Thrown to the Wolves (The Faith in Peril Trilogy) (2 page)

My father, a tall, lanky man, appeared, finger combing his messy hair. Scratching his beard, he smiled, the edges of his eyes crinkling. “Did we oversleep?”

“Not at all,” said Mam. “But we should get ready soon.”

I had taken a seat with Abe in my lap, while Jacob ran into the room. Dat snatched him up, lifting him off his feet. “Where are you going in such a rush?” My brother squealed happily, while Mam grimaced at the noise.

“Where’s Molly?” asked Jacob. “Where’s the doggie?”

“She’s outside,” I said.

“Where we should be.” Dat flung Jacob over his shoulder. “To the outhouse.” He swatted his bottom playfully. “We’ll bring her back with us.” He strode towards the door, while Jacob shouted with delight.

Mam held her face in her hands.

I asked, “Does your head ache again?” Prone to terrible pains at times, the effects debilitating, she would often shutter herself away in a dark room until it passed.

“No, I’m well.” She smiled longingly. “They’re just loud. It was peaceful before.”

Abe fussed then. I kicked up a knee, bouncing him gently. “I thought Bishop Graber might be the cause of your pounding head.” I was teasing, as we all knew how long-winded and dull his sermons were.

“He wasn’t as bad today. He’s been worse.”

A clap of thunder registered, rumbling over our heads. Anna went to the door to look out. “It’s going to pour.”

Mam had begun to undo her hair. “Someone needs to wake David. He’s been sleeping long enough now.”

I got to my feet. “I’ll do it.” I needed to change my clothes before we left.

“I’ll go with you.” Anna stood by my side, glancing at Abe. “You should give him to Ruth. She can manage him.”

“I’ll take him,” said Mam. “He’s in need of a feeding anyhow.” She cradled the baby in her arms. “Just wake David, please.”

Anna and I were now free to leave.

My brother had been baptized a few hours earlier. This was the result of months of instruction, culminating in full membership in the Old Order Amish church. I had gone through the process nearly a year ago, choosing to submit to the
Gmay
for the rest of my life, as I could not imagine living any differently. I had not struggled with the decision like my brother had. We had worried David would not find his way, because he had gone through a rather wild phase, Mam saying often, “
Manche Jungen sind so wild
.” She complained about how wicked and wayward his friends in the district were. He had taken to smoking tobacco and racing buggies with friends in the neighborhood. The final straw had come when he had purchased a harmonica, learning to the play the instrument, which was strictly
verboten
. Dat had drawn the line then, threatening to toss him from the house.

Anna and I took to the stairs, the hallway even darker now, as the sun had dipped behind the trees. The wind had picked up and a flash of lightning streaked before an open window.

“It’s nearly here,” said Anna, reaching for the sash, which she lowered.

“I’ll wake David.” I stood before the door, not wanting to open it without knocking. I had once burst in on him, catching him changing, which had embarrassed us both. I rapped on the door. “David!
Wach auf!
We’re going soon.”

“
Ja
,” was his reply.

I turned to Anna. “I need to change.”

It had been stiflingly hot in church. The barn had offered little ventilation, and I had sweated through the dress. After singing tonight, there would be the possibility of courtship, and I had hoped Michael Esch might finally ask to court me. I felt it imperative I appeared as presentable as possible just in case this happened.

I closed the door to the bedroom, while Anna pulled open a drawer. The wind gusted and rain splashed against the windowpanes. “It’s coming down hard now,” said Anna. It sounded like there might be hail as well. “What color are you wearing? The mauve or blue?”

“Blue.”

“I’ll wear the other then.”

Being nearly the same size allowed us to share dresses. “I’m eager for the singing.”

“Me too.” She struggled with her apron; the sash was tangled.

I had undressed, washing with a cloth dunked in water from a bowl that stood upon a dresser. “I need to clean up.”

The room’s furniture consisted of two beds and a set of oddly matched drawers. These came down to us from previous generations. What sort of furniture would Michael’s family give him? Rumor had it he was clever at wood making. I could imagine our house filled with lovely pieces of furniture he had painstakingly crafted. Anna and I had sewn our quilt by hand, from various scraps of cloth. The pattern was a work of art, and it had taken more than eight months to complete. The design consisted of dozens of squares surrounding multi-colored leaves. We had already begun a new one, with an even more ambitious pattern.

The storm had brought in dark clouds, which dimmed the light of the room further. Anna lit a lamp, frowning, while searching through a drawer. “I hope that dress isn’t on the clothes line.”

My mouth fell open. “Oh, dear! We’ve left everything hanging in the rain.”

The wind howled, the sound whistling over the rooftop. “Well, it’s too late now. It’ll all have to dry again. I’ll find something else to wear. I’ve a clean dress or two … somewhere.”

“This can’t be good. The roads will flood, and the horses will fuss.”

“It’s moving quickly. It’ll be over by the time we leave.”

“I hope so.”

She pulled out a dress, holding it up for inspection. “I don’t want to drown tonight. Oh, Lord, please make the rain stop, so the singing isn’t ruined. Amen.”

I laughed at that. “That will surely do it.”

“It’s terribly wrinkled, but it’s all I have.”

Cries from the baby caught my attention. “I should hurry. Mam will need help with Abe.” I tucked an errant strand of blonde hair into my black
kapp
. “Come down when you’re ready.”

“Yes, Rebekah.”

As providence would have it, the rain let up just as we left the house. Dat had already hitched the mare to the buggy in preparation of our departure. The eight of us managed to sit comfortably, with Jacob on Dat’s lap and Abe in Mam’s arms. The girls wore shawls and bonnets, as the rain had brought a chill. David looked distinguished in a black suit with a black felt hat.

Dat clucked to the horse, and, with a jerk, we were off. The singing began almost immediately. “Gott ist die Leibe” was one of Jacob’s favorites, the little boy joining in with enthusiasm. We lived a mile down the road from the Troyer farm, and we bobbed and shook on our seats, as the wheels jostled over uneven ground.

Mam, who held Abe, met Dat’s gaze, her smile deepening. I frequently caught their exchanges; the affection they felt for one another evident. I wanted so much to feel this way with Michael.

“
Sie sind schön
,” he murmured.

She smiled coyly, clearly relishing being called beautiful. But my mother
was
lovely, with thick blonde hair, an unlined face, and clear blue eyes. All the females in the family possessed these features, although none of us had grown as tall as our mother. I was an inch shorter and Anna two, but she awaited a growth spurt. Ruth, who was nearly twelve, was even smaller.

We passed fields on either side of the road, but they did not belong to us. Rather they belonged to the Stoltzfus family on the right and the Esch family on the left. I craned my neck to look left; their house stood off at a distance, its roofline hidden by an enormous hickory tree. A black buggy waited out front, which brought a surge of hope through me. Michael would be at the singing tonight, and I had every expectation he would ask to court me. I had known him since I was a child. He had recently submitted to the
Gmay
, and he was ready to become a member of the brotherhood, which meant marriage, children, and farming. These were the things I wished for as well, and I felt confident I had chosen the perfect partner, although Michael had yet to know this.

A long line of buggies approached the Troyer farm from either side. Most of the households in the district had returned to participate in supper and singing. We carried our pies, while others had baked heartier dishes. The ladies brought their burdens towards the house, while the men congregated in the yard. The boys—acting as hostlers—ran out to unhitch the horses, leading them to the barn for food and water.

Anna stood with me, as we watched the buggies arrive, clattering down the drive, noting exactly which family would be joining us tonight. I hoped Michael Esch would appear soon. He was a fair-haired young man of good standing, whom I had come to admire. I valued kindness and honesty in a potential mate, and I believed he held these characteristics, as I had never seen him treat anyone ill.

“Can I guess who you’re looking for?” asked Anna

“Um … I suppose.” Groups of men stood by the barn, while youths wandered towards the house, where we would sit for supper.

“Mr. Esch is pleasing enough, I suppose, but what about someone like Daniel Stoltzfus?”

I glanced at Anna, who smiled teasingly. “Pleasing enough? You know I don’t like Daniel. Why must you bring him up?”

“If you prefer bland. I’ve never found Michael all that interesting. I once listened to him prattling on about how long it took to till a field. He described it row by row.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“What on earth would you talk about?” She seemed determined to belabor this topic. “How many eggs the hens laid or whose cow knocked over what fence or who fell in a ditch and broke an arm.”

“You’re being annoying now.”

She nodded, indicating I look in another direction. “There comes Daniel Stoltzfus. Hasn’t he grown handsome? He’s taller than nearly everyone.”

I was well-acquainted with every member of the Stoltzfus family, and, although I adored Daniel’s sisters, Rose, Jane, and Mary, along with his younger brothers, Adam, John, and Henry, I could scarcely contain my distain for Daniel.

Anna knew why I disliked him, but she persisted on annoying me by pointing him out wherever we went, as if I could ignore him. He stood taller than most of the men, long and lanky, but as solid as a wood plank. A seasoned farmer, he worked the land his family owned, embracing the labor with zeal; I had seen him often enough with his horses, commandeering a plow. Daniel stood with his father and brothers; the female members of the family had disappeared into the house. And, as if sensing my notice, he turned towards me, his face partially hidden beneath a wide-brimmed, felt hat.

“Do you think he’ll ask to court you again?”

“I surely hope not.” I had refused him twice already. “He must be weary of asking by now.”

“He’s staring at you.”

I shrugged, feeling justified in my resentment, although I had forgiven him years ago … for something I could never forget. “I care not if he looks this way.”

“I know you loathe him, but what happened, it was so long in the past. You know what they say, ‘For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.’”

“Yes, Anna, I’m well aware of that. I … forgive him. I … just can’t forget.”

“You judge him still.” She frowned, marring her pretty features. “That’s not your job. Only He can judge.”

“Fine and dandy, but I won’t court him. I’ve no desire to speak to him. I don’t wish to be anywhere he is.” Nonetheless, I seemed to have his full attention, his dark gaze drifting over me, while he stood with his father. Clean-shaven, he held his chin slightly higher than everyone else’s, giving proof of his pride to any who would see. “Indeed, even if he were the last Amish man on earth and I was the last Amish woman, even if our joining would continue the bloodline, I would not marry him.”

Anna, stunned by my sharp retort, snorted, and began laughing uncontrollably, which garnered the interest of several people, who turned to look at us. I took her arm, leading her to the house. “We’ve lingered long enough. Let’s help with dinner.” As we walked away, I glanced over my shoulder, spying Daniel staring in our direction. This sent a shiver down my spine, which was not in the least bit pleasant.

Chapter Two

With as many people as had gathered in the Troyer house, we were surprisingly orderly, even the little ones behaving themselves, some playing with toys, while others remained close to their mothers. As we took our seats at the table in the parlor, luck failed me tonight. I found myself situated across from Daniel Stoltzfus and his family, the sisters smiling pleasantly. I groaned my displeasure inwardly, fighting the frown that threatened to appear on my face. Anna, noting my unhappiness, grinned mischievously, blinking at me beneath her eyelashes, trying to get my goat. I wanted to throttle her.

My mother, oblivious to my suffering, chatted amiably, an ever-present smile creasing the edges of her eyes, while she spoke with Mrs. Stoltzfus. Having gone to school together, the women were old friends. Conversations abounded, whilst the lilting voices of children added to the commotion. Being hungry, my belly grumbled, anticipating the meatloaf with cabbage and onions. I eyed a large bowl of potato salad and a basket of freshly baked bread, but first there would be prayer. We knelt on the floor, placing our hands on the chairs before us.

Bishop Graber said, “O Lord God, our merciful Father, we thank you for this day, for allowing us the opportunity to better serve Thee …”

Anna prayed with her hands upraised and resting against her forehead, a slight smile lingering around her mouth. While trying to concentrate on the Bishop’s words, I felt eyes upon me. Looking an inch higher, I discovered proof of this, as Daniel Stoltzfus faced me, his look stark, yet indomitable. Annoyed and disturbed, I lowered my head and closed my eyes, listening to Bishop Graber, who knelt with us.

“… guide us and teach us to act accordingly to Thy will. We strive to be obedient in all things, to be kind to others, to share our earthly belongings with those in need, and to live by Thy grace. Bless this food we are about to eat, for it is the nourishment we seek … that you have given us … Amen.”