No.”
“And about the Model T?”
“It was you who found it,” she said, “not I.”
“I care what you think.”
“None of the ministers have preached against the automobile,” Clara said. “Not even Bishop Yoder.”
Andrew slowly eased the horse to the side of the road and gave the reins a final tug. “Bishop Yoder is too busy preaching about discipline in all its forms.”
“Would he not think that owning an automobile is a lack of discipline in some form? Perhaps it has not occurred to him that anyone in the church would consider owning a device the English have taken such a liking to.”
“Until it comes to a vote in the congregation, what harm will it be for me to learn something from it?” Andrew said. “Eventually the church will have to face the issue. Mr. Ford seems determined to make car ownership affordable.”
“Perhaps affordable does not also mean desirable,” Clara said.
“Do you find it undesirable?”
“No. Not precisely. I am only hearing in my head the arguments others will make.”
“Automobiles could benefit the congregation,” Andrew said. “It would be easier for families who live on the outskirts of the district to get to church. The dairy Yonnie works for could transport milk more easily and more quickly without risking spoilage. When someone falls ill, it would be faster to summon the doctor. Those who owned cars could be generous toward others who needed to travel.”
“Those are all good points,” Clara said. “I spent most of a day driving across the county to tell John Stutzman my father was ill and would not be able to help him with his roof after all.”
The buggy creaked and settled. The horse snorted and stilled. Around them, a chorus of insects sprang up with sounds they had not heard above horse hooves falling rhythmically and the squeaking sway of the buggy.
Andrew stared into the jeweled darkness. “ ‘O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens,’ ” he murmured.
“‘When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers,’ ” Clara said, “ ‘ the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?’ ”
“I suppose I have told you that Psalm 8 is my favorite psalm,” Andrew said.
“About as many times as there are stars in the sky.” Clara’s voice carried the smile Andrew could not see on her lips. “Whether in sunlight or moonlight, the sky is deep and mysterious. I can’t help but think God made it that way so we would know how deep and mysterious He is.”
“Do you think it grieves God when we try to make Him too simple?”
“He knows how frail we are,” Clara said. “Perhaps our people should all stare at the stars together before we decide that any one of us knows better than another about the will of God.”
Andrew twisted on the bench to face Clara. Moonlight threw its sheen over her blue eyes. “You are wise. I would go to your father tonight and ask his blessing on our union if only you would agree.”
“I’m sure he would welcome you—though perhaps at a time when you would not be waking him.”
“Ah, yes. More wisdom. I would not want to give him any reason to turn me down.” He reached for her hand. “Tell me I should go to your father. Just say the word.”
“Andrew.” Clara withdrew her hand.
“Clara, what are we waiting for? We’re ready, aren’t we?”
Clara looked down at the hands in her lap. “You may think me wise, but you will not find me courageous.”
“Why should it take courage to marry me?”
“No, not to marry you. It’s…what comes next.”
He was sure she was blushing. “We’ll figure that out together, won’t we?”
“But a child…”
“Don’t you want to have a child—many children, if the Lord blesses?”
“Andrew, my mother died trying to birth a child. Rhoda lost three babes. Mrs. Wickey. Mrs. Eicher.” She paused,
“And about the Model T?”
“It was you who found it,” she said, “not I.”
“I care what you think.”
“None of the ministers have preached against the automobile,” Clara said. “Not even Bishop Yoder.”
Andrew slowly eased the horse to the side of the road and gave the reins a final tug. “Bishop Yoder is too busy preaching about discipline in all its forms.”
“Would he not think that owning an automobile is a lack of discipline in some form? Perhaps it has not occurred to him that anyone in the church would consider owning a device the English have taken such a liking to.”
“Until it comes to a vote in the congregation, what harm will it be for me to learn something from it?” Andrew said. “Eventually the church will have to face the issue. Mr. Ford seems determined to make car ownership affordable.”
“Perhaps affordable does not also mean desirable,” Clara said.
“Do you find it undesirable?”
“No. Not precisely. I am only hearing in my head the arguments others will make.”
“Automobiles could benefit the congregation,” Andrew said. “It would be easier for families who live on the outskirts of the district to get to church. The dairy Yonnie works for could transport milk more easily and more quickly without risking spoilage. When someone falls ill, it would be faster to summon the doctor. Those who owned cars could be generous toward others who needed to travel.”
“Those are all good points,” Clara said. “I spent most of a day driving across the county to tell John Stutzman my father was ill and would not be able to help him with his roof after all.”
The buggy creaked and settled. The horse snorted and stilled. Around them, a chorus of insects sprang up with sounds they had not heard above horse hooves falling rhythmically and the squeaking sway of the buggy.
Andrew stared into the jeweled darkness. “ ‘O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens,’ ” he murmured.
“‘When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers,’ ” Clara said, “ ‘ the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?’ ”
“I suppose I have told you that Psalm 8 is my favorite psalm,” Andrew said.
“About as many times as there are stars in the sky.” Clara’s voice carried the smile Andrew could not see on her lips. “Whether in sunlight or moonlight, the sky is deep and mysterious. I can’t help but think God made it that way so we would know how deep and mysterious He is.”
“Do you think it grieves God when we try to make Him too simple?”
“He knows how frail we are,” Clara said. “Perhaps our people should all stare at the stars together before we decide that any one of us knows better than another about the will of God.”
Andrew twisted on the bench to face Clara. Moonlight threw its sheen over her blue eyes. “You are wise. I would go to your father tonight and ask his blessing on our union if only you would agree.”
“I’m sure he would welcome you—though perhaps at a time when you would not be waking him.”
“Ah, yes. More wisdom. I would not want to give him any reason to turn me down.” He reached for her hand. “Tell me I should go to your father. Just say the word.”
“Andrew.” Clara withdrew her hand.
“Clara, what are we waiting for? We’re ready, aren’t we?”
Clara looked down at the hands in her lap. “You may think me wise, but you will not find me courageous.”
“Why should it take courage to marry me?”
“No, not to marry you. It’s…what comes next.”
He was sure she was blushing. “We’ll figure that out together, won’t we?”
“But a child…”
“Don’t you want to have a child—many children, if the Lord blesses?”
“Andrew, my mother died trying to birth a child. Rhoda lost three babes. Mrs. Wickey. Mrs. Eicher.” She paused,
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