Keeping Secrets (10 page)

“Wait!”

Sadie did not wait. She walked as fast as she could, past the shrubs, up onto the porch. She had just reached for the door handle when she was caught, a hand on her waist. She was forcibly whirled around to face a very tall, ominous Mark.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You meant that!”

The screen door opened, and they were both caught in the blue glare of a blinding LED flashlight.

The deep, sleepy voice of Jacob Miller boomed, “
Vass geht au
?”

Dat!

Mark smiled sheepishly, then stuck out his hand.

“Hello, Jacob Miller. I’m just … here to talk to Sadie about something.”

“You that Peight guy?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, if you have something to talk about, I suppose the porch swing would be a proper place to sit, and since I doubt if you want me to hear what you’re saying, I’ll go back to bed again.”

With that, the flashlight clicked off, the darkness covered them, soft and merciful, the screen door closed softly, and he was gone.

Mark cleared his throat, shuffled his feet.

“Can we sit down?”

The last thing Sadie wanted to do was share the intimacy of the porch swing with him, but she said stiffly, “We can.”

Like robots they were now, turning and sitting down as if on cue. Sadie sort of hit the edge of the swing, miscalculating its position in the dark. Then she sat back too far and almost slid off, causing the swing to lurch like a boat hitting waves. She had to brake with her feet. Then the whole ridiculous situation hit her, and she burst out laughing, a sort of unladylike snort that caught her totally unaware.

They were both laughing now. With great swells of relief, the tension between them evaporated, welcome as summer showers on a parched earth.

Laughter was like that. A smile worked the same magic. It eased tension, opened the way for friendly conversation; it lowered a drawbridge for large ships that had to arrive at their destinations on time.

“You just about sat on the porch floor,” Mark said finally.

“Hard, too!” Sadie laughed.

“What was I going to say?”

“You were talking about my boss. Mr. Richard Caldwell, himself.”

“Yes, I was. And I plan on finishing my questions. What were you talking about?”

“Didn’t you hear the men’s conversation? It’s all over the ranch. Someone is going around killing horses. Like a sniper. It started in Laredo County, sort of … well, I think the area where the horse thieves were. You know those thieves were never caught and brought to justice. Black Thunder, the leader of the wild horses—he’s dead. His owner is devastated. It’s awful, Mark. You surely heard about Reuben’s horse?”

“What?”

“Reuben’s horse. He was shot. Up on the field of wildflowers where we caught Paris and Cody.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Yes. It was horrible. Reuben is being brave, but he’ll never forget it. He’s so young. I mean, I was what, 18 when Nevaeh died? I’ll always remember that day.”

“I will, too. Certainly. That was the day I finally held you in my arms. I could have died there. On that wagon. My life was fulfilled then. I knew what heaven feels like.”

Sadie did not know what to say, so she said nothing. The chain attached to the heavy steel hook creaked with each moment of the swing, and Sadie could sense Mark’s agitation.

“That’s why I get so… I don’t know.”

Suddenly he burst out, “I am so jealous of you, it’s scary. When I saw you talking to your boss, I felt like a great black beast that wanted to … punch him, drag him away from you. It’s shameful and awful, but I don’t know what to do about it.”

“What hurts me most, is that you would even think I would be … having an affair with him or something? How could you?”

His answer, a lowered head, moving back and forth, was his denial. “I’m like a colt that’s been mistreated. I don’t trust anyone. Not one single person. I want to, but…”

“I would never do anything as out of … just plain unheard of…” She was cut short.

“It’s not unheard of!” he shouted.

Instinctively she put a hand over his mouth, like she would to try and shush a small boy.

“Shhh!”

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “My mother, my lovely, beautiful mother, had a horrible affair with a real estate man. They slunk around the house like deceiving liars. Snakes. That’s what they reminded me of. You know the kinds of snakes that are the exact same color as the grass and twigs and leaves?”

Sadie nodded.

“That’s how it was. His car would drive in, my father would be in the fields, dragging that rusty, ancient, screeching harrow across his rocky soil with two skinny brown mules that looked as if they’d fall over any minute. He’d knock at the front door … and, well, I was only a kid, but I wasn’t dumb. I knew. I think finally, that was the end of everything. The farm was sort of put up for sale, I guess, and that’s when my father … wanted to stop living.”

“But … did your mother run away with the real estate man?”

“Yes. There was an awful fight.”

“But … I don’t understand. If your parents were of the Amish faith, why did they act like that? Wouldn’t they… I mean, surely they knew they did wrong?”

“My father did nothing wrong! Not one thing. He was a good man. He tried his best. I think he married way out of his league, if you know what I mean. Dat was sort of ordinary looking, a bit thin, and didn’t have the… I don’t know. Mam was beautiful, probably could’ve had any guy she wanted.”

He paused, then turned and looked Sadie in the eye, and said, “Like you.”

“Not me,” Sadie whispered.

Mark bent over and caught both of her hands in his. He held them, securely, warmly, and kept them. The swing creaked, the night sounds shrilled and warbled and hooted, a symphony of nature resplendent in its variety.

“Yes, yes. Sadie, listen to me. It’s why I ran off to Pennsylvania after I held you in my arms. I figured if I let myself love you, if I went falling headlong over a cliff without any thought to my past, of who I am, look what could happen. And when I saw you at that table with Mr. Caldwell… I … well, I went a little crazy. Can you blame me? You’re so beautiful, Sadie, and how do I know that inside you there’s not a promiscuous heart, like my mother’s?”

“But, Mark, your mother was one in a million! That doesn’t happen among our people. We are raised and kept to a commitment to God. The church, our marriage vows, all are taken very seriously. I have never heard of anyone… I mean, your mother was… Whew!”

Sadie had no words to describe her disbelief.

“I think she joined the church and wanted to do what was right in the beginning. She bore five children in five years, the way the church wanted it, doing nothing to prevent it. And perhaps, she simply couldn’t handle the drudgery, the sleepless nights, the endless work, I don’t know.”

Sadie nodded, quiet now. She pulled her hands free, hesitated one second, then brought her hands to his forearms, slid them up to his shoulders, and pulled him close, laying her head on his hard, muscled chest.

“Mark?” she whispered.

He groaned softly before crushing her to himself, his head lowering.

“I want you to know you can trust me. I can only say that, and the rest is up to you. I’ll try and be someone you can place… I mean, for you to tell me these things, is just amazing. Where have you learned to confide in someone? So often, troubled children aren’t able to do that.”

“You are the only person who knows. Well, the counselor, but…”

She nodded, and stayed quiet.

“Sadie, do you believe in distant courtship? Are your parents very strict about these things?”

“I think that’s pretty much up to us. I can’t imagine… I don’t know.”

Clearly, she was becoming quite flustered, floundering with her words.

He chuckled softly. “I think I know what you mean, Sadie.”

He kissed her softly, then soundly, and Sadie knew she had never felt closer to anyone in all her life. The will of God was so clear she could almost hold it in her hands, like a bouquet of wildflowers on the ridge, their fragrance enveloping them both, promising a future that was not smooth and untroubled. Rocky and steep at times, stormy at other times, their love was a vessel of strength that would bind them together, like two souls in a fortress of might.

And she’d be very careful how she talked to Richard Caldwell.

I
N CHURCH A FEW WEEKS LATER, THE
KESSLE-HAUS
, where the single girls stood, waiting to be called in and seated on the benches assigned for them, was abuzz with the shootings.

Erma Keim, a garrulous, big-boned girl of 28, who had never bothered about boyfriends or marriage, her white organdy cape and apron wrinkled and limp, her hands pumping the air for emphasis, expounded loud and long about this latest atrocity.

“I don’t believe it,” she was saying in a voice not meant for the quiet of a pre-service
kessle-haus
.

“I mean, this is ridiculous. Finally, we got those wild horses out of here, and now they claim someone is shooting horses on purpose. I refuse to believe it.”

She tucked a strand of wavy, red hair beneath her covering, which sprang back out in defiance, looking wavier and redder than before. Her covering was limp and out of line, like her hair. She socked herself back against the counter, her green eyes bulging as she folded her arms across her skinny waist.

“It’s true. Reuben’s Cody is dead,” Sadie said bluntly.

“What? Your brother? Is Cody his horse? What do you mean?”

Erma was fairly shouting now, her eyes looking as if they could leave the sockets of her face, were they not attached by strong muscles.

“Yes, yes, and yes,” Sadie said, nodding soberly.

“But shot? I mean, just plain out of the clear, blue sky?” Erma shouted.

Sadie nodded, then told the attentive listeners the story of the race, the shot, the fear that followed.

“
Upp
!” Erma said, nodding in the direction of the kitchen door, where Maria Bontrager, the lady of the house, stood, motioning them to come to the service.

Erma always went first, being the oldest by more than a few years. Today was no exception, with Sadie following on her heels, and then Leah and Rebekah. The group of girls fell in line as they wound their way to the living room to be seated with the remainder of the congregation.

The open windows promised a breath of air in the already stuffy room. Sadie knew all too well how warm it would become before the three-hour service ended.

Her heart jangled a bit when Mark Peight led the row of single boys. He was so tall! So dark. How could she ever remain the same when she saw him? She was so glad no one could tell how her heart jumped and skipped a beat at the sight of him.

She sighed, a small expulsion of air, when she saw the boys being seated in the kitchen, out of their sight. She couldn’t see him at all during the service, but maybe it was just as well; she’d keep her mind on the sermon.

When the strains of the first song began, she opened the small black
Ausbund
, the old German hymnbook written by the forefathers in prison. She turned to share it with Leah, who shook her head slightly as she busily unwrapped a red and white striped candy, which she popped into her mouth. She rolled the cellophane wrapper into a small bundle and tossed it below the bench ahead of her.

Sadie stuck her elbow out, punching Leah’s arm. She turned to look at her sister with bewilderment in her innocent blue eyes.

Sadie drew down her eyebrows, pointed with her chin at the cellophane wrapper below the bench and mouthed, “Pick up your paper.”

Leah shrugged, enjoyed her peppermint, and opened her mouth to help with the singing, its volume building by the minute.

Sadie leaned over. “Give me one, please,” she whispered.

“Don’t have another one,” Leah answered.

Sadie answered by tapping on the pocket of Leah’s dress below the apron, where the presence of a few candy-sized lumps resulted in a meaningful stare from Sadie and an upturned hand.

“Give me.”

Leah frowned but lifted her apron, producing a candy obediently before settling back to help with the singing.

Sadie unwrapped the peppermint discreetly, bent her head to pop it into her mouth, folded the wrapper, and put it in her pocket along with the ironed handkerchief.

Leah watched from the corner of her eye and mouthed, “Goody.”

Sadie grinned, then ducked her head when she felt the grin spreading.

The girls knew they were to behave with circumspection in the church at all times. But on a warm summer morning, a bit of sisterly fun helped ease the boredom of sitting on the hard benches for three hours, less alluring today than it ever was.

The slow rhythm of the singing swirled around her. The wave of tradition and comfortable Sunday-morning sounds were as much a foundation for every Amish young person as the regularity of the services.

It was a form of worship they could adhere to, be content with, and grow in grace and spirituality without asking hows and whys. Lots of people chose to question, though. They became contentious, berating the ministers and their sermons, and sometimes taking their families to “go higher,” which meant they joined another church that allowed them more worldly things, like cars and electricity.