The Brethren (10 page)

Terribly weary, she recalled having gotten up late last

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night, in the wee hours, and feeling as if she hadn’t fallen asleep at all, even though she knew she had. At some point she had wandered downstairs to look for some of her own newly baked cookies. She’d taken only one and poured a small glass of milk before padding back up to her room in her bare feet, mindful of the sleeping children. She had stared out the window then, too, wondering how you went about talking to almighty God the way Essie did, so person’ ally and so effortlessly. She longed to do so herself, but did you have to break the Ordnung before you could pray that way?

She guessed so, but she didn’t rightly know. She was afraid to ponder it too much now, lest she think herself right into Essie’s way of believing … and that was not what she was being paid to do at the moment.

Rising and returning the chair to its original spot, she allowed herself one more fond look around the room. hope you enjoy your time here, Ben… .

Oitting

near her wide studio window, Louisa drank her coffee, intermittently looking at her nails. How did I ever manage without a professional manicure all those months? She laughed softly and reached for her purse, pulling out a fingernail clipper. She knew precisely how: she had filed her nails herself. No biggee. Mother must have thought I’d lost it for sure.

She trimmed off a piece of unruly cuticle skin, then dropped the clippers into the small zippered pocket of her purse. She turned her attention back to the window, looking at the colorful flowers in the window box outside. The

owner of the building had pushed red, yellow, and white silk flowers into the hardened earth along the walks, as well as the window boxes. An illusion of springtime. This being Colorado, the month of May often came with heavy snows and blowing winds. The “Albuquerque low” could easily close down the treacherous Monument Hill to the south and

the I-25 corridor as a whole. As a result it was generally pointless to set out geraniums or other flowering plants until after the Memorial Day weekend in this unpredictable

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121 region. Still, the silk flowers were lively and pleasant if you didn’t stop to look too closely much like her own life had been, she realized, before her sojourn in Paradise.

Thinking about the short growing season here, she let her mind wander to Lancaster County, to the Zooks’ farm there. She recalled the outhouse, the Saturday night baths, and washing her face each morning using the basin and pitcher Annie brought to the bedroom where she had first stayed. Later she and Annie had moved over to the cozy bedroom in the Dawdi Haus.

“Dawdi Haus.” She spoke the Pennsylvania Dutch words that described the addition built onto the main house, remembering how Mamtni Zook had taught her to pronounce the vowels. Now, without thinking, she began to put her hair up “by heart,” as Annie often said, without the aid of a mirror, holding the thick bun she’d made of her own tresses, missing the community created by the Amish women in particular and the Plain life in general. Have I learned enough about peace? she wondered. Did I stay in Paradise long enough?

The sudden loud chirp of her phone startled her out of her musing, and she quickly let her hair fall, reaching to answer her cell. Checking the screen, she grimaced but answered, “Hey,” knowing it was Michael Berkeley.

“Louisa … hi. I was hoping I’d catch you before you left your studio.”

“Yep, I’m still here.”

“I’m dying for an espresso. How does Starbucks sound? I could meet you there, or pick you up. Whatever you say.”

She found this bordering on funny. “Well, you’ll never

122 guess what I’m sipping at the moment coffee with just the right amount of chocolate. So you’ll have to count me out.” She paused. “But thanks.”

“We could do pie instead.” He was coaxing.

“Thanks anyway, Michael,” she said, hard as it was to be semi-rude.

“All right. How about I come over and … we could talk?”

“What about?”

“Stuff… you know. Your day. Mine.”

This wasn’t the sophisticated and cool attorney she’d known. He was dying here and she was making him grovel. “Maybe some other time.”

“Sure. See ya.” He hung up.

She clicked off the power, not wanting to endure a repeat performance. Most girls would be thrilled to spend time with a guy like Michael. She’d seen the way other women eyed him, discreetly, of course, back when the two of them were dating. Michael was the most handsome guy she knew.

“Let’s see … he’s also bright, articulate, and rich, and he knows how to woo a lady.” She sighed, reaching for her coffee mug and breathing in the delicious aroma before taking another sip. So what’s wrong with me? Why aren’t I ready to take up where we left off?

Finishing her coffee, she could hardly wait to get back to her apartment to change into her powder-pink sweats and cushy socks. She wanted to curl up with Muffin and peruse her new issue of The Artist’s Magazine, but first she had to clean up her studio. As she picked up the last of the brushes

123 to wash, she fondly recalled how hard she and Annie had worked to clean up after themselves in the little attic studio at Julia’s, especially without sink or access to water.

But that was the way of creativity; if there wasn’t a mess to show for hours of inspiration, there probably wasn’t much art to show for it, either.

Louisa went to the sink and rinsed out the brushes and

her coffee mug, letting the water run longer than necessary. Staring into the sink, she decided to make a phone call. She felt nearly compelled to talk to Annie’s Mennonite cousin Julia Ranck, having thought so often of their talks together.

If Julia lived nearby, I’d be hanging with her a lot these days.

Louisa turned her phone back on and called Julia. She was delighted to hear Julia’s voice and such a cheerful greeting.

“It’s wonderful to hear from you!” Julia said. “I was just sitting here enjoying a cup of tea.”

Glad to have this opportunity to reconnect, Louisa asked if it was a good time to chat.

“Why, sure. What’s on your mind?”

She couldn’t just dive in and say she wanted to hear more about Julia’s God, could she? She meandered a bit, groping for the right words, and as was typical of Julia, she eased things along until Louisa found herself close to tears, hungering for all this woman had to say about the Lord.

Later, after thanking Julia for her time, she hung up, then set to work scouring the paint from the sink. The smell of the nonabrasive cleanser made her nauseated, reminding her of car trips her family had taken when she was a young girl. Her mother would take along plastic bags in case of

124 carsickness. Louisa hummed, thinking, I’m redding up but good, and laughed softly.

Washing her hands, she eyed the CD player and realized that the music had stopped. She dried her hands, and as she went to select a new CD, the door squeaked opened across the room.

Glancing over her shoulder, she was surprised to see Michael, sporting a vase of red roses. ‘Tikes,” she muttered, wondering why he had decided to show up when she’d tried to put him off.

Michael looked at the flowers. “Something wrong with the color?”

“It’s not that… .”

“You sounded down on the phone.”

Maybe because I am. Remembering her manners, she took the vase from him and carried it to the sink. She filled it with warm water and set the bouquet on the counter, near her easel. “They’re really beautiful,” she said, turning to smile at Michael. “Thanks.”

He shrugged, and it was apparent he wasn’t sure what to

say next.

“It’s weird,” she said idly. “I was just thinking back to my childhood, when Daddy took us for long drives in the mountains up to Aspen for the summer music festival or to Breckenridge to ski, and I’d always get carsick.”

He was polite, listening, making eye contact, even though he’d heard this tidbit back when they were dating. She had even taken several evenings to introduce him to her family via a bunch of scrapbooks.

She glimpsed the roses again. Fact was, Michael knew

125 too much about her. More than any man she’d ever dated. More, at least, about the specific little things that unfold over time when two people are planning a life together, though not as much about the dreams of her heart as Sam. And he knows nothing about my craving for spiritual things.

“I’d like to take you out for dinner.” He moved toward her. “Next weekend?”

I shouldn’t.

His eyes shone with sincerity.

She hadn’t forgotten their good times. But she found it impossible to overlook how they had gotten together in the first place. Maybe someday I’ll be able to forgive his part in Daddy’s scheme. And maybe by then I won’t still be hung up on Sam.

Yet all that was in the past, wasn’t it? His recent persistence had nothing to do with a corporate merger. Even so, was it fair to allow him to think he had a second chance with her now? She had no clue how to forge ahead with a friendship, let alone a bona ride relationship that could possibly lead them back to the wedding altar. Full circle …

“I want to get to know you again,” Michael said.

She almost ached to look at him, seeing a hint of the pain he must have endured when she’d abandoned him.

“How’s next Friday night?” he asked. “Or is Saturday better?”

Oh, what to do? Her feelings kept vacillating back and forth. She turned away, staring at the roses. The Amish didn’t do the cut flower thing. Thoughts of Sam poked at her. She still needed to answer his letter, but what would she say? Was Sam the reason she hesitated?

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H as

“We need some time together,” Michael said, trying again.

He deserves another chance … on his own terms, without Daddy’s interference, Louisa thought. Doesn’t he?

Sighing, she moved back to face him. “Sure, Friday’s fine. Thanks.”

His eyes gleamed. “Perfect. I’ll pick you up at your place.”

“I have a class … so why don’t I meet you?” He mentioned Ruth’s Chris Steak House down on Market Street.

She knew the place well one of their former haunts. Very uptown: white table linens, attentive wait staff. “Sounds lovely.” She wanted to mean it but felt stuck in limbo. She thanked him again for the roses and the dinner invitation, and watched him head for the door, an obvious spring in his step.

I must be out of my mind.

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Cssie shuddered, a bundle of emotions fear, hope, dread as she approached the front desk at Philhaven. She breathed a shaky sigh, sending up a pleading prayer for something good to come of this visit.

Zeke greeted her with a big smile and gave her a peck on the cheek. He suggested they sit on the porch and she agreed, relieved not to be meeting him behind closed doors this first time. He led the way and she was comforted to see several staff people about the place. They offered kind smiles, and Essie felt reassured. Zeke could not hurt her here.

She settled into a chair on the veranda, overlooking a cheerful flower garden already blooming with daylilies, lavender, and annuals. Zeke sat a few feet from her, seem’ ingly enjoying the sunshine, as he talked about his doctors and of attending his small-group session.

Small talk was something Zeke had never cared to do except for his occasional comments about the weather. He inquired about the children, and it was pleasing to know that Laura, Zach, John, and the baby were keenly on his mind. Esther was quite happy to tell him how their Essie

128 Ann was growing so fast, in a real growth spurt lately. And she described how Laura kept busy helping with weeding the flower beds and planting the family vegetable garden out back.

When their back and forth chatter slowed some, she spoke up. “I’ve come to tell you some important news.” She was glad they were alone.

“What’s that?”

“Ain’t such good news, really.” She quickly amended that. “Well, I mean, it is but also a bit … troubling where you’re concerned.”

He shook his head, appearing to become quarrelsome. “So, spit it out.”

She kept her voice low and leaned near. “I’m with child again.”

He moaned and shook all over, as if he had an uncontrollable chill. “I hope you’re joking.”

“No.” She sat still, her hands folded in her lap. “I’m ever so sure now.”

He cursed under his breath. “The brethren will have my hide.”

Essie felt more sympathy for her husband than she would have thought possible. Poor man.

“I’ll catch it but good,” Zeke said. “I’ll be under the shun as soon as you start showin’.” He rose and went to stand at the edge of the porch. Hands deep in his pants pockets, he stared out at the grounds, muttering to himself. “This compounds my problems, jah?”

A trace of the old bitterness rose up within her. He should’ve thought of this earlier.

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Silently asking God to help her show Christ’s mercy, she said, “I’m afraid so. But we’ll get through this somehow, you and me.”

When he didn’t respond for several minutes but only stood there morosely, Essie rose to her feet. “Well, I’d best be goin’, then.”

Zeke spun around. “No, now, you just wait! You mustn’t be tellin’ anyone this, hear?” His eyes squinted fire.

“I already have.” She moved away from him, heading for the porch stairs.

“I’m not done with you, Esther! Come right back here.”

She couldn’t bear to be treated like this. “It’s time I

returned to the children. Annie’s home alone with them.”

He squared his shoulders. “You must’ve told her, then. Right?”

She nodded. “That I did.”

He kicked the chair, his arms flailing.

“Good-bye, Zeke.” She left the porch quickly, feeling sad over his response to a new little life but pleased that she’d not allowed him to crush her spirit this time.

Jesse washed his hands at the kitchen sink, watching as Barbara peeled potatoes creating long brown spirals with her paring knife. What a terrific cook. He dried his hands and inched over to kiss the back of her neck, then went to sit at the head of the table, knowing full well supper was more than an hour away.

He’d brought in the mail a little bit ago, glad for Luke’s and Yonie’s willingness to finish planting the sweet corn.

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130 Weary from the day, he found a letter from Daniel Hochstetler addressed to him.