And those new dreams and hopes were making me feel restless, incredibly restless, for the first time in my life.
My mother had thought this trip would settle that restlessness, but in fact it had served to do the exact opposite. Now that I had seen what I was capable of—that I could get on a train and go across the country, spend a week without the hovering concern of my parents, walk into a dining car, order a meal, and scold two total strangers in a way that ended up gaining me a free breakfast—I wanted to experience even more, not less. I wanted my rumspringa.
I had no need for silly teenage games, of course, no flirting or sneaking around or partying. I didn’t even want a hidden pair of jeans or a stash of makeup or a driver’s license, as many of my friends had. What I wanted was freedom and the opportunity to understand what that meant. I wanted the full knowledge of what was out there, of who I might be should I choose not to follow in my parents’ footsteps and commit myself to the Amish faith.
I had a feeling I would eventually make that commitment, but for now my heart swelled with the desire to live as I wanted, go where I wanted, and see what I wanted whether my parents agreed with it or not. Closing my eyes for just a moment, I prayed that God would show me if I was wrong in this, and if I wasn’t, that He would bless me with even greater adventures ahead.
“There you are,” a voice said suddenly, startling me so much that I dropped my fork. I looked up into the face of a smiling Silas, who slipped into the seat across from me.
“You scared me to death,” I scolded. I bent over to pick up the fork and set it at the end of the table.
“Yeah, well, Zed and Ella are about this close to calling the police,” he said, holding up a thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “They are convinced you were so upset about not getting the teaching job that you got off a couple of stations ago and are currently wandering around somewhere out in the middle of Idaho.”
I could feel my face flush with heat.
“Well, for goodness’ sake text them right now and tell them you’ve found me.”
He chuckled as he pulled out his phone.
“Just don’t tell them where we are,” I added softly. “I don’t need them bursting into here and embarrassing me in front of the whole dining car.”
“I hear you,” he said as he began going at it with his thumbs.
“Why would they make such a ridiculous assumption anyway?” I asked, dabbing at my mouth with my napkin. He was too busy typing to reply.
No matter, I thought, as I waited for his back-and-forth flurry of communications to end. They had overreacted because of exactly the same things I had been thinking about here. Ada Rupp was not the kind of girl who ever acted on her own accord, who would ever strike out from the group with any measure of independence or self-determination—not even if all that meant was to walk alone to the dining car and order a meal. She was neither child nor adult, but neither was she a young woman on a rumspringa. At least not until now.
“Okay, crisis averted,” he said finally, setting the phone onto the table. “I told them everything is fine and we’ll meet them in the club car by the time we reach West Glacier.”
“Thank you, Silas,” I said softly, still mortified.
“Which, judging by my phone, will be in about ten minutes.”
I nodded, glancing down at my food, which was only half finished. Dirty fork or not, I wouldn’t be eating any more. He, on the other hand, was eyeing the leftovers hungrily, so I slid the plate across to him and offered up my spoon.
“Thanks, Ada.”
As he ate I thought about telling him of the incident with the Englisch couple, but for some reason I decided not to bring it up at all. Instead, I gestured toward his cell and asked him how he would survive without it once he got ready to join the church and would have to give it up.
He shrugged. “Small price to pay, don’t you think?”
“Good answer,” I said earnestly, suddenly envying him and all of his travels more than I ever had before. When he finally made that leap and joined the church, it was going to be with the full perspective of a rumspringa well spent. Were I to make that decision now myself, I certainly couldn’t say the same.
“So you’ll be joining the church soon, then?” I asked.
He nodded, biting down into a triangle of buttered toast.
“And if Leah won’t consent to be your bride?” My question was bold—to be honest, it was downright rude—but this seemed to be a day of speaking my mind.
“Trust me,” Silas replied after taking the final swig of my juice and swallowing it all down, “she’ll come around eventually. I’m not worried. She’s already taken the classes, so I know she’s done with her running around time. All I have to do now is take the steps to join as well, and then convince her I’m the perfect fellow for her.”
I fell silent after that, wondering how much longer he was going to persist in his delusions. Didn’t he know that Leah wanted to be Will Gundy’s wife? There was nothing Silas or I or anyone else could do about that. Leah was already bound to marry the one man I cared for the most in this world. Did she really have to take my job from me now as well?
Tomorrow afternoon I would be able to speak to Levi Stoltz in person and find out what had happened. But in the meantime, I still had a country to get across, still had traveling companions to placate, still had more than twenty-four hours left of quiet conversations, endless board games, and magnificent, sprawling vistas outside every window.
Eager to embrace the freedom of each mile that we had left, I placed several dollars on the table for a tip and then rose, falling into step behind Silas as we made our way toward the club car. I’d make the most of every moment. Then once this trip was over and I was safely back at home, things in my life were going to change.
Regardless of the scheming Leah Fisher or the easily-manipulated Levi Stoltz or even my controlling mother, I still had a life to live.
It was time to declare my independence.
SIX
The next day we stepped off the train, bleary-eyed and stiff, into the bright Pennsylvania sunshine. Between the suffocating heat and sweltering humidity I realized I missed Oregon already.
Our little group moved along the platform and into the station, where light from the tall windows reflected off the shiny yellow floor. I squinted, searching the room for Daed. Ella spotted him first, or at least she spotted Ezra standing next to him. She squealed and rushed past me, throwing her arms around the tall young man. I glanced at Lizzie and Sam, our chaperones, watching for their reactions. They both shook their heads, just barely, and then continued on toward the baggage claim area.
I greeted my father with a surge of emotion, surprised to find myself blinking back tears at the sight of his kind gray eyes. A quiet man, he was also good and gentle and sweet, someone who had always been there for me and no doubt always would.
“Thanks for coming to get us, Daed.”
“Of course, Ada. I trust the trip home went well?”
From the bemused expression on his face, I had a feeling that my hair and kapp were probably askew. At least that would make them the perfect match for my wrinkled dress. Two and half days with nothing but a tiny bathroom had left us all looking a bit bedraggled.
“Where’s my mom?” Zed asked, craning his neck in search of my aunt Marta.
“She planned to come along,” my daed answered, “but she had a patient in labor.”
Zed seemed disappointed, though Ella barely acknowledged her mother’s absence. She and Ezra were gazing giddily at each other, their hands clasped firmly together.
Silas’s brother showed up just as we’d grabbed the last of our bags. Sam and Lizzie would be riding with them, so we all walked to the parking lot together and then said our goodbyes there.
In the vehicle Daed had hired, Zed sat up with the driver, Daed and I took the front bench seat, and Ezra and Ella climbed in behind us. As we wound through the busy streets of Lancaster toward Aunt Mart
a’s house outside of Willow Street, Zed turned around in his seat to tell Daed all about our trip. Soon Ella joined in from behind, the two of them going on and on about the countryside, Lexie’s farm, the little town of Aurora, and Portland. They described Lexie’s wedding and how beautiful she was, although they left out the part about Zed making a film of it. They recounted almost every aspect of the train travel, out and back, though I noticed they both omitted any mention of my disappearance yesterday morning or the distress it had caused them. Feeling weary and distracted, I sat there in silence all the way to their house, simply listening to their words and enjoying my daed ’s reactions.
When we got there, he climbed out and walked to the back of the vehicle to help with the bags, which gave Ella and Ezra a quick moment to steal a kiss.
“Thanks for being at the station,” Ella whispered, kissing Ezra again and then reluctantly climbing out of the van. After a beat I followed, giving Zed a hug goodbye and then taking Ella’s elbow and nonchalantly pulling her aside.
“I know you are caught up in the moment,” I cautioned her softly, “but now that you’re home, you and Ezra must be very careful about how you conduct yourselves—both in public and in private. Missing someone can make you do things you absolutely should not be doing.” Looking intently into her eyes, I prayed she would hear my words as coming from a wise older friend rather than some parental authority figure.
Instead, she barely seemed to have heard me, so caught up was she with the drama of gazing over my shoulder at her true love, who was still sitting in the backseat of the vehicle gazing back at her. Under Zed’s direction, my daed and the driver were rooting out one last bag from the bottom of the pile, so I reached up with my hand, gently turning her face toward mine.
“Ella Bayer,” I said softly, locking my eyes on hers. “I know you missed him, but your behavior borders on inappropriate. Mind yourself.”
It took a moment for my words to sink in, but when they finally did, Ella’s reaction wasn’t at all what I had expected. She seemed neither embarrassed nor resentful. Instead, her eyes filled with pity and compassion as she whispered, “Oh, Ada, someday maybe you’ll fall in love too and then you’ll understand.”
I stepped back as if struck, her words piercing my heart. If she only knew how much I loved Will Gundy and always had! Oblivious to the emotions threatening to overwhelm me in that moment, Ella simply threw her arms around me and gave me a tight squeeze.
“Thanks for an amazing trip, cousin!” she cried happily. “I’m going to miss the sight of your face every morning.”
I was saved from having to reply thanks to Zed, who called out for Ella to help him bring in the bags.
Soon we were back on the road minus our two passengers, the van nearly silent now as we covered the final ten miles to our house. On the way I refused to dwell on my feelings for Will, so I put him out of my mind, forcing myself to focus on the scenery instead. As we rode along, I realized how strange it felt to look at Lancaster County through the eyes of one who had been away. Silas had talked a lot about the perspective he always got from travel, and at that moment I understood exactly what he meant. Almost as if it were all new to me, I could see the incredible beauty of the rolling pastures, the crispness of the stark white homes and barns, the colorful contrast of freshly washed clothes hanging from the lines and flapping in the breeze.
No wonder tourists flocked to Lancaster County. It wasn’t mountainous, like Montana, or all lit up, like Chicago, but it had a beauty completely its own. Perhaps the next time I found myself clucking in disapproval at the cars lined up behind my buggy waiting to pass or the tour buses that drove slowly down our lane so their passengers could snap pictures through the windows, I would remind myself that God had blessed me greatly in allowing me to live here year-round, and that the least I could do was to show some grace to those who only wanted to share it for a while.
As we turned into our own driveway, I allowed my eyes to linger on the beauty here as well. The tall, abundant stalks of corn. The black and white cows grazing contentedly in the grass. The line of neat, white fencing that delineated the pastures. The driver pulled to a stop near the house, and my father was swinging open the door just as my mother came rushing out to greet us. As I stepped from the van, she reached out for a hug, and I realized I was seeing her through this traveler’s perspective as well. The lines of her aging face. The widening of the part in her hair. The redness of her hardworking hands. Closing my eyes, I moved into her embrace, feeling an odd detachment from the moment even as I hugged her tightly in return.
While Daed settled up with the driver and Ezra started carrying my bags to the house, Mamm linked an arm in mine and walked me toward the front steps, peppering me with questions all the way. She seemed excited but also nervous, as if she were afraid something had fundamentally changed somehow. Perhaps she was more intuitive than I’d given her credit for.
When we reached the door, I hesitated, looking toward the daadi haus out back.
“I should run and speak to Mammi,” I said, detaching myself.
“She’s not home.”
“Not home?” Mammi never went anywhere anymore, at least not without me or Mamm close by her side. For a moment, my mind conjured up the worst images imaginable: tubes, machines, a hospital bed. Then I realized what it must be instead.
“She’s over at the Gundys’. Will and Alice came by this morning and picked her up.”
Will and Alice. Just as I’d thought. This was about Europe.
Keeping my voice casual, I said, “Really? What for?”
Mamm shrugged, an odd expression on her face. “I have no idea. Something to do with the old family property back in Switzerland. I’m not real clear on the details.”
At the word Switzerland, my heart skipped a beat.
Giselle lived in Switzerland.
Did Alice and Will’s legal issue over in Europe have something to do with Giselle?
I swallowed hard, knowing that the subject of my birth mother was a touchy one for Mamm. I usually accepted her attitude with varying degrees of irritation and compassion, depending on my mood and the situation. At the moment I chose to tread very carefully, lest my words mess up any sort of plans that might have been forming over at the Gundys’ even as we spoke.
“I thought Mammi sold that property years ago,” I said evenly, taking Mamm’s arm again and steering us into the house. She fell right into step beside me, pushing open the kitchen door and motioning for me to go through first.
“She did. Well, most of it anyway. Apparently, this has to do with an important historical site that’s been discovered on the piece that’s left, something related to the early Anabaptists.”
My eyebrows lifted. Of all the possibilities I’d been rolling around in my mind, that certainly wasn’t one that had occurred to me.
The term “Anabaptist” referred to the Amish and other groups, such as the Mennonites and Hutterites, who believed in adult baptism. Early Anabaptists had been baptized in the state church as infants, so when they chose to be re-baptized as adults, they had become known as “again baptizers,” or Anabaptists. Though we all connected deeply to our Anabaptist heritage, I couldn’t imagine what that had to do with Mammi and Alice going to Europe.
“I don’t know much more than that,” Mamm continued. “I haven’t really paid too much attention. But for the past week, she and Alice have been scheming and whispering right and left. It’s actually kind of cute. It reminds me of when they were younger.”
I understood what she meant. When I was a little girl, Mammi and Alice were together often, usually for canning or quilting or some other task easier done with two pairs of hands than one. Mammi had no sisters, so in a way her good friend Alice had become that for her. But Mammi had a stroke, limiting her mobility, and then just last year Will’s wife, Lydia, had died. These days Alice was so busy helping to care for the three children that visits from her here were rare.
“So what do the Gundy
s have to do with this?” I asked, still keeping my tone nonchalant as I kicked off my shoes under the coat rack.
“Truly, Ada, I have no idea. All they told me was that they wanted Mammi to come over to their house to meet some man who was visiting, a historical expert of some kind.”
She seemed so nonchalant about it that I decided she surely hadn’t got wind of any connected travel plans, either for her or me or anyone else in the family. She wouldn’t be acting so calmly if she had. I decided to keep quiet about it for now.
Without asking if I was hungry, my mother pointed toward the kitchen. I hesitated, eager to head upstairs instead. Then I looked toward the table and saw that a late lunch had been all laid out for me there. Unfortunately, eating was the last thing on my mind. At the moment all I wanted was a shower, a fresh set of clothes, and a horse and buggy at the ready. Now that I was back, I had places to go and people to see.
Ezra came clomping down the stairs at that moment, having delivered my bags up to my bedroom. My mother thanked him for his help, chatting warmly as she walked him back outside. As she did I walked over to look down at the meal she’d prepared, wondering how to get out of eating it without hurting her feelings. It wasn’t lost on me that she’d made all of my favorites: sliced turkey on homemade bread, sweet pickles, and macaroni salad with fresh broccoli. Then I saw it, there at the center of the plate: a circle of cottage cheese, decorated to look like a person. Just as she’d done when I was a small child, she’d used carrot curls for hair, pineapple segments for ears, raisins for the eyes and nose, and an orange segment for the smile.
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