Abram's Daughters 04 The Prodigal (17 page)

"You'd have to talk to our bishop 'bout that."

"So you can't think for yourself?" Carl smiled faintly.

She pouted at that. "I've been wonderin' something else."

"What now?"

She didn't like his tone but pressed on. "What's it like bein' adopted?" ,: ' . : : , :

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"You oughta know that." :.'. ::,:,'

"What do ya mean?"

"I don't want to speak out of turn, but aren't you and Abe adopted in a way? Mary Ruth says your real mamma died when Abe was born, so your sister Leah has raised you like you're her own."

Mary Ruth says ... . . ; .; . .

Why was her sister's name so quick out of his mouth? Still, she thought on what he'd said till she got up the nerve to ask, "Do you know your true family at all?"

He stared at her. "That's a silly question and you know it, Lyddie. I'm living with my true family. It doesn't matter to me who my birth parents were."

"Were? Do ya mean your parents died?" , , -

"I didn't say that."

She could see he was upset, even angry. "I'm sorry, Carl."

"No, I don't think you are." He got up and went to the cloakroom, where he threw on his coat and scarf and hurried outside, slamming the door behind him.

Now what have I done?

Not only had she poked her nose in Carl's life, but he would surely catch what-for since she'd kept him from cornpleting his seatwork.

He's got every right to tattle on me, Lydiann thought, returning to the cloakroom to make sure there was not a speck of iliit on the floor. ,. .,..,.. :

+

The coffee shop in Apple Creek, Ohio, was jam-packed with customers, especially the back room, which was solely

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populated by Amishmen. Jonas made his way through the maze of tables toward his friend Lester Schlabach, who nodded his head when he caught sight of Jonas.

"Sounds like a crowded hen house in here," Jonas corn' mented amidst the chatter.

Lester laughed. "You oughta come out for coffee more often . . . you'd get used to the racket mighty quick."

"S'pose so, but orders for hope chests keep me downright busy these days almost more work than I can handle on my own. Must be plenty-a girls turnin' sixteen this year." : "Awful gut for the pocketbook, I'll bet."

Jonas agreed and motioned for the waitress. He ordered a pot of coffee and a raspberry sticky bun for each of them his and Lester's favorite pastry insisting today was his treat.

When the waitress had gone, Lester stroked his beard, pulling it into a point. "I saw in The Budget that Eli Gingerich is goin' out of the plumbing business and is havin' himself a big sale here 'fore too long."

"I saw that, too. He wants to tear down some of his old shop and rebuild it to make a woodworking one."

"Some competition for ya?"

"Not a problem, really. Ain't enough woodworkers to go round here."

"That old bishop of yours back in Pennsylvania prob'ly wouldn't see eye to eye with ya though, ain't?"

Jonas looked hard at Lester and solemnly nodded his head. The mention of Bishop Bontrager reminded him again why he'd ended up living here in Ohio all these years, estranged from his parents and brothers and sisters. "Doubt I'd agree with much of what Bishop Bontrager thinks anymore."

"Seems to me I recall you sayin' he didn't take too kindly

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|)n lellas who shunned farming."

Shunned. He supposed Lester had completely forgotten thiii he lived under the Bann himself, although it did not Itl'lvcT Jonas in his daily routine here. Nevertheless, he did have a family in Pennsylvania he missed terribly.

"My old bishop felt it was a fella's duty to follow in his

I hiilu-r's footsteps and work the land. He took a mighty strong

| Miind on that." Among other things, he thought. Shunning folk

Hoi leaving behind the church of their baptism was unheard

I ul in Wayne County, far as he knew. "I wish my people back

Inline could have a chance to sit under the teaching of the

] Apple Creek bishop. There was a wonderful-gut bishop like

I hat in Millersburg, too," he said, recalling the short time he'd

upont with the Mellinger family. It had been David Mellinger

who had given him such a strong start in cabinetmaking with

hi valuable apprenticeship. "Those two Ohio bishops and my

I It inner bishop are the difference 'tween night and day, for sure

I mid for certain."

I Lester perked up his ears. "You mean to say your PennsylIviiiiia family doesn't hear sermons like ours?" j "Well, it wftuld be awful hard to know that anymore, liviilly." It felt to him as if many decades had come and gone jsiiuc his last visit to Lancaster County, back when he and

91 call Ebersol were engaged and looking ahead to a happy and I bright future together. He could only assume that Bishop I hmitrager still kept the clamps on the People of Gobbler's I Knob and Georgetown, but there was no way to be sure, since [till communication had been cut off to him and from him. ! I li- cared not to cause trouble for his parents and siblings, or [ h is extended family and former friends, by attempting to make It H hidden contact. What's done is done. ; .

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He hadn't planned to, but he began to tell his new friend how he had a whole batch of siblings, some of whom were grown and probably married by now. "My youngest brother and sister will be ten years old come this April."

"Twins?"

"Jah, and I haven't seen them since they were babies."

"How odd . . . them havin' a big brother they've never known."

Sadly he agreed. But there was nothing he could do about any of that. With the blessing of the heavenly Father and the People here, he'd put his roots down deeply and joyfully in Apple Creek. What more could a man want?

It was a brutally cold afternoon when Mary Ruth suggested she and Sadie go and sit near the fireplace in the Nolts' well-decorated front room. Sadie politely accepted the cup of hot peppermint tea her sister offered, her sad eyes brightening when Carl came to kneel beside her, showing a drawing he'd made at school.

"That's awful perty," Sadie said.

Carl handed the picture to her. "It's for you ... to keep."

"Well, how nice." Sadie stared down at the crayoned picture of a big brown horse and a small gray buggy. "This looks like the bishop's horse," Sadie said, holding it up for Mary Ruth to see.

"Well, I'm not so sure about that. Seems to me it might just be Dat's horse," Mary Ruth replied, studying the drawing.

Carl frowned. "How can you tell the difference when there are so many horses and buggies?"

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"i )h, believe me, we know," Sadie laughed. i Mary Ruth nodded. "Same way an Amishman knows hvliirli straw hat belongs to him, even though dozens of hats jlnii;lii he lined up on a bench."

I ( 'arl asked about Amish farm life, and Sadie seemed eager fin icll him about milking a cow by hand, feeding chickens, [mhI pitching hay to the mules and horses. "Sometime you Iftlimild talk to Leah 'bout all that," she said. "She knows all in nil- is to know about farm animals."

! M;iry Ruth found herself daydreaming about next Friday it'i in ing, when Robert planned to drive her to Honey Brook, IwIhmv they would dine at a "very fine restaurant." A tingle of mxi i lenient ran up her spine as she wondered if he would mnii) say he loved her. If so, she wondered if it was the right limit- to say it back to him. Handsome as he was kind, Robert Ivvitulil make any girl's heart glad, yet he had chosen her, and If he passage of time had proven that neither of them wanted In lei anything prevent their hopes for the future not even Ilir past foolishness of her sister and Robert's younger brother. Ill ;iny event, the likelihood of Sadie and Derek ever crossing li.iibs again was quite slim.

I She turned her attention back to Sadie and Carl, who wen' now sitting side by side on the hearth looking at a storyin ink. Sadie's voice was gentle and low, but the expression she liivc to the phrases on the page impressed Mary Ruth so much |'M< wondered if she might invite Sadie to come with her to ii IH >ol as a volunteer tomorrow. She could certainly put somein ir io work part-time helping with a few struggling pupils. It M/,i;/i( keep Sadie's mind off herself, Mary Ruth thought. But Ilii'ii she worried that such a thing might put Sadie even more I risk with the Amish brethren, so she decided against it.

168~ lO e 13 e r L if J_- e id I s "

What's to become of her?

Sadie had confided to her just today she wouldn't be staying on at the Nolts', wanting to find work outside the Amish community, but Mary Ruth hoped that wouldn't happen, not when it would break the hearts anew of everyone in the Ebersol Cottage to see her leave them once more. If her time here lasted long enough, maybe Sadie might begin to understand more of God's plan for her life, perhaps through the simple Bible stories she was even now reading aloud.

Leah picked her way through the ice and snow to the barn to speak with Gid and Dat, leaving Abe alone at the table with his schoolwork. "I won't be long," she'd told him, rushing out the back door into the dusk.

In the stillness of the stable, she cautiously asked Dat's and Gid's permission to pay a short visit to Sadie tomorrow at the Nolts', telling them she wanted to encourage her to repent to the bishop for her misconduct. Leah also had something else on her mind, but she didn't go so far as to reveal that.

Dat looked at Gid. and asked, "Have ya given any more thought to what we discussed?"

Gid shook his head. "Haven't talked to the bishop just yet, no." He paused, glancing at Leah. "I'm the youngest preacher in the district and . . . well. . ." He didn't finish the thought, but Leah knew he must be hesitant to make waves with Bishop Bontrager.

Dat continued. "Well, I can see your point, but it's important we get our girl back home."

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sii 169The ^Prodigal

I ( ikl nodded thoughtfully, but it was fairly obvious to Leah

phiil Ik- wasn't so keen on the idea, what with the bishop's

pOU(,;li stand on breaking the requirements of a Proving.

r Hui Gid seemed to catch Leah's sense of urgency when she

link I .she'd heard tell from Mary Ruth that Sadie was thinking

mf pelting a job and moving closer to Strasburg.

I "Sadie isn't that stubborn, is she?" he asked.

I "jiih," Leah replied. "But I daresay she's not thinkin'

Idrarly yet... still distraught over losin' her husband so awful

|V'"inl'-"

I ( iiil put down his pitchfork. "I'll go 'n' talk things over |u ii 11 I he bishop and see what can be done." I "You're headin' over there now7." Dat sounded mighty surIpiiM'J,

I "Time's a-wastin'." Gid looked right at Leah and smiled. rWonldn't it be mighty nice if this family came together once In 1.1 lor all?"

Leah felt joy in her heart at his words. But would he actually succeed in getting the bishop to change his mind?

After enjoying Dottie's delicious crumb cake with appleiiiure, Mary Ruth and Sadie slipped away upstairs to the bedp ii mi they now shared, where Mary Ruth offered to brush her pl'.icr's hair.

"Aw, you don't have to do that," Sadie said, seemingly ftuirhed by the gesture.

"But I want to." She coaxed Sadie to sit on the chair while she stood behind her, whispering a silent prayer.

"Ya know, Leah and I used to take turns brushin' each

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other's hair of an evening," Sadie said softly, even sadly.

"We both have happy memories of growing up in Dat and Mamma's big house." Mary Ruth began making long sweeps down Sadie's golden locks with the brush.

Sadie nodded. "Ain't that the truth."

They talked about the endless winter, how cold it was, and how much Mary Ruth loved teaching school.

Out of the blue, Sadie asked, "When will Carl turn ten?"

"This spring."

She was silent for a moment, then "Same age as my first little one . . ."

Mary Ruth's heart went out to her, and she wondered if being around Carl was an emotional hardship. "Do you find it difficult to be around Carl for that reason?"

"Oh no ... not at all," she promptly reassured her. "My stay here has been delightful hardly the punishment the bishop had planned for me. But even so, I need to find my own place and land myself a job."

"You'd really leave the Amish life behind?" Mary Ruth asked. "Is that what your heart's telling you?"

"Oh, I don't know what I want anymore. I can hardly abide the bishop and his rules I just felt so locked up in Dat's house. There were plenty of days I wished I could hop in the buggy and drive off to Georgetown to run errands or whatnot. And now look where I am. Like a person without a home."

Mary Ruth felt now was the moment to share one of her favorite Scripture passages with Sadie. "I've been wanting to tell you something that's helped me a lot during some of my darkest hours," she said, not waiting for her sister to respond. "It's from the Proverbs: 'Trust in the Lord with all thine heart;

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\ iinI lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways

I i. I imvvledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.'"

| N;ulie turned to face her, chin quivering. "I've heard those

] > i i-.cs before."

I "I )o you remember where?"

Sadie nodded. "From Mamma. She used to recite Scrip-

I lira while we cooked and baked together. I always wondered,

ihmigh, why some of her favorite Bible verses weren't ever

If,id Ml Preachin' service." "I wondered that, too." "Out in the Ohio church and later in Indiana the

piviu'hcrs stressed different verses than-they do here at home."

Mary Ruth listened with interest and then told how ter-

Ilihly she'd struggled at Elias Stoltzfus's funeral and how she'd

|i 11;111 y found what she had longed for her whole life at a Menj In mile church, not so many days following his death. I "If it's divine guidance you're looking for, Sadie, it can be l|i iiiiid in God's holy book." She went to her dresser and Ipii krd up the black leather Bible Dottie had given her as a L;iit, "Everything I need to live my life each day is right here." |Hic held the Bjfele close. "Sometimes I think I could simply Iftsul it instead of eating. That's how dear it is to me." I "Oh, Mary Ruth, bless your heart, you're cryin'." Sadie IfiMi'hed out her hand.