The Wings of Morning (21 page)

No one spoke.

Finally he rose to his feet. “I must go to other families yet this evening. The rest I must visit tomorrow. Let me pray for all of this and for Ruth’s illness.”

He stood with his head bowed for several minutes without speaking out loud. Lyyndaya could clearly hear the clicking of their grandfather clock as if it were three times louder than normal. She struggled to pray, but her thoughts were confused. She imagined she saw her last letter to Jude stuffed in a mailbag on a steamer heading to England. The steamer was torpedoed and the bag sank to the bottom of the sea, her letter lost forever, Jude never knowing she had written a final time, never knowing how she felt, and he himself was in an aeroplane that was burning and falling to the ground.

She gasped and jerked in her chair, and this time both her father and mother placed their hands gently on her shoulders. Now Bishop Zook began to pray in High German and after a few minutes it calmed her and filled her mind with an image of Jude flying and smiling and waving at her, the clouds tinged rose and copper. She was grateful when he closed his prayer with,
Let him give no harm, let him receive no harm, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ
.

At the door the bishop held her hand briefly. “You are no happier with this than my daughter Emma. But then who takes pleasure in the shunning? It is only a means to something better, like an ill-tasting medicine. I pray he will return to us, just as the prodigal did, and that all shall be well once more. Meanwhile, I want you to know what I told my daughter and Master Whetstone’s father—I have instructed the postmaster to collect all letters that come from young Jude and keep them in a safe place. He said he would use a special drawer he can lock. When Jude returns to us and if he confesses and repents, the letters will go to those they belong to. Nothing will be lost, my dear.
Gute Nacht. Gottes Segen
.”

When the door closed, her father said, “Have courage, my daughter. Pray to our God day and night. We will see him back at Paradise before the year is out.”

“
Ach
, Amos,” moaned Lyyndaya’s mother, “how can you say that? How can you get the girl’s hopes up? Jude back by Christmas? Repentant? Received back into the church? In hardly more than six months? You must have the faith that moves mountains.”

Lyyndaya had already turned toward the stairs, her hand on the bannister. “I’m going to pray alone. Is that all right?”

“But I have made a bed up for you in the spare room,” her mother said. “You must not catch Ruth’s illness.”

“Did you place my Bible or red book there?”

“
Nein, nein
. Very well, fetch them from your room, but please do not wake Ruth. She needs her sleep.”

“What if she is awake?”

“Then say good night and God bless. I do not want you upsetting her with talk of the shunning. She can hear about it in the morning.”

But Ruth was standing in her white nightgown at the head of the stairs. “Mother, the shunning hardly comes as a surprise. I want to speak with Lyyndy about it.”

“What are you doing out of bed?” Mama said. “Please, back under the covers, Ruth. You are sick enough as it is.”

“I want Lyyndy to come to my room.”

“
Ja, ja
, just get back into bed. I will bring you up some hot tea with lemon and honey.”

In their room Ruth sat up under her covers and Lyyndy perched on the edge of her own bed.

“You’re not even crying.” Ruth said gently. “Is it because you’ve already shed your tears over this?”

“I’ve cried many times,” Lyyndaya said. “
Ja
, I knew it was coming. We all did. So I suppose I’ve run out of tears. For now. But there will be fresh ones.”

“Was the bishop kind?”

“
Ja
. He says all Jude’s letters will be saved at the post office until he returns to us. Nevertheless, I fret.”

“That he will not confess and repent?”

“No, I don’t worry about that. I have no idea why he’s done what he’s done, but somehow I believe when he returns he’ll have no trouble telling the people he’s sorry. I fret that he may not get my last letter—”

“Why shouldn’t he? You mailed it a week ago.”

“Well,” Lyyndaya sighed, “I keep thinking about those U-boats—”

“Oh!” Ruth flung her head back onto her pillow. “Those U-boats of yours are everywhere. I expect to see one coming along the road in the morning pulled by a team of draft horses.”

“A lot of ships do go down, Ruth.”

“And a lot of ships make it to England and France. If the mail gets past the German submarines will it be worth it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—did you write him a good letter, knowing it might be your last for months or—” She did not finish her sentence and wished she had not started it.

But Lyyndaya wasn’t listening. She was thinking to herself, practically rereading the letter in her mind. Out loud, she said, “There will have to be two boats, one to get it from New York to England and another to get it from England to France. He will be at his aerodrome near the front lines when he receives it. I put my heart and soul into that letter. Perhaps I said too much, perhaps I said it too strongly. But what was I to do? What if I can’t write him or see him for another six months? A year? How can I be cautious when so much is at stake? And what if…if he is…” She stopped.

“Let’s think the best and hope for the best,” urged Ruth softly. “To live in any other manner makes a person go through their days like a ghost.”

Her sister clasped her hands together tightly. “I know you’re right, but—”

“No, Lyyndaya, we must not walk there. That part of the garden is
verboten
to everyone but the Chief Gardener himself. So you must tell me this—will the letter drive him crazy so that he can’t think straight?”

Lyyndaya felt her face redden. “What do you mean?”

Ruth laughed. “My proper Amish sister. Did you say things that will make his heart beat faster?”

Lyyndaya grabbed her pillow without thinking and threw it at her sister’s head.

Ruth gave a mock cry as the pillow struck. “How can you be so mean to your dear sister? Don’t you realize how sick I am?”

“Oh,
ja
, you are sick.”

“So you just talked to him about the weather, is that it? Jude, the crops are planted, the rain is wet, when the sun comes out it makes the soil warm, we are sure the barley will grow, and the cows, well, the cows—”

Lyyndaya pounced on her sister’s bed. “I have the cure for your fever. I discovered it in an old Amish book last week. First you tickle the ribs,
ja
? Then you twist the arm. Like this.”

Ruth shrieked at her sister’s attack and then began to giggle. “Which of them will cure me?”

“Both, of course! You must have both together to get the cure.”

Ruth shrieked again and began to fight back, wrestling with her younger sister. “And where did the good Amish book get this idea from?”

Lyyndaya pinned Ruth’s arms with one of her own and began to tickle again. “The Bible.”

“Ruthie! Lyyndy! What is this?” Their mother was in the doorway holding a cup of tea. “Stop this nonsense. You are not children anymore. Lyyndy, I must ask you to leave your sister alone. She has to get her sleep. Get your book and Bible and go.”

“Oh, Mama—” began Ruth, but was cut off.

“Never mind this ‘Oh, Mama.’ Back under the covers. And you, Lyyndy, quickly,
schnell, schnell
.”

Ruth and Lyyndaya smirked at one another as their mother marched in with the tea, set it down, and began to straighten Ruth’s blankets, tucking the quilt up around her ears. Lyyndaya hurried out the door with her Bible, red book, and nightgown, managing a small wave to her sister while their mother’s back was turned.

The spare bedroom was cold, so she got under her covers as soon as she had put on her gown and brushed out her hair. In the red book, her great-grandmother was writing about Isaiah chapter seven and verse nine—
If ye will not believe, surely ye shall not be established
. Great-grandmother said it was not only a matter of believing in God himself, but believing in his promises despite difficult circumstances. It was also about believing in what God was performing in your life, even if he appeared to be going about it in a roundabout way.

Lyyndaya wondered how this might apply to her and Jude. She couldn’t write him anymore. He might write her, but after months went by with no letters from Pennsylvania he would stop. What then? Would he have a French girlfriend like she had heard other American pilots did? Someone in Paris he went to visit when he was on leave? That didn’t sound like Jude. But then, the Jude she had known before he was taken to the military camp with the others would not have signed up to fight in the United States Army either.

Lord, what can I do now?

The answer seemed to come to mind immediately:
Keep writing letters to Jude
.

She was astonished. This was not an idea she would have come up with. She wouldn’t disobey the
Meidung
and risk being shunned herself. Yet the Holy Spirit was making a distinct impression on her mind:
Keep writing letters to Jude
. She laid her head back and tried to sleep after blowing out her lamp, but the inner voice persisted. After several minutes she realized she wouldn’t be able to rest until she acted upon what she felt she was being told to do.

Coming out of her room quietly, she saw that the hallway was empty and that no light appeared under her sister’s door. She tiptoed over the wooden floor, went into her sister’s room, stood still a moment and listened to Ruth breathing deeply, then knelt and drew her lap desk out from under her bed, and slipped back into the hall.

Back in the spare room, the lamp relit, she took out paper, pen, and ink and sat on the bed with the heart-shaped desk on her crossed legs. Without hesitating, she began to tell Jude how difficult it was for her that he had been shunned and that she didn’t even know when he would be permitted to read what she was writing now. But it was important that he know the shunning did nothing to change her feelings for him. She still cared for him:
Despite the
Meidung,
I can say that I am more inclined to believe we could be husband and wife than ever before. Every day I am more sure of myself when it comes to you, and every day I think of you more often and care more deeply
.

She finished the letter, placed it an envelope, and blew out her lamp for the second time that night. This time she could feel sleep rushing in upon her with swift feet. Just before she began to dream she said to herself and God,
I will go to the post office in the morning. I shall ask to speak to the postmaster. Whatever the stamps cost to send the letter to England or France I will pay. I will ask him to place my letters in the same locked drawer he intends to place Jude’s in once they come from France. Then when the day comes and the postmaster is permitted to give Jude’s letters to me I shall have all my letters sent overseas to him. Whether he chooses me or Emma or some girl from France, I want him to know I never stopped thinking about him, never stopped praying, never stopped myself from loving him
.

F
rance was spread out below Jude through the broken clouds just as England had been and, before that, Pennsylvania. In so many places the land was April green, and the rapidly moving streams were either silver or a muddy brown from the heavy rains. He smiled as the wind passed over his face. He began to imagine that Lyyndaya was seated in the cockpit with him, an impossibility in the compact pursuit plane, but not an impossibility in his large imagination.

What is this we are flying in?
Lyyndaya asked.

A Nieuport 28
, he answered.
French-built. We can go 122 miles per hour if we want to
.

I want to
.

All right, Lyyndy Lyyndy Lou, I’ll open ’er up
.

Bishop Zook would want to know how many horses this buggy has you are courting me in
, she teased.

The last buggy had 97, but this one has 160, how’s that?

My goodness
. Lyyndaya laughed.
No wonder I feel like I’m in a windstorm in Pennsylvania. What city is that below us?

Nancy
.

And the place that looks like it has toy planes?