The Reconciliation

by Susan Lantz Simpson

  “Where is this Vinny fellow now? Did he just turn you away when he got tired of you or when he learned about the boppli?”

  Rebecca flinched at her daed’s harsh words as if she’d been slapped. “He’s dead. I didn’t know he and his freinden were involved in drugs. They said he died of an overdose. They thought they could keep me with them, but I ran away. I stayed with another waitress until I could sort things out and catch a bus out of New York.”

  Sylvia gasped. Rebecca wouldn’t have thought it possible for her mamm’s face to lose any more color. “My poor boppli.” She reached out both arms to pull Rebecca into a sheltering embrace.

  Before she had left home, Rebecca had shied away from her mamm’s touch. She was in her rumspringa and was too grown up to need her parents’ hugs—or so she thought. Now she craved their love. She had grown up enough to realize she needed her parents and loved them.

  “Amos, the Lord Gott spared our dochder. She could have been forced to stay with those bad people, but she got away and returned to us. She wants to stay and be baptized.”

  Rebecca could hear her mamm’s heart pounding as Sylvia held her tightly. Relief flooded her at her mamm’s speech. Mamm wanted her to stay. But what about Daed?

  “Do you want to be baptized because you are afraid and have nowhere else to go or are you truly ready to seek forgiveness, commit to our faith, and abide by the Ordnung?”

  “I-I’m ready to make the commitment, Daed. I will take classes again if the bishop says I must. I have sought Gott’s forgiveness. I-I will kneel and confess before the church if that is what the bishop says I must do.”

  “You aren’t a member yet. She wouldn’t have to do that, would she, Amos?”

  “I don’t know what the bishop will say.”

  Rebecca felt helpless to control her trembling despite her mamm rubbing her back in small circles. Daed had not addressed Rebecca’s request to stay. Her hope trickled away.

  “And what about the disgrace and shame of having a boppli out of wedlock?”

  “It isn’t like other Amish couples haven’t gotten carried away and pushed up their wedding plans,” Sylvia countered.

  “But those couples got married!”

  “I thought I was married, Daed.” Rebecca wanted to bury her face in her mamm’s shoulder forever, but she pulled away to face her daed. “I know I will be an embarrassment to you. I’m sorry for that. You can show the bishop and anyone else that paper there.” She waved a hand toward the phony marriage license. “Once people know about that, maybe they will withhold judgment and not keep their distance. I-if it becomes too unbearable for you, then I’ll leave.”

  “Nee!” Sylvia fairly shouted, causing Rebecca to jump in alarm. “Amos, she cannot leave! She did nothing wrong, not intentionally, anyway. And there’s the little one to think about. An innocent infant. Our dochder’s boppli. Our own flesh and blood.”

  Amos rubbed a large, calloused hand across his face. “We will visit the bishop tomorrow.”

  Rebecca nodded. She watched as her daed’s face softened. His wrinkled brow smoothed, and little smile lines crinkled around his eyes before the smile reached his lips. Rebecca’s hopes soared.

  “I’ve missed you, too, Becky.” Amos opened his arms to hug his fraa and dochder. “You are my only dochder. You will always be my little girl. We will help you.”

  “Danki, Daed.” Rebecca’s tears of relief mingled with tears of joy. Her mamm’s tears and even her daed’s tears blended with her own.

  Sylvia was the first to pull away. “Let’s get you settled.”

  Amos stood and practically lifted Rebecca to her feet. “Did you have any more bags to bring in?”

  Rebecca nodded to her overturned canvas bag. “That was all I took time to grab. Besides, I didn’t want to bring any Englisch things with me.”

  Sylvia scurried over to retrieve the bag and its spilled contents. “Ach, Becky, you took up knitting?” She held up the beginning of the blanket.

  “Jah. I know you tried to teach me many times, and I was too impatient to learn. A nice older woman sitting next to me on the bus taught me how to start this blanket, but I’ll probably need your help later.”

  Sylvia smiled. “It’s lovely. You learned quickly.”

  “I think all your instructions were stuck in my mind somewhere, so it made Viv’s work easier.”

  “Viv?”

  “The woman on the bus. She also talked to me about forgiveness and family and parents’ love—all the things you and Daed tried to tell me before. Things I turned a deaf ear to. I guess I finally grew up enough to listen and believe.”

  Chapter Seven

  Atlee peeked into the lunch box Malinda had prepared for him to make sure she’d thrown in some of those lemon cookies she’d recently baked. Chocolate chip cookies and anything else chocolate were usually his favorite treats, but those lemon cookies ran a close second. He rummaged through the box, moving aside two sandwiches and an apple until his fingers found the little plastic bag. He tugged it out and groaned.

  “Something wrong, Atlee?” Malinda closed Ray’s and Aden’s lunch boxes so they could head out to school.

  “These are gingersnaps.”

  “Very gut. You got that right.”

  “Where are those wunderbaar lemon cookies?”

  “Do you mean the little lemon cookies covered with sugar sprinkles?”

  “Jah, those would be the ones.”

  “Well, it looks to me like we had a thief slip in overnight who gobbled up every one of those cookies.” Malinda clucked her tongue and wagged her head.

  “A crime! What about the chocolate chip?”

  “The thief must have moved on to those next. There were only two left in the cookie jar.”

  Atlee thrust out his hand. “Hand them over and all will be forgiven.”

  “I put one in Ray’s lunch and the other in Aden’s lunch.”

  “Why? They’ll eat anything. They don’t care what kind of cookies you give them.”

  “Atlee, you will eat anything. I’m crushed. Don’t you like my gingersnaps?”

  “Sure, but if there’s chocolate around . . .” Atlee reached for one of his younger bruders’ lunch boxes.

  Malinda smacked his hand. “Nee you don’t, you scoundrel.”

  “Scoundrel?” Atlee tucked the gingersnaps back into his lunch box and clicked it closed. “If that’s the way you want to be, I guess I’ll go to work.” He poked out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout.

  Malinda laughed. “Go on with you, Atlee. You’re incorrigible.”

  Atlee nearly collided with Ray and Aden, who zoomed into the kitchen to grab their lunches. “Enjoy your cookies, bruders!” Atlee looked over his shoulder and caught Malinda shaking an index finger at him. He backtracked a few paces and lowered his voice. “Say, Malinda, it didn’t bother you that Isaac was at the last singing, did it?”

  “Of course not. He has every right to attend.”

  “Jah, but . . .”

  “Whatever we had was just a passing interest, nothing more.”

  “So you won’t be mad if I tell you I encouraged him to attend?”

  “Nee, why should I? I have—”

  “I know. You have another interest now.”

  “Shhh!”

  “It’s not like nobody notices how your face lights up at the mere mention of Timothy Brenneman’s name. It’s not like we don’t know about his frequent visits.”

  Malinda poked out her tongue at her older bruder.

  “That was a mature response.”

  “And did you give anyone a ride home from the singing?”

  “Well, if you had stuck around a little longer, you’d have seen for yourself. But, alas, you must have had other plans.”

  Malinda swatted Atlee with a rolled-up dish towel. “Aren’t you going to be late for work?”

  He glanced at the teapot-shaped battery-operated wall clock. “Nee. I think I’ll be on time.” Atlee sauntered toward the door
. “By the way, I left the singing entirely by myself—as usual.”

  “There were some visitors there.”

  “Jah. Nice girls, from what I could tell, but not for me.”

  “You’ll never know if you don’t try . . .”

  “Ach, Malinda, you are so right about the time. I really need to go,”

  “Coward!” Malinda chuckled. Maybe she’d bake more cookies today.

  After all the dark gray clouds the previous day, only a skim of snow covered the grassy areas. The sun had shoved the clouds aside today to rule the sky. The wind still carried a bite, so the sun had its work cut out for it if it planned to warm things up a bit.

  Even though Atlee was glad he’d found his gloves and remembered to wear them, his fingers still ached from the cold by the time he reached the dairy. He unhitched and cared for the horse as quickly as possible so he could get inside. He’d be sure to warm up once he got busy lifting and carrying and whatever else needed doing today. It was strange no one had mentioned the return of Becky Zook. Could it be Malinda and his mamm hadn’t heard any vibrations from the grapevine? Maybe no one had seen Becky except him. Ach, they’d all know soon enough, he guessed. It wasn’t his place to tell tales. He whistled as he loped off toward the building and set his mind on having a gut day, even if he did have to eat gingersnaps for dessert. Maybe something special would happen this day. Hope was a gut motivator.

  Chapter Eight

  The visit with Bishop Menno Lapp had to be one of the most difficult things Rebecca had ever endured. It took every ounce of her courage to sit still and actually get her voice to cooperate. Bishop Menno stroked his salt-and-pepper beard as he listened to Rebecca’s confession but did not utter a single word until she finished her tale with tears streaming down her cheeks. At some point, the bishop’s wife, Martha, had slipped into the room and poked several tissues into Rebecca’s wringing hands. The bishop, still silent, leaned forward to read the phony marriage license Rebecca had brought to validate her story. Amos sat like a stone behind Rebecca. She wondered if he even blinked or breathed.

  Rebecca thought she would scream from the oppressive silence. Would the bishop ever speak, or was this crushing, interminable silence her punishment? When the man cleared his throat, Rebecca stopped shredding one of the tissues in her hands and raised her eyes to meet his.

  “It seems you have had quite a learning experience, Rebecca.”

  That was an understatement. “Jah.”

  “What do you think about the Englisch world and life in the big city?”

  “Like everywhere, I suppose, there was gut and bad in the city and gut and bad in the Englisch world. I saw some beautiful and amazing sights and met a few nice people. I also saw evil and met people who believe it’s fine to lie, cheat, and prey on others.” Rebecca paused to inhale a shaky breath.

  “Would you want to return there?”

  “Nee!” Rebecca barely let the bishop finish his question. “I don’t belong there. That life is truly not for me.” Rebecca leaned forward and somewhere found the strength to look the man in the eye. “I want to live here. I want to be baptized. This is my home, the only place I want to live. I am so sorry for my past behavior and for hurting people. Really I am. I have prayed and sought the Lord Gott’s forgiveness.” Rebecca caught her lower lip between her teeth and bit down hard enough to taste blood. She held her breath as she waited for the bishop to speak.

  Bishop Menno uncrossed the arms he’d folded over his chest as the pensive look slid from his face. “You have given gut answers, Rebecca. I believe what you have told me, and I believe you have learned valuable lessons. You will not be required to kneel and confess before the church since you are not yet a member. ‘Almost a member’ doesn’t count.” The bishop’s lips quirked above his beard.

  Heat flooded Rebecca’s face at the memory of her shameful behavior on her baptismal day. She’d run from the church meeting, leaving a stunned community to stare after her. She wiggled in her chair.

  “It’s better you didn’t make the commitment if you weren’t ready.”

  “I’m ready now.”

  “I believe you are ready. It won’t be easy to raise a boppli on your own, but we will all help however we can. We are glad you returned, Rebecca. We will discuss your baptism after you’ve settled back in.”

  “I won’t change my mind, Bishop Menno. This is what I want. This is where I belong.”

  With one index finger, Bishop Menno pushed his wire-rimmed glasses higher on his nose. “Wilkom home, Rebecca.”

  Rebecca’s pent-up breath whooshed out when arms wrapped around her in a hug. Either Martha Lapp had crept back into the room unnoticed or she’d stayed in the background and listened to the entire exchange. “It’s gut to have you home, dear.”

  Rebecca followed her daed out to the buggy, her step a bit lighter than when she had entered the bishop’s house. Not that it had been at all easy, but the visit had gone better than Rebecca had dared hope. Still, Amos had uttered nothing more than a few polite grunts. Had this whole meeting been so humiliating for him that he’d changed his mind about having her home again?

  By the time they reached the end of the bishop’s long dirt driveway, Rebecca summoned the courage to look at her daed. A single tear slid down his cheek and hid in his bushy beard. “Daed?”

  Amos reached over to squeeze Rebecca’s hand. “You handled yourself well in there. It looks like my little girl has grown up.”

  “It’s about time, ain’t so, Daed?” Her real test would occur on the next church day, when she’d have to face the entire community.

  * * *

  Rebecca couldn’t decide if she wanted to rush so she could arrive at the Stauffers’ house early to face people as they arrived for the church service or dawdle so she would be late enough to only have time to slip into the service at the last minute. Her original idea to stay in bed with the covers pulled over her head was not really an option, tempting though it was. She had helped Mamm clean the kitchen after their simple Sunday breakfast. Now there was nothing left to do except don her cloak and black bonnet.

  She wrung her gloved hands as the horse pulled the buggy along the blacktopped road. What would people say to her? The grapevine had no doubt been buzzing for days. Most of the girls her age always thought she was nothing more than a flirt who wanted to steal their fellows. The few she’d seen since she’d been home had been polite, but they kept their distance from her. She’d have to face them again today. And she had flirted with many, if not most, of the buwe. How embarrassing! How could she make amends? How would she make it through this day? A little headache began to nag at her.

  Rebecca’s breathing and heart rate increased as the Stauffer farm came into view. Malinda Stauffer had always been nice, but Rebecca’s latest conquest before she ran off had been Isaac Hostetler, who had been interested in Malinda before Rebecca had butted in. Rebecca sighed. She wouldn’t count on Malinda being cordial. At least Rebecca had never attempted to flirt with the two older Stauffer sons. Sam had married Emma Swarey, and Atlee was—well, he was Atlee.

  “Everything will be all right, Becky. You’ll see.” Sylvia gently squeezed Rebecca’s arm and gave her a reassuring smile. “Just smile and be nice.” Being nice she could manage. Smiling, though, she was not so sure about.

  Chapter Nine

  Rebecca climbed from the buggy and surveyed her surroundings. As usual, people gathered in groups until time to enter the church service. Should she join a group of young, unmarried women? That didn’t seem quite right. Nor did she seem to fit in with the older, married women. Where did she belong? She pulled her cloak tighter around her.

  “Relax, Dochder. You’re among freinden.”

  “Freinden”? Did she have any of those? “Wait, Mamm. I’ll help you.” Rebecca grabbed a basket of food Sylvia had brought to share at the common meal. She’d hide out in the kitchen until the last possible moment and then slip into the big cleared-out barn where backless wooden ben
ches would be arranged for the church service. Hopefully, she would be able to sit unnoticed on a back bench.

  “Becky, wilkom home!”

  So much for hiding. “Danki, Malinda.” If Malinda Stauffer could be pleasant to her, perhaps there was hope. “How have you been?” Poor Malinda had her ups and downs with Crohn’s disease but always seemed cheerful. She didn’t look as thin or as pale as Rebecca remembered. Maybe her disease was in remission now.

  “I’ve been very well lately. Danki for asking. I can take that basket for you, if you like.”

  Rebecca handed over the basket and backed away to observe from a corner. Other women entered the kitchen with bowls and baskets. They chattered as they arranged food to be served at noon. Those who noticed Rebecca in the shadows nodded or said hello. Most of the girls her own age had gathered outside near the barn and were probably discussing the singing to be held in the evening. She wouldn’t be a part of that, either. Maybe she should have gotten off the bus with Viv.

  “It’s time,” someone called. Rebecca watched the women file out the back door. She fought rising panic and nausea. She dragged in some deep breaths. She absolutely could not get sick here in front of everyone.

  “Are you all right?” Sylvia touched Rebecca’s arm, concern written on her face.

  Could she say she was sick and needed to go home? Nee. That’s what the old Rebecca would do. “I-I think so.”

  “Kumm. Sit with me.” Sylvia linked her arm with Rebecca’s. “We’ll sit in the back in case you need to go out.”

  Rebecca nodded. She could do this. She would do this. After today, things should get easier, shouldn’t they?

  She sat ramrod straight on the hard wooden bench and stared dead ahead. She sang with the others as they waited for the ministers to enter. She prayed when she was supposed to pray. She fought to keep her wandering thoughts focused on the long sermons. It had been awhile since she’d sat through a three-hour church service. Her back ached and her eyes watered from staring in one spot. She briefly allowed her gaze to dart around the gathering.