The Englisher (28 page)
‘‘I’ll be true to you, Louisa,’’
Sam had promised.
‘‘No matter
how long you’re away.’’
His words had thrilled her and made her want to celebrate every moment they had together, yet she feared the very thing that would eventually keep Annie and Ben apart would one day tear Sam from her, too.
The revered Ordnung.
Footsteps in the hallway. Esther sensed them first in her subconscious, half bracing even as she dreamed. Dread filled her veins, and her legs tensed.
Now came the slow creak of boards outside her room. Hazily she attempted to open her eyes. Only slightly awake, she was aware of the darkness . . . of the crib in the corner. The unfamiliar movement in the room.
‘‘Esther . . .’’
Zeke’s voice.
She attempted to make a sound. But her words got lost in the mist of drowsiness, and she wondered if she ought to remain silent. Or was she actually dreaming?
She felt the bed give way beneath his weight. Her husband was not waiting for her answer.
Moving her arm, she pulled the covers up.
‘‘Ach, good . . . you ain’t sleepin’ this time.’’
‘‘Well, I was. Truly, I was.’’
‘‘I’ve been without you too long.’’ His lips brushed her temple, her hair.
‘‘But . . . the Bann,’’ she said, quickly becoming alert.
‘‘Well, then, God help us both.’’ He stroked her hair, caressed her face.
She felt a distant yearning within, surprised by it . . . and soon with his persistent kisses, she was unable to resist his ever-tightening embrace.
Such tenderness tonight. Does he
love me after all?
Torn between her apprehension and her own latent desire, she said no more. She remembered the Scripture about an unbelieving husband being sanctified through his wife, and the thought gave her a smidgen of hope.
Later, when Zeke had fallen asleep, she slipped her arm from beneath his. Zeke started and gasped in his sleep.
Esther froze.
‘‘I’m sorry . . .’’ he moaned hoarsely. ‘‘So sorry.’’
Esther’s heart began to pound.
Can it be? Is he finally
repentant for the way he treats me?
But before she could open her mouth to respond, Zeke moaned again. ‘‘Oh, Isaac, I’ve wronged you so. I’m ever so sorry. . . .’’
J
ulia wouldn’t hear of it; she insisted Louisa take her car.
‘‘No need to offer money for gas!’’ she admonished and said she’d be praying for Louisa, too.
Appreciative of her generosity, but not surprised by it, Louisa took the offered keys and waved good-bye to Annie, as well as to little Molly and James. ‘‘I won’t be gone long,’’ she told Julia, who smiled and said to take all the time she needed.
There should be more people like her,
Louisa thought, heading out the side door of the house to the detached garage. She literally felt strange wearing slacks again—chic black dress pants and a soft pink top—business casual. Her dress boots were easier to get used to again, because she often wore Yonie’s or Omar’s sloppy ones out in the peacock pen with Annie or when helping with barn chores. She had grown accustomed to seeing her feet in black.
Julia had been nice enough to volunteer one of the children’s bedrooms, where Louisa had changed clothes, getting some assistance with her hair from Annie. The middle part hadn’t seemed to want to disappear, so Louisa remedied that by brushing all of it over to the side and scrunching it up a bit. She sprayed it lightly, pleased with the flowing, mussedup look.
Downtown, she parked in the lot adjacent to the museum, glad for her trusty MapQuest directions. The woman she was to meet, a Janet Blake, ushered her into a small yet well-furnished office. Within twenty minutes, Louisa had not only secured the teaching slot for the summer ArtSmart classes for seven- to twelve-year-olds, but she was told she could possibly be filling in for a pregnant teacher, as soon as next week.
‘‘I can’t tell you how excited we are to have you on board here, Louisa,’’ the well-coiffed woman said. ‘‘We like to employ young people with art degrees. Too many artists hole up in their studios, disinterested in teaching.’’ Janet seemed intrigued when Louisa mentioned her address in Paradise.
‘‘I’m staying with an Amish family,’’ Louisa explained.
‘‘How remarkable. Is this a particular study—the Plain life, perhaps?’’
‘‘I’m visiting a friend.’’
‘‘Well, I’ve seen some fine work by an Amish artist . . . and not so long ago. Also from the Paradise area, I believe.’’
That caught Louisa’s attention. ‘‘Where was that? At a gallery?’’
‘‘As a matter of fact, my friend Eileen Sauder owns one on Route 30. She often speaks of a young Amishwoman, about your age, who has brought paintings to be framed . . . and soon are sold. More recently, though, the artist has not been supplying any new work.’’
Louisa realized Janet was most likely talking about her. ‘‘I know that gallery,’’ she admitted.
‘‘Eileen has been getting requests for more paintings. She phoned last week, inquiring if I knew anyone among the Amish community . . . in Paradise, in hopes of locating the artist.’’
I need to let Miss Sauder know I’m limiting my output,
thought Louisa, wondering if at some point, once she was well established, she might want to begin accepting work on commission.
She realized her thinking was askew. She was behaving as if she were going to continue to live here.
Janet reminded her to pick up a parking permit before leaving and thanked Louisa once again for applying. ‘‘I think you’ll enjoy teaching here,’’ she said, pushing back from her desk.
Louisa thanked her for her time. ‘‘I hope to see you next week.’’ She smiled and headed out the door, willing herself not to linger at the walls filled with fine art.
Outside, she decided to walk a while, since her interview had been rather short. Taken by the lovely historic buildings along the tree-lined street, she walked up East Marion and turned on North Cherry, wondering what it might be like to lease a small downtown apartment. She breathed in the air, filling her lungs as she wandered the cobblestone streets, enjoying herself immensely. She caught herself doing a double take when glancing down at her clothing.
How strange I look to myself. . . .
When she turned onto North Duke Street, she spotted the public library and hurried to cross the busy street. Upon entering the stately old building, she noticed the lofty ceilings and impressive crown molding, thinking again how wonderful it might be to live in such a neighborhood.
Discarding the notion as pure fantasy, she strolled through the rows of bookshelves and located the magazine section. She picked up several of her favorite art-related magazines and scanned through feature articles, deciding she missed this world and should start a subscription promptly.
When I decide how long I’m staying. . . .
When her cell rang, she checked the ID and grinned. Sam was calling from the barn phone his family shared with a neighbor. ‘‘Hey,’’ she answered softly, having received one other call from him at this number. ‘‘Can you wait just a minute?’’
Not wishing to disturb the other patrons, she promptly made her way to the entrance. ‘‘Okay, I can talk now.’’
‘‘I had to hear your voice, Louisa. My day isn’t complete unless I do.’’
‘‘Oh, you’re sweet. Well, guess what I did today?’’ She didn’t wait; she told him of her new teaching job. ‘‘I wish you could see the museum where I’ll be working. It’s just magnificent,’’ she said. ‘‘The current art exhibit is so amazing.’’
‘‘I’ve wandered around downtown some,’’ he said. ‘‘I even took the walking tour with a group of tourists once.’’
‘‘Really, when was this?’’
‘‘After class one day. I was dressed for the occasion, too,’’ he said, chuckling into the phone. ‘‘Fancy, ya know.’’
She smiled. ‘‘I’ve got some mighty fine wheels today.’’
He admitted having had a car not so long ago, which didn’t surprise her.
‘‘You really must have pushed the limits during your teen years.’’
‘‘More than you know. And I don’t mean to say I’m proud of it . . . well, only of my community college degree.’’
Louisa wondered if he had dated other English girls, perhaps. ‘‘I need to return Julia’s car,’’ she said, checking her watch. ‘‘And change back into my Amish clothes for supper at the Zooks’.’’
‘‘Dr. Jekyll and Miss Hyde, jah?’’
Louisa chuckled.
‘‘When will I see you again?’’ he asked.
‘‘I think I’d better hang out with Annie this week.’’
‘‘Oh.’’ He sounded glum. ‘‘That’s no fun.’’
‘‘How about sometime over the weekend?’’
‘‘Saturday night?’’ he asked. ‘‘Wear your English clothes and we’ll go somewhere as fancy folk.’’
She wondered how she’d pull that off. ‘‘I may have to change somewhere, after I meet you.’’ She was thinking of not offending Annie’s parents again.
‘‘That’s plenty easy. It’s done all the time.’’
These were strange remarks coming from Sam, and she could hardly wait to hear more. When he said, ‘‘I’m sendin’ a fond good-bye to you,’’ she knew she missed him terribly, too. ‘‘Till Saturday, Louisa. Take good care, ya hear?’’
‘‘You, too. Bye for now.’’
Julia had emphasized the fact that children will absorb the spirit of God in their parents’ lives, but Esther sat quite alone at a folding table in the kitchen, as Zeke and the children ate their supper together. Zeke did not speak either to the children or to her during the meal of veal ring, tomato zucchini casserole, and mashed potatoes. She had labored tirelessly to please him, although she knew how fond Laura and Zach were of the zucchini dish, too.
The past few days, Laura and the boys had witnessed, yet again, the rage simmering within their father. And for all the nights Zeke made his way into Esther’s bedroom, he was not at all a placid man by day. Nothing seemed to put a permanent smile on Zeke’s face.
How will our children soak up the love and acceptance of
their heavenly Father if they don’t see it in Zeke?
She brooded during the meal, only glancing at her family twice before Zeke called out his desire for pie and more coffee. She leaped up, responding as she knew he wished her to. She was careful not to allow tears in front of the children, although once Laura had caught her off guard as she read her Bible alone.
Laura, more than Zach or John, had been curious upon their return home, asking why she slept alone in the bedroom, ‘‘so far away from Dat.’’
Because she did not wish to expose Laura to a needless fear of the Bann and shunning, she told her daughter, ‘‘You’ll understand better one day, when you’re lots older.’’ She had not said a thing about joining the Amish church or committing one’s entire life to a kneeling vow. A firstgrader need not know what lay ahead. Esther pondered how she might steer her little ones toward the grace of the Lord Jesus.
Live out the life of faith before them,
Julia had instructed, but Julia’s words and the life she lived with her thoughtful Irvin were fast becoming a distant memory.
I need the fellowship of believers,
thought Esther. But it was foolish to even consider, given she’d heard tell of women losing their children if certain brethren got wind of Sunday school and church attendance at a worldly meetinghouse. Such things could be grounds for a husband to separate from the wife and take custody of the children.
Surely Zeke will not go that far
.
Sighing, she wondered what was to become of her darling children over time.
Lest she create a nervous stomach as she ate, she began to count their mutual blessings, one of which was Zeke’s growing friendship with Englischer Ben Martin. A most unlikely person, to be sure. Even so, Ben’s coming to help Zeke chop and stack wood had been nothing less than an act of kindness—something that had put a short-lived spring in her husband’s step. The sound of wood giving way to axes and chain saws had been comforting that morning, as was Ben’s holding and effortlessly quieting Essie Ann.
Zeke had long declared that wood cut and stacked and put in the woodshed in late winter would burn far better in late autumn. He was smart that way, and now he had a sidekick of sorts, or so it had seemed from Ben’s and Zeke’s cheerful banter as they left the house together, axes slung over their shoulders.