Meek and Mild (47 page)

Under Rhoda’s touch, Clara twitched, stifling a tremble before it roared up and ripped her open. In Rhoda’s face, Clara saw the wide-set blue eyes and high cheekbones of her little sisters.

“I’ve only ever wanted what is best for you,” Rhoda said. “
Alli mudder muss sariye fer ihre famiyle
.”

Every mother has to take care of her family.

When Rhoda removed her touch, relief and regret warred in Clara.

“You were a good mother to me when I was young,” Clara said.

“Did you think I stopped being a good mother?” Rhoda ran her hands down the front of her apron.

Clara let out her breath slowly as fragments of the last few months tumbled against each other in her mind. The times Rhoda politely said, “No thank you” or “Don’t bother.” The times Rhoda redirected her children away from their older sister. The rows of celery growing in the garden as if Rhoda were pushing Clara toward marriage whether or not she was ready. Weeks and weeks of feeling shunned in the home that had been hers before it was Rhoda’s.

“I know you’ve found me hard,” Rhoda said, “but it was for your own good.”

These were the sort of words Yonnie would say, or the Yoder ministers. Shunning is for the person’s good, to draw that person back to the church. But Clara had never left the church or her family.

Clara looked at the list in her hand. “Thank you for this. They are good suggestions.”

“Your father and I are pleased with your choice of Andrew Raber.”

Pleased or relieved?
Clara wondered. If Rhoda thought Clara should marry and run her own household, did it matter who the groom was?

“We have much to do,” Rhoda said.

Clara swallowed. Whatever Rhoda’s motivations, she wanted to help and Clara needed help. Her wedding was just three weeks away.

“Hannah and Mari are very excited.” Rhoda dampened a rag and wiped off the table.

“Sadie is, too.” The words slipped past Clara’s usual censors.

Rhoda turned to wring out the rag and hang it over the edge of the sink.

Clara pushed forward. “Hannah and Sadie have always wanted to meet each other. A day of celebration is the perfect time.”

“Yes.” Rhoda lifted the towel draped over a bowl of rising bread dough that had grown into a great white bubble.

“It will be all right,” Clara said. “They’re little girls with normal curiosity. Why should we teach them to fear or judge each other?”

“You’re right,” Rhoda said. “A wedding is a new beginning.”

Clara’s eyes sought Rhoda’s, and they looked into each other. Clara saw uncertainty behind Rhoda’s smile, but it was a sincere uncertainty. Rhoda’s outward ways may have befuddled Clara—even wounded her—but the heart that had embraced a motherless child still lay within. Grief and gladness mingled in the smile Clara gave in return as she prayed for grace in this moment.

“I have something more than a list and celery,” Rhoda said. “Come with me.”

Clara followed Rhoda into her bedroom, where she opened the cedar chest at the foot of the bed and lifted a package wrapped in brown paper and tied in string.

“What is it?” Clara’s curiosity was genuine. It looked like a bundle from the mercantile in Springs.

“Open it.”

Clara laid the thick square package on the bed and pulled away the string. When she folded back the paper, a vibrant, piercing, rich purple burst out.

Clara gasped and plunged a hand into the folds. Smooth and soft, the fabric was perfectly dyed. The cotton may have come from the mercantile, but the color had not.

“You dyed this for me?” Clara said.

Rhoda nodded. “You always said you wanted to wear purple at your wedding.”

“I still do.”

“There’s enough for three dresses.”

“Mine and Fannie’s and Sarah’s.”

“Actually,” Rhoda said, “if we cut carefully, I think we can get two more dresses—smaller ones.”

Clara looked up. “Sadie and Hannah.”

“They won’t be attendants, of course, but they’ll think it’s great fun to match your dress.”

Clara drew in breath drenched in grace.

J
ust because it was tradition did not mean Clara was obligated to be pleased.

She could have stayed home, in a room warmed by fire, while the rest of her family went to church. Instead she had chosen to ride with them to the Summit Mills Meetinghouse, where instead of going inside the building she transferred to Andrew’s buggy—which would soon be her buggy as well—and wrapped herself in quilts to sit on the bench and stare at the meetinghouse.

From her chilly post in the line of look-alike buggies, Clara heard the hymns, slow and somber. The stolid, unchanging tempo was a reminder that although Clara felt in a hurry, no one in the meetinghouse would rush. The sermons and prayers were long stretches when no sound from the church service reached her ears. Instead, Clara listened to doves cooing and squirrels rustling through leafless trees and
English
automobile engines chugging past on the road beyond the clearing.

Clara supposed she would have to stop thinking of automobiles as belonging to the
English
if she was going to marry a man who owned one.

And that, after all, was the reason she was sitting outside rather than on the women’s side of the congregation sneaking glances at Andrew across the aisle.

Today, at the end of the service, Mose would publish the news of their engagement. Tradition dictated that the bride-to-be not be present when this happened. The date would be announced for December 28, and Hiram would invite the congregation to attend the wedding.

A hymn started.
This should be the final hymn
, Clara reasoned, and then the various announcements would begin. She sat up straight and let a quilt fall away.

The door the men used to go in and out of the meetinghouse opened, and Andrew stepped out. Clara dropped out of the buggy.

“They’re still singing,” she said when Andrew reached her. “You’ll miss the banns.”

He took her hand and pulled. “You have to come inside.”

“But the banns—”

“That’s not the only announcement Mose is going to make. I think you’ll want to hear with your own ears.”

They paced back toward the meetinghouse. Clara had sat outside all this time—nearly three hours—only to be present for her own engagement announcement after all.

“What’s going on?” she said.

“I wish you had heard Mose’s sermon,” Andrew said. “When he said he had one further announcement to make at the close of the service, I knew you would want to be inside for it.”

They reached the doors. Andrew kissed her cheek and left her at the women’s door. When Clara saw him slip back into the service, she did the same. She found a corner in the back, though. Behind the last row, Wanda Eicher swayed with a child on her hip. Otherwise all eyes were fixed on Mose Beachy as he stood to speak again.

“I have the pleasure,” he said, “of publishing the engagement of Clara Kuhn and Andrew Raber. The couple requests that we remember them in prayer, so we will want to do so.”

Mose gestured to Hiram, who stood. “Rhoda and I invite the congregation to attend our daughter’s wedding on December 28 at the Flag Run Meetinghouse.”

Standing in the back, Clara saw heads tilt toward nearby worshippers and heard indistinguishable whispers buzzing like gossiping bees. It happened after every engagement was published. Some claimed to have suspected, while others were surprised at the particular pairing. Smiles broke out at the happy news.

Although Clara had whispered this way many times, it was an odd sensation to watch the reaction to her own engagement. Most brides did not have this view. Wanda caught her eye and smiled. Later, Clara knew, Wanda would pry details out of Clara—when had they decided to marry; why had they waited until the end of the season; had she known she would accept Andrew’s proposal? Clara had heard countless versions of these questions over the years as she watched her friends marry. Now it would be her turn to answer them.

Mose Beachy cleared his throat, and the congregation settled.

“You have heard me preach this morning that the heart of God is love,” he said, one hand on the closed Bible that sat on the preaching table. “My hope is that our congregation will continue to live in the heart of God and know His love for us and in turn offer God’s love to those around us.

“After searching the Scriptures for a greater understanding of certain matters, and after consulting with the wisdom of bishops who lead other congregations, my decision is that we will no longer observe
meidung
toward our brothers and sisters who leave us to worship in another church.”

The congregation sucked in a collective breath.

“I have confidence that this is the will of God for us,” Mose continued. “On other matters, we will continue to discern God’s will. When we discuss matters of modern convenience, we will seek to understand the blessings God may have in mind for us as well as the need to protect our community from falling into idolatry. Some of you also raise the question of a Sunday school for our children. We will continue to discuss whether it is appropriate for our young ones to learn the Word of God in this way. Whether or not we choose to organize a Sunday school, we will no longer consider our Marylander brethren as having transgressed because they have chosen this path.

“I will meet with gladness the opportunity to speak to any of you privately on these matters. For now, let us share our meal and our hearts with one another in true Christian fellowship.”

Clara’s gaze moved to Noah and Joseph Yoder, seated in front facing the congregation and scowling. Had they known Mose intended to make this announcement? Had they tried to dissuade him?

It did not matter. Mose had spoken, and his words rolled weight off shoulders up and down the benches. If the physical reactions Clara saw were any indication, most people welcomed both his removal of the
meidung
and his invitation to conversation.

Clara wished she had heard Mose’s sermon.
The heart of God is love
.

The men began to file out. Clara slipped out the women’s door and stood in the clearing to wait for Andrew. His automobile, her stories—in God’s time there might yet be a place for them in their own church.

Andrew came and stood beside Clara, taking her hand in his while they received congratulations. She was glad to be marrying Andrew on the brink of a new season in the church. She was grateful to begin their life together by responding to a call to the heart of God. She squeezed Andrew’s hand.

June 26, 1927

T
he crash that came from the upstairs bedroom made Clara blow out her breath and roll her eyes.

“Would you like me to go up?” Andrew raised both eyebrows.

“No,” Clara said. “You’d better see how Little Mose is doing with the horse. I’m still not convinced he’s strong enough to handle the hitch on his own.”

“We have to let him try.” Andrew took his black felt hat from the hook beside the back door and put it on his head. “One of these days he’ll do it.”

“He’s only seven, Andrew. Were you hitching up the family buggy when you were seven?”

“I could let him try his hand at cranking the Model T instead.” Andrew’s eyes twinkled.

Clara smiled. The Model T had provided a steady flow of fond memories over the years, and Andrew had proven himself a worthy mechanic in keeping it running as it aged. He even worked a few hours each week for Jurgen Hansen, whose garage had nearly doubled in business since Andrew first approached him for help.

“I don’t think he’s strong enough for that, either,” Clara said. “Besides, we agreed long ago not to use the automobile for driving to church.”

He kissed her cheek as another crash echoed through the house. “What could those girls be doing up there?”

“Oh, let’s see,” Clara mused. “Katie is sprawled on the bed without having brushed her hair because she’s reading one of those
English
storybooks you brought home.”

“You’re the one who taught her to recognize a good story by keeping a scrapbook.”

Clara ignored him. “And Rachel and Rebecca are quarreling over whose turn it is to stand on the stool to clean their teeth.”