Following Your Heart (17 page)

Menno's eyes followed the shadowy movements of the snow squalls racing across the front window glass. This was Yost Byler's fault really. If he had kept his wild, harebrained idea to himself, things would never have come to this. But then how long would the community have tolerated the presence of Teresa?

It was hard to tell, because already whispers had begun here and there. Little suggestions that perhaps the ministers were being too harsh. So now thankfully Teresa would be in church this Sunday and the matter would be resolved as far as the community was concerned. Word would move among the people about the agreement between Yost Byler and the
Englisha
girl. Some would be concerned, others would perhaps wish it wasn't so, but when they heard that Teresa had agreed on her own free will, hopefully they would see the wisdom of the matter.

Menno sighed, moving to the other end of the couch closer to the warm heat rising from the floor register. Why was he so troubled then? Standing to his feet, he paced the floor in the darkness. Because it wasn't right somehow.

He shivered and sat down on the couch again. This pacing had to stop, before his foot hit a piece of furniture, and he awakened the whole house.

What if Teresa really didn't want to marry Yost? That was what bothered him. And who deserved Yost? Certainly not a young
Englisha
girl who figured she had no other options.

Hadn't he been given another chance by
Da Hah
after his great sin? Were there not decent children in the community who called him
Daett?
Were there not grandchildren who sat on his lap, enjoying his attention? Why should he be so blessed and yet now help others in condemning another who had sinned like he had to a marriage with Yost Byler?

Should he speak up and object? And even if he did, it still wouldn't bring a halt to this. He would only cause trouble for himself. And was this marriage a bad thing, really? Perhaps Teresa would have a happy life with Yost. He was after all a
gut
man at heart, and would take care of her.

Menno stood and began to pace again. In his mind's eye he saw the face from his past and dug his fingers into his hands. Why was there to be no peace on this matter? And how much worse would this be if she hadn't lost the child? He would have been a father of an
Englisha
child, and there would have been no hiding the sin.

He thought of how it would have been. No returning to the community, no fresh start, no young, blushing bride named Anna standing at his side, no children to raise in the faith, and no hope of returning to farm the land he loved. He shuddered. His past must remain buried. It must never be known to anyone. How could he continue living the life he now had if his sin got out? He couldn't. No mere church confession would repair the damage. Even on his knees in front of the church, his sin would not be forgotten. There might even be excommunication.

Yet the child had not been born. The woman had told him so. She'd spoken the words with tears running down her face. She had trembled while he held her, unable to find words of comfort to speak while the horror of what he'd done raced through his mind.

Her eyes had filled with longing, bursting out in fresh sobs over her great loss. It had also been his loss, had it not? But then hadn't he been secretly glad the child would never be born? Had he not rejoiced in his heart? Had he not taken pleasure that his offspring would never see the light of day or call him an
Englisha
father? That surely was the sting of his guilt…that he could ever have felt so about his own child.

His toe caught the edge of the couch, and he groaned, catching his foot with both hands. He sat down hard on the rocker. After the pain subsided he listened to the silence of the house. A creaking bedroom door or a snap in the hardwood steps would give him time to gather his thoughts. Perhaps he could even light the kerosene lamp before Anna arrived from the bedroom.

When there was only silence, the thoughts returned. What would his
Englisha
child look like now had the baby lived? Was the child in heaven awaiting his arrival? He fell to his knees beside the rocker, pressing his head against the floor.

Why had Teresa come to stir this horror in his life? He'd spent years pushing this away, hiding the thoughts, seeking peace through repentance. He had never sinned so again, not even when the desire for Anna had been great before their marriage.
Does that not count for something?
he pleaded.
Is not my sin long past? Has not love sprung up in my heart for the things of home to replace or counter my wrong actions?
His love for
Da Hah
and the ways of his people had always been present, only momentarily forgotten when the world called so strongly. And his memory of the world faded once he returned.

Yes, the guilt had pounded in his heart for weeks, his fears rising that someone would know he had defiled a woman. But he hadn't been found out. And the memory of his first woman had grown dim, replaced with the face of another. The love for Anna grew in his heart with a wonder that took his breath away. He had been allowed a chance again after what he'd done. How clean he'd felt when he had taken Anna to speak with the bishop a few Sundays before they were published to be married.

“Are you free from each other?” Bishop Bender had asked.

They had both nodded, their faces open for all to see. And he had hidden his past behind a door through which no one else had ever gone. And it had remained tightly closed all these years…until an
Englisha
girl coming in from that world brought the memory of it with her. Is that not what he should be concerned with? Should he be warning others of what lies behind the kind eyes of
Englisha
girls? No, he had only his own sin to deal with. Pressing his head against his hands, he prayed. “Oh great God in heaven, You who know best the weakness in all our hearts. Forgive me, I pray, even as I have forgiven others their sins. Find it in Your most gracious and tender heart to overlook this, my sin again. Wash me clean with the blood of Your dear Son, who gave His life a ransom for many.

“I am but dust, oh God. I am but a weak man who fell and sinned greatly. I confess that I cast my eyes upon the beauty of the world. I lusted after the forbidden and have sinned greatly. Let not my sin bring others to destruction. Let not my sin continue on into eternity.

“Speak now, oh God, to the child who lies on the other side of Your pearly gates. Tell the child I am the father, but that I have sinned and sorrowed greatly over my misdeed. Will You not in Your great mercy make all things work together for good? Tell the child that though I have sinned, yet through my sin, he or she has avoided the temptations of this world. The child is safe with You, surrounded by Your glory and suffering none of these things that beset the frailness of our flesh. For my child this world is forever over even before it began. The child is with You, even as I long to be with You someday.

“Have mercy, oh God, and remember not my sin any longer. Set it not before my mind in remembrance. But if this is not Your will, and You desire in Your great wisdom to bring this suffering near to my heart again, then I ask not that You take it from me, but that I might be given the strength to bear it.”

Drained of words, Menno slowly rose to his feet and walked to the window to watch the snow race past the glass. Lifting his fingers to touch the cold, the sting ran up his arm, reaching his shoulder. He didn't take his hand away. He saw her in the distance, her car parked outside the hospital in St. Louis, her face turning to look at him before she climbed in. She pulled the door shut with a soft clunk. Suddenly he jumped. Behind him the hinges on the bedroom door creaked, and footsteps came from the bedroom. He stood still and waited.

“What are you doing up at this hour of the night?” Anna asked.

“My heart is troubled,” he said simply.

She slipped her arm around his waist, nestling her body close to him. “Why are you standing here, staring out of the window?”

“Because it is
gut
sometimes for a man to think and to pray,” he said. “
Da Hah
begins to seem far away when life presses hard on the soul.”

“Is it of the children you are thinking?” Anna asked. “Have you heard news that troubles you?”

“
Nee
, our children are okay.”

She leaned against him. “The world seems just beyond the door, does it not?” she asked. “Always ready to come in.”

“
Yah
,” he agreed. “It lies not far away for all of us.”

“Come then,” she said. “You will be in no shape for church tomorrow if you don't get some sleep. Your side of the bed was cold, so you must have been out here for some time.”

“I don't know how long it was,” he said, “but I think I have found peace.”

She pulled on his hand, and he found her face in the darkness.

“You are too
gut
for me,” he whispered.

S
usan held baby Samuel as Teresa climbed into the backseat of the buggy. Once settled, Teresa reached to take Samuel from Susan's arms, her face lighting up with happiness. Susan pulled herself up to sit beside the two of them.

“Are you ready, Anna?” Menno asked as he climbed in next to her on the front buggy seat.

“Yes, all set.”

“Get-up, Toby!” Menno called from the front seat, slapping the reins.

The buggy jerked forward, and Teresa's smile widened. She whispered, “We're really off!”

Susan nodded but didn't say anything.

“Do you think he'll be there today?” Teresa asked as they rattled out the lane.

“Yost Byler?” Susan whispered back.

Teresa nodded.

“I don't know, but I would expect so,” Susan said.

Teresa's face turned serious.

“Are you perhaps getting some sense into your head?” Susan asked.

“I'm just thinking he'll be better-looking than I remember from that night,” she said. “So it won't be so bad. But I will have to speak with him soon, so I'm preparing myself.”

Susan sighed. “You know I don't like this one bit,” she said. “But if it's any comfort, I doubt Yost will be coming around anytime soon. He's too scared of women to be rushing into this thing. You notice the other night he didn't even speak to you.
Daett
had to bring in his message.”

“Well, I'm ready when he comes,” Teresa said, forcing a smile.

“You know,” Susan said, “I was just thinking…you can have Thomas if you want him.”

Teresa laughed. “Now you're being funny!”

“Well, somebody has to find some humor in this dark story,” Susan replied.

“It's not dark, Susan,” Teresa said. “Now, tell me again about the service. I don't want to do anything wrong.”

Susan took a deep breath before beginning. “We arrive at the place where church is being held,” she said, “which happens to be at Benny Zook's place today. We climb down from the buggy after
Daett
stops near the front door of the house. We pull our shawls around ourselves. We walk inside. We take off our wrappings and go around shaking hands with everyone.”

Teresa shivered. “Please, God,” she whispered, “don't let me do something wrong. And I can't afford to faint on the first Sunday they let me come.”

“Do you want to hear the rest?” Susan asked.

“Perhaps you'd better not,” Teresa said. “You told me yesterday, and I guess I'll learn as I go along. I feel a little light-headed already.”

“You can stick close to me until church starts,” Susan said, reaching over to squeeze Teresa's hand. “And when the time comes for you to feed Samuel,
Mamm
will know where the women are going with their babies and she'll point the way.”

“We're almost there,”
Mamm
spoke up from the front seat.

Teresa peered out of the small buggy window. “There are so many buggies here,” she said. “They're everywhere.”

Susan nodded, reaching over to pin the top of Teresa's shawl shut just as
Daett
brought the buggy to a halt. She opened the buggy door and, once on the ground, reached back to take baby Samuel from Teresa.