The Amish Widow's Secret

Mose mopped at the sweat on his forehead. “What do you mean, she killed Joseph? There’s no way she’s capable of doing something like that. The police said he died of smoke inhalation.”

Stretching out his back and twisting, the man worked out the kinks from his tall frame, his eyes still on Sarah. “She did it, all right, bruder. She left the light on in the barn, knowing gas lights get hot and cause fires.”

“I’m sure she just forgot to turn it off. People forget, you know.” Mose knew he was wasting his breath. Some liked to think the worst of people, especially people like Sarah, who were powerless to defend themselves.

“Sarah Nolt is that kind of woman. Her own father says she’s always been careless, even as a child.”

“I believe Gott would have us pray for our sister, not slander her for something that took her husband’s life.”

“Well, you can stand up for her if you like, but I’m not. She’s a bad woman, and I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for my respect for Joseph. He was a good man.”

“He’d want you to help Sarah, not slander her.” Mose threw down the hammer. His temper would always be a fault he’d have to deal with, and right now he’d best move away or he’d end up punching a man in the mouth.

The food bell rang out. He dusted as much of the sawdust off his clothes as he could. Still angry, he moved toward the long table set up in the grass and took the seat closest to the door. A tall glass of cold water was placed in front of him by a young girl. “Danke.” He downed the whole glass.

“You’re welkom,” the girl muttered and refilled his glass. Mose watched Sarah as she served the men around him. She acted polite and kind to everyone, but not one man spoke to her. The women seemed friendlier but still somewhat distant. He saw her smile once or twice before he dug into his plate of tender roast beef, stuffed cabbage rolls and Dutch green beans. Sarah knew her way around a kitchen. The food he ate was hardy and spiced to perfection.

A group of men seated around the Bishop began to mutter. A loud argument broke out and Mose could hear Sarah’s name being bandied about. Marta hurried past, her face flushed, and the promise of tears glistening in her eyes. Her small-framed shoulders drooped as she made her way into the house. Soon Sarah was out the door, her eyes locked on Bishop Miller who sat a few seats from Mose.

“You have much to say about me today, Bishop Miller. Would you like to say the words to my face?” Her small hands were fisted, her back straight and strong as she glared at the community leader.

Adolph shoved back his chair and stood.

“Shut your mouth, Sarah Yoder. I will not have you speak to the Bishop like this. You are out of line. You will speak to him with respect.”

“My name is Nolt, Daed. No longer Yoder. And I will not be told to hush like some young bensel. If the Bishop has something to say, he need only open his mouth or call one of his meetings.”

Mose rose. Gott, hold Sarah’s tongue. She had already dug a deep well of trouble with her words. Her actions were unwise, but he would not stand by and watch her be pulled down further by her father’s lack of protection. Let the Bishop show proof of her actions and present them in a proper setting if he had issues with her.

Bishop Miller’s wife hurried to Sarah and put her arms around her trembling body. “Let us leave all this for today and have cold tea in the kitchen. We’re all tired and nerves frayed. Today a barn goes up. It is a happy day, Sarah. One full of promise. Let us celebrate and not speak words that cannot be taken back.”

Mose waited, wondering if Sarah would relent. She turned and stared deep into the eyes of the woman next to her. Moments passed and then she crumbled, tears running down her face as she was escorted away.

Mose watched the door shut behind the women. He longed to know if Sarah was all right but knew she wouldn’t want him interfering. “What’s going on?” Mose murmured to Eric, Sarah’s brother.

“Someone has found proof that Sarah was the one who gave money to Lukas, a young teenager who recently ran away from the community.”

“Money? Why would she do that?” They spoke in whispers, his food forgotten.

“I only heard a moment of conversation but it seems Daed saw her speaking with the boy’s younger brother the day before Lukas took him and left for places unknown.”

“That’s not solid proof. Sarah must be given a chance to redeem herself.”

“She’ll get her chance. A meeting has been called, and I plan to talk to Bishop Miller before it comes around. I suspect she’ll be shunned, but I have to make an effort to calm the waters. Lord alone knows what would happen to her if she’s forced to live amongst the Englisch.” Eric got up to leave, but turned back to Mose. “Marta’s offered to look after the kinder at our house until tomorrow. Sarah is too upset to think clearly. ”

* * *

Tired from the long day of cooking and cleaning, Sarah lay across her childhood bed on the second floor of her father’s house, her pillow wet from tears. She cried for Joseph, for the life she’d lost with him, and for the loneliness she’d felt every day since he’d died. She needed Joseph and he was gone forever.

Marta held her hand in a firm grip. “You mustn’t fret so, Sarah. The children can stay with Eric and me tonight. Most likely you will be given a talking to tomorrow and nothing more.”

“And if I’m shunned, what then? You and Eric won’t be allowed to talk to me. The whole community will say I’m dead to them. Who will I call family?”

“Why did you give Lukas money? You knew you ran the risk of being found out.”

Sarah sat up, tucking her dress under her legs. Marta handed her a clean white handkerchief and watched as Sarah wiped the tears off her face. “I couldn’t take it anymore. Every day I heard the abuse. Every day I heard the boys crying out in pain.”

“Did you talk to any of the elders about this?”

“I talked to them but they put me off, said I was a woman and didn’t understand the role a father played in a boy’s life.” Sarah blew her nose and tried to regain control of the tremors that shook her body.

“But surely beating a young boy senseless is not in Gott’s plan. Do you believe your daed would tell on you if he knew it was you who gave the boys money?”

“Of course he would, but he didn’t know. I made sure he was gone the day I slipped money to Lukas.”

“Then how?”

Sarah smoothed the wrinkles out of her quilt and set the bed back in order. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“How would you survive among the Englisch? You know nothing about them. Your whole life has been Amish. I fear for you, Sarah.” Marta brushed away her tears as they continued to fall.

A shiver ran through Sarah as she thought about what Marta said. She wouldn’t be strong enough to endure the radical changes that would have faced her. Thank Gott for Mose’s offer of marriage, for the opportunity to go to Sarasota and leave all this behind. But would he want to marry her if she was shunned and was she prepared for a loveless marriage? She feared not. Gott’s will. Grab hold of Gott’s will.

Chapter Four (#ulink_01b009e4-ce77-56dc-9f68-da2a09786b6b)

Sarah roamed through the small farmhouse, gathering memories of Joseph and their time together. She had no picture to keep him alive in her mind, only objects she could touch to feel closer to him.

A sleepless night at her father’s farm, after her confrontation with the bishop, had left her depressed and bone tired.

Downstairs, she smiled as she picked up a shiny black vase from the kitchen window. When Joseph had bought it that early spring morning, he’d known he’d broken one of the Old Order Amish Ordnung laws laid down by Bishop Miller. The vase was a token of Joseph’s love. It was to hold the wildflowers they gathered on their long walks in the meadows. The day he’d surprised her with the vase she’d cried for joy. Now it felt cold and empty like her broken heart. The vase was the only real decoration in the farmhouse, as was custom, but their wedding quilt, traditionally made in honor of their wedding by the community’s sewing circle, hung on the wall in the great room.

In front of the wide kitchen windows, she fingered the vase’s smooth surface, remembering precious moments. Their wedding, days of visiting family and friends, the first time she’d been allowed to see the farmhouse he’d built with other men from the area. He’d laughed at her as she’d squealed with delight. The simple, white two-story house was to be their home for the rest of their lives. He’d gently kissed her and whispered, “I love you.”

Moved to tears, her vision blurred. She stumbled to the stairs and climbed them one by one, her head swimming with momentary dizziness. On the landing she caught her breath before walking into their neat, tiny bedroom. Moments later she found the shirt she’d made for Joseph to wear on their wedding day hanging in the closet next to several work shirts and two of her own plain dresses.

Sarah tucked the blue shirt on top of a pile of notes and papers she’d put in the brown valise just after he’d died. He used the heavy case when he’d taken short trips to the Ohio Valley area communities to discuss the drought. In a few days she’d use it to pack and leave this beloved farmhouse forever.

Her dresses and his old King James Bible, along with the last order for hayseeds written in his bold print, went into the case. The Book of Psalms she’d given him at Christmas slipped into her apron pocket with ease. Her memories of him would be locked away in this heavy case, the key stashed somewhere safe.

Most of her other clothes and belongings would be left. She’d have no need for them now. Mose would take care of her. A fresh wave of anxiety flushed through her. She had no idea if she could go through with this marriage.

She thought back to Joseph and wondered what he’d think of the drama surrounding her. He’d be disappointed. He’d followed the tenets of the Old Order church faithfully. The rules of the community were a way of life he’d gladly accepted. Yes, he’d be disappointed in her.

She faced shunning. Bishop Miller preached that those who were shunned or left the faith would go to hell. Joseph was with the Lord. I’d never see my husband again.

A wave of dizziness caught her unaware and she grabbed the bed’s railings to steady herself. Moments later, disoriented and sick to her stomach, she sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the world to stop spinning. All the stress had frayed her nerves and made her ill.

A loud knock came from downstairs. Sarah froze. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even Marta, but knew she’d have to see her before she left. There were others in the community she’d miss, too. Her distant family members, her old schoolteacher, the friendly Englisch woman at the sewing store...all the people who meant everything to her. They’d wonder what really had happened, why she suddenly had disappeared, but she knew someone would tell them what she’d done. Her head dropped. A wave of nausea rolled her stomach, twisting it in knots.