An Uncommon Grace (35 page)

“You chose a good time to get shot,” Claire teased. “It has been too wet to work the soil.”

“Truly said.”

His mother glanced out the window. “Oh. Here comes Grace. She’s carrying something.” She busied herself setting out the rolls, soup, and silverware on the table. “Sometimes I wish Grace were Amish.” She shot a glance at him. “I think you sometimes wish for this, too?”

“I don’t wish for that. Grace would not be who she is if she were not
Englisch
.”

There was a knock on the door. Claire opened it and Grace stepped in. In addition to her medical basket, she was carrying a cake. Levi’s heart leaped when he saw her—and it wasn’t because of the cake.

“Hi, Claire,” Grace said. “The children said you were over here. How is our patient this morning?”

“Complaining, as usual, about not being able to work,” Claire boasted. “My Levi does not know how to rest.”

“I know.”

“How is your grandmother?” Claire asked.

“Feeling so much better that she baked this morning. It’s the first time since her surgery that she’s felt strong enough. She wanted me to bring this to Levi. She said she remembers his liking this when he was little.” She placed the cake on the
table beside the tray that Claire had carried in. “Orange cake with dark chocolate frosting. Do you remember this, Levi?”

“Of course. It was your grandfather’s favorite,” Levi said. “Sometimes when she was especially missing him, she would bake this and we would eat it together while she told me stories about him.”

“I’m sure that was a comfort to her.”

Levi smiled. “It was also a comfort to a little boy’s belly.”

Suddenly there was a disturbance in the yard.

“
Maam!
” Albert called. “
Maam!
Daniel is crying!”

“Enjoy your food.” Claire patted him on the leg. “I will be back soon.”

Once Claire was gone, Grace came over and placed a hand against his forehead. “No fever. How are you feeling?”

“De ganz dog rum hocka macht em faul.”

“And that means?”

“Sitting all day makes one lazy.” He shrugged. “It’s something my stepfather used to say.”

“Perhaps, but a little rest has agreed with you. Your color is better than yesterday.”

“I’ve had a good nurse.”

Grace removed his bandages and pulled fresh ones out of her medical basket.

“You have done too much of this for our family lately,” he said as he watched.

“You’re right.” She was intent on her work. “Your family needs to break the habit of standing in front of bullets.”

“I was not standing.”

“I know.” She grinned. “You were like a mad bull charging that man.”

“He was threatening Jesse. I was not thinking straight.”

“If you had been a soldier, you would get a medal for what you did.”

“I don’t want medals. I only want my family to be safe.”

She sat on the edge of the bed while she put on the fresh bandages. After she finished taping them she pulled off her gloves and started to rise, but he grabbed her wrist and held it.

“Don’t go.”

She sat quietly beside him. It felt good just to have her near. She smelled like wild roses. It was a surprisingly old-fashioned smell—not a scent he would have expected a modern woman like Grace to choose.

Now that he was feeling better, everything within him wanted to pull her close. To hold her near him for the rest of his life. He could see the longing in her eyes for him as well.

“We are alone,” Grace said. “And we shouldn’t be. I need to go.”

“Yes.” He sighed as he released her. “You need to go.”

She placed the palm of her hand against his cheek for a brief caress before she arose.

“You may start moving around more, but please take it easy, Levi. Don’t use your shoulder for anything heavy. You don’t want to tear something that has begun to heal.”

“I’ll be careful,” Levi promised.

“I’m going into Millersburg today to try to repurchase the things that Becky sold to that antiques store owner,” Grace said.

“Like that toy monkey you told me about?”

“Especially that one.” She reached for the door. “Before I go, is there anything I can pick up for you while I’m in town?”

“There is one thing I’ve been wishing I had.”

“What’s that?”

He smiled. “Do you own a library card, Grace?”

“Not yet, but I can get one. Why?”

“I would very much appreciate it if you would.” He pulled a small list from his pocket. “My people have a saying—
Di
mai glond, di mai fuguddled
—‘The more learned, the more confused.’ Since it is impossible for me to get into any more trouble with the bishop than I already am, and since I am already very confused, here’s a list of topics I would like to learn about if the library has any books on them.”

Grace took the list. “I’ll be more than happy to do that for you, Levi.”

He did not understand why Grace had tears in her eyes when she left.

I
t was yet another drizzly morning. It seemed as though the sun had rarely shown its face throughout the entire month of May. Levi thought how well the weather had mirrored his emotions through these past turbulent weeks. Now it was the middle of June and every farmer in the state was desperately hoping the rain would go away so their fields would have a chance to recuperate.

Today he was repairing harnesses inside his workshop. His wounds had healed well, and although his shoulder was stiff, it was nothing that he could not live with. He would have endured much worse than a couple of gunshot wounds to save his little brother’s life.

The close call with Skraggs had brought out a serious side to Jesse that Levi was saddened to see. He hoped Jesse would recover quickly and once again be a carefree little boy.

He wondered what Grace was doing this morning. Grace was on his mind almost constantly these days. She had come every day to dress his wound or to bring him some new library books, or something special to eat. It had been painful to forfeit her daily visits once he had healed enough that there was no more reason for her to come to see him.

But in spite of everything he had been through, the ban was not lifted. If anything, he was under even more suspicion now. Amish people did not fight. And he had.

He knew that whether or not an Amish could defend himself or his family was a question that most Amish men pondered from time to time. Most dealt with it by simply praying that God would never put them in such a situation.

But he had been put in that situation and he had discovered that it was impossible for him to even stand back and allow someone he loved to be hurt.

This was deeply troubling.

Knowing this about himself, could he in all good conscience remain Swartzentruber? Could he remain Amish at all?

He had gone from being panicked about being placed under the
Meidung
to being almost grateful for the relative isolation in which he had been living the past few weeks. The ban had left him with much time to think.

He loved being part of a community of believers. He loved being held within the strong network of extended family and friends. He didn’t mind at all wearing the simple clothing of the Swartzentrubers, and he could live the rest of his life without electricity or even running water.

But he was afraid he would never again be able to respect Bishop Weaver’s leadership. The unquestioning love and affection he had always held for his church was eroding.

He did not expect to see anyone today and was surprised when he heard a buggy in his driveway.

He had a lapful of harness, so he didn’t bother to get up. He figured whoever it was had probably come to see his mother about something, perhaps some illness that needed one of Claire’s herbs or tinctures. Now that she was well, her work as a healer was picking up.

He was surprised when the door to his workshop opened and even more surprised when he saw that it was Bishop Weaver.

His hands stilled as he waited to see what the bishop wanted. Perhaps to try to convince him one more time to marry his daughter now that he had a good taste of the ban.

The bishop had aged in the few weeks since Levi had seen him. His beard was grayer. The lines around his eyes and mouth looked deeper. Levi’s heart went out to the man—in spite of his own pain—because he knew it must be a terrible thing to be reminded of his unmarried daughter’s pregnancy, false though it was, every time he looked at her.

Bishop Weaver took his hat off and shook the raindrops off it. Then he wearily sat down.

Levi waited. It was not his place to initiate the conversation.

The bishop stared at the floor as though gathering his thoughts, and then he slowly raised his head and looked him straight in the eyes.

“The burden of being a bishop is a heavy one,” he said, “and it is not a position I ever wanted.”

He brushed the wet hat with his fingers and wiped them on his equally wet pants legs.

“I know it is a heavy responsibility,” Levi agreed. He forced himself not to say more—he might say something he would regret. Much better to be quiet and let the bishop speak.

“If I am allowed to go to heaven,” the bishop said, “I know I will be judged with a much heavier judgment than those who did not serve as leaders. It is a job I have taken seriously and I have done the best I knew to do. It is not an easy task to be the one who is constantly trying to hold back the reins when some of my people want to try new things. I was afraid that if I ever loosened my grip, our church would become as liberal as the other Amish orders.”

Levi was surprised to hear the bishop’s voice choke with emotion.

He wished he could take this great burden off the man, but he simply could not. This was something that Bishop Weaver would have to bear on his own.

He was stunned at the man’s next words.

“I have done you a great injustice,” the bishop said. He handed Levi a rain-splattered envelope.

“My wife found this in Zillah’s bedroom this morning,” the bishop said. “I came here as soon as I could harness my team.”

Levi allowed the broken harness to fall to the floor as he reached for the envelope. It was lavender with a faint background of pansies—girl’s stationery. Amish girls loved to write letters to one another. The ownership of pretty stationery was one of the few luxuries they were allowed.

On the front of the envelope it simply said “
Maam
and
Daed,
” written in what looked to be hurriedly scribbled handwriting.

He pulled the single page out of the envelope and opened it.

“Are you sure you want me to read this?” he asked.

Bishop Weaver nodded.

The letter was short and to the point.

I am leaving home. Me and my new boyfriend are going far away. You will not be able to find me. Do not waste your time trying. I am sick of being Amish and I am going to break every commandment I can. My boyfriend has a car and money.

Zillah

P.S. Don’t worry about your grandchild. I’m not pregnant.

Levi experienced many emotions reading the letter with the rain pounding down upon the workshop roof and a broken man sitting across from him.

He felt his soul open up at the freedom he now had. Freedom to be exonerated. Freedom to be accepted back into the bosom of the church. Freedom to walk in and out of his mother’s home. Freedom to take Communion with the rest of the church with no cloud of suspicion hanging over his head.

But his heart ached for the man rubbing the brim of his black hat between his fingers, staring at floorboards, ashamed to meet his eyes.

He folded the letter and carefully fitted it back inside the envelope. Then he handed it back to the bishop.

“It is not your fault,” Levi said, trying to comfort the grieving man. “It was never your fault.”

“My wife and I will continue to pray for our daughter’s soul. We will not try to find her. She has made it clear that she will resist any efforts to bring her back. I am afraid that Satan has gotten a terrible hold of her. We will pray that she will someday realize what she has done and ask for forgiveness not only for running away, but for what she put you and our church through by accusing you.”

“Which we will give,” Levi said.

“Yes.” The bishop nodded. “Which we will always give—as God commanded.”

Levi felt a great pity for the man before him, enough pity that he could honestly say, “I will pray daily that Zillah’s heart will change and that she will come back to you and to the Lord.”

“I will put the word out that the
Meidung
has been lifted and announce it at meeting,” the bishop said. “I would be grateful if you could forgive me for believing my daughter over you.”

“You are forgiven,” Levi said. “I know the position Zillah placed you in.”

“Thank you, Levi.”

There was nothing else to say. The discussion of crops or livestock illnesses would not be appropriate, not after the
Hertza-laeht
—the awful heartache that the letter had brought upon the bishop and his wife.

As Levi watched the broken man leave, he had a strong suspicion that Ezra Weaver was going to be a much humbler and more compassionate bishop from this point on. The church would greatly benefit from that compassion. Then Levi put on his hat and walked across the driveway to have a long talk with his mother.

The kitchen was warm and welcoming when he arrived. It smelled of good things baking in the wood cookstove. His mother was checking something in the oven when he came through the door. A worried frown creased her forehead.

“What did the bishop want?”

“Zillah ran off with someone and left a note saying that she’s not coming back. She also said that she had lied about being with child.”

Claire’s face was exultant. “I knew it!”

“I’m welcome back into the church. The bishop apologized. He is very sorry for not believing me.”

She began pulling loaves of bread out of the oven and setting them on the table. “Then you will be able to go to meeting with us Sunday. That is wonderful.”