Abram's Daughters 03 The Sacrifice (24 page)

"I shouldn't be surprised, I guess." .,

She felt the tightness in her chest, wondering if she ought to say what she'd read. Would that be as sinful as Mamma's own disobedience? She didn't know. "So then you must think Mamma disregarded the bishop . . . and Dat, too," Leah said nearly in a whisper. ,

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I "I loncstly she didn't much care for the do's and don'ts of Hip (Md Ways. She honored the Ordnung as best she Igiuihl . . . walked a line, s'pose you could say. She read the |( h hI Book from cover to cover nearly every year. She told iiiH she'd shared some of these things with Sadie, Hannah,

IiiimI Mary Ruth . . . and with you, most recently."

I

I Leah clearly remembered the conversation. "But what

I'I..mt Gelassenheit submission to God and to the People? IVInit was Mamma's view on that?"

I Lizzie nodded her head. "Sadly that was the biggest

11. i k- the push and pull of it all. Abram wanted to live by | tin- letter of the law, following the bishop's and the preachers'

I1 > < i y whim. This annoyed my sister no end. 'Tween you and in' , 1 think when the end came, she was eager to go home to

|py."

mt "Not 'cause of Dat, I hope."

B; Lizzie paused a moment, then went on. "She simply

tanied to see the Lord Jesus."

P "'Best to be in heaven's lap than caught in the world's

psp,'" Lea% whispered.

HI Lizzie patted the bench. "Come and sit. You have a big

'lay ahead."

She smiled. "Every day's thataway."

"You're doin' a wonderful-gut thing, Leah. Never forget," Lizzie said.

Abe's cries were heard just then, so Leah quickly excused herself and ran upstairs to comfort her mamma's precious boy.

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The first day of the new school semester, Mary Ruth followed a group of fancy students into Paradise High School. She was happy to ride the school bus with other Mennonite youth, glad she wasn't the only conservative girl on board. Naturally she wasn't nearly as Plain now as she had been, what with her floral-print dress, though long to her ankles.

Thankfully Dottie Nolt had driven her to the school a week earlier, when she had enrolled for the remainder of the year and taken her placement tests. To her delight, she discovered she was ready for second-semester tenth grade, even though she'd completed only eight years at the Georgetown School staying home with Mamma for two years after that. All told, she was well on course to graduate by the time she was nineteen a full year older than most high school graduates, but that didn't bother her in the least. The main thing was to prepare herself for teacher's college. And, here lately, she believed God was calling her to attend a Christian college someday. She was on her way!

Busy hallways were disconcerting at first, and changing classrooms and having different teachers for each subject was also confusing. After a few days, though, she felt she would become accustomed to the schedule. Still, the sight of girls wearing knee-length wool skirts with bare legs clear down to the tops of their white ankle socks made Mary Ruth feel as if she were in a foreign land.

Getting her locker open was another discouraging situation, but, in the end, the problem had its reward. An attractive boy with brown hair and green eyes noticed her plight and came over to help. "I'm Jimmy Kaiser," he smiled. "You're new, aren't you?" :

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acritice

B : .lie nodded, afraid she'd say jah and scare him off, which

> i riiiiinly didn't want to do, not with those big bright eyes

K

>'l in|; ri|.:lu at her.

"II you ever run into a snag with your combination lock, Hi 'I me up," Jimmy said, pointing toward his own locker. HJ'in (inly five lockers down from yours on the other side of Hii li.illwiiy. Don't be bashful, all right?"

H "Nice to meet you, Jimmy."

I "Welcome to Paradise . . . High School, that is!" Grinning,

If Hi tried and hurried away.

I Well. She was entirely pleased with the first student she'd

Kfl Pleased as punch, she thought. Does this mean I'm begin-

HfU! fo forget Elias? She wondered that plenty.

I Surely it was a good sign, her experiencing a slight flutter

luii a good-looking boy like Jimmy made the effort to cross

Bit* liiill and make her feel welcome.

Another surprise was the first reading assignment given in B^irn-i k an literature class: her beloved Uncle Tom's Cabin. She hew i he book inside and out, perhaps better than the other tndi'nls in trite class because she identified in part with Eliza, hr black slave girl, though Mary Ruth had never been abused physically. All the same, the book reopened certain sore spots Ini her, and she longed to see oppressed people released from pirirual bondage.

I That afternoon following school Mary Ruth slipped away

1111 iit lovely bedroom at the Nolts' to do her homework, writ' Iftg carefully the assigned essays and working the geometry problems. When she was finished, she knelt to pray, asking phe Lord to help her forgive the brethren, especially Bishop Bontrager, who ruled with an iron hand, much the way Simon

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Legree did in Harriet Beecher Stowe's classic novel. The man's shunning of Sadie had altered her family members' lives for the worst, she was sure. She also asked the Lord to forgive her for smooching so awful much with Elias, not having saved lip-kissing for her husband . . . and to guide her life as a Chris tian young woman.

Following Elias's death, she had initially decided to wear a black dress for a good long time, but recently she'd changed her mind and put aside her mourning clothes. Her newfound joy in the Lord Jesus had turned every part of her life around, including the slightest details. No longer did she part her hair down the middle; she simply brushed it straight back and gathered it into a higher bun, and, like Dottie, she wore the many-pleated formal head covering unique to Mennonite women, with the strings hanging loose and untied. Not quite as Plain, true, but nevertheless not worldly, either.

Getting used to electricity and automobiles had been the easiest adjustment of all, though she knew she would gladly ride in Dat's family carriage if invited.

Perhaps Elias's death had been God's way of giving her a heavenly sign she was never intended to join the Amish church. Truth was, she enjoyed having modern conveniences at her fingertips, and what she was experiencing under Dan and Dottie's roof and in attending church with them was pure freedom. For the first time in her life, she could breathe easily, free from bondage, ever ready to honor the Lord in everything she put her hand to do, all the days of her life.

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O acre rice

Hp due t ime, Leah received word back from Vera Mellinger ^HSikIk' and Jonas no longer lived in Millersburg. Vera HM thai she hadn't heard from them in "quite some time" ^B|nk:l she was "ever so sorry" to hear of Mamma's passing. I""" Prt.wm.jtj;. Why was it folk avoided the word death1. Was it ] i. r in think of a person going from one place to the next, ! inn forward as their soul surely did at the point of death,

11. i' , u I of lying still in a coffin? The Scriptures taught the

I i -Mi|; of the soul from this life into eternity, from "death

..i.i. . Iilt-.

1 'hi' felt both sorry and thankful having read Vera's letter, .. I '.Ik' took it out to the barn, where Hannah and Dat were I. M ling out the lower stable area. She regretted Sadie having

I1 iv.iy of knowing their mother was dead, yet she was secretly 'In viaI her sister wouldn't be rushing home over the sad mi us though Leah did wonder how such news would have iH'-iteil Jonas if he had known of it. But no, she couldn't let Ik r.flf wonder about that. Too much time had flown to the

* 'uidoor% she found Hannah wearing old work boots, I i .ill's own. When Dat was free enough, she handed Vera's li hit lo him. He stood with his legs braced apart and read it ' iui. kly. "Well, if that ain't a fine howdy'do," he said, waving iIn note once he finished. "She runs off so we can never find

IH i ... even if it's her own mamma who's died."

I lannah blinked her eyes fast and Leah wondered if she Win. irying not to cry. But Hannah surprised her by saying, "You did the right thing, Leah, but maybe our shunned sister ilticsn'l wanna be found."

I )iit nodded in agreement. "Long gone ... she is."

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"Should I write to Cousin Fannie next? See if she has any knowledge of our sister's whereabouts?" She held her breath, unsure what Dat might say to do.

Dat hung his head. "Where the Masts are concerns I, we're as gut as dead."

She took that as a no and accepted the letter back from Dat. Heading toward the house, she was eager to check on Lydiann, who was napping, and Abe, who was lying on a quill spread out on the kitchen floor, the warmest room in the house. She almost wished Dat hadn't sided with Hannah jusi now, saying Sadie was "long gone." Had he given up on hi-i ever repenting here in Gobbler's Knob?

Mamma's prayers while she lived surely still follow my sisternow, she thought.

--

Abram had seen to it that his work boots were cleaned of caked-on mud and mule droppings before hitching up tinhorse to the sleigh. It might've been that he'd have made less a spectacle of himself had he simply gone walking to Daniel Nolt's place, but now as Abram reined in his horse in tindriveway of the fine house, he sat there, not sure what to d< > next.

Just why he'd come, he wasn't altogether certain. lie knew it had to do with the short letter from Ohio that Leah \ I had him read. Something mighty sorrowful about it, hr\l decided, and it had prompted him out of his lethargy. Noi that he had been digging in his heels about visiting Mary Ruth; no, he just felt it might be the right time to make an

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tMnpi id sec how his daughter was doing these days.

I \ Ir |Mil down from the sleigh and let the reins lie loose on

If will; I he well-mannered horse would be fine here for a few

nilli-s. Next thing he knew he was standing on the front

fcch ol a stranger's house.

f When Mary Ruth came to the door with a bright-eyed

Unpter in her arms, he was taken aback and found himself

yUninij; a greeting. She was mighty kind and invited him

lit If even brought him some hot black coffee on a fancy

My They sat and talked in the front room, pretty Mary Ruth

111 himself, no doubt as foolish sounding as he felt.

I "I I'liine to say I was wrong . . . and so were you, daughter,"

i .1.iiled the conversation. "But now . . . well, I want you to

In: -i.lei coming home. Wouldja think on that for ol' Dat?"

I She was quiet, not responding right off the way she nor-

pfilly diil, which surprised him. Instead, she stroked the boy's

pik hair, whispering something he didn't know what in

In liny ear.

I "Your sisters Leah and Hannah would be downright

Irtpl'V' And . *. sorry to say, but you haven't properly met your :

lew liaby brother, Abe."

j "Named after you, Dat." Her eyes seemed to light up at

||i- mention of the baby.

I "|;\h, Leah and . . ." He had to pause. The mere thought

II Id.i still choked his words.

I "Mamma and Leah's choice for a name, then?" She was Irlpint,' him along. Mary Ruth, ever dear; the daughter who Lit I never lacked for a comment. I I le nodded, still composing himself.

"I wished I might've comforted you, Dat, at Mamma's

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funeral. . . . Still hurts to think on it." She was silent for ;i moment; then she continued. "I just felt so far removed from my family. I wish things were better between us."

The punishment had been severe; he knew that. "I'd plenty-a things different . . . now."

"I s'pose all of us would." But in the end, she refused his invitation to move back home. "I'd be a terrible thorn in your flesh, Dat," she admitted. "You see, I started high schooljust yesterday, truth be told."

He hung his head. Things were spinning away from him. Nearly every day more things floated out of his reach. First Mary Ruth's odd declaration of salvation, then Ida's passing. He'd even received a fierce tongue4ashing from his father-inlaw, of all things. Just yesterday John had given him what for about running Mary Ruth off. To top it all off, John had outright declared he wanted to go back to Hickory Hollow to live with one of his "sensible" grown grandchildren, where he didn't have to look at "the likes of you, Abram Ebersol, day in, day out."

Holding fast to the Old Ways was costing him dearly, but he felt toothless to change. With Ida dead and gone, ii remained to be seen just how entrenched he would become over time, unwilling to stand up to Preacher Yoder or the bishop, neither one. Ida had found her strength in the Lord, she'd always said. As for himself, he couldn't see getting down on his knees and speaking words to the Almighty into the air. Lizzie, on the other hand, wasn't afraid to say she set ample time aside each day to do so. "You oughta try it once," she'd told him the day after Ida's funeral, when she'd found him coughing and weeping beside the feed trough as if his life was

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<\ i She'd been awful bold and said right out, "Prayer will ii Ip y;i, Ahram. 1 know this to be true."

: iiihhorn as he was, he had not followed her suggestion nil li;ul no intention of talking to Creator-God that way. l'iiir.%1 lo Pete, what was this old world coming to when a ii hi was nagged on mercilessly by his deceased wife's sister?

I love you, Dat." Mary Ruth interrupted his musings. "I'll "in.- visit, all right?"

"|;ih, come see us. Hold your baby brother some, too."

When she reached for him, he didn't hug her back, only Sim lied, Surely she'd understand it wasn't in him today to be 'liilinii'ing her or anyone else. His heart felt more cold and |i m-i ia! as each minute ticked by without his Ida.