Plain Passion Read online

  He wouldn’t stop spanking, until her bottom was good and raw, and then he’d lay ten welts across her bottom that would last a few days so that she could remember her punishment for a few days. He’d seen guilt in Betsy’s eyes, and suspected that her father had punished her up until her sixteenth birthday for as much Betsy’s sake as for any fear he may have had over going to easy on his first daughter.

  A crow cawed loudly in the tree, and then flew away, startling both of them.

  Betsy laughed uncertainly. “Scared me,” she said.

  “Me too,” he chuckled, and rested his hand on her bottom.

  She took a moment to breathe, relieved that the crow had seemed to melt away the uncomfortable silences around his smacks. She was both relieved and disappointed that he spanked nowhere near as hard as her Dat had—although those last few smacks had been hard to bear.

  The disappointment surprised her the most, though, over anything else that had happened tonight. “Eli … you … I think, this is what I want, what I need,” she broke off. She knew it in her heart, and she also knew that she craved the kind of ‘bletsching’ her father had given her—painful and long, until she’d cried her heart out in repentance, until her tears washed all the guilt away. But she didn’t know how to explain that to Eli.

  For sure and for certain, she didn’t have the courage to try. She took a deep breath and let it out on a squeal as Eli’s hand blazed across her bottom. He was a big man, and she loved the way his hand covered her bottom completely as he smacked. It made her feel small next to him, even delicate.

  More than that, it made her feel protected.

  His hand crashed down on her bottom so hard that it made the buggy squeal in protest. She grabbed onto it to help steady her, relieved that horses didn’t seem to mind at all.

  Eli picked up the speed, and leaned his arm on her waist to keep her steady as his other hand punished her bottom in jarring spanks that cracked and echoed against the trees. She’d all but told him to spank her harder, and he wouldn’t let her down. The full moon was a spotlight through the trees, and his rough, calloused hand felt nothing as he reddened her bottom.

  He felt a surge of disappointment when she started to wiggle against the pain, clawing herself forward and trying to get off his lap. “Betsy!” he snapped, sharp enough to cut her defiance. He reached over and picked up the buggy whip, knowing that it was his duty to lead her into submission.

  He adjusted the whip, shortening the tail so as not to hurt her more than necessary, and then snapped it down just above her knees and the white panties collected there.

  “I’m sorry!” she cried.

  He whipped her from the top of her knees to her bottom, until she lay compliantly across his lap, accepting of her punishment. Dropping the buggy whip, he started up again with his hand, and set his mind to his task. She was beautiful there, and he focused on the rhythm of the smacks to keep going past her whimpers, to smack through her cries, until she burst into sobs.

  Eli didn’t stop there, encouraging her remorse with every smack of his hand, until her sobs came from the bottom of her heart. Then he picked up the buggy whip once more, this time whipping it across her bottom hard enough to leave a good welt. He laid nine more welts, one after the other, until she was limp over his lap and her sobs turned to heartbroken blubbering.

  With relief, he threw the buggy whip to the bottom of the buggy and stopped spanking, instead rubbing his calloused hand in circles over her bottom until she calmed down a little.

  She didn’t realize he’d stopped right away, so wrapped up in feelings of remorse and sensations of pain. Betsy felt a small relief in pain, but his hand rubbing circles on her bottom was rough, and hurt.

  But also awakened something tingly in her belly.

  She stopped crying, finally, wiping her eyes in big swipes, and then making a pretty apology for her wrongdoing. More than anything, she was dismayed to having given Eli reason to be disappointed in her behavior.

  She was suddenly struck by the realization that she was bare to Eli, bare to the moon, her bottom feeling big and exposed in the chilly night air. She realized that her legs were spread enough to give him a clear view of her sex, but she didn’t move.

  The air was suddenly charged with a tense silence, and his hand stopped circling. She held her breath as it moved down her bottom to her thigh, his fingers coming so close to her pulsing womanhood. He only had to move an inch to touch her, and she only had to lean back a little, for a pleasure that called to her, though she’d never experienced it.

  It was Eli who broke the silence. “Stand up,” he said gruffly, his voice uncharacteristically rough. She let her dress fall down before taking her place next to him in silence. Had he known her thoughts? Was he disappointed in them?

  He snapped the reins and turned the buggy onto the main street, heading towards her farm. The silence between them was uncomfortable and unsure. She felt tears burning her eyes as they rode for over an hour. Finally, only ten minutes from her house, he stopped.

  “Thank you,” she said in a lame attempt to put things back to normal between them.

  He cocked his head at her. “Was it that bad?”

  She shook her head.

  He smiled, and leaned in to give her a passionate kiss. “Now that we’re engaged, I’ll be watching you between now and next November.” He lifted her chin up. “Understood?”

  She smiled broadly. “Yes, Eli.”

  For sure and for certain, her life was wonderful and ‘gut’, and she gave a silent prayer of thanks while she went quietly up the stairs to her room after Eli left. As was custom, her parents gave no mind to her late night return at four in the mornin’. It was expected, as it sometimes would be a two or three hour buggy ride home from a hop, and that after a night of barn games and such.

  The only problem — would Dat approve of a man who might need to lunch-pail it?

  Chapter Two

  Betsy woke up a few hours after Eli had taken her home, sore bottom or no. There were chores to be done, breakfast to prepare, cows to milk, and all before they left for the hour ride to Matthew Yoder’s farm for the three hour church service which would begin at eight thirty.

  As she set the table, Mama fried the bacon and the sausage, humming softly to herself as she often did in the morning.

  “Mama?” Betsy held her breath, nerves fluttering in her stomach.

  “Mmmm?” She didn’t look up from stirring the scrambled eggs, but angled her head up so that one kapp string sunk lower than the other.

  “I heard some of the young people talkin’, worrying about finding farms and such … having to move far, or take up the lunch pail and work in a factory or in town.” She tried to hide the trembling in her fingers and pretend that she was just chatting.

  But Mama put down the teakettle and sat down at the table, hand over her chest. “Betsy, what are you tellin’ me?”

  Betsy thought of shrugging it off and letting the secret keep a little longer, but tears glistened in Mama’s eyes. “Eli asked me last night.”

  “Oh, Betsy!”

  Betsy clasped her mother’s hands, kneeling to rest her head in her mother’s lap, like she’d done often as a young child. “But Dat … he’s so dedicated to preserving out old ways—and so am I—but it’s been hard for the young people startin’ a family in the district.”

  Her mother stared ahead at nothing, deep in thought. “Many a family has been broken apart by such a problem.” Her shoulders drooped and she sat for a moment in silence. Her rough hand reached up and pressed against her daughter’s cheek. “It would break my heart to lose another daughter.”

  “Mama, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Betsy put her hand on top of her mother’s. “I’m joining the church come spring, and marrying Eli come fall. You’ll have grandchildren and more family than you can want and you’ll never feel lonely again.”

  The words came rushing out in a gush of desire to wipe the pain from her mother’s eyes
, but they didn’t help. Mama nodded and sighed, standing up to get on with the morning chores. She seemed sadder at the good news, and Betsy helplessly worked harder at the chores, for lack of anything constructive to do about Mama’s pain.

  Just after she rang the bell for Eli to come in for breakfast, she turned to Betsy with her heart on her chest. “I would have liked to see Ellie’s wedding. To see her—” she broke off with a sob. “Do you know she has children now? A boy and a girl?”

  Betsy held her breath, wanting to ask more about her sister, but afraid to upset her Mama further. “You’ll see my wedding, Mama. Come spring, we’ll plant the celery for the feast and before you know it, I’ll be joining with Eli and you’ll be there, and all the family and all the church.”

  Mama nodded but seemed to be only paying half attention to her daughter’s words. She finally put a hand to her daughter’s shoulders and smiled. “It’ll be a blessing for sure and for certain.” Her eyes misting up, she added in her soft voice, “ain’t so?”

  Within seconds they were eating breakfast and life was back to the daily routine as if nothing had changed.

  But later, sitting in the Yoder’s house and singing the Lob Lied, Betsy knew things had changed. As it was always the second hymn of the service, she knew it by heart and didn’t need to look at her old hymnal that all the Amish use—the Ausband. She looked around and realized that soon she would be wearing a white ‘kapp’ to church, and Eli would be growing a beard.

  The thought of it made her want to giggle, and she bit her tongue hard until tears came to her eyes. She tried not to glance towards the row of unmarried men filing into the church so as not to imagine Eli looking like her father with a beard down to his heart. Would it cover the firm line of his jaw? Cover the unyielding set of his mouth when he talked of things he believed in most, or when he lectured her?

  She was thankful it wouldn’t hide the warm love in his eyes—she couldn’t bear his discipline without it. The last of the young men filed in to the last few benches, and the Lob Lied hymn came to a close. Before she knew it, Deacon Yoder had wrapped up his sing-song sermon, and they were all turning to kneel at their benches.

  She’d only begun her years as a scholar when he’d been in eighth grade – his last year of school. He’d been quiet at school, as she remembered, but not at all shy. He was equally kind to the ‘Englisch’ as his own People.

  She remembered when one of the ‘Englisch’ children had made fun of her ‘kapp,’ pulling on her strings and calling her silly names she couldn’t remember now. He’d rescued her, and when she’d pulled off her ‘kapp’ in anger and swore never again to wear it to school, he’d sat her down on a bench.

  He’d been kind and nice, but had firmly told her that she wouldn’t be one to ‘yank over,’ that she understood family and community and the love that surrounds them on a farm. He’d talked to her ‘till the recess bell had called them inside. For the whole rest of the year, she’d worn her ‘kapp’ with the strings tied the old-fashioned way, rather than trailing down her shoulders. He never said much to her after that, save a nod or a smile now and then.

  Her Dat hadn’t used words and hadn’t talked about the love and community. He’d just cut off Ellie, broken the bond between Betsy and her sister with a quick snap. The message had been clear: either join the church or lose your family. She would do almost anything to avoid losing her family and neighbors and friends.

  When she dreamed of growing up and having a family of her own, it was always Eli’s face she saw. She cherished those soft words he had spoken to her, the kind way he had instructed her. He was always kind and warm and one of the hardest working men she’d ever seen. At work frolics, he’d be the first one there and the last to leave—his father, too.

  And if marrying him meant sittin’ on a sore bottom at church now and then, well … so be it. She glanced at his Dat and wondered if he spanked Rachel. She’d always seemed so sweet and perfect and happy. His Dat had the same kind eyes and patient ways.

  But her Dat, she knew, had never spanked Mama. No, he preferred thundering silence that sliced the heart into ribbons of worry. After Ellie had ‘yanked over,’ he’d blamed her mother, maybe the whole family. He’d sat at the head of his family in stone cold silence for weeks. Mama had cried nearly every day, which Dat blamed on Ellie, rather than on his own punishing silence.

  For sure and for certain, life would be different with Eli—she only hoped that it would be better.

  *******************************************************************

  Mama gave her a special smile when Eli’s buggy pulled into their lane to pick her up for the evening sing. They would return to the Yoder’s farm for a night of fun with the other young people.

  But as soon as Eli had tucked her under the buggy blanket, she turned to him. “Let’s go for a visit to Ellie and Jack, Eli, please?”

  Eli settled back into the buggy, loosely holding the reins while he seemed to think it over. Without a word, he urged the horses down the lane, pausing only at the street. “I can’t help but feel that I would be dishonoring your father, Betsy.”

  Worry stabbed Betsy in the heart. “But you promised, Eli, that you wouldn’t keep me from my sister, ain’t so?”

  Eli said nothing, but she could feel his reluctance as they turned down the street towards the neighboring farm that Betsy had been forbidden to visit for years. Her heart managed to leap for joy as her beau gave in to her desire, and yet feel guilty at the same time.

  What for, she couldn’t imagine. She’d done nothing wrong, and only her Dat thought talkin’ to Ellie was wrong. Even Bishop Miller had been forgiving, seeing as how she’d not gone too fancy and had proven herself a ‘gut’ member of the Mennonite church. The clinic was not too fancy either, and unlike most Yankee doctors, Ellie was generous to barter a day’s labor for a visit. Though Jack had moved into the community as a cover from his CIA career, he’d stayed as Ellie’s husband and retired to a life of farming—much in the Plain way.

  Tears pooled at her eyes and she angrily wiped them away. “I am doing nothing wrong. I am a young person now, about to take my kneeling vows, and visiting my sister is no sin. She has not been shunned, and Dat has no right to keep us apart for so long. I should have snuck over a long time ago.”

  Eli said nothing for a long time. “Why didn’t you?” he finally asked.

  She put a hand to her heart as if to ease the pain. “Because it would hurt more if I saw her and then couldn’t see her again. It would hurt more if Dat got angry with me. What if he cut me out, too?”

  Eli slowed the horses down and turned to her. “If you feel your Dat is in the wrong, then why worry about it?”

  Her face crumpled. “Dat is good, he teaches us so many things, and the way he laughs at the new puppies or the antics of our cousins—I would do anything to see his eyes crinkle and light up with joy.” She bowed her head. “I can’t bear the thought of him walking around for a year again, lost and angry, silent to everyone and blaming himself.”

  She swiped at her tears uselessly. “He cried, you know.” She curled her legs in closer to ease the ache that was growing in her stomach. “Late at night, when I would go to the outhouse, I would sometimes hear him crying behind the barn.”

  She couldn’t bear to look at Eli. The sun was just setting, leaving that warm orange glow across the horizon that usually warmed her heart. She should have been happy, excited to see her sister for the first time since she was a young scholar. But there was an ache so hard in her chest that she could barely breathe.

  When they rode down Jack and Ellie’s driveway, Betsy knew why her heart ached: She wasn’t brave enough, wasn’t strong enough to step down from the buggy and knock on her sister’s door. All she could see was Dat’s angry eyes and hear his quiet, anguished cries when he thought no one could hear. When her sister parted the curtains from the kitchen, she couldn’t even see whether she smiled or not, for the tears pouring down her face.

&n
bsp; “Eli, let’s go, please.”

  “What?” Eli put a hand to her shoulder.

  “Go, quick.” A sob tore from her throat. “I can’t disobey Dat, not yet.”

  She couldn’t even look back to see if her sister had come outside to welcome them. She wrapped her arms around her chest and rocked, until Eli put one arm around her and squeezed some of the hurt away. She’d done the right thing, the obedient thing, she told herself.

  But as they were about to turn onto the road, another horse and buggy trotted towards them. Eli raised his hand in greeting, patiently waiting for them to pass. Betsy leaned forward to see who it was, and was distressed to see Dat and Mama riding together — and sitting stonily without returning the greeting.

  Her heart and stomach tied into knots. Betsy knew their silence meant trouble, for sure and for certain.

  *******************************************************************

  “Betsy, I’ll need your help in the barn this morning.”

  Betsy barely glanced up from her plate when Dat spoke. Since her brothers had all left the farm to build families of their own—Ephraim’s heart had died from heart problems that were typical in Down’s Syndrome children—Betsy was often called to do boy’s work when her brothers couldn’t stop by. She felt a sense of foreboding though. Dat’s request was the first words he had spoken to her all morning.

  It wasn’t until she stepped in to the barn that she found out how bad it could be. His arms crossed over his chest and a strap dangling from his hand, Betsy remembered how formidable Dat could be when upset. But she was a young person now, she was in ‘rumshpringa’ … surely Dat couldn’t be holding that strap for her.

  It just wasn’t the way of the Plain People.

  And yet he stood there silently, mouth set in a frown. The horses whinnied at him, but he ignored them. She felt a blush creep up her neck and she wiped at a tear. They’d played this scene before, when she was a child. He would stand there until she confessed and asked his forgiveness. They would pray, and he would strap her.