Feeling like a horse escaped out of the barn gate, Gloria pushed the accelerator. She remembered Hampton’s exceptional kindness toward her on the phone last evening. Maybe he senses something’s up between Darren and me, she thought with a glance at Leona, who, from her bowed head, appeared to be praying again. The realization brought a great sense of consolation.
If Gloria were the least bit hard-hearted, she might have clung to the angry words her father had shouted last night, words she believed he would feel sorry about later. Words that caused me pain. Instead, she was set on releasing them, along with his belligerent attitude, flinging both to the wind as she followed the directional prompts from her phone on the console.
Before departing, she had also contacted Darren via text. I’m driving Leona back to Lancaster County . . . hanging out there for a while. I’ll be in touch.
Despite the early hour, he had replied within seconds, naturally surprised but wishing her a safe trip. She decided to text him occasional updates as to their travel progress. I don’t want him to worry.
Truly, Gloria was relieved to have this short reprieve from so much pressure on the relationship front. “Can you reach the cooler?” she asked Leona.
“Sure, what do you want?”
“Some Coke. I’m still groggy. How about you?”
Leona yawned. “Wish I could share some of the driving.” She opened the fizzy Coke and handed it to Gloria.
“That’s okay. We’ll just stop and run around the car every now and then to keep me going.”
Leona laughed softly. “There were a number of gas stations with convenience stores on the way out here. We can stock up on snacks and sweets if we run out, jah?”
Gloria adored hearing her quaint Amish accent. Do I still sound anything like that?
It was Gloria’s idea to make up limericks to pass the time—some laugh-out-loud funny and others simply ridiculous. Just like old times, Leona loved it. They also read billboards and any humorous road signs spotted along the way, and they played Twenty Questions and I Spy. Leona was finally reconnecting with Gloria in a manner that felt more carefree, and she hoped it would continue when they arrived. She also hoped neither Dat nor Mamma would mind hosting the daughter of a shunned man.
She recalled her conversation with Gloria last evening and how she’d revealed her secret to managing stress and circumstances out of her control: trust, wait, hope.
Even now, as she rode along in Gloria’s car, she prayed those words might make a difference, with the dear Lord’s help.
When Maggie called back from the phone shanty, Gloria handed her phone to Leona with a serious expression. “It’s your sister-in-law,” she whispered.
“Hullo, Maggie,” Leona said. “Blessed Lord’s Day to ya.”
“I got your voicemail, Leona. And just as I was walkin’ back toward the house, your uncle and aunt pulled into the lane for a visit. When they were ready to leave, I asked if they would drop by your parents’ and let them know ’bout Gloria’s coming.”
“Denki for that.”
“You sound kinda funny. Are ya nervous ’bout what they’ll say?” Maggie asked.
“En bissel.”
“Well, rest assured they won’t turn Gloria away.”
“I’m not worried ’bout that.”
“What, then?”
Leona sighed. That they’ll be less than welcoming. “Nothin’,” she said.
“There’s always room over here,” Maggie offered. “If need be.”
“Mahlon wouldn’t mind?”
“You’re stewin’ for nothing; trust me on this.”
“All right, then.” Leona glimpsed Gloria and hoped she wasn’t reading between the lines.
“You still there?” Maggie asked.
“Jah, but I’ll say so long for now.”
“Safe journey, Leona. Good-bye.”
Leona sighed after she ended the call. What must Gloria think of her side of the conversation? Surely she’d picked up on Leona’s concern.
“Thanks for letting me use your phone, Gloria.”
“It’s all yours for as long as you need it.”
Leona smiled. “That’s nice of you, but I better not let myself get used to it.”
Gloria turned on the car radio. “You can click the scan button and see what you’d like to listen to. Or if you’d rather, you can look through the music on my phone.”
“Denki, but that’s all right.” Leona turned off the radio. “Truth be told, I could get hooked on your music . . . wouldn’t be wise.”
“I understand, believe me.”
They talked about what kinds of things Gloria had been curious to try after abandoning the Plain life: hot rollers, jeans, and of course, driving. “Have you ever tried any of those things?” Gloria asked.
“Nee . . . I’ll have to take your word for all of that.” Leona felt as if she were walking a tightrope, not wanting to judge Gloria, nor to be tempted.
“Honestly, though, not all of it has turned out to be as wonderful as advertised,” Gloria admitted at last. “For one thing, it’s hard to feel like you’re good enough when you’re constantly trying to keep up on trends. Modern life can be exhausting.”
They rode for quite a while without speaking, and Leona tried to imagine again how Tom would react to Gloria’s arrival. Kind as he was, she assumed it wouldn’t be a problem. After all, Gloria just needed a few days to get things straight with herself.
I’ll explain if he asks, she thought, looking forward to seeing him again.
Around midmorning, after Leona had eaten half of her ham-and-cheese sandwich, they took the turnoff to a rest area. They got out to walk along a paved path through a park, trees waving gently, birds flitting about. “I’ll race ya to that fence,” Leona said to Gloria, who took her up on it.
Leona wished she’d taken time to kick off her shoes, though, because Gloria ended up winning in her tennis shoes, laughing and teasing Leona.
“Let’s run barefoot this time, then see who wins!” Leona said.
“No fair. My feet are soft as a baby’s bottom now, thanks to shoes year round.” Gloria grimaced as she caught her breath.
“I don’t see how ya went from goin’ barefoot to wearin’ shoes . . . your feet cramped up all the time.”
Gloria shrugged as they walked around the park. “You’re poking fun at me, aren’t you?”
Leona laughed. “It’s just hard to imagine giving up that kind of freedom, that’s all.”
Gloria suggested they briskly walk two more laps around the walkway before heading back to the car. “My sitter’s already getting numb.”
“Most folk would prob’ly spend the night somewhere on such a long trip, like we did comin’ out in the van.”
“We’re spring chickens . . . we’ll be fine.”
“I say we keep drivin’ as long as your eyes stay open. You can always get coffee,” Leona said, noticing a family with small children getting out of their minivan and rushing toward the restrooms. The youngest child blinked at Leona, undoubtedly seeing her first Amishperson.
“Coffee’s the perfect idea,” Gloria said, checking her phone to see where the nearest coffee shop was located. “Hope you don’t mind stopping right away again.”
Leona shook her head. “You’re the one drivin’.”
“Yep, keep the driver happy.”
“And wide awake,” added Leona.
Gloria fell quiet for a time. Then she said, “Your parents will be shocked by my fancy clothes and hair.”
“They’ll certainly have a memory of how Plain you used to be,” Leona said gently. “It makes it harder.”
“I brought along some long, flowing skirts. I don’t want to cause trouble for your parents or amongst the People.”
“Unzucht, remember?”
Gloria nodded. “Oh, I remember, all right. But I’m a bit rusty. So, would you like to talk in Deitsch for a while?”
“Are ya sure?” Now that she’s out of her father’s
control . . .
Laughing, Gloria said she had to prove to Leona that she was up for it. So for the next two hours, each time she spoke, it was in Deitsch.
Hearing Gloria speaking her very first language gave Leona assurance they were on the right path.
O dear Lord, I wait in hopeful trust. . . .
CHAPTER
26
Gloria wasn’t quite sure how it came about, but before long, she and Leona got on the subject of Colerain and their favorite people and places there. Leona talked about the climbing wisteria that grew on the redbrick farmhouse where Gloria and her family had once lived, then mentioned which of the farmers had started dividing up land amongst married sons.
“Just wait’ll ya see it again,” Leona said as they passed through the outskirts of yet another large city. “I can hardly wait to show you around.”
Clutching the steering wheel and sighing, Gloria was surprised how hearing these things stirred up a yearning to see her former home again, especially since she’d given it little thought. “I’m curious how things have changed in the community,” she remarked. And how I’ve changed in relationship to what I remember. . . .
Leona nibbled on a cheese stick. “Let me see . . . well, the old one-room school has been replaced by a new one.”
“Did you ever wish you could attend high school?” Gloria asked, then wondered if she should have held her tongue.
“Never gave it a thought.” Leona shrugged. “Eight grades are all that’s necessary, according to the Ordnung.”
Naturally, her friend would say that. She was her parents’ child, and a baptized church member, too.
Gloria recalled her father’s insistence that she use the money she’d saved to better herself—preferably for college. He maintained that once she and Darren were married, she could easily go to classes during the day while he was at work.
Her father could be so thoughtful sometimes, like when he’d given her Brownie. Yet when it came to the big decisions of life, such as where to live, her father had never seemed to consider anyone but himself. If only he took my wishes into account, she thought. Had he always been this overbearing?
He can be so pleasant and fun . . . when things go his way, Gloria thought.
Leona offered her a cheese stick, and Gloria accepted. “It’ll be fun to see if Brownie remembers you,” Leona said.
Gloria tried to picture her former pet. “Has he changed much?”
“He’s getting a little gray now and slower than when you had him. It’s so cute to see him sniffin’ the ground, trying to pick up the scent of a critter.”
“That’s the beagle in him. He loves to hunt.”
“And the cocker spaniel makes him playful and sweet natured.”
Gloria nodded. “The day we left, I prayed that God would look after Brownie till you found him. It all happened so fast.”
“Oh, he was fine—ran right up to me when I stopped by. I was so puzzled to see your father’s buggy and the market wagon parked in the barn. It made me think yous were still there.”
“I can just imagine,” Gloria said, reliving the traumatic day. “My father put Preacher Miller in charge of selling them to a farmer in Bird-in-Hand. He didn’t mail the instructions till we were out of Lancaster County. Guess he wanted to make sure no one could track us down.” She shook her head. “I hate the way we left. I’d wanted to stay so bad, but there wasn’t anything I could say to change his mind . . . not after the mess he’d made.”
Leona nodded. “I still have the note you left me.”
“That was the only good-bye I was allowed.” Gloria glanced at Leona. “It was a hard day for me . . . for all of us.”
“This might be a silly question, but I often wondered what happened to your chickens and the other livestock. I mean, other than the vehicles, everything was gone.”
“Mom told me later that Dad struck a lightning-fast deal with a farmer in Eden Valley, south of Strasburg.”
“Everything must’ve come together right quick.” Leona was shaking her head. “It’s nearly a blur for me now.”
Gloria remembered scurrying about, trying to help Mom carry the smaller boxes to the large moving truck her father had rented, along with a two-man crew to help with the furniture. “At the time, I wasn’t paying much attention to anything except my own disappointment. It wasn’t till months after we were settled in Hill View that Mom filled me in on a few details.”
Leona looked at her. “I still can’t believe your father was ousted from the membership. I felt sick about it.”
“Well, if you really want to know, the situation in Colerain wasn’t the first trouble Dad got into.”
“Ach, you don’t need to—”
“Honestly, I need to talk about it.”
Expression solemn, Leona nodded. “I’ll keep it mum.”
Gloria began to tell how, over a period of time, her eyes had been opened to her father’s discontent with Amish life. “It seems to have started back when we lived in Salem, Arkansas, where I was born.”
“I remember how fond you were of it,” Leona said.
“When we moved to Pennsylvania, I missed Salem something awful.”
“Remember our walk home from school that first day? You chattered a lot about it . . . made it sound pretty amazing, actually.”
Gloria smiled. “Did I?”
“You even tried to show me the size of the rainbow trout in the river your family used to fish.”
“I do remember that!” Gloria laughed, glad it was just the two of them in the car. During the years she’d lived in beautiful Salem, Gloria had never realized that her father wasn’t in good standing with the Amish church there. “Dad got into trouble with the Salem bishop for playing on a local civic baseball league. It was strange, really, how single guys were allowed to be on the team, but once they were married, that was it. My father was so used to playing, he just kept it up for years after he married Mom, till it finally caught up with him.”
Gloria shifted into the left lane to pass a slow-moving truck, then shifted right again.
“Dad must’ve had other struggles with the Salem bishop and the church ordinance, too,” she continued, “but he kept quiet about his growing dissatisfaction. I didn’t even know about it till he ran into more conflict in Pennsylvania.”
“I never observed any struggle. He was always so friendly to me.”
“Oh, Dad’s friendly enough as long as he isn’t frustrated,” Gloria said. “But at his core, I think he’s terribly restless.”
“I do remember some awkward moments right before you left.”
Gloria nodded. “He seemed really disgruntled then.” She reached for her coffee to take a sip.
“Has anything changed? I mean . . . now that your father’s English?” Leona sounded unusually tentative, as if she feared she might be crossing a line.
Gloria had never pondered this. “My father’s been known to cut some corners ethically, and he never talks about the Lord anymore. As far as I know, your visit was the first time in over a year that he’s opened a Bible.” She paused. “Mom tries to keep the peace by going along with what he wants.”
“Your parents’ decisions aren’t your responsibility.”
“Well, they’re still my family.”
“Even so, you didn’t make your father’s choices. It’s not your fault that he took you away from the Amish church.”
Gloria considered Leona’s words. “I probably made a mistake by not staying when my family left for Arkansas.”
“You would’ve disregarded your father’s wishes?” Leona asked.
“It wasn’t easy living with him. . . . And there were painful consequences for me.” Like saying farewell to you . . . and my relationship with Orchard John, Gloria thought, remembering the old heartache.
“Gloria, I—”
“Listen, it’s already been a long day . . . maybe I’m too tired to talk about this.”
“I’m sorry.” Leona sounded sad.
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Shaken by the direction their conversation had taken, Gloria was glad when the gas gauge signaled the tank was a quarter full.
Tom had been anticipating this off-Sunday from Preaching, an opportune time to go with his parents and sisters to visit some shut-in relatives. His sister Anna had asked to ride with him because the family carriage was nearly filled to capacity with their parents, particularly since their unmarried uncle Dave, who lived in the Dawdi Haus next door, had chosen to come along.
“I ran into Maggie Speicher and her little girls when I was out walkin’ earlier,” Anna said as they pulled onto the lane. “Maggie said that Leona had left her a message on their shanty phone.”
Tom snapped to attention. “Leona, ya say?”
“Evidently, she’s on her way home.” Anna caught Tom’s eye. “With Gloria Gingerich.”
Tom hardly knew what to think.
“Maggie said Leona called on Gloria’s cell phone, and that Gloria’s coming to stay for a bit.” Anna looked tired from her date last night, but talking about Gloria Gingerich seemed to perk her up. “What do ya make of it, Tom?”
“Not sure,” he admitted. “I do know that Leona’s not one to dabble in the world. She’s been praying God would help her win Gloria back to the People.”
Anna’s eyes widened. “You think that’s what’s happening? Gloria’s coming back?”
Hard to imagine it happening this quick, Tom thought, then immediately chided himself for his pessimism.
“Time will tell. Why not join Leona in praying for Gloria?” Instead of talking around about her, he thought, hoping his sister might catch the hint.
“I used to pray in earnest for that family, but over the years, I plumb lost patience.”
“God isn’t limited by our time frame or expectations, remember.”
“’Tis true,” Anna said, looking prim in her royal blue dress and matching apron. She pushed her white Kapp strings over her plump shoulders. “I don’t remember much about the details. Was it only Gloria’s father who was put off church?”
He nodded. “Just Joe.”
“All the same, it’ll be interesting to see Gloria again. There’s no telling what she’s like now.”
The Wish Page 14
