Leah's Choice (19 page)

“I’m thirsty,”
Grossmama
said loudly from the far end of the table. “Is there more lemonade? My glass is empty.”

Rebecca leaned close to Leah’s ear and whispered. “She probably isn’t thirsty. She probably doesn’t like all the attention Aunt Jezzy is getting.”

“I’ll get some more from the house,” Johanna offered. She rose and put little Katy into Mam’s lap. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Roman began a story and Samuel had funny comments to make. Soon, everyone was laughing.

“Where’s that Johanna with my lemonade?”
Grossmama
demanded.

“I’ll go see what’s keeping her,” Leah offered.

“Probably spilled the whole pitcher,” her grandmother grumbled. “Bring me water if there’s no more lemonade. Better yet, buttermilk. You must have buttermilk. It’s good for my stomach.”

Daniel got to his feet. “I’ll come with you,” he said. “In case you need to carry anything.”

“No, stay here and finish your supper,” Leah said. If they went off together it would
look
as if they’d planned this—as if it was a scheme to be alone together. As long as Daniel was at the table, even Samuel couldn’t think they were doing anything wrong.

Instead of going in through the back, Leah walked around the house. Out front, she saw a buggy standing in the middle of the yard—Wilmer’s buggy. The horse was white with sweat, foam bubbled from his nostrils and his head hung down. Worse, the animal’s knees were scraped and bloody. Someone had driven him hard, so hard that he’d fallen on the gravel and injured himself.

Fear sent goose bumps rising across the tops of her arms. She quickened her pace toward the house, and as she neared the porch, she could hear Wilmer’s angry voice.

“You didn’t invite me!” he shouted. “A family gathering and you forget your husband!” Something heavy crashed to the floor. “You’re coming home with me! Where you belong!”

Leah ran up onto the porch and flung open the kitchen door. Wilmer rushed after Johanna, but she ducked around the table. He made a dash to grab her, but Leah seized the nearest object she could find—a broom—and thrust it between Wilmer’s ankles. He tripped and fell, giving Johanna and Leah time to run out onto the porch.

Wilmer came after them, roaring like a bull. His face was white, his eyes bulging. Leah caught the stink of alcohol radiating off his dirty clothing. Johanna’s husband looked like a tramp. One suspender hung loose, and his shoes were untied. His hands and arms were streaked with mud.

“Go home!” Johanna cried. “You’re drunk, and I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He dove at her. She leaped off the porch and Leah darted between them. “Leave her alone,” she shouted. Wilmer brushed her away with one swing of his arm.

From somewhere, the dogs had come. Jeremiah circled Wilmer, barking furiously, while the Shetland sheepdog crouched, growling. The dogs had never been hostile to Wilmer before. Leah sensed that they knew he wasn’t himself.

“Go home!” Johanna repeated. “You’re sick. I’m staying here with my children until you get help.”

Wilmer raised a meaty fist and advanced on her.

“Run, Johanna!” Leah shouted. She ducked behind Wilmer, grabbed the rope that hung from the big iron bell and rang it as hard as she could.

Wilmer beat Johanna to the gate, and he trapped her in the corner of the picket fence. She hitched up her skirt, put a foot on the cross-rung and attempted to climb over the fence, but he caught her bonnet string and yanked her head back. Her bonnet slipped off, and she dodged around him, running for the open gate. She dashed through just ahead of Wilmer.

Still shouting, he pounded after her, but, suddenly, Daniel appeared. He stepped in front of Wilmer and Johanna’s husband stopped short. “Get out of my way!” he threatened. “This is no business of yours, Mennonite!”

“Put your hand down,” Daniel said quietly. “This is no way to treat your wife.”

Wilmer put it down, all right. He smashed his fist into Daniel’s jaw. Daniel fell back onto the ground, but he scrambled up and put himself between a weeping Johanna and Wilmer again. “You don’t want to do this,” Daniel said, rubbing his chin. “Violence solves nothing. Better to talk this—”

Wilmer swung at him again. Leah screamed, but Daniel weaved out of Wilmer’s reach. “You need help,” Daniel said calmly. “I’m a nurse. I can help you get the medical attention you need.”

Behind Leah, people were gathering: Mam, Roman, her sisters and their husbands. Eli and Charley rushed forward and seized Wilmer. He cursed in German and tried to shake them off, but they were too strong for him. After a minute or two, Wilmer sagged to his knees, weeping. “She’s my wife,” he wailed. “It’s her duty. She has to come home. Tell her, Samuel. Tell Johanna she has to come home.”

Samuel strode forward and knelt in the dirt in front of Wilmer. He put his broad hands on Wilmer’s shoulders. “Shh, shh, brother,” he said, before glancing at Roman. “Bring your buggy. Not his buggy, yours. His horse is in no shape to be driven. We’ll take him to Bishop Atlee.”

Johanna threw herself into Mam’s arms. Her shoulders were shaking, but she wasn’t crying.

“It’s all right,” Mam said. “You’re safe. The children are safe.”

Everyone stared in silence as Eli and Charley and Samuel ushered a blubbering Wilmer into Roman’s buggy. “Did you see his horse?” Miriam said. “It’s a disgrace. He must have tried to run him on the blacktop.” She and Rebecca were already unhitching the trembling animal from its traces.

“Poor Boomer,” Johanna crooned. “I need to—”

“Go with Mam,” Ruth said. “Miriam and Susanna will look after the horse.”

Leah moved away from her family to where Daniel stood, still rubbing his jaw. “You were wonderful,” she said. “If you hadn’t come, I don’t know what would have happened.”

“I wouldn’t have hit him,” Daniel said. “I don’t believe in physical violence, but he wouldn’t have hurt you or your sister again. I promise you that.”

She looked up into his determined green eyes and felt a surge of what could only be admiration. “But you got hurt,” she said. “Your poor jaw.”

He shrugged. “Nothing serious. I’ve gotten lots worse playing soccer.”

Chapter Fifteen

“W
ilmer’s problems are too serious for your church elders to deal with,” Daniel said, later that evening, as he prepared to leave the Yoder farm. Leah had walked to the pickup with him, and they were standing close in the twilight. “He needs professional help. He’s suffering from depression; from what you’ve said, it sounds like he’s been suffering from it for some time. And your sister should file charges against him. I don’t understand why Samuel advises against it.”

“He’s her husband, and he didn’t hit her. Not this time,” Leah answered. “You prevented that from happening. The bishop won’t allow it to happen again. And Johanna and the children are staying here with Mam indefinitely, so Wilmer won’t have another opportunity to hurt her.”

Daniel gritted his teeth, trying not to allow his impatience to show. How could he make Leah understand how grave the situation was? Domestic violence cut across all races, incomes and religious groups. “Sometimes calling the authorities is the kindest thing to do,” he said as he rested his hand on the driver’s door of the truck.

“But it would be against our
Ordnung
.”

“Still, it might force Wilmer into the kind of treatment he needs.” Daniel wondered if he’d done the right thing by not calling the police himself. But he was an outsider, and if he interfered, Hannah might forbid Leah to see him again. His acceptance into this community was tenuous at best, and he didn’t want to make things more difficult for Leah.

On the overseas missions, Daniel had watched his father tread the difficult path between doing what was right to prevent injustice and not interfering with the cultural practices of the host country. Daniel had believed he understood. Now he had an inkling of just how difficult his father’s task had been. Daniel had always loved and admired him, as a teacher, a missionary and as a father. He only hoped he could do as well.

“What you did was very brave,” Leah said.

Daniel shook his head. “I’m a man. Younger than Wilmer, and probably stronger. It’s you who showed courage. You put yourself in danger to protect your sister.”

She shrugged. “I had to. I couldn’t let him hurt her.”

Even now, hours after the incident, Daniel was still shaken by how close Leah had come to being harmed. The feeling of protectiveness that had swept over him, when he’d seen Wilmer shove her, had barely faded. Daniel wanted to draw her into the circle of his arms and hold her safe. Suddenly, keeping her from harm seemed like the most important thing in the world.

“Leah…” He broke off, unable to express his feelings.

She was gazing off into the distance. “This is such a difficult situation. I think Wilmer loves Johanna, no matter how he behaves.”

“Maybe he does, but he shouldn’t be anywhere near her.”

“I agree, and so does my family. That includes Samuel. He’s our deacon, and his opinion is important in a situation like this.”

“What will happen if Wilmer refuses treatment? Will the bishop ignore it?”

“I don’t think so. Bishop Atlee, our preachers and Samuel are good men, and they care about Johanna, as well as Wilmer. If he doesn’t change, it’s possible they could shun him.”

“They still do that?”

She nodded. “They can. We don’t look at it as punishment, but as an act of love—a last attempt to turn someone we care about from a terrible mistake. If Wilmer was shunned, no one would eat with him, talk to him or permit him in their homes.”

“And your sister? Would she shun him as well?”

“She would. It would hurt her terribly, but Johanna’s faith is strong. She wouldn’t go against the bishop’s ruling. And neither would Mam, at least not for Wilmer,” Leah said.

“Let me make sure I understand this shunning.” He met her gaze. “Your mother wouldn’t turn against you if we married, would she?”

“Oh, no, Daniel. I haven’t been baptized yet. It’s my right to choose. It’s only those who are full members of the church who can be shunned. At least in our community.”

“If your bishop shunned Wilmer, would that include Johanna?”

“No. She and the children haven’t done anything wrong. And if Wilmer was shunned, there’s always a chance that he could redeem himself and then he could become one of us again.”

“Good. That makes me feel a little better. I never like to see families separated, but it’s better than what happened here today.” He opened the vehicle door. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

She was so close that he could smell the shampoo in her hair and the scent of sunshine in her crisp Lincoln green dress and apron. She was so beautiful, his Leah. And for just a moment, uncertainty filled him. How could he think that a girl like her would leave her family and church for him? How could he be so arrogant to believe that he could be worthy of her?

“Tomorrow?” he repeated.

“I think I need to stay close, in case Mam or Johanna needs me,” she said. “But you could come back after supper. We could walk down by the creek. It’s pretty there, under the willow trees.”

“If you need me before that, don’t hesitate to call. You have my cell number.” He knew that there was no phone at the farm, but he also knew the Yoders had phones available to them. “I’ll come if you need me. Don’t worry about the time. Day or night.”

She laid her small hand over his, and a surge of warmth flowed up his arm. “I will call if I need you,” Leah promised, “but we’ll be fine. Bishop Atlee and the elders will take care of Wilmer.” She removed her hand and smiled at him. “Your poor chin will be black and blue tomorrow and then you’ll have to explain to your family what happened at our picnic dinner.”

Daniel knew that he should start up his truck and go back to his aunt’s house, but he didn’t want to leave Leah. Not yet. “Would it be all right… Could we take that walk tonight?”

“I’d like that,” she said, smiling up at him. “Stay here, while I tell Mam. I’m sure it will be okay.”

Daniel got out of the pickup and leaned against it, waiting as Leah went back to the house. He wished he could talk to his dad, explain Johanna’s situation and get his opinion, but it was too late to call. His parents rose early and were probably already in bed. Besides, talking to his father would mean also talking with his mother, and the last phone conversation he’d shared with her had centered on Leah.

His mother agreed with his aunt and uncle that marrying someone of the Amish faith would put a strain on the marriage from the start. “I’m sure she’s a wonderful girl,” his mother had said. “But it’s so hard, as a young woman, to be in a strange country where you don’t speak the language. You remember that your father and I married quickly so that he could accept a position in a mission overseas. I underestimated how difficult it would be. You don’t know how many times I broke down and cried, how many times I wanted to leave our assignment and come home.”

“You were younger than Leah, Mom. She’ll be twenty-one in a few days.”

“I was, but twenty-one is still young to go so far from home and family. I was nineteen, stranded in an isolated village in Panama, alone when your dad had to travel. I felt so out of place that I doubted my own dedication to God’s work. Nothing against your Leah, but you have to think of her happiness. You may be asking too much of her. If you marry in haste and the marriage fails, you could ruin her life as well as your own.”

“Leah hasn’t agreed to marry me yet, Mom,” he’d answered. “And I’ve wrestled with every argument you can make against us marrying, but I can’t get past the belief that we’re meant to be together—that this is God’s plan for us.”

“Make certain you aren’t confusing your own desire with that of the Lord’s,” she said, quietly. “Remember that we love you, and we’ll support any decision you make—even if it’s to marry a girl you haven’t known more than a month.”

His mother hadn’t convinced him that Leah was wrong for him, but he knew that he hadn’t convinced his mother that she was right for him, either. She would continue to worry and to give her advice, as she always had. His mom and Hannah Yoder would both be surprised to know they had that in common. Both mothers would rather see him and Leah part than marry.