Rumspringa's Hope, page 16
He went halfway down the block and stopped at one of the skinny, rundown homes, and knocked on the door.
Their words blurred in his mind. He couldn’t stand there and do nothing, so he started down the narrow road that divided the two sides of row houses.
“Abe!” He kept his eyes peeled and continued to yell his name. Alex frowned at him, but then continued his conversation with someone at the door.
Out of the corner of his eye, Caleb saw movement. A door opened and Mark came out, waved Caleb over, and waited. Caleb’s legs felt like putty as he made his way a few houses down.
“Where is she?” Caleb asked.
Mark shut the door behind them. “Which one?”
The small two-story home was filthy, with sparse furniture and a rank smell. Sleeping bags, food packages, and bottles were spread out throughout the living room and kitchen.
Caleb hadn’t thought about the possibility that although he’d meant Emma, Monique was there too. He couldn’t help but think of Emma. Not only was he responsible for her, he also knew he was in love with her.
“Are they both here?”
His eyes wandered up and down as he saw Monique. Most of her hair had fallen out of the clip that lilted to the side, and it hadn’t been washed in days. She’d stopped trying to keep her clothes clean. There was no way to do that without shelter. The dark bags under her eyes made her look even worse.
“Monique.” Caleb went to her. Her usual resistance was gone, defeated like the rest of her.
“What happened?” Alex went over and stared at her sorry state. He balled his fists. “Where is he?”
“Abe? We don’t know.” Emma’s voice was calm in the midst of the chaos. “We should go before he comes back.”
Caleb and Alex each put an arm around Monique, helping her walk, and took her out of the place of rubble she was living in.
When they got outside, Adrian followed and handed them a jug of water. “I can’t be seen with you.”
“Get outta here. Go!” Alex shooed him away with a protective gesture. They knew the rules of the street that Caleb and Emma couldn’t fathom.
Adrian lifted his fist. Mark smiled slowly and raised his hand. They did a Jamaican handshake, then Alex nodded as Adrian walked away.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Danke for breakfast, Mamm.” Zeb placed the handmade napkin on his empty plate and walked to the door.
His daed turned around to see Zeb. “What time is the meeting?”
“Not until later, but I’m going into town early. Gotta take care of some business.” He still hoped he could take care of this without a long procession of Amish getting involved. Zeb had a knack for talking himself in and out of tight spots. The only part that bothered him was that Merv was involved. He could make things worse with his ignorance alone.
“Sure you don’t want me to go?” His daed’s gray hair and peaked complexion was an answer in itself. Daed didn’t have the energy or stamina to spend the day riding in the buggy and sitting in a courthouse all day, but he would be glad to get it behind him.
“Nee, Daed. Merv and I can handle it. We’ll need a hand with the milking, though.” They honestly did need assistance because they would need to start early to get to town in plenty of time. And it would give Daed something to do to feel helpful.
“You ready?” Merv ate the egg sandwich Mamm had made him and washed it down with a glass of milk.
“Here are a couple more for the road.” She handed each of them a jug of water and sandwich wrapped in a towel.
Zeb and Merv were silent during the drive to town as green fields turned to cottages that turned to business offices until they were in the heart of town.
They looked for a place to park that wouldn’t bother other drivers if the horse made a mess, and then found their way to the courthouse, waiting for Merv’s name to be called.
They sat on wood benches that were placed against three of the walls in the room with a long table of men facing them. As the time came to start the proceedings, more people started coming in, both Englishers and Amish. Zeb had expected some to show up, but not this many. But then the meeting he’d had with the deacons may have piqued more interest.
Reuben hadn’t been at the previous meeting, and that was no accident. Knowing he was away visiting family in Ohio, Zeb had taken advantage of the opportunity and called for a meeting with the deacons during that specific time. Gott help him for being so manipulative. At times he felt if Emma were there his conscience would take second place to hers. She had a rock-solid honesty about her.
He scanned the room, but didn’t see Reuben there today either. It seemed too much of a coincidence, but it was still early, and he could show up. Zeb sank down in his seat.
I’m being paranoid. If Reuben had a problem with our milk farm, it would have been brought up by now.
“Mervin Bowman.” An older gray-haired man looked through his bifocals at a paper as Merv moved forward.
“A police officer pulled you over for failure to use required towing equipment, failure to display a reflective device on a slow-moving vehicle, and having steel wheels.” He looked down over his glasses at Merv.
“Jah, sir.” Merv stood and twisted the brim of his hat, nervous as all get-out. Zeb had put him in this spot and wished he was the one standing there, not Merv.
“Permission to speak.” Zeb stood, not able to sit by and watch his brother go through this alone. He was representing the entire community, after all. “I’m Merv’s brother.”
“Yes, Mr. Bowman.”
“I came into town when we got the notice and explained to the officer that the wheels are a part of our religious beliefs, as is not using a slow-moving vehicle sign. We don’t have the privilege to change two of the three, but we will use a different towing device.”
The man took off his glasses. “And why do you feel the need to speak for your brother?”
“I should have been driving that day. I asked Merv to do a chore I should have done.” If that sounded genuine enough, Zeb may have swayed the group of decision makers enough to consider a lesser punishment.
“Would the outcome be any different?” The older man’s fuzzy brow furrowed with question.
“For the most part, no. But I have been attending the meeting over this matter and want to know what’s been decided. I’d like to help with anything to remedy the situation.” Zeb wouldn’t have used the towing device Merv used, but that didn’t need to be brought up unless necessary.
“It has been decided that steel wheels are not allowed due to the damage they cause. We spend millions every year on resurfacing highways in this area. The only option we can offer is rubber tires over the steel wheels. The other recourse is for you to challenge this in court due to your religious beliefs, according to the freedom of religion act.” The mediator grinned. “I hear you have a history of that.”
“May I add something here?” The bishop stood to face the group of men who oversaw the conversation. Zeb let out the air in his lungs, glad he was present to help move this in the direction necessary.
The gray-haired mediator grinned. “Ahh, yes, Bishop. Why is it that you have to use those blasted steel wheels?” They seemed to know one another. Zeb hoped it was in a good way, and not some other tussle the Amish had for the old ways.
“We’re not meaning to be above the law. It’s a sign of humility. Any advancement in our community can cause schism in the church. We can’t make changes without going against the mother church.” The bishop’s reddish beard and hair shone under the fluorescent lights as he waited for a response.
“The members of the Lancaster County Board of Supervisors want to take care of the roads. It’s our responsibility. If there are any damages from this incident or in the future, you will be responsible.”
“I will personally pay for any damages.” Zeb may have spoken too quickly and out of turn, but he wanted this off his back and everyone else’s. It would go against their principles to change anything they were doing, and if money could appease them, so be it.
The older man nodded. “Yes, Mr. Bowman, you will pay, or whoever is responsible.” He looked over at Merv.
Zeb treated him like a coddled child, but better that than Merv saying something that would get them in any trouble.
The group of Amish men gathered once outside the room, discussing the issue. Hearing their remarks made Zeb realize they’d opened a can of worms. The problem had only started to bubble up to the surface and would surely affect them all until things could be ironed out with the city and the gmayna board. Then the Amish pulled together.
The bishop walked over to Zeb before he left, pulling him to the side. “Take care of this, Zeb. We don’t want it turning into more problems. We’ll pay whatever fines come up as a community. You’re not alone. It could have been any one of us. But until we can work this out with the mother church, our hands are tied.”
“Nee, Bishop Bender. We have the money to pay what is owed.” Zeb wasn’t that out of the way. The dairy farm was doing well enough, it wouldn’t gouge their income.
The bishop leaned in closer. “I hear you’re doing well with your dairy farm.”
Zeb’s mind tingled, a warning that this might be a new set of problems. “Jah, it’s a change from growing crop, but it’s worked out for us.”
“Gut. It’s a good thing to have a dairy farm that’s done so well in our community. Doing well enough to give up growing crop, even?”
A flag went up. Knowing he’d been the topic of conversation in the presence of the bishop was not a good sign. Zeb’s throat went dry.
He waited long enough to reply that the bishop spoke up again. “Or are you still deciding?”
Reuben walked through the doors, scanned the room, and made eye contact with Zeb. As he began to make his way over to them, Zeb felt trapped by either side. There was no way out of this conversation. He had to tell the truth within the few seconds before Reuben told the bishop.
“That will only happen if I’m able to use gas pumps to speed up the process. We have too many cows to do it any other way.”
There it was, out in the open. He’d have the bishop’s blessing or be denied. But even if he was given permission, he’d have some explaining to do as to why he already had the equipment.
Ivan stopped Reuben, said a few words, and Reuben continued over to them. The bishop’s answer couldn’t come quickly enough.
“Hmm, sounds like we have another meeting to tend to.” He twirled his beard, a sign he was thinking, sizing up the circumstances and probably working out an answer as they spoke. “We’ll talk later.”
“Jah. The sooner, the better.” That wasn’t the closure he’d hoped for, but at least it was out there, and Reuben was no longer a threat. He wanted this over. It had been hanging over his head for too long. Between that and Emma’s distance, he was about at his wits’ end.
“How’s Emma doing? Have you heard?” Bishop placed his black felt hat on his head and tapped the top once.
“Not recently. Just one letter. I’m heading over to the post office, so hopefully there will be some good news.” Any news would be just fine about now. He’d been patient long enough.
Bishop made the soft humming sound again and then shook his head. “They always come home again. And I wouldn’t be worried about Emma. I’m glad she’s there. She’ll bring those young’uns back where they belong.”
“If anyone can, it would be her. I just hope it’s soon.” Zeb was antsy, now that the post office was open and the meeting was over. He tipped his hat to the bishop and told Merv to meet him at the buggy. He wanted to be alone this time if there was a letter, and for some reason, he felt sure there would be.
When he got to the mailbox, he looked through the glass window to see two letters. He pulled them out and noticed they were both from the same address—the Mennonite church address Emma had used. He ripped open her letter, hoping he was reading them in the correct order.
Dear Zeb,
I hope this letter finds you well. I’ve adjusted to the church where we’re staying. Everyone is friendly and helpful. I especially like a man named Alex. He has helped me learn how the Stock Pot runs and how to help. Mark seems to be enjoying his time here, which is good for him but hard for me because he’s difficult to keep track of and is fearless in this big city. He has made a friend here, a nice young man, but I worry Mark may stay because of this friendship. Regardless, I hope to be home soon.
Tell my family Mark and I are well and hope to see you all very soon.
Yours,
Emma
Zeb stuck out his lower lip in thought. This letter was more insightful than the last, but still not what he’d hoped for. There was another, though, so he couldn’t complain. He thought about whether she’d received the letter he’d sent to her. Maybe that explained her short message. He would send another one as soon as he got back to the farm.
He opened the second letter, but it was written in Caleb’s penmanship. His head snapped back in surprise. He read quickly and faster, completely still as he kept reading. His pulse pounded. Worry and fear engulfed him.
He walked quickly to the door, and when his boots hit the concrete he took off to the buggy.
Merv was in the buggy waiting. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m going to the bus station. Give me any money you have on you.” Zeb cut off drivers and urged the horse into a fast trot when he had the space.
“What’s going on?” Merv stuck a wad of bills in Zeb’s coat.
Zeb handed him the second letter, trying not to panic. “Emma is in trouble.”
“How do you know?”
“That letter is from Caleb.”
“What’s it say?”
Zeb swerved through the traffic as horns honked. “He wants me to bring Emma home.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Emma’s hands shook, shaking the coffee she held in her hands. She looked up at the stairs in the church for the tenth time, hoping Monique would come down so they could talk. Emma wanted to find out what happened, but then she didn’t. None of it would be positive, and she didn’t want Monique to relive it all again. Maybe it wasn’t as bad for her, having lived in that neighborhood all of her life.
Emma had never been so scared or been in a place that was so rundown and broken. To think that people actually lived there was difficult to comprehend. She wasn’t completely naive to such a life but had never experienced it firsthand. It gave her a new perspective and way of thinking about the downtrodden. The situations in her community couldn’t compare to what went on in the city.
“I can’t wait any longer.” Emma set her coffee on the table and stood. “I’m going up to see her.”
Caleb looked at her with bloodshot eyes. Neither of them had gotten much sleep. The coffee wasn’t keeping them alert enough to do much else than wait for Monique and guard the doors. Emma wouldn’t put it past Abe to boldly walk through those doors and steal Monique back again.
It didn’t make sense to Emma. If he wanted her, why did he treat her so badly?
“I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things.” Caleb grabbed her hand. “Don’t be disappointed if you don’t get much out of her. It’s difficult.” His smile didn’t reach his heavy eyes.
She pulled away and took her time climbing the many stairs up to her room.
When she opened the door, she saw Monique gazing out the hazy window. She appeared to be somewhat better after taking a shower and getting some fluid down her, but she refused to eat. Emma hoped she would, once her nerves settled.
“You’re looking better.” Emma glanced over at the empty glass of juice she’d brought her earlier. “Would you like more—”
“Stop babying me. I’m not dying.” Monique put a hand over her eyes as if wishing Emma wasn’t there. Even her dark skin took on a lighter shade. Her gaunt figure was alarming. Within just a short time with Abe, she’d become withered and hardened. Emma understood to a point but was tired of her rude behavior.
“I’m only trying to help.” Emma meant for her tone to be direct, but Monique’s reaction took her off guard—she had started to cry softly but didn’t seem to have the energy. Her chest moved with effort, and Emma could barely hear the sobbing sounds. She went over and sat at the end of the disheveled bed. The sleeping bag still held an unpleasant odor despite a washing. “I’m sorry.”
Monique sat up. “Don’t apologize! Gosh dang, you freaking Amish people. Don’t you ever fight back?” Her knitted brows and rigid face gave her a ghostly appearance.
“Nee, we don’t.” Emma didn’t hesitate to answer, proud to be part of a group of people who didn’t settle things with violence.
Monique balked. “Where has that gotten you?”
“Peace,” Emma answered without thought. It was plain and simple to her, and she was glad that it was. Being here and seeing this made her more homesick than ever, but Monique needed her now. No matter how obstinate she got, Emma wouldn’t leave until she knew Monique was safe. “Why are you angry at me? All I want is to help you.”
Monique had been quiet, digesting what Emma said. “I don’t want your charity.”
Emma frowned. “It’s not charity. You’re my friend. And friends take care of each other.”
Monique turned away. “I haven’t exactly done my part.”
“There will be a time.”
Monique’s expression was like none Emma had seen before. She wasn’t sure what it meant or what she was thinking, but she thought it was something good. She stood and pulled the sleeping bag off her bed and went to the door. “It’s a beautiful day outside. I’m going to make a picnic. Are you coming?” It was throwing caution to the wind but staying in day and night wasn’t healthy, either. A few minutes outside would do them all some good.
Monique tilted her head. “Okay.” She slid off the bed and pulled her hair into a ponytail.
“I’ll take those.” Emma grabbed her roommate’s sleeping bag and turned to go to the laundry room. Maybe things Emma felt were harsh but that seemed to be exactly what Monique responded to.
