The Brethren (8 page)

Talking to himself about having to stay here at the preacher’s place, he was somewhat irked when he looked up and saw Jesse standing in the doorway with Irvin Ranck right behind him. “Look’s like you’ve got yourself some company,” Jesse said. “Since you ain’t ihungry, maybe some talk will give you an appetite.”

Nodding awkwardly to Zeke, Irvin looked sober-faced at first. “Hello again, Zeke. I drove right here when Jesse told me of your release. Certainly hope you. don’t mind me barging in.”

“Not to worry,” Jesse offered, slipping back through the connecting door and leaving the two men alone.

“Take a load off, Irvin.” Zeke motioned toward the vacant chair. “I know you’ve got something to say, jah?” Zeke hung his head, then jerked up. “I’m out of jail, but what good’s it doin’ me?”

Irvin sat across from him, unbuttoning his witidbreaker. “I’d say, time to rejoice.”

“No joy in it for me.”

Irvin leaned forward, face beaming. “Well, there can be.”

Zeke breathed in mighty deep. “I guess then you’ve never had to put up with such a heavy cloud. Guilt, I tell ya. Thick enough to slice through. Nee no, solid enough to chop through with a hatchet.”

I0I

92 “You’re not a murderer, Zeke.”

He shook his head. “But I was responsible for Isaac. I know it.”

“But you didn’t kill him, don’t you see?” “Oh, sure I did. In every way important, I did.” “Look, Zeke … you’re not thinking clearly.” He huffed at that. What gave this man, this outsider, really, the right to come over here and talk like this.7

Irvin wrinkled his brow. “You got your life back. A second chance, so to speak.”

That caught Zeke’s attention. But even so, he didn’t see how this changed anything. He was still as guilty as before this recent news that the bones were those of a missing little girl. Just because the bones weren’t Isaac’s didn’t mean he hadn’t caused his brother’s death. Why was this so hard for everyone to accept?

Irvin pulled out a small New Testament from his shirt pocket. “This may sound peculiar to you, but I want you to imagine the Lord Jesus nailed to a crossbeam. For you He died, Zeke. For the blame of sin you feel so strongly.”

Zeke sighed, pulling on his beard. Same old salvation talk. He was starting to feel nauseated. From not eating, he guessed. Irvin kept yapping. “No matter what you’ve done … or think you’ve done, God’s Son can and will forgive you.”

Zeke wanted to stop up his ears. Feeling strangely dizzy, he closed his eyes, then blinked them open, only to find Irvin still sitting there, his hair parted on the side, combed like it always was, eyes bright, face clean-shaven.

“We can trust the Savior even when we can’t trust ourselves.”

Zeke ran his hands through his hair, wishing he could sort out all the chaos-the unrelenting noise-in his head His leg twitched and he felt pressure behind his eyes. “You’re gom to get me shunned if you keep talkin’ this way” He glanced toward the preacher’s side of the house. “Himmel you sound like my Esther, you know that?”

Irvin nodded, smiling. “Better to be shunned on earth than for God to turn His back on you on that day of days.”

Irvin’s words jolted Zeke.

“Miracles still happen,” Irvin continued.

“Maybe for other folk … not for me.”

“God’s love outshines all, even when we think we’re unworthy.”

Zeke sneered. “The Lord God has left me. Ain’t that

easy to see?”

Just then, Preacher Zook’s dismayed face appeared in the doorway. He had heard, probably, Irvin’s salvation talk and wanted to put the nix on it. “Why don’t you join us for a nice hot meal?” Jesse was including both men in his invitation. Til accept if Zeke here will.” Irvin rose and waited But Zeke stayed put. He could feel his neck muscles tense. “Count me out,” he uttered.

Ben stared out the window, watching a bird preen on the s.U. Love conceals itself deep in the gaps of longing, between finding and losing …and finding again He

hed heard this, or if perhaps he had read it somewhere. Either way, it was true of him. “All too true,” he whispered, glad for the privacy of the empty family room.

94 Torn between loneliness and concern for Annie’s family situation, Ben decided to take a risk. At the very least, she and I can be friends, he told himself. And I could use a friend.

Writing the date, Saturday, May 6, he began to put his thoughts on paper.

Dear Annie,

I wish we could have said a proper good-bye before I left so suddenly. I’ve wanted to let you know that I’m back in Kentucky again and doing well. It’s good to be home.

He lifted his pen and shook his head. What he’d written so far wasn’t even remotely indicative of his true feelings, but he didn’t wish to worry her.

My sisters were glad to see me again, but you know how it is with siblings. I still wish I might have had the opportunity to introduce you to my family.

I just wanted to say again that I enjoyed getting to know you. I won’t forget you, Annie, nor can I simply dismiss my time in Amish country, short as it was.

I hope you’ll be very happy whatever you decide to do.

He cringed. Is this what he really wanted to say? No. He wanted to tell her how disconnected he felt. How much he

missed their conversations. How much he missed her.

But what good could possibly come of it? He took a deep breath and finished his letter.

I’d love to hear from you, just to be assured that things are all right. But please don’t feel any pressure, as I understand your situation. (I’m sending this in care oflrvin Ranck

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in hopes that it might find its way to you.) The last thing I want to do is to trouble either you or your family, as I have in the past.

Your friend,

Ben Martin

Rereading his letter, Ben was tempted to crumple it up and throw it away. How can I be so selfish? Surely she’s glad to be rid of me.

In the end, desperation won out and he mailed it.

Late in the afternoon, Annie had just returned from her usual Tuesday cleaning job at the Rancks’ when Julia Ranck came driving up the lane. Maybe I left something there, Annie thought.

All aglow, her cousin came rushing into the house through the back door. Dressed in one of her floral-print dresses, Julia called to her, standing in the middle of the kitchen, smiling to beat the band. “Annie … Annie!”

“I’m right here, for goodness’ sake.” Annie set the baby down in her playpen and hurried to greet her. “Did I forget something?”

Julia held out an envelope. “It arrived in the mail right after you left.”

Annie’s heart leaped at the sight of Ben Martin’s name on the return address. Why’s he writing to me? Oh, I hope he’s all right. She studied his firm hand and saw her name written beneath Irvin’s, where Ben had sent this in order to avoid her father’s scrutiny, she guessed.

“For goodness’ sake,” Annie whispered, moving toward

96 the sitting room, away from the kitchen. “Do you mind?” She wished to read the letter in private, so she slipped away, leaving Julia alone with the baby in the kitchen. She knew Essie was upstairs getting the boys up from their naps, and Laura was playing outside.

Annie sat near the window for the best natural light and held the envelope next to her heart. “Dare I read it?” she whispered into the quietude. “Dare I notl” She opened the envelope, unable to draw a full breath, she was so elated.

When she’d finished reading Ben’s words, she couldn’t stop smiling. I won’t forget you, Annie… .

She folded the letter feeling giddy, and then at once she felt sad, too, missing him.

With a sigh, she slipped the letter into her dress pocket. Her first free minute she would write a reply, as there was nothing and no one to hold her back now that she was not living at home.

“Oh, Ben, I have so much to tell you,” she whispered, brushing a tear away. To think he’d contacted her again. He surely knew how fond she was of him … how she’d dreaded sending him away.

She inhaled deeply, straightened her apron, and headed back to the kitchen and Cousin Julia.

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L h&iit&r - -

Wednesday at noon, Louisa met Michael in the lobby of Maggiano’s Little Italy on the Sixteenth Street Mall in downtown Denver. When he had called back to suggest this restaurant, she hadn’t been surprised. It was one of her favorites.

“Hey,” he said, smiling when he saw her. She noticed his eagerness and returned the smile.

They were shown to their reserved table, with a red-andwhite-checkered tablecloth, surrounded by Old World ambiance fake bread in baskets and bottles of wine on the wall. After they were seated, Michael asked how her day was going.

“Really well. How about yours?” she said, turning the question back on him.

“Interesting. I’m in the middle of helping with legwork on a much-publicized murder trial. It’s time-consuming but challenging.”

“Sounds like it,” she said. “Are you enjoying your new line of work?”

“Yes, very much. Though it’s a whole different world

98 than all those prenups and divorces I used to handle.”

“I don’t know … divorce and murder both sound pretty violent to me.”

He chuckled.

Then she asked more seriously, “Have you been successful in dodging the media?”

“So far.” He handed her one of the menus. “And since I

really can’t talk about the case … let’s see what you’d like to eat.”

She opened the menu and scanned the choices. “I don’t see any apple butter on here,” she joked. “Or shoofly pie.”

He glanced over his menu at her. “I’ve heard of that pie. Sickeningly rich, right?”

“The mother of all rich desserts. The best is the wet bot

torn

kind, unique to Lancaster County.”

He closed his menu. “Louisa, look, I’m not here to discuss Amish desserts, as I’m sure you know.”

“Neither am I.” She looked over at him. “So why are we here, Michael?”

He was staring at her. “I’d like to see if there’s anything left of us,” he said, his voice noticeably ringing with expectation. “Is that so surprising?” He continued talking, rehashing their past all the things that had led Louisa to cancel their wedding last fall then voicing his frustration and anguish at her sudden leaving.

She let him talk, listening and wanting very much not to hurt him further. Even so, she was hesitant to let him think this luncheon date heralded the continuation of their

former relationship. Although the way she felt when he

smiled at her almost made her wish he’d never revealed her father’s matchmaking scheme.

“You must try ‘n’ eat,” Barbara Zook coaxed him.

Zeke shook his head in short jerks. He had been sitting in the same chair all day for more than a full day, he realized. He’d sat here to sleep, to read, to stare, and now he was sitting here telling the preacher’s wife to leave him be, in so many words.

“You’ll feel better if you have something, Zeke,” she said, standing in the doorway that led to the large front room of the main house.

She smiled. “You’re welcome to have your pick of pies. I’ve got apple, and there’s chocolate silk. Oh, and a few slices of banana cream from yesterday. Which would you like?”

He knew she was hoping he’d bite. And the banana cream did sound mighty tasty, but it reminded him of Esther, and that put him right back under the mist in his mind. The haze of tormented thoughts and his grief over the news of his mother’s death all of it overwhelmed him. Even

though he saw that Barbara’s mouth was still moving, he heard not a word.

Some time later, Preacher Jesse came over to see him, bringing a tall glass of water. “Here, best be drinkin’ this… . Small swallows to start.” He was telling Zeke what to do, and Zeke didn’t like it not one bit. “You’ll dry out on us and we can’t have that.”

100 “Might land me in a hospital somewhere,” Zeke whispered.

“Which might not be such a bad idea, really.”

Zeke didn’t know what Jesse meant. “What’s that ya say?”

“Been over to see the folk at Philhaven, in Mount Gretna, today. They’ve got a room waitin’ for you if you’d like to go and get to feeling some better.”

They cant get me to eat here, that’s why.

“I’m fine here. Don’t need no doctor.” He’d heard all about that place for mental folk. There’d been a call for Amish house parents some time back, if he remembered correctly.

“Come on, Zeke. What do you say?” asked Jesse.

Zeke bowed his head, the lump in his throat threatening to turn into a tear in his eye. “I’m not myself. Ain’t been for quite a while.” A sudden fire ignited in him. “But I have no interest in goin’ anywhere ‘cept home. So leave me be!”

Jesse sat across from him. “You’re to be in my custody, Zeke. Don’t think it was easy getting the police to do it that way. They wanted to release you to an English institution first, but I spoke up. It’s ‘cause of me you’re not there already. They believe you to be a detriment to your family … from your own mouth. Remember what you told them that day the police came and picked you up?”

Zeke wished he had earplugs or something to push into his ears. He sure didn’t want to be reminded of what he’d said or what he didn’t say … or what he should’ve said. Truth was, he was here now, in this chair, and he didn’t much feel like budging.

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Jesse reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll see to gettin’ you there, if you’d like to get better.”

“If you need to be getting back to your routine here … you and your missus, then just say so.” He knew he was glaring, because he felt the burning behind his eyes.

“You’re no bother a’tall,” he heard Jesse say, but he saw the frustration in the way the preacher’s eyes squinted, his mouth all pinched up.

I’m in the way. He recalled having the same feeling as a boy, of being rejected by those who supposedly loved him most. His father, for one. “I know when my welcome’s wore out.” Reluctantly he rose. He refused to be underfoot the way he surely was here.

Passing through the kitchen, Zeke tuned out the chatter from both Jesse’s wife and his elderly mamma, then scuffed his way outside toward Yonie’s car.

The entire ride was a blur in his brain, and when they arrived in Mount Gretna at the sprawling place called Phil’ haven, he was startled by Jesse’s strong hand helping him from the car and up the walkway.

“You’ll have plenty of folk visitin’ you while you’re here,” Jesse told him, guiding him toward the entrance.

“Esther too?”

“Jah, soon, Zeke. Soon.”

He didn’t know whether to believe the man of God or

not, though he wished he could. The flat tone of Jesse’s voice made him wonder if he would ever lay eyes on his sweet wife again. “They won’t hurt me, will they, Preacher?” He shuddered.

“Ach, no. They’re here to help. You’ll see that soon

III

102 enough. You’ll meet with doctors twice a day.”

“Not sure if I ever remember being’ well. It’s been a long, long time, if at all.” It felt good to admit this, though the confession was all wrapped up in the fires of guilt that burned in his soul night and day.

When Zeke asked more about where he’d be sleeping, Jesse kindly explained. “You’ll have your own bed, that’s certain. You’ll feel right at home here. The whole place is Plain just like you’re used to no carpet on the floors, no TVs, computers, or radios. You’ll like the peace of this place, Zeke. I promise you that.”

He didn’t reply, allowing Jesse to lead him to the door of the complex, trying hard to push away the notion that he was being led like a lamb to the slaughter.

“I’ll stop by your house tomorrow and pick up several changes of clothes for you,” Jesse said as they made their way inside.

“So you’ll visit again?”

Jesse nodded, removing his hat. “You can count on that, Zeke. Jah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And if he wasn’t mistaken, Zeke thought he heard a catch in the preacher’s throat and wondered why.