by Sarah Price
As the men approached the porch, Samuel stood up straight in the doorway and greeted them. “Guder Owed, Bishop,” he said solemnly. Indeed, he hoped it would be a good evening but, when the bishop barely responded, Samuel took that as another bad sign. Whatever the bishop had come to say, it wasn’t something that he wanted to hear. Of that, Samuel was certain. His heart started to pound inside of his chest and he turned toward Jake, hoping to see some glimmer of hope. But Jake’s expression was just as somber as the bishop’s.
“Bishop’s come to speak with you, Samuel,” his daed finally said. His stare was blank and expressionless, making it obvious that the bishop had not shared any news with his father when they spoke at the barn.
Samuel felt his heart lurch into his throat, his fears confirmed. Surely this was not a social visit but could the news be so awful? If something terrible had happened, wouldn’t the police have come, too? Samuel stepped aside to let them enter the house. He tried to get Jake to look at him, hoping to get an indicator about how bad the news truly was. But Jake kept his eyes straight and followed the bishop into the kitchen.
The men stood near the door, waiting for Samuel to join them. He took his time, his heart pounding inside of his chest. Time seemed to stand still and the ticking of the clock on the wall echoed in his ears. He didn’t want to stand before them. It seemed too serious, to severe. Was he to be judged before them? Jonas stood next to Jake, looking small and frail next to him. The men were facing Samuel and he felt alone, as though facing a jury of his peers. In a way, he thought, that’s what this is, indeed.
Everyone was silent, waiting for the bishop to speak first. But he remained deep in thought, perhaps praying for guidance about how to say what was on his mind. His face was drawn, the wrinkles under his eyes speaking of his own sleepless nights since the car accident had brought such tragedy to his church district. Once again, Samuel realized how far reaching the implications of his actions were, those actions that he had done and even those that he had not done. The realization caught him off-guard and, once again, Samuel found himself regretting his poor decisions of the past.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Samuel, the bishop cleared his throat and looked up. “Paul has died, Samuel.”
Katie’s hand flew to her mouth and she leaned against the counter, a sob escaping her throat for more than one reason. Samuel glanced at her, knowing that his mamm was crying for many different reasons. While Paul had been Mennonite, and a rebellious one at that, he was still the son of two grieving parents. Katie’s heart broke for the family of the young man, of the wasted years that he’d never live, the family he’d never raise, and love he’d never share.
But, for Samuel, there was a different reason to mourn. If Paul had died, how would Samuel’s name be cleared? But no one asked that question. Instead, they focused on his death.
“He’s with God, I’m sure,” Samuel said slowly, the moisture gone from his mouth. His lips felt dry and his throat parched.
Jake took a deep breath and shuffled his straw hat from hand to hand. “There is more news, Samuel.” When Samuel met his gaze, Jake nodded once, the first glimmer of hope that was given to him. “Gut news for you.”
A frown crossed his face. Paul had died and, with him, any chance of clearing his name. “Gut news? I don’t understand, Jake.”
Jake cleared his throat and glanced at the bishop. “Apparently, the police were able to interview him before he died. He had moments of lucidity during the past week before he slipped away,” Jake said slowly, each word carefully chosen. He glanced at the bishop then back to Samuel. “He was able to tell them that you weren’t with them, that you had left earlier to return home.”
Katie gasped and Jonas looked up, startled at the news that Jake had just shared. It was clear that Samuel was not the only one who had expected the worst with Paul’s death. Jonas was the first one to ask the question on everyone’s mind. “How?”
The bishop glanced at Jake, his expression stern and fierce. It was clear that another struggle was happening in the room, one between Jake and the bishop. Immediately Samuel knew without asking that Jake had spoken to the lawyer, despite the bishop’s warning to the contrary. The disregard for the bishop’s demand of no interaction with the Englische laws would cause Jake trouble, of that Samuel was certain. But, for now, the bishop remained silent about that.
“Go on,” the bishop urged Jake. “Tell them what you have learned.”
“Well,” Jake began. “Paul woke from the coma earlier in the week and faded in and out of consciousness. His brain wasn’t impacted but the damage to his organs was too much. Apparently, he died two days ago.”
Samuel frowned. “Two days ago?” He wondered why it had taken so long to learn about this. The Amish grapevine usually worked much faster that that.
“The police notified the lawyer, Samuel and he contacted me.” Jake nodded to the bishop. “As soon as I received his message, I went to Bishop Peachey and asked for permission to speak to the lawyer for an update. That’s how we learned today of the situation.”
Samuel tried to digest what Jake was saying. It had been almost three weeks since the accident. Yet, Jake had said that Paul had moments of awareness and had been able to communicate. Something didn’t compute and Samuel needed to know. “When did they know about my innocence?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Before Jake could answer, Bishop Peachey held up his hand. “I don’t think that’s important, Samuel.”
His frown deepened. For almost three weeks, he had been living on the edge, worrying and waiting. His community had virtually shunned him, Mary Ruth’s father wouldn’t let her off of the farm, and people believed the worst about him. How could the Bishop not realize how important it was for Samuel to know the answer to this question? “It is important,” he said respectfully. “To me.”
“That’s the Englischer way, Samuel, and not our way to question it,” the bishop rebuked strongly.
“Last week,” Jake added, ignoring the angry look on the bishop’s face. “The police cleared your name last week.”
Catching his breath, Samuel looked around the room. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing and was quickly trying to make sense of everything. For over an entire week, he had been officially innocent, yet no one had known? The police had been quick to drag him down to their station but not quite as quick to inform him about his innocence. Of course, the lawyer would have known but the bishop had forbidden Jake from contacting him. Certainly the lawyer had a difficult time tracking down Jake, too. He shared a phone with a neighbor and probably didn’t get a message right away.
Jonas stared at Jake, his eyes wide with questions. “But Samuel’s hat? And the witness?”
Jake shrugged, turning toward his father-in-law. “Samuel must have left his hat behind, just like he said. It appears that Peter was wearing it when he was driving the car. The police think that Peter was not actually thrown from the car but was actually able to walk away before collapsing on the side of the road from his internal injuries.”
Jonas nodded. “Ja, that would explain the witness’ version.”
Feeling weak in his knees, Samuel reached for the table and pulled out a chair. He sat down, the wheels of the chair rolling slightly away from the table. He had to lean forward, his elbow on the edge of the table and his hand on his forehead. His heart still beat rapidly in his chest as he tried to reconcile all that was being said. But he couldn’t. Not without feeling angry about the bishop’s previous ruling that Jake couldn’t speak with the lawyer. That had prevented him from moving on with his life. That had prevented Mary Ruth from being permitted at the farm. That had almost resulted in the death of Abram. Too many conflicting thoughts flooded through his mind that he quickly decided to think about nothing at all. It was easier.
“Samuel,” Jake said slowly. “Do you understand what that means?” When he didn’t answer, Jake moved toward him and knelt before his brother-in-law. He reach
ed out and took Samuel’s hand in his. “Samuel?”
Moving his hand away from his face, Samuel lifted his eyes and looked at Jake. “What, Jake?”
“Did you hear me? Did you hear what I said?”
Samuel nodded. “Ja, I heard you.”
“Do you understand what it means?” Jake repeated. When Samuel didn’t respond, Jake smiled. “You are no longer a suspect. The police won’t be bothering you anymore.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in. But when they did, Samuel felt the tidal wave of emotion pour over him. He covered his face with his hands and sobbed, letting the tears flow as the pain and suffering of the past two weeks resurfaced. He couldn’t hold it back any longer. Jake stood up and laid a hand on Samuel’s shoulder, letting him cry. It was clear that Samuel had lost more than just three friends. He had also lost his hope that others would believe him. Now, the truth was out and the stress was lifted.
The bishop waited a minute before clearing his throat again. Samuel rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hands and looked up. “The road to redemption will not be easy, Samuel,” he said.
“What?” He looked at his parents, shocked to see tears streaming down both of their faces. He realized that they had been walking beside him during the past weeks, feeling the burden of stress and suffering with him. Bewildered, Samuel looked back at the bishop. “What do you mean?”
“There will be those who won’t be so quick to forgive,” the bishop said.
“Forgive?” Samuel stood up, the chair rolling backwards from his sudden movement. “What is there to forgive? I did nothing wrong.”
Jake touched Samuel’s arm. “It might take time, Samuel.”
“Time?” He didn’t understand what they were saying. “Time for what?”
The bishop tugged at his beard and shook his head. “I’ve seen this type of thing happen before, Samuel. The community cast judgment and when it is discovered to be in error, it’s not always easy for some to ask for forgiveness. In this case, they will say that you were still in Philadelphia, playing with the worldly lifestyle of the Englische. They’ll justify their judgment because of that.”
Jake nodded. “I’ve seen it before in the Englische world. People can do such irrational things, Samuel.”
“So what does that mean?” he demanded.
“I think the bishop is trying to tell you that it’ll take time for things to go back to normal,” Jake said.
“Have patience, Samuel,” the bishop said before nodding his good-bye to Katie and turning to leave.
“I’ll see you out,” Jonas said and reached for his hat to accompany the bishop to his buggy.
There was a heavy silence in the room when the bishop and Jonas left. The air seemed to drain, depleting the energy. Samuel stared at the empty doorway that the bishop had just walked through. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. Despite being innocent, he’d have to deal with more judgment? That seemed neither fair nor right; and he couldn’t believe that the bishop would just accept it at face value.
Jake was the first one to break the silence. He glanced at Katie. “Reckon we have some praying to do for the family of that boy.” He looked back at Samuel. “You’ll be alright, Samuel. Just don’t expect everyone to immediately forget the negative feelings they had toward you.” He placed his hat on his head. “Reckon we need to send some prayers to those folks in our own community, too, ja?” Then, with a slight smile and nod at Katie, he slipped out the door to journey back to his own farm for the early evening chores.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Samuel waited patiently for Bishop Peachey to finish his conversation with Eli Hostetler. He held his hat in his hand, nervously fiddling with it as he waited. The Sunday sermon had seemed longer than usual this week since he had so much on his mind. All week, he had been practicing what he wanted to say in his mind, replaying the words over and over again.
Since the news that Paul had confirmed Samuel had not been with the other boys began to spread throughout the community, Samuel had been certain to keep his eyes straight ahead and his chin lifted, humbling himself rather than looking for apologies from his neighbors and friends for the silent treatment that he had received. Instead, Samuel had made certain to be at work on time every day, helped around the farm as much as he could, and even ran errands for his mamm.
Lillian had come home the day after the bishop’s visit, having to leave the twins in the hospital until they gained more weight. Samuel made certain to take Jacob and Abram under his wing during the evening chores in order to give her a break while she recovered, both physically and emotionally from the trauma of giving birth to two children that were not yet home with her. Yet, ten days was a long time to be away from her other children and responsibilities.
On Friday evening, Samuel had taken the two smaller boys for a ride into Intercourse to get ice cream. He had used the courting buggy, wishing that Mary Ruth was with them but he was giving Amos time to cool down from his poor behavior during Samuel’s troubles. Samuel knew that the bishop had spoken true when stating that some people would need more time to come around and accept the fact that they had been wrong in judging Samuel so quickly.
Now, as Samuel waited in the wings for the bishop, he felt his heart racing. He had learned a lot during the past three weeks. From realizing that his place was with his people to understanding how important Mary Ruth was to him, Samuel had finally grown up. Now, he wanted to take the next step to become a true man….and an Amish man at that.
“Samuel,” the bishop said when Eli and Whitey turned to join some of the other men. He laid his hand on Samuel’s arm. “I trust things are easing up, ja?”
Samuel nodded. “For certain, Bishop,” he said.
There was a long hesitation and the bishop waited patiently. Despite the fact that the bishop was one of their own, chosen by lot to lead the people, he was well aware that many of the younger members of the church district held him in great reverence. “Did you need something, Samuel?” he finally said.
“Ja,” he said, stumbling over his words. “I wanted to talk to you about baptism classes.”
The bishop raised an eyebrow. “Baptism classes? They began last month.”
Samuel nodded. “I know, Bishop. But I was thinking toward the spring baptism. I wanted you to know that I’m ready to start my studies and, if my reflection holds true, I’m of the mindset to make that commitment to God and our church.”
For a moment, the bishop studied Samuel, his steady gaze making Samuel feel uncomfortable. “Sometimes tragedy and hardship make people turn to God before they are ready, son,” he finally said, his words low and slow. “You should not react so quickly to such an important and lifelong commitment.”
Shaking his head, Samuel lowered his eyes. “Nee,” he replied. He had already considered that the bishop might question his timing. Certainly the congregation would question it too. It had been three weeks ago when he had decided to take this step. He had shared his desire with Mary Ruth that night and Samuel had originally hoped to talk the bishop into a fall baptism. But, his plan had been shattered with the car accident and accusations. He had already accepted that he’d have to focus on the spring baptism. He was prepared to address that issue.
“That’s not so, Bishop. I was ready to turn to God before this happened. That very weekend, I had decided to speak with you.” He looked up. “I didn’t feel it was right to express my intent while there was still doubt about my involvement in the accident. Now that my name has been cleared, I thought it was best to let you know. The accident and accusations were tragic, ja. But the situation has certainly confirmed my desire for a life of following His will.”
He waited for the bishop’s reaction. After all, this was an important moment. If the bishop accepted his request for baptism, Samuel would be expected to begin acting as if he had already joined the church. There would be a probationary period, where his behavior was monitored and watched for conformity. In January, he’d begin
attending the instructional sessions at the beginning of each church service until the baptism ceremony would take place, at the end of April.
But all of that hinged on how the bishop perceived Samuel’s request. Would he believe Samuel? Would he accept his request as sincere? Or would he doubt Samuel, thinking that he was just reacting to the stress of the past month?
To Samuel’s delight, a smile broke onto the bishop’s face. “Vell, then, I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “I’m sure I speak for the others when I say that we shall be pleased to have you join the church, Samuel Lapp.” He had spoken the last part loud enough so that several of the other men standing nearby would overhear him. There would be no end to the Amish grapevine over that announcement, Samuel thought. He just hoped that it would travel quickly to the Smucker farm.
