The Miting: An Old Order Amish Novel, page 3
Pretending not to hear his question, Leah had waved and run to join Martha in the buggy.
Now they were in Martha’s bedroom under the eaves of the big old farmhouse that held all seven of Martha’s siblings, her Maem, and her stepfather.
“I heard Daniel’s getting married.” Martha absently smoothed the quilt between them, peering at Leah as if she could see the answer inside her head.
Leah smiled cautiously, not wanting to give away her bruder’s secret entirely, but also not wanting to discourage Martha’s desire to talk about it.
“Well, spill the beans! Is he, or isn’t he?” Martha tugged Leah’s kapp. “Tell me.”
“Yes, he is.”
“I knew it! Is it Sara Wengerd?”
Leah giggled. Even though members of her community didn’t reveal who a girl went home with from singing or admit to a romance that could lead to marriage, it wasn’t possible to keep these things secret indefinitely. “Let’s just say it’s someone who lives near our place and is very sweet.”
Martha hopped from the bed. “Yep. It’s Sara. There’s no one else in the jungen right now as pious or sweet as her.”
Martha’s hash emphasis surprised Leah. “But Martha, she is sweet. It’s not an act with Sara.”
Her friend pulled a stack of forbidden jeans from the back of her dresser drawer. “Forgive me if I gag. Anyone who laps up the rules the way that girl does sets my teeth on edge.” Her frown quickly changed to a mischievous grin as she threw a pair of jeans at Leah. “Try these on. I think they’ll fit you.”
Though she was curious about Englisher clothing, Leah hadn’t thought of actually trying it on. Her fear of what Daet would say if he caught her had kept her from even thinking of bringing a pair into the house. But this forbidden fruit was dangling deliciously close. She gave in to the temptation and jumped to her feet. As she yanked the pants up under her dress, Martha laughed.
“Silly! You won’t be able to tell how they look if you wear them that way. Take that ugly dress off and try them on the right way.”
Leah turned her back to her friend to drag the dress and apron up and over her sleeveless, navy blue slip.
Martha snorted. “You’re too modest, girlfriend.”
She tugged the unfamiliar jeans over her legs and struggled to fasten the metal button at the top, bunching the slip fabric into a ball in order to see what she was doing. The texture of the fabric as it pulled over her calves when she bent to pick up her dress and apron felt a little strange, though the freedom to stretch and bend and sit any way she liked was wonderful. Leah skipped back to the bed, chuckling as she fell onto the bouncy mattress.
Martha hopped onto the bed, too, settling herself against the headboard. She giggled at Leah’s uncharacteristic enthusiasm.
Suddenly, she stopped laughing as she shot a worried glance to the door.
Leah followed her gaze and observed the handle on the door slowly turning. When she looked back at Martha, her friend’s face was as white as the pillow coverings, and her playful smile vanished as she stared at the knob.
What in the world is wrong? Leah watched as the knob continued to rotate slowly. The door creaked open. All at once, Martha’s older stepbrother, Abner, wedged his face between the door and frame. His thick black eyebrows rose when he saw Leah, but he said nothing to either of the girls.
Leah sucked in her breath when she caught sight of the leer on his face. She had never felt comfortable around Abner, ever since Martha’s mother and his widowed father had married several years back, each bringing their own children to the newly formed family. But this Abner … this was a side of him she’d never before seen.
Martha stared at her stepbrother, her eyes wide with alarm and apprehension. Then, like a deer exploding in motion to escape the hunter, she leapt from the bed, landing within a foot of where Abner’s face peered eerily in at them. She shoved the door, momentarily pinning his head against the wall. He yelped and grasped the edge of the door with both hands. In a second he had pulled his head free and grabbed at her wrists. Martha jerked from his grasp, slapping at Abner in a frenzy of rage.
“Not when she’s here! You go away! Not when she’s here, you don’t!”
“You dumme kuh!” Abner yelled, grasping both of her arms and pinning them behind her back. He shoved hard, propelling Martha onto the bed face down and pinning her with his knee. “Don’t you ever pull that again! I’ll come in this room anytime I want!” He let go of Martha, but not before yanking her over and giving her face a vicious slap. She covered her head and cried out in pain, her scream echoing through the stark room.
Abner turned his gaze on Leah, who cowered in a tight ball against the headboard. Her heart pounded so hard she could barely breathe.
He sneered, running a look over the shape of her legs in the tight jeans. “Shenna bee,” he motioned.
Leah covered her legs with both hands instinctively. His comment forced another shiver down her spine.
Abner turned and sauntered arrogantly to the door; his last glance at Martha hate filled and evil. “I’ll be back,” he said, his tone carrying unspoken threats as he left.
Martha struggled to her feet, ran to the door, and slammed it behind her stepbrother. One side of her face was already an ugly shade of red, and she turned her eyes away in shame before crawling into a corner and burying her face in her arms.
Leah trembled on the bed, afraid to say a word. Finally, she got up and carefully peeled off the jeans. She quickly pulled her dress and apron back on, and then sat uncertainly on the edge of Martha’s bed.
At last Martha looked up and began to wipe her nose and eyes with her apron, her face a tight mask of humiliation and wrath.
“Martha?” Leah whispered, unspoken questions swirling about the room.
Martha shook her head as she carefully pulled her hair back under her kapp, squared her shoulders, and averted her gaze.
Leah was amazed at her friend’s ability to hide what had happened so quickly, but she would not soon forget the look on Abner’s face, nor the terror his violence created. Though he didn’t touch her, imagining the kind of touch his eyes conveyed as he looked over her legs made her shiver anew.
And Martha—she glanced at her friend. How could she endure such treatment? How often did she have to put up with that from her stepbrother, and what else was he capable of doing to her?
Martha’s maem, Anna, stood at the bottom of the stairs, eyeing the girls warily as they descended. Her face wore a hard, spiteful look, and she turned to watch as the friends walked to the front door. Martha frowned but did not stop to talk with her. Leah’s heart pounded harder than ever at the strange expression on Anna’s face. It wasn’t right. Or am I just overreacting from the fright Abner gave us?
CHAPTER THREE
Leah clutched the reins tightly, the leather chaffing her palms as she held Sparky back from an all-out trot. She was going to town with Sara Wengerd, Daniel’s fiancée, to buy fabric for Sara’s wedding dress. Sunlight reflected off the tops of the few cars traveling this back road to Ashfield, and she worried over Sparky’s tendency to dance to the right as vehicles zoomed past. The ditch was dangerous, but pulling the horse to the left too far could cause a crash, as well. The road rolled and twisted, making driving unsafe since cars were liable to pop over a rise unexpectedly.
Leah licked her lips, launching into small talk to ease her nerves. “Sara, what color blue are you thinking of wearing?”
“Light blue looks best on me. Daniel likes that color, too. I hope we find something the Ordnung will allow.” Sara flushed and pressed her feet against the buggy floor. She fingered the edge of her cape uneasily. Conversation lapsed.
Sparky’s hooves kept time with the swaying buggy. He flicked his tail from side to side, shooing away flies that zeroed in on his haunches. Farmland dotted with corn, soybeans, and cows sloped gently away from the road. Boys and men tended to animals in barnyards and shoveled manure into wheelbarrows, which they then trundled off to add to compost heaps. The rural scents were common enough for Leah and Sara to ignore, and the beautiful scenery offered an enjoyable ride, if they didn’t have to watch traffic.
“How is the house coming along?” Leah tried again to stretch a chatty string between herself and Sara, but her future sister-in-law was shy and didn’t talk much.
Sara’s family had moved to the area only recently, so she hadn’t grown up with the Amish girls in her church. Daniel had spied the timid girl at her first singing. It hadn’t taken him long to ask if he could take her home, but she had kept him at a distance for weeks before finally saying yes.
Leah darted a glance at Sara, noticing the lowered chin and flushed cheeks. She was fair and redheaded, freckled and delicate in manner and appearance. Leah had a hard time imagining Sara tending a challenging farm alongside her husband, much less bearing children and handling a home, but she could understand Sara’s sweet nature attracting Daniel.
Sara swallowed and lifted her gaze to the road ahead. “Daniel’s making progress on it. He had some friends come and help him last week. They painted most of the rooms so the house is ready for our furniture now.”
Both girls lapsed into silence while Leah concentrated on a particularly dangerous curve and hill that hid their buggy from any traffic coming upon them. Sara shifted sideways to keep an eye out for fast-moving cars and trucks on the highway behind their buggy, her fingers clenched over the back of the seat. Leah realized her own knuckles were white and forced herself to relax her grasp on the reins.
Once they crested the rise and started down the other side, the remaining route into Ashfield was flat and straight.
Leah sighed in relief. There shouldn’t be as much danger now, as long as Sparky behaved himself and cars were careful of them. The locals were adept at watching for the black buggies, but visitors, distracted by phones or unfamiliar routes, sometimes overtook the slow-traveling vehicles and the results could be fatal. On occasion, even the Amish forgot to be cautious. One time, her uncle absentmindedly turned his horse and buggy left into the side of a passing minivan. Luckily, no one was hurt, but his horse suffered an injury that took time to heal. Sharing modern roads with Englishers was never an easy situation.
Sara’s continued silence brought a question to Leah’s mind: Could she have heard about Martha? Had the community gossip caused Daniel’s fiancée to wonder about Leah’s association with the rebellious teen?
It wouldn’t surprise her. Rumors flew through Amish communities quickly, and Leah had no doubt that Martha and Abe’s doings provided much fodder for gossip and innuendo. Martha might even be disciplined soon; most everyone had already given up on Abe.
At last the two young ladies reached their destination. The fabric store was busy when they entered. Amish and English women mingled together in the crowded store, their lively chatter creating a loud buzz of conversation. Sara and Leah meandered through the rows of fabric bolts until they found the calicoes and plain fabrics at the back of the shop.
Leah waited patiently while Sara searched through the variety of bolted blues, leaning one against the other while she fingered the heft and weight of the materials. She settled on a plain length of fine cotton in a robin’s egg hue.
“This is perfect. I love the feel of the fabric, too.”
Leah nodded. The weight of the woven cloth created a lovely drape. To be sure it fit with the Ordnung’s rule that the textile not be sheer, she stretched the blue fabric over her hand and held it to the light. “See? Nothing shows through. This ought to be okay.”
Sara waited for the fabric to be measured and cut, then gathered the tissue-wrapped bundle and followed Leah out the door.
“Do we have time to stop by the grocery?” Sara held the packaged fabric to her brow, sheltering her eyes from the harsh afternoon sun.
Leah considered. It would take another thirty minutes to return home, but the day was still young.
After untying Sparky, they made their way slowly through the downtown traffic, the horse’s shoes clopping against the hot roadway.
The grocery parking lot was full of cars, but at the back under the shade of several gnarled maples, hitching posts waited for the horses and buggies of Amish customers.
She hopped down and secured Sparky’s reins to the post as Sara headed into the store. The sun shimmered over black asphalt and reflected off metal hoods and trunks, and Leah wiped beads of perspiration from her neck and forehead. Sparky shook his mane free of flies, his haunches quivering from gnat attacks. Leah smoothed his neck, whispering into his ear as he rolled brown eyes toward her voice. “We won’t be long, friend.” He stamped a time or two, signaling his impatience, as she walked into the building.
The cool air of the store immediately brought relief. Not for the first time, Leah longed for respite such as this at home. Wondered how it would feel driving along on a steamy summer day, passing farm and field, with sweet cool air keeping the journey pleasant. Wondered how it would feel to sleep without her sweat-drenched gown and sheet. Her upstairs bedroom, situated at the back of the house above the woodstove-heated kitchen, was sultry and stagnant by the end of a summer’s day.
She glanced at a group of girls who looked to be her age. They wore shorts and sleeveless T-shirts, their hair pulled off their necks and secured with bright ponytail bands, their feet protected only by flimsy sandals that slapped the floor as they strolled. They looked refreshingly comfortable.
She pondered why the Amish insisted on stifling dark fabrics and long cumbersome dresses weighted down by aprons and thick-soled black shoes. They dressed not for season but for modesty, and often, at the end of a blistering summer day, her skin was chafed raw from sweating. She swished her skirt back and forth to cool her legs and blew a puff of air up over her forehead as she pushed damp strands of hair back under the kapp.
Lost in thought and eyeing the store aisles for signs of Sara, she was startled when a man spoke to her.
“Hello, Leah. Wie gehts?”
She glanced around and met the kind eyes of Matthew Schrock.
“Oh! Hello, I’m sorry I didn’t see you. I’m fine, thanks.”
Matthew pointed to a petite, attractive woman walking toward him. “I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Naomi.”
Naomi Schrock reached out her hand to greet Leah, smiling shyly. “Nice to meet you, Leah.”
“You, also.”
“I’ve heard from Matthew about the wonderful work your daet’s doing on our bedroom suite. I can’t wait to see it.”
Leah noticed Naomi’s Amish accent. Were the rumors true? Were they both former Amish?
“Thank you. He’s skilled at his job.”
After chatting about the weather for a couple of minutes, Leah decided that talking too long with them could be construed as a bad thing, if they were the kind of people the bishop insisted they were. As she nodded good-bye to the Schrocks, Matthew stopped her.
“Before you go, would you mind if I give you a brochure of our life story?”
Leah hesitated, not sure how to respond. “Uh … I suppose it would be okay.”
“It’s not a very long brochure, but it will let you know, if you’re curious, about our ministry.”
Matthew offered a steady gaze. “I’m aware there are many rumors about us, and I thought it might help to explain what we do.”
She realized he must know about the bishop’s opinion.
“Thank you. I appreciate the information.” She took the brochure and hurried to find Sara. Accepting the pamphlet from Matthew felt dangerous. But she was anxious to read about this man and his wife, and perhaps solve the mystery of who they were and what they did with wayward Amish. They seemed so kind and so sure of their decision to leave.
The girls finished their shopping and were soon on their way home. The weight of the brochure filled her apron pocket, but Leah stifled her curiosity long enough to drop off Sara before pulling the buggy to the side of the road to read the material.
The Schrocks had been born and raised Old Order Amish. They had married and joined the church, but a former Amish friend had introduced Matthew to the “life-giving grace of Jesus Christ,” and after reading the Bible and learning more about Christ, Matthew had explained what he had learned to his wife.
The pamphlet was sprinkled with Bible verses. Leah was surprised to find them all in English. The Bible used in her Amish church was written in German, and only a few of the words made sense to her when it was read in service.
But this—these words struck her heart. The message in the brochure was of hope and freedom. Incredibly, it did not include anything about obeying the Ordnung. No long list of rules to adhere to—nothing about the length of her skirt or the size of the hat band her daet and bruders wore. She found no instructions about the kind of fabric her dresses had to be made from, or the color, or the amount of undergarments she needed to wear. No directions about securing her skirt and aprons with straight pins. Nothing at all about verboten buttons or zippers. There was nothing mentioned about being a certain kind of person in order to deserve or earn her salvation.
Leah furrowed her brows. Could it be so simple? The verses spoke of the futility of living only to do good—of trying to be the best for the sake of showing good works to God, family, and community. She flipped the pamphlet back to the front and read through the verses again. What would it be like to own a Bible she could understand?
She remembered a group of Englishers who had stopped by her school one year when she was in the elementary grades. They had handed out small New Testament Bibles written in English. What had she done with the book the Gideons had given them? It had to be among her childhood things somewhere.
She reread the verse on the front: “For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast.”
What could that mean? Leah wasn’t sure but knew it had something to do with her desire to be free from the Ordnung. Could that ever be a good thing? Maybe this was the answer she’d been looking for.
