The Preacher's Daughter (15 page)

Still does,
Louisa realized. ‘‘You're not telling me anything. It's excruciating letting go. It would be way harder for you, though, having been in a courtship for three solid years like you were.'' She pondered the many dates Annie and Rudy must have had, even though Amish couples saw each other rather infrequently— every other Saturday and the opposite two Sundays each month. The only other opportunities were flirtatious exchanges across the room at Preaching service or if they happened to be seated near each other at one of the many wedding feasts from November through March. Annie had written that since fewer farmers were raising tobacco currently, more time was freed up, and the bishops had extended the wedding season by three months. A good thing in the grand scheme of things— the more couples ‘‘hitched up,'' the more babies born. This, as Louisa understood it, was the way the Amish propagated themselves, not by seeking out new converts.

‘‘Poor Rudy,'' Annie said suddenly. ‘‘He got awful tired of bein' put off. And who's to blame him? In the end, I refused to submit . . . turned him down.''

Louisa wanted to divert the conversation. It was way too easy for both of them to get caught up in the ‘‘woe is me'' thing. So she attempted to change the subject and asked about Annie's lovely walnut hope chest.

‘‘Sure, I'll show you.'' Annie went to the foot of the bed and opened it wide. She removed a heart-shaped pillow with a tatted edge and held it up for Louisa. ‘‘Sarah Mae, my first sister-in-law, made this for me.'' Next she presented a set of starched white doilies. ‘‘Nearly all the gifts here were given on my sixteenth birthday.'' She took out a long tablecloth, neatly unfolding it and pointing out embroidered delicate pink roses. ‘‘This one's so colorful, ain't so?''

Ain't so
. Louisa pursed her lips to make sure she didn't smile too broadly. Annie's exuberance was infectious, no question. She was incredibly excited about life in general and more specifically about making Louisa feel quite at home here, even though Annie was still terribly wounded, Louisa knew.

Watching Annie display one cherished item after another from her hope chest, Louisa realized suddenly she was quite okay about not returning Michael's persistent calls. In fact, she could not summon even the smallest fleck of guilt, entirely content to relax here in this room. A world apart.

Upon first arriving and sitting at the desk made by Preacher Zook, Louisa had noticed how sparsely furnished Annie's room was. A double bed with a solid maple head and footboard, two large multicolored rag rugs, a wide maple bureau—without a mirror!—and the petite writing desk in the opposite corner graced the room. Other than that, there was a single cane-back chair situated near one of the windows.

Definitely exhausted, she felt this first evening in Amish country seemed perfect, almost surreal . . . like being a character in one of the alternate reality books her mom's book club had read and discussed. Like dreaming you were in Amish country and waking up to find it was quite true!

Maybe this is my favorite day ever. . . .

Tears rolled down Esther Hochstetler's face as she lay on her side in bed, facing the door. She willed herself to take only shallow breaths, not wanting to awaken her husband.

Has he forgotten what it means to be a child?
she wondered.
Poor little Laura. Her heart must be broken, for sure
.

It was all she could do to lie still next to him, her back toward his. He preferred to sleep like two spoons nestled together amidst warm layers of heirloom quilts. But she had made it a point to distance herself from his wrath, silently accepting some of the blame.

She had been frightened to intervene this time, as she always was. A submissive woman under God was not to question her husband's methods of discipline, according to their upbringing. The womenfolk toed the line without reservation or animosity toward their husbands or the church brethren. This was expected.

What's wrong with me? Why do I question Zeke's authority?
She asked herself such questions nearly every day.

Earlier tonight, young Laura had simply rushed out the back door alone, making a beeline to the outhouse. Something she'd eaten had not set well. This had been the childish excuse given. Esther had believed her daughter's confession, for she'd seen her little one's ashen face soon after the supper hour.

Laura's transgression had occurred once the house had fallen quiet, several hours past dusk. Ignoring the standing rule, made when Laura was a mere toddler, her girl had not stood at the bedroom door and called out to awaken Esther. After dark, the children were required to have either Zeke or Esther accompany them everywhere. Other fathers amongst the People had imposed similar expectations for a good number of years now, as well.

Who knows what may lurk in the darkness,
Zeke uttered all too often, but oddly enough, his urgings no longer put the fear of God in Esther.

Always before tonight she had managed to bite her tongue and keep her peace.

Honestly, I couldn't wait, Dat. I had to hurry. . . .

Little Laura's pleas ricocheted through Esther's memory now—her pleadings for Zeke not to whip her were followed by high-pitched screams that ripped through a mother's tender soul. Esther concluded that Zeke's heart was hard as stone, for Laura's cries had touched him not one iota. He had taken their wee girl out behind the barn, made her raise her skirt, and thrashed her with a willow switch, leaving welts up and down the back of her legs.

No longer able to stand by, Esther had gone out and hollered at him, ‘‘Stop hurting her, for goodness' sake!''

By some miracle, he had stopped, his face all flushed red, anger spent. Looking at Laura with glistening eyes, he pushed her back toward Esther. ‘‘There, now that you've learned your lesson, go to your mamma,'' he said, his voice cracking with a hint of remorse.

But now in the dark room she agonized anew.
Why must he be so?

Boldly, she had ordered something by mail, from an ad she'd seen in
The Budget
a few weeks back. And lest she be found out, she'd watched the mail like a hawk till the order arrived. Yesterday! Oh, how eager she was to see if it would work. Starting tomorrow morning, and every day after, she planned to steep the tasteless herb into Zeke's black coffee.
This is desperation,
she thought.

Suddenly he turned and reached for her in his sleep. Her body shuddered at his touch, and she held her breath, frightened that he might awaken fully.

She lay there in the stillness, pondering her resentment. How could Zeke be kind, even understanding, one day, only to pester and belittle his family the next? He had already started in on young Zach, who, if childishly forgetting one of the rules— misbehaving in the least—was humiliated no end. Sadly, she was most perturbed by the helplessness she felt at her inability to protect her own offspring.

Her animosity was devouring her love, as each year passed.
Yet I will bear another baby for my husband this winter
. Her muscles tensed at the thought of one more innocent life having to endure the domination of such a moody and volatile parent. She hoped the new babe might be another boy, and a brawny one, to be sure. One who could stand his own against his father if ever things should come to that.

How did I ever fall for such a man?
she wondered.

But she knew all too well and could not blame anyone but herself.

Outside, the late September day had been perfect in every way—full sun, warm breezes, and nary a cloud on the horizon. Inside, however, Essie was scared speechless as her heart pounded at the thought of mingling with young men at the church-sponsored youth activity. Her older brother had taken her in his open carriage, as good brothers did, to her first Sunday singing.

A buzz of voices wafted her way as she stepped out of the buggy and wandered toward the two-story barn. The sound of so many youth in one place—boys and girls alike—filled her heart with dread and her head with visions of being passed over.

Soon she and all the others were singing the ‘‘fast songs'' in unison. At one point, she looked down the long row of young men on the opposite side of the table from her and a host of other girls. Like a magnet pulling hard on her, she caught the unexpected gaze of a boy she'd never seen at Preaching. He was staring and smiling at her, and making no bones about it, either.

Quickly, she looked away, her face burning with shyness. Try as she might, she could not continue singing, her mouth so dry and her brain so befuddled.

It turned out the boy with light brown hair and shining brown eyes must have kept his gaze focused squarely on her the entire time of singing and table fellowship, although she did not once look his way again.

When later she stood to talk with several girls, she was astonished by his haste, and even his courage, in approaching her. She had turned only slightly and there he was, standing a smidgen too close. The girls who were with her revealed a certain alarm in their eyes, or perhaps it was astonishment. She didn't know which.

‘‘You're the pertiest girl here'' were the first words out of Ezekiel's mouth.

From that moment on, she was smitten with the good-looking boy from out of town, who had just happened to come for no apparent reason. His striking confidence in what he seemed to want, her as his
Aldi
—girlfriend—made her feel ever so good about herself.

After a mere two rides in his courting carriage, she embraced his wonderful-good declaration of her as ‘‘my precious little dove.'' He was constantly saying how he would take such good care of her all the days of her life. She believed him, deciding then and there this handsome, caring Zeke was the man of her dreams.

When they had been engaged for a short time, her father somehow found out and stepped in, pleading with Essie not to marry outside her church district. Preacher Zook also went to her father privately and strongly urged him not to allow her to marry Zeke, never giving any solid reason for the opposition. But she insisted she could not turn her back on her fiancé.

Zeke had spent his most recent years in Honey Brook, and he made it known he was not so keen on living in Paradise, though he had been originally from the area. A topsy-turvy time, to be sure.

Eventually Zeke was persuaded to change his mind about where they would live, and in the end, agreed to settle near Essie's parents' farm, accepting a thirty-acre parcel of land.

Without a doubt, Esther was quite sure they would be living far from here instead of a close distance to her now widowed mother had her father not intervened and convinced Zeke in the end with the whopping-good dowry.

Sighing now, she felt painfully hemmed in, wishing she could move away from the confines of her husband's unconscious embrace. But the slightest movement might set off an alarm in his brain—trigger his own persistent nightmares—so she kept her upper body completely motionless. Slowly she slid her legs down, stretching them carefully, glad for the coolness of the sheet against her skin.

Who can I talk to? Who would even begin to understand?

Esther wished she dared slip out of bed, if only for a moment, to comfort her wounded little girl. She longed to hold Laura close, soothing her with gentle strokes and kisses. Sleep evaded her as the muted sniffles of her firstborn echoed down the hall.

Chapter 16

A
t Sunday breakfast, Jesse nearly fell off his chair when Annie and Louisa strolled into the kitchen arm in arm. The Englischer looked every bit as though she belonged in the family, decidedly Amish. Aside from the unusual color of her bluish-green eyes and brown hair, she might even have passed for Annie's sister.

I worried for nothing, indeed,
he thought, amused. In all truth, he was pleased at Annie's transformation of Louisa Stratford, because his heart had sunk instantly at seeing her saunter up the lane yesterday, modern as the day was long in such brazenly tight jeans and that loud shirt and gleaming gold jewelry.

But now, at this minute, Louisa's expression was nearly as soft as Annie's own. He thought of his mother—dear Mamm, who was cooking breakfast next door because Dat was ailing this morning. Still, Jesse recalled her words of long ago:
The way in which a child is dressed reveals a mother's true heart
.

Annie couldn't help but notice her brothers' reaction to Louisa's purple dress and full black apron as they settled into their places at the breakfast table.

‘‘Didn't expect you to be lookin' so, uh . . . Plain this mornin','' Omar said, eyeing Louisa's head covering. ‘‘You oughta come along to the singing tonight over at Lapps' barn. Ain't that right, Annie?''

She hadn't yet mentioned anything to Louisa. ‘‘We'll see.'' She poured freshly squeezed orange juice into each glass, wondering if Louisa might be curious to see from afar who Rudy Esh was, having heard so much about him. After all, Louisa had been fully aware of Rudy and Annie's courtship from the very first night on.
Might be the only reason she'd want to go,
Annie thought, sensitive to her friend's own emotional state.

Severely disappointed in love, Louisa would not care to meet new young men. Not even the cutest fellows that hung around the singings, probably. Annie seriously doubted she would want to go at all, and now, seeing the distant look in her eyes, she wished Omar hadn't brought up tonight's singing.

Two sermons, one much longer than the other, were given in High German, followed by a few testimonies in Pennsylvania Dutch, a dialect of German. As a result, Louisa didn't understand what either the preachers or the deacon were saying, but she did manage to turn around and kneel in silent prayer at her seat whenever Annie and her mother did, which happened twice during the meeting. She also rather curiously observed the rise and fall of Preacher Zook's rhythmic discourse, noting the way both he and the other minister folded their hands beneath their long flowing beards, as if in perpetual prayer while they stood preaching to a packed house.