Gathering the Threads

by Cindy Woodsmall

  The ninety-minute ride to BWI seemed to have taken only fifteen minutes.

  “Got it.” She hopped out and helped with the kids and luggage. When he paused, looking at her, she hugged him, and he held her tight, as if he didn’t want to let go.

  Isaac paced the living room. “We can’t keep waiting for her.” He glanced at the clock. “We’ll be late.”

  Lovina knew the time. She’d been aware of it since waking before sunrise. She knew Isaac wouldn’t like hearing the question pressing in on her, but she’d held it back for as long as she could. “What if the thing she was involved in was more dangerous than Quill expected?”

  “She’s perfectly fine. If she wasn’t, Nicholas would’ve come here and informed us,” Isaac groused.

  “I didn’t think of that.” Relief worked its way through her, and she wished she’d dared to ask that question earlier.

  Isaac popped his knuckles, pacing. “She got to his place safely. I will not lie to the ministers to cover for her. But even so, she’s backed me into a corner. I’m responsible for her, and I’ll have to answer for why I allowed her to get in the car with Quill and go”—he waved his arm through the air—“wherever it is she went.” He shook his head. “Here I was thinking maybe I’d been too hard on her, but the truth is, Ariana returned home determined to embarrass me in front of the whole community. She’s angry. That’s what this is about. It’s her way of dealing with it.”

  “Nee, not Ari.” Lovina wouldn’t listen to him assign to Ariana the very thing he was guilty of. “That’s how you’ve dealt with your anger.” Lovina realized something she hadn’t thought of before. “You were pleased she was coming home nine months early, but when she and Nicholas got out of his car, she hugged him good-bye. A sweet hug. Your little girl hugging her Englisch dad. A few minutes later, as we all sat around the dinner table, you began to realize just how different she was from the little girl you raised. Ariana isn’t the one masking her anger and hurt through unpredictable responses.”

  Isaac closed the gap between them. “Could you try to understand what’s going on from my perspective?”

  She nodded and went to the foot of the steps. “It’s time to go.”

  The next ten minutes were a blur of activity as everyone found their good coats and got them on. When she stepped outside, a vehicle was in her driveway, and she hoped it was Ariana, home at last. Isaac spoke with the driver, pointing down the road as if he was giving directions. It was then that Lovina saw car after car pass. Her knees trembled.

  This back road was a detour artery that only had this much traffic when there was an accident on the nearby highway.

  Salome put her hand under Lovina’s elbow. “I know what you’re thinking—that there’s been an accident.” She helped Lovina walk down the few steps. “But Ariana’s simply late because she’s caught behind all this traffic. That’s all.”

  Lovina’s heart slowed a bit. “Denki. You’re right. That’s all.”

  As the vehicle left the driveway, Isaac stared up the road at the oncoming traffic. When he turned back, he appeared agitated. He then motioned. “We need to go.”

  Lovina crossed the snowy driveway. “Are you okay?”

  He didn’t lift his eyes. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

  But he wasn’t okay, and she knew it. She got in the carriage, and they drove five miles to the Millers’ home. Berta was there, getting out of her rig. It dawned on Lovina how remarkable she was. Her sons had left the faith, and as a widow she was completely alone, but she had not let fear or bitterness take over her life. She was a quiet woman who sold eggs, produce, clothes, and quilts to earn money.

  The ministers were hard on her, but despite the physical separation, she had not allowed any religious opinions or doctrines to put up walls around her heart, keeping out her children or causing strife with them. She didn’t get to see her sons often, but they adored her, and as Lovina and the rest of the community learned while Ariana was living Englisch, Berta’s sons went through misery to sneak in visits.

  Isaac brought the rig to a halt and got out. Lovina hopped down, and while the others got out, she went to the hitching post, where Isaac was tethering the horse.

  “Lovina,” he whispered, “is it truly God causing a separation between us and Ariana? Could it be only our notion of what God wants of us?” He stared down the road as if hoping Ariana would magically step out of one of the slow-moving cars.

  It was bad timing for him to get to this place of questioning right before a three-hour service began. The ministers would preach the virtues of submission—ministers to God, men to ministers and God, women to ministers, fathers, husbands, and God.

  And Isaac would have the fires stoked against Ariana once again.

  They spoke quietly to people and made their way to their respective sides of the Miller-living-room-turned-meetinghouse. She sat on her row, next to other women her age, and Isaac moved to a bench that was mostly empty. Watching him, she soon figured out why he’d sat there. He could see the road through the front windows and could watch for signs of Ariana coming in either direction.

  Did he recall what Nicholas’s car looked like? She didn’t, other than it was black, maybe, and had four wheels. When the congregation sang and knelt, Isaac did so, but his attention constantly returned to the windows. While the bishop was preaching, Isaac stood and walked out.

  Lovina waited for him to return, but when five minutes passed and he was still gone, she slipped out too. She looked around the farm, searching for signs of him, and finally found him on the other side of the barn, near the road. She hurried that way. He’d chosen a place where he could watch for Ariana but not be seen by those inside. “Isaac, bischt du allrecht?”

  “Nee. I…may never be all right again. Where is she?”

  “She got caught behind the traffic.”

  “Look!” He gestured at the empty road. “More than three hours have passed since that man pulled into our driveway, asking for directions, and told me about the wreck. The roads cleared two hours ago. The preaching and praying will end soon, and she’s still not here.”

  “Maybe she went home instead of coming here.”

  He shook his head. “I told Skylar to have Ariana at least pass by this home in a rig after she got home. She was in that wreck, and that driver said people died.” He rapped his fist against the center of his chest. “She was in it. I know it.” Despite his words he gazed down the long road, searching for his girl. “I rescued all three babies from the fire that day. They are all mine in one way or another. But Ariana…I walked the floors with her when she had ear infections. No one could calm her except me, not when sick or when throwing a tantrum at two and three. I was the one she ran home to when Quill left with Frieda and broke her heart. Me. What happened to that man? The one she trusted to understand her and help her.”

  His certainty that Ariana was in the wreck made Lovina want to sink to her knees in the mucky snow and curl into a ball, wailing. But Isaac needed her right now, as she’d needed him time and again after discovering the girls had been swapped at birth. Ariana had to be fine. She had to be!

  Isaac made a fist. “She’s mine and I’m hers, but I’ve been so afraid of losing her that I’ve pushed her away. That makes no sense, and yet I’ve done it.” He drew a ragged breath and refocused on the road. “In the meeting while we were kneeling in prayer, a question hit me so clearly it was as if someone was talking to me, and it shook the foundations of all I’ve lived by.”

  Lovina waited.

  His eyes moved from the road and met hers. “How much of my life and my relationship with my children is molded by fear”—he pointed at the Millers’ home—“of what everyone in that house might think?” Isaac looked down the road one way and then the other. “What if the last thing between me and that sweet girl was my coming down hard on her as I’ve done ever since she returned home?” His eyes misted. “Dear God.” He grabbed a fistful of hair. “I need another chance. I’ll listen to Y
ou more than anyone else.” He pointed at the Miller home. “Please.” His voice shook.

  Lovina stepped closer. “Isaac.” She put her cold hands on his cheeks and tugged until his eyes were on hers. “Even if the worst thing possible happened, she knows you. If she’s gone from this planet, she left able to see your heart, your love.” She held his face gently, keeping his full attention, and she saw him return to himself. “But she’s not gone, and you will get the chance to set things right. Okay?”

  He nodded and pulled her close. “Denki.”

  She held him tight. Relationships were hard, so very hard and so very worth fighting for. Surely Ariana hadn’t gone through all she had this year to die before the people who’d raised her and loved her as their own could get their bearings and support her as she deserved.

  Ariana’s hands were still trembling as she watched through the car window, unsure what to tell her dad to do. Her head throbbed. She had a lot to be grateful for right now, and one was the fact that Quill texted her at five thirty that morning to say they were boarding the plane and asked how she was. She’d responded enthusiastically, assuring him everything was fine.

  She wasn’t so great now, and she was glad he didn’t plan to text her again until he and his wards were settled in the condo. She’d be home by then and could respond “home and safe,” leaving out the incident that had happened between the morning and evening messages.

  Nicholas glanced at her. “I’ll say it again. You’re to take it easy for three weeks. A concussion is nothing to brush off.”

  She nodded. The doctor didn’t give her anything for her nerves because of the concussion. He said the shaking was from the release of adrenaline. The first accident, which involved three other vehicles, had happened seconds ahead of them, and there were fatalities. But a car had simply ricocheted into them, pinning them against a highway wall. The air bags had deployed, bruising one side of her face. She’d been examined at a nearby hospital while Nicholas rented a car. One thing about her dad was that he wasted no time. Things that should take hours, he could accomplish within minutes.

  “Maybe you should just take me home.” Ariana’s voice trembled. “No sense in disrupting the meeting by arriving this late.”

  “I will if that’s what you want, but I have a different thought on the matter.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  Despite not arriving at Nicholas’s until nearly ten last night, she’d had a really nice visit. Her mom, Gabe, and Cameron were there too, waiting to see her. Even now Ariana could recall the most wonderful feeling of being in her mom’s arms. And her stepsister was full of barbs and wit, and all of them visited and talked and laughed until nearly sunrise before they parted ways to get some sleep. Cameron had fallen in love with the puppy, and with Brandi’s and Gabe’s permission, Ariana gave it to her. Cameron said the puppy would always remind them of Ariana—all bright eyed and excited about life but kind of clueless. Even thinking back on it, Ariana smiled. That was Cameron, simultaneously insulting and endearing.

  This morning she saw her stepbrothers and stepmom. But she wasn’t close to them. The boys were Nicholas’s wife’s children, and she got along with them just fine, but Cameron felt like a blood sister. Ariana’s biological mom had raised Cameron since she was five, and their bond was really strong.

  “Sorry, kiddo,” Nicholas said. “But Isaac and Lovina are sure to be worried. You go to church. Slip in and take a seat. Spare them hours of worry.”

  “You think seeing this face is going to bring them relief?” She angled her face, giving him a good look at the swelling and bruises.

  Nicholas cringed. “Well.” He elongated the word in a perfect high pitch. “It’s better than what they’re thinking now.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I am.”

  “Okay, turn right at the next two-way stop sign.” She squirmed in her seat. “I feel so bad about—”

  He raised a hand. “Covered. Talked about. I wouldn’t have been on that highway if it weren’t for you. But that’s life, sweetheart. It’s how it works. We do our thing and keep moving until death catches up with us.”

  “A bit apathetic, isn’t it?”

  “It sounds that way. What are my options? To be more afraid than necessary? To blame you? Did you plan that accident, Ariana? Are you holding out on me?”

  She put her hand up. “Point made.” His car was totaled, and it wouldn’t be if it weren’t for her. But his acceptance of the event worked past her overwhelming guilt, and a peace about it settled over her.

  “Besides, Ariana, I would give up far more than a car or paying a few medical bills if it helps you help others, especially women and children. I spent a lot of years having no respect or understanding of either. I can’t undo that, but being a part of this with you and Quill feels a bit redemptive.”

  Whatever flaws her dad had, she appreciated his willingness to be up-front about who he was…and who he had been.

  Despite her pounding head, she seemed to have weeks, maybe months, of scattered thoughts weaving together like threads on a loom. She closed her eyes. “Lately as I look at women inside the Amish culture, it feels as if I should do…something to add insight to their views.”

  “How so?”

  “I’m not sure, but it’s a patriarchal society with some heavy-handed ways of molding girls to accept who we’re told we are. There’s no teaching that girls can be anything. No self-discovery into the uniqueness of who God made us to be. We’re to fill the role we’re taught. No questions asked. And any deviation from the plan is met with backlash. Maybe sadder than that, I see an attitude—not among all the men but too many of them—where women are viewed more as sinners and more prone to sin simply because of our gender.”

  “You’re up to the task of helping young women. I know you are. Lucy Stone, Julia Ward Howe, Susan B. Anthony, and Harriet Tubman. Do you know what all those women had in common?”

  “They fought for the rights of the oppressed.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But I don’t want to stir up trouble. I don’t think I’m supposed to.” She had information and understanding that could provide balance to the rules of the Ordnung. That could be some help. People needed to know the difference between the Ordnung and the Bible, and they needed to hear other Bible verses that would help balance the ones that had been taught over and over. The men wouldn’t listen to her, but how many women would? A lot less since her reputation had been damaged. Maybe only a few to begin with, but if she helped only her sisters and her nieces, that would be amazing.

  “You know what else those women have in common? They were all born in the early eighteen hundreds, which is pretty close to how the Amish live.” He was trying to add levity to the moment.

  “Very funny.”

  “My mom, your Gammie—”

  “Gammie? As in rhymes with whammy?”

  “Skylar named her that because she couldn’t say grandma. Anyway, starting a decade before I was born, she marched in and organized protests during the civil rights movement. She saw Martin Luther King Jr. speak. Twice. She believed nonviolence was the way to influence change, but she went to jail twice for participating and was ostracized by all the good women in her community. I think time is the true judge of how we lived. Not people’s opinions or fads, but time. It’s judged me on more things than I can count, and I’ve been found guilty. Was your grandma wrong?”

  “No.” But Ariana wasn’t a protester or an activist. Still, it was encouraging to know she had Gammie’s blood in her veins. “How did she die?”

  “Mountain biking.”

  “Like a motorcycle bike?”

  “No, it’s a pedal bike, but mountain biking can be very rugged and sometimes dangerous. Her death rocked my world like nothing else had to that point. You look like your mom, but I see my mom’s peaceful warrior spirit in you. Just remember that any good trait can become a bad one if you forget to listen to reason. You know that. You’ve seen m
e be so ridiculous in my stand that I was breaking your heart when my intention was to free your heart.”

  “I don’t think listening to reason is a problem I’ll have, but I’ll keep what you said in mind.” She pointed. “The Millers’ house is a few hundred feet up ahead. Just stop here, and I’ll walk. If a car pulls onto the driveway and I get out, it’ll cause unnecessary disruption.”

  He checked his rearview mirror, waited until he was at the top of a knoll, and stopped the car. There was too much snow piled up on the shoulders for him to pull over and let her out. “I’m grateful you felt comfortable enough to reach out to me. You do it again.”

  “I will.” She pressed the Unlock button. “Daed’s going to be so angry I’m walking into the Sunday meeting late.”

  “Is that your purpose on this planet—to keep people from being angry with you?”

  It seemed as if it used to be. “It’s not my purpose, but it would be really nice if it was a perk of trying to do the right thing.”

  “I can’t argue with that.” Nicholas smiled.

  “You? Unable to argue?”

  “It’s rare, but it happens.”

  She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I’ll text you later in the week.” She wasn’t going to turn off her phone for long periods again. She wasn’t giving it to Rudy to keep until they were married. If it was acceptable for her to have one after she married, it was acceptable for her to have one before.

  “Good.” He frowned, looking baffled. “Is that an Amish man running toward us?”

  She looked out the window. “Daed.” Was something wrong? Her pulse quickened as she started to get out.

  Nicholas grabbed her wrist. “No running. You’re to take it easy and rest for three weeks.”

  “Okay.” She got out and strode toward him, too stiff and sore from the accident to do more than a fast walk even without Nicholas’s warning. Her Mamm was trailing behind, hurrying but not running. The road was a slushy mess with soot-covered melting snow.