Promise to Cherish (39 page)

“Listen, if he’s going to be a Delano, he’s going to be Jack Junior.”

“
Peter’s
asleep,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “And Peter’s not a Delano, he’s a Freeman.”

“Well, if we’re alone.” He stepped toward her and rested his hands on her hips.

Christine froze. His breath came closer. She could smell a subtle hint of beer. Before she could resist him he kissed her. For a brief moment the magic of their first kiss returned. The intensity of the rest of the night intruded and she pushed against his chest. He responded by putting his arms around her back and holding her tighter. She scratched the skin at his neck so he would let go. When he did, anger laced his face. His lip curled and his brow lined deeply. Then the burning sting of his hand scraped against her cheek. After the shock, the fear came.

“Jack.” She held her cheek. “You hit me.”

Jack’s eyes grew larger and he rubbed his hand, the same one he’d used to hit her, over his face. He pulled out a flask and took a swig, and strangely it seemed to bring him back to reality.

“I’ll leave for now, but this isn’t over. I’m coming back for him. He’s my son.” He pushed by her and Christine watched as he ran across the field. A few minutes later she heard his engine rev and saw him spin out of the driveway away from the farm.

Christine knew that no matter what, Jack meant what he said.

CHAPTER 33

T
he sun rose the next morning as if it should have been a good day. Jack’s threat, however, hovered over Christine like the worst kind of storm. The last thing Christine wanted was to be alone with Peter at the cottage when everyone else was going to the Sunday service. There wasn’t anything safer that she could think of than being with an entire Amish community.

Eli jogged up to Christine, Peter, and Annie when he saw them approach the Peterscheim farm, where church would be hosted. It was a neighbor’s farm, just over half a mile’s walk. Christine was wearing the dress she’d worn the first time at church, blue with small pink flowers. He didn’t take his eyes off her until he lined up and went to sit with the single men.

Christine hadn’t told anyone about the night before. All she could think about was getting through church then telling Eli everything. She didn’t want him to believe that she would marry Jack. She had been thick for considering it at all.

She did love Eli, on the other hand, and it was time she admitted it out loud.

Eli fixed his mind on the words he sung. His fear had startled away the peace he longed for. Christine was out of his reach. He’d done everything in his power only to realize that he had none. He prayed the words of the hymn and let them sink within his soul, pleading with the Lord for wisdom.

As always the second song they sang was a favorite among not just their community but among the Amish everywhere.
Loblied
. It was a Hymn of Praise.

O may thy servant be endowed with wisdom from on high.

After several more songs the preacher took his place in the middle of the crowded home. Not a moment later a man’s voice came yelling from outside and a fourteen-year-old boy, Mervin, who was helping with the horses, ran through the door, his eyes wild.

“
Sis ein mahn en yollah dat drass
. He wants that English girl to come out and to bring the baby.” The boy told everyone that there was a man yelling outside.

Eli stood and looked around for Christine in the rows of women. She was easy to pick out since her head was the only one uncovered.

“Christine,” he said. Everyone turned to look at him, then her as she stood. “Jack.”

“
Vas ist letz?
” The stooped bishop asked what was the matter. “
Vas vit des mahn?
”

Yes. What did Jack want? Eli wished he had an answer. He made his way up to the front of the house where the boy still stood breathless and the bishop stood near him with confusion in his eyes.

Christine’s eyes were saucers when she reached Eli. Beyond her a sea of eyes stared at them. Everyone was watching. He couldn’t make any mistakes right now. Eli gestured for Christine and the bishop to go into the bedroom just off of the main room. Coats and purses lay all over the bed.

No one spoke until they were behind the closed door.

“The man out there is my son’s father,” Christine said. Her voice wavered and her hands shook. The bishop nodded his head at her. “He cannot be trusted.”

By the time Christine spoke the last word they heard Jack yelling again.

“I’d like to talk with the young man,” the bishop said. Before Eli or Christine could stop him he opened the door and the three of them walked to the front door. The bishop opened it and walked out to the front porch.

“Young man, we don’t want any trouble. We ask you kindly to either join us inside and listen to the truths of the Scriptures or calmly leave the property.”

“I’m not going to listen to you, old man, I want you to send out Christine and my son.”

Eli and Christine looked at each other. The frail-looking bishop seemed to try his best to stand taller. They couldn’t see Jack from their vantage point but could hear him. Jack hollered again but this time Eli couldn’t understand anything he said except for several profanities. The bishop returned inside looking pale and deflated.

“The young man is indeed troubled. I believe he has some strong drink with him.”

Several of the young women began ushering the children upstairs, and many of the remaining members gathered in small groups.

“Mervin, run to the neighbors and have them call the police,” Eli said.

Mervin looked at the old bishop. Christine knew that they didn’t often—if ever—involve the law with the church.

“He’s an Englisher and he might be dangerous,” Eli suggested. “Go out the back and he won’t see you.”

The bishop nodded yes to Mervin who was out of the house only a moment later.

“I need to go out there,” Eli said.

“Nah, Eli, we don’t want no trouble.” The bishop spoke in English in front of Christine, then turned to Eli and began in their dialect. “We don’t want a mark against our church’s testimony. Let someone else deal with this man.”

Eli inhaled. The bishop didn’t trust him.

“I won’t let him hurt Christine or Peter. His fight is with me.”

“No, you can’t go out there,” Christine piped up. “He thinks you’re getting in-between him and me.”

The bishop’s skin-sagged eyes nearly burst from his face.

“I’m the only one who can get him to leave.” Christine’s bravery reminded him of the grit she had at the hospital. She flung open the door and ran across the porch and down the steps. He took a short step only to have his father grab his arms from behind.

“No, let her talk to him, this should be her fight, not yours,” he said, tightening his grip.

“Christine.” Jack’s voice was raspy and strained. “Where’s my son?”

“We can go somewhere to talk,” she suggested. “We shouldn’t disrupt their church service.”

“Go get me my son!” He walked closely to her and put a finger in her face. His face was red with anger.

“I think it’s time for you to go, Jack.” Eli stepped between Jack and Christine.

It took but a moment for Jack’s fist to connect with Eli’s gut.

“Eli,” Christine said breathlessly and instantly bent over to help him. Eli took a few moments to catch his breath and then straightened his back, shielding Christine.

“Eli, he’s not worth it. Just go.”

“Yes, Eli, why don’t you go? You’re yellow, ain’t ya? Yellow about the war and yellow about fighting me.”

“It’s time for you to leave,” Eli insisted, rolling his shoulders back.

The smack of Jack’s fist against Eli’s face was loud enough to make Christine scream. He nearly fell to the ground but caught himself. She took his arm and tried to pull him back.

“Leave, Jack,” Eli said. The skin on his cheek broke open and blood began to drip slowly down his face. “I will not fight you, but I will not leave.”

“Bring me my son!”

Jack landed another blow to Eli’s stomach, doubling him over, then Jack kneed him in the face. Eli groaned for several long moments while the sound of Jack’s laughter boomed against the trees that lined the property. Eli’s nose was bleeding along with his cheek and though he stood less straight this time, he still managed to get back up.

“Leave, Jack. Get out of here.” Christine’s voice scraped against her throat like sandpaper.

“You ever kill anyone,
Amishman
?” Jack paced. Without waiting for a response he went on. “Yeah, you haven’t. I have, you know. I killed all sorts of Nazis. Didn’t even feel bad about it. I kind of liked it. Once you get that power in you, it’s hard to let go.” He mimicked pulling out a gun from a holster and pointed his fingers in the shape of a gun at Eli. The smile on his face was maniacal. He pretended to fire the pretend gun and laughed. “Just like that. Now, you gonna fight me like a man or do I have to kill you with my bare hands?”

Eli still didn’t say a word but stood just a measure taller.

This time when the blow came it was swatted away. It was his brother Mark. He pushed Jack away then stood next to Eli. Shoulders wide, he stood tall next to his brother. After him came Eli’s father, Mark David, and two other men. Then David came out with three other young husbands; then Moses and a few of the single men. All of them stood shoulder-to-shoulder in silence.

“Leave my brother and Christine alone,” Mark said, his voice resonating like an echo in Christine’s ears. “Leave.”

“You’re a coward, man, a coward. You don’t fight because you’re a coward.”

The door kept opening and more men poured out of the house. Christine was overwhelmed.

Eli’s face was like a statue of bravery. Unflinching and relentless. He would stand in the gap between Jack and Christine no matter how many times he was hit. He was protecting Peter, who wasn’t even his son. Where had he garnered such strength? Christine knew it was God. His strength kept Eli standing. But for how long? When would this end?

Then more came, one by one, building a wall in front of Christine and the house. Who were these people who stood to protect her?

Eli’s chest swelled as he stood with the men positioned alongside him. His arm went to his ribs but he managed to roll his shoulders back and look Jack in the eyes. Jack pulled out his flask and emptied it in one big swig. He looked at the lineup of men and threw it at them. With the madness in his eyes, he looked as if he were ready to take on every man that stood before him. But when the sounds of a speeding vehicle with gravel flying from the driveway behind him were heard, Jack paused.

“This isn’t over,” he spit as he took off toward the woods.

With Jack in the wind, Eli staggered and his brother’s arm kept him from crumbling.

For several moments, his vision was foggy and he could only hear murmuring from the crowd and not real words. He could hear Christine crying but couldn’t move to help her. Mark kept him from falling as the men filed over to Eli and shook his hand or patted his arm. His dad looked older as he turned back to the house.

“
Dangeh
, Mark,” Eli said, when everyone else was gone. He cleared away the hitch in his throat leaving it as rough as gravel.