by Ruth Price
They made a good couple even with her falsely colored hair. Abram suspected Sofia was in her early twenties, though her Englischer style of personal grooming made her appear subtly older. Or maybe it was the wariness with which she sat, sharing only hesitant smiles with Samuel, her hands folded tightly in her lap and ankles crossed. Her face lit when she saw Abram however, and she gave him a bright smile as she waved him over. A feeling of lightness came over Abram as he walked towards the Englischer girl. She trusted him. He had barely crossed the room before he began to chastise himself for taking such pride in this simple gesture. Of course the Englischer girl trusted him. She had known him the longest of any of them.
He took up an empty stool, pulled it to Samuel's other side and waited for the hymn to finish. Samuel sang softly, and a bit off key, which sent a stab of venomous joy through Abram. What was wrong with him? His sister had said grief too long held would fester, and perhaps it had. Abram joined his voice, a strong baritone, in with the others. It had been a long time since he'd had the chance or impetus to sing, but though his voice was rusty, he sang the notes true.
On his rumspringa, Abram had sung with a local band, and though putting ones self forward to raise oneself above others was a sin under the Ordnung, he'd loved being on the stage, drawing joy and excitement from the listeners below as they jumped, danced, and applauded at his efforts. That high had been stronger than the drugs other members of the band had taken, a chaotic lifestyle which had lead to constant infighting in the band and its eventual implosion. The high of performing had been second only to the joy of holding his wife, her belly fluttering against his palm as the baby kicked. At that time, he felt God's voice in the whisper the wind over the cornfields, in Rebekah's warm smile and her soft breathing, her feet woven between his as they slept.
There was a smattering of applause and then the low murmur of conversation while people decided what to sing next. "That was lovely," Sofia said, when Abram sat beside her. She leaned a towards him. The shortness of the stool meant she didn't have to look up to meet his eyes. "What language is that? German?"
"You have a good ear," Abram said. "Most people would have assumed Dutch, I suppose because the Englischers have named Lancaster Pennsylvania Dutch Country for the tourists."
"Thank you," Sofia pushed a stray hair back behind her ear. "You're all so kind. I hope I can pay you back someday for all the help you've given me."
"Helping your fellow man is (proscribed) in the Ordnung and a tenant of the Bible as well. There's no need to thank us."
"Yes, Abram is the picture of a proper Amish man," Samuel cut in. "He's to be admired." Samuel's words and expression seemed kindly meant, but something in the steadiness of his gaze made Abram doubt his sincerity. Foolish man, Abram chastised himself again. Abram was acting like a smeeli himself, a youth just turned sixteen instead of a man. How could Abram allow himself to become jealous of a child's flirtations with a stranger who was leaving them in less than a quarter hour? Samuel couldn't help his good looks and facile way of speaking anymore than Abram could the power and range of his voice. A man was given talents to use for the glory of God. So long as he did not use those talents to place himself above his fellow man, or succumb to the mirror sins of pride and envy, only good could come of it. Abram needed deeper prayer, perhaps a conversation with the (Bishop) about this corruption that threatened to make inroads on his soul.
"No matter how we try, labor, it is easy to fall from grace," Abram said seriously. "So, have you settled on a particular woman to court?"
"I don't want to get ahead of myself," Samuel said. "I have prayed long and hard, but the Lord has not yet seen fit to let His will be known to me. Or perhaps I don't yet know how to properly listen. How did you know?"
"Excuse me?" Abram's immediate reaction was white hot anger, immediately quelled in shame. He had been drawn to Rebekah from their first conversation, him in Philadelphia for his band, and her at the Reading Terminal market selling baked goods. Though they'd both been born and raised in Lancaster, she'd been clear on the other side of the district, and if their paths had crossed prior to that meeting, it had made no impression on either of them. She had been only seventeen, him twenty two, and they'd been baptized and married a year later. He often questioned the speed of their courtship, if it would not have been better for her to have had a better taste of the world, not that she'd wanted it. Rebekah had been content with their farm and their life. So had he, until the end.
Sofia laid a soft hand on his. "Are you okay? You don't have to answer. It can't be easy for you."
"I knew from our second conversation, and suspected from our first. At that time, God whispered so easily in my life."
A knock sounded at the front door. It could only be the police officer, Abram thought, here to take Sofia away. "Don't worry about the clothes," Abram said. "Take them as a gift to remember your time here."
"Thank you," Sofia said, her voice thick.
Ruth stood and ran to the door. "One moment!"
The angle of the room to the hall meant that even as close to the room's entrance as Abram was, he could only catch a partial outline of the officer's frame. He could hear well enough, as the ambient conversation in the room silenced, all listening while pretending they weren't actively eavesdropping as Ruth greeted the officer. The officer had a distinctive accent, as though he'd lived in a different part of the country before coming to Pennsylvania.
Sofia's grip on Abram's hand tightened, squeezing painfully.
When Abram turned his attention to her, Sofia's face had lost all color, and she was hunched over herself protectively. Abram whispered, "What's wrong?"
Sofia was shaking, her entire body; never had Abram seen someone so afraid.
Ruth yelled, "Officer Maglioine says he's here for the Englischer. Where is she?"
"No. Please no," Sofia whispered.
"Take Sofia through the back hall to the kitchen and out the back. She can stay at your place for the time being." Abram ordered Samuel, dislodging her hand and placing it in Samuel's. The words came without thought, as though given directly from the mouth of God. Samuel nodded, and lead Sofia from the room.
Abram walked to the door to confront the police officer, hopeful that the Lord would continue to guide his steps, that he might say the right thing to keep Sofia safe. Whatever had happened to her was brutal enough to leave her bruised in flesh and hollowed in spirit, and her fears, whether rational or not, deserved proper consideration.
Officer Maglione was whipcord thin with stringy light brown hair that brushed the top of his ears. He wore a badge, and a billy club and holstered gun hung from the belt at his hip. His walkies-talkie was silent, possibly turned off out of respect for Amish custom. He looked up as Abram approached, his eyes at first shining with the same anticipation of a cat stalking a mouse before blinking, a flash of confusion crossing his features, "Where's the girl?" he asked, looking over Abram with narrowed eyes.
"Ruth," Abram said, waving towards the girl who had opened the door. "Annie needs you in the kitchen to help with arranging the breads for after the circle, please."
Ruth thankfully left without questioning how Abram had come to know this.
"The girl," the officer said again, a bit louder.
Lying was a sin under the Ordnung, the vow by which Abram had chosen to live his life when he was baptized before his marriage. While he had often failed to measure up to the task in spirit as well as letter, he had not, until this point, deliberately chosen to defy it.
Dear God, Abram prayed, please guide my path and my tongue that I might be a vessel for Your will. He took a breath and said, "I don't know where she is. She seemed agitated. I think she left."
Officer Maglione's eyes widened and his lips parted in obvious disbelief. His collar shifted, and Abram caught glimpse of a fresh scab on his neck, as though some animal had scratched the officer just last night. A vein throbbed in his neck as he asked in a very controlled voice, "Where did she go?"
Abram shrugged. "I don't know. It's Englischer business. We choose not to involve ourselves in Englischer business."
"I'll need to search the premises," the police officer said.
He attempted to push past Abram, who stood firm. "Has this woman committed a crime? Annie said her family was looking for her."
"They are.
"Then I suppose she's decided to return to them. Or not." Abram shrugged again, schooling his expression to stoic blandness. "It's an individual's choice whether or not they return to their parents' world, ja."
The vein in Officer Maglione's neck pulsed faster, and he gripped the base of his club with white knuckled fingers. His knuckles were scratched, with fresh scabs where someone or some action on his part had recently drawn blood. "We have reason to believe Sofia may have come to harm. This is obstruction of justice."
It was perfectly reasonable that the police officer be upset if he believed Sofia to be in danger, and Abram should have simply allowed him to speak with the Englischer girl, if nothing else so she could assure her family that she was safe. Yet something about this man had awakened a fear in the Englischer woman so strong, she had been literally shivering in her chair. And the scratches, only on Officer Maglione's hands and neck, where he might have struck someone who in turn had been struggling to escape, roused suspicion in Abram. There was something off about this police officer. He certainly wasn't local, and his uniform didn't exactly resemble the Philadelphia officers he'd seen either. He should not be allowed within sight of Sofia, and certainly would not have opportunity to take her away if Abram have anything to do with it.
"You have to let me search your house, it's the law."
"This way, officer." Abram said. Not waiting for a reply, Abram started towards the room where all of the others were gathered. By giving the police officer a guided tour, that would hopefully allow Samuel enough time to not only get Sofia out of the house, but also safely hidden.
"Abram!" There was a swish of skirts as Annie came running in from the kitchen. A white splotch of flour clung to her forehead just below her kapp. "Why didn't you tell me Officer Maglione was here? Hello officer, may I offer you something to eat or drink? The Englischer girl is in the main room."
"Your husband said she'd left."
Annie burst out laughing. "Abram! He's the same age as my youngest brother. My husband is at the Deacon's meeting." Her attention turned back to Abram. "What do you mean, left? Where'd she go?"
"She said she remembered something and left with Samuel."
"And you just let her run off into the dark? With Samuel! He's not yet an adult." Annie's expression glowered with disapproval. "Abram Yoder, this is disgraceful.
"I couldn't force her to stay, Annie. It's not our way."
"You're even more rigid than Rebekah! I swear, if the pair of you had even a bit of common sense, maybe she wouldn't ha—" Annie brought her hand up to her mouth with an expression of pure horror. "I'm so sorry. Rebekah was a good and Godly woman. I would never speak ill of her."
Abram was too shocked at this revelation of how his wife had been perceived to do anything but stare. Rigid about the Ordnung? Of course he was rigid about the Ordnung. He'd taken a vow to live his life by those tenants, in order to be closer to God. There was no greater thing to strive for, in that, as much as their love for each other, him and Rebekah had been as one. He wondered what Rebekah thought, looking down on him from the next life, at his duplicity now. He hadn't lied. God had at least worked through him well enough to avoid the letter of deceit, if not the practice of it. Or was it pride to assume that God was the one guiding him? The road to sin was bricked with the justifications a man made to uphold his own image of righteousness.
Still, God had given Sofia to Abram's care, and he would not let her down.
They walked into the living room. The other members of the singing group were seated on the stools and sofas. They looked up at the Englischer police officer as he entered.
"He's here about the Englischer woman," Abram said. "The one who left with Samuel."
"Did she tell any of you where she was going?" Officer Maglione asked.
There was a round of head shaking. One of the girls said, "Samuel was flirting with her." She was tall with very sharp features and dark brown hair that made her seem more severe than her nineteen years of age. There was a hint of resentment to her tone, and her lip curled on the word "flirting" as though she wished Samuel had saved his flirting for her instead.
"I'm so sorry, Officer Maglione," Annie said. Her round cheeks were red. "I'll certainly have her call you again should she come back. Maybe she has just decided to return to her family. If any of us could get her in one of your English cars tonight, it would be Samuel. I fear he's more out of the Community than in, though as his Mamm's only son, he's reluctant to leave her all-together. Whenever you make a choice, there's always a sacrifice."
"Do you know what sort of vehicle this Samuel might be driving?"
Annie shrugged. "He's not yet been baptized, so he has no prohibition against using any vehicle he likes. He would have parked it some distance from here though, in order not to be rude. But Abram here heard that she might be going home. Poor thing had lost her memory, though maybe she's gained something back. If she finds her own way home, her family will be just as pleased as if she came in your capable hands. That would be for the best."
"Right," Officer Maglione said, but his expression was fixed, and when he spoke, there was a stress to his tone, as though his jaw was tight with some form of stress. He studied each of the remaining youths at the singing circle with calculating eyes. When he had determined the obvious, that Sofia wasn't there, he asked to look through the rest of he house.
"Sure, if you like," Annie said. Abram stayed at the officer's side as he looked through the house. His gaze flitted to paintings and empty spaces. He even had Annie open the door to her bedroom, something that she did not make her look pleased. When he had finished his search of the house, he took his leave. At this point, the sweet smell of sugared breads had permeated the first floor. Some of the girls had taken the trays of food from the kitchen and begun to distribute them, There was laughter and more singing, as the youths hummed with excitement and speculation.
"A bit odd, that one," Annie said, once the police officer was gone. "What did he think, we'd kidnapped the poor girl?"
"Something happened to her. You saw that wound on her head, and the clothes she was wearing before were torn and she didn't have any shoes, only muddy socks," Abram said. "When she heard that police officer's voice, she was terrified."
"Why would she be scared of the police?"
"She wasn't scared of the police. She was scared of that officer specifically. That's why I asked Samuel to take her. She was so scared she was shaking."
"You think that Englischer police officer did something to her?"
"I don't know. I don't think she does either. But there's something wrong about this situation. It was as though God guided my words, when I was speaking with that officer. And maybe it's nothing, but I couldn't let her go with him, not when she was so scared."
"Humph. You really are willing to go a long way for a stranger, and an Englischer to boot."
"It's not so much. The Ordnung says that we should help others. "
"Be careful Abram," Annie said. "Even if she wasn't troubled, she would be an Englischer, and very, very young. If you're interested in finding another wife, I will be happy to help. You've lived too long alone as it is. It will be good to bring some light into your house."
"I—I don't--" How could Abram think of replacing Rebekah in his home or in his heart?
"It's just good to see you out for something other than Church meeting or the like. And this is the most alive I've seen you in a long time. I thank God for bringing the Englischer girl into your life for that. I just hope by God she is safe and will be able to return to her mamm and daed unharmed. Well," Annie corrected herself, "Having suffered
no more harm. Are you going to ride home tonight, or do you think you'll need to stay over?"
"I asked Samuel to take Sofia to stay the night at my sister's. I should go also, to make sure she's comfortable."
"Comfortable, ja." Annie pursed her lips. "Be careful, Abram. You don't know this girl. She doesn't even know herself."
"Ja, danki." Abram said, thanking her.
Annie didn't let him go until he had piled her up with a take home container of cinnamon smelling friendship bread and creamed potato casserole. "Just a little something to share with Esther," she said. "You take care of yourself, ja. Take care with your heart."
It was a fair warning, Abram thought. Not that he had any expectations beyond helping the Englischer girl. The man he had been briefly, before Rebekah and his vows to the church might have been able to cross into her world, but for now, his place was here.
Food in hand, Abram walked past the room where the singing circle was still in full swing. A tremulous soprano coursed over the group, and soon the others joined in. Abram paused at the entrance, leaning against the door frame.
It as a hymn of thanksgiving that Abram had sung all through his childhood, as all of them had, and he sang it with all his heart. No matter how it all had ended, he was grateful to his bones that Rebekah had been his wife. He wished that she had stayed with him long enough for their love to have settled from the newness of passion to the steadiness of true and lasting love, bound together in the eyes of the Almighty. But Rebekah was gone, and she would not want him to mourn her forever. Abram had to move forward, not by leaving her behind, but by allowing her place in his heart to be warmed by God's light. God is love, Abram reminded himself. Yes, he would take care with his heart, but that didn't mean he should hide it. He could not make room for God unless he allowed himself to love again.
Chapter 7
"This way," Samuel whispered in Sofia's ear, and then louder said, "Excuse us," followed by something in German.
Sofia could barely think beyond the beating of her heart telling her to run, run, run. The policeman's voice, the cadence of his speech, was exactly the same as the cruel man in her dream. He would take her back to that place where her nightmares lived, that place that had swallowed up the memories of her true self.
