The Shunning by Beverly Lewis Page B

fried up the chicken dinner, complete with homemade bread and jam, macaroni, green beans, corn, chow-chow, applesauce, and banana nut bread.
    “Find anything useful up at Noah’s sale today?” John asked Samuel after the silent prayer.
    “Oh, not much, really. Nothing we needed.”
    “We saw some nice-looking hickory rockers, matchin’ ones,” Hickory John spoke up. “But we figured we wouldn’t be needing ’em anytime soon.” He cast Katie a sidelong glance through long lashes framing clear blue eyes.
    Wondering if he were thinking of future Beiler babies, she felt her cheeks grow warm. His mamma’s rockers would have to do when that time came, she thought, half wishing she were bringing her own furnishings— along with her hope chest linens—to this house. Then she felt guilty for her ingratitude. Wasn’t it enough that someone wanted to marry her?
    Surely that was what Mam was thinking this very minute over there at the opposite end of the supper table—that Katie shouldn’t be fussing about not bringing her own dowry to this marriage. That she shouldn’t be fussing about anything at all. She sighed and took another bite of the delicious banana bread.
    After the meal, Jacob startled her by asking, “Now will ya sing for us?”
    For a breathless moment, Katie felt as if her heart would stop.
    Nancy grinned, egging her on. “Jacob says you have a real nice singin’ voice.”
    The others were waiting for her answer, while Dat glared. “Maybe we could all sing something together,” she managed. “I could lead out on ‘Sweet Hour of Prayer.”’
    Dat frowned and shook his head. “Too fast.”
    She wasn’t surprised to hear that opinion coming from her father. Samuel Lapp preferred the slow tunes in the Ausbund . But Katie hadn’t expected to be setting the pitch and singing the first syllable of each line of those old, old hymns tonight the way the Vorsinger —song leader—did for the congregation at Sunday preaching.
    The atmosphere was taut with tension. Katie prayed silently with unorthodox fervor, Please, Lord, let Jacob keep still about what he heard today. Don’t let Dat mention my sinning over the music. . . . Above all, she was hoping that the others wouldn’t notice her heart hammering wildly beneath the green serge of her dress.
    Bishop John came to her defense. “Oh, I don’t think Katie has to lead out in singing just now.” The slight reprimand in his tone sent Jacob’s small shoulders drooping, but the boy said nothing.
    All five children, including mischievous Levi, age eight, sat straight and still as fence posts on the bench across from Katie—looking a little disappointed.
    Katie thought the matter was at an end when Jacob seemed to take on a burst of fresh enthusiasm. “But, Daed,” he persisted, “couldn’t she just sing the tune I heard her hummin’ today on the road?”
    John’s eyes widened, but before he could respond, Samuel intervened. “No, Jacob, she won’t be singin’ tonight—and that’s that.”
    Katie felt Dat’s hard gaze on her.
    When John shooed his children away from the table as though they were a flock of chickens, Katie welcomed the opportunity to escape and left the table to help with the dishes. She was worried, though. What if Dat brought up the subject of her music with the bishop, her willful sinning?
    So terrified was she that she did her best to eavesdrop on their conversation, much to the dismay of Jacob and Susie, who were trying to engage her in lively dialogue as she stood in front of the sink, elbow deep in foamy suds.
    “I can hardly wait for you to come be our Mam,” the little boy was saying.
    “Me too.” Susie’s blue eyes were wide and bright.
    Nancy stood near the sink, ready to dry the first cup. “ All of us can hardly wait,” she added in her soft voice.
    Katie gave a wry smile. “Well, you’ll have to be patient with me, jah? I’ve never been a mamma before.”
    Nancy giggled. “We’ll be patient, all right.