A Plain Leaving

by Leslie Gould

  I waved back. He kept his distance from me, but even so, we worked well together, each doing different tasks without conferring about what we were doing, just like old times.

  It was nearly five before Amos showed up. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I haven’t adjusted to the time change yet.”

  “No worries,” I answered. It was three a.m. in Colorado.

  “Aenti Suz and I stayed up late after you left. She filled me in on the first half of the story she’s been telling you.” He took off his cowboy hat, then grabbed one of the vinyl aprons and put it on over his jacket. “I was thinking about all the Bachmann brothers leaving in that story. Did you feel like Ruby did when I left? Abandoned?”

  I shrugged, trying to think how to explain how I had felt. We had Dat, so it wasn’t as if our safety was threatened. But in a way I did feel abandoned. Amos had engaged with me in a way Arden never did. He taught me how to do different chores. How to ride a horse. He listened to me read. I missed him horribly when he left and wondered what I’d done to make him leave. It was foolish, I knew now. But, in the way that children often do, I took responsibility for him leaving.

  I attempted to answer his question. “Mostly I felt ferhoodled by what others were saying about you. Not Dat. When he talked about you it was only good things. Same with Aenti Suz.”

  “But your Mamm? What she said wasn’t so nice?”

  My face grew warm. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “No. It’s fine. I’ve known all along what she said about me. She said it before I left too.”

  Specifically, Mamm had said Amos was lazy, selfish, and untrustworthy. Being late for the milking occasionally was actually the worst thing I could think of that I ever knew he’d done, though. Arden was late for the milking all the time. The different ways Mamm treated my two brothers had always confused me.

  Silas came in with more cows and interrupted us. Amos greeted him and then got busy with the milking machines. At one point, when Silas was outside, I ducked into the barn office. The fracking plans were no longer on the desk. I poked around a little, looking in the drawers and on the shelves along the wall, but couldn’t find them.

  When we’d finished, on the way back to the house, I fell back from the other two and checked my phone for a message from Leisel. There wasn’t one. But I did have a text. From Tom.

  How is Arden this morning? How are you? With Arden not around, I wasn’t as concerned about using my phone. I stopped so I could text Tom back. Not sure about Arden yet. Hopefully I’ll hear from Leisel soon. Guessing no news is good news. How are you?

  He texted back. Good. See you tonight?

  Yes, I texted back. I’ll let you know once I’m home.

  My heart swelled at the thought of being back in Harrisburg. I started walking at a brisk pace. Hopefully I could get Aenti Suz to tell me the rest of Ruby’s story. I might not be back to Lancaster for years. Maybe never. Another wave of grief swept over me. Grief for Dat. Grief for the land. Grief for the relationship I once had with Silas.

  I’d stop by Dat’s gravesite, too, on the way to the hospital. I didn’t have a chance to say my farewell, not in a proper way, not with Arden nearly dying. I shivered at the thought of it. As much as Arden tormented me, I couldn’t fathom him passing away so young. Vi needed him and his children needed him. And Mamm and Marie did too.

  By the time I reached the back porch, Silas and Amos were already in the house. I paused for a moment, wanting to retreat to Aenti Suz’s. I didn’t mind working with Silas, but being around him in the house was difficult. I hoped he wouldn’t try to have a conversation again. I wrinkled my nose. He wouldn’t, not in front of Gail. He hated conflict. I shivered a little. He was like Dat in that way.

  I slipped out of the boots and hung up the coat. When I opened the back door, loud voices greeted me. I stepped inside the kitchen but then stopped.

  Leisel and Vi were arguing.

  “You need to go up there. He keeps asking for you.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” Vi said.

  “They opened up his arteries with a stent yesterday, but it wasn’t as successful as they hoped,” Leisel said. “They may need to do surgery. I’ll go back up later and spend the night again, but I think it’s strange that your husband is in the hospital and you’re here.”

  Vi said, “The children—”

  “Are fine,” Leisel answered. “Marie and Gail can watch them.” Her voice dropped a little. “This is serious. He’s still in ICU. The doctors will need to speak with you.”

  “It will take a while for a driver to get here,” Vi said.

  “You weren’t listening. My driver is waiting. But you need to leave now. He’s on a tight schedule.”

  Mamm spoke up, saying, “I’ll go with you, Vi.”

  “Denki,” Vi answered.

  I stepped into the kitchen and said, “Vi, I’ll come up later before I leave for Harrisburg.”

  She gave me a withering look in response but didn’t add any words. She had dark circles under her eyes and appeared overwhelmed.

  Silas stood next to Gail at the island. He gave me a kind look but didn’t say anything either.

  “That would be good, for you to go up,” Leisel said to me. “I’ll take a nap and then get a ride with you.”

  “Leisel,” Mamm said. “You can’t—”

  “Of course I can,” she answered as she pivoted in the direction of the staircase. “Good night.” My easygoing sister stormed off without another word.

  Everyone was silent for a long moment until I asked, “What happened?”

  “She’s frustrated,” Marie answered. “With Arden it seems . . .”

  And Vi. That had been obvious.

  “How is Arden doing?”

  Marie crossed her arms. When no one else said anything, Silas said, “It sounds as if he’s been uncooperative.”

  I exhaled slowly. Amos smiled.

  A horn honked outside.

  “We’d better go,” Mamm said. “The driver can stop by your house so you can get your purse and things. And we can grab a bite to eat at the hospital.”

  Vi didn’t seem happy about it, but she followed Mamm to the front door. Over her shoulder, she said to Marie, “The kids need to keep busy today. Chores. Homework. They’ll return to school tomorrow.”

  “Of course,” Marie said. “We’ll see to everything.”

  After the front door closed, Marie and Gail started getting breakfast on the table. I noticed the little table in the corner was set for two.

  “I’m going to fill up my plate and go eat at Aenti Suz’s.” I glanced at Amos. “Want to join me?”

  He smiled.

  Marie put her hands on her hips again. “That’s not how this works.”

  “Of course it is,” I said.

  She stepped between me and the main table, where the food was.

  “Look,” I said. “I’m leaving today. You won’t have to deal with me again. Ever. Don’t bother to be all self-righteous. It’s not going to do any of us, let alone you, any good in the long run.” I barged past her, aware that my outburst hadn’t left me feeling satisfied. I felt worse than ever. I missed Marie and the relationship we used to have.

  As I grabbed a plate from the big table, she said, in a begging voice, “Silas?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t ask for my help. I’m staying out of it.” He sat down at his usual place on the far side of the table.

  Amos and I quickly dished up a couple of sausages, scoops of scrambled eggs, and pieces of toast. Hopefully Aenti Suz would have coffee at her place. On our way out the back door, we heard Marie yell, “You’d better bring our plates back.”

  Our. That single word threatened to undo me. I was no longer part of our. No longer welcome at our big oak table. No longer wanted in our home. No longer part of the three sisters. No longer one of our Dat’s daughters. Jah, there was so much that I’d lost.

  Tears stung my eyes. Perhaps the rest of Aenti Suz’s story wo
uld distract me, but as we neared the Dawdi Haus she stepped out of it, wearing her cape and bonnet.

  “Where are you going?” I practically wailed.

  “Over to Edith’s house for work party. We’re making soap and candles for Edith to sell at the market, along with her floral arrangements.” That was how Edith and Silas survived—on his labor and whatever Edith could make and sell.

  “When will you be back?”

  She shrugged. “Before sunset anyway.”

  “But I’m leaving,” I said, “by this afternoon.” I’d leave sooner with Aenti Suz gone except that I just told Leisel I’d take her back up to the hospital. It wouldn’t do to wake her up in an hour to go. I tried not to whine. “I wanted to hear the rest of Ruby’s story.”

  As I steadied my plate, Aenti Suz gave me a half hug. “You’ll have to come back.”

  I grimaced as she released me. “I’m pretty sure I won’t be welcome. This could be my last visit.”

  “You’ll always be welcome at my place.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder how long she’d have her place but didn’t say so. I doubted Arden would want her to stay on the property.

  She gave Amos a half hug too. “At least I’ll have another couple of days with you,” she said.

  He nodded.

  I opened the door and headed into her cozy kitchen. Amos and I sat at the table and ate in silence. Finally he asked, “When are you leaving?”

  “Early afternoon,” I answered. “I should give Leisel a chance to sleep.”

  “Want to go for a walk around the place?” he asked. “One last time?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “I’d like that very much.”

  After we washed our plates and left them in Aenti’s drying rack, we headed out the door. My goal was to spend the next five hours distracted by the beauty of our land. Yes, I’d pretend it belonged to me, too, one last time.

  We walked the entire fence line, along the pasture, through the woods, along the field that would need to be planted soon. I would love to be a part of that—but I wouldn’t be. Most likely Silas and Milton would do it.

  We skirted along Arden and Vi’s yard. Just like Mamm’s, their garden hadn’t been plowed yet either. I looked for the children, hoping to tell them good-bye, but Marie and Gail must have had all of them in the house. “Dat had told me, at one time, that I would have this property,” Amos said.

  “Really?”

  “Jah, way back when.”

  “Arden didn’t get it right away,” I said. “He and Vi lived on her folks’ property at first. I remember him asking Dat for this parcel over and over, though.”

  “The last time Dat asked me if I was coming home, if I wanted the property, I figured Arden was asking for it,” Amos said. “I told Dat to give it to him—that I was never returning.”

  “Why did you leave?” I asked, as we approached the pond. I felt bolder than I had last time we chatted. “Did something happen? Because no one ever really talked about the why of it all.”

  Amos stopped and stared at the pond. “I don’t want to criticize your Mamm. It was a lot for her to marry Dat, to be the stepmother to two boys like us. When Rebecca was born, she was easier to get along with even though it was five years until you came along.”

  I held my breath, hoping he’d say more.

  Finally he did. “I was watching Rebecca that day while Arden was supposed to be dragging the field, but he wasn’t getting the work done, so I told him I’d do it, which meant it was his job to watch Rebecca. She’d been playing on the swing set.

  “As I pulled the tractor over by the shed, he started yelling Rebecca’s name and then running toward the pond. We reached it at the same time. Rebecca’s Kapp was floating in the water. We both rushed in, and I pulled her out. She screamed right away. We were both so relieved.

  “Dat had just come home from the hospital to pick up some things for your Mamm when he heard the yelling. He ran to the pond, too, and then carried Rebecca back to the house. All seemed well. Arden did manage to mention that I’d been watching Rebecca. I started to set the story straight but decided not to. She was fine. There was no reason to start a fight. Dat grabbed what he needed and said you and your Mamm would come home the next morning. Then the driver took him back to the hospital.

  “I put Rebecca to bed that night. She had a little bit of a cough, and I thought perhaps she’d gotten a chill.” Amos paused.

  I swallowed hard. Part of me wanted him to stop. This was about my older sister. About her last night on earth, which occurred my first night on earth.

  My brother stared into the greenish water of the pond and then said, “The next morning she was cold. I sent Arden to call for an ambulance even though I knew she’d passed. I didn’t know what else to do. After he called the ambulance he called Dat at the hospital. Your Mamm answered and Arden told her Rebecca was very ill. He repeated the story that I’d been watching her the day before when she fell into the pond.

  “The paramedics said she’d been dead for hours. They called it a secondary drowning, said she’d gotten water into her lungs. Dat simply said, ‘The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.’ I tried to tell him that I hadn’t been watching Rebecca when she got to the pond, but he said it didn’t matter who’d been watching her. I said it mattered if one of us was lying.

  “Your Mamm directed her anger at me. And soon someone else began to also.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Vi. We’d been sweet on each other, but Arden told her Rebecca’s death was my fault, and after a while she wouldn’t have anything to do with me. I was pretty sure, after I left, she and Arden would start courting.”

  “But you stayed for six years after things got bad, before you left. What made you finally go?”

  “At first I thought it would all blow over. Maybe Arden would take responsibility and free me. Then when Marie and then Leisel were born so soon after you, I thought your Mamm would let go of her anger. I hoped Dat might see all the damage that had been done and try to fix it, but for all of his good qualities, he seemed in denial about the rift caused by Arden’s deception.”

  I nodded. Dat had so many positive qualities, but he was often overly optimistic when it came to his children. “You’re right about Vi and Arden. I do remember they started to court soon after you left.” And then married right away.

  The wind had picked up and blew ripples across the pond. Perhaps something blew into Amos’s eyes or perhaps it was his emotions, but he rubbed at both of his eyes.

  “It was only a few months later that Dat called and said Arden and Vi were married. That was the first time he asked me to come home, farm with him, and claim the piece of property he’d set aside for me.”

  “What property had Dat set aside for Arden?”

  “The section that borders the woods.”

  “Really?” That had always been one of my favorite parcels of land on the farm. “Why didn’t he want it?”

  Amos shrugged. “Because he always wanted what I had. My land. My girl. My story about the day Rebecca fell into the pond.”

  I could see that about Arden. He always seemed discontent with his own life, always wanting something different, including making a living from exploiting the land instead of farming it.

  “Wait. Dat asked you to come home and farm with him?”

  Amos nodded.

  “What about Arden? Dat didn’t want him to farm?”

  “At the time, Arden wanted to set up some sort of business.”

  “Like?”

  Amos shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

  The Amish men I knew who had businesses made things like cabinets and furniture or buggies. Arden didn’t like to make things. Or some business owners repaired small machines, like lawn mowers. Arden didn’t like to repair things either.

  “What was Arden like when you two were younger?” I asked. “Did he ever like farming?”

  Amos shook his head. “He liked school. Numbers. Math. He should have been
an accountant. He never liked the land.”

  I could see that. He was happiest working in the office in the barn, not doing the milking or dragging the fields or planting or harvesting or doing any of the many chores that needed to be done to keep the farm running—and profitable.

  Amos turned away from the pond and I followed him to the oak tree. Dat had chosen Amos to farm with him. He was the one from our generation who was meant to protect the land.

  If only we could keep it safe until Milton was ready to take it over.

  We stopped and listened to the wind whistle through the branches of the tree. I was tempted to stay and have a good cry about Dat but decided that would have to wait until I reached the cemetery.

  As we started walking again, my brother said, “Don’t be too hard on your Mamm.”

  Shocked, I realized my mouth had fallen open. Finally I found a word to say. “Really?”

  He nodded. “She’s gone through a lot. Rebecca dying. Years of mourning. Now Dat passing. She’s never been strong, not the way you are.”

  “But she ruined your life.”

  He shook his head. “She didn’t ruin my life. She believed Arden is all.”

  I couldn’t help the pitch of my voice. “Is all?”

  He nodded. “I forgave her long ago. Arden too.” He stopped. “I’m sorry if it didn’t sound that way just now, when I was telling the story of what happened.”

  I shook my head. I hadn’t questioned whether he’d forgiven them or not. I was just surprised at his sympathy toward Mamm. Honestly, it was a lesson for me—probably one that I needed.

  As we reached the yard of the big house, Silas came out the back door. A second later Gail rushed out, yelling, “You have to keep your job! What will the Bachmanns do without you?”

  “They’ll figure it out,” Silas said. “I’m tired of being in the middle.”

  Marie came running out next, followed by Leisel. “Silas!” Marie called out.

  Leisel yelled, “He’s right. Let him go.” Milton followed her out.

  Silas brushed past Amos and me, headed for the barn.