Rum Spring (15 page)

Sarah began to cry.

Rebecca watched as her father’s face colored with emotion. Sadness. Fear. Disappointment. All three seemed to play across his features at the same time. He cleared his throat and shoved the piece of paper into the pocket of his work shirt. Then he shook Mr. Mahoney’s hand and tipped his hat to Mrs. Mahoney. “Thank you for coming all this way. If you will excuse me, I must gather the council.”

“Can’t it wait?” Mrs. Mahoney asked as she tried to soothe a disgruntled Isaiah. He looked as if he had just woken from a nap or needed to take one.

“It cannot. We have waited long enough. Come, Amos.”

After their father and Uncle Amos walked away, Sarah’s quiet sobs turned into wails. Isaiah soon joined her. Rebecca flinched when their keening grew louder.

Mrs. Mahoney placed Isaiah in Sarah’s arms, giving mother and son a chance to comfort one another. Each held on to the other for dear life.

Rebecca looked at Dylan. She wanted to run to her and cling to her the way Sarah was grasping Isaiah, but she knew she could not. If she did, she would surely give herself away. To keep her secrets safe, they would have to maintain their distance. But for how long? How long would she be able to go without seeing Dylan? Without touching her. Kissing her. Holding her hand. A week? A month? Forever? Rebecca didn’t think she’d be able to last a day. Never had she needed someone so much. And she saw the same longing she felt reflected in Dylan’s face.

“If things don’t go well for you with the council, Sarah,” Mrs. Mahoney said, “Tom and I may have a solution. You and Isaiah can stay with us for as long as you like.”

Sarah looked up, her eyes flooded with tears. “Thank you, Mrs. Mahoney, but I would not be able to bear the shame. To have everyone look at me and know— To have everyone look at him and say—” She shook her head fiercely. “I would not be able to stay here, but I could not take him with me. I don’t have the money.” She began to cry even harder.

Rebecca’s heart broke a little more with each tear that fell from Sarah’s and Isaiah’s eyes.

Sarah pulled Isaiah’s arms from around her neck and returned the squalling child to Mrs. Mahoney. “Keep him. Care for him as you would your own. He is your own. I will visit as often as I can. And when he is old enough, he can decide for himself if he would rather live in your world or mine.”

Sarah turned and walked into the house, her mother close behind. Their departure left Rebecca alone with the Mahoneys. She didn’t know what to say to them. She was too stunned to think, let alone speak. How could Sarah turn her back on her own flesh and blood? Was her pride so great that she would rather sacrifice her relationship with her son in order to save face? If Sarah left, the whispers about her would not stop. She simply would be too far away to hear them. But what about Isaiah? If he were left behind, he would hear everything that was said. About his mother and himself.

“Rebecca—” Dylan began.

Rebecca couldn’t bear to hear what Dylan had to say. Words of comfort—no matter how heartfelt—were the last things she wanted or needed. She brushed past Dylan, hurried down the steps, and began to run.

She ran to escape the pain. She ran to escape the past. She ran to escape the future. She ran until she could run no more. Then she sank to her knees and cried.

Dylan started after Rebecca but her father grabbed her by the arm. “Not now, honey.”

“I have to talk to her. I have to make sure she’s okay.”

“I’m sure she’s just as confused as you are. More even. Give her the time she needs to figure things out. She needs some space right now. Don’t crowd her.”

“But, Dad, I have to make her understand.”

“Understand what? Whatever happened—whatever’s going to happen is beyond our control. And hers.”

Dylan looked off into the distance, hoping she would see Rebecca heading back. She felt torn in two. Where did her loyalties lie? With her brother? With Rebecca? Whose side was she supposed to take?

If none of this is my fault, why do I feel so guilty?

Chapter Nine

The council gathered on Friday. They met for less than an hour. They said they considered the case from all angles, but how could they have done that in such a brief amount of time? The punishment was swift and harsh. Too harsh, Rebecca thought as she waited for her father to inform the congregation during Sunday services. But with no written rules or covenants, each congregation was able to pass its own judgments in order to discipline wayward members.

Rebecca lowered her eyes as she listened to her father pronounce the sentences. His deep voice was steady and emotionless. It seemed as if he had never met the people involved, let alone fathered one of them.

A few days before, Rebecca was happier than she had ever been. The plans she and Dylan had made had started to come true, and they had finally been able to express their love physically. Now her life was shattered and she had no idea how to make the pieces fit.

“In Exodus 20:4, we find these words,” her father said. “‘Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth.’ By possessing a photograph, Marian Schlabach has broken the Ordnung against such things. Because the offense occurred before she became a church member, she cannot be punished for this transgression, but she has been counseled that future incidents will not be so easily dismissed.

“Let me remind you photographs are evidence of pride. They tempt people to look at a likeness of themselves with self-admiration. Pictures represent the outward appearance, which is temporary. By paying too much attention to the passing, you risk losing sight of the eternal. Despite her methods, Marian is to be commended for helping to bring the truth to light. She was baptized this morning and is a welcome member of this congregation.”

Rebecca flinched involuntarily. She didn’t consider herself a vengeful person, but she didn’t believe Marian should be able to destroy people’s lives and get away scot-free. The last thing she would ever do was congratulate Marian for it, no matter what Papa said.

She thought Marian should feel more like a pariah than a hero. Because of her, there was a division in the church. A schism that wouldn’t have existed if she had remained loyal to someone who was supposed to be her friend. Talk had already begun that her father should step down as Volliger Diener and make way for Micah King. If he couldn’t control his own children, the naysayers said, how could he lead the congregation? And weren’t his frequent Bible quotations evidence of pride?

If it came to a vote, Mr. King could probably ride a wave of sympathy into an office he had never professed a desire to inhabit.

Her father had devoted his life to the church. He and Uncle Amos both. When they were ordained, it was supposed to be for life. Why should they be made to pay for something that wasn’t their fault? The blame, if there was blame to be cast, was Sarah’s. And she was being forced to pay the price.

“First Corinthians 5:11 advises us this.”

The moment had arrived. The other congregants leaned forward in their seats. Rebecca continued to examine the floor. She hated this part of Sunday services. Her father was about to perform a duty she had witnessed only a few times in her life. Knowing what was coming didn’t make it any easier to hear.

“We are not to keep company or share a table with anyone determined to be a fornicator, an idolater, a railer, a drunkard, or an extortioner. Romans 16:17 says this: ‘Now I beseech you, brethren, mark them which cause divisions and offenses contrary to the doctrine with ye have learned; and avoid them.’”

Rebecca looked up when she heard her father pause. Part of her expected him to break down. He had to at some point, didn’t he? He was only human, after all. Sarah was his firstborn and Isaiah, even if an Englishman was his father, was still his grandson. Nothing could change that.

He closed his Bible and continued his sermon as if he were dictating a grocery list instead of sealing someone’s fate.

“Sarah King has broken the Ordnung against consorting with the English. This union has produced a child whose paternity prevents him from becoming a member of this congregation. Sarah King lied to hide her actions, which goes against the Ordnung about concealing the truth. For these transgressions, Sarah King has been excommunicated. If she chooses to join another congregation, she must be shunned for a period of one year before being allowed to become a member in good standing. Her son Moses King will remain with his father Joshua King. For the time being, the child presently known as Isaiah will join his father’s family and will be raised by them according to their traditions. If Sarah decides against joining another congregation, she will be free to seek custody of Isaiah King if she so desires.”

He paused again, then surged forward as if he were anxious to get the unpleasant chore over with.

“A marriage built on a foundation of lies cannot thrive. Because of this, though it is not our way, a divorce has been requested by and granted to Joshua King. He is free to take another wife at the time of his choosing.”

Hearing the murmurs spread through the room as the words of condemnation spilled from her father’s lips, Rebecca tried not to cry. She wanted to run to her room and bury her head under the covers, but she forced herself to remain in her seat. She had to set an example. She had to be above reproach in order to make up for Sarah’s fall from grace. To make up for her own.

Making love with Dylan had felt so right at the time. After everything that had happened, it felt just as wrong. She felt such guilt for what she and Dylan had done. God seemed to be punishing her by hurting Sarah. Could that be? Had her actions helped to drive Sarah away?

Sarah had looked so scared when she had boarded the bus to Oregon that morning. She was about to venture into the world alone. The Mahoneys had offered to bring Isaiah to see her off, but Sarah had turned them down. “I don’t want to subject him to the trauma of another parting. He has been through enough already.”

When the time had come for her to say good-bye to the rest of her family, Sarah’s brave exterior had crumbled.

“Don’t forget about me,” she had begged, knowing that none present could respond to her entreaty. If she had been shunned, they would simply have been forbidden to share a meal with her. But she had been excommunicated, a punishment normally reserved for only the most unrepentant sinners. Anyone who saw Sarah knew she was mightily sorry for what she had done. But the council’s decision was irreversible. Now none of the members of the congregation, her family included, were allowed to have anything to do with her unless she was reinstated by another church. Until then, church members were forbidden to communicate with Sarah in any way. Rebecca was not part of that group, but she was encouraged to follow the edict nevertheless.

She had used most of her savings to buy the ticket that would help Sarah begin her new life. Some of their cousins on their mother’s side of the family had agreed to take Sarah in. Followers of the less strict Mennonite faith, they had been the only ones willing to give her a second chance. They didn’t believe in shunning and did not practice it themselves but, understanding the seriousness of Sarah’s offenses, they had agreed to mete out the punishment at her father’s request. Abraham was a logger who lived just outside Eugene. His wife Barbie ran a small school in the same town. Sarah had seen them so few times that they were practically strangers, but she’d had no choice but to accept their offer. She had nowhere else to go.

In less than a week, Rebecca had lost her sister and both her nephews. She had also lost the ability to come and go as she pleased. After Marian was persuaded to end her rumspringa and return to her parents’ home, no one else had volunteered to move into her half of the apartment. Rebecca felt as if she had been shunned along with Sarah. Most of the people she thought were her friends now seemed to want nothing to do with her. She often caught them staring at her out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned to face them—to confront them head-on—they would hurriedly look the other way.

With her savings depleted, Rebecca would not be able to remain in the apartment. Instead of moving back into her parents’ home, however, she decided to move in with Uncle Amos.

“You and Mama can lean on each other to help you through this,” she had told her father when she explained her decision. “Uncle Amos is hurting just as much as the rest of us, but he has no one to share his sorrow.”

“That was a choice he made many years ago,” her father had replied, his thin lips pressed into a firm line. “The burden he now bears is his own. It is not yours to share.”

Her mother had placed a hand on his arm, seeking to blunt his simmering anger. “Let her be,” she had urged in a rare display of resistance to her husband’s wishes. “There is no harm in it.”

Rebecca felt a hand grip her own. Esther’s hand. She wished the hand belonged to Dylan. She had not spent time with Dylan since the day of the barn raising. Rebecca needed to see her. To talk to her. To tell her—What, exactly? If she continued to see Dylan, she would suffer the same fate as Sarah. Wasn’t she already guilty of some of the same crimes?

Esther put her arm around Rebecca’s shoulders. “Tobias and I are here for you. I will be the sister you have lost. He will give you the strength you need. Together, we will see you through this ordeal.”

Rebecca could not stop the tears that coursed down her cheeks. She knew what she must do. She had to let Dylan go before Dylan’s hold on her heart became impossible to break. But she would not need Tobias to give her strength. She would need to find it within herself.

Chapter Ten

The bell over the front door tinkled. Both Rebecca and her boss were busy. Rebecca was frosting an Italian cream cake and Jessica Dunham was up to her elbows decorating a SpongeBob SquarePants–themed birthday cake for an order that was due to be picked up in half an hour.

“Will you take care of whoever that is?” Mrs. Dunham asked. “If I stop now, I’ll never get this design right.”