Between Two Promises (25 page)

“I didn’t know what to do right after,” she said. “I stayed in the barn, scared and disbelieving. After a while, I wandered down the lane, too afraid to go back inside the house with him still there. I cut through the Miller farm and ended up at the creek. I fell to my knees. I prayed for God to explain to me what had happened. To make me feel better. I prayed till dark. When I came back, the reverend’s buggy was gone, so I knew it was safe to go inside.”

Daniel would’ve been twenty years old at the time. Still too busy with his selfish rumspringa to have noticed any changes in his sister’s behavior. His stomach smoldered like burning compost. He wanted to cry out, to beg her to forgive him for not being there when she had needed him. Yet her gentle smile perplexed him. He studied her from across the table, wondering how she could be so complacent, so peaceful, while recalling such a traumatic memory.

“I was legal age, according to the English laws,” she went on, “so I wasn’t sure how telling the police would matter. I mean, he didn’t physically hurt me, not too badly. I did what he told me. I didn’t fight back. I would never use violence against another human being for any reason. I upheld the Ordnung, like we been taught. I wasn’t sure the English officials would understand. So, all these years, I kept it to myself. I didn’t want to worry anyone over it. I figured it was God’s will, anyway. I know it sounds strange, even to us Amish, considering what the reverend did to me; but I truly believe. Da Hah willed what happened to guide me to my destiny.”

Daniel sat rigid. God’s will? God’s will to have his sister raped by a man, a man who traveled from different Amish communities throughout the United States, proclaiming to be a disciple of God? Abusing his authority, violating young girls. Daniel realized they were both adults now, no longer children. Seriousness sheathed their lives. No matter how much effort they used to block out the evils of the world, horrible things filtered through. He almost wanted to get sick. Elisabeth must’ve seen the astonishment in his eyes.

“Don’t you understand, Daniel?” she said, her voice soft. “If it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be doing what brings me the most happiness today. I wouldn’t have discovered how much I love teaching, helping the kinner. Don’t you see?”

Elisabeth’s voice receded into the background. Daniel stared at the dapples of sunlight on the mahogany floor, only to watch them vanish as quickly as they’d appeared. Everything of value to him seemed to be disappearing before his eyes.

He looked to Elisabeth. Her face was in shadows from her downcast head, yet her blue eyes sparkled.

“I didn’t always feel that way, of course,” she said. “At first, I was angry. I thought that I was cheated out of a life. I wanted to court boys like the others, but I couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried to, I couldn’t face any of them. I was angry how the minister had left me.

“Then I started to see the clues.” The semblance of a smile curved Elisabeth’s lips. “You know how you always talk about looking for God’s clues, Daniel? I tried to look for them, the way you say you do. That’s when I started to spend more time with the kinner in the community, helping whenever I could. I was never happier than when I was with the children. Then everything became clear. I decided to dedicate my life to them. God musta heard my prayers while at the creek. Daniel, it’s so fine teaching at the schoolhouse. I never woulda learned how much I enjoy it if… if what happened never happened.”

The ensuing silence was too great. Words dribbled from Daniel’s mouth, slowly and painfully. His voice sounded hollow, artificial. “I… I suspect Mom and Dad might know about it. I mean, about what happened.”

Elisabeth lowered her eyes. “The night it happened, Mom and Dad never did ask me where I been after I got back from the creek praying. My dress was kinda a mess with straw and dirt. I figure Mom especially mighta known what happened. Months passed before she looked me in the face. I figure she was relieved I wasn’t with child. I’m not sure she even remembers now. In a way, I hope she doesn’t. I couldn’t imagine the pain of knowing something like that happened to your daughter, and there’s little you can do to change things.”

All Daniel muttered was, “I… I’m glad you were able to get it off your mind and… and make the best of things.”

“Ach, and I never been happier, Daniel.” Elisabeth slapped the tabletop with both hands. “It’s not so bad, being single. The family fulfills things for me a husband could, at least in part. And of course I have more children than I ever imagined.” She laughed. “I guess I coulda got married. But things just didn’t happen that way for me. I’m okay with it. I used to think of the shame I was bringing everyone, being an old maid. But now I realize they wouldn’t be able to get along much without me, especially now with little Leah so ill and baby Gretchen coming along. I think Mom and Dad look at me not getting married as a blessing, although they’d never admit it.”

His need to be alone overpowered him. The world weighed on his back. He had to get out. The tiredness from before had ripened into a dull prodding, like a hot breeze scratching his face. Elisabeth stood.

“There’s one other thing. Wait one moment, ya?” She left the kitchen. Daniel stirred on the bench, unsure what she was up to. A minute later she returned. She handed him a letter-sized piece of paper, folded in two. After she took her seat, Daniel questioned her with his eyes. She grinned, nodded toward the paper in his unsteady hand.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Take a look.”

Frightened almost of what he might uncover, especially after everything she had confessed to him, he unfolded the paper. His lower lip drooped. He ogled the paper and then turned his gaze to Elisabeth.

“Did you do this?” he asked under his breath.

“Ya,” Elisabeth said, grinning. “I drew it Christmas Eve by lantern. I was up late alone. I couldn’t help it. I hope you’re not angry.”

“No, no.” Daniel shook his head, his mind muddled. He stared at the drawing, powerless to comprehend what he beheld.

A portrait of him and Aiden.

The ministers had decreed drawing the faces of people haughty, yet his eyes fixed on the portrait. Elisabeth’s talent was evident. She had represented Aiden near perfectly. Although she had used graphite pencil, he almost detected the sparkle of Aiden’s honey-brown eyes. And his own image looked… well, happy.

She had captured Daniel smiling. His nose aloft, his expression declaring he owned the world.

“But why?” he said, finally looking into Elisabeth’s glossy eyes.

“I planned on giving it to Aiden,” she said. “For a Christmas present. But he left before I could. Perhaps you’ll give it to him for me when you see him again?”

Daniel’s mind rolled. Did she believe he and Aiden were a couple, like Mark and Heidi? Or had she merely drawn a portrait of two friends, two people she admired? Daniel folded the portrait in quarters, as if the paper were made of the most fragile parchment, and carefully stowed it in his front pants pocket.

“Danke,” he muttered, at a loss for proper words. “I… I’ll make sure he gets it.”

The front door opened. A moment later, David came into the kitchen. He stopped, looked at Elisabeth, shifted his gaze to Daniel. His face distorted with anger, he stomped back out the door.

“Enough of this for now,” Daniel said. He came around the table and kissed Elisabeth lightly on her cheek. Her grin proved she cherished such an atypical gesture from her brother. Daniel figured it was the proper thing to do, considering.

“I best see if I can patch things up with that boy,” he said, and followed David out the door.

Dozens of footprints in the snow went off in multiple directions from the front stoop. But David was nowhere to be seen. The barn stood empty, as did the buggy shed and henhouse. In a way, Daniel was relieved. He had little energy to deal with any more family drama. He found his feet carrying him away, down the lane, his hands thrust deep in the pockets of his jacket and his head hung with fret.

Elisabeth raped? Too much to digest. For six years she’d locked that horrible secret inside of her, never confiding in a soul. Why had she opted to tell him now?

A minister had violated her. A minister like Reverend Yoder. Heat traveled along his neck and into his cheeks. He made fists inside his pockets. Reverend Yoder had killed his own son, another one had raped his sister, and now they were accusing him—
him
—of going against his promise to the church, threatening him with the shunning.

Such hypocrites, all of them.

He visualized the portrait Elisabeth had drawn of him and Aiden, tucked in his pants pocket. Elisabeth had captured the essence of the plucky Englishman. Had she captured Daniel accurately too? He’d looked so content with his face mere inches from Aiden’s.

He shook his head. His worries seemed pale in comparison to what his sister had endured. He was glad, at least, that she had found peace. He supposed in some way the incident
was
part of God’s will. Who was he to question otherwise?

He had walked a good few miles, and, looking up, he found he had crossed a thin strip of woods and onto unknown farmland. Gazing around at the blanket of snow, he suddenly recognized the white farmhouse in the distance. He had trespassed onto the property of Reverend Yoder.

Chapter Twenty-One

H
E
TROD
steadfastly toward the Yoder farmhouse. Resentment boiled up inside him. Maybe he should wait for his mood to temper. But perhaps now was the perfect time. He needed some kind of release over the entire Kyle incident. If for any reason, as a gift to Elisabeth. As a gift to Aiden. The ministers would cross him sooner or later. Who better than he to initiate the confrontation and get the ordeal over with?

As he stomped through the snowy field, he wondered if he had come to the Yoder farm subconsciously. Or perhaps the hand of God had guided him there for a purpose. Harnessing a surge of assurance, he stepped onto the compacted snow of the driveway when Reverend Yoder appeared out of the barn.

They narrowed their eyes at each other. Daniel had no concern about pretenses now. He looked past the reverend’s shoulder toward the barn, the same barn in which the reverend had said he’d discovered his son’s hanging body. He wanted to inspect the barn himself, like Aiden had more than a year ago. But for what purpose? Reverend Yoder had killed Kyle and hanged him like curing meat. No time for formalities. What Daniel had to say to him would be short. Short and sharp like a hunting knife.

Reverend Yoder approached closer. His black felt hat failed to conceal his razor-sharp blue eyes.

“What is it that brings you here?” He spoke in Pennsylvania German, his voice penetrating like his eyes, harsh, without nonsense. Looking into the reverend’s cold face, Daniel had no doubt long resentments had simmered between them. Hostilities lingered, as real as the snow under their boots. Daniel held firm, resisting the urge to march off in the direction from which he’d come.

“He that is without sin among you, let him cast a stone at her,” Daniel said in High German, quoting from Scripture.

“Are you here to give me a Bible lesson, Daniel Schrock?”

“I’m only stating a much overlooked proverb,” Daniel said in English, staring at him fixedly.

“You, the one who does not even attend the gmays back in Rose Crossing? You, the one who is on the threshold of being shunned? Concerned with proverbs?” Reverend Yoder snorted. Steam from his nostrils shot into the air. He gazed straight at Daniel.

“You been judging me for near ten years, Reverend,” Daniel said. “The time has come for me to judge you.”

“Suddenly you’re bold,” the reverend said, reverting to English like Daniel. “What brings this on?”

The minister who had molested Elisabeth would go through life without recourse for his crime. God would judge him in the afterlife. But for Reverend Yoder, Daniel wanted some justice in this lifetime for what he had done to Kyle and Aiden. “It’s not boldness that makes me speak,” he said, “it’s truth that carries me.”

“Truth? What do you know about truth?”

“Not a lot, not a lot at all, but I’m learning. I learned you can’t keep lies buried, for they will well up like groundwater and drown you. Do you ever feel like that, Reverend? Like you’ll drown in your own lies?”

“What are you going on about, Schrock? I have choring to do here.” He was about to head back for the barn when Daniel stopped him.

“You’ll hear me out.”

Reverend Yoder faced Daniel. Fine lines cut across his sagging skin and pulled around his piercing eyes. He had aged the past ten years, Daniel noted. Aged far quicker than any other man in the community. Years of bearing a heavy crime could leave one weary and old before one’s time. Only his eyes remained bright. Yet they were not cheery—they shone more like torches.

“Don’t you use such an insolent tone with me, Daniel Schrock. I’m your minister, elected into office, even though I did not want the position. I served this community well, for twelve years now, when I’d rather be fishing in Montana like you. Some of us are not so selfish.”