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  Strangely, by the time she returned to the spare room, she felt lonely for the Millers. At least Brendon enjoys hearing about my experiences here, she thought, deciding at that moment to attend church with the Millers tomorrow, surprising herself. If for no other reason than to show gratitude for their wonderful hospitality.

  CHAPTER

  twenty-one

  The sky was partly cloudy the next morning, lessening the sun’s heat, at least for now. Sylvia was thankful to be riding in the open spring wagon, the fresh air on her face and neck, while Adeline sat beside her and Ernie held the driving lines up front with Tommy.

  To accommodate the rest of the family, Dat had taken the enclosed carriage with Mamma, Adam, and Calvin as passengers. Everyone was pleased that Adeline had decided to join them for church.

  When they arrived at Onkel Josh and Aendi Ruthann’s farm, Sylvia noticed Preacher Kauffman and his wife getting out of their buggy several carriages ahead. A knot twisted in her stomach at the sight of them.

  The People began to gather outside the farmhouse. And as a few churchgoers cast glances in their direction, Sylvia felt obliged to remain with Adeline, since she was the only Englischer present. Occasionally, outsiders would come at the invitation of Amish neighbors or friends, but Sylvia assumed that Adeline would be the only one today. Quietly, she explained to Adeline what was taking place outside the temporary House of Worship, noting especially where to line up near the women’s and children’s entrance at the back of the house. All the while, Sylvia kept watch for Deacon Peachey’s arrival. She hoped to locate him well before the morning baptismal instruction class, to let him know she was bowing out.

  ———

  With Sylvia heavy on her heart, Rhoda turned to look for her and saw her standing at the very back of the line with Adeline, who wore a modest skirt and blouse. Recalling Earnest’s revelation before bedtime last night, Rhoda was encouraged by how attentive Sylvia had become toward her half sister. Adeline will be a good distraction for her today.

  Early that morning, Rhoda had slipped into her daughter’s room to tell her how truly loved she was, and that she could depend on Rhoda’s prayers for God’s comfort and peace during this trying time. “And for wisdom, too,” she’d added, hoping against hope that Sylvia might change her mind about quitting baptism classes. O Lord, may it be so, she breathed, sending another entreaty heavenward even now.

  Deacon Peachey and his wife had just pulled into the driveway, and it was all Rhoda could do to stay put in line there with her sisters Ruthann and Hannah and not rush back and plead with Sylvia to rethink this important decision. She tried to keep her focus on her sisters, glad to see that Hannah’s health had returned after two miscarriages in two years. Dear sister, she thought.

  Then Rhoda saw Eva Kauffman with her teenage daughters, Lavina and Connie, their matching royal blue dresses brushing their ankles as they came this way across the yard. Difficult as things might be now, she knew it was only right to forgive Titus’s parents for whatever part they might have played in Sylvia and Titus’s breakup. Grant me Thy help in that, Lord God, she prayed.

  ———

  Sylvia stood very still, staring at the wall hanging in the upstairs hallway just outside the room where the baptism class was to take place in a few minutes. Already a number of youth had gone in and taken their seats to await the rest of the candidates, as well as the ministerial brethren. She hoped she wouldn’t have to encounter Titus, but even with that in mind, she was determined to stand there and wait for Deacon Peachey.

  She kept looking at the wall hanging made by Cousin Alma years ago, noting that it wasn’t quilted piecework like the one Adeline was working on, but rather a Scripture verse done in needlepoint. Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.

  How can I trust again? she wondered. After everything that’s gone wrong.

  Behind her, she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, likely the deacon. Turning slightly, she saw that it was the bishop, who paused and admired the wall hanging with her. “Trusting our heavenly Father is the key, Sylvia Miller,” he said, startling her. “That’s a verse to remember.” With that, he turned and walked into the room for the start of the class.

  Does he suspect I’m dropping out? she wondered, practically wringing her hands now. And where’s the deacon?

  Just as she’d hoped wouldn’t happen, Titus came running up the stairs with his cousin, who hurried ahead into the room. Titus, however, remained.

  “What are ya doin’ out here, Sylvie?” He frowned as his eyes searched her face.

  “I’m gonna tell the deacon that I’m droppin’ out.”

  Titus’s face fell. “What? Why?”

  She shrugged and looked away, wanting to avoid his piercing gaze. “I need more time,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t inquire further. It was going to be hard enough to do this.

  Titus stepped closer. “Honestly . . . Sylvie, why would ya do that?” He studied her. “Are ya mad at me ’cause I wanted to postpone our wedding?”

  “It’s not about you and me, Titus.”

  “Then listen to reason and follow through with baptism,” he urged. When she made no reply, he turned and slipped into the room for class.

  Sylvia hoped they hadn’t been overheard. Then, wondering where the deacon was, she thought of simply going downstairs to join Adeline and talk to the deacon at another time. But then here he came at last, making his way slowly up the steep flight of stairs. His ruddy face was solemn above his long, straight beard, and he looked out of breath.

  At the landing, she stepped forward to quickly inform him that she was quitting classes.

  Oddly, he seemed unsurprised by her announcement, almost as if he had been expecting her news. “You do realize that you’re more than halfway through the instruction?” he asked.

  “Jah . . . but I need to be in Rumschpringe a little longer,” she said quietly.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

  Sylvia nodded. “An earnest candidate should demonstrate sincere fruits of repentance and alter their lives, just as the Dordrecht Confession says.” She went on to say that it wasn’t the right time for her to be baptized. “There’s something I need to repent of, and I’m afraid I’m not ready to let it go just yet.”

  “I’d hate to see ya regret this, Sylvia.”

  She momentarily bowed her head. “Even so, the Lord God would not be pleased if I continue . . . not now.” Sighing, she added more softly, “I don’t mean to disappoint ya, Deacon.”

  He glanced toward the ceiling. “’Tis not I you should fear disappointing.”

  She nodded slightly, then headed downstairs as swiftly as she could, hoping Adeline had saved her a place in the back row with all the other unbaptized youth and any Englischers.

  ———

  Adeline did her best to remain attentive as the congregation sang the hymns, many of which Sylvia said dated from the sixteenth century. She attempted to follow along as Sylvia’s pointer finger moved across the pages of the thick hymnal printed in a Gothic German script. After the first few verses, each one sung unaccompanied by any instrument, she realized there must be at least twenty identical-sounding stanzas to the hymn. The painstakingly slow melody kept repeating like a Gregorian chant. But something about the ultra-simple melody made her feel peaceful while standing there surrounded by Amish young women her age and younger, many of them wearing royal blue or plum-colored dresses and long white organdy aprons, as well as the white see-through head coverings that formed the shape of a heart.

  “We sing the songs of our martyred forefathers,” Sylvia whispered after the near-endless hymn came to an end.

  Martyred . . . Several days ago, Adeline had taken time to look through the enormous book Martyrs Mirror that Rhoda kept in her corner cupboard. She had perused a few of the accounts of the dreadful suffering and the execution of Anabaptists during their persecution by the Holy Roman Empire in the 1500s.r />
  During the sermon, Adeline noticed how quietly some of the small children sat not far from her and Sylvia, either on their mother’s laps or on the bench next to them. Occasionally, an older sister or mother would give one a white handkerchief, and soon they were making something that resembled a baby in a cradle.

  The Scripture readings were in High German, so Adeline was able to understand words and phrases of those, thanks to her high-school German classes. But when the minister gave his sermon, he reverted to Pennsylvania Dutch, the dialect Adeline had become accustomed to hearing at the Millers’ home.

  After two solid hours of sitting, then kneeling for prayer one time—a wonderful change of position—she wondered how she would manage to sit for another hour and a half. When Sylvia had mentioned to her earlier how long the service would last, Adeline had hoped she wasn’t serious, but it was clear that Sylvia hadn’t exaggerated. And the fellowship meal was still to come. More sitting!

  Adeline took a deep breath and fought to stay awake in the warm, crowded room, where she could see other women, mostly older, nodding off. It was good to be sitting in the back row, she realized, because while the benches were hard, those seated in the last row could lean against the wall behind them. One of the perks of being a visitor, she thought.

  Next to her, Sylvia was a model of reverence and attention. Had she been programmed to do this every other Sunday since she was a baby? There were quite a few infants in the service, nestled in their mother’s arms, and if they whimpered in the slightest, they were taken out and presumably nursed elsewhere.

  Thinking back to the few times her parents had taken her to church as a child, Adeline realized that those paled in comparison to what she was experiencing this morning. Yet she could not put her finger on why. Sitting up straighter, she tried to see where Earnest and Tommy were over on the men’s side. Eventually, she also spotted Ernie, Adam, and Calvin, the three of them in a row, just as they sat for each meal. Smiling, she recalled how enthusiastic they had been the other day at the prospect of introducing her to their farm life and daily chores. Thoughtful kids . . .

  Daydreaming now, Adeline recalled the day her mom first told her about her biological father. It was a week after the man whom Adeline had always thought was her father had passed away, and she was completely shocked to learn otherwise. Her mother, on the other hand, had seemed relieved to set the record straight after twelve years, all of Adeline’s young life up to that point. As if she were waiting for the right time to tell me . . .

  Just then, Sylvia bumped her as she turned to kneel for the second prayer, and Adeline quickly knelt, too, embarrassed she had been so checked out. I’ve just about survived this nearly endless service! she thought as she leaned against the bench and a minister offered a prayer in German. Shouldn’t three and a half hours of this count for something?

  ———

  The clouds had long since shifted off to the east as, following the service, Sylvia and Cousin Alma walked to the nearby shade tree. The lilac-like scent of the crepe myrtle trees filled the air as they waited for Adeline, using the indoor restroom, and Sylvia whispered to her cousin that she wasn’t going to be baptized this year, after all. “And Titus and I broke up last evening, too.”

  “Oh, Sylvie.” Alma’s dark eyes grew serious. “I’m so sorry.”

  Sylvia motioned for her to walk back around the other side of the tree, where she filled her in on more. “It’s all for the best.”

  Tears welling up, Cousin Alma placed her hand on her chest. “And this is because of Adeline?”

  Sylvia admitted that her half sister’s presence had set off Titus’s alarm bells. “But I don’t think it was just ’bout Adeline. Titus isn’t willing to associate his family with anyone who falls short of their ideals.”

  The dinner bell rang just then, and Cousin Alma suggested they head back.

  As they came around the tree, there was Adeline, frowning, her eyes intense. “May I talk with you, Sylvie?” It sounded urgent.

  “They’re callin’ the youth inside,” Sylvie protested uneasily.

  “I’ll go in an’ save us seats,” Alma said, hurrying away.

  To Sylvia’s chagrin, there she stood with Adeline, who seemed to have overheard at least part of the conversation with Cousin Alma.

  “Did I hear correctly that your engagement is off?” Adeline asked, clearly concerned.

  Sylvia nodded, worried now.

  “But you seemed so happy.” Adeline looked at the ground and shook her head.

  “Honestly, I’m happier now.”

  “It’s likely my fault for barging in here . . . and for staying this long.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Sylvia reached to touch her arm and explained that there had been growing problems between her and Titus for some time. “They had nothin’ to do with you.”

  “But my being here hasn’t helped.” Adeline groaned softly. “I’m your big sister, after all. This is terrible. . . .”

  Sylvia appreciated Adeline’s seeming protectiveness, unexpected though it was. “Really, it’s too late to salvage anything between Titus and me,” Sylvia said, moved by Adeline’s caring. “I don’t want you to leave just when you’re getting acquainted with Dat and the rest of us.” She felt like crying now, when moments before, Cousin Alma had been the only one shedding tears. “Kumme, let’s go eat. We can talk ’bout this later, jah?”

  CHAPTER

  twenty-two

  Following Preaching service and the shared meal, Earnest was looking forward to another peaceful Sunday afternoon. He quickly changed his clothes and then, after seeing to the animals, went to sit on the back porch. Ah, these calmer hours, he thought, gazing into the distance as he sat there with Rhoda.

  “Mamie Zook told me something interesting at Preaching today,” Rhoda said, touching his arm. “I think ya might be surprised.”

  “Jah?”

  “She’s changed her mind ’bout selling the farm and decided to move into the Dawdi Haus to be near Mahlon’s rose arbor—I guess the downstairs bedroom windows overlook it. And she says she likes the idea of living next door to her daughter-in-law Rebecca.”

  “So Benuel and Rebecca must be taking over Mahlon’s farm?”

  “According to Mamie, jah.”

  Earnest was happy to hear it. Benuel had always been close to his father, and he and Earnest enjoyed a solid friendship. Almost like brothers, he thought.

  The back door opened, and Adeline walked over to them as though wanting to talk but too shy. He motioned for her to join them. “Please . . . pull up a chair.”

  Studying her now, Earnest noticed she looked shaken and gloomy. “I’m afraid I’ve caused terrible trouble for Sylvie,” she said, glancing at her feet. “I’ve decided it’s best for me to leave tomorrow morning.”

  Earnest looked at Rhoda, who was clearly as surprised as he felt. “You certainly don’t have to, we hope you know.”

  Adeline looked away for a moment, toward the area of the meadow where a cluster of trees provided enough moisture for purple coneflowers to thrive into early October. A place where she had enjoyed walking in the recent days. “I’ve had the best time here,” she said quietly, turning to look at them again. “Your farm is amazing, and so is your family, but I need to get back to my life. Hopefully then Sylvia’s guy will get his head on straight and go ahead with the wedding.”

  “The breakup really ain’t your doing, dear,” Rhoda said. “Please don’t think that.”

  Adeline nodded like she knew all about it. “Sylvie and I talked after church and just now in my room. She said the same thing, but I have a feeling they’ll get back together once I’m gone.”

  Disappointed to hear it but not wanting to urge Adeline to stay if she was determined to go, Earnest excused himself to his shop. He had something he wanted to do.

  Out in the stable, sun flooded the nearby window as Sylvia gave Lily a sugar cube, talking softly to the horse. “Adeline thinks what happened with Titus and me
is her fault,” she said. “But I was the one who took matters into my own hands. . . .” While she had no regrets about ending her engagement, it had been awfully impulsive to quit baptism instruction. The deacon was correct to admonish me like he did. Even so, I’m doing the right thing. The Lord would be displeased otherwise, she thought, having been taught in class the importance of a contrite heart when going into the sacrament of holy baptism. After all, baptism meant making a lifelong vow to follow God and the Amish church all the days of her life.

  A public confession of my abiding faith, she thought, knowing she was sorely lacking in that area right now. Yet she was glad she’d had the opportunity to be forthcoming with the deacon, at least on that point. What she still wasn’t ready to do was forgive Titus.

  All the same, she wished everything could have been different these past months. For all of us . . .

  Carefully, Earnest leaned down to open the bottom cupboard and lift the tinderbox out of hiding. Carrying it to his workbench, he opened it and emptied out the contents to get to the bottom, where he unwrapped the gold pocket watch. Holding it carefully, he looked at it through new eyes, then carried it outside and over to the back porch, where Adeline was talking with Rhoda.

  “I want you to have this,” he said, handing the watch to Adeline.

  Her eyes widened, and she gasped. “It’s lovely.”

  “It’s not a grandfather clock, but it’s a treasure.”

  Rhoda’s gaze caught his, and she smiled approvingly.

  Adeline held it, looking at its beautiful, clear face. “It’s absolutely gorgeous.” She held it out to him. “But I think you should keep it, Earnest. Seriously. It looks valuable.”

  He shook his head and refused it, his palms up. “Look on the back,” he told her. “You’ll see why it should belong to you.”

  Seeming puzzled, Adeline turned it over and read the inscription—To Earnest, with all my love, Rosalind—her mouth dropping open. Then she looked up at him. “My mom gave you this?”