A Ready-Made Amish Family

by Jo Ann Brown

  Leah put her hands on Clara’s arms. “I’ve told him that Rose loved him. Over and over. Help him, Clara. After seeing him with you, I think you may be the only one who can.”

  Clara rolled her eyes. “Please. No matchmaking.”

  “I’m not talking about you marrying him. I’m talking about you helping him lay his past to rest along with whatever guilt he’s carrying around with him.”

  “I want to, but I don’t know how.”

  “I think you do.” Leah’s smile softened. “I think your heart does. All you need to do is listen to it.”

  Was it that simple? Even if it was, doing so meant giving her heart free rein. It already yearned to lead her to Isaiah. Yet, how could she not help him?

  Her thoughts spun around in her head until she heard Neva call, “Who wants to play softball? Andrew? Ammon? Do you want to play?”

  Andrew’s head whipped around the moment the teacher spoke his name, but Ammon continued to watch the other kinder rushing to the spot where teams could be chosen. Jumping to his feet, Andrew gave his brother’s arm a gentle slap. Ammon looked at him. When Andrew motioned for his twin to follow him, he did.

  Clara stared after them as the truth battered her. Ammon couldn’t hear everything said by her or anyone else. He was taking his signals from his siblings, going along and trusting them that they would clue him in on what was happening.

  Had Isaiah noticed? She had to tell him about her suspicions as soon as possible.

  * * *

  As he stopped his buggy behind others parked in front of the schoolhouse, Isaiah heard the scholars cheering. Their excitement was what he needed to lift his heart. Preparations for a funeral were never easy, even when the person who’d died was old and in pain.

  He’d known Henry Gingerich all of his life. The elderly farmer had been part of the lives of almost everyone in the district because he always helped his neighbors and family. By the next day, vans would be arriving at the Gingerich house, bringing family members who lived too far away to come by buggy.

  Tomorrow he’d take each twin aside and tell them what had happened. He doubted they’d know who Henry Gingerich was, though they’d seen him almost every church Sunday of their lives.

  As he stepped out of the buggy, a pair of small blurs rushed toward him.

  “Onkel Isaiah!” shouted Nancy.

  Nettie Mae threw her arms around him as if she hadn’t seen him in weeks rather than a few hours.

  He stopped and gave the little girls each a hug. Tapping Nettie Mae’s nose beyond her glasses, he grinned. “Have you been coloring?”

  “Ja! Komm and see. My dog! Want one.”

  “A dog?”

  “Like Shelby’s.”

  Having no idea what the little girl was talking about, he knew he’d have to ask Daniel what sort of dog—and if it was real or stuffed—the toddler had.

  “You here!” Nancy cried. “Me glad!”

  “Ja, me too.” He looked past her. Clara was walking toward them. What would she do if he held out his arms to her as he had to the kinder? It was sweet to imagine her stepping into them, because her head was at the perfect height to lean against his shoulder.

  “Go and get a ladle of cold water for your onkel Isaiah,” Clara said. As soon as the girls had sped away, she turned to him. “You look exhausted.”

  “I feel like I’ve been carrying an elephant around.”

  “How’s the family doing?”

  “There’s sadness, but knowing he went in his sleep is a blessing for the whole family. I—” He was struck from behind twice, hitting him hard enough to knock the breath out of him. Expecting the girls, he was surprised to see the boys throwing their short arms around him.

  “You’re here! You’re here!” Andrew cried.

  Beside him, Ammon nodded, his eyes glistening with tears.

  Tears? Why would the little boy cry at the sight of a man he called his onkel?

  As if he’d asked that question aloud, Clara said, “They’ve been anxious that you wouldn’t come...” She pressed her fingers to her lips as her eyes widened.

  At the motion, comprehension burst through him as it must have through her. He realized what the kinder meant. They hadn’t been concerned he wouldn’t come to the picnic. They were concerned he wouldn’t come home at all.

  As their parents hadn’t.

  With stark dismay, he recalled how one often clung to him when he left for work. They were as excited when he arrived at day’s end as if he’d been gone for days instead of hours.

  He couldn’t promise he’d always make his way home to them. Life changed without warning, as they knew too well.

  Soon, the kinder would be with their real family. How long would it take for them to forget him? He knew how long it would take him to forget them. Forever and a day. They were as much a part of him as his next breath. And within a couple of weeks, they’d be gone. Just as Melvin and Esta were.

  The grief striking him was like a fist to the gut. He turned away so none of them could see his face.

  Andrew’s name was called, and he looked over to where the other kinder were waiting for him to take his place as the batter. When Isaiah motioned for him to go and play, both boys ran to the game.

  “How do we get through to them that they’ll never be alone?” asked Isaiah with a sigh.

  “I don’t know,” Clara said, “but I think it’s important they learn to be happy again.”

  He clasped his hands behind him so he wouldn’t reach out to take hers. “I keep trying to remind myself that, but then I see the emptiness of my life without them, and my heart breaks again.”

  “Put them in God’s hands, Isaiah, and trust He’ll watch over them.” She gave a nervous half laugh. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be telling a minister to have faith.”

  “Why not? A minister is a man like any other. Having doubts or needing to reexamine one’s faith is part of being human.”

  “You don’t believe...?”

  “Ja, I believe. That won’t change.”

  “But?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes I’m not as close to God as I’d like to be.”

  “Are you angry with Him?”

  He was about to give her a quick answer, but then he paused. Anger? Was that what he felt? Or was it disappointment or betrayal? He wouldn’t be less than honest with her. “I don’t know.”

  “You need to figure it out, or you’ll never be happy again either.”

  “You’re not telling me anything I haven’t thought about myself. What I need is a solution.”

  “The answer is the same for you as for the twins. You must be willing to speak of your loss and mourn before you can accept it.”

  “I talk about Rose a lot.”

  “You talk about her death, but you seldom say anything about her life. Since I got here, I’ve learned about how Leah was gone from Paradise Springs for ten years before she returned with her niece. I found out Rebekah’s first husband was best friends with your brother Joshua before his death. I know from personal experience your mamm makes the best snitz pie in the county.”

  “Everyone knows that.”

  “The point is, Isaiah, I know a lot about your family because they talk about each other in loving ways, but nobody talks about Rose. Or if they do, they stop when you come near.”

  “I didn’t realize that.”

  “They love you. They don’t want to add to your grief.” She put a consoling hand on his arm. “I would be willing to listen if you need an ear.”

  “Danki.” What else could he say? Holding you will help me more than you listening to me? That when I look into your eyes, I can believe—if only for a second—I’m not a lousy human being who failed the person who trusted me most?

  When she start
ed to say something else, he didn’t give her time. He walked toward the ball game where he could submerge his guilt and sorrow behind a practiced smile once more.

  Chapter Eleven

  For the first time, the evening seemed to drag for Clara. It shouldn’t have, because the kinder had had an exciting day. The boys shared every detail of visiting the school with Isaiah. When they paused to take a breath, the girls jumped in with their impressions of the school, Neva, the scholars and everything else they’d seen. Each of the kinder had a different favorite memory. Andrew liked playing ball. Nettie Mae was delighted with the artwork hanging on the school’s walls, and Nancy asked when they could return to play on the swings and have Isaiah swing her high again. Ammon didn’t say much until Isaiah asked him, point-blank, what he’d liked best. He considered for a moment and then announced he’d liked the food.

  Clara tried not to show her impatience as she prepared a quick supper of ham sandwiches while Isaiah did the barn chores. She was tempted to skip one night of writing a letter with the kinder, but they’d insisted. They wanted to tell Aenti Debra about their visit to the school.

  “Let her know we’re big enough to go to school in the fall,” Andrew said at least a dozen times. “Me and Ammon.”

  “I will,” she replied each time, but made the letter shorter than usual. She was glad when the twins didn’t seem to notice, and she folded the page and put it in its envelope, sealing it.

  After persuading the twins to go to sleep after an extra story was read in the hope of calming them, Clara came downstairs. Isaiah had left the twins’ bedroom right after their prayers, and she saw the door to the dawdi haus was closed.

  She paused long enough to check the letter from Debra was in her pocket before she went to the connecting door. She rapped and called, “Isaiah?” When she didn’t get an answer, she knocked again. “Isaiah, may I speak with you about the kinder?”

  She heard the lock slide on the other side. Was he using it for propriety’s sake or to shut the rest of them out? No, that made no sense because she’d seen the faint shadows of loneliness in his eyes when he spoke of the twins going with their family.

  “What is it, Clara?” he asked.

  At his abrupt tone, she considered waiting until the morning. No, she couldn’t. Too much was at stake.

  “May I come in and speak to you about a couple of things with the twins?” she asked.

  “Ja.” He pushed the door open wider, then backed away so she could enter.

  As she went in, he vanished into the bedroom. Not knowing what else to do, she pulled out a chair at the table in the center of the main room. She folded her hands on the table and waited.

  Isaiah was wiping his hands on a towel as he came out of the bedroom. Without a word, she held out the letter from Debra. He took it and opened the envelope. He read the page before he folded it again and handed it to her.

  “She didn’t ask anything about the kinder,” he said as he sat facing Clara. “Nothing about her coming for them.”

  “I noticed that, too, but the date on the letter is almost three weeks ago. She probably hadn’t received a letter from the twins when she wrote this one.”

  “But you’d have thought she’d ask about future arrangements for them.”

  “I’ve been wondering if she’s waiting to hear from their grandparents first.”

  He gave her a dim smile. “You may be right, Clara. The two sides of the family have to agree. I’m sure more letters are on their way.”

  “I hope so.” She gripped the edge of the table as she went on to the real reason she’d intruded on his privacy. “We need to talk about Ammon. I think there’s something wrong.”

  “Is he sick?”

  “No. Ja.”

  “Which is it?”

  “I don’t know.” She began to relate what had happened that afternoon.

  His face became grim as he listened, and, though she could see questions in his eyes, he waited until she was finished before he asked, “And you think he’s having trouble hearing?”

  “Ja. Do you know if he’s had a lot of ear infections or allergies? Some kids when I was growing up had one or the other, and sometimes they had trouble hearing when their ears were stopped up.”

  “With four young kids, it seems like one or another is sick all winter. I can’t remember anything specific.”

  “Do you know if Esta kept any medical records for them?”

  “I know she had their immunization records, but I don’t know about anything else. If she did keep a record, it would be in the top drawer of the dresser in their bedroom.”

  “Oh.” She had closed the bedroom door the morning after her arrival, and it hadn’t been opened since...as far as she knew. Maybe Isaiah had gone inside, but she hadn’t, and none of the kinder had either. “I’ll go and check.”

  “No, I will.” He squared his shoulders. “Wait here. It won’t take long.”

  She watched him leave. It would be heart-wrenching for him to enter the room that had been the private retreat of his best friend and his wife. She folded her hands in front of her and bent her head until her forehead was against her clasped thumbs. Her wordless request was for God to be with Isaiah during his search. She didn’t raise her head or stop repeating the request until she heard his footsteps in the kitchen.

  Making sure that her kapp was in place and she revealed no sign of her despair, she gave him a slight smile when he returned to the dawdi haus. She didn’t say anything about the lines of tension cutting into his face as if he’d aged years while he was gone.

  “This was all I could find.” As he sat at the table again, he held out four small bright orange booklets that were folded in the center. “Their shot records. You look at these two.” He tossed them in front of her. “I’ll go through the other two, and we’ll see which one is Ammon’s. Maybe Esta wrote something in there to help us understand why he seems to be having trouble hearing.”

  The first booklet she opened was Nettie Mae’s, and Clara’s hopes rose when she saw a note about the little girl needing to have her eyes checked. Closing it, she opened the other. It belonged to Andrew and contained only the dates of his immunizations.

  Looking at Isaiah, she said, “You must have Ammon’s.”

  “I do, but there’s nothing in it to help.” He handed it to her, and she saw it was identical to Andrew’s. A shot record. Nothing else.

  Showing him the words in Nettie Mae’s, she asked, “Do you think Esta hadn’t realized Ammon might be having trouble hearing?”

  “I hadn’t noticed until you said something.”

  She hesitated, then said, “I’d like him to see a doktor. If there’s a problem, it’s something we need to know before he starts school in the fall.”

  “I agree.”

  She breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Gut.”

  His brows lowered. “Did you think I would say no to taking Ammon to have his hearing tested?”

  “No.”

  “At least you sound certain.”

  “I am.” She looked at the orange booklets. “I wish I could be sure we’re doing the right thing.”

  “How can it be the wrong thing? If his hearing is okay, we’ll work with Dr. Montgomery to discover what might be the problem.”

  “Let’s take it one step at a time.”

  He stroked her fingers as he said, “A gut idea.”

  As she smiled, she wondered if he was talking about the boy or if the subject had shifted to the two of them.

  * * *

  Once Ammon had seen Dr. Montgomery at the medical clinic in Paradise Springs, an appointment with an audiologist was set up for three days later. It was in Lititz, too far away to go by buggy. Clara called Gerry, the Englisch van driver Wanda suggested.

  The twins enjoyed
the short ride in the van to the Stoltzfus farm. Andrew was fascinated by the elderly driver who was as much a baseball fan as the boy was. Soon Gerry and Andrew were chatting like old friends about the Philadelphia team and Andrew’s favorite, the Pittsburgh Pirates.

  At the familiar white farmhouse, Wanda and Leah along with Mandy were waiting for the twins. Ammon looked uncertain when the other kinder got out and then Isaiah climbed in the van, closing the door.

  Clara had explained to the boy, as Dr. Montgomery had, why he was going for the testing and that there wouldn’t be any needles or bad-tasting medicine involved. Even so, the little boy sat stiffly during the half-hour drive northwest to Lititz.

  Beyond the center of the pretty village, Gerry flipped on his turn signal and pulled into a long, low shopping plaza. For a moment, Isaiah thought the Englischer had made a wrong turn; then he saw the name of the audiology company on one of the storefronts. When Isaiah noted a nearby pizza parlor, he asked Ammon if he wanted to get pizza and take it home for his siblings. The little boy nodded so hard Isaiah had to struggle not to laugh.

  When they got out of the van, Ammon gripped Isaiah’s hand as hard as he could. Clara opened the door to a space that resembled the medical clinic in Paradise Springs. She went to the desk to sign Ammon in and collected a clipboard with several pages on it.

  Isaiah filled in what information he knew about the boy’s health history as well as his parents’. Carrying it to the desk and paying for the office visit, he rejoined Clara and Ammon by a water dispenser that fascinated the little boy each time a bubble rose to the top.

  An inner door opened, and a young woman in a pale yellow broadcloth shirt and jeans stepped out. She was almost as tall as Clara, but her hair, pulled back in a ponytail, was matte black. Walking to them, she said, “I am Trudy Littleton, one of the audiologists here.” She spoke slowly and enunciated each word with care. “Are you Ammon?”

  The little boy stared, then nodded.

  She smiled and motioned for them to follow. Dr. Montgomery must have explained Ammon had lost his parents, because Trudy addressed Isaiah as “Uncle Isaiah.” He’d have to thank the doktorfraa the next time he saw her.