The Postcard (34 page)

With a whimper, she stumbled to her daughter’s bedside and knelt there, stroking the long, silky braids, seeing her little one as through a veil, for the first time in two long years—the skin, fair as a dove; the cheeks, pink as a rose petal. How beautiful her young daughter appeared to her hungry eyes, how very lovely. Or was it just her own imaginin’? It was as she cherished Annie with her cloudy sight that she thought she saw something of Jacob in the little girl. Jah, just the slightest glimmer of his dear, dear face.

“Best not waken her,” Mam said.

Even as she continued to touch her daughter’s satiny hair, she recalled Lily’s tape-recorded story, the amazing account of her own great-uncle Gabe. How the young man with giftings similar to her own had refused the powwow doctors of his day, had rejected the strong inclinations that had come through the bloodline of his family—
her
family— how he’d stood firm against the Old Order bishop.

“No,” she heard herself saying, as if in a dream. “I will not accept this sort of healing . . . and the transference neither.”

“But, Daughter . . .” Mam was weeping now.

“Don’t be foolish, Rachel,” Blue Johnny said then. “You don’t want to miss out on your little girl’s growing-up years, now do you?”

Rachel turned and raised her voice to him. “I’d rather be blind forever than choose the devil’s gift.”

Annie began to stir, and as quickly as the shadowy vision had come, her sight left her once again. “Please, just go now,” she told Blue Johnny.

“Ach, Rachel . . .”

“Make him leave, Mam.”

Leaning hard against the bed, she reached for her child’s little hand and held it.

“Just remember, Rachel, I have the power to give you full sight,” Blue Johnny reminded her. “Someday . . . someday
soon
, you’ll come looking for me. Mark my words.”

Someday soon . . .

She cringed, forcing the impact of his unholy words from her head, relieved to hear footsteps exiting the room. Then, when the upstairs had become still once again, she rubbed her eyes, thinking that the encounter might’ve been just a dream. A terrible, awful one at that.

Twenty-Three

P
hilip felt it awkward for Rachel to sit in the backseat on their trip to Reading, as if he were a chauffeur for an Amishwoman, for pete’s sake. Nevertheless, this was the arrangement the blind woman had agreed on, and he found himself stealing glances in his rearview mirror.

At one point, while waiting for a traffic light to change, he caught himself staring at her, wondering what Rachel’s hair might look like down, flowing over her shoulders and back, freed from the severity of the bun and head covering she always wore. Free and graceful, and perhaps a bit wavy, as there were hints of some curl whenever a strand of hair fell loose from the twisting on the side, leading back to the bun.

“I think you’ll like Lily a lot,” he said, making small talk to ease the tension he could feel emanating from her.

Rachel was silent.

“Gabe and Adele seem like real people to me.”

“Jah, they do.” Her mouth curved up slightly, then resumed its somewhat taut position.

He wondered if she might be feeling more than a little uneasy, perhaps even fearful. “I’m driving well below the speed limit,” he offered.

She nodded but still did not speak.

He let it drop, deciding the woman needed space, time to adjust to the ride. After all, it hadn’t been so long ago that she’d lost her husband and young son . . . because of an automobile.

Rachel rode in the backseat of Philip Bradley’s car, sensing that he wanted to put her at ease. But she preferred to remain silent, thinking on Lily’s riveting story. Honestly, she found it right surprisin’ that her own father had been involved in settin’ Gabe up for the most unjust shunning ever. No wonder Mam had reacted so severely upon Philip’s first inquiring of her. No wonder Rachel’s own questions about Gabriel Esh had always been met with guarded remarks.

And what about that dream-vision or whatever it was last night? She’d experienced such a mighty bold feelin’— rare to be sure—risin’ up powerful-strong within, and she knew it must’ve come from hearing the story of Gabe’s stand against wickedness in the community.

So, praise be, over the span of years, godly Uncle Gabe had touched her, influenced her to make the decision, once and for all, to turn away from her wavering over Blue Johnny and the other “healers.” Cousin Esther would be right proud of her.

Rachel could hardly wait to hear the rest of Lily’s story. . . .

If Susanna had a hissy fit over Rachel talking to Philip, well, today she liked to have the tremors. After that no-gut New Yorker man came and stole her girl away, Susanna just spun herself in circles every which way, rushin’ all over her kitchen, tryin’ her best to hunt down stew fixin’s, forgetting that most everything she needed for it was downstairs in the cold cellar.

Annie seemed as perplexed at her as Benjamin, and the minute the stew meat, potatoes, onions, carrots, and celery were all chopped up and pushed into a big black kettle, Susanna got off her feet and had to fan herself to beat the band, even though Annie kept on saying, “S’not the least bit hot in here, Mammi Susanna.”

Lily was perched in the midst of even more pillows than yesterday when Philip and a staff nurse guided Rachel into the older woman’s room. But she was smiling as if she had been waiting for their visit with great anticipation.

“I’ve brought Rachel Yoder with me,” Philip said, introducing the two women.

“Very nice to meet you, Rachel,” said Lily, extending her thin hand.

Philip watched as Rachel’s hand met and clasped Lily’s briefly. “I got to hear all about my great-uncle last evening,” said Rachel, slipping her hand into her pocket and holding out the tape for Philip. “It was the most interesting story I’ve ever heard, I think.”

“For me, too,” Philip added quickly, taking the tape from Rachel.

The nurse located an extra chair so Rachel and Philip could sit while they visited, eager for the continuation of Lily’s account of her friend and Gabe Esh.

Lily seemed transfixed by Rachel, and Philip found it intriguing that she would study the blind woman so carefully. “I must tell you something, Rachel,” she said at last. “You look very much like your mother’s uncle.”

“I do?” Rachel said.

“Yes, very much,” replied Lily. “In fact, the resemblance is as striking as if you had been his own daughter.”

Rachel’s eyes appeared to be focused on her lap, but not seeing. “No one has ever told me that.”

“I suppose not,” Lily replied softly, that faraway look creeping into her gaze once again. “It is truly remarkable. And it is a compliment to you, because Gabriel Esh lived up to his name in that he had the face of an angel. At least Adele thought so.”

Philip felt as if he were witnessing the melting away of years as Lily, a peer of Adele Herr’s, and the descendant of Adele’s loved one sat in the same room together. It was as if they had come
across time
to this very moment.

He noticed that someone had pinned Gabe’s postcard to the center of Lily’s bulletin board. Obviously, having it in her possession meant a lot to the woman, and Philip was glad he’d had the opportunity to deliver it.

“Let’s see,” Lily said, “where did I stop yesterday?”

“The shunning,” both Philip and Rachel blurted together, which brought smiles all around.

“Yes, the shun imposed on Gabe was the most shameful thing that had ever happened in the church community,” Lily remarked. “It tore the Old Order district into pieces.”

“What do you mean?” Rachel asked softly.

Lily turned her head toward the younger woman. “Gabe’s shunning fragmented the People. I’d never seen or heard of anything so divisive happening among the Amish before. It shook the core of the community.”

Rachel sighed audibly. “That may be the reason for so many Amish Mennonites and New Order Amish in our area now. Many of my own relatives are no longer Old Order, as well.”

Lily nodded thoughtfully. “I’m not surprised to hear that.”

Rachel was silent, sitting with her hands folded in her lap. But Philip could hear her shallow breathing in the chair next to him and wondered what was going through her mind.

“I don’t think I told you that it was Lavina Troyer who rented a room to Adele the year she taught at the one-room Amish school,” Lily said.

Rachel seemed surprised. “
Lavina
did?”

“But offering the English schoolteacher a place to stay wasn’t the only demonstration of Lavina’s kindness. She was far wiser than most people gave her credit for, but I’m afraid I’ve gotten ahead of myself. . . .”

Lavina had gone the second and third mile to befriend Adele Herr. She lived alone in her deceased father’s farmhouse, bequeathed to her after his passing. At twenty-eight, she was now considered an
alt Maedel
—a maiden lady— among the People, and because she had more than enough room and needed the extra income, she offered to rent out part of the upstairs to the English schoolteacher.

On one of Adele’s last days in Bird-in-Hand, at the end of the school year, Lavina was busy cutting off the cream from a gallon jar of old milk when Adele came into the kitchen. A refreshing April breeze was blowing in the window, and the smell of fields and dirt and dairy cows wafted in right with it.

Adele dropped her teacher’s notebook on the table and stood staring out across the barnyard. The sun shimmered off the pond south of the barn, casting shadows on a gentle slope that moved upward to scattered willows circled around the sparkling water. “Oh, Lavina, I’m going to miss this beautiful place, and all the children, too,” she blurted.

“Well, I hope y’all be missin’ me, too,” Lavina said, wide-eyed and grinning.

Adele turned and looked at her friend. “Of course I’ll miss you. You’ve been so very good to me. I don’t know how to thank you, especially for teaching me all the tricks of the trade—the many canning and cooking hints, and needlework, too.”

“We should be thanking
you
for your gut work with our youngsters.” The Amishwoman smiled sweetly. “You’ll hafta come back and visit sometime. Maybe when you can stay longer, jah?” There was a twinkle in her gray-blue eyes.

“That’s very kind of you, Lavina. Thank you.” But Adele knew she could never come back to Bird-in-Hand. She headed upstairs to pack up the few things she’d brought with her to Amish country.

There was a private meeting of the deacons, Preacher King and one other preacher, and Bishop Fisher that night. They planned how to oust Gabe Esh from their midst, talking over the way to expedite things the following Sunday when the church membership would gather after the preaching service.

Preacher King went along with Bishop Fisher’s idea to put it to a vote of the People, to forego approaching the rebellious young man in the usual scriptural way, giving Gabe a warning and opportunity to repent. But then, what was there for him to repent of? He’d had a differing view of the Bible from theirs, and he’d refused the powwow gift from the bishop—that’s what it amounted to. They’d have to keep a lid on this. If word leaked out beyond the Lancaster community, out into neighboring circles, Plain folk might frown on not only their procedure for shunning, but also the reason for it.