A Wedding for Julia (21 page)

Her sister only shrugged and went back to her coloring sheet—a scene that included grass and a four-legged animal that was colored purple.

Remembering that plum-colored animal, Sharon wondered if the entire world had gone crazy. She also wondered if the boys were hiding in the barn. No doubt they had all known what her parents were about to say. Everyone had known except her.

“Did you say Wisconsin?”

“
Ya
.” Her father didn’t blink. “That’s where Caleb and Julia live.”

“Who?”

“Caleb, your Aunt Betsy’s middle son. You remember him.” Marion spoke quietly, gently, as if she were afraid Sharon would bolt from the table.

“It doesn’t matter if you remember him or not, Sharon. He’s your cousin, and you’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow to stay with him and his wife.”

“Why?” Panic clawed at Sharon’s chest, reminding her of that night, of waiting in the field, of the car that had stopped before her father’s driver found her. She pushed the thought away, closed her eyes, and tried to swallow. “What…what have I done wrong?”

“What haven’t you done wrong?” Her father’s voice wasn’t harsh, exactly, but neither was it kind.

There had been a wall between them since that night three weeks ago, since he’d gone down the road to their
Englisch
neighbors and asked for a ride in the middle of the night.

“It’s not what you’ve done, Sharon.” Marion reached out across the table, but Sharon jerked her hand into her lap. “We have spoken with the bishop.”

“Again?”

“And we think this is best for everyone.”

“To send me away?” Sharon stood abruptly, the chair skidding against the kitchen floor.

Her father stared at a spot to the left of her shoulder, his face devoid of emotion. Her mother shut her eyes, as if she were praying or trying to wish the entire thing away. Maybe trying to wish her away.

“I hate you,” Sharon whispered. “I hate you both.”

Sharon had twenty minutes of privacy before her mother followed her to her bedroom. She could hear her five brothers downstairs now. It sounded as though a pack of pups had been let loose in the house. Laughter, footsteps, someone losing a game of checkers and daring a rematch, and someone else complaining he was trying to finish his homework.

Normal sounds for people who had normal lives.

“Crying won’t change anything.” Marion pressed a fresh handkerchief into her hand. “You had better accept what is to be and make the best of it.”

Sharon pushed her face deeper into her pillow. The last thing she wanted was to speak with her mother. She understood nothing!

“Why is she crying,
mamm
?” Ruthie lifted up Sharon’s arm and pushed her doll under the pillow, down near her face. “Take my
boppli
, Sharon. She’ll make you feel better.”

Ruthie’s voice, concerned and close, was the only thing that could have broken through Sharon’s wall of despair. Sitting up, she rubbed at the tears still running down her face.

“Don’t cry.” Ruthie crawled onto the bed and put her chubby hands on both sides of her sister’s face and squeezed. “Okay?”

Sharon laughed, which made her hiccup, and then more tears escaped.

“A cold wet rag will help.” Marion stood.

“I’ll get it.” Ruthie hopped off the bed and ran out of the room.

“Wring it out,” Marion called after her.

They studied each other for a heartbeat before Sharon broke the silence. “I don’t want to go.”

“
Ya
.”

“I barely remember Caleb.”

“He’s been gone only a little over a year.”

“But he’s old and…” another sob escaped. “Why do I have to go?”

Ruthie returned with a washcloth dripping water across the bedroom floor.

“Take it back, sweetie. Squeeze the water into the sink.” Marion made wringing motions with her hand.

“Ohhhh…” Ruthie dashed back out of the room.

Marion scooted farther onto the bed, until her back was resting against the wall. “It’s been three weeks since—”

When Sharon didn’t speak but only stared down at Ruthie’s doll, her mother pushed forward. “Since you called your
dat
. You’re still not eating.”

“Is that what this is about? I’ll start. I promise—”

“You said that last week and the week before.” Marion shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong, Sharon. I don’t believe I know everything that happened to you that night. What could have frightened you so? What are you still struggling with? These are questions that worry both your
dat
and me. What we do know is when one of our
kinner
has changed—and you’ve changed.”

“Everyone changes.” The words slipped out from a secret place in her heart. Speaking them hurt so much she thought she might be having a heart attack. Could seventeen-year-old girls have heart attacks? Was that medically possible?

Ruthie returned with the cloth, climbed onto the bed, and began patting Sharon’s face—forehead to chin, left ear to right.

“
Ya
. That is true. People change, but the changes we’ve seen in you are worrisome. You’ve lost nearly fifteen pounds—weight you didn’t have to lose.”

Sharon began shaking her head, but Ruthie put a hand to her forehead and said, “Hold still!”

“You don’t sleep at night.”

“How—”

“Do you think anything happens in this house I’m not aware of?” Her mother reached out, touched the top of her head, and let her hand linger there a moment before continuing. “After what happened at church on Sunday—”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Did I say it was?”

Deciding the baby doll needed washing as much as Sharon did, Ruthie pulled it into her hands and sat in Sharon’s lap. Singing softly to herself, she cradled the faceless doll and focused on using the washcloth to clean her.

“Change can be healthy. We met with your Uncle Jebediah and Aunt Betsy yesterday. They were the ones who suggested you go to Wisconsin and stay with Caleb and Julia. They have a large home and are opening a café where you can work. Perhaps work, in a new place, is the answer.”

“But it’s in Wisconsin.”

“
Ya
. It is.” Marion stood and kissed both Ruthie and Sharon on top of their heads. “Betsy spoke with them today. They’re happy to have you.”

Sharon closed her eyes. Surely this was a nightmare, like all the others she had been suffering through. Maybe she would wake soon, wake to her old life—the one she hadn’t yet ruined.

The squirming sister in her lap suggested otherwise.

Besides, if this were merely a bad dream, it had very realistic people who kept saying things she didn’t want to hear. As her mother left the room, she added, “Tomorrow we’ll decide what you should take. Your bus leaves early Friday morning.”

Sharon stood next to her mother in the predawn darkness. Her brother Jonas had elected to stay with the horse and buggy, over on the far side of the parking area. He’d only spoken with her once, the day before, and it was plain he was siding with their parents.

Her father hadn’t come with them to the downtown station where the bus depot picked up and dropped off passengers. His only words to her had been delivered in a flat, resigned tone. “Goodbye, Sharon. May
Gotte
keep you safe.”

She hadn’t been able to look at him.

Part of her wanted to cry and beg him to let her stay.

Another part wanted to lash out and remind him she was seventeen—practically an adult. He couldn’t just decide where she would go and with whom she would live.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

But instead of pleading her case with tears or arguments, she’d sat there frozen, not even pretending to eat.

Her father had taken one final look at her breakfast plate, shaken his head, and left through the kitchen door. Her last sight of him was with his coat collar turned up and his shoulders hunched against the wind as he walked toward the barn.

Her younger brothers were only beginning to stir as they left.

And she didn’t have the heart to peek in on Ruthie, who was still sleeping in the room they shared.

“Bus is arriving in five minutes, folks. Be sure your ticket is handy and your luggage is tagged with your name.”

Sharon searched her mind frantically. There had to be something she could say to her mother. There had to be a way she could change what was about to happen. She couldn’t leave Monroe. How could they expect her to travel to Wisconsin, and live with people she didn’t even know?

“There’s Edna.” Marion began waving her hand. “We are so fortunate someone from our district was traveling to Minnesota and could change her plans and leave today instead of next week.”

“
Mamm
—”

“Mind your manners, Sharon. Edna’s older and she can be strict. She’ll be a good chaperone, though.”

“
Mamm
—”

Before Sharon could say another word, Edna joined them. She was probably ten years older than Marion, smelled like the peppermint candies she ate all the time, and rarely smiled.

“Edna,
gudemariye
.”

“And to you, Marion. I see Sharon is ready to go.” The woman’s false teeth clicked softly as she spoke.

Sharon looked around at the other passengers. Maybe she could dart in between them and escape. But where would she go? None of her friends would take her in. Who was she kidding? She no longer had friends. They all believed James’s version of what had happened.

James, who had abandoned her on the side of the road. James, who hadn’t really cared for her at all. James, who was the reason she was here being shuffled off to a distant land with people she didn’t even know.

“I’m not going.” She realized in an instant that no one could force her to leave. Instead, she turned and began to walk back toward their buggy.

“Sharon—”

She could hear the bus pull in behind them. The door made a hissing sound as it opened, and passengers began shuffling forward. There were words of goodbye and the man collecting tickets asked for folks to make a line. Her mother called out her name again, but her feet seemed to have a will of their own. They kept moving toward the parking lot, toward safety, toward home.

Suddenly she felt a hard grip close around her left arm.

“Young lady, you turn yourself around this minute.”

“I won’t.”

“Oh, yes you will. We have already paid for this ticket, and you will use it.”

“Is that all you care about? The money?” She’d told herself she wouldn’t cry, but her tears were like a faucet, and she was no longer in control of when they were turned on or off. “Admit it. You don’t care about me at all!”

Marion pulled back, the look on her face suggesting she didn’t know her daughter anymore. That made two of them. Sharon didn’t recognize herself when she looked in the mirror. Unfortunately, Marion still didn’t let go of her arm.

“Do you think so, Sharon? You think I don’t care? Do you think I don’t cry at night as I pray for you? Pray over what has happened and what is to come? May you never know the agony of praying for a
dochder
who has gone missing, who returns terrified, who is wasting away before—”