The Rescued (14 page)

Levi smoothed out the pages carefully. Then he grinned. “Okay. I know.”

Judith put an arm around each of them to walk them to the door, followed by Joseph, who always walked far enough to watch them reach the schoolhouse door safely. Both boys had acted exactly the way she'd expected, Paul with his quick, sincere repentance and Levi with his forgiveness. This was one of those moments when she thought that perhaps she was doing something right with them.

But even as she waved good-bye to the three of them, she realized that Joseph was the exception. He hadn't been behaving at all as she'd expected, and it disturbed her. She'd thought he'd come home from his first vocational class bubbling over with his excitement at being allowed to do what he said he wanted more than anything. Instead, he'd barely spoken about it.

Odd. Wouldn't it be strange if Isaac had been right all along, and Joseph was losing his passion for mechanics now that he was into his studies? Well, she'd have to find an opportunity to talk to him about it.

More importantly, she had to find a chance to talk with Isaac, and preferably not when Noah was tugging on her apron and needing attention.

“Mammi, Mammi, Mammi!” He was always so urgent when he wanted something.

She detached his fingers from the apron carefully. One of the lessons he had to learn was that a person didn't get everything he wanted right away.

“I'll help you work on your letters after I've finished cleaning up the kitchen,” she said. “Just now, you can go upstairs, make your bed, and brush your teeth. Then you'll be ready for the day.” Noah's version of making his bed was sometimes rather messy, but it was important that he take the responsibility.

Daily routine was crucial in an Amish home. It kept everything running smoothly with a large family to tend to. Noah pouted just a little, but he trudged off, leaving her alone in the kitchen with Isaac.

Her heart fluttered, but she knew she had to speak. How could she justify keeping a secret from him after what had happened between them last night? He had trusted her with the most painful event of his life. There must be no more secrets between them.

But she quailed at the thought of Isaac's probable reaction to a blunt statement that Joseph had no intention of running the dairy farm. She must choose her words carefully. Surely, even if Isaac didn't want to hear this news, they could agree on a way to handle the situation without alienating Joseph completely. Isaac must know that result was not what his father would have wanted.

Judith took a breath, feeling as if her heart was beating more loudly than it should. “Isaac, there's something I want to talk to you about. Do you have time to sit down with me for another cup of coffee?”

His expression wasn't encouraging. He was frowning and preoccupied by something she couldn't guess. “Can it wait until later? I've heard about a used generator that might be just right for us. I want to follow up on it this morning, so I can get Fred Yoder's back to him.”

As usual, there was a slight difference in his voice when Isaac mentioned Fred's name, and her grandmother's opinion
as to the cause slipped into Judith's thoughts. “I thought Fred said there was no hurry in getting it back to him.”

That must have been the wrong thing to say, because Isaac's frown deepened. “It's not right for me to be using it and not paying him, but Fred refused to take any money. I don't want to feel like I owe him.”

“I'm sure he'd do the same for any in the church who needed it.”

Isaac shrugged. “Maybe so, but it's as well to get it taken care of. We can talk later, ain't so?” He didn't wait for an answer, but before he left he came and kissed her, his lips lingering on hers for a moment. “Later,” he said softly, and then he was gone.

Judith looked after him, touching her lips with her fingertips as if she could hold the warmth of his kiss there.
Later
—so she'd have to get her courage together again.

Still, maybe she'd be able to talk to Joseph about his vocational school experience first. That might be just as well, especially if the boy was losing his initial enthusiasm.

But it wasn't until afternoon that the opportunity to talk to Joseph arose. He came in from the barn where he and Isaac had been working since Isaac had returned, disappointed, from looking at the generator he'd heard of; the machine had proved to be unsuitable. Joseph stopped to wipe his feet before coming into the kitchen.

“Quiet in here,” he said. “Is Noah asleep?” He crossed to the sink and filled a glass with water.

“Shh. He thinks he's ‘reading' a storybook, but his eyes are so heavy he'll be out in a minute or two.”

“I'm not surprised.” Joseph leaned against the counter. “He was chasing that pesky rooster around most of the morning. It got out of the pen again.”

Judith just shook her head. They both knew the old rooster spent more time out of the pen than in. “You haven't said much about your first class,” she commented, trying to keep her tone casual. “Was it a disappointment?”

“No!” The vehemence of Joseph's response startled her, and when she looked at him, it was like seeing him come alive right in front of her. “It was everything I hoped it would be. More, even. You wouldn't believe how much I learned in just one session.”

“That's good, ain't so? So why haven't you been talking about it? If you showed Isaac how much you enjoyed it—”

“It wouldn't do any good.” All the joy washed out of Joseph's face as if it had never been there.

“Joseph, I don't think you're being fair to your bruder. If you just explain calmly how much it means to you, I'm certain-sure he will listen.”

At least, she hoped and prayed that he would. It was so hard to stand them, loving them so much and seeing them constantly misunderstand each other.

Joseph was already shaking his head, his face set in stubborn lines. “I know just how it would be. Isaac will never agree. He's going to try and keep me stuck here on the farm forever, doing something I hate.”

“Don't talk that way.” Honestly, a teenage boy could try the patience of a saint. “You know you don't really hate the farm.”

He had the grace to look a bit ashamed. “Well, maybe not hate. But I certain-sure don't want to be a dairy farmer for the rest of my life. Why should I when I can be happy doing something I'm really good at?”

“You think that now, but—” She knew that was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words came out of her mouth.

“I won't change my mind! And I am good at working with machines. Everyone says so. Even Isaac admits it. You know. Didn't Fred tell you that he'd take me on as an apprentice in a minute if only Isaac would agree?” Joseph's impassioned look demanded an answer from her.

“He did say that, and I'm sure he meant it. Fred won't change his mind about giving you the opportunity, but if you can just be patient, maybe in time Isaac will agree.”

“He'll never agree. Isn't that just what I've been telling you? Isaac will never agree.”

A step sounded, and both of them swung toward the door. Isaac stood there, and clearly he had heard. His face was white and set in lines as hard as stone.

“I will never agree to you throwing your life away.” His voice was harsh. Final. “Never.”

His gaze went from his brother to her, and Judith felt as if he'd struck her.

Isaac would never do such a thing, of course. But at the moment, she thought it might be preferable. He stood there looking at her as if she were a stranger.

As always, she had tried her best to keep everyone happy, and somehow she'd managed to disappoint them all, including herself. The beautiful dreams she'd had such a short time ago fell to lie shattered at her feet.

I
saac
felt as if he were frozen to the spot, staring at his wife and his brother. He wasn't sure how he'd even gotten the words out.

“You see?” Joseph's voice rose, breaking a little. “I was right. I told you he wouldn't listen.”

“Don't, Joseph.” Judith stepped between them, her eyes pleading with him. “Isaac, just listen.”

Listen. Anger, hot and fierce, chased the ice away. How could he listen when it was so plain that they had been keeping secrets from him? Betraying him.

Judith looked from him to Joseph, her face taut with pain. “Isaac just wants what's best for you. If only the two of you would talk—”

“There's nothing to talk about.” He ground out the words, fighting to keep his anger under control. He glared at his brother. “Our father wanted you to have the farm. I have sacrificed to keep it going for you.”

“I don't want it! Can't you understand?” Joseph's fists clenched, and the muscles in his neck stood out like cords. “I don't want this life.”

Isaac shook his head, dismissing the words. “You don't know. You're only fourteen.”

“You knew when you were only a little older than me,” Joseph flared out at him.

The words flicked like a blow on a fresh burn. “I knew because I had to. Because I had to grow up then, didn't I? Grow up and try to be the man my father expected me to be.”

Joseph's face twisted. “You expect me to sacrifice everything I want to make you feel better.”

“You are—”

“Isaac, don't.” Judith stood between them, holding a hand out to each of them, tears filling her eyes. “Anger isn't the way.”

Isaac stopped. Took a grip on himself. He was angry, all right, but wasn't it justified? “Don't you know how many boys would love to be in your position, with a thriving business to take over?”

“Sure, lots of boys would. Levi would. But not me!”

Fresh pain assaulted Isaac. Levi, his Levi, who wanted the thing Joseph was so eager to throw away. He had to do something for Levi, too. The pressure built from every side, pressing on him.

Right now he had to deal with Joseph. He had to concentrate on him, had to end this foolishness before it got any worse.

“Just put these ideas out of your head. Whatever Fred Yoder
has been promising you is nonsense.” A separate little flare of anger lit at the thought of Fred.

“I can't forget it. It's not nonsense. Fred appreciates what I can do even if you don't.”

Isaac's jaw hardened until he thought it would shatter. “Fred is interfering in what doesn't concern him.”

“Why don't you tell the truth?” Joseph's face went from flushed to white. “You wish you hadn't saved me that night. You wish I had died and the others had lived.”

He ran for the door, slamming it behind him, leaving stunned silence in the kitchen.

Tears spilled onto Judith's cheeks. “Isaac, go after him. Tell him it's not so. That's a terrible thing for a boy to believe. Tell him.”

“Is Joseph all you care about?” Isaac held on to his anger, because he didn't know what would happen if he let it go. Joseph, Judith, Fred Yoder—all plotting against him. “Never mind. I know.”

“That's not true. You know it's not.” Her voice was choked with tears. “I'm just trying to keep you and Joseph from hurting each other any worse.”

He'd trusted her. He'd told her things he'd never said to a soul. And now she was siding with his own brother against him. A pulse beat in his head so loudly it seemed it would deafen him. He couldn't handle any more.

He turned away, searching almost blindly for the door.

“Isaac, wait. We have to talk.” Judith touched his arm, and he jerked away as if her hand were a hot coal.

“Not now.” Maybe not ever; not about this. Focusing on moving as intently as if he were drunk, he walked away.

Lancaster County, September 10, 1953

Adam approached Mattie's house, having timed his visit to arrive when he thought she and the kinder would have finished supper. Sure enough, he could see her standing at the sink, turning her face away from the window to say something to Rachel. She looked strained, as if the waiting and wondering were tugging her down.

A surge of very non-Amish anger swept through him. It wasn't fair that Mattie should be caught up in such turmoil. She'd been through enough. Still, he had to confess he'd felt another non-Amish emotion, pride, when he'd seen her stand with Rachel and watch the school bus pull away.

A week had passed since then, and the whole community seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the repercussions which would surely come. Not one Amish child from their church district had gone to the consolidated high school. From what he'd heard, the Leit in nearby congregations who were affected had done the same. What would the school district do?

He mounted the familiar steps to the back porch and tapped lightly on the door, hearing the scurrying of the kinder and then Rachel approaching. She opened the door, the faint apprehension on her face fading at the sight of him.

“Adam. I was afraid it was the bishop and the other parents arriving for our meeting already.”

He stepped inside, greeting Rachel and the two boys. Nate and Toby tumbled off their seats at the study table, both eager to show him their homework, and for a moment it was too noisy in the kitchen for Mattie to hear him if he spoke.
Smiling at her over the children's heads, he looked at the papers and made suitable comments.

“Enough now,” Rachel said finally. “Give Cousin Adam a chance to breathe. Mamm, do you want me to take them upstairs to get ready for bed?”

The boys looked inclined to protest, but they subsided at a look from Mattie. “Denke, Rachel.” Mattie glanced at the clock. “I must prepare for the bishop and the other parents.”

Bishop Thomas had arranged to gather with the parents to discuss the situation tonight, and he'd been thoughtful to set it up at Mattie's house so she didn't have to go out in the evening. The meeting was the reason for Adam's visit, as well. Mattie would have his support, whether she needed it or not.

Before Rachel could get the boys moving, Anna came rushing downstairs, barefoot and in her little white nightgown, her hair hanging in braids.

“I heard you, Cousin Adam. I wasn't asleep yet.” She ran to him, and he scooped her up to plant a kiss on her chubby cheek.

“I'm sehr glad I get to say good night to you, then. Are you sure you weren't asleep already? Maybe you're dreaming,” he teased.

“I am not.” She patted his face as if to be sure. “Do I have to go to bed, Mammi? I'm not a bit sleepy.” The words were interrupted by a yawn, making everyone else smile.

“You'll be sleepy by the time you're upstairs in bed,” Rachel said. Adam set the little girl down, watching as she caught Rachel's hand and went off, followed by the boys.

He was still smiling when he looked at Mattie. “Rachel is wonderful gut with the younger ones.”

“She is. She'll be a fine mammi herself one day.” But there
was a slight shadow in Mattie's clear eyes as she looked after her daughter.

“Is she bothered by the school business?” He took the dishcloth from her hand and finished wiping the table, not surprised when she started setting out a stack of small plates and forks. Mattie wouldn't have folks meeting at her house without feeling she should feed them.

“I don't think so.” Mattie paused, balancing a cake on one hand and a plate of cookies on the other. “She doesn't even look out when the school bus stops every morning.”

He set the cake and cookies on the table. “And what about you?”

Mattie made a face. “I still start feeling my stomach turn upside down when I see it. But that's silly. They can't force the children to go, can they?”

Adam shrugged, not at all sure that was true. “I guess we'll find out what's happening from the bishop tonight.”

“Is that why you came?”

“We're in this together, remember? Ben's daad will be here, too. I just thought I'd come a little early in case you needed any help getting ready.”

“I think I can get coffee and dessert ready myself,” she said, but she was smiling. “But we were all happy to see you anyway. I knew as soon as she heard your voice, Anna would be back down again.”

“She's a sweet girl. Not so serious as Rachel was at that age, I think.”

Mattie seemed to be pondering something other than his comment. She studied his face, seeming to hesitate on the verge of saying something.

He grinned. “Just say it, Mattie. You know you can say anything to me.”

“You know me too well,” she said lightly, but her eyes were serious. “I just thought . . . I wondered, really, if it ever troubles you, seeing Anna and thinking of your little Sarah.”

He took his time answering, sensing that this might be important. “Because they were born about the same time, you mean. Maybe at first, when I'd see Anna such a pretty, plump, healthy baby. But you see, Sarah never seemed like a real person to me. She was . . .” He struggled for the right words. “She looked like a little china doll, gone before she could even take a breath.”

“I know. I remember.” Mattie's eyes filled with tears at the memory of his little girl and her mammi, gone too soon.

He needed to make her understand, for reasons that weren't entirely clear to him. “After a while, seeing Anna grow and change . . . it helped me. It gave me back my Sarah, in a way, because I could imagine her doing all those things that Anna did. She wasn't just a little doll any longer. She was a real person. I love all the kinder, but I'll always be especially thankful for Anna.”

One tear had overflowed onto Mattie's cheek, and Adam reached out to blot it away with fingers that weren't quite steady. Her breath caught, and their gazes met and held.

And then they heard the rattle of harnesses and the clop of horses' hooves, and knew the others were coming. Mattie turned away quickly, busying herself with the coffeepot, and he began lining up forks and spoons on the table, as if putting them in a straight row were crucial.

There was an initial flurry as people arrived, one buggy after another. Adam stayed in the background, helping unobtrusively where he was needed. He was relieved when Onkel Jonah arrived. As Ben's father, he had more right to be here than Adam, not that that fact would convince Adam to depart.

Bishop Thomas finally had everyone assembled in the living room, settled in a semicircle on the extra chairs Adam had brought in from the kitchen. He cleared his throat as a signal that he was ready to begin.

“I know we all want to thank Mattie for hosting us for this meeting,” he said, looking at her.

Mattie ducked her head, seeming embarrassed to be the center of attention even for a moment.

“You all probably know that we have made a start on getting our own Amish school. Matthew Esch has donated the land, and it's a fine central location all the kinder in the church district will be able to walk to.”

Matthew nodded, probably glad to know that his own seven children would have the school so close. Adam had seen the spot, and he'd already offered to help with the building, as everyone here had done, most likely. But putting the building up would be the easy part.

“There are some difficulties about starting a school.” Bishop Thomas seemed to echo his thoughts. “Lots of forms to be filled in, and most likely some disagreement about who is qualified to teach our kinder.”

“The education department won't help us, I'd guess,” John Stoltzfus muttered, and several of the others nodded. Most folks had had run-ins with regulations of one sort or another.

“Pastor Colby has offered to help us,” the bishop said. “It surprised me, for sure, but I've come to believe he is sincere in what he says. The other ministers and I will talk with him, and I'm hopeful that with his help, we'll be able to work things out.” He looked around, as if for approval, and seemed relieved at the silent nods.

Mattie was twisting her fingers together in her lap. She'd be glad to know her younger ones would go to an Amish school. But still, that didn't help with the trouble Rachel faced right now.

“Pastor Colby also suggested making up a petition to the school board, asking them to reconsider. He says that a number of Englisch people from his church would sign, and he thinks he could get some of the other Englisch pastors to sign as well, and talk to their folks about it. He thinks that sign of support for unser Leit might sway the board more than just hearing from us.”

“If it's the state law, what can the board do?” Samuel Fisher leaned forward in his seat, his face troubled. His oldest boy, young Sam, was in the group of fourteen-year-olds.

“True, the law comes from Harrisburg,” Bishop Thomas said. “But every school board isn't taking the action our local board has. Seems as if it's up to each board how they enforce the rules, so it may be that we can sway them to find some solution that satisfies us and them.”

Most of the people here had been to the board meeting, so they'd seen the local board in action. There hadn't been a lot of room for hope, and Adam suspected everyone was thinking the same.

Mattie cleared her throat, then flushed when everyone looked at her.

“You have an idea, Mattie?” Bishop Thomas nodded in encouragement.

“I just thought that maybe, if we all talked to any Englisch people we know about why we feel as we do, it might help.” Her voice faltered toward the end.

“Ja, it might help,” Adam agreed, deciding a little reinforcement
was a good idea. “Make folks understand that we're not just being stubborn or backward.”

Some people nodded, but John Stoltzfus leaned forward in his chair, slapping a paper against his knee. “That's fine for you to say, Adam. You're not in danger of being arrested.”