The Shunning (25 page)

Katie held her breath as she entered the kitchen with Mam at her side. Even with Elam’s warning, she was not prepared for Dat’s display of righteous indignation. “Where’s your head covering, daughter? Don’t you have any respect at all for God’s laws—not to mention the poor bishop’s feelin’s tonight—without a wife to warm his bed or a Mam for his children!” He ranted on for minutes that seemed like hours while, at her side, tiny gasps of emotion escaped Rebecca’s lips.

“I know for a fact that Preacher Yoder’ll be comin’ to talk to you in a couple of days,” Dat went on as the Lapp family sat down around the supper table.

“I’ll speak to him,” Katie agreed quietly.

“Gut, I’m glad you’re coming to your senses.”

Katie breathed deeply. “I don’t mean that I’ll be confessing, though, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s just that I want to ask him some questions—about the Scriptures.”

There was no audible response. But when Dat bowed his head for the silent prayer over the meal, the ritual lasted at least twice as long as usual.

Eli gave her a long, cold glare and would not accept any of the serving plates she passed him.

He’s treating me like I’m a shunned woman
, Katie thought.

Benjamin, however, was kinder, passing the bowls of buttered potatoes, carrots, and onions, and the ham platter to his brother on behalf of Katie.

Halfway through the meal, Dat exploded. “I will not eat another bite until ya go put up your hair the right and holy way!”

Startled at this outburst, Katie got up from the table and ran upstairs to her room. With trembling hands, she brushed her hair and wound it into a bun, without even checking the straightness of the part in her hand mirror. Then, finding a clean, pressed kapp, she placed it on her head and scurried back downstairs like a frightened mouse.

Meanwhile, Dat had pushed his chair away from the table, still muttering about the disgrace she’d brought on the Lapp family.

Katie said nothing. She was wounded to the depths of her spirit. But she would not allow her father the satisfaction of witnessing the pain he had caused. In fact, his reaction—though not unexpected— only fueled her resolve to speak to the preacher when the time came.

Later that night, after the kitchen was cleaned up, but before evening prayers, Benjamin whispered to Katie that she must come outside with him. Katie, unwilling that Dat be aware of some vague conspiracy, agreed. They waited for the best time to slip out—during one of his longer snoozing sessions in front of the woodstove.

Once outside, Benjamin headed for the milk house at a brisk stride.

“What’s so important?” Katie wanted to know, doing her best to keep up.

“I have to tell ya—Dat’s not just encouraging you to confess,” he said, his breath pluming in the frosty air. “He’s madder’n a hornet at whatcha did today.”

“Well . . . he’s got every right.”

“Jah, and he’s not the only one who’s plenty angry.” Benjamin opened the heavy door and held it for his sister. It was warmer there in the milk house. “You spurned the
bishop
in front of all the People, for goodness’ sake! Such a shameful, awful thing ya did.”

Katie nodded but resisted the guilt that inched nearer. “I didn’t expect John to be angry, really,” she thought aloud. “Hurt or disappointed, maybe . . . but not angry.”

“Jah, and here’s what I wanted to tell ya before tomorrow. If you don’t go ahead and promise to confess in front of the whole church come Sunday, you’ll be in danger of the Ban, Katie.
The Ban!

” She felt a sliver of fear—like an icicle—cold and tingly. Still, she shouldn’t have been surprised to hear it. After all, she’d as much as announced publicly that John Beiler was not her brother in Christ.

In the eyes of the People, she was a sinner. She deserved to be excommunicated.

“Better be thinkin’ things over, Katie. I’d hate to see ya put through die Meinding, really I would.”

Die Meinding—the shunning. The mere thought of it sent another tremor rippling down her spine.

“There’s been talk already. . . .” Ben paused and scratched his head, as if wondering if he should have kept his mouth shut.

“What’re you tellin’ me, Ben?”

“Well”—he glanced around, looking toward the house—“Mam asked Eli and me to go over to the bishop’s and get your cedar chest and suitcases and things and bring ’em back home.”

“Jah?” She felt her throat constrict.

“While we was there, Eli heard Bishop John talkin’ things over with his friend, Preacher Zook.” He paused, his eyes growing soft. “I’m tellin’ ya, Katie, things could get real bad for ya. And awful quick, too.”

“I can’t confess. I just can’t.”

Benjamin stared at her in disbelief. “You can’t
not
confess.”

“But it would be a lie.” She reached up and plucked off the kapp again, pulling out the hairpins that held her bun in place. “Look at me! I’m not the person you think I am, Ben. I’m not Amish.”

He frowned, shaking his head.

“I ain’t Plain. The kneeling baptism never happened to me—not the me you see standing before you here.”

Ben was obviously puzzled. “You’re talkin’ in riddles.”

“Jah, I am. But my whole life has been a riddle.” She shook her head sadly. “I wish I could, but I honestly can’t say any more about this now. Someday I’ll be able to tell you, promise I will.”

“Someday will never come if you’re shunned, Katie. And ya don’t want to wait and see, I guarantee!”

Ben’s prophecy bore deep, plunging a shaft of terror into the very recesses of her soul.

Seventeen

T
he next day the weather turned chilly again with needlelike pellets of rain pounding the frozen ground. Plumes of vapor from the horses’ warm breath hung in the air, mingling with thready fog, as the People made their way to quiltings or weddings and an occasional farm sale around Hickory Hollow.

Katie still had no answers to the questions that plagued her like a swarm of mosquitoes on a summer day. Preacher Yoder would surely be able to set her mind at ease over the biggest question of all—the one she was hoping might solve all her problems and put an end to the talk of the Ban and shunning. But in order to inquire about it, she would have to tell Preacher Yoder her parents’ secret.

Would Dat consent to it? After the blowup last night, would he allow her to reveal such a thing?

She decided to approach her mother instead. And while the two of them were working together, unpacking Katie’s suitcase and rearranging her linens in the cedar chest, she brought up the idea.

“No, no, no!” Rebecca was adamant. “There’ll be no telling it around that you’re adopted!”

“But I have to tell Preacher Yoder.”

“You’ll do no such thing.” The look in the hazel eyes was almost fierce.

“But don’t you see?” Katie went on. “If Preacher knew the truth— that I’m not Amish by birth—then everything else would make sense to him.”

Mam shot her a curious glance. “
What
would make sense?”

“My troubles with being Plain,” Katie mumbled under her breath, so softly she wasn’t certain she’d been heard.

The silence hovered between them for the longest time, and Katie wondered if she should repeat herself. She touched her braid, feeling the series of ripples up and down the length of it, and wondered if her father would force her to put her hair up again today.

Finally, Mam spoke up. “Your troubles don’t come from being adopted, Katie,” she admonished. “Your troubles come from a disobedient spirit.”

Katie shrugged. “Still, I should be telling the truth about my birth mother, don’t you think? My English background?”

The next outburst was such a shock that Katie could only gape in amazement. Was this the sweet-tempered mamma who’d never raised her voice in anger in her life? “No! You can’t tell, Katie”—she was actually shouting now—“because I forbid it!”

Turning away, Katie hid her face in her hands and tried to calm herself. When she looked up, Rebecca was gone.

Katie tossed the remaining items of clothing into the only dresser in the room, and eyes filling with angry tears, she located the rose baby dress in a compartment of the suitcase. Then, stuffing the dress into a pocket of her apron, she hurried downstairs and out of the house, letting the storm door slap hard against the frame.

She would not wait around for Preacher Yoder to come to her; she’d go to him. What she was about to do would bring hurt to her mother, she knew. But her own agony was so raw, so deep, she simply could not bring herself to care.

————

The preacher was helping a customer when Katie arrived at the General Store. “I’ll be right with ya,” he called, glancing over to see who had come in, jangling the bell above the door. His friendly smile vanished when he spotted her hair—done up fancy in a long braid— and the missing head covering.

Stepping away from the counter, Katie waited for him to finish making his sale, wondering how she should begin the conversation with the elderly man now that she was here.

The making of change and the final ding of the cash register signaled the end of business. It was her turn. “Preacher,” she began, a bit sheepish now that the sting of Rebecca’s words had abated somewhat, “I heard you wanted to speak to me.”

Preacher Yoder, wearing a purple shirt and heavy homespun trousers, cut wide and full in the legs, scanned the store for prospective customers, then pointed Katie in the direction of a small back room behind the counter.

The place was sparsely furnished, except for rows of shelving that occupied one entire side of the room. The wide shelves stored odd bolts of fabric, arranged in an orderly fashion.

Preacher Yoder’s countenance registered concern as he pulled out a chair for Katie, and the two of them sat facing each other. “Well now, I must say I’m glad to see ya comin’ forward to confess. Will it be this Sunday?”

“No, no, I’m not here about confessing.”

He frowned, creating deep furrows in his already wrinkled forehead.

“I have something to tell you in confidence,” she added softly. “It’s something that nobody else must ever know.”

He waited to hear her out, his expression unchanging.

Katie held herself erect. “Will you promise before God that you’ll never tell a soul what I’m about to say?” The request was a mighty bold one, she realized, coming from a young woman who just yesterday had humiliated the bishop in front of all the People.

Preacher Yoder rested both hands on his knees. “Well, I guess I’ll have to be hearin’ what you have to say before I can make any promises.”

She drew in a deep breath. As far as she could tell, this was her one and only chance to clear herself without actually confessing sin. She began to spill everything: how she had been told of her non-Amish heritage just days before her wedding; how her parents had kept the secret from her these many years.

“Now that certainly
does
explain some things.” He shook his head in amazement, pulling on his gray beard. “You say you’re not Amish by birth, then?”

“My real name is Katherine Mayfield. I have proof right here.” She pulled out the satin gown. “This was my first baby dress, and you’re the only person in Hickory Hollow besides Ella Mae and my parents to lay eyes on it.”

“Ella Mae?” He leaned back in his chair. “Does she know your secret?”

“Ach, no. I never told her anything about the dress or where it came from.”

“But she has seen it?”

“Jah.”

“And why would you be tellin’
me
all this?”

She took in another deep breath and held it a moment. “Because . . . well, because I was wondering if it might change things in some way . . . cancel out my baptism. Me being adopted and all, wouldn’t it do away with my vow to the church?” She paused, waiting, but her questions were followed only by silence.

She spoke again. “Don’t you see? I was tricked, Preacher . . . I wasn’t who I thought I was back then.”

The old man pushed up his glasses and peered through them critically as though he’d never heard such strange talk. “The promise you made to God and the church will stand forever, whether ya call yourself Katherine or something else altogether.” His eyes tunneled into hers. “Forever and always, you’ll be held accountable to the church for the way ya walk—for the life ya lead before God. And if you choose not to confess come Sunday, you’ll be in danger of the Ban at the meeting of the membership.”

She knew better than to argue. To talk back meant instant shunning. The man of God had spoken. There was no recourse, no hope. English or not, she was bound to her baptismal oath for the rest of her life.

As for promising to keep her family secret, the preacher had vowed he would do so, but mentioned before she left that he truly hoped his brother and sister in the Lord, Samuel and Rebecca Lapp, would come to him voluntarily to confess their years of deceit.

Before Katie left, he gave her one more chance to confess her faults and ask the forgiveness of the church, “lest ya fall into Satan’s snare.”

Once again, she declined. So the decision to be shunned had been made. The probationary restriction hinged on her refusal to repent, and since she was determined not to confess, not to marry the bishop, and not to behave in keeping with the Ordnung, the wheels of the Meinding had already been set in motion.