The Shunning (26 page)

On the way home, she thought of stopping by for a quick visit with

Ella Mae but decided against it. Why prolong the inevitable? She knew she was in for a tongue-lashing from her parents just as sure as she knew she was the daughter of an English family somewhere out in the modern world.

————

Katie was late getting up on Sunday.

Frustrated and sorrowful over the girl’s deplorable conduct during the past week, Rebecca knocked on her daughter’s door. “Mustn’t be late for Preaching today,” she sang out.

“I won’t be going” came the terse reply.

“Not going? Katie, don’t be this way,” Rebecca scolded. Even though she was reluctant to incite another exchange of words with her rebellious offspring—in spite of that—she hurried downstairs to find Samuel and the boys.

Within minutes, the three men were standing outside Katie’s room. Samuel was the first to speak. “Katie, don’t be letting stubbornness hinder ya from going to church on the Lord’s Day.”

No answer.

“Come on, sister,” Benjamin implored. “They’ll be talking about shunning you for sure if ya don’t go. At least come and act like you’re sorry—a little humility would help a lot.”

Katie groaned. “I told you already. I can’t be confessing. Now leave me be.”

“Then you’ll burn in hell,” Eli offered, since all else had failed. “You’ll—”

“Eli, hush.” His father pointed to the stairs. Samuel leaned forward, his beard touching the door. “If you choose to stay home, daughter, the bishop will have no recourse but the shunning!”

“I know,” Katie replied. “But I won’t go to church and pretend to confess—not after the way I’ve been lied to all these years.”

Rebecca breathed in quickly, her heart pumping hard at the accusation. Still, she had to speak her piece. “Don’t go blaming
us
, Katie,” she said, her voice breaking. “We did the best we could.”

Why wouldn’t the girl listen to reason? Why wouldn’t she heed her family’s advice? If only there was something else she or Samuel or the boys could say or do to prevent what was coming. . . .

Sorrowful, Rebecca turned away and descended the stairs. She couldn’t bear it. Dared not ponder what Preacher Yoder would be thinking of them—her and Samuel—now that Katie had gone and told him everything. Katie said he’d promised not to breathe a word to a soul. But the truth was . . . now Rebecca herself and Samuel were in need of confessing. Most probably, they’d have to meet the preacher out in the barnyard behind David and Mattie Beiler’s house after church service. Best they do it soon, too, before he had to approach
them
.

One thing was for sure and for certain. They’d be doing their confessing in private—before the situation spread out of control, like a cancer that could not be cured.

————

Katie ate the noon meal alone. She thought of the People and what was going on over at the Beiler house—Bishop John’s relatives; hers, too—Mattie being her mother’s first cousin.

She could see it now—Mattie flapping her tongue every which way long before Preaching ever got started. She would be all ears, too, especially when the preacher began his discussion before the membership after the church service. He would mention Katie’s unwillingness to come to Preaching on this the Lord’s Day to humble herself before God and these many witnesses. He would say that she had been properly warned but would not refrain from her transgression and rebellion.

Each church member would be allowed to voice opinions about the wayward one in question. Ella Mae might speak up, remind the People of the hardships that had already befallen the poor lamb. Rebecca, too, might even put in a few good words on her daughter’s behalf. At least, she’d think about it. But in the end, she wouldn’t go through with it, because she was in need of repentance herself, and the preacher knew it!

Mary Stoltzfus might be brave enough to say something nice about her best friend—that is, if she’d been able to forgive Katie for the harsh words she’d spoken to her on the mule road the last time they’d seen each other.

At some point, the bishop would be called to the front. John’s place was to decide what to do about the situation, and knowing how things were usually carried out, Katie was pretty sure the People would be warned not to eat at the same table with her, do business with her, and so on, for the probationary period of six weeks. After that, if she did not come to church and offer a kneeling confession, she—Katie Lapp—would be shunned “even unto death.”

Eighteen

M
ary Stoltzfus was not at preaching, either. A few minutes before the service started, Rachel told Rebecca that her daughter was suffering from a severe headache. But Rebecca’s mind was not on such a small botheration; it was on the membership meeting to come.

Rachel, however, wanted to discuss Mary’s problem, whispering behind her hand that one of Mary’s beaus—Chicken Joe—had taken Sarah, Mattie Beiler’s granddaughter, home from a supper with their buddy group last night. “Mary’s terrible upset about it—and awful worried, too.”

“Why’s that?” Rebecca asked, hardly able to pay attention when her heart was breaking for Katie.

“Mary’s . . . afraid she’ll never get married.”

“Ach, she will, she will,” Rebecca said, waving her hand.

“Too bad Katie won’t be able to help Mary with her disappointment,” said Rachel, glancing at the preacher and the bishop already conferring. “The girls have been so close for so long. They seem to know how to comfort one another.”

“Jah. But things are about to change, I fear,” Rebecca said. “Unless the bishop’s heart is softened somehow, there will be a Meinding amongst the People.”

————

The verdict was harsh.

Rebecca sat stiff and straight on the hard wooden bench, wishing with all her strength that something might happen to turn the tide. Her Katie—poor, dear, stubborn Katie—being the topic of all this awful shunning talk, well, it was more than she could endure. To keep from crying out, she clamped a hankie over her lips.

Mattie must have heard the muffled sob, because she glanced cockeyed at Rebecca from a few benches away. Rebecca felt anew the familiar twinge of conflict between them. Her cousin’s look spoke volumes:
You didn’t call on me to help deliver your daughter long ago, but look at
me . . . my grown children are better than yours. My children never would
think of goin’ and gettin’ themselves shunned
.

Rebecca closed her eyes, blocking out Mattie’s haughty gaze and the distressing scene on all sides.

Preacher Yoder and Bishop John were both presiding over the membership meeting now. Rebecca heard the voices but kept her eyes shut.

The room was filled with confusing talk. “Love the wayward one back to the fold,” someone suggested. “Impose severe restrictions so she’ll know what’s comin’ if she don’t repent,” said another.

Then Bishop John spoke up. “The bride of Christ must not tolerate arrogance. Katie Lapp has shown rebellion and insolence repeatedly.”

The Scriptures and theology behind the practice of shunning were familiar enough to Rebecca, but today the Meinding took on a heartbreaking new dimension. Today it had struck at her very heart—her beloved Katie. And with everything in her, Rebecca wished there was another way.

————

Katie heard the news first from John Beiler himself. It came just before her parents and brothers arrived home in time for afternoon milking. She saw the bishop step out of his carriage and walk, rather awkwardly, toward the back door.

The thought of stealing away to the Dawdi Haus presented itself, but she knew, sooner or later, she must hear the truth from John Beiler’s own lips.

He gave a firm knock. Then, standing tall as though braced for battle, he stepped into the house when Katie opened the door. He came only as far as the utility room, took off his felt hat, and faced her with a stern expression in his steel gray eyes.

Katie said nothing, did not even greet him or bid him welcome in her father’s home.

When he spoke, it was with icy control. “I urge ya to attend church during the next six weeks. Come as a non-member and meet with the ministers”—by this, she gathered he meant himself—“but you’ll have to leave before the fellowship of members and the common meal each Sunday. Not one of us in the Hollow will be speaking to you now. You may not eat at the same table as church members or do business with any of us until such time as ya return and offer a kneeling confession.”

Katie listened, limp with disbelief. The swiftness with which the discipline had been issued left her reeling.

“The punishment is suitable for all those who have surrendered themselves to the Lord,” he explained, then quoted Ezekiel, chapter thirty-three, verse nine. “‘Nevertheless, if thou warn the wicked of his way to turn from it; if he does not turn from his way, he shall die in his iniquity.”’

Die in iniquity. . . .

She kept quiet, eager for him to leave.
I nearly married this cruel
man
, she thought with disdain.
How could I have considered such a
thing?

“Do you understand that this chastening is so that the weeds will not continue to grow while you wait for the judgment of Christ?” John asked solemnly. “To bring you back to the loving heavenly Father?”

She felt the fury welling up inside her. She began to shake her head. “No, no . . . I
don’t
understand anything about my life here with the People. Not one little bit of it.”

A frown, mingled with concern, flashed across his face, and for a moment, Katie feared that he might be thinking of addressing her in a more personal manner. But his jawline hardened, and he turned and let himself out the back door without another word.

————

When Dat arrived, he came directly inside and set to work, putting up a small, square folding table across the kitchen a good distance from where the rest of the family ate their meals. He did not speak to Katie as he worked, not even to offer a smidgen of sympathy, and she knew the Meinding had officially begun.

Mamma came in not long after, her eyes swollen and red. The sight stirred Katie’s compassion, and she wanted to run to her mother and comfort her. But she forced herself to sit stone still as Rebecca shuffled past her and went upstairs.

Eli and Benjamin appeared in the doorway and steered clear of Katie, moving almost mechanically as they headed toward the wood-stove to warm themselves before the afternoon milking. Their faces were sullen, eyes cast down, as though they might be contaminated if they made any contact with their wayward sister.

Already, the rejection was unbearable. Unable to put up with it any longer, Katie went next door to the Dawdi Haus. The place was bitter cold, so she hurried outdoors and filled her apron with chopped wood to start a fire.

Inside, with teeth chattering and fingers shaking, she struck a match, ignited the kindling, and blew on the feeble flame. She had never felt so cold in all her life.

————

Rebecca stood at the top of the second-floor landing, glancing at the bedroom she and Samuel shared, the numbness creeping through every fiber, every tissue of her being. This wasn’t like her. Not at all. Not being sure of her next move. Not knowing what to do. . . .

With great hesitancy, she turned and forced her legs to carry her down the hallway to Katie’s room.

The door was open. Dazed, Rebecca entered. Private and feminine— so like her dear daughter—this bedroom had belonged to Katie for over twenty-two years. Her belongings seemed to draw Rebecca, compelling her to go about the room, her fingertips trailing across the dresser doilies, the headboard, the scattered bed pillows.

Why did Katie have to be so willful in spirit? Why couldn’t she be more yielding, more submissive . . . more
Amish
?

Rebecca winced, thinking of the events of the day—the church members’ meeting and the pronouncement of the Meinding by Bishop John—and went to sit on the straight-backed chair near Katie’s bed. Life with her dear girl wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Things had been much better, she told herself, before Daniel Fisher had come into Katie’s life.

Rebecca turned and stared out the window, remembering. Daniel’s mother had told her—in strictest confidence—years back that he’d got- ten himself invited to a Bible study somewhere outside the Hollow. Nancy Fisher had been mighty concerned for her son at the time and had decided not to tell a soul—not even Annie, her youngest daughter, anything about it.

Rebecca had agreed. It was wiser not to talk it around, and she’d kept her word, not even telling Katie. It was the one thing about Daniel that she’d never shared with her daughter. And now . . . now with this great burden hovering over her loved ones, Rebecca wondered if Daniel had somehow played a part in all of this, influencing Katie to think for herself, maybe. . . .

The more she pondered, though, the more she began to question her suspicions. Hadn’t Katie gone ahead and followed the Lord in baptism into the church just eighteen months after Daniel’s drowning? Didn’t that prove he’d had no evil influence on her, after all?

Rebecca stood up again and breathed in the lovely lilac fragrance permeating the room. Katie’s room had always had a breezy freshness about it. Her daughter enjoyed drying lilac clumps and mixing them with various herbs and spices, placing the homemade potpourri into netting purchased at the General Store. She often concealed the sachet squares inside her dresser drawers.