The Shunning (18 page)

He tossed his heavy sack coat and hat onto a hook and hurried into the room.

“Let’s give Katie her dowry now.” Katie had never heard her mother’s voice so full of eagerness, or seen her eyes more heavenly hazel than at this moment.

“I thought we agreed to wait ’til supper, so the boys can be in on it.” His words, directed at her mother, were almost a reprimand.

“At supper, then.”

What was this tension between them? But Katie didn’t ponder long. Whatever her parents had agreed on presenting to her at supper was not half as important as the questions burning in her heart. So, without any warning, she flung the satin baby dress down on the kitchen table in front of them.

Her mother saw it first and gasped, backing away. But Dat reached for the tiny dress almost reverently, touching the hem as if recalling a fond memory.

“Dat?” Katie whispered. “Have you ever seen this before?”

Rebecca had now positioned herself in such a way that she was standing guard over the dress. She spun around, eyes glazed. “It’s best you don’t know!”

Katie grabbed the dress and clasped it to her. “What’s there to know? It’s an English baby dress, that’s all—ain’t?”

“Don’t go asking about something that’s nobody’s business.”

From the firm set of Mam’s jaw, Katie sensed there was more— much more. “It seems . . . well, I think someone keeps hiding this dress. First in the attic . . . and now—”

“That’s enough foolish talk.”

“Foolish?” Katie studied Mam’s face, knowing full well she was treading on thin ice. “Maybe you’re hiding something from me, is that it?”

Dat glowered and moved in front of his wife protectively. “Your Mam deserves respect, daughter. Never, ever speak to her in such a way.”

Seeing the quiver in her mother’s lower lip, Katie left off the questioning, even though it was obvious that they knew far more than they were willing to tell. “Forgive me, Dat . . . Mam.” She turned and left the room, her head in a whirl.

By now her stomach was churning, too, and she decided against eating lunch, despite the mouth-watering aroma wafting from the vegetable soup, now ready to be served.

Katie knew she couldn’t remain silent forever, though. She would wait, possibly until evening. By then she might be able to approach her parents more discreetly. At least she’d try.

Still, the thought that her mother had been somehow deceitful was the most troublesome of all. Katie felt the old rebellion rise up in her. If her gentle, honest Mam—the soul of integrity—could be guilty of such a thing, then, “I ought to be able to have my own opinion sometimes,” she spouted off to no one but herself and curled up on her cold, hard bed, remembering something she’d heard years ago.

Somewhere in Ohio, a group of New Order Amish had separated from the Old Order in the late sixties. There, the women not only wore brightly colored dresses, but weren’t above having ideas of their own. In fact, at this moment, as Katie simmered and stewed, the idea seemed downright appealing. And if her memory served her correctly, little Annie Mae’s father had moved his whole family out to Ohio several months after his shunning probation. The New Order had welcomed them with open arms. At least, that’s how word had it here.

She dozed off, dreaming of life in such a place. . . .

————

A welcome change in temperature—a foretaste of Indian Summer—lured Katie out of doors when she awoke. For old times’ sake, more than anything else, she went out to the barn and hitched Satin Boy to the pony cart.

Without a word of explanation, she left the premises.

Most of the snow had already melted, clearing the way for two buggy-sized paths on either side of Hickory Lane. Numerous sets of buggy wheels had left their imprint—folks on their way to the cattle auction, most likely—which had served to turn the ice to slush. She rode on, enjoying the balmy weather, until she came to the turnoff to Mattie Beiler’s house. And suddenly Katie knew what she must do.

There was not a sign of life at Mattie’s place when Katie arrived, and she walked around back to the Dawdi Haus where Ella Mae lived. She tapped on the door, knowing it was unlocked, but waited for the Wise Woman to invite her in.

The sun shone steadily, warming her, and for a moment Katie amused herself with the thought that she might not have to bother with a shawl on her wedding day.

“Ach, come in, come in,” Ella Mae said as she opened the door, panting a bit. “I was just cleanin’ out from under my bed.” She paused to give Katie her full attention. “It’s so nice to see you again.” And with that, she turned to the cookstove and set a teakettle on to boil.

Katie knew better than to decline Ella Mae’s tea, for it was widely known that two sprigs of mint from the old woman’s herb garden went into each visitor’s cup. The brewing and the sipping went hand in hand with a visit to the Wise Woman.

“I always love it when the days get warmer along about now.” Ella Mae stood near the stove, waiting for the water to boil. “Indian Summer makes for a right fine weddin’ season.”

“Jah, it does.” Katie was eager to pull the satin baby dress from her basket right then and there, but the tea-brewing ritual mustn’t be rushed.

“How’s everybody at your house?” The quavery voice took on a little strength.

“Oh, the boys are down at the Kings’ auction, and Mam and Dat just got home from tending to some business.”

The old woman nodded. “Last-minute business for a daughter’s weddin’, most likely.”

When the tea was ready, Ella Mae poured two cups, then settled down at the table across from Katie, sipping, then stirring in a second teaspoon of sugar.

In the momentary lull, Katie reached down into her basket and pulled out the baby dress. “Have you ever seen such a beautiful thing?” she asked, handing it across the table.

The old woman took the infant dress, fingering its sleeves and the long, graceful folds. “It’s awful perty, ain’t?”

“It’s satin . . . English, wouldn’t you think?”

Ella Mae nodded thoughtfully, then glanced up at Katie with a curious glimmer in her eyes.

“I’m mighty sure it’s English.” Katie showed her the name sewn into the facing. “
Mayfield
sure isn’t Plain.” She took a deep breath, then launched into her story, including the suspicion that someone had been hiding the dress from her.

When she finished, Katie sat silently, hoping Ella Mae would offer some word of wisdom, tell her what to do.

Ella Mae took a long sip of tea, then set her cup down with a clink. “Talk to your Mam about it.”

“Even if it means confronting her?”

The old woman’s gaze was as tender as her words. “Talk to your mamma, child. Speak kindly to her.”

“Mam won’t like being accused.”

“‘In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength,”’ she quoted. “You can’t be sure how she’ll take it ’til you try. Go to her . . . in love.”

Katie didn’t feel altogether charitable toward her mother just now, but she would consider taking Ella Mae’s advice. “If you don’t mind, I’ll have some more tea.”

The Wise Woman beamed and rose to get the kettle.

During the next hour, Katie found herself pouring out her heart. This time, unwilling to reveal too much, she spoke in riddles. “Several days ago I agreed to something that I just can’t bring myself to do, after all,” she began hesitantly.

“Katie, our dear Lord was the only perfect Person who ever walked this earth. And if you’re sorry and repent, you’ll be following His teaching,” replied Ella Mae. “Perhaps in due time, your promise will be kept.”

Reassured by Ella Mae’s quiet perception, Katie opened up a bit more, feeling her way through the maze of revelation. “Just today, I figured out another way to do this thing—a different way—from what I promised. And I’m not feeling sorry for it yet.”

Katie doubted that the Wise Woman understood much of her vague explanation. But even in spite of that, she felt better for having told someone. It seemed to lift some of the load of guilt.

“‘In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength,”’ Ella Mae quoted once more, this time her voice fading to a whisper.

But Katie wondered how she would manage to remain quiet if her mother spoke sharply to her again. Confidence was one thing, but the quiet part was something else.

She squared her shoulders. It was settled. She would bring up the matter of the satin dress at supper tonight . . . in love.

Twelve

K
atie arrived home in time to help with the afternoon milking, feeling a bit weary and quite hungry now, having left in a huff and without her lunch.

Samuel and the boys did most of the heavy work—feeding the horses and hauling the milk to the milk house. It wouldn’t be long before the three men would be doing all of the outdoor work. Katie would take her place in the world of married Plain women, attending work frolics—quiltings, cannings, and, once in a blue moon, a corn-husking, not to mention tending to the Beiler children and eventually her own babies.

Katie was thankful for her past experience with several English families outside Hickory Hollow—cleaning their houses and tending to their young children. The extra spending money had come in handy, and she’d enjoyed riding in a car occasionally. But all that had come to a halt a few months ago when Bishop John had asked her to become his wife.

“Will you be missing me when I get married?” she asked Satin Boy, stroking his glossy mane. The pony kept right on eating. “I’ll come back and see you sometimes, I promise.”

Eli hurried past her. “Don’t be wastin’ time talkin’ to that pony. Best go on in and help Mam with supper. She’s feelin’
grenklich
.”

Mam, ill again? It seemed to Katie that their mother was getting sick a lot these days. Strange, too, when she’d always been the picture of health—hearty and robust and working from sunup to sundown. In fact, now that she thought of it, before Katie found that baby dress, she didn’t recollect Rebecca Lapp ever fainting—even once.

Concerned, she left Satin Boy to his supper and dashed toward the house. When she had hung up her work coat and winter bonnet, Katie found Mam standing near the woodstove, staring hard at it.

“Mamma? Are you all right?”

She started, then straightened quickly. “Oh my, yes. I was just off in a daze somewhere, that’s all. The wedding . . . and all.”

“Eli said you were ill.”

“I think it’s just a touch of the flu, maybe. Not to worry.” Then she brought up the question Katie had been dreading all afternoon. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”

“About the fancy baby dress, that’s what it was.”

Rebecca seemed relieved and went to test the potatoes with a fork. “Oh. I thought somebody might’ve stopped by while we were gone. You did lock all the doors, didn’t you?”

What was Mam talking about? “Was Mary Stoltzfus supposed to drop by?” Katie thought for a second, then realized her friend had said nothing at all about visiting today.

“No, no, not Mary. I wasn’t speaking about anybody in particular, really.”

The evasive reply piqued Katie’s curiosity. “Who, then?”

A worrisome look clouded the hazel eyes. “A young woman, maybe? A stranger?”

Katie went to stand beside her mother. “Forgive me, Mamma, but you’re not making a bit of sense. Now start over. Tell me again.”

Rebecca waved her hand in front of her face, a motion that usually signaled the end of a frustrating conversation. “Aw, just forget now, forget I ever said a word.”

Katie leaned hard against her Mam and felt ample arms wrap around her. For a moment there, she almost gave in to the fear that her mother might be slipping—mentally, at least—and wondered if she should say something to Dat.

————

The supper table was set with Rebecca’s finest dishes and silverware when Katie came into the kitchen later. In the corner, near the utility room, her parents were talking together quietly, their expressions sober. Katie made her presence known with a light cough, and they broke off their conversation abruptly. Then both of them stood looking at her—heads tilted to one side, eyes slightly narrowed—as though calculating how she might receive what they were about to say.

Alarmed, Katie glanced from one to the other. “Is something wrong? Is Mamma really very ill?”

“No, nothing’s wrong, nothing at all,” Rebecca tossed off a casual reply and turned to dish up the food.

Still not convinced, Katie washed her hands and helped set the serving platters on the table. Eli and Benjamin slid onto the long bench, and the family bowed their heads for silent prayer.

Afterward, Katie observed Dat cueing Mam with a nod, and Rebecca promptly pulled out an envelope from her pocket. “Katie, here is your dowry gift from your Dat and me.”

“Dowry?” Katie was speechless. “But I don’t need—”

“We want you to have it,” her father interrupted, sporting a rare smile. “Someday you and the bishop . . . well, you may have need of it—to expand the house, or who knows what all.”

Katie caught her breath when she saw the amount. “
Wie viel
—how much
is
this, for goodness’ sake!”

“Ach, just enjoy it.” Dat helped himself to the potatoes and gravy, dismissing her exclamation of disbelief.