Seeing Your Face Again (7 page)

And once the community learned that the Knepp farm had gone under, Alvin could never live long enough to see his reputation restored. And Debbie, despite her assurance to him at Verna's wedding, wouldn't desire any further association with him. He'd wanted to tell her of the worsening financial condition at home, but the words had stuck in his mouth. He kept telling himself there still was hope. A portion of the corn crop had still been in the fields. They'd been late getting it in, as always, but that was expected. Their reputation as lousy farmers was well established in the community, so that shame didn't burn deep. What he hadn't expected was the early winter and the lighter yield on the lower 40 acres.

He'd told
Daett
what lay ahead, but
Daett
had claimed the samples of corn Alvin had brought in from the fields weren't representative of the truth. How could you open a few ears at random and get a true sample of the whole? And
Daett
didn't want any further investigation either.
Da Hah
would do what He wished,
Daett
said. They would bow their heads and accept the result.

So it had been for years when it came to
Daett
and his farming ways. Alvin had been the last of a long line of brothers, all of whom had never raised a complaint over how things were done on the home farm. There on the slopes east of the city of Lewistown, farming was the height to which any Amish man could aspire. Farming was in their blood, and land owners who didn't know how to farm were pitied and eventually scorned. Especially if they didn't profit
from the help others offered. Advice in these valleys was eagerly sought after and usually followed. That was true for everyone except Alvin's
daett
.
Daett
had his ways, and that was it. Nothing would change his mind. Let the others talk of the latest farming techniques, such as when it was best to get in the crops, based on information someone gleaned from a talk with the old timers in the community. Knowledge that might point to a dry summer ahead or an extra cold winter. All this was mulled over and discussed in great detail after the Sunday meeting. Alvin listened but it was useless to try to apply anything he'd learned at home.
Daett
ignored the talk after the services or got in an occasional snort of derision. This year he'd sat on the lawn and chewed a grass stem while the others made plans to get their corn crops in early. At times the consensus had been so strong that Alvin had dared raise the issue the next day at the breakfast table.

Daett
had laughed. “I won't listen to old wives tales, Alvin. It's the same thing whether the man at the
Englisha
tractor dealership says it or if Old Mose thinks his bones are aching. There's nothing to it. And we'll not stir ourselves to run around like chickens with our heads cut off over the spring planting. It will happen when it happens.
Da Hah
does all things in His own time, and man can do nothing about it.”

And that had been the end of the subject—only it hadn't been the end. Their corn crop had gone in later than anyone else's, even though a little hustle would have put the seed in the ground before the week of vicious thunderstorms set the planting back by another two weeks. And the early winter had caught them with corn still in the fields, which gave a yield that fell far short of what they needed to break even. Now winter had set in, and there was no money for next year's planting. Nor was there money to pay the mortgage payments.
Daett
had continued to borrow small amounts—for years now. No complaints from Alvin had changed his
daett
's ways. With the economy the way it was, the banker had
informed
Daett
last summer that there would be no more loans given. They needed to pay down on the loan amount, not increase it.

Alvin paced the floor of the motel room. There was no reason to even have a mortgage on the place. It had been a point of contention between him and his
daett
for years. Most of the other farmers were out of debt, and the Knepps should have been too. Especially with a farm as well established as their place was. On that point
Daett
had hung his head, but he'd done nothing to bring the problem under control. It was as if he were incapable of anything different, and he was too stubborn to let his youngest son try. There had been nights Alvin had lain in bed and wondered if they could make it until
Daett
retired. He would then take over the farm and change things. But “retirement” wasn't a word in
Daett
's vocabulary.

Beyond this there was Debbie. He was so unworthy of her. He'd told himself that a thousand times, but his feelings for Debbie wouldn't leave. To make things worse, she was such a
wunderbah
woman. Alvin figured he would never be satisfied with another woman, even one who was at his same station in life. Debbie deserved so much more than he could supply. With the farm on the brink, he was stuck with no place to go. The plan to bring his future wife home and have
Daett
and
Mamm
move into a
dawdy haus
was lost.

And what else could he do? He only knew how to farm. Without his own farm, he would be little more than a hired hand who worked on someone else's place. He'd get paid hired-hand wages, which weren't enough to support a family. In fact, these last six months he'd taken no pay. He hadn't needed it, he'd told himself, because he could never marry Debbie. And who would hire him with the Knepp reputation? Shame burned in his heart. He shouldn't have left Debbie like he had. The least he could have done was tell her goodbye. But he couldn't bring himself to speak the words, let alone face her. Even when his conscience throbbed, this decision had appeared to hurt less. Now he wasn't so sure.

Alvin stopped pacing. At least he hadn't stooped to asking
Daett
for money before he left. He would have a hard time surviving on the little money he'd saved since he'd turned twenty-one, but that was the way things were. He'd known the world out here wasn't anything like the farm at home. Things wouldn't be easy. But difficult or not, this was better than what would happen at home this spring. He didn't want to face that.
Daett
would no longer be able to hide the facts of the farm's failure when planting time came, and they couldn't afford to let the land lie dormant for a year.

Some Saturday afternoon, about the time the snow began to melt,
Daett
would make the trip to see Deacon Mast. The deacon would listen with bowed head. He would nod and express sympathy, but nasty repercussions would follow. A committee would be appointed, chosen by the harsh Minister Kanagy, if Alvin didn't miss his guess.
Daett
would lose control of his checking account. Changes would be demanded in his farming practices. Changes that Alvin had asked for many times and had been refused.
Daett
would nod and agree, but he would do what he always had done once the men drove out of the driveway—
nothing!
After a time the committee would catch on. They would send in a hired hand, but still there would be no change. The best hired hand in the world wouldn't be able to watch
Daett
's every move or change what the years had solidified in his soul.

If Alvin had stayed, the blame would also descend on his shoulders. “Alvin should have known better.” The whispers would make their rounds. “After all, isn't Alvin twenty-one and a man?” “You can't teach one of Edwin Knepp's boys anything,” they would say. And there were his brothers to prove the point. All of them had left farming when they married. Wallace and William, the twins, had taken construction jobs with crews who specialized in pole barns. Amos had a small harness shop outside of Beaver Springs. The business didn't do that well, but it was better than Amos's farming skills. Alvin had been the only brother left to take the farm into the next generation.

If he hated farming, the matter might have been easier to bear, but Alvin didn't. He loved the work, the early morning rising before dawn, the dew fresh on the grass, the neigh of horses eager to work, the smell of freshly mown hay in the summertime. He even liked the howl of the winter wind outside the house and the knowledge that the animals were safe and secure in the barn.

His love for the farm was really why he left, Alvin told himself. He couldn't bear the pain of losing the place. It tore at his emotions. He couldn't bear to see so much drift away when it could have been prevented. And his attraction to Debbie had made things worse.

His first glimpses of her had been exactly that—brief sightings of her car at first. He hadn't known who was in the car that repeatedly drove slowly past the farm. He'd expected an older, local couple. Perhaps someone fascinated with Amish farms. The car came by too often to have been the usual drive-by tourists. Alvin knew what they thought, even though he seldom heard them from his perch on the rusty seats of his horse-drawn farm equipment.

“How quaint these people are!”

“It's like living in the seventeenth century.”

“Such thrifty people!”

Alvin flopped on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Debbie's face had seemed like an angel's when he'd seen his first sight of her through the car window. She had apparently considered herself caught and had rolled down the window to wave. He'd waved back. She was an
Englisha
girl and more beautiful than he'd ever thought a woman's face could be. At first he'd told himself it was his imagination, that his backwards upbringing caused him to see what wasn't really there. He told himself that
Englisha
girls naturally appeared more attractive than their unadorned Amish neighbors.

But he wasn't able to convince himself. And then Debbie had continued to drive by. Apparently she felt comfortable with his acceptance of her presence. He'd tried to convince himself he would
never see her again, that she was not from his world, that he must think about an Amish girl when it came to love. But she'd haunted his dreams at night, and some days she was all he could think of while he worked the fields. And with how Mildred Schrock had used him after they both joined the young folks—how she'd turned up her nose at him after their schooldays crush on each other—he had plenty of reason to consider a girl outside the community.

Alvin was at Bishop Beiler's farm one afternoon when Debbie walked out of the barn. He'd stayed in his buggy for fear his tongue would stammer and stutter. He'd dared ask Bishop Beiler who she was though—after Debbie had driven out of the lane and given him the usual brief wave and quick smile. Bishop Beiler hadn't seemed too curious about his questions, and strangely enough the bishop seemed to have friendly feelings toward the girl.

“She's Debbie, our neighbors' girl,” the bishop had told him. “She's been coming over ever since she was a child. She's
gut
friends with my girls.”

So there was more to Debbie's frequent trips past his place than touristy curiosity. Still, he knew he should never think of an
Englisha
girl with romantic notions. Then the unthinkable had happened. Debbie had moved into the Beiler household, and the whispers around the community were that she planned to join the faith. Her trips past his place had stopped about the same time.

Paul Wagler was soon enamored with the charming
Englisha
girl. This didn't surprise Alvin. He might have been able to get over Debbie eventually if she hadn't asked him to wait on tables with her at Verna's wedding. There she'd taken it upon herself to assure him that she wasn't interested in Paul. After that talk he'd almost convinced himself that he could ask her home some Sunday evening after the hymn singing. In fact, he had promised Debbie he would do so soon.

But in the end he couldn't. Not with the farm situation. He
loved Debbie too much to ask her to walk with him through that shame. There would be plenty in the community who were willing to remind Debbie how great this disgrace would be—Paul Wagler being the first in line.
Nee
, it was best if he found his own way in this world, far from the community and his unchangeable past.

Seven

T
he Friday-night Amish youth volleyball game in the barn was well underway. Paul Wagler dominated the front row at the moment, sending one spike ball after the other over the net, flashing triumphant looks toward Debbie in the spot next to him after each success.