by Jan Drexler
“So Daed is moving the family west to save us? From what?”
Mamm reached for another apple and started peeling it. “From being tempted by the ways of the world.”
“You’re afraid we will leave the faith?”
“You might, if the circumstances were right. What if you had never met Josef? I know how you and Adam Metzler are friends. Don’t you think you might have been tempted to join the Mennonite church with him in order to marry?”
Hannah studied the apple in her hand. It was lopsided, and it would be difficult to make a straight cut. “I see. When your world isn’t perfect, like this apple, you adjust. You make do so you can live the kind of life you want.”
“Not the kind of life you want, Hannah.” Mamm reached for Hannah’s apple and sliced it along its crooked core perfectly to make two balanced halves. “You yield to the bends and crooks God places in your life until you turn out to be exactly the way he planned. Perfect and whole in Christ.”
“But what about what I want?”
“Would you rather have the good life you have planned, or the perfect life God has planned?” Mamm cored and sliced another apple. “I’ve learned the hard way that when you fight against God, all you are left with is misery.”
Hannah thought of all the years Mamm had suffered the grief of losing the little ones. Misery for sure.
“So that’s why . . . that’s why you’ve been so different lately?”
Mamm nodded. “I stopped fighting with God. Once I accepted Fanny’s death, and Catherine and Hansli . . .” She stopped and wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. “Once I accepted that even that was God’s will and his plan, then I was able to rest in that. No more worrying. No more darkness.” She looked at Hannah, her eyes bright with tears, but peaceful. “He changed my life, Hannah. He gave me this peace. I don’t know why I couldn’t yield to him before, but I couldn’t see my way out of the darkness. We’ve lost so much time, haven’t we?”
Hannah reached across the table and grasped Mamm’s hand. Her own throat was tight. “We can start from here, ja?”
Mamm held her hand with a firm grip. “Ja. We can start from here.”
The last of the apples were spread on clean sheets and suspended from the attic ceiling before dinner.
Mamm stepped back to look at the piles of pumpkins and other squash, ropes of onions and bundles of herbs filling the attic. “We’ll be well fed this winter and have plenty of provisions for the trip west, as well.”
“It’s a good feeling, isn’t it?” Hannah picked up some gourds that had been scattered during the children’s play and put them back in their piles along the north wall.
The freezing rain had stopped before too much ice accumulated, but Peter and Margli had still begged to go out to play. She could hear their shouts through the window and glanced out to watch them.
“Dinner will be ready in another hour.” Mamm made her way to the ladder. “Can you make corn pone to go with the soup while I work on the weaving?”
“Ja, for sure.” Hannah didn’t see Liesbet with the younger children. Had she come back in the house while they played? “I’ll be down in a few minutes.” She turned to pick up a few more gourds.
Looking out the window again, Hannah smiled when William plopped down on his bottom. Margli and Peter came to help him up, and then pulled him along the ice between them. She and Liesbet used to play like that with Fanny. Hannah leaned her head against the cold window frame, her breath fogging the glass pane. What a happy time that was; they had so much fun together. No one knew how fleeting that time would be.
If only things would never change! Life would be so sweet if this moment could be captured . . . if it could last forever. But these moments would fade into the background and become memories. Clouded memories, just like the attic window. Hannah wiped the fog away, and the view was clear once more.
Why wouldn’t Daed change his mind and remain here on the Conestoga? The plan to keep her family from leaving, so simple and right a few weeks ago, fell apart in Hannah’s mind. Daed wouldn’t keep the family here if she married Adam, because he refused to consider becoming Amish. And Josef . . .
Hannah wiped the window again. Josef was determined to go west. The memory of his kiss made her stomach flip. Why did he have to be so demanding? Perhaps she should give up her plan and go west with Daed and Josef. See what happened in the future.
The sun found its way through the overcast clouds, a bit of light before the promised snow.
To go west would mean the family would stay together. Stay together and grow, if she married Josef . . .
Margli grasped both of William’s hands in her own and spun him around, his feet flying off the ground. The future spun just as quickly, pulling Margli and the little ones out of their childhood and into their years of growing to adulthood. Why couldn’t childhood last longer? Why couldn’t they stay this innocent for a few more years?
Hannah glimpsed a movement at the edge of the woods. A dark figure . . . Liesbet? She was taking the path to the clearing in this weather.
Not stopping to think, Hannah rushed down the ladder and the stairs to the kitchen. Grabbing her shawl from the hook, she stopped to wrap it firmly around her shoulders. The back steps were covered with ice, and the barnyard stretched out in front of her as a slippery barrier, glistening dangerously in the weak sunlight.
“Hannah!” Peter shouted from the lane where he slid back and forth on the ice. “Come play with us. You can pull us on the sled.”
She waved at him, not answering, but made her way toward the barn. She slid down the path between the chicken coop and the empty cornfield and went quickly through the grass to the edge of the woods, the ice-covered blades breaking under her feet. Once she was under the trees, she was away from the icy ground, although it was still slippery in places. The ice-wrapped branches crackled all around her, sending showers of shards down with every breeze. At least this hadn’t been a severe storm, where the ice could cover the branches in a layer an inch thick and destroy whole trees with its weight.
Ahead of her, Hannah saw Liesbet’s tracks on the path, quickly being covered by the light snow that was now falling. She went as fast as she dared, finally coming to the clearing where she found Liesbet standing alone.
“Liesbet?”
Her sister turned toward her. “What are you doing here? Following me again?” She wiped at her eyes with one hand.
“I saw you come into the woods . . . Are you crying?”
“What difference does it make to you?” Liesbet sniffed and looked into the woods around them.
“You’re meeting that man again, aren’t you?”
“He isn’t just that man, Hannah. His name is George.” She sniffed again. “But I guess I’m too late. He’s left already.” Liesbet’s face was sad, holding none of the hard bitterness that so often reigned over her features.
“You don’t think he expected you to meet him in the storm, do you?”
“He promised.” Her face crumpled as her tears fell.
Hannah moved closer to Liesbet and wrapped her arms around her. Liesbet stiffened, but then relaxed in Hannah’s embrace. It had been many months since Liesbet had allowed her to offer comfort.
“Don’t you think it’s time to forget about George? Find an Amish man who can truly care for you? One who will keep his promises?”
“Ne.” Liesbet shook her head and pulled away. “You don’t understand.” Her face was set and she wiped the last tears away. “Nothing will ever take me from George. He’s the only man I’ll ever love.”
“When the family moves west, you’ll be coming too, ja? George will stay here, and you’ll have to forget him. You’ll find someone new in Indiana.” Hannah smiled, willing Liesbet to agree. “I can see him now. Young, handsome, a hard worker . . .”
Liesbet backed away. “Ne, Hannah, ne. You don’t understand anything. You don’t know what it’s like—” A sob escaped and Liesbet hugged her arms to herself. Hannah
had never seen her look so miserable. “You don’t know what it’s like to be in love. Truly in love.”
She pushed Hannah’s outstretched arms away and ran back up the path toward the house. As stubborn as ever.
Hannah dashed her own tears away and started up the path, suddenly remembering the corn pone she had promised to make for dinner.
Liesbet and her parents. Adam and Josef. She was a rope in a tug of war, with Liesbet and Adam pulling one way and her family and Josef the other. She had to be strong so the rope wouldn’t end up being pulled in two.
20
Hannah saw Adam’s signal as she hung dish towels on the line after dinner the next Tuesday, the blue rag dancing in the chilly breeze.
All week she had skipped back and forth between Josef and Adam . . . but Adam’s pull was the strongest, with his promise of a home along the Conestoga. Whenever the memory of Josef’s kiss intruded, she pushed it away. If she could only convince Adam to become Amish.
Taking the rest of the clothes pegs into the entryway, Hannah put the basket on the shelf.
“Mamm?” She heard an answer from the weaving room and went to the doorway. Surrounded by skeins of finely spun wool, Mamm was in the middle of threading the big loom, a job that would keep her busy for hours.
“Can you spare me this afternoon?”
Distracted by a tangle, Mamm nodded her head. “Liesbet is here, ja? And Margareta? They can watch William when he wakes from his nap.”
“Denki.” Hannah left before Mamm could ask where she was going.
She took her shawl from the peg near the door and pulled her shawl over her kapp. Adam would be waiting in the clearing. She ran down the path, dry after last week’s storm, and worn to dirt after all these years of using it. A sudden thought slowed her feet, and she stopped where the path entered the trees lining the creek. Turning, she looked all around her, at the fallow barley field, the sheepfold next to the barn, the roof of the house peeping over the rise—all the familiar sights of home. If she went to Indiana, if she followed her family and Josef, she would never see these things again—these things so familiar they were as much home as the smell of Mamm’s bread.
Continuing toward the clearing, she walked slowly, drinking in the aroma of the dead leaves, the farmyard odors, the decaying vegetation along the edge of the creek. This was home. She could never leave it.
Adam was pacing in the clearing, waiting for her.
“Come with me,” he said, grabbing her hand, “I need your help.”
He pulled her along a few feet before she planted her heels in the ground. “Wait, Adam, what are you doing?”
“There’s a group of passengers trying to get to our farm, but they don’t know the way. I need you to show them while I try to get the slave hunters off their trail.”
She pulled her hand out of his grip and stood, arms folded. “You mean no one else can do this for you? I thought your daed was helping you.”
“Pa can’t help this time. He’s gone to Mechanicsville, and Ma doesn’t know how to bring them through away from the main roads. You’ve helped me before, Hannah. You know what to do.”
Hannah wrapped her hands in her shawl. Ja, she had helped Adam before, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was wrong.
“I don’t know, Adam.”
“Hannah, you know how desperate these people are.”
“But it’s against the law. The Good Book tells us to obey the civil authorities.”
“But it also tells us that we are required to help our fellow man.” Adam took off his hat, running his hands through his hair. Was he just as confused as she was? Or frustrated? “These people are escaping an unjust system, one that enslaves one group of humans to another, just because of the color of their skin. It’s wrong, Hannah, and we can help fix that wrong.”
“Isn’t there another way? Must we disobey the law, compounding the wrong?” Hannah cast about in her mind for possible answers. “Couldn’t you work to make slavery illegal in the south as it is here? Wouldn’t that be the better way?”
“But it wouldn’t fix the problem we have right now, right here in our own township. It takes time to change laws, and we don’t have time.” Adam rubbed at the back of his neck and glanced at the angle of the sun. “I need your help today, Hannah. Those people are in danger of being captured.”
“And so are you, aren’t you? What would happen to you if those slave hunters knew you were helping these refugees?”
Adam couldn’t meet her eyes.
“You would be arrested, or beaten, or worse.”
He nodded. “But I’m willing to take that chance. I knew the danger when I started this, but the rewards outweigh any danger. I know I’m doing God’s will, Hannah, can’t you see that?”
“But have you thought of the danger you put your family in? And me? When you ask for my help, you put me in danger too.”
“I . . . I can protect you, Hannah. You know I will.”
“You can’t protect me if you’re caught, though, can you?”
Adam turned from her, staring off into the trees. “I hadn’t thought of that.” He faced her again. “But I’m so sure that what I’m doing—what we’re doing—is right. God has given us his protection so far, hasn’t he? Don’t you think he will continue?” He stepped closer. “We don’t have time to debate this now. Those people are waiting for us to rescue them, and the bounty hunters are close. I need you now, Hannah. Think of those people who are in danger.”
Hannah’s thoughts wavered. She hated being put in this position. She had no choice.
“I’ll help you, but this is the last time. Don’t ask this of me again, Adam.”
He grinned and pulled her to him in a hug. “We’ll talk about that later.”
Hannah followed Adam as he strode along the creek path, almost running to try to keep up. If Adam loved her like he claimed, he wouldn’t put her in danger like this. And yet, he was right. If she didn’t help, then these people were in danger of being caught. She shivered at the memory of the heavy whip the one slave hunter had carried, and the evil look in his eyes. If only she had never learned of this problem. Once knowing, she had to decide to take the responsibility to help or not. If she never knew . . . Why did Adam have to involve her?
Because he knew that once she knew there was a need, she couldn’t refuse him. She couldn’t leave strangers alone and in danger if she could help them.
Adam continued past his family’s farm, past the bend in the creek where the boys had a swimming hole, past the Hertzlers’ farm. Hannah could hear Johanna’s voice calling to her sisters, but hurried on. Johanna didn’t need to get involved in this.
Not too much farther and Adam led her down to the creek, at a place where a tree had fallen across a narrow place. The water gurgled and complained as it was forced to squeeze between boulders, but the log formed a bridge where there was no road. Adam climbed up onto the makeshift bridge and reached for Hannah’s hand.
“You don’t mean we need to cross the creek?”
“Ja, we do.” Adam reached for her, his impatient grasp snagging her hand. “This is the only way across that’s hidden from the road. You’ll have to bring them back this way too.”
Hannah let him pull her up next to him, and started across the expanse. When they reached the other side, Adam jumped down and then helped her climb to the ground. As well as she knew the woods near her farm, Hannah had never explored this side of the creek.
“Where do I need to take them?”
“To our barn. Hilda and Charles should be there to help you.”
Deception, hiding from the slave hunters, breaking the law, and Adam’s sister and young brother were in it as deep as she was. Hannah swallowed hard.
“Hannah, can you do this?”
Her eyes grew wet with hot tears. “Why do you ask me this now? I have to do it, don’t I? I can’t turn my back on these people who need help.”
He smiled at her. “That’s my Hannah. I knew I cou
ld count on you.” He wiped at her wet cheek with his thumb. “This is a wonderful thing we’re doing together. It’s just a little farther to their hiding place.”
He took her through the trees where there was no path. One time her shawl caught on a snag and Adam carefully extracted it for her, checking to make sure none of the fibers were left behind.
“You’ll have to be careful as you lead them through here. We can’t leave any mark of their route.”
Hannah nodded.
Before many minutes, they topped a small rise and Hannah could see a group of people, their drab clothes blending into the dead leaves littering the floor of the dell where they rested. The shrubby undergrowth of the woods was bare, the thin branches giving no cover to the fugitives. Two of the women sat on the ground, one holding a sleeping baby. There was another woman and five men, along with two boys about Peter’s age. Eight adults, two children, and a baby, and in plain view of anyone who happened to come by. The only way they could come this far was through God’s Providence—it was impossible to think otherwise.
One of the men stepped forward as they approached and took Adam’s hand.
“We were beginning to think you weren’t coming back, but Ruby said to have faith.”
“I had to find someone to help me.” Adam stepped aside and brought her forward. “Bill, this is Hannah. She knows the way to a safe place where you can rest until nightfall. She’ll take you there while I try to keep the hunters off your trail.”
“We heard them go by a while ago, on the road.” The man pointed behind him, up the rise on the other side of the dell. “They’ll be back though, you know they will.”
Adam turned to Hannah. “Move as quickly and quietly as you can, and keep a sharp eye out. If you hear someone coming, find a place to hide. As far as I can tell, these slave hunters aren’t using dogs, so that’s a blessing.” He grasped her shoulders. “Will you be all right?”
