“What happened with you two?” Viola blurted. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”
As Aunt Lorene looked like she was struggling to answer, Elsie glared at her. “What happened with Aunt Lorene is none of our business, Viola.”
Only her twin could make her feel shame like this. “I’m sorry. Elsie’s right. Please, forget I asked.”
Her backing off seemed to help Lorene. Shrugging, she said, “Actually, now that I think about it, it’s not that big of a secret. Only painful.” She sighed. “The problems with Mamm go back to ten years ago. I was seeing a man I really liked. My mother didn’t think he was suitable but I disagreed.”
“What happened? Did you see him anyway?”
“Why was he unsuitable?” Elsie added.
Viola heaped on another question. “Was he not Amish?”
“Oh, you two. Sometimes when you twins start finishing each other’s thoughts, it can be maddening!” After a moment, she said, “John was Amish, but he was . . . scruffy. And I was tempted to see him more. . . .”
Elsie pushed the dish she was filling away. “I’m not even going to pretend I’m interested in cooking right now. Tell us more.”
“What do you mean, he was scruffy?” Viola asked.
Lorene frowned. “Goodness, perhaps saying he was scruffy wasn’t the kindest way to describe him. He was a gut man, but a bit rough around the edges. He didn’t have any money to speak of. His family was poor, and his mother died young. So his clothes were always a little dirty, and never quite fit right. Later, his father wasn’t able to care for him and his brother.”
“What happened to him?”
“An uncle took the boys in. That was good, but the uncle was something of a recluse.” Her voice cracked, illustrating just how affected she still was by the bittersweet memories. “John Miller was someone who could have been so much more, if he’d just had someone who believed in him.”
“But you believed in him, right?” Elsie prodded, her eyes wide.
“I did.” Blushing a little bit, Lorene added, “He was so kind to me, and he was sensitive. I could talk to him about almost anything. I was sure he was the right man for me. But, of course, my mother didn’t see things that way.”
Caught up in the story, Viola blurted, “That shouldn’t matter.”
“It did at the time.” Tilting her head down, she winced. “When I was with John, I felt like the prettiest, smartest, most special girl in the room. He believed in me, you see.” She sighed. “I suppose I should have tried harder for him to be accepted. . . .”
“What did Daed say?”
“Peter? Oh, gosh, I never told your father. I never told any of my siblings. I’m the youngest, you know. And when my parents told me that I couldn’t see him anymore, no matter what, well, after a few weeks of arguing, I realized that I wasn’t going to win that battle. I certainly wasn’t going to get the rest of the family involved!”
“Because you were afraid that they’d side with your parents, too?”
“I had thought they would.” Her bottom lip trembled. “But now? I’m not so sure. Maybe I should have trusted them more?” Softly she added, “If I had trusted myself more, things might have turned out far different.”
“Where is John Miller now?” Elsie asked. “Did he move away?”
“Oh, no. His brother moved away, but he’s still here.”
“I’ve never heard of him,” Viola said.
“No reason why you should have. There are thousands of Amish in Holmes County. Plus, John doesn’t belong to our church district.”
After exchanging a look with Elsie, Viola said, “You should go talk to him, Aunt Lorene.”
“Actually, I did. Today.”
Viola reached out and squeezed her sister’s hand. “And? Are you two still in love after all this time?”
A shadow slipped into her expression. “I’m afraid not. John owns his own furniture store now. He’s quite successful. But it was clear he still hasn’t forgotten how I broke things off. I fear he’ll never forgive me.”
“All you have to do is explain things, Lorene,” Elsie said in a rush. “I’m sure once he hears that you regret things, he’ll understand.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that easy. It’s been ten years. And that’s a mighty long time to wait to tell someone that you’re sorry.” Picking up a potato, she said, “I only told you that story . . . Gosh, now I don’t even know why I told you. It’s not important. Not anymore.”
“Maybe he’s your true love,” Elsie murmured. With a glint in her eye, she added, “Just like Edward might be Viola’s true love.”
Lorene chuckled.
Viola didn’t throw a piece of the carrot she was cutting at her sister because her aunt was there. But she was tempted to. “Edward is not my true love,” she said firmly.
“Care to tell me who you are speaking of, Viola?” her mother said from the doorway.
Her mother’s appearance felt like a cold wind, cooling off all thoughts of love and impossible relationships. “No. I mean, we’re not talking about anything. It’s nothing,” she replied over her sister’s snickers.
“Sure about that?”
“Yes, Mamm.”
“All right then,” she murmured before leaving again.
“Gotcha!” Elsie said with a laugh.
“You certainly did.” One day she was going to get Elsie back. She was sure of that!
chapter seven
Lorene had always adored her brother Sam. He’d been the one who looked out for her, and had the kindest disposition. He’d tempered their eldest brother Jacob’s bossy personality and he’d also been the first to marry.
Sam seemed to have been born to make others feel important and loved.
But he looked like a completely different person at the moment. His face looked as hard as stone as he sat beside his wife in the small living area of the dawdi haus. They’d decided to confront their parents there so they couldn’t walk away from the discussion.
Her mother and father sat still as statues on two ladderback chairs in front of the fireplace. Peter and Marie sat on two other chairs. Though Roman, Elsie, and Viola had wanted to join in the discussion, Sam had asked that they look after his three kids instead. Daniel, David, and Dora were just old enough to understand that all of them were upset, but probably too young to fully understand the reasons for their pain.
Everyone looked like they sincerely wished they were somewhere else. Anyplace else.
“You needn’t have arranged this inquisition, Peter,” their father said. “There isn’t anything to discuss.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“I agree,” Sam said. “Mamm, I was terribly surprised to hear your news. And we need to talk about it.”
“It doesn’t matter, Samuel. All that was years ago.”
“But it does,” Lorene blurted before she thought better of it. “All our lives, you acted like you never made a mistake in your life.”
“Joining the Amish wasn’t a mistake, daughter. It was the best thing I ever did.”
“Why? What made you adopt the faith? And what about your parents? You never speak of them. What did they think?” Sam paused, then asked yet another question that had been on everyone’s mind. “Are they even alive?”
“That is none of your business,” their usually quiet father said.
“I disagree,” Samuel countered.
Although Aaron was now at least fifty pounds lighter than his sons, he still glared at them, immediately tempering their feisty words. “You will mind your tongue.”
Looking from Peter to Marie to Sam to Mary Beth, Lorene winced. Oh, but this was going badly. “Why don’t you two simply tell us what happened?” she said in a reasonable tone. “Then we wouldn’t be asking you so many questions.”
Her parents exchanged glances.
“I don’t think so,” their father said. “What happened is in the past. It won’t help any of you to know what we did back in P
ennsylvania before you were born. Besides, it’s our concern, not yours.”
Lorene felt her two brothers flinch in surprise.
“Come on,” Peter said, exasperated. “I’m not going to let you push this off like it was some minor incident in your youth. We’re talking about a major decision that affected your whole lives.”
Their father glared through the thick lenses of his silver wire-rimmed glasses. “We are still your parents, and deserve your respect, son.”
The words stung, as their father had no doubt intended them to. Aaron Keim had always been a gentle man. He’d never raised a hand to them. When they were all in school, their neighbors would remark about how he could corral six children so easily with only one meaningful look.
Now, Lorene realized that she’d been following her siblings’ examples. They had obeyed instantly, and so she had wanted to obey instantly, as well.
Now, here they were again. Once again bristling under their parents’ stern gazes. Even after thirty years, it was difficult to argue with them.
“Our need to understand your past isn’t some childish whim, Mamm,” Sam said slowly. “I have kinner now, too. I understand a parent’s need for privacy, but this is beyond that.”
Glaring, their mother blurted, “It wasn’t a whole other life, Samuel. It was simply a long time ago, and one I promised myself I’d soon forget.”
“But you can’t forget the past. Not really,” Lorene murmured.
Her father blinked. For a moment Lorene was sure he was about to agree with her. But then his expression hardened, in tune with his voice. “Daughter, I’m in no hurry to hear more of your complaints, and I don’t intend to answer any of your questions, either. This discussion is over.”
Something snapped inside of Lorene. Pain from denying herself happiness bubbled up inside her like a pot that had been on the burner too long. “But it isn’t over.”
All her life, she’d backed down. But now was different. Maybe she finally felt old enough to speak her mind. Maybe she finally felt like she had nothing to lose—after all, she’d never found a man like John. She’d never found anyone who had claimed her heart like he had.
Letting her emotions guide her, she stood up. “You can’t do this. You two can’t simply refuse to talk about the past.”
“Don’t speak to me in that tone, Lorene. Mind your manners.”
There went the rest of her temper—it sailed right out the door with the last of her control. “I am not a child.”
“Then stop acting like one.”
“Actually, for the first time in my life, I think I’m finally acting like an adult. No longer will I simply listen to your directives and follow your rules. Not after you did everything you could to ruin my life.” Then, before she took the time to weigh the consequences of her actions, she blurted out what she was really thinking, “Not after John.”
While Peter remained quiet, Samuel darted a confused look her way. “Who in the world is John?” he asked.
Though she’d wanted to avoid the subject, it seemed she couldn’t help herself. “John Miller is the man I was in love with ten years ago. He’s the man I wanted to marry. He’s the man Mamm and Daed refused to let me see, saying he wasn’t good enough for me.”
“He wasn’t,” her mother said. “Why are you even mentioning him? Have you been seeing him again?”
“No. He doesn’t want to see me,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster.
Awkwardly, her mother stood up and faced her. But where before there was always a certain sweet tenderness, now panic warred with anger in the lines of her face. “Lorene, I suppose blaming me for your troubles makes you feel better. And you’re right. I did warn you against him. But you didn’t put up much of a fight, did you?”
She was stunned. “You expected me to fight you?”
“I expected you to fight for your future—if he really meant something to you. But you didn’t. And once more, you never sought him out over the years.” Her voice lowered, sounding thick with disdain. “That there is all you need to know, ain’t so? You can blame me all you want, but your loneliness isn’t my fault. You made that choice all on your own. You gave up easily.”
“But—”
She held up a hand. “There is no ‘but.’ All these years have passed and you never said a word. You can pretend that you cared, but you obviously didn’t. A woman in love would have fought, Lorene. A woman in love would have tried harder. I did.”
Looking down her nose at Lorene, she sniffed. “That is the kind of thing you need to think about. Not what I did wrong . . . but what you have done.”
As their mother turned and walked to her bedroom, Lorene stood motionless, frozen by the spiteful words. A whole decade of her life had passed in silence. She’d wasted so much time trying to do the right thing, to be the good daughter. And now she found out that her mother hadn’t even respected her choices! No; instead of respecting her, she’d looked down on her with contempt.
There, in the circle of her brothers and their wives, Lorene felt angry and embarrassed. What had just happened?
One by one, Sam, Peter, Mary Beth, and Marie stood up as they watched their father silently turn and follow their mother out of the room. Then they all exited the dawdi haus.
Even standing outside in the cold felt better than the stifling atmosphere that had settled in that room.
Raising her face to the sky, Lorene breathed in the cool air, hoping the deep breaths would calm her churning insides.
She fought to keep her tears at bay. The last thing she wanted was to start crying in front of her brothers.
But, oh, she was so sad. What a mistake her life had become!
Marie hugged her close. “Try not to take what she said to heart, Lorene,” she said softly. “Lovina has always had a spiteful tongue.”
Lorene stood stiffly in her embrace. She loved her sister-in-law, but she didn’t think any simple words could ease the moment.
After another hug, Marie and Mary Beth went back to the main house.
Just as she started to follow, Peter reached for her arm. “Wait a moment, shveshtah.”
“What is it?”
“Are you going to be all right?” he asked gently.
Was she? Were any of them? “I don’t know.”
Sam walked to her side and slipped his hand in hers. “Don’t listen to Mamm.”
“I’m afraid she’s right, Sam.”
“To someone who never lived with our parents, our mamm’s words might make a lot of sense. But we were all there together,” he said darkly. “I know how hard it was to go against our parents. I know how certain they were about just about everything.” Lowering his voice, he added, “You were a dutiful daughter, Lorene. You did everything right. You did everything you were asked to do. As they raised all of us to do.”
“Yes, I was dutiful,” she repeated, feeling that she hated that word even more than she thought. “I listened. I did what I was supposed to. And what did I get for that? Even more disappointment. Now it feels like I’ve lost years. So much time that I’ll never be able to get back.”
“I know.”
Though she hated how weak she sounded, she murmured, “I’ve spent most of my life trying to be good, which was supposed to help me sleep well at night, but it never really did.”
“Doing what is expected doesn’t help your heart much, does it?” Peter said, a bit of melancholy in his voice. “Not in the middle of the night when old hurts remind you of why you aren’t happy.”
“No matter what I do, I can’t seem to win.”
Peter sighed. “For what it’s worth, you’re not alone in that, Lorene. It’s how all of us feel.” He glanced Sam’s way. “I moved into the house because someone had to. I did everything Mamm and Daed wanted me to because I wanted them to approve. To maybe even be proud of me. To be like them.”
“We all wanted to be like them.”
“And until this very moment,” Sam said, “I didn’t thi
nk we’d ever come close. I thought each of us was doomed to be faint copies of our parents.”
Realizing that their parents were just as flawed as they were, Lorene said, “Perhaps we were all wrong. All this time, we thought we could never be good enough. But we didn’t spend the last forty years lying to our children.”
Peter laughed dryly. “Well, that’s something I suppose.”
“It certainly gives me something to think about with my three kinner,” Sam said. “Next time one of them tells a fib, I need to remember that things could be worse!”
“Well, you know what Jacob would say,” Lorene murmured.
Sam and Peter exchanged wry glances. “He’d say that things can always get worse,” Sam said with a grin. “All we have to do is wait ten minutes.”
Lorene chuckled. Because she and her brothers had grown up so close in age, bickering had been a constant occurrence. Their mother used to say that she would get worried when everything was running too smoothly—she’d be waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And now, here they all were, firmly embroiled in all the problems their parents had swept under the rug for years.
It seemed their mother had been right about one thing at least . . . living peacefully was only a temporary thing.
chapter eight
“Well, Gretta, I’d have to say we did our best with the lot we were given, don’t you think?” Ed asked the little dog whom he’d now almost officially adopted. “If Mamm were alive, she’d tell me I did a right good job with the cleaning.”
Gretta stared up at him solemnly, then turned to her new little bed. The day before he’d ended up buying a cedar-filled dog bed for her, wanting her to be comfortable when he wasn’t home. She’d been pleased as punch with it—well, as soon as he’d put a small blanket on the bed so she could burrow underneath it.
The hours had been long in the house, so he’d used the time as best he could. He’d scrubbed and polished and aired out mattresses and blankets and quilts. Luckily, the weather had cooperated and he’d been able to hang the laundry out on the line.
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