The Amish Widow's Secret

Chapter Four

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.

The knock became louder, more insistent. She moved to the bedroom window. No buggy was parked out front. Perhaps one of the neighborhood kinder was playing a joke on her. She checked the front steps and saw the broad frame of a man. Had her father come to give her one last stab to the heart? It would be just like him to come and taunt her about her coming marriage to Mose.

“Sarah? Are you there? Please let me in.”

Mose’s voice called from her doorstep. He sounded concerned, perhaps even alarmed. Had something happened to one of the kinder? Why would he seek her out? He’d heard it all. He was an elder in his community. Even if he wasn’t Old Order Amish and didn’t live as strict a life as she did, but he’d be angry she’d given the boys money and would judge her. Still, he was a good man, a kind man. Perhaps he just wanted to talk to her.

The thought of his kindness had her rushing down the stairs and opening the heavy wood door Joseph had made with his own hands. She used the door as a shield, opening it just a crack. “Ya?” She could see a slice of him, his hair wind-blown, blue eyes searching her face.

“Hello, Sarah. I thought I might find you here.”

She nodded her head in greeting.

“Are you all right?” Mose’s hand rested on the doorjamb, as if he expected to be let into the house.

Sarah held the door firm. “I’m fine. What do you want, Mose? I have things to do. I’m very busy.”

“I’m worried about you. You’ve been through so much.”

“And none of it is your business,” Sarah snapped, instantly wishing she could take back her bitter words. He’d done nothing but be kind to her. She missed the girls and wondered how they were, if Marta was still caring for them. She pushed strands of hair out of her eyes and searched his expression. She saw no signs of judgment.

“You’re right. All this is none of my business, but I am soon to be your husband. I want to help, if I can. Please, can I come in for a moment?”

On trembling legs, she stepped back to open the door all the way. “Come in.”

Mose stepped past Sarah into the silent house. Sarah glanced around. Nothing seemed out of place. There was no dust, no evidence anyone even lived here.

He turned back to Sarah. “I tried to find you after everyone left yesterday. Beatrice was asking for you. Kinder don’t understand why adults do what they do.”

“I did what everyone is saying,” Sarah blurted out, then offered a seat to Mose, but stood, swaying to and fro.

“Sit with me before you fall, you stubborn woman.” Mose took Sarah’s elbow, guided her to a wood-framed rocking chair with a padded seat and back rest. She didn’t resist, but once down, her fingers went white-knuckled on the chair’s arms.

Mose sat on the couch opposite her. “You said there was no misunderstanding. Did you give the boy money so he and his brother could leave the community as the bishop said?”

“Ya. I did.”

“Why did you help them? They have a father who’s very worried about them,” Mose said.

“I’m sure he is concerned. He needs their strong backs to run his farm. They’re better off away from him.” Sarah stared into space, her features ridged, unrelenting.

“You’ve heard from them?”

She looked at him. “Ya, I did. They’re staying with their sister, Katherine, in Missouri. She took them in after...” Her voice trailed off.

“After what, Sarah?” Emotions played on her face. Something was not being said. Mose felt sure she’d acted out of kindness. He hadn’t known her long but felt sure she wasn’t the type to interfere in other people’s business, especially to separate a family.

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