Finding Love at Home (The Beiler Sisters) (31 page)

Bishop Beiler paced for long moments with clasped hands before he continued with the story of the resurrection on Sunday morning. Debbie thought his face almost glowed as he spoke of how the women found the tomb empty and of their wild rush back to tell the disciples of the discovery. And no one believed them!

A smile played on the bishop’s face. “This can be a lesson to us. Sometimes our wives see things that we men haven’t seen, and we must be open-minded enough to listen.
Da Hah
may have revealed to them what lies hidden to us.”

A few of the older men across the room nodded, probably remembering instances when such things had happened in their marriages. Debbie supposed Amish men, just like other Christian men, did need the reminder from time to time of the importance of their wives’ counsel. She’d never seen Bishop Beiler run roughshod over Saloma’s opinions, but she knew it wasn’t unheard of in other marriages. She had only to think of Minister Kanagy seated on the front bench to believe him capable of such a thing. But from what Ida claimed—if she could be believed—even Minister Kanagy had a kinder heart than he let on at times.

Bishop Beiler wrapped up his sermon and called for the bread and wine. Deacon Mast appeared in the kitchen doorway as if he’d waited long for this moment. They all stood for prayer, and the congregation members remained on their feet afterward. From the corner of her eye, Debbie saw Alvin sit down. Then she remembered Alvin had said he had to “voluntarily” stay back from communion. None of it had made a lot of sense at the time. She supposed she didn’t understand everything about Amish church maneuvers yet. But Alvin must be surviving his voluntary humiliation if he could date Mildred Schrock so openly and so quickly.

Bitterness ran through her, and Debbie whispered a quick prayer. “I’m sorry, Lord. I don’t want to harbor unforgiveness in my heart for Alvin… or anyone.” The bitterness seemed to fade, and Debbie took a deep breath. If Alvin wanted Mildred Schrock as his
frau
instead of her, she must not hold that against him. She just wished he’d been man enough to come out and say so instead of going through all that mumbo jumbo about church problems. But then Alvin probably knew more about such things than she did. She must allow for that possibility, and she must forgive.

Debbie gathered her thoughts as Deacon Mast came down the aisle of the unmarried women’s section. The deacon broke off pieces of bread from the loaf in his hand for each member. No one had gone over this part of the service with her. Ida or Saloma would have if Debbie had thought to ask, but there had been too much activity recently. Debbie watched out of the corner of her eye as each girl ate the piece of bread given to her and sat down at once. That was different from what she was used to. In her parents’ church everyone waited until the entire congregation could eat together.

Debbie took her piece of bread, put it in her mouth, and sat down. She chewed the bitter taste of the unleavened loaf. This was most appropriate, she thought, and so unlike the delicious flavor of the usual Amish homemade bread. They were to remember what the Lord had suffered. Bitter bread made a whole lot of sense.

Debbie caught sight of Alvin’s mournful face. As she watched, his face brightened considerably. His gaze had focused on the unmarried girls’ section, and he was exchanging looks with Mildred. Her smile had obviously reached his heart.

What did Mildred have that she didn’t have? The thought raced through Debbie’s mind with a sharp sting. Was that what Alvin had referred to when he’d rambled on at their last date about being “tired of trying, of dreaming big things, of…” What had he said? “I just want to be a simple farmer… to live in peace and raise my family in the community like I was raised.”

Alvin had meant he could do that with Mildred. Debbie didn’t want to admit it, but it was true. She’d been rejected for not being good enough. She hadn’t supplied the stability Alvin wanted. She would never be a true Amish woman even if she sat and ate unleavened bread for the rest of her life.

The tears stung as they flowed, but Debbie left them alone. If people noticed, they would think she was crying over the joy of participating in her first communion service.
What a disgrace this is! Shedding tears over a man at this most sacred moment.
Maybe she was
nothing but a fake. Hadn’t she wondered this same thing in those first days when she’d moved into the Beiler home? Maybe she ought to just get up right now and run out. She could let everyone see that Alvin had been right. There would at least be the satisfaction that she’d make one man really happy. Alvin could then congratulate himself for the rest of his life over his wise choice of Mildred over her.

Debbie took several deep breaths. This was only her exhaustion speaking. These feelings of utter failure would soon pass. She knew they couldn’t be true. If she needed any proof, she had only to think of Bishop Beiler’s confidence in her. He might not know all her secret thoughts about Alvin, but she didn’t think that would make much difference to the bishop.

Bishop Beiler’s call for prayer brought Debbie out of her thoughts. She stood and remained on her feet with the others when the prayer was completed. The cup of wine was soon handed to her, and Debbie took a sip. When she sat down, the first thought that crossed her mind almost made her burst out in laughter. That had been real wine—and quality stuff at that. Wherever the deacon had shopped, it hadn’t been cheap. Now that was unexpected. Her parents’ church always used grape juice. Her mom, for all her worldly ways, would pass out in horror if she was asked to drink anything else in church.

Debbie wiped the threat of a smile off her face and put on a sober look. These people had no end of surprises up their sleeves. And none of them were in any danger of drunkenness either. How great of the Lord to send her this little boost of humor right in the middle of the dark vortex she’d almost spiraled into.

Moments later the bishop’s voice interrupted her thoughts again as he called for testimonies on the sermon preached. Several more minutes passed as those were given by two older men. A song number was shouted out. After singing, the congregation would wash feet next. Debbie had gleaned this information from past conversations with the Beiler girls. They’d always been glad when the time had arrived because feet washing signaled the end of a long day.

There was more to the practice than simple relief, of course. When they washed each other’s feet, the members of the community demonstrated their forgiveness and acceptance of each other and their willingness to serve even the lowliest among them.

Suddenly an unexpected thought entered Debbie’s mind. She pinched herself when it first came. She wouldn’t do that. It was out of the question. Yet the thought wouldn’t go away. If she wanted to live in peace among these people, what better way to continue that journey than to clear the air between Mildred and her? She would wash Mildred’s feet.

The thought made chills of rage and fear run up and down her back. She would be admitting defeat by her action, there was no question about that. And what self-respecting girl ever admitted defeat—even in the face of obvious rejection? But that was exactly the kind of worldly thought she wished to leave behind. Debbie decided she
must
do this. For her own sake and for Alvin’s. She would release Alvin, and she would forgive Mildred.

Debbie steeled herself with determination. When her row of unmarried women moved toward the wash basins set up in the kitchen, she pushed forward and tapped Mildred on the shoulder. “I’d like to wash your feet,” she said with more confidence than she felt.

A look of horror appeared on Mildred’s face, but it was slowly replaced with relief as Debbie kept her smile evident. Mildred seemed to know what Debbie was up to as she sat down in front of one of the bowls and held her foot over the water. Debbie sank to her knees and took Mildred’s foot in her hands. It was the foot of a farm girl, rough and obviously used to being bare in the garden. Debbie dipped the foot into the basin and splashed water gently over it. Then she lifted Mildred’s foot gently and dried it. Then she took Mildred’s other foot and did the same.

When she finished, Debbie looked up to meet Mildred’s gaze. Her expression was hard to read. The two young women exchanged
places. Her own feet in Mildred’s hands looked nothing like Mildred’s had. Hers were the feet of a city girl, soft and white. She worked outside barefoot occasionally at the Beilers’, but she was clearly in another league compared to Mildred. Maybe Alvin had been right in his choice. She wouldn’t have wanted to live with a man who always compared her to what he was used to and found her lacking.

Mildred finished Debbie’s feet, and the two stood and gave each other the customary kiss on the cheek.

Mildred held her close for a moment and whispered in Debbie’s ear, “Thank you for that. I hope you find the love of your life someday.”

Debbie nodded, but she didn’t trust her voice even to whisper. The two parted, and Debbie found her way back to her seat. This had indeed been a memorable day—way beyond anything she’d expected. Her mother would think she was mad for having washed her rival’s feet, but didn’t that answer the biggest question of all? She really was Amish, wasn’t she? Yes, she was! Debbie answered her own question. And for right now that was all that mattered.

Thirty-One

I
da pushed back the curtains of her upstairs bedroom to look out at the still, dark sky. She’d lit the kerosene lamp moments earlier unable to sleep any longer on this, her wedding day. She glanced at the clock on her dresser. Four-thirty. Ida took a deep breath. She’d been tense all night with a nameless dread that had now disappeared.
Da Hah
had seen her through the days and months since Melvin had passed, and today she would finally be a bride.

Ida rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The faces of Melvin’s children had rushed past her all day yesterday. But this wasn’t a stuck-together situation with Ben, Melvin’s brother, just for the children’s sake. Even if it had been, Ida reminded herself that this marriage would have been worth the price to have Melvin’s children in her life again. She’d wanted this, and
Da Hah
had mercy on her in granting her desire. He had sent the first feelings of love for Ben into her heart some weeks ago. Who would have thought that Ben had such a tender side to him? Life with him would be pleasant as
Da Hah
, hopefully, would give them many years together. She might actually come to love Ben as deeply as she had Melvin. She was older now, and what she had with Ben would be enough.

“
Yah
, it is,” Ida whispered. “It’s much more than I ever expected.”

Ben had agreed that it would be wise to meet with all the children last night at his place. They had put it off so that Melvin’s children wouldn’t struggle with the fear of losing Ida again at the last minute. But last night had been a good time to meet. The children were going to be scattered again among Ben’s family for a few days. And then they would all be together in one house. Ben and Ida would be back on Sunday night. Ben hadn’t requested the time alone with Ida, but wisely she had insisted. They did, after all, barely know each other. Normally a newly married couple had many months together before another person was added to the family. The least she could do was give Ben and her a few days of time alone to begin to establish a solid foundation as a married couple.

Ida smiled as she thought about what she’d told Ben. “You might need time to get used to my quirks.”

Ben had laughed. “You seem pretty normal to me.”

“I might be putting on quite a show,” she’d teased. Really, she had been honest with Ben from the start, and so had he been with her. That was a
gut
foundation on which to build a marriage. They could both be thankful for whatever love
Da Hah
had allowed to grow in their hearts for each other.

And by Monday morning, when all the children returned, they would be so buried with work there would be little time for anything else. That was really what had awakened her this morning, Ida mused. Willard, the eldest of Melvin’s children. Her largest and most urgent work lay with Willard. He’d never gotten over the shock of finding his
daett
’s mangled body under the cultivator. That was not something a nine-year-old should experience. Willard had been a cheerful, open boy before that day. But he had turned into a ten-year-old who spoke little and walked through life with a closed-off attitude. The happy Willard was inside there somewhere, Ida told herself. If
Da Hah
allowed her to reach Willard, then Ida felt her days on this earth would not have been wasted.