Secret Sister Read online

  Now as she sang, her gray eyes wandered to the men on the other side of the room. The older ones, more confident in their voices or simply not caring if they were off-key, sang louder than the younger men, a few of whom snuck a peek at the Ausbund, probably because they had not committed Song 100 to memory yet. But without question, everyone sang from their heart.

  With joy we want to sing

  As we have resolved

  All we who want to bring

  This offering unto the Lord

  Joyfully we want to commence

  In peace and unity

  Therefore is our desire

  That to the Lord with songs of praise

  This offering be prepared.

  When the hymn ended, the bishop stood and paced for a few long seconds before the g’may, his hands behind his back as he did so. David Yoder, just a few years older than Grace, had been the bishop only a few months. With his long white beard and balding head, he carried an appearance of deep scriptural knowledge and wisdom. Indeed, even in his youth, David had hung on to every word during worship services and often spent time after the service talking with the preachers. Not long after Menno and Grace moved to Akron, she had been pleased to discover David’s familiar face at worship service, as well as his younger sister, Hannah, now her neighbor and married to James Esh. Through them, she had met David’s wife, Lizzie, and Hannah’s sister-in-law, Mary Esh, along with Mary’s husband, Stephen. The old ties to Ephrata helped her feel at home in their new church district in Akron.

  With his serious devotion to God and Scripture, David Yoder carried on the conservative stance of his predecessors, something that Grace appreciated during his sermons on Church Sunday. In fact, David ruled the g’may with strict abidance to the Ordnung, the unwritten rules that governed each church district. Although he often reminded his church members that times were changing and recognized that external pressures on the Amish made it difficult to shun worldliness, David preached that assimilation and conformity to the modern world were dangerous to their faith.

  Grace appreciated his concern for the spiritual life of his g’may. Before his death, Menno also often expressed his appreciation for the wise and caring leadership of Preacher Yoder. During Menno’s decline, Preacher Yoder and Lizzie had been frequent and diligent in their visits. Today, however, something clearly bothered the bishop. His pacing indicated that he was deep in thought and pondering exactly how to approach whatever issue weighed so heavily on his mind.

  Grace knew she had only to sit quietly and wait. It wouldn’t take long for David Yoder to form the ideas that would make for a forty-five minute sermon. She clutched the Ausbund tighter in her hands and shut her eyes, not from weariness at having to leave so early in the morning for worship service, but in prayer that God would lead the good bishop to find the words that he clearly and desperately sought.

  “We have much to be thankful for,” David began. His voice took on a higher pitch than normal, with a singsong quality that Grace liked about David’s preaching. “God has blessed each and every one of us over the past year: bountiful crops for our farmers, a good economy for our market workers, and few have had need of medical care. God has blessed each one of us indeed!”

  Grace felt disappointed in the direction of the sermon. She wasn’t one to argue with others, especially a bishop, but the past year had not been kind to Grace.

  Each morning, before she changed out of her nightgown in preparation for the day, she knelt by her bedside and prayed, asking God to lift the burden from her shoulders. In past years, Menno had taught her to pray for larger shoulders, but Grace didn’t think there were any shoulders big enough to help her through this trial of loss.

  In the empty house the cold autumn air filled each room, as a deep sense of loneliness, an emotion Grace had never known existed, filled her heart. Without Menno, her days were filled with long hours of nothingness. The house was so clean from daily dusting and mopping that the furniture shone, the floors sparkled, and not one cobweb filled a ceiling corner. And often she would read the Bible, the worn pages torn in some places from years of repeated reference.

  Her neighbors were kind to her, regularly stopping by to check on Grace and to sit for a short visit. But for the most part, Grace spent her days alone, and every evening, she struggled to find new ways to count her blessings.

  Though she had grown up and raised her kinner on a farm in Ephrata Township, Grace now lived in a plain little house along one of the main roads that bordered Akron, Pennsylvania. Years ago, her son Ivan had taken over the family farm. For a while, Menno and Grace lived in the grossdawdihaus and Menno continued helping Ivan with the farmwork. It wasn’t the largest farm in Ephrata, and with a teenage son able to take on more of the chores, Ivan didn’t need his daed’s help as much. At least that was what Menno told anyone who inquired about their move to Akron.

  Years before, the farm had been much larger. When Menno’s grandparents worked the land, it had been twice the size. In order to accommodate two of their sons, Menno’s grandfather had split the land, giving one lot to each son. It was a common story throughout the area and one that Grace knew today was hurting the Amish style of life in Lancaster County.

  Because the farm was small and Menno was growing older, Menno had convinced Grace that it was time to retire elsewhere. After all, when Ivan’s oldest son, Levi, married, he would benefit from living in that small house as he started his life with his new bride. Like many other aging Amish couples, Menno and Grace moved to an Englische-style house. They removed the electricity and installed a hitching post to accommodate visitors. At first, Grace disliked the noise of the cars rumbling by, especially on warm evenings when she and Menno sat outside. But after a while, she found there were some benefits to living in a less rural area, one of them being that she could visit with her neighbors.

  When they had lived on the farm, they seldom saw their neighbors in between worship services. There was always so much work on a farm: from milking cows to mucking stalls, from making bread and cheese to cleaning the house or washing clothes. From before sunrise to well after sunset, Grace and Menno worked. With just four kinner to help, there was enough work to pass around to everyone, but not enough help to ever complete it.

  This time was meant to be their golden years. A time to visit distant relatives, reconnect with lost friends, and possibly even travel. Menno often talked about taking Grace on a cruise to Bermuda with a small group of Amish couples or on a bus to Canada to see Niagara Falls.

  Neither of these trips had ever happened.

  “Yet I continue to hear complaints.” The bishop’s words were now strong and fierce, breaking her free from her private thoughts. “Complaints about the government. Complaints about the cost of land. Complaints about the limitation of cell-phone use among our church members.”

  Unknowingly, Grace nodded her head. She had heard those complaints from several women in the g’may as well. The farming families couldn’t afford land for their newly married sons. The changing laws forced the Amish to conform in ways they didn’t want to, such as contributing to government programs and services they would never use or having to buy into health-care programs when they were quite satisfied with their Amish Aid program. And the cell phones . . .

  Some of the women complained about the fact that the men were allowed to use cell phones for their businesses but they abused the privilege by receiving personal calls after work hours. Yet the women were not permitted to have cell phones for their own use when they went to market or worked outside the house at a store.

  Grace never opened her mouth to contribute her opinion. She had learned long ago that opinions were best kept to oneself, especially when they were the opposite of the opinions of those speaking.

  “But what are we doing about those complaints? What can we do about them?” The bishop paused, looking at the many pairs of eyes staring back at him. “We can pray. We must pray. Turn your complaints into prayers for the leaders of this
country, for the leaders of your g’may, and for the leaders of your homes. Pray that they make proper decisions, decisions we can abide without sacrificing our commitment to the Plain way of life. Pray that we can accept, or at least adapt to, those decisions that do not. Prayers can solve all problems. Only prayers. You must turn your concerns and problems and complaints over to God.” And then he quoted Psalm 5:

  “‘Give ear to my words, O LORD, consider my meditation. Hearken unto the voice of my cry, my King, and my God: for unto thee will I pray. My voice shalt thou hear in the morning, O LORD; in the morning will I direct my prayer unto thee, and will look up.

  “‘For thou art not a God that hath pleasure in wickedness: neither shall evil dwell with thee. The foolish shall not stand in thy sight: thou hatest all workers of iniquity. Thou shalt destroy them that speak leasing: the LORD will abhor the bloody and deceitful man.

  “‘But as for me, I will come into thy house in the multitude of thy mercy: and in thy fear will I worship toward thy holy temple. Lead me, O LORD, in thy righteousness because of mine enemies; make thy way straight before my face.

  “‘For there is no faithfulness in their mouth; their inward part is very wickedness; their throat is an open sepulchre; they flatter with their tongue. Destroy thou them, O God; let them fall by their own counsels; cast them out in the multitude of their transgressions; for they have rebelled against thee.

  “‘But let all those that put their trust in thee rejoice: let them ever shout for joy, because thou defendest them: let them also that love thy name be joyful in thee. For thou, LORD, wilt bless the righteous; with favour wilt thou compass him as with a shield.’”

  Immediately following the worship service, the room transitioned into a flurry of activity with every man, woman, and child working feverishly to transform it into a dining area. The men lifted the wooden benches and placed the legs into the trestles that converted them into tables at which the membership would sit for dinner and fellowship. The women hurried into the kitchen to finish dishing the food into serving bowls. The young boys gathered the Ausbund books and placed them neatly into the crates that would house them until the next worship service in two weeks’ time. Meanwhile, the young girls hurried to cover the newly formed tables with white cloths and set out the utensils and plates for each member of the church. The only ones who were excused from working were the elderly.

  Fitting into that category, despite not feeling elderly, Grace stood with her friends near the back wall, watching the commotion with a smile on her lips. It felt like years since she had been one of those young maidens, hurrying to prepare the tables for the fellowship meal. After she had married Menno, she would often help with the food preparation until she had her first boppli and needed to tend to her needs. When her kinner were older, she was in charge of washing dishes and overseeing the other women. Now, however, she was considered “elderly,” and that meant she didn’t have to help as much with Sunday services.

  “Now, Grace,” a voice said from behind her. “You’ve been hiding in your haus!”

  Turning, she smiled when she recognized her neighbor Hannah Esh.

  “You know how I feel about the cold and rain, Hannah,” Grace replied lightly, pausing as two other women joined them: Hannah’s sisters-in-law Mary Esh and Lizzie Yoder, the bishop’s wife. She greeted them with a warm smile too. “It’s just been too miserable to go walking in the afternoons.”

  Stephen and Mary Esh lived just a few houses down from hers. Like many of the elderly farmers, they had also retired into smaller Englische homes, choosing a home close to Stephen’s brother and Hannah’s husband, James. With Mary, Hannah, and Lizzie being related to each other through marriage, holidays and birthdays tended to include all three of their families. Often they invited Grace to join them, but most of the time, Grace refused, for she was afraid of feeling like an outsider at their family gatherings.

  “Has Linda or Ivan stopped in this past week, then?” Mary asked.

  Grace shook her head. “Nee.” If she felt a moment of resentment that her two children did not visit, she quickly shoved it away into the dark recesses of her mind. They had lives of their own, and who was she to place one more burden on them by insisting they visit her?

  An awkward moment of silence followed her response. No one ever asked about Susan, who had left the faith, and of course, no one ever mentioned Grace’s son James. It was almost as if they had never existed. But Grace knew that the Amish grapevine, that powerful line of gossip connecting the different families, commented about the fact that her other two children didn’t visit her more often, especially with Menno’s recent passing. The silence became uncomfortable, as if no one knew how to respond.

  Finally, Lizzie clucked her tongue and shook her head, breaking the silence. “Such a shame Linda lives so far away.”

  The other women nodded, mumbling about children being forced to move their families farther away and start new communities. Still, everyone knew that thirty miles was not that far; Linda could always hire a driver to visit her mother. And no one wanted to comment that Ivan lived only two towns away from Grace’s home. It wasn’t like the Amish to speculate about the reasons for a splintered family, at least not in the presence of the family. The grapevine was about facts and information, not judgment. In this particular case, Grace knew that most people guessed the reason anyway. She wasn’t about to correct them. What was done was done, and there was no sense in rehashing the past.

  “And all is vell with your family, then?” Grace asked, expertly changing the subject by steering it onto something more pleasant. After all, everyone knew that Lizzie Yoder loved to talk about her children and grandchildren. As the wife of the bishop, Lizzie had many opportunities to do so. Whenever a member of the g’may sought out the bishop for advice, Lizzie was always nearby to visit afterward. Even better, the bishop and his wife were often invited to visit at different houses in the district right after the worship service. The endless (and almost always one-way) discussion about the Yoders’ family filled a lot of empty air at the supper table on those Sundays.

  “Oh, my!” Lizzie laughed cheerfully, her cherubic cheeks glowing with maternal pride. “My grossdochder, Catharine, has been enjoying herself so much teaching this year!”

  Grace smiled, not surprised that Lizzie mentioned her granddaughter. But in this particular case, she didn’t mind, for Catharine was a fine young woman. “Oh ja! I heard that she was the new teacher.”

  The news of sixteen-year-old Catharine Yoder’s appointment as the teacher of the small one-room schoolhouse on Peach Road, just two and a half miles from Grace’s small home, had been announced long ago. However, with the upcoming autumn baptisms, communion, and then the wedding season, there had been much more news to discuss than a new schoolteacher’s appointment. After all, Catharine was held in high regard in the community, her pleasant demeanor and her faith in God well known to all, so her appointment by the Amish school board hadn’t been surprising.

  “She’s doing well, I presume?” Grace asked, truly interested.

  Lizzie smiled, her rosy cheeks glowing. “The school board sure thinks so. And she has the students working on something extra special for the Christmas pageant this year.”

  Mary nodded. “I heard about this from my Jacob’s youngest daughter. They’re all being quite secretive about it.”

  Both Lizzie and Hannah appeared amused. “They sure do love that Christmas pageant. Wasn’t it last year that the students gave homemade candies to all the families? And they sang that song in High German! Quite impressive!” Hannah said.

  “Why, I’m sure that whatever Catharine has planned,” Lizzie interjected, “will be just as impressive!” Her pride in her granddaughter did not go unnoticed, but the three other women were too polite to say such a thing. She was, after all, the bishop’s wife. And Catharine was more creative and energetic than the previous teacher, so Lizzie’s prediction was likely to come true anyway, regardless of the boast.
r />   “It sure will be nice to see what she does with the Christmas pageant this year,” Grace said to break the silence. “Always been my favorite gathering of the season.”

  She wanted to add that Menno always enjoyed it too, but there was no point in dwelling on his passing. He was with the heavenly Father now, and there should be no sorrow surrounding that change of circumstance. Why, to be overly dramatic by mourning his passing would be downright selfish! And Grace had no time for engaging in a pity party, even if her heart ached a little each morning and night when the house was so quiet and still. But the thought of Menno reminded her of a memory, a recent memory.

  “You know,” Grace said, glancing out the window as a horse and buggy passed by, “I seem to remember your Catharine came visiting my Menno just a few days before his passing.”

  Lizzie seemed startled by this news. “She did?”

  A smile broke onto Grace’s face. “Ja, indeed.” She turned to face Hannah. “In fact, I was with you at the Smart Shopper. When we returned, I found Catharine sitting next to Menno on the sofa. She told me she had come to see you, Hannah, and stopped to visit with Menno while she waited for our return.”

  “Oh, my!”

  Grace could tell from the expression on Hannah’s face that she too, felt pride in her great-niece’s kindness, but, unlike Lizzie, she wouldn’t be comfortable voicing it, especially with other women gathered. A thoughtful gesture like visiting with an elderly man—an ailing elderly man—while waiting to meet her great-aunt was just one of those things that made Catharine such a special role model for the children under her care.

  “So much to do between now and Christmas,” Mary said, tactfully changing the subject. “You will be coming to the quilting bee, Grace, ja? I’m hosting it for the Millers, you know.”

  “And my Daniel’s wedding the Thursday after baptism Sunday,” added Esther Wagler, who had joined their small group. “It’s to be held at his Beth Ann’s family haus, of course.”