An Amish Homecoming

by Amy Clipston

  “I’ve also made some other mistakes.” He swallowed. “I’m trying to make amends, though.”

  “How’s that going for you?”

  “Slow.”

  “And you’re sitting home alone tonight.”

  A little defensive, he said, “If I wasn’t home, you wouldn’t have anybody to talk to.”

  “You’re right.” Looking marginally better, Jesse said, “So when are you going to see her again?”

  “My parents invited her over to their house for supper. I’m going to join them in a little bit.”

  “Were you invited?”

  “Not really. But they won’t care.”

  “Will she? What’s her name?”

  “Irene. And I hope she won’t. But I need to see her. I never told her how torn up I was about Beth. I think I need to.”

  Jesse chuckled. “I wish Samantha was here. She’s always telling me the Amish have quiet, thoughtful, organized lives.”

  “Sorry, but we’re all just as confused as you English.”

  “I’ll pass that on.”

  “And I’ll pass on my advice.”

  “Which is?” Jesse leaned forward.

  “You need to go on home, neighbor, and see to your wife.”

  “She knew I was coming over. I think she was going to call her mother.”

  Marcus grinned. “Then you really need to get on home. You don’t want her mother giving her ideas. Go on and talk about that baby some more.”

  Jesse got to his feet. “You know what? I think I will. Thanks, Marcus. Talking to you helped a lot.”

  “You helped me too. Danke.”

  “Let us know when you bring Irene over for supper or something. Samantha and I would be glad to join you. She’ll be okay with that, won’t she?”

  Irene would be very okay with that because she was so accepting of everyone. Marcus smiled tightly. “She would like that a lot, actually. I’ll let you know what happens.”

  “Good.”

  As Jesse started walking across the field, his empty can in one hand, Marcus called out to him, “Hey, Jesse!”

  He turned. “Yeah?”

  “Congratulations! You’re going to be a father!”

  Jesse grinned broadly. “And so I am!”

  When he turned back around, there was a new energy to his pace. Marcus realize he needed to get moving too. He’d found a girl who just might be the woman he needed in his life. Now all he had to do was figure out how to make her see that he was someone she needed too.

  CHAPTER 11

  You are going to be my lifesaver this week, Irene,” Agnes said as she concluded the tour of the back rooms of the bookstore.

  Irene chuckled. Agnes said over-the-top things like that all the time. “I’m glad you asked me to start working twenty hours a week.”

  “I’m glad you said you would.”

  “It’s a great fit since I’m just upstairs.” The extra money would come in handy too.

  “I was just telling my grandchildren that I wished I could see them more. Now I can tell them that we can make plans.” She frowned. “But of course, I don’t want to take up all of your free time. You’re a young lady. I’m sure you have lots of things to do.”

  It had been two weeks since the harvest festival. Other than Marcus visiting her at work and the supper at his parents’ house, he hadn’t asked her out again.

  All her old doubts about being able to stay in a relationship settled in again. Maybe she’d revealed too much. Or maybe she’d pushed too hard. She’d known he didn’t want to talk about Beth, but she’d pushed him anyway.

  “Anytime I’m available is fine. Just not tonight. I do have plans for supper.”

  Agnes looked at the antique grandfather clock that proudly stood in the center of the shop. “Since it’s almost that time, I’d best let you go. I’ll put some dates and times on an index card and slip it under your door later tonight.”

  “That will be fine. Danke.”

  Irene went upstairs to her apartment and added a sweater to her dark burgundy dress. She picked up the box of cookies she’d made earlier that day–cranberry, oatmeal, and white chocolate. Not too sweet but terribly addicting. She hoped Mary Ruth and Henry would enjoy them.

  After locking up, she rode Agnes’s bike to the Wengerds’. It was red with a tan wicker basket that made her smile. She hadn’t actually seen Agnes ride it, but from the way her face lit up when she talked about her bicycle rides, Irene suspected it kept her young at heart.

  Forty minutes later she parked the bike off to the side of the house and rang the front doorbell.

  “Irene, you’re right on time!” Mary Ruth said as she opened the door. “Come on in. What do you have there?”

  “Cookies for you and Henry.”

  “Well, that’s perfect, because I was just wondering when I was gonna have time to bake.”

  “Oh? Have you been busy?”

  “Busy as a bee, child. Look who else came for supper!”

  Irene’s smile froze as she turned. Then she felt confused at the sight of Marcus standing right in front of her. “Hi.”

  He walked right up to her and pulled the box out of her hand. “Hiya, Irene,” he said, standing a little closer than was necessary. He was smiling at her in a way that made her feel special.

  “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

  “I wanted to surprise you.”

  His mother clucked in the background. “Marcus, go make yourself useful. Put the cookies in the kitchen and help me get supper on the table.”

  He dutifully followed her into the kitchen, and Irene glanced at Henry.

  He winked. “They’ve been like this since Marcus arrived. Mary Ruth is trying to give him tips about courting you, but so far it ain’t working too good.”

  Could her cheeks be any redder? “Why would she be doing that?”

  “Oh, no reason. Just something Marcus might have told us the other day.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Don’t you worry about that.” Looking suddenly stricken, he groaned. “I bet I said too much. Have I made ya uncomfortable?”

  Yes, he had. But instead of allowing herself to feel awkward, she forced herself to think about how happy she was that Marcus had been talking about her. Maybe things between them weren’t over after all.

  She was just about to offer to help Mary Ruth with supper when Marcus walked back into the room.

  “Daed, I know we’re about to eat, but can I speak to Irene alone for a moment?”

  “Jah. Sure.”

  Marcus smiled at her. “Will you speak with me for a minute?”

  She nodded before she followed him to the three-season room. When they were alone, he closed the door.

  “Marcus? What’s going on?”

  He exhaled and turned around. “Ever since you asked me about Beth and I didn’t really answer, I’ve felt bad. I should have been more forthcoming.”

  She was stunned and felt a little embarrassed too. “I was hurt,” she admitted, “but I should have remembered that people only share secrets when they are ready. One day you’ll be ready to tell me about Beth.” She placed a hand on his arm, ready to lead him back to the kitchen.

  He covered her hand with his, but he didn’t budge. “Irene, Beth cheated on me with one of my best friends. I discovered her over at his house one afternoon.”

  “Oh, Marcus.”

  After a pause, he spoke again. “I realized they’d both been lying to me. I don’t know why one of them didn’t just come forward. It would have been easier.”

  “It would have been the right thing to do.”

  He nodded. “When I stood in front of them and the truth came out, Beth started crying and my friend looked embarrassed. I wanted to yell at them.”

  “Did you?”

  “Nee. I knew it wouldn’t change anything.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I ended up just turning around and leaving.”

  “You were hurt.”

&nb
sp; He nodded. “Jah. I was very hurt. And embarrassed.” He looked down at their hands and shifted so their fingers were linked. Finally he met her gaze again. “Since then, I’ve been pretending I wasn’t as hurt as I was. I thought if I did that, the pain would ease.”

  “But it didn’t.”

  “It didn’t . . . until I allowed myself to be hurt and angry.”

  “And now?”

  “Now that I’ve shared my story with you?”

  “Yes.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I feel better. At last.”

  Smiling at him, their hands linked, Irene finally allowed herself to believe in them. To believe in what they could be.

  After they all sat down in the kitchen and prayed silently, Irene looked at the huge meal spread out on the table. “Roast, potatoes, carrots, peas, and fresh rolls. It’s a feast.”

  “We know it’s your favorite meal,” Mary Ruth replied. “Have you been eating? I need to go see your little room above the bookstore.”

  “I’ve been eating just fine. Don’t forget that I work at a diner.”

  “I don’t know if you do eat enough,” Marcus said. “You need to splurge from time to time.”

  “I only ever see you drink water,” she teased. “I’d like to see you take your own advice.”

  “Point taken.” He grinned at her.

  When they were almost done with the meal, Irene said, “I have news. Agnes asked me to help out at the bookstore part-time. Twenty hours a week.”

  Instead of congratulating her, all three Wengerds looked concerned.

  “Irene, are you sure that’s a gut idea?” Henry asked, his expression full of concern.

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Well, first of all, you already work one job. Most folks would think that is enough,” he said.

  “I have some extra time. I don’t think it will be a problem.” She didn’t have the heart to remind them that she’d been planning to do chores around their house in exchange for room and board.

  Mary Ruth looked pained. “Please be careful. She has a reputation for taking advantage of people.”

  “Marcus already told me about her not wanting to pay one of his friends for some bookshelves he built.”

  “Jah, I heard about that,” Mary Ruth said. “But I’ve heard other things too.”

  Irene appreciated their concern, but she had already told Agnes she would work for her. “I appreciate your concern, but I think I’m going to make my own opinions about her.”

  Mary Ruth nodded. “Oh. Of course.”

  “I like to read and I’m happy to help her.” She lifted her chin. “She didn’t have to rent me that room so quickly, but she did.”

  Marcus looked down at his plate. “You know I feel bad about that.”

  “I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I’m just saying I think this is a good opportunity for me. I wasn’t much of a student in school. I . . . well, I missed too much, so I struggled a lot. Helping people look for books feels like a step in the right direction. A step up, if you will.”

  “You were already doing a good job that a lot of people wouldn’t do well,” Marcus said. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

  She gaped at him. “Danke. That’s kind of you to say.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  Embarrassed by the look being exchanged between Mary Ruth and Henry, Irene sipped her water.

  The conversation turned to other topics. Mary Ruth was volunteering for a quilt auction and Henry had just made plans with two other men to go hunting around Thanksgiving.

  “I have news, too, though it ain’t exactly about me,” Marcus said.

  “What is it?”

  “My English neighbor Jesse came to see me earlier tonight to tell me his wife, Samantha, is pregnant.”

  Mary Ruth clapped her hands. “That is wonderful-gut news. I bet their parents are so happy.”

  Marcus laughed. “I imagine so. I know he and his wife are, though it was kind of a shock.”

  “Babies always are,” Henry said. “Even when they are planned.”

  As the talk continued about babies and Samantha and Jesse, Irene tried to push back the surge of melancholy that took hold of her.

  Every time she heard about parents being excited or anticipating a baby, it made her realize just how different her own parents must have reacted. Her father had died when she was seven. On her best days her mother had treated her like an unwanted burden.

  For the first time in years, Irene wished her mother were still alive. Then she could ask if she’d ever looked forward to Irene’s birth. But did she really want to know the answer? What if her mother was completely honest and told her she hadn’t?

  “Irene, would you like a second helping?”

  “Hmm?” To her surprise, she’d cleaned her whole plate. “Nee. I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Then let’s play Clue,” Henry said.

  Irene glanced at Marcus. “Are you going to stick around?”

  He winked. “Of course. It’s one of the reasons I came.”

  “It’s his first time, so we’ll have to go easy on him,” Irene said.

  “No, we won’t,” Henry said. “Marcus can hunt for clues just like the rest of us. Nobody gets special treatment here. We’re all just the same. Ain’t so, Mary Ruth?”

  She winked at Irene. “For sure and for certain.”

  Although Irene knew Henry and Mary Ruth were only joking, she felt her heart swell. They were giving her what she’d always wanted—a chance to feel like she belonged. A chance to feel like she was really part of a family.

  CHAPTER 12

  Two days had passed since Marcus sat across from Irene at his parents’ old oak kitchen table and realized what he wanted his future to be like. Everything about those two hours had been so perfect. The conversation was easy with each person adding to the discussion like a needed leg to a treasured piece of furniture. They’d teased and joked, supported and enhanced each conversational tangent.

  For the first time in his memory, Marcus felt like he had his own identity, independent from his parents. He wasn’t just the link between them. He was his own person. It felt freeing, new, and gratifying. Almost like it had taken two dozen years, but he’d finally become Marcus Wengerd.

  The reason was Irene, of course. Not only had she fit in so perfectly at his mother’s table, but she’d also become a vital member of their small group.

  It shouldn’t have been a surprise. After all, Irene had a spark and a wit that shone brightly. She was the reason they laughed so much, and his father played off her quips, joking with her in a way he did with few others.

  Irene’s vulnerability drew his mother to her as well. Mamm fussed over Irene like she was a wayward filly, just trying out her first steps and in need of a steady hand. It was obvious to him that his mother missed fussing over other people. She needed Irene to feel needed.

  Marcus was pleased his parents got along so well with Irene, but he needed her unique personality even more. She was strong and complex, kind and easygoing.

  She was so much more than he deserved.

  The night before, when he was falling asleep, Marcus imagined the Lord himself had found Irene for him. She was such a perfect fit.

  Marcus also couldn’t help but admire her beauty. With her golden hair, light-blue eyes, slim build, and pretty smile, she drew his eyes like no other woman had.

  Well, not since Beth.

  Now it was obvious he and Beth were never meant to be. There had been an attraction between them—a shared interest in their religion and family—but that was where their similarities ended. No matter what was at hand, Beth always wanted more. More land, more attention, more of him. She needed to be the focus of every conversation, of his whole day. When she wasn’t, she was crushed, and he felt like he’d let her down.

  He now saw that Beth had been toxic to both him and his parents. Looking back, he realized his mother had always been nervous around Beth b
ecause she could never seem to do enough for his girlfriend.

  And his father? Well, he’d just avoided her. The idea of the four of them playing Clue at the kitchen table was so outlandish he might as well have tried to imagine them playing poker. It simply wouldn’t have happened.

  Marcus was busy at the farm this week and was only able to say hello to Irene for a few minutes at the diner before returning to his corn and the upcoming harvest.

  He was glad she was working that afternoon at the Printed Page because he had a surprise for her. After the shop closed, he was going to walk her down the street to the new pizza place on the corner.

  Everyone said it was awfully good. He liked the idea of taking her someplace where neither of them had to cook, his parents weren’t right next to them, and she didn’t have to serve anyone.

  He entered the shop and the door chimed, signaling his entrance. Irene, who knelt on the floor as she shelved a stack of books, looked over and treated him to a smile. “This is a surprise.”

  “I hope it’s a gut one.” He grinned as he strode inside and took a moment to appreciate how the forest-green dress she wore made her golden hair and blue eyes even more striking.

  When she moved to her feet, he shook his head. “Nee, don’t get up. Finish what you’re doing.”

  The dimple he’d become so fond of punched her cheek. “All right. I’m almost done,” she said as she clasped another hardcover and slipped it on the shelf. “The store closes soon.”

  “I know,” he said as he crouched next to her. “I thought I’d take you out for pizza afterward. What do you say?”

  Her eyes lit up. “Since I’m starving, I think it sounds wonderful-gut. Danke.”

  “Miss?” a woman with a stack of children’s picture books in her arms called out from the front of the store. “Can you check me out?”

  Irene jumped to her feet. “Of course,” she called out in a bright voice. After she placed the last book on a shelf, Irene walked to the cash register and rang up the woman’s purchase, running her fingers along each book like it was a treasure. “I hope you will enjoy the books.”

  The woman smiled. “I know my son Jeremy will love them. We read books together every night before bed.”

  “That is a lovely tradition, ain’t so?”