Holding a Tender Heart Read online

  The time had come. Debbie took a deep breath. “Well, Dad and Mom, the truth is that I’ve asked the Beilers if I can board with them for a while.”

  “I see,” Callie said. “And they have agreed to this?”

  “Well, no. Not yet. But I’m hoping they say yes.”

  Callie spoke slowly. “Herbert, did you hear that?”

  Her dad grunted as he looked longingly at the food in front of him.

  “I might as well go on and tell you the rest,” Debbie said. “You both know how I’ve admired the Beilers all these years, especially their way of life. And…well…I-I-I think I might like to eventually join the Amish community.” There! It was out in the open! Debbie let out another breath.

  Her mom wasn’t pleased. “So that’s what they’re after? Converts?”

  Debbie sighed. “No, it’s not that at all. I approached them. It’ll be a miracle if they even let me rent a room.”

  “But you’ve just graduated from college! Life is just beginning for you, Debbie. How can you throw it all away for…for a life of, well, blandness?” her mom asked.

  “I thought you were happy here,” Debbie’s dad said.

  “I’m sorry,” Debbie said, dropping her chin to her chest. “I don’t want to hurt you. Really, I don’t. This isn’t about you and what you’ve provided. It’s about me. You’re both great parents. I just want something different. Is that so bad?”

  Her mom thought about that. “I guess worse things happen to people than having a daughter join a monastery. I never could understand your fascination with those Beilers. It seems to me to be a very staid life. But I won’t stand in your way. Maybe a few weeks with the Beilers will open your eyes to a few things about life. I suspect you’ll come running home before summer’s out.”

  “Well, maybe I will,” Debbie acknowledged. “But I hope not…and I don’t think I will. And I’ll be right next door. It’s not like I’m moving to China or something.”

  “I suppose you’ll be putting your hair up soon? Growing it long like they do?” her mom chided.

  “I think that’s rushing things a bit,” Debbie said. “I’ve just asked them to let me board there for now. You did say it was time I got out of the nest. Tried out my wings and all that.”

  “Going Amish is not what I meant, Debbie,” her mom said. “I wanted you to grow as a young woman. I’m afraid with the Amish you’ll just wither. You won’t grow at all.”

  “You both are partially right,” Herbert said, finally getting a word in edgewise. “But in the meantime all this wonderful food is growing cold. I’m going to eat even if no one else is.”

  “Men and food,” Callie muttered good-naturedly.

  Herbert ignored the remark and said, “Shall we pray?”

  Callie huffed but bowed her head as Herbert said a short prayer.

  “Amen!” he said as he reached for the potatoes in front of him.

  “Take it easy, Herbert,” Callie told him. “The Amish aren’t quite known for their heart-healthy diet. There’s probably more cholesterol on this table than you’ve had in a month. I had a tossed salad planned for tonight.”

  “My mom used to cook meals like this when I grew up in Michigan. My dad lived to a ripe old age,” Herbert countered.

  “And you waded through ten feet of snow in stocking feet,” Callie snapped.

  Her dad didn’t respond. Instead, he turned to Debbie. “So tell me the details about your Amish venture.”

  “Don’t be encouraging the girl,” Callie said. “Remember what she’s throwing away—including all that college money we spent on her.”

  “I think Debbie ought to make up her own mind,” Herbert protested.

  Callie helped herself to the food and didn’t answer.

  Herbert shrugged. “So, Debbie, what were you going to say about this venture of yours?”

  Debbie felt joy rise in her heart. “I guess I’ve always admired their lifestyle, Dad. Like the peace they seem to radiate. In fact, I think I like most everything about them. I always have. I guess completing college and beginning the new job brought things to a head. I think it’s time I pursued my dream to see if it’s what I really want.”

  “Are you quitting your job?” her dad asked, frowning. “After I pulled strings to help you get it?”

  Debbie winced. “No, I can’t do that. I need money to pay for my room and board. I don’t want to sponge off the Beilers or you.”

  “Thank goodness the girl has that much sense,” Callie commented.

  “She’s your daughter,” Herbert said. “Of course she has sense.”

  Callie didn’t appear mollified. “Then why isn’t she acting like it?”

  “Because everyone is different.” Herbert seemed to ponder his own statement. “I think we should wish Debbie nothing but the best.”

  “Thank you,” Debbie said. “I appreciate that, Dad.”

  “What about Doug?” Callie asked.

  “I saw him Saturday night, and I told him my plans,” Debbie said.

  Her mom thought for a moment. “I’m sure he was thrilled at that news. Or is he considering donning a black hat and suspenders himself?”

  Debbie laughed as she imagined Doug in suspenders. “No, Mom.”

  “I didn’t think so. At least your taste in lifestyle isn’t contagious.”

  “You’re sure right there,” Debbie assured her. “I imagine very few people wish to join the Amish, and even fewer succeed.”

  “And may you be one who doesn’t succeed,” her mother said quietly.

  “Mom, I’m sorry you don’t approve. But if I don’t do this now, I’ll always wonder what might have been. I wish you could see how important this is to me.” Debbie thought she might break into tears if her mom didn’t ease up.

  Callie noticed her daughter’s frustration and changed the subject. “Amish food is good at least.”

  “Thanks. I didn’t have much of a hand in making it,” Debbie admitted. Perhaps the tide of this argument had turned, she thought, and they could converse on more pleasant subjects.

  Her dad, though, wasn’t finished with his questions. “Will you be staying single all your life?”

  Debbie gave him a sweet smile. “Dad, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

  “That’s what you think!” Callie said. “I do want grandchildren someday.”

  Debbie noticed a sudden softness around her mom’s eyes. “Mom, there are single men in the Amish community, you know!”

  Her dad burst out with a laugh. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time. I would say from the size of their families there must certainly be a few.”

  “Herbert, be decent!” Callie protested.

  “Just sayin’.” He reached for another slice of meat, a grin still on his face. “Who knows? We might end up with a dozen grandchildren!”

  “Dad!” Debbie said, her face turning red.

  Callie, on the other hand, turned serious. “Debbie, is this about a specific Amish man? Have you met someone? Is that what’s behind all this Amish talk? Perhaps someone who hangs around the Beiler place?”

  Debbie choked. “Mom, the Amish don’t ‘hang around’ anywhere. They work all day during the week, but I’ve never been to one of their Sunday meetings. How could I have met someone?”

  Her mom murmured, “Remember, I said grandchildren, Debbie. But not a dozen, okay?”

  “Mom! I don’t even know the man.” As soon as she said it, Debbie wanted to bite her tongue.

  “Aha! So there is a specific man!”

  “Not like you mean. There is a man I’ve admired. Can we talk about something else? This is embarrassing.”

  “Look at her, Herbert!” Callie said. “She’s blushing redder than a rose in summertime. Our girl’s in love with an Amish man.”

  “Well, you said you wanted grandchildren,” her dad responded with a smile.

  “Mom! Dad!” Debbie almost hollered. “Please! This is not funny!”

&nbs
p; “Okay, honey,” her dad said. “Callie, I think we should leave Debbie to her own decisions and choose to be happy with the results. Agreed?”

  Her mom thought for a moment before she nodded.

  Debbie was thankful Lois hadn’t stayed. If she’d heard this conversation and shared it with her parents, what would they think of her?

  Nine

  The following Saturday afternoon Bishop Beiler stood by his barn door and peered down the lane. The first warm, summer breeze blew across his face. He pushed back his hat. The sound of a buggy coming traveled toward him in the still air. It soon came into view, and the bishop sighed. That would be Deacon David Mast’s buggy from the looks of it. This could only mean one thing on a Saturday. There was church trouble afoot. Adam sighed. Likely one of the deacon’s regular visits with a family had turned out badly, and he needed a consultation before presenting whatever the matter was to the rest of the ministers tomorrow morning at the church service. Or, worse, perhaps something completely new had come up that needed urgent attention.

  The bishop sighed again. He was already weary from his thoughts all week. His head ached with the trouble Lois had caused with her desire to plunge into the Englisha world. And then Debbie from next door had come over with her wish to board at their place. Saloma had claimed Debbie was considering joining the faith, which was hard to imagine. An Englisha hadn’t become part of their Amish community in a long time.

  He should give Debbie an answer soon, and so far nothing definite had presented itself. If he said nee, he risked offense to a potential convert. If he said yah, trouble might also lie ahead. A convert always ran into rough waters when he or she attempted to live out the faith. It was hard enough to live by the Ordnung when one was born into the faith.

  And was he willing to accept the responsibility of having the young woman live in his own home? That would magnify any issues that might arise a hundredfold. But perhaps he shouldn’t be thinking about the end of the road before Debbie even began the journey. She had only asked to board at their place. She had always been very respectful of their ways and beliefs. Debbie might be the answer to his problem with Lois. He had to consider that possibility too.

  He walked toward the hitching post as the horse and buggy turned in the driveway. He met Deacon Mast as he climbed out of the buggy. “Gut afternoon.”

  “Yah, I suppose so,” the deacon grunted.

  A smile flitted across Bishop Beiler’s face. This wasn’t funny, and he’d sighed himself not moments ago. But he couldn’t help but smile at the look on the deacon’s face. Perhaps shared misery indeed reduced sorrow. “Is it that bad?” he asked.

  “Enough that I thought you should know about it. You might even wish to make a visit yourself this afternoon.”

  Another sigh was ready to escape his lips, but Bishop Beiler thought better of letting it out. Church work must go on, and he must bear it with fortitude. Especially in front of a deacon who appeared weary himself. Sometimes church work was too much for any man to carry with joy.

  The deacon glanced down before looking at the bishop. “It’s Henry Yoder again. He bought himself a brand-new hay cutter. And he was seen running it in his field last week using his Englisha neighbor’s tractor.”

  “Not again!” Bishop Beiler groaned.

  “Yah, I’m afraid so. And he had the same story as before. Claims he borrowed it only for a few rounds. When I mentioned that he’d used the tractor almost half a day, he didn’t deny it. Seems every time he buys a new piece of machinery this comes up.”

  “There’s no rule against new machinery,” Bishop Beiler mused. “But maybe there ought to be in Henry’s case.”

  “Yah, I have thought of that.” The deacon nodded his head with vigor. “But how would such a thing be handled?”

  “That can’t be done, of course,” Bishop Beiler said. “We can’t make a special rule for one man. And Henry knows that.”

  Deacon Mast looked away. “There’s more to it, Bishop. Henry refuses to repent this time. He wants our understanding for this habit of his. He wants an exemption.”

  “We can do no such thing! If we did soon the entire community would want exemptions from the Ordnung!”

  “That’s what I told him, but Henry’s not budging. Said he wants to speak with you himself. He claims your family isn’t living right either.”

  “This cannot be!” Surprise covered Bishop Beiler’s face. “I do not play favorites, David. If my family is in sin, then I wish to be told.”

  “I told him that,” Deacon Mast said at once. “But don’t let him get to you, Adam. Henry’s trying to stir the hornet’s nest. Get a few loose bees flying around so we leave him alone.”

  Bishop Beiler stared across the open fields. “Everyone knows the problem I have with Lois. I’m not hiding a thing there. And with the other children, I believe they’re innocent of any wrongdoing.”

  The deacon regarded him for a moment. “Have you forgotten about Joe Weaver, Adam? He’s dating your Verna, isn’t he?”

  Bishop Beiler ran his hand across his face. “Yah. But Rosy dumped Joe. I don’t like Joe coming around, but that’s not an Ordnung matter the last time I checked.”

  Deacon Mast chuckled but said nothing.

  “So what is Henry accusing my family of?”

  “He wouldn’t say, Adam. That’s why I think you should go speak with him.”

  Adam pulled back a step. “You think I’m hiding something?”

  Deacon Mast shook his head. “Nee, but someone else might be. And there’s no way to find out but by hearing the man out. Better done on a Saturday afternoon, I think, then have him announce the supposed transgression at a members’ meeting some Sunday morning.”

  “Yah, you’re right there,” the bishop allowed. This was all he needed—some violation by one of his children of which he was unaware. There were few ways a leader could lose the people’s confidence faster—a bishop who couldn’t see the sins of his own children.

  “Perhaps it’s a small thing,” Deacon Mast ventured. “Something unworthy of mention once it sees the light of day.”

  Bishop Beiler shook his head. “Henry knows better than to make a fuss over nothing.”

  “Then you will see to it? Before tomorrow morning, I would hope?”

  Bishop Beiler sighed again. “It’s not like I had plenty of idle time this afternoon.”

  “Da Hah’s vineyard sure grows weeds quickly, does it not?” Deacon Mast said as he climbed back into his buggy. He didn’t wait for an answer, but jiggled the reins. His horse moved forward and plodded out the lane.

  Truer words couldn’t be spoken, Bishop Beiler thought, as he watched the buggy drive down the road. Now he had something else he needed to look into on top of all the other decisions already on his mind. Well, he shouldn’t complain, he supposed. Da Hah always gave grace for every trial. Somewhere, sometime the light of God would shine on this one.

  Bishop Beiler headed for the house, and entered the washroom. After washing up, he found Saloma hard at work in the kitchen.

  She glanced up at him. “That was Deacon Mast,” she commented as she searched his face. “Was it very troubling…the news the deacon brought?”

  He didn’t answer her. Instead, he asked, “Are any of our children misbehaving? Besides Lois’s focus on the Englisha, I mean.”

  “Not that I know of, Adam. You know they try hard to follow the Ordnung and honor your position as bishop.”

  “What could it be then?” he asked as he stroked his beard.

  She touched his arm. “What news did Deacon Mast bring you?”

  “That there has been mention of something amiss in our family. I wish I knew what it was specifically, Saloma. That’s what I must find out.” He thought for a moment. “It must be Verna’s dating that Joe Weaver. Yah, I knew I never should have allowed that.”

  “You’re not talking sense, Adam,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  He didn’t answer as he turned, looking back lo
ng enough to say, “I’ll be back before long.”

  “What about Debbie?” she called from the washroom door. “You must make up your mind and soon.”

  He paused to call back, “I’ll think about it some more when I come back.”

  That seemed to satisfy her because she closed the washroom door. Bishop Beiler found his horse, Milo, in the barnyard. He snapped a tie rope onto the halter and led him inside. There the bishop threw on the harness, and minutes later he was ready to hitch Milo to the buggy. Just as he led Milo out, a buggy turned in the driveway.

  The bishop paused with a sigh on his lips. Now who had come to cause more trouble? As if in answer, the buggy stopped near him and Alvin Knepp jumped down. “Gut afternoon, Bishop.”

  “Gut afternoon to you, Alvin. Do you need something?”

  A slight grin played on Alvin’s face. “I’m not going to cause church problems, if that’s what you’re thinking. I was wondering if I could borrow your singletree for the week. I broke mine, and it’s in the repair shop.”

  Bishop Beiler felt his face relax into a smile. “I have an extra one in the barn. You’re welcome to it. If you’ll hold Milo, I’ll go get it for you.”

  “I can find it, I’m sure. Don’t let me hold you up. I see you’re going somewhere.”

  The bishop accepted the offer with a nod of his head. He climbed into the buggy and took off. He glanced back to see Alvin tie his horse at the hitching rack. The bishop turned his thoughts to Henry Yoder and his church-related trouble. Surely there was some simple answer to this problem. But with Henry nothing was ever easy. The bishop settled in the buggy seat for the twenty-minute drive. Each second dragged along like a plow in heavy soil. He thought the matter over in thorough detail and was more convinced than ever. Whatever Henry had to say about his family surely involved Joe Weaver. There could be no other explanation. None of the children other than Lois had been misbehaving. He watched them too closely not to know.

  Emery and Lois were still in their rumspringa time, so if either of them had done something he didn’t know of, it wouldn’t be a matter of grave concern. But even Emery was having a quiet rumspringa time by most standards. And Verna and Ida always kept themselves under strict control. Neither girl had really taken advantage of their rumspringa time before they joined the church, for which he was grateful. In Emery, he had full confidence. This fall when the next baptismal class began, Emery might even join the church.