Annie's Truth (Touch of Grace) (28 page)

Her face and neck felt as if they were on fire. She bowed her head and listened to them talk to drown out the thoughts in her head. An elder read scripture from Romans. “Now I beseech you, brethren, mark them which cause divisions and offences contrary to the doctrine which ye have learned; and avoid them.”

Zeke’s narrow eyes found hers as he began. “You have been in the sin of the flesh?”

The verse twisted in her head. Understanding it to mean those who do not believe in Christ, she wasn’t a “them.” “Jah,” she said before she knew she’d formed the word.

Zeke was about to continue, but Omar stopped him with a raised hand. “Is that all you have to say, Annie?”

Annie nodded. But then she thought, she had been
in
the flesh but not
of
it.

“A baptized member living outside our community without the blessing of your family or the council is unorthodox, and for an excessive length of time. There is no defense,” Zeke spouted, his ruddy neck pouring over his white collar. His eyes narrowed as he spoke to Annie. “It should be a relief for you to have this opportunity to confess and begin to heal from your sins.”

Annie half listened as he talked and thought if she’d only waited to be baptized, this would have all been avoided. But she couldn’t regret the decision. She’d felt led and followed the calling.

Omar stroked his white beard, his eyes never leaving Annie’s. “That is sufficient.”

Zeke paused at the unexpected word from Omar. “Does the congregation agree to place Annie under the bann for the time equal to her time away?”

How many months had she been gone? The time swam in her head. Three, or was it four? How could she live, work, and commune with no one for over three month’s time?

Each person placed their vote. A raised hand and verbal consent.
“Ich bin einig,”
Zeke asked if they agreed and waited for others to follow suit. But there was only silence.

“Enough.” Amos stood and looked from one elder to another as he began to speak. His tired, watery eyes pleaded with each one of the men who sat before him in their sacred tongue.

“Onze vader die in de hemelen zijt.
Our Father who art in heaven.” All the elders’ heads lifted to Amos. “Our Abba, loving Father. Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come.” Amos’s voice was but a whisper. “
His
kingdom, not ours. Thy will be done on earth, as in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive our trespasses.” Amos’s voice lifted. “Forgiveness. Jah, Lord, show us how to forgive.

“As we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation,” Amos was almost yelling now. “As we have
all
been tempted. But deliver us from evil,” Amos lifted a shaking fist. “And we have all stood face-to-face with the devil. For Thine is the kingdom, and the power.” He pointed to each of the men. “Help us not to claim
Your
power as our own.
En de heerlijkheid in der eeuwigheid
. And the glory, forever and ever. Amen.”

Amos stopped as if he’d come back to his senses and shoved a finger under his nose as if uncomfortable. The room was cold-still, frozen for a second in time, digesting his words of passion.

Annie had never seen him speak more than a sentence at a time. Judging from the reaction of everyone in the room, neither had anyone else. She stood and went to him. Small steps at first turned into a run. The
pat, pat
of her leather shoes hit the cold wood floor. She bent down to where he sat and hugged him. He tilted his head to her shoulder and returned her embrace.

“Order, order here!” Zeke hollered.

Omar went red and jumped to his feet, ready to chastise him. “Silence!”

“But, Omar.” Zeke was humbled at Omar’s rebuke. His forlorn face resembled that of a wounded animal.

John rose to his full height. “Let him speak.”

Mammi stood in the back of the room, then Eli. Mamm remained seated, staring at her hands folded in her lap with Hanna next to her.

Omar motioned with his palms down for all to sit. “I don’t need permission to speak as bishop, Brother John.” He gave him a stern stare. Then his eyes scanned the congregation and rested on Zeke. “This meeting will now disband.” He stepped behind Zeke and down the row of elders to the door. As he passed Annie, he touched her shoulder, and she knew this would be the end of it.

 
Chapter Thirty
 

J
OHN LEANED AGAINST
the barn door watching Annie juggle three glass bottles of milk. Her kapp sat askew, lopsided on the back of her head. She pressed her hand down her wrinkled dress when their eyes met, and she stood tall, the scene so familiar it hurt.

He took two of the bottles without asking. “Haven’t seen you since church the other day.” They both stared straight ahead. He waited against the thick silence, sure she would speak eventually. When she didn’t, he took two steps in front of her and stopped.

“Have you been hiding from me?” He tipped half a smile her way. But to his surprise the face he expected didn’t appear. The drawn lips and pinched face was not one he had ever seen. His concerned response was a hand to her cheek. “It’s over, Annie.”

She pulled away, her eyes misting against the morning sunrise. A small groan caught in her throat. He waited, but nothing.

The feel of her skin swept away so quickly made him take a moment to regroup. John squinted into the rising sun. “It’s a new day, Annie.” His eyes cast over to her. “It’s all new.”

“No, it’s a continuation of the day before.” Her lip trembled. “And the next day, and the next…”

“Annie, what’s wrong?” he questioned. “Your daed was incredible.”

“He shouldn’t have.” Annie’s head dropped.

Her reaction seemed to be one of disapproval. He guided her to a rock by the barren oak trees and sat by the dried-up brook. The leaves crackled under his boots, filling the silent air.

“The Annie I knew would have wanted nothing more than to hear those words from Amos.” He took her hand. She startled at his touch and met his eyes. “What’s happened to you?”

She shook her head and swallowed hard. “So much more than I’d expected.”

“Can you tell me what that means?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Okay, you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” He crossed his arms. “But in the meantime, you should be grateful for what your daed has done, and for Omar. Even the elders could have spoken against you, but by the grace of Gott they didn’t.”

He leaned forward, set his elbows on his knees and looked up at her. “A lot of this was overdone. The timing of the Nickel Mines shootings changed Zeke, all of us, but for Zeke it was different. Not every Amish agreed as wholeheartedly that all should have been forgiven. And you
were
a baptized member that left the community without your family’s consent.” He stopped, long enough for affect. She needed to hear this, to go to the people who saved her. This was no small thing to them. “But you know all this, and you still don’t respond.”

There was silence again.

“I missed this place.”

John drew his brows together in response to the change in conversation. They stared out to the slopes of the Appalachians’ frame and dormant farmland ahead. “What did you miss?”

“I needed the everyday routine of our life here. I lost my stability out there.” She gestured, palm flat, toward the hills. “It was the feeling of being disjointed I couldn’t bear.”

As he studied her, John realized she hadn’t even thought to mention him. She was still lost to something. “You found your birth mother. What’s missing?”

“My birthright was taken from me.” Her lucent eyes stared through him.

The bang of the front door drew their attention to the house. Hanna walked out and looked their way. When she started to approach, John held out his hand. Hanna tilted her head in understanding, but her rigid lower lip let him know she wasn’t happy about the rejection.

Annie’s expression was unfamiliar, one of malice and envy. “I should go.” She stood.

“Are we done talking?” He laid his arms over his knees.

“You shouldn’t keep Hanna waiting.” She answered with appropriate words but spite in her tone.

He grabbed her by the arm, causing Hanna to stare. She took a long moment before she turned and marched over to the barn. He could fix that later. What he needed to do now was bring Annie back to him. He rubbed a hand over his face. “You used to tell me everything. Is she why you’ve stopped? Or is it because of what happened in the city?”

Annie rocked back and forth in her boots, similar to a caged animal performing a trick to earn its reward and be left alone. But he could wait. Without communication with her mamm and Hanna, John knew he was the only one she had to confide in, and that Annie knew it too.

Her voice cracked. She stopped and began again. “I can’t understand you and her together.” She looked toward the door, and Hanna.

“How do you know she wasn’t coming out here to talk to you?”

“Because she hasn’t talked to me since I came home, except for the night of Dawdi’s wake. And I’m not blind, John.”

John looked away, not wanting to confess but knowing it was the only way to bring trust again between them. “It was hard.”

Annie let a tear fall but quickly brushed it away. “Jah, John, it was.”

“I wanted to be with your family, like I always have been. She helped make that happen.”

Annie crossed her arms, refusing to meet his gaze. How could she be so selfish to not see what she’d done to him, to them? “And you had Rudy.”

Her head slowly turned his way. Unblinking eyes filled with anger and tears. “I didn’t leave you. I went to find myself.” Her voice rose with each word.

“She was here for me when you weren’t.” He turned and walked up to the house. He didn’t want to see Hanna. But he would, for all the wrong reasons. With each step he listened for Annie to call to him, waited for those words that didn’t come. He grunted. He’d always known what to do with Annie, how to lift her up and when to slow her down. But this Annie he didn’t know.

 
Chapter Thirty-One