An Amish Homecoming

by Rosalind Lauer

  “So much on your mind, daughter.” Miriam came forward and folded Essie into her arms.

  For a moment Essie let herself soak up Mem’s strength and love. When things went wrong, Mem was always there for her. “How did you know I needed a hug?” Essie asked, her cheek against Mem’s nightgown.

  “My first clue was coming down here in the middle of the night and finding you deep into canning peaches and plums.” Mem patted Essie’s back, a gesture so loving and reassuring that Essie thought she might melt in her mother’s arms. “The kitchen smells wonderful good, but you look like you’re stranded on an island in the river, all alone.”

  Sighing, Essie straightened to face her mem. “I don’t know what to do. I’m not sure what’s going to happen with Harlan, and I don’t know how to reach him right now. So I decided to make some jam. Busy hands distract from problems.”

  “Sometimes that’s all we can do . . . wait it out,” Mem agreed. “It’s good to have something to occupy the mind. Even if it is nearly two o’clock in the morning.”

  “Right now, putting up jam is one of the only things I feel sure of. And at least I’ll be able to make money to help Harlan with his family’s medical expenses.”

  “Harlan shouldn’t take that on as a worry. I hear the church is planning a fund-raiser for the Yoders, and there’s also a medical fund that can be used. We take care of our own.”

  “You know how Harlan feels about charity,” Essie said. “He’s always tried to turn away help. I think it’s got something to do with his dat leaving. Harlan learned how to pretend things were fine when they weren’t.”

  “This is something Harlan needs to figure out.” Mem tipped Essie’s chin up so that she met her daughter’s gaze. “In the meantime, you must remember that you’re not alone, Essie. Even when your problems seem like an impossible mountain to climb, we’re here to help you. You have many people who love you.”

  Essie nodded, grateful that Gott had blessed her with a family who loved her when others pushed her away. “Denki, Mem.”

  “I love you, daughter.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Miriam put the lids on her casserole dishes and set them aside. One was ready to pop into the oven when they arrived at Lloyd and Greta’s. The other would be a few dinners for Collette at her new home. Cheesy tot casserole was not one of her favorites, but the children always loved it, probably because of the crispy tater tots on top.

  It was an off Sunday, a day without church, and Miriam and Alvin were preparing to go visiting. The older ones had a frolic to attend, but Miriam was trying to round up the younger ones—unsuccessfully, as the last she’d heard, Peter and Paul were down by the river, trying to catch frogs.

  Miriam stepped onto the front porch and set her casserole dishes down on a table. At least the girls were ready. Lizzie sat on the porch, a bag of coloring books and crayons ready to entertain herself and the other children. Sarah Rose sat beside her on the glider as Lizzie read a picture book to her. Miriam walked to the porch railing, taking in the crisp air and autumn foliage. Magnificent colors burst in the trees that lined their lane and bordered the main road. Burnt orange and mustard yellow and a spicy deep red! Gott gave them such a beautiful palette in the fall.

  The door opened behind Miriam, and out stepped Essie and Serena, both smiling into the autumn sunshine. Essie wore a new dress she’d helped Miriam sew, and the blue fabric reminded Miriam of a cross between a summer sky at twilight and the deepest, bluest part of Joyful River where it flowed under the Pine Covered Bridge. Serena wore a print skirt and a denim jacket, and her eyes were bright with anticipation.

  “We both have dates with our guys,” she announced, smiling at Essie. “I’m going to catch an early movie with Scout, and Essie is going frolicking with Harlan.”

  “We’re just going to a frolic,” Essie said. “Not really a date. Annie and Sam will be there, too. Grace and Megan could come along. There’ll be volleyball and a bonfire.”

  “Sounds nice, but my sisters always have too much homework on Sundays.” Serena put a hand on Sarah Rose’s shoulder and brushed a few loose hairs behind her tiny ear. “Are you reading to your big sis?”

  “I can’t read yet,” Sarah Rose said. “But I know all the words.”

  Everyone laughed. Indeed, Sarah Rose had memorized most of her favorite books. But something about seeing the girls together, teasing and supporting one another, made Miriam’s heart sing with joy.

  Especially Serena. When the girls had first arrived, Serena had seemed so willful and displaced that Miriam had worried she might run away and come to harm on her own. And yet, over the weeks, Serena had become a bright part of their family as she’d found a hobby she enjoyed and a young man who was quite dedicated to her. Most weekend nights, Serena and Scout made time to be together, either in town or hanging out at the farm, sometimes playing board games with anyone who was interested. During his last visit, Sully had met Scout, and he clearly approved of the young man. Miriam was tickled to see all the signs of love casting its seeds in her family.

  The crunching of gravel on the lane revealed Scout’s red pickup rolling toward the house. He hopped out and walked to them with a lift in his step and a wave. So happy he was to see Serena.

  “Hey, there! Sorry I’m late. I came as soon as I got off from the firehouse, but I’m not really ready to hit the movies.” There was a smudge on his cheek, and as he got close Miriam noticed a burnt smell. “There was a kitchen fire on Elm Street. Everyone’s fine, but I’m sorry to say Helen Kramer’s pot roast didn’t survive. Anyway, I didn’t get a chance to stop home and shower.”

  “Whooboy!” Serena sniffed at him and made a face of mock horror. “You stink to high heaven!”

  “It’s just a little smoke,” Scout said, tugging the hem of his sweatshirt.

  “Like a walking barbecue pit,” Serena exclaimed.

  “Like a bonfire,” Lizzie said.

  Serena shook her head. “Okay, change of plans. Let’s catch a later movie. We’ll stop at your house so you can shower, and I can chat with Bonnie. Then we’ll hit the cinema.”

  “That works for me.” Scout smiled, tipping his hat back a bit. “Let’s go. I have the windows of the truck open, so it shouldn’t be too bad on the way there.”

  Serena headed down the porch steps. “As long as it doesn’t ruin my fabulous hair. It’s not easy to style your hair without a blow-dryer.”

  “With the truck windows open, you can use nature’s blow-dryer,” Scout suggested.

  “It just doesn’t work that way,” Serena said before climbing into the truck.

  As they drove off, Alvin came around with the buggy, and the boys turned up from the river after Sam had gone to find them. The twins washed up quickly, and the children climbed into the buggy for dinner down the road. The plan was for the children to settle in at Greta and Lloyd’s while Alvin and Miriam went on to visit with Collette Yoder, who was still a guest at the Hostetler home. Miriam had heard reports from Essie that Collette was grateful for the lodging, though worn down a bit by the lack of privacy.

  “Every time I bring food for Collette, Linda comes rushing in for a helping,” Essie had told Miriam. “And anytime I’m there with Harlan, Linda’s daughters June and Dotty come in to steal his attention away. It makes the whole visit go sour.”

  “Do they know you and Harlan have been courting for years?”

  “Yah, they know. I think they’re trying to win him away.”

  “Maybe their mem is pushing them.”

  “Maybe. But that doesn’t make it right.”

  * * *

  As soon as they arrived at the Hostetler home, Linda sent Alvin around to the back of the house to join her husband Len in his bird watching. “It’s become such a peaceful Sunday hobby for him, after a week of hard work at the shop,” Linda said. “Are you a birder, Alvin?”

  Miriam’s eyes opened wide as she waited for her husband’s answer.

  “I learned how to spot
a red-bellied woodpecker after one of them banged three holes in the north side of our stables,” answered Alvin with a straight face.

  Miriam laughed, breaking the ice, and the other women chuckled.

  “Len will educate you on the birds on our property. Goldfinches, robins, nuthatches . . . we see them all.”

  Alvin nodded. “They’re Gott’s creatures.” As he headed outside, Miriam sensed that he would have preferred to visit with Collette, but he respected his host, and it was more to the custom of Amish life for the men and women to spend time in their own groups.

  “You look well, Collette,” Miriam said with a smile. “I brought you a casserole from home. I thought you might be able to nibble on it for a few meals.”

  Collette gazed up from her wheelchair, a look of pleasure warming her face. “Denki.”

  “I’ll take that.” Linda wrested it from Miriam’s hands and lifted the pot’s lid to peek inside. “This will make a perfect supper for us, and I’m a bit peckish. I’ll go light the oven.”

  Miriam’s mouth opened in surprise as Collette watched her host disappear. “As I said, thank you.”

  “I didn’t know you’d be taking your meals with the Hostetler family,” Miriam said.

  “I didn’t either.” Collette sighed. “I’m grateful for their generosity, but living here, I feel like a prize hog at the mud sale auction. Always on show, and people are always traipsing through my pen here.”

  “Well.” Miriam folded her arms and looked down at Collette. “You would certainly take the blue ribbon.”

  The two women stared at each other a moment and then burst into laughter. Miriam was glad for the release, as she wasn’t close friends with Collette, but she was beginning to feel that they were very much on the same page.

  Collette was still chuckling as she wiped away a tear. “Oh, my heavens. I do appreciate Linda and Len’s kindness. I should bite my tongue and not behave like a cranky old goat.”

  “You don’t seem cranky to me, and since we’re the same age, you can’t be old. Maybe we should get some fresh air,” Miriam said, lowering her voice. “And get you out of your pen. Can you make it outside in your chair?”

  “Yes, indeedy. I can wheel myself out to the porch, and Harlan built a small ramp that takes me down to the driveway. Let’s go!”

  Miriam followed, then ducked back inside to grab the butter-yellow crocheted afghan from the bed in case Collette grew cold in the waning October afternoon. Outside she settled the blanket over Collette’s shoulders and then took charge of the wheelchair to ease it down the ramp and driveway. “Should we stroll a bit?”

  “That would be nice,” Collette agreed with a deep sigh. “There’s a park not far from here. A nice river view.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Miriam understood the need to be free of another woman’s rule, just for a bit. Amish families often built a Dawdi House on the property for exactly that reason—to give the elder couple of the family control over their own space and comfort.

  “What a beautiful day Gott has given us,” Miriam said as she pushed Collette over a sidewalk covered in golden leaves. “So much color, everywhere you look.”

  “Fall is such a beautiful time of year,” Collette said, “and that sun feels lovely.”

  “Too lovely to leave behind,” Miriam said. “Essie tells me you’re considering a move to Ohio to be with your brothers.”

  “I think it’s time,” Collette said. “Joyful River is a wonderful good place, and there are so many things I’ll miss when I go.” She stared off into the distance, wistful over the blurs of red, orange, and yellow foliage.

  “Then don’t go,” Miriam suggested gently. “Stay here, where you have many friends and a caring church community.”

  “I wish the decision was that simple, but so much of it is . . . It’s out of my hands. Out of my control.”

  Miriam pushed her along as they basked in a thoughtful silence. Was Collette talking about money or something else? Her curiosity was piqued, but it would be wrong to probe.

  “Long ago I learned that when things are out of our control, we can only give them up to Gott,” Collette said. “It took this accident to make me realize that I was holding on to Joyful River for selfish reasons. It’s time to let go.”

  “I understand,” Miriam said, “and I guess they have sunshine in Ohio, too.”

  “I reckon they do.” Although Collette shared the joke, it was clear that her decision was weighted in a heavy cloak of sadness. This wasn’t a happy choice for Collette.

  “But Gott does let us know what we need. My husband injured his leg two months ago in the milking barn. It’s better now, nearly recovered, but at the time, he could barely walk. It taught him that he needed more hands to run the dairy. That’s when Annie left the pretzel factory and the twins started helping run the cows in for milking. All this is to say, Gott gives us messages in many ways.”

  Collette sighed. “Sometimes it’s a message that breaks the heart.”

  Miriam’s heart ached for this kind woman who had managed to love and care for her children on her own for so many years. She could only pray that Collette would find joy again in her next home, but she wondered about how Harlan and Suzie would fare in a new place. “What about your children?” Miriam asked. “As you know, our Essie will be devastated to see Harlan go.”

  “Suzie will stay with me, but I’ll need to leave Harlan to make his own decisions. He’s a man now, a baptized member of our church. It’s not my place to tell him what to do. Once he gets me to Ohio, he’ll be free to choose where he wants to spend his life.”

  Such a heavy choice to place upon Harlan’s shoulders. Miriam felt the weight of the decision Harlan would be facing. “Harlan is a good and dutiful son,” Miriam said.

  “He is,” Collette agreed.

  “It will be hard for him to make such a choice without feeling that he’s betrayed his mem in some way. He already blames himself for the crash.”

  “I keep telling him it was not his fault.”

  “And yet, he feels responsible. That’s the kind of man he is.”

  “You know my son well,” Collette said. “And here I’ve been focused on recovery and the move, seeing only myself. I’ve lost sight of everyone else around me.”

  “You’ve had a lot on your plate,” Miriam said. “You’ve been working hard in physical therapy since the accident. You’re only human.”

  “But I can’t be taking over my son’s life. I’ll pray on it and speak to Harlan directly.”

  They reached the edge of the little park where the road turned onto a small bridge over the river. The railing was low enough for Collette to be able to see the water from her chair. Miriam locked the brakes of the wheelchair and sat on a ridge of the low stone wall, her chin resting on the railing. “Joyful River,” Miriam said. “It comforts me to know that this is the same river that runs along beyond the back acres of our farm . . . the same river that weaves through the lives of many folk in and out of town. I like to think of it as a ribbon that Gott created to draw his children together.”

  “That’s a lovely thought,” Collette agreed. “Before the accident, I didn’t realize how closely knit our community is. I kept to myself, probably more than I should have.” She shook her head. “I didn’t know what I was missing.”

  “It’s good you’ve found the silver lining in that cloud.” Miriam rose and brushed off her dress. “We should get back. Linda will be missing you.”

  As they navigated the short walk back to the house, a man in Amish clothing appeared on the path behind them. When he nodded, Miriam recognized Aaron Troyer.

  “It’s the bishop,” she said. “Walking in this same park.”

  “He lives nearby,” Collette explained. “His farm’s on the other side of the river.”

  He was smiling as he approached. “I was just on my way to pay you a visit, Collette. I see Miriam has you out for fresh air.”

  “It’s a beautiful day,” Collette said, “an
d I’m grateful for the company.”

  As they returned to the house, Collette and the bishop discussed the weather, the chances of a batch of hay he had mowed drying out before the rains, and Collette’s bird watching from the Hostetlers’ porch. There was nothing unusual about the conversation apart from the way each person’s gaze was glued to the other’s, as if they were laying eyes upon a glorious light for the first time in their lives.

  By the time they reached the house, it had grown cold. Miriam wheeled Collette into her room and went to start a fire in the wood stove. Collette remained in the wheelchair, and the bishop paced, moving toward Collette, then striding away and turning. All the while Collette and Aaron kept the conversation going in a cheery manner.

  Miriam closed the door on the stove, sat on a nearby chair, and tried to blend into the background as Bishop Aaron talked with Collette. She couldn’t help but notice the shift in the mood of the room. Now that the bishop was here, the air seemed light and joyous, as if they were awaiting a celebration. Collette’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, and the bishop was actually smiling. Miriam hadn’t seen him smile for quite some time, perhaps since his wife Dorcus had been alive. It pleased her that he was enjoying their company this much, but it was surprising, too.

  Miriam blinked as the reality hit her.

  Love.

  Oh, thanks be to Gott for love. But had it come in the wrong place?

  It was clear to her that Collette and Bishop Aaron had a deep affection for each other. She could tell by the tenderness in their eyes when their gazes met. Their carefully chosen words. The way the bishop kept his distance, pacing away from Collette and sitting a bit across the room.

  Love was a wondrous gift from Gott, and Gott’s gifts were meant to be cherished. But nothing could ever come of their love. These two could not be together. The bishop was a free man, encouraged to marry since the death of his wife. But Collette was still a married woman, and even though her husband had been gone many years, she was still another man’s wife in the eyes of the church. A church that did not allow divorce, no matter if the husband had been gone for more than a decade. There could be no pairing for a person who had been abandoned by their husband or wife.