“Rhoda.” The bishop wrote something on the paper on the table in front of him. “I’ll ask again. Did you break into Mrs. Walker’s home based on intuition?”
She glanced at the clock. After she had answered their questions for twenty minutes, the church leaders had yet to accept any of her responses as sufficient. What were these men looking for? Not justice. She knew that before coming here. Did they hope to find a cause to refuse her the right to move to Maine? That didn’t make any sense. Not one of them wanted her to live in Morgansville, except maybe Rueben, so he could torment her.
Urie studied her. “Ya or nee.”
She nodded. The onlookers responded with breathy whispers, and Rhoda doubted a word of it was kind. Rueben had stirred up turmoil about her for years, and many in the community believed that if someone saw into the future even once, it was because that person practiced witchcraft.
She rubbed her left shoulder, but it was no use. The ache went much deeper than she could massage. The undercurrent of negative feelings toward her had to be taking Samuel aback. Would he agree with some of their sentiments before the evening was over? She couldn’t think about that. All she had to do was get through tonight with her right to move to Maine intact. If they wouldn’t give it to her, at least by her coming here, they would let Steven and his family move.
The bishop gathered pages from the other church leaders and put them with his own. He got out of his chair and paced in front of her. He pointed his finger heavenward. “As God is my witness, I only want the truth.”
She believed that, but she also believed he was too biased against her to see anything other than his twisted viewpoints. If the church leaders couldn’t give her grace, what chance did she have with the rest of the community?
Urie straightened his glasses and glanced at the papers in his hand. “You have given one direct answer. Only one.” His voice boomed. “The rest have been evasive.”
Her goal had been to say as little as possible and to say it without anger or accusation. But she would have to start giving longer answers. “I’ll try to do better.”
He pursed his lips. “Let’s try again. Did you foresee your sister’s murder?”
“She was my little sister. People sometimes sense when a loved one is in—”
“Stop, please.” He glanced at the church leaders. “You will answer ya or nee.”
The preacher offered a weak but sincere smile while gesturing toward her. “A simple yes or no in any language will do.”
Some people snickered. Others talked softly.
Rueben stood. “She can talk to plants and animals and get them to do her bidding, but she can’t answer men of God. What does that tell us about her?”
A clamor arose, and two women clutched their young ones and headed for the door. As they glanced at Rhoda, she saw their fear. How could they believe she would ever harm anyone even if she had the power to do so?
An ache that she’d been running from since childhood settled in her chest, making it hard to breathe. Her people despised her, including many of the women who talked so kindly to her during community gatherings.
“Hold on.”
Samuel’s voice rose above the murmuring. Rhoda imagined his tan face was tinged with red. The man’s poor hat was bound to look like a pretzel. Unless he’d thrown it across the room. “Bishop Glick, why does Rueben get to stand up and speak against Rhoda, and yet you will not let her speak a sentence when answering your questions?”
Urie turned to Rueben. “You will sit down and be quiet or I will ask you to leave.”
Rueben sat. One side of his mouth curled into a smile.
Urie lowered his glasses, staring toward the back of the room. “Please sit down, Samuel.”
“I don’t understand. How can you consider this meeting fair or just?”
“It may appear unfair to an outsider, but be patient. She will have her say later on. And as I’ve told you twice already, you are not a part of this district. You can’t speak for someone who is, especially when these incidents took place before you knew Rhoda.”
A chair scraped against the wood floor. Rhoda imagined it was Samuel taking a seat. He probably had a lot he’d like to say, but angering the church leaders would be a mistake. Did he still believe he’d done the right thing?
The bishop put his glasses higher up on his nose and stared at one of the pages in his hands. “Did you give some of the non-Amish townsfolk herbal remedies that they said were miracles, declaring that your concoctions were able to do what neither pharmaceuticals nor God had been able to do?”
“I’ve given a few some herbal teas, but—”
“Ya or nee, Rhoda.”
She pressed her hands down her black apron. “Ya.”
“Can you read people’s thoughts?”
“Nee.”
Urie’s eyes widened as he focused on her.
Rueben stood. “She’s lying.”
Rhoda let out a slow breath. Why had she given in to provoking Rueben’s anger last March? She never should have let herself read Rueben, no matter how he irked her. If these men knew how much effort she put into resisting the inklings and forewarnings, maybe then they would extend grace and understanding to her.
Rueben faced those behind Rhoda. “I wish I’d been a man of honor, but everyone here knows my shame. I was seeing someone else besides my girl here in Morgansville, but no one knew that. Rhoda read my mind and blabbed about it to my girl.”
“My daughter is not the first woman to read guilt on a man’s face.” Her Daed’s words quivered as he spoke up.
Fresh pain pierced her. How awful for such a good man to lose a gentle daughter and be left with one who was an outcast.
The bishop nodded. “Karl is right. Sit down, Rueben. This isn’t about you.”
“Isn’t it supposed to be?” Samuel’s voice again. “He destroyed her berry garden, and I sent you a letter about it. But so far the only one to be questioned is Rhoda.”
Urie pursed his lips and nodded. “We will get to that. But how can we talk about that incident without understanding who Rhoda is?”
“By focusing on the point of this meeting—your nephew’s misconduct. Instead, you ask the victim questions that have nothing to do with Rueben’s vandalism.”
Urie’s eyes flashed with anger. “Are you questioning my authority? I hold this position because it was given to me by God.”
Images flashed in Rhoda’s mind. She tensed. No! Not here. Not now.
But the images came, even against her will. As if someone were holding up one picture after another, she saw churches throughout the centuries, from the most humble to huge cathedrals. Understanding washed over her, sickening her as she saw hundreds upon hundreds of years of men of the cloth using deceit to get what they wanted. Not all the church leaders by any means, but even one was too many. How many church authorities began with good intentions and then allowed themselves to be manipulated by liars? How many of them knew that’s what they were doing, but for reasons even they didn’t understand, they allowed it anyway?
Urie was a bishop over numerous districts in Morgansville that composed a large Amish community. Was he so caught up in being chosen by God that he’d forgotten any man could become corrupt? Even King Saul and King Jehu began as good men.
What possessed any man’s heart so fully that he believed he was doing right by the church when he planned and plotted against good, well-meaning people? The sadness of it was too much for Rhoda, and tears welled in her eyes.
Rueben smirked. He must have thought he made her cry. And truth be told, for the first time she did weep for him and for all those like him who were so smug in their religious convictions. People who could not see that the pleasures of stirring gossip and spreading lies would be short lived.
Did Urie think God was fooled? Or was his conscience so fully fixed on today—and his expectations of God’s favor so sure—that his conscience applauded him?
If she could go to Maine, she would be out from under this man’s authority. If she had to work on the orchard in Maine year round until her hands bled, she would sing praises to God for freeing her. She believed in the Amish ways; their beauty was far greater than the world could see. But not when people were under a bishop like Urie Glick and the man he had become. She prayed for whoever would be chosen as church leaders in the new district. Prayed that the men and their wives would be full of love and mercy. Prayed their heartaches and egos would not grow so large that they would set themselves up as judges, allowing deceitful men like Rueben to bring false statements because it’s what the heads of the church wanted to hear.
Urie glanced at the papers once more. “Have you ever used your abilities to make a profit?” He lowered the paper from his face and peered at her over the top of his glasses. “Well?”
Hearing a chair move, he looked toward the back of the room, then yanked off his glasses. “Samuel King, sit down! We are fully aware that you take exception to our questions, perhaps because you are hopeful of profiting from the partnership you’ve made with her.” Urie returned his focus to Rhoda, but she was fairly confident he had sown doubt about Samuel’s motives in the hearts of everyone in the room.
Rhoda licked her lips. “Nee.”
“How can you be sure of it?”
Someone knocked on the front door, and one of the women went to answer it. Samuel’s uncle, a preacher in Lancaster, walked in with another man.
Urie moved to them and met them with a kiss on each cheek. The men whispered with Urie for a bit before they sat somewhere behind Rhoda.
Urie went to the front of the room again. “I’d like to welcome Preacher Mervin King and Bishop David Yoder with us tonight from Lancaster. Let’s extend to them a Morgansville welcome.”
Rhoda slumped in her chair. Just what she hadn’t wanted—leaders of other Amish communities knowing what was said here tonight. Worse, they were relatives of the Kings.
This had to be Samuel’s doing. Surely he knew how his Daed felt about her. Why did he think his bishop or his uncle would feel any different?
Samuel had put her in this spot where people could hurl their harsh judgments and anger. Was this what it would be like in Maine—Samuel, with the best of intentions, continually taking charge of her life, setting things in motion that she couldn’t undo?
His actions used to make clear, logical sense. She disagreed with many of them, but she’d understood how he came to his decisions. But lately, very little of what Samuel did made sense. And she couldn’t help wondering …
What had happened to the friendship she and Samuel once shared?