An Amish Reunion

by Amy Clipston

  In Florida she was able to compartmentalize and keep the sadness out of sight and out of mind, even if only for a while. That might prove to be a difficult task here, where the good and bad memories collided. She hoped that by coming for a visit, she would return filled with an abundance of new memories to offset the bad.

  Staying with her sister’s family would be better than staying at the house she and Gideon had abandoned when they left the Old Order Amish community, each hauling a grief that divided them as they went their separate ways.

  Gideon lived in Ohio now. He’d relocated near cousins there after running away, the same way Ruth had when she reconnected with distant relatives in Florida. She hadn’t seen him since then. They talked on the phone several times and exchanged a few letters the first year, but the communication was too painful. The phone calls and letters slowly stopped.

  She’d heard from Gideon for the first time a few weeks ago. He asked if she would mind him coming for the reunion, and she told him that was fine. He was still her husband, and this was his family, too, so the reunion would give them a chance to see family again and get the house ready to sell. Gideon said he’d been mailing checks to a local teenager to keep up with the yard, and Ruth told him Esther went inside occasionally to check for mice or vandals. She knew going in the house was painful for her sister, too, and Ruth appreciated her sister’s kindness. Esther had even covered the furniture with sheets and given everything a good wipe down once a month. The call with Gideon was awkward, businesslike, and Ruth wondered if he had moved on. Perhaps he was even dating.

  Ruth and Gideon were shunned when they left each other and the community. Even though her communication with Gideon had ceased, Ruth continued to correspond with her loved ones, mostly her sister, mother, and father-in-law. Her mother said the bishop was aware but wasn’t making a fuss about it.

  Bishop Lapp had further extended his grace by allowing Ruth to come home. Most likely her family hoped she was here to stay—if the bishop would even allow it. She’d already prepared for the onslaught of reasons they would offer for her to return to the life she’d loved and left. But no amount of best-intended coaxing would ever lure Ruth back to this place permanently. Everything she once found so beautiful was now tarnished.

  She jumped when the screen door opened and a young girl bounced down the porch steps and skipped barefoot across the yard. The child wore a light-blue dress, and a few strands of curly blonde hair were flying around the sides of her kapp. At Esther’s insistence, Ruth had arrived before anyone else, so this bundle of energy must be Esther and Amos’s daughter, Becky. My niece. She was carrying a bundle of daisies wrapped in paper towels and stopped in front of Ruth, smiling. Ruth had never seen the little girl before. She was as beautiful as her mother had been at that age, and she even had the same dimples as Esther.

  “You are mei aenti Ruth.” Becky bounced up on her toes as she offered the flowers.

  Squatting down to the child’s level, Ruth accepted them. “Ya, I am. Danki for these.” She was surprised how easily the dialect rolled off her tongue. She hadn’t used it in years. Pennsylvania Deitsch was the first language an Amish child learned. They didn’t usually learn English until they started school, but Esther had told Ruth she wanted Becky to get a jump on it before school started in the fall. Esther didn’t take to English very well her first year, so she might be worried Becky would have trouble with it too.

  A squeal came from the porch before Ruth’s sister rushed down the stairs and across the yard. She flung her arms around Ruth and kissed her on the cheek.

  “I’ve missed you so much.” Esther squeezed her so hard she almost couldn’t breathe. “I made all of your favorites for dinner.” She eased out of the hug and locked eyes with Ruth. “You look so pretty.”

  Ruth’s younger sister had never seen her in English clothes or wearing a small amount of makeup. Ruth had kept her dark hair long over the years and it was pulled into a ponytail. She’d chosen jeans and a long sleeve tan blouse for today, out of respect for her family. It was hot enough in Florida, and here, to wear shorts, but it was frowned upon by the Amish to expose that much of yourself.

  As they crossed the yard, Ruth glanced over at the swing hanging from the large oak tree. How many times had she pushed Grace in that swing when they’d come to visit her parents?

  She thought again about the house Gideon built for them, the one they moved into after they’d been married about a year, the house they raised Grace in for ten years.

  Gideon left the community about two months after Ruth, leaving most of their belongings behind. Even though they agreed to go through everything together this week, Ruth feared that part of this trip. Would seeing everything again set back the progress she’d made? She was equally fearful about seeing Gideon for the first time in all these years. Her stomach churned every time she thought about it. Would he look the same? Would he act the same? Had he shaved his beard? An endless list of questions ran through her mind when it came to Gideon.

  In hindsight Ruth knew his pain was probably worse than her own. He’d lost his only child and his mother. Ruth had loved Mae, too, but she was Gideon’s mother. At the time, Ruth couldn’t see past her own grief, and she had no sympathy to give anyone else, not even her husband. Her support group in Florida for grieving parents had helped a lot, but it took her a while to feel strong enough to talk about losing Grace. Again she worried if this trip was a mistake. She prayed that being here would help her to continue healing.

  As Ruth crossed over the threshold, the wonderful smells of home wafted up her nostrils—freshly baked bread and something simmering on the stove. Maybe it was Esther’s special beef stew. Her sister had mentioned preparing Ruth’s favorites for dinner, the noon meal. Ruth had grown used to dinner being the nighttime meal in the English world, but here, dinner meant lunch.

  Amos greeted her with a hug in the living room. “So glad to have you home.”

  She forced a smile as she eased out of his arms. “It’s gut to be here.” Her brother-in-law was a wonderful man, a good husband to Esther, and a great father.

  Esther motioned around the living room. “What do you think of our new furniture? Mamm was attached to their couch, and can you imagine Daed not having his recliner? They left almost everything else when they moved to the daadi haus, but they wanted those two pieces.” Esther smiled.

  Ruth didn’t think her sister had aged a day since she’d been gone, but there was a maturity that showed in her expressions. Motherhood. Ruth had worried things might be awkward after not seeing everyone for so long, but Esther carried on in the same upbeat manner as always.

  “I love it.” The beige couch had large cushion backs with a dropdown table in the middle. The new recliner was a dark shade of tan and beautifully complemented the multicolored rug with its shades of brown. The coffee table had a glass top and a vase filled with daisies in the middle. Glancing around, Ruth noticed a calendar hanging on the wall, as well as a framed picture of a lovely landscape that looked like it could have been taken right out the back door. There was also a beautiful clock on the mantel and figurines of angels on either side of it.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Esther sighed as she blew a strand of hair away from her face. “It’s a bit fancy.”

  That was what Ruth was thinking. “It’s lovely. What did Mamm say?”

  “That it was a bit fancy.” Esther chuckled.

  Laughter. If the walls in the house could talk, they’d tell of wonderful times filled with cheerfulness. Those were the memories she wanted to take back with her.

  “When will Mamm and Daed be here?” Ruth felt a tinge of disappointment that her parents hadn’t come to welcome her.

  “They should be here any minute.” Esther looked at the clock, then frowned. “Where is Becky?”

  Amos glanced around. “She was just here.” He shrugged. “Maybe she went outside.”

  Esther shook her head. “I think she would live outside if we’d
let her. She’s supposed to let us know if she’s going out to swing.” She nodded to her husband. “Will you find her and remind her not to just disappear?”

  Ruth drew in a deep breath, recalling how much Grace had loved the outdoors. Ruth had looked forward to meeting her niece, but seeing the girl also brought on a surge of pain she should have expected. Memories of Grace at that age filled her mind.

  After the screen door closed behind Amos, Esther drew closer to her sister and touched Ruth’s arm, her eyebrows knitting together. “Gideon is already here. I thought he wasn’t coming until tomorrow, but he stopped by this morning. He’s staying at his daed’s haus.”

  Ruth’s heart pounded against her chest.

  Esther smiled a little. “He looked good.”

  Ruth put a hand to her chest and locked eyes with her sister. “I’m so nervous about seeing him. We’ve barely communicated over the last five years, and not at all in the last four. It’s hard enough for me to be here, Esther, and . . .” She paused when her voice cracked. “As much as I’ve missed my family, facing Gideon, our house”—she blinked back tears—“I thought I was ready, but now I’m not sure.”

  “Ruth . . .” Esther spoke with tenderness in her voice. “You said you wanted this trip to help you heal. Let Gott do His work.”

  Ruth blinked again, pushing back more tears that threatened to spill. “I’m scared,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  Esther wrapped her arms around her and kissed her on the cheek again. “I know you are.” Her sister’s eyes were watery now too. “But fear blocks the voice of Gott. Listen to Him, and everything will be okay, ya?”

  “I hope so.” Ruth forced a smile. “But I am so happy to see you, and I’m anxious to see Mamm and Daed.”

  Esther’s expression sobered.

  “What is it?” Ruth swallowed a knot in her throat. “Is it Mamm or Daed? Is one of them sick?”

  Esther shook her head. “Nee, they’re fine. I would have told you in a letter or by phone if they were ill.” Her sister scratched her cheek and sighed. “I just remembered something Gideon said this morning, and I don’t want you to be caught off guard.”

  Ruth held her breath, waiting, as she thought about things Gideon might say to catch her off guard. There were too many to list. They didn’t know anything about each other’s current lives. Would he tell her he wanted them to try again, to recapture the love they once cherished? Was he moving out of the country? Was he sick? Her mind was spinning ideas faster than Ruth could process them.

  “He wanted to know what time you would be here.” Esther paused as she dropped her gaze. “He said he has some important papers he needs you to sign.”

  Ruth couldn’t breathe. Hands might as well have been around her neck, choking the life out of her. “I should have seen this coming,” she said, her voice breaking. But she hadn’t, and the wind was knocked out of her, for sure.

  “He must have divorce papers for me to sign.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Gideon sat across the table from his father as they ate the noon meal. They had said very little to each other following Gideon’s arrival yesterday.

  John Beiler was fifty when Gideon left the community. Now he looked like a man in his early seventies, his dark hair an equal mixture of brown and gray, his beard the same blended hues. The lines of time feathered from the corners of his eyes, attaching themselves to a road map of deep crevices. His body was worn from decades of hard work, but mostly from the last few years of grief. He’d stopped attending worship service the day his wife and granddaughter were killed, his faith shattered.

  Gideon understood the angry feelings and loss of faith. Temporarily, he carried ill will toward the Lord as well. But over time he was able to accept that his mother’s and child’s deaths were the will of God, which was what he’d grown up believing—that everything that happened was part of God’s plan, His will.

  He hadn’t been in the English world long before he learned that trusting solely in God’s will was not universal. He’d met plenty of people grieving, and a lot of them had walked away from God. Gideon understood his father’s initial reaction to the tragedies they’d faced, but he thought his father would have eventually turned back to God.

  “The meatloaf was gut,” Gideon said after he finished the last bite on his plate. His father nodded. Gideon wondered how often his father ate meals that came frozen in a box. It tasted better than Gideon would have thought, but maybe that was because it was heated slowly in the oven and not microwaved in a minute or two. He recalled the many home-cooked meals he’d had in this house over the years.

  Gideon inquired about various cousins he hadn’t seen since Grace’s and his mother’s funerals.

  His father shrugged. “I’m not sure how many are coming.” Narrowing bushy eyebrows and squinting at Gideon, his father stroked his beard. “Why are you here? You wrote that you weren’t coming. What made you change your mind?”

  Gideon wiped his mouth with his napkin. He already knew his father had no plans to attend the family reunion. Even though it was for Ruth’s side of the family, Gideon’s parents had attended in the past.

  “I missed everyone. And I need to take care of some loose ends here. You know . . . the house, stuff like that.” He also needed to face Ruth, to apologize for the way he’d acted in the months following the accident. He’d also met someone, a woman in Ohio, who he’d been out with a few times. Technically he and Ruth were still married, and they needed to address that fact. Ruth had been the love of his life, yet they’d destroyed each other after Grace’s death, each picking off chips of the other’s last bit of sanity. Instead of clinging together, they tore each other to shreds.

  As he looked at his father, Gideon knew it would have been him if he’d stayed—a bitter, lonely man without faith. He had needed distance from this place to heal.

  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lost in thought when his father cleared his throat. “I take a nap this time of day.” The chair dragged against the wood floor as he pushed away from the table and stood. He shuffled across the room but turned back as he crossed the threshold into the living room. “I’m glad you’re here, sohn.” He didn’t wait for a response but continued toward his bedroom and closed the door behind him.

  Gideon sighed as he stared at the wall. He sat there for a while before he stacked the dishes and carried them to the sink. He’d wash them when he got home from the cemetery. The delay wouldn’t bother his father. The house was a wreck, and dishes filled the sink when he first arrived.

  He pulled his keys from his pocket and walked outside toward his white Chevy Silverado pickup truck. He’d joined a wonderful Christian church a few months after he moved, and he got a driver’s license and bought the truck a couple weeks later, after he saved enough money from working at the hardware store his cousins owned. He was blessed to have work shortly after he arrived. Staying busy helped him through his grief in the beginning, and he made a good life for himself in Ohio. But being back in Lancaster County filled him with a sense of regret about what could have been.

  Gideon drove to a local florist and browsed the displays before he chose two arrangements, each a dozen yellow roses. He was thankful he didn’t know the young clerk who waited on him. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk. His first order of business would be the hardest. After he visited Grace and his mother, he would go to the house where he, Ruth, and Grace had lived and assess what needed to be done.

  He parked at the cemetery next to the only other vehicle in the small dirt parking lot, a red SUV. Forcing the door open, he stepped onto the dirt, then gently closed the door. Taking deep breaths, he eyed the rows of plain headstones with no more than a name and date carved into the wood. They were all exactly the same, and Gideon allowed shame to latch on to him because he didn’t remember which row was Grace’s. That day had been a blur. He trudged forward.

  He wouldn’t have brought flowers to a grave in his past life, but he’d been to several English
funerals in Ohio, and there was an abundance of flowers at each one. It might not be the Amish way, but Grace and his mother had loved roses. They’d had several rose bushes when he was growing up and at the home he’s shared with Ruth and Grace.

  In the distance, he saw a woman kneeling in front of a headstone. She wasn’t Amish. He could tell because she wasn’t wearing a head covering or a dress, but jeans and a tan shirt. Her face was buried in her hands as her shoulders shook.

  Gideon shuffled forward, the roses dangling in one hand at his side. His chest tightened as he neared what he thought was Grace’s grave. When the woman turned around, wiped her eyes, and locked eyes with him, Gideon became caught in a magnetic field pushing and pulling him at the same time.

  He fought the heaviness in his chest as he blinked at the woman. He took a few more slow steps, and as his wife’s eyes held his, he wanted to turn and run back to his truck. Or into her arms. He wasn’t sure. He stopped only a few feet from her, unprepared for this meeting. Gideon thought he’d at least have tonight to think about everything he wanted to say to her.

  Dabbing at her eyes again, Ruth rushed to her feet, then moved quickly toward him.

  “Ruth,” he whispered. “I-I can come back if . . .”

  She shook her head, sniffling. Even with dark circles under her eyes and tearstained cheeks, Gideon thought she was the most beautiful woman on earth. Strands of her long dark hair flew below her ponytail as a strong breeze cut through the space between them.

  She looked at the ground for a moment, then raised her head and gazed into his eyes, tipping her head slightly, like she might be trying to see through him, to read his thoughts. Gideon wondered if she would like what she saw. His journey was fraught with pitfalls, times when he’d lost his footing. What had her last five years been like?

  Her eyes drifted to the roses at his side. “Grace’s favorite.” She blinked, then sniffled again before she locked eyes with him. “It’s good to see you.”