Abram's Daughters 05 The Revelation (20 page)

She placed her hand on her chest. " 'Tween you and me, Jonas, I iI'd Dal" and Mamma quarreling somethin' awful early this morni,, , , over Jake and, well... all of that."

"What happened?"

" M am ma was sayin' it was wicked to send a boy away they'd raised

ilicir own, 'don't matter the circumstances.'" Mandie wiped a tear ' ii 'in her cheek. "But Dat said this is all 'bout trickery, and there's no i 11 lug round it. Jake simply doesn't belong to us, and what's more,

11- '* one of Abram Ebersol's grandchildren . .. and that's that."

She stopped to dab her eyes with a handkerchief. "Mamma's beii It! herself missin' Jake, but Dat's standin' firm on his decision." In* hiccupped twice. "I'm scared Mamma's gonna be sick over i lux... 1 fear she is already." "What're ya sayin', Mandie?" "She's got herself an awful cough and a fever, and I've heard tell

.1 lnll< comin' down with a bad flu when, well. . ."

" I understand." He recalled his own emotional upheavals follow-

I1 if.', his loss of Leah years back. "Do ya want me to try talkin' to Dat, m iybc?"

"No need for tftat now," she replied. "Dat left after breakfast. . . ml he was goin' down to the Beilers' farm auction."

"Jali, I went for a time myself but don't recall seein' him there." "Well, that's where he was headin' hours and hours ago." He sat down next to Mandie on the kitchen bench. "Oil, this is just horrid!" She was wailing now, and he put his

5*ni around her shoulder.

"You mustn't take this on yourself, sister . . . ya just can't." "But what can be done?" She raised her head and looked at him.

I )r. Schwartz's switchin' babies has touched each of us, and I don't

'' how we'll ever get over it."

"The Lord God sees this here mess from on high." He patted her

m ill and led her to the sink, where she flung cold water on her tear-

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streaked face. "I daresay we oughta be prayin', beseeching God l

Mandie turned around and stared at him. "I want my twin brother back, is what I want. What can God do about that?" Wiili this she headed for the front room and stood at the window foi .1 while, still weeping.

Jonas refused to interfere with what he hoped was a silent prayn for Mamma, Dat, and Jake. He went to the utility room and pulled on his boots, pushing down his old black felt hat on his head. Soon he heard Mandie's footsteps coming his way. "I'll follow ya home, he said, "and I'll try to console Mamma . . . and help with milkin', too.

"Denki." She gave him a little smile and threw her woolen sen I around her neck.

Jonas didn't bother to take the time to tell either Jake or I li where he was headed. "Let's get goin', then."

By suppertime temperatures had fallen at least fifteen degrees, and the cold seeped into Jonas's bones as he finished carrying the milk cans to the milk house. He, along with Mandie, had looked i 11 on Mamma, who was still upstairs in bed, sound asleep, completely exhausted from having wept much too long, Jonas guessed. Mandie had placed a hand on Mamma's forehead and was convinced hei fever, if she'd had one, was nearly gone.

Mandie made him a supper of corn chowder and corn bread, also setting out a variety of jams and his favorite apple butter, too. He was grateful to sit down at the large family table and warm up ;i bit before his ride back to Eli's. "I'm sure Dat will be home before it's too dark," he said.

"What if he doesn't return?" Her eyes began to glisten again.

"Dat isn't one to shirk his duty," Jonas offered. "I could go lookin' for him if you're worried."

"No, he'll come back when he, well. . . gets here."

Jonas frowned, studying her. "Has he done this before?"

'' ";-.'' ' ':'-' / ' / ' 176 .",,.' ,.; ; !. 177

The Revelation . .

With what seemed to be grave reluctance on her part, she nodded Ik I head. "Dat's got himself a weakness for moonshine," she whisi" irtl, "It's caused Mamma her share of sadness. He started drinkin'

Itrti" he sent Jake off to Ohio . . . once he learned another son was in l< >yp with an Ebersol girl. The news must've opened some old wounds."

Jonas had never known his father to have trouble with alcohol

old found Mandie's point of view to be quite perceptive for her age.

1 lien iij^ain, she had lived here in this house for all the years of his

I menu*. Since his return home, he had occasionally suspected such

l hh lather, but he'd hoped he was wrong.

"The hate Dat carries for the Ebersols has been eatin' away at iilii, I think. He gets miserable 'bout how he's treated Mamma's > MINI Its; then he goes and drinks."

"Where, though? Where does he go?"

"Who's to know, but there are plenty-a male cousins who like to "hIhIk1, Our bishop might not know this, but it's quite true."

I le I hought on this and realized where his father might possibly i ti> guzzle liquor Dat's Amish doctor friend, Zachariah Heni. The man was some years younger but had a keenness for spirit ., Imih whiskey and otherwise Dat himself had told Jonas as mi mil. Perhaps strong drink was the reason for the rumors that idiuriah was linked to white witchcraft, as some in the area rei t ml to Henner's powwowing. "I'm sure Dat will be home, and

ion," said Jonas.

Mandie thanHed him repeatedly for helping with the milking

i id lor sitting down to supper with her. "You don't know how much I appreciate it." She walked him to the back door and out to the horse and carriage.

"Will you be all right?" he asked. "Or do ya want me to stay till

I Hit returns?"

Mandie shook her head. "It's fine, really. But he'll be mean as ver, Mamma and I have learned to keep to ourselves till he sleeps

I1 if stupor away," she confided in a near whisper.

Jonas's heart ached to hear of the dark times his mother and sisht suffered. "I'll check on you and Mamma tomorrow at dawn."

Mandie's lower lip quivered. "Ach . . . Jonas. What on earth did vi? ever do before you moved home?"

177 " '.'"' ' . - ' ' ;'. 178Beverly Lewis

"Now, let's not be thinkin' backward, jah?" He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "Go be with Mamma. When she walu-. up, tell her I love her."

She bobbed her head in agreement, and Jonas clumped out m his cold horse and now-white carriage through the ankle-deep snow, concern for his family bending him low.

Jonas found Eli in the kitchen with Jake, both men cleaning up the supper dishes in total silence. He was especially grateful for Y\'\\ reading of God's Word as the three of them gathered near the wood stove afterward. When Eli closed the Bible and bowed for a silcni prayer, Jonas prayed for his father, who was out somewhere in (In bitter cold, possibly traveling home intoxicated. He also prayed foi both Mamma and Mandie, so vulnerable there at home alone.

Later, when Jake had gone upstairs to bed, Jonas began reim niscing with Eli about a few mutual friends in Ohio, as well as Im memories of joyous Sunday-go-to-meetings. "I admit to missin' 11 brethren in Apple Creek, too," he said. "And what a man of iInWord our bishop was . . . studied it like he might kick the bucket m morrow, he was that spiritually hungry."

Eli pulled on his wiry, thick beard. "Jah, I'd have to agree on that missin' solid preaching, and all." He went on to relate one <>l the more lively discussions on Scripture he and several of the minis ters had enjoyed, "not too long before I joined up with the group ol men to be swapped with those from here."

"You must've been eager to marry again, deciding to do such ;i thing leaving your home 'n' all."

"I'd hate to go through the rest of my life without a wife." Eli paused, squinting his eyes. "I miss Nancy Mae a whole lot, and if t Can be so blunt, the nights can be awful long at times."

"What caused your wife's death?" ;

"Leukemia ... it took her mighty fast, which was a blessing, re ally. She didn't suffer like some."

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"This life can be full up with misery." Jonas reflected on the trial t in* ^ihhI ni;m had endured. "But it makes us mighty anxious for theMfKl, Mini so?"

|'i this I'.li nodded emphatically, and Jonas felt a growing fondiim* lor ilie ruddy-faced widower. The woman who would become IiIm nrw bride would be blessed indeed.

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NitUt'tluy dawned with a stony sky and icy showers of rain mixed

ill snow. In spite of the dismal day, Lydiann volunteered to run

> c'li'iiiid to Georgetown for Leah and Aunt Lizzie anything to get

' u of lhe house and breathe the brisk morning air to clear her head.

11 hud lurn nearly three weeks since her encounter with Jake at the

inp,iii|',, .uid she'd not heard from him since.

Jihl us well. No sensible reason to hang on to a love that was Mi vci meant to be. She was actually looking forward again to ati' mling singings and seeing old friends and making new ones. More ili in ever before, she needed the social connection with other

"in iing-age young people, and she recognized that she was beginiime (o slowly make a turn in her mind and in her heart. Even i In nigh her soul felt void of hopefulness as far as romantic attachments were concerned, she knew she must go ahead somehow with her life. And stopping in to visit with cheery Mary Ruth and her jMi'iiy baby was one way to do so.

While they sat visiting in Mary Ruth's cozy house, Lydiann laid mvs on the first real piece of evidence that her former school chum ( ,ul Nolt did want to get to know her better. The proof came in the iui in of a handwritten invitation sent to Mary Ruth, who said she'd been wishing Lydiann might drop by to see her.

"He sent it here?" She found this curious and for a moment felt

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her cheeks warm with the knowledge. A quick scan of the short nm. left her secretly pleased Carl was asking her to consider going with him to a church activity, a get-together on the Saturday evening l

When Lydiann revealed to her sister what he'd written, M;iiv Ruth wore a fine smile. "Well, why don't you go? You might have the best time." ;

"Just why do ya think that, sister?"

"He's a wonderful boy, and the two of you used to have such A good friendship. One evening with him and his friends is nothing serious, mind you."

Sipping her warm tea sweetened with raw honey, Lydiann Ir. tened as Mary Ruth continued to sing Carl's praises, finding it a Im amusing. Still, if she were forthright with her sister, she would tell her not to hold her breath on this invitation. Lydiann would not In accepting, because she was not at all ready to forge a new relation ship, old friends notwithstanding.

In the heart of the ancient town of Florence, Henry and Loi raine Schwartz had come across a picturesque restaurant with only .1 half dozen tables visible through its windows. The menu posinl outside the door boasted of several courses of superb Italian dishov pasta a staple with each meal.

"What do you say, dear? Shall we?" Henry asked, hoping liis wife might agree, so appealing was the tiny place set back on the nar row, winding street tucked between rows of Gothic-style buildings.

"Why, it's just delightful." Lorraine was obviously pleased, and he was relieved.

They made their way inside, the smiling hostess ushering them to a table for two near an inviting fire. "Buon appetito!"

Enjoy the meal, the woman had just said, but Henry could noi imagine it. Not unless he changed his mind and did not reveal his long-held secret to his wife as planned. Despite their charming stir

183The Revelation

Buildings u the present he was feeling rather wretched, knowing Hill ViUiiiioii was drawing to a possibly disastrous close. H '-V'luf IK>ii Ics of every conceivable vintage and from every region I -d mi shelves above a narrow mirror encircling the room just < ihr i li.iir rail. His gaze caught the reflected glints of candlefl| i hum cu'h table, like miniature echoes in the mirror. Haunting j ,-wtions ofthe past. . .

H Alln lie had ordered for both his wife and himself, Henry sat Hfoipjii ,is .1 board in his chair, eyes fixed on Lorraine. She looked Hf (iMil.ii !v lovely in her favorite ruby red two-piece day dress as she Hf mulling ;icross the linen tablecloth. He inhaled deeply. "I've been H))iini|>, to tell you about Derek's illegitimate son for quite someH)r."

H Lorraine frowned. "Beg your pardon?"

H The plunge taken, he returned to the beginning of the story, reHyiiling Leah Ebersol's frantic knocking at their door, followed by H? delivery of their very own grandson apparently stillborn. That H Until a miracle occurred. . . .

H Lorraine listened quietly, her composure seemingly intact, even

Hough the shock of his tale was registered in the seriousness of her

Wpir.vsion. When he had finished, she leaned forward and, instead

I t ensuring him as he thoroughly deserved, said, "I never forgot

In1 Night of that forlorn Plain girl sitting out on the porch steps,

-tiling lor Derek.^

I Ic nodded. Neither had he.

"Ah, Henry . . . you know, I always suspected Derek had an ulte-

I motive for enlisting in the army the minute he turned eighteen."

Woman's intuition, he thought. Evidently Lorraine had sensed

mediing amiss on a subconscious level all this time. He said, "I'm

no you've seen Jake Mast coming with Fannie and his twin sister,

Itiiulie, for annual checkups and such."

"Maybe so," she replied, still remarkably composed.

She inquired about his reason for giving baby Jake to the Masts

nr.irad of revealing the sad truth that their son was stillborn. He

(niggled to explain his thoughts that night, his panicked decisions,

uui i! finally she reached across the table and covered his hand with

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her own. "I wish you had confided in me. Perhaps between the lw<< of us, we might have come up with a more satisfactory solution One that might have had poor Sadie's blessing."

Again he nodded, ashamed by her calm reaction. Why hadn'/ 111 sought the advice of his sensible wife? Sadie could have been told the truth and spared much heartache, and she might have desired to raise her baby. Or perhaps a legal adoption could have been arranged, such as the one Henry had made on behalf of a young |u tient who'd also found herself in the family way around the s;um< time. That baby had ultimately been placed with their close neipji bors, Dan and Dottie Nolt.