A Season of Change

by Lynette Sowell

  “Are you trying to find your family, too?”

  Natalie nodded. “Something like that. My mother never told me she used to be Amish. I want to find my grandparents, if they’re still alive.”

  “How long was your mamm sick?”

  “A long time. Several years.” Natalie shifted on the cushion. Surely, this wasn’t the best conversation to have with a young child.

  “My mamm died, too,” whispered Zeke. “She was having my little brother. Too soon, Daed said.”

  Her heart seized up. These children, to have tasted grief so young. Here she was, twenty-eight, and even now, it sometimes ripped through her. To lose a little sibling at the same time. What Jacob must have gone through as well.

  “I am sorry, both of you,” was all Natalie could manage. “I was blessed to have had my mother as long as I did.”

  “Daed said she is probably in Heaven, she was such a good wife and mamm,” Rebecca said. “But I miss her. My Aenti Katie says it is time for my daed to move on, me and Zeke need a new mamm, but I don’t want one.”

  “Oh?”

  Rebecca shook her head. “I am in my second year of school. If I work hard, I can finish early and help my daed in the house, so he doesn’t have to do it on his own. I can already do all the laundry.”

  Natalie couldn’t resist a smile at the little girl’s grownup-sounding plan. “That is sweet of you, wanting to help your dad.”

  “Do you have brothers or sisters?” Zeke asked.

  “Actually, I do.” Natalie paused. How to explain divorce to children, especially Amish children? That her father had tired of bickering with her mother, then found a newer, younger version to start another family with?

  “I have a younger brother, half-brother. My parents, ah, divorced about five years ago, and my dad married again. So, now I have a younger brother. I’ve seen him. Once, after he was born. He’s three now.”

  “Three? But you’re old enough to be a mamm, and have a little boy who’s three.”

  Natalie tried not to sigh as she nodded. Yes, the more than two decades’ age difference wasn’t lost on her either.

  “Do they live here?”

  “No, California.”

  “Ach, I’ve never been to California, only here. And in Ohio.”

  The older couple reentered the living room and Natalie rose as Mr. Miller approached her. “I found Rebecca’s doll in the hospital room and returned it to her.”’

  The elderly man eyed her worldly clothes, or worldly to him, anyway. “It was just a doll. But thank you. Rachel says you’re staying for supper.”

  “Um, yes sir.”

  He nodded. “That’s some fine apple bread you brought us. Should go nice with a cup of kaffi.” With that, he strode back toward the kitchen.

  Rachel chuckled. “That’s my Isaiah. He always does like a gut bread.”

  Yet his unspoken disapproval lingered in the air.

  Jacob’s muscles reminded him that he’d been on vacation, sort of. Not counting the trips back and forth to the hospital. But the sitting and indulging in his great-grandmother’s cooking were making him soft. Today while he perched atop the roof of a Sarasota Englisch family, he had confirmation of his inactivity.

  He shifted on the front seat of Henry Hostetler’s minivan. “Same time tomorrow?”

  “Same time,” Henry said as he turned onto Birky Street. “And don’t worry about packing a lunch. Chelle is sending lunch for all of us tomorrow.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Jacob flexed his arms. “It feels gut to be working again. Thank you for the chance.”

  “I’ve been looking at expanding the business, so it’s all hands on deck.” Henry pulled up into the driveway. “Looks like you have some company.”

  Rebecca was sitting in a wheelchair on the front sidewalk, grinning as Zeke was bent over backwards in the front yard, his belly up to the sky as he tried to mimic the actions of a young woman whose long dark hair touched the ground. She pushed her weight onto her hands and let the momentum carry her feet backwards over her head.

  Natalie Bennett, doing some kind of a back flip in his front yard. Or rather, his grandparents’ front yard.

  She popped up onto her feet and stared at him as he opened the door to the minivan.

  “Looks like you’ve got company,” Henry observed again. “Pretty company.”

  “Looks like it.” He picked up the small cooler he’d use to hold his lunch. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “See you.” Henry waved at the children. “Tell your family hello.”

  Jacob nodded as he shut the door. “Will do.”

  The van careened along down the street, halting at the stop sign long enough to be called a legal stop, then hanging a quick left toward Bahia Vista.

  “Daed!” The sound was the best thing he’d heard all day. Zeke ran to him and jumped into his arms.

  “How’s my Ezekiel doing today?”

  “Very gut. Daadi took me to the park and we saw an alligator in the water.”

  He set his son down. “Did you now?” He’d never seen an alligator before, only in pictures.

  Natalie stood to the side, her face flushed.

  “Miss Natalie found my doll at the hospital, and then she found us,” announced Rebecca from her wheelchair. “Mammi has invited her to stay for supper. Miss Natalie’s mamm used to be Amish when she was young, but she never told anybody.”

  “I see.” Natalie Bennett’s mother, formerly Amish? He tried to process his daughter’s chatter.

  “Hello, Mr. Miller.” Natalie crossed her arms. “It’s nice to see you. Congratulations on the new job.”

  “Ah, yes, thank you.” He nodded. “It will help pass the time while Rebecca recovers.”

  “But I have a wheelchair now, Daed. It can help me get around.”

  “That’s true, but you have more than a broken leg to recover from.” He passed by Miss Bennett, unsure of what else to say to the young woman. He stopped and turned to face her. “Thank you for bringing the doll. My Becca was missing her very much.”

  “You’re welcome.” A smile quirked the edges of her mouth and the breeze lifted the wispy ends of her nut-brown hair.

  If Natalie Bennett were a proper Amish woman, she would wear her hair up in a bun or a twist, topped with a prayer covering. The glory of her hair would be evident only to her husband, not streaming past her shoulders for the world—for him—to see.

  But then, Natalie Bennett wasn’t a proper Amish woman. He almost found himself almost wishing she was.

  7

  The children’s chatter and laughter buoyed Jacob’s spirits during supper, although his mind and awareness couldn’t ignore the young woman across the table from him. She and Mammi talked about a quilt, and Miss Bennett kept reinforcing the fact she wasn’t much of a seamstress.

  “I still say you should put in your mother’s quilt.”

  “Put in?”

  “Finish it.” Mammi stressed the two words. “She began it. You can put it in.”

  “I—I suppose I could. I wouldn’t know where to start. Or how.”

  “Do you work during the day, like most Englisch women, at a career?” Mammi asked.

  “I teach at the circus school a few mornings a week and every afternoon. My hours can be a bit different than most career women.”

  “I tell you what,” Mammi said. “Bring your quilt top to me and I will start helping you on mornings when you are free. I have a quilting frame we can open up while we work on the quilt. The work will be yours, though.”

  Miss Bennett nodded. “Fair enough. But I would hate to mess it up.”

  “And now, the matter of your family. Next time, bring the papers you have and we’ll see what we can do. Right, Isaiah?” Mammi glanced at Daadi.

  “Yes, we can.”

  “Her mamm used to be Amish a long time ago,” Rebecca said. “But she died.”

  Natalie nodded, her gaze focused on her plate. “Last summer.”

&nb
sp; “I’m sorry to hear that.” Jacob took a bite of grandmother’s potpie, fresh from the oven less than an hour before. The comforting food did a little to take the pang off a ripple of grief running through him.

  Their eyes met and he saw his own grief reflected in Natalie’s brown eyes. Maybe grief was the connection he felt with this young woman. Grief had cut into their worlds, slicing the natural order of things into shreds he wasn’t sure could be stitched together again.

  A very unAmish sentiment. He reminded himself Gotte’s wille had taken Hannah earlier than any of them had planned. Surely, Natalie Bennett had anticipated having her mother around for a long, long time. Sometimes Gotte had other things in mind than what they wanted.

  “Mrs. Miller, this was the best potpie I’ve ever had,” Natalie said. She paused long enough to wipe her mouth with a paper napkin. “Although I have to say the only potpie my mother served was the little round frozen mini-pies. You know, one pie per person.”

  Jacob shook his head as he took another bite. He couldn’t imagine living in a world of instant food everywhere, microwaved this, frozen that. Of course, once in a blue moon they’d indulge the children in fast food, but it wasn’t a typical part of their regular diet. The dollars wasted could be put to better use than a meal devoured within minutes.

  “Frozen potpie?” Mammi mimicked Jacob’s head shake. “I can see that freezing leftovers would be a wise idea. But prepackaged potpie?”

  “I guess my mother didn’t like to cook.” Natalie smiled. “You think she’d have held onto some part of her roots . . . If you don’t mind, may I take you and the children for ice cream, to that place by the traffic light—Big Olaf’s? Just to say thank-you for supper.” Natalie’s eyes shifted from Jacob to his grandparents. He tried not to stiffen, but let his fork settle onto his nearly empty plate with a clink.

  Daadi sat up straighter on his chair at the head of the table and cleared his throat. Mammi stood and began clearing empty plates from the table.

  “Oh, ice cream,” Zeke said. “May we, Daed?”

  “I’m feeling all right now. Please?” Rebecca pleaded with him.

  Evidently, Natalie didn’t know about the parental rule about not suggesting anything in front of children, any hint of fun that must be approved by adults, especially if she didn’t want the children’s pleading to follow. But then his children never pleaded. This was the closest they usually came to pleading. And of course, Natalie had no way of knowing about their outing for ice cream, the night Rebecca was struck by the car.

  “If it’s not a good evening, I understand,” Natalie said.

  “It’s not that,” Jacob said. “We were . . . we were coming back from getting ice cream at Big Olaf’s when the accident happened.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry I suggested it.”

  “You didn’t know.” He tried not to glance at his children. Zeke stopped squirming and finished the last of his milk. Rebecca looked pale, but resolute.

  “It was a Mennonite girl, home from college. She didn’t mean it,” Rebecca said. “I wasn’t watching the cars.”

  “Well, we can all go,” said Mammi. “I have a taste for that cookies and cream flavor.”

  Never mind Jacob knew she’d baked a coconut cream pie this morning. She’d already started on her cooking when he met Henry Hostetler at the front curb.

  “I guess we’re getting ice cream,” Jacob said.

  “Hooray!” Zeke clapped, bouncing on his chair.

  Within fifteen minutes after some low grumbling from his daadi, they had Rebecca settled in her wheelchair and were heading in a pack toward the Bahia Vista light. There were the Yoders—Betsy’s parents—out for a walk after supper. They waved the family down before all of them reached the corner of Birky Street.

  “We heard the news,” said Mr. Yoder. “Welcome home, Rebecca.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I get to ride in a wheelchair until I’m allowed to use crutches.”

  Ach, a child’s exuberance in the face of obstacles. Tonight, Jacob would let her enjoy the moment. He shook hands with Mr. Yoder.

  “We appreciate what everyone’s done for us. Thank you, and thank the rest of the elders.” Without the help of the others, he didn’t want to think of the growing dollar amount of Rebecca’s hospital bills, and what lay ahead of them.

  Mr. Yoder nodded. “We are thankful that we were able to help.”

  “We’re leaving on the next bus,” Mrs. Yoder said. “Please keep in touch about your progress.”

  “Of course we will,” said Mammi.

  “I do have a favor to ask of you,” Mrs. Yoder stepped forward, a frown crossing her face. “It’s about Betsy.”

  “Is everything all right?” Mammi asked.

  “She is staying behind in Pinecraft when we leave.”

  Jacob didn’t miss Natalie’s expression of curiosity. Her eyebrows were up as she looked at him.

  “No harm in that. The winter will bring plenty of visitors.” Mammi nodded. “It’s an exciting time for the young people, for us older ones, too.”

  Mrs. Yoder gave Jacob a pointed glance. “She is cleaning houses and staying with my mother’s youngest cousin on Schlock Street. Until she goes home, it will be nice for us to know she is watched over, besides her staying with Rochelle.”

  “You can be sure we’ll watch out for her,” said Mammi. “I’m sure she’ll be ready to go home by early spring. The crowds disappear and it’s just not the same without them.”

  The conversation drifted to small talk. Jacob studied Natalie, who was the subject of some curious glances from the Yoders.

  Yoder. At supper, she’d mentioned her mother was a Yoder.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Yoder, do you know of a Katie Yoder who left her Order some years ago?” he asked. Natalie’s posture snapped to attention and she drew closer, away from the children.

  The couple exchanged glances. “No, I don’t believe we do,” said Mr. Yoder. “We would definitely remember the name, and remember to pray for her to return home to her family.”

  After saying their goodbyes until the Millers returned to Ohio, they continued on their way. Zeke led their small band, bouncing on his feet.

  “Ice cream, ice cream, I’m getting ice cream.” His brown hair shook as he bounced. Then came a stream of Pennsylvania Dutch.

  “Thank you for asking about my mother,” Natalie spoke beside Jacob. “Next time, I’ll be sure I bring more information. Such as her parents’ and siblings’ names.”

  Jacob nodded. He recalled his great-grandmother’s words to him about Natalie being lonely, and praying Gotte would settle her in a family. He would definitely pray the same thing. If he didn’t have his family, going through what he’d gone through in losing Hannah . . . thank Gotte for His providence.

  They came to the traffic light. Cars crisscrossed in front of them on Bahia Vista, just as they had that night—was it only weeks ago? He took a deep breath. It would be different this time. Of course it would be.

  Everything was different after crossing this street on foot for ice cream once before. The evidence surrounded him even now. Rebecca, injured and facing months of recovery, and a volunteer hospital clown searching for her Amish roots who stood close by.

  “Daed, are you ready for ice cream?” Zeke said, tucking his hand inside one of Jacob’s.

  “Yah.” That, and whatever else lay ahead. Even Betsy Yoder staying behind in Pinecraft.

  Betsy put her feet up on Aenti Chelle’s chaise lounge in the breezy lanai. Aunt Chelle was her grandmother’s youngest cousin, but had left the Order with her parents when they became Mennonite before she turned nineteen.

  Once upon a time, Aenti had been set to marry, but something had happened, something still not spoken of in Yoder family history to this very day. It was bad enough for Aunt Chelle to leave the northland and spend her time here in Pinecraft year-round.

  In spite of that slice of the Yoder family not being part of their Order, they still remained Plain, part
of the conservative branch of the Mennonite church. Aenti Chelle wore lovely cape dresses in tropical colors and a bright-white head covering, but no apron. Betsy had only seen her aenti’s hair down on rare occasions in the evening. She drove a van that usually brimmed with supplies and tools for her housecleaning business.

  Betsy and her aenti had both logged a full day’s work as Aenti let Betsy shadow her while visiting clients.

  “My feet are sore,” Betsy said as her aenti stepped out to the lanai. She took a sip of Aunt Chelle’s fresh-made lemonade and watched the palm trees wave in the twilight outside.

  “It’s a lot of time on your feet, I know.” Aunt Chelle held her own glass of lemonade. “You’re sure you want to stay?”

  “I do. I have to. I need to.”

  Her aenti nodded as she took the chaise lounge opposite Betsy’s. “Ah, this is my favorite room in the house, you know. Up first thing in the morning, drinking my coffee and reading my Bible, having breakfast, feeling the breeze.”

  Aenti Chelle fell silent. Despite her typical cheer while at work, Aenti bore a quiet sadness that only showed up occasionally when she and Betsy were alone. Like now.

  More than once since Betsy had lugged her suitcase from her parents’ vacation rental home to her aunt’s home, she’d intended to ask why her aunt had never married.

  “I like this space. A lot. We couldn’t use this year-round in Ohio.” Betsy paused. “Thank you, for letting me stay. It’s important to me, that I’m here right now. Have you . . . have you ever been in love?”

  Aenti Chelle gave a quiet sigh before answering. “Ah, the things people do for love. Or, not.”

  “I have to stay, if not for love. It’s important to me,” Betsy repeated. “Otherwise, I’ll never know. Haven’t you ever felt that way? If you didn’t do something, you’d live with the regret of not knowing what might have happened?”

  “I’ve done that already, my sweet niece. I’ve lived with the choice of not doing something.” Her aenti shrugged. “But God has honored my choice, and here I am.”

  Betsy wanted to ask more about Aenti Chelle’s choice, or lack of choice, but thought better of it. “When your family left the Order, what happened? Did the rest of them turn away from you?”