“Then why do it?” came the quick reply. “Dat wants only what’s best for you.”
“I s’pose I’m too quick to say what I’m thinkin’ is all. You know me—everyone knows how much I like to talk. Gets me in hot water more than I can say; more than I should say. And sometimes the talkin’ gets mixed up with the thinkin’, and that’s when I have the most trouble.”
Leah smiled sweetly. “Seems to me you could do more thinkin’ and less, well . . . you know.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
To this they both smiled. Mary Ruth felt more hopeful and cared for when Leah was near and she told her so. What she did not say was that she had run off to Dottie Nolt, mad as all get out, and discovered another sympathetic ear down the road. No, it was best Dat or anyone else not know she was talking to the “enemy,” so to speak, though the Nolts were the nicest, kindest Englishers she’d ever known, and she sincerely liked them. Still, if Dat knew they’d invited Mary Ruth to come live with them, well, he’d raise the barn roof— for sure and for certain.
Chapter Fifteen
Leah was out helping Dat split wood the morning after her heart-to-heart with Mary Ruth when she got up the nerve to say something about her grieving sister’s zeal for education. “I know you’ve already talked this out with Mary Ruth some time back, but she’s more determined than ever to attend high school.”
Dat avoided her gaze, raising his ax clear behind his head and back, then bringing it forward to meet the log. “She oughta know better than to put you up to this,” he grumbled when he’d sliced through the piece of wood with a single blow.
“I just thought—” “How can you, Leah?” he interjected. “Why must ya think your sister will benefit in any way from stubbornly lusting after the world?”
“She’ll probably do it, anyway. Why not give her the go-ahead just as you allowed both of us girls to work outside the home?” she replied softly.
He leaned hard on the ax, the blade next to the soil. “If I let her attend public high school, she might end up like . . .” He stopped short of uttering Sadie’s name.
Leah had scarcely felt like speaking up in defense of something she herself did not believe in, yet she’d dared to, knowing of Mary Ruth’s torment over wanting something she could not have. Leah was stuck, it seemed, loving Mary Ruth and wanting to honor Dat and do the right thing.
He looked at her, eyes blazing. “I say if you’re to be Mary Ruth’s mouthpiece, then tell her this for me. Tell her she is no longer welcome in this house if she chooses to disobey her father!”
Oh no, Dat . . . no. This was the worst thing for Mary Ruth, because surely now she would leave; she was just that stubborn. Without Elias alive to keep her linked to the People and her Amish roots, she would most certainly fly away to the world.
Leah tried to get Mamma to sit down and rest in her big bedroom. She had asked Hannah to play with Lydiann for a while, hoping to coax Mamma off her feet and into bed. Terribly distressed at the news of Mary Ruth packing her clothes, Mamma began to weep.
“Maybe she won’t like high school,” Leah suggested, doubting it herself.
“No . . . no . . . no,” sobbed Mamma. “ ’Tis wrong, ever so wrong, to push her out of the nest too soon like this.”
Feeling awkward about hearing Mamma voice her disapproval of Dat’s decision, Leah hovered near. Mamma was standing in defiance, looking out the bedroom window. “Best talk to Dat ’bout all this,” whispered Leah.
“I’ll talk all right!” Mamma turned and suddenly fell into Leah’s arms. “Oh, what’s to become of us? First my eldest daughter, now Mary Ruth.”
“Preacher Yoder says all is not lost till it’s truly too late. ‘As long as there’s breath there is hope,’ he says, ya know.”
“Life and hope, jah. I just don’t want to see Mary Ruth sent away like this. We all love her so!” She began to cry again. “What’ll dear Hannah do, bless her heart? They’re close twins, for goodness’ sake.”
Leah felt like sobbing, too, but she needed to be stronger than poor Mamma. Wordlessly she helped her mother over to the bed to stretch out a bit, then closed the door and tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen, where she would start supper soon. First, though, Leah must tend to sad Hannah, check on Lydiann . . . and pray fervently for God’s grace and mercy to fill this tooempty house.
Leah, Lydiann, and Aunt Lizzie piled into the second seat of the buggy the Saturday of the planned visit to Hickory Hollow. Mamma and Dat sat up front. Hannah, having volunteered her companionship, stayed home with Dawdi John, who was suffering a head cold and a sore throat. Leah was fairly sure the real reason Hannah had stayed behind was to steal away to the Nolts’ for a good long visit with Mary Ruth; that way Dat wouldn’t have to know about it and neither would Mamma, who was beginning to worry Leah and Lizzie both.
Lizzie had made a fuss about Mamma making the long trip today, but her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. “I don’t need pamperin’,” Mamma said in response to Lizzie’s entreaty.
Besides that, Dat didn’t look too kindly on Lizzie interfering with the set plans for this brisk, yet sunny afternoon. “I’ll see to Ida. You see to yourself,” he snapped, startling Leah.
All during the ride to Hickory Hollow, Dat sat stiff and aloof, holding the reins. Leah felt awful sorry for Mamma and wished she could be sitting next to her, patting her hand if need be. Dear, dear Mamma . . . two of her girls were gone from the house . . . and the Fold.
Of course, none of them knew for sure if Sadie had ever gained acceptance into an Ohio church community, so Leah guessed she ought not to jump to conclusions. Still, they all assumed Bishop Bontrager would have heard something if Sadie was a repentant member of a “high” church, one with a more relaxed discipline—in short, just plain more worldly.
Leah pondered this while taking in the sky and trees, now bare of leaf and stark as could be against the wispy clouds and fiercely blue sky, hinting of gloomy gray days, blowing snow, and icy winds. Soon heavy snows would put everything into slow motion once again.
She shivered suddenly, eager for Mamma’s newborn babe, knowing full well the great joy an infant could offer a wounded soul. In the eyes of her heart, though, she could not imagine ever holding her own baby, hard as she tried. “Oh, that’ll come, surely it will, once you and Smithy Gid are husband and wife,” Aunt Lizzie had assured her the other day when she’d confided this.
Once I am a wife . . .
The words still seemed somewhat foreign to her, yet she knew her heart was ready to both give and receive love again. “Once you’re married, you’ll forget you ever loved Jonas,” one quilter had cheekily whispered in her ear during a break for coffee and sticky buns.
Leah didn’t see how she’d ever quite forget the relationship she’d had with Jonas, maybe because he had been her girlhood love. But, in due time, Mamma had recently insisted, Leah’s injury of the heart would mend “a hundred percent.”
When they neared Cattail Road, tired from traveling, Dat announced they were coming up on Hickory Hollow.
Leah liked the sound of the small place and wondered how it got its name. She knew what a hollow was—a holler the People called it—but just why was the nearly invisible dot on the map named Hickory?
Was it because of the many hardwood trees growing nearby, most originating from the walnut family? She’d heard her father speak of a farmer there who made hickory rockers as a hobby. Dat had purchased several rocking chairs some years back from the older gentleman. Whatever the source of the name, Leah was eager to lay eyes on the well-forested landscape once again.
Once they arrived, Dat jumped out and hurried around the carriage to help Mamma down, seemingly more compassionate toward her than at the outset of the trip.
Now for some good fellowship, Leah thought, breathing a relieved sigh at having safely reached their destination, as well as at Dat’s improved mood. They all could use a carefree afternoon, what with Mary Ruth gone to live with Englishers.
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During the ride up, Aunt Lizzie had talked softly to Leah, who was glad to cradle sleeping Lydiann in her arms. “Noah and Becky will be mighty glad to see us,” Lizzie had said. “ ’Specially Lydiann, I would think.”
“Much too long since we’ve visited, ain’t?”
Lizzie had nodded. “We ought not to be so distanced from relatives.”
Immediately Cousins Peter and Fannie Mast came to mind. Leah shook herself, not so much physically as mentally. She dared not allow herself to think about the Mast family.
Now she leaned down and kissed the tip of Lydiann’s tiny nose. Her little sister’s eyes blinked open. “Lookee where we are now. You slept nearly all the way, dear one.”
She continued to hold Lydiann close for a moment, till the wee girl awakened. Then she rose and got down out of the buggy herself, still carrying her sister.
“What a nice December day!” Lizzie commented as they followed Becky and Noah into their Dawdi Haus, filling up nearly all the places for sitting in the small front room.
Aunt Becky served hot spiced cider to each of them, except for Lydiann, who seemed glad to sit off away from the others at the small kitchen table, drinking a cup of chocolate milk. Leah pulled out a chair to be near Lydiann, noticing Lizzie and Mamma’s sisterin-law, Becky, was moving slower, even limping on occasion. Uncle Noah, with his long graying beard, was, too.
Goodness, they look older than I thought they might. She wondered how long it would be before Dat and Mamma began to show their age and slow down. Uncle Noah was lots older than Lizzie, for sure, and a number of years ahead of Mamma, too. She observed Aunt Becky, who had seemed to be trying very hard not to stare at Mamma’s swollen stomach.
She probably thinks Mamma shouldn’t be out in public, thought Leah. After all, there were probably only three weeks left before they’d know if Abram’s daughters would be welcoming a brother at long last. At least two of us will be on hand to help Mamma with the new one. Leah was thinking of Aunt Lizzie and herself; naturally Hannah and Lydiann would be nowhere near the birthing room. Just then she wondered if Dat would ban Mary Ruth from the house even on the joyous day of Mamma’s delivery.
Mamma’s voice drew Leah back to the moment. “A new baby will help keep my Mann and me young longer,” she said right out. “Ain’t so, Abram?”
Dat appeared sheepish now and said nothing.
Leah found his lack of response intriguing. “Well, now, that’s the truth,” she whispered playfully to Lydiann, reaching over to tickle her head as the toddler reached up and grabbed Leah’s fingers with an unexpectedly strong grip.
“Schweschder . . . Lee—ah,” Lydiann surprised her by saying.
“Jah, that’s right. I am your sister.” She laughed softly. Wouldn’t Mamma enjoy hearing about Lydiann’s sweet words? She would be sure to tell her on the ride home to Gobbler’s Knob.
After sitting and talking about the weather and whatnot, as well as asking about both Hannah and Mary Ruth, Aunt Becky brought out a small tray of crackers and several kinds of cheeses, along with sliced apples. “Help yourself,” she said, tottering about the room while balancing the tray in one hand. Her wooden cane had made its appearance, but no one said a word about it.
Uncle Noah and Aunt Becky talked of their own friends and relatives, including one Ella Mae Zook. “The dear woman’s known for her mint tea and mighty lovin’ heart,” Aunt Becky said. “She’s even got herself a nickname.”
“Oh? What’s that?” asked Mamma.
“Some folk nowadays are callin’ her the Wise Woman.”
Uncle Noah grimaced and made a peculiar sound in the back of his throat. “What women don’t go ’n’ think up. . . .” Leah thought she heard him mutter.
But the real news from Hickory Hollow that day was about Sadie. “I hear Sadie’s in the family way,” Aunt Becky said, grunting as she sat down.
Mamma’s face at once brightened and then instantly sagged. Dat right away turned and stared hard at the window. Leah didn’t know if he was struggling with the mention of his firstborn’s name or just what.
She kept waiting for someone, anyone at all, to make a reminder that there was to be no mention of Sadie’s name in the midst of the Gobbler’s Knob folk by Bishop Bontrager’s decree—and Dat’s own wishes. Of course, the Bann did not include Hickory Hollow.
“When did ya hear?” Mamma managed to say.
“Just yesterday,” Aunt Becky replied.
Right then it seemed Mamma and Becky Brenneman were the only two in the room and communing on some cherished level.
“Who told ya?” Mamma asked, eyes wide.
“A cousin of a friend of Ella Mae’s.”
“Anything I can read for myself?” Mamma said, shocking Leah and evidently Aunt Lizzie, too, as Lizzie’s hands flew to her throat.
Aunt Becky shook her head. “No. Sorry, Ida.”
“Simple hearsay, then?”
“Either she’s expecting a baby or she ain’t,” Aunt Becky replied, accompanied by a severe stare from Uncle Noah.
“No more!” Abram’s head was bowed low, as if in prayer. Raising his face to them, he spoke again. “Best leave things be.”
Glancing around the room at Dat and Mamma . . . and Aunt Lizzie, too, Leah saw pain mirrored on their faces. She felt the urge to speak up like Mary Ruth had been doing lately. Trembling, she had to will herself to remain silent and simply let the news of Sadie’s first baby as a married woman sink into the hollows of her mind. Seeping slowly, surely into her splintered heart.
Chapter Sixteen
Ida went about her washday routine the Monday after the Hickory Hollow visit, washing and hanging out clothes with help from Leah and Hannah, who took turns tending to Lydiann throughout the morning hours. Ida refused to give in to the jagged pain that wracked her middle. Surely this was nothing more than the result of too much brooding over Mary Ruth moving out so awful sudden . . . and the disquieting news of Sadie being with child—and lo, at the selfsame time as Ida again. Same as when I was carrying Lydiann. What was it about her firstborn and herself? Was it the tie that binds, as Lizzie so often referred to regarding mothers and daughters?
It wasn’t wise to waste time wondering or worrying when she had plenty to accomplish, just as she did every day but Sunday. Her “vacation” was nigh upon her, and that would be all well and good once her baby arrived. She knew instinctively this was to be her last child, just as Lizzie seemed to always know when the weather was changing and rain or snow was headed their way. For her own sake, she must not dwell on either Sadie or Mary Ruth any longer, though it was mighty hard not to, especially when Mary Ruth showed up later that afternoon, long after the noon meal.
“I need to speak with you, Mamma,” she said, her pretty face close to the screen door.
Ida hurried to the back door. What’ll Abram say if he catches her sneaking round here? She didn’t care so much to be finding out.
“ ’S’okay if I come in?” Mary Ruth was rutsching around, squirming to beat the band.
“Well, jah, all right,” Ida said, not going all the way to the door, but motioning quickly to her.
They scampered like frightened cats upstairs to what was now Hannah’s bedroom. “I had to see you,” Mary Ruth said. “Even if it means I get a tongue-lashin’ from Dat.” Then she began to cry. “I want, more than anything, to share what’s happened to me. I just never thought . . .”
“Now, now, dear girl,” Ida said, cradling her. “I know your heart’s taken over, that’s all. We all struggle so at one time or ’nother.”
“Then you do understand, Mamma? You don’t hate me for what I must do?”
She shook her head. “Believe me, there is not a speck of anything but love in me for you and your sisters. Never doubt that, Mary Ruth.”
“I hope Dat will allow me to visit sometimes, see the new baby, too. I’m not under the Bann, for pity’s sake.” Mary Ruth was sitting on the side of the bed where, till now, she’d always slept.
They looked at each other, basking in the love only a mother and daughter can know. “So then, I’m bein’ shunned by Dat alone?”
“Sad to say, but seems so. No reason for it, really . . . you aren’t baptized yet.”
Mary Ruth hung her head. “I can’t put aside my hopes and dreams—and my newfound joy in the Lord Jesus.” She began to share the arrangement she had with Dan and Dottie Nolt. “They want to help me with my studies; then next semester—beginning in January—I’ll start school at Paradise High School.”
“These plans of yours, they’ve been simmerin’ inside ya for ever so long.” Ida knew this was true. Oh, the light of adventure filled every part of her talkative girl.
“I’m ever so happy in one way . . . and awful sad in another.”
“Jah, I ’spect so, but there’s nothin’ to be done ’bout it, now, is there?” she said, feeling the tightness in her stomach again.
“ ’Tis awful nice that I live within walkin’ distance of you and Dat.” Mary Ruth’s pretty blue eyes glistened and filled with tears once more. “I can only hope and pray Dat will see the light of God’s Word, that he’ll understand I must follow the Lord’s call. Honestly, Mamma, I’ve found such life at my new church. And, oh, the preaching! I hesitate to say the things I feel . . . that I know without a scrap of doubt. I wish you could know this same peace and joy—this overflowing love for everyone round me.”
A tight throat kept her from acknowledging that she, too, fully understood and had long embraced this sacred hope—had opened her heart wide to it long ago, though out of necessity keeping it secret.
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