A World Away

by Nancy Grossman

  My mother looked up and met Beth’s eyes. “And finally I did.”

  They sat looking at each other for a moment, small smiles on their faces, before Beth got up and reached forward to pick up the teacups. My mother placed her hand on Beth’s wrist. “Wait,” she said. Beth set the cups down and pulled her chair around so it faced my mother. “There’s something else you need to understand.” My mother swallowed and took a raggedy breath. “I wanted it for you, Beth,” she whispered. “Do you know what I’m saying?”

  Beth leaned forward, her knees touching my mother’s. “You wanted me to leave?”

  “Staying at home was the right choice for me, but I knew it wouldn’t be right for you,” my mother said, her voice breaking. “I knew you needed to leave to be happy, so I was willing to shun you just to be sure you got this life.”

  “Oh, Becky.” Beth reached forward, wrapping her arms around my mother. They were both crying now. I swallowed hard and pushed back my chair. I stepped toward the kitchen door, my eyes still on my mother and Aunt Beth, holding each other, breathing deep, jagged sobs. “Oh, Becky,” Beth said again, as I slipped out of the kitchen.

  I tiptoed upstairs, my heart pounding, a worry nestled in my chest. Had my mother accepted a life she didn’t want? When I went back downstairs a few minutes later, my mother and aunt were sitting together on the living room couch. Their eyes were red-rimmed, but their expressions were peaceful. I settled on the couch beside my mother. She was silent for a moment before she turned to me. “Do you understand about the trouble a girl can get into?”

  “Of course I do,” I said.

  She shook her head. “So did I. But it happened to me anyway.” Her voice grew gentle when she added, “I know about your young man, Eliza. And I think that he’s the reason you asked for more time here.”

  That was the first time my mother mentioned my wish to stay longer. Aunt Beth must have told her about Josh. I wanted to be angry, but instead I felt relief. I wanted my mother to know. “He’s only part of the reason,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I’m enjoying all the things I can’t do at home. I also love my work with Rachel’s family. And now that I’ve found Aunt Beth, I can’t bear the thought of leaving her.”

  “I know,” said my mother. “But you’ll be leaving a lot more if you stay here.”

  I closed my eyes. I wanted to ask her how she felt about the choice she had made, but the words felt tangled up. I opened my eyes to see that my mother and Beth were both looking at me. “You shunned Aunt Beth.”

  “I was taught that there is only one way to live,” she said. “And anyone who doesn’t accept that has to leave. It was the only way I could think of to help her.”

  “I wish we hadn’t lost those years,” said Beth, her voice like flowing water. “But now I know that my sister wasn’t rejecting me. She was allowing me to have the life I wanted.” Her eyes met my mother’s. “She did it because she loved me.” My mother nodded and made it true.

  I turned to my mother. “Do you regret your choice?” I asked. “Do you wish you had this life?”

  “I have to admit that at first it was hard. Sometimes I’d catch myself humming a James Taylor song while I hung the clothes on the line, and I’d think about Debbie’s big collection of CDs.” She paused. “But gradually I realized that what I missed were just things. We can do without things easier than we can do without people. What was waiting for me at home was more important than what I left behind.”

  “And Dad?” I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

  My mother’s eyes locked with mine. “Your father is my hero.”

  Relief trickled through me. My mother’s story was told, and mine was still in the making. There was so much work ahead.

  On Friday night, Beth and John had a dinner party. They invited Sam and Rachel and the children, and I was eager for my mother to get to know this family that had welcomed me so warmly into the fancy world. Also coming were John’s parents, his sister and her family, two women from Beth’s Tuesday night quilting group, and a professor who worked with John. On the day before the party, we added one more guest: Josh.

  Beth had approached me while my mother was out in the garden, and asked how I would feel about including Josh in the dinner party. I was surprised at the question. During my calls to Josh we spoke in urgent whispers and assumed that we wouldn’t see each other until my mother went back home. Now I looked up at Beth. “I don’t know,” I said. “How do you think my mom would feel about having him here?”

  Beth smiled. “It was your mother who asked me to invite Joshua. She wants to meet him.”

  I took in a shaky breath and reached for Beth’s phone. Josh picked up after the first ring.

  “Hey,” he said. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too,” I said. “I was wondering if you’d like to come to dinner at Aunt Beth’s house tomorrow night.”

  “Tomorrow?” he asked. “I thought your mom wasn’t leaving until Sunday.”

  “She’s not. She’ll be at the dinner, and she wants to meet you.”

  All Josh said in response was “Whoa.”

  “Dinner’s at six,” I went on. “Rachel’s family will be there, and Uncle John’s family, and a few other people, too. Do you want to come?”

  “Count me in,” he said.

  Helping Beth and my mother get ready for the dinner, I felt the way I did on Stranger Nights: excited in a nervous way. My hands fumbled with the simplest of tasks, and I felt out of breath, as though I had just run up a flight of stairs. Beth and my mother worked easily together, and I wondered if they felt nostalgic for a time when they used to help their mother in the kitchen of their childhood.

  My mother smoothed her blue dress and starched white apron. Her kapp sat serenely atop her head, and her bun was perfectly arranged. I had told Josh what my mother’s clothes would be like, but I worried that he might stare at her in surprise, as so many people here did. I was wearing the lavender dress I had bought on that first shopping day with Valerie.

  Now, waiting for the guests to arrive, my mother looked me up and down with an approving smile. “Every day I’m eager to see what you’ll be wearing,” she said. “And you never disappoint me.” At that moment I felt a rush of affection for my mother, and I leaned over to kiss her cheek. She looked surprised for a moment, and then reached her arm around me and pulled me close. I breathed in the scent of her, that lemony smell I had almost forgotten. Our moment was interrupted by the tumult of Ben and Janie bursting through the front door. They ran to me, flinging their arms around my waist.

  “Well, look at the two of you,” I exclaimed, planting a kiss on the top of each head. “I think you miss me!”

  Leaning over the children, who still clung to my waist, Rachel gave me a hug. “We all miss you,” she said. Then she turned to my mother, who had been standing quietly at my side, and reached for her hand. “Mrs. Miller, it’s so nice to see you again.”

  My mother shook Rachel’s hand. “Please,” she said, “call me Rebecca.” Rachel smiled.

  “And this is my husband, Sam,” Rachel continued. Sam shook my mother’s hand and turned to me, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

  “It’s good to see you, Eliza,” he said. “We miss your cooking.” He winked at me, and Rachel made a grunting sound before leading him away to meet John and Beth. As my mother went to stand near Beth and greet her guests, I sat on the couch, with a child on each side, turning my head from one to the other as their high-pitched voices competed to fill me in on their days without me. Ben’s gaze roamed to the other side of the room and settled on my mother. I followed his stare.

  “Is that how you look when you’re at home?” he asked.

  “Yes and no,” I said. “I do wear clothes like my mom is wearing now, but I never look as neat as my mom. My apron usually has stains from whatever I’ve been cooking, and my kapp is always slipping off my head.”

  Ben shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe you’re not supposed to dress that
way,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Maybe I’m not,” I whispered.

  The front door opened and closed as each new guest arrived. When I heard Josh’s voice, I jumped up from the couch, my heart rattling. By the time I reached the door, he had stepped inside and was being greeted with a hug from Beth and a handshake from John. His eyes met mine, and I could tell he was as nervous as I was. He carried himself like someone wearing an over-starched shirt. I reached for his arm and gently led him to where my mother was standing, talking to Rachel. “Mom,” I said, with a breathlessness in my voice that I couldn’t control, “this is Josh.”

  I watched as my mother and Josh faced each other. He reached his hand out and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Miller.” She shook his hand, a trace of a smile on her face.

  “And I’m happy to meet you as well,” she said. Her voice sounded cordial, the way it did when she greeted dinner guests on Stranger Night. But she didn’t turn away, as she did with the visitors at home. Instead, her eyes traveled from Josh’s choppy dark hair to his blue button-down shirt, to his khaki pants and sneakers. They moved back up to his left earlobe, where a small silver hoop sparkled. I was so accustomed to Josh’s earring that I didn’t notice it anymore, but in the early days it had always startled me.

  The doorbell rang again, and my mother said, “I suppose I should let Beth introduce me around. But I hope we’ll have the chance to get acquainted later in the evening.”

  Josh nodded. I had never seen him look so shy. When my mother went off to meet Beth’s quilting friends, I slipped my arm around his waist and leaned in to him. His solid warmth settled around me, and I realized how much I had missed him these past few days.

  The next hour was a clutter of introductions and half-finished conversations before moving to a new guest or a new task. I had met John’s family at one of our Sunday night dinners, and they greeted me warmly when they arrived. Beth welcomed them affectionately, and I realized that she had spent almost as much of her life with her in-laws as she had with her own parents.

  John’s sister Barbara reached out to grasp my mother’s hands as though they were old friends. “I feel like I know you already,” she said. “Beth has told me so much about you.”

  My mother smiled. “And she’s also told me about you.” She paused, and I could tell that she was searching for the right words. “Beth has needed a sister,” she said. “Thank you.” Barbara looked pleased.

  Finally it was time to sit down at the table. My head hurt from keeping up with all the introductions and from worrying about my mother and Josh. I was relieved to settle into a chair and watch the other guests file in. My mother appeared, still talking to Barbara, and I waved her to the chair at my right.

  I turned to her and said, “I forgot to warn you about Josh’s earring.” She smiled. “Don’t worry. Josh isn’t the first boy I’ve seen with an earring. I’m not as sheltered as you think.” We were laughing when Josh came into the room and sat in the chair to my left. “Are you laughing at me?” he asked. “Sort of,” I said. “I was wondering what my mom thought of your earring, but it turns out she’s cooler than I thought.”

  “Yes,” my mother agreed. “I’m often accused of being ‘cool.’”

  Josh grinned and placed his hand on my back, stroking it gently. Despite the laughter and Josh’s light touch, I felt tension on both sides—Josh on my left and my mother on my right. I was afraid it would be a long meal.

  All the guests were now gathered around the table. I reached for my fork when the tinging sound of a spoon hitting a glass stopped me. I turned to the head of the table to see Beth looking out at her guests. “Thank you all for coming,” she began. “As you know, I’ve given up most of my Amish ways. But now I feel the need to bring back one tradition.”

  She looked at my mother and me in a meaningful way and then reached for John’s hand at her right and Barbara’s at her left.

  I turned to Josh and placed one of my hands in his and the other in my mother’s. Around the large dining room table and the small children’s table, everyone reached for the hands of the people sitting beside them, and then looked expectantly at Beth. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, as though trying to remember something. Then came the words that used to rise to my lips at the start of each meal. “We thank you, our heavenly Father, for the gifts which we are about to receive. May we be truly grateful for the bounty you have bestowed.”

  I was about to say “Amen” when I realized that Beth wasn’t finished. “In the past weeks,” she continued, “I’ve received two great gifts. The first gift was my niece Eliza. One day she appeared at my door, and suddenly I…” She stopped, her voice choked. “Suddenly I didn’t feel like someone who had been shunned.” She cleared her throat and went on. “Then this niece brought my precious sister back to me.” I listened, my throat tight, my hands gripped on one side by my mother and on the other side by my beau. I looked at Aunt Beth, whose expression teetered between laughter and tears. “When we say grace,” she went on, “we ask to be grateful. Well, tonight I don’t have to ask for that feeling. I’m filled with it.”

  There was a silent moment before my mother spoke. “Amen.”

  “Amen,” I whispered, and a murmur traveled around the table. The tension began to slip away.

  After finishing my salad, I got up to help with the serving. I worried about leaving Josh alone with my mother, but I also wanted them to have a conversation without me. I brought the salad plates into the kitchen and accepted the platter of lasagna and the spatula that Barbara handed me. I started at the head of the table, then made my way to the children, who each pointed to what they thought was the biggest piece. I was back home now at Stranger Night, tiptoeing around the table, listening to snatches of conversation. I served John’s parents, and heard them telling the professor about how John had been fascinated by the Colonial era, even as a little boy. I set lasagna pieces on Sam’s and Rachel’s plates, and listened as Rachel told the quilting ladies about how she had met me.

  Then I found myself standing beside Josh, who was turned toward my mother. Their voices came to me, open and easy. Breathing in a feeling of comfort, I served each of them a piece of lasagna and put a piece on my own plate as well. My mother was asking him about school. “A junior,” Josh was saying. “As a matter of fact, school starts in two weeks.”

  “Junior year,” my mother said. “Isn’t that the year when you have to take your college entrance tests?”

  “Yeah, the ACTs and SATs,” Josh answered. “That’s all everyone’s talking about now. I’m not looking forward to it.”

  I brought the empty platter back to the kitchen and returned to my seat.

  “What did I miss?” I asked.

  “Let’s see,” said my mother. “Josh’s brother is at the University of Illinois, but Josh is hoping to go to Northwestern because they have a better journalism program. He’s going to be sports editor of the school paper this year, and he loves the Cubs, but he’s not as obsessed with them as Uncle John is.” She turned to Josh. “Did I leave anything out?”

  “Not really.” He paused before adding, “Except that I’m really happy you let your daughter come here.”

  My neck warmed, and I was filled again with that breathless, nervous feeling. I turned to my mother, who set her fork down and looked past me at Josh.

  “Well,” she said.

  I waited to hear what else she would say. The silence grew. Josh was staring at his plate. I wondered if he regretted what he had said.

  “Well,” my mother said again. “I’m glad.” Josh smiled, and I breathed in my relief. Then she continued. “I’m glad you’re having a nice summer.”

  Side by side in the kitchen, I scraped the dinner plates and Josh stacked them in the dishwasher. We had asked for this task, looking for a few minutes alone.

  “‘I’m glad you’re having a nice summer,’” said Josh, in a voice higher than his own.

  “Well, you se
t yourself up for that one,” I said.

  Josh shook his head. “Right?”

  I looked to be sure no one was about to walk through the kitchen door before pulling Josh toward me for a kiss on the mouth.

  “What was that for?” he asked. “It was for being a good boyfriend. I thought that was a nice thing to say.”

  I started the dishwasher and left the remaining dishes soaking in the sink. Josh and I returned to the living room in time to say good-bye to the guests. Then we sat on the couch and watched as all of John’s family surrounded my mother, each giving her a hug. At first she looked a bit startled, but after Barbara’s boisterous embrace, she appeared to enjoy being passed from one person to another. Each whispered a few words in her ear, and she nodded and smiled in return. Watching this open affection, I thought again of the people at home who had sent Beth away. And I felt a warm gratitude to these people who had become Beth’s family when her own had let her leave them.

  When the door closed behind them, the house was suddenly quiet. “You have a wonderful family, John,” my mother said, in the voice she used with old friends. “Beth is very lucky.”

  “So am I,” said John, slipping an arm around my aunt.

  John and Beth looked at each other and then at me. Josh and I were sitting near each other, but not touching. “Well,” said Beth, “John and I are going to finish the cleanup so you can visit for a while.” Her voice sounded overly bright, as though she had rehearsed the words.

  My mother nodded and perched in the chair facing us. I waited, feeling that something was about to happen.

  “So, Joshua,” she began. Josh nodded and sat straighter. “I’ve had the chance to talk with Rachel tonight, and she had a lot of fine things to say about you and your family.” She paused. “My sister also speaks of you with high regard.”

  Josh looked at me and then at my mother. “Thank you.”

  We waited. I sensed that my mother had more to say.