The Forbidden Page 9

  As for himself, Reuben had no inclination toward the Beachys, though he relished the idea of bathing more often. A right pleasant thing.

  “What do ya say we go ’n’ visit your parents after church tomorrow?” Betsy suggested as he put away the comb.

  He missed chewing the fat with his father. “Jah, a good idea, indeed.”

  Heading downstairs, he wished that whoever was tying up the washroom would hurry so he could get in there and shave his upper lip. He chuckled to himself as he waited near the door. Sure seemed you could never have enough of most anything, no matter how much of it you already had. But if cleanliness was next to godliness . . . he was ready to take a dip in the bathtub each and every day.

  He heard what sounded like Rhoda in there muttering to herself. Abandoning the idea of waiting, Reuben headed for the kitchen and wondered what was keeping Betsy, impatient now for his first cup of coffee and a cinnamon bun or two.

  From the moment they arrived at Marsh Creek State Park on Saturday, Chris Yoder knew it was a mistake. Yet Zach insisted they stay, getting out of the car nearly before Chris set the brake. Zach stood stiffly near the front fender, eyes fixed on the enormous lake.

  It was late morning and the sky was as dismal as any January day Chris could recall. Everything from the lake to the boat launch was gray and solidly blanketed with ice and snow.

  “If you don’t want to stay—” Chris suggested, not sure of his own voice.

  “No, we’re here now,” Zach interrupted, heading for the lake without inviting Chris to tag along.

  Yeah, we’re here, all right. Chris clumped through the deep snow, eyeing the lake—more than five hundred acres fed by a nearby watershed.

  Today was a bleak contrast to the clear and balmy June afternoon the last time they’d come. He would never have imagined Zach would want to take him up on driving out here. Winter had stolen what little remained of its summer allure.

  Turning, he saw Zach walking gingerly on the ice. Chris hoped it was good and thick. After months of frigid weather, he assumed so. He watched Zach make the labored trek toward the middle of the lake.

  Where Suzy died.

  But as Zach trudged onward, Chris breathed a prayer that it might be a healing time. Somehow.

  Zach folded his hands momentarily as he went, either praying or talking to himself, his lips moving. Occasionally he looked toward the sky, then back at the frozen surface.

  Shifting his muffler to cover more of his face, Chris headed toward the area where Suzy had fallen overboard and drowned. He recalled how perfect the day had been when the whole bunch of them had piled into several rowboats, bringing Suzy along for the first time. One of their older brothers had pointed out how the sunlight looked like diamonds bobbing on the water’s surface that afternoon. Some of the guys began to row harder, showing off a bit for Suzy and several other girls from church who were with their three older brothers in two more boats. Once they were well toward the center of the lake, Zach suggested they drift awhile, having in mind a quiet moment to present a gold bracelet to Suzy.

  Chris hadn’t intended to stare, but it had been hard not to watch their infectious smiles as Zach had placed the delicate bracelet on her small wrist.

  Moved by the memory, Chris shook his head. He forced air through his pursed lips, looking again at Zach in the distance. Why does God spare some and not others? Sure, God was sovereign. To seek to understand the whys was not as important as putting one’s complete trust in God’s will. He’d learned this from his parents, observing the way they chose not to fret over the challenges that came their way. They believed Suzy’s death would prove to be part of the “all things” found in Romans chapter eight, verse twenty-eight—that some good might ultimately come from her death.

  All the same, Chris’s private questions plagued him, especially because he saw such a discrepancy between prayers that were obviously answered and those that were not. He’d heard a sermon after Suzy died about letting waiting times be trusting times as one sorted out the complications of life. Difficult as it was, especially for Zach, they both attempted to be patient, waiting for God’s timing in helping them—as well as Suzy’s family, who were often in their prayers— through this tragedy.

  Pushing forward, he managed to catch up with Zach, who had clipped across the lake at a surprising pace. Chris stood next to him as they absorbed the silence, interrupted only by the calls of a few hardy winter birds. Chris could almost guess what Zach’s thoughts might be, for his own weighed heavily.

  “I promised myself I’d never come back,” Zach ad–mitted.

  Chris understood. This was new ground for them. Besides losing Suzy, nothing truly dreadful had ever happened to them or their family.

  Zach continued. “Just thinking . . . this is the last place Suzy was before . . .” He stared at the spot, and his shoulders heaved.

  Chris clapped a hand on Zach’s shoulder. “It’s tough, I know.” He sighed, fighting the lump in his throat.

  “All of us should’ve worn life jackets.” Zach’s words were a desperate whisper.

  What were we thinking?

  After a time, Zach motioned to leave. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Chris was ready, too.

  They crossed the lake, heading back toward the parking area, where some rowboats were stacked near the shore. “I can’t remember which boat we took,” Zach said. “When Suzy fell . . .”

  He squatted beside the upturned boats, their bows held off the ground by a metal rack. Reaching over, he fingered the state-park identification numbers. “I doubt the office would have a record of which boats we rented that day.”

  “Probably not.”

  Zach shook his head. “Man, they all look the same.” He started to get up, then dropped back to his knees. “Wait a minute. What’s this?”

  Chris wouldn’t have bothered to look, except Zach was staring hard. Surely he doesn’t think . . .

  “Could it be?” Zach said, brushing away the excess snow.

  Chris peered closer. He saw what appeared to be a glint of gold in a clump of frozen leaves and other debris.

  “See it? Right there.” Zach pointed.

  “Could be anything.”

  “I think it’s her bracelet.”

  Chris wasn’t convinced. Suzy’s bracelet was most likely at the bottom of the lake.

  “It must’ve slipped off her wrist when she fell.”

  Highly unlikely. Chris hoped his brother wasn’t setting himself up for disappointment.

  “We need something to pry this loose.” Zach looked around. “Anything in the trunk we can use?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “We’ll have to come back with a hatchet or something to cut it free.”

  Come back? That was more than Chris had bargained for. “Come on, let’s go.”

  On the drive home, Zach reminded Chris of the Scripture verse he’d had inscribed on the bracelet. “Her favorite. Remember?”

  Chris nodded.

  “Just think, her whole family probably knows what she believed,” he said unexpectedly. “Suzy wrote in a diary every day, you know.”

  “No kidding?”

  Zach nodded, breaking into a faint smile. “She didn’t want to forget a single thing. It was all so new and wonderful to her.”

  Although it was good to see the sparkle in Zach’s eyes again, Chris was alarmed at his brother’s new obsession. And by the time they reached home, Zach was convinced he had indeed discovered the bracelet. “I have to know for sure,” he muttered, determined to get back to the park before anything could happen to it.

  Chris knew Zach well enough to realize there was no stopping him once he fixed his mind on something. His zeal for God was rivaled only by his feelings for Suzy Fisher, and evidently his passion to connect with anything related to her wasn’t about to let up. No, the trip to the lake hadn’t helped to heal Zach at all. If anything, his brother was more troubled than ever.

  CHAPTER 15r />
  Nellie was thrilled about the prospect of a visit to Dawdi and Mammi Fisher’s, as Dat announced at breakfast Sunday. They would leave the minute they all returned from Preaching. “We’ll see how Mammi Hannah’s doin’,” Mamma added with a smile.

  Nellie hoped, if time permitted, she might also have the chance to slip away and see Cousin Treva. Perhaps she could finally persuade Treva and her sisters to come visit sometime and have a look around the bakery shop.

  Her father eyed Nellie conspicuously as she ate her cold cereal and fruit. The way he looked at her evidenced his growing concern over her, living under his roof and holding firm to the Old Ways.

  As soon as the dishes were dried and put away, she hurried to the washroom to scrub her face carefully, knowing Caleb would surely be looking her way this Lord’s Day. Not that he didn’t every other Preaching service, but since their recent reunion, she felt even closer to him, longing for their wedding day.

  Will Caleb succeed with his father? Nellie intended to do all she could to make sure David Yoder saw no reason to find further fault with her.

  Closing the door behind her, she reached for a fresh washcloth. No need to stew. She drew the water and applied the homemade soap, pushing away thoughts of church baptism. Dat undoubtedly had that in mind. Choosing Caleb and the Old Ways over her parents’ faith was the hardest choice of all.

  When it came time for the womenfolk to form a line outside Ephram’s farmhouse, Nellie was happy to see Rebekah Yoder waving to her. Caleb’s sister, her fair hair shiny and clean, slipped in beside her.

  “How’re you?” Nellie wondered if Rebekah had any inkling of Caleb’s disobedience—or their secret meeting.

  “Oh, fine. Did ya walk clear over?”

  “Jah, but I should’ve hitched up the sleigh, I s’pose.

  Bein’ it’s just me . . .” She didn’t explain further, but surely Rebekah understood.

  “Been wishin’ I could get away to visit Nan again,” Rebekah whispered. “Doesn’t seem right, not seein’ her.”

  “Same with missin’ nearly half the People, jah? So many have jumped the fence.”

  Rebekah agreed. “Must be they’re afraid to wait too long. I’ve heard some say they might as well get it over with before the Bann’s a threat—just go ahead and make the leap.” She frowned, glancing over her shoulder. “ ’Tween you and me, I’m awful curious ’bout the new church, Nellie Mae.” Her hand was on Nellie’s arm now. “Don’t breathe a word, all right?” “You’re thinkin’ of visiting Preacher Manny’s?”

  Rebekah leaned close. “If I can find a way, I’d like to go next week,” she whispered behind her hand.

  Taking care not to react, Nellie was curious what Caleb’s sister had in mind, but she’d have to wait till after the com- mon meal—if Rebekah was willing to talk further. Meanwhile, she quieted herself, preparing to be most reverent as the line moved forward toward the temporary house of worship. As she did, she reached into her coat pocket and felt the strings from Suzy’s Kapp, a constant reminder of her dear sister. The strings seemed oddly out of place here.

  Was Suzy wiser than all of us?

  Seeing sweet Nellie made Caleb miss her already, not knowing when he might make another escape from Daed’s house. He didn’t want Nellie to become impatient or to lose heart because he was staying home from Singings and such.

  He placed his black felt hat on the long wooden bench near the stairs and took his seat next to his father and older married brothers. He bowed his head when his father did and folded his hands. The three-hour meeting stretched before him in his mind, and he struggled to keep his thoughts on the Lord God and heavenly Father. Truth was, his recent date with Nellie Mae was continually before him. When could he possibly arrange to see her again? Each time they shared made him yearn even more for the next meeting, and the next. The way of love, he thought. When you met the girl you wanted for your bride, you pursued her . . . moved heaven and earth to be with her.

  Opening his eyes, he turned his attention to the front of the large room, where he noticed Ephram Fisher, Nellie’s older brother, standing there in his black frock coat. He and his wife, Maryann, had themselves another little one, although Caleb hadn’t laid eyes on the baby yet. Some women stayed home longer with their infants than others.

  One thing seemed definite: Ephram had not budged one inch since the church split late last fall. Ephram’s four brothers were nowhere in sight, however, and Caleb assumed they’d followed their father, as had Rhoda and Nan. Mighty enticing, the newfangled ways. He himself fought against the desire for a tractor, knowing how much easier it would make farming.

  There were times when Caleb worried that if something didn’t happen soon, Nellie also might succumb to the urgings of her parents and the New Order. He could lose her forever.

  I won’t let that happen.

  Rosanna settled onto a bench at the back of the room, close to the kitchen. She’d tiptoed inside with Essie, her sister-in-law, who sat next to her, helping with the babies. Rosanna had purposely chosen to hold Eli during the Preaching service. He nestled against her during the first long hymn from the Ausbund while Rosie slept soundly in Essie’s ample arms.

  Other than to Elias, Rosanna had not breathed a word of Cousin Kate’s obvious preference for Eli, nor her insistence on continuing to act as a wet nurse. Wondering what Essie might think if she knew, Rosanna joined in the singing of the second hymn, the Loblied, as the People awaited the bishop and two preachers. It would be several more minutes before Bishop Joseph returned with the other ministers from upstairs, where they were deciding which of them should have the first sermon and who would preach the lengthier main sermon. She secretly hoped their bishop might be the one to offer the second sermon today, since at times she sensed something deeper in his messages. Perhaps that was merely because he was the eldest man of God in their midst.

  Kate Beiler glanced back at Rosanna. Oh no, is she thinking of changing seats? Very soon the introductory sermon— the Anfang—would begin and there’d be no moving about. Rosanna held her breath, suddenly realizing she’d forgotten to bring along the herbal tea brewing instructions for Kate.

  Eli made a soft little sound in his sleep. Oh, the sweet way his wee hands fell across his rising chest . . . the long, long eyelashes. Such a beautiful child.

  Looking up, she half expected to see Kate staring back, jealous as all get out—certainly she seemed that. But Kate sat straight now, face forward, as she should be. Still, it was painfully obvious Kate was behaving strangely toward her and the babies. Even Elias had privately voiced his concerns to Rosanna. After all, they had only the bishop’s blessing on their raising Eli and Rosie, not a fancy judge’s decree. Was it enough?

  After the common meal, Caleb slipped outdoors in hopes of seeing Nellie, who’d left for the outhouse a few minutes before. His mind was alive with ideas and he wanted to reassure her not to give up hope. He was convinced that if she was still on this side of the fence after the practice of the Bann was resumed, it would definitely sway his father.

  If he was quick, he might catch her on the way back to the house. Even a few stolen moments would be worth the risk.

  The cold was brutal as the sun splayed blinding light across the snow-laden field. He shielded his eyes, looking for Nellie, not daring to call out for her with several other foolhardy folk milling about, braving the chill.

  He shivered. He hated feeling as if he were doing something wrong by tailing Nellie Mae on the Lord’s Day. Was it so terrible to want to be with the girl you loved . . . even though in his case, doing so meant willful defiance?

  Waiting near the barn door, he was caught off guard when Daed called to him from near the corncrib, waving in a high arc. “Caleb! Over here, son!” Looking toward the path that led to the outhouse, he glimpsed Nellie walking his way. Puh, such ill timing! His heart sank.

  Did Cousin Aaron snitch on me?

  Caleb scuffed his boots against the barn’s threshold and then strode out
into the snow, his neck tingling as he crossed paths with his sweetheart. He dared not so much as glance Nellie’s way, however, keeping his eyes trained on the father whose will seemed fixed on bending his own.

  CHAPTER 16

  Nellie stood in the shadow of her brother’s barn, observing Caleb and his father talking up yonder. She couldn’t help but wonder what David Yoder was saying so dramatically, but lest her presence add fuel to the fire, she waited where she couldn’t be seen if either Caleb or his father happened to look her way.

  How could his father continue to treat Caleb’s feelings with such disregard? She watched them, David Yoder’s breath rising in a straight line from his black winter hat. Caleb, however, was strangely silent.

  Nellie would have worked her way around the side of the barn to continue watching, but right then, Rebekah emerged from inside. “Ach, you scared me half to death,” she said when Rebekah reached for her mittened hands and pulled her back into the barn.

  “I have to talk to you.” Rebekah’s eyes were watering. Was she crying, or was it from the fierce cold?

  “You all right?”

  Rebekah nodded, leading her toward the milking stanchions, the smell of livestock thick in the closed-up space. “I’ve already told ya what I want to do.” She looked over her shoulder.

  “Won’t you be in terrible trouble with your father?”

  Nellie asked. “I won’t wait any longer to see Manny’s church for myself,” Rebekah whispered.

  “Do you think you can really get away next Sunday?” Nellie recalled what Rebekah had told her before Preaching.

  “I’m goin’ to try.”

  “Does Nan know? Do my parents?”

  “You’re the first I’ve told.”

  Nellie was stunned. “Are ya ever so sure, Rebekah?” There was no telling what consequences might befall Caleb’s sister if she was found out.