10

Following Preaching service and the fellowship meal the next day, Ellie sat near one of her open bedroom windows at the small desk Dat had built for her years ago. She was trying to decide how to start her latest letter to Leah. A house wren perched conspicuously on a nearby tree branch, and Ellie paused to listen to its familiar chatter. Peering through the window screen, she heard a similar bird calling back and smiled wistfully, remembering once more how she and Leah would always look across the meadow to see each other’s bedroom windows lit up at night.

Birds of a feather, she thought fondly of her friend as she fanned herself with a spare piece of stationery, then started to write.

Hard as it was, she chose not to tell Leah about the news of Sol’s and Evan’s low draft lottery numbers. After all, her Mamm or Sol himself would surely let her know about his situation. And besides, Evan’s response to receiving a low number was too perplexing to share. So she began by mentioning the upcoming youth activities, especially the volleyball tournament scheduled for next Saturday evening at her brother Rudy’s small goat farm. He and Lovina were having a cookout for all the district’s youth. It’ll be nice, Ellie wrote, with roasting ears, hot dogs, and my sister-in-law’s homemade relish. I really wish you could be there, too!

Putting down the pen, Ellie struggled with how much to share about the youth events here. She didn’t want Leah to feel left out. On the other hand, she wanted her to know how very much she was missed.

Sighing, Ellie leaned forward, her elbows on the desk, and heard male voices floating up from the front of the house. A car door slammed, and she went to the other window, where she observed her brother below. Evan was shaking his head and frowning something fierce.

“Evan?” she called, surprised he’d gone riding in a car on the Lord’s Day, something they weren’t permitted to do. Then again, her brother had pushed so many other boundaries, why was she surprised by this one?

He glanced up at her. “I’m not the best company right now, Ellie.”

“Ach, Bruder. Can’t we talk?”

He sighed. “Nothin’ to say . . . not now.” He hurried up the lane, and Ellie leaned against the windowsill and made herself take a deep breath. O Lord, my brother needs Thy help—and quick.

———

Sitting in the glider with his wife while drinking iced meadow tea on the back porch, Lyle had been staring out at the wide meadow where wildflowers bloomed, trying to relax. But then he’d suddenly heard Evan’s voice. “I think I’d better talk to him,” he told Elisabeth.

He headed down the steps to the walkway, where he waited for his son to come around. When Evan appeared, Lyle asked him to go with him into the house.

“It’s so hot. I’m burnin’ up.” Evan pressed his lips together and wiped his forehead with his hand.

“Some cold tea’ll do ya gut,” Lyle said, motioning toward the side door.

Surprisingly, Evan led the way. In the kitchen, he went directly to the refrigerator and poured a tall tumbler of cold tea for himself. Then he crossed the kitchen to sit near the open window at the foot of the table, where he’d sat when he was young, long before his older siblings married and left home.

Lyle could guess why he’d chosen to sit so far away. “I heard ya talkin’ to someone,” he said. “Ellie, maybe?”

Evan nodded. “Just comin’ back from a drive with Chuck after church.” He took another sip, working the tumbler in his hands, smoothing the condensation away with his fingers.

“Ach, son . . . ya didn’t.”

Frowning, Evan repeated that he had.

“Wanna talk about it?” Lyle wished he were as wise as Daed in dealing with something like this. He recalled what his father had said about praying more than talking.

“Chuck’s still tryin’ to get me to apply to be a CO,” Evan told him. “Asks why should I fight in an unjust war and get myself killed like Jack did.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself, Lyle thought, hoping perhaps Evan would listen to Chuck since he didn’t seem to be listening to his own family.

Evan continued. “Chuck doesn’t understand. I was Jack’s loyal friend,” he said, his voice breaking. “He said so in his last letter. The one I got after he died.”

So Jack and Evan did exchange letters somehow.

Lyle couldn’t make sense of any of this. “What does that have to do with your decision, son?”

“I want to honor Jack and do my part for this country. Ain’t right to leave it up to others to fight for the freedoms we enjoy. Jack himself mentioned this in one of his letters to me.”

Baffled, Lyle asked, “So for that you’re willin’ to go against everything right and gut you’ve been taught?” He stopped to breathe and tried to calm himself. “Have ya even thought of talkin’ to the bishop ’bout this?”

“We’ve already discussed this, Dat. How can I qualify for a religious exemption when I’m not baptized, and not even takin’ classes? It’s the chance I took when I registered for the draft.”

“But won’t ya at least try? See if Bishop will allow ya to get caught up with the baptismal instruction. Maybe Ellie can help ya, too.”

“Dat . . .” Evan paused as if trying to formulate his words, and for the first time, he met his father’s eyes. “I’m not even sure I want to be Plain anymore.”

Lyle’s stomach clenched. So that’s where this has been leading.

Evan stared out the window. “I’m not ready, Dat. I may never be ready.”

Lyle could not comprehend this, not coming from one of his own children. Evan would rather go to war than be baptized? It made no sense. “Well, Plain’s how ya were raised. Doesn’t that count for something?” Lyle said, grasping for more to say, another means for his son to escape what he seemed to already accept as inevitable.

He shuffled his feet under the table, feeling desperate. Truth be told, he wanted to demand that Evan start behaving like an Amishman and honor God, above all else. Yet he feared that would have his son walking out the door right now.

“Would ya want me to be baptized just to avoid the draft?” Evan asked.

“Nee, it’d be wrong to pretend to be ready to join church—that’d be downright dishonest.” Lyle’s heart was beating mighty hard.

Evan took a drink of his iced tea and then sighed deeply. “Listen, Dat, I’d appreciate it if you told Mamm I’ve made a final decision not to avoid the draft.”

“Won’t ya think more ’bout this, son? Remember, we’re peace-loving people. We oppose all manner of violence. While that might not mean much to ya now, it might someday. And as your father, it’s my job to keep ya on the right path.”

“Dat, I’m not changin’ my mind.”

Lyle was perspiring heavily now. “Think how much better it would be to reflect God’s love in this troubled world—with a wiser choice—and maybe bring about some positive change that doesn’t take lives?” He tugged on his beard, relieved Elisabeth wasn’t here to observe their son’s open resistance.

Evan drank the rest of his tea straight down and then set the tumbler on the table hard. “All it takes for evil to triumph is for gut men to do nothin’.”

“Ach, son.”

“I’m sorry, Dat. I wish this wasn’t such a disappointment to ya, but it’s what I want to do . . . what I need to do.” With that, he left the kitchen and disappeared upstairs.

Stunned at how stubborn Evan had become—and how hardened against the Old Ways of the People—Lyle felt his anger rise. He trembled, but try as he might, he could not quell his frustration—and fear.

If Evan were younger, I’d put my foot down on all this and spare him harm. But he’s no longer a child.

Knowing he’d be up from his Sunday afternoon nap by now, Ellie walked over to visit Dawdi Hezekiah with a big jar of cold homemade root beer. She couldn’t help noticing the pretty pink and white petunias he’d planted along either side of the short walkway leading to his Dawdi Haus.

“Thought ya might want something cold to drink,” she said, entering his little kitchen and setting the jar on the counter.

From the table where he sat with his old German Biewel, Dawdi gave her a big smile, his spectacles on the tip of his shiny nose. “Always nice to see ya, Ellie-girl.” He rose and went to the cupboard to take out two drinking glasses, then set them on the counter. “Can ya stay for a little while?”

“Sure,” she said, pouring some root beer into each glass.

“There’s some chipped ice in the icebox,” he said, motioning to it.

“This is nice and cold already.”

“All right, then.” Dawdi accepted the full glass and again sat at the small round table in the corner of the room near the windows. “Want some sweets to go with it?”

“Do you?” she asked, guessing he was hoping for some from Mamm’s constant supply.

“S’pose I had my fill at the fellowship meal earlier, so I’ll be content with this wunnerbaar-gut root beer your Mamm makes.” Dawdi eyed her like he sensed something was up. “I daresay you’re not yourself.” Studying her, he tilted his silvery-white head.

“Actually, Evan’s the one who’s not himself anymore,” she said, going on to share that her own twin didn’t seem interested in listening to her.

“Well, it ain’t like Evan to dismiss his sister.”

She shook her head. “Or anyone.”

“Lest ya forget, this is the same young fella who, as just a lad, would go round the orchard lookin’ up and thankin’ the trees for their fruit and the birds for their song, filled with gratitude to Gott.”

Ellie sighed. “I remember that, too.”

“That same young boy is still in there, somewhere. We may not see it right now, but we’re not givin’ up on him, ’cause the Good Lord sure hasn’t.”

“It’s so hard to recognize any of that in this Evan.”

Dawdi nodded slowly, his gray eyes misty. “I s’pect he might need to know that your love for him is constant in spite of his poor behavior.”

She felt so softhearted around Dawdi. “Do ya think you might be able to talk to him? Would ya?”

“Straighten him out, ya mean?”

“Seems like Dat’s been tryin’, but nothin’s worked. I thought you might be able to get his attention.”

“Well, I could try, but Evan’s grown now and has to make his own decisions under Gott. There’s no forcin’ the heart to shift in a direction it ain’t ready to go in.” Dawdi took a drink, then set his glass down in front of him, his fingers still wrapped around its base. “You remember the proverb ‘Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.’”

“I know it well.”

“Hard as it might seem to ya, we have to believe that the godly instruction your Dat and Mamm have given Evan all these years will carry him through.”

“What if that means waitin’ till Evan’s old, like the verse says?” She’d sometimes wondered about that. “And if he makes bad choices, will he have to suffer the consequences?”

“Our Lord is sovereign,” Dawdi said, his expression serious. “Come what may, we should never second-guess Him.”

Ellie drank some root beer, pondering all that Dawdi had said. “What if my parents’ teaching doesn’t hold for Evan? I mean, he’s not interested in bein’ baptized yet.”

“As long as Evan has breath, there’s still time.”

“Guess I want to hurry him up.”

“You’d like to fix him, ain’t so?”

She had to smile. “You know me, jah?”

“Well now, I believe I do.” Dawdi sat back and folded his arms, grinning at her. “You’re a peach of a girl with a tender heart toward your twin. It’s always been thataway. But the best thing ya can do for your Bruder now is to pray for him . . . and let him know ya care.”

They each drank another glass of root beer, and later she said good-bye and walked back to the main house, somewhat encouraged. Dawdi always seemed to understand whatever she was going through.