Meek and Mild

by Newport, Olivia

  “If you will excuse me,” Andrew said, “I have a farm to run.”

  “I am sure you can take a few minutes from your busy day to repent,” Noah said. “Our Lord is faithful and just to forgive us our sins.”

  “Please sit down,” Joseph said. “Let us pray for you, that you might have a clean heart once again.”

  “I will not repent when I have not sinned.”

  “If we say we have no sin,” Joseph said, “we deceive ourselves. We read this in 1 John.”

  “I didn’t say I have no sin,” Andrew said. “I only believe the actions you named are not sinful.” He might have to repent if he lost his temper, but he would not repent for taking Clara to Maryland.

  “Please.” Noah gestured to a chair. “Come, let us reason together.”

  Andrew wondered if they intended to quote the entire Bible to him one verse at a time. He sat down, calculating whether they would dismiss him without a statement of repentance if in fact they could have a reasonable discussion.

  “Yes,” he said, “let us reason together. I will be happy to explain to you my conviction.”

  “You must repent,” Noah said.

  Andrew regretted sitting down. “And if I don’t?”

  “Then we will have no choice but to put you under the ban.”

  “The Marylanders will welcome me with open hearts.”

  Clara’s face flashed across his mind. Would she agree to move to a new congregation and leave her family behind? And the wedding—she might not be agreeable to marrying outside their own district.

  I am betrothed. Clara was aware of the silly grin on her face, but driving the Kuhn buggy alone on the road to Andrew’s farm, she did not care. In a few weeks, Andrew’s home would be her home. The shine of the events on the Hostetler farm had not worn off, and Clara prayed they never would. When she told Hiram the baby’s name, his lips had parted and spread.

  “My Catherine would have been embarrassed,” he said, “but another Catherine to remind us of her…”

  His voice trailed off, and emotion flushed through him. All these years later, with another wife and three more children, her father shared with her aunt the memory of the woman they loved.

  Clara saved the news of her betrothal. Andrew had made her promise to wait until he spoke to Hiram, and Clara had made him promise not to wait very long. At home she let everyone think her light mood rose only from the baby’s arrival.

  Andrew was not on his farm. Thinking he might be at the Johnson place, Clara pulled the rig back out on the main road and found herself blocked by a sorrel who seemed to be resisting the reins.

  “I’m sorry,” the young rider said. “I only came back to make sure Mr. Raber went.”

  “Went where?” Clara asked, waiting for the boy to get control of the horse.

  “Joseph Yoder’s,” he said. “They sent me this morning to find him. I don’t want to be in trouble if he didn’t actually go.”

  “I need to get by you, please,” Clara said.

  She zigzagged through the back roads to Mose Beachy’s farm. He was a reasonable man, a kind man. And he was the bishop.

  She raced onto his property. He could be anywhere on the farm, but Lucy would know where to send Clara. With the firmest knock of her life, Clara rapped on the front door.

  Rather than Lucy, though, Mose answered the door.

  “They have Andrew.” Clara spat out the words.

  The pleasant greeting in Mose’s face soured. “Where?”

  “At Joseph’s.”

  Mose reached for his hat on a hook beside the door. “Lucy, I’m going out.”

  Clara lengthened her stride to keep up with Mose, who aimed for her buggy rather than take time to hitch up his own.

  “I’ll drive,” he said, taking up the reins. “You tell me what this is about.”

  As they jostled along the road, Clara stumbled through an explanation.

  The pressing message about Martha’s labor.

  No buggy to take from the Kuhn farm.

  Andrew turning up on the road just then.

  The automobile.

  The urgency.

  The fright.

  “It’s the only thing I can think of,” she said, catching her breath. “It’s either because he has the Model T or because he used it to drive me to Maryland.”

  “Andrew and I will have to talk further about the Model T,” Mose said, “but I could not have made myself more clear with Joseph and Noah about having these confrontations about the meidung without speaking to me first.”

  As they traveled, Clara wished for the speed of Andrew’s automobile. They would be at the Yoders’ by now if they were in the Model T.

  Finally, Mose turned into the farm’s lane and they scrambled toward the house, where Joseph’s wife did not dare deny the bishop entrance.

  Joseph’s study was dark and foreboding. Clara’s heart battered against her ribs.

  “I speak German, Pennsylvania Dutch, and English,” Mose said with impressive calm. “If you will tell me your preference, I will make sure that I am communicating clearly.”

  Joseph glared. “Our brother is in need of repentance, and as ministers it is our calling to guide him to it.”

  “He has done nothing to repent of!” Clara cried.

  The Yoders remained infuriatingly calm.

  “He visited a Marylander family to whom he is not related, and he drove an English automobile to get there,” Noah said.

  “I was with him,” Clara said. “Were you planning to send for me next?”

  “You went to see your family,” Noah said. “And while you rode in the automobile, you did not drive it and neither do you own it. You have done nothing wrong.”

  “But we were together the whole time. What he did, I did. What I did, he did. We made the choices together. He took me because I asked him to.”

  “Clara,” Andrew said quietly.

  “You did not sin, but Andrew did,” Joseph pronounced.

  It made no sense to Clara. She turned to Mose.

  Mose repositioned a chair and indicated that Clara should sit in it. Trembling, she obeyed. Only an hour ago she had left home with a brimming heart and the expectation of a joyous day. She wanted Andrew to kiss her while they planned for him to visit the Kuhn farm that afternoon. When they spoke to Mose—together—it would be about publishing their banns, not about whether either of them harbored sin for which they ought to repent.

  “Are you prepared to dismiss Andrew from this conversation?” Mose said, still standing.

  “He has not yet repented,” Noah pointed out. “We would like to pray for him and await the Holy Ghost’s conviction.”

  Clara watched Andrew’s face. Though stiff, his expression told little of what might already have transpired. How long had he been there? What had they threatened him with? His eyes met hers, and he shook his head slightly.

  Clara sprang to her feet. “Are you trying to chase us to the Maryland district? Is that what you want? To be rid of us?”

  “Clara.” Mose and Andrew spoke at the same time.

  She ignored them and scowled at the brothers. “Don’t tell me this is for the good of the congregation. Accusations and threats are no way to hold the church together.”

  Noah gave a sharp clap. “Contain your impudence!”

  Mose gestured to Andrew. “Please take Clara outside and wait for me there.”

  “Our meeting has not concluded,” Joseph said.

  “Andrew, please,” Mose said.

  Andrew took Clara’s elbow, and together they let themselves out of the Yoder home. Clara squinted into the sunlight as she pushed out a series of short breaths. Silent, they waited a few minutes beside Clara’s buggy. Andrew had brought only a horse. He glanced at the house every few seconds, as if willing the door to open and Mose to emerge.

  “This was Yonnie,” Andrew said. “I have to talk to him.”

  Clara laid a hand on his arm. “Not while you’re angry.”

&nb
sp; He laid one hand on her cheek. “I will not speak in anger. I will do my best to speak the truth in love.”

  “Mose asked us to wait for him,” Clara said.

  “He’s taking too long,” Andrew said. “I’ll explain to him later. Will you be all right getting your buggy home?”

  “Mose rode with me,” Clara said. “I have no choice but to wait for him.”

  Andrew leaned in and kissed her. “Come find me later, at the Johnson place. I’ll tell you everything.”

  He swung himself astride his horse and galloped off the farmstead.

  Behind Clara, Mose’s voice boomed. “Andrew!”

  Andrew paused long enough to look over his shoulder. But he did not turn around.

  If there were repercussions for defying Mose’s request to wait outside the Yoder home, Andrew would face them later. Clara would understand, and Mose might scowl but he would listen—which was more than Andrew could say for the Yoders. He rode straight to the dairy, confident that if Yonnie had done the morning rounds he would be back by now.

  “I let him go a week ago,” Dale said when Andrew politely asked for a few minutes of Yonnie’s time.

  “Let him go?” Andrew echoed.

  “We came to a parting of ways.” Dale riffled papers on his desk. “And if you know him half as well as I think you do, you know why.”

  “Where is he working now?”

  “I haven’t heard that he is.” Dale stood up. “If I run into him, I’ll let him know you were looking for him.”

  Andrew nodded at Dale’s empty assurance. The dairy owner was not likely to run into his former employee.

  So where was Yonnie?

  Andrew mounted his horse and puffed his cheeks.

  Riding out to Yonnie’s family farm carried the risk that he had not told his parents or siblings of his loss of employment. Andrew knew Yonnie not half as well as Dale suspected but twice as well. And Yonnie would get up and leave the farm on his normal schedule rather than concern his parents before he was ready with an announcement that would put them at ease.

  Andrew let his horse enjoy a restful pace, riding with his hands crossed over the horn of the saddle while he tried to think as Yonnie would think. Once, when they were eleven, Yonnie let himself get talked into a prank with some boys that got them all suspended from school for three days. Andrew doubted Yonnie’s parents knew to this day. Yonnie left the house in the morning with his brothers and sisters and stepped out of the group just before students entered the Crossroads School. In the afternoon he caught up with his siblings along the path home. Years later Yonnie admitted to Andrew that he spent those three days hiding in an abandoned outbuilding, afraid to be seen during school hours.

  An abandoned outbuilding.

  At the next turn, Andrew swung the horse down a less traveled road and coaxed a canter from the animal. He approached the old Johnson place with a mixture of gratitude that he’d thought of it and trepidation for what Yonnie might be doing there.

  Andrew eased off the horse and left the faithful servant tied loosely to the low branch of a tree on the outer ring of the clearing around the structure, the ground now covered with the brown, wintry decay of unmowed summer weeds that would no doubt be back with a vengeance next year. He scanned the surroundings. The decrepit barn’s door was closed as snugly as it ever was—which was hardly secure—but Andrew drew no conclusions from this. He scanned the clearing systematically before staring into the surrounding woods.

  Seeing nothing, he called out. “Yonnie?”

  Andrew was uncertain whether the roll of shadow revealed movement within the barn or a shift in sunlight through the trees. He moved closer and pushed the door open enough to slip inside, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior.

  “Yonnie?”

  This time Andrew heard the shuffle and turned his head toward the sound.

  In the far corner, with the Model T between them, Yonnie hunched against a wall.

  Alarm shot through Andrew. Yonnie held a two-foot length of cast-off pipe.

  “What are you doing here, Yonnie?” Andrew moved slowly around the automobile, hesitant to cause Yonnie to move suddenly.

  “It’s out of the elements, at least,” Yonnie said.

  “You won’t make things better by smashing the car.” Andrew was fairly certain now he would be able to intercept Yonnie’s efforts.

  Yonnie laughed. “Is that what you think I’m here for?”

  Andrew said nothing as he moved closer.

  Yonnie raised the pipe.

  “Don’t, Yonnie,” Andrew said.

  “I’m not going to wreck the car.” Yonnie tossed the pipe to one side, where it clattered against a wall. “You can sell the car and give the money to the poor.”

  Making no promise, Andrew stood in front of Yonnie now, examining the circles under his eyes. He touched the torn shoulder of Yonnie’s coat. “What happened here?”

  “An altercation with a tree.” Yonnie brushed off Andrew’s touch. “An accident?”

  “Of course it was an accident. Who runs into a tree on purpose?” Yonnie met Andrew’s gaze. “Have you come from Joseph and Noah?” Andrew planted his feet, prepared to prevent Yonnie from rushing past him and out the door until they had it out.

  “Yonnie, why?” Andrew said softly. All through their boyhood he had shrugged off Yonnie’s quirks, rarely losing his temper and usually finding amusement. Now he had Clara to think of, and he had promised not to speak in anger.

  For a long moment, Yonnie looked over Andrew’s shoulder at the opposite wall. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

  “Was it? Where do you find such unabated certainty?”

  “In the teachings of the church. In the faith of our fathers.”

  “What about our faith?” Andrew said. “What about your faith?”

  “Don’t ask ridiculous questions.” Yonnie’s spine slackened, and he slid down the wall of the barn.

  “Yonnie.” Andrew reached out to touch his shoulder.

  Sitting on the ground, Yonnie pulled his knees up, rested his arms on them, and hung his head.

  Andrew had not meant to hold his breath, and now his lungs ached for relief.

  “Are you going to marry Clara?” Yonnie mumbled.

  “Yes. She has finally agreed to have me.”

  “I hope you’ll be very happy.”

  “Thank you. I think we will be.” Squatting in front of Yonnie, Andrew narrowed his eyes at the odd shift in conversation.

  “You’re not any older than I am,” Yonnie said, “and you have a farm.”

  “With a mortgage,” Andrew reminded Yonnie. His parents had left him to take over the farm, but it was not free and clear. He had also assumed the debt.

  “All the same,” Yonnie said, “you have something to offer a woman. Something to make her care for you.”

  Andrew twisted to sit beside Yonnie, their backs against the wall. “I’d like to think I have other qualities at least equally as appealing.”

  “I have nothing,” Yonnie said. “No farm, not enough money to persuade the bank I’m a worthy risk, no one to drive home with after the Singings. No job.”

  Andrew grimaced. “I stopped by the dairy.”

  “Then you know,” Yonnie said. “The buggy I drive belongs to my father, along with everything else. I have a horse of my own that can barely keep up with a three-year-old child, and a few untillable acres on the edge of my father’s farm. That’s it.”

  Even if Andrew had not promised Clara to hold his temper with Yonnie, the urge to unleash it passed. Over the years, Andrew had seen Yonnie obstinate, gullible, fearful, and eager to please anyone he thought of as holding authority. Despondence had never colored Yonnie’s features as it did now.

  “It won’t always be that way,” Andrew said.

  “What I have is the church,” Yonnie said. “I have the promises that come with obedience. I can’t let go of them.”

  “No one is asking you to,” Andrew
said, “only perhaps to be less…insistent on the forms obedience takes.”

  “The church must stay together.” Yonnie hit the ground with the flat of his hand. “If we don’t have that, we’ve lost everything.”

  Andrew ran his tongue over his teeth, resisting the urge to pursue a theological debate.

  “You know,” he said, “I’m alone on my farm. I could use another hand I could count on. Even over the winter there’s a lot to do when it’s just me.”

  “You’ve always managed.”

  “You should see the list of things I never get around to.”

  “Maybe if you spent less time with the Model T,” Yonnie said.

  Andrew swallowed his response. “I understand if you don’t want to work for me.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Andrew crossed his legs out in front of him. “I know you disapprove of the car, but I was putting it to good use when I took Clara to Maryland. She had a very good reason for getting there in a hurry, and I was glad to be able to help her.” He still had not sorted out when Yonnie could have seen them and supposed he would never be sure.

  “We have rules for a reason,” Yonnie said.

  Andrew counted to ten beneath his breath.

  “I shouldn’t have said that.” Yonnie tilted his head back against the wall. “I’m envious. I’m angry. I’m lacking in love.”

  “Love casts out fear,” Andrew said. “Love thinks the best. Love never fails.”

  “Let us keep our eyes on love.” Yonnie sang softly from the old Ausbund hymn.

  Andrew nodded.

  The barn door opened, flooding the space with daylight. Clara stepped in.

  “Oh,” she said, when she spotted Yonnie. Her eyes took in the scene.

  “It’s all right. We’re all right.” Andrew stood up. “Yonnie’s going to work for me for a while.”

  Clara’s eyes widened and bulged.

  “At least I hope he is.” Andrew offered a hand and pulled Yonnie to his feet.

  Yonnie glanced at Clara, sheepish. “I understand you’ve finally decided to throw your lot in with my old friend.”

  The sound that Clara emitted was not quite a word.