An Uncommon Grace

by Serena B. Miller

  As someone now shunned, he would not be allowed to participate in the barn raising that would be taking place next Saturday at John Yoder’s farm. He would not be allowed the joyful camaraderie among the men as they pooled their strength and knowledge together to create the sturdy structure that would make it possible for the young couple to make a living with the small dairy herd that John planned to accumulate.

  As someone who had been banned, he would not be allowed to attend the wedding next Thursday morning of his good friend Gabriel. It was going to be a happy event. Gabriel and his wife-to-be, Amanda, had been courting longer than most because she had been helping care for an ill mother who had recently passed on. Amanda had fulfilled her responsibilities well and was respected by the entire community because of her faithfulness. Gabriel was respected for his restraint as he had waited for his wife-to-be to fulfill her obligation as a dutiful daughter.

  Gabriel and Levi had talked about the upcoming wedding on their last fishing trip together.

  Until the ban was lifted—assuming it ever was—there would be no more fishing trips. There would be no more easy conversation between him and his childhood friends. He could not play the tricks on the young couple that were customary in their group.

  He would not be allowed to join in the men’s singing while the women washed dishes after the wedding dinner and began preparations for supper. He would not be allowed to stand around with the other men dressed in their Sunday clothes, discussing everything from the weather to the price of milk to the latest calf born on someone’s farm.

  He finished the quart of tomato juice, carefully closed the cellar door behind him, mounted the stone steps, and went to the well, where he drew a bucket of water, rinsed out the Mason jar, and sat it on his mother’s back porch.

  She would have need of it soon enough when she began her canning again.

  He went back up to his room, sat down on his bed, and looked at the empty bookshelves. He had burned his books for nothing. In the end he had been banned anyway. He now wondered what to do with the long evening that stretched before him.

  Normally, he would spend Sunday evening in the front room of the house, playing some silly game with his little brothers and sister, entertaining them while his mother cleaned up the kitchen from the evening meal. He might work on a basket once the children became occupied with a game of their own, and in the past, he would discuss the next day’s work with his stepfather.

  But not tonight. Or the following nights. So many long evenings stretched out before him. He couldn’t even go visit a friend. He did not have any friends who were not part of his church. After today, he would not be welcome in any of their homes—even those homes that he had sweated and strained to help build.

  Tonight he had no heart for weaving or any other kind of work. He sat at his table, as the room grew darker, and he wondered how he would live the rest of his life.

  chapter TWENTY-FOUR

  “Good report today, Grandma.” Grace looked both ways, waiting for the traffic to clear before pulling out of the parking lot after Elizabeth’s doctor visit. “I’m really happy with how well you’re doing.”

  “Me, too,” Elizabeth said. “But do we have to go home immediately?”

  “Where do you want to go? For more ice cream?”

  “That would be lovely, but while we’re in Millersburg I was wondering if we could go to the Antique Emporium. It’s just a couple of doors down from the Millersburg Hotel and I just love that store. Could we go in and browse a bit?”

  “You aren’t on the prowl for more butter dishes, are you?”

  “I probably won’t buy a thing. I just enjoy going in there and seeing all the pretty things. The woman who owns the place has quite a knack for displaying the merchandise.”

  Grace had no particular desire to go look at antiques, especially since she sometimes felt as if she were already living in an antiques store. In her opinion, all Elizabeth would have to do is slap some price stickers on things and people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between her house and a hundred other old homes that had been turned into stores.

  But if going to the Antique Emporium would help Grandma feel she was getting her life back, Grace was all for it.

  “Sometimes, if you’re lucky,” Grandma said, “you can get a parking spot right in front of the store. Oh, and afterward, could we go to Mrs. Yoder’s restaurant for the buffet? I’ve been daydreaming about her custard pie.”

  “When we get back to Mt. Hope, if you’re still feeling strong enough, I’d be delighted to take you to Mrs. Yoder’s.”

  Grace was indeed lucky. There was a parking place right in front of the store. As she ushered Elizabeth into the Antique Emporium, she was surprised at how much larger it was inside than how it appeared out front. One room opened into the next and the next. A pleasant mix of new things and old were artfully displayed. Along one wall, beside ancient kitchen utensils, was a display of unique small purses, locally made. In another corner stood a giant wheel upon which someone was apparently engaged in weaving a round rag rug. A staircase ran up the side of the store, with a sign inviting guests to the second story. Across from the staircase was a room that appeared to be entirely given over to used books.

  “This is nice!” Grace said.

  Elizabeth grinned, pleased at her appreciation of the place. “I told you so.”

  The woman behind the counter was engaged in a cheerful conversation with a customer over an old scrub board.

  “We’re closing in a half hour, but go ahead and look all you want,” the woman said when she saw them. “Upstairs is also filled with some lovely items.” She went back to her discussion with the customer.

  Grace got engrossed in the handmade cloth purses. She disliked carrying large purses and these had been cunningly made to fit onto a belt and yet look stylish. She checked the tag. Not a bad price, and made by someone right here in Holmes County. She gave the Antique Emporium points for selling locally made items.

  She thought one of those purses might make a nice present for Becky’s upcoming birthday but wanted Elizabeth’s opinion before making her decision. She found out that her grandmother had taken root in front of a display of antique toys.

  “What did you find?” she asked. “Something you used to play with when you were a kid?”

  “No.” Elizabeth’s voice sounded strange. “I’ve found something that belongs to me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Elizabeth carefully lifted a toy from the shelf in front of her. “This mechanized monkey. Your grandfather bought it for me over forty years ago. I never sold it and I never gave it away.”

  “How can you tell for sure that it’s yours?”

  “See this mark?” Her grandmother turned it over. “That’s where your father bit into it when he was a toddler.” She flipped a little switch and the monkey began to clang the two cymbals together and pull back its lips in a grimace.

  “Kind of scary, isn’t it?” Elizabeth said. “Your dad was a fearless little guy. I could never decide if he had tried to use the monkey as a teething toy or was simply attacking it. I put it up high where he couldn’t reach it after that.”

  Grace noticed a price tag dangling from the monkey’s wrist. “Two hundred dollars?”

  “It’s worth more,” Elizabeth said. “Because the box is with it. With the box it’s worth closer to three hundred.” She set the monkey down. “How could this toy have gotten here?”

  “I have no earthly idea, Grandma. Let’s look around and see if there is anything else of yours. Maybe this is just a freak coincidence. Perhaps someone else’s kid tried to take a bite out of their monkey, too.”

  “Perhaps,” Elizabeth said, “but I doubt it.”

  Grace stayed at her grandmother’s side as they looked around. She hoped there wouldn’t be any more surprises. She hoped there was nothing going on here except a huge coincidence. And then she heard her grandmother gasp.

  “What is
it?”

  “Two of your grandfather’s prize fishing lures.” She pointed to where they were hanging on the wall. “It was awkward to display them as they were, so I paid Abraham to make that particular shadow box for them. This is no coincidence.”

  Grace looked at the price and her jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding. These things are worth that much?”

  “I told you we knew what we were doing.”

  The proprietor finished her conversation with the other customer and came to check on them. She had a pleasant face and softly curled hair. It struck Grace that she was the kind of woman who would look equally at home running an antiques store, sitting behind a library desk, or teaching a kindergarten class.

  “Can I help you ladies with anything?”

  Elizabeth took charge of the conversation. “My husband used to collect fishing lures, and I’m very interested in these two in this shadow box. Could you tell me where they came from?”

  “Actually, I got that piece quite recently. A darling teenaged girl came in. Such a pretty girl. She had some items her grandmother wanted her to sell. The poor old thing is bedridden and is subsisting on Social Security. I bought a couple of items to help out, even though I don’t usually purchase things from people who just walk through the door.”

  “You have a lovely store.” Elizabeth had grown pale. “But I think I need to get home. Grace, I’m starting to feel a little tired.”

  “My grandmother had heart surgery recently,” Grace explained. “This was her first shopping trip and I think we’ve tired her out.”

  “Can I get you anything?” the woman asked. “Water? An aspirin? A chair?”

  “Thank you, but we’re parked right in front. I think all she really needs is to get home and rest.”

  The owner walked them to the door and held it open while Grace helped Elizabeth into the car.

  “Funny that we should be talking about that girl right now,” the woman said. “Your car is almost identical to the one she drove. I think it belonged to her uncle.”

  “Her uncle?” Elizabeth and Grace both spoke at once.

  “Yes.” The proprietor looked perplexed. “The man who was with her. He carried in a small painting that I decided not to buy. The girl said he was her uncle.”

  “Did this man, this ‘uncle,’ by any chance have a long ponytail?” Grace asked.

  “Why, yes. What makes you ask?”

  “It’s a long story. Right now I just need to get my grandmother home.”

  “I don’t feel like stopping at Mrs. Yoder’s anymore,” Elizabeth told Grace after they had settled themselves in the car.

  “Trust me.” Grace’s fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. “I completely understand.”

  Becky had already been home and was gone again by the time Grace and Elizabeth got home. She had left a note for them saying that she had fed the kitten and done her homework, and a girlfriend was picking her up to go to an early movie over in New Philadelphia.

  It was thoughtful of Becky to leave a note, especially since it was starting to get dark, and they would have worried about her. Unfortunately, Grace didn’t know if they could believe a word she said anymore—except she was fairly certain Becky was telling the truth about feeding the kitten. Apart from that, who knew what the girl might be up to?

  Grace dialed Becky’s cell phone. She was itching to have it out with her little sister, but the call went straight to voice mail. Becky had either deliberately turned the phone off or she had let her battery die. She also had conveniently failed to mention the name of the girlfriend with whom she was supposedly going to the movies, so there was no real good way to check up on her.

  It struck her that Becky had been keeping her door closed recently, something she hadn’t been doing when Grace had first arrived. She had been careful to respect Becky’s privacy. But no more. She was going to turn Becky’s room inside out. Something bad was going on and she wouldn’t stop until she found out what.

  “Do you suppose it’s drugs?” Elizabeth asked. “Usually when teenagers steal from their family it is because of drug addiction, and yet I’ve seen no signs of substance abuse in Becky. I’ve been careful to watch for the signs. I taught school entirely too long to be naïve about what kids get into.”

  “I think it’s more likely that she’s supporting a boyfriend’s habit. Evidently a boyfriend who is old enough to be her father.”

  “Do you think it might be that man she said was a janitor?”

  “That’s the one I’m suspecting.”

  “Oh, dear.” Elizabeth picked up the telephone book. “Well, it’s easy enough to find out. Do you remember the man’s name?”

  “Becky introduced him as Mr. Franklin.”

  Elizabeth dialed a number. “I should have done this earlier—except that Becky has never lied to me. I just assumed she was telling us the truth about that man. Hello? Is Superintendent Allen there?”

  A few moments later, when Elizabeth hung up, she looked as though she had aged ten years. “There is no Mr. Franklin or anyone of that man’s description working as a janitor. Becky has been lying to us, Grace.”

  “Maybe it’s a blessing Becky isn’t here right now after all. I’m going to tear her room apart. I want to see if I can find something that will shed some light on what’s happening.”

  “I wish I could help you. Maybe I could climb those stairs after all.”

  “You’ve already had enough excitement for one day, Grandma. In fact, it might be a good idea if you laid down and rested.”

  “I’m too upset to rest. How about I look around here on this main floor to see if anything else is missing? See if my granddaughter has stolen anything else from me!”

  “I’m so sorry this is happening, Grandma.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” Elizabeth patted her on the shoulder. “But I’ve endured worse. We’ll get through this.”

  Becky’s room was more orderly than Grace had expected. The last time she had glanced in, the floor was littered with the flotsam and jetsam of a teenager’s life.

  Then Becky had taken to keeping the door closed.

  Now it was almost military in its precision. Even the bed was carefully made. Was this Becky’s way of trying to regain control of her life when everything else was out of control?

  Grace realized now that she didn’t know her sister at all except that she was a very good actress. Anything could be happening in Becky’s life right now.

  It was Levi’s second evening of being shunned. During the day, he had not felt so alone because of his horses and the other livestock with whom he had one-sided conversations while he worked. He had not felt alone when he went to town for groceries—at least the store clerk had spoken to him. But tonight, he was not doing so well.

  He tried to read his stepfather’s Bible, but the friendly language he spoke on a daily basis was not the same language of this Bible. The High German words were ponderous and difficult for him to understand.

  He closed it back up in frustration.

  He wished that he just could go to sleep and make everything go away, then awaken from this nightmare. But he doubted he would sleep at all tonight.

  He paced the floor, nervous, wishing there were something to do or someplace to go. The room that he had constructed and been so pleased with now seemed small and confining. Plain beyond belief. Being Plain didn’t matter when one was with one’s family and friends. Children and other loved ones were all the decoration that an Amish home ever needed. But now, the room felt as bare as a prison cell.

  An Englisch person would watch television, he supposed. Or listen to music. Or read a novel. Or tinker with some small hobby. Or even just go for a drive. Perhaps they would even drive to a town that had a place where those big pictures were shown. What did the Englisch call them? Oh, yes, movies.

  Levi had seen television sets when he had gone into Millersburg to Walmart. He had been mesmerized for a few seconds in front of the big s
creen with the big faces talking to each other. There were people sitting around at a beach on that screen. Some of the words the people on the screen said embarrassed him. And he had been shocked at the scantily clad bodies.

  He had paused there for only a moment because he knew that the sight of an Amish man gaping at the wall of televisions would be amusing to any Englisch person who happened by. And he also had Jesse with him—Jesse who was already too susceptible to trouble. He got out of there as quickly as possible and never allowed himself to be drawn to that department again.

  The question he was pondering for the umpteenth time today was how one could be Amish alone. He concluded that, like those social creatures the honeybees, one couldn’t.

  An anger began to smolder within him once again. What good was there in trying to follow all the rules and obey everything that the Ordnung decreed from boyhood, if one could be shoved out of the religious community by one vindictive, lying girl?

  Through his window he could see the lights on in Grace’s house. It seemed unusually lit up. He grabbed his bird-watching binoculars and trained them on the house. He was right. Every light in the house was blazing. Usually just a couple of lights were on.

  That many lights on in a house could mean problems. The only time he had ever seen it lit up like that was the night the ambulance had come for Elizabeth.

  On the night that he burned his books, Grace had come running because she was afraid there was trouble and wanted to help. When his mother had been shot, Grace had come running.

  That’s what neighbors did for one another in this community, whether they were Amish or Englisch.

  It could be that Grace and Elizabeth and Becky had decided, for reasons inconceivable to him, to do their spring cleaning on a Monday evening and had turned on every light in the house. He hoped that was all that was happening. However, he had an excuse now to do something besides walk the floors of this room. He would take Angel Dancer and go investigate.