Unbreakable (15 page)

Monday morning Papa and I rose
even earlier than usual. I put together a nice big salad for the meal after Avery's funeral, and we rode to the edge of town. Avery's body was being brought to the church in a horse-drawn hearse. A couple of men from our church had driven the hearse to Washington to pick Avery up at the funeral home. Noah and Herman followed them in Noah's truck, watching for danger. Some of our farm families who lived off the main road joined behind the hearse as it made its way back to Kingdom. No one really expected problems, since troubling a long line of buggies was a lot more intimidating than confronting a single woman or an elderly man traveling alone. More eyes, more chances of getting caught.

Normally, Papa and I would have driven to Avery's and joined the procession, but under the circumstances, Pastor Mendenhall asked those who lived in town to wait at the crossroad and join the other buggies there. A little while after we arrived, the hearse turned off the main road and headed for town. We waited until the other carriages passed by us
and then pulled Daisy to the end of the procession. One by one, others followed us.

After we got to the church, several men carried Avery's plain wooden coffin into the large meeting room. Mennonite funerals were simple occasions. There were no flowers, although some may be placed on the grave after the burial service. And there were no elaborate speeches about the deceased. Pastor Mendenhall preached for quite a while, urging forgiveness be extended toward whoever had killed Avery.

“When Christ was born, the angels announced that peace had come to Earth,” he said. “Our Lord continued this message throughout His time in this world, imploring us to love our enemies, and to do good to those who persecute us. Our church has been given an opportunity to put His teachings into practice in a way we never have before. Can we walk the path of Christ and forgive? Can we refuse to seek revenge for our dear brother and leave judgment in the mighty hands of God? We have professed our willingness to walk the path of peace in this church for many years. Now it's time to see if we truly believe what we say.”

He shook his head and stared down at the simple wood podium he stood behind. “As a people, we have been viewed by many in the world as weak, but I tell you from my heart that walking the path of peace takes more strength than striking back when a wrong is done to us.” He looked up, tears in his eyes. “Many of us feel anger toward those who believed our brother's life was so inconsequential. It is not wrong to feel anger, but it is wrong to act on it. It is not wrong to resist evil, but it is wrong to return evil for evil. How strong are we? Are we strong enough to pray for the men who perpetrated
this heinous act? Are we strong enough to stand unbroken in the love of Christ?”

As Pastor Mendenhall led us in prayer for the men who killed Avery, I couldn't help but think about his words. Resisting evil wasn't wrong, but resisting it with violence was. So what did that leave us? What was our part and what was God's part? Should we just pray and stand up to evil with faith as our only weapon? Are we strong enough to stand resolute, protected only by the love of Christ? I looked across the aisle and saw Jonathon staring at me. Was he also stirred by the pastor's words? Realizing I was looking around when I was supposed to be praying made me feel uneasy, so I turned my head and closed my eyes until Pastor Mendenhall finished his prayer.

After that, folks were allowed to offer words of respect for the deceased, but any praise for Avery wasn't flowery or effusive. Humility was prized by our members. We preferred that any praise received at our “home going” come from God alone. Only He knew our hearts and could judge us rightly.

When the service concluded, we all rode to the cemetery at the other end of town and laid Avery to rest. Then we proceeded back to the church to share a meal together. Big tables were set up outside the building. Lizzie brought large pans of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, roast beef, and green beans. Others in the community filled the tables with other dishes. Many were German recipes passed down through generations. Jaeger schnitzel, sauerbraten, fat sausages with sauerkraut, steaming red cabbage, and German potatoes sat among wonderful desserts like cinnamon swirl kuchen, and sugar zwieback. And, of course, there were all
kinds of strudels. Ruth Fisher always brought an incredible walnut and raisin strudel to our gatherings. Just thinking about it made my mouth water.

Before everyone descended on the food, I searched for Ruth's strudel, finally finding it among all the desserts. I quickly grabbed a slice before it was gone. I should have felt ashamed of my selfishness, but when it came to Ruth's strudel, I found it easy to lean fully on the forgiveness of God.

We all ate, visited, and offered our condolences to Berlene and Herman. I helped Lizzie serve the food she'd brought. Jonathon came through the line twice. It was obvious he wanted me to slip away for a while, but I couldn't leave Lizzie without assistance. Ebbie brought his plate up once, and I put a serving of roast beef on it. He mumbled his thanks, but he didn't look at me.

After everyone appeared to have eaten their fill, including Herman, who filled his plate four times, I excused myself and found Berlene. She was sitting next to Herman at a table under a large oak tree.

“I'm so sorry for your loss,” I said. “Avery was such a good friend to all of us.”

“I appreciate that, Hope,” she said, a smile on her large round face. “My father loved this town.”

I nodded and started to walk away, but Berlene called me back. “You know we've been talking to your father about taking over the saddle and tack store?”

“Yes. Papa told me about it.”

“And how do you feel about that?” she asked, frowning.

I stared at her, not sure what to say at first. “I'm grateful for the opportunity,” I said slowly, “but the quilt shop—”

“The quilt shop means a lot to you, doesn't it, Hope?”

I nodded, horrified to feel tears fill my eyes. Berlene had just lost her father, and here I was, concerned about a business. Shame made me feel even worse.

She got up from the table and came over to me. “Hope,” she said quietly, “how old are you?”

Her question took me by surprise, and I faltered. “I-I'm twenty-six.”

She grabbed my hand. “Why can't you run the quilt shop and let your father take care of Dad's store? I don't see why you both can't do what you really want.” She smiled at me. “This solution seems so obvious to me and Herman, but you've never even considered it, have you?”

“No, but to be honest, there hasn't been much time to think. With your father's death, and everything else going on recently, my head has been full of so many different thoughts.”

“Well, now that your head has this idea in it, why don't you talk to your father about it? Herman and I will do whatever we can to make it easier for you to run both businesses. If you need anything or can think of something we can do to help you, please let us know. Okay? We're staying around for a while. We need to clean out Dad's house and sell it, along with his land. Then we'll deal with his store. You have some time to figure out how to keep your quilt shop open.” She squeezed my hand. “I remember your mama, you know. I still have a quilt she helped me to sew when I was a young girl. She was a special lady, and I think she'd want you to keep the shop open. Don't you?”

I could only nod. The lump in my throat made it difficult to speak. Berlene, who wasn't known for her sociable attitude,
suddenly hugged me. “You look so much like Hedda. She was one of the most beautiful women in Kingdom.”

I hugged her back and managed to whisper thank you before hurrying away. My intention had been to console her. Instead, she had given me hope.

I was trying to find Papa when someone called my name. Belle Martin waved me over to a table where she was sitting alone. Most people had finished eating and were busy visiting. I slid onto the bench next to her.

“It's so sad, isn't it?” she said. “Avery was such a nice man. He was always coming by the house to see if he could help us. He took care of so many tasks that would have been difficult for Mama and me.”

I nodded. “Yes, it's very sad. I'll miss him.” I gazed around at the large crowd filling the church grounds. “We're not the only ones who feel that way.”

She smiled, but I could see sadness in her green eyes. “He touched the lives of many, many people. I guess that's the legacy of his life. I only hope I can impact those I love in such a positive way.”

“You already bless us, Belle. You're always so encouraging. Just being around you makes me feel uplifted. I know life hasn't always been easy for you.”

“No, it hasn't, but God is good. I know He has a wonderful plan for Mama and me.”

Belle wasn't born in Kingdom. She and her mother had fled her abusive father when Belle was just five years old. For the first couple of years after they moved here, she and her mother, Priscilla, lived in fear that he would find them. They rarely ventured out of the house. But over the years, the fear
had vanished. Now Pricilla and Belle were happy, friendly people who loved to help the community.

I noticed that Belle seemed rather distracted, looking past me. I followed her gaze and discovered that she was watching Aaron Metcalf, who was talking to Clara Barlow. It was obvious that Clara wasn't happy. I wondered what they were talking about.

“Aaron's a nice man, isn't he?” I said.

Belle colored and turned her attention back to me. “Aaron? I guess so. I don't really know him very well.”

I grinned at her, and although she tried to keep a straight face, she lost the battle and giggled, putting her hands over her face. When she took them down, she was so red that for a second I was worried about her. But then I remembered how easily she blushed. Maybe it had to do with her light coloring. It was always easy to know when Belle was embarrassed.

“I really like him, Hope, but he doesn't even know I exist. Clara follows him around like a calf at a new gate.”

“You're not seeing what I see.”

She wrinkled her forehead and looked confused. “What should I be seeing?”

“Aaron keeps looking away from her. He's not really paying attention. If he really liked her, he'd be hanging on her every word. I think that's probably why she looks so upset. She knows he's not interested in her.”

“You don't think he likes her?” Belle's tone was so hopeful it made me smile.

“No. He's just being polite. You watch. He'll try to get away from her as soon as he can.” Sure enough, Noah walked past them, and Aaron said something to Clara. Then he caught up to Noah and quickly began a conversation.

Belle broke out into a wide smile. “Oh, thank you, Hope. I feel so much better.”

“You might want to talk to him sometime, you know. Let him know you like him.”

She shook her head vigorously. “Oh, I couldn't be that bold. What if he acted the same way toward me as he did with Clara? I would feel so foolish.”

I laughed. “But if you don't speak to him, how will you know?”

She nodded. “I know you're right, but it scares me. Not knowing whether or not he likes me seems better than finding out he doesn't.” Belle was quiet for a moment, and her expression grew solemn. “Hope, I heard you and Ebbie aren't engaged anymore. It's not any of my business, but—”

“It's okay, Belle. We just decided that getting married right now wasn't a good idea.”

She looked at me and wrinkled her nose. “I must confess that I overheard something very different, but I probably shouldn't repeat it.”

I frowned at her. “If it's about Ebbie and me, I think I have the right to know. Please tell me, Belle. It will stay between us. We're friends.”

She bit her lip and stared down at the ground. I could tell she was mentally wrestling with my request. “Well . . .” She raised her head and looked around quickly, as if checking to see if anyone else was near enough to overhear us.

My curiosity was certainly aroused. Had Ebbie said something bad about me?

After more hesitation, finally she said, “Ebbie was called before the elders and Pastor Mendenhall to explain the reason
he wasn't keeping his commitment to marry you. He told them the broken engagement was his fault—that he just wasn't ready for marriage. He confessed his fault and was forgiven, but he has been asked to step down from his position.”

“What?” I could barely believe what I was hearing. “But . . . but . . .”

“Oh, Hope,” Belle said, her eyes wide with distress. “I shouldn't have said anything.”

“Who told you this?” I asked, trying to remain calm.

“Aggie, Elder Scherer's daughter. She said her father told her. Maybe she wasn't telling the truth.”

I shook my head and wiped away the tears that spilled down my cheeks. I was surprised to find myself crying. “Excuse me, Belle,” I said, getting to my feet. “I-I have to talk to Ebbie right away.”

I heard Belle calling my name, but it was as if she were a long way off. I started searching the crowd and finally found Ebbie talking to Pastor Mendenhall under a tree in back of the church. I called out Ebbie's name, and both men turned to stare at me as I marched toward them.

“Ebbie Miller, I need to talk to you,” I said loudly, my voice breaking.

Pastor Mendenhall looked at me with concern. “Perhaps I should leave.”

“No. Please stay, Pastor.”

I glared at Ebbie. “I hear you told the other elders that you broke our engagement.”

He looked alarmed. “I did. I'm the one who—”

“That's not completely true, and you know it.” I turned
my attention to Pastor Mendenhall, who was looking at me as though I'd lost my mind. “Pastor, Ebbie ended our relationship because he knew I had feelings for someone else. He did it because he wanted my happiness more than he cared about what people would think. He was concerned about my reputation. That's why he didn't tell you the whole story. And now, you've . . . you've taken his eldership away from him. It's not fair, Pastor. It's just not fair.”