Meek and Mild (44 page)

Clara laughed. How long had Atlee been standing there?

The sky shimmered with morning hope. Atlee went into the house, and Andrew and Clara remained on the porch to stare into future glory.

Inside a few minutes later, Clara went straight to the kitchen. Sausage sizzled in an iron skillet, and Fannie was cracking eggs three at a time into a bowl. The smell of biscuits in the oven made Clara suddenly ravenous.

“The baby is suckling,” Fannie said. “They don’t all latch on so well, but Catherine seems to know just what to do.”

Fannie’s tone surprised Clara, along with her industrious efforts to put breakfast on the table. Clara opened a cupboard and took out plates.

“We’ll need ten plates,” Fannie said. “I’ve sent one of the boys to fetch Elam and Sadie.”

The contents of three more eggshells plopped into the bowl. Fannie turned around and dropped butter into a second skillet heating on the stove, the largest one Martha had. Clara peered into the bowl and saw at least twenty yolks.

“The
kaffi
should be ready,” Fannie said.

Clara’s hands moved to the shelf that held coffee cups.

Fannie whisked the eggs together and glanced at the melting butter. “If you’re willing to check the cellar,
Mamm
probably has some apples.”

“I’ll go right now,” Clara said.

She stood at the back door and watched Fannie’s cooking frenzy. Had hope settled on her cousin as well? Or was she merely forcing herself to do what a daughter ought to do? Clara watched Fannie’s face for a few seconds. When she heard humming from Fannie’s throat—a hymn of some sort but more joyous than the
Ausbund
hymns—Clara dared to believe that light had at last cleaved the darkness.

A
ndrew only vaguely recognized the boy who turned up at his farm the next morning. His black trousers and suspenders over a white shirt, and the child-sized black felt hat, left no doubt that he belonged to the Pennsylvania Old Order district.

A Yoder, Andrew was fairly certain, but there were so many branches of the Yoder family tree. Andrew himself hung from one of them because of his mother’s maternal grandmother, but he never thought of himself as a Yoder. Whatever his last name was, this boy might not be any more closely related to Joseph and Noah Yoder than Andrew was.

He was just a boy, nine or ten years old. What were they doing sending him to summon Andrew?

“Thank you for bringing the message.” Andrew took two apples from the bushel on his front porch. “Maybe your horse would like this—and one for you.”

The boy hesitated but took the apples. “They said I was to make sure you come immediately.”

Indignation swirled. Where did they find the gall to suggest that one boy on a sagging sorrel could demand Andrew—or anyone—comply?

“You’ve done a fine job delivering the message.” Andrew wished he could call the boy by name. “I suppose you’re already late for school.”

The boy polished his apple on his shirtsleeve. “My
mamm
teaches me at home.”

That narrowed the possibilities considerably, since nearly all the Amish children attended the same Crossroads School Andrew had gone to. Still, Andrew would not be hurried.

“I have some things to tend to,” Andrew said, “but I’ll make sure they know you faithfully carried out their instruction.”

The boy looked conflicted about what he was supposed to do, but Andrew stepped back into the house and closed the door between them. When he looked out the front window a few minutes later, the boy and his horse were gone. Andrew poured himself another cup of coffee and set out the clean shirt he would don later in the day to go speak to Hiram Kuhn. Then he picked up the list, begun the day before, of all the repairs he would make around the house before bringing Clara home to live there. Out in the barn, he made sure all the stalls had fresh hay. He walked along one side of the pasture to make sure none of the fence posts jiggled.

The delays did nothing to temper his ire. He muttered prayers for self-control and resisted the urge to take the Model T for spite. Over the last few weeks he had cleared a shed of tools and equipment no one had used since Andrew was a boy. He was nearly ready to bring the automobile home to his own property.

And he would, no matter what the Yoder brothers had to say about it.

He exhaled exasperation. He had Clara to think about.

Andrew arrived at the Yoder farm at his own readiness. It should not have surprised him that this was Yonnie’s doing.

“We have a witness,” Joseph Yoder said, “who has taken seriously his obligation to speak to us about his brothers and sisters who choose their own convenience over the good of the congregation.”

Andrew could think of no one else, other than the Yoders themselves, who fit this description. He had not noticed anyone on the road when he picked up Clara, but her distressed state had made everything fade away.

“A witness of what?” he said as he stood in Joseph’s study before a thick German Bible open on the desk.

“You have made two transgressions,” Joseph said. “You visited Marylanders with whom you have no family relationship, so there can be no doubt that this violates the
meidung
. Second, you drove an
English
automobile in the process.”

“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.”