won’t.”
The two friends sat in silence, as still as their fathers’ fields in winter. Katie wished the conversation hadn’t taken this turn. Why was Mary asking these questions?
“I’m living the Plain life best as I can—” Katie stopped herself before adding “without Dan.”
“You’re angry, though.” Again, Mary seemed able to read her heart. “You don’t really like being Amish, but you’re stuck.”
“I never said such a thing!” Forgetting the lateness of the hour, Katie raised her voice, then clamped her hand over her mouth. Surely Rachel Stoltzfus would come running now, wondering what on earth was so important as to be discussing it in the middle of the night. Katie waited, listening. . . .
When no sounds of footsteps were heard in the hallway, she relaxed. “To be honest, it’s no fun wearing these long, heavy dresses and dull colors,” she admitted. “But that’s nothing new—you always knew that about me.”
“Jah, but you should be clean past that by now, Katie. You should be moving on to higher ground. How can you be a good Mam to the bishop’s children if you can’t control yourself—can’t submit to the rules of the church?”
Mary had a point, but Katie didn’t want to hear it. “Well, then, so you’re saying I shouldn’t marry the bishop—that it’s not fitting or right?” The words tumbled out, echoing her own doubts.
“You’re a baptized member of the church, Katie. That makes you eligible for a church wedding to any man—bishop, preacher, deacon, whoever.”
Katie pressed harder, needing a straight answer from her best friend. “You’d say that—knowing what you know about me? Am I respected enough among the People, do you think?”
“ ‘The Lord God exalts those who humble themselves,’ ” she quoted. “It’s not your doing, Katie. Things are ordered by Providence— ordained by God.”
So that was that. Mary honestly thought Katie had been chosen by God to be the bishop’s wife. Katie stood up and tied on her black bonnet, then pulled her shawl around her shoulders.
“Just remember,” Mary said, looking solemn, “you can tell me anything. Isn’t that what best friends are for?”
“Yes . . . and I’m real glad for that.” Katie walked toward the bedroom door and turned to regard Mary with a helpless shrug. “So will you pray that I’ll quit being so hardheaded? That I won’t always be tempted so?”
“Temptation is not the sin. Yielding to it is.” Mary jumped up to give her a hug. “Remember, ‘Blessed are the peacemakers.”’
Katie smiled, agreeing with her friend. “I’ll make peace with Dat first thing tomorrow. I’ll catch him before milking and confess—make things right between us. I’ll tell him I’m sorry about the music, and that I’ll never sing or hum anything but the Ausbund for the rest of my born days.”
“Des gut,” Mary nodded briskly. “And after chores, Mamma and I and a bunch of the cousins will come over and help scrub down your walls and paint, too—for the wedding.”
Katie left the Stoltzfus house with Mary’s wise words ringing in her ears: He that umbleth himself shall be exalted . She was deep in thought all the way up Hickory Lane—so deep that she scarcely noticed the long black limousine that slowed, then passed on the opposite side of the road.
Eight
E ager to speak with her father, Katie rushed to the barn the next morning. Eli and Benjamin were prepping the herd for the morning milking, but Dat was nowhere to be seen.
“He’s out runnin’ an errand,” Eli replied nonchalantly when she asked.
“This early?”
“He left about four-thirty,” Benjamin volunteered. “I heard him out hitchin’ up Daisy before we ever got up.”
Katie went about her chores without saying more. She fed the chickens and pitched hay to the draft horses and her pony, Satin Boy, then to Zeke and Molasses—the older driving horses—and last, to the mules, wondering if her father was,
The two friends sat in silence, as still as their fathers’ fields in winter. Katie wished the conversation hadn’t taken this turn. Why was Mary asking these questions?
“I’m living the Plain life best as I can—” Katie stopped herself before adding “without Dan.”
“You’re angry, though.” Again, Mary seemed able to read her heart. “You don’t really like being Amish, but you’re stuck.”
“I never said such a thing!” Forgetting the lateness of the hour, Katie raised her voice, then clamped her hand over her mouth. Surely Rachel Stoltzfus would come running now, wondering what on earth was so important as to be discussing it in the middle of the night. Katie waited, listening. . . .
When no sounds of footsteps were heard in the hallway, she relaxed. “To be honest, it’s no fun wearing these long, heavy dresses and dull colors,” she admitted. “But that’s nothing new—you always knew that about me.”
“Jah, but you should be clean past that by now, Katie. You should be moving on to higher ground. How can you be a good Mam to the bishop’s children if you can’t control yourself—can’t submit to the rules of the church?”
Mary had a point, but Katie didn’t want to hear it. “Well, then, so you’re saying I shouldn’t marry the bishop—that it’s not fitting or right?” The words tumbled out, echoing her own doubts.
“You’re a baptized member of the church, Katie. That makes you eligible for a church wedding to any man—bishop, preacher, deacon, whoever.”
Katie pressed harder, needing a straight answer from her best friend. “You’d say that—knowing what you know about me? Am I respected enough among the People, do you think?”
“ ‘The Lord God exalts those who humble themselves,’ ” she quoted. “It’s not your doing, Katie. Things are ordered by Providence— ordained by God.”
So that was that. Mary honestly thought Katie had been chosen by God to be the bishop’s wife. Katie stood up and tied on her black bonnet, then pulled her shawl around her shoulders.
“Just remember,” Mary said, looking solemn, “you can tell me anything. Isn’t that what best friends are for?”
“Yes . . . and I’m real glad for that.” Katie walked toward the bedroom door and turned to regard Mary with a helpless shrug. “So will you pray that I’ll quit being so hardheaded? That I won’t always be tempted so?”
“Temptation is not the sin. Yielding to it is.” Mary jumped up to give her a hug. “Remember, ‘Blessed are the peacemakers.”’
Katie smiled, agreeing with her friend. “I’ll make peace with Dat first thing tomorrow. I’ll catch him before milking and confess—make things right between us. I’ll tell him I’m sorry about the music, and that I’ll never sing or hum anything but the Ausbund for the rest of my born days.”
“Des gut,” Mary nodded briskly. “And after chores, Mamma and I and a bunch of the cousins will come over and help scrub down your walls and paint, too—for the wedding.”
Katie left the Stoltzfus house with Mary’s wise words ringing in her ears: He that umbleth himself shall be exalted . She was deep in thought all the way up Hickory Lane—so deep that she scarcely noticed the long black limousine that slowed, then passed on the opposite side of the road.
Eight
E ager to speak with her father, Katie rushed to the barn the next morning. Eli and Benjamin were prepping the herd for the morning milking, but Dat was nowhere to be seen.
“He’s out runnin’ an errand,” Eli replied nonchalantly when she asked.
“This early?”
“He left about four-thirty,” Benjamin volunteered. “I heard him out hitchin’ up Daisy before we ever got up.”
Katie went about her chores without saying more. She fed the chickens and pitched hay to the draft horses and her pony, Satin Boy, then to Zeke and Molasses—the older driving horses—and last, to the mules, wondering if her father was,
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