Finding Love at Home (The Beiler Sisters) (2 page)

I
t was a beautiful fall morning as Debbie Watson sat on the front porch swing of the Beiler home. She smiled as she listened to the creak of the swing chains on each side of her. She hadn’t been born Amish or raised in the faith, and yet God had done a good work in her heart, just as He’d done in the hearts of the Beiler family. They had welcomed her into their home well over a year ago, and so much had happened since then. Good things as well as tragic things.

That she was well accepted in the community was one of the good things. Widower Melvin Kanagy’s passing last spring, only weeks before his planned wedding with Ida Beiler, had been one of the great tragedies. That Ida had managed to rebound so quickly after her heart had been fully given to Melvin still surprised Debbie. Of course, she had her own heartache regarding Alvin Knepp. He still hadn’t asked her home after a Sunday hymn singing. When Alvin returned from his brief time of living in the
Englisha
world, he’d practically promised he would ask to take her home.

Debbie pushed thoughts of Alvin aside and took in the sweep of fall colors beginning to roll over the hills around her. It was the second week of September, and Snyder County’s Amish country
always put on its best face this time of year. The Beilers’ corn crop had been cut and stacked in the fields, awaiting the annual silage filling. Debbie planned to stay home from work when that day arrived. She’d wanted to take in the full flavor of an Amish silo filling for some time now—and this was the year!

The men of the community would gather for the day, and Saloma and Ida would have tables in the yard spread with an awesome noon meal. The community was a peaceful place filled with people who possessed deep faith and worked close to the soil. Debbie had chosen to become part of them, and each day she was drawn further in. And now, incredibly, tomorrow would be the day of her baptism! It had been so long in coming, and now that it was here, Debbie was finding it hard to hold her joy in. How she made it through all the baptismal instruction classes, with the long lectures by Minister Kanagy on the
Ordnung
rules, was still a miracle. Minister Kanagy wasn’t the bishop, but he acted like he was sometimes.

Minister Kanagy had been skeptical of her true intentions and had regarded her with steely eyes as she sat with the other applicants on Sunday mornings. Surely the others were also at risk of not keeping the
Ordnung
. Minister Kanagy didn’t have to single her out—but he did.

Still, she would never wish calamity on Minister Kanagy, but disaster had struck anyway. Horrible tragedy. His wife, Barbara, had been diagnosed with cancer at nearly the same time his brother Melvin had passed, back in the spring. The doctors had recommended the most aggressive treatment for Barbara, but this had done little to halt the cancer’s rapid advance. They had buried her last month, only yards from where Melvin’s body lay.

Debbie sighed. How closely sorrow and joy walked together. And here among the community, the cutting edge of each emotion was felt to the maximum. These people drew support from God and from each other. That was how they survived and flourished in a modern world that often rushed past them. And tomorrow she
would become part of them. Bishop Beiler would ask her the questions, she would answer, and water would be poured over her head. Debbie’s hands tingled at the thought.

She’d truly become Amish. Her baptism would just confirm what she already knew in her heart. Despite his eagle eye, Minister Kanagy had failed to catch her in any
Ordnung
transgressions. She’d been careful about that, often questioning Ida Beiler for hours on how things were done. Ida would mention things like comportment, how to fold her hands on her lap in the instruction classes, and to look up only when the others spoke or a question was asked of her. Ida had personally supervised the sewing of her dresses, and she’d seen to it that her head covering was large enough. If Minister Kanagy had found fault with any of that hard work, Debbie would have corrected the error at once. That was another character trait the people of the community admired—the willingness to change one’s ways to conform. And she
had
changed her ways. She’d come a long way from her
Englisha
roots.

Debbie’s thoughts drifted to the sweeping lawns of the college of Franklin and Marshall in Lancaster. There the trees would also blaze with their fall splendor. The students were rushing about this week on their way to classes. She’d once been one of them, only she hadn’t been eager or excited. Their world had never been hers, even when she completed four years and graduated with honors to please her mother. Callie had thought she’d won the struggle with her only child once Debbie had her degree in hand. Hoping her daughter’s fascination with the Amish had been forever purged or at least neutralized by her college education, Callie had been sorely disappointed. With the world open before Debbie, and now able to choose for herself, she’d followed her heart first by becoming a boarder with the Beiler family and then by embracing their Plain faith. Her mother had openly disapproved of Debbie’s decision. But at least her mother wasn’t in shock like Adam and Saloma Beiler were when their youngest daughter, Lois, deserted the Amish
faith and moved into the
Englisha
world. The Beilers were still reeling from the blow.

Debbie had grown up next door to the Beilers and was friends with the three Beiler girls: Verna, Ida, and Lois. But between Lois and her there had always been a vast difference. Debbie admired the Amish community, while Lois longed for
Englisha
life. Now Lois lived at Debbie’s parents’ place, where she’d moved earlier this year. Debbie thought it was as if she and Lois had swapped places and corrected some error of birth. But there hadn’t been an error. She was Herbert and Callie Watson’s birth daughter, just as Lois belonged to Adam and Saloma Beiler.

Debbie brought the squeak of the swing to a halt for a moment. Next week Lois would marry Doug Williams, of all people. Mother must have introduced the two soon after Lois moved in. Debbie was sure her mother had eagerly pushed Lois down the path of social success that her own daughter refused. What irony, Debbie thought. She’d dated Doug on and off but was never really impressed by him.

Debbie pushed with her foot to start the swing again. The subject of Lois’s wedding was a sore one around the Beiler household. Lois’s wedding invitation was in the bottom of one of Saloma’s dresser drawers, and it would remain there. None of the Beiler family planned to attend the wedding. And Debbie couldn’t go either, although she would have before she began the baptism instruction classes. Tomorrow she would be baptized, and she certainly wouldn’t jeopardize her new standing in the community by doing such a thing.

The front door squeaked open. Ida’s face appeared. “Hiding out, are we?”

“In plain sight.” Debbie smiled. “Come join me.”

Ida did so, gazing off into the distance as she sat down.

Debbie reached over to squeeze her friend’s hand. “Are we troubled on this fine morning?”

Ida gave her a strained smile. “Your baptism is tomorrow. I’m so happy for you, Debbie. You’ll have found your home amongst us at last.”

“Thank you.” Debbie didn’t let go of Ida’s hand. She wasn’t fooled by Ida’s cheerfulness. Her friend’s heart was always toward others and seldom on her own troubles, but something was off.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Debbie tightened her fingers.

Ida shrugged. “I’m okay. Just thinking, that’s all.”

Debbie didn’t back down. “You’ll feel better if you talk about it.”

Ida’s response was a sharp intake of breath as she looked away.

“Did Barbara’s funeral bring back memories?” Debbie tried again. “I know it did for me, so I can only imagine what you must still go through.”

Ida’s voice choked. “Melvin’s body was lying over there, Debbie. So close. The man I almost married. I could still see the outline of the grave. And Melvin’s boy Willard, the eldest, couldn’t stop looking at it. I got to thinking of him finding his
daett
under the cultivator tines. No nine-year-old boy should have to see such a thing, and with no
mamm
to comfort him… ” Ida wiped the tears from her cheek. “I almost went over last week to put my arms around him, Debbie. But Willard isn’t my son, and he never will be. Oh, why did
Da Hah
do this to us? Why, Debbie?” Ida struggled to control her sobs.

Debbie slipped her arm around Ida’s shoulders and pulled her close. “God knows what’s best,” Debbie whispered, surprised that the words were more than just words. Conviction rose in her heart.

“
Yah
,
Da Hah
does.” Ida collected herself. “And here I am blubbering all over the place.”

“That doesn’t mean that you don’t trust Him, Ida. It just means that it still hurts.”

Ida’s shoulders shook. “First Melvin’s six children are left motherless and fatherless, and now Minister Kanagy’s two have no
mamm
. It seems so wrong.”

Debbie let go of Ida and gave her friend a sharp look. Should she say something? Hadn’t she seen Minister Kanagy’s gaze on Ida at the Sunday service—and Ida’s weak smile in response? Or had her imagination been running wild?

Did Ida have ideas in her head? Like marriage to Minister Kanagy so she could take care of Melvin’s orphaned children and Minister Kanagy’s semi-orphaned children? Surely Ida wouldn’t marry the man—even if Minister Kanagy asked. Would she? Shivers ran through Debbie at the thought of Ida as Minister Kanagy’s
frau
. What a loveless match that would be. Debbie decided she shouldn’t say anything about it. What if she said something, and Ida hadn’t thought of it? Would she have planted seeds that could take root in Ida’s kind and selfless nature? Then Ida’s open heart might draw Minister Kanagy’s attention even further. “That’s terrible!” Debbie gasped out loud.

“I know.” Ida nodded. “It’s awful what has happened this year. And now Lois’s wedding to that awful
Englisha
man is next week. Our family ought to go about the community in sackcloth and ashes.”

Debbie let the subject of Minister Kanagy go. “People don’t blame your family like you think they might.” Thankfully Ida hadn’t caught the true meaning of her gasp.

“I guess things look dark right now. Maybe you’re right.” Ida lapsed into silence.

Perhaps Lois’s upcoming marriage was the more urgent concern anyway. Debbie knew Doug well. She had, after all, dated the man. He wasn’t quite the awful
Englisha
man the Beilers thought he was, but she understood their point of view. To them Doug had lured Lois deeper into the outside world. On the other hand, Debbie remembered what the Beilers were overlooking at the moment. Lois had found her way into the
Englisha
world on her own, well before knowing Doug.

Ida shifted on the swing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be speaking such
harsh words about Doug. My heart is broken and sorrowful, I suppose. But that’s never a
gut
excuse for wrongdoing.”

“I’m sure
Da Hah
understands.” Debbie reached over to squeeze Ida’s hand.

“I hope so.” Ida attempted a smile. “I’ll be needing His blessing soon. If I don’t miss my guess, Minister Kanagy will be calling before long. He needs a new
frau
—and quickly, I would say.”

Shock sent Debbie to her feet. “You shouldn’t say that, Ida. It’s not decent. The man’s wife is barely in the ground.”

Ida appeared puzzled. “There’s nothing indecent about it.
Da Hah
made that choice, and Minister Kanagy is free to marry again since Barbara’s gone. And we could bring all of Melvin’s children into the family.”

Debbie trembled. “He’s a horrible man, Ida. Have you ever had to deal with his harsh eyes looking for any flaw in you? Well, I did. I lived through many an instruction class with the man. And what about what he did to Joe and Verna? He would’ve liked to put Joe in jail on his suspicions alone if Henry Yoder hadn’t found another witness to testify for Joe.”

Ida eyed Debbie. “He’s a hard man, Debbie. I know that. But I also know I’m sitting here wasting away my life as an old maid when I could be mothering Melvin’s six children.” Ida paused to wipe her eyes. “Would you keep me from that, Debbie?”

Debbie’s mind spun. Maybe there was hope yet. Ida hadn’t said that Minister Kanagy had spoken to her. Perhaps there was no basis to this conclusion Ida had drawn. Perhaps Debbie had imagined it moments ago.

Ida seemed to read Debbie’s thoughts. “He was watching me last Sunday at the services, Debbie. I know that look in a man’s eye. So don’t say I don’t know what I’m speaking about.”

Debbie wanted to protest in the loudest voice possible. This wasn’t right! Minister Kanagy was way out of line. He shouldn’t look at another woman so soon after his wife had been buried. But
her protests would be in vain, Debbie told herself as she took her seat on the swing again, her body now limp.

“It might be
Da Hah
’s will.” Ida reached over to touch Debbie’s arm. “
Da Hah
will give me love in my heart for the man—if not before, then after we’ve said wedding vows.”

Debbie groaned but said nothing. What was the use?

Two