It was the Yoder family’s turn to host services that Sunday morning, and I was glad we had arrived early, so I could see Kate. I jumped down from the buggy and went off in search of my friend, finding her in the front yard, getting the table ready for the lunch that would follow services. I helped her spread out the tablecloth and stack the plates and napkins. We worked together in silence until Kate’s eyes met mine. “How have you been since the party?”

“Not great. I don’t know if I’m more disappointed about not being able to leave home or about seeing Daniel with Hannah.”

Kate nodded solemnly. The bell on the porch rang, summoning everyone inside. “You know, we all would have missed you—me, Annie, all of your friends. Daniel, too.”

I shook my head, setting my kapp wobbling. “It’s not worth talking about something that isn’t going to happen,” I said. Then I followed Kate’s gaze to the front porch. Daniel was leaning against the railing. He nodded to us and tipped his hat.

I watched him step down from the porch and walk toward me.

“Good luck,” whispered Kate. After a brief nod to Daniel, she hurried past us and up the steps.

Daniel stood before me now, and I looked up into his face. The edgy anger I’d had since the party was sifting through me. But Daniel looked as calm as ever. Only a few people still lingered on the porch. Most had gone inside to find a seat. I started walking toward the house, and Daniel fell into step beside me. He looked like he wanted to say something, so I turned to him.

“Is everything all right? You didn’t even say good-bye when you left the party Friday.”

The bell rang again. “We should go inside,” I said. “We can talk later.” I paused for a moment, seeing again the bulk of his shoulders under his suit jacket. Then I ran up the porch steps and slipped through the open door, hurrying over to the women’s section. I saw Daniel glance at me before finding a seat among the men.

The German prayers I knew by heart swirled around me. A warm energy usually pumped through me when the service began, and then drifted into boredom by the time it ended, three hours later. But today I felt restless right from the start, my fingers and toes twitching.

I looked around the room. My mother was sitting beside her sister. Aunt Miriam was plump and dour, her eyebrows always lowered in judgment. My sister Margaret was on my mother’s other side, prim and dutiful and content. Ruthie was next to Margaret, holding the hymnal tightly, trying to look grown-up. I would have sat with them, but I had gotten in late, so I took the nearest open seat, next to my cousin Clara. Around us were the other women of the district, my friends and their mothers and sisters, all in white kapps and aprons, dresses covering their knees. On the other side of the room, my father sat with the men, between James and my uncle Ike. Daniel was there, and Robert and Marc, each wearing a black hat and a formal black suit coat over their white shirts and black trousers.

I clutched the Ausbund that someone had handed me when I came in. The well-worn book held all the hymns that had been used in Amish services since the 1500s. The first preacher was standing in the middle of the room, and he called out a hymn, which everyone around me chanted back. The voices followed the familiar cadence, with the preacher leading. We all knew to pace ourselves along with the preacher, holding our notes as long as he did, pausing when he paused. I wondered if it was always this slow. I concentrated on holding the note with everyone around me, but I didn’t have enough breath, and I cut it off too soon. I gulped in another breath and tried again. Clara turned her page, so I turned mine. I had a feeling like motion sickness, when I had to get off the buggy because the rocking sensation filled me with nausea.

I rose from the hard bench and quietly edged toward the door. My heart clattering, I stepped onto the porch, breathing in the fresh air of early summer. I would just stand out here for a few minutes, and then slip back in later in the service. If anyone asked, I would say that I had a headache.

I looked out at the road leading away from this place, and in that moment, I knew I had to leave. I stepped cautiously down the stairs and walked toward the street. Then I was running. The wind caught at my hair, and I clasped a hand over my kapp to keep it from flying off. When I got to the path along the highway, I slowed to a walk. Breathing in the calming June air, I felt relieved to be out of that stifling room, and away from the people who all looked the same. Cars whizzed past me, and I wished I could feel what it was like to be in one, to speed away from everything I knew.

Home was two miles away. I walked with resolve, trying not to think about the consequences of this action. Attending services on alternate Sundays was expected of all Amish. It wasn’t something that was discussed or debated. It was the strictest of our rules, and I was breaking it.

I kept walking, past the farms and small enclaves of Amish shops that the tourists frequented to buy quilts and handicrafts. Dampness spread down my back. My breath came out in quick pants as I doggedly marched toward home and the eventual recriminations of my parents.

A carriage was coming behind me, with the distinctive clip-clop of horse’s hooves, and I wondered who else had skipped services. I stepped farther to the side to be sure it had ample room. When the buggy passed in front of me, it pulled off the highway onto the side of the road. I started to go around it when I heard a familiar voice. “Eliza, get in,” called Daniel. I walked to the side of the buggy and turned to face him. He held the horse’s reins in one hand, and reached the other toward me to help me up into the carriage.

I shook my head. “I don’t need a ride,” I said. “I can walk home.”

“I’d like to drive you home,” he said. “Please let me.”

I waited a moment before reaching up and allowing him to guide me onto the seat beside him. He nodded to me in a cordial way, then looked out at the road and pulled on the reins. The horse started trotting, and the clopping sounds of his hooves filled the space around us.

“Are you going to be in trouble for leaving?” I asked.

“I don’t think so. Your father looked relieved when he saw that I was going after you.”

I sighed. “I guess I’ll hear it from them when they get home.”

“What was wrong?” he asked, his voice kind. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

“I just couldn’t sit there anymore. I felt like I was climbing out of my skin.”

“I know that feeling,” he said. “When the service gets to the two-hour mark, I’m never sure I can make it through that last hour.”

I grunted a laugh. “I didn’t even make it to the one-hour mark.”

“Actually, I’m glad this happened,” he said, his voice more serious. “I wanted to talk to you about Friday night.”

“You don’t have to,” I said. “You have the right to take another girl to a party. It’s not like we’re courting.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said. “At Margaret’s barn raising, after you told me you wanted to leave home, I decided not to tell you what I had planned to say.” I turned to him, waiting. “I was going to ask you to be my girl.”

“But you changed your mind?”

“You had just told me you wanted to live with the English,” he said. “If I’d asked you then, you might have thought I was trying to get you to stay here. And that didn’t seem right.”

My chest warmed, and I looked up at Daniel, seeing him in a different way. He glanced at me before returning his gaze to the road ahead. His eyes looked hopeful.

“Thank you,” I said, “for wanting to be my beau. And for knowing that it wouldn’t have been a good time to ask me then.”

“Is it a good time now?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “You really threw me off when you came to the party with Hannah.” Daniel shook his head. “It was a mistake to give her a ride.” We pulled in front of my house and he stopped the horse, holding the reins lightly across his lap. He turned to me. “Do you want to think about it?”

“Yes,” I said. Then I added, “First I have to deal with what my parents are going to say when they get home. I may not be allowed out of the house for a while.” I stepped down from the buggy and waved. Daniel nodded and tipped his hat before pulling away.

At home, I tried to fill the time with useful activities to keep my mind off of what was ahead. I pumped white gasoline into the lanterns and put fresh sheets on the beds and set the table for Sunday dinner. I wanted to show my parents that I was still helpful, though not always obedient. Finally I settled down with a square for a quilt that my mother was behind on. I hoped that even in her anger she would appreciate the smooth stitches in the zigzag pattern.

When I heard the buggy pull up, I put aside the quilt square and mentally rehearsed the excuses I’d prepared. Ruthie and James came in first, and James gave me what I thought was a sympathetic look. I realized that they had probably heard the discussion of my punishment on the ride home. My gaze went from James to Ruthie, and I saw that she was crying. Hot dread filled me as I watched James lead her upstairs. What could they be planning for me that would make Ruthie cry?

When my parents came in, my father took off his hat and jacket, and my mother hung up her shawl. They walked quietly into the living room and sat on the couch, facing me.

My mother was the first to speak. “First tell us that you’re all right, that you didn’t leave services because you’re ill.”

“I’m not sick,” I said in a small voice. “I just didn’t want to be there. I felt like a prisoner.”

They looked at each other for a moment, then turned back to me. “Eliza,” my father said quietly, “I think you know that your behavior today was not acceptable.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

“I don’t have to tell you that it doesn’t look good in front of the elders for one of our children to be running away from services,” said my mother.

“I know,” I said again. It seemed to be taking them a long time to let me know my punishment. I expected that I wouldn’t be able to attend the next month of parties. Maybe worse. I wished they would just tell me.

My father cleared his throat, and I prepared to receive my penance. “As you know, we Amish hope our young people will take up our ways after they have their bit of wildness.” I sighed, realizing this was going to take longer than I thought. My father’s voice was formal, as though he were delivering a speech. “But sometimes, when we don’t allow our children some freedom, they choose to leave our ways behind to see what they’re missing. I believe that’s what happened with Kate’s brother William.” I nodded, unsure of where my father was going with this.

“Do you understand what we’re telling you?” asked my mother.

“No,” I said. “And why was Ruthie crying?”

My mother glanced at my father before turning back to me. “Ruthie was crying because she’s going to miss you.”

I straightened, my heart hammering. “Miss me?” I asked. The words came out in a hoarse whisper.

“Last Monday, after Mrs. Aster’s visit, your father went to the inn to meet her and to talk to Mr. Allen. Apparently she is a good friend of Mr. Allen’s, and he gave her an excellent reference as an employer for you.” My hand covered my mouth. I wasn’t sure this was really happening.

My father continued. “Your mother and I have been talking a lot, and we don’t always agree.” He turned to her with a smile. She nodded and looked down. “But we both want to do what will be best for you. I am comfortable that Mrs. Aster will provide you with a safe home while you’re away from us. We discussed your wages and agreed that you will work for her through the summer. Mr. Allen will send word for her to come for you once we’ve finalized our plans.”

I let my hand drop from my mouth. “Even after the way I behaved today, you’re still going to let me go?”

“Maybe because of it,” my father said. “I think you need some time away to learn the value of what we’ve been trying to teach you. To answer some of the questions you have about the life outside of here. We’re afraid that if we don’t let you leave, you might go away on your own. And that would be worse, for all of us.”

On wobbly legs, I made my way over to the couch, beside my father. I buried my face in his shoulder, feeling the comforting roughness of his beard against my cheek, his hand cupping the back of my head. I shook with sobs. When we let go of each other I dried my eyes with the edge of my apron.

I looked past my father to my mother, who suddenly seemed small, her hands upturned in her lap, her expression sad. My father got up and left us together. My mother placed her hand over mine. “Thank you,” I said. She reached her arm around my shoulders and pulled me into a stiff hug. I was bursting with feelings I couldn’t name, and I wanted to hold on to the excitement of this moment. Then my mother’s voice murmured in my ear, “We’re sending you to keep you.”

I didn’t want to think about those words. Even in my excitement I couldn’t forget how she had said she’d rather I be unhappy at home than happy far away. When I pulled away to look at her, her silver-gray eyes were fixed somewhere else.

The rest of the day had an unnatural feeling, like I was running through water. James came and lifted me into a big hug. “It’s your turn now,” he whispered. He sounded just a little bit wistful.

Ruthie fell into my arms, her face sticky with tears. “It’s just for the summer,” I said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

While I helped my mother prepare the stew for Sunday dinner, I felt her looking over at me. I turned to her. “This week I’ll take you to Walmart,” she said. “To buy you some new clothes to take with you.” A smile stretched across my face. Then her voice returned to its usual sternness. “You’ll pay us back from your wages.” I nodded happily.

After dinner, my father went out to meet with Mr. Allen at the inn, and returned home with a cautious smile on his face. “Things happen quickly in that world,” he said. “Mr. Allen picked up the telephone, and the next thing I knew, Mrs. Aster’s voice was in my ear telling me she’ll pick you up on Sunday at ten in the morning.” He winked at me before adding, “You won’t be required to go to Fellowship that day.”

I caught my breath. In just one week I would be getting into Mrs. Aster’s car and riding away from here. In one week I would be a world away.