Abram's Daughters 02 The Betrayal (34 page)

Heartsick as she was, Leah didn't need to learn that Lizzie, not Ida, was her real mamma . . . not this day. How awful self' ish of me, Lizzie thought.

Hurrying to the back door of her house, she pushed it open and went straight to the wood stove to begin boiling water. Some strong mint tea would help calm her, if that was

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Bontrager, who welcomed Lizzie into the church after she freely repented. She was baptized a year later, along with a number of unsuspecting youths.

So the secret was set, and Leah was raised as Abram's and Ida's own. Altogether plump, Ida didn't have to make much excuse for this new baby showing up three years after Sadie. Only a handful of folk knew much of anything at all, though rumors flew like lightning bugs when Lizzie moved into the Ebersols' Dawdi Haus till her little log house could be built up behind the bank barn.

Lizzie turned away from the window and went to sit for a spell. She was ever so tired all of a sudden. Her head spun with the memory of years.

Setting the teacup down on the floral saucer, she sighed and leaned back a bit, wishing she'd never, ever breathed a word to Abram today, nor this week for that matter. What had she been thinking? Poor Leah needed a respite from sadness and pain. Not a revelation that could cause her further grief.

Closing her eyes, she breathed a prayer for what must surely be happening in Abram's barn this very moment her dear Leah was being presented with such untimely news.

Tears sprang to her eyes. What'll happen when Leah hears the truth? Will she distrust me? What of Abram and Ida? Will our girl view us as betrayers, all these years?

Just how long she had been resting there, she didn't know. Maybe only a few minutes when she heard someone calling in the distance.

"Aunt Lizzie!"

Getting up out of her chair, she flew to the southeast-

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lucln^ window in the spare bedroom and looked out. There, limning up the mule road, was Leah, skirts flying like a kite In ;i windstorm.

"Aunt Lizzie!" her daughter called.

Oh, Lizzie thought she must be seeing things. Her heart Imped into her throat. How would Leah react to such jolting

iirws:

Lizzie ran to get her shawl and hurried out the back door, down the narrow porch, and past the flower beds, finished for I he season. Over the grassy yard she went, past the stone wall and down the hill to the edge of the woods, where the light broke free, clear as glass.

She kept going, fast as she could, though young Leah's pace was far quicker. "Are you all right?" Lizzie called to her, nearly out of breath.

Leah's feet pounded hard against the dirt path, and if Lizzie wasn't mistaken, her face was marked with tears.

And then they were in each other's arms, Leah sobbing and whimpering. "Oh, Aunt Lizzie, it was you all along ... all these years, 'twas you."

Stunned at what she was hearing, she kissed Leah's soft, wet cheek. "The Lord God be praised," she said, breathing much easier now. To think how Leah might have responded to the news. Well, she dared not dwell on that. Not now. She wanted to soak up all the love, capture the brightness in Leah's eyes, the pure delight she saw in them, reflected in her own. Truly, she was more than relieved; she was brimming with utter gladness.

Leah stepped back and fixed her eyes on Lizzie. "Ach, I can scarcely believe it ... you gave me life, Aunt Lizzie. How

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on earth could it be that I never guessed such a wonderful-gut thing!" Then she threw her arms around Lizzie again.

Why, oh why, did I ever worry? Lizzie thought, truly grateful. "How I love you, Leah." This she whispered, clinging to her daughter for dearest life.

Then, arm in arm, they strolled toward the log house, all the while Lizzie feeling her heart might burst apart. "I could only pray you might feel this way," she managed to say. "Honestly, I have to say I worried you might "

"But how else could I feel? Goodness, I've loved you all along nearly like a daughter loves her mamma, ya must surely know," declared Leah. "Of course I told Mamma and Dat, 'I am and always will be your girl, too.'" Leah was wearing the first true smile Lizzie had seen on her pretty face in weeks.

"Well, of course, you're theirs for always." She was unable to keep from looking . . . no, staring at Leah's lovely face.

"And I'm your honey-girl, Aunt Lizzie. To think I've had two mammas all along. Guess I'm double-blessed, ain't?"

Lizzie agreed wholeheartedly. O Lord God, thank you formaking it so.

i

On November 25, the Tuesday she and Jonas had planned to wed, Leah skirted a sharp, rock-strewn bank scattered here and there with moss, picking her way through the woods. She rather liked the feeling of being overwhelmed by age-old trees

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mid their intertwined branches above, along with the leafy labyrinth below.

Once again, she found herself pondering Catharina MeyI in, slain at the hands of God's cruel enemies. Dat's ancestor hinl given up her life freely for her devout faith. Leah wontlnvd, Did 1 lose Jonas in exchange for my obedience to the Lord ( IikI?

For sure and for certain, she hadn't lost her physical

I ilc . . . but she felt as if she'd lost her heart. Daring to do what was right and good in the sight of the Almighty, she'd made Iht lifelong covenant with the church, regardless of the harsh ronsequences.

Locating the honey locust tree, she stood tall and determined beneath its cold and leafless branches, leaning back to peer up through the web of bough and stem to the blue sky. Somehow, her future would be bright with or without Jonas.

II they must be apart no matter what lay before her she was determined to trust in God.

Aunt Lizzie had often talked of "praying from one's heart." But not until this moment had Leah ever attempted to do so. She bowed herAead, faltering at first, and began to address her heavenly Father. "O Lord, I stand here . . . heartbroken before you. Hear my prayer, dear God."

She poured out her sorrow, even her bitterness, in the timbered stillness. She went so far as to speak aloud Sadie's name . . . and the betrayal, placing it all before the Throne of Grace. "I must find the strength to forgive both my sister "and here she stopped, struggling with tears "and . . . Jonas. O Lord and heavenly Father, help me to do this difficult thing."

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Drawing in a deep breath, she began to feel an undeniable peace. She wept with strange relief, confident that the God of Moses, who had parted the roaring waves of the Red Sea, could make a path where there had been none before. This same Jehovah God would make plain and straight the path of her own life, wherever it might lead.

Walking toward home, she looked ahead to the wood's edge, where beams of sunlight flooded the opening that led to Dat's pastureland . . . and the mule road. Then and there she knew she was no longer Abram's Leah, although the People would continue to reckon it so. Neither was she Jonas's Leah. In this clear moment of understanding, she knew she was wholly the Lord's. From tip to toe.

"I belong to you, Lord God," she whispered, quickening her pace. "Forever and always, I am your faithful Leah."

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The procedure for the baptismal service described in this book was adapted from the Amish ministers' manual, HandInuh. I am especially thankful for Plain church members in hoi 11 Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and Holmes County, Ohio, who were willing and gracious, indeed, to verify essential Information regarding baptismal instruction and the baptism service itself.

I offer my truest gratitude to Carol Johnson, my editor and dear friend, along with Rochelle Gloege, Barbara Lilland, and I >avid Horton, all vital members of Bethany's expert editorial team.

My deep appreciation also goes to my husband, David Lewis, who encourages me daily with his prayers, love, and keen interest in my many writing "journeys."

My brother-in-law, Dale Birch, was a wealth of informalion regarding the work of a master carpenter. And an unexpected blessing came from Larry Quiring, retired U.S. postal worker, who eagerly answered my questions regarding mail delivery in 1947.360To my partners in prayer, a heartfelt thank you! I value your ongoing spiritual encouragement. May the Lord bless you abundantly for your faithfulness.

For readers who wish to probe deeper into the Plain cul'

ture, I recommend the following books: Amish Society, by John A. Hostetler The Riddle of the Amish, by Donald B. Kraybill Strangers at Home, Amish and Mennonite Women in History,

edited by Kimberly D. Schmidt, Diane Zimmerman Umble,

and Steven D. Reschly

Plain and Amish, An Alternative to Modern Pessimism, by

Bernd G. Langin

Martyrs Mirror of the Defenseless Christians, or The Bloody

Theatre, compiled by Thieleman J. van Braght

Watch for ABRAM'S DAUGHTERS Book Three, The Sacrifice, in May 2004 at your local bookstore!