The Forbidden (25 page)
She listened, taking in his every word.
“I had a mighty good opportunity to talk about our recent experience at the new church, ’bout seeking a relationship with God’s Son. But John washed his hands of it, said he wants nothin’ to do with such things.”
“Rosie . . . what’ll happen to her?” She held her breath.
“They’ll let us keep her without a fight. That’s what they said.”
Rosanna let out a whoosh of air. “They don’t mind if Rosie’s raised in the more progressive church?”
“I guess they’re hopin’ she’ll marry an Old Order boy, when the time comes. Honestly, I think they just assume the new church will lose its steam eventually, and those who’ve left will come to their senses and return. I don’t see that happening, though.”
She didn’t, either. The groundswell was strong. Freedom to worship, to study Scripture—well, it was too powerful to stop.
Elias pulled his suspenders, looking at her. “But the way things are with Kate, I guess we can’t count on anything.”
“You mean she could go even more ferhoodled and come take Rosie away, too?”
“As John kept sayin’, ‘Things are different now.’ ”
Something she could not contain rose up in her. “It’s wrong, Elias! Wrong as anything! Eli and Rosie must grow up
together.
” Shaking now, she described Rosie’s crying nearly all afternoon as if her little heart was aware of the separation. “I won’t stand by and let Kate do this!”
“I know how you feel, but getting worked up won’t help.” His gaze lingered on her. Then slowly, deliberately, he put his hands to his face and covered his eyes for the longest time. He, too, was weeping.
“Aw, Elias . . . love. You want your son back, same as I do.”
He nodded, his face still buried in his burly hands. “Jah, more than I dare say.”
After supper, while Nellie, Nan, and Rebekah were redding up the dishes, Nan asked Rebekah, “So, did you like helpin’ out at Nellie’s Simple Sweets?”
Rebekah nodded, drying a platter before handing it to Nellie to put away. “The Englischers are so friendly and chatty, jah? I was surprised how many asked for recipes.”
“And I don’t mind,” Nellie said. “Here lately we’re getting all kinds of new folk in the shop. Repeat customers, too.” She hoped she wasn’t boasting.
“Oh! About that,” said Rebekah. “I almost forgot! You’ll never guess who’s responsible for all the fancy folk makin’ a path to your door.”
Nellie exchanged glances with Nan.
“Who?” asked Nan.
“Susannah Lapp.”
Nan’s mouth fell open. “You don’t mean it.”
Rebekah nodded. “It’s true. Caleb mentioned it last night. She all but admitted she’s been spending her egg money on newspaper ads. Appears she’s intent on stirring up the staunchest Old Order folk.”
Nellie was befuddled. “Why on earth?”
“Well, finally. One mystery solved!” Nan said, laughing.
“What a schemer.”
Nellie didn’t feel any too kindly toward Susannah for the boost in sales. It seemed clear the girl was trying to build a wedge between herself and Caleb. And after last night, she’d accomplished it, too.
“Well, her plan didn’t work exactly as she hoped, now, did it?” Nan went on more gently, perhaps recalling what Nellie had confided. “The ads have helped more than the tittle-tattle hurt us.”
Nellie wasn’t so sure. Truth was, she found Susannah’s trick to be downright conniving, in spite of the beneficial influx of customers.
Wait a minute . . . could that be what Caleb was talking
to Susannah about at yesterday’s Singing?
Without even a glance out the window, Caleb knew there was a racket in the barn. It sounded like the driving horses had gotten out—galloping off—and he dashed outside to investigate, leaving
The Budget
behind on the kitchen table.
Caleb checked the barn and confirmed his suspicion, then went promptly to search for the horses in the deep pinewood, hoping to use the newly fallen snow to his best advantage by following the fresh horseshoe prints.
Something had obviously spooked the spirited horses, and he hoped they might soon be noticed by another farmer.
He’d known of horses sprinting off into the cold and, having a mind of their own, being found dead in the snow the next day. For this reason he persevered, continuing his search through the knee-high snow, wishing he’d taken time to at least put on an extra layer of socks.
What caused them to run off in this weather?
Eventually he turned back toward the house, where his father stood out on the front porch, waiting.
“I couldn’t catch ’em,” he called. “What do you want me to do?”
“You should’ve thought of that before leaving the stable door open, son.”
So he
hadn’t
latched the gate. . . .
But it was not the runaway horses that his father wanted to address as he headed down the steps and around the side of the house to the back door. “Come with me, Caleb.”
He followed his father inside to the kitchen, where Mamm was pushing wood into the belly of the old cook-stove. He was told to “sit awhile,” and he did, though not at his usual spot at the table. Instead he purposely sat at the foot, down where Rebekah had always sat.
“What’s on your mind, Daed?” He was taking the lead, an impertinent thing to do.
“Your sister Rebekah.” Stopping for a second, Daed looked at Mamm. “Your mother and I want to know where you took her last night.”
He’s asking only now?
Caleb inhaled. “Rebekah wanted to go to the Fishers’ . . . so that’s where she is.” He wouldn’t reveal that she’d slipped into the house unknown to anyone. Surely Nan and Nellie welcomed her with open arms.
Mamm sat to the right of Daed, her hair a bit unkempt as it sometimes was this late in the day. Her eyes seemed all washed out, almost gray where there was usually color, and the wrinkles in her face were deeper than he remembered, settling hard on her laugh lines. “Was she . . .” Mamm paused, reaching up her sleeve for a handkerchief. “Was Rebekah terribly upset?”
He nodded slowly.
“Weeping, I s’pose?” Mamm’s lower lip quivered uncontrollably.
“No . . . not that.”
She stared at the tablecloth, tears spilling over the knobs of her cheeks.
It was obvious how worried Mamm was—and how angry Daed was, too.
“She’ll be fine over there with Nan . . . and Nellie Mae,” he added, thinking of the letter he must write to Nellie. He had hoped the conversation with Daed would have made their predicament less dire, enabling him to offer her some word of hope along with his woeful attempt to explain.
“That’s the last place you should’ve taken her, son.”
“Where, then? It was awful late,” he protested. “And so cold . . .”
Daed shook his head emphatically. “Reuben Fisher’s house was not the place, and you know it. That’s two misdeeds in less than a day’s time.”
Caleb cringed, chafing under his father’s rebuke. He was glad when Daed headed upstairs to retire for the night, Mamm following dutifully behind. Caleb poured himself a glass of milk, downing it quickly. As he set the glass on the counter, he was amazed to hear the muted sounds of wayward horses galloping on the snow-packed lane, heading toward the barnyard.
“They’re back!” Caleb dashed outside to thank their neighbor to the south, who had driven them in, then made sure the horses had no gashes or scrapes. When he was satisfied they were in good shape, he muttered his own disgust at his second transgression, as Daed had declared it, and latched the barn door, this time double-checking.
As soon as Nellie finished setting up the display case Tuesday morning, she left Nan and Rebekah in charge of Nellie’s Simple Sweets and rode over to see Rosanna.
Entering the King home, she unloaded her baked goods onto the kitchen table and then threw her arms around Rosanna. Her friend seemed to have shrunk since Nellie had last seen her. Teary-eyed and frightened, Rosanna looked young and lost, and Nellie suddenly felt the older of the two, though Rosanna was nearly four years her senior.
“I am so sorry, Rosanna. Awful sorry,” Nellie said softly. “Mamma’s completely aghast at Kate’s behavior. And Dat, too.”
“We shouldn’t hold anything against her.” Rosanna helped Nellie off with her heaviest coat and two scarves. “Kate’s not herself.”
“How are you and Elias holding up?”
She shrugged. “It still doesn’t seem real. I keep thinking I’ll turn around and there he’ll be, in the playpen.”
“Kate hasn’t changed her mind, then?”
Rosanna shook her head. “Elias went over there yesterday afternoon, but . . .” She bit her lip, unable to continue.
Tears filled Nellie’s eyes and she squeezed her friend’s hand.
Rosanna turned to warm a bottle for Rosie, and Nellie offered to feed her. Holding the little one in her arms near the corner stove, Nellie relished Rosie’s sweetness as she took her bottle. Smiling, she glanced up from Rosie’s face and saw the heartbroken look in Rosanna’s eyes.
She could imagine how quickly one grew attached to a baby like Rosie.
What a loss!
She was tempted to remind Rosanna that it wasn’t as if she’d never see Eli again—she wasn’t losing him to death the way her family had Suzy. But Nellie thought better of it.
“I don’t see how we can go on this way, without our baby boy.” Rosanna’s words tore at Nellie’s heart. “Surely, the Lord will bring Eli back to us. . . .”
Nellie didn’t know what to say.
Rosie had slowed her anxious sucking now, eyes mighty droopy, and she began to succumb to sleep.
Rosanna took Rosie from her, going to lay her down in the playpen. When she returned, Nellie gave her another long hug.
“I hope your son comes home to you very soon,” she whispered.
“Thank you, Nellie Mae.” Rosanna smiled through her tears. “From your lips to God’s ear.”
Following Tuesday supper, Reuben headed to John and Kate Beiler’s, wishing he’d had an opportunity to do so when Betsy had first told of the dismaying news. Yesterday’s horse buyer had remained into the evening, staying on for supper after purchasing several fine Morgans. Thankful as Reuben was for the business, his mind had been elsewhere. Oh, but goodness, he felt someone ought to have a man-to-man talk with John, even though John was known to have a will like a wolf trap.
Reuben couldn’t help but wonder if John had been influenced solely by Kate. Or was there more to it?
Navigating the horse along the icy roads, he wondered about his own son James, out learning to drive a fancy car in such treacherous conditions. How awful spoiled a body could become in short order—so much comfort on four wheels—especially on a miserable night like this.
Holding the reins with both hands now, Reuben rode past one farm after another. It was a bright yet freezing night. Following the area’s recent heavy snows, livestock were safely stabled in all the farms up and down Beaver Dam Road. Passing Deacon Lapp’s place, it looked to him as if the deacon’s pasture gates and horse fences were nearly buried in white drifts.
He could see in his mind the deacon swaying from side to side as he walked, something like a grandfather clock. The kind and hardworking man had survived several farming accidents over the years. Despite the many changes of the past months, Reuben still considered the former ministerial brethren as his own, even though he assumed that eventually his brother would cease to oversee the New Order group.
Old things are passed away . . . all things are become
new.
Thankful for that Scriptural promise, he clucked his tongue to spur the horse along, wishing the Amish brotherhood might eventually see the light of divine grace.
In God’s own way . . . and time.
Now that he was out alone in the darkness, Reuben realized he hadn’t eaten his fill, and he was sorry he’d refused the tasty coconut cream pie. It certainly had tempted him, but he’d excused himself, pushing away from the fine turkey and stuffing dinner—practically a holiday feast, thanks to dear Betsy. But the wonderful-good pie was all Nellie’s doing.
Seeing John Beiler’s house, he made the turn into the driveway and wondered how the conversation might go. It wasn’t his place to tell John and Kate what to do, but he’d come on Betsy’s persuasion, and, well, here he was. Too late to turn back now.
Won’t the bishop have something to say about Kate’s
wicked deed?
He’d heard his elder brother had permitted John and Kate to give their babies to the Kings in the first place.
Reuben contemplated the man of God who had been wise enough to suspend the Bann for nearly three months, though that time was rapidly coming to a close. Nearly everyone had marked the date in red on their calendars—
February eleventh. Well, everyone safely settled in the new churches had.
But tonight it wasn’t so much the church split on Reuben’s heart as two little babies being pulled apart from each other . . . and the family raising them
.
Unbelievable.
He’d suffered enough loss for the rest of his life, with Suzy’s drowning the worst blow of all. But what about Elias and Rosanna
. . .
all the unborn babies they had lost, only to come to this? Wasn’t anyone willing to speak on their behalf? This went much deeper than two women squabbling over babies, he felt certain. The way Betsy had described it, Rosanna could have Eli back, but only if she renounced her interest in the New Order church.
But she hadn’t, and now he had appointed himself to defend Elias King, brand-new convert that he was.
One by one, people are coming to Christ. . . .
Hastily Reuben tied up his horse, glancing at the old stone farmhouse where the Beilers resided. With a prayer on his lips, he walked to the back door.
Caleb slid his long legs under the desk in his room, tuckered out from single-handedly unloading more than three tons of hay for a neighbor whose supply was running low due to last summer’s drought. Tomorrow would bring more of the same. He leaned back in the sturdy chair, relaxing at last.
He eyed the pulled-down green window shades that blocked the moon’s white radiance. The shades were like the shadows on his soul. Never before had he felt so hemmed in there, in the very place he stood to inherit, assuming he bowed to Daed’s demands. Caleb thought he had done so—had jeopardized his relationship with Nellie in doing it—but the end result was not to his father’s liking.
