The Forbidden (6 page)
Nellie had never heard the verses Nan spoke of. “I’m glad you’re finding some solace.”
At this Nan seemed unable to speak, and she looked down at Nellie, whose heart was warmed by this demonstration of tenderness from the sister who’d always preferred Rhoda.
Nellie woke with a start and saw Mamma standing near the bed.
Slowly Mamma sat, an envelope in her hand. “I didn’t mean to waken you, dear.” She tilted her head, concern in her eyes. “Your Dat brought this in . . . for you.”
She’d nearly forgotten about having seen someone near their mailbox earlier . . . yesterday, was it? The indistinct man by the road had become lost in a tangle of confusing dreams to the point Nellie’d felt sure she’d imagined him. “Ach, what’s this?”
Mamma said nothing, though she remained. After a lengthy moment, she asked, “How are you feelin’ now? Has your fever broken?”
Nellie shook her head. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to be free of the fierce heat in her body. She felt hot all over, even to her own touch. Yet despite the fever, she felt an uncontrollable chill and could not get warm. Even now she had to will herself to relax so her muscles wouldn’t lock up and become so tense she shivered all the more. She craved a reprieve from the sickness that had plagued her since Saturday night.
Has it been only two days?
Mamma changed the wet cloth on her forehead and had her sip more tepid tea with honey. Then, laying a hand on Nellie’s brow, she bowed her own head, lips moving silently.
Nellie felt comforted, yet uneasy, as she wondered if Preacher Manny taught this sort of praying. Truly, she seemed to be learning newfangled things without even attending his gatherings. But she was touched by Mamma’s gesture and hoped the prayer might indeed restore her to health sooner.
When Mamma was finished, she opened her eyes. “I pray that the power of the living God will raise you up once again.”
Nellie found herself nodding, although she doubted the Lord God and heavenly Father wished to be bothered with such a small request.
Mamma lifted the cool cloth and leaned down to kiss her forehead before departing the room. Then, and only then, did Nellie dare to lift the envelope to her eyes. The letter was indeed from Caleb.
Despite being so ill, her heart skipped with joy, and she quickly opened the sealed envelope.
My dearest Nellie,
I haven’t forgotten you, not for a single minute!
Christmas was terrible, not seeing you. And for that
I’m awful sorry.
I feel like a bird in a locked cage. And confess that
I’m sinning to carry this letter to your mailbox today,
Sunday, January 13
th
, by pretending to have the flu,
which is sadly going around. So while my family is out
visiting, I’m “sick” in my bed—well, I’ll soon be out
walking to your house, darling Nellie.
If ever there was a girl for me, it’s you. The times
when I think of you, even dream of you, are more than I
can count. I hope you don’t think poorly of me, leaving
you without the company of a beau for even a while.
For certain I despised doing so.
And now here it is nearly mid-January already, and I
still have not solved our dilemma. Daed has demanded
that I shun you and your family, yet I yearn to talk with
you and be near you once more.
You musn’t fear for our future, my dear, dear Nel-
lie. I will know very soon what must be done so that
we can be together.
With all my love,
Caleb Yoder
Hands trembling, though no longer from fever, Nellie folded the envelope in half and slipped the letter beneath her pillow.
Oh, Caleb,
you risked so much to deliver this.
How could I have doubted you?
She hadn’t forgotten his endearing words, the way he held her at the millstream as he kissed her face, though never her lips. To wait was their unspoken courting promise.
Sliding her warm hand beneath the cool pillow, Nellie touched his letter, wishing she might find a way to get word back to him.
While Rhoda dusted the Kraybills’ front room, their cat pushed against her leg. Back arched high, he let out a resounding
meow.
“Ach, you’re hungry, is that it?”
Pebbles meowed again. This pet was always looking for a handout.
He followed her across the entryway, then through the formal sitting room, with its high wooden mantel and matching gold overstuffed chairs, and into the kitchen. Opening the bag of kitty chow, Rhoda filled Pebbles’s dish and checked his water bowl, too.
Standing there, she watched the black-and-white cat nibble away at his dinner, knowing her father would never allow something as frivolous as keeping a pet indoors. Then, eager to get back to work, she returned to the living room, as Mrs. Kraybill referred to their cozy and well-furnished front room. Rhoda straightened the coffee table, trying not to glance at the magazines stacked neatly there, especially one periodical that seemed to have strayed from Mr. Kray-bill’s study—
Car and Driver
magazine. She’d noticed the new issue had appeared last week. Her parents would be chagrined if they knew she was coveting the cars featured within the shiny pages, yet she couldn’t deny to herself that she was ever so weary of horse-and-buggy travel.
Like some of the church boys surely must be.
Several from the old church had purchased cars and hidden them far from their fathers’ houses, sowing disobedience before eventually becoming baptized church members. Some of those same fellows had given her the cold shoulder at Sunday night Singings. Not caring to admit it, even to herself, Rhoda realized she was on a path to show them just what they’d missed.
Even so, she would wait to investigate the pages of the most current car magazine until she knew she was truly alone here—till Mrs. Kraybill, wearing a wine-colored suit and black heels, left for her ladies’ auxiliary meeting in New Holland. She glanced at the clock.
How much longer must
I wait?
she thought.
Of course, she was expected to thoroughly clean the first floor today, but midafternoon Mrs. Kraybill allowed time for her to enjoy another break, complete with tea and cookies—the latter frequently purchased from Nellie’s Simple Sweets.
Rhoda was less interested in the goodies here lately, as she desired to drop a few pounds. She felt sure that a trimmer figure and a pretty car were just the ticket to getting herself a husband.
Nellie Mae felt better when she awakened Wednesday morning. Though her fever had suddenly broken yesterday, Mamma and Nan had covered for her at the shop, baking fewer items than normal, since customers were only trickling in anyway.
Nellie soaked up the compassion offered by her next-older sister, who smiled warmly across the breakfast table as she passed the food directly to her.
Later, after the table was cleared and Rhoda was off to work, Nan washed the dishes while Mamma dried, with both insisting that Nellie simply sit and sip tea at the table.
But it was after Mamma had left the room to go upstairs and have a “devotional time” with Dat that Nan sat down beside her. “Rebekah Yoder was here for another visit,” she whispered.
“When?” asked Nellie.
“Yesterday, when you were still in bed.” Nan looked troubled. “She told me something awful surprising. Said her mother heard that someone ran an ad in the
Lancaster
New Era
to advertise Nellie’s Simple Sweets.”
“What? You’re sure?”
“That’s what she said. Seems her mamma was ever so outspoken ’bout it, saying it sounded just like ‘them Fishers’ to do something that worldly.”
Nellie was horrified to think Caleb’s mother would talk about their family like that. “Well, who would’ve done such a thing?”
“Only one I can think of.” Nan glanced toward the doorway. “My guess is Rhoda.”
Nellie laughed. “But why?”
“Seeing some of the old church folks droppin’ off as customers since the split . . . well, it’s bothered Rhoda some-thin’ awful.” Nan paused. “Probably she’s tryin’ to help, is all.”
“Ever so nice, really, when you think ’bout it.”
Nan agreed. “ ’Specially since she’s been rather aloof here lately.” She took a sip of tea. “You know what else?”
Nellie listened as she pushed her teacup and saucer away.
“Rebekah said she thinks the ad’s a wonderful-good idea. She says we’ll get more Englischers than we’ll know what to do with.”
Nellie groaned. “If that happens, how will we keep up?”
“Wait and see. No need to borrow more worry.” Nan was grinning to beat the band. “I’ll help ya more, Nellie Mae, and Mamma will, too.”
“Dat’s nearly finished with the tables and chairs,” Nellie reminded her. “Maybe that’s why Rhoda would pay to publicize the bakery shop—do ya think so?”
“Who’s to say? Knowin’ her, she might simply have an interest in bringing in more fancy folk.” She sighed. “She sure seems to like the Kraybills’ house a lot.”
Better than ours . . .
Nan rested her face in her hands, her elbows on the table. “I daresay things’ll start lookin’ up round here.”
“For you, too, Nan?”
“In some ways, maybe.” Again Nan looked toward the doorway, as if to make sure Mamma was out of earshot. “I’m ready to forgive . . . to overlook my former beau’s foolishness. But I can’t say I’m ready to put aside my anger toward Rebekah’s father. He’s got no right keepin’ friends apart.”
That’s the truth!
Nellie thought.
“You’d think David Yoder would listen to Uncle Bishop, of all things. He seems so bent on following the old church, it really makes no sense that he won’t follow the bishop’s bidding ’bout not shunning.” Nan rolled her eyes.
Nellie agreed and rose, carrying her cup, saucer, and spoon over to the sink. “Oh, how good it feels to be stronger again. Can’t remember the last time I was so sick.”
“Well, thank the Good Lord for health . . . and Mamma for her prayers,” Nan said.
Nellie didn’t share how Mamma had placed her hand on Nellie’s forehead while she had prayed right over her. Nan probably knew something about that sort of praying now, too. For sure and for certain, this family was changing—and mighty fast. And if Rhoda had indeed placed the newspaper ad, their older sister seemed bent on heading in a direction of her own choosing.
Chris Yoder stood in the doorway, waiting for his class of boys to arrive. The Wednesday night group had doubled in size since he had begun teaching. Two of the most outgoing boys had invited school friends the same age, and the new kids simply kept coming, bringing along even more friends.
He walked to the windows and leaned back against the sill, regarding the classroom. He and Zach had given the place a fresh coat of eggshell-colored paint this fall, replacing the former gray. Chris had also purchased a chalkboard with his own money.
He prayed for the impressionable young lives God allowed him to shape each week, whispering their names to the Father. One boy particularly concerned him—Billy Zercher—a loner with dark circles under his wide blue eyes.
“Help me reach him. . . .”
Chris knew he was probably too impatient for results. With high school graduation just around the bend, he was eager to get on with life in general, as well as ready for the divine call. His father had always said it was better to be a moving vessel than a stagnant one . . . waiting for something big to happen. And big was what Chris wanted. Outside grocery stores and along the sidewalk at the local public schools, he and his brothers had passed out tracts containing invitations to revival meetings at Tel Hai campground. While their efforts were met with modest success, he hoped for something even more fruitful, something that might reach more than the two or three stragglers who found their way to the meetings. If he had his way, he would work tirelessly to stamp out the recent “God is dead” nonsense heralded by
Time
magazine and others.
As for his future livelihood, his father’s landscaping business was definitely an option. Chris knew the ropes—the appropriate, careful way to handle tree roots during transplanting and the like. He’d effortlessly memorized every perennial unique to this locale. He knew their watering needs, how deep the roots went, and which were blooming plants and which were not.
Lately, though, he longed for something with eternal meaning, some kind of full-time ministry. Hopefully he’d figure that out while attending Bible college in Harrisonburg, Virginia, next fall.
Chris wasn’t the only one with grandiose dreams. He knew Zach had his heart set on ministry, too, and had even been praying for his life mate with that in mind, asking for a girl who loved God with all her heart, mind, and spirit. When he met Suzy Fisher, Zach had believed that his future bride
had
been revealed, if perhaps a tad too early. Their next-older brother, along with their dad, had tried to dissuade Zach from falling too hard, too fast . . . especially for an Amish girl.
Chris, on the other hand, had never encountered any girl who turned his head. But Zach was sure he’d found a special love early in life and had confided as much to Chris. He’d decided to ask Suzy to go steady the afternoon of their outing to Marsh Creek State Park. And then in one terrible instant, Suzy was gone, swallowed up by the vast lake.
Chris and Zach had immediately jumped into action, as had their three older brothers, leaving their horrified dates alone in the other rowboats. At first, Chris’s terror kept him from filling his lungs with adequate air to dive farther down.
But finally, on his third dive, Chris managed to dive deep enough to swim up with Suzy. Too late—her lungs were already full, her body limp.
She never knew Zach thought that God had brought
them together. . . .
Chris believed in God’s sovereignty, as did all four of his brothers. Their parents had drilled it into them as youngsters. To think Suzy, so new to their Mennonite church, might have become his sister-in-law had she lived. But now it troubled him to know that Zach was unable to shake the memory of Suzy standing up—then teetering—in the rowboat, her long dress billowing as she lost her balance and plunged overboard. He suffered frequent nightmares, thrashing in his bed across the room he shared with Chris. The dreams and flashbacks kept him on edge all day, and his grades had plummeted.