Read Online An Amish Christmas by Patricia Davids - Free Book Online
Authors: Patricia Davids
Ads: Link
forget the tongue you grew up with.”
He shrugged. “Who would think I could forget my own name? As far as I’m concerned anything is possible.”
Racking her mind for local families with members who’d strayed, she quickly came up with several. In their tight-knit community, she was sure she knew all the young men who’d left. The only one close to John’s age would have been Isaac Troyer’s son who left almost ten years ago. He looked nothing like John. The others she could think of who had left the community were much younger men and a few young women.
There were at least three families who had moved into the area recently. If they had members leave the faith before coming to this church district she didn’t know about them.
In less than a quarter of a mile, they reached the laneof another farm. John turned the horse onto the narrow road. Karen said, “When we get to the bishop’s house, you should stay in the buggy.”
“Why?”
“So that I may speak privately to Bishop Zook and ask if he can assist you.”
“And if he says no?” John’s tone carried a hint of annoyance.
“Bishop Zook is a wise and much-respected man. If you have his permission to speak to the members of our church it will open many doors that might otherwise be closed to you.”
John relented. “All right. I’ll follow your lead.”
“Goot.” She nodded her satisfaction.
Driving the buggy up to the front of the house, he drew the mare to a stop. Before Karen could step out, Joseph Zook walked out of the house toward her. “ Guder mariye, Karen,” he called cheerfully. “What brings you here today?”
“Good morning, Bishop. I have brought someone to meet you. This is John Doe, the man who was found unconscious beside our lane.”
Concern furrowed the minister’s brow. “I have heard the story. I am glad to see that you are recovered, Mr. Doe.”
“I’m not quite recovered, sir.” John touched the bandage on the side of his head. “I have no memory of my past. I’m hoping that you can help me.”
“I am sorry for your injury, but how can I help?”
“Do you recognize me? Have you ever seen me be fore?”
The bishop studied him intently then said, “ Nee, I have not.”
Karen could feel John’s disappointment in the slump of his body beside her. She addressed the bishop. “John wishes to speak to members of our church to see if anyone knows him or knows something about him.”
The bishop studied Karen intently. He switched to Pennsylvania Dutch. “You must be careful, Karen. To become involved in this outsider business is not a good thing.”
She bowed her head slightly. “How can helping an injured man be a bad thing? I feel that this is what God wants me to do.”
“Be sure it is God’s will you are seeking, Karen, and not your own.”
“I will heed your advice, Bishop.”
The bishop turned his attention back to John and spoke in English. “You may speak to members of our church if they wish it also. I will pray that you find the answers you seek, young man.”
Karen watched the bishop walk away. She had been warned. Her support for John must be limited and above reproach. She reached for the reins but John ignored her outstretched hand, turning the horse easily in the yard and sending her down the lane.
Karen put the bishop’s warning behind her. “You have driven a buggy many times.”
“Maybe I’m just a fast learner.”
“Perhaps.” Her spirits sank lower. How many English knew how to drive a buggy? Not many. It seemed more likely that her earlier assumption was correct. John had been raised Plain.
If he had left the church before his baptism, he would be accepted by most of the Amish in her community.If, on the other hand, he had rejected the church after baptism he would be considered an outcast until he made a full confession before the congregation.
She glanced at him once more. How could a man confess his sins if he had no memory of them? He looked happy at the moment
He shrugged. “Who would think I could forget my own name? As far as I’m concerned anything is possible.”
Racking her mind for local families with members who’d strayed, she quickly came up with several. In their tight-knit community, she was sure she knew all the young men who’d left. The only one close to John’s age would have been Isaac Troyer’s son who left almost ten years ago. He looked nothing like John. The others she could think of who had left the community were much younger men and a few young women.
There were at least three families who had moved into the area recently. If they had members leave the faith before coming to this church district she didn’t know about them.
In less than a quarter of a mile, they reached the laneof another farm. John turned the horse onto the narrow road. Karen said, “When we get to the bishop’s house, you should stay in the buggy.”
“Why?”
“So that I may speak privately to Bishop Zook and ask if he can assist you.”
“And if he says no?” John’s tone carried a hint of annoyance.
“Bishop Zook is a wise and much-respected man. If you have his permission to speak to the members of our church it will open many doors that might otherwise be closed to you.”
John relented. “All right. I’ll follow your lead.”
“Goot.” She nodded her satisfaction.
Driving the buggy up to the front of the house, he drew the mare to a stop. Before Karen could step out, Joseph Zook walked out of the house toward her. “ Guder mariye, Karen,” he called cheerfully. “What brings you here today?”
“Good morning, Bishop. I have brought someone to meet you. This is John Doe, the man who was found unconscious beside our lane.”
Concern furrowed the minister’s brow. “I have heard the story. I am glad to see that you are recovered, Mr. Doe.”
“I’m not quite recovered, sir.” John touched the bandage on the side of his head. “I have no memory of my past. I’m hoping that you can help me.”
“I am sorry for your injury, but how can I help?”
“Do you recognize me? Have you ever seen me be fore?”
The bishop studied him intently then said, “ Nee, I have not.”
Karen could feel John’s disappointment in the slump of his body beside her. She addressed the bishop. “John wishes to speak to members of our church to see if anyone knows him or knows something about him.”
The bishop studied Karen intently. He switched to Pennsylvania Dutch. “You must be careful, Karen. To become involved in this outsider business is not a good thing.”
She bowed her head slightly. “How can helping an injured man be a bad thing? I feel that this is what God wants me to do.”
“Be sure it is God’s will you are seeking, Karen, and not your own.”
“I will heed your advice, Bishop.”
The bishop turned his attention back to John and spoke in English. “You may speak to members of our church if they wish it also. I will pray that you find the answers you seek, young man.”
Karen watched the bishop walk away. She had been warned. Her support for John must be limited and above reproach. She reached for the reins but John ignored her outstretched hand, turning the horse easily in the yard and sending her down the lane.
Karen put the bishop’s warning behind her. “You have driven a buggy many times.”
“Maybe I’m just a fast learner.”
“Perhaps.” Her spirits sank lower. How many English knew how to drive a buggy? Not many. It seemed more likely that her earlier assumption was correct. John had been raised Plain.
If he had left the church before his baptism, he would be accepted by most of the Amish in her community.If, on the other hand, he had rejected the church after baptism he would be considered an outcast until he made a full confession before the congregation.
She glanced at him once more. How could a man confess his sins if he had no memory of them? He looked happy at the moment
Similar Books
