Something Old - Dianne L. Christner [83]
Katy’s hands grew sweaty. It was the third week into the relationship and marriage sermons, and Brother Troyer had finally broached the topic of the prayer covering. He now directed them to open their Bibles to 1 Corinthians 11:3–16. Only the sound of ruffling pages broke the awesome silence pervading the sanctuary. The pages of Katy’s Bible wanted to stick, but she finally found the passage where the apostle Paul clearly stated that a man should worship with his head uncovered and a woman with her head covered.
As Katy followed along, she realized the passage was not as clear as she had remembered it. The verses contained riddle-like prose, and to her great dissatisfaction, the preacher zeroed in on its most troubling portions. Was a woman’s hair her covering? Next he touched on what the bonnet symbolized. Even at that point, he had more than one opinion. By the time she rose for the benediction, she felt angry that he hadn’t given the congregation clear direction. Instead he had debated the meaning of the passage, playing both advocate and challenger, and had left the matter open-ended. His parting remark admonished them to consider and pray over God’s intention. She thought a preacher was supposed to shepherd his flock. Surely the sheep didn’t know where to go on their own.
With frustration, she moved into the foyer where another kind of confusion took precedence. Folks were fumbling with babies and umbrellas. Some women waited while their men hunkered down and made a run through the downpour to bring their cars around. Katy’s focus on the sermon had been so intense she hadn’t even realized it had started raining. She gazed out and sighed. Her umbrella was useless from its location on the rear floorboards of her car.
Just as she was mustering up the courage to make a dash for her car and comforting herself with visions of Lil’s bean soup simmering back at the doddy house, the back of a young man’s perfectly combed brown hair caught her attention. A tincture of mixed emotions drew her to a halt. She froze.
She had hoped to put off her first meeting with David since his humiliating set down, but the tiny room was too crowded for her to shrink back. She watched him determinedly weave through the foyer toward the door. When a family blocked his path, he glanced up and around. When his unfortunate gaze met Katy’s, he flinched. Quite abruptly, he turned and shot through the first opening that led him out into the storm.
Katy gave a gasp. His brief shunning didn’t trouble her as much as what she had just glimpsed. David’s face was no longer perfect. Battered, with swollen lips, his face bore an ugly bruise on his cheek where his dimple normally played. With a sinking heart, she knew it was no coincidence that both her pursuers sported facial contusions. Why hadn’t Jake told her the truth about his black eye? Mennonites didn’t fight or brawl.
Already emotional over the sermon, this new revelation fed her churning stomach. Jake hadn’t been at church so she couldn’t question him. She had seen Ann Byler, so most likely his grandmother was having an off day and he’d stayed home with her.
Sucking in her lower lip, she nodded thanks to a considerate door tender and sprinted for her car. The rain streamed down her face in blinding torrents. The storm pelted her covering. The wind tore it loose. Her hand flew up to catch it. Rain drenched her hair, but she hardly cared. Emotionally, she was drowning. From her first job with the outsiders, she’d started sinking. In every direction, waves swelled. Wind clawed. Decisions loomed. Everyone tossed life preservers at her, but she didn’t know which one to grab. If she chose wrong, she was going to drown.
CHAPTER 23
Some smart person started the saying that time heals. Or was that in the Bible some place? Katy didn’t know, but she supposed it was true because even an hour had done wonders for her emotional state. So had the heat that flowed through the doddy house, carrying with it the welcoming aroma of Lil’s hearty bean soup. Dry clothing