Page 17 of Fallen

Summer 2008

Loretta had never disobeyed her parents. Not once in all of her sixteen years. She’d never lied to them. Never shirked her responsibilities. Never conceived the notion of misleading them in any way. Tonight, all of that was going to change.

She’d laughed the first time she heard the expression “Amish rager.” A few of the older Amish boys were talking about it at a singing she’d attended last year. She’d only caught snatches of the conversation. From what she gathered, a rager was a huge outdoor party, held in a barn or field, and isolated from the prying eyes of the adults. There was music and alcohol and, sometimes, the English showed up. It was the kind of gathering that would entail a lot of rule breaking that would undoubtedly get back to parents—and maybe even the bishop. At the time, such an idea had seemed profane and forbidden—something she would never get involved in.

What a difference a year made. Loretta was sixteen now—almost grown up—and her initial disdain for the idea of attending a rager had transformed into something closer to curiosity. Leave it to her best friend to bring that far-off temptation into sharp focus and test all the sensibilities she’d lived by the entirety of her life.

Last church Sunday, when the preaching service was over and all the adults were talking, Rachael had come to her, breathless and flushed, her eyes alight.

“There’s a rager this weekend,” she whispered, as they’d set out knives, cups, and saucers.

Rachael was so pretty. She was long-limbed with a sun-kissed complexion, and thick lashes over eyes the color of a summer storm. She already had a womanly figure, unlike Loretta, who was built like a broomstick. Her smile was as bright as the sun—and so contagious you couldn’t help but smile back, even when you knew she was going to get you into trouble. This afternoon she was vibrating with energy Loretta knew would lead to no good.

“That’s just plain silly,” Loretta told her as she set a paper napkin on the table. “Mamm and Datt will never allow it.”

Rachael rolled her eyes. “You’re such a bottelhinkel.” It was the Deitsch term for a worn-out hen that was ready for the stewpot. “We’re not going to tell them!”

The thought of attending a rager appealed more than Loretta wanted to admit. But she knew it was an invitation for trouble. “Are you sure it’s a good idea?” she said.

Looking left and right, Rachael took her hand and pulled her to the hall, out of earshot of the older women who were bringing out pies. “Ben Bontrager is going to be there.”

Loretta’s heart quivered at the mention of Ben Bontrager. She’d been half in love with him since she was six years old. He didn’t know it yet, but she was going to marry him. They were going to live on a big farm and have dozens of children and too many animals to count.

“I don’t think I can go,” Loretta said.

“You have to!” Rachael whispered. “Ben is on rumspringa. I heard there are going to be some loose English girls there. You can’t let him … you know.”

Loretta wasn’t dense; she knew boys were different from girls. They couldn’t always control their urges. The thought of Ben giving in to some floozy Englischer crushed her.

“What do I tell Mamm and Datt?” she asked.

“Don’t tell them anything, silly girl.”

“How will I get out of the house without them knowing?”

Looking past her to make sure no one was listening, Rachael lowered her voice. “Sneak out your bedroom window. It’s right over the porch. I’ll meet you at the end of the lane at midnight. We’ll go to the rager, stay for an hour, just long enough for you to see Ben, and then we’ll go home. No one will ever know.”

No one will ever know.

Famous last words.

A week ago, sneaking out of the house had seemed like such an exciting idea. Now, Loretta wasn’t so sure.

Lying in her bed, she checked the alarm clock on the table for the hundredth time. It was eleven forty-five. The house had been quiet for some time. Her parents had retired to their room hours ago. Loretta knew her mamm liked to read before she went to sleep. But the light was out now. Time to go.

Rising, Loretta reached for her pillow and arranged it beneath the covers so if someone peeked in, they’d see the silhouette of her sleeping form. Satisfied, she crossed to the window. Her hands shook as she slid it open. The warm summer night greeted her as she stepped over the sill and onto the roof over the porch.

Careful not to make a sound, she lowered herself onto her rear and crab-walked down the slick metal to the nearest branch. Rising, she used the branch for balance and worked her way to the fork in the trunk. From there, she climbed down and jumped the last four feet.

The thump of her shoes hitting the ground seemed inordinately loud in the silence of the night. Certain someone must have heard, she looked around, heart pounding. But there was no one there. No lantern light inside. No movement in the kitchen window. Nothing but the sound of the bullfrogs from the pond and crickets all around.

Loretta launched herself into a run. She cut through the yard, the dew wet on her shoes. Upon reaching the gravel lane, she cut right and sprinted toward the road. Her feet pounded the gravel, her breaths echoed off the blackberry bushes that grew alongside the lane. She was nearly to the end when the shadowy figure stepped out in front of her.

Loretta yelped.

“Shhh!”

At the sight of her friend, relief flooded her with such force that her legs went weak. “You scared the jeepers out of me!”