The Missing

by Beverly Lewis

  “My . . . what?” she sputtered.

  In that moment, Dad’s eyes registered the gravity of the years. Everything around them slowed to a stop—even the breeze seemed to die down. “Your birth mother was a young Amish girl, Heather.”

  “You can’t be serious.” She locked eyes with him. “Did you say Amish?”

  “That’s a gut thing, jah?” He offered a smile.

  “You have to be joking.”

  “Well, when we first heard about you from friends of ours in Ohio, your mom said it was the sweetest thing.”

  Sweet?

  “And when we flew out to see you, we fell instantly in love with the most beautiful baby girl we’d ever seen.”

  She tried to wrap her mind around his words.

  “We had to make you ours.” He explained that although they were approved for an in-state adoption with a local Richmond agency, the two of them had started to feel discouraged . . . nearly given up hope. “We’d waited so long. Your mom had begun to pray every day.”

  Heather had heard most of the rest of this story before, but never about the prayers. “Really, Mom prayed?”

  “Let’s just say she made frequent appeals to God.”

  “Wow, I didn’t know.”

  Dad looked proud suddenly, like the rooster that owned Andy Riehl’s barnyard.

  “Why didn’t you tell me before? Why didn’t Mom?”

  “It didn’t seem important until now.” He slipped his arm around her as they walked. “From the moment we brought you home, you felt so much a part of our lives. Frankly, it was difficult to think of you as coming from anyone else apart from your mother and me. We truly adored you. Still do.”

  She leaned against his arm. “Oh, Dad . . .”

  “I’m telling you now only because it clarifies why I want to settle here. Ohio would have been truer to your roots, but since Lancaster County’s closer, this is where we liked to visit—the place where our family really connected with one another.”

  She swallowed hard. “You know, it doesn’t make any difference to me who my birth parents were. It was so great growing up as your little girl . . . yours and Mom’s.”

  “And a thoroughly modern girl, no less.”

  With Amish blood coursing through my veins . . .

  They’d reached the middle of the plot. Sunshine spread across the cornfields and grazing land beyond. “I want you to have this land and the house we’re building someday.”

  “Not for a long, long time, though, right?”

  He sighed, reaching for her hand. “You’re going to beat this disease, right, honey?”

  “Sure, Dad.” Heather smiled up at him, tears falling down her cheeks. “That’s the plan.”

  By the time they walked back to the Riehls’, Heather’s dad was starting to make noises about getting on the road. She kissed and hugged him in response to his wholehearted promise to return early next week. Watching his car creep down the lane, Heather was still surprised at her parents’ long-held secret. All the same, knowing it changed absolutely nothing about her feelings for either of them.

  She noticed Becky and her mother tossing feed to the chickens across the barnyard . . . and Becky’s barefooted sisters squealing with glee as they played at the well pump. She was seeing them in an astonishing new light. Heather glanced down at her attire, mentally comparing her sleeveless blouse and faded jeans to the Amish cape dresses. The way I might’ve been raised . . .

  She wandered around to the front of the Riehls’ roomy old house and sat on the porch steps. Looking to the south, she watched the littlest lambs ba-a-a and bleat as they followed their mothers on the other side of the fence. And not far from where she sat, four young finches chirped happily in a birdbath.

  “Unbelievable,” Heather whispered, leaning her chin on her hands. She reveled in the spread of the immense front yard before her and the flat, fertile fields on either side, gazing in all directions.

  No wonder I’m so at home here. . . .

  chapter

  twenty - nine

  Grace hurried inside and pulled down Mamma’s biggest kettle. Spaghetti sounded so good for supper! While she worked, it crossed her mind that she should cook ahead a couple days’ worth of meals for the family. If Dat allows me to leave tomorrow.

  Goodness, she could scarcely believe Heather had offered to drive her all that way. She filled the kettle with water, thinking how much easier it might be to simply write her father a note of explanation. Just sneak away after dark like Mamma did.

  She carried the kettle to the stove and turned on the gas, knowing she couldn’t bear to hurt her father that way, nor the rest of her family. She went to the pantry and found the packages of noodles she’d purchased at Eli’s and resolved to talk to Dat immediately. She must be respectful and ask for his consent, praying his answer might reflect the Lord’s own will in this.

  Judah heard Grace’s footsteps on the driveway. He’d come to check on Willow after eating too much again at supper. Grace had surprised him when she’d leaned over to whisper in his ear as she put dessert on the table, asking if she might talk to him. Now what was on her mind?

  He patted Willow’s neck and back, feeling the strength of the mare’s muscles. The last thing he wanted was another rift with his eldest daughter. He almost wished it was Jakob asking to speak with him tonight. Far as he was concerned, the conversation they’d had was less than satisfying. Nothing had been accomplished—Jakob had thrown the wrench back at him.

  When will I ever see Lettie again? Judah wondered.

  Grace arrived carrying a lit lantern, even though twilight was at least another hour away. He braced himself as she appeared and stood there before him.

  “Ach, Dat . . . I have such gut news! I would’ve told you—and everyone—at supper. But the timing didn’t seem quite right.”

  What the world was she babbling about?

  “So I waited to tell you privately . . . first.”

  He took the lantern from her and set it down, away from Willow’s bedding straw. “What’s on your mind?”

  “It’s Mamma.” Her voice wavered. “I know where she is.”

  His breath caught in his throat. “How’s that?”

  “Yonnie told me today.”

  Judah was stunned. He hadn’t expected this.

  “Yonnie heard it from a reliable source. And I’d like to go and visit her, Dat.”

  “Where?”

  “She’s staying with a friend in Baltic, Ohio.”

  He rubbed his face, heart pounding. “You know this for certain?”

  “The Fisher girls saw her this very morning at a work frolic.”

  “In Baltic?” He’d been waiting . . . hoping for such news all along. And yet, hearing it now, Judah felt bewildered, like he didn’t know what to do first.

  “Can I go, Dat? Heather Nelson, the young woman staying with Andy and Marian, asked if she could drive me. And since I know where Mamma is staying—I’ve got the woman’s name written down—we won’t be gone but two days.” Grace continued, reminding him that she’d met his earlier conditions. Sure, lambing season wasn’t quite over, but she wasn’t asking to take Adam or anyone else away from helping with the sheep. It was as if she’d rehearsed every word, at least in her mind.

  The first thing that popped into his head was to put his foot down—simply refuse her again. But it was hard to overlook the fact this just might be a second chance for him. And wasn’t it a good idea to let Grace decide some things for herself, now she was twenty-one? All grown-up . . . nearly past courting age, too. Judah wanted her to know she could come to him and talk things through—like the adult she’d become. She’s always been such a steady and faithful daughter. . . .

  “When would you want to go?” He looked at her standing there in the shadows, oh, so hopeful.

  “As soon as possible, I’m thinkin’.”

  “Well, then, so be it.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, and she touched his arm. “Dat
. . . do ya mean it?”

  “Go and visit your Mamma,” he eked out the words.

  “Maybe she’ll want to come home at last.”

  “Oh, I hope so.” She glanced at the lantern, then at Willow.

  “Denki ever so much. You don’t know how happy I am.”

  “By the look on your face, I’d have to say that I do.”

  Grace smiled and turned to leave, her skirt swishing past the glowing lantern.

  Judah watched her go with a twinge of sadness. Yet as protective as he’d always been of his girls, something felt different now. Standing taller, he sauntered out to look in on the newest lambs, feeling mighty proud of himself . . . in a humble sort of way.

  Adah had seen Grace hurry to the barn with the lantern and wondered what she was up to. Surely there was something, for she’d noticed Grace glancing over at her father every few minutes all during supper. Living with folk in such close proximity, she had no trouble noticing this kind of hesitancy, if not apprehension, coming from her granddaughter.

  What can it mean?

  It had been some time since Adah had attended any work-related get-togethers. Most of the womenfolk were busy tending gardens and doing spring housecleaning. Some of the younger wives were helping their husbands rake hay, too. Anyway, she hadn’t heard much of the usual tittle-tattle.

  “Jakob, love.” She looked over at him, sitting in his favorite chair, there in the front room. “You don’t s’pose the Riehls’ boarder and our Gracie are becoming fast friends, do ya?”

  “How would I know?”

  “I saw them walking together today, just a-talkin’ to beat the band.”

  He turned his head slightly. “Is that so.”

  “I sure hope that Englischer doesn’t put a spell on our Gracie.” She frowned.

  “Now, Adah, what on earth?”

  She pulled a hankie from beneath her sleeve and began to fan herself. “It’s just a peculiar feelin’ I have.”

  “Borrowing trouble, I daresay.”

  She looked up and there stood Grace, the biggest smile on her face.

  “Am I ever glad to see you’re both in the same room,” Grace said, looking first at her, then at Jakob.

  “What’s on your mind, child?” Jakob sat up, more alert than before.

  “I know something that’s sure to make you smile.” Grace came into the dim room and sat with them. “Word has it Mamma was seen this morning in a little town south of Sugarcreek, Ohio.” She explained that a friend of hers had heard it from Nancy and Sylvia Fisher. “They saw Mamma with their own eyes.”

  “Well, for pity’s sake!” Jakob said.

  Adah fanned herself even more briskly with the hankie. “Gut news, indeed.”

  Grace began to share all sorts of details, but then, in the midst of that, she startled them by saying she’d gotten her father’s permission to travel there. “I’m leaving tomorrow . . . with Heather Nelson.” Grace motioned toward the north window. “But we’ll be gone and back before ya know it.”

  “Goin’ to fetch your Mamma?” Adah asked.

  “If she’ll agree to come . . .” Grace looked momentarily sad.

  Jakob had fallen silent. And there was nothing more Adah could share, either, that would benefit Grace. Nothing at all. Even though it was wonderful to know where Lettie was, she was in turmoil. Why would Grace want to go with a near stranger? And what had gotten into Judah to say that she could?

  “It won’t be long till we’re all together again,” Grace was saying. “Least I hope so.”

  “We’ll pray that way.” Adah looked at Jakob, wishing for all the world he’d say something.

  “You don’t seem as happy as I thought you’d be.” Grace turned in the chair, folding her arms. “Neither of you.”

  Jakob spoke at last. “No one knows why your Mamma up and left like that, Gracie.” He drew a slow breath. “Seems she just might need to decide when to come home . . . on her own.”

  “You really think so?” Grace asked.

  Jakob tugged on his beard and nodded.

  “We’d hate to see you disappointed,” Adah said.

  “Well, why not look on the bright side? Maybe knowin’ how much we all miss her will encourage Mamma.” Grace rose suddenly, looking as though she might cry. “I best be getting back to Mandy and the boys. Dat will be starting evening prayers pretty soon.”

  “Jah, ’tis that time.” Jakob reached for the Good Book.

  “Pray for us, won’t ya?” Grace said before slipping into the hallway.

  “Ever so hard, dear one,” Adah whispered.

  Sleep would be difficult to come by tonight, Adah knew, thinking now of her favorite psalm. While Jakob thumbed through the Bible to find his place, she recited the verse silently and embraced the truth of the words: Yet the Lord will command his lovingkindness in the daytime, and in the night his song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life.

  Epilogue

  Before dawn the next day, I packed a few things in a small suitcase I borrowed from Mammi Adah. Not wanting to awaken Mandy or Dat, I merely looked in on my sleeping sister and then crept down the stairs, eager to get an early start on the trip, as Heather’d suggested when we discussed it last evening.

  In the kitchen I chose two firm bananas from the bunch and sliced some sweet pumpkin bread made fresh yesterday—a poor substitute for a hot breakfast, but I wasn’t certain if or when we might stop for the noon meal.

  Outside, I waited silently for Heather’s car to appear. Across the meadow to the north, the Riehls’ rooster was crowing. The morning stillness carried the familiar sound like a loudspeaker. And as the rooster heralded the coming dawn, I wondered if it was somehow a good omen—a declaration of happy things to come—even despite the damper my grandparents had thrown on my leaving.

  Heather soon arrived, the blue of her car blending in with the darkness. “I’ll come up the drive without headlights,” she’d said, wanting to be considerate and not cause a rumpus so early.

  We exchanged “hullos,” and I got myself settled in quickly. Then, as we backed up to the road, I found myself staring at the tall outline of Dat’s big house—the place I’d always called home. A lump crowded my throat as I realized we were heading in the same direction Mamma had gone, leaving behind the familiar landscape I loved.

  To think I’d agreed to travel so far with Heather in her fancy car with what Heather called a GPS. Whatever that was! And I mean fancy, with her small, portable telephone guiding our way. She sat in the driver’s seat, surprisingly relaxed, tapping her long fingers on the steering wheel in time to a peppy song. Perhaps it was the music that made her cheerful—the “tunes” on the radio nestled into the dashboard, nearly in front of my nose. The worldliest music I’ve ever heard. She seemed so happy-go-lucky, I wondered if she looked on this trip as a final adventure before her stay at the Wellness Lodge.

  In no time, the highway seemed to open up, with little traffic due to the early hour. I spotted the exit signs for the city of Carlisle, already missing the lush, thick carpet of green meadowland where our white lambs frisked about with their mothers. Where Becky’s father’s herd of cattle grazed—all the cherished sights fading with the miles.

  Goodness, but it seemed like just yesterday I’d planted all the new herbs, replacing those lost to winterkill. Mamma still was at home with us during that garden-planting time. I doubt she would’ve believed I’d be leaving now for Holmes County with an English girl I’d just met. Despite that, it was a blessing how things had fallen into place.

  As we continued onward, the sun gradually peeped over the hills behind us. I could see the golden gleam in the mirror jutting out from my side of the car. No turning around now, even though I could still smell the earthy fragrance of our gardens back home. I’d left both plots well weeded and watered. I had also checked each of the birdfeeders. The black-capped chickadees had certainly moved in again, making themselves at home in our yard. I’d paused to watch three of them fu
ssing over the sunflower seeds Yonnie and I put out. It was sweet the way they held a seed in their black beaks and shook their little heads, their white cheeks twittering with their whistle-like song: fee-bee-ee.

  Does Mamma see different kinds of birds where she’s staying? Has she started a new list of sightings? Oh, surely she hadn’t begun putting down roots anywhere else. When I allowed myself to ponder such things, I felt ever so sad. But I didn’t want to distract Heather with my sniffling. No, she needed to keep her wits about her and watch the road as the signs and cities flew past us on our long journey.

  Long, indeed. Heather told me it might take till mid-afternoon to arrive, what with stopping for gasoline and a sandwich or something to drink. Honestly, I didn’t dare get my hopes up about bringing Mamma home. I’d be misleading myself. Even so, I wondered how I’d feel if she refused my invitation. Yet at the same time, it was hard not to consider what life might be like if she did agree to return. How long before Dat and all of us might begin to understand what had compelled her to leave in the first place? How long before the pain and sadness fade away?

  Sighing, I leaned against the headrest and closed my eyes, trying to imagine Mamma’s face at first seeing me. Will she be pleased?

  If all went well, our family would be complete once again. Oh, such a joyful reunion that would be!

  Surely you’re ready now, Mamma. Surely you’re longing for home. . . .

  Acknowledgments

  Offering the words thank you is the mere tip of the proverbial iceberg for the gratitude I wish to extend here. While Heather Nelson’s story is entirely fictional, her decision to choose naturopathic treatment is based on years of my interest and research into the topic, including interviews with and invaluable gleanings from many helpful sources, including the follow-ing: Joel Fuhrman, MD; David Frahm, certified naturopathic doctor and co-founder of HealthQuarters Ministries; Gabriel Cousens, holistic MD; and Judith Chandler, NP. However, I do not endorse any particular healing methods—conventional, holistic, or otherwise.