The Crossroad (12 page)

Leah was noddin’ her head to beat the band, brown eyes a-smilin’. ’Course, Susanna was smart enough not to even think of mentioning any of this to Rachel. No, it was better kept quiet.

“Speakin’ of Christmas,” Leah said, “I got a letter from Esther yesterday, and it looks like they’ll be comin’ in on Friday afternoon … Christmas Eve.”

“First I heard of it,” replied Susanna.

“I’m awful glad your Rachel said something.”

“Oh, so maybe
that’s
what them two’s been cookin’ up.”

Leah frowned. “What do ya mean?”

“Well, I’d be lyin’ to you if I didn’t say that there’s been a flurry of taped letters goin’ back and forth between here and Ohio lately.”

“You’re thinkin’ that Rachel might be needin’ a visit with Esther, is that it?”

She nodded. “I’d say them cousins are as close as two women ever could be.”

“Well, now—” and here Leah burst out laughing—“look how close their mammas are!”

Susanna had to smile at that. “And here I thought maybe there was something else a-goin’ on.”

“What … with the tapes?”

“Jah” was all she said. Didn’t wanna stir up curiosity on Leah’s part. Still, she couldn’t help but think there was some mighty important reason for Rachel to be the one asking Esther and Levi to come home for Christmas. Had to be.

Part Two

If a man therefore purge himself …

he shall be a vessel unto honour,

sanctified, and meet for the master’s use,

and prepared unto every good work.

—2 Timothy 2:21

Eleven

The sound of busy feet, booted and crunching against polluted snow—shoppers running helter-skelter up and down Broadway and surrounding boulevards—filtered into Philip’s head. He purposely kept his own pace, walking nearer the shops than the curb, noting that not a single person caught in the mad dash of holiday buying seemed remotely interested in peering into the exquisite windows along the avenue. Even the locksmith and pharmacy, ordinary merchandisers, were brimming with beleaguered buyers. The Broadway Nut Shop and Starbucks Coffee were crammed with people waiting in line for gift certificates or a quick snack to boost their spirits.

Christmas in New York City was precisely the place to be for many. Not for Philip. Not anymore. He could hardly wait to set out for less peopled climes. Namely, the village of Bird-in-Hand, population: three hundred.

He planned to leave Manhattan in two days by car, long before rush hour, on Christmas Eve. He had discovered, upon calling his travel agent, that there were any number of inn accommodations available in the Reading area this time of year. He would take his time driving to Pennsylvania, delirious with the idea of abandoning the bustling city for a few days. Typically, things were slow at the magazine between Christmas and New Year’s, so the only hurdle had been in getting Kari to understand why he wouldn’t be able to spend the holidays with her and her parents. His mother was visibly unnerved by the news, but he had promised her and Dad—Kari, too—that he’d make up for being gone by hosting an exciting New Year’s Eve party “at my place … or we’ll go to Times Square and watch the ball drop, if you want to,” he’d offered.

But Kari and her parents preferred to attend church for an old-fashioned Watch Night service. “There’s a European choir,” Kari said, her eyes dancing. “I know you’ll love it, Uncle Phil. We’ll have prayer and communion at midnight.”

He actually liked Kari’s idea better. So along with the rest of the family, he had agreed to “pray in” the New Year.

Janice and Ken had seemed rather surprised that he wanted to spend Christmas with Adele. But he assured them—all of them—that this was important and reminded them that he’d never missed celebrating the season with them, “not in twenty-seven years.”

Time for a new approach to the holy days
, he told himself as he slipped into a small corner bookstore, an out-of-the-way spot where he could drink some cappuccino and purchase a gift or two for his niece, a bookworm extraordinaire. He was also on the search for a picture book for Annie Yoder, whom he wanted to see again, almost as much as her mother, Rachel.

“I saw Mary and Lizzy and their girls heading over toward Hess Road, in a sleigh, no less,” Susanna said while helping Leah wipe down cupboards and later, mopboards. “Thought maybe you’d be goin’ out to the same frolic.”

“Jah, I heard of it but didn’t much feel like gettin’ out today, not with the roads so awful.”

“What’s doin’?” Susanna was just too curious to let it drop.

“Bishop Seth’s great-granddaughter’s havin’ a baby come late March, so some of the younger women were gettin’ together to make a batch of crib quilts.”

“Oh.”

“Hope the old bishop lives long enough to see his first great-great-grandson.”

“So … it’s a boy for sure, then?”

“Well, the powwow doctor tested her with a penny tied to the end of a string, ya know.”

“If that’s the case, Bishop Seth can count on it, ’cause the powwow doctors ain’t never wrong. They can even tell how many babies—twins, triplets, ya know—and the sex of each in correct order.”

Leah frowned, her eyes wide. “Ever wonder why that is?”

“What?”

“The accuracy of them powwow doctors … what makes them right so often?”

Susanna shrugged. “Just the way it’s always been.”

“But
how
do they know so much? Must be some reason, I’m a-thinkin’.”

Susanna didn’t make an effort to explain. She didn’t know for sure, really. Just that the “knowing” powers were passed from one person to another through the generations, same as other gifts of enchantment.

They continued with their cleaning chore, and Susanna came mighty close to bringin’ up her concerns over Esther, who just seemed bent on filling Rachel’s head with things she oughta forget. But she kept her peace and let the matter drop.

“Hope you get to feelin’ much better, and right soon,” Lavina told Rachel, offering her the cup of chamomile tea and honey she’d made in the Zook kitchen. “Between you and me, I think the Lord’s speakin’ to me … ’bout visiting the Old Order bishop in a couple of days.”

Rachel plumped a pillow behind her as she sat up in bed. “Is that why you came? To talk to me ’bout goin’ along?”

“Honest, Rachel, I felt a nudge—strong as anything this mornin’ while I was prayin’. Thing is, ’twouldn’t be right—two unmarried women goin’ to speak to the bishop.”

“I was thinkin’ the same thing.” Rachel raised the teacup to her lips, her hands trembling.

“Who wouldja ask to go with us—what man?” She stood at the side of Rachel’s bed, looking down at the poor girl, pale as the moon.

“Levi Glick would be the best choice, I’d hafta say, but I haven’t heard for sure if they’re comin’ for Christmas or not.”

Lavina studied awhile. “Oughta be prayin’ … for the Lord’s leading, ya know.”

“If Dat was in the know ’bout spiritual things, I’d ask him.”

“Well’s … why not? Your father could hear the witness same time as the bishop does.” Lavina hadn’t thought of that before, but it was an idea worth thinkin’ through.

“When wouldja wanna go?” Rachel took another sip of the tea, eyes squinted shut as if in terrible pain.

“Soon as you’re able.”

“Then I don’t know if I can, really. The pain in my head’s gonna hafta taper off a whole lot before I can think of goin’ anywhere.”

Lavina sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Have ya tried a home remedy?”

“I rubbed oil of rosemary at my temples, but the pain seems to be comin’ from deep inside my head … not like just any headache.”

“You be fearful ’bout something, Rachel?” She suspected as much.

“Well … maybe I am.” Rachel went on to tell her how she’d been praying, beseeching the Lord for her healing.

“Tryin’ too hard, maybe.”

Rachel cocked her head thoughtfully. “How could
that
be?”

“Rest in the Lord. Wait patiently for Him.” It was the best advice Lavina could give.

“So I shouldn’t keep remindin’ God of His promises to heal?”

“Far as I understand, you don’t hafta to remind your heavenly Father ’bout things He’s said He’d do. The same way you don’t hafta remind your dat when he says he’ll take you somewheres. Just rest, Rachel. Your healin’ will come in due time.”

If she hadn’t been in such pain, Rachel would’ve pressed the older woman. Lavina was sounding ever so much like a wise old sage of a lady, and far as she knew, there was only one woman like that ’round Lancaster County. She’d heard tell of Ella Mae Zook—one of her father’s second or third cousins once removed—who lived down in Hickory Hollow a piece. Folk in that church district often called Ella Mae the Wise Woman ’cause she seemed to have answers to life’s grittiest questions.

“Your healin’ will come in due time….”

Whoever heard? And how could Lavina know that for sure? Rachel thought long and hard ’bout it even after the kind and gentle woman took the empty teacup, with a promise to refill it, leaving Rachel alone in her room once again. But the more she thought, the more she just figured you had to be a bit slow in some areas to be as quick as Lavina Troyer was in others. Now, didn’t that beat all?

Still, she didn’t know how she could keep from reciting the biblical promises, those wonderful-gut Scriptures her cousin had sent her. How could she
not
pray the way Esther’s pastor had taught on the sermon tapes Rachel loved to hear?

Ach, she was ever so puzzled now. Didn’t quite know what to do, really.

Philip spied a vacant, overstuffed chair in the corner of the diminutive bookstore. He set down an armload of children’s books on the table in front of him—children’s poetry, a humorous takeoff on Noah and the Ark, a story about two Amish children who make Christmas preparations, several editions of Nancy Drew mysteries, and a collection of C. S. Lewis’s
Chronicles of Narnia
. He also wanted to purchase something for Adele Herr. So many choices, so little time …

Glancing at his watch, he began to peruse the picture books and the other books he wanted to buy for Kari. He made his selections rather quickly, deciding on the set of the Lewis books for Kari and the book with the Amish setting for Annie Yoder, though he couldn’t be certain of the accuracy of dialogue and information, or how Rachel’s little girl might perceive the characters. Regardless, he would take the risk. The illustrations, after all, were quite eye-catching, and from what he remembered of Lancaster County, the artistic renderings seemed authentic enough.

He located a beautifully illustrated gift book, featuring American rural scenes, as well as a blank book for journaling—both for Adele.

On his way out of the store, purchases in hand, he spotted a pocket-size book on the bargain table with a most interesting title,
Gifts of Darkness
. Compelled to pick it up, he noticed that the author had been a Pennsylvania Amish preacher at one time. He was intrigued and decided, upon reading a portion of the first chapter, that he must have it for his growing collection of Plain books.

Not until he arrived home from work later in the evening did he discover the actual theme of the book. One of the chapters was entitled “White Witchcraft,” and once again Philip was reminded that there were certain dark and secret rituals occurring under the guise of faith or “sympathy” healing in many Plain communities. Other than Adele Herr’s story of Gabe Esh, he had not heard of occult practices associated with the Anabaptist people, so he read from cover to cover, not stopping until he had completed the entire book.

Most surprising was the seemingly honest approach the former Amish minister had taken in writing the book, revealing the grip of Satan in his own life, how he had been forced as a youth to “receive giftings passed down from an older female relative,” as well as his path to spiritual freedom. The author recounted the steps the Holy Spirit had led him to take in order to be released from the enemy’s stronghold.