Forever Amish (20 page)

“Too many people in there.” I reached around my waist to check the straight pins and was glad they were in place. What was I doing still wearing this getup? As I watched Rhoda slicing ham, I realized I enjoyed dressing like her, a woman who had never judged me on my looks. Unlike the rest of the world, none of the Amish cared if I wore designer jeans or the latest fashions. Hadn't I stood out from the crowd enough for one lifetime? And I'd grown accustomed to the feel of the dress's soft fabric against my legs.

Rhoda assembled ham, leftover meat loaf, pickles, and cheeses on a platter, and positioned it on the table. Yes, I'd like to emulate her, including wearing what she called her Kapp—prayer cap.

“Should I call everyone for supper?” I asked. Unsure how many were dining, I brought out nine plates and placed them around the table.

“We best let Bishop Troyer have his say first.” She handed me flatware. “I pray he'll steer both men on the right course.”

“Good luck when it comes to my father. I doubt he can distinguish the truth anymore.” I laid out the plates as she delivered napkins.

“Yah, he can. I saw it in his eyes.”

“You mean he knows where my mother is?”

“That's a different story.” Her hands cupped her cheeks. “But he feels the conviction of the Holy Spirit. I can sense it.”

“I'm blown away that you'd offer my father a kidney.”

“He's my Bruder, so I assume I'd be a good fit. But I know little about DNA and transplants. And I'd have to receive the bishop's permission.”

“It sounds like Bishop Troyer might forbid it.”

“If he does, then of course, I'd have to follow his direction.” She seemed older; for the first time I noticed crow's-feet etched at the corners of her eyes.

“I was planning to get my blood tested this week,” I said.

“But now you're not going to?”

“I don't know.” I couldn't bring myself to tell her my fears. If I asked to have a paternity test at the same time, it might settle two questions. Yet the thought of me being another man's child sent a shudder through my torso.

 

CHAPTER 26

With Rhoda directing me, I laid flatware on the table. Lizzie sashayed into the kitchen and took over, her movements graceful and automatic from a lifetime in this room. I wondered if she planned to make this her last meal here. Should I mention to Rhoda my suspicions that Lizzie was planning to run away? Maybe Rhoda already suspected.

“I could hear Bishop Troyer's and Dat's voices.” Lizzie cut whole-wheat bread without looking down to measure her even slices.

“They were talking to my father,” I said.

“I hope Dat got everything squared away with the bishop.”

“Yah, I think so,” Rhoda said, “but I don't know the details.”

Would I be here in two weeks when Reuben confessed his sins? Unlikely, and I wasn't a church member, so I doubted I'd be allowed to stay to listen to him anyway. The image of a humble Reuben on his knees refused to gel in my mind. How about my father? He was nowhere near ready to lay out all his sins. And even if he did, could I forgive him? I recalled reciting the Lord's Prayer in church: forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.

I couldn't think of anything I needed to be forgiven for, which was probably a sin in itself.

Humming, Lizzie splayed the slices of bread on a plate and placed it on the table next to the butter and an assortment of jams and jellies. “How's about going to the Singing tonight, Sally?” she said to me.

“Only if Armin really wants to, and I don't think he does. Would you like to hear my opinion?”

“Nee, denki. I'm sure you have good enough reasons.” Lizzie straightened the flatware I'd put out like soldiers in formation.

Reuben lumbered into the room and stood near the table. He looked dazed, oblivious to Lizzie, Rhoda, and me.

Minutes later, Bishop Troyer came into the kitchen wearing a dour expression.

“Would you like to stay for supper?” Rhoda asked him in monotone. “Nothing special, but we'd be happy to have you.”

“Thank you, but I must get home. My sons do the milking, but my Lillian will start fretting about me.”

Rhoda gazed up into his somber face and asked, “Would you let me know about donating a kidney?”

“It seems you're getting ahead of yourself, Rhoda. But I'll not discourage Ezekiel from seeking medical help. I doubt I have much influence over him. Although, I did sense a mellowing in him.”

“It was kind of you to pay us a visit,” Rhoda said. “Ich bedank mich.”

“Yah, thank you,” Reuben muttered. “I'll come outside with you to make sure my sons get your horse from the barn.”

“No, thank you. I can do it myself.” He put on his coat and hat, and left. As soon as the bishop was outside, the house seemed to let out its breath, some of the tense air leaving with him.

“Does Armin eat with you every night?” I asked.

“Usually.” The corners of Reuben's mouth tipped down—a look of disapproval souring his face. “But he has Amish friends.” It was obvious that he wanted my father and me out of this house immediately. We were nothing but a bad influence on his family; that was a truth. And yet he must've known his daughter had enticed me in to coming here. That tangle of oblique happenstance still rocketed through my mind.

“Sally is going to work in the store tomorrow,” Lizzie said, her voice aflutter.

“I suppose I'd rather have her working there than you, Lizzie,” Reuben said.

I glanced down at my apron. “But what will I wear?”

“Ach, Sally, I'm sorry I forgot to wash your clothing yesterday,” Rhoda told me. “How could I let myself get so verhoodled? Tomorrow is laundry day.”

“But she looks so pretty dressed this away.” Lizzie clasped her hands together at chest level. “Those tourists won't know the difference.”

Reuben harrumphed.

“If I dress Amish, the bishop's wife is sure to stop by again and then report me to her husband,” I told Lizzie. “He informed me it was wrong to pretend to be Amish to make money.”

“But surely she can work at the shop.” Lizzie laced her fingers together, rested her chin on them. “Sally said she needs the money.”

I had? Maybe I did mention my financial crisis when admiring the books.

Reuben rotated his head toward Rhoda. “I'm going to read
Family Life
, unless you gave that magazine to your Bruder too.”

“Nee, it's right on the table.” Rhoda followed him into the living room.

Lizzie grinned. “Then it's all set,” she said to me. “We'll ask Armin or one of my brothers to give you a ride tomorrow morning.”

“But I have a car again,” I said. “As long as the streets aren't too slick.”

“They'll still be icy. And don't you prefer the buggy?”

“I guess.” It might be my last chance. “But what should I wear? Bishop Troyer said I shouldn't dress Amish at work.”

Lizzie sidled over to me and spoke into my ear, “Never ya mind. I have a stash upstairs.”

“Of clothing my size?”

“Yah, that I picked up here and there.”

“I know all about them.” Rhoda strode back into the room. “It's time to get rid of those fancy Englisch outfits. Your running-around days are officially over.”

Lizzie shrank back. “Yes, Mamm.”

If Rhoda knew half the story, she'd be appalled. I weighed my options. To whom did I hold my allegiance? To crafty Lizzie or faithful Rhoda, who'd demonstrated loyalty to Pops and to me?

“Mrs. Martin is going to be so grateful you'll be working for her,” Lizzie told me, sidestepping her mother's queries.

“Are you sure your clothes will fit me?” I asked.

“Yah, upstairs I've got a green mid-calf length skirt with an elastic waist, a blouse, and a knit top that are all too big for me.”

Rhoda shook her head. “You're putting Sally in an awkward position.”

I juggled the pros and cons. Pops would be here in the morning when I woke up. If I worked at the secondhand store, I'd have something to fill my day other than trying to cajole him into seeing a doctor and fretting. And maybe I'd get to know some of the locals who would remember Mavis Miller—if that were indeed her name. If her parents were still alive, I imagined myself going to their home and having them turn me away in disbelief. But I was determined to persevere until I exhumed the truth.

“Do I have time to take Sally up and show her the clothes?” Lizzie asked. “Nee, I should call Mrs. Martin first.”

“Use the phone shanty on a night like this?” Rhoda brought napkins to the table.

“Want to use my cell phone?” I asked.

“Not in the house.” She jabbed her arms into her coat sleeves and grabbed her hat. “I can find the way. I did all winter. I'll take the flashlight with the new batteries.” Her voice sounded joyous, as if she had the best news in the world to impart.

“Should I bring Ginger with me?” I wondered aloud. “Or is she better off here?”

“Armin wouldn't mind, Sally,” Lizzie said. “You want to come out with me and ask him?”

Rhoda linked her arm through the crook of my elbow. “Sally should stay here with me. But hurry, will ya, Lizzie, so you don't keep your father waiting on his meal when Jeremy and Peter are done milking.”

Lizzie skittered out the back door. I felt as though I'd been set up like a pawn in an ill-fated chess game. But I actually looked forward to working in the store again.

“I'll make up a plate of supper for Ezekiel and bring it in to him.” Rhoda winked. “And whilst I'm in there, I'll take the keys to his automobile for safekeeping so he doesn't try leaving during the night.”

 

CHAPTER 27

Thirty minutes later, I sat at the kitchen table nibbling my supper. With Pops still sprawled in bed, I felt vulnerable, as if an impending plague was festering on the other side of the house and would soon seep under the door and contaminate us. What was I thinking? I was already contaminated.

I was glad to have Armin sitting next to me and Rhoda across the table. My grandparents had opted to eat their supper with Pops, balancing their plates on trays they would set on their laps. The rest of us consumed our food silently, except for Rhoda occasionally offering pickled beets or sliced cheese to one of us. No one seemed to have an appetite, except Peter and Jeremy, who'd come in from milking. I certainly didn't. Every once in a while, Reuben rubbed his eyes and forehead. I wondered where his thoughts lay.

Lizzie perched across from me, between Rhoda and Peter. Lizzie craned her neck to see the wall clock, then turned back and spoke to Jeremy, who sat next to me. “Are ya going to the Singing tonight?” she asked him.

“Yah, I was planning to.”

“Would there be room in the buggy for me?”

“Nee. I'm giving someone a ride.” He shoveled into his coleslaw, filling his mouth.

“Anyone we know?” Lizzie wiggled her eyebrows.

“Hush, now,” Rhoda said. “I'm happy he's going.”

“But how about me?” Lizzie said, her voice shrill.

“You're stayin' home where we can keep an eye on you,” Reuben said.

“But, Dat—”

Rhoda clucked. “You've refused to go to a Singing for two months, and now on this icy evening, you suddenly wish to?”

“Mamm, I'm doing everything you and Dat want me to. I don't have a job to look forward to tomorrow, so what does it matter if I stay up late? Can't I have any fun at all? How do you expect me to meet my future husband?”

“You've decided you're ready to get married?” Reuben tossed her a look of skepticism, his eyes rolling. “It's about time.”

I felt like a traitor sitting in their midst, knowing what I knew about Joe and not saying anything.

“Who was that young man who stopped in the store yesterday?” Rhoda asked. Lizzie winced. “Yah, news travels quickly, Daughter.”

“Just somebody I knew from school.” Lizzie dabbed her mouth with her napkin.

“Someone who drives a car?” Her upper lip curled. “Please tell me it isn't that
rilpsich
—rude—Joe Stoltzfus. He's nothing but trouble, Lizzie.”

A lopsided smile took over Jeremy's face, and Peter snickered.

“You wouldn't up and do something crazy, would you?” Reuben's callused hand balled into a fist on the table.

“Dat, if you'd like to come with me to the Singing you're welcome.” Lizzie sent him a furtive glance. “Actually the solution is right here.” She tilted her head in Armin's direction. “Ask Armin and Sally to be my chaperones.”

I felt Armin's elbow nudge mine. “I suppose I could drive you there,” he said, “but I won't be held responsible for your actions, Liz.” Armin turned my way. “How about it, Sally? Are you curious enough to come along?”

I considered my alternatives. “Could I go dressed like this?”

“Are ya kidding?” Lizzie's demeanor turned festive, her fingertips tapping each other. “There will be young men and women from all over the county, and none of them will pay mind to how you're dressed. You went to church that away.”

“But I told you what the bishop said.”

“You won't be selling anything, will ya?” Lizzie's hand covered her mouth and she giggled. She really was a conniver. I wondered if I should put the brakes on this whole escapade.

“I don't want to be Lizzie's babysitter either,” I said to Rhoda, “but if it would help you out, I could go.” I was curious about the get-together and wanted to spend time with Armin.

Reuben set his elbows on the table. “All right, Lizzie, you may stay for two hours, then come home. No excuses.”

“I can't imagine what you're all so riled up about.” Lizzie got to her feet and commenced to clear the table with a flourish.

“My, you sure are in a hurry,” Peter said, and gobbled a mouthful of meat-loaf sandwich.

“If you don't like the way I clear the table, you may do it.”

“Yah, then you come out to the barn tomorrow morning and milk the cows.”

“Dat, you see how he teases me?” A pout took over her mouth. “It's no wonder I want time away from the house.”

 

An hour later, the evening sun cast shadows into the barnyard as the sun slid behind the hills to the west. After a ten-minute ride—Thunder's hooves crunching through layers of ice—Armin and I remained in the family buggy outside the barn at the same house where we'd attended church earlier that morning. The interior of the lofty structure was illuminated by what must've been gas or propane lamps casting a yellowish light. Aromas of hay and manure floated in the chilly air, but I didn't mind them in the least. I'd borrowed Rhoda's long wool coat and her bonnet.

Holding the reins through the open rectangle with one hand, Armin passed me a lap blanket, and I tucked it around my legs.

“Thanks. It feels like it's below freezing.” I could see poofs of my breath when I spoke. “Why would they sing in a barn?”

“More freedom. They don't want their parents watching their every move. But adults wander in now and again.”

I heard a German hymn gathering volume—sung a cappella—one I recalled from my youth, which filled my heart with gladness. Contentment eased over me. With Armin at my side, I felt protected. He seemed a man able to accomplish any task he put his mind to. He understood what I'd been through. What I was still going through. No other man I'd ever dated, Donald included, would have braved a snowstorm in a horse and buggy. Not that any other man I knew owned one. But that made Armin's deed all the more valiant.

“Do young Amish men and women really find their future spouses at these affairs, even at age sixteen?”

“Many do, and it's not such a bad idea if you think about it.”

I gazed out the buggy's window and saw stars inhabiting the indigo sky. I considered all the ways young men and women met each other in the outside world. I'd encountered Donald on Lake Candlewood in Connecticut. A startling thought volleyed through my mind: Was this my new reality?

“Do you want to go inside?” I asked.

“Nee, I've already found the woman I want to spend the evening with.”

I turned toward him and tried to discern if he was joking, but it was too dark. “Me?” I said.

“Yah, I'm serious.” He leaned closer.

My heartbeat, the earth's revolving, everything slowed down as my world narrowed into nothing but him.

“You told the bishop you were going to get baptized in the fall,” I said.

“Yes, and right after that is the wedding season.”

My jaw dropped open in an unladylike fashion. “Are you getting married?”

“I don't know yet.”

I'd heard the term
on the rebound
, which made me think of a bouncy ball ricocheting off the walls and ceiling. Was I the first single woman to happen by? No, not from what Lizzie told me of the many young women who were trying to entice Armin into marriage.

He brought my fingers to his lips. “Will ya think about spending time together getting to know each other better?” His voice flowed smooth and steady.

When I didn't answer, he said, “Would you at least consider it?”

Speechless, I nodded. I couldn't help but be flattered. Never had I met a more captivating man.