The Haven (10 page)

Hard to say which option was more frightening.

T
he hymn ended on a long note, the voices echoing from the rafters. Then, with a wave of his hand, the Vorsinger brought the singing to an end. Sadie drew a deep breath and sat down, hoping Joe-Jo would sleep through the service. She glanced across the large kitchen to catch sight of Will. He was seated next to Amos, about midway among the men’s benches. He squirmed on the hard, backless bench. Their eyes met, and he silently mouthed, “How long does this last?”

“Three,” she mouthed back.

He couldn’t understand her so she held up three fingers.

His eyes widened in alarm. “Three hours?” he mouthed.

She gave a slight nod of her head, just as Fern jabbed her in the side with her pointy elbow.

From her other side, M.K. jabbed her. “Don’t look now, but Gid’s watching you.”

Of course, Sadie’s gaze shifted immediately to Gid. He was squinting at her as if he wondered what was going on in her head. Could he tell? She had no idea. Her thoughts and emotions were all over the map, like they didn’t know where to land.

He had a look on his face that touched her. It was so sweet and so sad and so filled with love. She melted like butter. Then she stopped herself.
Don’t you go soft on him, Sadie Lapp,
she told herself.
He’s the one who believes the lies about me.
She turned her head and lifted her chin, a silent signal to him that she was still upset. She knew Gid was sensitive enough that he would feel her emotion, as real as if she had shouted.

Sadie sensed, more than saw, an icy glare aimed in her direction. Out of the corner of her eye, Esther, the deacon’s wife, was watching her. With her salt-and-pepper hair and delicate features, Esther could have been pretty, but there was something off about her. Her mouth, Sadie decided. She looked like she’d just spit out something that tasted awful.

The baby let out a yawn. One eye was open in a squint, like a pirate, as if he was halfway in between waking and sleeping. That worried Sadie and she shifted him in her lap, which caused both of his eyes to pop open.

Fern glanced at the baby, then at Sadie. “If he starts his yammering, take him outside.”

“Can’t you do it?” Sadie whispered.

“No,” Fern said, her eyes fixed on Ruthie’s father, the new minister, who had just stood up to preach after a long and quiet interchange among the ministers and bishop as to who would begin.

Joe-Jo let out a squeak and Sadie sighed. Ruthie’s father took his new responsibilities very seriously, especially preaching. In just a few months, he was getting a reputation of being the most long-winded, dry-boned preacher Stoney Ridge had ever heard.

Sadie turned to M.K. “Will you take a turn with the baby?”

“Not a chance,” M.K. whispered. “Babies don’t like me.”

The baby’s face turned red as he started to strain. Oh no. This was worse than Sadie had feared. Sure enough, Joe-Jo’s lower regions emitted a horrible gurgling sound, then a sour tangy odor wafted around her. The women in the bench in front of Sadie turned back to look at her as if they had never heard a baby make such noises. M.K. pinched her nose. Worse still, the baby let out a howl. Once, then twice.

Sadie jumped up and scurried out the side door with him, then rushed to the barn, far from the house so the baby wouldn’t disturb the service. Inside, she plunked down on a bench against a wall. Sadie searched the barn. A row of cows munched contentedly from hay boxes, and a bird peeked over the edge of a nest snug against the rafters. Other than that, the barn was empty.

As she was rooting through the makeshift diaper bag to find a fresh diaper, she heard a door slam shut. She leaned forward on the bench and looked out through the open barn door. Will strode down the porch steps that led out into the sunshiny yard and straight toward her. A cat trotted ahead of him, tail sticking up as straight as a poker. The cat glanced back now and then as if to make sure he was still following. Sadie couldn’t help but smile.

Will came into the barn and blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the cool, dim light. He grinned broadly when he spotted Sadie, snatching off his hat to reveal a thick thatch of sun-streaked hair. “Thought you might need some help quieting the baby,” he said cheerfully. “Is the goat’s milk helping with his colic?”

“I think so,” Sadie said. She felt her cheeks start to pink up and tried to will them to stop. She glanced over at the farmhouse, hoping that no one in the house could look out the window and see them. “He hasn’t had a big crying jag since yesterday morning.”

He patted the gray mare that stuck her head over the stall for affection. “Is this service really going to last three hours?”

She nodded. “Fern should have warned you.”

Will grinned. “I have a feeling she intentionally kept that to herself.”

No doubt, Sadie thought. Fern seemed to have taken an instant disliking to Will, and Sadie wasn’t sure why.

“And it’s all in that language?”

“Two languages, really. The preachers preach in Penn Dutch, but when they quote Scripture, it’s in High German.”

“So you’re fluent in three languages?” He let out a whistle. “I can barely manage English.”

She smiled. “All the Amish know three languages.” She put a blanket down on the bench and placed the baby on top to start the preparations to change his diaper. She hoped Will would take the hint and go back to the farmhouse before someone noticed them.

He didn’t. He sat across from her on a hay bale and stretched one long leg. “Sure is a beautiful day. I’d just as soon pay my respects to the Almighty outside than in a stuffy house.” He grinned at her. “Did you see that mouse scurry along the walls? My mother would have screamed to high heaven if she saw that.” He started in on a rambling story about going to church as a child, and at some point Sadie stopped listening and just started to change the baby’s diaper. If the smell and sight didn’t bother him, then she wouldn’t let it worry her. She was rattled enough by the presence of Will. She knew she shouldn’t pass more time with him, especially here, at Sunday church.

They’d scarcely met, yet she felt . . . tingly. Confused. Undeniably impressed by his strong presence and protective ways. His thoughtfulness. And, she admitted, his deep voice and warm looks disturbed her in a thrilling way. Was this how it started? You fell for someone because of the tilt of his smile, or because he could make you laugh, or in this case, because he made you feel as if the two of you shared a special connection. With a jerk, she stopped herself from that line of thinking.
Oh, Sadie Lapp, this isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.
She was
not
starting anything with Will Stoltz.

She wrapped the yucky diaper in a plastic bag and stuffed it into the diaper bag. Then she brought out the bottle of goat’s milk.

Will, still talking, stopped midsentence. “Want me to feed him? I’m not so good with diapers, but I can feed a baby.” He reached out his hands for the baby.

“Will,” she started, then hesitated. “You should probably get back into the service.”

“Why?” he asked, looking genuinely surprised. “I thought I’d keep you company.”

Sadie winced. “It doesn’t look right for us to spend time together.”

Will scoffed. “That’s ridiculous! We’re just two friends, talking on a spring morning.”

How could Sadie phrase this in a way a non-Amish boy could understand? “It’s not just a spring morning. It’s a Sunday morning. A churchgoing morning. The best day of the week. A morning of worshiping God, an afternoon of friendship. Heart and soul—Sundays are meant to fill you up. And the young men don’t talk to the young women. At least not until later in the day, after lunch.”

Will was stunned. “You’re pulling my leg.”

She shook her head.

“And lunch too? So we’re not just heading home after the three hours?”

He looked so woebegone that she nearly laughed out loud. Some of her shyness left her.

“You’ll enjoy the lunch.”

“Will you sit with me?”

“Oh no! No, no, no. You’ll eat with the men. The men eat first. The women and children eat later.”

That shocked him even more. “So . . . many . . . rules.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it!”

“Does it bother you? All those rules?” He lifted his knee. “Rules bother me.”

Somehow, that didn’t surprise her. “When you grow up with these rules, you don’t even think twice about them. It’s just the way it’s always been.”

He looked at her. “Maybe that’s the problem. Folks don’t think enough about the rules. Maybe the rules need to be streamlined a little.” He made an axing motion in the air. “You know, simplify things.”

A male cardinal whistled from a branch on the tree outside the open barn door, catching Sadie’s eye. The little bird was strutting along the branch, hoping to woo a mate. “I suppose our life may seem complicated to an outsider, but to us, the rules are supposed to create simplicity. We don’t have to worry about what to wear or what fancy car to buy.”

“You don’t get many choices, though.”

“No, but we don’t have as many problems that come with choices, either.”

“Like what?”

“Like . . . debt.”

He jerked his head toward her, as if she hit a sore spot. “Touché.” He stood up to leave. “Well, I’d better get back inside so I don’t tarnish your sterling reputation.” He winked at her and sauntered back to the house, slow and easy.

Her sterling reputation? She supposed it might seem that way to him, but from the cool reception she received this morning from some of the women, it didn’t feel like a sterling reputation. She felt quite tarnished. On an ordinary morning before the church service started, Sadie and her friends clustered to share the latest news. Over by the horses, the young men clumped together, smacking one another on the back, shifting their gaze toward the girls, bragging about the number of calves or lambs or pigs born on their farm since last Sunday’s church.

Today, however, Sadie was not welcomed into the circle like she usually was, like she hoped to be after returning home from a long stay in Berlin. A few faithful friends ventured over to get a glimpse of the baby. No sooner did they ooh and aah over the baby but their mothers captured their arms and escorted them straight up to the farmhouse without giving them a chance to say a word. Her throat tightened, recalling the embarrassment of those moments when a few others sent supercilious looks of disapproval her way. She felt the needles of a hundred eyes on her, and every whisper held her name. How could things have changed so quickly? For the first time in her life, she knew of no rule that could tell her how to behave.

A plain brown female cardinal flew close to the red male, clearly intrigued. The male did a little smug hop, drawing closer to the female. That boy got just what he was after, Sadie realized, with his dashing red feathers and bold whistle.

Will returned to the farmhouse and tried to slip back to his seat on the bench next to Amos and Hank without being too obtrusive, but he moved a hymnal to sit down and accidentally dropped it. He was sure that every single person in the room turned to look at him, stunned. Was he the first person to ever drop a hymnal?

The preacher was still preaching, in a language Will couldn’t understand, and he didn’t know how he was going to be able to sit still for at least two more hours. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked Sadie how long this service lasted. Maybe it would be better not to know. He glanced at others around him and wondered who they all were, what their lives were like. Did they act this pure and pious all the time? The woman in the far corner on the left with those two daughters—did they ever fight? Did her husband ever forget her birthday? Did he ever make harsh, sarcastic remarks to their children?

He watched the minister wave his arms expansively as he delivered his sermon. He gazed meditatively at the church members, first the men, then he turned to face the women. Did that minister enjoy a good joke? Had he ever gotten drunk and given anybody a black eye? Cursed? Did he ever have a lustful thought?

Or what about the plain little man sitting in front of Will? He looked pretty timid, but maybe he drank and smoked on Saturday nights. Across the room, next to Fern, was a woman with three young children. The little boy, probably one or two years old, had received numerous pokes from his sisters seated on either side. Now he moved over to sit on his mother’s lap.

Will looked at Mary Kate, whose chin was lifted high and eyes were darting around the room. He wondered what went through that busy mind of hers. Sadie told him he had no idea how many rules governed their lives. How could someone like M.K. ever be satisfied with this strict Amish life? It seemed to him that every day looked like the day before, and the day after.

After a while, Sadie came inside and wedged between M.K. and Fern. The baby must have fallen asleep, because Will saw Sadie tuck him into the basket by her feet. He watched her for a while, mesmerized. The more time he spent with her, the more attractive she became to him, with her soft light hair, the long neck, those eyes the color of an azure sky. Will wondered if she knew she was pretty. He doubted it. She seemed terribly naïve. How would someone as pure and innocent as Sadie ever survive in the cruel world?