Forever Amish (18 page)

I wondered why Bishop Troyer chose to continue this conversation with me as a witness. Was his message meant for my ears too? Did he think that because I'd worn this getup I was ready to turn my back on the modern world? I sifted through all the luxuries I'd miss if I lived on an Amish farm. Cars came to the top of the list, not to mention my cell phone, computer, and electricity. I couldn't live without them. Well, maybe for a couple weeks or months.

I ruminated over my upbringing, my father's infatuation with automobiles, which had rubbed off on me. I could recognize almost every make and model, and I was good at appraising their value even without a Kelley Blue Book in hand. Yet, the idea that my father would abandon his parents just so he could drive a car sickened me. That he'd dated my mother because her parents let her use their coupe. No, he'd admitted that he'd mostly spend time with her because she was loose. Some DNA I carried.

Bishop Troyer kept his gaze fixed on Armin. “How can it be that you'd rather live in a cabin and work for Reuben instead of living in the fine house your brother bought for you?”

“He didn't buy it for me.”

“I know all about Nathaniel's letting Esther and her mother live there, but now that they live in Nathaniel's home, and he's built a beautiful new Daadi Haus for Anna, there's no need. Esther's daughter is happily married and living in Gordonville. Anna's home sits vacant except for when people need a place to stay.”

“Yah, like I said my brother's a generous man, in most areas.” Armin pivoted toward the kitchen.

“It's wrong for one man to have so much. He should put the house on the market,” the bishop said. “At least rent the acreage to someone wanting to farm it.” He glanced my way. “Our farmland is shrinking, making men seek employment in factories or move to other parts of the country.”

“Sally,” Armin said, stroking his jawline, “you should get yourself something to eat. Go sit with Liz.”

I noticed Lizzie at a table among a group of young women, their plates piled high with food. I was famished, but I didn't want to leave Armin's side or miss what the bishop said next.

As if anticipating my thoughts, Bishop Troyer said, “I hope to see you again, Sally. It's never too late to come home.” He stepped away to speak to a rotund, bearded man who seemed anxious for a chat.

I patted my head covering and tried to fluff the white fabric, then I redid the rubber band holding my ponytail and tucked my loose hair under the back of the cap. “Will you give me a ride home, Armin?”

“Yah.” Armin winked. “I won't leave you stranded, Sally.”

“Thanks, I'll grab a quick bite and then be ready. Ginger might need to go out.”

“She woke me up last night wanting to relieve herself.”

“Off leash?”

“Yah, but I kept a good eye on her.”

I envisioned a coyote lurking around the property or Ginger wandering off in search of me, and I felt a cloud of anger darkening my mood.

“You worry too much.” Armin's statement rubbed me the wrong way, like gritty sandpaper or a cat's tongue.

“Well, it seems you don't worry enough.” My hands moved to my hips; a straight pin jabbed my back, but I kept my face from wincing.

Armin's gaze landed on my prayer cap, then took in my features. He seemed to be bestowing a look of endearment upon me.

 

CHAPTER 22

In an act of bravery—and because I figured all eyes were surveying me, anyway—I wandered over to Lizzie's table and was met with grins and giggles. Two young women slid over to give me a spot across from Lizzie, who introduced me as her cousin. I assumed she'd already filled them in, at least on the cousin part of the story and why I was dressed Plain, as she called it.

A young woman around Lizzie's age greeted me. “Gut ta meetcha.”

One woman cradled a baby, and another tended to her toddler, an angelic little boy with long golden bangs.

Rhoda stepped behind me balancing a dinner plate mounded high with food; she placed it and flatware before me. “Eat yourself full, Sally,” she said. I felt her hands adjusting my head covering, gentle movements that reassured me. “Bring Lizzie home with you and Armin, won't ya?” she said.

“I'll do my best.”

“I doubt anyone will be playing volleyball today,” Rhoda said.

“But, Mamm,” Lizzie said, “we might play board games, and it's ever so much fun to sit and talk. And we haven't had dessert and coffee—”

“Don't say another word, Daughter. The subject's closed.” Rhoda spun away and dashed back into the kitchen for her own meal.

Two of the young women at the table tilted their heads together and spoke in Pennsylvania Dutch. Lizzie glowered at them. I wondered if any of Lizzie's friends knew Lizzie's intentions. If they knew Joe. Or was Lizzie duplicitous with everyone?

“So, you've come for a visit,” one of the young women said to me. Her forehead was wide, her hairline high. “How long will you be staying?”

“I have no idea. Not long.”

“I'm trying to talk Sally into working for Mrs. Martin tomorrow. Did you hear she hurt her ankle?”

“Yah, we heard,” another young woman said. “And we also heard you gave notice, that your dat won't allow you to go back.”

“He doesn't have the last word on everything I do,” Lizzie said, garnering their attention.

“I surely hope you don't do anything against the Ordnung,” the woman with the infant said.

“Don't you want a husband and
Kinner
—children—of your own?” the woman with a toddler asked. The little boy wriggled and tipped his glass of milk. “How about you, Sally?” She mopped up the milk with a paper napkin. “Are ya married?”

“No, and no kids.” I assembled a sandwich and chomped into it so I wouldn't have to explain how close to marriage I'd been or how much I desired children. I wondered if the young women sitting at the table looked at me as an old spinster compared to them. A woman only had so many years to bear children and be attractive to the opposite sex. Yet I looked around the room and saw the sea of smiling women—none wearing makeup, but each beautiful in her own way.

“As you've all probably guessed, I'm not Amish,” I said, and the young women smiled, their lips pressed together.

“But you look lovely dressed that away,” the woman cradling the infant said.

Seeing her and her baby, I envisioned my mother as a young woman. Even if Mom weren't Amish, could there be older people in this room who knew about her or her family? I got the crazy notion to stand up and say, “Does anyone here know a woman named Mavis?”

Lizzie interrupted my thoughts. “Please, won't you get Armin to drive us to the Singing tonight?” she implored me.

“No, and you should respect and obey your parents.” But I was curious. “What kinds of songs do you sing?”

“We start with German hymns.”

I recalled Pops singing German hymns and carols, especially around Christmas and Easter. All his oddities and quirks were gelling.

A cute freckle-faced redheaded young man came and stood behind Lizzie. He tapped her on the shoulder once, so lightly I was surprised she noticed. But she turned her head at a flirtatious angle and said, “Hello, there, Ethan.”

“Could I talk to you for just one moment?”

Lizzie swiveled around. “Yah? What is it?”

He bent down, his mouth nearing her ear, but I could make out his words above the din.

“Would ya ride with me to the Singing tonight?” His cheeks turned redder than his hair.

The other women hushed. I wondered if they all wanted her to go out with Ethan and drop Joe, if they even knew about him.

Lizzie looked at the ceiling for a second, then back to Ethan. “I do want to go tonight, but my mamm won't let me.” She swiveled in her chair to face me. “Oh, please, Sally. Won't ya talk Mamm into letting Armin drive the both of us?”

Armin sauntered over to the table, said hello to Ethan and the young women, then spoke to me and Lizzie. “We'd best be on our way. The snow's coming down hard again.”

“I just got asked to go to the Singing tonight,” Lizzie said to Armin, “but I said no, because Mamm won't let me go unless you drive.”

Armin glanced out the window. “I'm guessing we're in for three or four inches by tonight.”

“Then you could bring out the sleigh.” Lizzie's voice grew exuberant.

“But it's so late in the year and it's put away.”

“Would you like a ride in a real sleigh?” she asked me.

“I don't know; I never have.” In fact, it sounded delightful. “If I bundled up warmly enough.” I asked Armin, “Has Thunder ever pulled a sleigh?”

“Yah, once, and it went well enough. He cut through a neighbor's field, but it turned out fine.”

Nathaniel strode over to us. “Armin, I'd like to invite you to come for supper tomorrow,” he said. “On Monday.”

Armin stiffened. “Nee, I can't.”

“Mei
Fraa
—my wife—wants me to invite you. You'd refuse Esther's invitation? Is her cooking no longer good enough for you?”

“Don't go twisting my words. I know she's a gut cook. Ya see, we have a guest.”

“Then bring her along.” Nathaniel glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “Aren't ya going to introduce us?”

“Sally, this is my brother, Nathaniel.” Armin's tightened tone hinted of animosity—or a serious case of nervousness. Maybe every family was messed up. But not as badly as mine.

Nathaniel rotated in my direction but made no move to shake my hand, which was just as well. I didn't want to become entangled in their dispute.

“You're welcome to join us for supper, Sally.” His voice softened and his dark brown eyes hinted of kindness.

“Anyone else invited?” Armin cocked his head.

“Not that I know of. Just you. And Sally, if she likes.” His face drew closer. “Really, Sally, you're most welcome. My Esther would enjoy having another woman in the house.”

“Sure, thanks,” I said. “If I'm still here tomorrow night.” I was more than a little curious.

“Then 'tis all set.” Nathaniel canvassed the room. “Seems the bishop is fixing to leave but not with his wife. I'll bet he's paying a call on someone. With all the snow falling, I'm thinking people will head home early. Esther and I can give the bishop's Fraa a ride. You want to meet her, Sally?”

“No, thanks. I've already had the pleasure.” From a distance, the bishop's wife seemed amiable as she chatted with the elderly woman, Nathaniel's mother-in-law. Maybe the bishop's wife wasn't as surly as I'd first thought.

 

CHAPTER 23

I'd felt a blissful sense of serenity and belonging on the ride back to the Zooks'—until we rolled into their lane and I saw Pops's SUV by the house and a covered buggy, which Armin said was the bishop's, because it was open in the front.

Minutes later, Rhoda met me as I entered the kitchen. Her face was pasty white. “Ach, I never should have left Ezekiel with our parents this morning.” She helped me remove the borrowed coat and bonnet. “While we were gone, your father fainted.”

Glancing down at my apron and dress, I felt a wave of confusion encompass me. I recalled my cozy ride home from church. I'd sat in the middle, snuggled between Armin and Lizzie. Lizzie had leaned against me, nudging me toward Armin—which I hadn't minded. I'd enjoyed the sound of Thunder's hooves on the compacted snow as well as inhaling the brisk clean air.

“Fortunately, they managed to get Ezekiel back into bed,” Rhoda said. “They're in the Daadi Haus resting now.”

My hands covered my cheeks as I pictured my father crumpling. Remorse overwhelmed me. “I should have stayed home to look after him. He actually collapsed?”

“Yah, leaving the bathroom. They said he was so dizzy his legs gave out and he melted to the floor. Apparently he'd gotten up and lost his dinner, and then couldn't fall asleep again.”

I wondered how many nights he'd repeated the same episode. No wonder he'd dropped so much weight. My first impulse was to rush in and check on him. “Is he conscious? Is he breathing all right?” I stepped into slippers.

“Yah. He's sleeping and I didn't want to wake him.”

She raised on her toes and looked over my shoulder. “Ach, where's our Lizzie?”

“We brought her home. She's walking Ginger while Armin's looking after Thunder.”

“Denki.” Her voice sounded strained. I wondered if she knew about Joe. The Amish certainly had unique customs when it came to courtship, but I couldn't fault them. It appeared they gave their children opportunities to stretch their wings and come to conclusions on their own before joining the church.

I exited the kitchen, tiptoed to his bedroom, and peeked through the cracked door. The sheet, blanket, and a quilt were pulled up to Pops's chin. The air smelled stale, oppressive.

I felt as if a gorilla were strangling me from behind, keeping my lungs from expanding. How could I have been so blind? What if he died without our reconciling? For the rest of my life, a yoke of guilt would burden me, dragging me into the past.

I noticed Pops's arm twitch, and he rolled onto his side. I wondered if I should call 911 or at least take him to the nearest ER. Not that we had much insurance coverage—catastrophic only. And the way the snow was coming down, saturating the air and accumulating more inches, even an emergency vehicle would have trouble making its way here. Then Pops would tell them to scram and leave him alone. Unless reality had finally sunk in.

I headed for the front hall as my grandparents came out of the Daadi Haus looking distraught.

“Sally,
liebe
.” My grandmother's arms clasped me tightly, then she stepped back and my grandfather gave me an embrace. Grandma Leah beckoned us to follow them into the kitchen where Rhoda stood at the sink, rinsing off several plates. My grandmother must have assembled a meal for my father. Maybe a mother never gave up on her child. No, not true. My mother had tossed me away.

“What should we do for Ezekiel?” Grandma Leah asked me. “How sick is he?”

“It's his kidneys—pretty much all I know. He's avoided the doctor other than to get a diagnosis.”

“Surely, he'd listen to you.” Rhoda dried her hands on her apron.

“He never has before,” I said. “Begging him to seek treatment hasn't worked.”

The morning's sermons wormed their way through my brain. I recalled one Bible verse; Jesus had told a group of men poised to stone a woman to death: “Let anyone who is without sin be the first to throw the first stone.” They'd meant to kill her, but everyone laid their rocks aside and left, the oldest and wisest first. I wasn't perfect. I couldn't toss the first stone, although I was hankering to pitch a boulder—which was wrong.

“Sally, is that you?” Pops called in a weak voice from the bedroom.

All eyes in the kitchen turned to me and waited for my response. I paused, trying to gather my wits.

“You want me to go with you?” Rhoda touched my arm.

“Thanks, but no, thanks.” I hadn't a clue what I'd say to Pops. I went to his bedroom door and pushed it open. He was staring at the ceiling. A pillow supported his head. His hair was greasy and flattened on one side.

A battle raged inside my brain—and in my heart. My father was dying. The only person in the world who'd ever loved me could be gone by the end of the day. I'd be an orphan. And I'd miss him terribly, more than I could imagine. To never hear him crack a joke, call me his darling Mustang Sally, tell me he loved me.

“Am I hallucinating?” His eyes widened when he noticed me. “Why on earth are you dressed like that?” he asked gruffly. “Go change your clothes immediately.”

I felt as if I'd walked into a glass door, smashing my nose against the transparent obstacle. Not since I was a teenager had he spoken to me so harshly. My hand reached up and patted my head. The covering hadn't slipped to the side too badly. I was tempted to pull it off but decided instead to find the strings and knot them under my chin, the way the bishop's wife wore hers.

“I still don't understand how you ended up here.” With his elbows, he maneuvered himself into a semi-sitting position. It took everything in me not to rush over and help him.

A montage of images scattered through my mind: Pops buying me my first dog, his watching me at my piano recital and then letting me quit after I begged him, his teaching me to drive a car when I was only thirteen, on his lot. Pops had always been my hero, making my wishes come true, giving me everything I wanted within his financial power. I could think of a thousand acts of kindness he'd shown me, but he'd always kept me from my real prize: my birthright—my mother.

“Why did you come?” I asked. “Why didn't you just tell me the truth when you figured out I was staying with your sister?”

“I should have. I should have told you the truth many times, and I can't give you an excuse that will make things right except that I was trying to spare you pain.”

“But I deserved an explanation. I had a right to find Mom.”

“Sally, meeting her would be entering a dragon's den.”

“How do you know? Have you kept in touch with her?” If he were hiding letters or not telling me about telephone calls, I didn't know what I'd do, other than let my anger explode like an erupting volcano.

“No, she hasn't tried to reach me.”

“And you haven't made it easy, have you? In fact, you've made it near impossible for anyone to find you.” An act of cowardice from a man I'd always considered invincible. “And don't give me that baloney about her wanting to steal me away. I'm a grown woman, not a helpless underage child. She couldn't legally gain custody of me.” The taste of acid rose in my throat. Here I was arguing with a man who could be on his deathbed when I should be bridging the troubled waters, not agitating them.

Rhoda poked her head into the room. “Is everything all right?” She must have heard my voice, its volume raised.

“Rhodie, why are you dressing my daughter like this?” His voice was filled with antagonism.

“It was my choice,” I said. “I can't believe you'd speak that way to your sister, a woman who's waited to see you over twenty years.”

Rhoda wrung her hands, held them under her chin. “Maybe I should let you two be alone.”

“Never mind. I'm leaving.” I spun on my heels before I let my thoughts materialize into a heated confrontation. Partly because I cared what Rhoda thought of me; partly because I knew better than to disrespect my father, no matter what he'd done.

Passing through the living room, I shambled back into the kitchen. My grandparents, both sitting at the table, waited for me to fill them in. All I could do was shake my head. I wouldn't burden this sweet old couple with the long sordid story of my dad's deceit. Or maybe I was the only person on earth who didn't know. I recalled that Lizzie said a Mennonite driver had recognized him and told her and Rhoda. I wondered if God had orchestrated that chance meeting. According to Rhoda, my grandparents had been praying long enough. I'd heard of God fulfilling prayers, even if I hadn't received answers to mine.

Grandma Leah reached out her arms as if she'd been longing to do so my whole life, and I sank onto the chair beside her. To deprive me of my grandparents made every Christmas present Pops had ever given me seem like a trifle. I wondered if he'd known Leah and Leonard were still living. Did Pops have a contact here in Lancaster County who filled him in on his parents' well-being, or was he a man without convictions?

My heart beat erratically, as if it might refuse to pump my blood anymore.

“How can we help you?” Grandma Leah said. Imagine, they were trying to assist me when they were the ones who deserved compensation for all those years of their son's neglect.

“You are.” I turned to Grandpa Leonard and tried to smile without success. “Thank you for accepting me.” I didn't have the heart to tell them they may not be my real grandparents. My mother was a tramp, according to Pops. I might have a father and a boatload of siblings somewhere—more than I could deal with now. Possibly my grandparents had already considered that scenario.

But I couldn't let this opportunity slide by. “Do you know where my mother is?” Both shook their heads. “Do you remember a girl named Mavis?” Speaking her name closed my throat as if I'd swallowed a glass of saltwater.

“I recall your father mentioning her, but we never met,” Grandma Leah said.

“Yah, after our Ezekiel left, her parents came one day asking about her. The only thing we could figure was that the two of them were together. Her parents were furious and blamed our son. All we could do was apologize. We suspected Mavis lured Ezekiel away, but we never said a thing.”

“Do her parents still live near here?”

They looked toward each other, then back to me. “I don't rightly know,” Grandpa Leonard said.

My mind swarmed with detective-type methods of tracking her down—but I'd need a computer and Internet access. “Did they live far from here?”

He smoothed his beard. “I haven't seen her parents for over ten years. They could have moved.”

“Do you remember their last name?” I persisted.

“I don't recall.” My grandpa turned to Grandma Leah, who lifted her narrow shoulders.

“Nee, me neither. I think her father worked at a college.”

“Did Mavis have siblings who could still live in the area?”

“Rhoda might know. They'd be about her age.”

I popped to my feet and met Rhoda as she entered the kitchen. Her face was ashen and her eyes frightened, like a cat that had just dashed in front of a car and barely missed the tires' deadly tread.

“Your father says he doesn't want us to call 911. He claims he feels this way all the time and will snap out of it.” Rhoda glanced out the window at the falling snow.

So peaceful and quiet, each flake unique and perfect. The opposite of my life.

I heard the back door open and close. Lizzie waltzed into the kitchen through the utility room. Her complexion was rosy and her eyes sparkling: the same exhilaration of being in the snow I'd felt only twenty minutes ago. She removed her woolen bonnet.

“Mamm, I still want to go to the Singing tonight,” she told Rhoda in a whiny voice. “Such a beautiful afternoon.”

“You'll have to speak to your dat,” Rhoda said. “I don't know how you can think of such trivialities when Sally's father is so ill.”

“I didn't know.” She flipped her palms up. “How would I?”

I glanced out the window and could barely see the barn through the curtain of snow. “Will Reuben set foot in the house again with my father here?”

“When he's good and ready.” Rhoda placed water on the stove to boil, then set a small ceramic bowl containing teabags on the table. “He's probably looking after the livestock.”

“Nee, he's speaking to Bishop Troyer,” Lizzie said.

“Ach, the bishop's still here?”

Lizzie wandered over to Grandma Leah and kissed her cheek. “Isn't that thoughtful for such a busy man to pay us another call?” Lizzie seemed nonchalant, maybe an act for our grandparents' sake. I wondered if the bishop would come into the house to see for himself that my father had returned. Or to ask about me.

Rhoda set mugs and teacups on the table. Then she arranged a plate of cookies and brought them to me. “Sally, would you like an oatmeal cookie or a coconut macaroon?”

As I inhaled the scent of coconut and sugar, my hand moved toward the plate. But if I kept eating everything in sight, I'd need to go on a diet. “They look delicious, but I'd better not.”

“How about coffee, tea, or hot apple cider?”

“Maybe later, thank you. Right now I want to check on Ginger.” I considered changing back into my normal clothes but decided to wait until after dashing out to the cabin. I glanced down at my dress's hem and noticed it was damp. Why get myself soggier? “May I continue using your dress and coat?” I asked Rhoda.

“Yah, of course. And any of the boots by the back door. But, here, let me lend you a darker apron.”

I switched into a black apron and pushed my arms into the coat's sleeves. My father called my name, but I plunked the bonnet back on my head and hurried outside. Off in the distance, the sky seemed brighter, giving me hope that the clouds were parting. I saw Armin exiting the barn and moving toward his cabin. Good timing. Or would the bishop see our being together as immoral? I asked myself why I cared what Bishop Troyer thought, but I did.