by Amy Lillard
“I suppose so,” Hannah said. “But I’m not holding my breath on this one.”
“I’m with Hannah,” Leah agreed. “I’d suspect an icy Christmas over a white Christmas around here.”
“You are staying through Christmas,” Gracie asked with a hesitant look at Tillie.
She nodded as all eyes turned to her. “Jah,” she said. “I’m staying through Christmas.” For now anyway.
“Have you heard from Melvin?” Hannah asked. Tillie shook her head. There wasn’t a good way for Melvin to get in touch with her, nor she him. The only phone shanty in the district was just outside the school. If an Amish person wanted to use the phone, they had to borrow one. No one wanted to bother their English neighbor with something that wasn’t an emergency. It wasn’t like Melvin could just pick up the phone and call.
It wasn’t like he would call.
Tillie pushed that thought away.
“You think he’ll come back?” Leah asked.
That seemed to be what was on everyone’s mind: Was she staying? Was Melvin coming back?
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want him to?” Leah’s question caused a hush to fall across the room.
Did she want him to? She didn’t have an answer for any of this. She just didn’t know. All she knew for certain was that she wanted to raise her baby and live in peace and not have to worry about what everyone thought. And for that to happen she needed Melvin.
“Uh-oh,” Leah said. “I know that look.”
“I just want to raise my child in peace,” Tillie said.
“The only place you’re going to get that is in the English world.”
Tillie hated the thought of it, but Leah was right. There were too many restrictions with the Amish for there to be no censure of her wrongdoings.
They had warned her before she had left. She didn’t need to hear it again.
“Why?” Tillie asked even though she expected no answer. “Why is it just so hard?”
She supposed Hannah had it a little easier, since she had married an English man with money, but deep down she knew that wasn’t true.
“Why is everything a struggle?” Tillie and Melvin had struggled. They struggled with the bills, struggled to get along with each other, struggled to survive.
“There are different kinds of struggle,” Hannah told her.
Tillie knew. They all did. That Mitch had been unfaithful. That he hit her once. And that she had been planning to get away when he died, leaving her without a cent to her name, just Brandon’s car. And she only got away with that because it was in her son’s name and technically belonged to him.
“Melvin loves you,” Leah said. “That’s worth a lot.”
Tillie didn’t answer.
“What?” Gracie asked. “What is that look on your face?”
“You don’t think Melvin loves you?” Hannah asked.
Tillie sighed. “I guess so, but I know that he loves being with his friends. He left here to drink beer, fix motors, and a bunch of other things that the English world has to offer. He doesn’t see the struggle as a struggle. He thinks it’s just the way the world is. I don’t feel like we struggle here.”
“We do,” Leah said. “Everyone struggles everywhere. The world is full of struggles.”
Tillie knew she was talking about Peter and Jamie and all the struggles they had been through to get where they were today.
Gracie gave her a small smile. Tillie knew she meant for it to be encouraging. “It all depends on how you handle them.”
And that was the problem. Tillie didn’t feel like she was handling these problems very well at all.
* * *
Their talk plagued her for the rest of the day, on in the afternoon, past supper, even when Tillie was getting ready for bed. It affected her prayers. She could hardly concentrate on what she needed to say—maybe even should say—to God. These days, when she talked to God, it felt like all she did was ask. She asked for peace, she asked for understanding. Asked for forgiveness. Asked for hope. So far, she had been delivered none of these things. She was beginning to think God was sending her a message back: some of it was up to her.
Even with all of the decisions and pressures waiting on her, Tillie had enjoyed the day she spent with her sisters and Gracie. She enjoyed being with them and talking about their problems, other people’s issues, and which scent was going to turn out to be the best for the season. It was more than just about making soap and lotion; it was about the four of them being together. She wondered if that was what caused the success of their brand. As if somehow the customers could sense the community and love that went into each bottle.
“Do you have anything planned for the day?” Mamm asked as they finished the breakfast dishes.
“No,” Tillie answered. She picked up the stack of plates and set it back into the cabinet. She didn’t have any plans at all—except to muddle through the mess that had become her life.
“I thought we might make some cranberry Christmas bread,” Mamm continued.
Cranberry Christmas bread had been a Gingerich tradition for as long as Tillie could remember. When Leah and Hannah had returned home, the tradition had grown into what it had been before: all the Gingerich ladies in the kitchen baking together. Even Anna came over. And since Libby was now eighteen, Tillie figured her young niece would be included in the mix.
The thought was both comforting and exhausting. Everything seemed to be exhausting these days. She wasn’t sure if it was the pregnancy or the stress. As much as she hated to admit it, she was fairly certain it was the stress. She had come back for these times with her family and yet now they seem to wear her out—just one more of the trials she faced but hadn’t anticipated. Coming home was supposed to be easy. It was usually the right answer.
Mammi would tell her the opposite. A lot of times, the right decision was the hardest one to make. Now when faced with that sort of tough decision, it was equally hard in either direction, and she didn’t know which way to turn. She had left Melvin a note and told him she was headed back to Pontotoc. In that moment she had felt confident in her choice. Now she wasn’t so sure. But that had nothing to do with her family and everything to do with struggles.
“I suppose everyone is coming over,” Tillie said. She did her best to make her voice level, even upbeat at the prospect. She needed to, for any other day the idea would be appealing.
Mamm shook her head. “Now that the girls have their business going, it’s too hard to get everyone together a second time.”
“Oh.” Tillie felt sort of deflated. Amazing how things changed. One tradition rose and another tradition fell. She knew life had to shift, but there were some things a girl needed to be the same.
“It’s just for you and me. Maybe Libby. Anna has a little more time these days, but she’s been trying to help David more for me.”
And yet another adjustment.
“You don’t suppose David will ever get married?” Tillie asked. She had never remembered any one girl being interested in David. And she never knew why. He was as handsome as Jim. He had a good job, a place to live, a stable family in the Amish community. She knew he had struggled in school and had a few troubles reading. And that he considered himself not as smart as most. Was that reason for him to not live his life to the fullest?
“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to change the subject?” Mamm asked.
Tillie laughed, then tilted her head to one side as a noise came from the front. “Are you expecting someone?”
Mamm dried her hands on her apron and smoothed them over her prayer kapp. “No.” She headed for the front of the house, Tillie on her heels.
Mamm stopped abruptly just a few feet from the front door. She caught sight of the buggy through the front window in the dining room. The same window they had opened the day before to release the wonderful, yet overpowering, Christmas scents they had been mixing.
Tillie drew up short. The time that she had been dread
ing was finally here. The horse and carriage out front were an undeniable testament.
The bishop had come to call.
Chapter Eleven
Amos Raber walked like a man on a mission.
Tillie’s breath caught in her throat as she watched the bishop make his way from his buggy over to the barn where her dat’s workshop was housed. Her brother Jim stood at the door, waiting to shake hands with the bishop. She supposed he had heard the rattle of the buggy as well and had come to investigate. A second after that handshake, David appeared, his own hand extended. Her father followed last.
She and Mamm stood there at the window and watched as the men conversed for a moment. They were too far away for Tillie to understand what they were saying; she could just hear the sound of their voices. But twice the men paused and looked back at the house.
They were talking about her. Tillie knew. She supposed there had been a lot of talk about her in the last three or four days. She had shown up at church. She had gone to a wedding. For all intents and purposes it looked as if she was staying in Pontotoc. She had hoped that with the holiday so near the bishop would delay coming to speak to her until after Christmas had passed. But she knew and had known all along that was merely wishful thinking. There were too many busybodies in their church for them to let it go.
If she had to guess who had complained about her, her choice would be Amelia Byler. She was some distant cousin of Gracie’s husband, Matthew. Though who knew how many times removed. Amelia was one of those people who, despite the Lord’s love, never seemed happy. Even as she thought the words, a stab of pain seared through Tillie. She had the Lord’s love too, but she wasn’t happy these days either. Maybe she should take a look at herself before she criticized. Though she wasn’t truly criticizing, Amelia had been that way for as long as anyone could remember. She was almost the watchdog for the community. She had been at the wedding, and Tillie had caught Amelia staring at her after church. But Tillie knew that if it hadn’t been Amelia, it would’ve been someone else.
“Here we go,” Mamm whispered.
The men shook hands once more, then Amos Raber turned on his heel and started for the house. The Gingerich men looked after him for a moment, then all three of them ducked back into the barn.
Tillie’s heart began to pound in her chest. Sheer anxiety. She looked down at herself as if somehow she could hide her condition. That was not happening. She looked around as if somehow there was an answer beside her. Mamm smoothed her hands over her ample hips and cleared her throat. Tillie supposed that was the least and the most either one of them could do. She should have changed her dress while the bishop greeted her father. Though the temptation to run into her bedroom and lock the door behind her, barricade it from the inside, and never come out was a little too strong. It was probably best she hadn’t chanced it.
“Lord, give me strength.”
Please, she added. Please give me strength.
All too soon, a knock sounded on the front door, then All too soon, a knock sounded on the front door, then it creaked open. Mamm bustled from the dining room and into the entry way. “Amos Raber,” she greeted. “Happy to see you today.”
Tillie was shocked at how easily the lie sprang to her mamm’s lips. They both knew this was inevitable, and they both hated it. Her mamm had told her as much.
“Eunice.” Amos Raber nodded his head and removed his hat. He hung it on the peg by the door. Then another quick nod to Tillie, and he removed his coat.
“I’ll get some coffee and pie,” Mamm said and motioned for Tillie to follow her into the kitchen. That was Mamm. Everything could be solved with pie. Tillie wished. She didn’t think she was going to be quite so lucky this time.
Amos hung up his coat and motioned for Tillie to go first. She did so, albeit reluctantly. She could already see the censure in his eyes. Amos Raber was a tough bishop. She supposed bishops had to be strict in the conservative districts. But she also knew that he was responsible for addressing the needs and concerns of his community. That couldn’t be an easy job. And it wasn’t one he had asked for. He’d been chosen by lot, by God.
Mamm waved away her offers of help, and Tillie eased into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Amos Raber sat across from her on the bench.
“They say the weather is going to turn bad in the next day or so,” Tillie said. She immediately regretted the words. Not that they were so controversial, but that she had drawn attention to herself. Still, she couldn’t stand the silence. Even with all Mamm’s banging and bustling, the room just seemed eerily quiet.
“That’s what they say,” Amos replied.
In minutes that seemed to take forever and yet went by all too fast, Mamm presented each of them with a slice of pie.
“I suppose you know why I’m here,” Amos said.
“I believe so, jah,” Mamm said.
Tillie couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat.
“There’s been a lot of talk going around,” Amos started. “About what plans you might have.”
Tillie considered it ridiculously generous that he was giving her the opportunity to state her own plans. She supposed he just was trying to figure out what they were up against.
“I came back in hopes of raising my baby with my family.”
Mamm shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Tillie couldn’t move at all.
“And Melvin Yoder,” Amos asked. “Where is he?” He paused for a moment. “I assume that—” He waved a hand in her general direction but didn’t finish the thought. He supposed that Melvin was the father of her baby.
“Jah.” Tillie felt the heat rise into her cheeks until she was certain they were as red as holly berries.
“Am I to understand that there was a wedding between the two of you?” Amos asked.
“No,” Tillie whispered. It was perhaps the hardest word she had ever said. It was one thing to talk about such matters with her sisters and Gracie, or even her mother, but it was quite another to discuss it with the leader of their church.
Amos Raber leaned back in his seat and drummed his fingers against his chest. “That’s what I thought.” He sighed. “I’ve given this matter a great deal of thought,” he continued.
Tillie’s breath caught. Mamm stilled.
“Must I say it out loud?” the bishop asked.
Tillie shook her head. It was just as she had feared. She would have to leave. She wouldn’t be able to stay in her Amish home. Not without… “What if Melvin returns?” she managed to ask, though her words sounded a little more like a wheeze than a sentence.
“I’ve never had anything like this happen before. I don’t remember anything like this ever happening before. If he comes back and the two of you were to get married . . . But that’s the only way for you to remain here.” He pinned Tillie with his fierce stare. Amos Raber wasn’t a scary man, but he was a presence. Tall, thin, and intense.
She knew what he wanted. He wanted to know her plans. What she would do now. Like she really had any choice. She would have to leave. And soon. He couldn’t allow her to stay and remain unmarried. As the pressures of the district increased, so would the pressures on him. In turn they would flow to Tillie. How long would she be able to stay, unwed to her baby’s father? Not long.
“This is the sort of thing that divides communities,” Amos continued. “We’re young here. We have many moving to Adamsville so they’re closer to home. There’s been talk, a lot of talk. Something like this could bring the whole community down.”
Tillie’s heart sank. She shook her head. “I can’t.” Though she didn’t say what it was that she couldn’t do. She couldn’t marry Melvin. She couldn’t be responsible for everyone’s decision in the community. There were a lot of things she couldn’t do.
“And if Melvin comes back?” Mamm asked.
Tillie shook her head, but Mamm wasn’t watching her. Her eyes were on the bishop.
“If Melvin comes back, they will both stand in front of the church and confess t
heir sins and the mistakes they’ve made. I’ll have to talk to Jonas, maybe Dan and the others here, but we could have a special membership ceremony to allow them to join the church. Then they could get married and serve their penance after.”
To say it was harsh was an understatement. They would be shamed in front of their family and friends. They would be exposed, judged, then finally welcomed back. Yet how could she do that? Tillie wondered. How could she stand up and say her baby was a mistake? Even if she could get Melvin to come back, maybe it would just be better if she did leave. She was putting so much on her family by even being there. But if Melvin didn’t return, then Tillie wouldn’t be allowed to stay. It was that simple.
Tillie put a protective hand over her stomach. She knew it was just the way. It was the Amish way. She had known this going in, before she transgressed. She had never thought it would come to this. She’d never given a thought past her bond with Melvin, or maybe it was the pressures of living English. Wasn’t that what they did? Loved each other without worrying over vows?
Amos stood. Tillie realized he hadn’t eaten one bite of pie. Mamm had not noticed. She was on her feet a heartbeat after the bishop.
“I’ll leave you to discuss it with your family. We’ll talk again next week. But after that . . .” He tipped his head toward the two of them and started back toward the front door.
Mamm trailed behind.
Tillie followed a little slower. She knew Mamm wanted to say something. Her mother always liked to have things under tight control, and this was something neither one of them was going to be able to manage.
“If anything changes, you let me know,” Amos said. He didn’t outline what changes he was talking about. But Tillie knew he meant if she decided to go back to Melvin. It would be easiest for them all. She knew it; Amos knew it.
He donned his hat and coat and let himself out. Mamm stood facing the closed door for what seemed like a full minute. Then she turned to Tillie. The look on her face was enough. Tears welled in Tillie’s eyes and seeped down her cheeks. These mistakes that were not mistakes at all—how did one go about correcting them?