Promise to Cherish (27 page)

They arrived at the house where church would be held and everyone around them watched as he helped Christine down. Her dress was blue with bright pink flowers. She wore a knitted beige cardigan over it. Everything about her clothes stuck out against all the navy blues, maroons, and blacks. The brightest color he saw that day otherwise was the royal blue that was usually worn by a bride on her wedding day and the newly married wives.

Eli watched as Aunt Annie stood and walked at Christine’s side. He wasn’t sure at first but after some observance he recognized his aunt’s expression to be pride. She appeared proud to be the one living with this new, unusual addition to Sunrise. He nodded his head to many people as they passed, and a few of the younger men and boys came to shake his hand and get a closer look at Christine.

One of the younger boys jogged up and offered to take care of his horse and Dearborn. Usually he would do this himself, but it seemed there was some excitement over his homecoming.

“You’ll sit with me,” Aunt Annie said as they walked toward the crowd of people.

She looked at Eli. “Will you sit with us, too?”

“No,” he said quietly, leaning toward her ear. “The men and women sit separately. I’ll see you sometime during lunch.”

Eli looked for her as they lined up to enter the church. He could see Christine’s light hair and English dress stick out in the sea of Amish colors. The line of unmarried girls was ahead of
him. Some had really grown up while he was gone. He noticed how the girls wore a
schnupduch
folded in a triangle in their waistline. As if they would ever use those hankies to wipe their noses. It made him smile that these hankies in their waistlines were considered fanciful in their community.

“
Sis zeit
,” said a voice behind him telling him it was time.

He turned to see Danny Yoder and the lineup of other unmarried young men stretching back.

“
Vas
?”

“You’re the oldest now, Eli,” Danny said. “Larry and Junior married while you were away.”

Eli was the oldest among the unmarried, which meant he would lead them all to sit at church. Having forgotten this rite, it stung to learn the truth. He walked into the house and sat in front of where the young women were. Behind him was Bertha and next to her was Matilda. Giggles and teasing commenced between the two groups throughout the service, quietly and secretly. He was given dirty looks for not participating.

Eli had forgotten how long church actually was. Sitting still on backless benches for two hours was harder than he remembered. Maybe it was because he was out of practice, or maybe it was because his thoughts were on Christine. She was sitting through the service just like him but didn’t understand anything that the preacher was saying. How much would Annie be able to translate even? It would be too distracting for those around them.

By the time the service was through and it was lunchtime his eyes roamed the sea of people, looking for the bright blue of Christine’s dress.

“Where’s Christine?” he asked Aunt Annie, who was dishing out potatoes for lunch. He was going up for seconds and no one else was in line at the moment.

“She said she needed some fresh air,” Aunt Annie said, winking at him as she gave him an extra spoonful.

After he finished his meal he spotted Christine sitting with a circle of completely ancient women and Aunt Annie. He recognized all of them and he couldn’t help but smile considering what conversation she must be listening to, if they were speaking in English, of course. She was sitting in the midst of the hen house. They were known in the community for being the Amish telephone, relaying messages and stories quicker than you could say
bawk-bawk
. He walked toward them to save her but was cut off before he got to her.

“Eli,” Matilda stepped in front of him.

“Matilda,” he said. His eyes went just above her and briefly caught Christine’s eyes. He returned his eyes to Matilda. “
Vee bish
?”

“Do you really want to know how I am?” she asked, looking him directly in the eyes. “And why did you ignore me during church?”

She was pretty with deep brown hair, fair skin, and brown eyes.

“Maybe we could go and talk somewhere,” she suggested.

He led her to a corner of the living room, where long, backless benches were still set up. Most of the people were mingling in other places of the house or were outside. They would be able to talk somewhat privately.

“I’m really sorry about the other day. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“After all our letters, you brought that girl here, Eli. How do you think I would feel?” Matilda’s lip quivered.

Don’t cry, Matlida.

“Christine is a friend.” He sighed. “She had no place to go.”

Matilda raised an eyebrow. “Well, doesn’t she have any other friends?”

Eli clenched his jaw instead of rolling his eyes.

“Listen, Matilda, remember what I said about us also being friends?”

“Didn’t you like my letters? I wrote you sometimes twice a week.” Matilda avoided his question. Her shrill voice nagged at his ears and pride. They were getting looks from those who mingled in and out of the room.

“Of course I did.”

There were tears in her eyes. How had he gotten himself into this mess?

Christine tried to focus on the conversation between the older ladies. She found herself wishing for only one thing: somewhere to lie down. Her stomach had been turning in circles for most of the morning, but she hesitated to say anything to Aunt Annie, afraid she would figure out she was expecting. Sure, everyone would find out eventually, but not now, not here, and not yet.

The older ladies were all holding or feeding babies—their grandchildren—except for Aunt Annie. Christine watched as she looked lovingly at the children and reached out and stroked the softness of a plump cheek or arm. Where were Aunt Annie’s grandchildren?

Since Christine’s arrival at the Amish community she hadn’t seemed to go more than a day without learning something new about their ways. Today had been no exception. Besides the entire church service and routine, she learned that women did not talk about pregnancy. In her own society, naturally, they wouldn’t talk of this in mixed company, but among other women, it wasn’t completely unmentionable. Christine learned that Sylvia was expecting in the most roundabout way. Sylvia was about a month behind her. The older women talked about a number of people, but she only recognized a few names.

They couldn’t believe the misfortune of Mark’s being laid up for maybe more than a month while his leg healed, and so soon after he and Sylvia had lost their home in a fire.

“Sometimes you wonder why two people have to be so burdened with several hardships when others don’t have a care in the world.” A woman named Rosella looked at the other three women, skipping Christine, as she spoke, thankfully, in English. When Rosella leaned forward as if she had a secret to share, Christine found herself leaning in as well. “I’ve always said, the sins in your youth will punish you later in life.”

“They were hardly youth, they were already members, when—” Rebekah stopped midsentence. “Well, everyone knows what happened.”

Three of the ladies—Rosella, Rebekah, and Mandy—all looked at one another with raised eyebrows and tucked chins. Then they looked at Annie, whose face carried a disinterested expression.

“You think the fire and the accident with the bull were because they made a mistake before they were married?” Annie questioned them.

The ladies looked at one another as if they were shocked this was being questioned. Of course, Christine knew better.

“Every sin has a consequence,” Rosella stated, setting her jaw.

“So what was my sin? I’ve lost all three of my babies.” Annie looked into each woman’s eyes before standing up and walking away.

“Nah, Annie,” Rebekah said, but Annie was already gone.

The ladies switched over to Pennsylvania Dutch as Christine stood and followed Aunt Annie. The conversation bounced around inside her mind. Aunt Annie had lost three babies? Their talk of consequences for sin stung her heart as she contemplated them. Her own guilt pummeled her like being hit in the head. Memories from that night flooded her—feeling heady from beer and whiskey, flirting too much—letting him touch her. She brought her hand to her forehead and put her other hand against the wall, leaning against it.

“Christine?” Aunt Annie turned and put a hand on her back. “Not feeling well?”

“I don’t feel well.” She shook her head.

“After that conversation, neither do I. Come,
mei maedle
. Let’s go.”

The older woman led her to one of the bedrooms, where they both gathered their things. Annie covered her
kapp
with the black bonnet and pinned the shawl around her shoulders. Christine’s turning stomach got worse by the moment. She breathed evenly, trying to keep her nausea at bay. Her mind wandered to what the women said about Annie and her losing three babies. It was unimaginable.

“Enos,” Aunt Annie called through the screen door as they walked toward the porch. She spoke to him in their language and her ears perked up when she heard her name in the middle of the sentence. The older woman then looked back to Christine. “Come on, let’s go to the buggy. Eli will meet us there.”

“But he’s talking with Matilda. Maybe we shouldn’t . . .” Christine didn’t finish the sentence.

“Oh, Matilida.” Aunt Annie waved her words away. “She likes to make her belt so tight because it makes her breasts look bigger.”

“Matilda, don’t cry.” Eli touched Matilda’s arm, trying to calm her, but feeling awkward, he pulled away only to have her grab his hand and hold it in her lap. His face grew hot.

“It was really hurtful that you brought her here and you haven’t tried to reach me since you’ve been home.” Her grip was tightening.

“You heard what happened to Mark. Things have been—” he searched for the right word, “busy at the farm.”

“And you’re spending time with her, aren’t you?” Matilda’s
face was red and puffy. “It’s all over the community how much time you spend with her and all the long walks you take.”

“Mat—”

“How do you think that makes me feel?”

“I’m sure—”

“It’s embarrassing. That’s what. Leah and Kibby Miller heard from Mariellen Peterscheim that she saw you holding hands while you were walking to Aunt Annie’s cottage. Right by the road for everyone to see.” Both of her eyebrows went up this time.

Eli winced. Had anyone read his thoughts, that would’ve been true, but they hadn’t held hands on their walks. Any number of buggies may have passed them, catching them during a walk, though. But he hadn’t noticed, his attention focused solely on Christine. He began pulling away only for her to grasp his hand with both of hers. He cleared his throat.

“Is she coming to the Singing tonight?” One of her hands let go of his and brought a tissue to her eyes, wiping them.

Eli hadn’t even considered it. He hadn’t planned on going himself. If he did, he couldn’t imagine that Christine would want to attend or that the church would approve of it. Everything was so foreign to her; even coming to church was a bit of an experiment. He was itching to talk to her about everything and here he was with a crying Matilda. Her eyes looked up at him, pleading.

“Listen, Matilda,” he said, pulling his hand away and clasping it to his other, hoping it would deter her from grabbing his hand again. “I never meant to hurt you by bringing Christine here. We don’t need to keep talking about her because she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Well, of course she’s not because I am.” She sat up straight and puffed herself up like an angry hen on the farm.

He opened his mouth to talk. “What?” He nearly choked on the word.

“Eli.” Enos jogged up to him. “Aunt Annie told me you need to come. Christine isn’t feeling well and you need to take her home.”

Instantly he stood and looked past Enos, trying to find Christine. Was she okay?

“Eli Brenneman.”

Eli turned to find Matilda standing with her hands on her hips.

“I have to go,” he said dismissing her.