The Brethren (17 page)
Authors: Beverly Lewis
204 I
Lewis
though, who lovingly cleaned his wounds of the slivers of wood and dirt that sometimes found their way inside.
He couldn’t resist the urge to reach down and touch the pads of his big toes, wondering if they were larger than they should be. He didn’t feel anything unusual no indication he had scarred himself for life. He did have one scar on the ball of his left foot, though he wasn’t sure how he’d gotten that.
Scars … He wondered about his parents’ decision to keep his adoption quiet. How much better would it have been, knowing as a child what I know now?
There had been plenty of adopted kids in his life while growing up. One girl in particular had parents who had made a scrapbook of the day they’d brought her home to be their own. All he’d ever had was his peach stone, although he didn’t even know that was part of his secret past until recently.
Another memory popped into his mind, clearer than the rest. A summer day when his father had spent all afternoon in the barn ua-wrestlin’ with the angels,” according to Mamma.
“More like he’s battling the devil,” Zeke had spouted off to Mamma, who’d told Zeke to wash out his mouth with soap. But Zeke had muttered on the way to the sink, “Dat’s in trouble with the brethren,” insisting in a whisper that he’d seen the bishop and the preachers coming down the road, dressed in black.
Mamma had said, “Hogwash,” but Zeke had kept talking about the new minister, Jesse Zook, who’d come “talkin’ to Dat a-plenty. Before and after he got the preacher’s lot.”
205 Mamma had shushed him. And Isaac remembered sitting in the far corner of the kitchen, wondering why their father had skipped Mamma’s dinner and would probably be breathing the same air as the mules all night.
Had someone else caught him kissing the peach girl? Slipping out of bed, shaking his head at the memory, Ben found the print of Annie’s painting in his wallet, folded so neatly along the same crease, he could see it was in some danger of tearing. Going to the window, he held it up in the moonlight, amazed again that even after all these years the peach stone held some significance to her, as well.
He placed the picture back on the bureau and reluctantly returned to bed, not tired enough to sleep. Tomorrow he would go and check on Annie and the children, and spend the day helping her with farm chores the pigs, whatever was needed if she wished. Regardless of his determination to spare her further trouble, he longed to see her again.
No, he needed to see her.
Jesse knew he’d be dead tired at the predawn milking, but still he sat in the dark of the kitchen, drinking yet another cup of coffee. He craved time alone and was thankful for Barbara’s willingness to retire for the night without him hours ago. Ben’s return perplexed him no end. He wracked his brain, going over the events of the day and evaluating his memory of Isaac Hochstetler what the youngest child of Ichabod had looked like. No unusual features nor distinguishing marks that Jesse recalled. For a moment, he realized how useful even a single photograph of Isaac might
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his
be, though, of course, such images were forbidden.
He contemplated ag am young Isaac’s face. Daniel’s younger boy was like all the other boys in the community-quick on his feet, mouthy at times, worked hard when told to, and played hard with fcis puppy dog and older brother. As for looks the same deep brown eyes as Ben Martin’s, that was certain, and light hair … much like Annie’s.
But did this alone make him Isaac? Jesse didn’t accept that for a minute. The fact that Ben looked to be about the right age wasn’t especially significant, since any number of young men were just as oldL So what was it about Ben that drove Annie to decide he was her longlost friend? Was it merely a ploy to continue their courting? Surely that’s what we’ve got here … a desperate attempt.
Exhausted now, he carried the cup over to the sink, left it there without rinsing it, amd padded up the stairs.
He found his wife sitting up in bed. “Ach, Jesse … Jesse, I had another dream.”
He went to her and cradled her in his arms. “What was it, dear?”
“Isaac … and he wasn’t just back, like he’d never been taken. This time, it was much more than that.” She started to weep, and he feared she might awaken their sons.
“Shh, now, talk to me, love. Talk to your old’ Jesse. .” She sighed. Then, after wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her cotton nightgown, she fold him. “I dreamt the most peculiar thing … that Isaac was our own. Oh, Jesse, our very own boy. We’d lost him, just as Daniel and Mary had, and bore the terrible pain of it all, and then he was found.
207 Found, I tell you.” She wept like a broken-hearted little child.
What on earth? He held her even closer, stroking her long, long hair, whispering, “All’s well, love. Simply trust that all is well.”
208
INot because she was terribly interested, but because she wanted to be polite, Louisa went with Courtney to the Park Meadows Mall in search of the “perfect present” for Courtney’s sister’s birthday. “You know how important turning sweet sixteen is, remember?” Courtney joked as they strolled through the vast food court, complete with river-rock fireplace and wood beams, creating a lodgelike interior.
But at the mention of the milestone birthday, Louisa let her mind drift to the Amish tradition of Rumschpringe, the years between turning sixteen and making the lifelong promise to the Amish church and to God.
“What would you think if your sister started running around now that she’s sixteen?” Louisa asked.
“Berit already does.” Courtney laughed. “We all did, from about twelve or thirteen on. Don’t you remember?”
“I didn’t get into guys till my last year of high school.”
“Oh, that’s right. Late bloomer.”
Louisa shook her head. “Even so, I was pretty stupid. There’s way more to life than all that. I wish I’d known before I gave so much of myself away.”
209 “So you’re judging yourself now?” Courtney wrinkled her nose and picked up the pace, her attitude changing.
Louisa kicked herself mentally. Keep your mouth shut, Lou.
They spent the rest of the afternoon going from store to store, window-shopping mostly. At one point, Courtney stopped to admire a skimpy skirt and halter top on a headless mannequin. “Hey, I could see you in this,” she said casually.
“Yeah,” Louisa said, sarcastically. “Too much of me.”
“Seriously, it’s so you.”
“No it’s not.” Not anymore.
Courtney was visibly put out by the time they stopped for espresso and chai tea. “Maybe you should just go back, return to the simple hick life you crave so much, Louisa. Ever think of that?”
“All the time.”
“So what’s keeping you here?”
Louisa tried to laugh it off, but it wasn’t funny anymore. Courtney evidently wanted a fight.
“Look,” Courtney continued, “if you think everyone’s messed up because they don’t see things the way you do the enlightened new you then why do you bother with us pagans?”
Louisa wanted to set her straight, to tell her she did care about her, whether she understood her need for the simple life or not. But before she could say anything, Courtney’s eyes began filling with tears and her pouty lower lip started to quiver.
“Hey, Court… what’s wrong?”
210
Courtney struggled to compose herself, pulling a tissue from her small handbag. “You’ll never believe it.”
“Sure I will. Try me.”
“The absolute worst possible thing …”
“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Louisa asked, hoping she
was wrong.
Courtney snorted with disdain. “Bingo.”
Louisa studied Courtney, wondering if she was trying to put one over on her, but Courtney was definitely not kid’ ding. “Oh, Court … Does anybody else know?”
“You’re the first.”
“Who’s the father?” Louisa wondered if it was Courtney’s housemate, Jared.
Courtney shrugged and shook her head. “I’m not exactly sure.”
“Oh man …”
Louisa’s mind jumped ahead. She began to ask, “So what are you planning to do?” but the firm set of Courtney’s expression caused her to stop short. She felt sudden concern.
“You’re not going to “
“Abort? Oh, you bet I am.”
Louisa grimaced. “Oh, Court … wait … think about this.”
“You think I haven’t?”
“Of course … I didn’t mean that.” Louisa realized it was nothing more than common sense that had kept her from being in Courtney’s shoes right now. Would she have had a similar attitude had this happened to her? It was possible. At least before her talks with Julia and her sojourn in Amish country.
211 Louisa tried again. “I’m just saying you could marry some guy who likes kids. Or be a single mom like a zillion other women. I’ll help you. I’ll go to birthing classes with you. Baby-sit. Whatever you need.”
Courtney wiped her eyes. “What I really need is for this problem to go away.”
Louisa sighed. “It’s not just a problem, Court. It’s a life.”
“Yeah, mine. Listen, I don’t know why I told you. I knew you would judge me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’d like to help.”
Louisa wanted to say so much more. But she knew it would do no good to charge ahead, not with Courtney being so defensive. She changed her tactic. “I love you, Court, no matter what, okay? But can I tell you how my visit to Annie’s started me going in a whole different direction? You remember last fall, when I was getting ready to marry Michael?”
Courtney nodded, wadding up the tissue in her hand.
“There I was … by all appearances I had everything money, education, a handsome fiance but inside I was empty. Something was missing.”
“Like what?” Courtney asked wryly. “Horses and buggies? Aprons and bad hair?”
Louisa grinned at her friend but shook her head. “No. Truth. Meaning. God. I didn’t even know it, but I was on a faith-quest. Sounds pretty wild coming from me, I know, but it’s true.”
It was obvious by the disbelief on her face that Courtney didn’t get it. But Louisa forged ahead. “You know, when I canceled the wedding and left here, it probably seemed that
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I was running away from love. But I was really running toward it. My friend Julia told me faith and love are really similar. You put your trust in the person you marry, giving yourself to them, knowing they will keep their vows. Love for a lifetime, no matter what.”
Courtney snorted again. “Tell that to my dad. Divorced again.”
“Well, it’s not a perfect analogy, since people aren’t perfeet. But God is, and I’m beginning to see that I can trust Him.” Louisa hoped she was making some sense. She talked about God’s Son, too, saying the name that was so often flung from Courtney’s own lips, but Louisa spoke it with a reverence that seemed to put a curious light in Courtney’s eyes. “All I’m saying is how can you refuse someone who loves you that much?”
Louisa paused, noticing the glints of tears in Courtney’s eyes again. Then she added, “How can anyone say no to that?”
“So you must believe that this Jesus was divine or what’
ever:
Louisa nodded slowly, realizing that she did, indeed, believe this. “Yes … I guess I do. But I have a lot more to learn.” She wouldn’t push. Not Julia, nor anyone else, for that matter, could have pushed her before she was ready. She’d had to come to the point where she longed for more than life had dished up. And she had been so ready while sitting in Julia’s sunroom, eager for much more than Julia had time to give her that day. But since coming home, she’d started reading the New Testament. Funny, my parents don’t
even own one’.
213 Courtney poked at her purchase absentmindedly, squinting as she tightened the tie strings on the designer shoe bag. “Maybe I’m making a mistake.”
Louisa brightened. “Really?”
“Chill out. I’m talking about whether or not to keep these funky shoes for Berit’s birthday.”
Louisa sighed. Just when she’d thought maybe Courtney was seeing a glimpse of something significant. “Maybe we can talk more later.”
“Later? Like when?”
“Whenever you want.” She meant it.
They got up and walked out of the mall, their pace snaillike in comparison to the way they’d begun the hunt earlier. Louisa felt tense, wishing she might somehow explain the sort of freedom Courtney really needed without coming across as condescending.
“Hey, later,” Courtney called to her as they pushed open the glass doors on the east side of the food court.
“Okay. Call me anytime.”
Courtney gave a fakey little smile and hurried off to her red Porsche.
Great, Louisa thought, feeling as though she’d failed big time. Clicking her remote, she hurried toward her car. Once inside, she checked her Palm for messages and was not too surprised to see three text messages from Michael. “Uh-oh,” she whispered. Backing out of the parking space, she promised herself to be a true friend to him.
She hurried home, looking forward to starting work on her painting of Muffin for Annie, knowing how pleased she would be. As for Sam, she was eager to write him again,
214 although she would be careful not to encourage him too much, even though she really missed him.
The bishop had a big talk on about his youth, telling the brethren gathered in his barn about the gazebo his father had built “with all us boys helpin’ out.” With so much going on in his family, Jesse found Bishop Andy’s rambling discourse annoying, but he tried to appear interested.
Andy continued, “There was the homemade seesaw, ya know. Did any of yous have one in your backyards?”
Deacon Byler nodded, and by the look on his face it was rather apparent he, too, was wondering where on earth all this talk of childhood was leading. Preacher Moses, too. At least they weren’t talking about Zeke. Or Ichabod, for that matter, as Jesse had already warned that the wayward one might be coming to town, much to the brethren’s dismay. Jesse just wished he knew when.
The news the bones aren’t Isaac’s should change his mind, Jesse thought. But what if my second letter doesn’t reach him in time?
The notion that Jesse had brought this on himself nagged like so many July mosquitoes. Yet something in him wanted to lay eyes on the man who’d renounced the lot, to see what the years had done to one so proud. And, come to think of it, he was exactly the person to declare Ben Martin an imposter, too.
“So, now we have this here problem with young Yonie Zook,” Bishop Andy was saying, having switched the conversation abruptly. This brought Jesse back to attention
215 right quick. “Your boy’s got himself a rip-roarin’ business, I’m sure you know, driving Amish round town and farther. Just what do you plan to do ‘bout it?”
“Let it play itself out, that’s what,” Jesse replied, anxious to move on to other matters.
“Aw, let the boy have some fun,” Moses said. “He’ll get it out of his system sooner or later.”
“Later ain’t so gut, though,” the deacon pointed out.
“I daresay he’ll get himself so rich he’ll decide he wants more than that one car of his.” Bishop Andy squared his old, rickety body. “Ain’t it what you think, Jesse?”
“Could be.” Jesse didn’t like the pressure. This was his son they were discussing, after all.
“So … while you’re thinking on that, here’s another predicament … in the same family.” Here the bishop pushed up his glasses and blinked his eyes through them at Jesse before pulling a rolled-up magazine from his back pocket. “Here’s proof we’ve got us some folk watchin’ awful close on your household, Preacher Zook.”
Jesse hadn’t thought this was coming and braced himself for the bishop’s remarks about Annie’s art plastered on the cover of a worldly magazine.
“Just lookee here… the preacher’s daughter has herself a talent. Don’t that beat all?”
The men leaned in to see. The deacon was first to nod and then backed away, as if to say he’d already heard the murmurings from a bunch of the farmers who’d circulated the thing amongst themselves. But Old Moses kept looking at it, seemingly stunned. “What the world did she paint such a picture for?”
216 “That’s what I kept wondering,” Jesse piped up, “when first I saw it.”
Bishop pointed to the swing. “Word has it that old swing got itself hung up again somehow, just here lately.”
Jesse owned up to having given it to his daughter. “She asked Yonie to help her. It sure seemed mighty important to her to get it right back up there, and on the selfsame big branch just like in the picture.” He looked at the painting as it shook in the bishop’s feeble old hands.
“I daresay we’ve got ourselves a dilemma.” Bishop tapped on the magazine with his gnarled hand.
“What’s that?” Deacon Byler wanted to know.
Moses tugged hard on his beard. “Jah, what?”
“Truth be told, she’s mighty good at it,” Bishop Andy said, “and if someone well, the right person, or the wrong one happens to see this here work of your daughter’s, Jesse, she’ll be pulled out of the People quick-like, I fear.”
Jesse hadn’t thought of that.
“How do you plan to rein her in before such a thing happens?” asked the bishop.
“Well, I’ve been workin’ on that for some time now.”
Old Moses harrumphed. “Sure don’t seem so, not with her livin’ over there with our shunned one, Esther Hochstetler.”
Jesse didn’t have much to defend himself with, because everything the brethren had said was true. And their eyes all three sets of them seemed more like ringers pointing his way. He’d failed the People. No, he’d failed his own kin.
Yonie and Annie … two free spirits, exactly alike. But by the way the men were looking at him, he knew he best be
217 saying something. Anything would be better than this awkward silence. He cleared his throat, thinking of Ben Martin’s return. That would get the attention off his family. “Well, Annie’s got herself a fancy friend, if I’m so bold to say. And this here fellow claims to be Isaac Hochstetler.” He watched their faces, and Old Moses teetered on his chair.
“Oh, now, that’s the next thing to profanity, declaring such a thing,” Deacon Byler asserted. “Everybody knows Ichabod’s boy is long gone.”
Jesse shrugged. ” ‘Course without his bones “
“As for his claim,” Moses interrupted, “is he serious?”
“Seems so.”
“Timing’s mighty odd,” the deacon said. “What with Ichabod a-maybe comin’.”
“More upheaval for the People,” Bishop agreed, sadly shaking his head.
Jesse wished he’d kept mum.
“Well, if he’s my kin, surely I’d know if it’s him or not,” Moses said. “Why don’t you bring the boy over to me tomorrow?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Jesse said.
The bishop rolled the magazine back up and asked if they all wanted to go inside and have something to wet their whistles, but Jesse tlhanked him and said he needed to head off to find Ben.
The others followed Andy into the house while Jesse headed for his horse and carriage, wondering why on earth he’d said anything. Then again, maybe having Zeke’s uncle
218 Moses look Ben over good would reveal this Ben to be the charlatan he was and put an end to Annie’s foolishness once and for all. If so, maybe finally the preacher’s daughter would join church.
219 Owtpt&r
Annie stood in the cellar, holding the baby and watching the old washing machine dance across the floor … chug-alug, chugga. She’d taken the liberty of doing another load of wash, even though it was Tuesday, being extra careful when feeding the wet clothes through the pale rubber rollers at the rinsing stage. She’d heard of women getting their fingers caught in the wringers and for a fleeting moment wondered who would take care of Esther’s children if such an awful
thing happened.
She had carried Essie Ann’s cradle down here, keeping a close watch on her while Laura was upstairs with Zach and John. Annie hoped Esther might return home today. If so, having some of the laundry done would be one less thing for her to think about. Annie knew she ought not hold her breath for Essie to come home for sure today, because she’d seen how terribly pained and pale she had been yesterday, and the memory of it dulled the joy she had experienced while walking in the meadow with Ben.
“My dear Isaac,” she whispered, still marveling at the truth but also worried about what would happen next.