A Baby for Hannah (20 page)

“I see,” Bishop John said. “But are you sure that someone else has not already asked for Mary’s hand in marriage?”

“No, I don’t know that,” Mr. Brunson said. “Are you aware of someone?”

John shook his head, “No, but there are always visitors from other Amish communities coming through. In fact there is a load coming from Iowa next week. And things can happen rather quickly as our own suitors wouldn’t need to become members first. I mean, you’re looking at a year, perhaps two, before you could be baptized, and then there would be the courtship time beyond that.”

“I would still like to try,” Mr. Brunson said. “If you have no objections. Because even a chance at Mary’s hand in marriage would be a great honor for me.”

It took only a few seconds of silence before John said, “Mr. Brunson, I hate to disappoint you this way, but I agree with Jake on this matter. I don’t think it’s wise for you to join the Amish.”

Mr. Brunson cleared his throat. “You’re forbidding me to join?”

“I have to think about what is best for all concerned, including Mary Keim. It wouldn’t be right for you to join if we all know your real reason. I can’t place any of our women in that position. If there is trouble later, then I’m responsible. Mary would be the first to agree with that, regardless of how she feels about you.”

Mr. Brunson took a deep breath, “I, of course, do not agree with that analysis. I am more than willing to show my intention to stay Amish by whatever means necessary. I am an old man, and the modern life means little to me while Mary’s love would mean the world.”

“Then why not move back east and join one of the Amish communities there? You could come back in a few years as a member in good standing, and none of us would have any objections.”

“And find Mary taken by some other man?”

“
Jah,
you said there would be a risk, and that is the risk.”

“So there is no other way?”

“I could speak with the other ministers, but I doubt it. It sounds as if Jake is telling you the same things as I am, and I can’t see the other minister, Mose, saying anything different.”

“What if I speak with Mary myself on this matter?”

“You would attempt to lure her away from her faith?”

“No,” Mr. Brunson said. “I could tell her of my intentions and why I am moving back east, if that is what you require.”

“So Mary knows you that well, that she would notice that you have left?”

“It would be for my benefit, not hers, and she does not know of my interest in her.”

“That still leaves us where we started,” Bishop John said, rocking slowly. “Mary cannot make any promises to you of any nature.”

“You would see to that?”

“
Jah.
”

“I see,” Mr. Brunson said, rising to go. “Then it seems I have some more thinking to do.”

“You are welcome to stay for supper,” Bishop John said. “I’m sure Elizabeth has plenty.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Brunson said, pulling his cap on his head. “But I think I will be going.”

“If you wish to talk more on this, please come back again,” Bishop John said. “Our door is always open.”

“You don’t plan to change your mind, do you?” Mr. Brunson asked, already at the front door.

The two faces of the children peered around the kitchen door opening, looking at him.

John shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Good night then,” Mr. Brunson said, opening the front door and stepping outside. He walked across the lawn to his truck.

What an old fool he had been, coming to the bishop with his hat in his hand. He was allowing his feelings for Mary to completely cloud his judgment. He should have gone to Mary a long time ago and professed his love for her and asked for her hand in marriage. She wouldn’t turn him down. That same look had been in her eyes that he felt in his heart. She was attracted to him, Amish or not. Inside her beat the same type of heart the Lord God had placed in all human beings.

Carefully he backed out of the driveway and accelerated when he got on the main road.

In a few moments he saw Mary’s place coming up, nestled off the road, the white two-story house reflecting the slanting rays of the setting sun. She would be home tonight, and he would stop in, profess his love for her, and ask if she would consider leaving the Amish faith. Was that not a worthy price for love?

Pulling his foot off the gas pedal, Mr. Brunson began to turn in, but before his eyes he saw the innocence of her face, the tenderness of her eyes when she met his, the inner beauty shining through her aged face. He took his foot off the brake and accelerated again. No, he couldn’t do it. He loved her desperately, and love would not harm what it adored.

He drove with tears creeping into his eyes, wiping them away with the back of his hand. Not since Bernice and Elsie died had he cried. And apparently tears did about as much good now as they did then.

Turning into the gravel lane he saw the lights come on in Jake and Hannah’s cabin. He parked along the edge of the gravel by their home. Pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket he blew his nose. He would stop here. He needed to talk to someone. Though they would disagree with him, they would surely understand.

As he walked onto the front porch, Jake opened the door for him, welcoming him inside with a broad sweep of his arm. Hannah was waiting inside. They had obviously seen him coming.

“Good evening, Hannah,” Mr. Brunson said, stepping inside. “Am I disturbing anything?”

“No,” Hannah said. “Most certainly not. We’re always glad to see you.”

“Is your sister still staying here?” Mr. Brunson asked.

“No,” Hannah said. “She’s at Betty’s, settling in, as they plan to open the riding stable on Monday.”

“That’s good,” he said, still standing by the cabin door.

“So what can we do for you?” Jake asked. “Will you come in and sit down for a while?”

“No, I had better not,” Mr. Brunson said. Had stopping here been a mistake also? The day was not turning out well at all. “I’m returning home from visiting your bishop,” he said with an edge of sadness in his voice.

“
Jah.
” Jake tilted his head.

“I spoke to him about joining the Amish faith…and about Mary Keim.”

Jake was silent, waiting.

“He will not approve my joining the church since it is so closely connected to my desire to ask Mary’s hand in marriage.”

“Did Bishop John see any way in which it could be done?”

“Not unless I move back east and join one of the churches there first—without telling Mary why.”

“Oh, this is so hard for you, I can see,” Hannah said. “I am so sorry. I wish there was something we could do.”

“I don’t think there is much that can be done,” Jake said. “Other than Bishop John’s suggestion. Are you willing to do that?”

“I’m thinking about it,” Mr. Brunson said. “Would you pray for me?”

“Most certainly,” Jake said. “Prayer is always the best thing we can do.”

“I’m so sorry,” Hannah repeated, standing up to give Mr. Brunson a hug.

“Well, so am I.” Mr. Brunson found his handkerchief and blew his nose before walking out the door.

Twenty-One

Hannah watched Jake’s stooped shoulders as he stood by the front window, staring after the fading lights of Mr. Brunson’s truck. She walked over to join him, slipping her hand into his arm. He lowered his head to rest gently on hers.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered.

“I know. It’s just one of those things that no one can change.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if you could?”

“Sometimes it seems that way, but really, it’s the work of God, and we shouldn’t meddle in His affairs.”

“But couldn’t Bishop John have made an exception? Mr. Brunson is such a nice old man. You know he wouldn’t have made trouble for anyone. He would love Mary and care for her as good as any Amish man.”

Jake put his arm over her shoulder. “Bishop John did the right thing. And I told Mr. Brunson it wouldn’t work, so he can’t say that he wasn’t warned.”

“It’s still so sad. I think he really loves her. If only it could work out for both of them.”

“It still might,” Jake said, sitting down on the couch, and pulling her down after him. “Maybe he’ll go back east and join an Amish community there. Then after he comes back, Mr. Brunson can ask Mary for her hand.”

Hannah laughed. “Not even a dreamy-eyed girl like myself believes that’s going to happen.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Jake sighed. “But our concern right now is what I’m going to tell the bishop tomorrow.”

“About what?” Hannah asked, stroking Jake’s arm.

“About whether excommunication should be used against Ben and Sylvia.”

“You still don’t think it’s the right thing to do?”

“No, but Bishop John wants it done, and I’m the only minister who disagrees.”

“Then I would stick with what you feel.”

“But Hannah, do you have any idea what that could mean? If I’m wrong and a lot of our people leave because of the tent meetings, Bishop John will blame me for having been too soft.”

“Even so, I want you to do what
you
think is right.”

“It could cost us a lot.”

“I know. And I have a hard time understanding why I feel this way. For a long time I’ve been worried about what people think of your decisions. But the truth is that even more important than what people think is that you’re my husband and I love you. Part of that love is knowing that you do what you think is right. You’re a good man, and a good man stays true to his conscience.”

“I just want to be sure,” Jake said. “If people leave because we were too easy on Ben and Sylvia, it will bother me too. It’s not just what other people think. It’s realizing that my decision may result in others leaving the faith.”

“Look, Jake,” Hannah said, running her hand down his beard and playing with his shirt button. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I think you see a lot of bad things happening if excommunication is used. Perhaps things that are a lot worse than losing a few church members. How will you feel if Ben and Sylvia are excommunicated because you give in, and then things turn out badly?”

His fingers touched her face. “I don’t know.”

Hannah leaned into Jake. “All I know is you should do what is right. Because if you don’t do what you think is right this time, it will only be harder the next time.”

“But what if I’m wrong?”

“Then you’ll be wrong, but I don’t think you are. You feel very strongly about this, don’t you?”

“I do.” Jake stared out the cabin window at the faint starry sky over the barn roof. “This summer will be over before long, and Ben will likely move on with his tent to other places, but if we overreact and use methods that aren’t right, the bad taste will linger in people’s mouths for a long time. And I couldn’t really live with myself if that happens.”

“Then there’s your answer, Jake.”

“But who am I to disagree with Bishop John?”

“You are a minister, Jake. You didn’t choose this job; it was given to you by
Da Hah.
Isn’t that good enough?”

“You are very sweet,” he said, pushing her
kapp
back and running his fingers through her hair. “I’m constantly amazed that I should be a minister. Or, for that matter, your husband.
Da Hah
has given me great favor.”

“And don’t forget, it’s also
Da Hah’s
opinion that you should be a father. And you will be as good a father as you are a minister and a husband. Don’t ever forget that, Jake.”

“But we lost our first child, and that was partly my fault.”

“And mine, but does not
Da Hah
forgive?”

“What’s come over you?” Jake asked, searching Hannah’s eyes. “Don’t you have any fears about this pregnancy?”

“I have them all the time, but I believe we have been given grace, and that you will have a son this fall, Jake. Won’t that be wonderful?”

“It will be
very
wonderful,” Jake said, pulling her tight against himself. “A son or a daughter will be a delight.”

After a few seconds, Hannah wiggled out of his embrace.

“Don’t you think it’s time you forgot about church things for awhile? I’m going to write Mom this evening. Why don’t you write to yours?”

A shadow crossed his face. “You know Mom and Dad have never written back, except for that one short letter Mom wrote early this spring. She didn’t say much. What could I have done to offend them?”

“Nothing that I know of. They did come to our wedding, and they were happy then, so I’d keep trying,” Hannah said, ruffling his hair.

“I just don’t know.”

“You can preach so wonderfully; I’m sure your letters will be great too. You have a way with words.”

“I’m not going to preach to my parents.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Hannah said, crossing the room to bring him paper and a pen.

“I’ll try,” Jake smiled weakly as she handed them to him.

“You can write at the desk, and I’ll go out to the kitchen.”

“Go then,” Jake said, waving his hand.

Hannah kissed him and left him sitting on the couch. He might have to think awhile before he thought of what to say, but he would write. And it would be good.