The Wings of Morning (7 page)

“I am only—” began Pastor Miller, but Bishop Zook raised a large hand and the men were quiet.

“We see the young man is one of us,” the bishop said, “that his family is one of us, just as his dear mother, God bless her, was one of us. The matter of flying has not been settled among the Amish. It is not our place to settle it today. But it is clear, is it not, where this young man’s heart is? That is all we needed to know. Am I right?”

No one spoke. Pastor Miller sat with a dark face and tight lips.

“Am I right?” the bishop repeated himself.

“
Ja, ja
,” sighed Pastor King. “We do not take out on him what the kings and Kaisers and presidents do with flying machines.”

“Let him fly,” grunted Pastor Stoltzfus. “If a decision is made among the Amish against the machines, the young man’s delight will be taken away quickly enough. Today let him fly.”

The bishop looked at Pastor Miller. “Jacob?”

The pastor ran a hand over his face and closed his eyes. “Let him fly, let him fly.”

Bishop Zook nodded slowly and stroked his dark beard. “And we remain committed to what we discussed about the July picnic? About the aeroplane and the picnic?”

The pastors all nodded, Jacob Miller more hesitantly than the others.

“What is this about?” asked Jude, surprised.

Bishop Zook turned to him, still stroking his beard, but smiling now. “We had wondered if it were possible to bring the flying machine here for our July picnic. The colony would pay for the fuel used, of course. Despite our own debate among the leadership, we recognize that many of our people, especially the children and the youth, find the aeroplane amusing, and we believe a good number would like to have you take them up. It is not just something we do for a family holiday. Those who go up with you will see the world God has made in a beautiful way, a holy way—so I cannot believe God did not intend for us to build a flying invention like this. But time enough in the days ahead to speculate about that. Now, my boy, what are the realistic prospects of you being able to bring an aeroplane to us on the seventh of July, hm?”

“Why—” Jude thought a moment. “I know some of our members take our planes to all sorts of state fairs or other summer celebrations—the army makes requests for the planes for Independence Day—”

The bishop held up a hand. “You know the Amish people do not do anything for July Fourth. They dislike the military parades, they see the flag waving as a pride in military might. We only wish for a peaceful summer gathering of families to thank God for the freedoms we have in America. No flags. No marches. No soldiers. No fireworks. Just a thanking of God. For if the Lord had not brought our people to this country, where would we be today? None of this freedom did we have in the places our forefathers left. So we do not ask for the aeroplane as the military men ask for the aeroplane. We ask for it because it flies, and because it flies, it is a symbol to us of being cut loose from the earth, yes? A symbol to us of the freedom God gives us when we obey him—freedom here—” he placed his hand over his heart “—and here—” he tapped his boot on the floor.

“I’m sure I can do this,” said Jude. “I will talk the club into lending me a Jenny.”

“Wonderful. Then we are done. Pastor Miller, please pray for us.”

Pastor Miller made as if to get up, then hesitated, looking at Jude. Suddenly he leaned forward, his hands on the table.

“Forgive me, young man, forgive,” he said, in an anguished voice, his face broken up with his pain. “I do not mean to put this war on your shoulders because you fly an aeroplane.”

“It’s all right, Pastor Miller—”

“No, no, it is not all right. It is never all right to condemn another. I feel so much about the war and I feel it so strongly that sometimes I cannot rein in my emotions. It is like I am a runaway horse.” The pastor looked down at the table, took a deep breath, shook his head, and looked Jude in the eye once more. “So again, I apologize, I repent of my behavior, and I ask you to forgive me. Then I can pray.”

“I understand what you are saying and what you are feeling, Pastor Miller,” Jude assured the distraught man. “I’m sorry you’re upset and I do forgive you.”

“Thank you, thank you.” The pastor extended his hand. Jude shook it and the pastor stood up. He prayed for ten minutes in High German, just as Pastor King had done. With his
amen
the others got to their feet, shook hands, and began to leave by the front door. Jude followed them out.

“So, then,” Bishop Zook said, taking Jude’s hand on the porch, “tonight, hm? At eight. You and your father will be most welcome.”

“We’ll be here,” Jude promised and started down the steps just as Emma and her mother walked in off the road, their faces flushed from their walk under the summer sun.

“Why, Jude Whetstone,” Emma said, “where on earth are you going?”

Jude took his straw hat off. “Back home, Miss Zook. I have some work at the forge to take care of before we return here for the evening meal with your family.”

“Well, I don’t wish to keep a man from his employment, but I was hoping for a few minutes of your help in the garden—”

“Emma,” her mother interrupted, “let the boy alone, you know he will have his hands full at the smithy.”

“It won’t take but twenty minutes.” Emma’s eyes glittered in the bright July light, small drops of perspiration collecting on her fair skin.

Jude shrugged. “How can I say no? Lead the way.”

Emma went ahead of him and up the front steps. “Please go around to the garden. I’ll meet you there after I get some bowls.”

Minutes later Emma handed Jude a bowl and they began by picking strawberries. “I’m always looking for the dark overripe ones that Mama doesn’t want anyway,” Emma said, crouching among the small green plants. “They taste like jam and are even better when they have been heated up by the sun. Ah, here’s one!”

She stood with a large dark berry in her fingers. “Open up,” she said to Jude.

“Oh, no, I’m fine—”

“Here.” She pushed it against his lips and he had to open his mouth and take it.

“How was that?”

“Very good,” Jude responded, still chewing.

“Now me.”

Jude knelt and bent back leaves and searched while she waited. He finally found one that was so soft it was almost jelly. Getting back to his feet, he offered it to her with an outstretched palm. “Here you go.”

“Oh, no, Jude Whetstone. You have to give it to me properly.”

Awkward, hesitating, Jude put the berry to her mouth and she took it with her perfect white teeth. “Mmm. Good choice. Delicious!”

After they had filled their bowls Emma dropped into a white chair near the beanpoles, exclaiming, “My goodness, it’s warm.”

“Shall I fetch you some cool water, Miss Zook?”

“You don’t need to fetch Miss Zook anything. Remember, you must call me Emma now. Just take a seat beside me here.” She patted another chair.

“Well—I should be getting back—”

“Only five minutes. I have something for you.”

Jude took the seat and she pulled a card out of a pocket in her light green dress. It was covered with lines and her neat hand printing. She gave it to him.

“What’s this?” he asked, turning the card over.

“Among the English, the girls have a card when they attend a dance,” she explained, “and the boys fill in their names so they are sure to have the opportunity to dance with the girls they like the best. So this is your card for your dance—in the clouds.”

“My dance? You mean taking people up in the aeroplane?”

He looked so surprised she laughed. “Of course.”

“How did you know about that?”

“Oh, my goodness, I live in the same house as my father.”

“But we only just discussed it. How did you know I’d say yes?”

“Why wouldn’t you say yes? You love to fly, don’t you?”

“Sure, but suppose there were no planes available?”

“My Jude would find a way, he’d always find a way.”

Jude was quiet.

“I’m sorry, Jude,” she said. “Am I being forward?”

“It’s all right. I should go.”

“How are things with you and the Kurtz family?” she said teasingly. “Is it true you’re not able to see Lyyndaya anymore?”

Jude stared at her, his lips in a straight line.

“Well,” he answered, “the whole colony knows her mother and father do not approve of flying, so she is forbidden to meet with me.”

“It must be very difficult.”

“Yes, and confusing. Lyyndaya is a pleasant young woman.”

“Of course, a very pleasant girl, we were great friends when we were younger.”

“But we cannot be together, we cannot exchange notes, so—so I don’t know what will happen now.”

Emma nodded. “God will open a door.”

“Do you think so?”

“He always opens a door. It’s just we don’t always recognize right away which door it is he has opened.” She touched him gently on the arm. “Do you pray up there?”

Jude half-smiled. “No one’s ever asked me that.”

“My father said it made him feel closer to God to be so high in the sky with the wind in his face.”

Jude had been making the motions to rise, but now he sat back. “I do pray. Yes, I do.” He gave a small laugh and his eyes fastened on the horizon between sky and earth. “Sometimes it’s in my head. Then I might mumble out loud. Or just move my lips.”

“What do you pray about?”

“Well—it’s not prayer like when you’re asking for things or for help. I guess it’s mostly—happiness. It’s too big and bright and beautiful up there to be thinking of any problems you might have on earth.”

Emma gave Jude a slow, gentle smile. “I like to listen to you talk.”

Jude felt a warmth in his face and chest. She touched him on the arm and got up. “I suppose your father will be wondering what happened to you. He’ll think the pastors had you for dinner. Which reminds me. Don’t be late for supper. I look forward to seeing you tonight and chatting some more.”

Jude stood. “So do I.”

“Would you like a ride?”

“No, no. It’s not far. I’d like to stretch my legs.”

She walked with him as far as the road. “Don’t lose the July seventh ‘dance’ card. I spent a half hour getting it just right.”

“I won’t.”

“I hope you don’t mind, but my father was so enthusiastic, I had to make sure I got up at least twice. So I signed myself in at the top and at the bottom. The first and the last.”

She was at his eye-level again. He still couldn’t get used to it. Smiling, he planted his hat firmly on his head. “Sounds like a great idea to me. So long.”

He started along the dirt road baked hard and dry from the sun. Glancing back once, he saw she was still standing, watching him go. He gave a small wave and she waved back. As he continued on he saw the Kurtz home far to the east and a stab went through him. Slowing his pace, he gazed at it and wondered if he might catch a glimpse of Lyyndaya. Her hair would give her away. But he only noticed two children playing with a dog.

All sorts of feelings streamed through him. Emma’s eyes, Lyyndaya’s face, the note he’d written to Lyyndaya, the words he’d spoken to Emma. He shook his head to clear it, but that didn’t help much. He’d as much as told Lyyndaya that he loved her. And he did. But he doubted her parents would ever change their minds. Whereas Emma had a way of getting into his thoughts and sticking there, like a rose’s thorn, and Emma’s parents believed in him and what he was doing with his aeroplane. It was as if a new path had suddenly opened for him in the forest and the way forward was obvious.

He put his hands in his pockets. The old path had looked so good too…until it had become blocked by vines and brambles and deadfall.

L
yyndaya was milking Vivianne as she listened to the sound of the aeroplane passing by the house for the third time. The cow began to fidget and moan and Lyyndaya leaned her head against the Holstein’s flank and closed her eyes.