The Forgiven

by Marta Perry

  With a nod of thanks, Matt turned and started up the driveway of the small ranch-style house. He thought he knew why Joe enjoyed driving the Amish so much. Joe liked to talk.

  Maybe he didn’t have anyone else in his life who wanted to listen to his stories. Joe had enlivened the long drive from central Pennsylvania with a steady stream of tales that stretched back over the past fifty or sixty years, none of which required much comment. It had given Matt plenty of time to think his own thoughts, not that he’d enjoyed them very much.

  Their first few stops hadn’t yielded much information. Either no one knew or admitted that they knew Isaiah. After a few negative reactions from the people he’d spoken to, Matt had changed his approach. When he’d entered a country store mentioned in a post on the website Isaiah had visited, he’d started by merely mentioning where he’d seen the name of the store.

  The elderly proprietor had given him the once-over, assessed his clothes, and told him he must want to see Fred Zimmer. At Matt’s nod, he’d provided directions. It had been as simple as that. Clearly the man had assumed Matt was a fence-jumper looking for help.

  Well, Matt would do whatever it took. He considered the house as he approached. Small, modern, unpretentious. The front door opened directly onto a small stoop, and the drapes of the windows on either side of the door were closed. He hoped Fred Zimmer, whoever he might be, was at home.

  Repeated knocking failed to bring a response. Matt dropped his fist, frowning at the door in frustration. If he’d come to a dead end already—

  From somewhere around the rear of the house came the sound of a hammer. Matt stepped down from the stoop and strode toward the noise. He rounded the house, moving quickly.

  A man stood at the back door, apparently trying to simultaneously hold it in place and repair a hinge. As Matt approached, the door slipped, earning a muttered oath.

  “Looks like you need an extra pair of hands.” Matt helped the man lift the door back into position.

  His action got him a startled look followed by a grin.

  “You got that right.” Zimmer, if this was he, hastily set the screw with a few taps of the hammer and then screwed it into place. “One more, and she’ll hold, I think.” He suited the action to the words, and in another minute or two the door was secure.

  “That’ll do it.” He dusted off his hands and turned to Matt with a friendly smile. Fortyish, maybe, with a broad, ruddy face under the baseball cap he wore. “I’m Fred Zimmer. Might you be looking for me?”

  Like the proprietor of the store, he’d made a quick assessment of Matt’s clothes and come up with his own answer.

  “I guess I might be, if you’re the Fred Zimmer who runs a certain website.”

  Zimmer tossed his tools into the bright red toolbox at his feet and straightened, taking another long look at Matt. Something Zimmer saw brought a frown to his face. Matt hoped his attitude wasn’t too obvious.

  “You’re not the usual fence-jumper looking for a hand into the outside world,” Zimmer observed, his sharp eyes narrowing a bit. “You’re too old, for one thing.”

  Matt shrugged. At least the assumption had gotten him this far. “Most of the people who come to you are in their late teens or early twenties, I’d guess.”

  “You’d be right.” Zimmer moved a few steps away from the door. He leaned back against a redwood picnic table and crossed his arms over a beefy chest. “So what’s your story? You’re not the average Amishman, either.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  Matt didn’t mind sparring with the guy, not if it gave him some notion of how his mind worked. If Zimmer knew where Isaiah was, Matt suspected he wasn’t the kind to blab it easily to the first person who asked him.

  “It’s unusual to see an Amish male your age unmarried.” Zimmer gestured to his chin. “No beard. And you talk like someone who’s spent a good bit of time among the Englisch.”

  Matt wasn’t sure he liked being read so easily. “Several years among the Englisch, in fact. It convinced me I was born to be Amish.”

  That was true, wasn’t it? He couldn’t let doubts assail him, not at this particular moment.

  Zimmer nodded. “It happens. Not everybody who jumps the fence stays out.”

  “Does that disappoint you?” Matt couldn’t help a certain amount of tartness in his voice.

  “Disappoint? No. If somebody comes to me for help adjusting, I help them. I point out that doubts are natural. But if a person really wants to go back—” He shrugged. “I can’t stop them.”

  Matt looked at him, his drive to get answers about Isaiah momentarily diverted by curiosity. “What led you to do this kind of work? Is that what it is—a job?”

  Zimmer grinned. “Not one I get paid for, that’s for sure. Mostly it takes money out of my pocket.” He paused, studying Matt’s face, and then shrugged. “I grew up Amish. When it came to me that I just didn’t want to live that way anymore, I took off. And then I found out just how hard it is to make it in the outside world with no friends, no family, and an eighth-grade education that doesn’t prepare a person for much of anything.”

  “It prepares you to live Amish.” That was really the only possible response. “If you want to learn something more, you can do it on your own.”

  “That’s not so easy for a lot of young guys.”

  “Maybe not, but it works.” Matt took a deep breath, trying to focus. “I’m not here to argue with you.”

  “You’re not here to argue, and you’re not here for help in adjusting to the Englisch world. So why are you here?”

  It was time to come out with it. “I’m looking for my cousin, Isaiah Byler. Do you know him?”

  Zimmer paused, considering. “I might. What do you want with him?”

  Matt’s jaw tightened, and he had to unclench his fists deliberately. “That’s family business.”

  “If you want my help, it better be my business, too,” Zimmer said promptly.

  Matt fought back his temper. He wouldn’t gain anything by letting it rip, no matter how he felt.

  “Isaiah’s mother isn’t doing very well. He needs to know what’s going on with her, so he can decide what to do about it. I’m here to tell him.”

  “You mean you’re here to put a guilt trip on him about going home.”

  “Sometimes it’s right to feel guilty.” That was a subject he’d had plenty of experience with. “Isaiah’s family hasn’t heard a word from him since he went away. Not even a line or two to say he’s safe.”

  Zimmer’s face hardened. “He might think it was safer not to let them know where he is. Maybe he didn’t want any visitors like you. That’s his right.”

  “It’s not your right to keep him from knowing about his mother.” Matt took another deep breath and counted to ten. “Look, I can’t force him to go home. I know that. I just want to see him. If he won’t write to his folks, he won’t, but at least I can tell my aunt I’ve seen him and he’s all right.”

  Zimmer studied him for a long moment, and Matt couldn’t tell what was going on behind that guarded expression. Finally Zimmer shrugged. “I’ll talk to Isaiah. Come back in the morning, and I’ll let you know.”

  If Zimmer thought he’d be content with a secondhand message from Isaiah, he’d better think again. Still, there was no harm in trying it his way first.

  Matt gave a curt nod. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

  He’d turned away when Zimmer spoke again.

  “Are you sure you’re not looking for help yourself? Seems to me the fact that you’re not married means you have some doubts.”

  Matt shook his head and kept walking. The man was just trying to needle him, he supposed. He couldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing that his words had an impact.

  Maybe he did have a few doubts, but he didn’t need Zimmer to tell him so. Anyway, his issues had
little to do with being Amish.

  He’d lost Rebecca before he’d even admitted how important she was to him.

  So, was his determination to bring Isaiah home for his aunt and uncle’s sake? Or because it would free him to leave behind the wreckage of what he might have had with Rebecca?

  The truth was, he didn’t know.

  Lancaster County, Spring 1944

  Another spring planting season had come—another time of struggling to do more with less. Anna knelt in the vegetable garden, setting out the small pepper plants she’d been nurturing on the windowsill. The family would be all right for food as long as the earth continued to bring forth its fruit in its season, no matter what else happened.

  Did Jacob miss the spring planting, now that he was out west fighting fires? His last letter hadn’t sounded as if he missed anything. He’d sounded so caught up in what he was doing, seeming to delight in the challenge of something new. It was hard to reconcile the writer of that letter with someone who would come back to Lancaster County, slip into his old place, and be content with his old life.

  Eli finished helping Daad unload the wagon after their trip to the feed mill. They exchanged a word or two, and then Eli came striding across the yard toward her. He walked with a sureness that he hadn’t had even six months ago, as if he’d finally adjusted to the way his body was sprouting up.

  She sat back on her heels and watched him, smiling. He was going to be taller than Daad if he kept on growing so fast.

  “Need some help?” He squatted next to her.

  Anna raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. “You’re volunteering? You sure you didn’t get too much sun on the ride back from town?”

  He grinned. “I can help my favorite sister sometimes, ain’t so?”

  “Ach, I’m only your favorite when you want something. What is it this time? An extra dessert?”

  Still smiling, he firmed the soil around a pepper plant and reached for the next one. “I’m still growing, remember?”

  “You’ll start growing a belly if you don’t watch out.”

  This was the way she used to be with Seth, Anna realized, a pang touching her heart. She and Seth were so close in age they had been almost like twins.

  Funny how the family had paired off—her and Seth, the two younger girls, the two younger boys. But now Eli was old enough to be more of a friend to her. It moved her to gratitude even as it made her miss Seth all the more.

  “What was new in town?” she asked, suspecting he was only too eager to tell her everything he’d heard at the feed mill, that center for male gossip.

  He paused, his face kindling with excitement. “If only you could have heard them, Anna. Everyone was talking about all the American victories in the war, especially in the Pacific. Folks are sure the war will be over soon.”

  “They’ve been saying that since 1941, ain’t so?” She concentrated on setting out another plant. “They haven’t been right yet.”

  “It’s different this time. Honest it is. Why, even old Mr. Drumheller says so, and you know he never has anything hopeful to say.”

  Her heart softened when she glanced at him. “Maybe this time they’re right. I’ll pray it’s true.”

  Eli crumbled a clump of earth in his hand. “I wish I were a man already. Then I could do something to help make the war end.”

  “Don’t be foolish.” Anna couldn’t prevent the edge in her voice. “What would you do? Run off like Seth and break Mamm’s heart again?”

  He flushed. “I didn’t mean that, honest.”

  She couldn’t look at his earnest young face and be angry with him. “I know. It’s all right.”

  “You’re missing Jacob. But think of it, Anna. If the war ends, they’ll let Jacob come home, too, ain’t so?”

  “I don’t know.” It was like a splinter in her heart. “There’s been nothing said about when they’ll let the CO people go. And when they do . . . well, who’s to say Jacob will want to come back to Lancaster County after everywhere he’s been?” Her throat tightened with the pain.

  “Anna!” His face expressed shock. “You don’t mean it. Jacob will come back. You’ll be married, just like you always planned. Won’t you?”

  It wasn’t right to share her worries with Eli, so she nodded. “Of course, you’re right. I was just thinking Jacob might find it dull around here after being out west fighting fires. That keeps him busy.”

  Too busy to write to her, it seemed.

  “It will be all right. You’ll see.” Eli patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Jacob loves you. And Seth will come home, too. He can go before the church and ask forgiveness, and then he’ll be baptized and find somebody to marry and it will all be the way it should have been all along.”

  Eli wanted the rosy picture he’d painted so much. She only wished she could believe in it, too.

  “Look, here comes Mammi to ring the bell for supper,” she said, trying to distract him. “I have to hurry and get these last two plants in. I’ll water them after supper.”

  “I can do it.”

  Moving quickly, they set out the rest of the pepper plants just as Mammi rang the bell on the back porch. In a moment Daadi was heading in from the barn, Peter running ahead of him.

  There was the usual scramble of washing up at the pump, and finally they were all around the table, with Mammi and the two girls setting out the food. Meatless tonight, Anna saw. That was happening more often these days, but nobody would complain. Everyone had to make do with less, especially with so many things rationed.

  Daadi had no sooner bowed his head than they heard the rattle of a car coming down the lane to the house. His head jerked up again, and he looked toward the window.

  Anna followed the direction of his gaze. The Mitchell’s Grocery truck moved past the window and stopped at the porch, with old Mr. Mitchell himself driving.

  They hadn’t ordered anything from the store, had they? And besides, if it were a delivery, usually the youngest Armstrong boy would be driving.

  But the grocery store was also the telegraph office, and everyone knew that if it was a telegram, Mr. Mitchell would come himself.

  A cold hand gripped Anna’s heart. She saw everyone around the table frozen in place, and she had a wild desire to stop this moment so that time couldn’t move forward, so that Mr. Mitchell wouldn’t climb the steps and walk to the door.

  But she couldn’t. The knock sounded. Anna glanced at Daad, and he nodded. Numb, she managed to force her feet to carry her there, and then force her hands to open the door.

  Mr. Mitchell stood on the porch, facing her. Tears stood in his faded blue eyes. He held the envelope out to her with a hand that trembled, and she knew that he’d had to do this too many times to be borne.

  “I’m sorry, Anna,” he murmured. “So sorry.” Moving as if he’d aged thirty years in the last three, he headed toward his car.

  Anna turned, holding the thin envelope with her fingertips. She held it out to Daad.

  He gave a quick, negative movement of his head. “Read it.” He rasped out the words.

  Mamm’s hand was over her mouth. The younger ones’ faces were white, their eyes wide.

  Anna ripped open the envelope and fought to find her voice. Don’t think. Just read.

  “The Department of the Army deeply regrets to inform you that your son Seth Daniel Esch Private First Class U.S. Army was killed in action in the performance of his duty and in the service of his country.” Her voice wavered, but Anna pushed the words out, knowing she had to keep going before she couldn’t speak at all. “The department extends to you its sincerest sympathy in your great loss. On account of existing conditions the body if recovered cannot be returned at present.”

  Her voice choked entirely. She clamped her lips together, and the tears spilled over onto her cheeks.

  Mamm let out a wordless wail, and
Daadi gathered her in his arms, holding her tightly. The younger ones burst into frightened tears. Anna gathered the girls against her, trying to find some words of comfort to murmur. On the other side of the table, Eli had put his arm around Peter and was patting him. Their eyes met over the heads of their younger siblings.

  Eli’s longing to be a man flitted incongruously through her mind. She must remember to tell him. He was one already.

  As for her . . . she must stop being a girl, longing for a safe and simple future that was never going to be. Seth was gone permanently now. There would be no homecoming for him, and her heart felt as if it had turned to stone.

  A wordless cry formed on her lips. How could the trees outside the window still put forth their blossoms? How could the sun still shine? All creation should join in the endless wave of sorrow that enveloped so much of the earth. All over the world there must surely be families like hers, torn to pieces by the endless tragedy of this war.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Rebecca stood at the counter, the steaming kettle forgotten in her hand, and stared out the window toward Matt’s workshop. Strange, how quickly she’d gone from thinking of it as Paul’s dream to Matt’s reality. But now . . .

  Now Matt was gone. Two days had passed, and she’d heard nothing from him. She could hardly ask his family if they knew where he was. She had no excuse, no standing where Matt was concerned. What if he wasn’t coming back at all?

  Nonsense. He’d hardly leave all his things in the workshop if he didn’t intend to return. He’d have to do something about his business.

  “Rebecca, are you making tea or not?” Grossmammi’s voice recalled Rebecca to what she was doing.

  “Sorry.” She forced herself to smile and poured the hot water into two mugs. “I was just . . . thinking.” She turned back to the table. “I’m sehr glad you felt strong enough to walk clear over here today.”

  Grossmammi stirred sugar into her tea, the spoon clinking. A homely sound, reminding Rebecca of the hundreds of times she’d had tea with Grossmammi, starting when her feet didn’t even reach the floor from her chair and her “tea” had been mostly warm milk with a drop or two of tea added.