The Miting (45 page)
Leah nodded. “Okay, but I don’t want to get anyone into trouble.”
“There shouldn’t be legal trouble anyway. The Schrocks said that you’re eighteen now and allowed under the law to make your own decisions. And if I’d known about this, I would have told Jacob earlier. He might have gotten you out if we’d known what the church and Bishop Miller were going to do.”
Leah shook her head. “They were here when I got up this morning. I went downstairs and there they all were—Elsa Beiler even shut the door on me and locked it.”
Ada sighed. “This is unbelievable, Leah.” She suddenly got up and searched her apron pocket. “I almost forgot. Jacob sent you a note.”
She handed her sister a wrinkled paper, and Leah opened it eagerly. In the note, Jacob promised to find a way to get Leah out of the house, and he ended his note:
Praying for you—keep your eyes open. We’ll think of something, but you have to be ready to go when the chance comes. See you soon, Jacob.
Leah stuck the note in her apron and looked at Ada. “Did he say when he planned to come?”
“No, but I think it will be sometime tonight.”
She nodded. “I’ll get ready then.”
Ada stood and Leah studied her younger sister, seeing the dark circles beneath her eyes and the worry lines crossing her forehead. She could tell Ada, too, was thinking she might never see her again. She gave Ada a long hug. “Don’t worry. I’ll be all right.”
“I know, I just wonder if I—”
“Don’t think about that now,” Leah interrupted softly. “If you ever need me, though, you know I’ll be there for you, right?”
Ada nodded, tears bright in her eyes. “Things have changed, Leah. I wish we could move or get a new bishop. Miller is too harsh; he’s part of the trouble.”
Leah nodded but urged her never to say anything about their bishop to
Daet.
“My mistake was in trying to reason with them,” she said softly. “It isn’t possible to do that when hearts are hard and minds are closed tight against the truth.”
Ada turned to go but stopped and turned back. “Leah, promise me you’ll keep praying for all of us, okay?”
“Yes, always.”
As she closed the door, Leah barely detected her sister’s footsteps tiptoe down the hall to her room. Then Leah let the tears fall. Her last night at home and the sorrows she’d had before were there again. The dreams and hopes she’d had about things being different were just that—dreams.
Leah pulled herself together to prepare for Jacob. She washed her face with what was left in the jar of water one of the ladies had brought her earlier that day. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for what, she didn’t know, but anxious to be ready when the moment came.
The noise of people getting ready for bed grew softer and then quieted altogether. The clock ticked in the downstairs hall. The old house creaked and moaned, and Leah’s ears strained for any sound that might hint Jacob was outside. She sat rigid and tense. Waiting.
Leah must have dozed a little because she woke suddenly with a sound echoing in her sleepy head. She rose and crept quietly to the window.
Did I hear something?
She scanned the dark yard below, but nothing stood out. Her bleary eyes tried to sort the shadows into Jacob’s familiar shape, but the darkness hid everything except the dull gray outlines of a half-dozen buggies lined up near the barn.
“I know I heard something,” she whispered to the cold windowpanes. “What was it?”
She saw him. Standing by the corner of the barn, he held a lantern. It glowed softly, briefly, and he swung it upward just once toward her bedroom window. She gently moved the purple black-out curtain aside, hoping he would see it move and know she saw his signal.
Leah waited, hardly breathing, and when she glimpsed him melding back into the silhouette of the barn, she knew he was watching and would be ready to make his move soon. Leah went quickly to the door.
After a few minutes, a bell began sounding an alarm from a neighboring farm. Fire!
Leah waited and listened as one person after another awakened to the distress signal. No Amish man would ignore the community’s call for help, especially when a fire could mean the end of a farmer’s livelihood. Doors opened and shut downstairs, and she heard men running in the barnyard, calling to one another and hitching their horses to buggies. Leah heard
Daet
calling out as he thundered down the stairs.
Soon afterward, footsteps paused near Leah’s door. The key turned in the lock.
“Go with
Gott
, dear daughter,”
Maem
whispered. Then she hurried down the stairs, joining the other women gathering buckets out by the barn.
Leah brushed tears from her eyes, swallowing hard against the lump of sadness settling in her throat. Letting herself out, she looked around. The house was dark and empty; even Benny and Ada had left their beds.
Furtively, she slipped down the stairs and to the front door. She didn’t dare go the back way; too many folks were out by the barn. Jacob certainly guessed what would get the attention of everyone.
The door groaned when she opened it, and Leah glanced around to see if any were still waiting at their posts inside the house. She saw no one until her eyes fell on Benny and Ada, standing together in the corner of the room. Ada had her arms around Benny protectively, but his eyes were wide with confusion and fear.
“
Daet
said I was to yell if I saw you, but Ada said it’s okay if I wait a while before I start yelling.” Benny dropped his gaze, his small shoulders slumped. It was not fair to subject her young brother to this chaos or put him between his father and sister.
Meeting her sister’s gaze, Leah felt her heart break. Catching hold of his skinny body, she gave him a fierce hug. “Benny, my honey-boy, I love you. I always will. Please remember that in the days ahead.”
Ada spoke quietly, tears clouding her voice. “And we love you, Leah.”
In the commotion of the moonlit night, buggies, horses, and people flooded out of the driveway. The bell had stopped its warning peal, but the call for help lingered.
Leah slipped to the side of the porch and watched from the shadows as the buggies raced down the lane. She could actually smell smoke and wondered if this was truly a disaster or if Jacob had orchestrated a fire just to get her out.
Oh, Lord, don’t let there be more trouble.
As she peered out into the darkness, Leah heard a buggy and horse racing toward the house. Jacob had his nerve.
She swallowed, said a prayer, and readied herself to jump from the porch. Just as Jacob pulled near, he grabbed her arm and helped her leap into the buggy, her dress billowing unladylike around her. She grasped his hand and felt her
kapp
slip to one side as he swung the horse back to the road. With a quick look at Leah, Jacob set the reins to Bingo.
They took off at a gallop, Bingo pulling the reins taut as his hooves struck the blacktop. They raced past the withered rows of last year’s corn, the buggy rocking behind the horse’s powerful motion.
“Did you set a fire?” Leah asked breathlessly.
He nodded. “In a field, fallow and empty. Dry as dust, but it looks dangerous until you get close enough to see it’s last summer’s bonfire site.”
Leah looked back, the outline of her once-welcoming home fading into the distance. “Goodbye,
Maem
and
Daet,
” she whispered. “Please, Lord, let them someday understand.”
As Leah and Jacob veered onto the main road, away from the rushing crowd, she heaved a sorrow-filled sigh and nestled her head onto Jacob’s strong shoulder. It was over, this life, but something new—a life she hoped and prayed would be blessed by God—had just begun.
A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS
T
hank you to Joe and Esther Keim, whose encouragement and assistance have been invaluable. Their dedicated support to former Amish through the efforts of their ministry, Mission to Amish People, has been an inspiration. To learn more about the MAP Ministry and how to support it, please go to
http://www.mapministry.org/
.
Thank you to the former Amish who have shared their life stories with me. Together we have rejoiced and mourned, struggled and triumphed through many life experiences. Their perseverance is an amazing thing to behold.
Thank you to my writing friends for untold hours of support and cheer—Verna Mitchell (who believed in me from the first time I submitted a short story to
Faithwriters.com
), the Jewelers group, and the Marching Forward group, especially. So many times they were there to encourage me to continue when I was more than ready to give up.
Thank you to my family—my husband, Arlen, and son, Joseph. They put up with a lot of takeout and microwave meals so I could spend time writing. It’s good to have built-in cheerleaders, and God blessed me with two of the best. To Rachel, Eli, Barb, Tim, Deanna, and my mom, Bernice: you being in my corner when times were tough was a huge blessing.
Thank you to the good folks at Kregel Publications for giving me the opportunity to share my story.
Writing often feels like a lonely journey, but along the pathway are those who love, encourage, and pray for a writer’s success. To my heavenly Father I give thanks that He has blessed my life with so many wonderful people. His mercies are new every morning. His grace is the greatest gift of all.
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