Holding a Tender Heart (16 page)

Debbie held her breath for a moment. Should she leave the room? This sounded like a private conversation. She glanced at the bishop and Lois. Neither seemed the least bit troubled by her presence.

Bishop Beiler continued. “I disclosed my source of information to Joe, which is not something I'd normally do. I bent the rules for Verna's sake. I assured Joe she had nothing to do with informing me of his error. I think the boy will come around. If you ask me, his heart is still wounded from the way Rosy dealt with him. Those things take time to heal. If Verna had followed my advice and waited a few months, Joe might not have reacted like he did.”

Lois still didn't appear convinced, but she kept her mouth closed.

The bishop nodded in Debbie's direction. “Sorry to bother you with family problems, but you're in the household now and we keep no secrets. A little family matter, and you're now here to hear it all.”

“A
little
matter?” Lois murmured loud enough for her father to hear.

Her
daett
's head turned in her direction. “
Yah
, I will admit it's a big matter, Lois. And I should watch my words better than I do. I am sorry.”

Lois lowered her head. “I'm sorry for snapping at you.”

The two looked at each other, and Debbie couldn't help but notice how their faces softened. How beautiful this was. They mended fences before any hard feelings could fester. And yet they had freely been allowed to say what was on their hearts.

Bishop Beiler got to his feet. He leaned toward the bowl Debbie was holding. “What have we there? Did you say a cake of some sort?”

“It's supposed to be carrot cake.” Debbie made a face. “But with me making it, who knows? We might have burnt upside down carrot cake.”

Amusement crossed the bishop's face. “I'm sure Lois will keep you on the straight and narrow. She's the best cook in our family—and that's saying a lot.”

Lois's face glowed with the praise as the bishop left, going back outside through the washroom door.

Debbie took it as another lesson to learn. Always share a word of compliment, especially when it's deserved.

A few minutes later Verna appeared from the stairway. Her face was tear-stained.

Lois rushed over and gave Verna a long hug. “Was the news that bad?”

Verna choked back a sob. “Not according to
Daett
, but my heart doesn't feel much better. Joe still has to give a confession in front of the church. And all for just driving an
Englisha
vehicle to help someone out. I suppose he's not going to come anywhere close to me until long after that embarrassment has died down.”

“Just stay strong,” Lois comforted.

Debbie sent Verna a warm smile when she glanced toward her. There didn't seem much else Debbie could do at the moment with her hands covered in cake ingredients.

Fourteen

T
hat Saturday night at the supper table, as the evening light faded outside, everyone bowed their heads for prayer. Debbie had been here before at mealtimes, but the sound of Bishop Beiler's words stirred her spirit. Now she would be here every night, involved in this ritual, the ebb and flow of Amish life like the very sands of time itself.

The bishop's voice rose and fell, and even the kitchen seemed to listen. “Now, unto You, O God, the most high God, we give glory and honor and praise. Look upon us, Your humble servants, at this evening hour. Have mercy and compassion upon our weaknesses. Remember that we are made of dust and prone to error. Forgive us, as we also forgive those who offend us. Bless now this food which has been prepared. Bless especially Debbie, who is with us tonight. Let her feel a part of the family, and bless her parents who have raised such a godly daughter. Amen.”

Debbie's face turned red at Bishop Beiler's words of praise. She glanced around at the others, but no one seemed bothered in the least. Lois even sent a sweet look her way. After the “amen,” Emery dished out some mashed potatoes while he stared at the carrot cake that sat in the middle of the table. The cake was right where Lois had insisted it go. If the choice had been Debbie's, it would have been
hidden in the pantry, or better yet, the basement. The effort was sure to be a total disaster. She just knew it. She tried not to panic. If she only knew for certain how it had come out. But Lois had watched her spread on the sticky frosting. “You're not going to taste it beforehand—not one tiny piece!” she stated.

“What difference does it make if one little corner is gone?” Debbie had begged. Hot and cold flashes had run up and down her back. Somehow she had to relieve her mind of this agony of suspense. She
had
to taste the cake before it was served. “What if it's simply awful? What if it makes people sick?” she had worried.

“You're not a
gut
judge anyway,” Lois had said. “You're too tense. And we don't cut pieces out of the pan before we serve.”

Debbie had groaned but given in. Now all her tension had returned as she watched Emery stare at the cake. She finally dared whisper in his direction, “Is there something wrong with it?”

He studied the pan some more. “I thought there was something different looking about it. So you made it?”

“Yes,” she said. At least he didn't frown at the revelation. “What's different?” Debbie croaked.

Emery shrugged. “There are smear marks up the side of the pan. Lois would never do that. But that shouldn't change how the cake tastes. That is—if you didn't miss a cup of flour or something.”

“Emery!” Lois snapped. “Behave yourself. Debbie made a perfectly
gut
carrot cake.”

Debbie stared at the cake pan. Indeed, there were smudges up the side of the pan and now baked on in dark brown. She would have to remember that the next time she emptied batter into a cake pan. Mercy sakes, there were more things to cooking than she'd imagined. No wonder she didn't like it.

“She's never cooked around here before,” Emery said, which jerked Debbie out of her thoughts. “Has she cooked at home?”

Debbie cast around for something to say, but Lois beat her to it.

“That's a nasty question to ask, Emery. Maligning a woman's
character like that. I personally oversaw the making of this cake, and Debbie did just fine. So there!”

Emery obviously didn't buy a word of this. He wrinkled up his nose and poured gravy onto his mashed potatoes.

Debbie glanced at Lois, and they both smiled. If he'd seen the flour bowl fly across the room earlier in the day, he wouldn't dare touch the cake!

“I'm sure Debbie did just fine,” Bishop Beiler said. “I was here while she stirred the batter. In fact, I'll be the first one to taste it when we're ready. We'll see what kind of cake we have.”

“Oh! Please, don't do it!” Debbie begged. “You don't have to do that, Bishop Beiler. The cake might be awful.”

“It might
kill
you,” Emery teased.

“Emery!” Bishop Beiler had reproof in his voice. “Debbie's expressing a proper humble attitude for a young woman to have. I like that. And I'm sure the cake will be fine. In fact, let's settle this matter right now. Slide the cake over here,
Mamm
.”

“I'll get the clean plates then.” Saloma leaped to her feet. She went to the counter and grabbed a stack. “Here they are.” She placed the plates within the bishop's reach, along with a sharp knife.

The bishop cut a large piece, transferring it to a smaller plate. He sectioned off a portion with his fork and took a bite. A thoughtful look came across his face as he chewed.

Oh, she was going to die if this turned out horribly! Debbie thought.

The bishop appeared pleased. “Perfect!” he pronounced. “The best I've tasted in a long time.”

“You're just saying so,” Emery protested. “Let me check it out.”

“But it's not time for dessert,” Saloma said, apparently pushed beyond her level of tolerance by this break in routine.

“Let him try it,” Bishop Beiler overruled. “Let the boy see what kind of cake our
Englisha
girl has stirred up.”

Emery cut a small piece and popped the portion into his mouth.

“There! Now we'll see who was right!” Lois launched into Emery before he even swallowed, “Isn't the cake just a marvel?”

“Not too bad,” Emery allowed once he could speak.

A satisfied expression settled over the bishop's face.

Saloma didn't wait long before she proclaimed, “Okay! Now that is settled! We can get back to our meal. Pass the corn, Verna. It's already getting cold.”

“You did okay!” Ida whispered in Debbie's ear.

The hot and cold flashes ran up and down Debbie's back again, but this time from pleasure. She'd never thought praise for a simple thing like a baked cake could mean so much. She filled her own plate as the good dishes were passed around and listened to the chatter of conversation. Her cake was soon forgotten as subjects ranged from the plans for tomorrow's church service, which would be held at Deacon Mast's place, to how they would drive home from the Sunday-night hymn singing.

Verna's face had fallen at the mention of the hymn singing, but she hid it with a drop of her gaze until she gathered her composure. Debbie noticed Ida had reached under the table to squeeze her sister's hand. The two gave each other quick smiles and soon joined in the conversation.

After supper they all followed Bishop Beiler into the living room, leaving the dishes on the table. The bishop sat in his rocker, opened his Bible, and read a portion of scripture from the book of Ephesians, starting with, “Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children; and walk in love…”

Debbie settled on the couch and allowed the feelings from earlier to overtake her again. How wonderful that she was really living in the Beiler home…an Amish home. This was exactly what she'd longed for all these years.

Bishop Beiler finished reading the scripture passage, and they all knelt in prayer. Afterward, Debbie followed the three girls and Saloma back into the kitchen. Emery headed upstairs in a rush over something.

“He's leaving before long,” Lois whispered in Debbie's ear. “Emery's spending the night out somewhere. He sometimes doesn't come back until early morning.”

Debbie nodded as she remembered Emery was on his
rumspringa
time. “That's nice to know. If he comes creeping up the stairs tonight I won't be scared,” Debbie whispered back.

Lois giggled. “Sometimes I go with him, but Emery's not a lot of fun. He doesn't do
Englisha
stuff.”

Debbie picked up several plates and carried them to the counter. Saloma stopped her when she came back for more. “The two girls and I will take care of the supper dishes, Debbie. Maybe you and Lois want to walk down to your parents' place. Let them know how you're doing on this first night of your stay here.”

“That's a great idea,” Lois said at once. “Let's do it.”

“I guess,” Debbie said. “But Mom knows where I'm at.” She hadn't thought about a visit home this soon.

“It would still be
gut
to touch base with your mother,” Saloma insisted.

“Come on.” Lois pulled on her arm.

Debbie followed but sent a protest over her shoulder. “I should help with the dishes.”

“You'll have plenty of time for dishes another time,” Saloma called after them.

Once they were outside, Debbie headed toward her car, while Lois took a few steps in the other direction. She stopped and looked at Debbie. “
Mamm
said to walk.”

Debbie shook her head. “I'd be more comfortable driving.”

Lois stayed where she was, and Debbie climbed into her car. She found her keys in the glove compartment. She couldn't explain why she felt taking the car was necessary. Maybe her mother would feel better if she drove in instead of arriving on foot. The Amish culture shock might be less severe. There would be plenty of time to walk to her parents' place later.