by Marta Perry
How could he say those things to her? She was still so set on pleasing Paul, and he wouldn’t get into line for her love. But—
A reflection of sunlight caught his eye, and he realized he was staring at the bell. She had rung the bell, probably for the first time since Paul’s death. She had rung it to call him. That had to mean something.
He held her two hands between both of his and looked into her eyes. “Something’s changed with you, Rebecca. Since the last time we talked—”
“Since we argued, you mean.” Tears shone in her eyes. “I was so angry, but what you said made me think.” She shook her head, as if to chase the tears away. “Yes, something did happen while you were gone, something that forced me to make a choice. And I realized that I wanted to go ahead with the business, but not because it was Paul’s dream. Because it is mine, and the children’s, and Barbie’s.”
He let that settle into his thoughts. He was glad for her sake that she knew now what she wanted to do and why. But did it also mean she was ready for something more?
“I finally saw something else that’s even more important.” She went on as if she’d read his thoughts. “I haven’t been at peace with Paul’s memory.” She stopped abruptly, as if she didn’t know whether she should confide in him.
“What, Rebecca?” He tried to keep the urgency from his voice. This wasn’t about him—it was about Rebecca and her feelings.
She nodded slightly, as if making up her mind. “I’ve been angry—angry because all his dreams left me and the children in such a difficult place when he died. And I never even realized it.” She shook her head, a smile trembling on her lips. “But I know now. I forgive him. Now I can cherish the memory of what we had together without pain or regret. I’m ready to move into the future.”
A surge of confidence flooded through him. Matt lifted her hands and held them close against his heart. “With me?” he asked.
Rebecca’s smile blossomed. She reached up to touch his face with her fingertips. “With you,” she said.
People would see. He didn’t care. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, pouring all his love, all his wholeness, into that kiss. The past was gone, for both of them. But they would have a wonderful future, with the Lord’s help.
Joshua’s high voice penetrated the haze in which they stood, lips pressed together. “Look! Matt is kissing Mammi!”
“And Mammi is kissing him back.” Barbie sounded as if she was laughing.
“I think they should get married,” Katie said. “Don’t you?”
“I’m certain-sure they will,” Barbie said.
Matt felt Rebecca’s lips tremble with barely suppressed laughter. He released her gently, reluctantly. And together they turned and held out their arms to the children.
Lancaster County, November 1945
Anna sat once more at the desk in her bedroom, alternately staring out the window at the dusk and trying to write. Maybe it was time she gave up keeping a diary. She didn’t seem to have much time for it these days. She was too busy helping Daad and the boys run the farm and taking over Mamm’s job of teaching her little sisters what they needed to know to be good wives and mothers.
Poor Mammi. She just didn’t seem to have the heart for much of anything these days. Sometimes Anna thought she felt the same way.
Other Amish boys had come home at last from the camps. Their families had welcomed them, glad to let the bad years slip into the past. They had been absorbed back into the fabric of Amish life as if they’d never been gone.
But she had heard nothing from Jacob. Was that how it would end between them, with no final words of release, just a slow fading away of all their hopes and dreams?
A chilly breeze filtered through the open window she’d left open an inch or so. She should close it, get ready for bed. But she couldn’t seem to find the energy to move. Instead, she just stared out, longing for something and not even sure anymore what it was.
It came faintly at first, carried on the breeze so soft she might have imagined it—the bobwhite call. Anna froze, hands pressed against the desktop, eyes straining to see through the shadows. Her imagination, she must have been dreaming it. . . .
And then it came again, and a shadow moved under the tree outside her window. Her breath caught in her throat. It was not a dream.
She shoved the chair back so hard it fell over, and then she was running, running down the stairs, through the kitchen, past the astonished gazes of her family, out the back door, around the house. Heart pounding, unable to breathe, she hesitated. Where . . .
Jacob stepped out of the shadow, taller and broader than she remembered, but otherwise the same Jacob—black pants, white shirt crossed by suspenders, straw hat set squarely on his head.
For an instant they just stood, looking. Then he held out his arms. Anna flung herself into them and they held each other, half laughing, half crying, as Jacob pressed kisses on her face.
At last Jacob drew back a few inches, still holding her, but as if he wanted to see her face. “My Anna,” he murmured. “It’s been so long.”
“When did you get back?” Her words came so fast they tumbled over one another. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Have you seen your family yet?”
He chuckled, putting a finger against her lips. “Ja, I’ve seen my family. I got there at suppertime. They were so shocked I thought for a minute my mamm would faint.”
She pinched his arm to make sure he was real. “You should have told them. You should have told me.”
“I didn’t know, honest, Anna.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling with laughter. “They just told us all of a sudden that we could go, and I rushed to catch a train. Never got out at all until we got to Harrisburg, and then I hitched the rest of the way.”
The more he spoke, the more real he became. The same Jacob, only a little more . . . well, sure of himself, she guessed. More mature after four years of life in the camps.
“You’re here.” It was silly, to keep thinking the same thing. She looked at him, cherishing the line of his strong face, the crinkle in his eyes, the lips that had touched hers.
Reality kicked in. He was here. But— “Are you home to stay?”
Jacob didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. He led her to the bench under the willow tree where they’d sat so often. Once they’d sat down, he clasped both her hands in his.
“You guessed. You always did know me better than anyone else did. I have to be truthful and say that I wondered. I thought maybe my life was going in a different direction. All that time away, working with the Englisch—well, I suppose it changed my way of thinking.”
This was it, then. Anna tried to steel herself. He was going to tell her he wasn’t back to stay. Maybe he was going to ask her to leave with him. Her heart grew bleak. She couldn’t. With Seth gone, she couldn’t possibly hurt her family that way.
She moved, trying to stand, but his hands held her still. “Don’t, Jacob. If you’re here to say you’re going . . .”
“Listen, Anna. Listen.” He leaned closer, so close she could feel his breath on her face. “Maybe I thought that way. But then they told us we were free to leave, and you know what happened? It swept over me like a . . . like one of those wildfires, consuming everything in its path. I wanted to come home. I wanted to come back to you, to marry you, to buy the farm we always talked about, to start a family.” He made a gesture with his hand, as if he were throwing something away. “Those other ideas were just daydreams. This is real. I love you. I don’t want anything more than our life together.” He hesitated. “But maybe I should ask. After all this time, do you still feel the same?”
Tears spilled over onto her cheeks, and she was laughing and crying at the same time. “Ach, Jacob, how can you even ask? It’s always been you. Always.”
As if he couldn’t wait another instant, Jacob pulled her close. Her arms
went around him, she lifted her face for his kiss, and her heart danced.
It was over. The long war was over, and Jacob had come home.
EPILOGUE
Rebecca made her way through the chattering after-worship crowd. She had been extra busy since worship was at Mamm and Daad’s place today, but now that lunch was nearly over, she could relax a little.
Fall was in the air, with apples ripe on the trees and pumpkins getting fat in the gardens. They had already entertained their last guests of the season at the farm-stay, and now she could focus on something more important.
She and Matthew had been together for only a brief moment since their upcoming wedding had been announced in worship that morning.
Matthew had been cornered by a bunch of men, mostly those his own age, although she noticed some younger ones, including Isaiah and Simon, among them. They were determined to give Matthew a hard time about settling down to marriage at long last.
She wasn’t worried. Matthew could handle it.
Grossmammi sat in a rocking chair placed on the grass behind Mamm and Daadi’s house, looking very much at home there. A cluster of young ones sat on the ground around her, and Rebecca didn’t need to go any closer to know what Grossmammi was doing.
“She’s telling the family stories to a new generation.” Judith paused next to her, smiling as she looked at their grandmother. “It makes her happy.”
“It makes them happy, as well,” Rebecca said, wondering at the shadow that seemed to cloud her cousin’s eyes as she looked at the children. “It’s gut for them to know about those who have komm before.”
“I suppose. But sometimes I think . . .”
Whatever Judith thought, Rebecca wasn’t destined to hear it now. Barbie burst upon them with her usual impetuousness, putting an arm around each of them.
“Here we are, together again. And now that Grossmammi’s house has sold, we never have to sort family mementoes again.”
“Ach, you know it wasn’t that bad.” Rebecca could smile at her words, knowing the warm heart that lay behind Barbie’s sometimes careless words. “I liked working with the two of you, even though . . .” An unanswered question dampened her mood.
“What?” Barbie poked her in the side. “You can’t leave us hanging that way. What did we do wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing,” she protested, laughing. “I was just thinking about the diaries I brought back from Grossmammi’s. You remember. I told you about them.”
Judith nodded. Barbie looked puzzled for a moment, and then she seemed to recall. “You mean the girl who wrote about what it was like during the Second World War. What is there to worry you about it?”
“Not worry, exactly.” Rebecca was far too busy with her own life for worrying about something that had happened so long ago. “But the diaries ended very suddenly. I thought there might be another one in the chest, but I couldn’t find it. So I never knew how Anna’s story ended, except that the boy she loved came home from the CO camp at last.” She shrugged. “It’s silly, maybe, but I’d like to know life worked out well for her after all she went through.”
“Ask Grossmammi,” Judith said with her usual practicality. “If anyone knows, it’s Grossmammi. Look, the kinder are finished hearing their story for the moment. Ask her now.”
Rebecca nodded. She should have done it before this, but she’d had little time for old, far-off things. She’d been too busy living for looking back, and maybe that was a good thing. Still, she’d like to know.
“Are you telling stories, Grossmammi?” She sank down on the low stool next to her grandmother’s chair that one of the children had brought out of the house.
“Always.” Grossmammi patted her cheek. “You’d best learn them all, so you can tell them in your turn. You are looking very pretty today, Rebecca. Happiness brings out the best in people.”
“I am certain-sure happy.” Her cheeks were probably glowing with it. “There was something I wanted to ask you. About the diaries and Anna Esch.”
“You learned something from Anna’s story, I think,” Grossmammi said, with that air of always knowing more than folks told her.
“Maybe I did,” she said, thinking about it. “Anna let trouble make her grow. Make her stronger. That was what I had to do, ain’t so?”
“And you did,” Grossmammi said, her face crinkling into a thousand lines of love and experience when she smiled.
“But I don’t know the end of Anna’s story. I know her love did come home after the war, but I don’t know if he stayed, or if they married, or anything else.”
Grossmammi studied her face for a moment. Then she nodded, as if feeling satisfied. She gestured toward the basket that sat beside her on the grass. “Here is the family Bible. I brought it out to show the kinder something. Lift it up here.”
Rebecca picked up the heavy Bible that Grossmammi so cherished and placed it on her grandmother’s lap, supporting it with her hands.
Grossmammi opened the cover and turned to the family charts that had tracked family members since they had first come to America in the 1700s. She ran her finger down a page and then stopped.
“There. Look at it.”
Rebecca turned the Bible slightly so that she could read the faded ink of the entry. “Anna Esch,” she read aloud. “Born 1923. Married Jacob Lapp, March 1946. Died December 1998.”
Sorrow swept over her for the passing of a woman she’d never met yet seemed to know so well. A relative, who’d married into the Lapp family just as Grossmammi had.
“Look below their names.” Her grandmother pointed.
“Eight children.” Rebecca slid her finger along the list of names. Most of them showed marriages, more children, more marriages.
“You said you wanted to know the end of Anna’s story.” Grossmammi’s voice was gentle. “But no one’s story ever really ends. They are all here, a part of the family line, just as you and Paul and your children are. And as Matthew and the kinder you’ll have with him will be. The family story doesn’t end, Rebecca.”
Grossmammi put both her palms on the pages, and her gaze seemed fixed on something Rebecca couldn’t see. “Faith. Humility. Peace. Forgiveness. This is the true heritage we leave for those who come after us.”
Rebecca put her hands over her grandmother’s, seeming to feel all those stories flowing through her. Grossmammi was right. Her gaze sought out Matthew’s tall figure. Her story with Matthew was just beginning, but it was part of a bigger story that would go on and on, God willing.
RECIPES
Creamed Celery
Creamed celery is a traditional Amish wedding dish, served as a side with roast turkey. There are a number of different ways of fixing it, but here is my favorite.
4 tablespoons butter or margarine (not a softened blend)
4 cups celery, about 2 bunches, trimmed and cut in ½-inch slices
4 green onions, sliced
3 tablespoons flour
1 cup chicken broth
½ cup half-and-half or whole milk
salt and pepper, to taste
Melt the butter in a pan over medium-low heat. Add the vegetables and sauté lightly for about 5 minutes until celery is tender but still slightly crisp. Sprinkle the flour over the celery and onions, stirring until smooth and well blended. Slowly add the chicken broth, stirring constantly, and cook until the mixture begins to bubble and thicken. Stir in the half-and-half or milk. Add salt and pepper to taste and pour into a serving bowl. Serves 6.
Molded Cucumber Salad
A cool taste for a summer picnic!
1 3-ounce package lime gelatin
¾ cup boiling water
1 cup cottage cheese
2 tablespoons grated onion
¾ cup peeled, grated cucumber
dash of salt
1 cup mayonnaise
In a l
arge bowl, dissolve the gelatin in the boiling water. Stir in the remaining ingredients and blend well. Pour into an 8 x 8–inch glass pan. Refrigerate for several hours until firm. Serves 6 to 8.
Baked Lima Beans
This recipe for baby lima beans is a delicious sweet-and-sour twist on traditional baked beans.
1 pound dry baby lima beans
1½ sticks butter or margarine
¾ cup brown sugar
½ teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon molasses
1 cup sour cream
Wash the beans, cover with water, and soak overnight. Drain the soaking water, cover with fresh water, and cook at a low simmer until tender, about 1 to 2 hours. Drain the beans. Add the other ingredients, stirring gently until blended, and pour into a greased 2-quart baking dish. Bake for 1 hour in a 350ºF oven. Serves 12.
Dear Reader,
The Forgiven is the first book in my new Amish series, Keepers of the Promise. Three cousins are drawn by their grandmother into helping preserve the story of their Amish family in America. Each book will combine a story from the present with one from an important point in the past of the Amish community.
I became fascinated with the impact of World War II on the Plain community in America, and the more I learned, the more I was captured. Their story presents a powerful dilemma: How can a person be both a good citizen and a pacifist during a time of war? I hope you’ll find much to think about in the story of Anna and Jacob’s response.
I would love to hear your thoughts on my book. If you’d care to write to me, I’d be happy to reply with a signed bookmark or bookplate and my brochure of Pennsylvania Dutch recipes. You can find me on the Web at martaperry.com and on Facebook at facebook.com/MartaPerryBooks, e-mail me at [email protected], or write to me in care of Berkley Publicity Department, Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014.
