An Amish Homecoming

by Rosalind Lauer

  Sleep would be welcome, but Essie wasn’t sure that it would come easily. Now that she’d seen Harlan’s mother, she had more questions and concerns than reassurances. She said a quiet good-bye to Collette, and then went out to the nurse’s desk, where Harlan had to read through pages of forms involving his mother’s care, permission for the surgery, and assurance that the hospital bills would be paid.

  There was no question about paying for whatever Collette needed. Amish folk used the advice and treatment of doctors when they could.

  “I might be paying for the rest of my life,” Harlan said as he signed his name to the form. “But I thank Gott that Mem will get the treatment she needs.”

  “You’re a good son,” Essie said.

  From the stony look on his face, she could tell that he didn’t believe her.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was late. The wood in the potbelly stove had long ago burned down to embers, but it still gave off enough heat to keep the main room cozy on this October night. Miriam was one of the last ones up, along with Serena, who had come in from the woodshop with streaks of lavender paint on her hands. By the light of a large kerosene lamp they chatted and lost themselves in their repetitive tasks.

  “I’m so tired,” Serena said as she wound the yarn from the skein into a growing ball. The task was a big help to Miriam, who had learned the hard way that skeins got tangled in the knitting process. It seemed that the busy work eased Serena’s mind. “I should go to bed,” Serena said.

  “You should,” Miriam said. “But then you’d miss the best part of your day—the arrival of the milk truck.”

  Serena smiled, peering at Miriam through a lock of dark hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail. “You don’t miss a trick, Aunt Miriam.”

  “Seven children before you have taught me a thing or two.” Miriam’s fingers moved automatically, the knitting needles clicking away as her thoughts went to her three English nieces. Grace, whom she was knitting this scarf for, seemed to have settled into a content pocket with school and the family to keep her busy. Megan was the hard worker, a serious student with her mind set on college. Lately she had taken to going on short runs instead of those long walks. A sign that her knee and her mind were healing.

  And bubbly, daring Serena, who now expended so much of her energy on old furniture, turning the beast into a beauty, as the fairy tale went. The girl who’d once said she hated old things was giving them new life. Miriam was happy for her.

  “You’re not usually up this late,” Serena said. “Wassup, Auntie M?”

  It was true. And despite the warmth of the stove, Miriam wished she was upstairs snuggling next to the warmth of her husband. But Essie was out late, another night at the hospital, and Miriam had decided to stay up until she got home. The girl’s energy must be about whittled down to nothing, and Miriam wanted to encourage her. “I’m waiting up to see Essie,” Miriam said. “She’s been tirelessly attending to Collette all this week.”

  “I’ve barely seen her at all,” Serena agreed. “But aren’t Amish parents supposed to look the other way when their teenage kids are out late?”

  “You’ve learned a few things about plain living.” Miriam nodded. “It’s true that during rumspringa, parents go to bed and hope their children stay safe. But Essie is finished with all that. She and Harlan are both baptized members of the church now, committed to following church rules.” Her needles clicked away steadily. “And when her daughter is out late caring for folks in the hospital, a mother wants to make sure she’s taking time to take care of herself, too.”

  “That’s sweet.” Serena wound the yarn slowly. “She’s lucky to have you as a mom.”

  “I’m the one who’s been blessed. A big family fills a home with love,” Miriam said. “And a good deal of noise, too.”

  The clip-clop of hooves let them know a buggy was coming. “That’ll be Harlan bringing her home.”

  “It was nice of you guys to lend him a buggy.”

  “Well, he needed a way to get around, and we had an old one in the buggy barn. There’s so much for Harlan and Suzie to do, going back and forth to the rehab center and tending to their jobs. The least we could do was help with transportation.”

  Miriam and Serena remained in place as the noise from the buggy stopped. After dropping Essie off, Harlan would return to the apartment in Joyful River, where he would have to park the buggy, remove Beebee from the harnesses, and brush her down. Miriam couldn’t imagine how exhausted the young man must be, working at the furniture factory by day and then spending his nights visiting his mem at the care facility. She was grateful that the women of their church had organized a food train so that someone was bringing a nice meal to Collette, Harlan, and visitors at the facility each night.

  When Essie came in the door she seemed surprised to see anyone up on this Saturday night before church. She hung her cape on the hook by the door and came over to sit by the potbelly stove. “You’re up late.”

  “We didn’t want you to come home to a cold, dark house,” Miriam said. “How did the day go for Collette?”

  “She seems to be feeling a bit better every day.” Essie seemed worn to the marrow as she removed her shoes and sank back in the chair. “The doctor said she can be released Tuesday and continue her physical therapy as an outpatient. But there’s no place for her to go. She won’t be able to tackle those narrow steps to the apartment for a long time.”

  “I wish we could have her here,” Miriam said.

  “I know, but she would struggle at the front porch, let alone getting upstairs to the bedroom. No, the doctor wants her living on the ground floor of a house. Harlan and I spent a few hours today looking for a new rental for Collette, Suzie, and him, but no ground floor units were available.” She sighed. “I feel sorry for Collette. Her heart’s set on getting out of there Tuesday, but she has nowhere to go.”

  “Can’t she stay in the rehab place for a while?” asked Serena.

  “It’s too expensive,” Essie said, “and she longs for the freedom and comfort they can’t allow her there.”

  “I’m sure something will turn up,” Miriam said.

  “I hope so,” Essie said. “The bishop was visiting tonight, and he said he’s going to pray on it.”

  “We’ll all pray, and an answer will come.” Miriam stopped knitting. “You look tired, daughter. Shall I make you a snack?”

  “I’ve no appetite.” Essie shook her head. “All of this commotion over the crash has gotten in the way of things. My plans with Harlan . . .” She bit her lower lip, trying to keep from crying.

  “What is it, Essie?” Miriam prodded.

  “It seems selfish to be sad for myself when Collette is suffering so, but . . .” Essie’s words were cut off by a sob. Quickly she caught herself, sniffing and wiping away her tears. “Harlan and I are getting married in November. At least that was the plan until the accident. We were going to tell you and Dat and Collette . . . and then the crash happened.”

  “Oh, daughter!” Miriam kept her voice low, but she could not deny that she was thrilled by Essie’s news. “That’s a joyous announcement.”

  “But with everything that’s happened, I don’t know what Harlan is planning to do. Collette is still talking about leaving Joyful River. That first night at the hospital we thought she was in shock, but now, with a clear head, she’s still talking about it. She said she’s been thinking of leaving Joyful River for some time now. That it’s just too hard to make ends meet, and she wants a good life for her children.”

  “But Harlan has a good life here, with you,” Serena insisted.

  Leaving town? It was the last thing Miriam would expect from Collette Yoder, who seemed like the sort who loved her routines and familiar paths. “Where would they go?” Miriam asked.

  “To Ohio, to live with one of her brothers.”

  “Ah, yes, Ohio was where her brothers went to find work when the farmland began to get so scarce here,” Miriam said, hoping the light ch
atter would calm her oldest daughter. “Collette has visited there for weddings. She said her brothers found a church that accepted them years ago, and they feel very much at home now. They wanted her to join them, but at the time she insisted that Joyful River was home. But you say she’s changed her mind now?”

  Essie frowned. “She says they need to go. Harlan is torn in two. I know he wants to stay. . . .”

  “Harlan can’t leave Joyful River,” Serena insisted. “What about your plans? That would ruin everything.”

  “But his mem expects him to go, and you know he’s a good son. Besides, he still thinks the buggy accident was his fault. He can’t forgive himself. It doesn’t help that the police determined that the crash was caused by a malfunction of the Yoder buggy. Harlan feels responsible, and he’ll do anything to make it up to his mem and sister. He might even have to go to Ohio with them.”

  Miriam touched her daughter’s hand. “Would you go with him?”

  Another tear coursed down Essie’s cheek. “I don’t know, but so far I haven’t been asked.”

  Miriam squeezed her daughter’s hand. Essie’s heart was hurting, and Miriam hated the fact that a remedy for the situation was out of her hands. “So many mountains to climb,” Miriam said, searching her daughter’s shiny brown eyes. “But still, the journey must begin with a single step. This, I know you can do.”

  Essie sniffed and nodded.

  “Talk to Harlan,” Miriam said. “That’s where I would start. You two are planning to take a major step together. You need to make sure you’re walking the same path.”

  * * *

  The next morning came all too soon. Church day, and though Miriam longed to stay in bed, there were the little ones to corral into their church clothes, and a quick breakfast to fit in after the milking and before it was time to leave.

  On the way to church the twins started complaining. “I wish I could sleep all day, like the English cousins,” Paul said.

  “Sleep all day and skip church,” Pete agreed.

  Paul argued that if they skipped church, they wouldn’t get to see their friends. Pete insisted he didn’t care, and that led to a petty back and forth of:

  “Yes, you do!”

  “No, I don’t!”

  “Boys, please, save your bickering for something that matters,” Miriam said. “And don’t blame your cousins for who they are. I’ll have you know that Serena was up late working on her furniture business, and Megan and Grace put a lot of time into their schoolwork. Gott gives each of us different paths and burdens. Yours is not to judge.”

  “Sorry, Mem,” the boys said quietly.

  After that the buggy was silent, a few moments of quiet. A blessed peace! Alvie touched her knee and winked, grateful for the interlude. All too soon they turned into Alice and Noah Yutzy’s driveway, in line with other buggies arriving for church.

  As the singing began in Hoch Deutsch, the traditional language of Anabaptist church ceremonies, Miriam felt a swell of gratitude to be here amongst good people gathered together in glory to Gott. Noah Yutzy’s large workshop had been cleared for the gathering, and a white tent outside extended the area for folks to sit on benches without getting wet, if it should rain. She looked to her left, where Essie sat beside her in the women’s section. It was hard to see her daughter going through troubled times, but Gott in his wisdom would see Essie through.

  This, Miriam knew.

  * * *

  “Such a wonderful good sermon today, don’t you think?” Linda Hostetler’s small round eyes scanned the group of women before her gaze landed hard on Miriam. “Temptation can be a problem for us when we stray from the rules of the church.”

  “So true,” Greta said, and everyone agreed.

  Miriam nodded, feeling like a rabbit frozen in caution under the watchful eyes of a fox. She’d been lured into Linda’s social traps one too many times before.

  “It’s good to have a reminder that possessions are not what matter in the world,” Linda continued. “We live plain by choice, and once we make that choice we must—”

  “Ach! Ezra!” Rose Graber got up from the bench and crossed to the food table, where her nine-year-old son was struggling with a pitcher. “You’re spilling that iced tea everywhere.”

  Miriam smiled, noticing how the interruption had diverted everyone’s attention. All for the best. The women had listened to one sermon today; they didn’t need to hear another one from Linda.

  “Good thing we’re still having church outside,” Greta said as she rose and started collecting empty paper plates.

  “Tell me, Miriam,” Linda said, taking Rose’s empty spot on the bench. “Is your oldest daughter here?”

  “Essie? Yes, she’s here somewhere. Probably talking with the younger ones.”

  “The topic of temptations made me think of her. Does the bishop know she has a cell phone?”

  “Essie?” Miriam held her smile, despite the nettles of Linda’s accusation. “My Essie doesn’t have a cell phone. She’s beyond rumspringa. She was baptized more than a year ago now, and she follows the Ordnung.”

  “But I saw her talking on her cell phone, plain as day. She was sitting in one of your buggies in town, chatting away in broad daylight. I know it was her.”

  “I trust your memory,” Miriam said. “But talking on a cell phone doesn’t mean she owns one.”

  “Sometimes it’s hard for a mother to see the truth about her child.” Linda’s beady eyes softened for a moment. “Too bad. I know what I saw.”

  Rose seemed wary of Linda’s somewhat heated remark as she returned to their group. She seemed about to ask a question, but Miriam shook her head.

  “We’re getting to the age where many of us need eyeglasses,” Greta said, catching up with the conversation. “Just the other day, Lloyd told me he couldn’t tell if a gray bird in our oak tree was a gnatcatcher or a catbird. And there it was, only a few yards away from us. I’m sending him to get his eyes checked.”

  “Sometimes I have trouble seeing the street signs when I’m driving our buggy,” Rose admitted. “Especially in the rain.”

  “Were you out in that storm last week?” Miriam asked.

  “I was home, thanks to Gott in heaven,” Greta said, “but I was running around the yard like a wild horse, pulling my laundry down from the line.”

  “The downpour left a river in our driveway,” Linda said.

  “The thunder really rocked the house. I think it moved a few inches,” Miriam joked, glad that they had switched to a lighter topic.

  They were laughing when Loretta Glick came along with a big smile. “I just heard the news about Collette Yoder,” she said, squeezing Linda’s arm.

  “It was a terrible accident,” Greta said, sharing a concerned look with Miriam. How could Loretta be so gleeful about a friend’s suffering?

  “Not that news! I heard that she’s getting out of the rehab facility this week, all because you’ve offered to put her up.” Loretta patted Linda’s arm. “It’s like the Good Samaritan in the Bible.”

  “I couldn’t say no,” Linda admitted. “Collette needed a one-story place to live, on account of her being in a wheelchair part of the time. That apartment they have, up a flight of stairs, it’s no good. So Bishop Aaron came to me and asked if we’d put her up for a bit. I think she’s moving in on Tuesday.”

  “That is good news,” Rose agreed. “I know the family has been eager to get her out of that facility. They all cost so much. You’re a blessing to the family, Linda.”

  Linda Hostetler, a blessing?

  It sure seemed that way. Maybe Miriam had been too harsh on Linda. Truly, all men and women were Gott’s creations, and he didn’t make mistakes. Maybe Linda’s act of kindness would persuade Collette to stay in the community where she was loved and appreciated.

  Or maybe Linda’s tendency to gossip would send Collette off to Ohio the moment she was healed. Time would tell.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Monday morning, Essie w
as up before dawn helping Mem make breakfast. She had a small helping of scrambled eggs along with a slice of bread and jam, and then went out to the horse barn to hitch Comet to a buggy. When Lizzie, Peter, and Paul were ready, they climbed into the buggy, and off they went to school. Usually the Amish children walked to their nearby school, but since Essie needed to go into town, she thought she would give them a special treat. For once, they would be on time.

  After the accident, Essie had put off all her errands to be with Harlan and his family. Today, it was time to catch up.

  She stopped at the dry goods store and bought ten pounds of sugar, five pounds of flour, and four cases of mason jars. Mem had requested the flour, and Essie needed the rest for canning. Mem had also requested a few yards of discounted fabric in a solid color to be used for dresses and quilting. Essie found a pretty shade of blue, and the clerk measured and cut cloth from the bolt. The clerk, an English woman with short, curly hair and a bright red sweater, helped Essie load up the back of the buggy.

  At the bank, Essie decided to forgo the drive-through, worried as always that Comet wouldn’t mind her as they waited in line. Instead, she tied the horse to the hitching post and went inside the bank. While in line she once again counted the money she’d tucked in her shoe—a hundred seventy-two dollars. Had Harlan been able to collect money from any of the shops in nearby towns yet? Probably not. She would try to find a moment to ask him about it when she saw him later today.

  Once all the money was in, they would have surely made their goal.

  At last, it was her turn to step up to the counter and hand the teller the cash and deposit ticket. The young woman behind the counter had doughy pale skin and long dark ringlets of hair that she twirled around one finger as she talked.

  “How’s your day been?” she asked.

  “Very good, thank you.” Essie smiled as she handed over the deposit.

  “Do you want a balance on the account?” the woman asked.

  “Yes, please.”