The Rescued (9 page)

Rebecca pulled out a bolt of a deep blue-violet shade. “It's a joy to celebrate the beginning of a new family. Marriage is . . .” She seemed to hesitate, as if searching for the words. “I guess it's a sign that our community is continuing.”

“I hope it's more than that,” Barbie said tartly. “If I get married, I want it to be a true love match.” She waved her hands extravagantly, as if to express the magnitude of her proposed emotion. “I want to find someone who is like the other half of me. Someone I can share everything with.”

Rebecca and Judith exchanged glances. “It can be that way,” Rebecca said cautiously. “But just remember a marriage is made up of two imperfect people.”

Judith nodded, caught off guard by a wave of emotion. Isaac had shown real understanding last night with Joseph, hadn't he? And when they'd lain together in the wide bed, he'd stroked her hair gently, saying he was glad he'd made her happy by agreeing to let Joseph take his class. She'd felt protected and at peace in his arms.

“Judith?” Rebecca's voice sounded as if she'd said the name several times. “Barbie has gotten bored and wandered off, but there was something I wanted to ask you in private anyway.”

“Of course.” She brought her attention back to the task at hand. “What is it?”

“After the wedding, we'll have our family visits on weekends, and I've had a few reservations for the farm-stay then as well.”

Judith nodded. “If the weather is nice, you'll get weekend visitors right into November, ja? Is it a problem?”

“Not really.” Rebecca fingered the weight of a fabric, drawing it out from the bolt. “Barbie has been working with me long enough to know how things are supposed to go, so she can take over, but . . .” Rebecca gave a rueful smile. “Well, you know Barbie. I hate to leave her on her own, so I thought maybe you'd be willing to help out for a few weekends.”

“Ja, of course. I'll be glad to.” Surely Rebecca knew it without asking.

“Not for free,” Rebecca added hastily. “It's only fair that you have part of my share for the work you do.”

“Ach, I don't want—”

“This is business.” Rebecca sounded firm. “All I need to do is cover my expenses. I just don't want to risk losing repeat visitors by closing too early in the season.”

Judith couldn't deny that the extra money would come in handy. “We could use it,” she admitted. “Isaac is worried about the state of some of the dairy equipment. He says we should be saving for a new motor on the holding tank.”

“There, you see, it all works out—” Rebecca stopped as a bolt of fabric caught her eye. She pulled it from the rack and unwound a yard or so. The lovely deep blue flowed like water down her skirt when she held it against her. “This one,” she said, her tone positive. “I mean, if you and Barbie agree.”

Judith chuckled. “I don't think we would dare disagree. It's perfect.” She glanced around, but Barbie was nowhere in sight. “Drat the girl, where has she gone now?”

“I'll look—” Rebecca began, but Judith shook her head.

“I'll find her. You'd best take that up to the cutting table and make sure there's enough for three dresses.” She hurried off before Rebecca could argue.

By walking down the center aisle, she could look along the rows on both sides. She didn't find her quarry until she peered out the front door. There was Barbie. Hands on her hips, she was looking up at a young Englischer on the back of a truck who was unloading boxes of fabric. Her head was tilted flirtatiously, and he was regarding her in obvious appreciation.

“Barbie!” The sharpness in her voice was well deserved, she decided. “Rebecca has found the piece she likes. Come and tell her you like it, too.” She spoke in dialect, so there was no danger of the Englischer understanding. “Stop flirting with that Englischer.”

Barbie, pouting prettily, waved good-bye and followed her back inside. “Relax, Judith. I wasn't really flirting. I was just staying in practice, sort of.”

“Let's keep our minds on why we're here.” Somehow Judith didn't think that working with Barbie at the farm-stay was going to be such an easy job. She'd probably earn every cent Rebecca paid her.

In a few minutes' time they were all in agreement and stood at the counter with the fabric bolt. Bessie measured it out with a practiced hand, seeming to figure automatically the amount needed for three dresses. Well, why not? It was her livelihood, after all.

It took them a few more minutes to find the thread that matched perfectly, and then Barbie decided she ought to look for some material for another new dress for herself, but they were still finished before Judith had expected.

When they were walking to the car with their packages, Barbie turned to Judith. “By the way, you never told us what happened with Joseph. Did Isaac agree to let him take the class?”

“He did. Joseph is wonderful happy. He can't wait for the class to start.”

“Gut.” Rebecca patted her hand. “You see? There was no reason for you to fret over it.”

She smiled in response, but her heart didn't seem to cooperate. The truth was that even though Isaac knew about Joseph
and the class, he didn't know everything. He wasn't aware that Joseph didn't want the farm Isaac had worked so hard to build up for him.

How often had she wished that Isaac would open up more to her? And now she was the one keeping a secret. She looked at Rebecca—so happy with their purchases, looking forward to marriage with a man who adored her. And Barbie—still young, still dreaming impossible dreams of the man she'd marry. And here she was, hiding a secret from the man she loved more than anything, risking all their happiness because she didn't see what else she could do.

Lancaster County, August 1953

Mattie's hands clenched in her lap when the driver the bishop had hired to bring them to the school board meeting murmured that they were nearly there. Several other vehicles followed close behind them, also laden with the parents of children who would soon be forced to make this trip every day unless something changed.

No, not parents,
she corrected herself.
Fathers.
In an Amish household, it was normally the father who dealt with anything relating to the Englisch law. She was the only mother in the group.

Still, at least she was not alone. Bishop Thomas sat in the front seat beside the driver, his weathered face serene, as if he was prepared to take whatever the Lord should send. She was in the middle of the rear seat, with Adam on one side and Ben's daad on the other. Even as she had the thought, Adam caught her glance and gave her a small, encouraging nod.

“There it is,” Bishop Thomas said. A sprawling yellow brick
building had appeared ahead on the left, looking more like a factory than like any school Mattie had ever seen. Where were the simple clapboard building, the welcoming pictures in the windows, the school bell hanging by the door? To her eyes, used as she was to a simple four-room schoolhouse, this new building was enormous. She didn't want to imagine her little Rachel finding herself lost in such a place.

The car turned at a wide blacktop drive and swept past a lighted signboard.
Welcome Back to School,
it announced.
Opening Day September 3.
Mattie's stomach seemed to turn over at the reminder. It was coming up fast. Too fast. She felt as if she were standing in the path of an oncoming train.

Their driver stopped at the entrance to the building. Five long, shallow steps, edged on either side with a flat-topped concrete wall, led up to three sets of glass doors. Mattie's imagination filled the scene with Englisch teenagers chattering on the steps and lounging on the walls at either side, the girls in their gathered skirts and ponytails, the boys with their short-cropped hair and collared shirts. What would they make of a few modestly garbed Amish scholars in their midst?

She slid out of the car in Adam's wake. The other vehicles had pulled up behind them, their occupants emerging. It almost looked like a church Sunday, with everyone in their dark clothing, their faces solemn.

Bishop Thomas exchanged a few words with the driver as he waited until the others had assembled. He didn't have to say anything to them about the meeting. They all knew why they were here, didn't they?

His gaze moved from face to face, as if assessing their readiness, and then he nodded. “We will go inside now.”

They must have looked an odd group, filing through the glass doors into the huge, modern building. Mattie was grateful for Daad Jonah's presence next to her and for Adam close behind her.

Inside, the wide, tiled hallway was brightly lit and seemed to go on forever. She'd been in a hospital once when her mamm had to have an operation, and it had felt somewhat like this—footsteps echoing along hallways, apprehension building until it nearly choked her.

The bishop started down the hall, apparently knowing where the meeting was to be held. They passed glass cases filled with photographs of school groups and what she supposed were sports trophies. They must have come from the smaller schools this one would replace. The memorabilia seemed to declare the importance of being the best, of winning, as if life were a competition.

There was a sign directing people to a chemistry lab; another to a gymnasium. She peeked through a window at a classroom and saw an array of strange-looking equipment.

Bishop Thomas hesitated at an open door for just a second, closing his eyes as if he was saying a silent prayer. Then he stepped into the lighted room beyond, and they followed him. Mattie stopped on the threshold, feeling an instant of panic, until Adam's light touch on her arm moved her forward.

A long table was set up at one end of the room with nine chairs placed behind it. Men clustered behind it in groups of two or three, talking, while at the end of the table sat a woman in a flowered dress and small hat arranging a notebook and pen in front of her. A few rows of folding chairs faced the front. Only one was occupied—by a bored-looking young man with a notebook and camera.

For an instant, it seemed all sound and action in the room were suspended as everyone stared at the newcomers, and Mattie lowered her eyes at the curious gazes.
We must look like an army of ants,
she thought nervously,
filing into the room in a long, black line.

Bishop Thomas took the end seat in the second row and the rest of them moved in after him, finding chairs. Once again Mattie found herself with Adam on one side and Daad Jonah on the other. Had they planned it that way? She thought maybe they had, wanting her to feel secure.

There was a hurried, whispered consultation in the front of the room, with a few furtive glances at them. Had the board not expected to see them? The bishop said he had notified the board president that they planned to attend.

Several people seemed to argue in urgent whispers, and then the board members took their places. Each one had a folded paper sign in front of him bearing his name, and Mattie's gaze focused on the name she'd already heard—Walter Graham, the board president.

Mr. Graham's square face and sagging jowls reminded Mattie irresistibly of a bulldog, and at the moment his face was flushed and his eyes narrowed. He looked both annoyed and perhaps a bit wary. He must have thought he'd settled the situation when he'd met with Bishop Thomas.

All in all, she thought the board members' expressions were somewhat like those of the bishop and ministers when faced with a difficult situation regarding one of the Leit. Maybe it was part of human nature to want things to run smoothly and to be made uneasy when they didn't.

Graham shot another glance at Bishop Thomas and then
rapped on the table with his knuckles. “Come to order,” he commanded.

Mattie's stomach tightened again. If he demanded to know what they were doing here, what would the bishop say? At least she didn't have to speak. No one expected that of her; she need only to sit here. The bishop had said that her presence would remind the board members that real people were affected by the decisions they made.

But Graham seemed to have no such intent. Without looking up from the sheaf of papers in front of him, he rattled through what she supposed were the preliminaries of the meeting. He seemed to check items off on a list as he went, paying no attention at all to his audience.

Some of his fellow board members were not so oblivious to the presence of the Amish. They slipped frequent glances toward them, and one youngish man, wearing a gray suit and a clerical collar, nodded in a welcoming way to Bishop Thomas.

Mr. Graham rattled on. Mattie began to think he would finish the entire meeting without mentioning them when an interruption occurred.

“Excuse me.” It was the man with the clerical collar. Mattie craned her neck to read his name sign—
Reverend Michael Colby,
it said. “I see that we have a number of visitors with us today, and it's usual to address their concerns at this point in the agenda.”

The board president's face turned an alarming shade of red, but the minister seemed to ignore him as he turned to Bishop Thomas with a friendly smile.

“It's Bishop Thomas Beiler, right? How can the school board be of help to you and your people? Do you have a question you'd like to ask?”

Bishop Thomas rose slowly to his feet. To Mattie he seemed an imposing figure with his lined face and long, graying beard. He seemed to have an unconscious authority no matter in what company he found himself. Did the Englisch see him that way, as well?

“Denke,” the bishop said. “I am here tonight with the parents of those of our children who have been ordered to attend this school next month. It is against our wishes and our tradition to have our children—”

Graham cut him off. “We've been all through this! The state has mandated attendance at the public school provided by the district, to the minimum age as directed by the school code, and that ruling applies to everyone.”