someone about ten years older than Andrew whom he did not know well.
The man looked around. Andrew followed his gaze across the room to Noah and Joseph Yoder.
“His sons are the same way, you know,” the man said. “Mose Beachy is our only hope.”
“Hope for what?” Andrew probed.
They picked up another bench, but the man clamped his lips closed.
“They are all following God the best way they know how,” Andrew said.
“Then why does it feel so much like they want us to follow them?” The words, hardly more than a mutter, were the man’s last contribution to the conversation. He turned on one heel and found another task in another part of the room.
Andrew straightened benches under tables, seeing in his mind instead of slats of wood the sleek green metal and brass of the Model T.
“It’s 1905 all over again,” Barbara Stutzman said.
Bishop Yoder had eaten and said his farewells, with Joseph and Noah at his elbows. Several other families had left as well. The women were clearing away the remaining food.
Clara remembered 1905. Rhoda had lost her first baby only weeks before the truth came out at church. At home, Clara’s father cared much less about controversy swirling in the congregation than the fragile state of his young wife. Clara had not understood everything that happened at church or at home, but the silence of a child was expected in both places so she dared not ask questions. She muted her curiosity and kept a respectful distance from the grieving adults in her home.
“We were duped in 1895 and again ten years later,” Barbara said. “It won’t turn out that way this time.”
Clara liked Barbara Stutzman as much as she liked her husband, John. But never had she heard Barbara speak out with such certainty. Duped? Surely that was a strong word for the decisions the congregation made.
Rhoda appeared beside Clara. “Are you riding home with us?”
Clara glanced at the group of men sorting out the last of the benches, arranging them in neat rows in readiness for the next time the congregation would gather in the Flag Run Meetinghouse.
“It’s a nice day,” Clara said. “Perhaps I’ll take a walk.”
“That’s wise.” Rhoda looked from Clara to a tangle of unmarried people forming at the meetinghouse door.
Hannah tugged on her mother’s sleeve. “I want to walk with Clara.”
“You’ll ride with us.” Rhoda’s tone left no room for argument. Hannah knew better than to pout.
Clara squelched the urge to say she would be glad to have Hannah with her. She and Rhoda both knew the girl would tire and begin to whine before all the miles were accomplished, but Clara also saw in Rhoda’s eyes the mandate to mingle with the young people who lingered. “Find someone to marry.” Clara heard Rhoda’s voice in her mind. “Start your own life.”
“And you’ll go to the Singing tonight?” Rhoda said.
Clara nodded.
“Good. Then I’m sure you have a full Sabbath ahead of you.”
Clara kissed the foreheads of both of her young half sisters and offered her stepmother a wan smile of assurance that she would not be underfoot in the Kuhn household today.
After a long service and a leisurely shared meal, the evening Singing was only a few hours away. Someone would suggest a group walk along Flag Run Creek or a sports game to pass the hours in friendship and laughter. Clara used to enjoy these afternoons more than she did now. Friends her own age had all paired off and married. She and Andrew were two of a diminishing number of people in their twenties who were not married.
And it was not Andrew who kept them in this state.
Clara reasoned that the socializing part of the day had begun and saw no reason not to join Andrew in his cluster of conversation. The circle widened slightly as Clara approached. She stood where she could see Andrew’s round face. Whether to be beside him and feel him near or to be able to watch his expressions always was a choice she hated to make. But
The man looked around. Andrew followed his gaze across the room to Noah and Joseph Yoder.
“His sons are the same way, you know,” the man said. “Mose Beachy is our only hope.”
“Hope for what?” Andrew probed.
They picked up another bench, but the man clamped his lips closed.
“They are all following God the best way they know how,” Andrew said.
“Then why does it feel so much like they want us to follow them?” The words, hardly more than a mutter, were the man’s last contribution to the conversation. He turned on one heel and found another task in another part of the room.
Andrew straightened benches under tables, seeing in his mind instead of slats of wood the sleek green metal and brass of the Model T.
“It’s 1905 all over again,” Barbara Stutzman said.
Bishop Yoder had eaten and said his farewells, with Joseph and Noah at his elbows. Several other families had left as well. The women were clearing away the remaining food.
Clara remembered 1905. Rhoda had lost her first baby only weeks before the truth came out at church. At home, Clara’s father cared much less about controversy swirling in the congregation than the fragile state of his young wife. Clara had not understood everything that happened at church or at home, but the silence of a child was expected in both places so she dared not ask questions. She muted her curiosity and kept a respectful distance from the grieving adults in her home.
“We were duped in 1895 and again ten years later,” Barbara said. “It won’t turn out that way this time.”
Clara liked Barbara Stutzman as much as she liked her husband, John. But never had she heard Barbara speak out with such certainty. Duped? Surely that was a strong word for the decisions the congregation made.
Rhoda appeared beside Clara. “Are you riding home with us?”
Clara glanced at the group of men sorting out the last of the benches, arranging them in neat rows in readiness for the next time the congregation would gather in the Flag Run Meetinghouse.
“It’s a nice day,” Clara said. “Perhaps I’ll take a walk.”
“That’s wise.” Rhoda looked from Clara to a tangle of unmarried people forming at the meetinghouse door.
Hannah tugged on her mother’s sleeve. “I want to walk with Clara.”
“You’ll ride with us.” Rhoda’s tone left no room for argument. Hannah knew better than to pout.
Clara squelched the urge to say she would be glad to have Hannah with her. She and Rhoda both knew the girl would tire and begin to whine before all the miles were accomplished, but Clara also saw in Rhoda’s eyes the mandate to mingle with the young people who lingered. “Find someone to marry.” Clara heard Rhoda’s voice in her mind. “Start your own life.”
“And you’ll go to the Singing tonight?” Rhoda said.
Clara nodded.
“Good. Then I’m sure you have a full Sabbath ahead of you.”
Clara kissed the foreheads of both of her young half sisters and offered her stepmother a wan smile of assurance that she would not be underfoot in the Kuhn household today.
After a long service and a leisurely shared meal, the evening Singing was only a few hours away. Someone would suggest a group walk along Flag Run Creek or a sports game to pass the hours in friendship and laughter. Clara used to enjoy these afternoons more than she did now. Friends her own age had all paired off and married. She and Andrew were two of a diminishing number of people in their twenties who were not married.
And it was not Andrew who kept them in this state.
Clara reasoned that the socializing part of the day had begun and saw no reason not to join Andrew in his cluster of conversation. The circle widened slightly as Clara approached. She stood where she could see Andrew’s round face. Whether to be beside him and feel him near or to be able to watch his expressions always was a choice she hated to make. But
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