Along Wooded Paths (21 page)

“Welcome, everyone. It’s great to have you tonight. We can get started,” Devon Carash began. “Let’s start by asking God to bring to mind those who need prayer. You don’t need to state their need. You don’t even need to say their names aloud, but if you know someone who needs your prayers—your friendship—would you raise your hand?”

Hands went up around the room. Some shot up like arrows, others tentative. Ben looked down at his Bible cover, considering all those with needs. Then, as he glanced up, a face formed in his mind’s eye. It wasn’t who he expected. Instead of Marianna . . . he saw Carrie’s face.

Ben raised his hand. Devon looked to him and nodded, and he lowered it.

As heads bowed to pray, Ben rested his face in his hands. His shoulders shook, and he pressed his fingertips into his forehead. Was he being sucked back into that relationship again? Carrie was beautiful, no doubt. She had everything going for her—her father’s money and her own personal drive. In Los Angeles she was never without friends, and while he liked that she volunteered to help with girls—something didn’t seem right. Even volunteering didn’t take up all of her day. Surely she didn’t spend the rest of her time just hanging out with her dad.

So why is she really here?
The question rose in his mind unbidden. He pushed away those thoughts and submitted himself to the fact that God wanted him to pray for her.

She’s looking for something or waiting for something.
Ben wasn’t sure which
.

As he thought about that, and as Devon began to pray for all the unspoken requests, Ben replayed the moments with Carrie in his mind. She’d been overjoyed to see him. She’d wanted to talk with him, cook for him. She’d smiled when she saw him, and talked with him—but what he saw in her eyes wasn’t attraction—well, at least not completely. It was safety. She felt safe with him there.

Were there other things in her life that she felt were out of control and unsafe? Ben prayed there weren’t.

Then, as they continued to pray, Marianna’s face came to his mind. Compassion moved from his heart to his lips. How hard it would be to explore a new relationship with God and be confronted with so many duties, so many questions about where life was headed. She must be confused. She
was
confused. She’d told him that—or had she? Maybe he’d just seen it in her eyes.

He prayed for Marianna too. In silence. Other people prayed their prayers out loud. They prayed for children and parents and neighbors and friends. Still others read Scripture verses aloud, and as they did, God’s Word burrowed deep into Ben’s soul. One woman sang a song of praise, and though it wasn’t professional, it was beautiful.

As the prayer meeting started winding down, a still small voice stirred:

Just be a friend.

It seemed too simple, but the words repeated.

They both need a friend.

It wasn’t until he was putting on his coat, preparing to head into the cold night, that Ben realized he hadn’t prayed for what he’d planned on praying for. He hadn’t prayed for his career. He hadn’t prayed for God to make him strong. He hadn’t prayed for a song.

But that was okay. God knew his needs.

He didn’t need to worry about who Marianna would choose. He didn’t need to worry if Carrie would ask more of him than he wanted to give.

He’d be a friend and leave the results up to God.

Dear Journal,

I got scared today, real scared. It happened after I’d already gotten home. Jenny had been gracious enough to give me a ride home. She seemed rested and happy after her nap. I was able to clean up the house some, which I’m sure was a help, but mostly I just spent time with Kenzie.

When Jenny dropped me off, I would have invited her in to visit, but Kenzie had fallen asleep in her car seat, and Jenny said she needed to get her home. The fear came when I walked into Mem and Dat’s home. They were just sitting down to chicken and dumplings, one of Mem’s favorite dishes to make for Dat. The boys had built a tower of blocks that I almost kicked over by accident when I entered the door. The house was warm and clean. There was laughter. Baby Joy was sitting on Mem’s lap smiling, capturing everyone’s attention. Aaron greeted me as I sat next to him with a squeeze on my hand. And then, as we bowed for silent prayer, fear splashed over my soul like a bucket full of ice water. I realized then that if things hadn’t changed so drastically I never would have understood what I had. More than that, I never would have understood what others didn’t have.

Not once in my life before my move had I ever been in an Englisch person’s home, except for our neighbor down the road to use her phone. And for the most part that home had been exactly like ours. The same style. Clean and tidy. Sure, there were colored curtains and patterned dresses hanging on the line. There was a phone and electric lights and art hanging on the wall, but the difference wasn’t alarming.

Yet being with Jenny today made me realize even more that the world is not like we know it. Sure, we hear stories. Our parents tell us what could happen, how we could end up if we leave our Amish ways, but I don’t even think they understand. Jenny’s not much older than me. She has a child. She has little money. Her house is cold. I shiver as I write those words. Not because I’m cold—although the woodstove downstairs is dying out and the draft is sure to come soon—but because I wonder how many Jennys are out there. I worry there is no one to care for them.

Tears are coming now and I can’t explain it. All I wanted to do was marry Aaron Zook and live a simple life. Nothing about my life is simple now. Nothing will ever be simple again. For the rest of my days I’ll never forget walking through those doors, seeing the empty cupboards. I’ll never forget the stab of my heart when Kenzie asked if God thought her mama was bad because she didn’t wear a kapp.

What if I’d never come here? I dragged my feet but still I came. What if I leave? Will anyone understand if I try to tell them? Or will they protect their ears as they gather their families close and keep the Englisch world far away.

I wonder what Levi sees. My brother has lived in the Englisch world longer than me. When I talked to him about just wanting to marry Aaron and make a home, what had he been thinking? Did he wish he could take me by the hand and show me what I didn’t yet know? Or did he secretly wish he could return to the place of innocence? Did he envy me?

This makes me think of my own siblings. David’s nearly thirteen, and before I know it the other kids will be at their rumspringa too. Will they, like me, already have their minds set on the Amish way or like Levi will they feel like they never belonged and leave all they know?

I can’t decide what I’d rather have for them. Would I rather have them only hold memories of the Amish world deep inside? Or would I rather have them know—know and understand heartache, cold, and pain? Do I want them to meet a Jenny and a Kenzie and understand the world in new ways? Understand God in a new way? I’m not quite sure.

What does Aaron think of it all? At dinner as I shared about my day, I saw him squirm in his seat. Does he worry about me spending too much time with people not our own? Maybe it was just the pain in his leg that made him fidgety, but for some reason I do not think Aaron would do well in the same situation as I faced today. In fact, I don’t know what he’d think of Jenny, a woman with a baby with no husband around. My gut aches now, something else to add to my tears. It aches because the knowing makes me realize that even though reading Bible stories to one child is a start, there are far too many cupboards sitting empty this night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Climbing the store’s back set of stairs that Ben had finished building a little over a month before the snow started to fall, Marianna pulled a set of keys out of her pocket, lifting them to the porch light.

As she moved the key to the handle, the door popped open. Marianna jumped back.

“Marianna, come outta the cold, wouldja?” Sarah called in her familiar lilt.

“What are you doing? I thought I was on the first shift.”

“
Ja, ja
”—Sarah wiped her hands on her apron—“but I got me a ride. Jenny found me shivering, walking in the cold, and brought me in. Maybe we shoulda gone hunting the snow drifts for you too.”

“Jenny?” Marianna scanned the dining room, then the kitchen. “Is she here? Is she already at work?”

“Oh no. Today’s the day Kenzie was going to stay with her grandmother in Eureka. Jenny had to drive her there before work.”

Marianna clucked her tongue. “That’s a long drive in bad weather. Surely she could have called and changed the date.”

“That’s what I thought.” Sarah moved back to the kitchen where she was hand-shaping donuts to be fried. “But she’s canceled twice already and felt bad.”

Marianna thought of the fresh snow she’d walked on. Unplowed. Untouched. She also thought about Jenny’s compact car and the tires that were as bald as baby Joy’s smooth head.

The numbness of Marianna’s nose from her walk suddenly didn’t matter. Even though she wasn’t a fearful person, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Jenny’s in trouble. Call for help.

The words came with the rapid beating of her heart.

Without a word to Sarah, Marianna hurried to the store phone, picked it up, and dialed. She dialed the only phone number she’d memorized. The only one she knew to call.

“Hello.”

Hearing Ben’s groggy voice caused her to smile, even though what she was calling for wasn’t anything to smile about.

“Ben, I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Mari, it’s fine. I was up—well, after I heard the phone I was up. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m at work. It’s Jenny and Kenzie. I’m worried about them. I—” She went on to explain Jenny’s plan to drive to Eureka this morning. “The roads are covered with fresh snow, and the drive toward the bridge is always so bad.” Marianna placed a hand on her heart. “I know people drive these roads all the time, but I can’t explain it. As soon as I heard she’d be on that horrible road, I had to call you. I can’t explain why, I just knew. It’s like no matter how I tried, I wasn’t gonna be able to think of another thing. That sounds strange,
ja
, but that’s what it feels like inside—God trying to get my attention.”

“She might be fine, but I’ll go check. You were right in calling me, Mari. That nudge is the Holy Spirit. It’s God-in-us pointing out things we need to pay attention to.”

“I’m sorry, Ben. Sorry to bother you, to wake you.” She looked over her shoulder and for the first time realized Sarah stood there, mouth agape. Sheepishly Marianna curled the cord of the phone around her finger and looked to Sarah’s eyes, guessing why her friend was so surprised. First, Marianna was talking on the phone so naturally . . . and to an Englischman. Second, knowing his phone number by heart. Third, talking about God like this. Marianna looked back to the phone, pretending to be interested in the numbered buttons on the front panel.

“Like I said, don’t worry about it. I’m heading out now. I’ll call you and let you know what I find.”

“
Ja, denke
. Thank you so much.” She returned the handset to the phone’s cradle.

“What was that about?”

Marianna turned. Sarah stood at the counter by the front register stacking the pennies in the small cup. The note on the cup said, “Take one, leave one.” Oh, if only she could take her words back—at least what she’d said about God. She never would have said them if she’d known Sarah stood right there. No one that she knew—not even a bishop—would be so bold as to tell someone that God was directing her or him to do such a thing. That a stirring inside was actually God’s prodding. The natural question to ask was, “Why you and not anyone else?”

She’d learned every day of her life that all Amish were the same. To say that God spoke to you in a way that He didn’t speak to the others would be a sure way to set yourself apart—which no Amish person ever wanted to do.