Love Still Stands (5 page)

Emma started across the room. “I’ll get the bucket of water and the mop—”

“She can manage,” Leah interrupted. “Lillie and Mary can help her. Your baby was fussing
the last time I checked. She probably needs to be fed.”

With that statement, she swept from the room. The implied criticism said Leah thought
her sister-in-law was neglecting her baby. Bethel knew for a fact Emma had left her
stepdaughter Rebecca in charge of watching baby Lilah and the smaller children in
the grassy meadow that stretched between the house and the barn. They’d set up cribs
and playpens and even a couple of rocking chairs so the middle girls could care for
the little ones while the older girls cleaned. Bethel patted Deborah’s back and shuffled
along the counter until she could reach her other crutch.

“Everyone will feel better when they’re settled in.” Despite Leah’s orders, Emma grabbed
a bucket, dunked it in the big tub of soapy water, and picked up the mop leaning against
the far wall. At Bethel’s raised eyebrows, she grinned. “I know she’s your sister
and all, but she does get a little bossy now and then.”

“Now and then?” Bethel hid her own smile behind her hand. “Thank you for your help.”

“Lead the way.”

When she finally made it to the bedroom door, aware of Emma’s attempts to slow her
own pace, Bethel wished she’d stayed in the kitchen. Elijah tugged at a bed frame,
trying to get the sides even and into their slots, his face and shirt wet with sweat.
Despite two open windows that allowed the autumn breeze to sweep through the room,
paint fumes permeated it. A box spring and mattress were stacked on the floor in one
corner.

Bethel didn’t know where to look. The bed frame? The mattress? Better to look out
the windows behind him. Elijah straightened and wiped at his forehead with the back
of his sleeve. His gaze collided with her. His ears turned red.

“I thought I’d…you know…the paint is pretty much dry so I thought…I didn’t want you
to spend another night sleeping on the ground, not you specifically, I mean, any of
you, I mean, all of you.”

His soft baritone sputtered to a stop, his gaze begging her to save him from himself.

“I…well…” Bethel cast about for something to ease the moment. “We…Emma and I—”

“We need to mop before you go bringing any more furniture in here.” Emma sidestepped
Bethel’s crutch and set the bucket on the floor. “I think Thomas needs more drywall
in the living room. Can you carry it in for him?”

“
Jah, jah
. No problem.”

His skin the color of overripe tomatoes, he whipped around the end of the frame, tripped
over the corner of the box spring, stumbled, righted himself, and squeezed past Bethel
without looking at her.

“He sure knows how to make an exit.” Emma held out the mop to Bethel. “I’ve never
seen a man so smitten.”

“Smitten?” Heat curled around Bethel’s neck and brushed against her cheeks. “What
are you talking about?”

“It’s obvious.” Grinning, Emma trotted to the door. “Elijah likes you. I’ll bring
some towels to dry the floor. The new windows look so nice and sparkling clean. You’ll
have fun making the curtains. We need a sewing frolic…”

Her words wafted in the air even as she disappeared from sight.

“Emma Brennaman.” Bethel would’ve stomped her foot if she could. “Get back here and
explain yourself.”

But she didn’t. Like all good matchmakers, Emma threw out the line and waited to see
who would snatch the bait first. Bethel heaved her crutches to one side and leaned
on the mop. It wouldn’t be her. Emma wanted to see something that simply wasn’t there.

He’d been embarrassed to be in her bedroom, that was all. Elijah saw a disabled woman
who needed his help. He’d spent so many years taking care of his parents, he didn’t
know how to do anything else. Bethel didn’t need his help or his pity.

Bethel didn’t need him at all. She gave the mop a dispirited swish. She could make
it on her own.

Taking a tighter hold on the mop, she cut a swath across the floor in a flourish,
lost her balance, and went down in a heap on her behind.

Chapter 5

L
uke inhaled and stifled the urge to wipe at his face. Ben’s house felt crowded, even
though they were a small district, only seven families. Their bodies wedged on the
benches heated the room and made the air damp with sweat in spite of the cool autumn
air. He raised his head to look at Micah Kelp. The bishop prayed, his thick beard
bobbing as his head nodded. His eyes opened and their gazes met. He had arrived at
Luke’s farm the night before, ready to perform his duties and return to Bliss Creek
as soon as possible. Micah’s no-nonsense approach to their challenges had bolstered
Luke’s own sense that they were making progress, slowly but surely. The interior of
the house was nearly done and everyone slept in their own beds now. The exterior shone
with new paint and windows. Tomorrow, they would start planting the fields with winter
wheat. Better late than never. All this met with Micah’s approval, much to Luke’s
relief. They would be fine.

“Come now. I will hear your nominations for bishop.” Micah’s deep bass drew Luke out
of his reverie. He started and looked around. No one seemed to notice. Micah lumbered
toward the kitchen door. “This is an important decision you make today. I trust that
you have prayed over it and meditated over it.”

He stood then in the doorway as each man and woman filed past and whispered a name
to him. Deacon Altman stood at his side, scribbling names on a piece of paper with
a stubby pencil. Luke had prayed long and hard the previous evening, aware of Leah’s
furtive glances. She hadn’t said so, but he knew. She didn’t want it to be him. She’d
done her own praying, silently, but somehow he found a sort of accusation in her bowed
head. He understood. He didn’t want it to be him either, but if it were God’s will
that he take up this burden, he would do so. He fervently hoped God gave the lot to
another man.

At the door he leaned in and looked into Micah’s face for one brief second, then whispered
the name he’d chosen. It hadn’t been difficult. Thomas was the wisest man in their
group, the most even-keeled. He would handle matters of discipline, the
Ordnung
, and the community’s spiritual life with fairness and honest supplication before
God. He would make a fine bishop. Micah inclined his head. Luke moved on.

With such a small district, the voting didn’t take long. Micah and Deacon Altman returned
to their place in front of the rows of benches arranged in the living room. Without
further discussion, Micah perused the names. “This is an unusual situation,” he noted.
“We must choose our minister and our deacon as well. All of you will be new to your
duties. But as this is what the situation requires, so be it. The chosen must take
up this yoke before God with the greatest commitment to this new community. You will
bear the brunt of the decisions that must be made in order for this community to survive
and to thrive. Come into the kitchen when your name is called.”

He strode once again toward the kitchen where he paused in the doorway and without
looking at the paper, began calling out the names. “Luke Shirack.”

Luke sucked in air and stood, glad that he’d been spared the reading of the list.
Better to get it over with than experience that sense of relief over and over as each
name was called, only to have his be the last on the list. Some of the women cried.
The seriousness of this moment was lost on none of them. The man who emerged from
that kitchen as their bishop would also be their spiritual leader. Leah’s face had
gone white. He saw no trace of pride that his had been among the names their friends
and family had nominated to lead the community. As well it should be. Pride served
no one. Still, she shouldn’t look so stricken either. If he were chosen, so be it.
Gott’s will. She knew that. She would adjust to the additional duties as did every
other fraa whose husband served.

Their gazes met. Hers dropped. Then she turned and shushed Esther, who was giggling
over a piece of paper and crayon she held in her chubby hands. Bethel pulled the little
girl into her lap and gave her a cookie. The girl subsided. Leah didn’t look back
in his direction. He ducked past Micah and entered the kitchen, but his wife’s face
wouldn’t fade from his mind’s eye. She suffered, but he couldn’t fathom why or how.
She wouldn’t tell him and her silence accused him night and day.

“Thomas Brennaman.” The calling of the names continued.

Forcing himself to let Leah’s image go, Luke studied the row of
Ausbands
arranged on the table. Five of them. One of the hymnals held the slip of paper that
would determine how the one chosen by lot would spend his remaining days. The designation
of a bishop was for life…or for as long as the man could perform the duties of disciplining
wayward members of the community—baptizing, performing marriages, and seeing to it
that the community clung to the Ordnung.

He stood firm, arms crossed, waiting.
Come what may. Come what may
. Thomas entered the room, his expression somber. He nodded. Luke returned the nod.
Benjamin entered next, followed by Aaron and Silas. The community had spoken. They
had chosen well. Luke didn’t know about himself, but he would be happy to have any
of the men in the room as bishop. Each would bring their own way to the table, but
they were all solid, careful, thoughtful men who lived by the Ordnung and brought
their children up to do the same.

Micah entered the room followed by Altman. “We’ll pray now.”

Luke lowered himself to his knees, as did the other men. He closed his eyes.
Thy will be done, Lord. If it is your will that I take up this yoke, then I will do
it cheerfully. Make me strong
.

The sound of shuffling forced his eyes open. Micah stood. “Now.”

One by one, the men picked up the copies of the Ausbands in front of them.

Relief flooded Luke when his hands held steady and his legs didn’t buckle under him.
He didn’t want to shame the people who had chosen him to come this far. He would hang
on. He would do whatever he was called to do. He pulled the book to his chest and
waited, his heart pounding. He tried to still his breathing. Purple dots danced in
his vision.
Steady. Steady
.

“Hand me your book.” Micah started at the other end of the row. One by one, he flipped
through the pages of the hymnals. It wasn’t until he came to Luke that he found what
he sought. A look of satisfaction on his pudgy face, he slipped the piece of paper
from between the pages and handed it to Luke.

On it were written the words, “The lot is cast into the lap; but the whole disposing
thereof is of the L
ORD
. Proverbs 16:33.”

Luke licked dry lips. His throat felt as if it were on fire. He needed a drink of
cool well water. He handed the paper back to Micah, his fingers still steady. “Godspeed.”
Micah’s eyes were kind behind smudged spectacles. “You are chosen.”

Luke could only nod.

“Come. Now we choose the minister, then the deacon.”

Four Ausbands this time, already prepared and waiting on the table. A sense of stumbling
in a dream inundated Luke. He followed Micah’s lead, but he was sure any second he
would awake and find himself in his bed next to his fraa. Not taking a songbook from
his friend, his brother-in-law Thomas, and finding there a note with a verse on it
that said this man of few words would be the community’s new deacon. A man who would
gather alms for their needy, investigate accusations of infractions against the Ordnung,
and serve as a go-between before the publishing of marriage bans. A good man for this
role. Very good.

Silas would take the role of minister. A man who handled words well and had been studious
of the Bible. Once a good scholar, now a good husband and father. Silas would speak
from his heart, giving long sermons without aid of notes. Again a good choice. God’s
hand moved over them. God made these choices. Luke could see that. There was no chance
in this. God had spoken.

Without discussion, they returned to the living room and stood before their community.
The air crackled with expectation. Every face filled with a sort of awed trepidation.
Micah stood silent for a few moments, than announced their names, starting with the
minister, then deacon. Someone—maybe Emma—gave a little cry when Thomas’s name was
spoken. Luke couldn’t be sure. He stood tall, staring straight ahead. When Micah gave
his name to the community, silence reigned, then heads began to bob in affirmation.
Men nodded, women whispered. He breathed and allowed himself a swift glance in Leah’s
direction.

She no longer sat on the bench between Esther and Martha. He caught sight of her bent
head as she fled through the front door, Jebediah on her hip. She didn’t look back.

Chapter 6

B
ethel laid the knife aside and rose from the prep table where she’d placed a chair.
She picked up the cutting board with one hand, using the other to balance herself
so she could shuffle her way over to the stove. She had a system now. She could make
it from the table to the counter to the washtub to the stove in a route that allowed
her freedom from the crutches so long as she never tried to put her full weight on
the bad leg. What did the doctors know? She’d be skipping before they knew it. She’d
be jumping rope with Esther and Martha when they were a little older. The thought
made her giggle.