“ ‘Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions.’”
“What does that have to do with me?”
Her mother smiled even as she folded her arms, rubbing her left arm with her right hand, as if to warm herself. “We think that your dreams may have a purpose beyond what we can understand.”
“That isn’t too hard to imagine. I can’t understand them at all!”
The three women—the women who meant the most to her and had stood by her through the trials of the last year—stared at her. Mammi’s face was a study of curiosity. Her mother looked more solemn, and Erin—well, Erin glanced from one to the other but still said nothing.
Anna cleared her throat and combed back over her memories of the dreams—searching for a place to begin.
“The first dreams were in the hospital. There was the quilting dream, where I couldn’t quite get the pattern right. My thread was always too short, my needle sometimes huge.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I would have dreamed about quilting since I didn’t do much of it.”
“Until you began quilting for the children.” Mammi tapped the table. “You found the work Gotte would have you do.”
“Maybe so. While I was in the hospital, I couldn’t have imagined that, but maybe so. The dream which bothered me the most was the one where Jacob was holding my hand.” Anna found herself falling back into those days of loss and confusion. “I couldn’t remember who he was, but I could see the look of worry in his eyes. It seemed to me—in the dream—as if his heart was breaking for me. It seemed as if we knew each other very well. And then I asked him to hold my hand. I was embarrassed that I had been so bold, but I was also terribly afraid of being left alone.”
“Jacob did hold your hand. By the time we reached you, he was hovering over your body, protecting you.” Erin’s voice was a whisper.
Anna nodded. She knew that what her aenti remembered was how it had actually happened. She had talked with Jacob about this more than once. “I also had a dream of walking through the wildflowers. I didn’t tell you this before?”
Erin shook her head.
“It is afternoon and I am walking through a field of wildflowers—they are red, orange, pink, and blue. It seems that every color I can imagine is there. In my arms, I’m holding a quilt. The fabric has a blue background and contains a pattern of rainbows. I hug the quilt and continue through the flowers, but then suddenly I’m in a field of corn that is ready to harvest. When I first dreamed this, I feared becoming lost in the rows of corn.”
“But not the last time,” her mother said softly.
“Nein. I’m not afraid at all. I walk through the corn, wondering where it will lead, when suddenly I see picnic tables in the middle of the crops. You all are there and sitting around the tables. All of my family is present, the people here and those in Indiana. Chloe and Jacob, they are there as well. I’m overwhelmed by the amount of love from the people around those tables. Each person there cares and prays for me.”
“As we do, child.” Mammi reached forward and squeezed her hand.
“My heart begins to beat faster and faster, until I can feel it thrumming through my veins. Everyone is excited. I look at Jacob, and he points to the sky. When I look up, I see colors of the sunset splashed across the sky and stars beginning to appear. But that’s not what we’re all looking at. There are rainbows as far as the eye can see and in every direction.”
Erin clutched the edge of the table, her hand shaking and her eyes widening. “You dreamed this? The rainbows—”
“Ya, and more than once. It was as if my mind was in a loop it couldn’t shed. The quilting I suppose makes sense—I never was good at it. Perhaps I felt guilty. I don’t know. Chloe and I had visited a few of the quilters from our district a few days before. Maybe a part of me was remembering that trip. As far as the dream about Jacob—well, my mind must have been trying to reconcile what had happened. But the flowers… I couldn’t figure them out. We have a few here, and there are some in Indiana.” Anna turned to her mother. “Have you ever seen so many, with so many different kinds and colors?”
“Only once.”
“I’ve seen them too—” Erin raised her fingers to cover her mouth, even as tears slipped from her eyes. “The year that Susan died.”
“Susan?”
No one spoke for a moment. Finally her mother said, “Your aenti had a child who lived for three years.”
“She loved the flowers. She would laugh and twirl as we walked through them.” Erin’s voice shook as she spoke. “The year she died, we had good rains. The flowers… they were more abundant than I’d ever seen.
Now Erin was weeping openly. “When she died, I walked out into the flowers, my heart aching, my soul longing for my child. I remember sinking to the ground and asking God why such things happen and how I was to bear the pain.”
“I’m so sorry, Aenti,” Anna said. “I had no idea.”
But Erin wasn’t listening. She was confessing, and as the weight of her sins lifted, Anna saw the woman her aenti had once been. “I looked up, Anna, and I saw not one, not even two, but three rainbows. I’ve never seen such a thing since, and I knew in that moment that Gotte’s promises were gut. I knew I could trust Him.”
“Gotte blessed you even as you walked through the valley,” Mammi said.
“I swore I’d never forget, but I did. I pushed that memory away. I allowed my grief to consume me. Every time another boppli would be born to a woman in our district, the pain in my heart increased. Why were they so blessed when my Susan had been taken? And how did I know, how could I be certain, that I would be reunited with her in heaven?”
Anna’s mother placed an arm around her sister-in-law. “No one blames you for your grief, Erin.”
“But I’ve indulged it too long. My faith—it wasn’t strong enough to see me past those dark days. Then you came to stay with us.” She looked at Anna as she brushed the tears from her cheeks. “You came, and it was like I had a daughter again. I was afraid to let you close at first. I must have seemed terribly cold. I was afraid you would leave us or reject us or—”
Anna remembered those first few months and her aenti’s distance.
“After you were hurt, I prayed to Gotte, Anna. I prayed that if He would save you, I would set my grief aside.”
“And you did. You took gut care of me.”
“Until you were healed, and the old questions returned. Why wasn’t Susan healed? If Gotte was willing to allow a miracle in one situation, why not the other?”
Anna remembered what Chloe’s mom had said, about the people waiting at the end of the lane, about people searching for a miracle.
Erin stood, walked around the table, and pulled Anna into a hug. The woman’s arms were shaking, but she held on tightly. “Gotte sent you a vision of my time of grief, and His deliverance and love.”
She stepped back and touched Anna’s face. “I will see her again. Won’t I?”
Anna nodded. She hadn’t understood it at the time, but of course the scene at the table, in the center of the harvest, was a promise of another reunion—one that would last for all eternity. A holy gathering of those she loved—both those present and those who had gone ahead.
What was the verse Mammi had read to her when she was sick? Something about God wiping away every tear. A promise of no more death or mourning, crying or pain. One day they would be together again, and when they were Erin would be reunited with her only child.
There was a knock at the front door.
“I’ll get it,” Martha said.
Mammi stood and walked over to Anna and Erin. Placing one hand on each of them, she said, “He cares about both of you. He always has, and He’ll see you through the troubles that lie ahead.” Then she turned, clutching her cane, and hobbled into the other room.
CHAPTER 55
Jacob sat through the Sunday service, tense and barely able to control his anger. He realized how
hypocritical he was being—pretending to worship but in fact seething. However, he was honest enough to admit his emotions to himself, even to lift them up in a silent prayer and pray that God would forgive him.
The problem was that he had been watching Anna all morning, ever since she’d first walked through the bishop’s front door for their worship service. On the surface, people were friendly enough. He’d see them smile and a few even enclosed her in a hug. It was plain that many of their congregation were truly happy for her and grateful for the miracle that had occurred.
It was the mumblings when they stepped away that caused Jacob’s temper to rise.
“She’s the reason we have Englischers posted at the lane.”
“Why couldn’t she stay home? Surely it’s a sin to have our service disrupted like this.”
“It might be better if she’d never been healed. For all we know, the accident was Gotte’s judgment on her. And this? How do we know it’s of Gotte?” This was said by Sally Hershberger, who had always struck him as a bitter person. No doubt she had her reasons for her dark attitude toward life, but he couldn’t abide her speaking ill of Anna.
He had stepped forward to confront her when Samuel tugged him away. “Let it be, son.”
Samuel had taken to calling him son months ago. Jacob didn’t see it as a slight on his parents, who he now wrote and called on a regular basis. They weren’t the perfect family, but they were communicating, and he saw that as a good thing. At least he wasn’t running away anymore. He’d found a place where he belonged, and somehow communicating that to his family had erased the tension that had always hung beneath the surface of their relationship.
Jacob knew that Samuel had come to see him as a son, and in truth he enjoyed working for the older man.
“But she said—”
“I heard her myself, and nothing you can say would change her mind. Leave that to Gotte. Perhaps He will speak to her through our sermons today.”
Jacob had allowed himself to be pulled away. He’d joined the men on the far side of the room, but he’d kept his eyes on Sally as well as some of the other women. It was plain enough to tell when they were speaking of Anna, as they would cover their mouths or duck their heads, but always their gaze would return to the girl he loved.
He did love her, and he wouldn’t allow this to continue.
Gossiping was a sin, as surely as adultery or swearing or pride—though Jacob thought it was more damaging than most transgressions. What was it he had read in one of the books that he picked up from a swap shelf? Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people. Apparently, the wife of a president had said that, though a footnote in the book had explained that it originated with a Greek philosopher. Regardless, Jacob felt it applied perfectly to what he was seeing—and hearing.
After the service he would make a point to speak with Bishop Levi. He was still living with the bishop and his family, and Jacob knew the man well enough to have faith that he would stop any gossiping before it spread into something they couldn’t curb.
The sermons that day, not surprisingly, were on miracles recorded in the New Testament. Jacob listened with one ear. Mostly his attention was focused on how he would confront Sally.
They stood for the final hymn, jostling against one another as the room barely held everyone.
Their Sunday gatherings were always crowded because they met in someone’s home. But this morning more were in attendance than normal. It was rare to have Englischers at their service, but today there were a few. They were people Jacob had seen in town, so they had probably attended various weddings or funerals within the Amish community. This wasn’t as rare as some outsiders thought. Though the Amish were encouraged to remain separate, their lives often crossed paths with others in their community. When an Amish person married, or when one passed on, it wasn’t unusual to see folks from the Mennonite and Christian churches attend. Today he guessed the Englisch visitors were there to catch a glimpse of Anna.
There were also more Amish family members than normal—older brothers and sisters who happened to be visiting in the area. Jacob had heard the Stutzmans talking as he walked in. An older man standing with them had asked, “Is that her? The short, plump girl?”
He doubted their being in attendance at the first worship service after Anna’s healing was a coincidence. It seemed morbid curiosity didn’t stop at the police barricade or with the group of Englischers.
Grabbing a seat next to Anna during lunch was impossible. He did catch her glancing his way several times, which gave him the confidence to walk over to her table once she was done eating.
“Care to go for a walk?”
Anna’s family glanced at one another, smiling.
The Bylers were also sitting at Anna’s table. Rebecca said, “Ya, Anna. Go for a walk. I’m sure you’ve heard enough chatter from us old folks.”
Jacob carried her plate to the washtubs, and when he returned to her table Anna was ready to go. Volleyball games and baseball games had already started, but she turned in the other direction, toward the barn.
Good. They would have a few minutes alone.
They had barely stepped into the shadow of the barn when Anna turned toward him, resting her hand on his arm and gazing up into his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here, Jacob. I don’t know what I’d do without you and your friendship.”
Is that what they shared? Friendship?
She turned and moved slowly down the side of the barn, stopping to call over the bishop’s mare. Pulling a carrot from her pocket, she offered it to the dappled gray.
“You’ll spoil her doing that.”
“Will I?”
“Ya. I tell the bishop the same thing. He gives her everything from apples to carrots to sugar cubes.”
“Bishop Levi has been such a gut friend to me, from my arriving here, through my accident and now…” She waved toward her legs. “Now this.”
“He’s a gut man.”
“Many in our congregation are not happy about the guards at the lane.”
Jacob didn’t answer. He was thinking about Sally Hershberger. Should he share with Anna the things he had heard?
She turned to him again, though this time she kept some space between them. “The leadership of our church asked to speak with me and my family later this afternoon.”
He attempted to keep his expression neutral, but he apparently failed because she said, “Don’t worry, Jacob. This is a difficult thing for all of us to understand. I only bring it up because I’m not sure what Gotte would have me say. How do I explain something I don’t understand? Can it even be explained?”
Jacob reached for her and pulled her into the circle of his arms. “You’ve been through a lot this last year, and no doubt your mind and emotions… no doubt they’re tumbling as fast as an Englisch carnival ride.”
When she looked up at him in surprise, he said, “Surely you’ve ridden one. It seems they stopped at every small town I’ve worked in.”
She shook her head, and he peered up toward the sky, trying to remember the names of the rides the children and teens frequented at the carnival.
“The Helter Skelter?”
“Nein.”
“Tilt-A-Whirl, Tumble Bug, Pirate Ship—”
“You’re making those up.”
“I’m not.” He slipped his hand over hers as they began to walk back toward the grouping of tables under the large maple trees. “If you didn’t ride carnival rides, what did you do on your rumspringa?”
“I came to Oklahoma!”
As he laughed and Anna began to giggle, Jacob found that the tightness he’d been experiencing in his chest loosened. He could trust her to say what needed to be said. He knew that Bishop Levi would lead the discussion fairly. But at the very center of things was neither of these individuals. At the center was God. Yes, he had heard the sermon that morning. He didn’t need to worry about Sally Hershberger or any of the other naysayers.
H
e planned to stick around until after the meeting took place in case Anna needed moral support. Where did he have to go? This was where he lived, and Anna was his girl. It occurred to him that he’d like to make that permanent. He wanted to ask her to marry him.
It might be best to wait, though, until the time was right.
For now, they had quite enough going on. He was satisfied to simply walk beside her, their fingers laced together, her laughter still ringing in his ears.
CHAPTER 56
As usual the luncheon and games lasted all afternoon. Anna had thought that perhaps Jacob would ask her to the singing, but in the end she’d needed to wait for the meeting with their church elders. Jacob had waited with her. Soon the benches they had used in the service and around the makeshift picnic tables were loaded into the bench wagon. Anna loved the sound of the horses clip-clopping down the lane and into the twilight.
Unfortunately, a line of buggies developed at the intersection of Levi’s property and the road. Lacretia Gates was a young black woman in charge of the governor’s task force. She offered a calm, assuring presence and had been faithful to keep the Schwartz family updated each day. For the Sunday service, she had divided her group, putting half at the lane leading to the Schwartz place and half at the end of Bishop Levi’s lane. Though it signaled to the onlookers where the family would be for the day, she explained the people would have followed the buggies anyway.
Now those very same buggies backed up down the lane, waiting for the barricade to be moved and the security personnel to allow them to pass. The sight seemed incongruent with the simplicity of the buggies and the peacefulness of the July evening.
Their lives had become a bit of a circus all because of her.
Gradually, one family after another managed to find their way out onto the two-lane blacktop until all that was left was Anna, her family, Jacob, and the leaders of their church.
There was Bishop Levi, who smiled at her now as they all sat down around the remaining picnic table. There were also the two ministers—Luke Hershberger and Daniel Stutzman. The last man to take a place on the far side of the table was Joseph Byler, who was their deacon. He’d arranged several of the fund-raisers that had taken place over the last year.
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