The Promise of an Angel (A Heaven On Earth 1) (9 page)

“
Jah
. But you know Martha. She’s talked about what it would be like living outside the community for the past two years
nau
.”

“She’ll get over herself.”

“So
Ich
hope. But mad at God . . .” Judith shook her head. “It’s
nett
healthy.”

Deborah leaned closer. “I have something to tell you.” She looked around. “Ben asked me to the next singing
nacht
. That’s
wundebaar
,
jah
?”

Judith squeezed her friend’s arm. “I’m so happy for you.”

Deborah’s gaze moved across the field until it stopped on Ben. He worked the team of four draft horses in the corner opposite Levi. “Well,” she said, pulling her eyes away from the field, “we should find ourselves something useful to do.”

“
Jah
, I suppose work will help pass the time.” Judith leaned closer. “Maybe we can volunteer to run water out to the field in a while.”

“
Gut
idea.”

Judith and Deborah joined the other women. Deborah seemed oblivious to the women’s aloofness, but Judith wasn’t. Their faces crinkled with concern, fear, indifference—she wasn’t sure what they were thinking. But as the day continued, it became plain to see there was tension every time she entered a room.

Judith pulled Deborah aside. “Why are they avoiding me?”

Her friend’s face turned serious as she leaned closer. “Whatever you do, don’t bring up the angel. Nothing about seeing an
Englischer
either. They think—” She bit her bottom lip.

“What? Deborah, you
muscht
tell me.”

“They think the stress has addled your mind.”

Judith swallowed hard. “Do you?”

“Nay!
”

At least someone believed her. Judith bobbed her head toward the kitchen. “Let’s take water out to the field.”

As Judith opened the kitchen cabinet and removed two gallon-sized glass pickle jars, several of the younger children entered the room and circled around her.

“Will you take us outside for a walk?” Emily asked.

“Perhaps, after I take water to the men in the field.”

“Can we
kumm
with you?” Rachel asked.

Emily bounced on the balls of her feet. “Please.”

Martha entered the kitchen. “What are the jars for?”

“Water.” Judith took the containers to the sink.

Emily tugged Martha’s dress. “We’re going to take water out to the field with Judith.”

“And she’ll probably tell you stories of seeing an angel too.” Martha’s voice grew louder. “Would you like that? Would you like to hear stories of how she followed an
Englischer
and he disappeared in the fog?”

Silence fell over the kitchen.

Then Ellen intervened. “Stop telling the children that,” she said.

Emily leaned her head against Judith’s arm. “She’s a
gut
storyteller.” She turned to her
mamm
. “Can we take water out to the field with Judith?”

“
Nay
,
nett
a
gut
idea.” She redirected Emily toward the sitting room.

“She can go with me. I’ll take water out,” Martha suggested.

Emily spun back around. “
Jah
, please,
Mamm
?”

“I suppose their water jugs are empty by
nau
.” Emily’s
mamm
looked down at her daughter and smiled. “You can go with Martha, but stay away from the horses.”

“Jah.”

Martha cast a gloating smirk at Judith. “I’ll take the jars.”

Judith’s eyes darted from one woman’s down-turned head to another. Without saying anything, she turned and went outside.

Deborah followed. “I don’t understand your sister. Didn’t she know not to bring up that subject of storytelling?”

“She knows exactly what she’s doing. And she knows how much I love spending time with the children.”

Deborah rested her hand on Judith’s shoulder. “I know you do. And they love your stories. But . . . if you want a marriage proposal, you need to change your storytelling image.”

“You know I want to be married more than anything. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” She glanced at the house. She didn’t want to be on the porch when Martha came outside. “I’m going to take a walk.”

“I’ll
kumm
.” Deborah stepped off the porch.

“
Nay
. I don’t want to get you into trouble too.” She motioned to the house. “I just need a few minutes away from everyone. I won’t be long.”

“Find a place and pray. This all
muscht
blow over or I fear you’ll end up
leddich
like Katie.”

For years the girls had heard Ellen despair of her sister Katie’s unmarried status. And they both pledged not to follow Katie’s unfortunate footsteps and be disappointments to their parents. Judith turned and walked toward the barn, but with the men stocking the loft with hay, she couldn’t hide inside with the horses.

She rounded the corner of the barn and paused at the place where she’d found Samuel unresponsive.
Please forgive me, Lord. I’ve managed to embarrass my family. How will I ever earn their respect? They all think I’m telling stories. But I did see an angel, didn’t I?

She continued to walk across the pasture toward the apple orchard. At the end of the grove, she followed the footpath that weaved between the yellow-leafed poplar trees down to the river. This summer she had been busy with garden work and hadn’t spent time at the river as she loved to do. Today wasn’t warm enough to remove her shoes and soak her feet in the water, so she stayed up on the grassy bank.

God, even the parents want their children to stay away from me. What do I have to offer my church? What do I have to offer You? I might as well be openly shunned by my community. No one believes me
. Judith turned her face into the direction of the breeze. Tears trickled down her face.

The leaves rustled overhead as though a storm brewed in the distance. But when she looked up, the sun was shining and the sky was blue. Judith closed her eyes and welcomed the breeze that dried her tears.

“What’s troubling your soul, Judith?”

The baritone voice caused Judith to jump. Bounding to her feet, she turned in a quick circle. No one. The question had come as if from someone next to her, yet she was alone. She released her breath. The rustling leaves must have tricked her mind.

“Tell me what troubles you.”

This time when she spun toward the voice, the angel was beside her. Petrified by his towering stature, she broke out into a cold sweat and her teeth began to chatter. Today he appeared even more gigantic. One look at the keenness in his deep-set eyes caused Judith to raise her arm and bury her face in the crook of her elbow while dropping to her knees, cowering.

“Do not be afraid.” The richness in his tone hailed as a choir of a thousand.

Lying prone and breathing in the scent of the earth, she trembled. He said not to fear, but hearing the earth groan beneath her, she wished she could wither away, sure that at any moment she’d be swallowed into the earth’s core. “
Himlish-engel
.” Heavenly angel.

“Judith, do not worship me. Stand up, for I come on God’s command.”

She gulped. Apparently she had caused more problems than she thought. God had sent His angel concerning her. After hesitating a moment, she pushed off the ground and stood. With her eyes aimed at the caked dirt on her shoes, she waited for what would happen next.

“I will not destroy you if you wish to look upon me.”

Her heart fluttered against her ribs like a caged bird trying to take flight. In slow motion, she lifted her head. Her eyes widened and her pulse surged as she carried her gaze up to his broad chest and head. His neck looked as thick as the trunk of a river birch.

“Why do you cry?”

“I told them what you said about Samuel, but no one believes me.”

“Ah, because they do not see with their own eyes, they do not believe.” He walked to the riverbank and sat on a large rock. “Do you believe, Judith?”

“I . . . want to.” Unable to gain control of the quiver in her voice, she swallowed. She wanted to believe this wasn’t a dream. That she was indeed talking with an angel. An angel sent on God’s command. Yes, she wanted to believe, but doubts interfered with her judgment.

When Judith glanced up, prepared to confess her apprehension, he was gone. She scanned the area toward the river’s edge and saw him entering the heavy growth of ferns. “Why are you leaving?” She stood still for a moment. “I have questions for you,” she called, walking in his direction.

If he had taken the path, she might have found him. But when she hiked into the dense undergrowth of brush, she had to concentrate so she wouldn’t lose her footing on the rocky embankment and slip into the river.

A sudden movement out of the corner of her eye startled her. As her heartbeat returned to normal, she wasn’t sure who was frightened more, she or the whitetail deer that sprang out of the ferns.

Finally her feet needed to rest. Judith sat in the midst of the ferns. Surrounded by the leafy canopy, she wrapped her arms around her legs and lowered her head against her knees. She listened to the sound of the rushing water, and her thoughts drifted to how God supplies the deer a place to bed by the stream of water. The psalm about thirsting for the living God came to her mind as heaviness closed her eyes.
When can I go and meet with God?

A profound silence dulled her senses, deadened her thoughts. Like a creature spooling into a dormant state, she lay, fetal position, on the ground. With her eyes closed, she heard chanting. Those same lulling sounds she’d heard after Samuel’s accident were causing her eyes to close . . .

The sky cracked open, releasing pea-sized ice pellets. When they landed on her, they changed into a warm liquid and spread. Soon long, pointed icicles hung from her arms, dripping liquid that froze as it touched the ground, weighing her down like iron shackles. When her eyelashes froze to her upper lids so that she could not close her eyes, an angel appeared. His wool-spun hair was white and his skin bronze. He hovered so that his feet did not touch the ground
.

He placed a road under her feet. Although her feet remained stationary, the road moved her through time—two cycles of seasons passed before her eyes. Without warning, the road split three separate ways, and a voice told her to choose. Both the rocky road to the left and the paved one to the right were wider than the center, which was a mere footpath. Unable to see beyond the turns, she felt her heart thump against her icy armor
.

The angel spread his hand before her eyes, and everything in sight turned to shades of gray. The center path, however, glowed. Trees, top-heavy with golden-colored leaves, glittered against the blue sky as they convulsed. Persuaded to follow the voice calling her name, she tried moving closer to the center path. Her feet, however, frozen to the three-pronged junction, forced her to stay planted, and her heart cried out to God . . .

Chapter Seven

J
udith woke with her cheek against the damp ground. She blinked several times as she tried to bring her surroundings into focus. Seeing the daylight fading, she realized she’d been out for a while. Her mind fogged over as she tried to recall the details of the dream. Three roads to choose . . . what did it mean?

A prickling sensation slithered down her spine.

Dozens of ravens perched in a nearby tree suddenly took flight. Their wings flapped and their raucous caws echoed in the stillness. Judith scrambled to her feet. Why ravens? Why didn’t she wake to the cooing of doves or the sound of sparrows? Ravens with their loud, alarming calls were unnerving. As she moved through the brush, unable to keep close watch on her footing, her heart hammered and her breaths turned jagged.

It wasn’t long before she reached the wood-lined path that led to home. She pushed herself to run faster, refusing to let the shifting shadows of the woods hinder her progress. Focused on the trail, she didn’t notice the figure ahead until his strong arms caught her midstride. He brought her to an abrupt halt as he pulled her off the trail. Gulping for air and unable to scream, she thrust her fists against his back. Her legs crumpled, and the figure caught her before she hit the ground.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Andrew said, releasing his hold.

Judith struggled to regain her breath. He should have spoken sooner so she knew it was him.

“Are you okay?”

“You practically tackled me. Why did you have to knock the wind out of me?”

“You almost plowed me over. I didn’t think you were going to stop.” He leaned around a tree to look in the direction she’d come from. “What were you running from?”

Andrew’s father was the bishop. How could she tell him that she’d spoken with an angel? She’d be shunned—if the community hadn’t already decided to dismiss her. If she shared what she’d witnessed,
meidung
was more than a possibility.