An Amish Reunion

by Jo Ann Brown

  “Grossmammi Ella, Hannah, Shelby,” he said, nodding in his head toward each of them as he spoke their names, “this is my mamm, Wanda Stoltzfus. Mamm, you remember these lovely Lambright ladies I’ve told you about.”

  Hannah appreciated Daniel introducing them to his mamm just in case Grossmammi Ella had met Wanda before and failed to remember her. There was a definite resemblance between Daniel and his mamm. Something about the shape of their faces and their easy smiles.

  After greeting them, Wanda said, “It’s so gut to see you again, Grossmammi Ella. Not that you probably remember me. It’s been more than twenty years since the last time we’ve done more than wave while driving past each other along the road.”

  “I remember your husband,” the older woman said.

  “I’m not surprised. Paul knew everyone from the Chester County line to Harrisburg.”

  Grossmammi Ella gasped. “Knew? Your husband is dead?”

  Hannah put her hands on her great-grandmother’s arms and steered her to a nearby chair. The blunt questions had dimmed Wanda’s bright eyes. Wanting to tell Daniel’s mamm that Grossmammi Ella hadn’t meant to say anything hurtful, Hannah stayed silent. She couldn’t embarrass her great-grandmother. She handed the old woman a roll from the nearest basket.

  “I need butter,” her great-grandmother said.

  “I’ll get some. Stay here.”

  Hannah went to get several pats of butter from a serving table. Each person she passed smiled and welcomed her to the haystack dinner. She wondered if the prodigal son had felt like she did. Everyone acted as if they’d missed her. People she’d never met greeted her like a long-lost friend.

  She took butter to Grossmammi Ella and helped her put it on the roll. With the old woman occupied with eating, Hannah’s eyes searched the room for Wanda Stoltzfus and discovered her stacking paper napkins next to the cups.

  Going to Daniel’s mamm, Hannah said, “Wanda, I’m so sorry. Grossmammi Ella didn’t mean—”

  “I know.” She put a gentle hand on Hannah’s arm. “Sometimes our elders forget matters, big and small. I’d like to think it’s because the gut Lord wants to ease their burden of carrying so many memories, letting them know He forgives past wrongs and has rejoiced with them on past joys. He lightens their hearts, making them ready to soar when their time comes to go home to Him.”

  Hannah blinked on sudden, scalding tears. In her isolation, she’d forgotten the comfort a kind word could bring. Wanda’s words reached deep within her and loosened the thick web of futility growing there, capturing every hurt Grossmammi Ella didn’t intend to inflict. Her great-grandmother had been a loving woman...until the past couple of years. Turning away, she hid her tears.

  “If you’re looking for your little girl,” Wanda went on, “Daniel is showing her the fire trucks outside. Go ahead. I’ll keep an eye on your great-grandmother.” She held up one finger. “Just a moment.” Walking over to the desserts table, she picked up a handful of cookies and brought them to Hannah. “Why don’t you take these with you? There has never been a kind who doesn’t love my cookies.” She chuckled. “Or one of my grown-up sons either.”

  “I wish giving her cookies would convince Shelby to like me more.”

  Wanda clasped Hannah’s shoulder. “Do you think it’s because you look so much like your daed?”

  Shock froze her. She could barely remember what her daed looked like and had come to assume he resembled his grossmammi. “I do?”

  “Ja. Shelby can see that, too. Do you think it’s possible she’s wary of you because you remind her of your daed, and she’s afraid you’ll abandon her as he did?”

  She stared at Wanda in astonishment. “Really?”

  “I may be way off base, but it’s the only explanation that makes sense to me. You treat her with love.”

  “Grossmammi Ella tells me I spoil her.”

  “If loving a kind is spoiling her, then I agree with your great-grandmother.” Wanda waved her away. “Go and spend time with the other young people. Enjoy your evening out, Hannah.”

  A smile tilted her lips. “I will.” Without another word, she headed in the direction Wanda had indicated.

  When she stepped outside, Daniel motioned for her to come over to where he had Shelby sitting on his shoulders while he spoke with several men. He introduced Hannah to the firefighters gathered there. She wished his saucy expression each time he looked at her didn’t cause the butterflies inside her to take flight. Hadn’t she learned her lesson? Daniel flirted with every woman, whether she was as young as Shelby or as elderly as Grossmammi Ella. There was, she told herself, nothing special in his grin for her.

  But maybe, for this evening, she’d let the past stay in the past and enjoy herself as Wanda had suggested. She hoped she hadn’t forgotten how.

  * * *

  Daniel felt his heart trying to do somersaults in his chest when he stood with the Lambrights in a dusky corner at the end of the evening. Until he’d seen her in the parking lot, he doubted Hannah would come tonight. She’d shut herself off from the rest of the community for two years. He admitted to himself he was relieved to know it hadn’t been for three years. Then he would have blamed himself for her withdrawal. He knew his actions hadn’t helped, but he guessed her great-grandmother’s strange ways kept her from spending time with the rest of the residents of Paradise Springs.

  Beside him, Grossmammi Ella was struggling to get into her coat. He helped her, but his gaze refused to leave Hannah. The bruise had faded from her face, leaving her cheek soft and pink once more. His fingers quivered at the thought of brushing them against her skin or through the rich honey of her hair.

  He couldn’t look away as she buttoned Shelby’s coat. Did Hannah think he didn’t see how she glanced at her great-grandmother to check Grossmammi Ella’s coat was closed, too?

  He’d noticed Mamm watching how Hannah had spent most of the meal overseeing her great-grandmother as well as the toddler. He wasn’t surprised. His mamm cared about every member of their community almost as much as she did her kinder. That was why she was eager to see each of her kinder settled in a happy marriage. He had no doubts about her gut intentions, and he guessed, after tonight, she’d have several dozen questions about Hannah and her little family.

  “Danki for asking us to attend,” Hannah said as she stood and held Shelby’s hand.

  “Insisting, you mean.” He gave her a cockeyed grin, hoping she’d respond to his teasing.

  He was rewarded when she chuckled. When they were walking out together, he hadn’t had to resort to jesting in order to banish her serious expression. Her eyes had brightened like twin lamps the moment her gaze met his, and her lips had offered a sweet smile. So much trust she’d invested in him. Too much for the young man he’d been.

  “Everyone has been nice,” she said. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. Whenever I bring honey to Amos’s shop, everyone says hello.”

  “The people of Paradise Springs are close-knit. It may be because we live so close to the highway and the Englisch world. That makes us appreciate each other.”

  “But you have Englischers among you.” She looked across the room to where several families, who were not plain, were chatting with the Amish and Mennonite families sharing their tables.

  “The fire department welcomes everyone who wants to protect Paradise Springs. Nobody cares if you’re plain or not. Everyone is determined to keep a fire from taking a neighbor’s house or barn. Sharing a common goal gives us common ground to build friendships upon.” He grinned. “Sort of like you and me. Our goals might not have been in common, but they intersected.”

  She scooped up Shelby who was trying to tug away and join other youngsters running around the empty tables. “Danki again for inviting us, Daniel. Grossmammi Ella has talked so much she’s hoarse, and I don’t think Shelby’s feet t
ouched the floor all night.”

  “She’s a friendly tyke.”

  “Ja, though she’s leery of certain people.”

  “You mean you.”

  “Your mamm thinks it’s because she sees too much of our daed in me.”

  His brows shot up. “I never thought of that.”

  “Me neither.” She bid him good-night and walked with her great-grandmother and the toddler to their buggy.

  He stood in the doorway, watching as they drove away. When he went into the firehouse, it seemed as if the lights were a bit duller and the conversation subdued. He helped clean up before he brought his buggy around so his mamm could get in.

  The road leading through the village and toward their farm was deserted. He waited for Mamm to mention Hannah and her family, but she seemed lost in thought. He listened to Taffy’s iron shoes on the road, the creak of the buggy wheels and the fine mist falling around them.

  As the buggy rolled to a stop by the house, he said, “Here we are.”

  “Ja. Here we are.” She half turned on the seat to look at him, her face in a silhouette against the soft glow from the kitchen windows. “After seeing you and Hannah tonight, I do want you to recall, my son, it was you who decided you didn’t want to continue walking out with her.” There was no censure in her voice.

  “I know. I was young and foolish then.”

  “You aren’t so young. Are you still as foolish?”

  He grinned and shook his head. “I’d like to say no, but how many times have you told us that changing the past is impossible? That we must ask for forgiveness for our mistakes and move forward, making sure we never choose poorly again.”

  She got out of the buggy. “Remember a mistake is no longer a mistake if you remedy it in time.”

  “I’m not sure I can do that.”

  “Because you don’t want to?”

  “No, because the time to correct it is long past.”

  She regarded him for a long time, and he fought not to squirm as if he were a kind again. “I hope you’re wrong, Daniel.”

  He watched as she went into the cozy dawdi haus. When the door closed behind her, he murmured to himself and the night and God, “I hope I am, too.”

  Chapter Eight

  Two days after the haystack dinner at the firehouse, Hannah heard a car coming along the road before she saw it through the steady rain. A blue SUV slowed at the junction leading to the covered bridge, then began inching toward the house.

  She glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was almost ten o’clock. The physical therapist’s message, left on the neighbors’ answering machine, was to expect her around ten this morning.

  The car pulled into the driveway and parked. The driver’s door opened, and a bright yellow umbrella appeared. Snapping open, it rose along with the woman emerging from the car. Hooking a large purse over her arm, she slammed the door closed and rushed toward the house, skirting the large puddles marking every depression in the yard.

  Hannah threw open the door as the Englischer climbed the porch steps. “Komm in!”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” The woman shook her umbrella and sprayed water across the porch before she closed it. “Hi, I’m Audrey Powell. Are you Hannah?”

  “Ja.”

  Audrey Powell was about as old as Hannah’s mamm would have been, but she had a cheeky smile and was as spry as a teenager. Gray streaked the brown hair she wore in a ponytail. Her t-shirt had a big-eyed cat on the front, and her sneakers had pink-and-blue laces wound together and tied in big bows.

  Those bows fascinated Shelby who couldn’t take her eyes off them. Pushing herself to her feet, she waddled to Audrey and dropped to the floor in front of the sneakers. She reached out to touch the bright bows.

  “Hello, Shelby,” said Audrey, squatting in front of the little girl. She waved Hannah back, clearly wanting to see how the kind reacted to her.

  Shelby made some of the sounds she used instead of words, but her gaze remained focused on the bows.

  “Do you like my shoes, Shelby?” the physical therapist asked before looking up at Hannah. “Does she understand English?”

  Hannah nodded. “She’s been living with my daed—my father, and, as far as we can figure out, she’s used to Englisch. I don’t think she understands much Deitsch.”

  “That’s good, because my Deitsch is pretty basic.” She gave Hannah a reassuring smile. “I’ve worked with plain folk before, so I understand your children speak Deitsch until they begin school. I also know the Amish don’t attend public schools where ongoing therapy is provided for any child requiring it. However, where she’ll go to school won’t make a difference in evaluating Shelby and developing an IEP for her. An Individualized Education Program.” She chuckled. “We get used to talking in acronyms, so stop me whenever I use one you don’t understand.”

  “Are you a doktorfraa?” demanded Grossmammi Ella as she walked into the room, her cane banging against the floor to emphasize her vexation at finding a stranger in her house. That she used the cane revealed she didn’t want the Englischer to see any weakness in her.

  “No, ma’am,” Audrey said. “I’m a physical therapist. Dr. Montgomery asked me to come here to work with Shelby.”

  Hannah introduced the two women. She wished she’d had time to warn the therapist about her great-grandmother’s sudden shifts in mood.

  Urging the elderly woman to use a chair by the stove where she’d stay warm on the damp day, Hannah wasn’t surprised when her great-grandmother asked another question as she sat, “You can help our Shelby?”

  “I can make sure she gets the right help so she can become all you hope her to be.” Audrey didn’t seem bothered by the question.

  Grossmammi Ella nodded and folded her hands on her lap. “Go ahead.”

  Audrey arched her brows at Hannah who struggled not to smile at her great-grandmother’s regal edict.

  “Where do you want to work with Shelby?” Hannah asked.

  “Here on the rug will be fine.” She grinned. “I find sessions go best when I’m on the children’s level.” Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she motioned for Hannah to join her and Shelby.

  Kneeling next to the therapist, Hannah held her breath. Would Shelby cooperate with whatever Audrey had planned? Would Grossmammi Ella refrain from interrupting? She took a steadying breath to calm herself and sent up a prayer for serenity.

  “Shelby,” Audrey said with a smile, “let’s play a game.”

  The toddler stood, ran across the room and got the knitted honeybee she’d dropped when the therapist had arrived. She held it out to Audrey.

  “How cute!” the therapist gushed, earning a wide smile from Shelby and one almost as big from Grossmammi Ella.

  “Its name is Buzz-buzz,” Hannah said.

  “Did Shelby give the toy that name?”

  “Not exactly.” She explained how Shelby had made a buzzing sound when she first saw the toy. “But she must like the name because she responds when we ask where Buzz-buzz is.”

  “How does she respond?”

  “She points to it or goes and gets it.”

  Audrey smiled. “That’s excellent. Some toddlers who don’t have Shelby’s challenges aren’t able to follow even simple instructions at this age.” Looking at the kind, she asked, “Shelby, can I hold Buzz-buzz?”

  The little girl hesitated, then handed the toy to Audrey, who cooed over it. Shelby laughed, and when Audrey held out the toy, she took it and hugged it hard as she pursed her lips, making the buzzing sound.

  “What other toys does she like to play with?” the therapist asked.

  Before Hannah could reply, a knock came on the door. It opened, and Daniel walked in. He shrugged off his wet coat and hung it by the door. Doing so revealed the strong muscles barely hidden
beneath his plain shirt and black suspenders. For a moment, as she watched his smooth motions, she seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

  “Where’s my big girl?” he asked with a smile.

  “Da-da!” called Shelby, waving her arms at him.

  Hannah froze and saw Daniel do the same, shock on his face. Why was Shelby calling out to Daniel as if he were her daed? The answer came when Shelby spoke again.

  “Da-dan,” she called. She was trying to say Daniel rather than the Englisch word daddy. “Da-dan!” Impatience heightened her voice.

  Daniel squatted beside Shelby. “How are you doing, liebling?” He took the knit toy and tickled her with it.

  Audrey looked from him to Hannah. “I’m confused. Aren’t you, Hannah, Shelby’s sister?”

  “I am,” Hannah said.

  At the same time, Daniel replied, “I’m Daniel Stoltzfus.”

  “But she called you da-da,” Audrey said, bafflement threading her brow.

  Hannah said, “No, she was trying to say Daniel.”

  Understanding crossed the therapist’s face, and her smile returned. “You understand the sounds she makes better than I do. Does she use other words you recognize?”

  Hannah shook her head. “She hasn’t used Da-dan before today.”

  “Does she have a name for you?”

  Hoping her face wasn’t bright red, for heat soared through her like a wildfire, she said, “Not yet.”

  “That will come, I’m sure. Will Shelby be getting speech therapy, too?”

  “Ja. Dr. Montgomery said she was contacting someone to help Shelby.”

  “Probably Todd Howland. You’ll like him, and Shelby will, too. He’s great with kids. Most likely, you’ll be hearing from Keely Mattera, too. She’s the occupational therapist, and the three of us work as a team with young children.”

  Audrey called Shelby’s name and, when the little girl looked up, asked her to touch her nose as Audrey was. The toddler followed along with what she saw as a game. When the therapist took Shelby by the hand, they went to the stairs in the front hall and practiced stepping up and down off the lowest one. Shelby did, but on her hands and knees. When the therapist lifted her to her feet and urged her to try again, the kind’s lower lip began to tremble in a pout.