An Amish Homecoming

by Rosalind Lauer

He shook his head. “That won’t work.”

  “Maybe you can glue it,” she said, finding an empty chair.

  “I might try that,” he said.

  Watching them, Essie appreciated the way Harlan could chat with a child even in the worst of circumstances. When he turned to Essie and winked, her heart melted with love for him.

  Mem and Dat spoke with Harlan while Sarah Rose played with her doll, letting it slide on a slippery plastic chair. Mem wanted to visit with Collette, but Harlan explained that she was sleeping right now, sedated because of her pain. Dat wondered how the accident happened, and Harlan said he didn’t know yet. A police officer was supposed to come back to complete the report, but Harlan was thinking it had been a hit-and-run, since there hadn’t been a second vehicle at the scene.

  “Right now I’m grateful that Mem and Suzie are each in one piece, soon to be on the mend,” he said. “Once I know they’re squared away, I need to see about our mule. Suzie told me that Beebee didn’t seem to be hurt, but the police were carting her off. I’ll have to track her down tomorrow.”

  “No need,” Essie said. She explained that the police officer at the scene of the crash had given her the name of the veterinarian who had taken her in. “A Dr. Foster. When we left, Sam and the twins were harnessing up our horse cart to go pick her up. Beebee will be fine in our barn till you’re ready for her, and there shouldn’t be any boarding fee.”

  Relieved, Harlan pressed a palm to his heart. “That’s a burden lifted. Denki, Essie.”

  She nodded, wishing she could do more. Don’t you know I would do anything for you? she thought. When you loved someone, there was no limit on giving.

  Dat offered to get some coffees from the cafeteria, and Mem popped open a bin of homemade “z-cookies,” one of Miriam’s creations. “There’s zucchini in them,” Mem said, trying to add a lighter note. “So I like to think they’re good for you.”

  “If you don’t count the chocolate chips,” Essie added.

  Harlan was too distracted to get the joke, but he bit into a cookie and thanked Mem. Dat returned with coffee for the adults and milk for Sarah Rose, and she sat in a chair to drink it down, pretending to share it with her doll.

  “Harlan Yoder?” One of the nurses told Harlan that he could see his sister.

  Harlan motioned Essie to come along—“Suzie’s always happy to see you”—and they were led down the hallway to small examining areas separated only by curtains on hooks.

  The nurse grabbed hold of the edge of the curtain and called into the small space. “I have your brother here,” he said. “And a friend.”

  Essie moved forward and peered in to see Suzie sitting back in an upright bed, looking small and forlorn. A red bump sat over her right eye, and the cheek below it had been stitched closed and then fastened with a row of tiny bandages. Except for the bump, her face seemed washed out and pale.

  “Suzie . . .” Essie rushed to her bedside and took her hand, only to find a clip on Suzie’s finger. “How do you feel? That’s a nasty bump.”

  “I have a headache,” Suzie said, “but they don’t think it’s—what did you call it? A combustion?”

  “Concussion. The doctor ruled out concussion with the CT scan,” the nurse said. “But you need to take it easy. Any vomiting or seizures would be warning signs. And you’ll want to keep those stitches dry for 24 to 48 hours, then apply petroleum jelly. I’ll give you an instruction sheet on that.”

  “And you said I can go home soon?” Suzie said to the nurse.

  “The doctor plans to release you, but you can’t be home alone. Is there someone at home who can watch over you? At least for the next twenty-four hours.”

  “I can take care of her,” Harlan said.

  “But Mem might need you here,” Suzie said, gingerly touching her chin, as if to check that it was still there.

  Harlan and Essie exchanged a look. “She can come to our house,” Essie offered. “There’s plenty of people to keep an eye on her there.”

  “Do you want to stay at the Lapps?” Harlan asked.

  “Yah, that would be good,” Suzie said, leaning back against the bed again. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Most days I’d be tickled to spend the night away, but right now my head hurts too much to be happy.”

  “We’ll make sure you get rest,” Essie said, rubbing Suzie’s arm.

  “All right,” the nurse said. “You chill here, and I’ll be back when the doctor signs off on your release.”

  Essie remained close to Suzie while Harlan stood at the foot of the bed, his arms folded as he looked over his sister.

  “Don’t worry, Suzie,” he said. “The Lapps will take good care of you.”

  “What about Mem?” she asked. “When’s she coming home?”

  “It sounds like it might be a while,” Harlan said. “She might need a surgery or something called traction, when they lift your leg on a pulley to help it heal.”

  This was the first Essie had heard of those possibilities, and she wondered if Harlan was down-playing Collette’s condition to soften the news for Suzie.

  Still, Suzie winced. “That sounds terrible.” She sighed. “I just want the three of us to go home together.”

  “It’ll be a while until that can happen,” Harlan said. “Till then, we’ll make sure you’ve got someone taking care of you.”

  “Okay, Harlan.” With her pale face and slender hands curled under her chin, Suzie seemed so small and delicate in the hospital bed. Essie longed to cover her with one of Mem’s soft, knitted throws.

  “While you’re resting, can you tell me what happened there on the road?” Harlan’s face was shadowed with rue. “Was it a hit-and-run? Or maybe Mem took a bad turn over a pothole?”

  “It wasn’t anything like that.” Suzie opened her eyes, but kept her head on the pillow. “There were no cars nearby, and Mem didn’t do anything wrong. One minute we were talking; the next the buggy was tipping over, tumbling to the ground on one side. I think the bad wheel—the noisy one—it just let loose.”

  The bad wheel . . . Oh, no. It couldn’t be.

  A stricken look darkened Harlan’s face. “That wheel . . .” He pressed a hand to his cheek. “I tried to fix it a dozen times. I should have known better. I should have bought a new buggy.”

  “Who can afford that?” Suzie said.

  “It’s not your fault,” Essie told Harlan. She moved toward the foot of the bed and put her hand on his shoulder. “These things happen.”

  “Not when you’ve got a brand-new buggy that doesn’t click or squeak or lose its wheel on a busy road.” His fingers curled as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I should have replaced that wheel. Should have junked the whole buggy and gotten a new one. It was up to me to keep you and Mem safe. I’m the man of the family. It was on my shoulders.”

  He whisked the curtain open. “And now it will be on my conscience.”

  And with that, he was gone.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Serena put her hands on the kitchen counter and stared around her suspiciously. This was definitely hostile territory, but she needed to conquer it, and fast.

  Before Aunt Miriam had left, she’d asked Serena to handle tonight’s dinner. “I’ll leave it up to you to make sure everyone gets fed.” Preparing to leave, Miriam had propped a plastic container of homemade cookies under one arm and handed a doll to Sarah Rose with the other.

  “Me?” Serena had been surprised, and a little annoyed. Everyone knew she was like a tornado in the kitchen. “That’s a dangerous idea. Why don’t you ask Megan?”

  “She’s at the library in town, trying to finish a school assignment,” Aunt Miriam said as she hustled Sarah Rose out the door. “Annie will be helping with the evening milking, and I don’t think Grace is quite up for it. But ask for help. Ask the others to pitch in.”

  Serena had pressed her lips together to keep from objecting. She didn’t want this assignment, and she knew she would fail. But someone needed to step up
at this time when Essie was on the verge of tears and they all were holding their breath, anxiously waiting to hear how Harlan’s mother and sister had fared. Tension abounded. And at the moment Serena couldn’t shake off her dad’s favorite expression: Lead, follow, or get out of the way.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Serena called from the front doorway as Essie, Miriam, and Sarah Rose climbed into the waiting buggy. “Don’t you worry about a thing here.” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt as Uncle Alvin called to the horse and the buggy started rolling down the lane. From the backseat, Essie peered back sadly, and Serena gave her a thumbs-up. Essie’s face disappeared, but her hand emerged with her thumb in the air. Serena hoped things went well at the hospital.

  Back in the kitchen, Serena looked from the stove to the fridge, as if a meal might be waiting there to heat and serve. No such luck. How long would it take to make dinner for all the Lapp kids? At the big table, Grace and Lizzie sat together doing their separate schoolwork assignments. Lizzie’s schoolwork never seemed too taxing, but she seemed to enjoy reading, especially books about the big brown dog Scooby-Doo.

  Serena opened cupboards and stared at the contents, searching for inspiration. What had Aunt Miriam been planning to serve tonight? In one cupboard she found a jar of Essie’s berry jam, as well as the delicious Amish peanut butter spread that had marshmallow mixed through it. Over the past few weeks, Serena had noticed that Sunday dinners were usually do-it-yourself sandwiches, the opposite of the big Sunday feasts Dad had always enjoyed at home. When she had asked about it, Miriam had explained that they believed God wanted Sunday to be a day of rest, so they didn’t do big tasks, and they took a break from cooking.

  Maybe tonight could be a sandwich night, too?

  “Serena . . .” Lizzie called in a sing-songy voice from the next room. “What are you doing? Are you making food? I’m hungry.”

  “I’m just trying to figure out what to make for dinner.” She opened the propane-powered refrigerator and tried to look for something obvious, like a plate of roasted chicken or even burger patties that could be cooked. There were jars of pickles, beets, and juice. Half a jar of red sauce was marked “pizza sauce.” There was a fat slab of bacon, and a large bowl of leftover mashed potatoes. Unfortunately, there was nothing ready to serve.

  “Looks like it’s going to be sandwiches for dinner,” Serena said.

  “Oh, goody.” Lizzie smiled. “Are you going to bake bread?”

  “Sure,” Grace said without looking up from her notebook. “Start now, and we might be able to eat by midnight.”

  Serena looked behind her. “What’s wrong with the bread we have?”

  “Nothing.” Lizzie shrugged. “Except we ate it all up.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Serena put her hands on her hips.

  “Look in the bread box.” Lizzie put her book down. “Here. I’ll show you.” She strode into the kitchen and showed Serena the wooden container where they kept bread. Of course, Serena had pulled fresh bread from there to make toast. As luck would have it, the container was empty.

  “Oh, come on.” Serena stamped one foot on the floor. “How are we going to have sandwiches without bread?”

  Lizzie smiled, as if it was the funniest thing that had happened all week. “I guess we can’t have sandwiches.”

  “Grr.” Serena raked back her hair. “Okay, Lizzie-doo. What do you suggest?”

  Lizzie giggled. “Do you know Scooby-Doo?”

  “I’ve never met him personally, but I used to watch the cartoons when I was little.”

  “I like his books.”

  “I’ve noticed. So, you know your way around this kitchen. You’ve been here, what? Ten, eleven years?”

  Lizzie giggled again. “Ten.”

  “What do you think we should make for dinner?” Serena asked. “And notice that I said we. Because a Lapp family dinner is too much for one person to handle.”

  “Why don’t you make a casserole?” Lizzie suggested.

  “Nice idea.” Serena folded her arms. “How would we do that?”

  Lizzie held up her hands. “With a recipe!”

  “Well, since I can’t just go on YouTube to find one, what do you suggest?” Serena asked. “Where does Aunt Miriam keep hers stashed?”

  “In that drawer over there.” Lizzie pulled out a drawer and showed Serena several bundles of index cards secured by rubber bands. “There you go.”

  “Now we’re cooking.” Serena sifted through the bundles and chose one that seemed to have dinner recipes. “You’ve been a big help, Lizzie,” she said, leafing through recipes. “Tell me, how are you at chopping?”

  Lizzie reached into a lower drawer and pulled out two cooking aprons. “Mem says I’m a big help in the kitchen.”

  Serena tied a green apron on and smiled. “Music to my ears.”

  * * *

  Serena and Lizzie found one of Miriam’s recipes that used leftover mashed potatoes. The dish was called potato squares, and it called for leftover mashed potatoes covered with a seasoned ground beef crumble. Since the only ground beef in the house was frozen, Serena decided to leave it out, but Grace and Lizzie thought that would be too bland.

  “How about a bacon crumble instead?” Serena asked, staring into the refrigerator.

  “Everybody likes bacon,” Grace said.

  “Scooby-Dooby bacon!” Serena joked as she took the slab out and put a griddle on the stove to heat. Lizzie found it enormously funny.

  Sam and the twins returned from the veterinarian with Harlan’s mule. “We’re going to get her settled and then milk the cows,” Sam said. “What’s for dinner?”

  “It’s a surprise,” Serena said.

  “A bacon surprise,” Lizzie added.

  “I don’t like surprises,” Sam said, pausing at the door, “but I do like bacon.”

  As they tried to follow the recipe, the bacon sizzled and popped in the pan. One pop sent something hot onto Serena’s arm, but she rubbed the pain away and lowered the fire a bit. Lizzie was helpful when Serena struggled to find the different ingredients like brown sugar, paprika, and Worcestershire sauce. Who knew that onions would be stored down in the cooler cellar? Grace pitched in to finish chopping the onion when Serena’s eyes were so full of tears that she could no longer see.

  “It’s so sad! I have to chop an onion!” Grace said, pantomiming tears when Serena complained. “Wa-ha-ha-ha!”

  Serena sniffed, a little annoyed as she went to rinse her hands. But Lizzie’s laughter was contagious, and Serena quickly got over it and laughed along. When they spread the mashed potatoes in a cake pan and covered them with the seasoned bacon crumble, Serena felt as if she’d had a hand in creating a masterpiece.

  “This is going to be fantastic,” she said, sprinkling on the last of the bacon.

  “We’ll see about that, Martha Stewart,” Grace said.

  The dish was heating in the hot oven when Annie, Sam, Pete, and Paul came in from milking the cows.

  “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” Serena said. “You guys can go wash up.”

  “Smells good,” Sam said as he headed upstairs.

  “Let’s hope it’s edible,” Serena said under her breath.

  Grace stowed her books in her backpack and set the table, while Serena cleaned up from the dinner preparation. Lizzie set out a pitcher of lemonade and one of water, as well as a platter of fresh veggies from the garden. As everyone assembled at the table, Serena shoved oven mitts on her hands and paced in front of the stove. At the ding of the timer, she removed the steaming pan from the oven and faced the audience gathered round the table. Megan came in just as Annie was showing Serena how to cut rectangular portions with the edge of the spatula.

  “You made it in time for Serena’s creation,” Grace said.

  “Actually I was just trying to get home on the scooter before dark. I’m still not done, but I think I have enough information to finish here.” Megan’s AP classes were more difficult tha
n Serena’s. Many of them were college level, which required a greater time investment.

  “Wash your hands and have a seat,” Serena said, dishing up another portion. Once everyone was served, they silently gave thanks for the food and then dug in. Serena watched as the boys attacked the meal quickly, while the girls took their time. Serena watched for their reaction.

  “Good,” Pete said between bites.

  “Wonderful good,” Sam agreed. “You need to give Mem your recipe.”

  “See?” Lizzie smiled at Serena. “I told you everyone would like it.”

  “It’s actually not bad,” Megan said.

  “I’m so glad you guys like it,” Serena said. “I was so worried. You know cooking is not my thing. But Lizzie was a big help. Grace, too.”

  “Can I have more?” asked Paul.

  Serena smiled as she gave out second helpings.

  With the pressure off, she lifted her fork and took a bite. The brown sugar added just the right touch of sweetness to the bacon, and the bacon fat gave the potatoes moisture and a smoky flavor. Not bad for a first try.

  The feeling of accomplishment was amplified by the fact that Essie and Aunt Miriam had needed her to cook so that they could attend to Harlan’s family at the hospital. At least, Serena now had one recipe in her repertoire.

  Not long after the kitchen cleanup Aunt Miriam arrived home with Sarah Rose and Harlan’s sister, Suzie. Serena hung back as Lizzie and Annie greeted Suzie warmly, but she was obviously weak and tired, moving slowly.

  “Let’s get some food in you, and then up to bed,” Aunt Miriam said, guiding Suzie to the table. “You can take a bed in the nursery with Sarah Rose. More quiet for you.”

  Annie brought Suzie a glass of milk and sat down beside her. Miriam went into the kitchen and called out, “This casserole will be the perfect thing.”

  Once the food was reheated, Suzie took a few bites as the younger girls asked her about her injuries. Did her head hurt? What were those tiny strips on her face?

  “Mem has more bandages if you need them,” Sarah Rose offered.

  Serena smiled, but Suzie seemed to be falling asleep at the table.