Read Online Three Can Keep a Secret by Judy Clemens - Free Book Online
Authors: Judy Clemens
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her up at seven-thirty.”
“She excited?”
Lucy nodded. “But nervous, too. She’s only ever attended a small Mennonite school, so this big public one will be a change for her. But a good one, I hope.”
“There are a couple of Mennonite schools here, you know. Penn View and Quakertown Christian.”
Her eyes became veiled. “I know. But I can’t afford it right now. And I wasn’t all that thrilled with the school in Lancaster. It was the school my husband attended, but was way more conservative than I like. Some of the teachers…. Well, let’s just say they asked Tess too many questions.”
About Brad and his accident, I assumed.
“Lancaster Mennonite?” I asked.
She shook her head. “They don’t have elementary, and they’re not so conservative. This was a small feeder school.” A scoop of grain almost missed its target, and Lucy stopped, her shoulders sagging. “We’ll see how the public school pans out.”
I walked across the grass toward my house. Seemed to me we were waiting to see how a lot of things panned out. Including my own questions about Lucy’s past.
Chapter Eleven
The church parking lot was almost full when we pulled in at seven twenty-eight. I eventually found a spot in the row farthest from the door and Lucy, Tess, and I scooted into Ma’s pew, where she was taking out her blue hymnal. Abe sat on the other side of Ma and smiled at me, his eyes warm and inviting.
“Number One,” Ma whispered.
No time for dilly-dallying, or for catching up with Abe.
The song leader blew a note on her pitch pipe and the congregation flew right into “What Is this Place?,” accompanied only by the other voices around them. I was glad to have Jethro’s rumbling bass surrounding me from behind, which would blot out any attempts I made at participating. Lucy sang soprano on my left, while to my right Ma added a competent alto. Abe’s tenor floated toward me from time to time, and even Tess joined in on the melody. This left me free, thankfully, to simply listen and hum along when the notes were in the right range.
I tried to take comfort in the familiarity of the sound and songs as the music took over the air. The four-part harmony of the Mennonites is something that should never be taken for granted. Ma has told me that unfortunately some churches are forgetting this rich part of their heritage, and can’t sing a good unaccompanied hymn to save their souls. If you want to put it that way.
The little Sellersville church was plainly painted, the walls a light gray with shiny white trim. No ornaments graced the walls, and no flags. The only decoration was a banner in front with four differently colored hands grasping each other. “Members in Ministry,” the banner said, proclaiming the congregation’s belief that every person was meant as God’s “vessel of healing and hope.”
A few elderly women still bore the coverings Mennonites had worn for so long, a white mesh bonnet pinned lightly to the backs of their heads. Not practical for anything, the coverings are merely a symbol of submission to God. Ma had chosen long ago to stop wearing hers, but it was mostly because she was ready for a more stylish hair-do. She thought her hair would work better in a short cut, and once she got it done she decided the covering looked…well, a bit silly.
I think the whole idea of coverings is ridiculous, but then, no one cares what I think.
We slammed through “Come, We That Love the Lord,” the chorus making me tired just to hear it—“We’re marching to Zion, beautiful, beautiful Zion. We’re marching upward to Zion, the beautiful city of God.”—and “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee,” before the song leader finally gestured that we could sit. I was relieved, because holding the heavy hymnal was making my ribs ache.
“You okay?” Ma asked.
I nodded. I would be.
A small ensemble of instruments—guitar, violin, flute—joined the song leader up front, and we sang a few more hymns
“She excited?”
Lucy nodded. “But nervous, too. She’s only ever attended a small Mennonite school, so this big public one will be a change for her. But a good one, I hope.”
“There are a couple of Mennonite schools here, you know. Penn View and Quakertown Christian.”
Her eyes became veiled. “I know. But I can’t afford it right now. And I wasn’t all that thrilled with the school in Lancaster. It was the school my husband attended, but was way more conservative than I like. Some of the teachers…. Well, let’s just say they asked Tess too many questions.”
About Brad and his accident, I assumed.
“Lancaster Mennonite?” I asked.
She shook her head. “They don’t have elementary, and they’re not so conservative. This was a small feeder school.” A scoop of grain almost missed its target, and Lucy stopped, her shoulders sagging. “We’ll see how the public school pans out.”
I walked across the grass toward my house. Seemed to me we were waiting to see how a lot of things panned out. Including my own questions about Lucy’s past.
Chapter Eleven
The church parking lot was almost full when we pulled in at seven twenty-eight. I eventually found a spot in the row farthest from the door and Lucy, Tess, and I scooted into Ma’s pew, where she was taking out her blue hymnal. Abe sat on the other side of Ma and smiled at me, his eyes warm and inviting.
“Number One,” Ma whispered.
No time for dilly-dallying, or for catching up with Abe.
The song leader blew a note on her pitch pipe and the congregation flew right into “What Is this Place?,” accompanied only by the other voices around them. I was glad to have Jethro’s rumbling bass surrounding me from behind, which would blot out any attempts I made at participating. Lucy sang soprano on my left, while to my right Ma added a competent alto. Abe’s tenor floated toward me from time to time, and even Tess joined in on the melody. This left me free, thankfully, to simply listen and hum along when the notes were in the right range.
I tried to take comfort in the familiarity of the sound and songs as the music took over the air. The four-part harmony of the Mennonites is something that should never be taken for granted. Ma has told me that unfortunately some churches are forgetting this rich part of their heritage, and can’t sing a good unaccompanied hymn to save their souls. If you want to put it that way.
The little Sellersville church was plainly painted, the walls a light gray with shiny white trim. No ornaments graced the walls, and no flags. The only decoration was a banner in front with four differently colored hands grasping each other. “Members in Ministry,” the banner said, proclaiming the congregation’s belief that every person was meant as God’s “vessel of healing and hope.”
A few elderly women still bore the coverings Mennonites had worn for so long, a white mesh bonnet pinned lightly to the backs of their heads. Not practical for anything, the coverings are merely a symbol of submission to God. Ma had chosen long ago to stop wearing hers, but it was mostly because she was ready for a more stylish hair-do. She thought her hair would work better in a short cut, and once she got it done she decided the covering looked…well, a bit silly.
I think the whole idea of coverings is ridiculous, but then, no one cares what I think.
We slammed through “Come, We That Love the Lord,” the chorus making me tired just to hear it—“We’re marching to Zion, beautiful, beautiful Zion. We’re marching upward to Zion, the beautiful city of God.”—and “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee,” before the song leader finally gestured that we could sit. I was relieved, because holding the heavy hymnal was making my ribs ache.
“You okay?” Ma asked.
I nodded. I would be.
A small ensemble of instruments—guitar, violin, flute—joined the song leader up front, and we sang a few more hymns
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