“I spent a lot of time at Britny Engle’s house while Mamm lay in bed. Britny is Englisch. I first considered leaving the community because I loved television. It helped me to forget how bad things were at home.” Laura leaned back on her hands. “I don’t mean to offend you when I say this, but when Mamm died, I realized how isolated and insignificant her life had been. That’s what made her so unhappy in the first place. I didn’t want to end up like that.”
“But most Amish are very happy.”
“I know,” Laura said. “I’ve seen the studies. Happier than the general population. But I’m not happy in this way of life. And I knew five years ago that I wouldn’t be.”
“Was your mamm…was she unhappy with your dat?”
“Nae. Dat is easy to get along with. He is perfectly content with himself and everybody else. He couldn’t understand what was happening to Mamm, so he pretended nothing was wrong. Seth begged him more than once to get Mamm some help. Dat simply did not know what to do. The uncertainty paralyzed him.”
“It must have been terrible to lose your mother.”
Laura’s eyes grew moist. “It made everything worse. To know that she wanted to leave us—that was the deepest cut of all.” She looked away. “It took me a long time to forgive her for that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Seth disappeared for three days after she died and then didn’t say a word, not a word, to anyone for a month. He spent hours at the stable brushing the horses.”
“I don’t know what I would do without my mother.”
Laura gazed at Miriam. “Everyone treated us like lepers because of how she died.”
“Maybe they didn’t know what to say.”
“To be sure. Most people meant no harm,” Laura said. “But some still hold it against us. The looks and whispers behind the hands still sting, but we’ve endured worse, so we try to pay no never mind.”
Miriam felt her face get hot.
“I’m done with this one,” Priscilla said.
Miriam slid off the bed to the sewing machine, to examine Priscilla’s latest attempt. “Better. Here, let me show you. Put your hands flat like this and guide the fabric along this line. As slow as you can go. Try one more time while I unpick.”
“Believe me,” Laura whispered, “it would be worse if I were trying to work that machine.”
“You should try it,” Miriam said.
“I’d be useless.”
“What about a quilt for your room at college? We could whip something up using your mamm’s fabric.”
The shadow of a grin played at Laura’s lips. “You’d be unpicking for days.”
“It would be fun.”
Laura’s face bloomed into a full smile. “It would be nice to have something of my mamm’s at college. But I would need a lot of help.”
“Please, let me help. Quilting is my favorite thing to do.”
The machine fell silent. “Miriam,” said Priscilla, “I’m done. Is this good?”
Miriam went back to the sewing machine and examined Priscilla’s quilt blocks. Not a perfectly straight line, but definitely good enough.
“Jah, jah, wonderful-gute, Priscilla. Here is the next one.”
Priscilla sewed with determination while Laura ironed and Miriam unpicked seams. They soon had a beautiful square made up of nine smaller squares. And if all the corners didn’t match up exactly right, only Miriam noticed.
Miriam cut a piece of batting to fit the square and then chose a matching purple for the back. She showed Priscilla and Laura how to baste the top, the batting, and the bottom together, and then she stretched the small quilt into an embroidery hoop.
“Let me show you how to do the stitches,” Miriam said. She threaded a needle with quilter’s thread, showed Priscilla how to secure a knot, and made a stitch. “Go down and up, like this.” She moved slowly, making sure Priscilla saw how she worked the needle to make tiny stitches, and then handed the hoop and quilt to Priscilla. “You try.”
Priscilla concentrated with all the energy of a six-year-old while she tried to copy Miriam’s technique.
When Miriam was satisfied that Scilla could do it on her own, she said, “You can work on your quilt any time of the day. Then I will come back and show you how to bind it.”
“When will it be done?” asked Priscilla, her eyes glued to the work of her hands.
“As quickly as you can stitch it.”
Holding firmly to the embroidery hoop, Priscilla jumped up and down. “I will go fast.”
Miriam gathered her supplies in her sewing basket. “Laura, decide what kind of quilt you want to make, and when I come back to help Priscilla with her binding, we can get started on yours.”
“I will.”
Miriam took hold of Laura’s arm. “Just so you know, I am not uneasy around you anymore.”
“And I’m not scared of you. But”—the corners of Laura’s mouth twitched upward—“I think Seth is.”
Before suppertime, Miriam finished cutting the fabric for Ephraim’s Nine-Patch quilt. She stacked the three colors and neatly folded the scraps in her basket. Ephraim had better taste in colors than Miriam thought. The tan fabric he’d chosen grounded the bright red and yellow and would give the quilt a charming country look. Aunt Emma had recently taught her a new way to sew a Nine-Patch together, and Miriam looked forward to using it on Ephraim’s engagement quilt.
She arched her back and looked out the window. Susie was hanging the last of the day’s laundry on the line.
Miriam walked outside to help and put her arm around her sister. “Three more weeks, and you won’t have to do so much laundry.”
Susie didn’t even look at Miriam as she bent over and retrieved another pair of trousers from the basket. “They don’t have any children. I’ll be all alone with them in their big house.”
“But you can meet people at gmay and gatherings. You will have double the friends by the time you leave.”
“Oh, jah, surely they will want to befriend the unwed pregnant girl who plans to give up her baby.”
There was no mistaking the bitterness in her voice. Susie was understandably frightened, but why did she have to be so ungrateful? Miriam had bent over backward to make this work out for them.
“I just wanted someone to love me, Miriam. Is that so wicked?”
Miriam tried to ignore the stab of indignation that Susie’s declaration gave her. What Susie had done was wrong because she sought for love outside of the arms of Jesus. “You are loved.”
“I am ignored.”
Miriam pulled a dress out of the basket. “Here, I will help you.”
Susie didn’t reply, but a tear slipped down her cheek. Miriam’s irritation won out, and she couldn’t muster any sympathy for her sister just now. She’d gotten herself into this mess. Miriam was trying to help her out of it.
They worked alongside each other in silence, fastening the clothes to the line and then sliding the rope so the laundry rose higher and higher into the air. With not even a hint of a breeze, the clothes hung limply on the line, waiting for the sun to dry them.
Miriam heard the crackle of tires on gravel and turned as a police car slowly made its way up the driveway. She held her breath. There was almost nothing more frightening than the sight of a police car. It could only mean that something terrible had happened to someone they loved.
Miriam dropped the wet apron in her hand and sprinted for the house. Could Aunt Erla have taken a turn for the worse? Or had there been a buggy accident with one of the neighbors? Miriam’s heart raced with the possibilities. “Mamm, Dat, come outside quick.”
Mamm was coating chicken to fry for supper. Concern bloomed on her face when she looked at Miriam. “Is there an accident?”
“Where’s Dat?”
“In the barn.”
“Come outside.”
Miriam bolted out the back door and found her dat pitching hay. “There’s a police car come up the lane.”
Dat frowned, stabbed his pitchfork into a bale of hay, and followed Miriam.
The policeman turned off his engine and got out of his car just as Dat and Miriam reached it. Mamm emerged from the house wiping her hands on a dish towel.
“I’m looking for Mr. John Bontrager,” said the policeman.
Dat removed his hat. “I am John Bontrager.”
By this time, Susie and the three little boys had gathered near the police car with eyes wide, as they stared at the shiny badge and gun holstered at the officer’s side. Miriam had never seen anyone quite so intimidating.
“Your son Yost has been arrested and is being held at the Sun Pines Juvenile Detention Center.”
Miriam’s stomach lurched as if she were falling down a flight of stairs.
There must be some mistake.
Mamm put a hand to her throat. “Arrested? Why?”
“I do not understand,” Dat said.
The officer kept any emotion from his voice. “We caught him selling drugs in the city park.”
* * * * *
Miriam swept the floor for the third time that day. She didn’t have the heart to do anything useful while she waited for Mamm and Dat to come home. They had been gone since eight o’clock that morning, and it now was long past suppertime. Miriam and Susie had fed the three little boys and told them to go play. Instead of bolting outside at the first opportunity, they moped around the great room as they kept their eyes on the front window for any sign of Mamm, Dat, or Yost.
Susie knelt in the corner, scrubbing the seams in the wood floor with an old toothbrush. She sniffed periodically as she swished the toothbrush back and forth.
Miriam let out a sigh and put her hand on her hip. “You don’t have to do that, Suz.”
Susie turned her head and looked at Miriam out of the corners of her eye. “I want it to be as clean as the day we got it.”
“It will never be that clean again.”
Susie stubbornly stuck to her futile task. In another hour, she’d have three or four square inches of floor sparkling clean.
More than anything, Miriam wanted to believe the entire affair as some sort of misunderstanding. The policeman had told Mamm and Dat that they weren’t allowed to see Yost until this morning, when they could meet with a caseworker to evaluate Yost’s situation. Miriam had prayed more than once today that they would bring Yost home with them. What if he had to stay in detention? The thought sent panic surging through Miriam’s veins. Lord willing, Yost would be allowed to come home.
Isaac and Raymond, standing at the front window, both yelled at the same time. “They’re here. They are back.”
Miriam bolted out the door with her little brothers and stood at the front gate while a white car ambled up the driveway. Yost, looking as pale as a sheet, slid out of the backseat, followed by Mamm and Dat. He kept his eyes to the ground as Dat paid the driver then shuffled to the house while his family followed close behind. Six-year-old Raymond tried to grab Yost’s hand, but Yost pulled away and quickened his pace to the door.
As they entered the great room, Yost turned to the stairs to ascend to the safety of his room.
“Nae, nae, Yost John,” Dat said, pointing to the sofa. “You will sit here, and we will talk.”
Yost slouched his shoulders and plopped himself onto the sofa. When Dat used that tone of voice, no one dared disobey him.
Miriam grabbed Raymond’s hand and pushed Callie and Isaac toward the kitchen.
“Let them stay, Miriam. They will want to hear what I have to say in case they think of being so foolish in the future.”
Miriam hesitated, but Dat motioned for the little boys to sit on the floor next to Mamm in the rocker. Miriam backed away to the wall, unwilling to bring herself any closer to the conflict between father and son. She wanted to run to the far pasture.
Dat wasted no time. His first words were loud and harsh. “Shame on you. What were you thinking?”
“Dat, I’m sorry—”
“The answer is, you weren’t thinking!” Dat yelled, not caring what Yost had to say for himself. He scowled and pinned Yost with a look that could have frozen the sun. “Do you know the evil you have brought into the world with your actions? How many people have taken that poison into their bodies because of you? How many children are addicted because of you?”
Miriam had never seen her fater so angry. In truth, she had never seen him lose his temper in her entire life. His usual calm, loving manner had completely disappeared.
Dat paced up and down the room and yelled even louder. “People die every day because of drugs. There are evil men who kill people for drugs. They
kill
people. You have blood on your hands!”
Yost buried his face in his hands. “I didn’t mean—”
“Look at me,” Dat said. “Look me in the eyes so I know that you understand what you have done.”
By this time, Susie had tiptoed into the room. She stood beside Miriam with her eyes wide and her fingers clamped around Miriam’s wrist. All three little boys were now crying. Isaac dug his fists into his eyes. Raymond clamped his hands over his ears to shut out the yelling. Mamm held on to the arms of the rocker as if by sheer will she could make Dat stop.
Yost glared at Dat through his tears. “I wanted to buy a car,” he said, his voice barely audible.
Dat’s face turned red. “Our family is shamed because you wanted to buy a car? Our community is shamed because you wanted to buy a car? You greedy, selfish boy. I raised you better.”
Yost sprang to his feet and stood toe-to-toe with Dat. “If you had loaned me the money to buy a car, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Dat lowered his voice to a growl. “You are responsible for your own actions. Until you learn that, you will continue to wallow in wickedness. Shame on you. Go to your room and think upon your sins instead of who you can blame for them.”
Yost didn’t have to be excused twice. He turned his back on Dat, stomped up the stairs, and slammed the door to his room so hard that it rattled the rafters.
Mamm, with tears trailing down her cheeks, gathered the three little boys in her arms and hugged them tightly.
“Does he have to go to jail?” Miriam said.
A soft knock at the door sent Mamm and Susie and the boys fleeing for the safety of the kitchen. “I don’t want to see anybody,” Mamm said. “Just make them go away.”
Dat opened the door. Bishop Schwartz stood on the doorstep holding a small book in his hand. “How is Yost?”
“You heard?” Dat said.
“Martha Kae saw the commotion at the park, and then the Bielers came to the house last night.”
“Jah,” Dat said, “they were at the detention center this morning with Joe. He and Yost were selling drugs together.”
Joe Bieler—the one Yost envied because he had a car.
The bishop nodded, a mixture of sympathy and resignation on his face. This was not news to him. “Is Yost still at the jail?”
“Nae, he has been released to us,” Dat said. “The judge says he must be under house arrest for three weeks and then, if he behaves, probation for six months and a fine.”
Miriam felt a tiny bit better. At least Yost would not be locked up like an animal. She couldn’t bear the thought.
“Would you like me to talk to him?” the bishop asked.
Dat glanced at Miriam. “I think another day would be better.”
Bishop Schwartz laid a hand on Dat’s shoulder. “Of course. I am sure it has been a bad day for all of you. I brought him a prayer book he might find comforting.”
Dat took the small book and handed it to Miriam. “Take this to your brother, would you?”
“What can we do to help?” Miriam heard the bishop say as she numbly dragged herself up the stairs to Yost’s room.
What can we do to help?
Miriam felt dizzy. Martha Kae had seen the arrest and the bishop had already visited with the Bielers. No doubt the news had spread to every Amish home in the community. There would be no hiding this latest family tragedy from Ephraim.
Holding back a flood of tears, Miriam knocked on Yost’s door and entered without waiting to be invited. Yost paced back and forth in the small room he shared with Raymond like a caged animal. “What do you want?” he snapped.
“The bishop brought this for you.” She held out the book to him, but he didn’t take it.
Instead, he threw up his hands. “The bishop? Why did he come?” He turned his back on her, raised his fist, and pounded the wall.
Miriam set the book on his bed and ignored what felt like a gaping hole in her chest. “Are you okay?”
“Would you be okay after getting arrested and then having Dat yell at you like that?”
“He is very angry.”
“I didn’t mean no harm to anyone. I want a car, a little freedom. Is that too much to ask? But Dat doesn’t care how I feel. All he cares about is the shame I brought to the family.”
“You got arrested by the police, Yost. What do you expect from us?”
Yost growled in frustration, sat on the bed, and clenched his fists. “I feel like I’m going to explode, like if I sit still I will break into a million pieces. I hate it.” He dug his hands into his thighs. “I want to be left alone. Can’t people see I want them to leave me alone?”
He looked so pathetic, sitting there like a naughty schoolboy who’d been severely disciplined by the teacher. Even though he acted unreasonably, Miriam felt sorry for him. She softened her tone. “Can’t you see how you brought this on yourself?”
His eyes flashed with fresh pain as he snatched the prayer book from the bed and hurled it across the room.
Miriam flinched.
“Save your sermon for someone who cares,” he said.
Scowling, Miriam put her hands on her hips. “I’ll leave you to wallow in your self-pity. I’ve heard how badly you want to be left alone.” She turned on her heels and marched down the stairs. Only when she got to the bottom did she realize how much she was shaking.
Everyone but Dat had congregated in the kitchen, hoping to find comfort in each other. Susie stirred the stew and whimpered softly. Raymond had his arms clamped securely around Mamm’s waist as she leaned motionless against the counter. Callie and Isaac set the table in silence.
Miriam took the stack of paper napkins from Callie. “Let’s fold these to look like little flowers. I will show you.”
“We are going to be all right. It will be alright, Lord willing,” Mamm said. She smoothed Raymond’s hair. “We must all pray very hard for Yost.”
“Will the police come again?” Callie asked.
“They will come to check on Yost sometimes,” Mamm said. “That is one of the rules.”
“I don’t like their guns,” Callie said.
“Does he have to go back to jail?” Raymond asked next.
Mamm shook her head slowly. “Not if he obeys all the rules.”
Raymond wiped tears from his face. “Dat must make him obey all the rules.”
Miriam concentrated on folding the flimsy paper napkins. Napkin design was so much safer than real life.
Someone else knocked at the front door. Susie pretended not to hear, and Mamm stood as if listening to a distant train whistle. Miriam found herself sharing Yost’s sentiments. Why couldn’t everybody leave them alone in their shame?
She left her napkins and dragged herself to the front room. There certainly wouldn’t be happiness on the other side of that door.