The Englisher (30 page)

Annie felt for the sealed envelope deep in her pocket.

‘‘Why’d Louisa leave?’’ asked Laura.

‘‘Well, she knew she couldn’t stay for good.’’

Laura turned to look out the window. ‘‘Too bad, jah?’’

Annie nodded.

‘ ‘ I liked her a lot. She was nice to me and my brothers . . . and to Molly and James, too.’’

Annie nodded. ‘‘She sure was.’’

‘‘Will she come see us again?’’

‘‘Anything’s possible, I guess.’’

Laura turned away from the window, a big smile on her wee face. ‘‘That’s what Mamma says a lot. ‘All things are possible.’ ’’
A wonderful-good thing
.

‘‘Believin’ is ever so important,’’ Annie said, starting a game of peekaboo with little John.

‘‘Ach, Mamma says that, too.’’

When the membership meeting was finished, and the food for the common meal was brought up from the cold cellar, Annie took John, Zach, and Laura back to find Esther, who’d gone for a short walk, as she was not welcome at the meeting. On the way Annie spotted Sam, who looked as dejected as Lou had last night.

When Annie caught Sam’s attention, she was glad the Hochstetler children were in tow, or she might have been tempted to stand and chat with him a while, to offer a comforting word or two.

Silently she pulled out the envelope and slipped it into his hand.

‘‘From Louisa?’’ he asked.

She nodded. Taking the envelope, he walked quickly away.

Annie was glad Mamm was so willing to go visiting during the next few weeks. Nearly every day they dropped in on either Sarah Mae, Martha, Priscilla, or other womenfolk.

The house seemed topsy-turvy without Louisa in it, and 277 even Dawdi agreed with Mammi when she said how much she missed Louisa spending time with her in the evenings, doing their needlework by the fire. ‘‘She was starting to understand some Dutch, too,’’ Mammi said, shaking her head sadly.

One morning, while enjoying chamomile tea and cinnamon rolls at Martha’s, Annie heard the happy news that her sister-in-law was expecting again. ‘‘The more babies in the family, the more fun we’ll have, ain’t?’’ Annie said, wishing Lou might be on hand to celebrate.

All the crocheting of booties and blankets ahead!

When not going visiting, Annie counted hay bales with Yonie. There was also some talk that Daed and Luke were planning to drive fence posts in the southeast pasture. And Omar mentioned some of the loggers were eyeing the woods up yonder.

Winter’s fading,
she thought, wishing Louisa were here to see the pussy willow buds soon to appear.

With the warmer days came the anticipation of Good Friday’s fast day. The membership would contemplate the Ordnung prayerfully, and, if all were in one accord, they would rejoice by taking communion as a group, followed by their twice-yearly foot washing. Shortly after that would come the start of baptismal instruction. Annie found herself looking often at the calendar, counting the days till she and the other applicants would meet with the ministers. She knew she had to be certain of her resolve before making the commitment to study, a thought which kept her awake at night.

She and Ben were still seeing each other every week, and as wonderful as it was spending time together, she also worried she was replacing one vice for another—trading her art for her forbidden beau. She knew she must decide to join church. Or, better yet, as Julia often said, seek to know the will and purpose of God.

Truth was, she had a hard time thinking the Lord could be bothered with what she did or didn’t do.
With so many
folk in the world, with oodles of needs, why on earth would He
care one way or the other?

Esther continued to grasp hold of hope, but what was happening between her and Zeke had nothing to do with goodness or godliness. She made tiny dots on the calendar for each time her husband dishonored her shunning, not for the purpose of reporting him, but for her own sake—if she should become pregnant again. And what a revelation to the brethren that would be!

She’d known of spouses who did not heed the Bann, disobeying the ministers; they soon ended up shunned themselves. Gently she reminded Zeke of this, yet it was impossible to thwart him. A pattern had been set, and she was helpless to stop it. But she would not allow her interrupted sleep or any of his violent outbursts during the day to rob her of the peace she carried silently within. Her greatest joy came both from the Lord and her children, in that order.

The days marched swiftly into April, and Esther realized she had not visited her mother for quite some time. Eager to get out of the house, and missing her talks with Julia, she bundled up the baby and the boys, while Laura was at school, and took the team several miles up the road.

When she arrived at her brother’s place and the small Dawdi Haus built for her mother, Esther was met with an unexpected reaction. Mamma scarcely looked at her and would not invite them in, though she eyed Essie Ann, whose bright little eyes blinked up at her grandmother. ‘‘Are ya busy, then?’’ Esther managed to ask, her heart heavy.

‘‘Well, jah . . . I am.’’

Esther looked down at Zach and John, both shivering a bit. ‘‘I s’pose we could come another time.’’

Her mother stood as rigid and silent as the glass figurines Esther had seen in Julia’s curio cabinet. They caught each other’s gaze, and slowly but surely Esther came to understand the full meaning of rejection as she waited on the back stoop.

The shun . . .

But something powerful, even bold, rose up in her. ‘‘The children are awful cold,’’ she whispered, leaning forward. ‘‘Mayn’t
they
come in?’’

Tears sprang into Mamma’s eyes, and she opened the door wider. ‘‘Hullo, Zach . . . John,’’ she said, not bending down to kiss them. She rather ignored Essie Ann, and for this Esther felt even stronger pangs of sadness.

This isn’t about the children. She must not treat them so!

As she watched her children standing in Mamma’s small front room with their wraps still on, Esther realized suddenly that the social avoidance meant for her would take its toll on her offspring. This made her feel even more isolated in the face of Zeke’s mistreatment of her and their little ones.

‘‘Come, play with the blocks,’’ her mother said, placing a large box on the floor near the small cookstove.

The boys hurried to begin their play, coats still buttoned up. Eventually Zach shed his, but it lay on the floor where he left it. Never before would Mamma have allowed that. She would have asked her grandson to hand it up to her, lest she hurt her bad back bending low. And when tiny Essie Ann became fussy, Mamma did not offer to take her and walk about the room, whispering softly in Dutch, as she had done countless times with her other grandchildren.

Esther had heard of staunch folk who insisted on placing the infant of a shunned church member on a table or other surface before the baby could be passed to another’s arms, but she had not expected such from her mother.

She was surprised when, after a time, Mamma offered some hot tea. Eager for something warm, Esther asked if she could help. But she was denied that, being told to sit and wait till the teakettle whistled.

‘‘Ach, Mamma, this is silly.’’

‘‘No . . . no, the wisdom of the ages, Esther,’’ her mother said with a severe look. ‘‘Our church leaders are to be honored.’’

‘‘Above one’s own flesh and blood?’’ Esther asked, though the answer was within her.

‘‘The brethren are ordained of the most high God,’’ Mamma said. ‘‘Always remember this, truly.’’

Is this what I must endure for all my days?

Leaning forward in the carriage, Jesse made his way to Al Fisher’s farm. Al, who had never known of the alarming discovery on his land, needed help seeding his oats crop, and a few of the neighboring men had volunteered to put in a half day over there, after finishing up their own chores.

Barbara had asked, sweetly as always, if Jesse would be home for supper, and he had smiled and said he would. Her chicken and homemade dumplings were the best, by far, of any he had ever eaten. A big incentive . . . that, and her sweet kisses, still offered after all these years.

Jesse let his mind wander to Annie’s English friend, who had surprised all of them by disappearing in the night. He realized anew how fond Barbara had been of Louisa, and it annoyed him.

Long past time for her to head on home,
he decided.
Besides, Annie will soon meet with the brethren about her baptism
.

He would’ve patted himself on the back if he weren’t out here on the road.

‘‘Annie’s goin’ to make it to her kneelin’ vow, sure looks like,’’ he mumbled, enjoying the ride alone while counting his blessings. It seemed like Preacher Moses had known what he was talking about, as always.

Louisa was a godsend, after all
.

He contemplated Annie’s recent attitude, which seemed to have improved some since Louisa’s exit back into the modern world. Barbara suggested with a smile that maybe their Annie had herself a new beau. They both had heard the soft thump of footsteps on the stairs after midnight, though Annie had not stayed out till the dawn with this new fellow, like she had with Rudy Esh, which made Jesse wonder. And none of the fathers were whispering that one of their own was seeing the preacher’s daughter.

Whoever it is, he’s surely keeping tight-lipped on it
.

He almost chuckled at the enduring spunk of his daughter.

Chapter 25

L
ouisa had hardly recognized her mother upon first arriving home.
She’s had a face lift or something drastic. Trying to look
twenty-one again?

But Louisa hadn’t said a word, trying to ease herself back into the lives of her stiff and cautious parents. They seemed to walk on eggshells with her, too. Neither her dad nor her mother asked even once about her decision to return, which was a relief, because all Louisa could think about was Sam . . . and Annie.
Paradise
.

Settled once again in her apartment, she wished she might have waited at least until the morning—perhaps after breakfast that final Sunday—to announce her leaving. She had wanted to give Barbara Zook a hug, maybe even a little kiss on her rosy cheeks for being a stand-in mom. But she’d observed how physically reserved the Amish women were upon greeting or saying good-bye. They scarcely ever touched, but their generous spirits were like a bighearted embrace.

Easter dinner at her parents’ was an all-out gala, festive in every way, with Daddy’s favorite traditional roast lamb dinner, all five courses perfectly paired with five wine options. The entire time she sat at the elegant table Louisa thought of Amish country, wondering what foods Annie and her family were enjoying. Had they left a vacant seat for her, where she’d always sat at the long table? What funny antic had Yonie pulled? In her mind she could see Jesse Zook bow his head, offering thanks, which was the farthest thing from anyone’s mind here at
this
table.

Relatives from out of state, as well as local friends, came for the afternoon. Mother was literally shimmering in her new orchid cocktail dress . . . and triumphant smile. She had purchased a new set of fine china just for the occasion. All the expensive niceties of her parents’ life did not bother Louisa as before, and she recognized what had made the difference.

‘‘People are anxious to see you, dear,’’ Mother had informed Louisa prior to the grand meal, as if to say: You’ve been out of your mind long enough. . . .

In some ways Louisa realized she
had
lost it, but certainly not mentally. She had lost something of herself, sure . . . but she hadn’t lost her way. She had found a new approach to living, coupled with the abandonment of self. Everything within her cried out to utilize what she’d learned here and now, in part through a strange yearning to extend herself to her domineering mother. This awareness alarmed her at first, so strikingly different it was from the old way of managing their relationship, but she no longer minded if her mom called the shots. As long as it didn’t step on anyone’s toes, who cared? She was suddenly seeing the world through her parents’ eyes—the need to hold on to a daughter, their one and only child—whom they loved and had been deprived of having around for nearly five months. They had genuinely missed her.