Meek and Mild (45 page)

Noah gave a sharp clap. “Contain your impudence!”

Mose gestured to Andrew. “Please take Clara outside and wait for me there.”

“Our meeting has not concluded,” Joseph said.

“Andrew, please,” Mose said.

Andrew took Clara’s elbow, and together they let themselves out of the Yoder home. Clara squinted into the sunlight as she pushed out a series of short breaths. Silent, they waited a few minutes beside Clara’s buggy. Andrew had brought only a horse. He glanced at the house every few seconds, as if willing the door to open and Mose to emerge.

“This was Yonnie,” Andrew said. “I have to talk to him.”

Clara laid a hand on his arm. “Not while you’re angry.”

He laid one hand on her cheek. “I will not speak in anger. I will do my best to speak the truth in love.”

“Mose asked us to wait for him,” Clara said.

“He’s taking too long,” Andrew said. “I’ll explain to him later. Will you be all right getting your buggy home?”

“Mose rode with me,” Clara said. “I have no choice but to wait for him.”

Andrew leaned in and kissed her. “Come find me later, at the Johnson place. I’ll tell you everything.”

He swung himself astride his horse and galloped off the farmstead.

Behind Clara, Mose’s voice boomed. “Andrew!”

Andrew paused long enough to look over his shoulder. But he did not turn around.

I
f there were repercussions for defying Mose’s request to wait outside the Yoder home, Andrew would face them later. Clara would understand, and Mose might scowl but he would listen—which was more than Andrew could say for the Yoders. He rode straight to the dairy, confident that if Yonnie had done the morning rounds he would be back by now.

“I let him go a week ago,” Dale said when Andrew politely asked for a few minutes of Yonnie’s time.

“Let him go?” Andrew echoed.

“We came to a parting of ways.” Dale riffled papers on his desk. “And if you know him half as well as I think you do, you know why.”

“Where is he working now?”

“I haven’t heard that he is.” Dale stood up. “If I run into him, I’ll let him know you were looking for him.”

Andrew nodded at Dale’s empty assurance. The dairy owner was not likely to run into his former employee.

So where was Yonnie?

Andrew mounted his horse and puffed his cheeks.

Riding out to Yonnie’s family farm carried the risk that he had not told his parents or siblings of his loss of employment. Andrew knew Yonnie not half as well as Dale suspected but twice as well. And Yonnie would get up and leave the farm on his normal schedule rather than concern his parents before he was ready with an announcement that would put them at ease.

Andrew let his horse enjoy a restful pace, riding with his hands crossed over the horn of the saddle while he tried to think as Yonnie would think. Once, when they were eleven, Yonnie let himself get talked into a prank with some boys that got them all suspended from school for three days. Andrew doubted Yonnie’s parents knew to this day. Yonnie left the house in the morning with his brothers and sisters and stepped out of the group just before students entered the Crossroads School. In the afternoon he caught up with his siblings along the path home. Years later Yonnie admitted to Andrew that he spent those three days hiding in an abandoned outbuilding, afraid to be seen during school hours.

An abandoned outbuilding.

At the next turn, Andrew swung the horse down a less traveled road and coaxed a canter from the animal. He approached the old Johnson place with a mixture of gratitude that he’d thought of it and trepidation for what Yonnie might be doing there.

Andrew eased off the horse and left the faithful servant tied loosely to the low branch of a tree on the outer ring of the clearing around the structure, the ground now covered with the brown, wintry decay of unmowed summer weeds that would no doubt be back with a vengeance next year. He scanned the surroundings. The decrepit barn’s door was closed as snugly as it ever was—which was hardly secure—but Andrew drew no conclusions from this. He scanned the clearing systematically before staring into the surrounding woods.

Seeing nothing, he called out. “Yonnie?”

Andrew was uncertain whether the roll of shadow revealed movement within the barn or a shift in sunlight through the trees. He moved closer and pushed the door open enough to slip inside, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior.

“Yonnie?”

This time Andrew heard the shuffle and turned his head toward the sound.

In the far corner, with the Model T between them, Yonnie hunched against a wall.

Alarm shot through Andrew. Yonnie held a two-foot length of cast-off pipe.

“What are you doing here, Yonnie?” Andrew moved slowly around the automobile, hesitant to cause Yonnie to move suddenly.

“It’s out of the elements, at least,” Yonnie said.

“You won’t make things better by smashing the car.” Andrew was fairly certain now he would be able to intercept Yonnie’s efforts.

Yonnie laughed. “Is that what you think I’m here for?”

Andrew said nothing as he moved closer.

Yonnie raised the pipe.

“Don’t, Yonnie,” Andrew said.

“I’m not going to wreck the car.” Yonnie tossed the pipe to one side, where it clattered against a wall. “You can sell the car and give the money to the poor.”

Making no promise, Andrew stood in front of Yonnie now, examining the circles under his eyes. He touched the torn shoulder of Yonnie’s coat. “What happened here?”

“An altercation with a tree.” Yonnie brushed off Andrew’s touch. “An accident?”

“Of course it was an accident. Who runs into a tree on purpose?” Yonnie met Andrew’s gaze. “Have you come from Joseph and Noah?” Andrew planted his feet, prepared to prevent Yonnie from rushing past him and out the door until they had it out.

“Yonnie, why?” Andrew said softly. All through their boyhood he had shrugged off Yonnie’s quirks, rarely losing his temper and usually finding amusement. Now he had Clara to think of, and he had promised not to speak in anger.

For a long moment, Yonnie looked over Andrew’s shoulder at the opposite wall. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

“Was it? Where do you find such unabated certainty?”

“In the teachings of the church. In the faith of our fathers.”

“What about
our
faith?” Andrew said. “What about
your
faith?”

“Don’t ask ridiculous questions.” Yonnie’s spine slackened, and he slid down the wall of the barn.

“Yonnie.” Andrew reached out to touch his shoulder.

Sitting on the ground, Yonnie pulled his knees up, rested his arms on them, and hung his head.

Andrew had not meant to hold his breath, and now his lungs ached for relief.

“Are you going to marry Clara?” Yonnie mumbled.

“Yes. She has finally agreed to have me.”

“I hope you’ll be very happy.”

“Thank you. I think we will be.” Squatting in front of Yonnie, Andrew narrowed his eyes at the odd shift in conversation.

“You’re not any older than I am,” Yonnie said, “and you have a farm.”

“With a mortgage,” Andrew reminded Yonnie. His parents had left him to take over the farm, but it was not free and clear. He had also assumed the debt.

“All the same,” Yonnie said, “you have something to offer a woman. Something to make her care for you.”

Andrew twisted to sit beside Yonnie, their backs against the wall. “I’d like to think I have other qualities at least equally as appealing.”

“I have nothing,” Yonnie said. “No farm, not enough money to persuade the bank I’m a worthy risk, no one to drive home with after the Singings. No job.”

Andrew grimaced. “I stopped by the dairy.”

“Then you know,” Yonnie said. “The buggy I drive belongs to my father, along with everything else. I have a horse of my own that can barely keep up with a three-year-old child, and a few untillable acres on the edge of my father’s farm. That’s it.”

Even if Andrew had not promised Clara to hold his temper with Yonnie, the urge to unleash it passed. Over the years, Andrew had seen Yonnie obstinate, gullible, fearful, and eager to please anyone he thought of as holding authority. Despondence had never colored Yonnie’s features as it did now.

“It won’t always be that way,” Andrew said.

“What I have is the church,” Yonnie said. “I have the promises that come with obedience. I can’t let go of them.”

“No one is asking you to,” Andrew said, “only perhaps to be less…insistent on the forms obedience takes.”

“The church must stay together.” Yonnie hit the ground with the flat of his hand. “If we don’t have that, we’ve lost everything.”

Andrew ran his tongue over his teeth, resisting the urge to pursue a theological debate.

“You know,” he said, “I’m alone on my farm. I could use another hand I could count on. Even over the winter there’s a lot to do when it’s just me.”

“You’ve always managed.”

“You should see the list of things I never get around to.”

“Maybe if you spent less time with the Model T,” Yonnie said.

Andrew swallowed his response. “I understand if you don’t want to work for me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Andrew crossed his legs out in front of him. “I know you disapprove of the car, but I was putting it to good use when I took Clara to Maryland. She had a very good reason for getting there in a hurry, and I was glad to be able to help her.” He still had not sorted out when Yonnie could have seen them and supposed he would never be sure.

“We have rules for a reason,” Yonnie said.

Andrew counted to ten beneath his breath.

“I shouldn’t have said that.” Yonnie tilted his head back against the wall. “I’m envious. I’m angry. I’m lacking in love.”

“Love casts out fear,” Andrew said. “Love thinks the best. Love never fails.”

“Let us keep our eyes on love.” Yonnie sang softly from the old
Ausbund
hymn.

Andrew nodded.

The barn door opened, flooding the space with daylight. Clara stepped in.

“Oh,” she said, when she spotted Yonnie. Her eyes took in the scene.

“It’s all right. We’re all right.” Andrew stood up. “Yonnie’s going to work for me for a while.”

Clara’s eyes widened and bulged.

“At least I hope he is.” Andrew offered a hand and pulled Yonnie to his feet.

Yonnie glanced at Clara, sheepish. “I understand you’ve finally decided to throw your lot in with my old friend.”

The sound that Clara emitted was not quite a word.

Andrew stepped toward her. “Someone had to be the first to know. Why not my boyhood friend?”

He kissed her mouth. Later she could hear the whole story.

Nine days later, Clara sat in church, still stunned that the old friendship between Andrew and Yonnie had resurfaced. They sat beside each other in the first row of single men right behind the married men.

It bothered her that Yonnie was the one who knew their secret.

The skirmish with Noah and Joseph Yoder persuaded them to wait before speaking to Clara’s father or Mose. Neither of them wanted news of their engagement tangled in speculation about their future in the church. They had told each other this and agreed to wait.

Whatever Yonnie’s attitude was now—and Clara was not sure she knew—the damage was done. Joseph and Noah had called Andrew to task, and with Mose’s dissenting opinion, the ministers disagreed on what action the Bible required them to take. Neither Andrew nor Clara wanted their engagement lost in the swirl of the dark clouds. Andrew had waited two years for her to accept his proposal. They would wait a few more days or weeks.

Clara adjusted her shoulders, which had started to ache, and moved her eyes forward. Mose stood beside the preaching table, giving the main sermon.

“ ‘And let the peace of God rule in your hearts,’ ” Mose read, “ ‘o the which also ye are called in one body; and be ye thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord.’ ”

Mose looked up here, catching eyes around the room before he continued.