“Lilly.” Grandpa looked up at her and gave her a look that caused her to sit up straighter. “You know I love you, no?”
“Of course,” she answered with questioning eyes.
“I’m gonna say this one time: you get that chip off your shoulder right now. Quit blaming God for this. And get outside and go get things straightened out with Samuel. It’s been bad enough, you moping around this house. And now my Irma Rose is gone. I don’t have an ounce of tolerance for that attitude of yours.”
Before he finished his harsh reprimand, Lillian’s eyes were full of water and she wasted no time jumping up and running toward the kitchen. He heard the screen door slam.
“Don’t let her fox you, Samuel. This is killin’ her inside, and she’s seeing fit to blame the Good Lord. I reckon she’s acting the only way she knows how, to be able to help herself cope.” He sighed. “And another thing—you know she’d never do a thing to hurt that boy of yours, no?”
Samuel didn’t think he could feel any lower. “Ya, Jonas. I know that. I made a baremlich mistake.”
“Then I reckon you need to go out there and tell her that. She’s going to need a lot of help getting through this, and I don’t have the strength, Samuel. Lilly’s come a long way in admonishing her old ways and learning our ways. I don’t want to see her fall backward because of this. I know you care about that girl.”
“Very much.”
“Then get out there and make sure she stays on course with her studies, so she will want to stay with us. Don’t let this be settin’ her back.”
Samuel stood up and headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll make things right, Jonas.”
Making his way out the back door and onto the porch, Samuel found Lillian sitting in the rocker on the front porch—the same rocker she was curled up in when he left her crushed and heartbroken the previous Sunday. She looked mad as a hatter.
“Leave me alone,” Lillian said as Samuel took a seat in the rocker beside her. Grandpa had never talked to her that way, and she didn’t need a lecture from Samuel right now either. She would handle this situation as best she could.
“Lillian,” he said softly, reaching for her hand. She jerked it away.
“I don’t want to talk right now, Samuel.” Being angry—at Samuel and at God—was the only thing working for her at the moment.
“We’re going to have to talk, Lillian,” he said, looking down at the ground. “Because I made a terrible mistake, and I’m here to apologize. I know you love David and that your tellin’ him about worldly things was only your way of trying to keep him out of harm’s way. I know that, Lillian. And I’m sorry. I should have let you explain . . . should have thought everything through before I said all those things.”
It should have been music to her ears, but she couldn’t get past everything that had happened. Not right now. Staying mad was all that was keeping her together.
When she didn’t respond, he went on. “I know how sad you feel right now, Lillian. We’ll get through this together.” He reached for her hand again, and again she pulled away. “The pain gets better over time,” he added.
A huge part of her wanted to run into his arms and allow him to comfort her. The pain felt like it was eating her from the inside out, nibbling at her heart, a tiny little bit at a time. To be able to function or maintain at all, she would not be able to succumb to his offer. She would handle this on her own.
“Samuel, I can get through this, and I will be just fine.” She raised her chin slightly and pulled her lips tight, fearful he might see them quivering. She had never felt more on the edge in her life.
“Lillian, I want to help you. I want to be here for you. I’m so sorry . . . about everything.”
In an irrational display of emotion, she bolted from the rocker and put her hands on her hips. “Help me what, Samuel?” She knew she was yelling, and that had not been part of the plan. The plan was to stay void of feeling, to stay angry, so she didn’t have to feel the pain ripping at her insides. “Help me to forget that I came from another world? Well, I can’t! It is part of my past, and I can’t make that go away. Do you want to help me get over Grandma dying? Well, I can’t. I loved her. Do you want me to accept this as God’s will? Well, I can’t do that either.”
The tears were falling and she was losing control. Samuel was on his feet, his arms outstretched and waiting to make everything right. Problem was things could never be right again. “I can’t accept things as God’s will. I just can’t.” There, she’d said it. Now he wouldn’t have a problem walking away from her. Her inability to accept God’s will would surely be more than enough for him to not want her around him or his son.
“So, there—you can go now. I will get over this on my own.” She took a step backward, only to have him take two steps forward.
“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Lillian,” he said in a tender but determined tone. He inched closer to her. With no room to continue backward, unless she wanted to fall off the porch, she held her position by trying to stare him down. Although she could feel the tears pouring down her cheeks and suspected she wasn’t being very convincing. “I don’t need you, Samuel,” she cried. “You gave up on our friendship. You gave up on me.” She put her hands over her face and wept.
“I made a mistake, Lillian,” he said. She felt his hand pull her head to his chest. His other arm molded around her back and drew her closer. “And you can go ahead and be mad at me, mad at God, and mad at the world. I’m not going anywhere.”
“But I can’t accept this as God’s will, Samuel. I can’t. I don’t know what I’m going to do every day. When I make bread, can fruits and vegetables, wash the clothes, cook, practice my Pennsylvania Deitsch . . . All those things Grandma and I did together. We spent hours talking.” The pain in her heart seemed unbearable, and her stomach was burning. This is what she wanted to avoid. She didn’t want to feel this way. It hurt too much. “And what about Grandpa?”
His hand still cradling her head, he held her tightly against him. “It’s hard, Lillian, but this is something you have to go through to be able to move on.”
“I can’t,” she cried. “It hurts, Samuel. It hurts too much. I can’t.”
“Ya, you can,” he said. “And you will. I’m going to be right here beside you.”
“I’m not strong like you are.” She shook her head as her nose brushed against his shirt, now wet from her tears.
“You’re stronger than you think. And we will get through this together . . . because that’s what people who love each other do.”
She heard him loud and clear. Her knees buckled.
“I’m tired of fighting it, Lillian.” He pulled her closer. Wrapped in the security of his arms, she wept. Then, gently, he eased her away, cupped her cheeks with his hands, and gazed into her eyes. His own eyes were swimming. One blink and he would be shedding tears as well.
“I love you, Lillian.”
“Samuel . . .” she whispered.
With slow tenderness, he gently kissed away her tears. The feel of his lips brushing against her cheeks as he continued to cradle her face with his strong hands caused her to cry harder. Samuel loved her. He’d said they would get through this together. Her heart hurt, and nothing was going to change that. But knowing Samuel would be with her softened her feelings about God’s will.
When one door closes, another one opens . . . While it was God’s will to take Grandma, it was also His will for Samuel to love her. It didn’t lessen her grief about Grandma’s death, but it gave her hope for the future. Right now, she needed hope to cling to. She needed Samuel.
“Do you love me, Lillian?” he asked, looking hard into her eyes as he tilted her head upward to face him.
“With all my heart, Samuel. I love you with all my heart.”
As if knowing her trembling legs struggled to support her, in one swoop he whisked her into his arms. Resting her head in the nook of his shoulder, she’d never known such comfort. She was safe. She was home. And somehow Samu
el would help her to make sense of all this.
“We will get through this together,” he said again, kissing her on the forehead.
Samuel knew from personal experience that in a time of loss, even the most faithful could doubt God’s reasoning for things happening the way they did.
“I know you feel real bad right now. But you’re not always gonna feel like this.” He paused, clutching her tightly within his arms. With watery eyes, he said, “Me and the boy need you every bit as much as I know you need us. I know it’s been hard for you to accept God into your heart as openly as you’ve accepted me and David into your heart. But He is in there, Lillian . . . in your heart. And He will be there to help get you through your grief.”
He gently set her down on the porch and coaxed her to sit on the steps beside him. Turning toward her, he reached for her hand. “When Rachel passed, I was angry at the Lord. I never told a soul about it. Just didn’t make sense at the time. It seemed awfully unfair to leave me and the boy alone—no fraa, no mamm.”
He paused and looked away from her, staring down the dirt road. “I even had thoughts about leaving here. Taking the boy and just headin’ somewhere else. I felt like my faith wasn’t strong enough to stay.”
He turned to her and smiled. “But I’m glad I did stay. There’s nowhere on God’s earth I’d rather be than here, in this district, and now with you.”
Samuel had envisioned it in his dreams a thousand times, but nothing could prepare him for the reality of when he leaned in and felt the touch of her lips against his. He could feel her love rush through him. Resting one hand behind her neck, he pulled her closer. One kiss turned into two.
“Everything is going to be fine, Lillian,” he finally said, as he brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and kissed her gently one more time.
17
THE FUNERAL WAS ALMOST TWO HOURS LONG AND HELD AT the Miller homestead. As tradition dictated, Grandma wore her wedding dress and white apron for her burial. Her wooden coffin was plain and simple—no ornate carving or fine fabrics. The community offered expressions of respect for Grandma, although admonition for the living was plentiful.
Lillian wished there were flowers and a eulogy for her grandma. However, such Englisch traditions were not the Amish way. Instead of singing, they spoke the words of the hymn. Following the service, Grandma was laid to rest in the Amish church district cemetery, in a hand-dug grave. The modest tombstone was identical to the others in the cemetery. As was custom, members of the community gathered to share a meal afterward. Sadie Fisher offered her home for the occasion.
“Thank you, Sadie, for organizing the meal,” Lillian told her, catching her away from the crowd of women in the kitchen.
Sadie hesitated, then gave her an unexpected but much needed hug. “You’re quite welcome. The entire community thought the world of Irma Rose. And it’s best if these things are handled by someone not in the immediate family. How is your mamm holdin’ up?”
Lillian looked toward the den, where her mother was comforting her grandpa. Mom was barely back in Houston when she had to turn around and come back for Grandma’s funeral. She was a mess when she arrived, rambling on to Lillian about what a mess she’d made of her life. For Grandma to die the day after Mom’s visit was quite a blow, but Lillian wondered how much worse it would have been if they had not been blessed with the time they had together. Bittersweet for sure.
But Mom pulled herself together, for her dad’s sake. He needed her, and she needed him. Looking at her mom now, it was clear to Lillian that her mother’s utmost priority was taking care of Grandpa. She hadn’t left his side since her arrival.
“My mom is tired. She was up with Grandpa most of the night. He was sick. I don’t know how much of it is from grief about all this or from his medications. The medicines make him sick sometimes.” She paused. “You know, Mom hadn’t seen her parents in a long time. She had just seen them for two days, and Grandma died the day after she left, and . . .” She shook her head, finding it hard to go on.
“It was just a real shock about Irma Rose,” Sadie comforted, gently rubbing Lillian’s arm. “We were all just so sorry to hear.” “You’re a nice person, Sadie.”
She smiled. “Ya, I try.”
“I mean, I didn’t think you were going to like me—because of Samuel and all.”
“Ach, I was a tad bitter at first. Samuel’s a good catch for marrying. But he was smitten with you from the get-go.” She offered her a pat on the shoulder. “Besides, my letter-writing with the Texas man is goin’ real good.”
Sadie wasn’t the only one who had opened her heart during this difficult time. Both of Samuel’s sisters and sister-in-law had bent over backward to help with arrangements. Samuel’s mother, Esther, was warming up to Lillian as well.
Grandma had worked so hard to make sure Lillian had a clear understanding of the Ordnung. Despite her constant questioning of the Amish ways—sometimes defiantly—Grandma never gave up on her. With patience and love, she nurtured Lillian toward a way of life she had been searching for. Lillian would be lying to herself if she accepted where she was now as her final spiritual destination, though. She still had work to do. Her inability to accept everything that happened as God’s will would require faith—in God and in herself.
Samuel was proud of Lillian. Those who didn’t know her well wouldn’t recognize the effort it was taking for her to stay strong. He reckoned the extra effort was due to the state her mother and Jonas were in. Samuel could tell the whole ordeal was taking its toll on Jonas. Sarah Jane was glued to her pop’s side and was trying hard to take care of him. But she looked like she needed taking care of herself. Lillian was filling the job, even though he knew her own heart was hurting in a big way.
“Lillian sure is being strong today,” David said, echoing Samuel’s thoughts. He took a seat beside Samuel at a wooden picnic table in the yard.
“She’s trying to be strong for her mamm and Daadi Jonas.”
“I remember when you tried to be strong for me when Mamm died. I knew you were hurting, like I reckon Lillian is hurting too.”
“Sometimes we bury our burdens to tend to the needs of others,” Samuel responded, remembering back to Rachel’s funeral. At that time, he wasn’t sure how he would live his life without her. But time had a way of mending the heart. “God so built us to heal ourselves through our love and faith in Him.”
Lillian’s fingers entwined with Samuel’s as they sat at the overlook. It had been three days since Grandma’s funeral and her heart was still leaden, as she expected it would be for a long time to come. But as she and Samuel sat quietly at the edge of the overlook, she reflected on everything that had recently happened. Rickie was out of her life. She’d found her father, however painful. She and her mom were in a new place—a good place. She’d been fortunate enough to get to know her Grandma before she died. She still had her grandpa. And Samuel loved her.
Knowing God didn’t keep score, she was trying not to either. But there was a certain balance to it all. Maybe she’d started out looking for proof there was a God—proof that she could reach out and touch. Her search was misdirected in the beginning. But when she asked to have a relationship with Him, to know Him, God showed Himself to her many times over.
Completely accepting Grandma’s death as God’s will was going to take her a little longer. Just accepting her as gone was a painful conclusion for her right now. But through her faith, she hoped to continue to grow toward a complete acceptance of all things.
“It takes time, Lillian,” she recalled Grandma saying during one of their talks—one of the many when Lillian questioned such blind acceptance of certain events as being God’s will. “First get to know God, put your trust in Him, and He will work miracles in your life. You will learn to accept His will, even if you can’t see the reasoning behind it at the time,” Grandma had said.
She’d always wished the Ordnung was a book she could memorize and just make herself live by. But so much
of the Ordnung was unwritten, visible only in the minds of the faithful followers, like Grandma. And Grandma had been a good teacher.
Being at the overlook was the perfect place to tell Samuel her news.
“Samuel,” she said softly, squeezing his hand. “I have something to tell you.”
He squirmed uncomfortably. “Me first,” he sputtered. “I have something to tell you first.”
Lillian doubted it was as important as her decision to be baptized into the Amish faith, but her news could wait. Whatever was on Samuel’s mind had him extremely nervous. He took off his hat, pushed back his hair, put his hat back on, stroked his beard, twisted around in the grass again. What in the world was wrong with him?
“What is it, Samuel?”
When he didn’t answer, she rushed on. “Because my news is pretty important.” Playfully, she nudged her shoulder against his.
“Maybe you should go first, then,” he said hesitantly.
“No, you go ahead.” She was curious to know what news had him so worked up.
Turning toward her, he grabbed both her hands in his. He gazed lovingly into her eyes and said, “I love you, Lillian. When Rachel died, I didn’t think I would ever love another woman the way I loved her.” Struggling with his words, he forced them out with determination. “I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to move on. But you changed all that. I fought it and fought it. You are as challenging an Englisch person as I’ve ever met. But one thing is for sure: I love you. David loves you.”
Taking a deep breath, he went on. “It took me a long time before I could give myself permission to move on. But I want to move on with you, Lillian. I’ve wanted to ask you something since we were on the porch the day Irma Rose passed, but the timing wasn’t right.”
Lillian felt her heart leap. Quite sure all her feelings were visible to him, she tried to contain herself. Was Samuel about to propose?
“I know you haven’t made mention of staying here or getting baptized, but I’m asking you to stay here, with me. I want you to marry me, Lillian. Do you think you could be happy here, in our district, with me and David? I’m real confused because you aren’t baptized, and I don’t know how you feel about that. It’d be impossible for us to wed if you aren’t baptized, but I felt the need to tell you what my hopes were.”
Plain Perfect & Quaker Summer 2 in 1 Page 22
