The Miting: An Old Order Amish Novel, page 30
Maem averted her eyes and stood. “Don’t tell me too much. I don’t want to have to be the one to reveal truths to the bishop if I’m asked.” She smoothed her apron and adjusted her kapp. “I’ve had my say. I think if you can convince the bishop and your daet the Bible reading is over, they’ll ease off for now.”
Leah stood, too. Her stomach was churning again. I cannot give up reading the Bible.
After a few seconds of silence, Maem turned. Her eyes met and held Leah’s gaze.
In that moment, Leah knew the plans she and Jacob had made must change, and quickly. If Jacob agreed, they would not be staying long enough to be married here. Her wedding would not take place in this house. Mother and daughter never spoke the words, but the truth hung between them.
Leah went out to the shop to help Daet as usual, but she was worried about what he would say. For some reason, Maem followed her out. As she entered the door, Daet was talking to Preacher Weaver. They both turned to look at her.
“Leah, Preacher Weaver is here to ask about your intentions regarding the Bible reading.” He glanced at Maem. “I mean, I know you don’t have your Bible anymore, but if you did have one, what would you do?”
Weaver rocked back on his heels. “Ja, we need to find out where your heart is, sister. Do you mean to give up this dangerous practice once and for all?”
Leah kept silent, and Daet turned to Maem. “You talked to her—I saw you through the window. Tell me what she intends, Rachel,” he demanded of Maem.
Maem glanced at Leah, but she turned without a word and left the shop. Daet’s face reddened, and he looked at Preacher Weaver.
“I think we can tell from my daughter’s silence her heart is still hard, and she is being stubborn against the church. I’m sorry to say this, but I think we need to ask the bishop to send for the Amish counselor. I can’t think of any other way to finally settle this.”
“Daet!” Leah stood transfixed, her mind and body in shock. The Amish counselor? What she’d heard about his practice scared her out of her shoes. Rumors of drugs and mental facilities and all the things families whispered about. Surely her own daet would not do this to her.
“Ja, it’s a sad day, but I think you’re right, John. She has some troubles which will need deep help to mend.” He glanced Leah’s way. “If she changes her mind, send word.”
Preacher Weaver left, and Daet stood staring at her. His eyes bored a hole into Leah’s soul. This side of Daet was someone she just didn’t know. She wiped hot tears from her cheeks.
“It’s too late to be sorry now, Leah.”
Daet flexed the muscles in his jaw as he ground out his words. “But as Preacher Weaver said, if you change your mind about all this nonsense, we can go on as though nothing happened. You and Jacob and the family can be happy again. You can have a gut life and gut home here. You can be a part of the church—”
“Daet, stop! I can’t … I can’t listen to this anymore. I tell you, I’m sorry now I ever came home. This is something I never thought my own daet would do to me. I have Jacob to consider, and he’ll not allow you to send me to the Amish hospital.”
“You listen to me! I’m still your daet and always will be. If you and Jacob marry, he will be under my authority, too. Don’t you ever forget that!”
Daet stormed from the shop and slammed the door behind him. Leah whirled. Her world was collapsing. Fear gripped her heart. The rumors about the mental hospital flew through her mind. She would be at the mercy of endless sessions, all leading to acceptance and obedience of the Ordnung, the bishop, her community. It would be a nonstop process of pressure to get her to conform. And Daet had the power to place her there against her will.
Her thoughts raced. She had to get word to Jacob about this plan. She’d even heard of cases when members of the local church had moved into a house to keep the person who was under scrutiny from leaving. Supposedly this was done to keep the individuals in trouble from “harming” themselves.
Leah couldn’t believe how fast things were happening. The news of Martha had set the community on edge. They wanted to be sure any more trouble was met with firm punishment for the sake of the other young people who might get ideas of leaving, too.
She was going to be a scapegoat, and one who wouldn’t be around to cause more problems. The thought of being locked in a facility, drugged, and not able to leave filled her with dread.
She hurried to the house but stopped when she heard Daet yelling in the kitchen at Maem.
This was terrible.
She was trembling and didn’t know where to go next. If she could get to Jacob, maybe they could go somewhere safe. Maybe the Schrocks would take her in again—maybe things would work out after all.
Just as she got to the barn doors to harness Sparky, Daet ran out of the kitchen and met her.
He pulled Leah inside the house and dragged her up the stairs and into her room, ignoring her tears and protests as she stumbled behind him, begging him to let her go.
Maem was crying, too, and Ada rushed up the stairs behind them, pleading with Daet to stop. The house was in an uproar. Daet locked Leah’s bedroom door from outside and shouted at her through the door that he would do what it took to save her from sure hell. His footsteps pounded down the stairs. She heard Maem cry out to him, but then the back door slammed shut, and all that was left was the sound of Maem’s, Ada’s, and Leah’s sobs echoing through the disturbed house.
Leah sank to her bed. She put her head in her hands and called out to the Lord. “Please, help me! Help me! Help Jacob get to me, Lord—send me help—please send me help.” She wept as she had never wept before. Her throat hurt and eyes stung.
“Please, God, help me. Show me what to do. Help me know how to change all this.”
Leah heard a sound at the door. She opened her eyes. They felt crusty and dry. Her arms ached where her head had rested on them. Had she slept? She rolled over to the window. It was dark outside, but she could still make out the last remnants of sunset in the western sky.
“Leah—Leah,” Ada whispered outside in the hallway.
Leah groaned as she sat up. Every muscle in her body protested the movement. She stood and went to the door.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Are you okay?”
“No, I’m scared! Ada, did you hear Daet? He’s sending for the Amish counselor. I don’t want to go—” She choked back a cry.
“Oh, Leah, what are we going to do? You can’t go there; you can’t!” Ada whispered fiercely.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“I’ve been thinking. I have to get Jacob. He has to be told what they’re planning. I’ll go right away. Okay?”
“Oh yes, but tell him not to let them see him. I know Daet won’t allow him in the house.”
“I’ll tell him. We’ll think of something. Don’t worry.”
Leah heard her head down the stairs. She sat back down on the edge of the bed. How will Jacob be able to help me now?
The sun slowly disappeared, and as the creaks and moans of the house settling on its foundation signaled the end of the day, she went to the window and leaned on the ledge. The moon was a sliver of pale yellow. Its head hung low, and its light, dim. Night crept in.
The world was still turning, wasn’t it? Shadows shifted. A cat slunk away from the barn. It lifted its head and stared through silvery green eyes toward her window. She shivered and pulled away from the glass.
More time passed. She was puzzled about why Ada was taking so long to return. The night slipped slowly toward total darkness. Leah waited—and wondered.
A stab of morning sun woke Leah. She quickly rose and hurried to her bedroom door, fuzzy sleep still fogging her brain.
Had Ada ever returned? Did I miss her call as I slept so deeply?
Leah tried the knob. To her surprise, it turned easily and she was able to slip out to the landing at the top of the stairs. She stood and listened quietly but didn’t hear any stirring downstairs. Leah had no idea what time it was but guessed it had to be close to seven since the first fingers of daylight were showing through the downstairs windows.
She crept down the stairs and walked quietly to the kitchen. Maybe she’d be able to sneak out the back door before anyone could stop her. Her thoughts were too jumbled to know what to do after that.
Inside the kitchen, a frying pan on the cook stove held sizzling bacon, but there didn’t seem to be anyone near. As she ran to the back door, footsteps came from behind.
Leah hurried to open it just as a hand came around her shoulder and slammed hard against the door. The latch was put across.
She turned, expecting to see Daet. Instead Elsa Beiler, one of the ladies from church, stood looking at Leah with great sorrow, then turned on her heels, calling to Daet in Dutch.
Daet entered quickly from the front porch with Bishop Miller right behind him. Both men faced Leah, and Daet motioned for her to sit at the table. She was so surprised to see the bishop and Elsa in the kitchen when dawn had barely broken that she silently complied.
“Leah,” began Bishop Miller, “we suspect you have plans to leave with Jacob Yoder. We’ve decided that the church community, who loves you and cares about your spiritual well-being, can help you best by keeping you here until the counselor can come to talk with you.”
“What? I don’t understand—”
“Just what I said, Leah. There’ll be someone near you at all times until we have the chance to sort this out with the counselor.”
“You mean, you’re keeping me here as a prisoner?”
“Leah! You will not show disrespect to the bishop or to the church. You are not a prisoner,” Daet interrupted angrily.
“But you’re keeping me here against my will. Isn’t that a prisoner?”
Daet clamped his mouth shut, and Bishop Miller shook his head. They looked at Leah as though she were the most pitiful creature on earth.
Clearly, they believe I’ve lost my mind.
As Maem hurried into the kitchen, Leah could see she didn’t agree with this, nor did she support it, but she didn’t have a choice in this matter, either. The men had made their decision, and it was up to the women to help the men do what they thought best.
Leah looked slowly at Daet and then at the bishop. They had her here, and there seemed no way out. She shuddered at the thought of being sent to the Amish mental hospital.
Leah pleaded with Daet. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this to me. You have to know what could happen to me in the hospital, right? You’ve heard the same rumors I have.”
Daet glanced down at his folded hands, and his hesitation betrayed his indecision.
“You’ve been given many chances to repent—to truly repent,” the bishop insisted. “Your constant disobedience is a bad example for all the other youth in our community. We have to do what we think is right to save your soul from the Deceiver, who has built a stronghold in your heart.” Slapping his hand against his thigh, he continued, “Can’t you see we’re trying to save your soul, sister?”
Leah got up from the table and paced the kitchen, fear wrapping around her like a heavy wet mantle. “Do you plan to let them drug me, to take me away?” she asked Daet, but the bishop answered.
“We won’t know what the counselor thinks is best until he talks with you. We have to abide with whatever he decides; it will be the Lord’s will if he decides you need treatment for your mental distress over being in the Englisher world for so long.”
“What distress? I—”
“Yes, what other explanation could there be for such rebellion and unhappiness? We have seen the changes in you, Leah, and we know you must have suffered a great shock out there in that terrible world. Who knows what may have happened to you?”
“Nothing happened to me. Nothing! This is far worse than anything the English have ever done,” she shouted. Leah could no longer hold in her frustration and fear.
Though hot anger rose, she knew if she allowed herself to continue ranting, they would have all the more reason to believe she’d lost her mind. She was trapped. She tried to calm herself and went back to the table. She sat down and clamped her mouth shut.
After a few minutes of silence, Daet and the bishop left to get on with their day’s responsibilities. Immediately, several women came into the kitchen to prepare food. Though they looked busy, Leah could see it was a ruse to keep an eye on her.
Maem sat down beside her. She took Leah’s hand and held it, her own fingers trembling against Leah’s palms.
“Maem,” Leah said quietly, “I’ll go to my room. That way, you won’t have to see me being watched.”
Maem nodded, her sad eyes breaking Leah’s heart.
“I’m sorry, Maem, for bringing all this into your home.”
Maem’s eyes filled with tears.
Leah spent the rest of the day in her room, and right on time, meal trays were brought to her door. After each woman left, she heard the key turn in the lock again. They fed her well, and a few of the women even tried to smile at Leah, but she didn’t want their smiles. She could barely eat. Her stomach was roiling with fear.
She paced her room.
Where was Ada? What had happened to Jacob?
Leah knew if he even had an inkling of what was going on here, he’d not stand for it. Something must be wrong.
She went to the window and watched as buggies came and left. The women and men were coming to the house in shifts. Unbelievable! All this because I read my Bible?
Leah swallowed a huge lump in her throat. They were serious, and she could think of no way to get out. Would they go so far as to post guards at the corners of the house and barn? The idea seemed ridiculous. Yet it was nothing compared to the enormity of what tomorrow held: the Amish counselor.
She went back to her bed and curled up with the blankets tight against her chin, wishing for the comfort of her Bible—the very thing that had brought this penalty down upon her.
Closing her eyes against the shadows cloaking her room, Leah recited her favorite psalm, the words bringing an immediate calm to her soul. “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for You are with me …”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Leah was startled out of a fitful sleep by a tap on her door. At first she thought one of the church women was bringing breakfast, but a glance out the window showed it was still dark. Then she heard Ada’s soft voice whisper, “Leah?” as the door eased open.
Leah jumped out of bed and hurried to the door. Ada scooted inside and Leah quietly closed the door, trying hard to make no sound.
“They’re all here, huh?” Ada asked, wide-eyed.
“Yes. There must be at least a half-dozen women in this house tonight, and I have no idea how many of the church men are sleeping in the haymow or other places. Can you believe this?” Leah asked her sister incredulously.
Ada shook her head. “I’ve heard tales of this happening, but I never thought I’d see it here in our own house.”
“Did you find Jacob?”
“Yes—last night,” Ada began, sinking down onto Leah’s bed. “He went right into town to talk with the Schrocks about what to do for you, Leah, and I snuck back into the house. I’ve never been so scared! Then Maem sent Benny and me over to Daniel’s house before sunrise to keep us from seeing what’s going on here. Daniel won’t have anything to do with it, and Sara cried all day. It’s terrible, Leah, what the church plans to do to you! I know I treated you badly, trying to obey Maem and Daet and the bishop, but this … the hospital … this is wrong. If we can get you out of this house, you must leave.”
Leah nodded. “Okay, but I don’t want to get anyone into trouble.”
“There shouldn’t be legal trouble anyway. The Schrocks said that you’re eighteen now and allowed under the law to make your own decisions. And if I’d known about this, I would have told Jacob earlier. He might have gotten you out if we’d known what the church and Bishop Miller were going to do.”
Leah shook her head. “They were here when I got up this morning. I went downstairs and there they all were—Elsa Beiler even shut the door on me and locked it.”
Ada sighed. “This is unbelievable, Leah.” She suddenly got up and searched her apron pocket. “I almost forgot. Jacob sent you a note.”
She handed her sister a wrinkled paper, and Leah opened it eagerly. In the note, Jacob promised to find a way to get Leah out of the house, and he ended his note: Praying for you—keep your eyes open. We’ll think of something, but you have to be ready to go when the chance comes. See you soon, Jacob.
Leah stuck the note in her apron and looked at Ada. “Did he say when he planned to come?”
“No, but I think it will be sometime tonight.”
She nodded. “I’ll get ready then.”
Ada stood and Leah studied her younger sister, seeing the dark circles beneath her eyes and the worry lines crossing her forehead. She could tell Ada, too, was thinking she might never see her again. She gave Ada a long hug. “Don’t worry. I’ll be all right.”
“I know, I just wonder if I—”
“Don’t think about that now,” Leah interrupted softly. “If you ever need me, though, you know I’ll be there for you, right?”
Ada nodded, tears bright in her eyes. “Things have changed, Leah. I wish we could move or get a new bishop. Miller is too harsh; he’s part of the trouble.”
Leah nodded but urged her never to say anything about their bishop to Daet. “My mistake was in trying to reason with them,” she said softly. “It isn’t possible to do that when hearts are hard and minds are closed tight against the truth.”
Ada turned to go but stopped and turned back. “Leah, promise me you’ll keep praying for all of us, okay?”
“Yes, always.”
As she closed the door, Leah barely detected her sister’s footsteps tiptoe down the hall to her room. Then Leah let the tears fall. Her last night at home and the sorrows she’d had before were there again. The dreams and hopes she’d had about things being different were just that—dreams.
