The Longing (30 page)
“Ach, really?”
“When David started to talk about dying last Sunday, my dad shooed Caleb and me out of the room and laid out the Gospel to him one more time.”
She shifted herself to face him, as if eager to hear more.
“Dad told his cousin that following the rules of a church or a bishop wouldn’t get him past the pearly gates. ‘You need Jesus,’ Dad told him flat-out.”
“What did David say to that?”
Chris hesitated, not wanting to sound critical. “I don’t know how well you’re acquainted with my dad’s cousin, but—”
“Quite frankly, most folk know he’s stubborn.”
“That’s putting it mildly. Even with death starin’ him in the face, at first he was as closed-minded as he’s always been.” Chris thought how ironic it was that a mule’s kick to such a hardheaded man hadn’t softened him up much. “But God can crack the hardest heart, and David cried out to Him . . . and repented.”
“Too bad it takes a calamity to get a person’s attention.” Nellie’s voice quivered. “Suzy’s death brought my family to their knees, I know that for sure. I’m so thankful God was able to use this accident to get David’s notice . . . and his heart.”
Hearing her express herself so sweetly made Chris want to reach for her hand.
I have to be out of my mind.
By tomorrow, he guessed, he’d be glad if he kept his hands firmly on the steering wheel, where they belonged.
Nan was waiting for her in the hallway when Nellie Mae tiptoed up the stairs. “Did you go out with you-know-who?” She was smiling, clad in her long cotton nightgown.
“Well, it won’t happen again, so you don’t need to fret.”
“So, you
were
with Chris Yoder!”
Nellie hurried to her room. “Is this the same sister who made me wait for weeks to know the name of my future brother-in-law?” She nearly closed the door on Nan’s nose and then opened it right quick to pull her inside. “I’ll just say this much—Chris told me more about the day David Yoder opened up to Christ. We mustn’t quit praying for him or the rest of the family.”
Nan agreed, waiting for more information—Nellie could see it in her too-eager eyes.
“Other than running into Rhoda, who looked to be in good spirits, there’s nothin’ else to tell.” She yawned and stretched her arms. “Now I’m tired . . . and so are you.”
“Jah, s’pose it is bedtime.” Before Nan left for her room, she grinned and said, “If you need advice ’bout, well, just anything, I’m willin’.”
“Good night, sister,” Nellie said, reaching up to undo her hair.
The weekend passed quickly for Rhoda, who couldn’t believe how nice it was to have a new beau with a flair for romance. He stopped by the restaurant with flowers for no reason, and the day after waited till she was off work to take her to dinner.
Since meeting Ted a week ago now, she’d already stopped in at the welding shop twice to talk to him and simply “hang around,” as he put it, with a twinkle in his eyes. Today, though, when she arrived, hoping to surprise him before heading to work at the restaurant, she noticed a couple of pretty girls already doing just that, and Rhoda wondered if they were there to see Ted or one of the other guys. Watching from her car, she felt a pang of jealousy when she saw Ted go over and put his arms around both of them.
Like he does with me!
One of the girls leaned against him flirtatiously.
Deciding
not to stay, she drove away, as offended as she’d felt the day Curly Sam Zook had dropped her like a hot fried potato.
Best not be counting my chickens before they’re hatched!
Seized by an overwhelming desire for a milkshake and salty French fries, Rhoda drove straight to the nearest fast-food place.
Just this once.
The dream began as the dearest Rosanna had ever dreamed. A covering of radiant leaves showered around her as she strolled merrily through the golden wood. She savored the earthy scents of autumn and cradled her swollen stomach, where her darling babe grew.
A gentle gust swept across her face, making her apron billow out around her ankles. She felt the sun . . . ah, the sweet, warm sunshine. The day of her baby’s birth was drawing closer.
Elias will be ever so happy.
At first she didn’t see her—the wee baby curled up in the blood-red leaves. Then she stopped to look and cried out, “Oh, surely not!”
No . . . not my precious little one. My baby, on the ground, lifeless . . .
She awakened with a start and, sitting up, realized she must’ve made a sound.
“Rosanna?” came Elias’s sleepy voice. “You all right?”
“I had a horrid dream.”
“Ach, you’re crying, love.” He sat up with her, drawing her near, and she buried her face in his warm embrace.
“Shh . . . it was a nightmare . . . jah?”
She dared not say just how awful the dream had been . . . how frighteningly real. No need to burden Elias, whose own pillowcase was sometimes wet with tears in the morning, so heavy was the burden he faithfully carried for the People. And now here she was waking him.
Is it a forewarning?
Lena’s thoughtful letter had arrived earlier that Friday, the looked-for reply to Rosanna’s. Lena had seemed overjoyed to hear of Rosanna’s pregnancy, calling it “wonderful-good news” and thanking the Lord for this “gift,” praying Rosanna would have the health to deliver a full-term baby. Yet Rosanna’s own baby news had not changed a single thing in Lena’s thinking.
In the distance, the crack of fireworks from the town’s Fourth-of-July celebration punctuated the present silence.
“I’m here, love.” Elias pulled her gently down with him, cradling her in his strong arms. “Just rest.”
She nodded, trembling at the vision of the beautiful baby girl . . . dead on the forest floor.
O Lord, please let it not be so. . . .
Caleb stayed at home with Mamm on the Lord’s Day to help with Daed while Leah and Emmie attended Preaching. Though both the bishop and even Preacher Manny had dropped by, nothing more had been said about his father’s wishes for the funeral. And Caleb remained chagrined at Daed’s sudden change of heart, as well as Mamm’s reluctance to discuss the events of the Sunday two weeks ago.
He’ll come to his senses,
Caleb told himself.
He’s off-kilter.
To Caleb’s surprise, today Daed seemed able to hold his head more erect and wanted to come to the table for the noon meal. And strength did seem to be returning somewhat to his upper body as they all sat at the supper table presently. Caleb also noticed how much longer his father bowed his head for the silent blessing . . . and when he asked for various dishes to be passed, his words were unexpectedly soft and kind.
Was Daed experiencing a miraculous turnaround, just as Chris Yoder had prayed? And where would all this talk of miracles lead them, anyway?
When Daed asked to be wheeled back to his room, Caleb rose quickly. Alone together in the bedroom once again, he sat waiting for Abe to drop by and help move Daed back into bed.
Motioning for Caleb to close the door, Daed said, “I have something to say to you, son.”
Caleb braced himself, not ready for another confession. His father looked so feeble in his wheelchair.
“I’ve said before that I’ve been a hard man.” Daed raised his eyes to Caleb’s. “I was bullheaded to force you away from your girl. Wasn’t my place.”
All the anger Caleb had felt—all the pain and loss—came flooding back. He didn’t want to talk about Nellie Mae now, least of all with a man he scarcely knew anymore.
“I rejected your choice of a mate, somethin’ mighty sacred.” Daed stared down at his rough hands. “You should’ve been allowed to marry the girl you chose. The one you loved.”
Caleb gritted his teeth, unable to make heads or tails of this. After thwarting his longed-for plans at every turn, did Daed hope to gain his forgiveness so easily? This wasn’t the time to inform Daed of Nellie’s choice. That
she
, not Daed, had cut things off in the end. Caleb breathed deeply, studying his father—still shocked at the words coming out of his mouth. Was the new belief Nellie embraced—that tore their love apart—truly now Daed’s own?
Daed continued. “I’ve talked with your brothers—each one. And you can rest assured there’ll be no hard feelings from them.” He made no attempt to restrain his tears, which ran down both sides of his wrinkled face. “Son, my land is yours for the taking.”
Caleb felt the air leave him. Had he heard correctly? “Ach, I wasn’t expecting this.”
“I know, Caleb . . . I know. But there’s a big difference now. There are no strings attached. You’re free to farm it for as long as you live.”
Caleb was speechless. He’d never seen such benevolence in his father. Truly, something deep had altered in him.
With much effort, Daed offered his hand. “I failed you, son,” he said. “Can you ever forgive me?”
Without giving it a second thought, he clasped his father’s hand. “Dat . . . this is all so sudden. . . .”
Slowly, Daed nodded his head, his beard bumping his chest. “But I believe you’ll see . . . in due time . . . what I’m talking ’bout.” With those puzzling words, his trembling hand suddenly dropped, too weak to grasp any longer. “You’ll see.”
The land he’d always wanted, even coveted, was to be his—if Daed was in his right mind, that is. Caleb would be foolish to refuse the very thing he’d longed for, yet he felt mighty distrustful as he sat staring at this father who’d changed nearly before his eyes.
“I love you, Caleb . . . whether you forgive me or not.”
Once again, Caleb was bewildered, unable to recall ever having heard his father declare such a thing.
For sure and for certain, Nellie enjoyed Rebekah Yoder’s Sunday afternoon visits almost as much as Nan. Today she’d stayed for supper, and since it would be daylight for a few more hours, Nellie suggested the three of them go walking in the woods. “The red columbine should still be blooming,” she told Nan, knowing her sister would remember the brilliantly scarlet blossoms that had always been Suzy’s favorite.
It was a hot and muggy July day, the first Sunday of the month, and blue sky was divided by a buildup of clouds to the west. All three girls had worn their winter bonnets to shield their faces from the sun.
“How’s your father doin’ today?” Nan asked Rebekah as they hiked through the paddock, toward the meadow.
“Well, it was a bit surprising when I stopped in to see him earlier. He seemed some better, actually.” Rebekah glanced at Nellie Mae. “ ’Tis such a blessing to be welcomed by him again. Ya know, he’s offered to let me move back home, if I want to. Caleb says I should take him up on it before he changes his mind.” She chuckled.
Delighted as she was to hear this news, Nellie tensed up at the mention of Caleb.
“I was out walkin’ with
my sister Leah just two Sundays ago, talking about Daed’s makin’ peace with God and explainin’ the reasons for the church split,” Rebekah continued. “Ach, such a thorny thing. Most of the youth have little idea what went on, or what even caused it.”
“I daresay ’twas a mighty confusing time for all of us,” Nan said.
“My father’s saying he wants as many of the People present at his funeral as will come—everyone from the New Order and the Beachys, too,” Rebekah said.
“I wonder why.” Nan stopped to pick a black-eyed Susan and spun it between her fingers.
“Has the bishop been to see him?” Nellie asked, curious what David Yoder was cooking up.
“Jah, the bishop and Preacher Manny, both. The two of them met with my father.” Rebekah shook her head, removing her bonnet and fanning her face. “To think Daed is willing to talk to a New Order preacher, of all things. Only the Lord could make that happen.”
Nellie wondered if David had softened at all toward Caleb. She still felt dreadful when she thought of him giving up his treasured inheritance, grasping anew what Caleb sacrificed to prove his love for her. The whole thing made her stomach tie up in knots.
Quite by surprise, Chris Yoder came to mind. She liked the fact that he shared her faith—ever so appealing—in contrast to Caleb’s disapproval of her new beliefs. She found much to admire about Chris, although they should limit their conversation to his weekly visits to the bakery shop from now on.
Even so, Nellie couldn’t help but think how exciting it would be to go with him to the very tabernacle where Suzy had first encountered the Lord.
Caleb carried a glass of water into Daed’s room, placing it on the lamp table near the bed. As usual, he’d brought a straw to make drinking easier, since his father wanted to hold his own glass—in some ways, his father was as bent on being independent as ever.
Going to the window, Caleb noticed a long V-shaped line of birds fly over the house, and he watched them travel east till they were black specks in the distance. The evening sun remained high in the sky at nearly seven o’clock, and Caleb reached up to pull down the green shade.
“Come . . . sit with me, son.” His father’s eyes were open again.
Caleb reached back to raise the shade slightly, surprised at the request. “Thought you might want to retire for the night.” He set a chair next to the bed.
“Not yet, no. There are still things I must say.” His Daed was quiet for a moment, and Caleb wondered what on earth his father had in mind. He had been avoiding him some, hoping not to be cornered with another request for forgiveness.
It’s too late to put everything right.
Weak as his father appeared, his gaze held steady, and Caleb had an uncomfortable sense that he suspected the fight within. “Don’t follow in my obstinate ways. Give your life over to the One who died for you . . . and for me. Nothin’ else you do is worth a lick otherwise.”
“Daed . . . I just don’t understand what’s happened . . . this way of thinkin’. You were so opposed to talk of grace and salvation before.”
His father’s breathing seemed shallow now, and his eyes were closed once more. “Don’t wait to believe, Caleb,” he whispered, folding his hands over his chest. “Preacher Manny was right . . . all along. Honest, he was.”
Unable to sit any longer, Caleb rose and went to the window again. Did his father expect him to abandon the Old Ways as quickly as he seemingly had?