A Season of Change

by Lynette Sowell

  “She’s lonely,” Mammi said. “I will remember to pray for her, for Gotte to settle her with a family.”

  “I imagine she already has a family.” Why the conversation had turned to the clown visitor, he didn’t know. She kept glancing toward them as she entertained the other family in the courtyard.

  “Probably. There are few of us who don’t,” quipped his daadi.

  “Can I come home yet, Daed? I promise I won’t cry when I take my medicine.” Jacob couldn’t miss the longing in his daughter’s voice.

  “As soon as the doctor says you can come home, you can be sure we’ll have Henry Hostetler come with his big blue van right up to the front door of the hospital.” He tried to make it sound like an adventure, but at the last conference he’d had with the doctor managing her case, they had a long road to travel before they could dream about returning to Ohio.

  Forgive me, Gotte, for the folly of making this trip. But don’t let my daughter suffer for my decision.

  The family started chatting about all the fun things Rebecca could look forward to once she returned to Pinecraft.

  Ephraim tugged at his shirtsleeve. “You’re a hundred miles away. What’s going on?”

  He studied his family and shrugged. “Nothing, not really.”

  “Walk with me, little brother.” Ephraim gestured along the paved walkway that made a gentle curve from one side of the courtyard to the other. Carefully cut greenery lined each side of the path. Nothing like their property in Ohio, where the focus was on the immense vegetable garden. His garden had remained scant and small. Hannah had been the one to tend to it.

  Another unbidden memory.

  “I’ve told Gotte I am sorry, sorry for ever coming here.” He might as well be the first to speak.

  “What? You think Rebecca’s accident was punishment?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. Before we left Ohio, at the last Sunday meeting, Bishop Troyer pulled me aside.” Jacob sucked in a deep breath. “He warned me about coming to Florida. He said it was worldly and dangerous. He told me to beware, or suffer the consequences for any compromise.”

  Ephraim shook his head. “Of course, we must be careful. Bishop only has your best interests at heart.”

  “It’s because I almost left, isn’t it?”

  “That was a long time ago and you hadn’t been baptized yet.”

  “That’s not the time I’m talking about.” He’d ventured, a bit, into the world, almost saving up enough money to buy a car. But he’d stopped himself.

  However, after losing Hannah, grief had bitten into him so hard that he wanted to bundle the children into a hired vehicle and go—anywhere. There were plenty of groups throughout the country where ex-Amish could find refuge and help. He would have started with nothing, but still had the children and hope that life would get better. And, the memories wouldn’t assault him at every turn.

  “But you didn’t leave,” Ephraim reminded him. “This is not a punishment, Jacob. Sometimes things happen, but not apart from Gotte’s wille.”

  Jacob wanted to scoff at the words. Gotte’s wille. Sometimes trying to live with grace, no matter what the circumstances, was too hard for a man. No one could tell him how to bear this burden without questioning.

  5

  Daddy, Happy New Year.” Natalie used her perkiest tone and the words came out just fine, even after she debated with herself for fifteen minutes before dialing the phone. “I know it’s January fifth, but, better late than never, right?”

  “Honey, it’s good to hear from you.” His voice cracked a little. It was just after eight in the morning on the west coast. “Are you doing okay? You’re calling awful early.”

  “Sorry, did I wake you? I thought you’d be up, chasing after TJ.”

  “We’re up, we’re up. He loves the train set you sent him. Tried to bring the tracks and engine with him to bed the first night.”

  “Good, I’m glad.” She swallowed hard and shifted on her bed, tucking one leg underneath her. “Um, I wanted to talk to you about the box of Mom’s things you sent me.” The box sat beside her now, its contents still shaking the foundation of what she’d always believed her quirky family to be.

  A white prayer kapp, flat and folded. A cape dress in a lovely shade of Wedgwood blue, a white apron. An unfinished quilt top, made of scraps of fabric in a rose garden pattern. A genealogy page from a family Bible that contained her mother’s birth date. When she held these items up to the mental image of what she knew about her mother, they didn’t mesh. Not a bit.

  “Dad? You still there?”

  “I’m here. I, uh, I’m not sure how much I can tell you about your mother’s family. She didn’t tell me much. I knew better than to try to drag any info out of Kat Bennett.”

  “She was stubborn. Or, as she’d say—”

  “Resolute,” her father said with her simultaneously.

  They both laughed and Dad didn’t seem quite so far away and she felt a glimmer of the family she once knew, something had crumbled when Kat and Clive Bennett decided to head for Splitsville. Sure, Natalie had been old enough to be on her own at the time, but she’d assumed the union of the Flying Bennetts would last beyond the big top.

  She’d assumed wrong.

  “Dad, did Mom ever talk about being Amish, or mention where her family lived? I mean, she always told me she was an only child and her parents were dead.”

  “I know.” Her father’s laugh had disappeared and a sigh came across the line. “I let her. It was her business, after all. But I think they were from somewhere in Ohio.

  We were young. She was only seventeen when we met, out with her friends and looking for a job and adventure in the circus. Her blue eyes, her innocence in spite of her tough-girl image . . .”

  The story tumbled out of her dad, but Natalie had only heard her mother’s version over the years.

  “My parents were super-strict and so was their church, so I left as soon as I was old enough. Then I met your dad and the rest is history,” Mom used to say.

  It was pointless to vent to him, to ask why Mom had never said more about her family—a whole family that she’d left behind. Dad would say what he was saying now, it was her mother’s business, and Kat Bennett had a right to her own secrets. But the idea that there was a family out there—Amish—well, they were Natalie’s family, too.

  “I was thinking about looking for them, Dad. I met an Amish family while volunteering at the hospital and they’re really nice. Maybe they’d help me look for Mom’s family, or know someone who might know them.”

  “Ah, Honey, it’s probably best if you leave it alone. That’s a whole world, closed off to outsiders. They keep themselves to themselves. And some of them have some pretty weird ideas. Katie Bennett might have died last year, but Katie Yoder died decades ago to her family. If there was one thing she didn’t want to talk about, it was probably the whole shunning thing.”

  “Shunning.”

  “If you turn your back on your Amish family, you’re dead to them. Or something like that. I always thought she was being figurative when she said her family had basically shunned her.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of that.”

  “Not to change the subject, but I was going to tell you some more good news—wanted to wait, but Judy said I could.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re going to have another little Bennett sibling by the summertime.”

  “Wow, um, congratulations. I should see about getting out there to visit you all.”

  “You should. It’ll be harder for us to travel with a passel of kids, and Judy gets sick on planes.”

  They ended the call after some more chitchat—on her part. Her hand trembled as she pushed the End button her phone and stared at the box beside her.

  Natalie reached for the Plain dress and sniffed. The faint scent of lavender. “Lord, I feel so adrift right now. I thought it would be easier, being a Christian. But the more I learn, the more alone I feel.” Sure, she
had a church she enjoyed and a small circle of casual friends. But they all had family affairs of their own to attend to this time of year.

  “Thank You that Christmas is over for now.” She placed the dress back in the box with the other items. Next trip to the hospital, she’d talk to the Millers. Surely, one of them would help her. If they said no—well, she wouldn’t think about that.

  Rebecca Miller stared at the bed taking up part of her mammi’s living room. She’d never seen such a fancy bed, ever. It even had a motor on it, like the one in the hospital.

  She wouldn’t have to share a bed with her cousins Abby and Maybelle while they were here visiting in Florida. Daed had said she would find something to be thankful for about having a broken leg. The thick cast made her leg feel like she had an anvil tied to it. Getting her own bed to herself, well, that was a gut thing. Abby hogged the blankets and Maybelle talked in her sleep.

  “That’s a big bed, Daed,” she said as she looked up at her father. He smiled at her, but his eyes still looked sad, just like they’d always looked since her mamm died.

  “Up you go, try it out. We need to make sure you get your rest.” He touched the side of her head.

  “Don’t worry. My head doesn’t hurt today.” She would do her best not to scare any of them. She didn’t want to go back to the hospital. Ever. Except maybe to see the pretty clown who juggled. She made sure nobody touched the kitten that Miss Bubbles had made for her. She would keep it forever. Even if she never saw Miss Bubbles again.

  Even Zeke looked sad as they left the hospital. “We didn’t get to say goodbye.”

  “I know.” But she was tired of sleeping in a noisy place like the hospital. They were always waking her up, too. “But we got to say goodbye to Miss Fran. She’s the nicest nurse in the world.”

  Mammi made all her favorite foods for supper that night and Aenti Katie made her delicious apple crumble for dessert. She wanted to go to the park, but knew there wasn’t a way to get her there, not with the wheelchair she had.

  When nighttime came around, instead of being tucked into the room with her cousins who were set to leave Pinecraft early the next morning, Rebecca found herself snug in her hospital bed in the front room, her leg propped up like it had been in the hospital.

  Her leg ached, but she wasn’t going to cry and be a big baby. She had put the family through so much trouble, and poor Daed, he had enough worries. Rebecca strained to hear whispers around the family table in the kitchen.

  “. . . start working for Henry Hostetler first thing,” said her daed. “I was able to make a phone call to the cabinet shop. They understand I won’t be coming back for a while.”

  Rebecca frowned. Her fault. She reached for Molly, her doll. No Molly. Did they pack everything from the hospital? But Rebecca hadn’t needed much. Molly wasn’t even the best-stitched doll. A faint memory of her mamm came around again, giving her the doll on Christmas, long ago.

  Molly was gone. Now she really would cry. She tried to be brave, but tonight her trying wasn’t gut enough.

  “The Mullets are having a singing tonight. We should go,” said Ephraim.

  “But Rebecca . . .”

  “I will sit with the children tonight,” said Mammi. “You three go, get your grandfather out of the house as well.”

  “I don’t know.” But the Mullets were known for their hospitality, along with the guarantee of hot kaffi and hot cocoa for their guests. The music would do them all some good. The Pinecraft residents would also be glad to know Rebecca was safe at home, at last. It would save Jacob the chore of repeating the story a few dozen times.

  Jacob paused at the hospital bed in the living room. Rebecca slept, her breathing even, one hand gripping the sheets in a crumple.

  “If she needs anything, I will be here.” Mammi’s words should have reassured him. “Go. She sleeps.”

  They want out into the January night and joined others in the neighborhood heading for the Mullets’ home but a few blocks away. A hint of remaining warmth from the day lingered on the pavement. The first streetlights clicked on, their light filtered through the Spanish moss that hung from trees.

  A beautiful night. A romantic night, Hannah would have told him. Ironic. She used to tell Jacob about winter vacations spent in Pinecraft as a young girl, visiting her friends and family. Cousin to Betsy Yoder, who he just now caught sight of, walking with some of her friends toward the singing.

  They made their way past a score of bicycles lining the driveway and parked in the front yard. No horses and buggies allowed in Sarasota, but bicycles seemed to multiply like rabbits whenever something big was going on in Pinecraft.

  Singings were a little different in Pinecraft than Ohio, he’d realized. Amish from all orders and various districts as well as Mennonites from different parts of the country gathered in the courtyard that lay between the Mullet family’s complex.

  Someone was tuning a guitar, one of the Mennonites from Kentucky, he was told.

  “It’s the Ohio Millers!” a voice called out. Henry Hostetler, who tonight wore a yellow Hawaiian print shirt. “How’s that little girl of yours doing?”

  “She’s home in bed, resting,” Jacob replied, but was quick to add, “My mammi is helping watch over her tonight.”

  “That’s great news, great news, to be sure.” The older Mennonite man nodded. “We’re thankful for answered prayers.”

  “Us, too,” Jacob said, glancing at his brother and sister-in-law. “They’re leaving on the next bus for Ohio.”

  Some from the neighborhood crowded round, murmuring their own plans and regrets to see part of the Miller family leaving.

  “I get to keep my grandson and his children for a while longer,” said Daadi.

  Jacob nodded and studied the others in the courtyard. Some had brought their own chairs; others perched at the perimeter on their wide bicycle seats to join the singing. Betsy was staring at him. Of course, at some point during the night, he’d find himself speaking to her. She was one of Hannah’s cousins, after all. He couldn’t be rude. He needed to share his gratitude for her visiting Rebecca in the hospital.

  “Hot coffee and hot chocolate at the corner table, if anyone wants some before we get started,” called out Matthew Mullet, a friend of his father’s. “Tonight we’re going to start with Harold Stoltzfus and his family from Pennsylvania, who have brought their guitars and one banjo.” After the Mennonites had their turn, another family would follow, the Frys, also from Pennsylvania, who would lead the group in some traditional hymns.

  A few stepped forward to get warm beverages, but Jacob stayed where he was. The evening chill was coming upon them, reminding them while this was Florida, it was still January.

  He wasn’t accustomed to the musical instruments. Then the music started and he found himself tapping his foot. Bluegrass, he knew it was called. Or something like it. The song was called “Pickin’ Cotton” and featured a banjo solo. Happy music.

  Somehow, during the evening, Betsy had sidled her way closer in his direction, and once Matthew Mullet made announcements for an intermission, she was standing next to Katie.

  “My parents are leaving on the next bus, too,” she announced to their small circle. “I didn’t know that,” said his sister-in-law. “We wish we didn’t have to leave Jacob and the children here, but Ephraim’s shop is set to reopen after their winter break so we don’t have much choice.”

  “I’m staying.” Betsy’s announcement made them all stare at her.

  Surely Jacob’s ears had deceived him. “You’re staying? Why?”

  Her cheeks shot full of red. “I have a job. Cleaning houses with my Aenti Chelle. I start Monday.”

  “A job.” Katie shook her head. “But, your parents are leaving.”

  “I know. Since I’m staying with my aunt, my father said it was fine, but to make sure I attend services on the weekend.”

  “It almost sounds like Rumspringa,” Katie said.

  “Oh no, not at all. I’ve been bapt
ized and I’m not leaving anything. I think I’ll be more useful here. I like the sun and the beach. I like the idea I can earn some money.” Betsy’s blue eyes glanced toward Jacob. “How long are you planning to stay?”

  “I’m not sure. It depends on how long it takes Rebecca to be well enough to travel by van or bus. The doctor also wants her to avoid traveling because of her brain injury. For now.”

  Betsy Yoder, staying on in Pinecraft. Cleaning houses. His poor tired brain was trying hard to process the idea.

  Some would say this was a sign, others would say it was a young woman’s shrewd attempt to remain behind and see what happened next.

  What was her father thinking, allowing her to stay? The Yoders had family here year-round, as did quite a few of the visitors. Or friends, or friends of friends. But Betsy was a farm girl, unaccustomed to life in the city.

  “Kaffi?” Betsy asked.

  Jacob yanked his focus away from his thoughts. Ephraim and Katie stared at him. Betsy was asking him if he wanted coffee. Oh, this was a bad idea tonight. He should have stayed home.

  Instead, he opened his mouth and said, “Yes, please.”

  She nodded and ambled toward the refreshment table, her flip-flops snapping on the pavement.

  “You know why she’s staying.” Katie’s voice was low.

  “I haven’t asked her to.”

  “Well, I think she’s holding out hope . . .” His sister-in-law’s voice fell silent as Betsy returned with two Styrofoam cups of coffee, steam trailing away from the brims.

  “Here you are.” She extended one cup to him. “Cream only.”

  She knew without asking how he drank his coffee. Jacob stifled a groan. “Thanks.” A group of singers marched to the area serving as a stage, of sorts. Not that anyone was showing off, in particular.

  The quintet of three men and two women hummed, getting their voices in tune. Jacob closed his eyes and listened to the harmonies, then sang with the rest of the group. The familiar hymn brought him back to Ohio, another unbidden memory. The same hymn they sang during the singing, after which he first took Hannah home by buggy.