It wasn’t Christmas so much that plagued her, but the story of Mary having a baby, being a virgin. Joseph willing to raise that child. Having to travel so close to her due date, giving birth in the barn. Somehow Tillie felt more kin to Mary than she ever had. And yet she had never felt further from God.
“I suppose if he has any Christmas decorations it’s because Mims has gone over and put them up for him.”
“Jah,” she said. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Why all the worry about Levi?” Mamm asked.
Tillie only shrugged. “I don’t know. Just you guys talking, I guess.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t be a terrible idea if you wanted to ride out there tomorrow and see if he has Christmas decorations or needs something done in the house.”
“We could, yes.” The thought of helping Levi Yoder, of maybe cleaning his house, putting up some Christmas decorations, doing their best to add cheer to the place, somehow that made her feel a little better. Like she was indeed going to be able to come back into the community, be a part of it, be accepted. If nothing else, perhaps it was just a bit of atonement that she needed.
Mamm nodded and smiled. “It’s settled, then. First thing tomorrow morning right after breakfast we’ll head over to Levi Yoder’s and help out a neighbor.”
Tillie returned her smile. “It’s a deal.” A wave of warmth washed over her. Christmas spirit? Or merely the thought of doing something good after all the shame she had brought her family?
Or perhaps because of the shame he wouldn’t want her within ten feet of him. The thought was sobering, and she remembered his stare from earlier in church. She had no idea what was going on behind his eyes as he stared at her. She wasn’t even sure why he was looking at her with a room full of other faces to view.
Chapter Eight
“How long do you think it’ll be before the bishop comes to visit?” Tillie asked.
As decided on Sunday they had headed out to Levi Yoder’s house first thing Monday morning after breakfast. Libby had begged to go with them, but Mamm had insisted she stay behind in case Mammi Glick needed anything.
“When do you think the bishop’s coming?”
“I wish I knew. I thought he would have been here before now, but . . .” She trailed off with a small shrug.
They both knew that the bishop would be knocking on their door one day soon to get things straightened out. A woman couldn’t just come back pregnant and expect everything to fall in line. The only holdup, as far as Tillie could see, was Christmas. Either the bishop was trying to be kind and allow them Christmas in order to get things together or he was merely too busy with his own celebrations to give her more than a passing thought. For now.
“Well, he’s coming,” Mamm conceded. “I just don’t know when.” They rode along in silence for a moment. The day was bright and cool, just like the previous day had been, even though the weatherman continued to warn about storms. It was all the talk at church yesterday afternoon and all the talk at supper the night before. It seemed that all the men could talk about were the storms coming, rolling through Northeast Mississippi and promising weather that they hadn’t seen in a long time. Honestly, Tillie thought most of the men were a little dramatic when it came to the weather, but there was no telling farmers that. Even in the wintertime.
Mamm drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Tillie’s heart sank. Every time her mother did that it meant something was coming that perhaps neither one of them was going to like. And that’s when she knew that her mamm had told Libby to stay behind not because Mammi Glick might really need something but so she could have Tillie all to herself. “About Melvin.”
Tillie shook her head. But she didn’t say anything. The last thing she wanted to talk about was Melvin. She would rather talk about the baby and what she was going to do after it was born. She had at least a little bit of control over the baby. A baby she could love, hug, dress, and feed, and Melvin . . . Melvin was a grown man. With his own mind. He had made his own decisions, and she had made hers. Right or wrong, good or bad, even though it went against every grain of her Amish upbringing, Tillie did not want to go back to the English world. How could anyone ask her to? How could anyone expect her to? It wasn’t a matter of sins and transgressions; it was a matter of making two of the biggest mistakes she had ever made in her life. Mistakes that had lasting consequences, mistakes she would spend the rest of her life dealing with, and mistakes that caused her to be carrying a child who was no mistake at all.
How could she view her child as a mistake?
But how could she stay?
There was no answer to it.
Life wasn’t going to be easy. In fact, she knew it was going to be awful hard. But it was her life, and she would live it through.
“I don’t think Melvin is coming,” Tillie said for what seemed like the hundredth time. Anytime anybody got her by herself it was the first thing they wanted to know: was Melvin coming to live with her and if so, when? Was Melvin coming to visit? Was Melvin coming when the baby was born?
No.
She had asked him, begged and pleaded with him, sobbed, then cried herself to sleep, waiting for him to change his mind, to tell her that they were going to return to Pontotoc, to
