Turning Home

by Janice Kay Johnson - His Best Friend's Baby

  Once Dad was home and they sat down at the table to eat, Julia smiled at her parents. “Neither of you ever put your job ahead of Nick and me. I think I always took that for granted. I feel so lucky to have had you.”

  “Thank you for saying that.” Her father set down the fork he had barely picked up. “Now why don’t you tell us what you came home to say?”

  Mom said indignantly, “Bob! Can’t we eat first?”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  Julia, too, set down her fork and took a deep, preparatory breath. “I’ve become good friends with many of the local Amish in Tompkin’s Mill. I attended one of their worship services. I’m . . . giving serious thought to converting.”

  Whatever they’d expected, this wasn’t it. Obviously speechless, her parents both gaped.

  * * *

  * * *

  AS WAS OFTEN the case these days, Elam came out to meet Luke before he’d pulled Charlie to a stop by the rail halfway between the barn and their parents’ house. At least everything going on with Elam distracted Luke from his other worries.

  His brother launched in the minute Luke descended from the buggy. “There was a message for me at Willard’s phone shanty this morning. The closing is set for Wednesday.”

  “Good. That’s fast.” It had to be because they were paying cash. “You’re still planning to give the Carters two weeks to move out, aren’t you?”

  Elam nodded. “I hope they don’t have trouble. I thought I might stop tomorrow and ask if they can use any help. For heavy lifting, you know.”

  “I’d be happy to help them, as well. That’s a kind thought, little bruder.”

  Elam grimaced. “I think the time has come to tell Mamm and Daad.”

  “I agree. Shall we do it now?”

  “This is a good chance, since it’s just the four of us. Well, and Abby, of course, but she won’t want to contribute her thoughts about my move.”

  Luke chuckled. “No, she won’t. Daad, now . . .”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have kept it to myself for so long.”

  “Maybe not—but this way, you’ve kept the debate to a minimum. It’s almost done.”

  Elam swallowed. “That’s so. Are you planning to stay for dinner?”

  “I wasn’t, but if Mamm has enough . . .” He shrugged.

  His brother gave him a “get real” look. On any given night, the dinner their mother had ready could easily accommodate a family of eight who happened to drop by.

  Walking into the house with his nervous brother, Luke wondered what Julia was doing right now. Having dinner with her parents? Most likely. He’d never thought to ask what they did for a living. Her talk of being “smothered” suggested they loved her dearly. He, too, would have a hard time letting a wounded child of his—even an adult one—fly free of his protection.

  Unlike most Amish fathers, he didn’t like the idea of his daughter—or daughters—getting married at only seventeen or eighteen years old. No, twenty would be a minimum, and he would want to be absolutely certain in his own mind that any man who asked to marry his daughter was the right one.

  Moderns might scoff at that attitude, but he suspected Julia’s brother would be on Luke’s side. For all the good it would do either of them, given the willfulness of teenagers. He certainly hadn’t listened to his parents at that age.

  Abby stood on a step stool helping her grossmammi snap green beans. The apron wrapped twice around her pooled at her feet. When she saw her father, she said, “Daadi, see? I’m cooking.”

  “I do see.” He lifted her up, gave her a big kiss, and set her carefully back on the same step. “Now I know to have you help me make dinner at home, too.”

  She glowed with pleasure at the idea. Luke thought ruefully that he might be sorry he’d introduced it, because her help would slow down any effort to get dinner on the table quickly. But Mamm had always encouraged her kids to help, from the time they weren’t much more than toddlers—they set the table, went to the pantry or cellar for a jar of applesauce or stewed cabbage or whatever she’d decided she had to have. Even the boys had husked endless ears of corn during the season, picked and cored apples, whatever needed doing. He wouldn’t be able to cook now if his mother hadn’t taught him so early he didn’t know he was learning.

  Luke asked if he and Abby could stay, and was told that he shouldn’t have to ask such a question.

  He hid a grin. Both men hung their hats on pegs on the wall and washed their hands at the sink. Elam grabbed silverware and set one end of the table while Luke pulled out the chair where he usually sat.

  He could hardly wait for the fireworks to begin.

  Daad had a canny way of knowing when dinner was about to be served. Tonight, he appeared at the exact right moment, looked surprised to see Luke lifting Abby up beside him, and took his own place.

  Luke frowned a little. “Without Miriam here, you’re having to do too much, Mamm. I can help—” He started to rise.

  “Pfft! If I’m such an old woman I can’t cook dinner for my own family, I should go sit out on the porch in a rocker and drool.”

  He laughed at her and relaxed back onto his chair.

  The stroganoff and noodles circled the table, followed by bowls holding cooked green beans and pickled beets, a basket of sourdough biscuits making the rounds last. He took small servings for Abby and generous ones for himself. It might be smart to shovel his food into his mouth to make sure he didn’t end up going away hungry if Daad reacted badly to Elam’s announcement. Anger would certainly frighten Abby.

  Across the table from him, his brother served himself, too, but Luke could tell his mind wasn’t on the food. Elam had always detested pickled beets, yet had just plopped a spoonful on his plate.

  Once everyone had their food and had begun eating, he said, “I have news.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve quit your job at Willard’s,” his father said disapprovingly, confirming Luke’s belief that it was past time for his brother to get out from under Daad’s thumb.

  Elam’s chin rose. “I plan to give him notice tomorrow.”

  “What?” That was both parents.

  Picking up on the atmosphere, even Abby looked from face to face.

  “I’m buying a farm. Luke is loaning me the money. The closing will be Wednesday, and then it’ll be mine.”

  “You mean, it’ll be Luke’s,” Daad said harshly.

  Time to speak up. “No,” Luke said, going for peaceful. “I trust Elam to pay me back in time. I consider this an investment, one I can well afford. I like what he intends to do with the good land he chose, and I’ll help him as he’s been helping me with my house.”

  Elam shot him a grateful look.

  “What if you decide you don’t like farming, just as you didn’t like furniture making or building buggies?”

  “Building buggies was nothing but a summer job when I was just out of school, Daad. And I’ve always wanted to farm, you know that. I went to work for you because I thought you needed me.”

  His calm maturity silenced their father, if only for a minute.

  Eventually the conversation came around to where this land was, and whether the house was livable. Elam’s excitement converted their mother, for sure. Daad was a tougher nut to crack. Still, even he was impressed, first when Elam told him how much money he’d managed to save on his own, and then when he learned that the Englischers had decided just this week to leave their farm equipment as part of the property instead of selling it themselves. Elam would have the mechanized equipment auctioned off and then use the money he earned to buy what he needed.

  He talked of his plan to grow organic crops, his knowledge of what he had to do to get certified and how he would control pests clear evidence of the research he’d done.

  Mamm finally said, “You’ll be able to start a family.”

 
Luke grinned wickedly at his brother. “She’s right. Although how will you get a girl when you’re so blaid with the pretty ones?”

  Calling him “bashful” did not go over well.

  Elam’s eyebrows flickered and he shot back, “Perhaps I’ve been following my big brother’s example.”

  Their father burst out in laughter. “Blaid! Ja, ja, that’s it. Now we know why neither of our sons is married, Deborah.”

  Luke wished that were his problem.

  * * *

  * * *

  EVERY CONVERSATION WITH either of Julia’s parents ended up back on the subject that preoccupied them—and her, of course.

  She’d be helping her mother fold laundry, when Mom would burst out, “Are you sure?”

  “I’m not sure. You know that. I’m exploring the possibility,” she’d repeat patiently, because she couldn’t blame them for being freaked out at the idea of their only daughter joining a religious group they’d never encountered outside brief news snippets or fiction. “But, Mom, it’s not like a . . . a convent, or a cult where I’ll disappear. You can visit whenever you want. I’d just be restricted when it comes to visiting you because the Amish don’t fly. I think bus travel is okay, but—” No, no, don’t remind her that I’d be traveling in Amish garb.

  “But why?” her mother wailed at least twice a day.

  Julia struggled to put all her inchoate longings into words her parents, churchgoers who were genuine believers but didn’t lean on their faith the way she did, could understand. She didn’t like to remind them of her rape, but found herself talking some about her sense that truly forgiving her assailant might make a difference to her recovery.

  “Do the Amish tolerate spinsters?” her mother asked another time. “Isn’t that how they’d think of an unmarried woman?”

  “I have no idea, but of course they do. They really aren’t so different from us, Mom. They’ve chosen to hold themselves apart from the world so that they can live their faith. Is that so bad?”

  “Sometimes I think neither of my children will ever marry or give me grandchildren,” her mother said dolefully.

  Julia’s lips parted, but admitting that she’d fallen in love with an Amishman would lead them astray. After a moment, she said, “I might marry among them, Mom. I admire men who place God and family ahead of worldly ambitions.”

  Sharp-eyed, her mother said, “Your father does, you know. You don’t have to go looking among a religious sect.”

  Julia was growing to hate that word, but she had to face it: that’s how most outsiders thought about the Amish. Although not so much their neighbors or, in the case of A Stitch in Time and Bowman & Son’s Handcrafted Furniture, their customers. It was people who’d never carried on an actual conversation with an Amishman or -woman who couldn’t get past the fact that they dressed differently from contemporary Americans and insisted on sticking with horses and buggies even on roads built for speeding cars.

  Julia realized she didn’t much care what outsiders thought. A measure of her tension left her at that moment. She did care what her parents and her brother thought. Otherwise . . . think how quickly she’d lost touch with the friends she’d left behind here in Cleveland. They had tended to be work friends, or fellow quilters, but without proximity the ties had frayed quickly. Because she’d feared taking any risks at all, her friendships had always had limitations. She’d never gone out dancing or drinking with friends, rarely went to any evening event like a concert or play, and didn’t fly off for sunny weekends in the Bahamas, either. She had lived independently by eliminating as many risky behaviors as possible.

  I really have changed, she thought in wonder, and it wasn’t only because she hardly ever turned on the TV or had gotten bolder at sharing her ideas on the job. The important change had been her refusal to hide behind multiple dead bolts, and to walk into the late-evening darkness to find her car.

  She almost smiled, thinking about Psalms 23:4. She’d turned to it so often, but knew now she’d never fully believed.

  Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear not evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

  Now . . . the increasing depth of her faith had given her the courage to open herself to life again. And to take a step no one even in her family—maybe especially in her family—would understand. The certainty it was right for her felt as firm as bedrock.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  NICK SCOWLED EVEN as he let Julia in his front door. He knew.

  She had a “well, duh” moment. Why hadn’t it occurred to her that in her alarm Mom would have called him right away, probably Thursday evening after the dinner-table discussion? She’d have been mad he hadn’t warned her about his sister’s foolishness, and wanted his take on the whole thing besides.

  Not, Julia thought, that she could have won either way. If Nick had had any suspicion of how serious she was about this, he’d have called Mom or Dad to give them the heads-up and demand they talk Julia out of her idiotic scheme.

  “Hi, Nick,” she said with extra cheeriness. “It’s nice to see you. Mom and Dad looked great. Mom may have retired, but she’s not letting that slow her down.”

  The look he gave her combined annoyance and rueful amusement. “It’s pretty obvious that Mom’s just figured out another way she can run the whole show. Next thing we know, she’ll be president of the board of trustees. If they have such a thing.”

  “They must, but I have no idea what it’s called.”

  “Julia . . .”

  “Can we work at getting dinner on the table before we argue? I’m starved.”

  After a miserable drive from Kansas City, she’d gone to her apartment to leave her suitcase but not even stopped to change clothes before coming straight here, per brotherly demand. She was rumpled, her hair falling out of ties, and she was tired. Not like there was a choice unless she’d wanted to take a hop on a small plane. Naturally, she was white-knuckled behind the wheel in city and busy freeway traffic.

  I might not be driving at all for very long.

  Great—except she’d be petrified the first time she took a horse and buggy out on her own, too.

  Could she buy a decent horse and buggy for the money she’d get selling the used car she’d bought such a short time ago? She didn’t have a clue what either cost.

  Dinner was pretty much a repeat of the first evening with her parents, except Nick wasn’t surprised.

  “I just don’t get it. You can be friends with any of the Amish without joining their church. You’ve got a nice place to live, a job you claim to like.”

  “I can keep the job. Unmarried Amishwomen often hold jobs. But if I were ever to marry, I’d be happy staying home to raise my children. I’m not . . . driven like you are, Nick. I never have been.”

  “Never?”

  She knew what he meant, didn’t even mind his raising the subject. “Never,” she repeated. “Even before the assault, I didn’t know what I wanted to major in. I vaguely thought of aiming for graduate school to become a librarian, probably just because Mom was one and talked about it, plus you know how big a reader I am. I was enjoying college, but mostly because I felt like I was finally an adult. Out on my own.”

  Even Nick smiled at that. Living in a dorm and taking classes, all paid for by your parents, didn’t qualify you as an adult, not by a long shot.

  “Nick.” She reached across the table and touched his hand. He turned his over and clasped her hand. “When I’m with the Amish, I feel as if I’ve come home. I don’t know why that is, but it’s that simple. Would it really be so bad? I’d stay local, and we could see each other whenever we want.”

  “Could we?”

  “Well, we wouldn’t be going to church together.”

  He sighed.

  “You’ll still love me if I do this, won’t you?”
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  “Blast it, Julia! Of course I would. I just can’t help feeling . . .”

  Surprised by his tone, she asked, “Feeling what?”

  He ran a hand over his head. “That this is my fault. If I could have caught that lowlife—”

  She blinked. “I wouldn’t be drawn to the Amish? Um, I don’t quite see the connection.”

  “You could have healed,” he said roughly. “It’s as if you couldn’t. You got stuck partway.”

  “That may be true, but don’t you see? I am healing now. I’m starting to let go of my fears. I even—” Whoa! Not somewhere she wanted to go with her brother.

  His eyes narrowed, seeing past her defenses. “You even what? Tell me, Julia.”

  Oh, why not? she thought recklessly.

  “A man kissed me, and I enjoyed it. I wasn’t scared, Nick. Do you know what a miracle that is for me?”

  He leaned forward, his gaze more piercing yet. “What man?”

  “Not your business.”

  “Who?”

  She grinned at him. “Don’t be nosy. And really, it doesn’t matter anyway. What does matter is that it happened. I’m shaking off the past, Nick. Can’t you be happy for me?”

  “It was your boss, wasn’t it? That Luke Bowman. I saw the way he looked at you.”

  Hope stirred in her, because even at the beginning, she’d been aware of Luke, and able to tell he was equally aware of her.

  But she only rolled her eyes. “Not telling you.”

  “Humph.”

  Julia waited.

  A slow change came over his face. The skin crinkled beside his eyes, and his mouth lifted into a crooked smile. “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “I can be happy for you. I just don’t want to lose you.”

  Naturally, tears sprang into her eyes. She had to grab her napkin and blow her nose. Her smile trembled when she said, “You won’t. I swear you won’t.”