
“Do you know how to use this telephone?”
“Yes.”
She rocked a little harder, thinking.
“How do you keep it—what do you call it—charged up?”
“The man at Walmart sold me a small solar-powered charger.”
“Did this phone cost much money?”
“About the cost of one of our largest baskets.”
“That is a lot to spend for something you’ll never get to use.” She rocked a little harder. “If you look inside my sewing basket there is a small piece of paper. Rose put it there. It has her telephone number on it. She said if I needed her, I could ask Grace to call and she would come. Please go get it for me.”
“Do you need Rose? Is there something wrong that I don’t know about?”
“It has only been a few hours, but already I miss her. I would like to use that forbidden phone—before you have to destroy it—to talk to my sister. I want to know if she arrived safely. I want to reassure her that I am all right. I want to tell her the good things Grace said about my recovery. It will lighten her heart. It seems a shame to throw away money on a telephone that was never used.”
“That is true.”
“In fact, it could even be considered a sin to pay good money for something and not use it.”
Levi nodded. “That also is true.”
“Is there anyone you wish to talk to, Levi? It is you who will be suffering the discipline of the bishop.”
“There is no one.”
“Then I will talk to my sister this one time—if she is within hearing distance of her telephone shanty. Oh, and this evening would you come in a little earlier so that you can do a quick errand for me?”
“Of course. What is it you want?”
“Get one of our round market baskets, go down to the cellar, and fill the basket with two pints of elderberry jelly, two quarts of soup, a jar of those nice white peach halves, and . . . some of those sweet cherries we picked last fall over at the Beachys’ farm. Also, some eggs. There are probably several freshly laid today.”
“And what am I supposed to do with this basket?”
“Take it to Elizabeth’s. After the conversation I had with Grace toda
y, I suspect that girl hasn’t the slightest idea how to cook. I’m afraid Elizabeth might be in need of some real nourishment.”
chapter SEVENTEEN
The canned soup she had bought for supper was pale, watery, and far too salty.
Just as she had opened the refrigerator, wondering if there was something else she could fix for supper, there was a knock on the back door.
She was still a little nervous about the mysterious intruder who had turned the Shetlers’ world upside down, and she approached the door cautiously. Then she saw it was Levi and opened up. He was standing back, holding a basket in his hand, and inspecting something above the porch.
“You have a gutter coming down,” he said.
“Really?” Grace stepped outside onto the porch and craned her neck. “I hadn’t noticed. I’ll have to get someone to fix that.”
“I will take care of it while I am here.”
“You don’t have to do that. You have too much work as it is.”
“It won’t take long and rain is coming.”
“Last night, the weatherman said it would be clear.”
“The weatherman is wrong,” Levi stated. “There will be rain.”
He handed her the large round basket he had been holding.
Grace was delighted. “You made another basket just for me?”
“No. Not especially for you, although you can keep it. This is the kind we sell to the tourists. I think Albert made it—you can look on the bottom later and see if his name is on it. My mother sent this for your grandmother. For some reason, she doubts that you are feeding her properly.”
At first, Grace felt a hurtful twinge, then she bit down on a laugh. Claire must have equated her wonder and amazement over the quality of their food supply with a deficiency in Elizabeth’s diet. Unfortunately, at least for tonight, Claire wasn’t too far off.
Grace looked inside the basket. The rich-looking soup, fresh brown eggs, and ruby red cherries practically took her breath away. Claire had even tucked in a loaf of Rose’s fresh bread. She closed her mouth against any protest. This was a feast, and she was hungry.
An Uncommon Grace Page 16
