by Beth Wiseman
Stephen gently lifted her chin. “Linda, Mary Ellen is your mudder. Talk to her.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Let me take you home.”
She nodded as she bit her bottom lip.
“It’ll just take me a minute to ready the horse and buggy. Wait here. We can talk more on the way to your house.”
Stephen ran toward the barn, moving as quickly as he could. His grandfather was due for supper any minute, and the last thing Linda needed was for Bishop Ebersol to question her tears right now. Stephen knew his grandfather would find out soon enough. Daadi always found out everything.P
Linda listened to Stephen do most of the talking on the way home. He was sweet for trying to make her feel better, insisting that not much would change for her. But he was wrong. Everything was going to change.
When a crisis had presented itself in the past, she always went to her mother. This is a crisis . . . Right now, she wanted to go inside, and for her parents to reassure her that she was, indeed, loved. She told Stephen good-bye, and they shared a brief kiss in the driveway.
“It’s going to be fine, Linda,” he said one last time as she exited the buggy.
She crossed the yard, then stepped on the cobblestones that led to the porch steps. She thought about how Matt and Luke were not her true brothers, and she began to cry again.
Linda looked up when she heard the porch screen slam and saw her mother standing on the porch with her arms stretched wide. Her mother, not Mary Ellen. This woman is my mother, no matter what.
Linda ran to her as fast as she could, and Mamm wrapped her arms around her tightly.
“I’m sorry, Mamm,” Linda cried.
“No, my precious daughter. I’m sorry.”
At breakfast the next morning, no one said much. Mary Ellen served scrapple and some dippy eggs, along with some flapjacks, because they were Linda’s favorite. They decided the night before that Abe would talk to Matt and Luke when they went to market later in the morning while Linda was spending some time with Josephine.
Mary Ellen recalled her conversation with Linda late last night. When she’d heard her daughter crying, she went to her room, and they’d spent the next two hours talking. She prayed that she had convinced Linda that everything was truly going to be all right, and how very much she loved her. That nothing had to change.
Mary Ellen glanced at the clock. Straight up ten o’clock. Abe and the boys had left nearly two hours ago, and Linda had busied herself cleaning the upstairs. Mary Ellen hadn’t seen her or heard any movement from upstairs in about an hour. She finished running a damp mop across the wood floor in the den and headed toward the stairs. When she got to Linda’s room, she knocked.
“Come in.”
Mary Ellen slowly pushed the door open, and Linda was sitting on her bed in her newest dress, a purple one the color of a ripe plum, the one Mary Ellen had made for her just last week. Her black apron was a newer one, bold in color and not faded by multiple trips through the wringer. Linda was twisting one of the ties on her kapp, but not one brown hair was out of place, each strand tucked neatly beneath the prayer covering. Her black leather shoes shone as if Linda had run a wet cloth across the top, and her ankle-high black socks were neatly folded to the rim of her shoes.
When Mary Ellen sat down on the bed beside Linda, her daughter stopped twisting the tie of her kapp, folded her hands in her lap, and took a deep breath. Mary Ellen patted her leg. “She will be here any minute. It’s ten o’clock.” She paused and waited for Linda to say something, but Linda merely bit her bottom lip and stared at the floor. “You can change your mind,” she said softly, wondering if the hopefulness in her comment had shown through.
Linda shook her head but didn’t look up. “No. I’m going.”
Mary Ellen had prayed last night, and again this morning, for the Lord to lift the worry from her heavy heart. But that was only the beginning of a long list of prayers that weren’t normally included during her devotions. At Abe’s insistence, she’d prayed for Josephine, although she wasn’t sure what to pray for. If things went well between Josephine and Linda, would she lose her daughter? She tried to banish the selfish thoughts, since apparently Linda hadn’t changed her mind about the visit. Mary Ellen couldn’t stop thinking about what Linda and Josephine might do together, what places they might visit, conversations they might have.
“Mamm?” Linda twisted her neck and looked into Mary Ellen’s eyes.
“Ya?”
“What do you think she wants?” Linda paused and chewed on her lip again for a moment. “I mean, will she want to be my mother? Because I already have a mother.”
Mary Ellen felt better than she’d felt since Josephine came calling. She smiled at Linda, reached for her hand, and squeezed. “I’m glad to hear that.” She thought for a moment. “I reckon she wants to know you. That’s all. Maybe have a place in your life.”
“What kind of place?” Linda’s confused expression, paired with her questioning eyes and fidgety feet, took Mary Ellen back to a time when Linda was five-years-old and being reprimanded for picking all the strawberries in the garden before they were ripe and giving them to their dog Buddy.
Tires churning up loose gravel on the driveway diverted both their attention, and Linda suddenly turned pale. Mary Ellen knew that she must be strong for her daughter.
“Linda, you go and have a gut time.” Mary Ellen cupped Linda’s cheek and smiled. “You are very pretty, like her.”
“I’m nervous, Mamm.”
“I know. Me too.”
Linda threw her arms around Mary Ellen. “I’m sorry for how I behaved yesterday.” Mary Ellen gently nudged her away and pointed a finger in her direction.
“Do not apologize to me, Linda. I should be apologizing to you. I hope that you can forgive your father and I for not—”
“Mamm, I already have forgiven you.” Linda sighed. “I thought a lot about this last night, and I know you and Daed are hurting and worried. But you will always be my parents.”
“Danki for saying so. We love you very much.”
Then they heard a knock at the door.
5
JOSIE CHECKED HER LIPSTICK IN THE REARVIEW MIRROR, ran a hand through her hair, and wondered if she should have worn something different. After several outfit changes, she’d chosen a pair of capri jeans, a tan T-shirt with no imprint, and flat brown sandals. She’d toned down her jewelry also—only her wedding ring and small silver hoop earrings. It was a far cry from what she knew Linda would be wearing, but she didn’t want to come across as flashy, so she’d ditched spiked heels for sandals, left the Rolex at home, and even gone light on her makeup today.
She took a deep breath before she stepped out of the car and wondered if she should have taken Robert up on his offer to come with her. She took in her surroundings and saw that she’d parked near two buggies. One was the familiar box-shaped buggy Lancaster County was known for, and the other one Josie recognized to be a spring buggy, without a top, room for four, with a storage area in the back. In this warm weather, she’d seen lots of spring buggies on the roads.
Josie glanced around the property as she made her way across cobblestone steps that led to a long wooden porch with two entryways. It seemed to Josie that the Amish must get on hands and knees to trim their grass so perfectly around every flower bed, cobblestone, and planter that occupied the space between the gravel driveway and the front porch. Every tree in the spacious yard was encased by a pristine flower bed sporting red, pink, and white blooms. The white clapboard house appeared to have a fresh coat of paint, and in grand contrast, the home had a green tin roof that matched the roofs of two barns nearby.
A horse whinnied from the barn to Josie’s left, and she turned to see the animal poke his head out opened shutters, as if voicing a hello in her direction. It was picturesque, and under different circumstances, Josie knew it would be a calming, peaceful place. But as she headed up the porch steps, Josie’s heart was pounding against her chest and beads of sweat w
ere accumulating on her forehead.
Two doors led into the house, and Josie headed to the one directly in front of the porch steps, which appeared to be the main entrance. As she drew near, she could see through the screen door and into a den, then she heard footsteps, and the door swung open.
“Hello,” Mary Ellen said softly. She motioned for Josie to come in. “Linda will be down in a few minutes. Please, have a seat. Can I get you some tea or kaffi?”
Josie hesitantly sat down on the tan couch, folded her hands in her lap. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”
Mary Ellen’s home was tastefully decorated with more décor than other Amish homes Josie had been in when she was younger. She’d heard that the bishop was more lenient about allowing a few ornamental trinkets here and there, as well as conservative wall hangings. As she glanced around, Josie thought this could have been any number of non-Amish homes in the area. Two oak rockers faced the couch with a matching coffee table in between, and a colorful rug rested beneath the setup. A large leafy ivy was in a planter in the far corner next to a bookshelf that went almost to the ceiling, filled with books, cards, and various games. A large framed picture of a cottage nestled among colorful foliage resembling a Thomas Kinkade painting hung above the fireplace, and on each side of the mantel were large glass lanterns filled with a yellowish liquid.
Spying the lanterns was a reminder that this was indeed an Amish household, and Josie glanced around to see no electrical outlets, overhead light fixtures, and of course, no television or radio. But it was still much more ornate than what she remembered. One thing still stood true; the Amish didn’t believe in photographs, taking them or posing for them, so there were no pictures of family scattered about the home. Josie instantly realized that there would be no pictures for her to see of Linda growing up. What did she look like when she was two-years-old? Five? Thirteen?
Mary Ellen sat down in the rocker facing Josie on the couch, but it was only a few moments later when they both heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Both women stood up. Josie watched as Linda descended the last few steps, then paused before she slowly entered the den.
“Hello,” Josie said tenderly to the girl in the deep purple dress who stood before her. My daughter. She held her position and waited for Linda to come a little closer.
“Hi.” Linda’s eyes locked with Josie’s, but only for a moment. “What time would you like me to be home, Mamm?”
Mary Ellen smiled, but Josie could still see fear etched into her expression. “Take as long as you like,” she said bravely. Then she walked to Linda, whispered something in her ear, and pulled her into a gentle hug. After a moment, she eased away and turned to Josie.
“Katie’s Kitchen is a nice place for lunch. They haven’t been open long, and we try to support them, since they are Amish-owned and operated.” She paused, then shrugged. “Linda likes it there, but I’m sure anywhere will be fine.”
“I think Katie’s Kitchen sounds nice for lunch.” Josie glanced at her wrist and remembered she hadn’t worn her watch. “Probably a little early for lunch.” She turned to Linda. “I thought I would take you to my home, if you’d like. We could talk there, maybe have some tea or coffee. Then we can head to Katie’s Kitchen later. If that’s okay? I’m open to anything really. It doesn’t matter. Is there something else you’d like to do? Or maybe . . .” Josie stopped when she realized she was rambling. Then she had a thought, an idea that perhaps would make the entire day easier on everyone. She turned to Mary Ellen.
“Mary Ellen, would you like to come with us?”
Mary Ellen’s eyes widened, and she glanced at Linda, but ultimately shook her head. “No, I think it’d be best if you two spent some time alone.”
“But Mamm, she said you can come, and—” Linda’s pleading voice made Josie realize just how nervous Linda was. I’m nervous, too, sweetheart.
“No, Linda. I have much to do around here.” Mary Ellen took a step backward, waved, and said, “Now, go and have a gut time.” Mary Ellen continued to ease backward until she had almost rounded the corner into the other room. “Have fun,” she hoarsely whispered, and Josie could see Mary Ellen’s eyes clouding with tears.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Josie’s heart ached for Mary Ellen.
“It’s okay. Let’s go,” Linda said to Josie when her mother shook her head again. “Mamm, I’ll be home this afternoon.” Then Linda said something in Pennsylvania Deitsch to Mary Ellen—something Josie didn’t understand—but Mary Ellen smiled, then she left the room. Linda followed Josie out to the car.
“Does this car have air-conditioning?” Linda climbed into the passenger seat up front and strapped on her seatbelt.
“Yes, it does.” Josie turned on the air conditioner as soon as she started the engine.
“Some of the Englisch don’t use their air-conditioning, or they don’t have it in their cars. I don’t know which.” Linda looked out of the window as they drove down the driveway.
“I can’t imagine not having air-conditioning. Even though it’s only May, it’s already really warm.” Josie glanced at Linda, who was staring at her. “I mean, I know you’re used to not having air, but I guess it’s just hard for me to imagine.”
Linda finally pulled her gaze from Josie and looked straight ahead. “It’s not so bad.”
A few awkward moments of silence ensued. “So, would you like to see my home?”
Linda shrugged. “Sure.”
“It has air-conditioning too,” Josie said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. Linda didn’t say anything and kept her eyes on the open road ahead of them. Josie turned off of Black Horse Road and turned left onto Lincoln Highway.
“That’s Barbie Beiler’s place.” Linda pointed to a bed and breakfast on the right. “Do you know her?”
“Uh, no. I haven’t met very many people since I’ve—since I’ve been back.” The questions were sure to come, and Josie hoped she could explain things in a way that Linda could understand. And forgive her.
“She’s a gut friend. She gives us rides and helps us with things.” She turned toward Josie, twisted her mouth to one side, and then asked, “Are you married?”
Wow. That came without much warning. “Uh, yes, I am.” Josie pushed a strand of hair from her face. “His name is Robert.”
“Is he . . . ?”
Josie turned her head to face Linda.
“Is he . . . my father?”
“No, oh no. He’s a wonderful man, but he isn’t your father. We’ve been married for twelve years.”
“Do you have other . . .” Linda drew in a deep breath. “Do you have children?”
“No, we weren’t able to have any. I mean, I wasn’t able to have any more children after you were born.”
“I have a lot of questions.” Linda’s voice was soft as she spoke, void of much emotion, and Josie worried what must be going through her head.
“And I will answer them all, as best I can.” She pulled into her driveway.
Josephine’s house was a big brick mansion and looked a lot like Barbie’s bed and breakfast. “Just you and your husband live here?”
“Yes.” Josephine turned off the car and opened her car door. Linda did the same, then walked alongside Josephine on the way up the sidewalk. She smelled good, sweet like honeysuckle. “Are you wearing perfume?”
“Yes, I am. Do you like it?” Josie turned the key in the front door. Linda nodded and tried to see through the fancy glass, but Josephine pushed the door open before Linda could preview what she was walking into. A whoosh of cool air hit her in the face, and she could hear soft music playing. Josephine pushed the door wide, and motioned for Linda to walk in ahead of her.
Linda was barely inside the door, but she knew for sure that this was the fanciest house she’d ever been in. Her eyes drifted upward to a light that hung high in the entryway with lots of twinkling bulbs and dangling crystals that shone onto a white tiled floor. Farther in front of her, she could see wooden f
loors spreading throughout a large den area, but these floors were glossy and bright, unlike those at home. Josephine’s furniture was rich-looking, and her blue couch spread in a half-circle around the room.
“Come on into the kitchen, and I’ll pour us some tea.” Josephine walked ahead of her, and Linda followed, walking slow, taking it all in.
When she entered the kitchen, she immediately felt more comfortable and was glad Josephine had suggested talking in here. The yellow walls and blue countertops made this room seem warmer, not so fancy. She saw familiar electric gadgets on the counter. Nothing out of the ordinary. She’d been in plenty of Englisch homes. Then her eyes rested on something new.
“What’s that?” She pointed to a silver-shaped box with some sort of metal pipe coming out of it.
Josephine was pouring two glasses of tea, but looked up. “Oh, that’s an espresso machine. Robert and I often have a cup of cappuccino at night.”
Linda stepped closer to the appliance to have a better look. “Is it like kaffi ?”
Josephine placed two glasses of tea on a kitchen table that didn’t look like any table Linda had seen before. It was all glass and had six high-back chairs with thick blue cushions. In the center, a pretty glass vase held a mixture of flowers and greenery, although the flowers weren’t like anything Linda had seen in Amish gardens either.
“It’s coffee, Italian coffee. It has milk foam on top.” Josephine raised her brows. “Want me to make us each a cup?”
Linda stepped back from the elaborate coffeemaker. “Oh, no. That’s all right. You’ve already prepared us tea.” She nodded toward the two tall glasses of iced tea on the table, but glanced back at the coffee machine on the counter.
Josephine ran her hand through hair that was the color of wheat, not brown like Linda’s, and then she smiled. “You know, I think a cappuccino is just what we need. It sure sounds good to me. Why don’t I make us some?”
“Okay.” She liked coffee, although Mamm didn’t encourage drinking too much of it. But she was anxious to see the machine work and to see coffee with foam on top.
