by Jo Ann Brown
Going to the window where faint sunlight edged around the dark green shade, Leah looked out. The rain she’d heard during the night had left the grass sparkling at dawn as if stars had been strewn across the yard. She smiled when she noticed the barn door was open and the cows in the field.
Her hand clutched the molding around the window when she saw Daed emerge from the chicken coop. Like Johnny, he was not too tall, but very spare. The early light sparkled off silver in his hair and beard, silver that hadn’t been there years ago. When had he arrived home? It must have been very late, because she hadn’t heard a vehicle come up the farm lane.
She started to pray for the right words to speak when she came face-to-face with her daed for the first time in a decade. Her silent entreaty faltered when, instead of striding toward the house at his usual swift pace that made short work of any distance, he put one hand on the low roof while he placed the other on his brow. He stood like that for a long moment before looking at the house. His shoulders rose and fell in a sigh before he pushed himself away from the coop. With every step toward the house, his steps grew steadier and closer to the length of his normal stride.
Was her daed sick? Perhaps he had picked up some sort of bug at the auction. Or was it more serious?
Leah hurried to get dressed, making sure no speck of lint was visible on her black dress or cape. Settling her kapp on her hair that was pulled back in its proper bun, she stared at herself in the mirror over the dresser. She was not the girl who had left Paradise Springs, but she suddenly felt as young and unprepared for what awaited her as she had been that night.
Trying not to act like a naughty kind sneaking through the house, she went down the back stairs. She opened the door at the bottom and stepped into the kitchen.
Mamm wore her Sunday best and aimed a smile at Leah as she set the oatmeal muffins she had baked last night in the center of the kitchen table. At one end, Daed sat in his chair. There was a hint of grayness beneath his deep tan from years of working in the fields, and she could not help noticing how the fingers on his right hand trembled on the edge of the table.
Was he ill, or was he as nervous as she was?
She got her answer when he said in his no-nonsense voice, “Sit, Leah. We don’t want to be late for Sunday service.”
She obeyed, keeping her head down so neither he nor her mamm could see the tears burning her eyes.
“Is Mandy asleep?” asked Mamm gently as she took her chair at the foot of the table.
“Ja,” Leah answered. “She didn’t sleep well last night.” She glanced at her daed, who had remained silent save for his terse order.
What had she expected? For him to welcome her home as the daed had in the parable of the prodigal son? Daed wasn’t demonstrative. While Mamm spoke of how she loved her family, Daed had never uttered those words to his kinder. Yet, he had shown her in many ways that she was important. Her favorite had been when he asked her to ride into Paradise Springs with him so they could have special time together.
Be patient, she told herself. The words from James’s epistle filled her mind. But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.
As if she had repeated those words aloud, Daed bowed his head to signal the beginning of grace. Leah did the same. During the silent prayer, she asked God not only for patience but for Him to open Daed’s heart and let her back in. God’s help might be the only way that would happen.
When her daed cleared his throat to let them know grace was over, she looked at him again. He poured a hearty serving of corn flakes into his bowl, then handed the open box to her.
“Danki,” she murmured.
He did not reply but set several of the muffins on his plate. Again he passed the food to her.
“Danki,” she said more loudly.
Again he acted as if she had not spoken.
She bit her lower lip and handed the plate to her mamm without taking a single muffin. Her appetite was gone. Her daed clearly intended to act as if she were nothing but an unwelcome outsider who had invaded their family. It was almost like he had put her under the Meidung. She wasn’t actually being shunned, of course, because he was willing to sit at the table with her and he handed her the plates. However, he did not speak to her or look in her direction unless absolutely necessary. Silence settled around the table, and she had no idea how to break it.
She almost cheered with relief when footsteps pounded down the stairs. Mamm rose quickly when the door at the base opened and Mandy emerged, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She had dressed, but her hair hung down her back in a disheveled braid that she’d worn to bed.
“I need help with my hair,” Mandy announced.
“Ja.” Leah started to stand.
Mamm motioned for her to stay where she was. Taking Mandy by the hand, Mamm led her to the table and toward the end where Daed sat.
Mandy shot an uneasy glance at Leah. Even though she wished she could reassure her niece that everything was fine, Leah said nothing as she waited to see how her daed would act when meeting the granddaughter he hadn’t known he had. Again she noticed how his hand was shaking until he put his left one on top of it as he leaned forward.
“This is Grossdawdi Abram, Mandy,” Mamm said with a smile. “He has been eager to meet you.”
Mandy regarded him with hesitation, and Leah wondered if she was disconcerted by Daed’s long, thick beard. She had seen the little girl staring at other men who wore beards, especially those that reached to the middle of their chests. Even though Leah had explained many times during their years in Philadelphia about how the Amish dressed and why, Mandy seemed uneasy around the married men with their full beards.
Leah had tried to hide her own unsettled reaction when Mandy asked why Ezra was clean shaven. She had seemed startled that he wasn’t married. Leah had to admit that she was, too. His older brother and sister had wed years ago, and Isaiah, who was less than a year younger than Ezra, married last year. It probably wouldn’t be long before the others found spouses, including the youngest Stoltzfus, Esther. With his mamm already depending on Esther’s help, she couldn’t handle the household chores by herself. Ezra needed a wife, so why hadn’t he found one by now?
Telling herself that was a question best left unexplored, she watched as Mamm bent to whisper in Mandy’s ear. The little girl leaned forward and gave Daed a tentative kiss on the cheek. Leah held her breath, not sure how her daed would react.
She swallowed her shocked gasp when Daed lightly stroked Mandy’s cheek as he said, “You are as pretty as your grossmammi was when she was your age, ain’t so?”
That was all the encouragement Mandy needed to begin chatting as if she wanted to catch up her grossdawdi on everything that had happened from the day she was born. She barely slowed down to eat and paid no attention when Leah reminded her that it was rude to speak with her mouth full of food. She asked about the animals on the farm and told him about Shep.
Only because she was watching did Leah notice Daed wince when Mandy began talking about how Shep had helped alert them to Johnny’s seizures. When he abruptly said it was time for another prayer before they left the table, he gave them no time to bow their heads before he’d pushed back his chair and was striding to the back door. He called back over his shoulder that the buggy would be ready to leave in a few minutes.
Mandy looked at Leah. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Of course not. We simply don’t want to be late for the worship service,” Mamm answered before Leah could. Coming to her feet, she picked up the almost empty muffin plate. “Leah, help Mandy with her hair while I clear the table.”
Leah brushed out her niece’s hair, braided it and wound it around her head properly with the ease of years of practice. Sending Mandy back upstairs to get her white, heart-shaped kapp and her black bonnet, she began picking
up the dirty dishes and stacking them by the sink where they could be washed once the Sabbath was past.
“That went well,” she said without looking at her mamm. “Daed seemed very glad to see Mandy.”
“Why shouldn’t he be? Mandy is a sweet, gut kind. You’ve brought her up well.”
Warmth spread through the iciness that had clamped around Leah from the moment she witnessed her daed’s weakness by the chicken coop. She considered asking her mamm if Daed was feeling poorly but had to wonder if she’d misconstrued what she saw. After a long trip away, Daed probably was exhausted. Could that explain his terse reaction to her homecoming? She longed to believe that was so.
“Danki. I made sure that we lived a gut Christian life while we were away,” Leah replied.
“I know you well, daughter. I have never doubted that you did your best to live as you were taught. Since you brought Mandy home, I have seen how you made efforts to teach her our ways and our beliefs.”
“If you see that, why can’t Daed?” She clapped her hand over her mouth, but it was too late. She’d blurted out the words from the depths of her aching heart.
“I warned you. He was hurt and humiliated when you left. To lose two kinder when they jumped the fence...” Mamm shook her head and sighed.
“But I didn’t jump the fence.”
“You left.” She turned to the stairs as Mandy bounced down into the kitchen.
Leah didn’t answer as her mamm checked that Mandy’s bonnet was properly tied beneath her chin before her niece rushed out to watch Daed harness the horse to the buggy. Leah wasn’t sure what she could have said. She had left...to go with Johnny and persuade him to return, though she never had succeeded with that. Was her failure why Daed was so upset with her? That she’d never convinced his only son to come home?
Again those traitorous tears welled up in her eyes. She longed to ask her daed why he hadn’t read even one of her letters. It had been difficult to steal time away from taking care of an invalid and a kind to write to her family. Maybe if Daed explained why he’d sent back the letters, she could understand why he joyously had welcomed his granddaughter home while hardly acknowledging his daughter. There must be something more behind his actions than him being furious that she’d left with Johnny and his girlfriend, Carleen, years ago.
Wasn’t there?
* * *
Ezra sensed the underlying anticipation in the members of the district who had gathered on the front lawn of Henry Gingerich’s home. Part of today’s worship included the selection of the new minister, and already the baptized members had nominated their choice for the next Diener zum Buch by whispering that man’s name to the other minister or the bishop. Any married man whose name was whispered by three different members would be placed in the lot for the next “minister of the book,” who would be expected to preach a sermon in two weeks and every other Sunday for the rest of his life.
The married men were gathered in small groups or stood with their wives and kinder. Everyone spoke in hushed voices, and, though nobody would be speculating on who would be called forward, he knew it was the main topic on everyone’s mind.
He hoped the tension kept the rest of the congregation from noticing how his head snapped about when he heard Leah’s lyrical voice not far from where he stood by himself. Looking to his right, he saw her with her arm around her niece’s shoulders.
Since the day Mandy had named his pregnant Brown Swiss cow, he hadn’t seen or spoken with either her or Leah. Amos had mentioned last night at supper that she had brought three beautiful quilts to the store earlier that day. His brother planned to display them close to the store’s front door, so every customer would see them.
Ezra had no doubts that the quilts were extraordinary. Leah had been a skilled seamstress from the time she was her niece’s age, and she always had been a welcome addition to any quilting frolic. Her eye for color, as well as her knowledge of fabrics and patterns, led to much older quilters asking for her advice.
But now she was busy talking in a low and steady voice to Mandy, who was shifting from one foot to the other. A rebellious expression on the girl’s face warned she wasn’t happy with whatever Leah said to her. Even though he knew he should stay away, that whatever Leah was talking about with Mandy was none of his business, he crossed the lawn to where they stood apart from the rest of the congregation.
“More?” Disbelief widened Mandy’s dark blue eyes as he approached near enough to hear their low voices. “I thought, when we were sent outside, that we were done. When we went to church back home, it never lasted longer than an hour.”
“A Communion Sunday always means a lengthier church service, and we need to have a minister selected, too.”
“I wish we were back in Philadelphia.”
“But then you wouldn’t have met your grossdawdi.” Leah’s attention was focused on her niece, so she didn’t seem to see him come to stand behind her. “Usually church doesn’t last this long. Once we’re done, we’ll eat and you can play with the other kinder.”
“Kinder?”
“Children.”
“Oh, like in kindergarten.”
Leah squeezed her niece’s shoulders. “Exactly. You’ll see when we have church again in two weeks what our services are usually like.”
“They usually last about three hours,” Ezra said as he aimed a smile at Leah and her niece.
Mandy grinned up at him. “Oh, hi, Mr. Stoltzfus!”
“Why don’t you call me Ezra?” he corrected gently, not adding that the Amish didn’t believe in using titles as Englischers did. Even their bishop was addressed by his given name, a reminder that all of them were equal in God’s eyes. “Gute mariye, Leah.”
“Good morning,” she said, speaking English so Mandy wouldn’t be shut out of their conversation. She didn’t look at him. Instead she scanned the yard and the people gathered there. “Mandy, the selection of a new Diener zum Buch is fascinating, and it’ll be better for everyone once the matter is settled.”
He nodded. “Ja.”
“Do you want to be chosen?” Mandy asked.
“I’m not wed. Only married men are in the lot to serve.”
“Why?”
Wondering if the little girl pelted Leah with as many questions, he said, “Being a preacher is an important position with plenty of responsibility, so choosing from the married men who already have shown they can handle the responsibility of a family is—”
“No!” Mandy shook her head vehemently.
“You shouldn’t interrupt,” Leah chided, her voice soft but serious. “Most especially when someone is answering a question you’ve asked.”
“But I’m not interested in why only married men can be ministers,” the girl said with the logic of a nine-year-old.
“Then what do you want to know?”
Mandy looked up at Ezra and gave him an innocent grin. “I want to know why Ezra isn’t married.” She turned to Leah. “He’s old, isn’t he? I thought all old Amish men got married.”
“He’s only a few years older than I am,” Leah said, a smile wafting along her lips.
Ezra saw that Leah’s argument didn’t change the little girl’s mind. Leah was her daed’s twin, so for a kind, that could only mean that she was ancient, though she was not yet thirty. And she’d deemed him even more elderly.
To change the subject because it wasn’t a topic he wanted to discuss during a break in the Sunday service, especially when Leah stood nearby, he said, “I see Abram is back from his trip. Did he have a successful time at the auction, Leah?”
“I—I don’t know.” Her smile fled from her face. “He didn’t say, and I didn’t have a chance to go out to the barn this morning.”
He couldn’t help wondering what had happened when Abram arrived home. A quick glance around the yard pinp
ointed Abram talking with several of the older men. Leah’s daed scowled when one of the other men pointed toward where she and her niece stood with him. Though Ezra couldn’t hear what Abram said, from his motions and the other men’s expressions, it was clear that his response was heated. Too heated for a church Sunday.
Ezra looked back at Leah and realized she’d been watching her daed and the other men, as well. Her chin was high, but she shook her head as she tried to keep the tears glistening in her eyes from tumbling down her cheeks.
The once-familiar yearning to pull her into his arms and protect her from the storms that filled her home rushed through him. In the past, the angry words had been between her twin and Abram, and the Stoltzfus family’s barn had become a haven for her at least once a week. He had gotten accustomed to watching out the window to see her fleeing across the field, so he could be in the barn when she arrived. Though she never spoke of what was said between Johnny and her daed, their conversations on any other subject had lasted until she could put her distress behind her and slip back into her own house, which was silent in the wake of the quarrel.
That familiar yearning mixed with familiar frustration. Leah was the first to offer help, but accepting it from others was something she found impossible. If she had opened up to him about the tempests that blew through the Beiler household, maybe she could have turned to him and resisted Johnny’s persuading her to leave Paradise Springs.
“Any animals Abram purchased,” he hurried to say, wanting to bring her lighthearted expression back, “probably won’t be delivered until next week or the week after.”
Leah’s smile returned but was as unsteady as a sapling in a storm.
“On Wednesday,” Mandy piped up. “That’s what he told me when I was helping him get the buggy. He showed me how he hooks up the horse. I can’t wait to tell Isabella about all I’ve learned once I get back home to Philadelphia.”
