A Simple Faith

by Rosalind Lauer

  “Maybe you’ll grow out of it when you have children of your own,” he said. “But I don’t mean to put the cart before the horse. You need to find a good Amish man and marry first. If you just give it a chance, some young fella is going to come courting. Give the young men a chance to know you. No one can resist your sunny disposition. Of all my children, you’re the one who can turn any frown upside down.”

  “Dat …” Elsie looked around awkwardly. Some of the other passengers were nearby. Cousin James, just a few years older than Elsie, was talking with Ruben Zook, a large young man who hunkered into his coat against the cold. Three older Amish men waited inside the lobby, watching through the window. Elsie knew them all, and she didn’t want to share such a personal matter with members of their church. Gossip was frowned upon, but that didn’t keep people from indulging. “Someone might hear.”

  Her father held up one hand, stopping her objections. “It’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you about. Fanny tells me to leave it be, but now that the horse is out, we might as well plow the whole field. Your Rumspringa has been a very quiet time, and here you’re already seventeen.”

  “I am,” she said, forcing cheerfulness in her voice that belied her wariness. She could see where this was heading, and if she wasn’t careful she would paint herself into a corner.

  “The thing is … well, I never had to push your brother or sister into rumspringa. Emma would have dragged a team of horses behind her to get to a singing. But I’ve noticed you don’t go. And the youth gatherings … the volleyball games and bonfires. How is it that you’re always going to bed early when those events come around?”

  She tipped her head to the side, glancing over at some passing shoppers to avoid looking in her father’s eyes. “Just tired, I guess.”

  “Is that so? Every time?” He stroked his beard. “Something tells me you’re a late bloomer. There’s no shame in that. To everything there is a season, that’s what the Bible says. Your season will come, Elsie.”

  She bit her lower lip, touched by her father’s loving words. Her dat loved her so much, he truly believed that she could have a life like other girls, that a bit of socializing at a singing would lead her to find a young man. He thought she would be able to fall in love and marry and have a family like other Amish girls.

  Dear Dat! His love for his daughter made him blind to who she really was.

  The white van that pulled up was a welcome distraction from their conversation.

  “There’s George.” Elsie was relieved to end their conversation, to see George Dornbecker, their driver, jump out of the van and open the rear doors for cargo. She knew Dat wouldn’t talk about personal things inside the confines of the van.

  “And it’s a good thing,” said Dat. “January weather wasn’t meant for standing around.”

  Alvin Yoder peered through the glass of the marketplace. A moment later the door popped open and the three older men emerged, John Beiler talking all the way. Jacob Fisher plodded along slowly. A great-grandfather, he was probably seventy or eighty for all Elsie knew, but he liked working on the business end of the family bakery.

  Ruben and James waited respectfully for the older men to climb into the van.

  “Hold on there, Elsie,” George said, appearing with a plastic footstool in hand. He placed it on the pavement in front of the door. “There you go.”

  “Thank you, George.” She cradled her white box carefully as she stepped into the van and took a seat at the window, right behind the driver. It wasn’t often that Elsie got to ride in an automobile, and she enjoyed peering forward to watch the world race toward her at a remarkable speed. So much faster than the fastest horse!

  Dat decided to take the seat in front, beside George, and Elsie watched the others board, hoping her friend Rachel would get to sit beside her for the trip home.

  Lizzy King went to the seats in the very back row, and her husband, “Market Joe,” followed. They rode in George’s van nearly every day so that they could run the King family’s cheese concession at the Reading Terminal Market. Today, their helper was Rachel King, who took the empty seat beside Elsie.

  “Did you have a chance to meet with Claudia?” Elsie asked quietly.

  “I did.” Rachel’s eyes glimmered. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get going.” She fastened her seat belt and watched as Zed Miller took a seat in the back row, behind the older men. A handsome man in his late twenties, Zed had just returned to Halfway after years of being shunned.

  “Mmm.” Rachel’s eyebrows lifted. “Two more empty seats, and one beside me. What are the chances that James will be sitting with me?”

  Elsie smiled. Her cousin James had been courting Rachel for a few months, and the chance to sit beside him for a van ride was an unexpected treat. “I think your chances are good.”

  Just then the door was blocked by the bulk of Ruben Zook. He paused in the opening, and then lowered himself into the seat beside Rachel. “This seat is just fine for me,” he said. His eyes were lazy slivers as he watched Rachel react with uneasiness.

  Ruben had a reputation as a joker, though Elsie didn’t always find his pranks to be so funny.

  “Ruben.” Elsie leaned across Rachel, getting his attention. “I think there’s a lot more room for your long legs in the back row.”

  “Ach, but the view of Rachel squirming is so much better from here.”

  Rachel frowned, crossing her arms as James appeared in the doorway. He took in the situation quickly, and smiled. “Looks like I’ll be sitting on your lap, Ruben. Unless you want to move.”

  Ruben heaved a sigh. “Some people just can’t take a joke.” He rose, careful not to bump his head on the padded ceiling as he moved back.

  “That’s better.” James settled in, buckling his seat belt. “I don’t like to get that close without at least going on a buggy ride first.”

  Rachel and Elsie chuckled as James beamed. “How was your day in the city? I can tell you, I spent a lot of time riding in cars on crowded streets, just to pick up a part for the tractor. I’ll be happy to get back to Halfway, back to my horse and buggy.”

  Elsie smiled and readjusted her hands on the bakery box. George had closed up the doors and turned up the heat, and though the warmth seeping into the van felt good, she didn’t want her cupcakes to melt or get smashed. She would hold them close, right in her lap for the ride.

  “Everyone have a seat belt on?” George called back through the van.

  “All buckled,” John Beiler answered. “We’re good to go, George.”

  “Okay, then. We’re on our way to Halfway.” George turned the steering wheel and the van eased through the parking lot. “Anyone not wanting to go to Halfway … well, you’ll just have to take the next van to Hawaii.”

  Everyone chuckled, and Elsie felt that a delicate ribbon bound all the folks in the van together. Tired travelers, grateful for a warm, cozy seat and a congenial driver.

  “That’s the thing about Halfway,” George added. “It’s the only town where, when you arrive there, you’re still Halfway there.”

  Another murmur of laughter rose from the passengers.

  “All right, I’ll let you folks get some rest. We’ve got clear, dry roads this afternoon, so traffic permitting, we should be back in Halfway in an hour and a half.”

  The gusty conversation of the men in the back row made Elsie more comfortable talking with the friend beside her. “How did it go with Claudia? I want to hear everything.”

  “You were right about her,” Rachel said. “She’s a right good woman. Younger than I expected, with little plates through her ears, big as candy mints. Do you think that hurts?”

  “I couldn’t say. But she favors your paintings, of course. Is she going to sell your work in the gallery?”

  Rachel’s head bobbed and the grin on her face could have lit a kerosene lamp.

  Elsie gave Rachel’s hand a squeeze. “I’m so excited for you!”

  “Claudia said my paintings w
ere soothing and full of peace. A throwback to a simpler time.”

  Elsie nodded. Although Rachel was not allowed to paint portraits, she brought the color and simplicity of Amish life alive in her paintings. The contrast of summer flowers against a gray barn. A pristine white quilt with a deep green and blue Double Wedding Ring pattern hanging in the yard. A cloth doll sitting before a Sunshine and Shadow quilt.

  “And what do you think about having your paintings in an Englisher art gallery?” James asked.

  “I like the idea of bringing Gott’s peace to Englishers, even if it’s just in a painting. Claudia wants to have a dozen in the gallery to start,” Rachel said. “And I’ve barely got eight right now.”

  “You’d best get painting,” Elsie teased.

  Rachel sighed. “I reckon so.”

  “Ach, don’t say that,” James chimed in. “She won’t have a free moment for courting. I barely get to see her as it is.”

  “Oh, I’ll always find time to see you, James,” Rachel said. “If I never saw another cow, I’d be fine. But you … I can’t give you up.”

  “Well, that’s good to know,” he said wryly. “Though I have to admit, I’d miss my cows if I had to give them up. There’s nothing like a good herd of milk cows to keep a man company.”

  The girls chuckled, but James simply shook his head. “I wasn’t kidding.”

  Elsie chatted with Rachel and James for the first half hour or so, watching as the crowded streets and traffic lights of the city gave way to shorter buildings and smooth highway. The blue of the clear winter sky was getting bolder now as purple dusk approached. Elsie shifted so that she could peer over George’s shoulder to watch the world zoom toward them. Funny how the land seemed to split and wash around the vehicle when you moved at this speed.

  The highway in this spot was straight and narrow, down to one lane, and the lights of cars heading east toward the city reminded her of ants returning to the nest as they meandered down the hill and whooshed past. Elsie moved the pastry box to the side of her seat, thinking of how Will had stepped up last summer to protect his little sister from the frogs down at the pond.

  On a hot summer night, Elsie had strolled down to the water’s edge with the children in search of some relief from the heat. As the sun began to set, a chorus of croaks filled the air.

  “Froggies?” Beth had pressed her palms to her cheeks in a panic. “The froggies are mad! What if they chase me?”

  Elsie had tried to console the little girl, but to no avail.

  Then Will had stepped in. He’d placed a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about them frogs. I’ll eat the froggies!”

  “You will?” For some reason, Beth had believed him. And Will spent the rest of the night repeating that promise, a phrase that had become part of family history. Whenever someone worried that things might go wrong, Elsie would joke that Will could “eat the froggies,” and everyone felt a bit better.

  That was why the frog cupcake would get a chuckle out of everyone. She crossed her legs and fixed her gaze on the windshield again.

  Just ahead, a pair of headlights zigzagged on the road, sending a little quiver of fear up Elsie’s backbone.

  No … it was just her imagination. Or maybe it was a crooked road.

  But the approaching car wobbled again, and this time Elsie could see that it had crossed the double yellow line.

  Just then, the van began to slow as George pressed the brakes … but it was too late.

  The vehicle loomed closer. As if in slow motion, it floated toward them like a bee moving to a flower.

  Only these white lights were rushing toward them at a sickening speed.

  Oh, good Gott in heaven, it’s going to hit us!

  Elsie wanted to make it stop, but all she could do was stare, horrified and helpless.

  Tires squealed against the pavement.

  The seat belt cut into Elsie’s flesh, a choking yoke across her neck. But that discomfort was forgotten when the world exploded.

  Bam!

  A gunshot? A crack of thunder?

  What was going on?

  The dark mass had smashed into them, sending the van into a tailspin.

  Screams and cries and low groans rose, as if the van itself were moaning against the large, dark beast that was attacking it. Elsie felt something rip from her throat, but her cry blended into the horrible sound of scraping metal, searing tires, and panicked voices.

  The whole world spun around and around, like a child’s spinning top.

  Elsie would have reached for something to hold on to, but she could not lift her arms. Her entire body was pinned against the seat and window.

  Spinning and whirling, round and round.

  Another explosion stopped the spinning motion, as the right side of the van smacked into something hard. Solid. Brutal. Unforgiving.

  The impact rattled Elsie’s teeth and bones. In rapid motion, her body was jostled right and left, flung like a cloth doll. She banged into the van’s wall, then back to the right, her head hitting Rachel’s upper arm.

  Then, the vehicle shivered into silence. An eerie calm.

  The terrible spinning motion had ended, but Elsie could do nothing more than close her eyes and welcome blessed stillness.

  8

  The impact had knocked him out of a dream.

  When the first jolt had hit the van, Ruben Zook had been asleep. The fierce noise did not belong in the pleasant dream of a singing where he was the only young man who had attended, and plenty of young girls were going out of their way to let him know they fancied him.

  That dream had quickly given way to a nightmare of shrieking steel and desperate voices.

  A living, breathing nightmare.

  Now the van had stopped spinning, he sat upright in his seat, his nerves tingling with adrenaline. What was that dust that filled the van? Many of the windows were shattered and he couldn’t see beyond the windshield through the pillowed air bags that had puffed up in front of George and Tom Lapp. The van seemed to be intact. Dented in a few spots, but still in one piece.

  Someone had to move … make sure everyone was okay … and from the cries and murmurs in the smoky van, he knew that someone was him.

  Beside him, Zed Miller rubbed his eyes, getting his bearings, and Market Joe tended to his wife, who was crying. They seemed okay. All shook up, but okay.

  As the dust began to clear, Ruben noticed a dark mound blocking the aisle down beneath his feet. What was that? He winced to realize it was a man’s body slumped in the aisle. His dark coat was covered with slivered glass.

  One of the older men had been tossed out of his seat.

  Blocking out the murmurs and groans of the other passengers, Ruben unbuckled his own seat belt and nearly fell on the man when his legs gave way.

  Gott, give me the strength to do thy will, he prayed as he gained his balance and moved over the elderly man. “Jacob?”

  Jacob Fisher, who had been sitting in the aisle seat of the second row, now lay on his side on the van’s floor, in a very bad way. The arm beneath him was angled in an unnatural position, but when Ruben leaned down to see his face, his eyes were moving.

  Ruben moved his face close so that the old man could see him. “All right, there? Looks like you hurt your arm.”

  “Can’t breathe,” Jacob gasped, desperation in his flinty gray eyes.

  The sight of the man’s pale face brought Ruben back to a memory of long ago, a tragedy long buried in his mind.

  “Take it easy, Jacob.” Tenderly, Ruben placed his palm against the man’s cheek and found that his skin was cold and clammy.

  Jacob reached up and squeezed Ruben’s wrist, a surprising gesture considering that he barely knew the man. Even more unexpected, Ruben squeezed back.

  “I’ll get you help. A doctor … and an ambulance. Just keep breathing, okay?”

  The dry gasp that came in answer tore at Ruben’s sense of calm and order, propelling him forward. Jacob needed help.

>   Go, go, go. Each heavy thud of his heart urged him to move.

  Still crouching under the van’s ceiling, Ruben carefully shifted toward the damaged double doors, a twisted mass of metal. The square panels of the windows were warped and bent, and most of the glass had been blown out, save for one drape of shattered glass in one corner. Shiny and cracked, like ice on the frozen pond.

  Ruben seized the latch and pulled. The door wouldn’t budge, and as he gave it another tug, pain flared through Ruben’s hands. He pulled back and looked at his palms, dashed with blood. The shattered glass was cutting into his hands.

  He winced as he pulled out a large chunk of glass. The smaller pieces would have to wait; he couldn’t waste precious time. Jacob needed help.

  Go, man. His heart thudded. He said he couldn’t breathe. Get help now!

  Bracing against the pain, he tried the door again and realized that it was locked, and there was no mechanism on the door to undo it. Frustration tore at him as he turned toward the front seat. Amid the cacophony of voices, he could make out George talking briskly to Thomas Lapp.

  “George! George, listen to me,” Ruben shouted, praying to Gott Almighty that his voice would be heard.

  Over James’s moaning and Lizzy’s sobs, George somehow heard him. Hands in the air, he pushed at the puffy air bag and turned around. “What is it, Ruben?”

  “Can you unlock the door back here? We need to get out and go for help. Jacob needs help.”

  “Right.” George turned away for a moment and Ruben heard a satisfying click in the door.

  One tug on the handle, and the battered door popped open. “Got it!” he shouted.

  “Go get us help, then.” George waved him on. “Such a hard hit. I saw it coming, but … ah … Is everyone okay back there?”

  Despite the groans and murmurs, no one answered the driver’s call.

  Too much confusion, Ruben thought as he tried to work the second door open. Everyone was dazed. Stuck in a waking dream.

  A nightmare.

  Ruben had to hunker down to squeeze through the single door. His feet stung when his boots hit the ground, but he thanked Gott that his legs felt solid beneath him. Ready to run.