Leah's Choice (8 page)

“Daniel’s a wonderful speaker,” Leah added. “When he talks about the desert or the noisy marketplace, he makes you feel as though you’re right there, smelling the spices and hearing the clamor of the crowded streets.”

“It sounds as if they had a good time.” Aunt Jezebel’s voice was breathy and soft. She hesitated before asking, “There was no preaching the Mennonite faith at the talk, was there?”

“Ne,”
Rebecca assured her. “Even Bishop Atlee would have approved of tonight’s program.”

“I’m glad,” Mam said with a smile. “It’s good for you to see something of the outside.”

“But I wouldn’t want to live like that—like Daniel and his family,” Rebecca said. “In some foreign place where we wouldn’t know anyone and everything was strange.”

“
Ya,
the Mennonites differ from us,” her mother said. “They feel called to spread the word of God, while we Amish believe the Lord has instructed us to live apart from the world.”

Susanna wrinkled her nose and tugged on her mother’s sleeve. “I want a camel. With a hump. I like camels.”

“No camels.” Mam sighed. “The feed store doesn’t sell camel chow. We’ll have to make do with horses and cows.”

Aunt Jezebel’s eyes twinkled. “
Ya,
Susanna, what would the bishop think if we hitched a camel to our buggy instead of a horse?”

Leah laughed. Aunt Jezzy was always more fun after
Grossmama
went to bed. Her shy aunt had a real sense of humor. The two older women had spent years living under the same roof, and as uncharitable as it might be to judge, Leah felt that
Grossmama
often bullied and was unkind to her younger sister. Aunt Jezebel always seemed happier on the days that
Grossmama
went to the senior center.

“Camels are not
Plain
,” Rebecca said with a giggle.

“Ne,”
Mam agreed solemnly. “Definitely not
Plain
.” And then they all laughed.

Leah went to the window and pulled aside the curtain. Daniel’s Aunt Joyce’s van was gone. She hadn’t expected to still see him there, but still, the dark yard left her with a sense of longing. “Daniel drove us home,” she said.

“Home,” Susanna echoed, her word nearly lost in a yawn.

“Bedtime for you, sleepyhead,” Mam said. “Time we all turned in, I think.”

Leah nodded. Three mornings a week,
Grossmama
was picked up to go to Maple Leaf, the Englisher senior center, where she taught other women how to make beautiful braided rugs. On those days, Leah went to help Anna with the children and housework. Leah was naturally an early riser, so being at Anna’s by seven a.m. was not a problem. Usually, she would sit up until at least ten, doing puzzles with her sisters or listening to Rebecca read news from the
Budget
. But tonight, as much as she loved being with her family, Leah wanted to be alone.

She wanted to climb into bed and think about all she’d seen and heard.

She wanted to remember how Daniel’s face had seemed to glow with an inner light when he’d told about the work of the Mennonite missionaries in faraway places where impoverished people lived difficult lives and had to struggle to find enough to eat. He wasn’t preachy, but when he spoke, she could feel his honesty and dedication to serving God. And maybe, most of all, she wanted to remember how he’d smiled when he said he liked her.

Being part of a tight-knit Amish community, Leah had always been involved in hands-on sharing days, sewing bees and school fund-raising auctions. But none of those efforts seemed as worthwhile or as exciting as what Daniel was doing, and she couldn’t help wishing that her church could reach out to help strangers.

As everyone made final preparations for bed, Leah let Jeremiah, Irwin’s little terrier, outside to relieve himself. Mam had gotten her share of disapproving looks from her neighbors for permitting a dog to sleep in the house instead of in the barn with Flora, the family’s sheepdog, but Mam had stood her ground. Irwin had been a lost and troubled boy, and Jeremiah an abandoned mutt. The two had bonded from the first day that Leah’s sister, Ruth, had carried the starving pup home, and Mam insisted that Jeremiah and Irwin had healed each other. Usually, Jeremiah curled up at the foot of Irwin’s bed, but tonight Irwin was spending the night with his Beachy cousins, and it fell to Leah to see to the terrier’s needs.

“Don’t take all night,” Leah called to the little dog. It was very dark, with only a few stars piercing the heavy cloud cover. She thought that it might rain again this evening. In the west, she caught sight of a flash of lightning. “Jeremiah!” Leah called. “Come on!”

The kitchen door squeaked and Leah’s mother stepped out on the porch beside her. She didn’t have to turn to see who it was, and Mam didn’t need to speak to be recognized. There was no mistaking the scent of lavender soap that Mam favored.

“Daniel asked me if I wanted to help at the Mennonite Food Bank in Dover on Tuesday afternoon. Caroline and Leslie Steiner will be there.” Leah hesitated. “I told him I would, and he’s going to pick me up after lunch.”

“I see.”

When silence stretched between them, Leah called for the dog again and then said, “He must be chasing a mouse or one of the cats.”

“He’ll come when he’s ready,” Mam said. “I wanted a minute alone with you. It seems that my instincts were right.” Soft fingertips brushed Leah’s chin. “You find Daniel Brown attractive, don’t you?”

“Daniel?”

Her mother chuckled. “He is a nice young man.” Her voice grew more serious. “But he’s not for you, Leah. He’s not one of us.”

“I went to see his program,” she defended. “And I’m helping to give out food to people who need it. I’m not walking out with him.”

“
Ne,
you’re not, but you’ve imagined what it might be like, haven’t you?”

Leah didn’t answer. She wasn’t ready to admit to Mam or even to herself that the attraction she felt for Daniel was different…stronger than for any of the boys with whom she’d grown up. Instead, she called for Jeremiah again. Still no ragged little black-and-white dog with a silly plumed tail. “Where can he have gotten to?”

“Leah.”

She sighed. “I know he’s Mennonite, Mam, but it doesn’t hurt to think what might be, does it?”

Her mother’s hand closed around hers. “It is your running around time, and it’s only right that you see how others live, but don’t look too far. It could make you unhappy when you choose the
Plain
life.”

“It’s not like I’m smoking cigarettes or making a show of myself with the English boys at Spence’s. I’m going to be helping those less fortunate, families in need. Is that so wrong?”

“No, not wrong, but dangerous all the same.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “Are you forbidding me to go?”

“
Ne,
child. That’s not my place. You’re a woman grown.”

Again, Leah couldn’t answer. Would she have gone anyway if her mother told her not to? She suspected that she might.

Mam’s voice took on a thread of steel. “Have you never wondered about my other family? My mother? My father? My sisters and brothers?”

“Ruth used to ask when we were kids, but you told us that was in the past. We were your family then and now.”

Mam squeezed her hand. “I should have been honest when Ruth asked, but it was still too hurtful for me. I was weak, and it was easier not to talk about them. I’m afraid I’m a work in progress. You don’t know how many nights I’ve gone on my knees praying for the strength to be a good mother.”

“But you are,” Leah said. “No one could have a better one.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, but—“

“It’s how I feel, Mam—how we all feel.”

“Thank you for telling me. But now, I need you to listen.”

“I am.”

Mam nodded. “When I married your father and joined the Amish church, it broke my father’s heart. My grandmother closed the door in my face, and my father forbade me to come home. He returned the letters I wrote to my sisters and mother, unopened.”

“Oh, Mam.” Leah hugged her. “It must have been awful for you. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I never wanted you children to feel that I was sorry for the decision I made. I’ve never regretted it, not for a moment. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t miss my old family, that I didn’t want to see you in my mother’s arms. You look like her, you know. She was fair of face and beautiful in spirit.”

Leah felt her cheeks flame. All her life, she’d known that other people considered her pretty, but it wasn’t something that the
Plain
folk were supposed to remark on, or that she was supposed to take pride in. Pride was
Hochmut
. Forbidden. It was against the
Ordnung
, the laws that governed every aspect of Amish life.

“Your mother turned her back on you after you married Dat?” Leah looked at Mam. “How could she?”

“She had no choice. In our home, my father’s word was final. He was ordained, a leader in our church. By leaving our faith for Jonas’s church, my father felt that I had rejected him and shamed him before the members of his community. My mother was raised among the Old Order Mennonite, and it would have been unthinkable for her to go against her husband.”

“Did you know…before? That they would disown you if you married Dat?”

“
Ya.
My oldest brother enlisted in the military. His name was Timothy. He was funny and kind, and he always had time to listen to my chatter. He taught me to bait a fishhook and to ride a horse bareback. I adored Tim. I was twelve the last time I saw him.”

“I have an uncle who’s a soldier?”

Her mother made a small sound that was almost a sob. “Tim came home once, after he graduated from basic training. My father wouldn’t let him see my mother—see any of us. Tim hitched a ride with another serviceman back to their duty station. There was an accident on the interstate.”

“He was killed?” Leah asked.

Her mother nodded. “Both of them were. They told us that that they found alcohol in the wreck—that the boys had been drinking. My father refused to allow Tim to be buried in our cemetery. He told the soldiers who came to notify us of Tim’s passing that he had no son.”

“Dat would never do that,” Leah protested. Tears clouded her vision. “No matter what we did, he’d never have denied one of us.”

“Ne,”
her mother said. “I don’t believe that he would. But you’re of an age when you’ll make decisions that will affect the rest of your life. You have to realize that you are Amish, blood and bone. Nothing will ever change that.”

“But I’m free to choose, am I not?” She laid her hand on the porch rail and looked into the darkness. “Isn’t that part of our faith?”

“It is. Joining the church, making the commitment to live a
Plain
life is a decision we must each make for ourselves. You’re past the age most girls have already been baptized, and I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t tell you I was concerned that you have doubts.”

“Not doubts, not really. I just…” Leah searched for the right words to explain her restlessness to her mother…to tell her in a way that wouldn’t involve Daniel. “I want to be sure,” she said, and that much was true. She’d felt this way all her life, as though she belonged…but didn’t.

“And so you should be. Just remember, if you chose not to be one of us, you give up everything you’ve ever known.”

“Not my family. You wouldn’t stop loving me, would you, Mam?”

“
Ne,
child, never. I want you to be happy, but I also want you to be realistic. And I want you to realize that if you chose a husband from outside our faith, many of your larger family—friends, relatives, neighbors would be lost to you.”

“I know that…but I don’t know why you’re saying this to me. I’m not dating anyone, and—”

“Hush, Leah. Don’t say what you’ll regret. We’ve always known each other’s hearts. You may look like my mother, but you’re a lot like me. There’s an independence in you that your sisters don’t share. You’ll follow your heart, no matter where it leads you.” She took a deep breath. “I’m just saying that your life will be a lot simpler if you find a nice Amish boy and start walking out with him.”

“Do you have anyone in mind?” Leah went to the steps and whistled for Jeremiah. “I’ve a mind to leave him out all night.”

Her mother joined her. “I wouldn’t have you think that your grandfather was a bad man. He wasn’t. He was a good man. He loved his children, and we loved him. But he was very set in his ways. My mother always said that Dad would have been a martyr if he’d lived in the bad times in Germany.”

Leah stepped back and looked into her mother’s face. It was dark on the porch, and her features were hidden in shadow. “So you knew the price you’d have to pay, but you chose to follow your heart and marry Dat.”

“
Ya,
I did. For me, I think it was the right choice. I could never have had a better husband—a better father for my children.” She sighed. “Maybe I took after my Dad…maybe I’m as stubborn as he was.”

“But you wouldn’t—” Jeremiah began to bark. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I think someone’s coming,” her mother said. “There.” She pointed.

Leah stared into the darkness and saw a small beam of light. “Who’d be coming this late? On foot?”

Chapter Seven

“W
e’ll see, won’t we?” Mam started down the steps.

“Wait,” Leah cautioned. “Let me get a flashlight.”

“Hello!” Mam called.

“It’s me! Johanna.” The flashlight beam bobbed and grew brighter. Jeremiah’s excited yips nearly drowned out her sister’s voice.

“Johanna?” Leah called. “Is someone sick?” She hurried down the steps after her mother. She couldn’t imagine why her eldest sister had walked over in the dark this late at night.

“We’re all fine,” Johanna answered. But something in her voice told Leah that wasn’t quite true.

Leah’s nephew, red-haired Jonah, ran into her mother’s arms and Mam scooped him up. “How’s my big boy?” she asked. “Did you walk all the way over here?”

“Ya,”
Jonah said shyly. “I did. Katy rode.”