Authors: Adina Senft
She released her hold and went to the refrigerator. “We have cream for your coffee this morning.”
“What about you, Carrie?”
“Oh
ja
, I’ll have some, too. What a treat.”
“I didn’t mean cream, I meant prayer. Were you able to approach God last night?”
She nodded as she poured a dollop into the mug he held out to her. The silence stretched out as she poured her own, and when she sat in her place at his right hand to take her first, satisfying sip, his gaze had not left her. “What?”
Something changed in his eyes, and his lashes dipped. “Nothing. It’s just as well I have an early start today. We’re expecting a load of lumber early at Brian’s, for that dining suite. The buyer decided it wasn’t such a rush after all, but he still wants us to make it.”
Sensitive to his moods, she was always glad to see his satisfaction in the word “us.” It was
gut
he had work he liked, and a good business to be part of. The solitary work of a farmer was just not what he was cut out for.
“You’ll be home at the usual time?”
He looked down at the tabletop. “
Ja
.”
Was he waiting for something? She had asked forgiveness and received it. What more could there be?
“I’ll start breakfast, then.” She began to get up, but he covered her hand with his.
“Carrie, how can this be true?”
She settled into her chair. He had lost her again. “How can what be true?”
“That you could pray, believing as you do that this medical scheme is acceptable in the eyes of God.”
What answer did he want from her? She did believe that, no matter what everyone thought. “It’s as you say.”
“But how can you think so?”
“I think the blessing of the child is worth the inconvenience of the way it’s conceived.”
“Inconvenience?” he whispered. “Is that all this blasphemy is to you? An inconvenience?”
She pressed her molars together and breathed a prayer for a soft answer, even though her head was uncovered and her
Kapp
upstairs. “If you forgave me for these thoughts last night, why are you bringing them up again?”
“Because I thought that when you knelt before God, He would have changed your heart. Or maybe I should say your mind, because clearly it’s man’s thinking at work here, not God’s.”
“And you know how God thinks?”
“Of course not. The Bible says His thinking is far above ours.”
“Then where in the Bible does it say that IVF is wrong?”
His jaw firmed and his lips thinned in the way they did when he was coming to the limits of his patience. “It does not, of course, as you know very well. But the
Ordnung
—”
“There is nothing in the
Ordnung
about it, either, and if you didn’t know that before, when we go into the
Abstellung
at Council Meeting in three weeks and Bishop Daniel goes over it, you’ll know then.”
“And of course he’ll say nothing about it. Because such a thing is not covered. Because no one has ever wanted to do it. No one has ever been bold and proud enough to put herself above God on this matter!”
Carrie glared at him, so angry she dared not speak.
“And when he asks you if you are ready for Communion, Fraa, what will you tell him?”
“I will tell him I am.” Carrie lifted her chin. “I will have done no wrong, even if I do go to the doctor and ask her questions about it.”
“Then you will not be in unity with the
Gmee
,” he said slowly. “You cannot take Communion if you have a quarrel with even one person.”
“And are you that one person? Are you going to bring this up in public?”
“Of course not. We must resolve it well beforehand so we can take the bread and the cup with peace in our hearts. We must be right with God.”
“Or must we just be right?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” He pushed back from the table as though he meant to leave without his breakfast.
“Where are you going? You haven’t eaten yet.”
“I’m not hungry. I must go. Someone has to meet the truck.”
At six in the morning?
She tried to kiss him good-bye. And he let her. But she may as well have kissed a fence post for all the joy it gave either of them.
B
y two o’clock, Carrie had finished two dozen quarts of applesauce, gently flavored with cinnamon, and lined them up in rosy rows on the counter. The kitchen smelled just as she’d imagined…which was about the only lovely thing about the day.
With a sigh, she settled at the table with a cup of tea, a piece of apple crumble drowned in cream, and pencil and paper. If she was to make Emma’s wedding cake, she would need to take a trip to town to buy the ingredients she didn’t have on hand, and to refresh her supply of food coloring for the bird cutouts.
So when a buggy rattled into the yard and footsteps came up the porch stairs, she laid her pencil down on the paper with a snap. Who was this, now? And how fast could she send them on their way so she could catch the bus?
“
Ischt mir
,” Joshua said cheerfully, opening the kitchen door and leaning in. “Hey, that looks good. Any chance of a helping before I get started on the barn?”
“You’re working today?” she said, a little blankly. She’d forgotten all about him, as thoroughly as if he’d never been born.
“Melvin asked me to help him replace the loft floor before someone falls through it. By the time I’m done, the
Youngie
will be able to hold a hoedown up there.”
So much for the bus. Mentally, she waved good-bye to it and moved her list off the table.
“That’s not very likely,” she said dryly. She beckoned him in and dished up a good helping of crumble. No cream. That was for Melvin’s dessert tonight, and Joshua could comment if he wanted to, he wasn’t getting any.
But he didn’t say a word, just dug into the bowl with enthusiasm. “I hope you’re well?” he asked when he came up for air.
How to answer that? Carrie couldn’t very well tell him the truth—
I’m quarreling with my husband over a new cure for an old problem
—so she settled for nodding her head. “And you?”
“
Gut
. But I think you’re just being polite. The light’s gone out of your face.”
Goodness. How could such a harum-scarum man who made a career out of being irritating say something so perceptive…and so kind? And once again, there was no reply she could make that wasn’t disloyal…or any of his business.
“Now I’ve made you blush. Come on, Carrie. What’s the matter? You can tell old Joshua.”
“I can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?” He polished off his bowl and pushed it aside, then leaned on both elbows on the table.
“There are things a woman doesn’t talk about with a man who isn’t her husband,” she told him, swiping the bowl and taking it to the sink.
“Oh.” His tone said he knew exactly what she was talking about, though that was impossible. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. We men can surprise you with what we know.”
“I’m sure you can. But that doesn’t mean we women are going to talk about it with you.”
“Guess I’d do better with an
Englisch
woman. They don’t seem to have any problems talking about personal things right out in public.”
Carrie froze. He was just babbling, talking to fill the silence. He couldn’t know about what those two women had been talking about in the fabric store. “Maybe.”
Now he’d caught her gaze and wasn’t letting her look away. “I think I know what’s bothering you—and believe me, plenty of other people will be bothered about it, too.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carrie said through stiff lips. “If you’re going out to the barn, you’d better go, or Melvin will find you still here and not a single board laid.”
“Have it your way,” he said. “Maybe you’re wise to keep it to yourself. There’s sure to be a to-do once it gets out that you’ve even let that thought enter your head.”
That tied it. “Joshua Steiner, either speak plain or stop talking. Or maybe you just like the sound of your own voice, whether it makes any sense or not.” There, if that didn’t sound like Emma, she didn’t know what did.
To her surprise, he laughed. “If you said that to anyone but me, they’d feel sorry for Melvin, having such a bossy wife on his hands.”
“No one flaps his lips the way you do, so I don’t have to speak so to anyone else. Now, tell me what you’re talking about.”
“I heard a rumor, is all.”
“What rumor?”
“That there’s a newfangled medical practice that could result in the pitter-patter of little feet at the Miller house. And I don’t mean those chickens of yours.”
A sudden, awful thought struck her. She had only confided in three people—Melvin, Emma, and Amelia. And not one of them would ever break such a confidence. Or so she thought. But with all his faults, Emma still harbored a soft spot for Joshua, believed in him when many others did not.
Oh, surely Emma hadn’t…
“I’m not saying a word,” Joshua said. “But I know a lady in Shipshewana who went through the procedure. And she’s now the mother of a two-year-old boy.”
“An Amish woman?”
“Well, no. But she’d been married a long time and come to find out her husband couldn’t father a child. So they did the test-tube procedure using someone else’s, er…” Finally, he looked a little embarrassed, as though it had taken this long for him to figure out how inappropriate this conversation was.
“Swimmers?” Carrie supplied, not without an edge to her tone.
Please say Emma didn’t betray my confidence. Not Emma
.
“A good
Englisch
word for an
Englisch
idea. Yes. And now she’s a happy mother.”
“But she’s
Englisch
. She doesn’t have the
Ordnung
to contend with.”
“Such a thing is in the
Ordnung
here?” She’d never have believed she could surprise Joshua. But then, there were a lot of things she wouldn’t have believed last week that she was forced to look in the eye this week.
“No, of course not. But both Amelia and Melvin have given me their opinions in no uncertain terms, so it might as well be.”
“But Amelia and Melvin don’t go over the
Amstellung
every year, do they?”
“
Nei
, Bishop Daniel does, as you know very well.” Goodness, what silly things he said.
“So Bishop Daniel is the one who can say if this is right or wrong, not Amelia or Melvin.”
Silence settled in the kitchen. Finally Carrie said, “I will not speak of these things with you. It’s not right.”
He only shrugged and got up. But she couldn’t let him leave before he answered one question. “Who told you about these things? Who said I was thinking of it?”
“There are certain things I can’t speak of with you, either.” And he smiled, the most innocent, maddening smile—the kind that would get him shaken by the shoulders if she were only tall enough and brave enough.
And instead of laughing and telling her, he moseyed out the door as though he had all the time in the world and a clear conscience to enjoy it with.
Carrie had never stamped her foot in all her life.
Next time, she would remember to wear shoes. It hurt.
* * *
At dinner, Melvin enjoyed his crumble and cream, and neither of them brought up the subject. All the next day, Carrie made meals and spoke gently, and saw him visibly relax. But by Friday morning, she had made up her mind.
They were expecting Brian and Erica for supper, so she made up a salmon casserole in the morning and put it in the cooling porch for the day. Dessert would be fresh apple-and-cranberry pie, and there were any number of vegetables in the garden to pick yet for side dishes.
Doing everything early meant she was free to take the shortcut along the creek to Edgeware Road and the Lapp farm, which lay on the other side of the road and about half a mile from the Stolzfus place.
God must have been with her, because there were no visiting buggies in the yard, and from what she could tell, the buggy horses were out in the pasture, grazing. Chances were good that Mary Lapp was home.
Mary Lapp’s eyebrows practically disappeared under her hairline. “Why, Carrie Miller. Whatever are you doing all the way over here? You didn’t walk, did you, on such a blustery day? Come on in.”
“I did walk, but not in faith that the rain would hold off. I brought an umbrella in my bag.”
“Daniel has to go and see Moses Yoder on church business later this afternoon. He can give you a ride back.”
Mary Lapp had a terrible reputation for talking—in conversation, you could hardly get a word in edgewise, and chances were good that whatever you said would wind up on the grapevine sooner or later. But Carrie pulled her courage together. All she could do was ask the bishop’s wife for advice and beg her not to say anything about it. After that, it was up to God—and Mary’s conscience.
“So what brings you here today?” Mary’s black eyes sparkled with interest…and kindness, too, if the truth must be told. More than one or two of the casseroles that had appeared now and again during the lean times had come from Mary’s kitchen, with never a word said about it. But a woman’s cooking was as distinctive as her handwriting, and Mary had a talented hand with the herbs she grew in her garden.
“I came to ask your advice about something,” she said slowly.
Mary looked pleased, then puzzled. “But why come to me and not Miriam? Surely a mother knows more about her daughter and is in a better position to give good counsel?”
“Not about certain things,” Carrie said. “Things that might fall under the
Ordnung
.”
“Then you would want the bishop,” Mary said.
“Female things,” she said, a little awkwardly. “I wouldn’t know how to put this matter to Daniel in a way that wouldn’t embarrass him.”
“Goodness.” Mary got up and put the kettle on. “Sounds like we might be here for a few minutes. Let me cut some pumpkin pie and we’ll have a nice cup of Ruth Lehman’s new tea blend with it.”
Once she’d seen Carrie settled with a cup of steaming tea and nearly a quarter slice of pie with cream—no holding on to that for special occasions here; they had a pasture full of dairy cows—Mary sat down opposite her. “Now. Suppose you tell me what’s on your mind. Daniel’s out in the barn and he won’t interrupt.”
Where to start? Mary already knew how it was with her—how every month was a disappointment and every year a cause for grief. So she began with what had put her on this path: the ladies in the store.
“So then I went to the library and read some books about it, and it seemed that if it were possible to do this thing, then maybe there was hope for me becoming a mother after all.”
Mary gazed at her, then took a sip of tea and a forkful of pie. And still the silence lengthened. At last she swallowed and said, “What does Melvin have to say about it?”
“He…well, it was something new for him.”
“And for me, too, I must say.”
“He didn’t seem in favor of it right off the bat,” Carrie said carefully. “But I think that if he thought about it a little, he might see it from my point of view.”
“What did he say, exactly, Carrie?”
“He said it was an abomination and I was flying in the face of God,” she said miserably. “That I was putting myself above the will of God to use worldly medicine to get what I wanted.”
“Our human wills tend to grasp at anything to get what they want,” Mary said tactfully. “But I have to say that Melvin is probably right.”
A man’s feelings were one thing. Men wrote the laws, after all. But there had to be a way to convince another woman that this idea had its merits, even if no one around here had given them any thought before.
“I know this is a new idea,” she said. “But I don’t think it’s wrong. Thousands of babies have been born this way.”
“What way, exactly?”
Carrie told her, as gently as accuracy would allow. Mary’s eyes widened. “Well. I see why Melvin thinks the way he does.”
“But the question is, will the bishop think the same way? Council Meeting is coming up soon, and Mary, if Daniel were to say some little thing about it—leave me some way where I could have this procedure done and Melvin would be satisfied that it did not go against the
Ordnung
…do you think that would be possible?”
Just a few words. That was all she asked for. Just a hint that such a thing would not be a sin, and Melvin could say nothing against it. Whether he would actually go to the hospital and submit to the tests was a whole other matter, but that was something she could handle. His spiritual objections were a much higher fence to jump.
“What would you have him say?” Mary asked gently.
Send me the words, Lord
. “Maybe something about the blessings of welcoming little ones into the world, no matter how they are conceived, or a word or two about the medical procedures the church will fund….” She looked up from her pie and saw the pity in Mary’s face, and the words trailed away.
“You know my husband,” Mary said quietly. “He is a conservative man, a traditional man. Maybe another bishop could stand up in front of the congregation he is responsible for and say those things, but I do not think that Daniel could.”
The little green shoot of hope that Carrie had been nurturing in her heart shuddered under a blast of cold reality. “Could you just talk to him about it? Maybe on this one subject that is so important he might be willing to consider being a little less traditional?”
“More important than the needs of those who are under medical treatment now? More important than Sarah Yoder’s hip replacement? Or Grant Weaver’s hospital stay, which the
Gmee
is still paying for?”
“Not
more
important,” Carrie whispered. “Everyone’s needs must be cared for. Daniel makes sure they are.” Except Amelia’s, when she wanted that treatment in Mexico. She had not had the elders’ approval for that, and Daniel had been the one to tell her so.
“These situations are real, physical problems, Carrie. Sarah cannot walk without her motorized chair. This new hip would allow her to come and go to church with freedom again. And Grant’s ability to work and provide for his children was at stake. Childlessness is not an injury, or a disease. It is simply God’s will.”
“It isn’t an injury, or a disease, as you say. But it is a condition, a medical condition that has a medical cure that has worked in thousands of cases.”