The Rebel (21 page)

Even Ben? Did he believe? Could he really be free of malice toward the woman he'd kissed, the woman he'd begun to trust with his family?

“After the next worship service, then. We will all be wonderful
glad to put this behind us.” The bishop stood, and they all scrambled to their feet. “We'll pray silently now for the true repentance that will restore Barbara to her place in the community.”

Bowing her head, Barbie tried to pray, but her thoughts bounced around her head. If this had to happen, maybe it was just as well that it happened now, before she'd gone any farther in defiance of the Ordnung.

But would she have? She honestly didn't know.

A shuffling of feet announced that the prayer was over. In a moment the visitors were heading out the door. She held her breath, not knowing what she'd do if Ben tried to speak to her.

He didn't. He walked outside without a backward glance. Obviously whatever had been growing between them had now been destroyed for good. She was left to face the wreckage of her relationship with her parents.

Lancaster County, Summer 1960

Reuben stood on the sidewalk outside the carpet plant. Did he look as discouraged as he felt? Most likely.

“We're not hiring right now, but we'll be in touch if we have any openings.”

“We'll keep your application on file.”

“We don't hire anyone who doesn't have a high school diploma.”

Those answers, or variations of them, had been repeated everywhere he went, it seemed. Not that he felt especially qualified to run one of those big machines in the factory, but he was young and strong, and he could learn. But not unless someone gave him the opportunity.

He smacked his hat against his leg in frustration, then
clapped it back on his head. The gelding waited patiently under the shade of the only tree that overhung the parking area. The fact that there were no facilities for horses and buggies should have told him that Amish workers weren't welcome here.

That probably wasn't fair, but it was how he felt. Some of the other places where he'd put his name in were more accustomed to employing the Amish, but even there, no one seemed to be hiring. He'd made the sacrifice of moving willingly for the sake of Elizabeth and the new babe, but he hadn't dreamed it would be so hard even to find a job. And if he did get a job at one of those places, he'd have to ride with someone, since they were too far away to go by horse and buggy.

He knew what that meant. A long day, gone from early morning until suppertime or later, little time to spend with family or to train children by working alongside them. So many of the things he valued in life would have to be sacrificed.

The sorrow and frustration rode with him all the way home. He'd made a promise to Elizabeth, and he meant to keep it. Still, even now, it might not be too late to find a place to farm here in the area as an alternative.

But even as he'd gone through the motions—reading all the ads, scanning all the auctions, searching the bulletin boards at the hardware store and the lumberyard—he was losing hope. He'd keep looking—that was certain-sure. If—when—he found a job of some sort, he could continue to look. That didn't console him much. Land prices would go nowhere but up, and the restrictions on farmers increased daily. Would there be any farms left in Lancaster County in ten or twenty years?

When he turned into the lane, Reuben straightened. He shouldn't let Elizabeth guess how worried he was. She had
enough to trouble her, with the memory of losing little Matthias affecting her every thought about the new baby.

Elizabeth came out of the house as he pulled up at the barn, walking across the grass to join him. She was smiling as she neared him, and the color in her cheeks cheered him. It had been some time since he'd seen her looking so well.

“Have a gut day?” He asked the question quickly, before she could say the same to him.

She nodded. “A little sick this morning, but that's nothing.”

Nothing compared to the joy she felt over the new life within her, she meant. He wouldn't taint that bright happiness with his own discouragement.

“Has my mamm guessed yet?” He moved smoothly about the unharnessing, trying to delay the inevitable moment when he'd have to confess he'd come up with nothing.

Elizabeth chuckled softly. “She hasn't said anything, but with both her daughters-in-law going pale at the scent of coffee in the morning, I think she knows. Becky guessed, and I couldn't resist telling her.”

The slight constraint she'd shown before when speaking of Becky was gone now.

Elizabeth leaned against the buggy, watching him without, he suspected, really seeing him.

“Becky feels that she can ask me things now. With her own sisters so far away, I'm glad to be of help to her.” She hesitated. “Because of Matthias. She thinks I know everything about being pregnant.”

He studied her face, fearing what he might see there. But she seemed surprisingly serene. “It doesn't trouble you, speaking of him?” he ventured.

Her gaze dropped. “A little, I guess. But not the way it did before.” Her blue eyes met his again. “It's as if now I can remember the happiness of being pregnant with him. I feel a little guilty about it. I don't want this new baby to take his place in my heart.”

“Ach, Elizabeth, it could never happen. Our firstborn will always have his own corner of our hearts. But it's not wrong to rejoice over a new life.”

Her eyes sparkled with tears, but she was smiling. She tenderly rested her hand on her stomach. “If this babe has let me feel thankful for what we had of Matthias, then I'm doubly happy.”

Heedless of who might be watching, he put his arms around her, drawing her close, love swelling his heart. He pressed his cheek against hers.

“Then I'm happy, too. Whatever life brings.”

She drew back a little. “But I'm forgetting to ask you. How did it go today?”

He forced a smile. “Nothing yet. Maybe the next time.”

She touched his cheek. “I'm sorry. I know how hard you're trying. Nothing new about land for sale, either?”

“No.” He tried to drum up some hopefulness. “It doesn't have to be forever. Even if I get a job, we can still be on the lookout for a farm, ain't so?”

She nodded, studying his face a little doubtfully. “You're sure it's . . . well, all right?”

He clasped the hand that was against his cheek and pressed a kiss on the palm. “As long as we're together, everything is fine.”

He wasn't sure she altogether believed him, but it was all he could find to reassure her.

And it was true. Whatever God sent them, they would endure together, knowing it was His will and for their eventual good.

I
still don't understand why you have to quit.” Ashlee dropped the stack of paper napkins she was holding and they fluttered across the counter. “Honestly, Barbie, that's ridiculous. Nobody has a right to tell you what to do.”

Whatever God sends, we endure, knowing it is His will and for our eventual good.
Barbie reminded herself of the words her grandmother had spoken to her, wanting to believe they were true.

She'd waited until the morning rush was over to tell Ashlee what she'd already told Walt. She'd work another week, but then she had to leave.

Walt had been annoyed by the upset to his routine, but he'd hauled out the
Help Wanted
sign to put in the window. Ashlee was a different story. Not only was she angry, she acted as if she'd been betrayed. And Barbie didn't know how to explain it to her so she'd understand. Or if that was possible.

Still, she had to try. Ashlee was her friend, and she owed her an explanation.

“It's not a question of anyone forcing me to quit.” She took a step back toward the hall, hopefully out of earshot of any of the lingering coffee drinkers. “When you're Amish, you know from the time you're born that you live in obedience to the Gmay—the local church district in which you live.”

“Even when their rules are unreasonable? Why isn't it enough that you say you're sorry for going out with Terry? Why do you have to quit work, too? Did those ministers demand it?”

“No. They didn't even mention it. But they knew if I was truly sorry, I'd . . . well, get away from the place that tempted me to do wrong.”

“How can it be wrong to go out to dinner with a guy? It's not like you're going to marry him or anything. I sure don't think about marrying everybody I go out with.” Ashlee flung out her hands in an extravagant gesture, seeming to throw potential dates to the wind.

“I know that's how it is for you.” A smile tugged at her lips at the thought of Ashlee getting serious about anyone or anything. “But I told you before, we don't see it that way. If we single someone out, we're looking at all the possibilities. That doesn't mean an Amish girl marries the first guy she goes out with, but she does look at him as a possible husband. That's why we have time to do a little running around before we settle down. To figure that out.”

“Well, then, I still don't get why what you did was so wrong. Your folks were really nice to me, even though I'm not Amish.”

“They liked you.” Her smile faltered. They had, of course. Ashlee was very likable. But they must suspect that Ashlee had at least helped her to go out with Terry, if not outright encouraged it.

Ashlee frowned at her for a moment. “This business of quitting your job—is it because they want to get you away from me?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” She clasped Ashlee's hand. “It's just that if I keep on working here, my folks would be wondering all the time if I was doing something improper. I don't want to hurt them any more than I already have.”

“You really mean it, don't you?” Ashlee went on before she could answer. “Is this because of what your brother did?”

Again Barbie saw herself hugging James, watching as he left the house, only half-comprehending that her big brother was leaving forever.

“A little, I guess. My folks would still be upset, no matter what. But I saw how much it hurt them when James left. How can I do that to them again?”

Ashlee's eyes widened. “You mean you've actually been thinking of leaving?”

“No. Well, maybe sometimes I think of it, but not seriously.”

Ashlee didn't speak for a moment. Then it was her turn to grasp Barbie's hand. “Listen, if you decide . . . Well, whatever you decide, I'm still your friend. I'll help you, no matter what.”

“Denke.” Her throat was tight. “Thanks.”

“I'll be around. Although . . .” She hesitated. “Well, I'm going away this weekend. Home, for my mother's birthday.”

“I'm so glad.” She'd never felt it right for Ashlee to be so separated from her people. “I'm sure she'll be wonderful glad. What made you decide to go?”

Ashlee shrugged. “You, mostly. Well, your family. Seeing you with them reminded me of the good times I've had with my own family. So I figured this trip was one small step I could take.”

Barbie blinked, surprised by the longing in Ashlee's eyes. Apparently Ashlee wasn't enjoying her independence quite as much as she claimed. “I'm glad,” she said again. “Families can cause you grief, but they can bring a lot of joy, too.”

“If that's really what you believe . . .” Ashlee took hold of her arm and steered her toward the back hall. “Then you need to go in the break room. Now.”

“What? What are you talking about?” A thought struck her—so unreal a thought it just wasn't possible. She could only stare at Ashlee. “What have you done?”

“Not me, not exactly.” Ashlee actually flushed. “But your brother called me back. He really wants to see you. So . . .”

“You mean he's here? I can't. I don't . . . I'm not ready to see him.” Not now, when her thoughts were in such turmoil.

Ashlee gave a little shove. “He drove all this way. The least you can do is talk to him for a minute. Go on. I'll square it with Walt.”

Her breath caught. She'd been so preoccupied with her own troubles that she hadn't even thought of James, off somewhere waiting for a call back and finally coming to see for himself.

She took one step, then another, her heart thudding in her chest. She'd longed to see her brother again, but at a time like this . . .

Barbie stopped at the door, hardly breathing. One little turn of the knob had the potential to change a number of lives for better or worse. She opened the door and stepped inside.

The man who turned toward her looked like any other Englischer at first glance—a stocky figure, clean-shaven, ruddy, wearing a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. Then he gave her a tentative smile, and she saw her brother again.

“Barbie?” James's voice, just as she'd heard it on the message, but actually here. “Is that you? You're all grown up.”

She had to swallow before she could speak. “Hello, James.”

“I'm so glad to see you.” He'd slipped into dialect, but he sounded a little rusty at the language. He took a tentative step toward her. “How are you?”

“I'm fine.” She hoped he couldn't read the doubt in her voice. “Everyone is fine. Well, Grossmammi had a fall, but she's okay now. Just a little bruised.”

What was wrong with her? Why was she sounding as if he were a stranger? This was James, after all these years.

“I miss her.” His voice thickened, and he took another step closer. “I remember all the stories she told when I was little.”

“She's still telling her stories,” Barbie assured him. “Things don't change much here, ain't so?”

He shook his head. “You did. You're different.” His face twisted, and she knew he was holding back tears. “You've grown up, and I missed it all.”

The depth of loss in his voice went straight to her heart. No matter who had caused the rift between them, James was here now, wanting to be her brother again.

“Ach, James.” Her voice broke on his name, and she ran into his arms as if she were eight again.

James hugged her fiercely. “My little sister. I've missed you so much.”

Mopping the tears that persisted in spilling over, she drew back and looked at him, seeing the familiar lines of her brother's young face in this mature man. “Why? Why didn't you get in touch with us? Why did you just disappear?”

His face seemed to quiver, and he turned away slightly, as
if not wanting her to see him cry. “I . . . I'm sorry. It was stupid, I guess. I wanted to see everyone. I nearly came back dozens of times over the years.”

“Why didn't you?” She shot the question at him, and his face suddenly crinkled into a grin.

“That's my little Barbie. Always wanting to know why.”

“Well, I do.” She adopted Mamm's scolding tone. “You should have written, at least.”

“I was afraid, I guess.” He looked as shamefaced as if he were a kid again and Mamm was scolding him. “Afraid I wouldn't be welcome. I guess, as long as I didn't know for sure, I could believe everybody still loved me.”

“Ach, you make me want to swat you. Of course everyone loves you. There's a hole in the family waiting for you.” She knew, quite suddenly and without the need to ask, that it was true. Mamm and Daadi still missed him. Still loved him, Englisch or not.

“You think, if I went to the farm, they'd want to see me?” He sounded so uncertain, as if life had taught him that he didn't have all the answers.

She hugged him again. “There's only one way that I know of to find out.” She hesitated. Would it be better if James just appeared on his own? Or if he went home with her? She honestly didn't know.

“Will you . . . Is it okay if I hang out in town until you finish work and go home with you?”

It seemed so odd to have her big brother actually needing her help. His uncertainty made the decision for her.

“Sure it is.” She patted his cheek. “It will be all right. You'll see.”

He blew out a relieved breath. “So how is everyone, really?
The boys, are they married? Not David, I hope. He'd be too young.”

“David is having too much fun courting to think of settling down.” How much did David remember of James? She'd never asked him. He'd been even younger than she was when James left. “The others are married, with families of their own.”

“Even little Zeb?”

“Married with six kinder—three girls and three boys. What about you? You have a family?”

“My wife, Andrea, and I have a boy and a girl, eight and ten.” He hesitated, then pulled out a cell phone. “I have pictures, if you want to see.”

“Of course I do.” She grabbed the phone. Her heart seemed ready to burst at the sight of the two little figures. The boy held a baseball bat proudly on his shoulder, and his face had the look of Zeb's boys. And the little girl's blond hair and blue eyes made her look as if she'd fit right in with the other nieces. “So sweet.” She touched the faces gently. “I love them already.”

James blew out a breath of relief, it seemed. “I'd sure like them to meet their grandparents before—well, before it's too late. Have you said anything to the folks about me?”

“Not—not yet.” She should have; she saw that now. “I meant to, but there have been some things going on. But don't worry. It'll be all right.”

After all, James had left before being baptized, so he wasn't under the bann. There was every reason to believe the family would be happy to see him again. They certain-sure wouldn't be the only family in the church to have Englisch kids back to visit.

“We're just in Columbus, Ohio.” James's voice took on a lilt. “It's not a bad drive for us. Maybe, if the folks think it's
okay, they'd let us come for a visit this summer, once the kids are out of school.”

“That would be wonderful good.” She glanced toward the door. “I should get back to work, but I have to ask. Do you ever regret it? Leaving, I mean.”

He didn't answer right away, frowning a little as if trying to decide what to say. “At first a lot,” he said at last. “I had my head all stuffed full of notions of being free to decide things for myself.” That almost sounded like something Ashlee had said. “I saw pretty fast that it wasn't exactly like I'd imagined. And I missed all of you so much I'd lay awake at night and think of you.”

She was about to ask why he hadn't come back, but he was going on.

“Then I met Andrea, and it got better. Now I have a wife I love, a good job, and two great kids. I'm happy. But sometimes . . .” He met her gaze. “Sometimes I still miss it—that sense of belonging, of being part of a community that's more important than what any one person wants. You know?”

“Ja,” she said softly. “I know.”

•   •   •

Ben
glanced at Mary, sitting next to him on the buggy seat. She hadn't said a word during the drive to Rebecca and Matt's farm-stay, and she'd said very little even before that. She'd heard something of what was going on with Barbie, clearly.

He shouldn't talk about it with her. The details of what went on between the ministers and the penitent were meant to be private.

Still, news tended to spread. Someone would have seen them
going to the Lapp place. Or Miriam had let something drop—even with the best of intentions, she was one who liked to talk, and he didn't place much reliance on her discretion.

Thinking of discretion reminded him of his sister Sarah, and his jaw tightened. He hadn't resolved things with her after he'd confronted her about the letters. He probably should have left that to the other ministers.

If she didn't come to her senses soon—well, he was already holding on to too many secrets. He'd have to turn the matter over to the others. Writing anonymous letters was as grievous a transgression as going out with an Englischer, at least in the eyes of the Lord, and especially if it was motivated by malice or jealousy. He would hate to believe that of his sister, but maybe he was too close to understand.

As for his part in this whole situation with Barbie, he was too close to that, too. He was caught in a web of indecision and pain. He couldn't have refused to go along with the decisions of the bishop. But he had hurt someone he'd begun to care for, and in doing so had hurt himself as well.

Still, he couldn't forget what Barbie had confessed—dating another man. How did she feel about the Englischer? Was she attracted to him? In love?