Thrown to the Wolves (The Faith in Peril Trilogy) (3 page)

“Amen,” I murmured.

Once we had resumed our seats, a bowl of mashed potatoes came my way, and I helped myself to a steaming spoonful. We ate in companionable silence; my sole focus on the meal, yet swallowing became difficult, knowing Daniel Stoltzfus sat directly across from me. His presence was like a bothersome splinter in the finger or an itchy rash from a plant in the garden. The conversation centered mostly on childrearing, farming, and gossip, as several couples had announced their desire to marry recently.

Anna knocked against my knee with her knee, feigning innocence. She knew how I felt about Daniel, thinking it funny to toy with me in such a manner. The males and females would be separated once the singing began. I looked forward to this, because I wanted to remove myself from Daniel’s disturbing presence. His sisters, Rose, Jane, and Mary were lovely girls, and I adored them. We had gone to school together. Jane would soon be married, and she beamed with happiness, because her intended sat at the next table.

Dessert and coffee followed the meal, while various discussions continued; talk of fishing, hunting, and farming abounded. Mam sat with Abe on her lap, the baby drooling and babbling, which made me long to hold him. I adored my brother, finding him endlessly fascinating, each stage of his development a joy to behold. He was our miracle baby, a blessing my parents had been praying for and anticipating.

Whenever Daniel spoke, which occurred seldom, the baritone of his voice infiltrated my brain, like a spear thrown expertly, hitting its mark. His words rambled around in my consciousness, and, although he expressed himself eloquently enough, I disliked hearing him, wishing he would be quiet. It wasn’t long before the dishes were taken up and the tables removed, while benches were brought in. Anna and I sat with Ruth and her friends, Mildred and Tessa, while Mam and Dat sat with Abe and Jacob at the back of the room with the other parents. The girls sat in one row, the boys were in the next and it alternated in this manner, while the furthest row held the rowdier boys, who partook in tomfooleries, believing we would not notice, although we did.

The singing was the highlight of the evening, our voices soaring in harmony. The boys sang several verses and then the girls, this process alternating repeatedly. Most of the songs were in German with a few in English. I wasn’t a gifted singer like Anna, whose lovely voice was always in tune. Standing next to her gave me an advantage, as it helped me to stay on pitch. The music calmed my nerves and lifted my spirits, similar to walking through a garden in spring. The effort it took to perform at the top of my lungs had left me exhilarated and sweaty, although I did not mind the latter in the least. Every note had been worth it. These gatherings were always joyous and lively, the songs fast-paced and vibrant, a stark contrast to the hymns sung in church.

The boys were the first to file out of the room, while the girls followed, the parents staying behind with the smaller children. A fair amount of courting happened outside, with those already spoken for leaving together in buggies, the boy driving the girl to her house. I lingered with Anna, my stalwart confidant, while Ruth spoke with a friend.

“You did well,” she said.

I glanced at her in disbelief. “I did not. If it weren’t for you, I’d have given everyone a headache. My singing is terrible.”

“Nonsense. It’s lovely.”

“Well, if it isn’t the Glick sisters,” said a voice behind us.

I turned to find Caleb Shetler, a friend from school. “Hello, Caleb. How are you tonight?”

He grinned beneath his black felt hat. “Well, and you?”

“Better now,” said Anna. “It was hot inside with all the lamps.”

I nodded in agreement. “Yes, it was.” Caleb courted Victoria Chupp. “Where’s Vicky?” I hadn’t recalled seeing her this evening.

“She’s not feeling well.” His smile faltered. “She stayed home. I really wished she could come.”

Anna glanced at me meaningfully, and we silently commiserated with Victoria’s condition, the malady being of a female, personal nature. She experienced difficulties when her time of the month occurred.

“I’m sure she’ll be better soon,” said Anna kindly.

Several buggies had already left, filled with young couples, while others were in the process of being driven out. From where I stood, beneath the tree near the house, I saw groups of people scattered across the yard. A noisy bunch of men near the barn laughed and shouted. Several girls huddled together near an assemblage of buggies, while children, who had escaped their parents, ran around.

I sought out Michael, craning my neck to find him. He was off himself, hitching a horse to a buggy. I desperately wanted to hope that he would take me home, although we had not discussed this at all, and my house was not up to receiving visitors. Perhaps he would leave alone … but, as he settled within the conveyance, a girl appeared from the crowd, and I recognized her as Beth Beiler, someone younger than myself. My spirits plummeted, realizing he had asked to court her.

Caleb had wandered off to speak to friends, while Anna remained by my side. “Well, that’s rather telling, isn’t it?” she said.

I wanted to ignore her, but I couldn’t. “When did this happen?” I felt crushed with disappointment.

“I’m just as astonished as you are.”

“I had so hoped he would ask me.”

A reserved, yet contemplative look graced her face. “You expected too much of him, Rebekah. As I recall, your conversations were never more than casual. He’s told you almost nothing about himself.”

I could not hide my frustration. “That’s what courting is for! We’re supposed to talk then. It’s almost impossible to discuss anything when everyone’s listening.” There were so few opportunities for young people to meet and speak, thereby making the time after singing so important.

Anna touched my shoulder in sympathy, as Michael’s buggy ambled from the yard. “If it’s any consolation, you’ve Daniel’s undivided attention.”

I groaned, glancing at my feet. “I care not for that.”

“Yet he continues to pine for you, which is puzzling.”

“He’s free to make a fool of himself.” I shrugged, feeling downtrodden, as the buggy I wished to be in disappeared into the darkness. In my defense, I had to say, “I’ve spoken with Michael before, and it wasn’t only about the weather, although we did discuss that.”

“He’s chosen Beth. Everyone witnessed it. She came forward to join him, and now they’re gone.”

The finality in her tone sat like a lump in my belly. “You needn’t watch over me. Go amuse yourself. I’m … going to the house to see Mam.”

I felt as if the evening, with all its joyous possibility had been ruined. Grasping the shawl firmly, I took to the steps, hurrying for the entrance. Daniel leaned against the open door, while laughter and talking emanated from inside. Lamplight threw out a yellowish glow behind him. I moved by him to go in, and, although I didn’t want to, our eyes met. I hid my disdain, while old, unpleasant feelings bubbled to the surface. I schooled my features, fighting the scowl that threatened to appear.

He nodded to me, inclining his head slightly, while staring at me with an air of resigned patience. After I had refused him the second time, not giving him an answer as to why, although he had asked, he had begun to wear this look, and it was unnerving. I did not want to linger here, praying he would not say anything to me. I darted into the house, the awkward moment passing, and I breathed freely again.

***

We sang all the way home, jostled steadily within the confines of the buggy. I held Abe in my arms, but the baby had fallen asleep. Jacob, who had eaten one too many slices of pie, jumped up and down, full of energy, while Mam yawned, her eyes half-closed in exhaustion. Church Sundays tired everyone, because we had been on our feet since early in the morning, and the singing and socializing had lasted until after nine.

My brother, David, had spoken with a girl he’d had his eye on for months now, Daisy, and she had agreed to see him the Sunday after next. Having successfully acquired a potential “special friend”, he grinned from ear to ear; his glee would not be restrained. I scowled at him mockingly, amused by his behavior. His quest for a wife could begin in earnest now, since he had been baptized. He appeared to be wasting little time.

While Ruth and Anna sang, Jacob humming along, David leaned towards me, asking, “And how was your evening? I thought I saw Michael Esch drive off with Beth Beiler, but who can be sure. It was rather dark, wasn’t it?”

I shoved him. “Stop it.”

Unperturbed, he chuckled, “You mustn’t fear, little sister. Jonas Hooley is still without a wife. He’ll gladly offer to court you.”

Jonas was one of the least attractive of our acquaintance, and especially dull to talk to. His intelligence had been called into question on more than one occasion. “No, thank you.”

To my chagrin, David began to run through a rather long list of bachelors, most of whom I wasn’t remotely interested in. Dat grinned at us from over his shoulder, guiding the horse down the darkened road, while Mam shook her head.

“Don’t tease Rebekah so, David,” she said. “It’s not nice. She’s going to find a husband soon. I know it.”

“Thank you, Mam.”

Ruth and Anna continued to sing the refrains of “In The Sweet By and By”, filling the air with the pretty melody, as they sang adeptly. Jacob tried his best to remember the words, his face alight with a giant smile. I hummed along, practicing the harmony.

Once we arrived home, chaos ensued, the girls rushing out back for the privy, while Mam put Abe down in his crib. I held a lantern waiting for Ruth to finish her business, standing near the garden with Anna singing in my ear. My younger sister was truly an angel, her voice one of the best in the district and her face as fair as they come. Her beauty transcended the superficial, encompassing her heart and soul, through the kindness and mercy she freely bestowed upon everyone she met. These same qualities I struggled to master, and I failed more often than not, or at least I thought so.

Bedtime was always a jumble of prayers, songs and trips to the outhouse, as someone felt the need—one last time before the lights went out. We knelt around the kitchen table, while Dat read from
Christenpflicht,
his voice steady and clear, reading in German. He typically read only his favorite passages, but at times there would be something new. The Lord’s Prayer followed this. Molly decided to join us, sitting next to me with her tail twitching behind her. Friendly and loving, the dog’s breath smelled foul. Not understanding we prayed, she wanted to be petted, but she would have to wait.

We left the kitchen after the prayers concluded. Anna and I shared the larger bed, while Ruth slept in the single bed against the wall. I could hear my parent’s talking in the next room, although their voices sounded muffled. Abe cried once during the night, while Molly came and went, her nails scratching against the wood floor. In the morning, Mam shook me awake, well before five, and, although I felt tired, I slid from the bed and dressed quickly, needing to help her in the kitchen. I let my siblings sleep a little longer, but then they would have to milk the cows.

Ruth and Anna went to school, but Jacob, being only five, wasn’t old enough yet. While Mam made breakfast, I watched the baby. Dat had been in the barn, returning to the house to eat, while I brought out the dishes. We had all gathered in the kitchen now, sitting at the table, listening to David read a chapter of scripture. Then we knelt before our chairs, while Dat read from
Christenpflict
.

He finished by saying, “O Lord God, please watch over us today, and keep us safe from sinful influences such as pride, superstition, and disobedience. Amen.”

“Amen,” I said, getting to my feet.

We each ate a slice of egg casserole with bread and bacon, Mam having churned butter earlier, which had been kept in the cellar on a block of ice. Dat and David tended to the farm, dressed in barn-door pants and galluses, while Jacob would go out soon to pick Everbearing strawberries in a nearby field. Dozens of chores would keep everyone busy the entire day.

I walked my younger sisters to school most mornings, but today I had been sent on a special errand, bringing several jars of preserves to an elderly lady who lived near the schoolhouse. With this in mind, we hurried to ready ourselves, tying our black bonnets neatly beneath the chin, while my sisters carried lunchboxes, the metal containers swinging at their sides.

To save time, we wandered through the cornfield to the forest, intending to walk on a well-known path that shaved more than ten minutes off the journey. It felt unbearably humid, even at this hour; the storm from the previous afternoon had dampened the ground, our boots sinking into mud nearly to the ankle in places. Little black bugs flew in the air, annoyingly, sometimes hovering overhead.

Anna and Ruth chatted happily, while I gazed at the greenery, the trees not as dense here, because the sun sprinkled light upon the trail. I played in these woods often as a child, exploring the path to the creek and beyond. The forest was vast, the trails thinning, disappearing, and disorienting a casual wanderer. I would not return this way, since I refused to be here alone, fearing what might lie further in the darkness—hiding in the bushes. Far braver than I, David and Dat explored these woods while hunting, but I lacked the courage to linger, only using the trail as a shortcut.

Once through, we emerged onto a neighbor’s farm, following the path towards the schoolhouse, with its whitewashed siding and barren yard. Too many boots over the years had ruined the grass. A black buggy had been left beneath a tree, which belonged to the teacher. I bid my sisters farewell, and they ran off to meet their friends. Several interested faces turned my way, mostly the older boys, who observed my departure with interest. They saw me as a grown, mysterious woman, and it amused me, wondering what they might be thinking.

I arrived at Evelyn Miller’s farm shortly after. A kindly old woman, she had lost her husband a few years earlier. As I approached the house, I noted signs of disrepair: rusting farm equipment, the tilting barn roof, and the weeds that had taken over the gravel driveway. Mam had said Evelyn would be better suited living in a
Dawdyhause
—a small house attached to another dwelling. Several families came during the month to help with things, but the size of the farm proved challenging.