The Englisher (16 page)
Esther doubted it. No one had ever successfully dealt with Zeke’s belligerent behavior toward her, nor toward the church brethren. She knew from the grapevine that her husband had been in jeopardy of the Bann on several occasions. The fact that he had escaped by the skin of his teeth made her wonder what sort of things he had told the brethren to quash their indignation. Perhaps the ministers had shown leniency out of fear Zeke might eventually report his brother’s kidnapping, something he had threatened to do off and on over the years.
‘‘Here, let me read what the Scriptures say about the marriage relationship,’’ Irvin’s voice broke the quiet. ‘‘ ‘Husbands, love your wives and do not be harsh with them.’ ’’
‘‘But that ain’t all it says,’’ Zeke snapped. ‘‘The woman’s to come under the rule of the man . . . she’s to submit in ev’ry way.’’ Zeke paused. ‘‘And I wouldn’t put a bit of weight on that Bible you’re readin’.’’
There was a slight pause. Then Irvin answered thoughtfully, with slow words, ‘‘Well, we can read from the King James if you prefer.’’
Esther had to smile. Poor Irvin had his work cut out for him.
Irvin had evidently reached for a different Bible, and he began to read yet again. ‘‘ ‘Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it.’ This means we are to cherish our wives, tend to them as we care for our own body. Give our love away sacrificially . . . surrender it to the good of our beloved.’’
Esther was stunned. She’d never heard such things coming from a man.
No wonder Julia wears a constant smile!
But for Esther to trust that such a verse might find its way into Zeke’s stony heart, well, she would not get her hopes up. She had never known anyone to act like the devil, but she felt she’d seen his sneering face—when Zeke’s rage overtook him. No, Irvin’s attempt to convert Zeke was futile. She felt sure she knew what made her husband tick, and it had nothing at all to do with giving himself up for his bride.
After supper dishes were put away and Annie and Louisa were in their room, with Muffin purring in Lou’s arms, Annie brought up her secret date with Ben Martin. ‘‘It’s this Friday, after nightfall,’’ she said, watching Louisa’s expression.
A smile spread quickly across Lou’s face. ‘‘I knew it. This is so great, Annie.’’
‘‘Now, don’t go jumpin’ to conclusions. I’m not going to be his girl or anything.’’
‘‘Well, are you sure?’’
Annie let out a little giggle. ‘‘Now, listen. I agreed to go with him just this once.’’
‘‘But you’ve spent time alone with him already . . . haven’t you?’’
Annie couldn’t hide the truth. ‘‘Actually, we’ve run into each other quite a few times.’’
‘‘Oh, so you’re a couple now?’’
‘‘No.’’
‘‘But that’s what
he
wants,’’ Lou said. Then she told her how Ben had asked about Annie some time back. ‘‘I said he should ask you himself.’’
‘‘Ach, you did?’’ Annie held a strand of her golden waist-length hair in her hands.
‘‘Sure, it beats wishing and hoping. Why should I try to set up a date with you for him when he can do it himself? It’s better this way. You know exactly where he stands.’’
‘‘I
do
like him, Lou. But he’s English.’’ Annie felt her heart do a strange dance at the thought of seeing him again. ‘‘What am I goin’ to do?’’
‘‘Have a fine evening, that’s what. Ben seems like a wonderful guy.’’
‘‘But . . . he’s off limits. My father will have my head if I’m found out. I shouldn’t have agreed to see Ben again.’’
‘‘Then why did you?’’
‘‘Because I have to know . . .’’
‘‘If he’s the man for you?’’
Annie turned abruptly and looked at her. ‘‘I’m not thinkin’ of marriage. Honestly, I’m not.’’
‘‘You wouldn’t want to abandon your Amish ways, of course. What’s wrong with enjoying his company?’’
‘‘The way you enjoy Sam’s?’’
‘‘Umm . . . we’re not talking about
me
,’’ Lou said.
Annie smiled at her friend. ‘‘Did Courtney get off all right?’’
‘‘You’re changing the subject,’’ Lou said.
Laughing softly, Annie nodded. ‘‘Jah, I guess I am at that.’’
A
nnie sat in the barn on Friday morning, thinking ahead to her much-anticipated date with Ben that evening. She heard the sound of the milkers and stared at the far end of the barn. Squinting her eyes, she held up her fingers in midair— her thumb and pointer finger—measuring the distance as an artist might, appraising the shape and size of the milkhouse beyond.
‘‘Caught you!’’ Louisa said, sneaking up behind her. ‘‘What’re you doing?’’
Annie put her hand down quickly. ‘‘What’s it look like?’’
‘‘Oh, I get it. You’re missing something . . . big time.’’
Annie nodded. ‘‘The thought that I
must
draw and paint, well it never, ever leaves me. Not even for a minute.’’ She pined for the feel of a paintbrush in her hand. ‘‘Some days I feel like I might just waste away.’’
‘‘It’s gotta be tough.’’ Lou offered to help her lay out quilting squares again, like they had one other time when Annie’s need to paint had hit ever so hard. ‘‘What about that?’’
‘‘Mamm was not so pleased with that crazy quilt pattern I created.’’
‘‘She said that?’’
‘‘Oh jah. She was adamant it was much too worldly.’’
‘‘I’m really, really sorry, Annie.’’ Lou squatted near, smiling sympathetically. ‘‘What
can
you do to feed your artistic side now that it’s winter?’’
‘‘Well, short of going back on my pledge to Daed, I just don’t know.’’
Lou nodded and followed Annie when it was time to go to the milk house. ‘‘When’s the next quilting bee? Maybe that might help.’’
‘‘It’s comin’ up soon enough. I’ll try ’n’ think ahead to that,’’ Annie replied, not wanting Lou’s pity. Not on this day. ‘‘I know. I’ll focus on Ben. Maybe that’ll get my mind off my art.’’
‘‘He
is
mighty
perty
!’’
‘‘Oh, you!’’ She chased Lou around the barn till the cows began mooing, which was not such a good thing. Not if Daed was going to have calm and contented cows for the rest of the milking hour.
‘‘What would you do if the sounds of the country weren’t humming in your ears every night?’’ Louisa said to Annie later as they swept the aisles. ‘‘I mean that hypothetically, of course. I know you’re not going anywhere.’’
Annie wore a fleeting smile. ‘‘You’re talking ’bout lying in bed and hearin’ the owls hooting and the wind keening?’’
‘‘I guess, but sometimes it’s more than that,’’ Louisa admitted. ‘‘There are times when I think about the country- side being the least noisy place in the world. But how can that be true? I mean, the night sounds fill up my head and even sneak into my sleep, too.’’
‘‘The restless peacocks?’’
Louisa agreed. ‘‘And other sounds. Muffin seems to hear them, too—she quivers in her sleep.’’
‘‘Oh, I’m sure. There’s something about animals. They not only hear, but they sense things like a brewing storm or, in the case of your cat, the agitation of the barn cats, especially when the moon is full. Ever notice that?’’
‘‘Not so much. I’m not into the phases of the moon. I do love the silvery look of the snow when there’s a full moon, though.’’ Louisa suddenly thought of Sam, wondering what sorts of sounds he heard each night as he fell asleep in his father’s farmhouse. What smells did he love best?
Why should I care?
she wondered.
Not allowing herself to linger on Sam, her thoughts flew to Courtney, who she knew would not understand nor care to embrace any connection with the Plain world here. Courtney was content with her flamboyant life.
So does a person have to be drawn to this? Or does life need
to be messed up before you crave serenity?
At that moment, Louisa realized Annie was braver than she by far. Sam had asked to meet her later tonight, and she’d agreed. Yet she had said nothing at all to Annie.
How
long can I keep this quiet?
She daydreamed, feeling surprisingly mellow at the prospect of seeing Sam again, as she watched Yonie move in and out of the cow stalls, hitching up his work trousers as he went. His scuffed boots were ridged with caked mud, she noticed, with pieces of straw sticking out like a sort of barbed halo.
He, too, has secrets,
she was willing to venture. One night, while Annie dreamed peacefully upstairs, sleepless Louisa had paced the main house’s long front room, which was lined with shelves full of books with strange German titles. It was then she had spied the preacher’s son outside, though Yonie had been too busy kissing his modern girlfriend to notice.
The next morning, Esther watched the sun come up, her body signaling it was past time to nurse Essie Ann. Propped up with pillows, she prayed silently in the stillness of dawn, her children sprawled in a row along the width of the bed.
I feel it in the marrow of my bones, dear Lord. I’ll be forced
to return home . . . and soon. I ask for the grace to do this thing
which I dread
.
She stroked John’s head.
Touch my dear, frail child, I pray.
Thank you for sparing his life on that most frightening night. Oh,
I give you praise, Father
.
Essie Ann stirred in her cradle, making her usual soft sounds upon first awaking. Esther would not wait for her to wail. She slipped out of bed and went to her, longing to preserve the peace of this place, her retreat of safety, likening it to the shelter the Lord God had provided for the psalmist David.
How much longer will I find refuge here?
She did not wish to be a burden to the Rancks, kind as they were, and would continue to help around the house wherever she could, especially with young James and Molly. But although she was inclined to, she would not allow herself to fret.
I will put
my full trust in my Lord. I will not be afraid
.
Even so, she fought the looming sense of urgency that things were about to change for her and her dear, helpless children.
Annie was a bit surprised by Ben’s somewhat Plain attire. She half expected he might arrive wearing the shirt and tie associated with church clothes or ‘‘dress up,’’ as the Englischers called it. But not Ben. His solid blue shirt was open at the neck beneath his dark coat. In fact, he looked like any one of Irvin’s Mennonite friends.
Does he mean to impress me?
‘‘How are you, Annie?’’ he asked, opening the door for her. He’d parked out on the road, about a quarter mile up from their lane. The car was still running, and she marveled at how toasty warm it was inside.
‘‘I’m doin’ all right. How ’bout you?’’
‘‘Glad to see you again.’’ He grinned irresistibly and closed her door. She found herself smiling as he moved quickly around the front of the car to the driver’s side, got in, and snapped his seat belt. That done, he turned to her. ‘‘I hope you don’t mind . . . I made reservations for us at a restaurant quite a distance from here. I thought it might be best, considering our circumstances,’’ he said.
He means: since you’re not supposed to be out with me!
‘‘Sure, I think that’s nice,’’ she said, surprised once more at how relaxed she felt with him. She was glad, too, for a long ride before yet another meal—even though she was not so keen on riding in a car. Even so she’d waited with great anticipation for this night, and Ben seemed to be as careful as any of the drivers her father occasionally hired for the family.
‘‘Am I going too fast?’’ Ben asked, seemingly mindful of her hesitancy.
She shook her head. ‘‘Usually, when I ride in the vans on the way out to Ohio or whatnot, I sit far in the back. But I’ll get used to this, really.’’
‘‘We’ll be traveling more slowly tonight because of the weather.’’
Jah, good,
she thought. ‘‘It’s so cold the snow hardly has a chance to melt.’’
‘‘And more is coming, according to the forecast.’’ He went on to say he had made a habit of following the weather quite closely, via the Internet.
‘‘Louisa has a portable computer,’’ she volunteered.
‘‘Sometime she shows me the news and other things on the screen. That is, when we’re at Cousin Julia’s, of course. We don’t have electric in the house, ya know.’’
He nodded. ‘‘I’ve wondered. Some of the Amish who come into the tack shop have electricity and others frown on it. Can you explain that?’’
Happy to clarify, she outlined the differences between several of the conservative groups in the area to the best of her ability. ‘‘And you may not know this, but there is a growing number of folk leaving the Old Order for a group called, not surprisingly, the New Order. They’re more open to modern ideas. Over in the area of Gap there are Amish who drive cars and have lights in their houses, yet they dress similar to my family and me.’’
‘‘Hard to understand why there are so many groups.’’
‘‘Every Ordnung is different, if only a little, even from one regional district to another, my father says.’’
They talked about Irvin and Julia and Ben’s fondness for them. And again about the blizzard that was supposed to blow in sometime during the weekend.
‘‘In Kentucky we wished we had more snow,’’ Ben said. ‘‘But here we complain if we get too much.’’
‘‘Mer net zefridde,’’
Annie said with a mischievous smile.
We’re never satisfied
.
Watching the road carefully, Ben seemed distracted momentarily by a pedestrian, then turned to her, smiling. ‘‘You’re right, we’re not.’’
She looked at him, somewhat surprised. ‘‘You’ve picked up some Dutch, seems to me.’’
Ben shrugged casually, and she made herself stop staring. He was a curious man. She was careful to answer his questions— mostly about the ‘‘Plain society,’’ as he referred to their community.
At one point she asked him if he’d ever read the book
The Riddle of the Amish Culture,
which was highly regarded as a good resource.
‘‘I’ll have to pick it up,’’ he said. ‘‘You say your people approve of the book?’’
‘‘Well, sure, because it correctly represents the Anabaptist community as a whole. The author has lived and worked among us for a good many years now.’’
