The Crossroad (7 page)

Six

Such a perty snowscape Annie had not remembered seeing in all her six years. Perched on Mamma’s lap in the horse-drawn sleigh, she took it upon herself to describe every detail. “There’s white everywhere. Looks just like sugar frosting!”

“Are the trees covered with white, too?” asked Mamma, both of them wrapped in woolen blankets.

“The branches look like ice cream Popsicles, without no chocolate, all coated with ice the whole way ’round each branch. Honest, they do.”

“And the fields? Tell me about the wide-open spaces.”

“I wish I had some black paper to draw on right now. I’d make the snow with a white crayon—so someday when you see again, you can remember this day.”

Mammi Susanna snorted like the horse, but Annie kept on. “I’d make my drawing look just like the neighbors’ field and their yard, too.”

“Rebekah Zook’s yellow spider mums are but a memory,” Susanna said with an absentminded sigh.

“How do
you
see the snow today, Mammi?” Annie asked.

“Ach, snow’s snow,” her grandmother replied, waving her mittened hand in the air. “But I
would
say it’s the worst storm we’ve had in a decade or more.”

“A decade?” Annie asked. “How long’s that?”

“Ten years,” replied her mother.

“That’s a gut long time,” Annie said, thinking of Mister Philip just then. The nice man from New York had said he’d have to “come back and visit again.”

Seemed to her
that
was a decade ago.

Rachel couldn’t help but worry about the tone in Susanna’s voice. Sounded to her like Mam was still peeved ’bout something.

“Whatcha wantin’ to draw the snow for? So your mamma can look at it
if
her sight comes back?” Mam said out of the blue.

She
is
still angry at me
, Rachel thought. And she was perty sure why. Susanna had sneaked Blue Johnny, the area’s conjurer/healer, into Rachel’s bedroom, without her permission, back in September. Had him chant over her. Prob’ly used his black box, too—the one that was supposed to tell what was wrong and cure it, both.

She knew it was true, ’cause she’d gone to her father to check, and Dat had told her so. It was just what she’d expected, anyways. Blue Johnny
had
given her a glimpse of sight that night. It hadn’t been a dream at all. So now Mamma was going to keep stewin’ about it. More so over the fact that Dat had spilled the beans than the shortlived miracle the powwow doctor had performed.

Rachel, having refused the healing, was glad about her bold decision. The dark and shrouded happening had caused her to consider her healing in the light of Scripture. And thanks to Esther, she was doing just that. Truth was, she was beginning to stand on the promises of God for her sight, which she believed might just occur any day now. Whenever the Lord saw fit to bless her with full vision once again.

“I’m gonna draw a picture of snowy cornfields for Mamma. When I get to Great-Aunt Leah’s, I will,” Annie said, bringing Rachel back to the matter at hand.

“That’s right nice,” she whispered to her little girl. “Now just leave it be.”

Susanna slapped the reins and called for the mare to move along faster. Rachel thought it foolish to make such a request of the animal in this weather. After all, the road must surely be snow-packed and ever so difficult for the horse to make passage. A gut thing they didn’t have far to go.

The buzz at the quilting frolic was about Rachel’s coming out of mourning. “She looks the picture of health,” said one of her mother’s cousins.

“Jah, and she’s got her little one to think of, too,” said another. “So … we know what that means, prob’ly.”

Rachel was aghast—the women talking so openly about her state of singleness. Later she discovered that Mam was also upset—more vexed than surprised—though it only served to compound the problem of Susanna’s sour perspective.

All the while, the women cut, sewed, and pieced, preparing to make a large quilt—the dahlia pattern—sitting twelve strong around the frame. Rachel entertained the children in the kitchen, doing her share of piecework, though it wasn’t complicated.

“Mamma
ain’t
gettin’ married again,” she heard Annie whisper to one of the other children.

“How do you know?” came the coy reply.

“I just know.”

Rachel held her breath, wondering what to say or do to squelch the childish exchange. But just as she was about to interfere, to distract the girls, Lavina came into the kitchen.

“All ready … for our trip tomorrow?” asked the older woman.

Rachel nodded toward the sound of Lavina’s voice.

“What do you think about going in all this snow?”

“Well … if’n you’d rather not go …”

“Let’s see what the weather’s like tomorrow. I called the nursing home yesterday afternoon, and the receptionist said Adele’s very excited to see you.”

“And you, too … surely she is.”

Rachel smiled, wishing she could see the look on the woman’s face. “You’re just as eager as I am, I’m thinkin’.” Rachel leaned forward, talking more softly. “I asked Esther if she knew anything about what you said the other day.”

Lavina was silent.

“About the problems between Bishop Fisher and Gabe.” She wasn’t comfortable spelling things out, not with children playing at her feet.

“Best be careful … who you talk to,” Lavina warned, and she was gone.

Her words rang in Rachel’s mind for more than an hour, till midmorning, really, when the quilters broke for refreshments.

It was the continued chatter about various Plain widowers in the Lancaster area that made Rachel feel
naer-fich
—nervous. No, it was worse than that. She was downright jittery. Truth was, she had no interest in marryin’ again. ’Least of all to an older man, off in another township.

After lunch, while generous portions of white-assnow cake and chocolate mocha pie were being served, Lavina observed the determined look on Susanna Zook’s round face. Smack dab in the middle of the kitchen, Susanna started warbling the birthday song for Leah, encouraging everyone to join in.

Leah, quite annoyed, folded her arms over her ample bosom, trying to be polite. She didn’t scowl really, the way she had on certain other occasions in the past. Her face flushed an embarrassed pink, and Leah simply avoided eye contact with her older sister. But it was all too clear the birthday girl was peeved, just not letting on too awful much, for the sake of company, prob’ly.

Keeping her peace, Lavina watched the amusing situation unfold. Slipping behind the long kitchen table, she located Rachel and stood silently behind the younger woman’s bench, listening to the chatter but not entering in. She was a shunned woman amidst the Old Order. Soon her six-week probationary period would be up and she’d have to decide whether or not to offer a kneelin’ confession before old Bishop Fisher, the preachers, and the church members.

Just now, as she was thinkin’ things over, she realized she wasn’t much sorry for her actions—attending the Beachy church with Rachel and Annie. That was all her transgression had amounted to. She didn’t see how she could turn her back on the prayerful atmosphere and God-inspired sermons each and every Sunday. Besides, she was learning new things about divine grace and love, and how to gain freedom in the Lord.

So if she
didn’t
bend her knee in repentance, she’d have to put up with being shunned, though she guessed the People wouldn’t treat her as harshly as Hickory Hollow’s district had one young woman, Katie Lapp. The church members here would be kinder, seeing as how she was slow in her mind. Still, she’d have to bear the shame of being the only shunned person in her entire family.

Spending time with Rachel here lately had softened some of her pain. Rachel Yoder was about as dear to her as anyone in the community, aside from a few elderly relatives and many, many nieces and nephews. ’Twasn’t such a surprise that Rachel was so sweet, neither. Lavina should’ve known it, having worked closely with many a Yoder and Zook at pea-snappin’, apple-cider makin’, and corn-huskin’ bees over the years. Jah, she’d watched Rachel grow from a wee girl in a sheer white pinafore apron and tiny head covering to a blushing young bride, whose light brown eyes shone at the slightest glance from Jacob Yoder. She had just never had the opportunity to get to know Rachel all that well, due to the wide age span between them.

Now that Gabe’s story was more out in the open, so to speak, Lavina felt she could talk freely ’bout it with Rachel. And tomorrow she’d be visiting Adele Herr, too. Face-to-face after forty-some years.

The thought of seeing the woman Gabe had loved, after such a long time, gave her a peculiar feeling in the pit of her stomach. Still, she wanted to please Rachel by going. Sure, the visit might stir up sad feelings, but more than that, she knew it would be a chance to share the pain of another hurting woman.

She leaned down and asked Rachel, “Want another piece of pie?”

Rachel nodded. “But why are ya hiding?”

“Thought this was as gut a place as any to be … out of the way, ya know.”

“Because of
die Meinding
?” Rachel asked softly.

“Jah, the shun.”

“Wish there was no such thing.” Rachel was quiet for a moment. Looked to be studyin’ on somethin’. Then, “Come to think of it, I’d like some ice cream on my pie this time, if you don’t mind.”

Lavina reached for the younger woman’s dessert dish. “Don’t mind a’tall.” She scurried off to do the favor. Honestly, she wished she could help Benjamin and Susanna’s widowed daughter even more. She’d do just about anything to help Rachel get back her sight. Till such a thing was even possible, she figured her best choice was to be as gut a friend to the young woman as possible. Agreeing to ride to Reading and visit Adele was a nice start.

Lavina knew why she’d hemmed and hawed at Rachel’s initial suggestion to see Adele. Only one reason, really. She’d written few notes and letters to Adele Herr over the years. And, well, she felt embarrassed at her lack of correspondence skills, though she would’ve been glad to visit with the woman face-to-face on any number of occasions. Fact was, she’d suggested regular visits early on, soon after she and Adele had buried Gabe’s body in the cemetery just blocks from the Herr family home. House-to-house visiting was the Amish way—what she was most used to—but Adele had said in a letter that she felt uncomfortable returning to Lancaster County, and for a gut many reasons.

Something else pricked her mind as Lavina waited for a turn at the chocolate mocha pie. Adele Herr was the woman Gabe—
her
Gabe—had loved, proposed to, and longed to marry. Not his first companion and buddy. Not the tall and lanky Plain girl in the grade above his. Still and all, Lavina knew he
had
loved her just the same. In his own wonderful-gut way, he surely had.

As a young boy he’d displayed his quiet affection when they were in school together. Sixty years ago. And she’d saved the get-well cards he’d made for her, kept them in a treasured, yet crude, wooden box, also handcrafted by Gabe Esh. Sick with the flu one winter, and other times, too—when she was ill with chicken pox and the croup—she welcomed his little cards, sometimes rhyming, sometimes merely signed with his boyish scribble, under a backdrop of cornfields in summer, swollen creeks in springtime, or woodlands in autumn.

Gabe had been her one and only hope for love, and just ’bout the time she thought he might actually take her for a ride in his open courting buggy, the English girl from Reading had come along, filling in as a substitute teacher at the nearby one-room schoolhouse. It was Adele who’d caught Gabe’s attention back then. Hadn’t seemed fair, either.

In the early days, she remembered trying her best to appear to be “normal” for Gabe’s sake. Whatever that was she didn’t know, ’cept what she observed in the folk who were of average or higher intelligence. She remembered practicing her speaking skills, gazing into the pond just south of her father’s barn, on a day with not a stitch of a breeze in the willows that circled the shining water. There, in the water, she’d seen a slight face and gray-blue eyes staring back, framed by her white netting
Kapp
atop her wheat-blond hair.

She’d gone to study her reflection—since Mamma wasn’t all too happy ’bout mirror primping and such. While she knelt by the pond, she had asked herself one question after another, pretending to be her classmates, tryin’ her best to think up the answers. When she finally stod, she believed her practicing would pay off. And
that
summer it had, ’cause Gabe asked if she wanted to go fishing, and would she help him gather worms for some bait?

She remembered having to push answers out of her mouth quick as she could that sunshiny day. “Jah, I’ll go with ya,” she’d said, scared he’d up and change his mind. “Betcha I can dig worms faster ’n you!”

He’d taken her comment as a challenge, like most any eleven-year-old boy. So they’d spent one whole afternoon digging for fish bait, her hands wrist-deep in mud, grabbing hold of one slimy earthworm after another. ’Course, every bit of the mess and mud was worthwhile, sharin’ the day with the handsomest Amish boy on the face of God’s earth!