Following Your Heart (18 page)

Susan, still holding the baby, followed
Mamm
up the walk, Teresa right behind her. Miriam and Esther met them inside the washroom door. Miriam took Samuel, and Esther helped Teresa take her shawl and bonnet off, showing her where to place them on the table.

“You have to be able to find them after church,” Esther explained. “Everyone's looks about the same so note where you put them.”

“I would say so,” Teresa said, looking wide-eyed at the stack of almost identical bonnets and shawls.

“I'll help you find yours when church is over,” Susan said. “Everybody's looks a little different if you look closely. You'll learn with time.”

“I expect so,” Teresa said absentmindedly.

Teresa and Susan followed
Mamm
into the kitchen. Miriam and Esther were close behind with Samuel. Susan noticed that Teresa wasn't quite as white-faced anymore, which was good.

Mamm
was shaking hands, exchanging
gut meiyas
as she moved down the line of women.

“This is Teresa,” Susan introduced, making a point to keep Teresa close to her.

“And this is Samuel,” Miriam said, showing off the baby as she shook hands.

“
Gut meiya
,” the women said one after the other as they shook Teresa's hand.

Teresa's smile was tense at first, but she relaxed as she received honest smiles in return to her
Englisha
“good morning.”

“I have to learn how to say good morning in German,” Teresa whispered to Susan when they arrived at the end of the line.

“It's easy,” Susan assured her. “And it's doesn't have to be perfect. Everyone will understand. It's
‘gut meiya.'
”

Teresa took a deep breath. “Okay, here goes.”

Susan watched Teresa out of the corner of her eye as the next woman approached with her young daughters in tow. There was no question about it, Teresa had more courage than she did out in the
Englisha
world. She had waited for weeks before she dared turn on electric lights in her apartment. And it had been like a knife cutting into her heart to flip on that switch. But Teresa was bravely taking giant steps into the Amish world in such a short time.

“
Goot mayer
,” Teresa managed, a look of pain on her face.

The woman smiled. “
Gut meiya
. So you must be Teresa, the young woman staying at Menno's place. I do declare, I wouldn't have recognized you as an
Englisha
girl. You look right Amish to me.”

“I'm sure you could tell when I opened my mouth,” Teresa said with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, you did pretty
gut
,” the woman told her before moving down the line.

“Don't even tell me how awful that was,” Teresa whispered out of the corner of her mouth in Susan's direction.

Susan whispered back, “Just take the
er
off the end and say
a, ‘gut meiya.'
”

Teresa nodded and tried again with the next woman.

“Really
gut
!” Susan encouraged as the line of women moved toward the living room.

“What happens next?” Teresa asked. “I can't remember.”

“It's time to go in for the start of services,” Susan said. “Remember, you can't sit with me. You have to sit with my sisters or
Mamm
since you have a baby. They will take care of you.”

Teresa kept going as Susan stepped out of the line of women to join the young girls in the front rows. Silence settled throughout the house once everyone was seated. Susan held still, not looking over her shoulder to where Teresa was probably seated.
Mamm
would take
gut
care of her.

The song leader shouted out the first song number and Susan jumped. Seated beside her, Mandy Schrock looked over. Susan avoided her glance. What Amish girl jumped when the song leader gave out the number? Mandy had plenty of reason to be curious, but this wasn't something that could be explained with a whispered answer. Some man in the living room burst into song. The song leader's soaring voice led out, drawing the notes into mighty swirls of sound that were swallowed up as the congregation joined in on the second syllable.

As the ministers got to their feet to file upstairs, Susan dared look over her shoulder. She found Teresa's face in the benches full of women and babies. Teresa was sitting in full view, her face lifted in rapt attention, her lips moving as the sound of singing filled the house. There was no way Teresa could know the words, but she was trying. Susan kept on watching as another verse started. Teresa was now looking down at the page of the songbook. Tears were welling up in her eyes and soon ran in little streams down her cheeks.

Turning back, Susan followed the black and white words in her own songbook, mouthing the words from memory. She listened to the sounds of the singing. The words were so familiar, so often heard, and yet were moving Teresa to such depth of emotion. Had Susan missed something in the years of her childhood? The singing had always been enjoyable and beautiful, but one did not cry during the songs.

It was simply too much to understand. All of it was. What had brought this girl to them? What made her so determined to stick this out at all cost? There was no doubt Teresa had been determined. But now she was even willing to marry a man she didn't love for the sake of her child. And here she, Susan Hostetler, had run away from this life, rushing into the arms of the world with hardly a thought of the dangers involved. Dangers which the ministers had often warned about.

Yet
Da Hah
had spared her the evils of that world, sending Teresa to bring her home again. Was Teresa an angel? Susan sat bolt upright on the bench at the thought. But angels didn't have babies with earthly fathers, so that couldn't be the answer. Teresa must be exactly who she said she was. An
Englisha
girl sick of her world, who wanted to become part of another world. A world where she hoped to find peace.

Susan glanced up from the page again catching the eye of Thomas. The old love for him rose in her, but she pushed it away. Thomas could not be trusted. Teresa could marry whoever she wanted to, but she was not going down that path.

But what kind of an example was she setting for Teresa? The thought came with a sting. Did her actions line up with Teresa's courage? And how could Teresa's love for the community be so strong, even when they treated her wrong?

Susan pulled her eyes away from Thomas's face, catching a glimpse of Eunice seated on the row in front of her. Eunice was looking in Thomas's direction with a slight smile on her face. Well, let Thomas look at her, Susan thought. The two deserved each other.

The singing came to a halt with silence settling over the house. Susan kept her head down until another song began. Stealing another look in Teresa's direction, Susan saw that Teresa was still sitting with her face uplifted, joy written on every feature.

Some thirty minutes later when the ministers came down from upstairs, the singing stopped, and the first speaker soon rose to his feet. He spoke for thirty minutes or so, using a singsong voice, and following no certain path, jumping from Scripture quotations to short exhortations and back again.

Deacon Ray had the Scripture reading, and Bishop Henry soon rose to begin the main sermon. Forty minutes later, heads were nodding here and there in the men's section, and Susan took another peek over her shoulder. Teresa was gone, with no sign of either baby Samuel or Miriam. So they must have gone to the bedroom where the children were tended to.

When she turned around, Thomas was looking at her. Susan glanced away at once. But guilt feelings had crept unbidden into her heart, the earlier anger gone. Perhaps she should reconsider her hard-hearted rebuff of his advances? Did not her people teach that forgiveness was one of the highest forms of grace, given freely from
Da Hah
to each of them, and from each of them back to the other?

Yet, she had forgiven. But surely that didn't mean she had to take Thomas back. Thomas would say she had to, but he had a reason to say so. The question really was, what did
Daett
need? The farm needed help, and
Daett
had his heart set on Thomas taking over for him. But was that reason enough to marry Thomas? No, it was not.

Bishop Henry was wrapping up his sermon, asking for testimony on what had been said. He named a few men, sitting down to wait while they began speaking in the order they had been called. Susan looked towards Teresa again, who was now back and holding Samuel in her arms, a look of total peace on her face.

How did Teresa do it? In all her months among the
Englisha
, such peace had never found her. Sure there had been
gut
times with Robby, during the times she was learning how to drive a car and getting her driver's license. Even taking the test for her GED had been fun and so had been her
Englisha
“dates” with Duane Moran, but there had been little peace.

Susan almost gasped aloud, as she remembered. The driver's license was still sitting at home in her dresser drawer, hidden under her clothing. If
Mamm
or
Daett
discovered the license, it would break their hearts. They were so hoping she was home to stay, and they would see that little piece of plastic as her link to the other world, making it easy to return at a moment's notice. Perhaps it was time to cut her ties to the outside world and follow Teresa's example of submission and humility?

The house was silent again, interrupting her thoughts as Bishop Henry got to his feet.

“We can give thanks today that
Da Hah
's word has been given to us free from the errors of men,” he said. “This is not within our power to do, but only by the grace that
Da Hah
gives to weak men filled with the frailties of this earth. So we have one announcement to make today. In two weeks pre-communion church will be held at Johnny Chupp's, and communion—if there are no objections—will be held two weeks after that.”

Bishop Henry sat down, and the last song number was given out.

S
usan took Teresa's arm and guided her through the rush of women and girls coming in and out of the kitchen. The men were sitting at the long tables in the living room, the steady murmur of their voices filling the room. Near the back wall, Benny Zook was bending over Bishop Henry, whispering into his ear.

Susan's hand tightened on Teresa's arm. “Shh…we have to wait right now,” Susan whispered in her ear.

Teresa's eyes got big.

“It's prayer time,” Susan whispered.

Bishop Henry's voice rang out, reaching throughout the house. “If we have now been seated at the tables, let us give thanks.”

Everyone bowed their heads. Susan watched out of the corner of her eye as Teresa looked around for a moment before bowing her head.

“For this food set before us by Your great and compassionate mercy,” Bishop Henry prayed, “we now give thanks. We humble our hearts before You at this noon hour, beseeching Your grace upon our gathering and upon each one who is here. Let us not sin against Your holy name or against our fellow man. And for each of these favors and blessings, we give You thanks. Amen.”

When the murmur of voices resumed, Teresa asked, “Do they always pray like that?”

“It's the normal thing,” Susan said. “Come, you can help me serve the tables. You'll learn things, and it will help the people see you in a
gut
light.”

“But I don't know how,” Teresa objected, hanging on to Susan's arm.

“I'll show you,” Susan said. “It's not that hard. You carry peanut butter bowls to the tables and pick up the used ones.”

“That's all?” Teresa asked, almost sounding disappointed.

“Well…” Susan laughed. “There's also bread to carry, butter, red beets, cheese sometimes, water, and coffee, of course.”

“To those men back there?” Teresa looked over her shoulder.

“
Nee
,” she said. “I think we can get the women's table.”