The Forbidden (8 page)
Tomorrow I’ll see him!
Friday evening Nellie managed to leave the house only after helping in the kitchen, making small talk with Mamma and Nan. It was imperative, to her thinking, to lend a hand, since Rhoda hadn’t yet arrived home, something that was becoming the norm. Nellie stayed as long as she could, risking being late for meeting Caleb.
Had her heart ever pounded this hard before? She hurried now along the snowy road to meet her beau, the air of excitement within more noticeable to her than the bitter cold.
Soon, very soon, we’ll be together!
She wished she might have thought to hitch up the horse and buggy. Maybe, just maybe, Caleb was counting on her doing so, though he hadn’t suggested it in his sweet letter. Still, she had plenty of layers on and would fare well on foot for a good couple of hours or so, if necessary.
As she picked her way along the road, she longed to lay eyes on Caleb—to see him, talk to him, and listen to the news he had to share with her. To think they had been apart for more than a month. How long would it be till they’d see each other again, after tonight? She would not allow herself to think that way. It was far better to live for this precious moment and be thankful for what time they did have together.
When she rounded the bend of the old mill, she looked everywhere, eager for a glimpse of him. A few couples were already skating on the pond, and their occasional laughter wafted across the millrace to where she stood. She hoped Caleb hadn’t brought his skates, since she hadn’t carried hers. Feeling awkward, even conspicuous, she scanned the area for signs of her beau, in case he’d decided to wait for her off the road.
She squinted through the trees, looking, but when he did not arrive, she circled the stone mill to check the other side. He might have decided to be careful and hide from prying eyes. She hoped she hadn’t misunderstood his letter or arrived too late. Had she lingered too long after supper?
She spied the wrought-iron bench where they’d sat together. The bench seemed to her now a symbol of their courtship, the place where they had shared their first words of endearment and where she had accepted his tender affection. She smiled, recalling the way his gentle kisses had created feathery tickles in her stomach.
Caleb’s fondness for her was evident in the genuinely respectful manner in which he conveyed his love, unlike some boys who pushed the limits. Truly her beau was nothing less than a gentleman.
Turning to face the road, Nellie peered into the twilight, longing for Caleb.
Where are you, love?
Though he disliked admitting to harboring any pride, Reuben took pleasure in not being easily
ferhoodled.
In fact, he was nearly always composed and had refused to be drawn into the too-frequent church debates of late. A good many arguments were flying back and forth between the three Honey Brook Amish groups, despite the bishop’s attempt to keep the peace.
This evening he’d slipped out to visit with his son Eph-ram. The problem, as Reuben saw it, was that Ephram and Maryann had but a few weeks left till the
Bann
threatened any baptized adults who chose to leave the old church. Where would that leave Ephram if he decided to join Reuben and Betsy in the new church
after
the grace period was up? While either group of new church folk would surely welcome him, Ephram and his family would be shunned from the old fellowship, many of whose members were blood relatives. If that came about, Ephram’s livelihood would suffer, just as his father’s presently did.
Bann or no Bann, there’s no
denying times are tough.
Now that Reuben had arrived, he found himself pacing, nervous. “ ’Tis high time we got things out in the open, son,” he said after greeting Ephram.
“I’ll never see things your way, Dat.” His son leaned against the wall, arms folded over his thick chest. “Save your breath, I say.”
Reuben shook his head. “I’ve held my peace long enough,” he said. “I’ve been praying for ya, son.”
“Like I said, Dat, best be savin’ your breath.”
His heart’s closed up. . . .
Lifting his eyes to the rafters, Reuben recalled how unbendable his bishop brother Joseph had been earlier today. Fact was, Ephram and the bishop saw eye to eye—their thinking as skewed as Reuben’s had been for all the years of his life, till now.
“Someone’s been running a newspaper ad for Nellie Mae’s bakery shop in the English paper,” Ephram said, abruptly changing the subject. “The grapevine’s swinging wide and far about it, wonderin’ if it’ll show up in next week’s papers, too.”
“Well, what on earth?”
Ephram’s eyes narrowed. “You mean you had nothing to do with it?”
“Why should I?”
“I just thought—”
“That’s where you got yourself in trouble, son. You’re jumping to conclusions, when you ought to be askin’.” Reuben forced a laugh.
“I’m askin’
now.
”
“Folks wrongly assume things all the time. But what’s it matter if you or anyone else thinks I placed an ad?”
Ephram’s expression turned to one of astonishment. “Matters a whole lot if you’re set on bringin’ in more and more outside folk to Nellie’s bakery shop. Looks bad, like you’re too anxious for the fancy.”
“Ain’t my doin’, that’s for certain.”
“Maybe so, but you’ve been turnin’ the other way for as long as Nellie’s run that shop, ain’t so?”
Reuben could scarcely believe the tone his son was taking with him. He refused to defend his decision to allow the bakery shop to Ephram or anyone else—plenty of Old Order families had roadside vegetable stands and the like.No, right now he was beginning to feel like walking straight out of Ephram’s barn, lest he fall into temptation and put his hands on his brawny son’s shoulders and shake him good. The grapevine was indeed ever present, but the way folk interpreted what they heard from the rumor mill was the real problem.
“Nellie’s Simple Sweets does our family more good than harm,” he said at last. “And I’ve never had cause to question the way your sister handles things. You should have the sense to know she’d no more place an ad than I would.”
After a terse good-bye, Reuben hurried to the buggy, more aware now of the cold. “A body shouldn’t be out in this for long,” he muttered to the horse.
He arrived home to Betsy, who was anxious to discuss Nellie Mae. “She’s been gone awhile—on foot, no less.” She looked up, her embroidery balanced on her lap.
“Meeting a beau, no doubt.” He glanced at the kitchen clock.
“Not just any fella, I don’t think.”
He knew as much. And the worst of it was knowing Caleb Yoder was not likely to shift toward the New Order— not the way his father was shooting off his mouth amongst the old church brethren. If Nellie Mae married Caleb
. . .
well, it meant a worrisome situation.
“We’ll lose her,” he whispered. “She’ll submit to her beau’s way of thinkin’.”
Betsy frowned.
“And just when I’d hoped she might be leanin’ toward salvation.” He remembered her momentary tenderness after she’d gone with them to hear Preacher Manny that once.
“Let God do His work in His way, love.” She reached for him.
He bussed her cheek. “You’re right ’bout that.” He wouldn’t admit it, for surely his wife suspected it already, but he’d gladly help the Lord along, and right quick, too, where their children were concerned.
Betsy picked up her embroidery hoop. If Reuben wasn’t mistaken, she was repeating a Scripture verse as she worked.
He hadn’t removed his coat, since he’d intended to check on his horses. His boots left prints in the icy snow as he trudged toward the barn, where he looked in on the new foals first. When he was satisfied they each had enough bedding straw, he went to the small corner of the barn where he kept files on his horses’ breeding records, as well as their veterinary appointments. It was there also that he had put in a good many hours crafting the round tables and chairs for Nellie’s bakery shop.
Perching on his work stool, Reuben thought again of the grapevine. “Nonsense is right,” he muttered, tracing a circle in the sawdust on the workbench. He cared not one iota who might’ve paid for the ad. As for bringing it up to Betsy, he’d let her mention it. No sense making a big to-do.
Going to inspect one of the completed chairs, he ran his hand over its smooth seat, then the straight slats on the back. He would be finished by Monday, perhaps at just the right time, too, since Nellie Mae was well enough to tend the store again.
Let the Englischers come. . . .
An enclosed black buggy appeared in the near distance, and Nellie’s heart sank.
Puh—
no way could it be Caleb. Yet she lingered in the brush, beginning to shiver. Surely Caleb would have an explanation as to why he was this late, if he came at all.
She had heeded his suggestion and worn two sets of long johns, donning her heaviest sweater and warmest black coat over her dress and apron. She guessed she was a sight to see, surely having expanded a few inches in girth.
She observed the horse and carriage as it slowed. Lo and behold, it came to a complete halt. Suddenly there he was—Caleb, leaping off the buggy! He paused momentarily, evidently searching the area.
She stepped out into the clearing.
Goodness, he is here
. She placed her hand over her heart as it fluttered with joy. “Caleb,” she whispered.
He let out a stifled whoop and began running through the snow, straight to her. “Nellie Mae!”
Ach, Caleb . . .
She struggled to keep her composure at the sight of her beau, her love.
His arms opened for her and she fell into him, welcoming his crushing embrace. “Oh, I missed you so,” she whispered into his long woolen coat.
He pressed his cheek against hers. “Oh, Nellie, honey . . . your face is like ice.” He leaned back to look into her eyes; then he happily hugged her again. He seemed reluctant to release her, but he reached for her hand and led her toward the buggy. “Come, let’s get you warmed up.”
As they walked, he explained that he’d taken the extra time to go to a cousin’s and plead to borrow his new carriage. “I figured we’d be frozen sticks otherwise. There should be enough heavy lap robes to keep you cozy, love.”
Love . . .
Oh, the sound of his voice.
The thought of warmth, after having been so very cold, as well as of having this private time with him, made Nellie hurry to match Caleb’s stride.
“We’ve got ourselves a family buggy.” He chuckled.
“Jah, I see that.”
“It’s not for courtin’, but it’ll keep us much warmer.”
She laughed as he literally lifted her into his cousin’s carriage.
Oh joy!
Once settled in the buggy, Nellie realized just how chilled she was, especially her fingers and toes. As soon as the horse pulled forward onto the road, Caleb let go of the reins and began to warm her hands by rubbing each finger, one at a time, between his own hands, next kissing the tips of them.
She laughed softly as he did so rather comically. “Oh, you silly,” she whispered, leaning against his arm.
“No sillier than you.” He had taken great care to wrap her in the woolen lap robes. “My cousin’ll be glad we put these to good use.”
“He’s got himself quite a nice buggy.” She eyed the dashboard.
“Nice is right. Cousin Aaron purchased a dilapidated family buggy back when he first got married, so he’s needed a new one for a while. He wasn’t too keen on partin’ with this fine one, even for one night. I had to beg, which is why I took so long.”
“Maybe he suspects what you wanted it for.”
He smiled and picked up the reins. “Well, he had his share of forbidden loves, too.”
“Ach, really?”
Caleb explained that Aaron had never been of the Old Order Amish but rather one of the “team Mennonites,” who drove black buggies—close cousins to their way of life. “But Aaron dated some progressive Amish girls, I’m told, and sneaked around doin’ so.”
Like us tonight.
The carriage moved down the road with a gentle jostle, and Nellie wondered if Cousin Aaron might be one to betray Caleb, though she didn’t want to mention it.
“How’ve you been, Nellie Mae?”
“Oh, all right.”
“No . . . really,” he urged. “Catch me up on what I’ve missed.”
They’d never sat together so privately like this, sheltered from both the elements and observers. The carriage was a marked change from Caleb’s open courting buggy. The dimness of its interior felt strangely intimate, and Nellie felt self-conscious, although she would have welcomed Caleb’s presence in any circumstance.
“Well, let’s see. I’ll start with Christmas. My brothers and their families all spent the day, and my nieces and nephews took turns stringing popcorn near the cookstove. Emma, Mamma’s favorite—no secret, I daresay—was awful cute, reciting a poem she’d learned from my brother Ephram’s oldest boy. I clapped when Emma finished, and Rhoda said I should quit teachin’ her to be vain.” As soon as Nellie uttered the words, she felt ashamed.
“Rhoda’s got a lip on her, then?”
She wanted to make quick amends, for she was not one to speak against her family. “Well, she was prob’ly right,” Nellie added.
“Aw, honey . . . it’s okay to say what you feel.”
His response made her wonder if there were things he, too, would like to share about a family member, namely his father. But she wouldn’t bring up that sore topic. “How was Christmas at your house?” she asked.
He leaned back, nestling her in the bend of his arm before answering. “Worst ever
. . .
without you.” He leaned closer. “Next year, just think, we’ll be man and wife.”
Nellie blushed, glad for the darkness, but she wondered how on earth he would ever get his father’s blessing.
If
he’s sure it will happen, I should simply relax and quit
worrying
.
“I’ll convince Daed that we belong together, you’ll see.” He paused. “I say we tie the knot right away in November, all right?”
Happily she nodded, surprised he was suddenly so open with her when things had seemed quite bleak before. Had something changed? “When the time is closer, I’ll talk it over with Mamma. She’ll want two weeks to get things ready, I’m thinkin’.”
