by Marta Perry
That wasn’t to say life in Belleville had been bad. Some things about his growing up had been good. He’d loved the old farm and the stillness of his grandfather’s orderly woodshop, the clean scent of the shavings that fell from the lathe, the feel of cherry or walnut or pine taking shape under his fingers. He’d taken pleasure in the carefully cared-for tools and the furniture and cabinets that the shop produced. And he’d found sinful pride in his gift for making a chest of drawers or a table that would last for centuries and only become more beautiful with the years.
Sometimes in the long hours he spent alone in the shop, he had imagined Jesus as a humble carpenter in his own shop. If he had lived in those old times, Eli wondered if he and the Lord might have been able to talk about a particular slab of wood or the patience it took to achieve a hand-rubbed shine on a tabletop. And he wondered if the Lord could have explained why Eli’s brother had had to die in a ditch before his life had really begun.
Eli glanced around, feeling more out of place by the second. He shouldn’t have come here tonight. He’d only done it to please Aunt Fannie and because he liked to sing. He had a good voice and a good memory for the old hymns in High German. Singing at service and young people’s gatherings had always been one outlet that hadn’t displeased his grandparents.
“Go,” Aunt Fannie had urged him. “Meet the young people. You’ll make friends. Go to the singing.”
Uncle Roman had shrugged. “Go and take the small buggy,” he’d offered. “Maybe you’ll find a girl who’ll let you drive her home.”
Small chance of that. But just in case, he’d curried Uncle Roman’s bay gelding until his hide gleamed and polished his hooves with lamp black. He’d washed down the buggy and shined the wheels. And he’d replaced some of the ordinary lights required by law on the back of the buggy with flashing blue bulbs. There wasn’t any sense in having the reputation of being wild if you didn’t make the most of it.
Singings were supposed to be fun, to be a healthy way for young people to get to know each other, for forming friendships that led to marriage. Tonight’s procession would go from house to house. They would remain long enough to sing a selection of hymns and then pile back onto the wagons to go to the next house. And the rule was, everyone had to switch wagons at each stop. The scramble to get together with the boy or girl you liked, without the adult chaperones catching on, was tricky.
A young man, Mahlon something—Eli didn’t know his last name—was the singing leader for the evening. Mahlon shouted out for everyone to climb on the wagons, that it was time to leave. If Eli wasn’t going to go, this was his opportunity to slip away without anyone noticing. He’d spoken to a few guys he’d met already, tossed a few balls, had a soda and a doughnut, but no one would notice if he didn’t go with the group. He could drive around for an hour or two in his uncle’s buggy, and then go home. Aunt Fannie would never know the difference.
Eli was just sidling toward his horse and buggy when he heard a high squeal and spotted Miriam in the lead wagon, tugging on a younger girl’s hand. On the ground, giving the plump girl in the blue dress a push up, stood Ruth. Tonight she was in purple. Her Kapp was neatly in place, hiding every strand of red hair; her stockings were pressed smooth, her apron was blindingly white and her shoes were shined. The face under the white Kapp was so full of life, so beautiful, it made his breath catch in his throat.
A boy took Ruth’s hand and helped her up, and the driver clicked to the team. The big Percheron draft horses broke into a trot, and the second team pranced and strained at the reins, eager to follow. Other boys hurried to catch up and leaped on the wagon of their choice, some making quite a show of it.
Eli stood watching. He could just see the back of Ruth’s Kapp as her wagon rolled away. At the last possible minute, Eli made up his mind. He dashed after the third wagon and hopped on beside a skinny teen in a green dress and black sneakers. She flashed a big smile at him and slid over to make room, patting the seat beside her. Eli gave her a hesitant smile and wondered if this was going to be a long evening.
* * *
Ruth was glad she’d given in and come when she saw the smile on old Warren Troyer’s face. Warren’s mother was ninety and in a wheelchair. She was so crippled up in her body that she seemed no bigger than an eight-year-old child. Her pinched face was as lined as a dried apple, but her eyes gleamed with pleasure, and she clapped her small wrinkled hands with joy. Susanna wiggled with excitement as Mahlon led the group into another song. Willard and Amy had set up a long table with sandwiches, chips, cookies and jugs of apple juice.
Ruth was so glad Mam had urged her to come. Riding the wagons, singing the old songs was as much fun as it had always been. And she had to admit that Mahlon’s attention wasn’t unwelcome. Even if she didn’t want a beau, it was nice that she had someone to talk to besides her girlfriends and sisters.
At each house, the groups had formed into two sections, one of boys and one of girls. Both sounded good tonight, all the male and female voices blending in. A deep, rich male voice behind her made Ruth glance over her shoulder. To her surprise, she saw Eli Lapp standing beside Mahlon. She hadn’t expected that Eli, of all people, would know the words to the hymns or would have such a gift for singing. Miriam noticed him, too. Ruth saw her sister smile at him. She would have to make certain that Miriam remained with her when they got back on the wagons and that they picked one that Eli wasn’t riding on. Mam had just gotten herself calmed down. It would not do to give Aunt Martha something more to gossip about.
Later, at the refreshment table, Ruth was telling Amy Troyer how good her ham sandwiches were when someone thrust a cup of juice into her hand. When she turned to say thank you, Eli Lapp was grinning down at her. Standing this close to him, she realized just how tall he was. Her fingers closed around the cup.
“Nothing special,” Amy said. “Boiled ham and homemade mustard. I can give you the recipe for the mustard if you like.”
“Ya,” Ruth answered. “Mam would like it.”
“Everything is good,” Eli agreed. There were lots of pretty girls here tonight, but none of them shone as brightly as Ruth Yoder. He hadn’t guessed that she had such a beautiful voice, so sweet that it gave him shivers down his spine.
Mahlon shouted for the young people to gather for a prayer before they got back on the wagons. Ruth and Eli moved off with the others to the porch where the bishop waited. “What wagon are you getting on?” Eli whispered.
The bishop was beginning to offer the prayer.
“Shh,” Ruth whispered. She closed her eyes, all too conscious of Eli standing very close on one side of her and Mahlon on the other.
“Have a safe night,” the bishop said when he had finished. “Be careful and enjoy yourselves.”
Eli leaned down. “Ride with me, Ruth,” he said, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice.
“It’s best if I don’t. We wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”
Eli stiffened.
Ruth heard Mahlon chuckle.
“She’s riding home in my buggy tonight,” Mahlon said.
Eli looked into Ruth’s eyes, and in the illumination of the carriage lamp, for just a second, she caught a flash of deep disappointment.
And then he turned, uttered a sound of wry amusement and walked away, trying to tell himself that it didn’t mean a thing, trying to convince himself that one pretty girl was like another, when all the while he knew better.
“I did not say ‘ya’ to riding home with you, Mahlon,” Ruth said. “That was an untruth. I have my own buggy, and I have every intention of driving Susanna home in it.”
She should have been pleased by Mahlon’s attention, but she felt bad for Eli. It had to be hard to come to a new place with new faces. Mahlon could have been nicer to him, at least invited him to join them in the wagon for the next leg of the trip. Mahlon knew very well that he and she were just friends, and he knew her well enough that he understood that she wasn’t looking for a husband. “
Why don’t you take Anna?” she suggested. “She likes you.”
“And I like Anna,” he said. “I just like you better.”
“I haven’t changed my mind,” she pointed out, looking for Eli in the sea of boys in colored shirts. Blue. His had been blue…the color of his eyes. She didn’t see him anywhere.
“Come on, let me drive you home. Anna and Miriam can take your little sister home safely enough.” Mahlon took her hand and pulled her back to the first wagon. “On to the Millers’ place,” he told the driver, then looked back. “Have we got everyone?”
Ruth glanced around, saw Susanna and Anna in the second wagon and settled back into the straw. The evening had started out so well, but now she was feeling out of sorts. She wished she could just go home. As the wagon rolled down the Troyers’ driveway, she looked back for Eli again, but he was still nowhere. To her surprise, she was disappointed. Disappointed she might not see those blue eyes again tonight.
It was almost ten o’clock by the time the wagons rolled down the last lane and turned back toward the Borntragers’ farm. A few of the young people were still singing, but for the most part, there were more giggles and laughter than adhering to the hymns. Miriam was on the same wagon with one of her best friends, and they were teasing Harvey Borntrager, Dinah’s fifteen-year-old brother-in-law. Everyone liked Harvey, but this was the first time he’d been allowed to go to a singing, and he had to expect his share of ribbing.
The evening ended on a high note with one of the other churches inviting all the young people to a day of fishing and games later in the summer. The chaperones kept close watch to see that no one was left behind as everyone found their respective buggies or, if they’d walked to the Borntragers’ place, that they found their own group to go home.
Susanna had fallen asleep on the wagon, and it took both Ruth and Anna to get her down and into their buggy. Mahlon, Ruth was pleased to note, had found another girl to escort home. Ruth was just fastening the last strap on Blackie’s harness when Eli appeared by the horse’s head, startling her again. She met his blue-eyed gaze.
“Sure you don’t want to ride with me?” he asked.
She swallowed. “I told you that I didn’t think it was a good idea,” she reminded him.
“Just as well,” he said. He reached behind him, caught the hand of a girl standing in the shadows. “So you won’t mind if I take Miriam instead?”
“I—Ne,” she stammered. “I mean, that’s not—”
“See you at home!” Miriam called excitedly, leading Eli away.
“Miriam!” Ruth tried to push Blackie’s head aside so she could see her sister, but he was being stubborn. “Mam won’t like it. You can’t—” But once again, she was standing there helpless as her sister dashed off with Eli Lapp. She tried to convince herself as she climbed up on the bench beside the sleeping Susanna that the distress she felt was concern for Miriam, but there was no denying the truth.
Secretly, she wished she was the one sitting beside Eli on the buggy seat.
Chapter Seven
On Friday, Roman and Eli began work on the repairs at the Seven Poplars schoolhouse. Samuel had brought his farm wagon to carry away the burnt wood and pieces of foundation, and Hannah had dismissed the older boys to provide additional labor. Anna and Susanna had gone to Spence’s Auction with eggs, flowers and strawberries, but Miriam had stayed behind and volunteered to carry all the school desks out into the yard and give them a good cleaning. Mam’s older female students were helping. Ruth and her mother divided the remaining children into reading groups and led them away from the building to continue class outside.
Ruth found a spot under an oak tree at the edge of the school yard to spread out blankets. All her students were girls; her mother had taken the boys into the shade on the far side of the ball field. Even here, Ruth found that the loud sounds of hammering and clattering wood drew the children’s attention and kept them from giving full attention to their reading lessons.
Surrendering, Ruth asked Verna Beachy to read aloud from a battered copy of Heidi, and that seemed to satisfy everyone. Ruth’s attention, however, drifted from the story, and she glanced back at the school to see Miriam chatting with Eli as she scrubbed a desk with a wet sponge.
Ruth felt vaguely out of sorts and looked away, then back again. She hadn’t spoken to Miriam about her reckless decision to ride home in the buggy with Eli after she’d already been in hot water with Mam over the motor scooter. Although everyone always knew which couples left the singing together, Amish tradition was to give young people privacy by pretending not to notice. Miriam had returned home shortly after Ruth, but Miriam hadn’t dropped so much as a hint as to whether she’d enjoyed the secluded time with Eli or how he’d behaved. And Mam, who usually knew everything that went on in the household, seemed to be oblivious. It wasn’t like Miriam to be so secretive, but Ruth didn’t know how to ask without seeming jealous. Not that she was. Was she?
Ruth didn’t know if she was more vexed with her sister or with Eli. Miriam should have better sense. What kind of boy paid attention to one sister and then the other? That wasn’t the way things were done here in Kent County. And he was way too forward, to boot.
Usually a boy didn’t directly ask a girl to ride home with him from a social. He’d have a friend speak to one of her friends first to see whether the girl was willing. Certainly no one ever courted two girls at the same time. That would be considered fast behavior and would invite a talking-to by Uncle Reuben or the bishop. Belleville was a long way away, but Ruth didn’t think customs could be all that different in Eli’s home community.
Ruth’s thoughts drifted back to the other night. Had Eli been serious when he’d asked her to ride home from the singing with him? She’d refused him. So why was she feeling the green pangs of jealousy?
The unkind thought that Eli might have been using her to get close to Miriam occurred to her. But that didn’t make sense. Wasn’t Miriam the one who’d first encouraged him by accepting the ride on his ridiculous motorbike at Spence’s?
As far as Ruth was concerned, Eli Lapp was causing far too much trouble in Seven Poplars. The best thing Ruth and Miriam could do was stay away from him. But that was going to be hard to do now, what with him working at the school and, worse, coming to dinner.
Ruth couldn’t imagine what had possessed Mam to invite him for Sunday dinner. Mam had also asked Irwin, but Mam often asked pupils to her home so that she could give them personal attention. But Eli? How were people to stop talking about Miriam riding his motorbike if Mam invited him to their house? The community would think the two were courting.
Maybe they were….
One of the first-graders climbed into Ruth’s lap. Little Rosy was wide-eyed and adorable, enthralled by the tale of Heidi’s adventures. Ruth couldn’t help cuddling the child. As Ruth gazed around at the circle of innocent faces beneath their white caps, she was struck by the strong bonds of love that bound them all together.
Sweet or naughty, quick or slow, spirited or plodding, Ruth loved each of the girls as if they were her own sisters. It gave her a deep satisfaction to know that these young people were the future of the Amish church and community. They would guard the faith and uphold the traditions she held so dear, and most of them, God willing, would always be part of her life.
Her choice to remain unwed meant never having her own children, never sewing small Kapps and aprons, never watching a boy take his first steps into manhood. Ruth thought she was prepared to make that sacrifice, but this afternoon, she felt a deep sorrow at what she would be giving up. In the Amish faith, it was the hereafter that was important, not this earthly existence. But for the briefest space of time, she allowed herself to imagine her own baby in her arms, her own kitchen, and putting a hearty midday meal on the table for a husband.
Ruth’s insides knotted as her overactive imagination betrayed her. In her mind, she saw a bearded man filling the kitchen doorway…a man with Eli’s blue eyes, his butter-yellow
hair and his roguish grin. “Something smells good, Ruth,” she could almost hear him say. “Ruth.”
She blinked and focused on Verna Beachy’s owl-like expression.
“The bell,” Verna said.
Rosy squirmed out of Ruth’s arms. “School’s over,” Rosy piped.
Ruth chuckled. “You’re right, girls. Go on.”
Laughing and chattering to each other, Elvie, Verna, Rosy and the others hurried to gather their lunch boxes and bonnets. Samuel’s ten-year-old twins, Peter and Rudy, and the other younger boys were running back to the schoolhouse as well. And almost before Ruth had folded the blankets, the children were scattering: some on push-scooters, a few on in-line skates and others running barefoot across the fields toward home.
Samuel drove the wagonload of burned wood out of the yard. There was still a great deal of hammering and crashing coming from the front of the schoolhouse, but the other men were still working. Mam had gone inside, and Ruth could see her pulling down the window shades.
Ruth started toward the building when she spied Irwin open the door to the girls’ outhouse, a squirming snake clutched in his hands. He saw her and quickly tucked the snake behind his back as he let the door swing shut.
“What are you up to now?” Ruth demanded. She’d been wanting to speak to the boy ever since Miriam had told her that she was sure their cows getting out was no accident. Apparently, Miriam had gone to open the water pipes at the base of the windmill and left Irwin to fasten the gate. Miriam believed that he’d deliberately let the animals loose. “What are you doing with that snake?”
“Snake? What snake?”
Ruth saw the reptile drop and slither away. It was a black snake, at least two feet long. She stepped in front of Irwin and looked directly into his eyes. “You were trying to frighten the girls with that snake, weren’t you?”
