An Amish Homecoming

by Amy Clipston

  Atlee shook her hand, surprised by her firm handshake. He wasn’t used to a forthright woman. The women in his district were more subdued, and May had been the most subdued of all. She’d been petite. Soft. Quiet. Even timid at times. “Atlee Shetler,” he said. “I’m a friend of Thomas’s.”

  She gestured for him to follow her, walked to the sink in the kitchen, turned on the water, and started washing her hands. “Nice to meet you.” Then she splashed water on her face. Eyes closed, she turned off the tap and reached for the towel hanging on a hook nearby. When she kept missing it, he moved to hand it to her. “Danki,” she said, patting her face dry. “I can show you the way to Thomas’s if you’d like. I live near the Bontragers’, and I was on mei way home when . . .”

  “I knocked you over.” Now that her face was clean, he could see she was a rather striking woman. Possibly downright beautiful in her younger years. He blinked. He hadn’t noticed a woman’s looks since May died. “I can help you clean up this mess.”

  “I won’t take long,” she said as she lifted the broom leaning against a wall of the kitchen and a dustpan from a peg beside it. She moved to the front area of the store.

  “Allow me,” he said as he caught up with her. Sweeping up the flour was the least he could do. He took the broom and went to work.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  He ignored her and kept sweeping. “Dustpan?”

  She gave it to him, and he made quick work of the pile of flour before dumping it into a trash can in the kitchen. He handed the broom and dustpan back to her.

  Instead of looking grateful, she seemed annoyed. “As I said before, you didn’t have to help me. I’m capable of cleaning up mei own bakery.”

  “I’m sure you are.” He frowned. He hadn’t meant to offend her. He also noticed a smudge of flour on her left cheek, but considering he’d irritated her, he didn’t think it was a good idea to point it out.

  She hung the broom and dustpan on the pegs and then turned to him. “I’ll show you how to get to Thomas’s.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  As she locked the front door, against his better judgment he asked, “Are you putting in a glass door?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Usually businesses have glass doors instead of solid wooden ones. More inviting that way.”

  “Oh. I hadn’t thought about that.” She whipped a small pad and pencil out of her apron pocket, scribbled something down, and then tucked it back in the pocket. “Danki for the idea.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He followed her to the end of the driveway. “The Bontragers are on the left,” she said, pointing south. You’ll probably see a pack of buwe playing in the front yard.”

  Atlee nodded. “Thomas does have a large familye.”

  “Do you know him well?”

  “He and I were friends when his familye lived in Fredericktown. He asked me if I wanted to come out here for a visit. I finally took him up on his offer.”

  Carolyn nodded. “And yer wife?”

  His head dipped as he touched his beard. He couldn’t bring himself to shave it off. “Passed. A long time ago.”

  “Oh.” Her features softened. “I’m sorry.”

  He was used to hearing such sentiments. “Danki,” was all he could say.

  “I’d better get home.” She put her hands on her hips. “Mei bruder and his familye are expecting me for supper. I keep telling them I can fend for myself when it comes to meals. Been doing it for a long time now.”

  He nodded, a bit curious. Was she widowed too?

  “Oh nee.” She scowled. “I forgot my purse.” She reached in the pocket of her apron for the keys. “Don’t wait for me. Geh on and see yer friends.” She started to head back to the bakery.

  “Danki for showing me the way,” he called out to her.

  She waved and went back to the house.

  Atlee paused, watching as she unlocked and opened the door, then disappeared inside the small bakery. Nice woman, and unlike him, she’d made a good first impression. For some reason, that made him smile.

  Carolyn cringed at her reflection in her brother’s bathroom mirror. She thought she’d removed all the flour from her face back at the bakery, but there was still a smudge on her cheek. She leaned over and washed her whole face. As she patted it dry with a hand towel that smelled like it had just come off the clothesline, she looked in the mirror again.

  She didn’t usually take much time to focus on herself, especially now that she was older. Mostly she used a mirror to make sure she looked halfway presentable. But lately she’d noticed the years creep up in the wrinkles and creases on her skin. She wasn’t a vain woman, but a pink hue formed on her cheeks as she suddenly thought of Atlee.

  He seemed like a nice man. Handsome too, and from the patches of gray in his beard, she could tell he was near her age. Since he had a beard, she’d assumed he was married. And perhaps he thought he was, even in his wife’s death. He wouldn’t be the first person to lose a spouse and stay loyal to the memory of their marriage.

  What was she doing, thinking so much about Atlee? That wasn’t like her. She’d come to terms with her singleness a long time ago, much like Cevilla Schlabach, the elderly but spry woman who moved here while Carolyn was away. Although she’d kept her distance from most of the women in the community so far, she’d gotten to know Cevilla a little bit. They were two single women in a town filled with married women and an overflow of young bachelors. Like Cevilla seemed to be, she was content with her life. Except for the bakery right now. But once that was launched and successful, she would be happy, truly happy, for the first time in her life.

  She hung up the towel and went downstairs. Supper smelled heavenly, and her stomach started to growl. “Meat loaf?” she asked, going to Mary, who was pulling fresh rolls from the oven. She’d forgotten the ones she intended to bring home! But these looked good enough to sell in the bakery. She’d have to mention that to Mary. Her sister-in-law was welcome to sell anything she’d like—except donuts. Those were off-limits. “What do you need me to do?”

  Mary set the cookie sheet on top of the stove. “Nix. Judah made the salad a little while ago, and the potatoes are already whipped.” Mary turned and looked at the table. “Oh. You could pour the drinks.”

  “Sure thing.” Carolyn went to the gas-powered fridge and got out the milk and iced tea. Judah, the youngest Yoder, was the only one who still drank milk. The older boys, Seth and Ira, drank tea like the rest of them. All three boys were outside with their father, helping him finish up the day’s farm work.

  “How was yer day?” Mary asked as she put the rolls in a tea towel–lined basket.

  Carolyn set down Judah’s glass of milk. “Every time I turn around, something’s wrong with the building.” Oops. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have bought such an old haus,” Mary said, giving her an overly sweet smile.

  Carolyn blanched, mentally reminding herself to keep her mouth shut about her problems. But she had to acknowledge that Mary was right, and Mary had tried to warn her about purchasing the property too. So had Freemont. But she’d been so excited to find a place within walking distance of her home. The allure of a short commute, not to mention the eagerness of the seller—who had wanted to get rid of the house, given her a good deal, and told her converting it to anything she wanted would be “easy-peasy”—had clouded her decision a bit. Okay, a lot.

  Also, she hadn’t thought about how the road in front didn’t get much traffic. Some families like the Chupps and the Bontragers, who at least had a passel of kids, lived on this road, but unless word of mouth alone could make her business successful, she’d have to figure out how to attract other customers. And now Atlee had pointed out the need for a new door. There was another hit to her dwindling bank account.

  “It will be okay, though,” she said, injecting as much confidence into her words as possible. Not only for Mary
’s benefit, but for her own. She wouldn’t admit defeat.

  “Carolyn,” Mary said, her tone a little sharp. “I don’t understand why you won’t accept any help.”

  She turned Judah’s milk glass, pretending to be concerned with how it sat on the table.

  Mary sighed, walked over, and put one hand on her shoulder. “You moved back to the community, but you refuse to be a part of it.”

  Carolyn stiffened. Yes, she held herself at a distance from everyone here. But she had her reasons. Although Birch Creek had plenty of new residents, and some of the former ones had left, enough people here remembered the past to make her uncomfortable. She didn’t want them to see the old Carolyn, who had been rebellious and petulant, at least according to Emmanuel Troyer, the former bishop. She would prove to them, and herself, that she had changed. Making her bakery a success would go a long way in doing that.

  And if she asked for help now, everyone would know about all her problems. Just thinking about her failures being public made her chest tighten.

  Her brother and nephews came in, and she let out a breath as Mary went back to the stove. As Carolyn had thought with her nieces, she couldn’t believe how much her nephews had grown, and not just physically. Seth, who was eighteen, had taken on more of the farm’s responsibilities. Ira, sixteen, was quiet, but had a sweet personality. Judah, eight, was more rambunctious and adventurous, but he pitched in without complaint. Yes, her brother had a great family, and she was grateful he’d made her a part of it.

  After everyone had washed up and taken their seats, they bowed their heads in silent prayer. Carolyn didn’t focus on asking God to bless the food. Please make mei bakery a success had been her prayer ever since she’d come back. So far God seemed to be doing the exact opposite.

  “Something wrong?”

  She opened her eyes to see Freemont looking at her. “Nee,” she said, forcing a smile. “Everything’s wonderful.”

  He raised a skeptical brow but didn’t say anything further.

  Carolyn focused on her supper, listening to the chatter of the boys as they inhaled the meat loaf, potatoes, stewed tomatoes, homemade pickles, and fresh rolls with butter, then asked for seconds. When she looked up, she saw Mary and Freemont exchange a soft glance. She felt a tiny pinch in her heart, but it wasn’t envy. Longing, perhaps. But that was quickly replaced with peace at being surrounded by family.

  After helping Mary clean up, she went outside and sat on the patio, looking at the stars and sipping a cool glass of lemonade. She enjoyed this time of night when she usually settled in and had personal time with the Lord, something she’d been too busy to do much of lately. Her days and evenings had been filled with working, thinking, and, yes, worrying about the bakery. “Do not be anxious about anything . . .” She knew the verse from Philippians well, but she couldn’t seem to apply it lately. She also missed having time to take long walks and commune with nature, which had always been one of her favorite things to do. Instead she felt like she was balled up in a knot most of the time.

  “Am I intruding?”

  She turned and saw Freemont standing behind her, what looked like a mug of steaming coffee in his hand even though it was still hot outside. “Nee,” she said, gesturing to the seat next to her. “Of course not.”

  He sat down and took a sip. From his side profile she could see he was pensive. Uh-oh. When her brother looked like this, she knew he had something weighing on his mind. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  He looked startled at the question. “Ya. I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  “Again?” She looked out into the yard. “I already told you everything is fine.”

  “Then why are you so worried?”

  He could be so annoying, especially when it came to recognizing her moods so easily. She wanted to tell him to mind his own business. But she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t lie to him either. “I’m just going through a rough patch. That’s all.”

  “About being back home?”

  She paused. Home. Nappanee had been her home for eighteen years, and she had expected to miss it. But she didn’t, despite the reminders of the past still here in Birch Creek that should make her want to go back to Indiana. “Nee. I’m . . . glad to be home.” Another honest answer, but she wasn’t going to elaborate.

  “Gut.” He tapped on the side of his mug. After a long silence he said, “If you ever want to talk about what’s bothering you, I’m here.”

  She chuckled. “You’re offering to have a meaningful discussion with yer little schwester?” She gave him a side look. “How things have changed.”

  He grinned, although he looked a little uncomfortable. “I’ve changed because I’ve had to. Being responsible for the community does that to a person.”

  That made her sober immediately. “I can see that. You’re doing well, Freemont.”

  He didn’t look at her. “I appreciate you saying that. It’s only because of the Lord’s help.”

  “The Lord knows gut character. And a gut heart.”

  He drained the rest of his coffee and stood. She could see he was pleased, and she knew he was too humble not to change the subject. “Better get to bed,” he said. “Sunrise comes early in the summer.”

  She nodded, grateful for his company and his decision not to bring up the past. She wasn’t ready to talk to him about it, and he seemed to accept that. “Gute nacht.”

  Carolyn lingered outside after Freemont left. Despite her brother’s discretion, her memories came to the surface. She gripped her glass and pushed them down. But she knew from experience that no matter what she did, they were never far from her mind.

  CHAPTER 3

  I have to say, I’m surprised you took me up on mei invitation.”

  Atlee settled back in a comfortable hickory rocker on the front porch and took a bite of an oatmeal butterscotch cookie Thomas’s wife had baked. Inside she was wrangling several young boys, making sure they washed up and said their prayers before climbing into bed. The activity of the house made him tired, but it also infused him with a little joy. He and May couldn’t have children, and although he had come to terms with that, sometimes he wondered how he would have been as a father. He knew without a doubt May would have been a wonderful mother. “I’m more surprised you wanted to see me,” he said, focusing on the conversation.

  “Why? Because the bishop took advantage of you when you were in a low spot?” Thomas shook his head. “That mann has nee business being a bishop.”

  Atlee agreed, but there was nothing anyone could do about it. And it felt a little wrong to criticize someone who had been chosen by God to lead the community. But why would a man led by God think it was a good idea for Atlee to marry Thomas’s daughter, Phoebe, who was nearly thirty years younger than him? “I’m glad you don’t hold that against me,” he said.

  “Phoebe doesn’t either, because it wasn’t yer doing. When Joseph Weaver proposed that nonsense and then tried to force the marriage, I knew we had to leave. The Lord brought me and mei familye to the right place, and Phoebe is married to a gut mann.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” After the Bontragers left, there had been whispers throughout the community that Thomas had defied God and that was why his farm had struggled for so long. But Atlee had never believed them. He’d known Thomas for a long time. The man had been there for him when May died, and he had understood why Atlee couldn’t move on as fast as everyone expected him to. Thomas’s faith was as strong as that of anyone he knew. Atlee had missed his friendship over the past two years. “I’ve been wondering. Why are you going by Thomas now?”

  “Thomas was mei vatter’s name.” He paused. “I’m not sure this will make sense, but I started a new life here. The old Jesse is gone. When I moved here, I decided to make a completely fresh start.”

  It did make sense to Atlee, even though he’d never heard of someone doing such a thing. He knew there were God-ordained name changes in the Bible, like Abram to Abraham and Jacob to Israel. H
e didn’t see anything wrong with what Thomas had done. It was his name, after all. “You’re happy here, then, ya?”

  “Happy and thriving. I’ll admit, I used to wonder if God was punishing me and mei familye, like Joseph said.”

  When May died, the bishop had alluded to a lack of faith—not on Atlee’s part, but on May’s. “Perhaps she should have prayed harder for healing,” Joseph had said. His comment had angered Atlee so much he almost left the community right then. But he couldn’t leave May, and there was always the niggling thought in the back of his mind that maybe he hadn’t prayed hard enough for his wife. If his faith had been stronger, maybe she would still be here. God was in the business of doing miracles, after all. Yet he didn’t do one for May.

  “But I realized I was wrong. Trials will come nee matter what. That’s what happens in a fallen world.” Thomas paused. “I know how hard May’s death has been on you,” he said, as if the man could read Atlee’s thoughts. “But I’m glad you decided to come visit.”

  “I’m not sure what I’m going to do while I’m here,” he said. “I can’t say that I know much about farming, but I’m glad to help you any way I can.”

  “Help is one thing we have plenty of.” He explained to Atlee about his role in his son-in-law Jalon’s farming business. “The kinner are taking right to it, much more than they did back in Fredericktown. But you’re welcome to pitch in if you want.” He pressed his palms on the arms of the rocker. “How long you planning to stay?”

  “A few days, tops.”

  “You can extend that, you know.”

  Although he’d been here for only a few hours, he was already feeling more relaxed. Yet the Bontragers’ house was full, and he felt like an intruder. He’d also lived alone for so many years that he wasn’t used to so many people and so much activity. “I appreciate the offer.”

  After a long moment of silence, Thomas stood. “I’m heading inside. Early day tomorrow, like all of them. See you in the morning.”