Chapter 20 #2
He looked out into the expanse of farmland, then over to the small pasture.
Right now things with the farm were going fine, but even with his father’s confidence in him, the bottom could drop out.
Lack of rain, hail, sickness—he’d seen all of it happen over the years to his father.
Yet Jalon had taken the risk with this farm, both he and Adam.
They had believed in it enough to try to make something of it. They believed God would be faithful.
I am faithful.
He stilled. God’s faithfulness was the only sure thing in his life. There was only one—no, two things missing. Phoebe and Malachi. Could he risk his pride and his heart for the woman he loved? What did it say about him if he was unwilling to take that risk?
Near the end of May, Phoebe’s mother started showing slight improvement.
It helped when the boys visited her, even if all they did was play cards at the end of her bed.
The nausea had gone away so she was finally able to eat, but the illness had left her too thin.
She was also still tired. Everything that had happened had taken its toll on Phoebe’s father too.
His appetite was down and he’d lost weight.
He was also working hard, harder than she’d ever seen.
But despite the hard work, and even with the boys’ help and the community bringing food, helping with the washing, and visiting, an oppressive cloud still hovered over them.
For whatever reason, God wasn’t lifting it.
The chickens still weren’t laying, and the garden had produced only half of what they’d planted in the early spring.
Then, soon after Phoebe received her last letter from Jalon, Malachi and her youngest brothers, including baby Elam, had come down with a terrible stomach flu that had kept her up for almost a week taking care of them and Mamm .
She was exhausted. Still, she reminded herself that God was faithful.
Even her father believed that, and had said as much when Mamm started to show slight improvement.
“We’ll get a break soon, Phoebe. I’m sure of it. ”
On a sultry morning, she was sitting on an old rocker on the front porch, snapping the few green beans the garden had yielded.
Her father and three of her oldest brothers were repairing yet another hole in the roof of the barn.
The rest of the boys, including Malachi, were visiting their neighbors down the road.
Although worry and strain were always present, right now she was able to appreciate her quiet surroundings, the soft, warm breeze that rippled through the leafy maples and oaks, and the birds twittering, fluttering, and chasing each other as they soaked in the morning sunshine.
Her gaze followed them for a few moments, realizing she hadn’t thought about her sketches since she’d arrived.
Even if she had, she wouldn’t be in the mood for drawing.
She didn’t have the time, either. Sketching seemed like a frivolous and childish pursuit now, and they didn’t have the money to spare for her to buy drawing paper or a sketchbook.
She shook her head. She’d never thought she’d find herself agreeing with Aunt Bertha.
Halfway through snapping the beans, a buggy pulled into the driveway.
She quickly snapped a couple more, then stopped when she saw the man exiting the buggy.
Bishop Weaver. A knot formed in her stomach, only to unwind a bit as she realized he was probably here to visit Mamm .
During the past week alone the bishop’s wife and three other women had brought casseroles, loaves of fresh bread, vegetable salads, and a couple dozen cookies, all of which she appreciated.
But with so many mouths to feed, the food hadn’t stretched far, and she knew her father didn’t like taking so many handouts, even though he didn’t have a choice.
Sure enough, the bishop was carrying a foil-covered dish.
Phoebe set down the bowl of green beans, then met Bishop Weaver at the bottom of the porch steps.
“Hello, Phoebe.” He handed her the dish. “Chicken and noodles. Julia made them.”
“Please thank her for us.” The casserole dish was still slightly warm. They would have it for supper tonight. “ Mamm ’s resting right now. I’m not sure she’s up for company. Daed is working on the barn roof with some of mei brothers, but I could geh get him if you’d like.”
“Another repair? Isn’t that the third one this month?”
“The roof is old.” Her stomach twisted again. “ Daed says it’s time to replace it.”
“So that’s what he’s doing right now? Replacing it?”
“ Nee. ” She gripped the dish. “Just patching it.”
“Why not replace it?”
Why was he drilling her with all these questions? “He’s been busy with the crops. There hasn’t been time to replace the roof.”
“But he has all these sons. Many hands make light work.”
Was he trying to get her to admit they didn’t have the money?
That wasn’t going to happen. For some reason her father hadn’t gone to the bishop and asked for help from the community fund.
Phoebe didn’t blame him. “Would you like some cold tea?” She’d offer him coffee, but her parents hadn’t been able to afford it in months.
“Tea would be nice on such a warm day.”
Phoebe went up the steps and held the screen door open for the bishop.
Once inside, they went into the kitchen and, after inviting him to sit down at the table, she poured tea into glasses.
They didn’t have any ice. That was a luxury.
But she wasn’t going to apologize to Bishop Weaver for it.
She pulled out a few spice cookies from the container on top of the fridge.
Despite being short on food, she always made sure to have some kind of sweet in the house for her daed and brothers and Malachi as a treat.
She’d even figured out how to make eggless ones.
She arranged the cookies on a plate, then set them on the table. “I’ll geh see if Mamm ’s up,” she said.
The bishop raised his hand. “There’s nee need. I didn’t come to see yer parents.”
The knot strangled her stomach.
“We’ve been long overdue for a talk, Phoebe. I’d been waiting for yer mamm ’s health to improve, but ...” He clasped his hands together and laid them on the tabletop, then gestured with his head to the chair across from him. “Please. Have a seat.”
She slowly lowered herself onto the chair.
Unlike their former bishop, who had been old even when Phoebe was born, Bishop Weaver was in his thirties.
He and his wife had two children who were a little older than Malachi.
Yet despite his youth, he had the command of an older man, one who was sure of himself and his purpose.
He picked up a cookie and took a bite. “I understand you went to stay at yer aenti Bertha’s after our last talk,” he said when he finally finished chewing and swallowed.
She nodded but didn’t say anything.
“I’m assuming you didn’t mention our conversation to yer parents, since they didn’t bring up the topic with me after you left.”
“I didn’t see any reason for them to know, since I’m not getting married.” Oh, saying the words were like a dagger to her soul. But they were the truth. She wouldn’t marry, not when her heart belonged to Jalon. She would never, ever get over him.
“Do you think something has changed since you’ve been gone? That living in our community as an unwed mamm is acceptable?”
“Bishop Kline thought so.”
“Bishop Kline was lax with the rules. Rules are important, Phoebe. Keeping the Ordnung is how we become closer to God. How we maintain our faith. And how we keep our community together.”
“I thought prayer and worship are how we grow closer to the Lord.”
“Which is part of the Ordnung .” His eyes narrowed, showing her that her words had ruffled him. Good. “Believing we are outside the Ordnung is prideful, Phoebe. Add that to yer list of sins, and you’ll be lucky if any man will have you.”
Tears pricked her eyes, the shame she thought she’d left behind slamming into her with full force. Still, she lifted her chin. She wouldn’t let him get to her, and she wasn’t going to be coerced. A very special man did love her— did being the operative word—and that was enough.
“I’ve spent the time since yer return finding someone willing to marry you.” The bishop took another bite of the cookie, again chewing slowly. “Someone finally agreed.”
Phoebe didn’t let her gaze leave his. “Who is it?” she asked weakly.
“Atlee Shetler.”
Phoebe flinched. She’d known Atlee her entire life because he was close to her father’s age. He’d lost his wife ten years ago, and had remained single—and nearly hermit-like—ever since. “I’m not marrying Atlee.”
Bishop Weaver’s eyes softened, which surprised her. “Malachi needs a father. You need a husband.”
“I have mei familye . They love and support me. They also love Malachi. There isn’t a better place for us.” Except with Jalon, but she couldn’t allow herself to think about that possibility anymore.
“ Yer familye is struggling, Phoebe.” His voice lowered. “Did you ever stop to think that it’s yer fault?”
She froze at his accusation. “ Mei fault?”
“You slept with a man outside of marriage. You conceived a child. You refuse to marry and submit to authority.” He paused. “How old is Malachi?”
“Four.”
“And when did the farm start failing?”
“Four years ago.” Her throat closed.
“And now on top of everything else, yer mamm has a strange illness. Can’t you see the connection? Are you so filled with pride and stubbornness that you’ll continue to allow yer familye to suffer?”
“ Nee ,” she said, choking out the word. “I’m not.” This wasn’t her fault. Or was it? Could the bishop be right, that God was punishing her family because of her sins?
“Phoebe.” For once his voice was gentle. “You know in yer heart I’m right. You also know what you need to do. Repent. Marry Atlee. Be the respectable, obedient wife yer faith requires.”