CHAPTER 3
C HAPTER 3
B ENNIE L APP LISTENED TO HIS OLDEST DAUGHTER THAT NIGHT , taking into consideration the things she said about Mary. In his kind way, and with the humility and wisdom so pronounced in the ways of one knowing great sorrow, he decided to take things more slowly. Sarah’s opinions must be taken into account if the poor girl was expected to accept a new mother so soon after the death of her own.
He did hire a maud . He knew they needed help, though he didn’t realize quite how badly things had deteriorated in his home. With Sarah’s help, they picked Enos Swarey’s Rachel, an ex-schoolteacher very close to his own age, a tall, thin, dark-haired woman sporting a formidable nose, small dark eyes behind rimmed spectacles, and a beautiful smile enhanced by a gleaming new set of dentures. She was very thin, her long arms dangling loosely, her large feet like webbed duck feet on stick thin legs.
Bennie Lapp talked and smiled with the affable Rachel, his eldest daughter beaming her approval. But on Sunday afternoon he dressed in his best, washed off his horse, and hitched him to the buggy, preparing to pick up Mary. He knew he had to shoulder Sarah’s resentment, but she’d come around, he told himself. She had to, for he had fallen hard for Mary. She intrigued him and now took up most of his thoughts and many of his days.
There was joy everywhere, in the fading, falling leaves, in the scent of ears of corn hanging on brown stalks. He looked forward to helping his brother Ammon, driving the big wooden wagon, the sides fitting neatly on the steel racks, the faithful Belgians plodding through the dry, rustling cornstalks. He imagined Mary, her red hair flaming in autumn sunlight, her coat too snug on her well-endowed frame.
He thought of her eyes, so often dark and troubled. He fancied she’d taken more than one wrong turn in her life and was besieged by the need to be forgiven, the way of the cross perhaps not fully understood. He had known her father well, the large family a true light of obedience to the community. But he’d also been rather strict, he thought. He wondered about Mary’s time in Lancaster and looked forward to learning more about her life. He knew at one point some of the community had written her off as a disobedient rebel, but she’d obviously returned wholeheartedly to the fold.
Joy coupled with gratitude made the miles fade away beneath the horses’ hooves, and a song rose in his heart. Tonight, they would discuss Sarah, which he felt confident would open the way for a deeper understanding and a new closeness between him and Mary.
She greeted him, a wan smile on her pale, freckled face.
“ Vee bischt (how are you), Mary?” he asked across the horses’ back as he looped the reins expertly through the silver ring.
“ Ich bin goot (I’m good),” she answered quietly.
And he took her words at face value, failing to notice the diminishing figure, the drawn look of her face.
She offered him coffee, which he took, black and steaming hot. She thought of her father when he slurped it, and she grimaced in spite of herself. He smiled at her. “Very good coffee. What kind do you buy?”
“Folgers. Black Silk.”
“Black Silk?” His eyebrows raised, he told her he’d never heard of it. Was she sure? Her heart took a dive, a genuine sickening plunge of despair, when she realized there was something, something in the way his dark eyes darted away from her, then back again, that unsettled her. But the moment was fleeting, and he opened the subject of his eldest daughter’s reluctance of their marriage, his kindness cushioning the necessary words.
“She’s just being difficult, and I feel ashamed, Mary. I didn’t think she would react as strongly. I understand none of this being easy, but I’ve hired a maud to help take care of the house for now.”
Mary nodded. “Good thinking. It was hard to be there, doing the work my way, when she clearly had her own ideas of how things should be done. But I’m not perfect either,” she added quickly.
“No one is. But Mary, I want to know you better. Tonight, I wish you would tell me everything about yourself. There’s something different about you.”
Mary’s shoulders lifted, held, the walls of her defense in place. She appeared very interested in the pattern of the dishes in front of her, before shaking her head slightly.
“There’s not much to tell.”
“Did you have an ordinary childhood?” His voice was kind, if a bit nasal, his eyes warm.
“I think so. My father was strict, pretty hard on us, and I guess I rebelled, more than my brothers and sisters.”
“Anyone could see that.”
“I suppose.”
“But you have certainly come a long way.”
“Yes, I suppose I have.”
“The way of the cross is not easy, and it takes some individuals longer than others to realize the weakness of our own flesh and take on the nature of our Savior, der Heiland Yesu Grischt (the Savior Jesus Christ).”
These were the exact same words her father had used, only said in a softer, kinder way. She felt almost as if her father were in the room, reminding her of her disobedience.
Oh God, where are you? Who can help me find the path? With all her heart, she longed for Steve, for the way he made her almost believe in the possibility of redemption. What kept her from him?
“You seem distracted, Mary.”
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry.”
“Your thoughts were far away.”
There was a long, tense stillness. Then, “Mary, I want us to be married as soon as possible, but I don’t believe it would be wise to rush Sarah into accepting you as her mother. I think we’d best put the wedding off till later in the summer. That will give her time to get used to the idea of having you around. With the maud there, Sarah won’t be so burdened with keeping house . . .”
Mary cut him off.
“She’s not keeping house.”
“Why do you say that, Mary?”
“You live there. Can’t you see?” She told him about the state of his house, sparing no details. Once she got going, words tumbled out more quickly than she’d intended. It was as if a floodgate had opened and there was no shutting it back up. She said Sarah was as rude as she was lazy, and if she treated their maud the same way she’d treated her, he could count on the maud leaving within the week. She could understand that the girl was missing her mother, but she’d also clearly been spoiled. In fact, if he wasn’t willing to make Sarah change her behavior, perhaps they shouldn’t plan on marriage at all.
With great humility, his head bowed, he absorbed her words, his dark eyes turning from eagerness to a dull sadness. The bit of trouble he’d anticipated was, in fact, a formidable hurdle.
They postponed the wedding, with the promise of taking a bit of time off to improve the situation with Sarah. He told her of his disappointment, how hard the waiting would be. She acknowledged this, even as she felt relief washing over her. More time before the inevitable wedding felt like a tremendous gift. But she felt guilt ride in on the heels of the relief. If marrying Bennie was God’s will for her life, why was she so happy to put it off?
Bennie did not take her in his arms, but held her hand so tightly it actually hurt, then released it and walked away. She did not help him hitch his horse to the buggy, but instead stayed in the kitchen, gripping the countertop with both hands. She lifted her face to the ceiling and wondered.
Was it possible God would yet intervene to save her from marrying someone she did not love? Could He bless her life at all if she still chose Steve, or must she dedicate her life to her brothers’ and sisters’ advice, going against her own heart?
R ACHEL S WAREY PADDED around the house on her long flat feet, her great nose and small brown eyes set off by the wondrous smile. She was quiet, well-mannered, and arrived at precisely eight in the morning and went home at eight in the evening. She drove a fat gelding named Marty, the buggy always equipped with a freshly charged battery, the blanket warm and thick, the miles between them filled with the sound of her singing.
She sang hymns and children’s school songs, and ribald sailors’ songs from the 1800s, the words handed down on her mother’s side, her brothers having had a hankering for an accordion played with an old Marine Band harmonica. The results were unforgettable, and Babbie, her mother, often tapped her toes in time to the swirling memories in her head. Rachel was intelligent, with a keen wit, sharp as a saber, coupled with a great love of children.
She was happy to be Bennie Lapp’s maud , for the children, but had no interest in him at all. Men were all the same, as far as she was concerned. She didn’t have any problem with them, but no real interest in them, either.
She sang while cleaning, too, her voice filling the kesslehaus above the clatter of the Honda engine.
“Life’s evening sun is sinking low.
A few more days, and I must go.
To meet the deeds that I have done.
Where there will be no setting sun.”
Bennie came in for his forenoon break, stopped to listen, and marveled. Instantly, Sarah was at his side, her dark eyes boring into his.
“Do you hear this, Dat?”
He nodded. Yes, he was listening, the voice sending chills up his spine. He told Sarah indeed God had bestowed her with a wunderbahr talent. But he also noticed her spare frame, her large flapping feet and the absence of soft, womanly curves. Ach, my Mary, he thought, as his daughter’s eyes beseeched and the voice at the washing machine trilled on.
Rachel yodeled, too. Her uncles had taught her well, howling gleefully when she hit the high notes.
When the house was in order and the cooking done, she played games with the children. She loved playing Chinese checkers, willingly got down the Sorry game with Amos, Annie, and Betty as cherished opponents. She slapped exhilarating high fives to every winner of every board game and brought out a bowl of crackers and one of pretzels, the dark evenings suddenly lighter as she doled out her love to each one separately, the horn of plenty in her heart never withering up or drying away.
She was also in on the community grapevine, her keen ears picking up every word spoken within hearing distance at church, at quiltings, and in local stores. All these juicy tidbits fell on Sarah’s eager ears.
Bennie noticed the lighter mood in the evenings as he ate yet another plate of mashed potatoes and hamburger gravy with a side of boiled string beans. He ate chocolate cake with thin vanilla icing scored across it. It wasn’t as good as anything Mary had made, but it was fine. The children were happy, the house in decent order. Well, decent enough. He couldn’t expect everything. After supper, dishes were washed, and out came the board games, little Leah perched on her thin knees, waving and clapping, her dark eyes shining. Bennie took all things into consideration and appreciated Rachel for the restored well-being of his children, even as he dreamed of Mary, his betrothed.
M ARY CLEANED OUT her garden, dragging slimy, frostbitten tomato stalks and zucchini squash plants as big as trees, and dumping them in her garden cart to be wheeled to her compost bin. The wind tore at her skirt, whipping the corners of her headscarf across her face.
She stopped, shook her hands to restore the flow of blood, before giving up and going to the house for a pair of gloves.
She should have tackled this job before today, but Mrs. Smith, the most demanding client of all, had wanted her windows washed inside and out, which meant positioning stepladders among old, clipped yews. It was next to impossible, resulting in long days . . . and a generous tip.
Mrs. Smith and her husband had been high school sweethearts. She went on and on about Robert, his many talents, his pleasant personality, his caring of her, the sacrifices he made when her health was in decline. As Mary washed dozens of windows, she listened to Mrs. Smith’s life story with Robert, how they met, where they went on their first date, the burgers so good at the Shake Shack, him driving his father’s Buick.
“And you never doubted that you were meant for each other?” Mary asked, unrolling a wad of paper towels, picking up the bottle of Windex, knowing the windows would never be streak free.
“Nope. Not once.”
“But how could you be so sure?”
“It was love, Mary. Love trumps everything.”
Mary nodded, then changed the subject. English people had it easy. They didn’t have to worry about the hundreds of ways you could go wrong, always questioning what God wanted of you, your siblings like vultures ready to pick your bones.
One afternoon they took a break from washing windows, had a cup of tea, and Nona Smith told her everything, starting with where love was. God was love, she said, and marriage was meant to be a picture of God’s own joyful, perfect, all-consuming love for His people.
But while she talked, Mary’s thoughts tumbled like dry straw in a stiff gale. Surely that wasn’t the whole truth. Didn’t love mean self-sacrifice, giving oneself up, even suffering? That was far more important than things like joy.
A WEEK LATER, Jessie drove into Mary’s driveway and hurried to the door, a worried expression on her face. Her voice faltered a bit as she told Mary she’d gotten a message for her. Aunt Lizzie had been in a terrible accident on the way to visit the daughter who lived in Perry County. A car had cut into their lane, delivering a glancing blow, sending the buggy into the guard rail. She had died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.
The next forty-eight hours were a blur for Mary. After a few moments of shock, adrenaline put her on autopilot as she asked Jessie to help notify her siblings, arranged a car for all who could go to the funeral, threw clothes in her suitcase, and donned her black suit. Once in the car, she gave herself over to weeping as the trees and mountains rushed by outside her window.
Once in Lancaster, she met up with the girls, their swollen faces purple with weeping. They fell into her arms in turns, saying, “Mary, Mary. Oh, you’ve come.” She did her best to console Suse, then Linda and Ruthann, while steadily crying herself. She should have come for a visit sooner, and now it was too late.
At the funeral, Mary was seated with the girls, having been like a daughter to Lizzie. Mary’s siblings sat farther back and viewed Mary through disapproving gazes. It was uncomfortable to see her so close with the Lancaster relatives. It was a reminder of her disobedient years, and certainly a threat to her future. Mary was weak, they reasoned. She needed a firm hand, turning her toward the light. They gawked at fancy cousins, telling each other the end was near. Outwardly, they remained respectful, although they felt themselves far superior.
When Mary suggested she stay to help the cousins sort through Lizzie’s things, her siblings gave her grave, searching looks. “Do you really think that’s wise, Mary?” her brother asked, and the others backed him up with warning looks. But in the end, Mary stood her ground and her siblings left, telling one another she was an adult, and therefore free to choose.
S TEVE HEARD OF Lizzie’s death and hired a driver to see if Mary had come. He arrived to find the last of the church friends and neighbors loading the last bench wagon, a light on in the house, and a dark figure coming to answer his tapping on the back door.
Mary!
Tongue-tied, he stood as the door swung open. She stepped back, allowed him to enter, lifting an arm to usher him in.
“Hello, Mary.”
“Hi, Steve.”
“I was hoping you’d be here.”
“Yes. As I was hoping to see you.”
“Should I be here?”
She sighed, as if her weariness was complete.
“Yes, you should.”
“I’m so sorry about Lizzie. I know she meant a lot to you.”
Tears overflowed Mary’s eyes again. “She’s gone so suddenly, and I didn’t come visit, and . . . and everything is wrong, Steve.”
She bowed her head and pressed a paper towel snatched off the roll to her face. He guided her to a chair, his hand on her back.
“Sit down and tell me.”
The whole story tumbled out in broken starts and unfinished endings, but he pieced together that she did not really want to marry Bennie, that Sarah was an older daughter who didn’t like Mary, and that Bennie had postponed the wedding.
“Steve, I was so sure I was doing the right thing, and now, I don’t know. And I didn’t even get to tell Lizzie any of it. She would have helped me make sense of it all.”
“Mary, everything is for a purpose. I can see God’s hand in this. You do not want to accept marriage on those terms. Can you imagine if Sarah tries to turn Bennie against you, which inevitably she will?”
“Bennie thinks she’ll get better with time.”
Steve gave her a dubious look. “Mary, it’s clear that you don’t want to marry him. Is that even fair to him? Would you want to be married to someone who doesn’t really love you?”
Mary felt her feet move before she’d given herself permission to move. It was like her body had a mind of her own. She moved swiftly to the front door, hit the latch with the palm of her hand, and ran out the door. She had no idea where she was going, but she felt the old weight on her chest, the sensation of something crawling up her throat, and her body took over, trying to flee from its own discomfort.
Steve was on his feet in a flash. He caught her arm as she was going down the steps, but with a broken cry, she wrenched free, took a few more steps, and then stopped. What, exactly, was the point of running? She began to feel foolish for even bursting out of the house like that. What was wrong with her? She stood in the cold autumnal gale, now feeling angry at Steve, though it wasn’t clear why. “Why don’t you go home?” she half yelled at him, and then was inexplicably relieved when instead he came to her side, gently hooked his arm through hers, and led her back inside.
They sat back at the table and he could see the fight leaving her body, the sagging of her shoulders, the long intake of breath, the slow release.
“Steve, I’m done. I cannot fight anymore. I don’t know what’s right or what’s wrong and have no idea how to find out. All I know is that I love you, and only you. Even when I’m with Bennie, I’m thinking of you. I can’t help it. I’m stripping myself of everything, my pride, what anyone thinks of me, of my father’s voice. I’m throwing myself at the foot of something, a mountain maybe, and asking for strength, or maybe mercy. I don’t even know, but one way or another I have to stand on my own truth.”
He was speechless, his mouth working but without sound.
“I don’t know if I can marry Bennie, and who knows if I should marry you, but I’m done. Life is so short, so unpredictable. Aunt Lizzie is gone, just like that, her life cut so short. That could happen to any of us!” She paused, breathing heavily. “These last couple days, I’ve been realizing maybe I have some idols that I have to let go of—like caring so much about what people think of me. I mean, I was at Lizzie’s funeral, crying for her, and at the same time worrying about what my siblings were thinking about me sitting with the ‘fancy’ cousins. It’s ridiculous! I don’t even know who I am apart from what people think of me.”
“Mary,” he managed, but then realized she wasn’t done.
“Aunt Lizzie always said we are all different, God made us that way, and that I cannot compare myself with my family. As I stood by her casket, I asked God for a second chance at being real.
“That house in New York? I hope God can forgive that monument to myself, and all my misguided beliefs. Ach , Steve, once you begin to shed the scales from your eyes, there’s no end to it. I just want a fresh start, a new life. Does God provide that, do you think?”
He discovered a quivering in his chest, in his stomach, and realized he was laughing and crying at the same time, creating a maelstrom of feelings and emotions beyond his control. His prayers had been answered, his God had given grace and understanding, the possibility of his heart’s desire.
Quietly, reverently, he said, “Yes, Mary. I believe He does.” And she went into his arms, where she stayed for a very long time, and he wept with the sheer force of his deepest feelings.
Where death had been, there was now new life in Mary. But it was only the flowering of one single, white, holy rosebud, and the battles of life were still hers to conquer.
S HE RETURNED TO New York only long enough to pack her things, sell her home, and talk to Bennie Lapp. He felt betrayed, bereft of what He felt was God’s will. But it wasn’t long before he saw the great mother in Rachel Swarey, and knew the sacrifice would be small on his part. The children came first.
Rachel let out a great whoop of laughter when he asked her, and said why sure, she’d marry him. Why not? She wasn’t much to look at, but she’d keep him warm at night, that wouldn’t be a problem at all. Secretly, she’d begun to take an interest in him, but had tried not to let her mind go there, given his relationship with Mary. When Sarah heard the news, she lifted a fist and pumped it toward the ceiling, thinking, Finally! We’ll be rid of that big, bossy redhead!
Mary’s siblings unleashed a volley of dire threats, but Mary did not back down. She did her best to let the words roll off her shoulders.
She rented a small house south of Gap, in Lancaster, close to the Maryland line. She met Steve’s parents and his siblings and was embraced into the relaxed atmosphere of a loving family, complete with a mother overflowing with love and good humor, who helped her find new coverings that suited her conscience. Mary and Steve’s mother sat for hours at the sewing machine and fitted Mary into a nice set of dresses and aprons that she felt comfortable in—somewhere between the plain, drab dress of her New York family and the “fancy” dress of most of the Amish in Lancaster. As they sewed, they talked, and Mary found that this woman was a wellspring of wisdom.
As Mary worked, she marveled that the Bible verses that came from this woman’s mouth were a true comfort, and not once to be feared. Yes, she agreed with Mary that she had built monuments of self and created pedestals of fear and had run blindly after the doctrines of men. But she assured her that she was not the only one, and acknowledged that her background had made it tough to know differently. Above all, she pointed Mary to Jesus’s love.
And Mary grew in grace. Her face took on an inner glow as she cast her cares on the yoke of Jesus. Scary Bible verses turned into lines of truth, new understanding, a new chance. She even understood the words of Jesus to Nicodemus about being born again. She truly did.
The wind ruffled trees and grasses, flapped loose shutters, and chased clouds across the sky. She thought about how you had no idea where that wind started or where it stopped, but it was absolutely there. She didn’t fully comprehend what being saved meant, but she was thirstily drinking the milk of the Word.
And Steve moved through his days in a fog of happiness, sometimes a whirl of joy he had no idea a person could experience.
He found a fixer-upper home close to the house Mary had rented. Mary took one look at the dilapidated building and told him he was crazy. But he laughed and said she couldn’t see it through a builder’s eye. “Just give yourself up. That’s what women do,” he said, his eyes twinkling. She hit his forearm and he grabbed her hand, and then she came into his arms gladly, leaned back, and gave him all the love in her green eyes.