Second Chance Proposal. Anna SchmidtЧитать онлайн книгу.
they expected John would enter the room and face them. Did not one of them entertain the notion that he might once again have lost his nerve and run away?
The final hymn began and as each verse was sung Lydia felt her heart beat faster. She focused her gaze on Gertrude Hadwell, who clearly could barely contain her joy at having John back in her life. If he left again, Gert would be devastated.
Please let him be here, Lydia prayed silently even as she understood that life would be far easier for her if John had surrendered yet again to the temptations of the adventures he’d found in the outside world.
* * *
John followed the sounds and silences of the service from his position in one of the small bedrooms near the two large front rooms of the Yoder home. The hymns, chanted slowly in unison verse by verse, had a beauty all their own. It was so different from the music he’d heard on the rare occasions when he’d attended an Englisch service. In the outside world hymns were always accompanied by some musical instrument—most often a pipe organ that huffed and thudded as the organist pushed or pulled the stops and pressed down on the row of pedals beneath her feet.
He had missed the quiet rhythm of hymns from the Ausband—hymns passed down through the generations, hymns that could run on for dozens of verses, hymns he had memorized as a boy. He heard the drone of the preacher’s voice as the first of the two sermons was delivered. Since the door to the bedroom was closed, he did not hear the actual words until he was called to seek his forgiveness.
He folded his hands and leaned his elbows on his knees. He ought to be praying for God’s guidance. He ought to be using this time to figure out how he was going to state his case without sounding either arrogant or insincere. He ought to be trying to understand exactly what he hoped to achieve by coming back here—what his life was going to look like after today. He ought to be doing all of that but, instead, his mind was filled with thoughts of Liddy.
She would be there sitting with the other women and girls, all of them dressed in the solid dark-colored dresses and aprons topped by the starched prayer kapps of their faith. They would wear their hair the same, as well, for in the Amish world sameness was a sign of commitment to the community at large; individuality in dress or style was seen as rebellious. Male and female would sit shoulder to shoulder on their respective sides of the room, their eyes either on the minister or lowered in prayer. None of them would be distinguishable from their neighbor. For that was their way. The community was everything and the individual was nothing.
That was, of course, why he had to apologize and seek forgiveness. He had put his personal dreams and plans above what was considered in the best interest of the community. In the outside world such actions would be considered laudable. He would be praised for his ambition and determination to make something of himself. But not in Celery Fields or any other Amish community.
And not in the eyes of Liddy Goodloe.
He knew why the rest of the community had failed to understand his purpose in leaving eight years earlier, but he had thought that Liddy of all people knew why he’d done the only thing he’d felt he could do if the two of them were to have a future. She had counseled patience then but how long was he expected to wait? And she, too, had wanted to marry and start their life together. He was certain of that—or at least he had been.
He stood and paced the confines of the room, the leather soles of his new work boots meeting the polished planks of the wooden floor with a distinct click like the ticking of a clock. He straightened his suspenders and tucked his shirt more firmly into the waistband of his wool trousers. He heard more singing and then the hum of Bishop Troyer’s deep voice as the elderly man delivered the second and final sermon for the day.
Soon the deacon would come for him.
Soon he would face them.
Soon one way or another it would be decided.
And if someone voted against him? What then?
He would have little choice but to leave Celery Fields for good. Mentally he considered each of his neighbors and friends, picturing them waiting to seal his fate. By this time tomorrow he would either be settled back into the fold of the community or once again miles away from everything he had once cherished.
The final hymn began. John stood next to the closed door listening for the deacon’s footsteps. He closed his eyes and prayed for God to show him the way. Liddy would say that if it was God’s will he would be forgiven and just like that, in the eyes of the community, the last eight years would be gone. People would greet him as if he had been in town the whole time. Liddy would no longer look at him with the eyes of a cornered animal...or would she?
Chapter Four
The vote was unanimous in John’s favor.
The bann had been lifted and in the yard, where the members of the congregation had gathered to share the light fare of the after-services meal, the atmosphere was that of a celebration. As Lydia brought out platters of food the women had prepared in Greta’s kitchen she saw John surrounded by a circle of men, his full-throated laughter at something one of the men had just said filling the air around her. It was as if the past eight years had never happened. She froze suddenly, her eyes riveted on John, her ears attuned to his voice, so familiar, so dear.
“Oh, it is so good to have this matter decided!” Greta exclaimed as she came alongside Lydia and followed her gaze to where John was standing. “Now things can return to normal around here.” She wiped away beads of sweat from her forehead with the back of one hand. “Is it me or is it unusually hot today?”
“It’s you and that extra weight you’re carrying,” Pleasant replied as she nodded toward the protrusion of Greta’s pregnancy and relieved Lydia of the platter she’d nearly forgotten she was holding. “Liddy, find your sister a place in the shade before she passes out.”
“Please do not make a fuss,” Greta protested, but Lydia saw the way her younger sister pressed one hand against her side and the grimace that followed.
“Come and sit, anyway,” Lydia instructed. “You still have Samuel’s birthday supper to manage. It will do you good to rest some.” She saw Luke glance up and excuse himself from the group of men, then move quickly to his wife’s side.
“Are you all right?”
“I am fine,” Greta assured him.
“I’ll get you some water,” Luke said, but before he could do so John was there with a glass filled with cold lemonade.
“I seem to remember you liked your lemonade extra tart, Greta.” He grinned at her and Greta giggled as she accepted the glass.
“It is so good to have you back, John,” she said. “Everyone is truly pleased.”
Lydia did not miss the way her sister cut her eyes in her direction as she said this.
“It is certain that we have been losing more people than we have gained here in Celery Fields,” Pleasant added. “What are your plans, John Amman?”
Lydia hid her smile at her half sister’s well-known habit of speaking her thoughts bluntly, not taking time to temper them with discretion.
John chuckled. “Ah, Pleasant, I’ve missed your forthright way of coming to the heart of any matter.”
“That does not answer my question.”
“For now I will work at the hardware store with my uncle. In time...”
Lydia almost gasped when she glanced at John as he paused. In his eyes she saw the faraway look she remembered so well from their youth, as if he were already miles away from this place and time.
He had not changed at all, she thought. He was still the dreamer.
“In time?” Pleasant prompted.
John shrugged. “Only God can say.” He focused his gaze on Lydia.
“I forgot the bread,” she murmured, and