Abram's Daughters 04 The Prodigal (21 page)

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Lydiann looked up at her, eyes glistening. "This holy moment is ever so special, ain't so?"

Reaching over, Leah clasped her darling girl's hand and nodded slightly. Lord willing, there were not too many more years before young Lyddie and Abe would also be standing before the brethren with the dear young man and woman of their choosing, waiting to say their lifelong vows before God and the People.

]ah, not so many years hence, thought Leah through joyful tears.

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To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion,

to give unto them beauty for ashes,

the oil of joy for mourning,

the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;

that they might be called trees of righteousness,

the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.

Isaiah 61:3203

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I he sky was barely light and every bird in Gobbler's Knob wn.i warming up for a grand daybreak chorus when Lydiann I untied downstairs, hoping to make it to the kitchen before ill her Mamma or Aunt Lizzie awakened. She wanted to surpi Isc the family this morning with a great big breakfast, which Wjiic was planning to cook all by herself. K Hver since her sixteenth birthday last week, Lydiann had BlCii planning the breakfast, this being the day before her lii M over Sundsty singing. After all, if she met the right boy ' '" in, it wouldn't be too many years from now she'd be cookini: in her own kitchen. She and Mamma had been talking dl ' ml this season of her life for quite some time now, Mamma i in ouraging her to simply "have fun during rumschpringe I'fi acquainted with plenty of nice fellas."

In other words, don't settle doum too quickly with one boy and Ymh into getting serious.

I .ydiann knew Mamma's intended message, all right. It was inniv rhan clear where she was going with her concerns. After nil, having babies out of wedlock seemed to run in the family,

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and, well, she wasn't going to make such a mistake with her life. Mamma and Aunt Lizzie both had nothing at all to worry about, as she'd told them in so many words. Maybe more words than necessary, truly.

As for Dat, he wanted to get his say in, too, what with all his talk of "now, make sure Abe's the one to be takin' ya to the barn singing come Sunday night." Her first time at a singing was turning into a family concern definitely not the way things were supposed to be.

Sighing, she contemplated all of this over the sizzling skillet, ready to pour fresh eggs and milk, mixed together and salted, into the pan. Naturally, once she did begin seeing different boys, coming home with them in their spanking-new courting buggies, not a soul under Dat's roof would be privy to anything at all. She just hoped she could tell the difference between a nice boy and one who wasn't so nice. Mamma had talked with her about some of the telltale signs to look for, one being about the way a young man looked at a girl.

She'd felt she had seen the right kind of look in Carl Nolt's eyes over the years, having attended the Georgetown School with him and all until two years ago, when she finished up eighth grade and came home to work alongside Mamma, Sadie, and Aunt Lizzie. Carl had long since forgiven her for her bold remarks about his adoption and happily gone off to high school, because there was no limit put on education by the Mennonites. She knew this from Mary Ruth, who was quite content to have married her preacher husband, Robert Schwartz, three years ago a bride for the first time at the age of twenty-seven, of all things! The happy couple was living in a small rental house between Quarryville and Gobbler's Knob, and Mary Ruth was teaching Sunday school at

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i he church where Robert was the associate minister, as well as i (inducting a weekly home-quilting class while waiting for i heir first baby, due in late October.

Setting the table and hearing footsteps in the bedroom >llrectly above the kitchen, Lydiann was aware of Aunt Lizzie u\d Dat just getting up. She scurried about, hurrying the pace

>l her preparations, recalling as she worked how Dawdi John used to make hints about what a good Amish boy was supI u wed to look, sound, and act like . . . but that was more than . i year ago, before he passed on to Glory. With only the memi iry of her wise grandfather to cherish, she hoped and prayed .lie might remember everything of utmost importance now I hut she was courting age and "ripe for the pickin'."

/ do hope to have a wonderful-good time, she thought, lookIng ahead to tomorrow's singing, to be held near Grasshopper level. .-. :<:

Abram rose out of a deep sleep, stumbling across the room

11 ward his work clothes hanging on the wooden peg rack high i >n the wall. Such heavy slumbers stupors, really always hit him this time%f year. He sensed it was going to be one of the warmest days of May thus far, with not a hint of a breeze corning in through the open windows. The dawn felt balmier than iiny in recent weeks.

Quickly dressing, he looked at Lizzie, still asleep. He I (tinned to himself and went over and poked her till she was ;iwake. "I smell ham and eggs already." He chuckled, watching her drowsy face as she slowly opened one eye and then the i >i her. "Best be gettin' up, or someone's gonna replace you as I he breakfast cook," he teased, then leaned down and kissed I he tip of her nose.

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; "I must've overslept," she said softly, stretching now.

He nodded. "And all well 'n' gut, since we had something of a late night, didn't we?"

"Oh, Abram." She sat up with a big smile on her pretty face, and then reached for the pillow as he backed away. She flung it straight at him anyway.

He tossed the pillow back and, when she caught it and leaned backward onto the bed, he hurried over to her and planted kisses all over her face. "Lizzie, Lizzie . . . look what you've gone and done to me. I feel like a young buck again." These years with his second wife had been joyful ones, despite a few ups and downs. He was altogether surprised they'd gotten along as well as they had, considering the many tiffs they'd had over the years they'd known each other. Lizzie, still his dear bride at fifty-one, kept him smiling, and he would have told almost any John Zook on the street how grateful he was to be so happily married at the ripe old age of fifty-nine.

Of course, there was more to happiness than being with someone who made you feel the way Lizzie did. If only Ida could see him now, she'd be amazed at his spiritual transformation, as well. She'd be ever so joyful to see the answer to hermany prayers, he thought. Truth was, he and Lizzie were followers of the Lord Jesus in every respect, though they did not parade or air their beliefs. His own faith had helped him to accept Mary Ruth's choice of the Mennonite life . . . and husband. Sure, he wished she'd stayed Amish and married a good man right here amongst the People, but Mary Ruth and Robert delighted in walking with the Lord, adhering to the teachings of His Word, and holding firm to the assurance of salvation all frowned upon by Bishop Bontrager and others in the Amish church here. Yet such strong faith could be found

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Hllionp; rhe People, Abram's own having come about because nl lilu, initially. Truly, the Holy Spirit had been at work in his llle nil those years.

I With a lump in her throat and a sense of foreboding, Leah I IIochI at the edge of the walkway, waving as thirteen-year-old IA he drove Lydiann to her first singing. She wasn't certain just I how long she held up her hand in a somewhat motionless I Wave, but when the horse and carriage reached the end of the Hiinc and made the turn west, she realized her arm was still |hlj,(h over her head. Goodness me, she thought, feeling like a

I persnickety mother hen at thirty-two, worrying her head over

II yilinnn. But she knew why she felt so hesitant about Lydiann liiiUTing the time of rumschpringe her darling girl was liilinosr too eager to meet boys and begin her courtship years.

I Dear Lord, be with her always, Leah prayed, wondering if

1(1 ir might not just stand here and wait for Abe to return from Ihis brotherly duty. Still, she did not wish to behave the way lAurit Lizzie tlad when Leah and her sisters were courting age, lull hough she knew Lizzie had meant well. She refused to get I too caught up in guessing who was seeing whom, even in jest.IjHI treat Lydiann with respect and trust, the way isAamma alwaysMid me, she decided then and there.

I Turning toward the house, she felt nearly exhausted. (Without a word to either Sadie or Aunt Lizzie, she hurried "through the kitchen and to the stairs. She had long since purchased her own Bible, not wanting to borrow Mamma's once l)iil and Lizzie had begun to read aloud from it every day, as Well as from the old German Bible downstairs in the kitchen.

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The latter was still used for evening and morning family prayers, which, not surprisingly, Dat insisted on doing without fail.

In the quiet of her room, having moved back to her childhood bedroom years ago when Dat first married Aunt Lizzie, Leah settled into the chair near the window. Opening her Bible to Psalm Thirty-four, she read silently, I sought the Lord,and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears.

Again she read the fourth verse, wanting to memorize it... realizing how essential it was for her to do so. 1 must giveLydiann and her running-around years to you, Lord. She made a conscious effort not to fret another minute from now until the wee hours, when Lydiann would be escorted home by her first beau, whoever that might be.

From where she was working in her little kitchen, Hannah couldn't hear everything being said in the front room, but she'd caught several words and sentences that almost made her wish she'd heard nothing at all. Gid and the bishop were talking about trading Gobbler's Knob young men for some in Ohio. She'd heard tell of switching boys between St. Joseph, Missouri, and places in Pennsylvania for the purpose of bringing fresh blood into the various Amish church districts, but never had she thought such a thing would happen here in Gobbler's Knob. All the same, she knew of several recent instances where babies had been born with severe physical or mental problems because of close intermarrying. As for her own healthy threesome, she and Gid both thanked the Good Lord daily for them, even though she wished she might conceive another child one day soon.

Just now, though, she wanted to inch forward and hear

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Blinl on earth Gid was helping the bishop plan for some poor, nsuspecting souls more than a dozen fellows, is what she'd Hhought she had heard. But she resisted the temptation and f about making a cake for supper, glad that the girls were off Ht school and nowhere around to hear the kind of talk their teacher father was involved in. More and more, Gid was sucHumbing to Bishop Bontrager's spell. It was as if the bishop Were God himself to Gid these days no matter what the Hlder man said, her husband seemed to go along with it. The Htrangest thing, really, especially since Gid had always been His own man when it came to opinions. H Mixing the flour, sugar, and baking powder for the cream Hake and filling, Hannah contemplated what such a trade of Hien might have meant for her had Gid been offered such an Hdventure. A chill ran up her spine and she shook her head. (For pity's sake," she whispered.

| When she heard the front door close an altogether odd ^Occurrence when everyone else entered by way of the back |door she kept busy with her cake and hoped Gid might jf wander out to chat with her. Much to her surprise, he did,

though hereMately he seemed to be refraining from any

church talk with her.

"Makin' supper?" he asked, avoiding her eyes.

She nodded, not so eager to say a word, hoping he

wouldn't realize she'd overheard bits and pieces. "Bishop's downright worried," Gid said. Not as worried as I am, she thought. "He thinks what he wants to do might cause a real stir

iiinongst the People." Gid went and stood by the back-door

window overlooking the flower beds she and the girls had

planted not too many weeks ago. ,

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"Oh?" .

; Gid came right out and asked her, "Did ya happen to hear any of what we talked 'bout?"

"Only a little."

Gid turned and came to sit at the table, where he watched her blend together an egg, some cornstarch, and milk for the filling. "I can't stand up to him on anything," he admitted. "He has such a powerful way 'bout him. There's just no gettin' through to the man."

"The man of God," she said softly.

"Jah, exactly. How do ya deal with that?" He went on to say exactly what the bishop wanted to do: that he was mighty eager to bring new men into this close-knit community. By the time Gid finished, his hands were over his face, covering his eyes. "This'll bring such heartache to our families. I can't begin to say. . ."

She felt the pain for those boys Gid had just mentioned. "Sweethearts will be torn apart, too, no doubt."

"Jah, with all of them courtin'-age fellas." He rose and went into the front room again without saying another word.

'Tis an awful sad day for the People, Hannah decided then and there, knowing, if the bishop had made his choice, nothing could halt the course of those boys' lives.

An idea popped into her head just then, and she left her cake batter to hurry to Gid's side. "Why not make the tradin' something the boys could choose to do? Appeal to the adventuresome, maybe. Wouldn't that make much better sense than makin' it required?"

Gid was studying her face now, reaching out to embrace

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her. "That's a wonderful-gut idea, Hannah. This may be just the answer!" He kissed her cheek and then released her to rush out the back door, no doubt hoping to catch up with the bishop.

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1 hat's a right perty sight," Sadie said as she and Abe rode together to market in nearby Bartville on the first day of summer. She motioned to the colorful arrangement of petunias around a large birdbath as they passed one farmhouse.