by Amy Lillard
“Are you going to open it?” Jamie asked.
It was addressed to Leah and had been delivered to her shop in town. But surely the rest of them were mentioned.
“Uh, yeah,” Leah said, but her fingers trembled as she turned it over and tore at the glued seam.
After what seemed like forever, the envelope was opened, the letter out and unfolded. Then Leah started to read.
Hannah nudged her in the ribs. “Out loud, sister.”
“Dear Leah,
“I so hope this letter finds you well. Things here are good. Melvin is still enjoying his job at the garage. All he has ever wanted was to fix engines and he says he’s really good at it. I’m glad he’s seeing his dreams come true.
“I have been working at a day-care center down the street from where we live. It’s not the best job— pay wise—but they are good to me and don’t seem to mind that I only went to school until I was fourteen. The director said I am smart and a quick learner. I suppose that counts for something. I enjoy working with the children. They are a joy every day. I don’t know what I would do without them there to make me laugh.
“We’re still living in the same apartment as we were the last time I wrote, though we may have to move soon. The landlord wants to raise our rent at the end of next month. The place isn’t worth the money he wants for it, but there aren’t many places here in our price range. Not sure what we’re going to do. Stay put for a while, I suppose, and see what God provides.
“It’s amazing how many things are different here in the real Englisch world from the world we always imagined. There seems to be too much color and light here, way too much of everything, which has me longing for the green pastures butting up to a blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds.
“And Mamm’s cherry spice pie. I’ve tried to make it three times, and even though I can remember the recipe by heart, it doesn’t come out like Mamm’s. I wonder why that is.
“I suppose I should sign off for now and get some sleep. Tomorrow is the first day of summer vacation and we will have more children than we normally do. Lord, please give me strength, insight, and wisdom.
“Please tell everyone that I miss them and pray every night for their health and well-being. Mamm, Dat, Gracie, Hannah, Brandon, everyone. And please tell them I love them too.
“Until we see each other again,
“Tillie”
As Gracie and the others watched, Leah stared at the letter, then quietly folded it to rights.
“Wow.” Hannah rocked back on her heels, but Gracie couldn’t tell if it was from shock or if the motion was somehow helping her assimilate the words.
“Wow is right,” Leah agreed.
Jamie backed up a couple of steps. “I think I’ll go in and save Mamm from Peter. He talks so much these days she may be missing a limb or two if I leave them together for too long.” He gave a small chuckle that held very little mirth, then headed toward the house.
“Don’t tell Mamm,” Leah called.
He gave a flicking wave of his hand and let himself inside.
“Not yet,” she continued.
Hannah shook her head. “We can’t keep this from her for long.”
“I know, but . . .” She trailed off, not saying what they were all thinking: Was Tillie in some sort of trouble?
“Do you think the return address is correct?” Hannah asked. “We could go there and make sure she’s all right.”
“You could drive,” Gracie said.
Leah pulled her smartphone from the pocket of her long denim skirt and started thumbing in commands. “That town is almost four hours from here. We could get up early and make a day of it. Maybe even be back before Mamm realizes we all left together.”
“Are we going to tell her about the letter before or after?” Hannah asked.
“Before,” Gracie said.
“After,” Leah answered at the same time.
“Hold on,” Hannah said. “Let’s talk about this a minute. We shouldn’t go off half-cocked.”
“Agreed,” Leah said with a quick nod.
“She doesn’t say that anything is wrong,” Hannah continued.
“She doesn’t have to,” Leah reminded her.
“It’s what she doesn’t say. But are those things worth going after her? I mean, maybe if we leave it she’ll come to her senses and come home on her own,” Gracie said. “If they can’t find a place to live.”
Hannah and Leah thought about it a moment.
“I don’t think that will be what brings her home.”
“Melvin,” Leah said with a wrinkle in her nose. “He’s not good enough for her.”
Gracie smiled. “Is anyone?”
“We found your match.” Leah playfully bumped shoulders with her.
Gracie did her best to maintain her pleased look.
“What?” Hannah asked.
Evidently she failed. “Nothing.” She tried that smile on again.
“Really?” Leah threw her hands in the air. “It’s not enough that we’re worried sick about Tillie, now we have to worry even more for you?”
“You don’t need to concern yourself,” Gracie said. Finally she had managed to pull her lips into something that at least felt like a normal smile. “Everything is fine.”
“Translation: I’m not going to talk about it,” Leah said.
Gracie shook her head. “It’s very personal.” She dropped her gaze to the table in front of her. They had packaged up about half the products they needed to, but she had a feeling no one was in the mood to make lotions anymore.
“Uh, as close as sisters,” Leah scoffed, pointing a finger at each of them in turn.
“What my eloquent twin means to say is we’re here for you if you need us. You know that, right?”
“I do,” Gracie said.
“Eloquent?” Leah asked. “What kind of Amish woman uses the word eloquent?”
“The kind that will also chase you around with a switch if you don’t behave.”
Leah stuck out her tongue. “I’m just trying to take care of my peeps.”
“What kind of Mennonite woman uses the word peeps?” Hannah countered.
“Really great ones,” Leah answered.
Gracie had no idea what marshmallow candy had to do with anything they had been talking about.
* * *
By some miracle they managed to finish mixing and packaging the bottles of lotion and soaps that they needed for the special orders and to replenish both Leah’s store and Gracie’s tiny shop. Eunice had taken to carrying a few in her own little store, but not much. The idea was to get the customer interested and send them on to Leah’s store for a better selection.
And it was unanimously decided to tell Eunice about Tillie’s letter after they finished their work. It was hard enough for them to concentrate knowing that Tillie had reached out to them, but when her mother found out, nothing else would be accomplished that day. Gracie remembered how it was when Tillie had first left. Eunice had been a mess. She had lost two daughters, then gained them back, only to lose another.
“Are you ready?” Leah asked.
They nodded and headed into the house.
“Mamm,” Hannah called.
Then they all exchanged encouraging looks. This wasn’t going to be easy.
Eunice bustled out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. “Jah?”
Leah extended the letter to her.
She looked at it, then back to the three of them. “What is it?” she asked, not touching it and eyeing it like it could turn rabid any minute.
“A letter,” Leah said.
“I can see that,” Eunice said. “Who’s it from?”
“Tillie,” Hannah said.
Time seemed to stop for a moment.
“I don’t understand,” Eunice said. She reached for the letter with trembling hands. “Why is it open?”
“Tillie sent it to Leah,” Gracie said as gently as possible. “To her shop.”
E
unice turned the letter over in her hands and walked stiffly over to the dining room table. She collapsed into one of the chairs and continued to stare at the envelope in her hands.
“Aren’t you going to read it?” Leah asked.
Eunice looked at her blankly, then nodded. “Jah,” she replied, then took out the paper from inside.
Not wanting to hover, Gracie pulled out a chair and sat. Leah and Hannah followed suit. They watched as Eunice read and reread the letter.
“Why did she send it to you?” Eunice asked.
Leah shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because I came back.”
“You came back Mennonite,” Hannah pointed out.
“Not everyone has the same epiphany,” Leah retorted. Hannah hadn’t planned on returning to the Amish church, but love and home can do that to a person, make them want things they had before.
“Is she happy?” Eunice asked.
Leah shrugged. “It’s hard to say, but I don’t think so.”
“I think she feels out of place.” Gracie had become an expert in that lately.
“What does that mean for us?” Eunice asked.
“She’ll either figure it out or return to what’s comfortable—home,” Hannah said.
But going back wasn’t really an option for Gracie. She had to figure it out, was still trying to figure out what to do about Matthew and his cockamamie ideas concerning his wife’s death. Maybe if she prayed about it some more, the answer would come to her. She hoped, anyway.
* * *
It was after suppertime when Gracie pulled the buggy onto the dirt lane that led to Matthew’s house. Her house. She needed to start seeing it as her own home as well as his. They were married for life, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.
She stopped for a moment and righted the sign that pointed down their lane declaring goat-milk lotions and soaps were available along with strawberries, seasonal vegetables, and candles.
She had just added that last part. But she figured making candles would be a good chore for the boys over the summer when they weren’t helping Matthew. They were still too young for heavy work, and candle making was fun and profitable if managed correctly. Plus it might keep Henry out of trouble. For an hour or two.
She straightened the sign and found a big enough stick to brace it from the back. It seemed that the sign was down almost every time she came past. She wasn’t sure if it was not put up properly or if Englisch pranksters were knocking it down in their own version of a joke.
She gave it one last shove into the ground, dusted her hands, and climbed back into the buggy.
She hadn’t meant to stay so long at the Gingeriches, but after the letter, Eunice had so many questions, most of which they couldn’t answer. But they agreed that Tillie seemed to be dodging the issue. She said that Melvin was happy, and she was happy for him, but not that she was happy for herself. She liked her job, but they were struggling and didn’t have enough money to be able to handle a rent increase. She didn’t say how much, but they all had the feeling that any amount would have been over their budget.
Leah and Hannah convinced Eunice to give Tillie more time, and she would come home on her own. Gracie hoped they were right.
“Don’t you think so, Mamm?”
In the back of the buggy, Henry was chattering on about Eunice and pies. He was convinced his new “aunt” was the best pie maker in the whole entire county.
Pie. She had been going to make Matthew a pie this afternoon, but that time was gone. It was past supper. Maybe tomorrow.
“If you think her pies are good, you should have some of her cake,” Gracie answered, still basking in the glow of being called Mamm.
“We did!” he exclaimed. “At the wedding. It was good and all, but pie is better.”
“Not all pie is better than cake,” Stephen protested.
“I like apples pie,” Thomas said.
“Me too,” Benjamin added, not one to be left out of the conversation.
“It is so,” Henry countered. “Even the yuckiest pie is better than cake.”
“It’s apple pie,” Stephen corrected in that grown-up way of his. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and gave a little nod. They slid right back down again.
“That’s what I said,” Thomas countered. “Apples pie.”
“Me too.” Benjamin echoed his earlier words.
“Name one yucky pie,” Gracie demanded with a laugh.
Henry tapped his chin thoughtfully as he contemplated her request.
These boys were the light of her life these days. Like Tillie with her children at the day care where she worked, Gracie wouldn’t know what to do without them. There had been a time when she couldn’t imagine starting a marriage with an instant family, but now she wouldn’t have had it any other way.
God’s will, see?
“There are no yucky pies,” Henry finally declared.
“Exactly.” Gracie laughed.
“But that chocolate cake that Mamm used to make.” Stephen’s gaze took on a dreamy look.
“The one with the globs of white stuff on the top?” he asked.
When he put it like that . . .
Stephen nodded. “A hurricane-something cake. I think. Dat loved it.”
“Yummy,” Henry said, rubbing his tummy as he licked his lips.
“Better than pie?” Gracie asked.
Henry didn’t hesitate. “Almost.”
Gracie laughed, then turned her attention back to the lane. The house was in plain view now. The thought that she would have to see if she could find Beth’s recipes and make this hurricane cake for the boys withered as she caught sight of Matthew on the porch. His expression mirrored a hurricane.
“Where have you been?” The storm in his eyes was nothing compared to the one in his voice.
She stopped the buggy in the usual spot and hopped down as if nothing was wrong. Truly nothing.
“How about we let the kids go wash up for supper, and I’ll explain what’s going on.”
Her calm tone seemed to take a little of that wild wind from him, but not all. “Jah,” he said, his voice gruff and rusty.
Gracie tried to figure out what his problem was as she got all the kids unloaded and on to getting ready for supper. It would have to be a sandwich night. Was he angry about that? Sometimes he was so hard to figure out. And they said women were complicated!
Once the last boy had rounded the corner of the house and Baby’s carrier had been lifted from the buggy and set on the porch, Matthew lunged toward her. Her first instinct was to take a step back, but she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. He was big and strong, but a teddy bear with marshmallow-cream filling.
His arms came around her and pulled her close. “I was so worried.” He rocked them back and forth, running his hands along the edge of her spine as he did so. Gracie wanted to close her eyes and melt into his embrace. She relished the warmth of him, his strength and size, but she knew the truth. She knew how he felt about her, and if she let herself fall in with his worry, she might not ever find her way back out. Keep thy heart with all diligence.
“You were worried about the children.” She tried to pull free. She loved being this close to him, but it was not good for her heart, which was too fond of him by far.
But he kept her close. “I was worried about you,” he promised. “So worried about you.”
“Worried. It’s Tuesday. Cousins’ day.”
“You’ve never stayed over there this long before.”
“We got a letter from Tillie.” This time when she tried to move away, he let her.
“Eunice’s youngest?”
Gracie nodded. “I don’t think she’s very happy. I think she might leave Melvin and come back.”
“Leave him? Aren’t they married?”
She shook her head. “It’ll be hard on her, having to come back and confess everything.” It would be more than hard, and the backlash would be tremendous. The Amish forgave, but not all forget. Gracie was worr
ied that once Tillie returned—and she was certain she would— that she might not ever marry. It was hard to say how the eligible males in the community would react to her . . . indiscretion. So hard to say.
“Don’t do that again,” he said, using the same voice he had earlier.
“I have to go to cousins’ day.” He might be the head of the household, but he couldn’t dictate every minute of her life. She needed cousins’ day. They needed the money it produced.
“Don’t stay over there that long.”
He really had been worried, but she wasn’t sure she believed that he had all that worry for her; she would like to think that he was beside himself that she wasn’t home, but she knew that he was really beside himself because she wasn’t home with his children. Buggies on winding country roads could be a very dangerous thing.
“I won’t,” she promised. “Today was a special day.”
He nodded. “Fine then. What’s for supper?”
* * *
Gracie plopped down on the floor of her room and opened the big cedar chest there. She had peeked in it before, noting that it had at least one quilt and a few books along with a treasure box. She assumed that they all belonged to Beth and had left them as they were. But now that she had searched the kitchen and all the downstairs for a recipe book, or a box, or some kind of notebook or zip baggie that contained Beth’s recipes, she was going out on a limb. Maybe they were in the cedar chest. It was worth a look. She wanted to surprise the boys and make the hurricane cake for them. Matthew too, since the chess pie idea had fallen flat.
She removed the quilts and placed them at the foot of her bed. They were beautiful. One was Beth’s wedding quilt, something that she herself had been denied. She hadn’t thought about it at the time, but her mother was gone, and her wedding was rushed, so there had been no time for that tradition to be upheld.
Gracie ran her fingers over the beautiful white material, imagining Beth’s mother sewing it for her with love and care. There were hearts stitched around the edge and a few sets of doves, beaks closed and wings spread. It took Gracie a moment, then she saw the true pattern. The quilt was all white according to the wedding-quilt tradition, but the pattern of Beth’s quilt was a double wedding ring. Gracie could only imagine the talented fingers that had quilted the beautiful piece. Maybe when Baby was older she would give it to her as her own wedding quilt.