Beside Still Waters (26 page)

"They're laid back and relaxed, that's all. They have plans for a bishop coming. They've had them before, but after the last one left they haven't found a good replacement. Give it time. It'll happen."

"Yes, well, as far as I'm concerned the Bible says nothing about relaxing your way into heaven. As far as I remember, God's Word talks about putting your hand to the plow and not looking back."

"Didn't you see, there's no plow around here." Dat spoke in a playful tone, and Marianna imagined the twinkle in his eye.

"I still don't like it. You getting that English Bible and all."

Marianna stood and walked to the doorway, standing against the wall. She didn't want them to know she overheard, but she couldn't make herself close the door.

"I can't read German well, and I do have to preach . . ." She heard Dat shift in his chair. "And have you ever thought Jesus didn't speak German? Where did one get the idea that's the only language for Scripture?"

Marianna's door opened wider, and she jumped. She looked down to see Trapper sticking his nose out, trying to open the door the rest of the way to get out.

"Shhh!" Marianna reached back and pulled him back into her room, but it was too late.

"That you, Mari?"

Mem had heard her. Marianna tightened the belt on her bathrobe and then walked into the kitchen. "Good morning."

"It is a good morning." Dat nodded and smiled, but when she looked to the table she saw his German Bible sitting there. Where was the English one they'd talked about?

"Marianna," her mother said. "There's a letter from Mrs. Zook. It arrived in the mail yesterday, and I forgot to show you last night."

"For me?" Marianna rubbed her forehead.

Mem shook her head. "Well, she wrote to our family but she wishes you a happy birthday."

Marianna looked to the open letter at the table and then sat. Her mother continued to make breakfast and her father flipped through his German Bible, but she could tell they both waited for her to read the letter. Waited for her reaction.

June 15

Dear Friends,

Greetings in love. I was hoping to write in time for Marianna's birthday, but even though the summer days are long I did not get it done. Thank you for your note from Montana, Ruth. It was thoughtful you had us in mind. Montana does sound like a beautiful place. I can't imagine living by mountains like that.

Many people have heard that things are quite different there than here. We heard your new church does not have a bishop. I hope this matter is taken care of soon. Bishops are not perfect people, but their authority is necessary. We also were surprised that Abe was already put into the rotation to preach. He wasn't yet a deacon here, and now he'll speak in front of the church? Do you worry you are not really honoring our fathers and mothers like the sixth commandment says in the Ten Commandments if you do not stay with the system of leadership we have been taught?

It is still not too late to return to Indiana. The Mosers have not married yet and your house remains vacant. Perhaps it would be a fitting birthday gift for Marianna? Please come back. We miss you and are praying for you.

Aaron is doing well. He finished the roof on his cabin. I wish Marianna had a chance to see it before she left. Please tell her to write. I would enjoy a letter.

With fondness,

Mrs. Norma Jean Zook

Marianna put down the letter and then looked at her parents. "It sounds like there's a lot of rumors going around back there." She glanced at Dat.

"Not rumors if they're true," Mem said, whipping up pancake batter in her large white bowl. She didn't look at Marianna, she didn't have to. Marianna knew she felt conflicted about going back.

Marianna thought about talking to her parents about Dat preaching. She also thought about telling them about Ben, about his friendship, and about the job he wanted, but as she looked to them, it felt good to be here. To enjoy the morning without the kids yet. To see her mom smiling as she cooked, smiling despite her talk with Dat, despite the letter. It was a new thing to see her unruffled by things that would have bothered her before.

There was a special glow about her mother. Her face looked brighter. Her stomach was larger, a round ball.

"Mem, it looks like your stomach's bigger. Eat too many mashed potatoes yesterday?" Marianna rose and poured herself a cup of coffee.

Mem looked down and rubbed her stomach. "Yes, it looks like it grew, doesn't it? This always seems to happen in the sixth month. It has since the first bab—" Mem looked away, then she glanced back at Marianna. "It has with each baby. Three months to go."

Marianna took a sip of her coffee. What all would happen in three months? Not even a month had passed yet since they'd gotten here, and she felt changed already. She had a different vision of the world. She also looked forward to getting to know some of her new friends, especially Annie. Working at the store would insure that.

A month ago when she was still in Indiana, the thought of working with the Englisch would have frightened her, but now she thought it might be nice to step out of her safe world and spend time with people not like her—at least until she returned.

Mem put the last of the cooked bacon on a plate, and Marianna stood.

"Going back to bed?"

"No, Dat, I'm going to get out Grandma's recipes. I thought it would be nice to find a few to take in to work tomorrow."

"Good idea. I bet Annie would like those Oatmeal Butter Crisps. They always were my favorite."

She headed for her room and Dat called after her, "Better yet, maybe you should make some today, to test them. The baby would like those too, won't she, Mem?"

Mem's laughter filled the air. "
She,
is it? You know, Abe Sommer, you've never guessed the sex of our children right, not once."

"There's always a first time."

Marianna could hear the smile in her father's voice and she couldn't help but smile too.

Ben sat at the picnic table overlooking Lake Koocanusa and opened his Bible to the passage God had placed on his heart. He happened to run into Abe Sommer at the post office yesterday, but he knew it was no accident.

"I've been meaning to see if you had time to talk to me—you know, about the Bible," Abe had said.

Ben looked down to his highlighted passage, praying God would give him the right words. If he had time he would have met with Ike—to get a better idea of what the Amish believed, but since he didn't, Ben had to trust God would speak through him—to speak truth and love in a way Abe hadn't heard it before.

In the distance Ben could see Abe approaching on foot. He carried a paper sack tucked under his arm, and Ben guessed the Bible was inside.

Abe wore a serious expression as he neared, and he sat down at the picnic table across from Ben without the slightest smile.

"There's a Scripture I've been wanting to share." Ben pointed to a passage in Romans.

"Actually there's one I want to talk to you about." Abe opened his Bible to Acts. "It's talking about two groups, I know, but I'm wondering if this message is for us. It has me confused."

Ben read the passage Abe was pointing to. "'Now the Bereans were of more noble character than the Thessalonians, for they received the message with great eagerness and examined the Scriptures every day to see if what Paul said was true.'"

Ben looked up to Abe. What was confusing about that?

"Are we supposed to do that too?" Abe's tone was solemn. "Should we examine the Scriptures to see if what we hear is true?"

For a second Ben thought it was a trick question, but when he looked into Abe's eyes he saw earnestness there. "Yes." Ben nodded. "We should read the Bible daily. We should know what's in there and then, when others tell us a message is from God, we can tell if it really is true."

Abe stroked his long beard, then he looked to the lake. "Before I moved to Montana, I can't remember more than a few days ever reading the Bible on my own. One of the bishops when I was a boy got on a man from church for doing too much reading. Said we were at risk for pride by trying to know too much."

Ben breathed in a breath of fresh air. "I don't think that's how God sees it. His Word is a message to us. Each of us. I know when I write letters and send them back home, I'm happy when those who love me read them."

"Can I confess something?" Abe glanced up from under bushy eyebrows.

"Yes, of course." Ben nodded.

"I've read the Bible every day since I got it." He pursed his lips. "And the truth is, the more I read . . . the more I want to."

"That's a good thing." Ben couldn't help but smile. He also didn't understand what he'd been so nervous about. God didn't need him to preach to Mr. Sommer. God was already speaking to his heart. He just needed to be here, to encourage him, and to let him know he was on the right track.

Aaron sat on the new porch steps he built and scanned the field, waiting for Naomi. He'd asked for the day off from the Stoll farm, and he was looking forward to finishing the wood floors in his cabin. When he mentioned it to Naomi last Sunday at church, she'd volunteered to bring him lunch. Later, at the youth sing, she hinted she wouldn't mind spending the whole day with him. Then came right out and asked if it would be okay. At first he was unsure—after all, what would Marianna think? Then again, if she really cared she would have taken the time to see the house. She would have written more, as she promised she would.

He rose and entered his cabin, finding his sketchbook he kept tucked under a box of sandpaper. He flipped through the sketches until he found the one he wanted. It was her, sitting on the grass the day of the barn raising. Aaron's heart ached as he looked at her face. He brushed a thumb lightly over her captured smile. He knew he'd get in big trouble if anyone saw the drawing—capturing her graven image like that. But he had to do it. Had to put to paper the face he always saw in his mind.

"Anyone home?" he heard Naomi calling.

Aaron closed the book, tucked it back under the sandpaper, and turned to find her standing in the doorway.

Naomi laughed. "You look surprised. Did I come at a bad time?" She carried a lunch pail in each hand.