She wouldn’t meddle, though. This wasn’t her son, and it wasn’t her place. Sadie looked over at Elijah, but he looked mildly embarrassed and was looking down at the crumb-laden carpet between his feet. This was why young parents needed a community—none of this was easy.
“Sadie, how are you doing?” Absolom asked after a moment of silence.
“Fine.” What could she say?
“Your little boy—Samuel,” Absolom said. “He’s doing well?”
“He’s doing very well.” She couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips. “He’s three now, and talks a whole lot. He sweeps the kitchen and follows Mamm out to the garden. His favorite job is holding the clothespins for me while I hang up the laundry.”
Absolom smiled, too. “Who does he look like? Our side or Mervin’s?”
“Ours.” She was proud to say it. He was her child, and he looked like her, too, people said.
“I was sorry to hear about Mervin’s passing,” Absolom added.
Was he really? Elijah had already told her their opinion of her late husband. “You didn’t write,” she said instead.
“I—” He nodded. “I know. You know how it is. If I had, it would have been pored over by the whole family, and . . . I don’t know.”
There was a gulf between them—the life Absolom had refused, and the world that the rest of the family avoided with as much fervor as they avoided hellfire itself.
“Mervin’s parents visited,” she said suddenly. “They want me to marry again.”
“Who?” Absolom’s expression turned protective, and she felt a wave of gratitude for that. Her big brother had been her biggest ally over the years, and it felt good to have that back, if only for a few minutes.
“No one in particular,” she said. “But Sammie needs a father, and I must provide one.”
Absolom shook his head. “That doesn’t always work, Sadie.”
Her brother glanced toward Chase in front of the TV, and she could guess at what he was thinking. He must have tried to be more to that boy at some point.
“I’m a burden on Daet,” she said. “With his illness . . . he can’t keep working the farm much longer, and I’m just another mouth to feed.”
“You’re their daughter.” Absolom’s eyes snapped fire. “You aren’t a burden to feed, Sadie.”
But she was a grown woman, and back in the family home. She had to find a husband sooner or later. If not for her parents, then for her son.
“You know how it is, Absolom,” she said quietly, and her brother heaved a sigh. That seemed to be how they resolved everything—the mutual acceptance of how things were.
“Don’t be pushed into anything, Sadie,” Absolom said earnestly. “You know how they are. They want every string tied up, and you’re a loose string right now. There are worse things than being single.”
“Absolom, I’m not an Englisher,” she replied pointedly.
“Maybe not, but you don’t have to obey them, either. Take a stand.”
“And who will back me up?” she retorted. “You? Because you aren’t back home where you belong, are you?”
Silence stretched between them, and Absolom sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight and waste the time we’ve got.”
The time they had . . . everything was slipping away. They had one day to make up for nine years of silence, and after she went back home again, Elijah would eventually leave, too. This felt like the good-bye they’d skipped nine years ago.
Chapter Thirteen
The day passed by more quickly than Sadie expected it to. While her brother looked like any other Englisher with his close-cropped hair, jeans, and a T-shirt, he was still the same old Absolom who told irreverent jokes and reminisced about their childhood in Morinville. He was just the same, but perhaps freer than he’d ever been before. This was the Absolom who used to lie down in the grass by the creek, no one looking over his shoulder. He could come back, couldn’t he? If he hadn’t changed so very much.... It was the hope they had all cherished for so long—that Absolom could simply decide to return one day, and everything could go back to the way it was, as if he’d never left. But even now, she knew it could never be so easy.
They talked for hours, and Absolom told stories about how they had first arrived in the city with no job and no money. They’d stayed in a homeless shelter and gotten some assistance from a Mennonite church that helped them to acquire their first jobs and get some Englisher clothes. They stayed in a house owned by a woman who’d left her Amish community decades earlier—a woman who never went back to her family and her home, who married an Englisher man, had several children, and still decorated her home in the plain, Amish fashion, but didn’t go back. People like her had made it easier for Absolom to stay away. They’d soothed the culture shock for Absolom and Elijah—a little cocoon in the middle of Englisher chaos.
There seemed to be a whole clutch of these ex-Amish Mennonites who reached out to the runaways, and hearing about them made her angry. Her father had told her that there were people whose sole aim was to undo the work of shunning. That was a few years ago, and she hadn’t believed him. Her father could be a little zealous sometimes. But perhaps Daet had been wiser than she thought, because she could plainly see that the lessons the Amish community was trying to give were unraveled by these do-gooder Mennonites.
Chase sat in front of the TV, munching on a packaged crunchy snack that she’d never seen before, the crumbs falling into the carpet. They’d tried turning off the TV a couple more times, but the boy would shout and stamp his feet, and every time, Absolom would flick it back on.
“Sharon lets him” was all Absolom could say. “Besides, if he kicks up too much of a fuss, the neighbors complain. The last thing we need is a visit from social services.”
Sadie tried to look away from the screen. Chase needed the outdoors—some bugs to chase, some snakes to catch, and some chores that would tire him out so efficiently that he wouldn’t have the energy for tantrums. Maybe even a spanking on occasion.... But again, this wasn’t her home, and Chase wasn’t an Amish boy.
The day passed easily enough. Sadie told her brother about Sammie—his antics and the funny things he said—and the more she talked about her son, the more she missed him. It was better that he was safely at home with Mamm, Daet, and his auntie Rosie—away from this. And now, after a few hours in her brother’s home, Sadie had grown more comfortable, and that in itself unnerved her.
Sadie cooked up some lunch to feed them all—after Elijah showed her how the electric stove worked—and a few hours later, she headed back to the kitchen to start supper. Sharon didn’t come back, and the more time slid by, the more antsy Absolom got. He called Sharon’s cell phone a few times, and texted her several more.
“She goes out,” Absolom said hollowly.
“To do what?” Sadie asked. Besides helping out a neighbor, Amish women stayed home and took care of their homes. She couldn’t imagine what could keep a woman away for this length of time—away from both her children.
“I don’t know. She hangs out with friends. She just needs to get away sometimes. The kids are too much for her.”
Sadie’s gaze slid over to the newborn sleeping in a little crib at the side of the couch. “When will she come back?”
Her brother didn’t answer that, and the question hung in the air. She could feel the tension radiating off of him, though—anger, uncertainty, anxiety. He loved Sharon, she could tell, but their situation wasn’t an easy one.
“Mommy comes back,” Chase said without turning from the TV, and he sounded much older than his four years—the kind of maturity that came from necessity.
“Oh, good,” Sadie said faintly, trying with all her might not to judge this woman who had walked away from her children, from her man, and left them worrying.
Sadie found a plastic grocery bag and proceeded to swipe the fast food wrappers into it. She couldn’t look at the mess anymore.
“You don’t have to do that,” E
lijah said after a moment, dark eyes meeting hers.
She looked back to the job in front of her. “I know. You already told me.”
She didn’t want to offend her brother’s girlfriend, but it was better than the jangle of the television and her brother’s veiled unhappiness.
Absolom put a hand on her wrist, stopping her. “Elijah’s right. You don’t have to do that, Sadie. Here, the women don’t have to be the only ones who cook and clean. You’re not the maid.”
“Keeping house isn’t shameful,” she said with a shake of her head. “If the Englishers do things differently, Absolom, then maybe you should clean up. Because someone has to.”
Her brother’s cheeks tinged pink, and she immediately regretted her words. She wasn’t here to fight with him, and it wasn’t as if she resented women’s work. She took pride in her contributions to a peaceful, well-run home. But something had gone wrong here, and she couldn’t be the only one who saw it.
Outside the window, the sun slipped behind the buildings, and Absolom rose to his feet and flicked on some lights. He turned away from them and dialed a number into his cell phone. Sharon. Sadie could see his worry in the way he held his shoulders. No one seemed to answer, and he dropped his phone into his pocket.
“Will she come back?” Sadie asked in German to protect the boy from this conversation.
“Yes. She always does.” Absolom sighed. “She does this a lot lately. It’s gotten worse. She struggles with depression and anxiety, and the kids . . .” He sighed, not finishing. He didn’t have to. Children were work—there was no way around it. Absolom looked very much alone in this apartment. Her brother, the angry little four-year-old, and this helpless infant . . . the children needed Absolom. He was all they had when their mother disappeared.
“Are you happy, Absolom?” she asked.
Her brother looked away for a moment, his eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t know. I’m doing what I have to do. We’ll sort it out, Sharon and I. Sometimes it just takes some time.”
It was the same thing Elizabeth had said—if Sadie had had a little more time with her husband, maybe it would have gotten better. Perhaps it was the same for her brother’s relationship, too. Sadie could offer to bring him back with them, but she knew it would be wrong to even speak it out loud. What was he supposed to do, walk away with the children? There were Englisher laws against that. He’d made his bed, all right.
“We have a long drive back,” Elijah said, his voice rising above the sound of the television. “I told your father I’d have Sadie back tonight.”
Absolom’s gaze flicked toward his sister. “You could stay a few days—”
She longed to say yes—to help him, somehow. Her brother had come out to the Englisher freedom, and she could see how empty he was. He was lonesome, and lost.... But that was how it started, and even though she could see how much her brother needed her right now—a woman’s presence in this home to pull things back together—she knew better than that. She was not a Mennonite do-gooder, and Samuel swam in her thoughts. She missed him desperately.
“I have a son at home,” she said with a shake of her head. “And he needs his mamm.”
“Yah.” Absolom sucked in a deep breath, then rose to his feet. “He needs his mamm.”
She had no way of knowing what her brother was thinking, but she wished they had just a little more time together. Absolom needed his mamm, too, from what she could see, and he needed his community, his daet, his siblings. He needed more than a job, more than a struggling relationship with the mother of his daughter. There was solace in work, but what could it comfort a man without a loving home waiting for him at the end of a long day?
“What should I tell Mamm?” Sadie asked.
Absolom shoved his hands into his pockets. “That I love her.”
“And Daet?”
“Tell him that I’m working hard. I’ve got kids to feed now, and I can appreciate all that Daet did in the feeding of us. I know he doesn’t approve of any of this, but maybe he’ll understand my responsibility.”
Chase turned away from the TV, at last, and his big brown eyes moved between them.
“We have to go home now, Chase,” Sadie said softly, bending down to his level. “I’m very glad to have met you.”
The boy regarded her seriously. “Can you come back?”
Sadie’s heart thudded hollowly in her own ears, and she suddenly realized that she’d like nothing more. This visit with her brother hadn’t been enough, and these children needed more nurturing than they’d been getting.
“I wish I could, Chase,” she said, her throat tight. “But I can’t come back.”
“Why?” Chase whispered.
“My father would never allow it.” She reached out and ruffled his hair. “Tell your mamm that I said good-bye.”
“My mommy,” he corrected her.
“Yes.” She forced a smile. She’d used the German instead of English. “And you take very good care of your baby sister, okay?”
Chase nodded, but he didn’t come any closer to her. Instead, he sidled up to Absolom and leaned into her brother’s leg.
“Sadie, try to come back,” Absolom said quietly. “Or write me letters, at least.”
“I will if Daet allows it,” she said, and her brother deflated.
“Then I won’t hear from you,” he said.
“You don’t know that, Absolom.” But she suspected the same. Her father might be willing to bend in order to bring Absolom back, but he wouldn’t condone an easy and open relationship with him if he stayed with the Englishers.
“Thank you for today,” Absolom said gruffly, and he wrapped his arms around her, giving her a quick squeeze.
“Absolom, if you can”—her chin trembled—“I know it looks impossible, but if you ever find a way, come home.”
Her brother nodded, dashing a tear from his cheek with the back of one hand. “Yah.”
And they both knew that wouldn’t happen, either. Sadie bent over the bassinette to press a kiss against Sarah’s downy head. She wouldn’t see this child again, and she looked silently over the little girl with a heavy heart. Her brother’s choices had come with weighty consequences.
Elijah and Absolom hugged roughly, then her brother pulled open the front door.
“You’re coming back, aren’t you?” Absolom asked Elijah.
“Yah. Of course. I’ll need another couple of weeks, at least.”
“The customers won’t wait forever, Eli. I’m lining them up for leaf and snow removal, and that’s around the corner.”
“I know. But you can count on me. You know that.”
The men shook hands, and as Sadie stepped out of her brother’s home, she felt a rush of regret. One day—that’s all they’d had—and she’d found no solutions.
Sadie followed Elijah to the elevator. They were both silent, but Elijah reached over and took her hand in his broad, calloused palm. This was no longer the tentative touch of a teen doing the forbidden in holding a girl’s hand, but the strong grip of a man who knew her pain. She leaned into his muscular arm and let her head rest against his shoulder. Her heart felt sodden with unshed tears.
“You okay?” he murmured as they stepped into the elevator and the door slid shut. His solid presence beside her was comforting—at least she wasn’t alone. But her brother was.
“No,” she whispered. “I’m not.”
She’d seen Absolom—she’d held her niece. And she could see exactly why her brother could never come home again. Her brother’s choices had nailed him firmly into the Englisher world.
* * *
A few weeks ago, Elijah had driven this route back to Morinville. He’d been packed full of conflicted feelings. The first letter his daet sent that was different from the ordinary explanation of church teachings was the one where he confessed that he’d lost a great deal of money investing in a piece of machinery he wouldn’t be permitted to use. The next letter after that had been the one where his father had a
sked for help.
I can’t make my bills, son. I can’t compete. I hate to humble myself like this, but I need your help. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay afloat unless you come back to help us. This isn’t a ploy, son. Your mamm and I won’t pressure you to stay, but we don’t know what else to do.
He hadn’t had any Amish clothes to change into, and he’d known that he’d have to drive to his parents’ house like a common Englisher, drawing curious stares the entire way. A few weeks ago, he wondered what his parents would say—if his daet would be happy to see him, or furious at how long he’d been away. He had sisters and their husbands who would be angry, too. He’d abandoned the family, after all, and the faith—selfishness. It was never just one relationship—there was a web of extended family, all feeling personally betrayed.
Now he was driving this same road again, and as he followed the traffic out of the city, he had a lump in his throat. This time there was no uncertainty, but the memories from his first drive back flooded through him like a recent trauma.
Traffic was light at this time of the evening, and once they reached open highway, he could lean back and rest his hand at the top of the steering wheel and let his mind wander. How long until he came back to Chicago for good? And would he be able to finally put his feelings for Sadie to rest, or was he stuck with these rogue emotions that refused to be ruled by logic?
He glanced over at Sadie. She had a hand clamped over her mouth, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. His heart stuttered, and he reached over and grabbed her hand.
“Hey . . .” He didn’t know what to say, because words couldn’t make this better, and even if they could, he’d never been a man who knew what to say. He could joke and laugh, but the heavier, more painful subjects left him muzzled.
The Bishop's Daughter Page 18
