by Unknown
She was old, but she could dream. That's all she had left was a dream. No marriage, no love, no home. She wanted to grow old here. Who was she kidding? She didn't want to lose her house. She wanted to stay there and pass it to her daughter. That's what you're supposed to do.
Well life doesn't always turn out the way it's supposed to. It's full of bumps and roadblocks that can easily throw you aside. She was just going to have to fight. That's what she'd been doing for years. If she fought, somehow, someway things could get better.
Moving would be a good thing. She could have a little place with Miriam and find a way to make a living. There were other things she could do. She could try cleaning houses and doing laundry. She could even sew if she needed to. Life didn't have to be hard. She was moving to a better place.
The last thing that Sarah needed to worry about right now was Jacob, but she couldn't help but wonder how he was doing, and whether or not he would be OK without her. Would he have to leave his house? Would the bishop let him stay?
The man was Amish.
They couldn't deny him that. He would be Amish no matter where he went, but hopefully the bishop would see that and let him stay with the Amish. Maybe he could some work in the field if they let him come back. Sarah would plead his case when she went to speak to the bishop about the house.
Miriam came downstairs and strode right past Sarah to get to the door, wearing her shoes on the wrong feet.
“Come here,” Sarah tried to grab her, but she turned around and started wailing, like a siren that just wouldn't stop. “Oh, sweetie.” Sarah dove in and picked her up. Then she set her on the table. “What's wrong?”
“You made Jacob leave. I want him here. I like him.”
“I like him too. I want him here, but they said I wasn't allowed to.”
“Tell them no.”
Sarah laughed sympathetically. “It just doesn't work like that. I have to tell them yes. It's a part of being Amish.”
“Well, it's not fair.”
“It gonna be fine. We're gonna get a nice place and be happier.”
“NO!” Miriam's face nearly exploded.
“Come on.” Sarah grabbed her daughter, kicking and screaming towards the door. She grabbed onto the door frame, shrieking. Sarah grabbed her by the legs and pulled. She jerked back once, nothing, twice, a little pull but not enough. On the third time, she pulled so hard that it threw her to the ground with Miriam lying on top of her.
Sarah tried to grab Miriam by the legs, but it was too late. She hopped up and started running down the porch and into the grass. “What are you doing? Get back here.” Miriam turned around and hesitated for a second, giving Sarah the chance she needed to spring up and grab her daughter. “We're going.”
*****
Meadows are good places to think. Jacob still believed in the church and always would. He'd never strayed once from the rules and never would. That was the core of his being, his most deeply held beliefs. They could tell him he wasn't Amish all they wanted, but he would always be Amish.
Two days and he loses his brother and his church. He was going to have to leave his home. He would probably be able to get his things, though. All he needed was a couple pairs of clothes and his Bible.
He could survive. He wasn't a child. He'd been living mostly off the land for years, and could easily hunt if he was really in trouble. What Jacob would probably do was go with the English. He could find a way to do it, not like Jacob. Maybe he'd barter for labor jobs, ask a couple people. There's always work in construction and he was a good carpenter.
Eventually, he would carry on his father's business making furniture and live in an English home with running water and light switches. Life could come easy to him if he wanted it to. He could end up happy, even when he wasn't at home. He would make as little compromises as he could in his beliefs. He would probably only use propane in the house and an Amish lamp. He wouldn't drive, or even call taxis unless he had to. He would walk like an Amish man and he would probably still dress like one too. He'd have his plain clothes on him till the day he died.
Jacob smiled at the thought of seeing people's face when he walked around with his hat and black suspenders. They would think he's strange, but he would know the difference. They were strange and they didn't know how to live the right way like he did.
Jacob left highway and cut across the back field towards his house. He would need to gather his things and say his goodbyes now. That was the only way things could be. He walked inside and straight to the stairs to get to his bedroom. The last thing that Jacob needed was a lot of baggage, so he grabbed his bible and his clothes and rushed out the door.
He stopped when he got off the porch and turned back too look at the house. He grew up there with his parents. They taught him to be the good Amish man that he was, and told him how to live his life. They said that so long as he stayed true to the church everything would be OK. Maybe they were right. They always were.
Jacob wasn't going to leave without pleading his case. He couldn't leave Sarah behind with her fields untended and her daughter to feed. What would they do? Would they really go hungry?
Even if they let him back into the order, he would have to plead his case to Sarah, and she might just tell him to leave for fear of the bishop finding out he was there and shunning her. He would have to speak to the bishop on her behalf as well. It wouldn't go well.
They would probably just tell him to leave until the bishop agrees to meet with him which could be weeks. In the meantime, he would have to get a place to stay. He did have some money, thank goodness, and it would be enough to get him a motel or something if he needed one.
The order couldn't just kick him out though. It was contrary to his faith in his people. He believed, and that was going to get him through. The bishop would know that. He'd known Jacob since he was a bay. He wouldn't believe something as terrible as him wanting to leave for the Englischer.
Jacob got his confidence up and left his suitcase behind. He wasn't going anywhere. He was going to stay in his house and be the man he was meant to be. The bishop knew Jacob. This would work. The man was not unreasonable, and if he was truly Amish, he wouldn't be kicked out.
He was Amish and would not be thrown out either. He would put up a fight if he had to, and would bring it up with some of the other members of the order to have them talk to him about it. There were plenty of people who would vouch for him, Sarah included.
Nobody was going to find fault with him. He would fix this immediately. He got into his buggy and started driving the horses fast, twisting through the hills. It didn't take long for the first drop to hit his windshield. Pretty soon it was pouring so badly that Jacob had to pull over onto the side to avoid getting run over by cars. He drove through the mud and dirt on the side of the road for nearly an hour, pushing his poor horses.
It got so bad that he couldn't see and had to stop and wait until he felt comfortable. He didn't want to wear out the horses or get clipped by car. It was all too common. Horses and buggies were hit by cars all the time, and it could easily take you out.
Jacob stopped at the top of a hill, turned his lights on in back, and waited some ways away. The rain was starting to fade away and outstretched before him were the green hills of Amish country, some of the best soil in the country. This was God's country.
He made Jacob for this place. God would do what was right. He wasn't going to let Jacob leave. He was going to push Jacob to stay where he belonged. This was the right thing. He would win with the bishop and gain back his heritage. He was going to do right by his father.
He said a prayer then got back into his buggy. Life was going to be easy for him. He could get through this. He was a good accomplished man with respect. He wasn't going to lose his life here. He would get things right.
The road was clear, but a little slick. He had to be careful going down in case there was flooding. The horses moved easily. They, at least, had some energy, which gave him a boost of confidence. I
t was getting dark though, and Jacob needed to hurry. He threw the horses down the road for an initial jolt, then he ran down hill and nearly hit into the buggy at the bottom. Once the horses slowed and he could look out to see who it was, Jacob grabbed and pulled the reigns and stopped the horses. It was Sarah and Miriam, and their buggy was turned over on the side of the road.
*****
“NO!” Miriam shrieked, and started jumping up and down in the buggy as soon as Sarah threw her in.
“Stop.” Sarah peeked her head in the cabin window.
“No!” Miriam clawed at the air.
“Fine. We're going anyway.”
Miriam slumped down in the chair with her arms crossed and her face scrunched up. That was the best that Sarah could hope for right now. The girl could whine and cry all she wanted that didn't change their predicament.
This was a good thing.
Sarah kept telling herself that as she picked up the reigns and urged the horses onto the highway. Miriam was fidgeting and bucking in her seat but didn't show any signs of starting up again, which was a relief. They started up the hill, and towards the bishop's with Sarah keeping a close eye on her mirror.
There weren't very many cars out, just the few evening commuters, and the roads were easy even though they were slick from rain that afternoon. The hill was easy going, and horses bade easily down going down the hill.
The rain started with a blast of thunder. “Aah!” Miriam started screaming when it hit. “I don't wanna go. Let's go home, Mommy.”
“No. We're going to Maggie's.” There was simply no other choice.”
Miriam got up out of her chair. “No, Mommy.” She stamped her feet.
“Sit down.” Sarah turned back to Miriam. “Just stop.”
“No!” The horses slammed down, throwing Miriam back into the seat. They weren't going anywhere in this rain. Sarah would have to wait on the side of the road. She did exactly that while Miriam screamed her lungs out.
There was another crack of thunder. “No, Mommy!”
“Will you stop!?” Sarah turned back towards her, and accidentally jerked on the reigns, throwing the buggy forward. She managed to tug back on them in time, but it scared her bad. “I'm serious, Miriam.”
“No.” She slumped back down again and stopped screaming. That was a relief. Sarah still had to wait out the storm a little longer, but it was getting easier. The rain was letting up a little bit. She was doing the right thing and that helped to remember. This was the way things were meant to be. She didn't need that house anymore.
She kept telling herself that over and over again. She didn't need Jethro's pain still lingering around her, or the lost memories. She needed a fresh start. That's what God intended. She was holding onto the past instead of moving forward.
“Why'd you make him go?”
“I had to. I wanted him to stay, but I had no other choice.” That was her biggest regret. She would remember that forever. She cared about Jacob, and was through denying it. Had she been given a chance, he would've stayed forever. He belonged with her and Miriam. Miriam knew that that's why she was so upset. “If I can find him, he can stay.” There were no two ways about it. She had to find him.
“Promise?”
“No, but I'll try to make it happen as hard as I can, because I miss him too.”
“You have to promise.”
“I promise I'll try.” He was being shunned for no fault of his own and he didn't deserve it. He deserved a life among his people. That man was more Amish than anyone she'd ever met. It was humbling, seeing a man that good go through so much trouble.
It wasn't fair. She hoped that he found his way. He probably would even through this, but the thought of him having to leave for the English was too much. She should try and speak to the bishop about the matter. If he was good, it would shine through, even if he wasn't there.
The rain was starting to subside. She turned back to Miriam. “Will you let me drive?”
She had her arms folded, and her head turned dramatically in the other direction. That wasn't the end of it, but they had to get to the bishop's house before it got to be too late. She didn't want to wait another day, not for something as big as this. She would have to have what little money she could manage to save.
She got the horses moving slowly, serenaded by the little drops hitting the ceiling. The horses moved easily, even after having been spooked by the jerk forward, and found their way down the road where they belonged.
She started uphill, thinking of what she was going to tell the bishop about Jacob. He deserved some consideration. With her approval, the bishop might speak to him right away and begin the process of letting him back in. It wouldn't be instant, but it might be enough.
The sky was getting dark, and the rain was coming down again. It would have to be over the hill then another stop. Sarah couldn't push through until it stopped raining. The drops were covering the windshield and blocking her view and the horses were swaying, so much so that the she didn't notice the car creeping up behind her until it was too late and it clipped her wheels, leaving her slammed on the side of the road, her buggy overturned. The person high tailed it out of there, leaving Sarah to comfort a screaming Miriam.
She grabbed her daughter and pulled her in. Then she opened the driver's side door and pushed Miriam out. She watched as Sarah struggled to get out herself. “You can do it, Mommy.”
“Thank you, sweetie.” The child had become an angel, pulling on her mother's fingers, urging her out the door. When she did finally manage to squirm her way out, she got up and looked over the buggy. “Oh, no.” One of the wheels was split in two. Now she was standing with her daughter, drenched in freezing cold rain on the side of the highway.
They were totally stranded now, and driven back from the side of the highway for fear of cars. So this is the fight she was going to have to go through to save her own life. God just couldn't make it easy on her.
Miriam started bawling. “Come here, sweetie.”
“I'm cold, Mommy.” She was shivering.
“It's gonna be alright.” She looked up the top of the hill and started to see the up and down swaying lights of a buggy. Whoever it was, it was salvation for certain. She pulled her daughter closer and waited, watching as the horses faltered then finally stopped not far.
It was Jacob. She started running towards him before she could stop herself. “Jacob!”
He ran out of his buggy and took her into his arms, then silently slammed her into his lips. “This isn't over. I'm going to fight.” He said when he pulled back. “I want to be with you.”
THE END
Another bonus story is on the next page.
Bonus Story 3 of 10
The Last Cowboy in West Texas
All that could be heard was the soft crunch, crunch, crunch of Lizbeth’s athletic shoes power walking through the remnants of fallen summer leaves and branches after a rainstorm.
The little white feet of her otherwise auburn dog, Lady fell softly as she padded alongside her. The high pitched, rapidly squeaking song, “tweet-tweet, tweet-tweet-tweet” of a Mourning Dove kept perfect cadence with the pecking of a Red-bellied Woodpecker, which was accompanied by a babbling brook, brimming over after yesterday’s rainfall.
Lizbeth, 120-days sober, bristles at the smell of alcohol that she swears leaches out of her pores every time that she sweats. She is determined to stay clean this time, that is why her morning and evening routines of exercise and prayer have become so important to her. She believes they are the keys to her sobriety.
Lizbeth Collins’ ancestors may have come to America on the Mayflower, but her descendant, William Bradford, never seemed to find his fortune as a Pilgrim in the new world. Instead, Bradford’s distant relative, Lizbeth’s father, grew up poor and struggling in the slums of Bedford Stuyvesant (Bed Stuy), Brooklyn.
As a child growing up in Bed Stuy, Lizbeth left the embattled home of her parent’s fourth-floor walk-up apartment, where she shared a
room with two sisters and a screaming baby brother; born to an alcoholic and already raging at the world. Lizbeth walked past crack-houses and addicts to go to a high performing charter school where she was only one of a handful of white faces, and two of them were her sisters.
Lizbeth’s grandparents were alcoholics. Her parents were addicted to crack in their youth then became semi-sober, functional alcoholics only long enough to birth three children before becoming so addicted to alcohol, that they have now dropped out of society altogether.
On this beautiful summer morning, Lizbeth was not thinking about her dysfunctional family or even her own struggles with alcohol. She was appreciating her walk through the park with Lady and enjoying the sights and sounds of nature. Then she was jarred back to the real world by the sound of her mobile phone vibrating in the waistband of her gray and pink, Lycra, capris yoga pants.
Lizbeth peeks at the name on the caller ID, looks skyward, shakes her head and lets out a deep sigh. She stops walking and takes the call. The dutiful Lady halts, then sits right on cue waiting for her partner to resume the walk.
“Hi mom”, Lizbeth says in an underwhelmed tone, as if she were being forced to be nice. Lady instinctively knows this conversation is going to take a while and decides to make herself comfortable by extending her front paws in a cross-legged fashion, then she lays her auburn and white face on her top leg. She has been laying like this since she was a pup. It’s how she got her name, by the way that she crosses her legs like a lady.
“Lizzy, I got a bill I can’t pay”, Ellen, Lizbeth’s mother says, in a voice that sounds both irritated and accusing. As if Lizbeth were the reason that her mother could not pay her bills. Having moved out of her parents’ home when she went off to college at eighteen, Lizbeth, now thirty-two, has not been a financial burden to her parents for fourteen years. Which is why her mother’s call is more vexing than usual to Lizbeth.
