by Amy Clipston
“Fine.” Priscilla released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“Go meet with the bishop.” Mamm nodded toward the doorway. “I’ll unpack Ethan’s things, and I’ll finish cleaning the kitchen. Then I’ll start making Ethan clothes.”
Priscilla nodded. “All right. I’ll go see the bishop, but I’ll help you with the chores first.”
“Priscilla, I can—”
“No.” Priscilla shook her head. “I’ll unpack and clean up the kitchen. Then you can start making Ethan’s clothes so he’s ready for church on Sunday, okay?”
Mamm nodded.
Priscilla hesitated as doubt curled through her. Was making a commitment to the church the right choice? What if Ethan detested living on a farm after he’d been here a few days? Would he adjust to going to a one-room Amish school without the luxuries of electronics or the flexibility of his former clothes?
“Priscilla,” Mamm said. “You need to do what’s best for your kind.”
“You’re right.” With her palms sweating, Priscilla headed down the stairs. She sucked in a surprised breath when she met her father at the bottom step. “I’m going to finish cleaning up the kitchen and then meet with the bishop.”
“All right. Our driver’s phone number is on the desk in the phone shanty.” Dat pulled out his wallet and held out a couple of bills. “This should cover the cost of the ride.”
“I have a little bit of money.”
“Take it.” His tone was gruff.
“Danki,” she whispered as she took the money from him.
He gave her a curt nod before walking into the hallway.
As Priscilla stepped into the kitchen, she squared her shoulders. She reminded herself again that she was strong. She would find her way, for the sake of her son.
FOUR
“DO YOU NEED ANY HELP?”
Mark turned toward the entrance to the horse stall as he looked at Ethan. “Hi, Ethan.”
“Hi.” Ethan raised his hand in a wave. “Daadi told me to ask you if you had anything for me to do.”
Mark grinned as he leaned on his pitchfork. “I see you’re picking up Dutch pretty quickly.”
“Yeah, my mom taught me a few words.”
“You said you’re six, right?”
He stood a little taller. “Six and a half.”
“Uh-huh.” Mark rubbed his chin. “So you’re already in school, then. Don’t Englisher schools start at five?”
“Englisher?” Ethan snickered and shook his head. “What does that mean?”
“An Englisher is someone who isn’t Amish. So you’re essentially an Englisher.”
“Oh.” Ethan nodded slowly. “Yeah, I was in kindergarten last year. My mom just told me I’ll start first grade here.”
“Oh.” So Priscilla is planning on staying. “Schools are different here. All the grades are in one classroom with one teacher.” Mark lifted his straw hat and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “I’m sure your school wasn’t like that.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Ethan seemed to study him. “Did you go to school with my mom?”
“Ya, I did. She was gut freinden with my twin sister, Laura.”
“You have a twin sister?”
“Ya, I do, but we don’t look alike. You can tell us apart because she’s shorter than I am,” Mark said. After a beat, Ethan laughed.
“Do you have any kids, Mark?”
“No, I can’t say that I do. Do you?”
Ethan chuckled again. “I’m only six. Of course I don’t.” He shook his head. “You’re funny.”
“Well, looks aren’t everything.” Mark feigned disappointment with a shrug and a phony frown.
Ethan chuckled a third time. “Do you have any other brothers and sisters?”
“Ya.” Mark leaned against the stall wall and set the pitchfork next to it. “Let’s see. There’s my older brother, Jamie.” He counted everyone off on his fingers. “He’s married to Kayla. They have a little boy younger than you named Calvin. He’s really cool. You’ll like him. Then there’s my younger sister, Cindy. And I have two stepbrothers, Walter and Roy, and a stepsister, Sarah Jane. Walter is married, and he has two sons.”
“Wow.” Ethan’s eyes grew wider. “You have a big family. I just have my mom and dad. My dad lives in Baltimore. I don’t know when I’ll see him again since my mom decided we should come here for a while.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Mark’s thoughts spun with questions. Why had Priscilla left his father? And what drove Priscilla from the community eight years ago? Laura said Yonnie and Priscilla argued back then, and he certainly didn’t welcome her back. But how bad could their relationship have been? “Do you like the farm?”
“Yeah.” Ethan smiled. “The animals are fun. And it’s like camping living in a house without electricity.”
“It’s like camping, huh?” Mark snickered. “That’s a great analogy.”
Ethan looked toward the entrance of the barn. “My mom went to see someone called the bishop a little while ago. I wonder when she’ll be back.”
“She went to see the bishop?” Mark felt his eyebrows rise. So Priscilla was going to rejoin the church. That meant she really was back for good.
“Yeah.” Ethan tilted his head. “Who is he?”
“Well, have you been to a church before?”
“Uh-huh.” Ethan nodded.
“He’s like our preacher. He’s the head of our church.”
“Oh.” Ethan looked confused. “Why would my mom go see him?”
Mark folded his arms over his chest as he considered an explanation simple enough for Ethan to understand. “I think she probably went to talk to him about becoming a member of the church again. She’ll have to take classes and then be accepted back into the congregation.”
“Oh.” His brows furrowed. “So she has to ask permission to be a part of the church?”
“Ya, sort of.”
Ethan nodded as if considering that. “Okay.” Then he looked around the horse stall. “Are we going to stand here and talk all day? Or are you going to give me a chore to do?”
“Wow.” Mark shook his head and sighed with feigned annoyance. “You’re just as demanding as your daadi.” Then he held out his pitchfork. “How about I teach you to muck the stalls?”
“Okay.” Ethan rubbed his hands together before grabbing the tool. “I’m ready.”
Priscilla climbed out of the van and paid her father’s driver before walking up the rock path. She was back from meeting with the bishop, and her feet slowed with the weight of uncertainty as she climbed the front porch steps.
Although she’d made the commitment to rejoin the church, anxiety seemed to coil around her insides when she envisioned facing the congregation on Sunday. Would her former friends welcome her back into the fold? Or would they stare at her and her child and whisper about her promiscuity?
“Lord, give me strength,” she whispered as she stepped into the foyer and dropped her purse on the bench by the door.
Voices rang out from the kitchen. She stepped through the doorway and found her mother clearing away dishes as her father, Mark, and Ethan sat at the table.
“Mom!” Ethan waved at her. “How was your meeting?”
Leave it to her son to get right to the point. She squared her shoulders and plastered a smile on her face. “It went just fine.”
“Are you a member of the church now?”
“Ah. Well, not exactly.” Priscilla’s cheeks felt as if they’d caught fire as she met her mother’s hopeful gaze. “But I will be soon.”
“That’s great.” Ethan grinned.
“Danki.” Priscilla turned to her mother. “I can clean up if you have other things to do.”
“Are you sure? You must be hungry.” Mamm pointed to the table. “I made chicken salad, and we have the rolls I picked up at the bakery yesterday. Sit down and eat while I do the dishes.”
“No.” Priscilla touched her mother’s arm. �
��You go on. I’ll clean up after I eat.”
“Okay. I’m working on a pair of trousers for Ethan. I’m almost done, and then I can start on a shirt.”
“Danki.”
Mamm left the kitchen, and Priscilla turned to the table as her father stood.
“It’s time to get back to work.” Dat dropped his napkin on his empty plate. “A couple of customers made appointments to come out this afternoon. I need to get ready for them.”
He looked down at his plate and then headed for the door. As he walked past her, Priscilla’s heart seemed to falter as she considered her father might never forgive her.
“Daadi, wait for me!” Ethan jumped up and followed his grandfather to the door. “Bye, Mom.”
“Bye.” Priscilla smiled as she gathered the last of the dishes. She turned to Mark, who was still sitting at the table. “Aren’t you going with them?”
“I thought I’d have another sandwich.” He plucked a roll from the basket in the center of the table. “Your mamm makes the best chicken salad. I think it’s because she adds walnuts. They’re appeditlich.”
She eyed him with suspicion. “I guess that means you eat here often.”
He shrugged. “Your mom invites me to join them for lunch every day I’m here. I don’t stay for supper often, but I do enjoy her lunches.”
Priscilla carried the dishes to the counter.
“You look schee,” he said.
She leaned against the counter, squeezed her eyes shut, and swallowed a groan. Was Mark really going to flirt with her? Of course he was. This was how he’d always operated. He’d use compliments, quick wit, and his handsome face to win over the affection of the young girls in their youth group and then lead them on without any promise of commitment. She’d witnessed more than one friend or acquaintance falling under his spell, only to be heartbroken when he moved on to someone else.
But why would he be interested enough in her to flirt? Not only had he never noticed her before, but she certainly couldn’t be desirable to him now. She was shunned and had a child from a failed relationship with an Englisher.
“What?” Mark asked. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No.” She turned back to the table and picked up empty glasses. Mark scooped chicken salad from a bowl onto his roll and then added a piece of lettuce. “Why do you work here?” The question leapt from her lips without any forethought.
He shrugged. “Mei dat and I were here running an errand one day about a year ago, and your dat mentioned he needed a farmhand. We discussed a salary, and I took the job.”
“But why here?”
“Why not here?” He grinned. “It’s a great job.”
“Why don’t you live in the daadihaus here on the farm?”
“I want a paycheck so I can save money to build a haus on mei dat’s farm.”
Priscilla considered his family, and a twinge of envy poked her. Mark had it all—loving parents and three siblings who would always be his close friends. She’d seen the Riehl family interact at church and whenever she visited Laura, and it was apparent how much they supported each other. She’d often wondered what it would have been like if her parents had given her siblings. Would a couple of brothers have taken off the pressure for her to be the perfect child? She moved to the sink to prepare for washing the dishes.
“How did it really go with the bishop?” His question broke through her thoughts.
“Oh, it was wunderbaar,” she tossed over her shoulder. “I’m still shunned, and I need to be under the ban while I take three classes. Only then can I be accepted back into the church. The first class is this Sunday.” She scraped crumbs from a dish with more force than necessary. But the chatter of her mother’s sewing machine echoed from the second floor above them, and the sound was so familiar it was almost comforting.
“You haven’t had lunch, right?” he asked.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Come eat with me.”
She turned toward him and felt her brow pinch.
“Sit.” He pointed to the chair across from him. “Please.”
“You’re going to eat with me?”
“Why not?”
She tilted her head and took in his pleasant expression and sky-blue eyes. What did he hope to gain by being nice to her? Had he told his family about her last night? Had his sisters instructed him to find out all her secrets so they could gossip about them at the next quilting bee? That didn’t sound like the Laura she’d known, but she wasn’t sure if she could trust anyone now.
His face broke out in his signature grin. “Why are you looking at me like I have an ulterior motive? It’s lunch, Priscilla, not an invitation to share a bottle of liquor.”
“You know I’m shunned, but you’re inviting me to eat with you.”
“But you have to eat, right?” He shrugged. “Sit and eat with me.”
She hesitated, and then she turned back to the sink and shut off the faucet. It was just lunch, after all, and she would be careful not to share too much about her life in Baltimore.
She took a plate from the cabinet and utensils from the drawer before sitting down across from him. After a prayer, she began building a sandwich. He ate in silence across from her for a few moments.
“Ethan is a hoot,” he finally said. “He helped me muck the stalls earlier, and he never stopped talking.”
“He does like to talk.” She took a bite of her sandwich, chewed, swallowed, and then wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Why are you working here instead of helping your dat with his dairy farm?”
“Mei bruders are plenty of help.”
“Bruders?” she asked. “I don’t understand. Did your parents have another child after I left?”
He shook his head, and his smile flattened. “No, I have three stepsiblings. Two of them live on the farm.”
She gasped, her hand fluttering to her mouth. “You lost your mamm?”
His nod was solemn. “Five years ago.”
“Mark, I’m so sorry.” Tears stung her eyes. “I had no idea.”
“It’s been tough, but mei dat is froh again. He met Florence at the library, and they started dating. She has an older sohn who’s married and took over her farm. Her younger sohn, Roy, is twenty-four, and Sarah Jane is twenty-three.” He shook his head. “We’re just one big, happy family now.”
“Is that why you want to build a haus? You want some privacy?”
“I guess so. Also, I’m twenty-six and not married, so I think it’s time I had my own place.” He took a handful of chips and dropped them on his plate before handing her the bag.
“Danki.” She shook a pile of chips onto her own plate. “You mentioned Laura has a family now. How many kinner does she have?”
“She has a dochder, and she’s expecting another kind.”
“What about Jamie?”
“He’s married and has a sohn. His fraa is expecting a bop-pli too.”
“Wow.” She popped a chip into her mouth while her mind spun with memories of her childhood. While her life was stressful at home, she’d always cherished time spent with her two best friends, Laura and Savilla. “How’s Savilla? Is she married?”
Mark stopped chewing, and something unreadable flickered across his face.
“What?” She leaned forward, her curiosity piqued.
“Savilla passed away not long after mei mamm died.”
Priscilla couldn’t stop tears from filling her eyes. She couldn’t believe her mother didn’t tell her in one of her letters.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He handed her another napkin.
“It’s not your fault.” She wiped her eyes and then her nose. “What happened?”
“She died unexpectedly as the result of a heart infection. It was terrible. Her husband, Allen, was just devastated. Their doch-der, Mollie, was only two months old.”
“Ach. That’s so bedauerlich.” Priscilla sniffed.
“After Savilla passed away, her mamm helped care for Mol
lie. But then she broke her leg and hip and Laura took over with Mollie.” His expression softened. “Laura and Allen fell in love, and they’ve been married almost four years now. Laura adopted Mollie, who’s a sweetheart.” It was apparent from the way he smiled that he was fond of his niece.
Priscilla shook her head as guilt stabbed her heart. Why had she stayed away for so long? Surely Laura needed her when she lost her mother and then Savilla. She wiped away more tears as she imagined Laura mourning her mother and then their best friend. Would Laura ever forgive Priscilla for leaving the way she had and not contacting her for eight years?
“I can’t believe it.” Priscilla’s voice sounded thin and reedy. “Things have changed so much. I’ve been gone a long time.”
“But you’re back now.” Mark raised his glass of water as if to toast her.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, and she allowed everything Mark told her to sink in. What else had she missed?
“Tell me more about how it went with the bishop.” Mark’s statement broke through her thoughts.
She shrugged while looking down at her half-eaten sandwich. “It went fine. He seemed froh to see me, and he was supportive of my decision to come back to the faith.” She moved a chip around on her plate. “He made me feel welcome in his home. I thought he would since he’d always been pleasant, but the meeting wasn’t anything unexpected. Like I said, I have to go to the classes on Sundays to relearn our faith. Then I have to confess in front of the congregation.”
She tried to sound casual, even though the idea of standing in front of her congregation terrified her to the very depth of her soul. “So after I complete the classes I’ll be a member of the community again, and life can go on for Ethan and me.”
She looked up, and when she met his gaze, she found tenderness in his eyes that knocked her off balance for a moment. Was he pretending to care? Or did he truly want to be her friend?
“You don’t sound so sure,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Something is bothering you. Is your dat forcing you to make yourself right with the church?”
She swallowed. Was she that transparent? Or was he reading her thoughts? Maybe his suspicion was based solely on what he’d heard her father say the day she arrived.