The Secret Voice

The Secret Voice

Book One in The Amish Singer Series

by Bob Nailor

I will praise the name of God with a song,

And will magnify Him with thanksgiving.

~ Psalms 69:30

© Copyright 2015 Bob Nailor

ISBN: 978-1-61877-155-1

The Secret Voice

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical or otherwise, now known or hereinafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or by any known informational storage and retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission from the author.

Discover other titles by Bob Nailor at

www.bobnailor.com

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover photograph permission granted courtesy of Edison Goodfellow Photography. www.edgoodfellow.com

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One ~ Dreams Can Come True

Chapter Two ~ Julie's Monday

Chapter Three ~ Daniel's Monday

Chapter Four ~ First Day of School

Chapter Five ~ Julie's First Day of Work

Chapter Six ~ Class Re-Assignment and Phys Ed

Chapter Seven ~ Chorus

Chapter Eight ~ A School Secret

Chapter Nine ~ Home and The Bishop

Chapter Ten ~ Vocal Testing

Chapter Eleven ~ Singing at the Bridge

Chapter Twelve ~ First Program

Chapter Thirteen ~ The Announcement

Chapter Fourteen ~ The Competition

Chapter Fifteen ~ Unexpected News

Chapter Sixteen ~ Emergency Board Meeting

Chapter Seventeen ~ Prodigal Son

Chapter Eighteen ~ Consolidation

Chapter Nineteen ~ First Day Back at Work

Chapter Twenty ~ Frettings

Chapter Twenty-one ~ Freedom

Chapter Twenty-two ~ Arrested

Chapter Twenty-three ~ Board Meeting

Chapter Twenty-four ~ The Amish Meeting

Chapter Twenty-five ~ Critical Meetings

Chapter Twenty-six ~ News: Good, Bad, Mixed

Chapter Twenty-seven ~ Civil Rights and Handel’s Messiah

Chapter Twenty-eight ~ Reunion

Chapter Twenty-nine ~ Returning Home

Chapter Thirty ~ A Confrontation

Chapter Thirty-one ~ Notifications

Chapter Thirty-two ~ Regionals

Chapter Thirty-three ~ Columbus Bound

Chapter Thirty-four ~ Farewells

Epilogue

About the Author

Bibliography

Prologue

Wednesday, July 26, 1961

I ain’t having a nigger teaching my kid. Tom Hollis wiped the sweat off his brow and glared at the woman sitting across from him.

You keep a civil tongue in your mouth. She may be black, but there is no need to be crude. Elizabeth Tremussen stabbed the air with her index finger in his direction. There are those in this community who have no problem with her color.

Bam! Bam! Bam! John Teegarden, Benjamin Hartford School Board President, hammered the gavel on the table. Please. Everyone settle down.

Who? If you mean the Amish. Tom’s unbridled sarcasm filled the room, ignoring John’s request. They don’t attend high school, so they don’t count. Besides, this is an all-white school and community. He glared at Elizabeth. I prefer to keep it that way!

Elizabeth sighed, her whole body heaving in the action. She gave Tom a dour look.

We don’t need a nig… Peter Udall glanced at his sister. We don’t need her kind living in our small community. She can live in Toledo or Fort Wayne—you know, with the rest of them.

I don’t see it that way. Elizabeth eased back into her chair and folded her arms over her plump belly. The rest of them, as I see it, live an hour away. There is no reason she can’t live in daddy’s old trailer. As I have said before, the board has offered her a position. She has accepted. John, you sign your Hancock and finalize the contract. I’ll write her a letter with instructions on how to get to the trailer I’m offering to rent.

Peter opened his mouth to object, his finger raised in the air.

Don’t even bother, Peter, Elizabeth quipped, cocking an eye in his direction. Daddy left the trailer to me. Miss Bronson will live there. She reached over and tugged Julie Bronson’s letter from stack under John’s hand. She stood. Jim will make the next meeting for sure.

Elizabeth smiled as she toddled her way home from the school. Those fools would have dawdled another two months or longer on this issue.

She gazed at the old trailer across the street from her house. Elizabeth inhaled slowly and deeply, savoring the mid-summer air. We have stepped upon a new road— Imagine! The first black person to live in the school district will be staying right there." She paused and surveyed the collection of homes. I do hope I’m doing the right thing. Whatever will the neighbors think?

Chapter One ~ Dreams Can Come True

Sunday, August 27, 1961

"I am fourteen. I am not going to cry." Daniel sat on the edge of the hard, oaken chair and tried to control his emotions. He stared at the sunset’s glow reflected on the wooden floor as it shone through the window. He looked at his father. The man sat in a nearby rocker, holding The Budget newspaper high, hiding his face.

I want to learn, Papa, Daniel said firmly. "I am not testing Rumschpringe."

I said no! The paper crumbled into Noah Yoder’s lap revealing his stern appearance. He slammed his left hand down on the rocker’s arm. Do you not listen?

Daniel tensed. His father’s foul moods had increased since Grandpa Benjamin’s death in the spring. He watched his father stand, The Budget newspaper falling to the floor. He paced. Daniel slowly stood, his head bowed.

We are Amish, Noah continued. "You have finished eighth grade, Daniel, and have no need of further education. You have learned how to read, write and talk to deal with the Englische world. You know how to add and subtract. Daniel heard his father walking behind him. He felt his father’s strong hand press on his shoulder. You must now learn a trade. I saw Mr. Sullivan in town the other day, he spoke with me. He would like to consider hiring you as a full-time employee at the wood mill. It is worthy employment. He paused. Unless you want to help work the farm."

Daniel turned away, clenched his teeth in determination before turning back and looking into his father’s stoic face. I want to learn, Papa. With more education, I could be a better employee for Mr. Sullivan.

Noah reared back. Do you wish to standout, Daniel? We are a simple people. Why are you so insistent of this need? Why do you continue to test me?

Daniel gazed at the floor, watching the sunlight dance on the polished floor. He was ashamed at his outburst. I have a desire to learn, Papa. He took a deep breath. "I have no use for Rumschpringe. I want to be Amish. I am happy to be Amish. He shrugged his shoulders. I just want to learn more. Is that so terrible?"

I have told you ‘no,’ Daniel. How many times must I say it? His father sat in the rocker, leaned over and picked up the paper.

But, Papa…

Daniel listened to his father inhale slowly through the nose. He knew there was more to come. He waited.

Noah sighed. Sit. I heard about you wanting to go to high school. The Bishop and I have discussed it.

The Bishop? Daniel whispered. He straightened in the chair to look his father in the eye. Must I visit him to discuss my desires?

The lone kerosene lamp glowed in the corner. The sound of his mother and two sisters cleaning the supper dishes in the kitchen caught his attention. The babble of a rousing game of ball being played by his other siblings drifted through the open windows. In the living room where he sat with his father, there was only silence broken by the sound of the lamp’s hissing.

Bishop Schmucker has his concerns.

Daniel watched his father fold the crumbled newspaper before standing once more. He immediately stood to join his father, but kept his head bowed.

We are Amish, Daniel. As Amish, we have modest needs and lead a simple, plain life. His father strolled to a table where the family Bible rested. He picked up the book. This! This is our life. We are Christians following the humble life as Jesus directed. We do not attempt to complicate ourselves with modern things. Do you understand what I am saying?

Daniel nodded. Yes, Papa. His father was not about to relent.

I told the Bishop I would speak to you and get this silliness out of your head. Noah placed an arm over Daniel’s shoulders and steered him back to the chairs. He had concerns, but also an understanding of your needs.

Daniel frowned. Understanding?

His father sat and Daniel waited a few seconds before joining him. He watched as the older man grabbed the newspaper once more to snap it open. Daniel waited. He hadn’t been dismissed, but it seemed evident the conversation was finished.

What would you study? Noah mumbled, his face hidden inside the pages of the paper. That is, if you were allowed to attend school?

The words startled Daniel and he paused to remember the schedule.

It would be English, General Science, Vo-Ag, General Math—

Noah let go of one side of the paper and held up his hand. This science class, I will not allow it. I feel it will confound you and cause you to question your faith and our lifestyle.

I need to take… Daniel saw his father’s eye glance up and realized this was not something to argue. This could be the deal breaker. Daniel relented. I will have them remove the class from my schedule.

The Bishop has concerns, but he also told me if you fought to continue this schooling then he would bless the notion. Noah continued to look at the open pages of The Budget. With the Bishop’s blessing, you will be allowed to attend high school. Noah lowered the paper. You are only fourteen. You have not reached the age of sixteen, so he has given his approval. He paused. "Since you are willing to fight me regarding this, I will bow to the Bishop’s wishes—even though I feel you are testing Rumschpringe. Noah shook his head. I fear you will bolt for the door like a wild stallion when given the chance, never to be seen again."

Daniel wanted to leap into the air, but remained seated. "I am sorry, Papa. I do not wish to argue with you. I will not bolt. I do not want to test Rumschpringe. He hesitated. I will inform Mr. Sullivan of this decision. He took a deep breath. Thank you, Papa."

I expect you to maintain your chores around here. He nodded toward the kitchen. Right now your mama needs more wood for the stove. Get it before you go play ball.

Daniel slowly walked across the large living room with its austere furnishings. He wanted to run, but controlled himself. I get to go to school.

# # #

This can’t be it! Julie Bronson stared at the small, junky trailer. They’ve got to be kidding! Who’d live in that? She shook her head and once more glanced at the letter to confirm the address. It matched. Talk about trailer trash. She cautiously pulled her blue and white Chevy onto the scratch of dried-grass and gravel which attempted to construe a driveway.

"That was Please, Mister Postman by the Marvelettes on CKLW, your station with—"

Julie turned the radio off and glanced at the small trailer, wrinkling her nose in antipathy. From the highway it appeared narrow. Now, parked beside the short, hand-painted, silver mobile home, there was no doubt. The trailer was small and dingy.

Remember, Julie, you wanted this job. If this is the worst they can throw at you, you'll make it. She sighed. Her day’s journey started with a Godspeed at Willoughby Baptist Church and a tearful family farewell, followed by the lonely five-hour drive through the state to this small community. She’d arrived. Centertown was a crossroads with a dozen businesses and perhaps a hundred plus homes.

A rap on the back window startled her.

Miss Julie Bronson?

Yes. Julie looked at the hesitant expression of the older woman who stood there dressed in a dark-blue, calico housedress. Yes, my skin color is black. The woman smiled.

My name is Elizabeth Tremussen. She stuck out her hand. Can I help you move anything in? She dangled a shiny item in the air from her other hand. I've got your new key right here.

Julie opened the car door and stepped out—all six-foot-two-inches of her. She towered above Elizabeth who might have been five and a half feet tall in heels. Julie took the older woman's hand and shook it. It is so nice to finally meet you.

I figured you'd come today and from the direction where you lived, I'm guessing you drove right by the school. Is that correct?

Julie glanced back at the intersection and the large brick school building a little further beyond. She nodded absently. I only have two suitcases, Mrs. Tremussen. I can take them in. She glanced at the trailer. You said it was furnished, is that correct?

Oh, please, call me Elizabeth. We're going to be neighbors, no reason to be so formal. And, yes, the place is furnished. She stared at the tall Amazon woman before her. It’s not the best furniture but should be adequate.

Call me Julie. The black woman surveyed the surrounding homes. She didn't see anyone out and about for such a beautiful, late Sunday afternoon, but she knew she was being watched. That’s right! Watch the black woman. A curtain moved.

Well, at least allow me to open the trailer for you. Elizabeth headed for the small, rickety porch. This was my daddy's place and I've been here almost every day letting it air out. She glanced at Julie retrieving two suitcases from the trunk of the car, and then appraised the short doorway. I do hope there is enough head room in here. By the way, my daddy smoked cigars and I'm afraid that smell will never leave.

That's fine, Elizabeth. Julie marched up the steps. My father smoked pipes. I’m pretty sure the smell won't kill me.

"I tried an air freshener. Rose Garden was the name, I think."

Julie stepped into the trailer and the scent of ten thousand rose petals stuffed into a cigar smudged ashtray assaulted her. The windows will be open every day until Jack Frost visits. I do hope I can get this stench out of here. She tried not to show a reaction, instead glancing politely about the trailer as she put the suitcases down near the door.

Elizabeth pointed to the small kitchenette and dining area. It's a small kitchen, but quite adequate.

Julie eyed the diminutive space. Everything is right within reach. How convenient. I can stand in the kitchen and reach almost every corner of the trailer. She played her fingers across the table's top. This will be perfect to sit at for eating and doing school assignments. She bent down and glanced out the triple-paned louvered window. A marvelous view, too.

Elizabeth pointed to the back of the trailer. Now, beyond there is the bathroom and bedroom. Plus, there is plenty of storage in the small hallway closet.

This is perfect. Julie flashed a smile at Elizabeth. Just perfect. Turned, inhaled deeply and rolled her eyes. A fancy prison cell.

Any questions?

Julie stroked the wood of the paneled walls. Would you mind if I painted these? She pulled back her hand and rubbed her fingertips together.

Elizabeth gave a quick frown, stepped closer to inspect and rubbed the walls. She certainly has her nerve! I've cleaned these walls. They’re spotless.

I'm sorry. I wasn't insinuating anything like that. I prefer light walls to dark wood paneling. Julie shook her head and gave a small shrug. I can live with it.

Elizabeth pursed her lips and looked about the trailer. Who am I kidding? This was my daddy's and it has all the charm of an Army barracks. It needs a woman's touch. I’ll get a gallon of paint. I think I still have sandlewood-colored paint left over. She grabbed the heavy, drab-olive curtains. I even have some ruffled yellow gingham curtains I’ll donate.

Let over paint? Donate? How generous. Julie imagined the sunlight streaming into the trailer.

If you need anything, I live right there. Elizabeth pointed to a white house with green shutters across the road. If there is a problem, come over anytime. Oh, and don't let Jinks scare you. He's a big dog, a St. Bernard, but old and real loveable. He’ll bark but has no idea what to do after that, other than wag his tail and get you to scratch him behind the ear. The older woman stepped out the door of the trailer and lumbered down the porch steps. Pop over tomorrow morning for a cup of coffee and we'll talk some more. Jim usually heads out about eight-thirty to meet up with his cronies. Let me get him out of the way then join me and we can gab.

Julie smiled and waved at Elizabeth as the older woman padded back across the road to her house. All the while Julie guardedly surveyed the neighborhood. Nobody was outside. Welcome to the neighborhood, Miss Julie Bronson. Now, GET YOUR BLACK ASS OUT! She stepped back inside, slumped onto the big dark green couch and let the tears flow.

Lord, like Moses and Joshua, you've led me to a new land. Give me the strength to handle the burden before me. Like the walls of Jericho, let these walls of bigotry crumble and this new place become a home. There is a purpose for my being here. Give me the mind to see Your way and wishes.

She wiped the tears away.

Julie Bronson! You can sit here and feel sorry for yourself or get up and begin your new life.

With a deep sigh she stood, grabbed the two suitcases and marched to the bedroom to unpack. Maybe they don’t want me, but I’m here and they will take notice!

1Chapter Two ~ Julie's Monday

Monday, August 28, 1961

Julie awoke early. Startled at first by her strange surroundings, she breathed easier when she realized where she was. She stared at the trio of pictures: her parents, her boyfriend and a group photo of her siblings. She lay on the bed, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. A job. A real job! Thank you, Lord, for another day of opportunities. Amen.

After carefully applying the lipstick, she took one last look at herself in the mirror, adjusted a curl of hair, and then stepped into the hallway. She realized she had nothing to fix for breakfast, not even a dry bowl of cereal. The small grocery store she'd noticed yesterday had been closed. She had expected that, being it was Sunday. She'd have to consider getting something to stock the shelves of her new home. Julie glanced out the front window. Across the street, she watched a shiny, black, 1960 Ford station wagon back out of the driveway of Elizabeth's house. Julie was sure the older man driving the car was Jim. She waited for what she felt was an appropriate amount of time before stepping out into the fresh morning air. The sun was warm and she noticed the neighbor lady to the west working in her garden. Julie waved. The woman turned and walked back into her house. Julie frowned. She recognized the white reaction when she saw it. Like it or lump it, lady, but I’m going to be living here, so get used to me waving. Julie shrugged and headed across the street to Elizabeth's place.

The large St. Bernard dog Elizabeth had mentioned now barked at her while it bounded and pranced about at Julie’s approach. The tail swung furiously from side to side.

Now, Jinks, you behave. Elizabeth scolded the old, fat dog. This here is Julie Bronson and she'll be visiting a lot. She glanced at Julie then scanned the neighborhood. Come on in. The coffee is hot and I made some cinnamon rolls.

Julie entered and pulled the door closed behind her. Everyone saw me enter the front door, not scurrying around to a servant’s entrance. She followed Elizabeth down a hallway to the kitchen at the back of the two-story house. An archway opened to the living room on her right. Julie could see the Early Americana decor. You have a lovely home.

Thank you. Now, have a seat. Elizabeth plunked a rose patterned saucer and coffee cup in front her.

Julie took a seat, a little concerned at Elizabeth’s sudden demanding rudeness.

Forgive me but I'm going to be blunt. Elizabeth grabbed the electric percolator. We need to discuss the facts.

Julie gazed at her landlord and tried not to reveal any worry. Facts? You mean the fact I’m black and you’re not? Or the fact that nobody wants me here?

Elizabeth poured the coffee into the cups and put the coffee pot down. She sat and shoved a plate of sweet rolls at Julie. They’re still warm. Do you need cream or sugar? The older woman pushed the rose-patterned creamer closer. "And yes, facts. You do realize you're the only Negro… Is Negro the right word? Anyway, you’re the only Negro person in the area for close to forty or fifty miles."

Julie shook her head, declining the sugar and cream. She remained silent. Negro is a much better term than the other word most white people used.

Trust me, Julie. She reached and patted Julie's hand. I'm a straight-shooter and I'm going to tell you this won't be an easy job. Elizabeth pursed her lips, stared out the window for a few seconds, took a deep breath then continued. I’m sure you realize there are those who don't want you here. She paused. It isn’t you. They don’t want any black person anywhere near them. And they have no problem using words and actions to let you know. The older woman inhaled, sucking the air through her lips. You have no idea how many times I had to correct a couple of the school board members last month. She shook her head. Such vulgar name calling.

I got that feeling from the letters when offered me the position. Julie smiled. The fact they don't want me getting married, did, at first, have me hesitate on accepting the position. Gary— Julie blushed. He’s my boyfriend. Anyway, we discussed our plans and well, he still has a lot of military time to serve. Julie shifted the coffee cup around on the saucer. With the situation escalating as it is in Vietnam and Cuba, we just didn't feel marriage was in our immediate future.

Well, it’s more than just the school. Elizabeth paused. I'll be honest, even I had my reservations.  The neighbors have been restless since they learned I offered you the trailer to live in. Have you noticed the one house up for sale? That sign appeared just last week after… well, after they had assured themselves I was renting the trailer to you. I’m telling you right now, it will be a struggle. Elizabeth looked into Julie's eyes, reached out to cover her hand before taking a deep breath. I see a wonderful person. Are you up to the battle? At least I hope you’re a wonderful person and I haven’t made a big mistake.

I've asked the Lord to give me strength and guidance.

Thank the Lord, a Christian woman. Elizabeth leaned back, slapped the table and nodded in agreement. What church do you attend?

Julie felt her eyebrows touch in the frown. Did she think I’m a heathen or into voodoo just because I’m black? I attended the Willoughby Baptist Church.

Hmm? We don't have a Baptist church in town. I attend the Lutheran church about three blocks from here. Elizabeth continued to study her. You're welcome to join us. She waited as Julie nodded. Besides, it would be good to have somebody in the church who finally knows how to sing. She paused and gave Julie an odd look. Since you’re a chorus teacher, I’m guessing you know how to sing. Elizabeth giggled.

Julie burst out laughing. I’ve been told I can belt out a tune, sometimes, even in key.

You have a great sense of humor, Julie. I told Jim I wanted to have a little party to welcome you. Are you available for supper tonight and we’ll make plans for this coming weekend?

Julie gazed out the window at Elizabeth's backyard. I don't have any plans right now.

Good. Elizabeth stood. I'll call the neighbors and let them know. She smiled at Julie. We might as well face Satan, and his ugly, demon sidekick, Hate, head on and get that out of the way. I know there will a lot of them who won’t come. Elizabeth pushed the plate of sweets