me wild roses.”
Her mother had smiled broadly. “Where does a young man find roses so early in April?”
Nathaniel was in the doorway, feeling oddly out of place for thefirst time at the Keim house. “Mrs. Keim, ma’am, there is an ash heap behind our barn and I have often seen them growing there spring after spring. I just had no good reason to pick any until today.”
“So my daughter is a good reason?”
He laughed. “It suddenly occurred to me over the past couple of days that, yes, she is a very good reason. I’m just sorry it took me so many years to finally figure it out.”
Lyndel and Nathaniel had not talked much about what was happening in America, preferring to discuss their feelings for one another, feelings that seemed to have just dropped down out of heaven, and childhood memories of playing together with Levi and other Amish boys and girls. But the political events had continued to intrude on them all the same. Her father fretted that war might come, a war that would ravage the land and kill thousands, perhaps tens of thousands. Often he asked Lyndel to excuse Nathaniel so he could join Levi and himself at the kitchen table and talk about what the Amish must do and also to pray. She would wait in her room, choosing not to hide on the landing and listen in. Her father always sent Becky to knock on her door when they were done. Then she would come down and Nathaniel would be standing on the porch, smiling when she stepped outside and joined him.
“What do you find to talk about night after night?” she asked.
“It is the same thing. Good reasons or not, slavery or not, the breakup of the nation or not, the Amish do not bear arms.”
“Don’t you agree?”
“Sure, I agree. It is not gut to see people die, is it? Remember when Old Man Zedekiah fell off the roof of his barn? Or Matthew Yoder drowned and we saw them pull his body out of the river? Who in their right mind wants war and death?”
“But?” For she already knew him well enough to know he was holding something back.
He hesitated. Then blurted, “There is the way Charlie was killed and the reason he was killed. How long does that go on?”
“So long as God lets it go on.”
“ Ja ? Or does he want us to do something about it? Does God come in a mist and plant our corn for us? Harvest our wheat while we watch? Hitch our horses to our wagons and plows and carriages? So why do we think he will stop evil without our hands and feet and hearts?”
The day Joshua Yoder roared into the yard with his newspapers like a nineteenth-century Paul Revere, as Papa grumbled later, Nathaniel also arrived in a hurry and asked, in a tight voice, if Lyndel could go for a drive with him. They hadn’t even turned onto the main road, a soft blue and red sky spread in the west before them, when he said to her in an agitated voice, “My brother Corinth has run off to Harrisburg to join the army.”
This, of course, explained Nathaniel’s mood to Lyndel in an instant—or, at least, most of it. “What? Isn’t this the second time?”
“Right. He tried to do it last year when South Carolina and Mississippi seceded.”
“Are you going to go and look for him?”
“Papa and my other brother, Simon, they left on the train this morning. Papa hopes to find him before the community finds out. But I think that’s a futile wish. He went with another boy from Elizabethtown and that boy’s parents have been telling everyone who will listen that it’s not their son’s fault, that Corinth was the bad egg. I’m sure your father will find out before the morning milking.”
“How old is Corinth?”
“Sixteen.”
“But looks nineteen.”
“Yes, so who knows if he even is in Harrisburg anymore? They’re forming militias everywhere. He could be in Pittsburgh or Philadelphia, someplace he thinks it will be harder for us to locate him. I wish I knew his reasons for doing this.”
“Maybe they are the same as your reasons.”
“Me?”
Her mother had smiled broadly. “Where does a young man find roses so early in April?”
Nathaniel was in the doorway, feeling oddly out of place for thefirst time at the Keim house. “Mrs. Keim, ma’am, there is an ash heap behind our barn and I have often seen them growing there spring after spring. I just had no good reason to pick any until today.”
“So my daughter is a good reason?”
He laughed. “It suddenly occurred to me over the past couple of days that, yes, she is a very good reason. I’m just sorry it took me so many years to finally figure it out.”
Lyndel and Nathaniel had not talked much about what was happening in America, preferring to discuss their feelings for one another, feelings that seemed to have just dropped down out of heaven, and childhood memories of playing together with Levi and other Amish boys and girls. But the political events had continued to intrude on them all the same. Her father fretted that war might come, a war that would ravage the land and kill thousands, perhaps tens of thousands. Often he asked Lyndel to excuse Nathaniel so he could join Levi and himself at the kitchen table and talk about what the Amish must do and also to pray. She would wait in her room, choosing not to hide on the landing and listen in. Her father always sent Becky to knock on her door when they were done. Then she would come down and Nathaniel would be standing on the porch, smiling when she stepped outside and joined him.
“What do you find to talk about night after night?” she asked.
“It is the same thing. Good reasons or not, slavery or not, the breakup of the nation or not, the Amish do not bear arms.”
“Don’t you agree?”
“Sure, I agree. It is not gut to see people die, is it? Remember when Old Man Zedekiah fell off the roof of his barn? Or Matthew Yoder drowned and we saw them pull his body out of the river? Who in their right mind wants war and death?”
“But?” For she already knew him well enough to know he was holding something back.
He hesitated. Then blurted, “There is the way Charlie was killed and the reason he was killed. How long does that go on?”
“So long as God lets it go on.”
“ Ja ? Or does he want us to do something about it? Does God come in a mist and plant our corn for us? Harvest our wheat while we watch? Hitch our horses to our wagons and plows and carriages? So why do we think he will stop evil without our hands and feet and hearts?”
The day Joshua Yoder roared into the yard with his newspapers like a nineteenth-century Paul Revere, as Papa grumbled later, Nathaniel also arrived in a hurry and asked, in a tight voice, if Lyndel could go for a drive with him. They hadn’t even turned onto the main road, a soft blue and red sky spread in the west before them, when he said to her in an agitated voice, “My brother Corinth has run off to Harrisburg to join the army.”
This, of course, explained Nathaniel’s mood to Lyndel in an instant—or, at least, most of it. “What? Isn’t this the second time?”
“Right. He tried to do it last year when South Carolina and Mississippi seceded.”
“Are you going to go and look for him?”
“Papa and my other brother, Simon, they left on the train this morning. Papa hopes to find him before the community finds out. But I think that’s a futile wish. He went with another boy from Elizabethtown and that boy’s parents have been telling everyone who will listen that it’s not their son’s fault, that Corinth was the bad egg. I’m sure your father will find out before the morning milking.”
“How old is Corinth?”
“Sixteen.”
“But looks nineteen.”
“Yes, so who knows if he even is in Harrisburg anymore? They’re forming militias everywhere. He could be in Pittsburgh or Philadelphia, someplace he thinks it will be harder for us to locate him. I wish I knew his reasons for doing this.”
“Maybe they are the same as your reasons.”
“Me?”
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