Beside Still Waters (10 page)

Church service was the same as always. The singing of
slow weis
songs, without the accompaniment of instruments. Preaching and Bible reading in German, and prayer time—lots of time down on one's knees, with heads bowed. Time in which one could think.

And Marianna had plenty to think about.

They rose again for another song, and even though Marianna had sung it a hundred times or more, she couldn't understand the words. Each word was sung slowly, drawn out. Every syllable received equal attention, until one couldn't tell where one word ended and another began. She squirmed in her seat, her rear growing tired of sitting on the hard wooden bench. Her mind growing weary of trying to pay attention to the service when there were so many other things wrestling for her attention.

After the song they sat again and the bishop stood, quiet for a moment, scanning the crowd.

"I would like everyone to remain seated."

He shuffled his feet, shifting his weight from side to side until his gaze fell upon a young woman one row in front of Marianna. People around the room squirmed in their seats, uneasy. Everyone, like her, was following the bishop's gaze, wondering what this was about.

"I've asked you to remain seated because a member of our congregation has a confession to make."

The girl, Viola, stood and walked to the front of the room, and Marianna's eyes widened. What on earth had the girl done?

Whether someone confessed to a deacon, or their sin was found out and confronted, confession in front of the church was the only way to get guilt off of one's chest. Her uncle, Ike, had confessed once for stealing a lighter and cigarettes from the county store not long after he joined the church as a young man. He'd told her he was glad he'd gone before the church and confessed. He'd said it felt good to go on with a clear conscience.

"This is Viola Mast." The bishop rolled back on his heels and scanned the congregation. "She came to a deacon just this week and told him she'd been listening to records at the house of the woman she cleans for."

Viola's head was lowered, and Marianna noticed the woman's hands trembling. Knowing how things worked, Viola walked to the front door and exited. A deacon with an umbrella walked with her, and the door was closed behind them.

When Viola Mast was gone, the bishop led the men in a discussion of what her punishment should be. When it was decided, the bishop went to the door and invited them back in.

Head still lowered, Viola stood before the bishop, waiting to hear her punishment, waiting to know what she must do for her misdeed to be pardoned. The bishop spoke only loud enough for Viola to hear. When he finished, Viola nodded and turned to face the crowd. Her sleeves and hem were damp where the umbrella hadn't covered her, but she didn't seem to notice. With sincerity on her face, she knelt before the congregation.

Uneasiness filled Marianna. To have to do such a thing! She lowered her head, queasiness coming over her from the woman's forced humility. Marianna imagined herself kneeling in such a way, and prickles covered her arms as if a thousand invisible ants climbed them.

Her chest tightened as if someone had put a harness around it and pulled. The slightest headache beat along with her heartbeat in her temple. If she learned anything growing up, it was that others were watching, God was watching. And even though others in the congregation didn't know what was going on inside, God could read her thoughts.

"I confess today that I am sorry for sinning in this way, and I promise not to do it again." Following Viola's words, came the release of a deep breath.

"You are forgiven." The bishop motioned her back to her seat. As the woman returned, Marianna noticed the hint of a smile, and she knew the woman no doubt felt better not carrying her transgressions on her shoulders any more.

Seeing the woman's clear relief, Marianna couldn't help but wonder if
she
had anything to confess. She couldn't think of anything worthy of going in front of the church—not that she'd have to confess if she did think of something. She was still in her
rumspringa
and had yet to join the church. Only official members who'd been baptized into the congregation had to go through such steps. Of course, she would be an official member soon. Her plan was to start meeting with the deacons, to prepare for joining this fall with the rest of the like-minded young people.

Yet at this point she didn't even know if she'd be here in Indiana, and the last thing she wanted was to go through such an important event in a different place, far from everything she knew. Which meant she'd have to wait another year. Her life would be put on hold for her father's desire for adventure. Marianna clenched the palm of her bandaged hand, and her nails dug into the cloth. And as the others began to rise around her, she wondered if having angry thoughts for one's father and brother was a sin according to the Ordnung? Those were becoming a regular occurrence.

After the church service came time for lunch. Marianna helped in the kitchen as the men added legs to the sitting benches, transforming them into narrow tables that ran the length of the room in rows. Once the tables were up, she joined the other women in draping long tablecloths over them. Then she worked at setting out lunch: peanut butter, jam, sweet pickles, and pickled beets. It was the same every week. Next came the large loaves of bread. She took three loaves at a time and set slices along the tables for the men who sat and ate.

"How are you doing today?"

The voice came from behind her, and Marianna's heart felt warm and full, as if it had doubled in her chest. She knew Aaron's voice without turning.

She rearranged the bread on the plate, almost afraid to look at him. Finally Marianna took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder. Aaron was taking the seat beside where she stood, sitting down next to his younger brother who was just a toddler.

"I'm fine, and you?"

"Good, good. Just helping my brother get some lunch. Your mother said you made some of those pies."

She turned her body toward him and met his gaze.

"Yes, the apple ones. I can cut you a piece if you'd like."

Aaron looked up at her from where he sat. His eyes were light. Almost as light as the sky after a rainstorm, and they sparkled as if they were filled with a thousand raindrops. His hair was the color of golden wheat and had a halo around it from where his hat had sat. He looked part boy and part man. Mostly man.

"I would love a piece, Marianna.
Denke.
"

Her heartbeat quickened and even though the words were simple she sensed emotion behind them.

She left the bread on the table and hurried to the kitchen. And even though they didn't serve pie until after everyone had finished their sandwiches, none of the women said a word as she cut a large slice of apple pie, slid it onto a plate, and then took it to Aaron, setting it before him.

"
Denke.
It looks delicious." His hand brushed against hers as he reached for the plate, and tingles raced up her arm.

Marianna looked away, noticing the women in the kitchen were still watching, and she felt as if her soul was bare before them. It wasn't a comfortable feeling.

She walked away without saying another word, and then felt bad for doing so. She should have asked Aaron about his work. Or if he still planned on attending the youth singing tonight. Instead, she returned to the loaves of bread and continued to place them out on the tables. As she moved, she had a feeling that a hundred eyes watched her. She didn't care about all the other eyes. She just hoped Aaron liked what he saw.

The ride home from church in the buggy was solemn. The rain had stopped and the sun had come out, but it did nothing for her parents' mood.

Marianna tried not to let their sour faces bother her. She thought instead of Aaron Zook and wondered what it would be like to be his wife. She didn't seem ready, not really, then again many girls married at her age.

"Did you hear Ollie Smucker yet? What he had to say about our talk of a move to Montana?" Mem straightened the bonnet on her head as if even thinking about his words was pushing her out of shape. "He says if we move it's because we want to lead a more liberal lifestyle. Without an ordained minister in the area, they are certain we're going to move into a house with electricity, get our own car, and maybe even a television." Mem spat the last word and turned to look out the side of the buggy, staring off into the fields sprouting with new life. Marianna again wondered if Mem were thinking of her oldest son and all he was experiencing.

"
Ja,
but not everyone was so negative. I noticed from the interested expressions in more than one man's eyes that they wished they could go themselves." Dat leaned back in the seat, his fingers loosely holding the reins.

"Well, all their unvoiced thoughts can't make up for your mother's response." Mem's jaw tightened. "She says we are tempting Marianna to run off and live
Englisch
ways by forcing her to leave behind her home and her beau. She didn't listen as I insisted our daughter is not getting married tomorrow. It's not like we're canceling her baptism and wedding."

Marianna's shoulders tightened as she listened to them. While her brothers played rock, paper, scissors beside her, Marianna adjusted her little sister in her arms. She snuggled Ellie close to her, breathing in the scent of her freshly washed hair. What would it be like to hold her own child some day? It was a nice thought. Maybe she should mention to her mother what she'd been thinking about during church. The idea, that, in fact, had grown on her.

"Actually, I have a plan for that . . . for the move." Marianna leaned forward from the back seat, leaning toward her mother and father. "Rebecca suggested I stay here and take care of the house. I can keep the garden, care for all the fruit trees and vegetables. The animals, too."

"Rebecca's the last one you need to be seeking advice from."

Marianna knew from the tone of her mother's voice that inputting more of Rebecca's advice would take the conversation in the wrong direction.

Marianna straightened her shoulders, readjusting Ellie on her lap. "What I meant to say was that I'm considering staying home, caring for the farm, spending time in the community before my baptism."

Her father reached back over his shoulder, and patted Marianna's hand that was resting on the seat back. "Daughter, while we can't make you go with us, we wish you would consider coming. It seems there are too many influential people in this community who can sway your heart, Levi and Rebecca being two. But more than that, I was just talking with that Moser lad this afternoon. William's looking to take up a bride in a few months—Martha Sutter from next county over. I told them they could live in our house for the first year of marriage. You can stay in the area, but I'm afraid our home will be unavailable."

Marianna felt her mouth drop open, and she tugged on her hand, pulling it out of her father's grip.

"You can live with Levi," David commented. Marianna hadn't realized her twelve-year-old brother also had been listening. David's eyes were bluish gray—the same color as the cloud-filled sky above the buggy. Though David would start his eighth grade year in the fall, which would mean the end of his schooling, he was small in size and it made it easy to lump him with the younger kids.

"Levi?" Marianna looked at David. "Why would I want to do that? He lives with Englisch friends."

"
Ja,
but he said they have a television and a car and they can go to bed and sleep anytime they want. Levi said I can move in with him as soon as I'm sixteen. He's going to show me the ropes." David jutted out his chin, and for the first time Marianna noticed how much his personality reminded her of Levi.

And, as she looked to the front of the buggy, she wasn't surprised to see her mother's fingers pressed to her lips, trying to hold in the emotions that her brother's wanderings and careless words stirred. Marianna also noticed her father's fixed jaw and the click of the reins that forced the horse to pick up speed. Her father's mind was set. He was determined. This—no doubt—was the very thing they were trying to avoid.