Promise to Cherish

Praise for
Promise to Cherish

“
Promise to Cherish
is a gritty, historical novel that stays true to post World War II views, while weaving a beautiful love story between a nurse and an Amish conscientious objector. Elizabeth raises the stakes over and over, creating a suspenseful story that I couldn’t put down until I’d read the very last word.”

—Leslie Gould, bestselling author of
Becoming Bea

“Elizabeth Byler Younts’ Amish heritage and historical research shine again in this dynamic sophomore novel, which examines the plight of unwed mothers and conscientious objectors in the unstable wake of post-war American society. Readers will be entralled with the story of Christine and Eli all while asking temselves if they would choose a life of love—even if that meant leaving everything you love behind.”

—Jolina Petersheim, bestselling and award-winning author of
The Midwife
and
The Outcast

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To my
daudy,
Freeman Coblentz.

You’ve been gone for many years, but your service and stories live on.

To all the Americans who served in the Civilian Public Service,

your stories matter.

Letter to the Reader

Dear Friend,

I first want to thank you for picking up this book. We all have a long list of wonderful books to read and
what to read next
is a big decision. So, thank you.

Promise to Cherish
is the second book in
The Promise of Sunrise
series. The first in the series only briefly spoke about the Civilian Public Service, while this book focuses heavily on the camps and life.

I took the creative liberty to change names, scenarios, and facts to best suit the novel while still keeping with the spirit of the era. I wanted to handle this history with sensitivity, and I pray I honor our country’s history. I’m a proud military wife with an ancestral line of Amish conscientious objectors. I truly respect both. This is only a snapshot of one scenario.

I’d also like to clarify that the terminology used in the book with regards to Down’s Syndrome is based on historical language, and is only used to remain accurate to the era. I have a very strong love and kinship with these very special people, having grown up with a cousin and aunt with Down’s.

Back in the 1940s my
daudy
was among the many young Amish men drafted to fight in World War II. Since he was a conscientious objector, however, he was sent to work at the Civilian Public Service labor camps and mental hospital units with over twelve thousand others. Though this unique service is braided together with the history and politics of our country, it has been largely overlooked.

From my earliest memories of our horse and buggy and kerosene lamp-lit home, to our braided and pulled back hair and the best baking in the world, my whole life has been enmeshed with the Amish, and this story comes from the front lines of my heart. From my very family roots comes the story of Eli Brenneman and Christine Freeman.

Until next time,

Elizabeth

Prologue

1944

T
he sudden grip on Eli Brenneman’s arm brought him back to his surroundings. He looked down and found the probing eyes of Matilda Miller on him.

“Hi, Eli.” Matilda smiled and tilted her head as she looked up at him.

Eli and his friends used to call her
Fatty Matty
in grade school. She wasn’t Fatty Matty anymore. She was petite and even pretty, in a simple sort of way. Matilda, who hated being called Matty, was a few years younger than him and one of the few older girls who still attended Singings.

He looked around. He had not been paying attention for the last few minutes. The Singing was nearly over and a yellow-faced moon had just replaced the quiet November sunset. A bit of light cascaded from the golden windows from the king’s house they’d just exited. A few flashlight beams flickered on as they all congregated outside. The brisk autumn air was nice after the stuffiness of inside.

“Hi, Matilda,” he said, giving her his full attention.

“Rufus just called out Walk-a-Mile. Girls choose partners,”
she told him. He’d never noticed before but her voice reminded him of a mouse—high pitched and squeaky.

This was his last Singing before he left for the Civilian Public Service camp for conscientious objectors in Hagerstown, Maryland. Shouldn’t he be sad to leave his home? Going to the Sunday evening Singings with the young people from his district had been his routine since he started his
rumschpringa
at sixteen.

He’d always teased and toyed with the girls, so finally being allowed to date had just added to the fun all those years ago. But now after more than ten years of Singings and so many girls, he was ready for a change. The day his draft notice came, it struck him that he was in the same place in life now that he had been in when he started managing the farm at twenty. Nothing had changed.

Eli hadn’t, however, wanted to go to a labor camp in order to make a change. He managed his father’s farm, and his abilities would be wasted working in the backwoods of Maryland digging ditches. But it would be his way out—for now. He didn’t want to leave the Amish for good, but he did need to get away, even if just for a short spell of time.

As the couples lined up, Matilda pulled Eli to the back of the line. He’d played this game many times, and if you were lagging in the back there would be no one behind you to tap your shoulder and force all the men of the group to move forward one girl. If you were steady with a girl, you didn’t want to be in the middle of the pack where the lousy fellow behind you would end up walking with your girl. You’d have to tap a lot of shoulders to get back around to her. That was how Walk-a-Mile was played.

“I wanted to talk to you before you leave this week.” She smiled as she spoke. Her brown eyes batted in the moonlight. She made him curious.

Matilda wasn’t the kind of girl that usually flirted with him.
She was more of a
straight-and-narrow
kind of girl. People called Eli
vilt
. He knew he should want to tame his wild ways. His gaze fell on his brother Mark and his new girlfriend, Sylvia, a short distance ahead of them. Mark had wanted to date Sylvia for years. During those years, however, Sylvia wanted Eli instead of Mark. In his usual thoughtlessness, Eli had dated her out of a competitive spirit and had only split with her because of his draft notice. He didn’t want her to wait for him. She’d run straight into Mark’s arms.

“A fine pair,” Matilda spoke up.

Apparently she’d seen where his eyes had landed. She was right. Eli and Sylvia had never been right for each other anyway. Mark was ready to settle down, and Eli suspected they’d be married by spring. The fall wedding season was coming to an end.

“They’ll probably be married by spring.” Matilda echoed his thoughts. She paused briefly.

“So, you’re going to be a camper in Hagerstown? Leaving in a few days?” She took his arm again. Her touch shouldn’t have annoyed him. It was part of the
game
.

He nodded and imagined the long bus ride away from home.

“The Singings won’t be the same without you.”

“Oh, I reckon you’ll still have a
gut zeit
. You always seem to, anyway.”

“A good time without you? You’re funniest of the
yungeh
, Eli. You always keep everyone entertained.”

He smiled at her compliment, but her calling him one of the young people—at his age—grated. Since receiving his draft notice and taking stock of his life, he realized he was nearly the only twenty-five-year-old man still unmarried and without any real prospects. He wasn’t the model of a well-brought-up Amishman. Most men four and five years younger weren’t just married but were already fathers.

“I’d like to write you while you’re away.”

“
Yah
?” His head twitched with surprise. In the dim light he could see that her cheeks had grown rosier from the cold air and that she never ceased to smile.

“
Mem
and
Dat
said that as a community we should support you boys who get drafted. Especially after what happened with Henry Mast.”

She was right. No one wanted any other Amish boy leaving the CPS to enlist in the army. The whole idea of the camps was to provide a place for conscientious objectors—the
conscies,
as they sometimes called the campers—to serve peacefully in the midst of the war. The only other options were noncombative roles or ending up in prison. Defying the Amish standards and the options the government offered was not their way. Eli was not going to enlist like his best friend Henry had. He would serve out his time and return to his farm work, but he would not return to
this.
The idea of returning to Singings and playing games with many who were only sixteen and seventeen years old made him see clearly how childish he’d been for so long.

He let out an audible sigh. Maybe Matilda was right. Getting letters from home would help him through what he expected to be mundane and unsatisfying work.

“Sure, you can write,” he said. “I can’t promise you’ll get many letters back. I’m not very good at
breevah schravah
.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d written a letter.

He laughed.

“Maybe you can just drive me home sometime when you get back as a thank-you.” Suggestion filled her high-pitched voice reminding him of the udder of a cow that’d missed a milking.

Eli cleared his throat in order to push away a chuckle. Then he stopped walking and turned to look at her. She bit her lower lip and her intentions, amidst her nervousness, were clear. He had to defuse this. He gripped the curl of his hat, forcing her hand to drop from his arm.

“Matilda, it’s nice of you to want to write me, but it has to be just as a friend.”

Matilda didn’t move for several long moments. Finally, she nodded and her eyes lowered to the cold ground in front of them. The group finished Walk-a-Mile, and the couples headed toward the buggies and their horses that were loosely tethered to the hitching post. Eli wasn’t in the mood to say a lot of good-byes to the group, so he decided to crack a few jokes instead.

“Just wanted to say
bis schpatah
.” He gave a quick wave as he said he’d see them later.

“
Blap rahs druvel
. We’ll miss you, Eli,” someone yelled out. Several more agreed that he should stay out of trouble.

“Too bad I won’t miss you,” he yelled back, getting a hearty laugh.

Everyone’s eyes were still on Eli even as the laughter died down.

“You know, I thought at first that I’d take some books with me, to pass the
zeit
. Maybe some westerns, but I heard I might not have much time to read with all the ditches I’ll be digging.” A few laughs filtered through the group. “So I decided to take with me the shortest book ever written. You know what it’s called?”

The curiosity in the group was palpable.

“Amish War Heroes.”

Laughter erupted as everyone waved and he waved back. A few of the boys gave him a hearty handshake or a slap on the arm as they walked by. As the group cleared Matilda still stood there.

“You’re always so funny, Eli,” she said, walking up to him. She looked around. “Well, I better go. I’ve got three miles to walk before I get home. I’ll get your address from your
mem
.”

Eli watched her walk away and couldn’t help but release a sigh. He never could say no to a pretty girl, even if he had no real intentions with her.

“Wait, Matilda.”

She turned, and the moon’s glow was like a spotlight on her.

“Hop in,” he said. As he said it he had a feeling he would regret this decision. When they were both in the darkness of the buggy with only the moon to light their way he spoke. “I know we’re just friends, but you shouldn’t have to walk home alone.”

“
Jah
, friends,” Matilda said with a soft and breathy voice.

CHAPTER 1

1945