The meal wrapped up in silence, and Abigail shooed them out the door, saying she’d clean up without their help.
Elle grabbed her camera, its case, and a large black bag of some sort. She pulled a set of keys out. “Why don’t you put the horse to pasture, and I’ll drive.”
That wasn’t the way he’d pictured tonight at all, but he led the mare into the barn, unhitched her from the buggy, and put her in the field. Elle slid behind the wheel, and he got in on the passenger’s side, feeling a complete lack of dignity.
Over the next hour, as they drove everywhere and nowhere at the same time, she told him all about living with Sid, helping to run his bakery, and taking photography classes. “See, the school teaches classes two ways, through sessions—which is what I’ve been taking. Or through an actual professional program—which is what I’d like to take.” She paused.
Matthew nodded, feeling rather foggy about what she’d rattled off.
She adjusted the rearview mirror. “Well? What do you think?”
“I think it’s an odd hobby for someone who’s planning on being baptized into the faith.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I know. But if I take photos of people who aren’t Amish and photos of scenery, the bishop will make an exception.”
Matthew propped his elbow on the car door next to the window. “I’m not so sure he will.”
“Of course he will.”
“Do you ever lack confidence in what all you can talk people into?”
She turned, frowning at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shook his head. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay, what?” Her tone was clipped.
“How about if I show you the expansion on our shop?”
She nodded, used a stranger’s driveway to turn around in, and headed for Owl’s Perch. It was dark now, making it even harder for Matthew to gauge her thoughts.
They crossed into Owl’s Perch. “Could we go by Luke’s old harness shop and let me pick up some supplies first?”
“Sure. I’m glad the business is going so well for you.”
“Thanks. It’s a handful, that’s for sure.”
They drove on for miles in silence. He’d never once thought they might have trouble finding things to talk about. They never had before.
She drew a deep breath. “Matthew, I … I’ve applied for the professional program.”
“What’s that?” He took notice of the Lapp house as they passed it.
“I told you … didn’t I?” She slowed as the road went from pavement to gravel. “It’s a course where I can get a diploma in photography.”
“In photography?”
“Well, don’t sound so skeptical. It’s a viable course.”
Wondering what she meant by viable, he nodded. “I guess.”
Dust churned under the wheels until she slowed to enter the driveway. Putting the car in Park, she drew a deep breath. “The program starts next month and takes eleven months to finish.”
He just sat there, staring at her silhouette through the darkness. “Eleven months?”
She fidgeted with the steering wheel. “I know that sounds like a long time, but I really want to do this. I’m good at it, and I’ve never really been good at anything before.”
“Yeah, but …” Firelight from inside the shop caught his eye. He studied the place, seeing a flicker inside as if someone had lit a match. Even though the apartment above the shop-turned-storage-room was rented out to a young Amish couple, no one but Luke or Matthew was supposed to go into the storage area—not that they ever locked it.
Matthew opened the car door. “Wait here.”
She turned the car off. “But we’re in the middle—”
“I know,” Matthew interrupted her before getting out of the car and tiptoeing onto the porch. As he peered through the front window, disbelief ran through him.
Sarah?
She had a thin stick held up to the flame.
He tapped on the door, giving her a warning before he opened it. “Sarah?”
She jumped back, dropping the burning twig onto the floor. Matthew hurried over and stomped the tiny flames out. “What are you doing here?”
“I … I was looking …”
He grabbed her by the elbows. “Do you have any idea how easily these boxes and crates would catch on fire?”
She looked around and shook her head. “I … I didn’t think … I’m sorry.” Tears filled her eyes. “I … I’m sorry.”
He released her and put the globe on the kerosene lamp. “Sarah, are ya not any better in all these months since Hannah left?”
She stomped her foot. “I’m fine! Everybody thinks everything is all about Hannah, even after all these months.” She mimicked the last part of the sentence, mocking his words. “You got no proof, you know?”
“Proof?”
“That you and Hannah were only gone five minutes.” She stretched her neck, like she was looking down on him.
He sighed. “I’m not going to try to set that event straight, Sarah.”
“Why not?”
“Because if I do, it’ll only cause trouble—too much of it—for you.”
“So you think Hannah’s the only one with enough gumption to handle trouble?”
“Do you want me to tell, Sarah?”
Sarah stared at him, looking both petrified and defiant—if that was possible. She grabbed the matches off the counter. “Did you know that I heard fire can erase things? As if they’d never happened.” She struck a match. “Don’t remember where I heard it though. Do you think that’s true?”
“No. But what I do think is that it’s time for you to give me the matches and go home.”
He was part of Sarah’s community, and that meant looking after each other, like being members of the same household, but tonight was for Elle, not Sarah. She blew on the match, making the flame disappear.
The front door opened. “Matthew?” Elle called.
He turned. “Come in, Elle. I found Sarah in here, and she was just leaving. Right, Sarah?” Holding out his hand for the matches, he waited until Sarah put them in his hand. “Don’t play with matches, Sarah.”
She ran out the door.
Elle frowned. “What was that all about?”
“I didn’t take the time to find out.” He moved to the back part of the shop and grabbed a box of hardware for the leads and harnesses.
Elle looked around the overcrowded shop. “You must be staying awfully busy to afford this many supplies.”
“Beyond anything I thought possible.” Matthew pushed against the door with his back and held it open for Elle.
“Will you miss me at all while I’m gone for the next year?”
Matthew let the door close behind her, and they walked to the car. “I didn’t realize that issue was settled.”
Elle gave a slight shrug and opened the trunk to her car.
Matthew set the box inside, feeling frustration mount. “Elle, is it a settled issue?”
With butterflies in her stomach, Hannah slid out of the driver’s seat and locked her car, then crossed the parking lot of Alliance High School. It was the official test-taking site for her GED. Eight in the morning on a Saturday and a beautiful fall day at that. Not a cloud in the sky. She paused, looking at the life-size jet mounted on school property. It seemed sort of … What was that word she learned last week?
Apropos.
That was it. It meant “befitting,” and it was definitely apropos to view this aircraft as she entered the building. The day Paul had proposed she’d felt like she was soaring. She remembered thinking that wherever jets took people couldn’t be as exciting as where her dreams were taking her.
Now she knew—dreams weren’t what took people places. Circumstances were, followed by decisions and determination. Right now her circumstances required her to pass this GED test, or she’d not be able to get into the nursing program anytime soon.
She had to push through her day
s with the same determination as in her other, Plain life, just with more right to speak up and make her own decisions. She liked the part about making her own choices, mostly. At least, she thought she would eventually like it. If she could figure out what God really thought about education, television, movies, clothing styles, hair, makeup, and all the other fancy things that were part of the Englischer lifestyle.
She walked into the empty building, thinking it would have been easier to concentrate today if the test site was the same as the studying site. She went up the stairs to the second floor and located room 256. One glance said she was the first student to arrive because she was sure the man in the room was the examiner.
He looked up from the papers in his hand. “Ah, the first test taker has arrived. Just show me your ID, and then find a desk that suits you.” He glanced at his watch. “We have four more, who should arrive within the next fifteen minutes, and then I’ll give instructions and pass out the tests.”
She showed him her driver’s license and then took a seat, wondering if she’d pass the test. Around four this afternoon she’d be finished, and within two weeks she’d have the results. But tonight Martin would come by the cabin and want to know what she thought about the test; tonight Zabeth would have a cake to celebrate her taking the test, whether she made the grade or not.
The two of them were quite a pair, prodding and supporting. It was an odd family she’d landed in, but they’d taken her in as one of their own—even Faye had, in her semifunctional ways. Zabeth now had a short crop of coarse black hair, and although the damage to her heart was slowly taking its toll, she was still the core of this unit. Martin seemed to be the leader and organizer, Faye was clearly the rogue, and her children made this strange group of people feel like a real team.
Why was it that every family had a Faye? Or at least a perceived one. Hannah filled that role within the Lapp household, so she felt a kinship with Faye on some level.
Zabeth never wavered in her belief that Faye would find God and would change. Hannah was less certain, but her aunt’s belief in people was totally refreshing. It wouldn’t bother Zabeth if Hannah came home saying she had a new dream, as long as she was willing to pursue it, whatever it was. After growing up in a community where members were forbidden to do anything differently from the forefathers, she found that this life was as confusing as it was exhilarating. Zabeth said she’d get used to it and come to a place where freedom meant boldness to follow God, not fear of displeasing Him.
And Faye was always around to challenge Hannah at every turn, offering makeup, new styles of clothing, and nights out with other girls. None of which she had taken her up on. Not yet anyway.
“Hannah.” A male voice spoke her name as he laid the test packet on her desk.
A nervous tingle ran through her. The others had arrived while she’d been daydreaming. Now it was time to see if she was as smart as Martin and Zabeth said she was.
Mary tried to remain calm as the preaching part of the church service ended and each youth who intended to be baptized today rose from the benches. Six young people followed the bishop and deacon out of the Bylers’ barn, while everyone else remained seated.
It was time.
In a few minutes the bishop and deacon would speak to her privately and ask if she was sure she was ready to take the vow. It was a serious matter, and they would look each person in the eye and ask if they were sure they were ready to take on the full responsibility of laying all worldliness aside and living in submission to the Ordnung and the church leaders.
Mary had no doubts—plenty of guilt, but absolutely no doubts. She’d take her vows. And she intended to keep everything in the Ordnung down to the least jot and tittle. But she’d keep her secret.
Her faith was in God, not in doctors who said she was healed. If she was healed, then why tell her she wasn’t to conceive a child for several years? Verhuddelt. That’s what those doctors were. Confused.
Within a few weeks she and Luke, along with every other engaged Amish couple across the States, would be published and could begin preparations for the wedding. She quietly waited her turn, hoping neither the bishop nor the deacon saw anything reflected in her eyes but a desire to be the best Amish woman and wife they’d ever known.
“Mary.” The bishop motioned for her. She walked the hundred or so feet to the side yard and stood in front of the two men.
“You may raise your head and look at us, child.”
Time seemed to trudge ever so slowly as she fought to lift her head.
The bishop’s small eyes were targeted firmly on her. “Is something troubling you, Mary?”
She shook her head. “I have no doubts about joining the faith. I want to keep the ways of our people and trust God with all things.”
He glanced to the deacon, who nodded his approval. “Very well then. You may return to the others who wait while we talk to a few more.”
It wasn’t long before the six youths were following the bishop and deacon back into the service. They kept their heads bowed, but she knew Grace, the bishop’s wife, and Elizabeth, the deacon’s wife, had moved to the front of the church to help their husbands with the ceremony. When Mary and the others sat on the bench, they bent over and kept their faces covered. Soon enough her back ached as they remained in that position while the service continued. She heard words being spoken over the people being baptized ahead of her and water spattering on the ground.
Was she wrong? Was she taking a solemn vow as she concealed a lie from everyone around her, or was she truly trusting God?
She felt Grace remove the pins from her prayer Kapp and slowly lift it from her head. The bishop’s hands were now cupped over her head as the deacon poured water into them.
Oh, dear God, I pray this is a step of faith and not deceit.
Water poured down her face and neck, but it didn’t carry the cleansing she’d expected. The bishop’s wife replaced Mary’s prayer Kapp before kissing her and welcoming her into the fold.
She never should have taken such a vow while hiding her lie from Luke.
With Dorcas moving way too slowly, Paul held the door as they entered the mall. He needed a wedding gift for Luke and Mary, so he’d requested Dorcas’s help in finding a suitable present.
Surprisingly, he’d received an invitation, although if he went, it would cause turmoil among Mary’s and Luke’s families and even throughout their extended families who would come from other states for the wedding. Paul seemed to be really good at causing friction these days—even among his church leaders, among the families in his place of worship, and within his own family.
Maybe it was time he branched out and shared his “golden” touch.
Paul sighed, weary of how the conservative beliefs of his people worked to mold his life. The church leaders were still waiting for him to repent over the ball games.
“Any ideas?” Dorcas asked.
Paul shoved his hands in his pockets. “That’s what you’re here for. I could draw a blank on what to get Luke and Mary all by myself.”
Dorcas grabbed his arm. “Slow down. I can’t walk that fast.”
He slowed. “We’re walking at the pace of an old lady as it is. I’ve got to find something, get it wrapped, and …” For the first time he wondered, if he didn’t go to the wedding, where would he take the gift? He only saw Luke on rare occasions. Since it was fall, and he’d begun school again, he wasn’t in Owl’s Perch very often.
Nonetheless, he’d received an invitation.
“Think I should go?”
“Go where?”
“To the wedding.”
“Oh.” Dorcas shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you want to go?”
“That’s a good question. Because Luke and Mary invited me, yes. For the reaction Luke and Mary might experience from relatives and friends because of me, no.”
“Hmm. I would go.”
“Why?”
“Because it’d give you some insight into what life would be lik
e if you married into that family.”
“If? Thanks, Dorcas.” There was a store in front of him with all types of timepieces. “A clock would make a nice gift, wouldn’t it?”
“I guess. You go look while I sit on that bench.”
He frowned. “You that tired because of walking from the truck to here?”
“I just sort of ache all over.” She reached for him.
“You weren’t moving this slowly when we bought presents for A-Yom and shipped them off.”
She shrugged. “I’m just not feeling good today. That’s all.”
He placed his hand under her forearm. “You want us to get a drink at the food court and rest there awhile?”
She sat on the bench and looked up at him, seemingly surprised by his offer. “I thought you were in a hurry.”
“Sounds like it’s time to slow down a bit.” Paul took a seat beside her, deciding his tendency to use her to help him was self-centered. He hadn’t been a friend. As long as she was helpful, he tolerated her.
That’s just wrong, Waddell.
As if catching a glimpse of his life from the church leaders’ perspective, he began to wonder if they were more right than he’d given them credit for. There were agreed-upon goals for the Plain society, and either you agreed with those goals, or you separated from the church.
He’d done neither.
“Dorcas.” Paul rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been really headstrong and difficult, haven’t I?”
Her green eyes fastened on him. “I figured it was your more-buried self coming out.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugged. “You never considered not being Plain, because the step from Old Order Amish to Plain Mennonite was as much as you’d dare ask of Hannah.”
Paul leaned back, wondering if she was right.
A group of teenagers passed them, and he took note of how they dressed and behaved. It took about two seconds to see they were rebelling. Tattoos everywhere, multiple piercing with chains connected to half a dozen parts of their body, and ugly, two-word sayings hand painted on their filthy clothing.
Sisters of the Quilt Page 49
