Amish Days: Coming Home: A Hollybrook Amish Romance (Rhoda's Story Book 3)

by Brenda Maxfield

“And I’m still not…” Donna’s voice faded. Then she cleared her throat. “I’m still not back to myself. But I’m getting there.” Her breath caught and a small gasp escaped her lips. “And then Mamm had to go and die…”

  Her shoulders shook as she began crying again.

  “I know.” Rhoda wasn’t sure what else to say.

  “Don’t worry,” Donna told her through her tears. “When everyone arrives, I won’t break down like this.”

  Breaking down with grief during visitations or funerals wasn’t done. It simply wasn’t. But Rhoda wasn’t sure that Donna would be able to hold it together.

  “You can always excuse yourself if you need to,” Rhoda said.

  “And how would that look?”

  Rhoda shrugged. “Not very gut.”

  “I’ll be all right,” she said. “I will.”

  “You will,” Rhoda said, praying it would be so.

  They busied themselves then, finishing up breakfast. Donna had cooked enough for a crowd. Rhoda assumed that she was making enough for the whole family.

  In any case, it was nice to see Donna back in the kitchen.

  Chapter Eleven

  As it turned out, both Martha’s family and Bart’s family had already eaten. But Travis and Donna’s kinner were hungry, so most of the food didn’t go to waste. By the time the kitchen was all red up, people were arriving.

  “I forgot,” Evelyn said to Rhoda as she hung up the dishtowel. “You got a letter yesterday.” She pulled it from her waistband. “Here you are.”

  Rhoda glanced down and saw Aaron’s handwriting. Her heart fluttered as she took the envelope. “Thank you,” she said. Without further word, she hurried upstairs to her room. The rest of the family could see to the company until she had read her letter.

  She entered her room and walked over to her bed and sat down. She didn’t open Aaron’s letter right away. She held it in her hands, savoring the feeling of closeness to Aaron that it gave her. She pressed it to her chest, as if the mere words on paper could give her strength for the day. She needed it.

  And she needed him.

  She could hear the first buggy of visitors outside on the drive, the wheels crunching over the frozen gravel. She looked toward the window, knowing she should go down, but not moving.

  She slid her finger under the flap of the envelope and ripped it open.

  Dear Rhoda,

  Thank you for your letter. It’s always so good to hear from you.

  I have a big announcement today! (laugh) I have finished the second bedside table, and it actually looks nice. Perhaps not up to my dat’s quality, but quite passable. When Dat came over to inspect it, he grunted.

  Now, that might not sound like much to you, but that tone of grunt was high praise from my father. Of course, after the grunt, he ran his hand over the wood, pausing at any perceived flaws and then leaning in for a closer look.

  But I feel good.

  I’m wondering how your mamm is doing—

  Rhoda stopped reading. She picked up the envelope and turned it over, checking the postmark. Of course. He had written this before he’d received her letter about Winnie’s death. She sucked in a breath. It was strange that he wrote this the day she had died and had absolutely no knowledge of it.

  He would know by now. In fact, he probably knew by yesterday. Letters didn’t take long to travel from Indiana to Ohio.

  I hope she’s doing even better than your family has expected. I think of you often. Imagining you in your brother’s daadi haus, caring for your mother. I’m glad that your sister Donna is doing better and doesn’t need your help all day anymore.

  I believe that it’s getting close to the time when I will have to discuss the future with my parents. From my mother’s excitement regarding the furniture, I still believe she thinks I will stay. I don’t look forward to the conversation. And perhaps, I can stay longer than I’d hoped, since it is the winter. But I am eager to get back to my orchard and get back to you.

  Rhoda’s eyes filled with tears. How she yearned to see his face. How she yearned to feel his eyes upon her.

  She read the last few lines of closing and folded the letter back up. She was about to put it into its envelope when she paused. Instead, she tucked it under the bodice of her dress. It crinkled and poked at her, but somehow, its presence there gave her a surge of comfort. She stood, squared her shoulders, and headed back downstairs, carrying Aaron next to her heart.

  Downstairs, the front room was becoming crowded with their dear friends. Everyone was subdued, speaking quietly, moving softly. Rhoda spotted the kinner, all grouped together in the corner of the room. Their faces held no evidence of upset, but Rhoda could tell that they were on edge.

  It wasn’t natural for children to be together without playing and laughter.

  Her mamm wouldn’t have liked to see them so somber. Rhoda greeted a few of the people with a smile and a nod, but she didn’t want to be there. She turned and went to the kitchen. They would need a lot of coffee and perhaps she could busy herself with that.

  Martha stood at the sink, staring out the window. When Rhoda entered, she gave a start and glanced at her.

  “I thought I might help make coffee or something…” Rhoda said.

  Martha gave her a knowing smile. “It’s hard to be in there, isn’t it?”

  “Jah, it is.”

  “I remember when Dat was in there. It didn’t seem so hard somehow.”

  “That’s because Mamm was with us.”

  Martha’s eyes welled up. “Jah. That’s it.” Her lower lip quivered. “We have no parents now, Rhoda.”

  Rhoda swallowed. “I thought of that.”

  “Seems silly to think like that. We’re grown adults.”

  “We are.”

  “So why do I feel like an orphan?”

  Rhoda bit back her tears. “I know. It is silly. But I feel the same way.”

  “We have our heavenly Father.”

  “That we do. And I’m grateful for it.” Rhoda fell silent. She felt the corner of Aaron’s letter poke her chest. She pressed her hand over it and took a long, slow breath.

  Martha cleared her throat. “Shall we go back out there?”

  Rhoda closed her eyes for a brief second. “Jah.”

  Together, they walked back to the front room.

  Later, the bishop arrived. Extra benches had been brought into the house and arranged to take advantage of every square inch. But the turnout was heavy, even in the frigid weather. People overflowed into the dining room and even the kitchen.

  The service began, and Rhoda had a hard time concentrating. Her mind wasn’t on the sermon—it wandered back in time. Back to memories of her mother. She smiled when she recalled how when she was still a young girl, her mother would hop on the tire swing for a turn of her own. Nobody else’s mother ever got on a swing. Rhoda had been proud of that, thinking that her mother was fun. And lively.

  And then there were all the afternoons they’d spent weeding the garden together. Winnie would make a game of it. They’d count weeds, sort them by type, and then thrown them into the chicken coop to watch the hens cackle in delight.

  It made weeding the garden a treat.

  Winnie used to make lemonade and then freeze it into ice pops. Whenever a child came over to play, there would be ice pops to enjoy. Except in the winter. Then, they’d make snow ice cream.

  The bishop’s voice droned on, and Rhoda lived in her memories. She was hardly aware when the people began speaking a hymn. She glanced around in surprise and met Donna’s eyes. Donna was staring at her, frowning, probably noticing that Rhoda’s attention was completely elsewhere.

  Rhoda shuddered and tried to focus again, but it was useless. She couldn’t connect the words the bishop was saying with her mother. And right then, she wanted her mother. She wanted to immerse herself in the feelings and memories and essence of who her mother was. Of what her mother meant to her.

  Her chest hurt. Her head hurt. She wanted to
leave and go for a walk in the fields. And she wanted it to be spring. When the sun kissed the earth back into life. When the sparrows flew by with long strings hanging from their beaks. When the daffodils pushed through the dirt and greeted the day.

  She heard Bart clear his throat. She looked at him.

  She didn’t want to live in his daadi haus any longer. She wanted to stay here, in her own childhood home. She wrapped her arms around herself and hung on. Nausea swept through her. Nothing was right anymore.

  She wanted to go check on Aaron’s place. To go and visit her bee hives. To walk through his house and pretend he was there. To see him sitting at his table, enjoying a hearty meal with a look of satisfaction on his face.

  Her chest and throat relaxed at the thought.

  Bart was watching her. She blanched, realizing that she was smiling. She immediately wiped her smile off her face and looked down at her lap.

  If the service wasn’t over soon, she’d bolt. She could feel it rising within her. She’d bolt and go running outside, even in the cold. She needed more air. The house was too full. She gazed at her black dress.

  She didn’t look good in black. Her breath caught.

  Vanity.

  She bit her lip. Dear Gott, please help me. My mind is out of control. Please help me…

  She closed her eyes. That would appear perfectly normal for a daughter’s behavior at her mother’s funeral. She stared into the dark of her closed eyelids. Better. Yes. Better.

  The sermon was over. The hymns had been spoken. The prayers had been said.

  The casket now had to be moved to the cemetery. Rhoda stood and squeezed through the crowd to the wash room. She took her heaviest cape from its peg and gazed out the window on the side door.

  And her heart leapt.

  There, coming toward the house was Aaron.

  Aaron!

  She gasped and opened the door, rushing outside. “Aaron!” she cried. Was she seeing things? How was he there?

  He opened his arms, and she flew into them. He held her tightly, and she sobbed against his rough coat.

  “There, there,” he crooned. “It’s all right.”

  The coldness of his coat sank into her face, but she didn’t move. He was there. With her.

  After a moment, he let go and backed away. “I don’t want to cause rumors,” he whispered to her.

  She wiped her tears. Of course. He was right. What would everyone think if they saw her out there hanging onto him?

  He gazed into her eyes. “I came as quickly as I could.” He looked toward the house. “Is the funeral service over?”

  She nodded.

  “So you will be going to the cemetery now?”

  She nodded again.

  “May I come with you?”

  A sob burst through her. She grabbed his hand, not caring what anyone might think.

  The burial was painfully cold. When it was over, the family rode back to Bart’s place to eat. Rhoda didn’t want to go. She wanted to go back to her house with Aaron. But Aaron did join them at Bart’s. It was crowded and noisy. It was as if everyone had been quiet and somber long enough. The children laughed and played as if they’d been set free.

  And for the first time in her life, Rhoda did not go into the kitchen to help with the preparations. She stood with Aaron in the side room and talked. She knew that they’d probably cause gossip, but standing with him, there, mostly alone even though the door was open, was already healing her heart.

  “I’m so sorry,” Aaron said. “I never expected your mamm to die.”

  “Neither did we. She just stopped living.” Rhoda blinked back her tears. “She was tired, and she wanted my dat.”

  Aaron was careful not to touch her, but his close proximity alone was like a balm.

  “How is your dat?” Rhoda asked.

  “Improving.”

  Rhoda gazed up into his eyes. His love for her was so obvious, it was like a warm quilt, filling the room with comfort. Her throat went dry with the wonder of it.

  “Thank you for coming,” she whispered. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” He bent toward her, and she felt his breath flutter over her cheeks. “I’m so happy to be with you.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Rhoda…” His eyes turned dark, and his pupils were large.

  “Jah?”

  “We’re not children. I don’t think we have to wait.”

  Her heart squeezed within her, and her pulse increased. She licked her lips and waited for him to continue.

  “I shall speak with your brother and the bishop.”

  She leaned forward, her lips parted.

  He continued, “And if you agree, we can be married soon. Very soon.”

  Tears hovered on her lashes. “Jah,” she murmured. “Very soon.”

  And then he bent down and brushed her cheek with his lips. “I love you,” he whispered into her ear. He didn’t back away, but stayed close, and she pressed her head against his smooth face. Her heart raced and a shakiness moved through her.

  She was full. She was ready to burst. She loved this man with all her heart.

  She closed her eyes. Oh, Mamm, you would be so happy for me. I’m so sorry you didn’t live to see it.

  And at that precise moment, she heard a bird call out. Right there, in the middle of the frozen winter. She jerked her head to the side and looked out the window.

  She didn’t see anything, but she didn’t need to.

  Her mother was there, and she was happy.

  Epilogue

  It’s been six months since Mamm has passed. I miss her every day. So many times, I turn to tell her something, only to realize once again that she’s gone. And then my comment dries on my lips, and I feel an overwhelming sense of bereavement. It lessens a bit each day, which is a comfort.

  Mamm’s death set Donna back some. But not like before. She’s able to take care of most of her chores, but I do go over a couple times a week to help out. We’re getting along, which is a blessing to be sure. In truth, she can get crotchety, but I’m better able to ignore it and understand that in her heart, she doesn’t mean anything by it. Baby Abby is no longer a boppli. The little one is learning to walk. She lands on her behind every few steps, but she just heaves herself back up and goes at it again. She’s a charming little bug, and she and I are particularly close.

  After Mamm’s funeral, Aaron spoke to Bart and the bishop. And as Aaron promised, we were married within the month. It was somewhat of a whirlwind, but a whirlwind I was happy to be caught up in. It’s strange … I never really minded being unmarried before I met Aaron. Even being called a spinster didn’t affect me much. But once I met him, all I yearned for was to be married and have a family of my own.

  So, the fact that it happened quickly was more than fine with me. The community was shocked, I think. After all my stewing, I guess Aaron and I were more discreet than I’d thought we were. But then, as Aaron said, we were not young courting teenagers.

  Aaron had to go back to Ohio to tell his parents and to ensure that all was well with the furniture shop. It turns out that when he left to come to the funeral, his father phased right back into his work. Aaron thinks that his dat was putting it off in hopes that Aaron would stay. I know his mamm was disappointed that he was returning to Indiana, but both his folks were happy that he was marrying. They weren’t able to attend the wedding, but I think that in a few years, when his father can’t work anymore, they might come and join us here. That would be fine with me. I would enjoy having parents living in my home once again. And of course, there’s the daadi haus out back.

  During Mamm’s funeral, I had already decided that living in Bart’s daadi haus was something I didn’t want to do. Maybe it was because I hadn’t been there long enough, but I never felt at home there. But since my wedding was coming so soon, Bart insisted I spend the weeks before it with them. The daadi haus was doubly uncomfortable without Mamm. But Evelyn was kind, helping me with the weddi
ng preparations and all the food that had to be planned. Martha, too, was a huge help. Donna, not so much.

  I never thought I’d want to live anywhere but my childhood home. Yet, I am so happy in Aaron’s house. He wanted me to make little changes here and there right away. We repainted the entire inside with the help of my family. And I was able to set some of Mamm’s things around, which immediately gave it a feeling of home for me. I still gaze fondly every day at Mamm’s lap quilt thrown over the davenport in the front room.

  And now my childhood home is being leased by Matthew and his new wife. I haven’t gone in since they moved there. Someday, I will, but not yet.

  I love living in the same place as my bees once again. Although I don’t see them much during these cold months, spring is coming. Aaron and I walk through his orchard most days, at least when it’s warm enough. I listen to him tell me all he is going to do. There is nothing more beautiful than the gleam in his eyes when he talks about his trees. And then he’ll run his hand over his chin with its growing beard and wink at me.

  Indeed, he has already started working out there, doing what can be done so early in the season. I’m so grateful that my bees will contribute to the orchard’s success.

  I have saved my most exciting news until last. I am with child. When I discovered this, my heart nearly leapt from my chest. Only a year ago, I would never have dreamt that I would become a mother. And now, it’s true. I don’t think I’ve ever learned sweeter news. I wanted to tell Aaron in a special way, so I thought about it for nearly a week.

  One afternoon when he came in from the barn, I took him upstairs and into our bedroom. I had him face my few dresses hanging on their pegs.

  “I think I’d like some new clothes,” I said.

  He gave me a funny look as this wasn’t something I would normally say. “Oh?” he asked.

  “These are getting a bit snug on me.” I let go of his hand and stepped back. “I’m gaining weight. I believe it must be because I’m cooking too much for you.”