The Punishment (Doris's Christmas Story Book 2) Read online

  The roads had been recently plowed and no new snow had fallen, so Matthew felt quite comfortable taking Annie out for a ride that evening. There were hardly any cars on the road; in truth, he hadn’t seen a one. And if he met a buggy or two, they shouldn’t pose any special danger. He was already nearing the Hershberger farm, so he slowed Blackie to a walk.

  There Annie was. Right up ahead. His pulse increased, and his mouth went a little dry. He pulled to a stop beside her and leaned over to open her door.

  “Hello, Annie.”

  She climbed in and turned to him. “Hello, Matthew.” Her voice was soft and melodious and shy.

  He could see her fairly well in the shadows as there was a streetlamp close to where they were. Once they started moving, though, he wouldn’t be able to see her well at all. Annie was pretty. Her features were pleasant and open and honest. She had a look about her of pure goodness. He smiled at the thought.

  Doris didn’t have that look of pure goodness, although there was no reason why she shouldn’t. Perhaps it was because Doris had a streak of mischief in her and a stubbornness that made her look daring instead. There was something about Doris that grabbed a person and wouldn’t let go.

  Annie said something, but he’d missed it. What in the world was he doing with his head in the clouds? And why in the world was he comparing the two of them?

  “Uh, what did you say, Annie?” he asked, feeling like a fool.

  “Only that it’s right warm in here. My dat was talking about getting a heater for our buggy, too. Ach, but it makes a difference.”

  He smiled, on safe ground now. “It makes a big difference. We’ve had ours since last winter. Mamm insisted that Dat get one.” He laughed. “We had one within a week.”

  “Perhaps I’ll tell my mamm to insist on one, too,” she said and giggled.

  Matthew turned the buggy down the road that passed Wiley’s Pond. The moon glistened on the partially frozen water, making squiggly lines of light across its surface.

  “It’s pretty, ain’t so?” Annie asked, looking at the pond.

  “It sure it.”

  “I s’pose it’s too cold to take a walk around it.”

  He looked at her in surprise. He would have expected such a suggestion from Doris, but not from Annie. Perhaps his new girlfriend was tougher than she looked.

  “Maybe it’s not too cold,” he said.

  “You think it’s too dark?”

  He leaned forward a bit, scanning the area. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  He turned the buggy a bit to the left and pulled into the wide spot at the edge of the pond. He tugged on the reins, and the buggy stopped with a gentle lurch.

  “Shall we?” he asked.

  She laughed. “We shall.”

  He had to lean across her to open her door, and he smelled the sweet scent of shampoo and a hint of baking cookies. Had she been in the kitchen before she came out to meet him? Making Christmas cookies? She slipped out of the buggy and he pulled her door shut again, and then he secured the reins and got out himself.

  Annie had stepped close to the pond and was staring into its dark depths. “Did you know there’s a lake in Ireland and people claim it has a monster in it?”

  “A monster?”

  “Jah. Called the Lochness Monster. People have declared they’ve seen it.”

  “Now, that’d be exciting. I wouldn’t mind seeing a monster.”

  “The Wiley’s Pond Monster.”

  He laughed. “Jah. The Wiley’s Pond Monster. People would come from miles around.”

  “I go to the library every couple of weeks,” she said.

  “Do you now?”

  She smiled up at him in the moonlight. “I do. That’s how I found out about the Lochness Monster. I like to read during the winter. It gets dark so early, and I don’t like putting puzzles together.”

  He laughed. “I don’t fancy puzzles much myself.”

  “But reading…” She sighed with pleasure. “You can travel the world with reading.”

  He gazed at her, impressed. He wasn’t much for books, but she made it sound like he was missing something.

  “Your folks are all right with you going to the library so often?” He knew some people in the district weren’t in favor, even though the bishop had given his approval.

  “I have to show the books I check out to dat and make sure he approves.”

  Matthew tried to imagine Doris asking her dad for approval on every book she read, and he simply couldn’t fathom it. But Annie didn’t seem to mind.

  “Have you ever been forced to take a book back?”

  “Forced?” she questioned.

  “Jah. If your dat didn’t approve.”

  “Twice I’ve taken books back, but I never thought of it as being forced. Dat didn’t think the books were appropriate, so I returned them.”

  “What were the books?” he asked, wondering why he was pursuing the issue.

  “They were two poetry books. I thought they had beautiful poems in them, but Dat didn’t agree.”

  Poetry. Matthew wasn’t much for poetry, either. He thought it was more of a girl thing. But then, he didn’t know much about it. In truth, he’d hardly read more than a handful of poems in his entire life. He thought he remembered Doris talking about poems to him once; he wished he could remember what she’d said.

  “Do you like poetry?” Annie asked, as if she were reading his thoughts.

  “Not so much,” he admitted.

  “I think it’s lovely the way some people arrange words to paint a picture. I wish I could do that.”

  “I’m sure you could if you tried.” He wondered if writing poetry was forbidden. He’d never cared enough about it to find out. He knew that writing fiction was looked down upon in their district, but poetry was different from fiction.

  “Have you ever tried writing poems?” he asked her as they began walking around the pond. It was too dark to walk at a normal speed, so they ambled very slowly.

  “I’ve tried a time or two,” she said, and he could hear the embarrassment in her voice.

  “I bet they were right nice.”

  “I don’t think so.” She stumbled a bit and fell against his side. Instinctively, he put his arm around her to steady her. She didn’t move away, so he left his arm around her for another few seconds before dropping it.

  She was so small. So much smaller than Doris. Annie gave him the impression of a sparrow or a wren. He had a sudden urge to put his arm back around her and cradle her to his side as they continued walking.

  Annie seemed like the kind of girl who would welcome a man’s protection and guidance. The kind of girl who wouldn’t argue to make her point. The kind of girl who wouldn’t ask too much of him… Unlike the way Doris had asked him to receive letters from Jordan so her folks wouldn’t know about them. It still irked him that she’d asked. And he was even more irked with himself for agreeing to do it.

  If Doris asked him again that day, he’d say no.

  But then, she wouldn’t ask him, would she? Jordan Lehman was out of prison now and back home. He wondered what would happen at preaching service on Sunday. There would be some kind of discipline vote, of that he was certain.

  “Matthew?” Annie said, jerking him from his thoughts.

  “Jah?”

  “I asked whether you would be going to the school’s Christmas program.”

  “Of course. The whole district turns out for that. Why do you ask?”

  “My little sister has a recitation.”

  “I bet she’s excited.”

  “And nervous.” Annie laughed. “In truth, I’m nervous right along with her. I’ve been trying to help her memorize the verses, but Betty has a hard time remembering.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Matthew said, thinking about Annie’s young sister. She was a cute little thing.

  “Mamm gets too impatient to help her, so it falls to me. I don’t mind, truly. I could recite the piece for her by
now.”

  Matthew laughed. “Maybe you should do it together.”

  Annie shook her head. “Can you imagine? Someone my age taking part in the program?”

  “It’d be long remembered,” Matthew said, still chuckling.

  “That it would. I don’t fancy being remembered or thought of in that way.”

  “How do you want to be thought of?” He’d just been making conversation, but for some reason, this last question came out with a level of seriousness he hadn’t intended.

  Annie was silent for a long moment before she responded. “I want to be thought of as a gut Christian wife and mother.”

  Matthew swallowed, feeling hugely awkward. They had stopped walking, and he knew she was waiting for his reaction. His tongue had grown thick, and he couldn’t think of a thing to say. But he had to say something.

  “Uh, I’m sure you will be.” He sucked in a deep breath.

  If Annie was disappointed with his response or if she’d been hoping for a more personal reaction, she didn’t let on. She started walking again, although even more slowly. They were passing a grouping of young trees that blocked any vestiges of moonlight.

  “I think we should go back,” Matthew said. “It’s getting harder and harder to see. I wouldn’t want you to twist an ankle.”

  “You’re right,” she said sweetly, seeming to have already forgotten the recent unease between them. “But thank you, Matthew. It was a lovely walk, however short.”

  He surprised himself by taking her hand. She instantly curled her fingers around his. They walked back to the buggy like that, holding hands, walking closer to each other than when they’d first started out.

  Chapter Four

  Doris was awake way too early that Sunday morning. Truth be told, she was surprised she’d slept at all. Jordan was constantly on her mind … along with the bishop and the deacons and the entire district. Today would have a huge impact on Jordan’s life—and on hers, too. She prayed she was right, and that after today’s service, the whole incident would be behind them.

  Jordan would certainly have to ask forgiveness of everyone. Beyond that, she wasn’t sure what would happen. But Jordan would cooperate, and then it would be over. She wondered whether his parents had slept at all that night. She wondered if Jordan had slept at all that night.

  She rose and got dressed. She would be the first one down to the kitchen, and she could get breakfast on the table. Her mother would like that. She slipped out of her room and padded down the stairs in her stockinged feet. She felt her way to the kitchen and lit two lanterns. The room sprang to life, and she busied herself getting the teakettle on. Before she worked on breakfast, she’d stir up the embers of the warming stove and put in another log or two.

  The linoleum was cold through her stockings. Goodness, it must have frozen outside last night. She peered through the window and saw the crispy-looking grass covered with ice that glittered in the last bit of moonlight. She hoped the Mast barn was warm for the service. She wished they would only rotate the services through families with large meeting rooms during the winter, but their bishop was a stickler for organization, not wanting to deviate from the regular rotation no matter what the reason.

  “Ach, it’s you,” Henrietta said, entering the kitchen. “I heard someone down here.”

  “Morning, Mamm,” Doris said, getting the plates down from the cupboard.

  “Morning.” Henrietta moved to the cook stove. “Why are you up so early?” And then it dawned on her, and she frowned. “You’re fretting about the service and what the bishop’s going to say.”

  “Some,” Doris admitted.

  “Gott has appointed the bishop over us, daughter, so there is no need to fret. What happens this morning will be Gott’s will.”

  Doris inhaled deeply, wondering just exactly what God’s will was. She certainly hoped God’s will would match her own that morning.

  “Will you run upstairs and get your sisters up? Your dat and the boys will be down shortly to tend the animals.”

  “All right,” Doris said, leaving the kitchen and heading back upstairs.

  * * *

  Doris could scarcely pay one bit of attention during the preaching that morning. The first sermon, being shorter, passed smoothly enough, but the second … she was sure it would never end. It was all she could do not to fidget and turn around every few seconds to watch Jordan sitting with his father and brothers. The look on his face was shadowed, and it haunted her. She didn’t see a repentant expression—she saw anger and resentment covered over by a look of feigned attention.

  She knew Jordan. She knew him well, and his face gave her no comfort that morning. She grew more and more nervous, and her stomach churned. When the last prayer began, she dared catch another glimpse of him, but his head was bowed, and she couldn’t see his face. Was it her imagination, or was everyone tense right then? The entire atmosphere had turned stiff, not like the usual softness that accompanied prayer time.

  When prayer was over, the bishop spoke. “Will all the children please file outside? Members, you will need to remain.”

  Jordan made a move to get up, since he hadn’t yet been baptized into the church, but his father grabbed his forearm and pulled him back down to his seat. The children left, and all eyes turned back toward the bishop.

  The bishop started in, “From time to time, foxes sneak into the vineyard and it is up to the keeper of the vineyard to deal with them. Sadly, as all of you know, a fox has come into our vineyard. You are aware that one of our own—even though he hasn’t yet been baptized—has been in prison for the sin of stealing. At this time, I would like to ask Jordan Lehman to leave the building while the rest of the church votes on his punishment.”

  Doris didn’t dare turn around and watch Jordan leave. If she did, she might just burst into tears, and that wouldn’t do at all. But she heard his footsteps on the barn floor as he left the meeting. At that point, the bishop spoke again.

  “I am truly sad that this has occurred. It has brought shame upon all of us. At the same time, this is Jordan’s first public sin. Therefore, I believe that a common confession and a series of classes with me should suffice as punishment this time.”

  Doris’s heart was nearly beating out of her chest. This was good news—wonderful news, in fact. The bishop sat down, and the deacons gave their two cents worth, and then they turned to the church to see if they were in agreement. If they were in agreement when the vote was taken, Doris knew each person was expected to say, “I am in agreeance and I wish the Lord’s blessings.”

  When the deacon who was taking the women’s votes came to Doris and bent his head to hear her words, she quickly said, “I am in agreeance and I wish the Lord’s blessings.”

  Relief continued to surge through her as the deacon moved on and the vote was completed.

  Jordan was brought in and after he returned to his seat, the bishop said, “The church has decided that they require a common confession and weekly classes with me. Jordan Lehman, I will say the entire confession first so that you can hear and acknowledge the words. I will then repeat it slowly for you to join in. I acknowledge that I have grieved God and the church, and with heartfelt sorrow, I ask both to forgive me and with God’s help, I will try to live more holy.”

  The bishop then voiced the confession more slowly and Jordan repeated the words after him. Doris held her breath, hearing the dullness of tone in Jordan’s voice. What was wrong? Wasn’t he relieved? Wasn’t he grateful it was almost over?

  But she heard none of this in his voice. She heard no emotion at all. It was as if something had erased all feeling from him, and that worried Doris more than if she’d heard the anger and resentment she’d seen on his face earlier.

  Doris was sitting down the bench a bit from her mother, and she could feel her mother’s eyes on her. Doris didn’t want to look at her. Again, she was afraid she’d burst into tears. But then, why should she? Wasn’t this the exact outcome she’d been praying for?


  Within moments, it was over, and the meeting was dismissed. The women got up as if synchronized and moved out of the barn and toward the house. It was time to bring the food out for the communal meal. Doris hung back, hoping to catch Jordan’s eye. But he was already helping arrange the tables for the meal. She saw the look on his face, though. It was closed off, and she couldn’t read it.

  She also couldn’t stand there like a stick stuck in the mud. She hurried after the women, knowing that unless she wanted everyone’s attention on her, she needed to blend in and help serve the food.

  They had three seatings that day. It seemed that not one person in the district had missed preaching service that morning. Likely, they were all eager to see what would happen to Jordan Lehman. Well, now they knew. Everyone knew.

  Doris was watchful during the meal. Folks were laughing and talking as normal. She even saw old Ezra Zook slap Jordan on the back in a friendly manner. As the minutes ticked by, she began to breathe easier and easier.

  Her mother, however, seemed to grow more tense with every moment that passed. Doris feared what she might be thinking. In truth, she was quite sure her mother had hoped for a more drastic discipline. It wouldn’t be charitable of her, but it would mean she could prohibit Doris from seeing Jordan.

  Now, she couldn’t. Not really. Doris supposed her father could lay down the law, but she wasn’t certain he would—unless her mother insisted on it with him in private.

  After the meal, people began dribbling away, getting into their buggies and going back home. Doris’s brothers had hitched up their buggy and were waiting for her and her sisters and her mother to finish cleaning up.

  Doris slipped out of the Mast farmhouse and glanced around for Jordan. Instead, she saw Matthew standing at the barn door, watching her. She raised an arm to wave at him, but he turned away and disappeared back into the barn. She frowned. Was he trying to avoid her?

  Well, she didn’t have time for that now. She really wanted to see Jordan and maybe sneak in a private word with him before getting into her family buggy.