Authors: Beverly Lewis
The Brethren (9 page)
103 OneLptt
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On the Lord’s Day, Annie went with Essie and the children to the Rancks’ church yet again. But after they’d all come home and eaten together, she’d felt the need to get outside and drive the horse and buggy.
Allowing Zeke’s horse to plod along at his own pace, Annie pondered some of the things the minister had said from his fine wooden pulpit. She wondered if she dared crack open a Bible and begin reading the Gospel of John, which the Mennonite pastor had preached on today.
But then, in the midst of all her brooding, she spied Sam Glick walking toward her along the road. “Hullo!” she called to him, pulling on the reins.
“Annie … it’s good to see ya.” He nodded cheerfully, but his eyes turned sad when he asked about Louisa. “Is she doin’ all right, do you know?”
Annie climbed out of her buggy to talk, keeping the reins in her hand. She told him Lou was living back in her own apartment and had started to teach art again.
Sam quickly changed the subject to Zeke. “I hear he’s at Philhaven now.”
104 Annie didn’t let on she’d seen him with her father and brother on the day they’d brought Zeke home. “Jah. I hope he’ll be all right, in time.”
Sam pursed his lips, frowning. “Do you think it’s true, then? That he might be a bit mental like they’re sayin’?”
Annie figured Zeke must be awful bad off, otherwise her father would have kept him at home and looked after him there. “Well, I guess you’d have to be to think you’d killed your brother when you were only eight, jah?”
Sam nodded. “Seems like a long time ago to be just now comin’ forth with something like that. Never made much sense to me when I heard it.”
“Sixteen years of despair, thinking you’re the one responsible for your little brother’s death. I’d say a body could get awful hazy in the head thinking that way, don’t you?”
“And now, what with the bones not being’ Isaac’s, it seems like maybe there might be some hope in all this.” Sam leaned down and picked up a twig off the ground, snapped it, and tossed the pieces toward the roadside ditch.
“Hope that Isaac could still be alive?”
Sam shrugged. “Wouldn’t surprise me. Would it you?”
“Hard to believe, but I guess maybe it could be true Isaac out there somewhere in the modern world, livin’ with Englischers.” She wasn’t about to admit she’d fostered that hope for years. It was one of the reasons she’d painted the locust grove by the covered bridge.
Sam talked of the weather and then, surprisingly enough, he asked Annie what she thought of his writing a long letter to Louisa.
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“Why are you askin’? I say write it and send it off. Let Louisa know how you feel.”
He grinned at that. “Jah, I’ve thought as much, but …”
Annie took note of his hedging. “You oughtn’t be worried that she won’t write back. Are you?”
He shook his head. “There are worse things.”
Jah, that’s the truth.
“So what’re you waitin’ for? Write your letter and see what she says.”
“Ain’t what you may think, Annie. I’m not writin’ to tell Louisa that I love her.”
The sun felt unexpectedly too warm now. “You don’t care for her after all?”
Sam pushed his hands into his trouser pockets. “That’s just it,” he said softly. “I do love her. And I’d do most anything to make her understand how much.”
Eager to know what on earth was holding him back, she said equally quietly, “You want me to pave the way for your letter, is that it?”
He came to life. “No, no … don’t you dare, Annie!”
“Well, what, then?” She studied his face, which was now as bright as a ripe red Mclntosh apple, unsure what he meant
to say.
“I’m makin’ ready to do something big. And if you say a word of this to anyone, I’ll … You just better keep mum!”
She laughed. “Oh, I’m shakin’, Sam … look at me.”
“Don’t, Annie. I’m serious. I’m on the fence, ready to jump.”
“Ach, I should’ve known.” She sighed, pondering his statement. “Every fall, when baptism rolls around and you
106 don’t join church, I wonder why not.”
“That’s what I’m putting in my letter to Louisa. I want her to hear it from me first. Maybe she can give me some pointers about the English world.”
“Oh, Sam, are you sure about this?”
“For sure and for certain.”
This was good news for Louisa … and bad for the community. Annie could only imagine how hurt Sam’s family would be, not to mention the brethren. Yet another strapping young man lost to the People.
A letter with the name Samuel as. Glick in the corner of the envelope was waiting for Louisa in her mailbox when she arrived home on Wednesday afternoon, along with several pieces of junk mail and a colorful postcard of London’s National Gallery in Trafalgar Square. Louisa, please reconsider? Trey was scrawled across the back in a slant. More pressure, and she had no interest in this lame attempt by her former boyfriend. Her reaction had nothing to do with her lunch with Michael. There was simply no future for her and Trey. As for Michael, she really didn’t know how things might go between them. He had taken her out for one nice meal and offered sensible, serious reasons why she should think about dating him again. And she had been tempted. But opening Sam’s letter now, thoughts of Michael flew from her mind.
Hello, Louisa!
I’ve waited longer than I wanted to, really, to sit down and write. You see, I’m making every attempt to go fancy, as
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we Amish say. It is a tedious process, but one that has been a long time coming. You may have guessed as much, but even I didn’t know how much I wanted to start a new life on the other side of the fence till a few weeks ago.
I wanted you to be one of the first to know, not that i’m presuming it will have any bearing on our friendship.
There are a good many things I’ve learned already since coming out from under the authority and covering of my father. I am living with a former Amish couple who are in the business of helping folk like me make a new start. I will pay them room and board for the time being, with the understanding that I’ll establish myself in a house of my own (I just may build one) in the next year or so.
So, odd as it may seem, I’m working at a home improvement store. Thanks to my college degree, I am already in training for assistant manager. Imagine that! Honestly, what I’m learning ferhoodles me at times, trying to understand how these English think. (Don’t take that wrong! I didn’t seem to have much trouble understanding you, now, did I?!)
I’ve purchased a cell phone. If you wouldn’t mind, I would enjoy calling you sometime … to see how you’re getting along there.
Always your friend, Sam
“Wow.” Louisa set the letter on the coffee table, imagining the stir Sam’s leaving the Amish would cause.
Looking at the letter again, she noted the way he’d signed off. Hadn’t he vowed to love her always before she had so impulsively flown home? His words had burned in her memory for days, even weeks, afterward. So why the platonic-sounding sign-off? And why did it bother her?
108 Louisa sighed. What did she want? Was it Trey? Definitely not. Was it to renew her relationship with Michael, her former fiance? She considered Sam Glide’s confidence in pulling away from his staunch roots for a completely new life in the so-called modern world. That took real courage, and even though she was completely stunned at the timing of it, she wanted to let him know how pleased she was without leading him on, of course. The fact was, Sam was comfortable with himself, and his leaving the Amish life behind was one more indication of that. But did that make him the man
for her?
The more she contemplated her trio of male admirers, the more she realized there had been a reason for her meeting Sam when she did. “Annie would say to get myself back there before he gets away,” she told her unconscious pet, watching as Muffin napped near the window. “What does his leaving mean for me? Or should I even be thinking that way?”
Louisa leaned her head back, reliving her arrival in Paradise, Pennsylvania, with Muffin in his pet carrier. She smiled, remembering how wound up she’d felt, yet anxious to meet Annie and her family and friends.
One of the best things I’ve ever done for myself.
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sometimes feelings must be expressed, Annie thought. That was certainly true today. She hurried to gather her pale yellow stationery and best pen, then made a conscious effort to slow down as she shaped the words. Don’t hurry. This is too important.
Stopping, she collected her thoughts. If I were ever to see Ben again, what would I say? That I often dream I am forever trying to find my way back to him … always lost?
She began to pour out her loneliness, even heartsickness, during the days without him, going so far as to admit second-guessing her resolve to obey her father’s command. She wrote of living with Esther now, of feeling torn between staying with an outcast woman and returning home even while she embraced the unparalleled freedom and complete responsibility for making her own decisions.
Then, stopping the flow of too-honest expression, she looked down at the things she’d written, reading them carefully. Her letter seemed more like a personal journal entry than the kind of sentiments she ought to be sharing with an Englischer like Ben.
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I shouldn’t send this. It’s too forward.
She decided it might be best to wait a while before responding to Ben’s letter. Folding the stationery, she placed it in her drawer.
And wait she did. For several days, she tried to distract herself, keeping busy and trying to enjoy spring’s blossoming blizzard of color. But the brilliant shades of loveliness all around only reminded her of her other love and made her want to paint all the more. She wondered how she would explain her snug little art studio to innocent young Laura, Zach, and John once she got things unboxed and set up at Essie’s. Oh, how she itched for the day her promise to her father concluded. The end to the absence of my art, my life.
Daily, and at night as she lay awake waiting for sleep, she contemplated the intense heart tug toward her great passion. She even considered having Cousin Julia take her to the gallery where Louisa had found such success in placing her paintings, to see what might be possible for her work. With Julia, she would not have to put any effort into explaining, for her cousin fully understood and appreciated her talent. After all, it was partly due to Julia’s submitting the painting of the covered bridge and the locust grove with the wonderfulgood swing at the center that she was in the pickle she was in now. Of course, being caught with her hair down Ben at her side had been the last straw.
Nearly shunned, I am. Just like Essie. She contemplated their similar situations: Essie’s heart captivated by something someone, as she put it forbidden
111 by the Amish church. Annie’s affection directed toward her art, also prohibited. “We’re related in our sin,” she said right out into the air, feeling frustrated and terribly bold.
A full week after she’d received Ben’s letter, Annie was still undecided about sending hers to him. Pausing as she dusted the woodwork in her bedroom, she stared at the dresser drawer where she’d hidden the letter.
Dare I mail it?
Instead, she rose and left the room, heading downstairs to help with the children while Essie prepared supper. But when she found Essie peeling potatoes, she noticed streaks on her pretty face. “Ach, you’ve been crying,” she whispered, leaning her head against Essie’s.
Nodding, her friend placed a hand over her eyes momentarily. “Happy tears, I should say.”
“Oh?”
Essie eyed the children and motioned for Annie to follow her into the sitting room. “I received a letter from Zeke. He says he’s had several visitors and is getting some good help for his … uh, problems.”
Annie had heard from Julia that Zeke was settled in and growing accustomed to his new home away from home.
“His handwriting …” Essie said softly. “Ach, I can actually read his writing. Oh, Annie, could this place this Philhaven be the thing that brings Zeke back to his senses.7 Might we be reunited.7” Then, as suddenly as her optimism had emerged, her countenance shifted and the confident
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112 smile faded. “Ach, no. I’m shunned. And nothing’s ever going to change that,”
Annie’s heart sank, but there were no hopeful words in either her heart or her mouth. The way she saw it, there would be no happy ending for the couple. Not as long as Essie held on to her assurance of salvation.
With that, Annie traipsed upstairs, retrieved her letter to Ben, stamped it, and slipped it into the outside mailbox.
One morning, nearly two weeks after he’d sent off his letter to Annie, Ben’s mother called up the stairwell.
“Mail call!”
Eagerly, Ben opened the envelope she handed him, barely able to contain his excitement and surprise. Annie actually wrote back!
As he pored over the letter, he lost himself in her world again. He felt a lump in his throat as he read her admission of how much she missed him. He read and reread her letter, comforted by the unexpected honesty of her words.
This is just what I needed.
But then he began to read between the lines. Annie was as good as shunned. She’d changed her mind about baptismal instruction, and she seemed rather angry with her father.
my fault. He folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. Sitting at his desk, he pulled out a piece of paper and began composing a reply.
Dear Annie,
So good to hear from you. Thank you for your wonderfully honest letter and for trusting me with your feelings.
113 I was sorry to hear about the problems between you and your father. I can’t help wondering if I’m partially to blame.
Ben stopped writing. This wasn’t good enough. He needed to talk to her in person, find some way to correct the problems he and he alone had instigated.
Who am I kidding? he thought, chuckling at his own rationalization. I can’t stay away from this girl.
Against his better judgment, he picked up his phone and called Irvin Ranck, guessing his former boss would be at work this time of day. After offering a greeting, he said, “I’d like to come back and talk with you, face to face … even though it may seem as though I just left. There are some … family issues I want to discuss with you. If it’s all right.”
“Why, sure, Ben. I’d be glad to visit with you,” Irvin said. “And you should plan on staying with us.”
“I wouldn’t want you or Julia to go to any trouble.”
“No trouble, Ben. I know Julia will be happy to have you.”
“I can easily sleep in your attic room,” he offered, recalling Annie’s framed painting stored up there.
“Well, that’s fine, if you wish.”
Ben wanted to make things easy for the Rancks, and he didn’t want to cause extra work for Julia or anyone. He was thinking now of Annie, as well, knowing she cleaned for the Rancks and helped with their children.
“When will you plan to arrive?” Irvin asked.
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
“Not at all.”
“Then I’ll probably drive straight through takes about
114 twelve hours if I don’t stop much. If I get away early, as I hope to do, I should be there before dark.” He despised motels, so he could avoid staying in one if he stepped on it.
“In time for supper?”
“I doubt it, but I’ll let you know when I’m on the road.”
“Sounds good, Ben. We’ll look forward to seeing you.”
They said good-bye and hung up.
Wanting to let his mom know about his sudden plans, Ben went in search of her. He found her outside working in her patio garden.
“I’m going back to Pennsylvania,” he said. “Tomorrow.”
She turned. “Why?”
“I still have so many questions. And after what you told me about my first language, Lancaster might be the place to get some answers.”
Mom squeezed his arm. “I think I understand, honey.” She attempted a brave smile. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that letter I gave you … the one with a girl’s return address on it?”
He smiled back. “Well, maybe just a little.”
While packing for his trip, Ben wondered if Annie had any idea he might show up. He could even visit her, now that she was staying at Esther’s. But Irvin and Julia’s home was close to Jesse Zook’s, and the preacher would no doubt hear of his return. Ben wondered how to connect with
Annie without creating even more problems for her.
Annie rinsed out a washcloth in warm water and some
liquid soap, handing it first to five-year-old James, then to
115 Molly, almost three, waiting as they washed up before sitting at the table for lunch.
Minutes later, when Annie was helping carry the platter of roast beef sandwiches to the table, Julia whispered to her, “Ben Martin’s arriving tomorrow night for a visit. I thought you might like to know.”
Astonished, Annie almost said, Are you sure? But she knew better than to question her dear cousin and friend. “Why’s he comin’ back, I wonder.”
Julia seemed unable to conceal her cheery smile. “Must be a good reason, I would think.”
Annie couldn’t believe her ears. Ben’s going to be here … in this house? She cringed, recalling her too-forward response to his kind letter. Is that why he was coming?
“He just called Irvin at work. Wants to talk about ‘family issues,’ he said.”
“Family? Whose?”
“His own, I suppose. But to tell you the truth, I’m not sure.” Julia turned her attention to putting the finishing touches on their lunch, ceasing her talk of the unexpected visitor arriving tomorrow!
Annie could scarcely eat, let alone concentrate on her chores at hand. What was so urgent to bring Ben all the way back from Kentucky?
After the children were tucked in for afternoon naps, while Julia went out to run a few errands, Annie carried the dry mop and other cleaning items upstairs to her former art studio.
Upon opening the small door, an onslaught of memories
116 invaded her thoughts; she missed this cozy, inspiring place where she’d spent many happy hours drawing and, ultimately, painting.
But her feelings were mixed, because Esther and the chil’ dren had also occupied this room not so long ago. And now Ben will stay here, too.
It wasn’t that the room had to belong only to her, for that was impossible. This was not her house. It was the home of her father’s cousins and she had been merely blessed to have the room offered her. Blessed.7 She pondered that, realizing yet again how influenced she was becoming by living at Esther’s. Truly she was more than curious about Essie’s devout faith.
Sighing, she set about working from the top down, the way all the womenfolk had been taught as young girls to clean house, beginning by wiping down the window frames, then cleaning and shining windowpanes. Next were the sills below and going over the walls with a damp rag. She dusted the bureau and carefully went over the legs and spindles of a lonely chair, getting in all the crevices, before washing down the woodwork. At last she dry mopped the floor.
When those tasks were completed, she put clean sheets on the guest bed brought up originally for Esther’s use. It felt an oddly intimate gesture, making the bed where Ben would sleep. Smoothing the top sheet, she remembered the warm feel of her hand in his.
Looking around, she believed the room to be ready. She knew it was a downright silly thing to stay up here for as long as she could, feigning to clean, when she was all finished. Pining for the past, for what was, had nothing to offer
117 her, yet she was somehow tied to this place, this room. And to think of Ben staying here, where she’d painted and allowed her heart to open wide to her love of art… well, it seemed peculiar.
Ben’s coming to talk about family, Julia says. What could that possibly mean? Isn’t he coming to see me?
She was afraid she might wear out the floor where Ben was concerned, pacing the small room as she was. It wasn’t at all like her. Stopping, Annie sat on the chair, wondering why it was so hard to say good-bye to a place, let alone a person.
Sighing, she thought back to the first time she had ever met Ben over yonder in the harness shop. As she did, she happened to notice her large framed painting, wedged in between the bureau and the wall. She knew another box of
her paintings lay hidden in the storage cabinet, as well.
She rose and went to pick up the painting, noticing the slightest tear in the brown paper, something she’d not seen before. Quickly she dismissed it as the result of its being propped up here in this room, where young children had stayed and played and slept with their distraught mamma.
Pressing on the tape that held the wrapping together, she ran her fingers across the top of the frame, feeling the sturdiness through the paper, vacillating over whether to open it up and see it again for herself.
The painting … no, it was the setting that held a curious appeal for her. But with the startling news of the day Ben’s return she felt strangely hesitant. A perplexing sense of having shared a tragic event fell over her just then, as if she had been in a buggy accident and managed to survive.
118 She became a survivor of sorts whenever she looked at her
own painting, though she had no idea why she felt that way now. So many long years had passed since they had lost Isaac.
Annie set the painting down lightly without opening the packaging.
She began to pace again, unable to bring herself to head downstairs, feeling stuck here.
Being up here has stirred me up but good.
She stopped long enough to stand in one of the dormer windows overlooking the vast fields and grazing land below. Her mind was a jumble of emotions. Why do I still feel so close to Isaac closer than a friend, or even a sister? She supposed it was some form of “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Surely she and Isaac wouldn’t still be as close had he grown up in Paradise like any other boy from their church district.
And now another boy has been taken from me. She was thinking of Ben, and her father’s hard stance his insistence that she break it off. He had every right as a minister ordained of the Lord God to do so, yet he had not demanded the same of Yonie.
She felt angry, nail-spitting mad, for having sent Ben away. Reliving her father’s waiting for her in the darkness on the night she’d tiptoed back into the Dawdi Haus hoping to hurry to her bedroom unnoticed it was all she could do to keep from clumping her feet across the floor now, but she forced herself to be sensible. She turned to pick up the chair and carried it back to the window. Sitting there quietly, she let the sun shine on her face and shoulders.