Meek and Mild (38 page)

“I don’t understand,” Clara muttered.

“Just sit down.” Noah’s voice was a razor.

Clara looked at Andrew, who nodded slightly, and took her place.

“Are you well, Bishop?” she said. Clara had not noticed Bishop Yoder’s presence during the worship service. Perhaps her habit of sitting in the rear was catching up with her—or perhaps he had not been present. Surely she would have noticed him enter with the men, and surely conversation would have buzzed with the news of his recovery if others had seen him.

“My father is much improved,” Joseph said. “Thank you for your kind inquiry.”

Clara’s stomach clenched, and she was glad she had not yet eaten her meal.

“Will Bishop Beachy be joining us?” she asked.

“I don’t believe we need to trouble him with this,” Noah said. “We can speak to you in our authority as ministers.”

What was
this
? Clara could only assume the Yoders had assembled this meeting because of yesterday’s encounter on the road. She wished she could reach for Andrew’s hand.

“I’m sure you all realize why you’re here,” Joseph said.

Andrew bit back his response, determined to remain nonchalant for Clara’s sake if nothing else.

“Clara,” Joseph said, “it is well known that you visit your mother’s family even though they no longer belong to the Old Order.”

“I don’t deny it,” Clara said. “They left the Old Order before I was born.”

Bishop Yoder shuffled his feet under the table. “You must stop. They are under the ban.”

Until that moment, Andrew had not been certain Bishop Yoder would speak at all, supposing his presence was merely a ruse so his sons could mislead him and the others with a message that the bishop was asking for them. But the bishop did seem much recovered. His eyes were clear and his gaze focused when he spoke. Beside Andrew, Clara crossed her ankles.

“Andrew,” Joseph said, “it is my understanding that you have no family connections in the Maryland district. Is this correct?”

“Yes, it is,” Andrew said.

“And you, John?” Joseph said.

“My family are all Old Order,” John said.

Andrew did not have to look at John to know he was meeting Joseph’s gaze.

“The lack of relatives erases any doubt about whether you can both obey the
meidung
and visit members of the Conservative Amish Mennonites. You cannot serve both God and mammon.”

“You must stop,” Bishop Yoder said. “They are under the ban.”

“Andrew, do you deny that you visited Marylanders with whom you have no family connection?”

“No,” Andrew said.

“And you, John? Do you deny this?”

“No.”

“Then you are confessing your sin to us. As ministers we believe you must stand before the congregation and confess your transgression. Clara, you will confess the sin of leading your fellow church members astray.”

Andrew no longer resisted the urge to turn his head toward Clara, who was pale, and John, who was red in the face.

“With all due respect,” John said, “I will do no such thing. Neither will I accept your false accusations of Clara.”

“The lot fell to Mose Beachy,” Andrew said. “Shouldn’t he be here?”

“The lot fell to him to be bishop,” Noah said. “God selected us as ministers and we will serve. Sometimes our duty is unpleasant.”

Andrew doubted the Yoders felt any unpleasantness in their demand. “You must stop,” Bishop Yoder said again. “The Marylanders are all under the ban.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes at Joseph. “Are you sure your father has recovered?”

John stood. “You know that most of the congregation believes the ban on the Marylanders should be set aside.”

“But it has not been set aside,” Noah said. “Perhaps your confessions will help others to take it more seriously for the sake of the entire church.”

“You cannot single us out simply because you happened to meet us on a road driving south,” John said.

“If you will not submit to the discipline of the church,” Joseph said, “we will have to place you under the ban as well.”

“Will you place two-thirds of the congregation under
meidung
?” Andrew stood now as well, taking Clara’s hand and pulling her to her feet with him.

John took a step toward the door. “The congregation will not tolerate it.”

Clara’s eyes were wide and her lips pressed together, but she did not tremble, not with Andrew’s hand wrapped around hers.

The door opened, and Mose Beachy stepped in—all three hundred pounds of him—and looked around the room.

“I was not aware there was a meeting of the ministers,” he said. He closed the door behind him.

Clara breathed relief. Mose’s large form shifted the balance in the room the way leaning to one side in a boat on the river threatened a capsizing.

“Our brothers propose to put us under a ban,” John said.

“Only if you refuse to confess,” Joseph countered. “I pray you will make the right choice.”

“Threatening the ban is serious,” Mose said. “Why doesn’t someone tell me what happened. Andrew?”

Clara listened to Andrew relay the summons to see the bishop, only to discover Bishop Yoder in the chair behind the table. Mose paced around the room as he absorbed the details of the conversation.

“Joseph, please take your brother and your father and join your families. I’m sure they’re waiting for you.”

“We have not concluded our businesses,” Joseph said.

“On the contrary,” Mose said, “I’m quite sure you have. I did not ask to be bishop, but neither will I shirk my responsibility. You can be assured I will conclude the matter in an appropriate manner.”

Noah took his father’s elbow, and the Yoders shuffled out of the room.

Mose gestured to the chairs. “Please be comfortable while we talk.”

They took seats.

“They should not have misled you about which bishop you would find when you came in the room,” Mose said, “and they should have spoken to me about their intention.”

“We were certain you would feel that way,” Andrew said.

“Imagine my surprise when Wanda Eicher asked if I had finished meeting with you.”

“We would have come to you,” John said, “just as soon as we walked out that door.”

“I have no doubt. It would have been the right thing to do.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Andrew said.

“Clara,” Mose said, “you have done nothing wrong in visiting your relatives. I hope you enjoy many more visits with your aunt and your cousins.”

“Thank you.” Clara’s shoulders lowered, but the hesitation she heard in Mose’s voice kept her on guard.

Mose stroked his beard. “I am not going to ask you to confess to the congregation, and you will not be under a ban. But I will ask you not to see the Schrocks.”

Clara gasped. “They’ve been my neighbors for many years.”

“But they are not your family,” Mose said. “And they only just left the church. It is not the same as the families who left a generation or more ago.”

“They have not sinned,” Andrew said. “Their only fault—and I do not believe it is a fault—is that they choose to worship somewhere else.”

“It’s a complicated question.”

“Is it?” John said. “You’re the bishop now. You can lead the church through change.”

“I plan to seek counsel on that question from more experienced bishops outside our district,” Mose said. “For now, I would like for the question of the Schrocks not to stir the pot.”

“But we are not the only ones who will want to see them,” Clara pointed out.

Mose nodded. “Surely you are correct. I will have other conversations if I need to. You are all good friends to me. For the peace of the community, I am asking for time.”

Mose was the first to leave the room. Stunned, Clara trailed Andrew and John.

“We’ll talk more,” Andrew whispered. “We’ll take the car out.”

Clara nodded. Her father approached, and Andrew paced away. “Rhoda asked me to see if you were coming home,” Hiram said. He glanced at the anteroom door. “Have you been speaking to the bishop?”

The story spilled out of Clara. Hiram shook his head and sighed.

“Your mother would be horrified to see what has happened all these years later. She voted against the
meidung
.”

“That’s what Aunt Martha told me,” Clara said. “But I thought it was a unanimous vote.”

“In the way that a twisted arm is a healthy arm,” Hiram said. “I was never in agreement, either, but I raised my hand. Your mother didn’t. She told me later when I confessed that I was sorry I had.”

“Oh
Daed
.”

“I’ll tell you who else did not vote—Betty Stutzman. She was outside watching you nap in the grass when the vote was taken.”

“John’s grandmother? With me?”

“She was quite fond of you.” He chuckled. “As if she didn’t have enough
kinner
in her own family. How could we know that within a few weeks, Catherine and Betty would both be gone?”

“I was hoping things would be different if Mose was bishop.”

“They might yet be,” Hiram said. “
Gottes wille
. We cannot expect Mose can undo all these years in one month. He’ll want what’s best for the church.”

Clara nodded. Her father was right. Mose had been bishop for less than a month, while the vote to uphold the ban was more than twenty years old, and the division of interpretation of the Bible another twenty years older than the ban.

But time was running out. Across the meetinghouse, John Stutzman picked up his youngest child and kissed her cheek. Clara wondered how many more Sundays she would witness John’s care for his family.

A
ndrew left the Model T on the shoulder of the main road eight days later while he walked the final yards and stepped onto the lane leading into the Kuhn farmstead. He and John had been fortunate last week to find Clara alone and sweep her away in the buggy with minimal fuss. Andrew had no doubt that rumors already circulated about the summons to see the bishop that took John and Andrew and Clara into the anteroom with the ministers. This time Hiram or Rhoda might object to an invitation for Clara to take a ride. Certainly they would object if they saw the automobile.

Rhoda came out of the front door and snapped dirt out of a rug. Four sharp jerks loosed gray plumes, rising and then falling. Mari, too young to join her siblings at school, held on to her mother’s skirt. Andrew hovered at the top of the lane as Rhoda retreated into the house. Scanning the farmyard, Andrew saw no other activity and took a few steps toward the barn. The milk cows and horses were in the adjoining pasture.

Clara could be anywhere. Hiram, full of questions, could emerge from one of the outbuildings. Rhoda could come out with another rug. But Andrew wanted to see Clara. A flash of gray fabric in the loft window of the barn drew him closer. He slipped inside.

“Clara,” he whispered.

A few seconds later, her face looked down at him from the hayloft. “What are you doing here?”

“Let’s go for a ride,” Andrew said.

She paused. “In the Model T?”

“We’ll go visit John.”

She was descending the ladder now, hay caught in the folds of her dress and trapped under the edge of her
kapp
. When she reached the floor and turned to meet his eyes, Andrew wished he could capture the beauty of that simple moment, like an
English
photograph or painting. It would not be a graven image to him, but a reminder of loveliness in simple things.