text: Twenty chairs usually lined the long farm table. This room, but for the table and chairs, was empty most of the day, and yet, it was here that Hannah felt most connected to her family. Tonight she eyed the extra chair warily as she and her sisters carried heaping platters of food from the table as the family assembled. Daed sat at one end, his bib overalls caked with the toil of the early spring planting, Mamm at the other end tucking stray wisps of hair back under her kopp. Mammi and Daadi sat across from each other in the middle of each side, ready to help the little ones cut meat and pour milk. Hannah and her siblings sat on either side of the table in perfect symmetry. Girls on one side, boys on the other, in order of birth. Hannah took her seat beside Daed and watched Levi perch himself on the pile of books on his chair so that he was high enough to reach the table. It had been three years since Levi, the last bopplin. Mamm said sixteen children were quite a blessing, and it would be prideful to wish for more. "Händt nunna," Daed said, and the family dutifully put their hands in their laps and bowed their heads. Finally, Daed cleared his throat, a signal that grace was over and the passing of the platters could begin. Tonight Levi's chair straddled the corner next to Mamm to accommodate the Bishop, Jacob Yoder, who sat at Daed's left. Hannah shifted in her seat to avoid the Bishop's less than subtle glances in her direction. The straight pins holding her blouse together poked her chest. She listened to her father and Jacob drone on endlessly about crops and the shenanigans of the local adolescents enjoying their Rumspringa. Hannah thought back to her own summer of 'worldliness.' While her friends attended parties at the lake, went to movies, and sized each other up as potential partners, Hannah refrained, knowing that stepping that far from the community norms would only upset her parents. Instead, every Saturday morning, she packed a lunch and set out for what her parents thought was a hike. Secretly, Hannah spent those afternoons at the public library reading furiously, vicariously experiencing a forbidden world above the safety net of the pages. Every week the librarian offered her a library card, which Hannah demurred. Bringing home Englisch books would be offensive to Daed and Mamm. The mention of her name brought Hannah back to the dinner table. "So Hannah," Jacob Yoder began, "I've talked to your parents about the possibility of us spending some time together." Hannah inwardly cringed. Last week, when her parents urged her to consider Jacob as a potential suitor, Hannah had quietly accepted his appearance this evening as inevitable. His wife had died last summer, leaving him with three children to raise. She remembered Saloma, his oldest. Hannah was in eighth grade, her final year of school when Saloma was in first. The poor little girl cried endlessly for her Mamm those first few weeks. Hannah had done what she could to be comforting. Now her long-ago kindness was being repaid with Jacob's unwelcome presence at the family table. "Hannah," Daed interrupted her thoughts, "Jacob is talking to you." "Sorry," Hannah turned to Jacob. "I was thinking about Saloma and what a hard time she had adjusting to first grade. How is she?" "She's twelve now. Next year she'll finish school. I'm looking forward to having an extra pair of hands during the week after that." Hannah noticed Jacob didn't tell her how Saloma was, only about how she could benefit him in the future. "I was hoping we could take a walk after supper." The Bishop made it seem more like a directive than a request. There had been whispers by the girls in the community. Hannah's friends Miriam and Sadie both told stories of uncomfortable encounters with the Bishop. There was even talk of Saloma being visited by her father late at night. Hannah glanced down the table at Mamm whose eyes were pleading. "It's been a rather busy day for me, Jacob. Perhaps we could have a visit on the porch instead." The Bishop looked disappointed, and Hannah suspected why. At that moment, the scattered dissatisfactions of her life gelled into a lump of desperation. She looked down at the green flowers printed on her dress from her assigned seat at the table. Mamm never seemed to remember how much she disliked the color when she made Hannah dresses. Her fingers were stained pink from the countless quarts of strawberries she had picked that week. She remembered being ashamed of them last week at the Farmer's Market when a cute Englisch boy had shamed her by noticing them. The bobby pins keeping her bun secure dug into her scalp. She had seen English girls in town with their pixie haircuts dyed in various shades of green and pink and wondered what it would be like to live in a world without modest dresses and prayer kopps. And now her parents, her beloved Daed and Mamm wanted her to consider courtship with this awful man? After the silent prayer at the end of the meal, Hannah found herself alone on the front porch with the Bishop. "Saloma has two little sisters, you know. Becca is seven, and Miriam is five." "Yes, they walk past the house every day on the way to school. They seem well-behaved." "Saloma does the best she can, but they need a mother, and I need sons." And there it was. Bishop Yoder wasn't here because he found Hannah interesting or noticed her strict obedience to the Ordnung. He was looking for a housekeeper and broodmare, like a replacement part for a buggy or plow. Hannah resisted asking him if he'd like to examine her teeth. The screen door creaked as Mammi appeared with two glasses of lemonade and a plate of sugar cookies. She put them on the table, scuffled to her chair at the far end of the porch, and picked up the rug she was crocheting. Hannah hoped that with Mammi acting as chaperone, the conversation would turn to safer topics. "We're having an excellent strawberry season," Hannah offered. "The dry spring made the fruit sweet. We can't pick them fast enough for the customers at the market." Jake smiled his approval, knowing that her parents were saving Hannah's portion of the profits to build her future home. "The new baptism class will start in a few weeks. I will teach some sessions; I hope you'll be there. From the corner of her eye, Hannah saw Mammi staring at her. Hannah picked at the cuticle on her thumb and stared off into the distance. Her plans to attend the class evaporated. Why is every decision presented to me with a dose of added pressure? "Of course she'll be there!" Mammi exclaimed. The betrayal hit Hannah as if Mammi had slapped her in the face. Swallowing the bile that collected in the back of her throat, Hannah turned to Jacob. "Please forgive me; I'm suddenly not feeling very well. I'm sure Mammi would enjoy it if you stayed and kept her company, but I'm afraid I need to go lie down." Hannah headed for the door, ignoring the glass of lemonade she knocked over as she left. Mamm was standing at the bottom of the steps, no doubt eavesdropping on the conversation from the porch. "Hannah," she began, smiling hopefully. "Not now, Mamm," Hannah sharply said as she stomped up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door. Her sisters were all taking down their hair and putting on their nightgowns. Hannah ignored their questions about her visit with Jacob as she hurriedly got ready for bed. She pretended to read as the girls finally settled down and turned off the oil lantern. She listened to the bullfrogs sing their courting songs down by the creek. She laughed to herself, hoping the frogs were making a better argument for mating than Jacob had on the porch earlier. Mamm had carefully modeled a wife's complete submission to her husband. She hardly ever talked about the past, but when she did, she spoke of the two times in her life when she freely had her say. The certainty she felt about the day of her baptism and how happy she was the day she accepted Daed's marriage proposal. Now Hannah doubted the truth of her testimony. Mammi's comment had brought everything into focus. Lies. It was all a lie. This evening had shown her two clear paths, to acquiesce for the sake of the community or the unthinkable. As she listened to the rhythmic breathing of her sisters, her heart swelled with love for each of them. She thought of Levi and his silly antics that could soften Daed's most sullen moods. Someone was sneezing and sniffling from the boys' room across the hall. She knew it was Henry, her dearest friend, and twin brother, who had followed her into the world moments after she arrived. She should talk to him. Did he already know? No, he was blissfully unaware, as she assumed was everyone else in her family. Without realizing it, Hannah's carefully planned Rumspringa adventure had resulted in an unforgivable sin of Biblical proportions two summers ago in the public library. Like Eve, she had spent months picking fruit from the tree of knowledge. Her eyes were open to the coercion, false promises, and oppression, and now the price would need to be paid. With great sadness and firm resolve, she threw back the covers and dressed quickly. A sob caught in her throat as she passed the family table. Unable to resist, she sat down at her assigned place one more time before walking into the night, expelling herself from her Garden of Eden.