The Shunning (24 page)

At last she turned into a small strip mall, tied Satin Boy to a fireplug, and unhitched the cart. “I’ll get you some water in a bit,” she promised. “Be back soon.”

Eager to see all she could, Katie glanced up and down the row of shops, her eyes coming to rest on an elegantly furnished display window. Squaring her shoulders, she marched toward the boutique, intent on trying on some fancy, worldly clothes.

“May I help you, miss?” The saleslady was obviously trying not to stare, Katie thought. Still, she must look a sight in her rumpled long dress and apron, her braid, woven with willow, tumbling over one shoulder.

“I’d like to try on the fanciest satin dress you have.”

“Satin?”

“Jah. You do have it, don’t you?”

“Well, no, we don’t normally carry satin until later in the season.” The woman picked up her glasses, which had been dangling from a chain around her neck, and placed them on the bridge of her nose. “Is the garment for yourself . . . or someone else?”

Katie chuckled under her breath. “Oh, it’s for me, all right. It’s time I get to see what I’ve been missing.”

Blinking rapidly, the woman turned to the counter. “If you’d like, I can check with one of the other stores, say in York or Harrisburg. They carry a larger inventory.”

“No, no,” Katie interrupted, “it’s important that I see something
today
.” Spotting a rack of exquisite dresses with brocade bodices and lace detailing, she left the lady gaping at the counter and hurried over. “What about one of these?”

She lifted a soft chiffon gown off the rack and held it up to herself in front of a wide three-way mirror. Turning this way and that, she admired her reflection from several angles, humming one of the songs she loved the best. Dan’s song.

“What size are you looking for, miss?”

“I don’t know, really,” Katie replied, thinking of all the sewing she had done for herself over the years. Still, it was a bit overwhelming— seeing all these garments in a dazzling variety of colors, styles, and fabrics, just waiting to be worn. “I’ve never been asked that question before, but I ’spose I ought to find out. Why don’t I just try it on and see for myself?”

The clerk seemed at a loss for words. “Uh . . . yes. Of course. Right this way.”

Without bothering to inspect the price tag, Katie followed her to a small dressing room at the back of the shop. At the touch of the saleslady’s hand, a velvet pull curtain draped her in privacy, just Katie and the sheer golden dress—fragile as a butterfly’s wing.

When she turned, she let out a little gasp, catching her reflection unexpectedly. The tiny space was covered with mirrors on all sides— from floor to ceiling. “Am I dreaming?” she whispered as she touched the glass with her finger.

Relishing every second, Katie removed her clothing. First, her apron, then her Plain—very plain—wedding dress. With great care and near reverence, she lifted up the fanciest gown ever created. It slipped easily over her head and dropped lightly onto her shoulders, coming to rest at an astonishing mid-calf.

She loved the swishing song of the fabric, the silky feel of it against her skin. And, oh glory, the open neckline, free and unrestrictive!

Katie stepped back to admire herself, inching away from the mirror to grasp her full reflection. This was no Katie! This had to be Katherine. But even while reveling in the moment, she was feeling robbed, cheated of the years when she’d been deprived of her rightful heritage. Would she ever be able to wear the rich, vibrant colors of the English without having to do so in secret?

She wondered, too, about the woman who had named her Katherine. What kind of woman would allow herself to bring a child into the world without nurturing that life? Would give the baby a fancy name and then hand her off to some stranger? What kind of person did such things?

Her joy tainted, Katie stepped out of the filmy dress and retrieved her own clothes. “Someday I’ll wear a dress like this out in public,” she promised herself. “Someday I will.” With tears filling her eyes, she slipped the hanger gently into each puffed sleeve and hung the dress on a two-pronged hook.

“Do come again,” the salesclerk called to her.

Katie did not reply. She hurried outside to Satin Boy and the old wooden cart, never looking back.

————

On the way home, Satin Boy began to labor under his load. “Aw, poor thing . . . can you keep going a bit longer?” Katie coaxed him from her seat. “We’ll stop by Elam’s and Annie’s and get some water for you. All right?”

Satin Boy struggled as Katie reined him toward the long dirt drive leading to her big brother’s farmhouse, two miles east of the sandstone house on Hickory Lane.

“Look, Elam! Look who’s come!” Annie called to her husband from the front porch of their white clapboard house. Annie waved at Katie as though she hadn’t just seen her that morning.

“I didn’t think my pony was going to make it here,” Katie called to them, forgetting how peculiar she must look with her hair in the forbidden braid—and without her kapp. “My pony’s dry to the bone. Can I water and feed him?”

Elam marched down the steps and promptly removed the harness from the tired animal. Her brother eyed Katie sternly. His look of reproach reminded her of Dat, but Elam didn’t voice a single word of rebuke. Katie stood there watching as he led Satin Boy around to the barn behind the house.

He’s put out with me
, Katie thought.
And rightly so. I’ve caused
everyone so much trouble
. She knew the pressure was bound to build up sooner or later, until her brother spouted off about the wedding.

Reluctantly, she headed up the steps where Annie stood waiting, her hands folded over her protruding stomach. “You should have seen the way Satin Boy was acting up on the road,” Katie told her.

“I thought his name was Tobias.” Annie eyed Katie’s hairstyle and quickly looked away.

“Things change.”

“Oh.” Annie opened the screen door and went inside. “Come in and have something to drink for yourself,” she called over her shoulder.

It wasn’t until Annie had offered her a tall glass of iced tea and she’d sat down at her brother’s table that Katie realized how thirsty and tired she was. “It was a pretty foolish thing to go so far with just a pony,” she mused aloud.

Annie lowered herself carefully onto the bench beside the table. “Where’d you end up going?”

“Out to Bird-in-Hand.” Katie would have gladly said more but feared she would be letting herself in for all kinds of questions. Besides, Annie Lapp knew nothing about ladies’ dress shops and boutiques. She was a good, upstanding Amishwoman. Women like Annie were never tempted to peek into worldly English shops.

Annie’s eyes seemed fixed on her now, Katie thought, probably because she was trying to figure out why she wasn’t wearing her kapp. “Well, my goodness, what were you doing way over there?” Annie blurted.

Katie flinched. Should she tell? Should she divulge the secret pleasure of a few hours away from home, trying on the fanciest chiffon party dress in all of Lancaster County?

She took a good look at Annie—Daniel’s beloved sister. She looked so like the boy with blueberry eyes! And oh, dear Lord, her baby would probably look like him, too. Katie shuddered to think of being haunted by Dan’s expression on the faces of her own nephews and nieces. Of course, Elam’s offspring would carry some of his traits, as well. But as spirited and attractive as Daniel Fisher had always been, Katie suspected that her big brother’s children would bear a strong resemblance to her one true love.
Just as I must look something like my
real mamma. . . .

The notion startled her and she shrugged it off, trying to remember what it was that Annie had asked her. She was relieved when her sister-in-law brought it up again.

“Were you distraught today, Katie? Is that why you left the wedding ceremony?” Annie asked softly. “Because if ya need to talk, well . . . I’m here for you. Anytime.”

Touched by the offer, Katie reached across the table to squeeze her sister-in-law’s hand. “I just might be taking you up on that,” she whispered as the guilt crept back, threatening to spoil her moment of freedom. She stiffened her back, determined to make every minute count.

Elam came in noisily, bumping around in the utility room and shutting the door with a resounding bang before making his way into the kitchen. One glance at Katie, and he began to shake his head. “You need to be findin’ your kapp and wearin’ it, don’tcha think?”

Katie tilted her head and surveyed her oldest brother. “I don’t have to
find
it,” she stated. “I know exactly where it is.”

“Then why isn’t it on your head where it belongs? And what’re those knots all the way down your hair?”

Annie’s eyes caught her husband’s in a meaningful stare, much the way Mam and Dat often exchanged glances. Katie almost expected to hear Annie speaking up on her behalf, but when she didn’t, Katie knew she was on her own. Rebecca Lapp was the one and only woman who had ever taken her side against a man.

Elam was close to scolding her now. Katie could see the telltale signs—his twitching eyes, the flaring nostrils. She didn’t want to risk humiliation, not in front of Annie.

“I got a bit ferhoodled, maybe.”

“Ferhoodled? Jah! And when Dat gets ahold of ya, you’ll be wishin’ you’d walked up to the preacher with John Beiler at your side and gone through with your weddin’ vows!”

“Don’t speak to me that way, Elam Lapp!”

“It’s about time
someone
did,” he said, barely able to check his anger. “Dat never could, that’s for sure.”

“Leave him out of this!” Katie demanded. “Dat’s done just fine raising me and you know it.”

“I’m tellin’ ya right now,” Elam went on, “if you go home with your hair lookin’ like that, you’ll be regretting it long before mornin’.”

Her brother was right. Tonight there would be a tongue-lashing from Dat, and first thing tomorrow, either Elam or Dat would report her multiple transgressions to Preacher Yoder or Bishop John.

“I’m ashamed of ya, Katie. You must try and stay in Jesus,” he said. “You must try.”

Katie stood and headed for the back door. “I’ll be going now. And don’t call me Katie anymore. My name is Katherine.”

“Since when?” Elam sneered.

“Since the day I was born,” she said over her shoulder as she reached for the doorknob. Suddenly she felt uneasy, fearful that she had stepped into forbidden territory, a place that could only lead to betrayal.

“You’re talkin’ nonsense. Better get your hair done up in a bun. And don’t say ya weren’t warned,” Elam called after her. “Sinning against the church is no laughing matter . . . it’s sinning against God.” Elam sat beside his wife at the table, his head bowed now.

“Good-bye, Annie,” said Katie, completely ignoring her brother.

Annie’s farewell was a whispered “Da Herr sei mit du.”

————

The afternoon was still hot, and the sun shone heavy on the round, full hills south of the road.

You must try and stay in Jesus
. Elam’s words echoed in her mind. But the logical side of her brain argued back: Did staying in Jesus require her to wear the kapp at all times? Must she wear her hair long and forever parted down the middle—squeezed into a bun? Was this the only way?

Daniel Fisher had not thought so. Salvation came, he’d often told her, through faith in Jesus Christ—not by works, not by following man-made rules.

She sighed, letting Satin Boy plod along at his own pace. If need be, she would get out and walk the rest of the way home.

Why hadn’t she paid more attention to Daniel back then? Why had she gone along with the teachings of her parents’ Meinding church without question, ruling out the other Christian churches outside of Hickory Hollow?

Katie knew why, of course. She was young, too unsure of herself to leave the Old Ways and embrace the New. Too ignorant of the Scriptures to debate them. Dan, on the other hand, had secretly joined a Bible study group somewhere. Not only had he memorized several chapters of the Bible, but he was learning what they meant and how their truths could change a life committed to Christ. Wisely, he’d kept his activities hidden from the rest of the People. Only Katie had been aware of his secret. Of this she was fairly certain.

If Dan had lived, she knew he could help her now. He could lead her to the truth—wherever it was to be found.

An ominous feeling settled over her as the red sandstone house came into view. The truth, she was almost assured, was not found in wearing a head covering or denying oneself an occasional braid now and then.

In defiance of it all, she sang—a vigorous rendition of “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” Satin Boy, apparently inspired by the rhythm of the melody, began to pick up speed.

“Gut boy!” Katie called to him and promised a long brushing and some fresh hay and water when they got to the barn. They passed the wide front yard and turned into the dirt lane leading to the barnyard.

She put off going into the house as long as possible. Finally, when she heard Mam call to the men, she slipped out of the pony stall and headed for the kitchen door.

Tiptoeing into the utility room, she remembered the festive atmosphere of the house just hours before—the multitude of wedding guests, the greeting lines, the sermons, and the cooks preparing for a feast. Its present somber appearance convicted her.

Quickly, she began to wind her hair around her hand, ready to put it up into the usual bun, but changed her mind and let the tresses fall down her back. It was too late now to make amends. What was done was done.

“Katie, you’re back!” Mam cried, spotting her. She hurried over and wrapped her arms around the prodigal, appearing not to notice Katie’s unruly hair springing free of the confining kapp. “I came looking for you after ya ran out of the house,” she babbled. “I went out to the pond and called and called. Where on earth did you go?”

Katie shook her head. This wasn’t the time. “Maybe you won’t understand this, Mamma,” she said, looking at the woman who had cared for her from infancy, “but I can’t talk about it just yet.”

“Well . . . it’ll keep ’til after supper, then.”