Always Close to Home

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Nancy listened again to the beat of the horse’s hooves as they drew closer. She still wrestled with what she had accepted as the will of the community, but perhaps the option to leave the community to marry Charles no longer even existed. Charles might have been deeply offended by whatever Deacon William had told him, and their relationship might have been ruined beyond repair. But deep down she knew this wasn’t true. Charles was a patient and kind man. He probably knew how her situation was playing out. Charles would take her back with open arms. Hadn’t his truck drifted past the schoolhouse several times in the past few days? Betsy always noticed and made a point to show her face at the door before Charles drove in. Nancy could have hurried out of the schoolhouse, jumped in his truck, and left her current life behind, and Betsy couldn’t have stopped her. Yet she hadn’t. She had sat still and waited. But for what?

  Nancy sighed and slipped back into the house. Maybe the buggy would go on past. If it didn’t, she would see who had arrived soon enough.

  “Visitors?” Betsy asked when Nancy walked back in the kitchen.

  “I’m not expecting anyone,” Nancy replied, but that went without saying. Betsy knew her routine well.

  Betsy nodded. “Daett said he would stop by sometime this week, but he didn’t say when.”

  “Then maybe it’s him.” Nancy busied herself with the last of the supper dishes.

  Moments later Betsy exclaimed, “It’s not Daett! It’s Yost Mast!”

  Nancy caught her breath. In a way she had expected this. Even after all these years.

  Betsy regarded her with a strange look. “Why would Yost be here?”

  Nancy didn’t respond. What was there to say that a decent teenager would understand? Instead, she left the kitchen and went out the front door. Yost stood beside his buggy, as if he wasn’t sure what step to take next. She might as well face this head-on.

  “Yost.” She greeted him as the distance closed between them.

  “Goot evening, Nancy,” Yost said. “Can I come in?”

  “Maybe on the porch.” Nancy motioned with her head. “Betsy’s inside.”

  “I know,” Yost said. “Deacon William told me.”

  Nancy led the way to the porch, their footsteps the only sound in the quiet evening air. She climbed the steps and sat down.

  “Can I sit?” Yost motioned toward the open seat beside her.

  “There’s still room.” Nancy didn’t look at him.

  “I haven’t gotten roly-poly in my old age,” Yost cracked. “At least not yet.”

  “Yah.” Nancy managed to smile. “You have aged well.”

  “And you too,” he returned.

  Nancy looked away. Not that long ago, such words from Yost would have been most inappropriate, but things had changed with the death of Lavina. Nancy could still remember sweet words from Yost after all those long years. Words he doubtless gave Lavina many times since then. The only problem was, Nancy’s heart no longer beat faster at his words. She clasped her hands and looked down at the porch floor. Yost would have to state what he wanted. She would not help him broach the subject.

  Yost finally filled the silence. “It’s a beautiful evening. How long is Betsy staying with you?”

  “Perhaps you know that since you no doubt spoke with Deacon William!” The sharpness of Nancy’s words hung in the air.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything.” Yost laid his worn hands on his denim trousers.

  “Did Deacon William send you?”

  Yost shook his head. “I came of my own free will. I’m sorry if my visit offends you after all these years. But when Lavina passed, I knew that I should…the community wants us to heal the past, Nancy.” Yost paused. “Anyway, with that in mind, I thought of you, and of our time together years ago. I know that I took another direction, which I understood as from the Lord, but now Lavina’s gone and we are both still here. And there is that other problem.”

  “So this is how it will be?” Nancy met his gaze. “All matter-of-fact? No explanation for why you cut off our relationship and chose another woman? Not that I blamed you. I have plenty of faults, and Lavina has given you fine kinner, but…”

  Yost laid his hand on Nancy’s arm. “I’m clumsy, Nancy, and I do need to explain. I guess that’s what I’ve been avoiding.”

  Nancy waited while Yost stared off across the open fields, where long shadows stretched toward the horizon.

  “The truth is I don’t know,” Yost finally said. “We were seeing each other for some time when Lavina caught my eye. I know that was probably wrong, but I told myself that we weren’t married, and…” His voice trailed off.

  “So even though I loved you with my whole heart, you walked away?” Nancy’s tone turned bitter.

  “I’m sorry, Nancy.” Yost hung his head. “That’s all I can say. Lavina was a goot mamm to our kinner, and a goot frau for me, but the Lord has taken her home. You are not without your own mistakes, I’m thinking. So perhaps you shouldn’t be too hard on me.”

  Nancy gasped. “Are you referring to Charles?”

  “I didn’t mean more than I said, so don’t be offended. But I’m impressed greatly that you’re still here. That much can be said in your favor. You could have left with the man. Others have done so before you, but you haven’t.”

  “You think maybe I’ve been waiting for a marriage proposal from you?”

  Yost laughed. “You wouldn’t be like that, I’m thinking. You’ve always been dedicated to the community and to our way of life. That’s why I trust you.”

  “But what if I don’t trust you?”

  Yost regarded Nancy for a moment. “We’re supposed to heal this wound, you know. Do you expect me to do the same thing twice, to cut off our relationship—if we have another one?”

  Nancy didn’t answer the question. “So do you want one?”

  Yost grunted. “Why else would I be here? You are a fine woman.”

  Nancy shrugged. “Maybe I should marry you. If nothing else to get Betsy out of the house and regain some peace and quiet at the schoolhouse. I’m not used to having someone breathing down my neck all day.”

  Yost didn’t appear too pleased. “I thought Deacon William told me you were taking this well.”

  Nancy laughed. “Did you expect to find me where you left me, Yost? Did you think all those lonely years would leave me unchanged? You know how I used to feel about you, but you married someone else. And now you show up once your frau passes, and you want me to dance and sing for joy. Is that it, Yost?”

  “I guess I wasn’t thinking of it that way,” Yost replied. “I am wrong again, it seems.”

  “Am I the kind of frau you want?”

  Yost smiled. “I’m back at your doorstep for the second time. It seems the Lord has His plans better figured out than I do.”

  Nancy looked away. “Do you know the tears I cried over you? I wept my eyes out after you cut off our relationship. And to add insult to injury, you began dating Lavina not three weeks later. How do you think that made me feel?”

  Yost ran his shoe around in circles on the porch floor before he answered. “Rotten, I suppose.”

  “Yah,” Nancy said. “And then some.”

  “Why did you never marry?” Yost seemed to feel the need to change the subject. “In the community, of course,” he added.

  “Maybe the Lord was saving me for your second marriage?” The bitterness returned to her words.

  Yost shook his head. “We can go around in circles all evening, Nancy, and still get nowhere. The past is the past, both yours and mine. I know the hurt is there. I can’t change that I said the marriage vows with Lavina, and you couldn’t help that your wounded heart fell in love with an Englisha man. But let’s move on now. I need a frau, and my kinner could use a mamm. Laura especially is going through a lot right now. I think you could help her.”

  Nancy bit back another bitter response. Perhaps somewhere in there was the Yost who used to love her. She had to wonder if that was true. He wasn�
�t here for practical reasons alone. She cautiously reached for his hand. How often had she done that in Yost’s buggy when he drove her home from the Sunday evening hymn singings?

  A smile crept across Yost’s face as he wrapped his fingers around hers. He did remember. This was exactly how Yost used to respond. Nancy leaned her head against his shoulder and allowed herself to drift back through the past. She could almost hear the whir of the buggy wheels under her, and envision Yost’s young, handsome form seated beside her. She looked up at his face. He was still handsome but definitely older. As was she.

  “So how do we do this?” Nancy asked.

  Yost chuckled. “I guess we’ll have to take things a step at a time. I could start by taking you home again on Sunday evenings, like old times.”

  Nancy sat bolt upright. “You would drive me home from the hymn singing again?”

  Yost appeared puzzled. “Well, I thought we could pick up where we left off.”

  Nancy shook her head. “I’ll leave those times in my memory, thank you. I’m sure they wouldn’t be the same. But you can come over on Sunday evening if you want. We can talk and I can make popcorn.”

  “Isn’t that like old times?” Yost teased.

  “Maybe,” Nancy conceded, “but no buggy rides home from the hymn singing. We’re too old for that.”

  Yost gave in easily. “Okay. Whatever you want.” He stood to leave. “I’ll see you next Sunday night then. Say, six o’clock or so?”

  “That’s fine.” Nancy gave him a sheepish smile. Her eyes watered, but thankfully Yost didn’t seem to notice.

  He stopped to wave before he climbed into his buggy and drove out the lane. Slowly Nancy felt her way back inside the house. Betsy looked up from the couch with a smile. “So is that what it looked like it was?”

  “It is,” Nancy replied. “He’s coming back next Sunday evening for a date.”

  “He’s a handsome man,” Betsy said with a sly grin.

  Nancy allowed a smile to fill her face. “That he is, indeed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A week before Thanksgiving, Lydia shooed two loose turkeys they used for a display back into their crates. Uncle Henry knew how to create a buzz for his roadside stand, all while making a handsome profit. The pair had become quite the pets in the past weeks. She couldn’t bring herself to sell them, even after Uncle Henry had suggested gently this morning, “Best to let them go soon, Lydia.”

  “I let the children pet them, and that increases sales,” she had begged.

  Uncle Henry had grinned, and said no more. They would settle the fate of Brisket and Bucket, as she had dubbed the pair, later. She only said the names out loud around Englisha people. Both Uncle Henry and Milton would laugh at her for naming turkeys, but she didn’t care. Giving the turkeys names had also helped sales.

  The roadside stand had been turned into a turkey market two weeks ago. The turkeys, all in their prime, were kept in a fenced hay field behind Uncle Henry’s farm. There they grew even fatter on choice feed hauled in from Heuvelton and natural, tasty morsels like grasshoppers. They were sold live, but for a small fee, they could be made oven-ready.

  What that entailed, she didn’t want to think about. Milton took care of the orders. Men could handle such things. Lydia turned her thoughts to her duties. There was an hour of daylight left, and there would likely be a hard frost overnight. The clear blue sky all day and the brisk northern wind coming down from Canada forecast that clearly enough.

  “We’re moving everything inside for the night,” Uncle Henry had informed her an hour ago. “Got to keep these turkeys and vegetables in goot spirits for another week.” Uncle Henry laughed. “Milton will be out with the wagon to help you soon.”

  Even now, the snort of Milton’s team could be heard in the trees. Lydia brushed dust off her apron and waited as Milton drove up.

  “Why haven’t you sold everything?” Milton teased before leaping down from the wagon.

  “Because you chase away all the customers with the awful things you do with those turkeys,” Lydia shot back.

  Milton laughed. “I think my fine turkey preparations have the whole county impressed. Clean! Fast! Efficient!”

  “You are so conceited!” Lydia said, but she couldn’t help but join in Milton’s laughter.

  Milton lifted the first box of produce and slid the carton onto the wagon bed. “I hear my sister is dating your daett.”

  Lydia’s mind tried to adjust. How could it be? “Daett dating Nancy?”

  Milton grinned. “You’re behind the times, girl.”

  “I’ve not been home much lately,” Lydia responded. “So tell me.”

  Milton shrugged. “They’re seeing each other, and that’s all I know. There’s not much to it. If I don’t miss my guess, they may yet be married by Christmas.”

  Lydia tried to still the loud beat of her heart. Was this the miracle she had prayed for? If Nancy married someone from the community instead of the horrible Englisha man, Milton’s recent reforms might last.

  “Don’t you approve?” Milton stopped with a carton in his arms to stare at her.

  “Of course I do.” Lydia forced herself to bustle about. “This could be an answer to prayer in so many ways.”

  “Yah, I suppose…” he said. Yet Milton appeared puzzled.

  Lydia wasn’t about to explain or express her doubts to him. That might make them come true. Milton hadn’t brought up the subject of his Englisha automobile lately, even though she was sure he still owned the vehicle. In spite of this, Milton hadn’t mentioned jumping the fence once since that wunderbah evening they had spent together in Heuvelton passing out candy. Of course, Milton hadn’t mentioned anything else either, but he was just taking his time, Lydia assured herself. She knew Milton was still wavering between two worlds, but she could live with that. This gift from the Lord had already moved much further and faster than she had dared hope. Maybe some of Laura’s faith had indeed rubbed off on her.

  “Do you want to go out tonight again?” Milton asked, as if he was reading her thoughts.

  Lydia didn’t miss a beat. “Of course, I’d love to. As long as—”

  “Yah,” Milton cut her off. “I’ll behave myself. No stopping in at the rumspringa gatherings, and no Englisha automobiles.” He sounded just a touch bitter.

  “I wish you’d get rid of that car of yours and join the baptismal class,” Lydia said.

  Milton grinned and ignored her comment. “I’m thinking a nice buggy ride into Heuvelton should be just the thing for tonight. Maybe we’ll have a pleasant surprise.”

  “Maybe,” Lydia allowed. “That was a sweet time we had on Halloween.”

  Milton’s grin broadened. “Sweet is right…with all that candy we gave out.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes. “Oh brother!”

  Milton laughed. “Well, then, here’s to a pleasant evening. Do you want to ride up with me right now?” Milton grunted as he loaded the last carton.

  “I’ll walk, but thanks,” Lydia chirped. “I have to put some of these empty boxes away.”

  “Then I’ll stay and help you for a few minutes. We’ll have the place spick-and-span in no time.”

  Lydia regarded Milton for a moment. “That’s nice of you.”

  “Hey!” He held up both hands. “I’m always nice.”

  Lydia laughed. “You don’t have to put on airs, you know.”

  Milton responded with a humble and fallen face.

  Lydia laughed harder. “That’s also airs, though you do look quite repentant.”

  “That’s me,” he said, busying himself with the last of the boxes.

  She loved the man. There was no question about that. Whether Milton loved her enough to not jump the fence was the question. But she must not despair. So far his offer of rides into town had been signs that pointed in the right direction.

  “Okay, clean enough,” Milton announced. He surveyed the stand as if to check on himself.

  Having tidied the sta
nd, Lydia hopped up onto the wagon seat, and Milton followed her. “Getup!” he hollered to the team.

  Lydia clung to Milton’s arm as they bounced down the dirt lane. “I hope we have a smoother ride tonight,” Lydia said.

  Milton chuckled. “I guess we could take the wagon into town and make a hayride out of the evening.”

  “Really?” Lydia exclaimed. “Did you just think of that?”

  Milton winked. “I’m quick on my feet, you know.”

  “And full of yourself.” Lydia nestled against him on the smooth stretch past the house. If Uncle Henry or others of the family saw her, she wouldn’t care. She may as well let the whole world know that she loved Milton.

  “Whoa there!” Milton brought the wagon to an expert stop by the barn door. “Let’s take your Uncle Henry’s children along for the hayride. We can stop in at several of the Amish families’ places along this road, and we’ll have the wagon filled with children in no time.” Milton grinned as he hopped down from the wagon. “Would you like that?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “You know I would,” she said, climbing down slowly to unload the boxes. They unhitched the team of horses when they finished, and Milton took them inside for water and feed.

  “I’ll leave their harnesses on,” Milton said when he returned moments later. “They’ll make the perfect team for our hayride tonight.”

  “I can’t wait,” Lydia said, smiling up at him. “You know, you can be really sweet when you want to be.”

  Milton glowed. “Now that’s a compliment coming from you. I’ll store that up for many pleasant memories in the cold days ahead this winter.”

  “Stop teasing,” Lydia chided. “You know I like you.”