by Leslie Gould
I didn’t want to cause him more pain, nor did I want to stand up to Arden and the bishop on my own. Because even if I did, what would I gain? I would always be viewed as suspicious by both of them. There was nothing I could say that would change their opinion of me.
So I decided to leave, sure Silas would follow. But he was taken aback by my plan and begged me to reconsider. “Everything will work out,” he said.
I knew he was wrong and begged him to come with me. Then I screamed at him, commanding him to come. Not surprising, neither method was effective. He finally said, “We need to give it time if we can’t come to a mutual decision. In the meantime, we should leave it alone.”
It wasn’t the first time he said we should leave something “alone.”
Instead of doing what he asked, I left on my own, giving Silas one final chance before I did. He declined, tears in his eyes, his voice raw with emotion as we said our farewells.
When I told Marie good-bye, she cried, which shocked me. Jah, she was petrified about my soul, but then she asked, “How can you leave me?” That shocked me even more. I thought she’d be happy to have me go.
When I told Leisel I was leaving, she simply shook her head at me. “Why?” she asked.
“Because it’s what I need to do.”
She hugged me tightly and whispered, “Godspeed.”
I called a driver, whom I knew had a connection with an ex-Amish woman in Harrisburg who could help me. I stayed with her for a few weeks, and she helped me get the job in the coffee shop, work I was thankful for even though I hated being cooped up inside. Slowly I grew used to it though. Once I contacted Dat and let him know where I was, I believed Silas would come join me. It didn’t happen. When Dat visited me for the first time, I was sure Silas was waiting on the sidewalk, that any minute he’d burst through the door of the coffee shop and surprise me. It didn’t happen.
I soon gave up hope that Silas would leave and ended up asking Dat not to tell him where I was. I didn’t want to be forever wishing he’d show up.
Did I regret leaving? Jah, nearly every day. At the time, it felt as if I’d made a rational decision, but looking back I’d been impulsive. I should have waited and talked with Dat. And I should have worked things out, one way or the other, with Silas.
Did I regret not being under my brother’s thumb? Under the bishop’s whims? Under Marie’s constant criticism? No, never.
Thankfully, Dat had told me later that he’d insisted Arden give up the fracking idea. I couldn’t help but think I’d at least been an influence for good on that account, that I’d raised questions that perhaps my father might have overlooked.
I washed my face, dried it, and then grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste and headed back down the hall, feeling drained from reliving all those memories. I’d avoided them as much as I could once I started dating Tom.
When I reached the bedroom, Leisel was gone. I collected all of my things so I wouldn’t have to bother Marie again and headed down the hall. When I reached it, Leisel was in the double bed, her face toward the wall. A lamp was lit on the small table. I crawled in, missing my own pillow, my own bed, my own apartment, but I was thankful for my baby sister’s presence.
And I couldn’t help but breathe in the scent of the fresh sheets. It was the smell of home. “Good night,” I said.
She didn’t answer and for a moment I wondered if she’d already fallen asleep, but then she asked, “Do you go to church in Harrisburg?”
“Yes.” I didn’t tell her I went each week with Tom. “It’s a little church, not far from my house.”
“What kind?”
“Nondenominational.”
“Is it anything like our church?”
“We sing ‘How Great Thou Art’ and ‘Amazing Grace.’” We used to sing those at Youngie singings and sometimes in church. “Except with music. There’s both a piano and an organ.” I hesitated a moment and then added, “Of course all of the scripture and sermons are in English. And the congregation is smaller. Only seventy-five or so.” Our Amish district had over one hundred fifty people in it. Many of those were children though, far more than at my little church in Harrisburg. I was one of the youngest people in the congregation, which still felt so odd to me.
“What else is different?”
“A woman preaches sometimes.”
Leisel popped up in the bed. “What?”
“Jah,” I said. “She preaches at another church in town, but she fills in if our pastor is gone.”
“Wow.” Leisel put her head back on her pillow. “Don’t tell Marie.”
I laughed. “Believe me, I won’t.”
“Do you know other women who do men’s jobs?”
“Like?”
“Doctors.”
“Being a doctor isn’t necessarily a man’s job.”
“You know what I mean.”
I shook my head. “More women go to medical school nowadays than men.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And more men are going to nursing school than ever before. Women are lawyers. Engineers. Pilots. Men are teachers and daycare workers. Women, like me, can work at the Department of Agriculture.”
“Tell me about your job.”
First I told her about the job in the coffee shop below my apartment. Then I told her about the receptionist job I got with the State Department of Revenue and how I worked hard to get my GED. “Then I got my job as an administrative assistant in the communications office at the Department of Agriculture.” I added that I mostly did filing and updating documents and that sort of thing.
She asked me more about my GED and I told her about my classes, my voice finally trailing off. “Why do you want to know?” I asked, growing suspicious.
“Just curious.”
“Leisel,” I said, panic rising in my chest. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing.” She yawned. “Good night.”
“Talk to me,” I said.
She rolled over. “I have nothing to say, honestly.”
I exhaled slowly. If Leisel left the Amish, Mamm, Arden, and Marie would never forgive me. Everyone adored Leisel. They’d all blame me.
I blew out the lamp. As much as I enjoyed spending time with Leisel, I knew I needed to return to Harrisburg as soon as possible. It was stressful for my family to have me around, and I no longer belonged in Lancaster County. I’d leave as soon after the funeral as I possibly could. My being home would only lead to more heartache for all, me included. But probably not for Silas.
Dat had told me, the last time he came to visit, that Silas had grown into a fine man with real leadership qualities. “I’d be proud to have him as my deacon,” Dat had said. “Or bishop. He has a kind and gentle way about him, of course, but he’s not afraid to stick up for what is right too.”
“Are we talking about the same Silas?” I’d asked.
Dat nodded. “He was only nineteen when you left, Jessica. Show him some grace.”
I appreciated Dat sticking up for Silas—I just wished Silas had stuck up for me.
The next morning I ate breakfast at Aenti Suz’s, devouring a bowl of oatmeal as I stood at her kitchen counter.
“Come sit with me,” she said.
I shook my head. “I don’t want anyone rushing in and busting you.”
“Who would do that?”
“My Mamm. Marie. Arden. Take your pick.” Just as I finished, there was a knock on the door.
I stood up straight, expecting the door to fly open. “See?”
“No one’s rushing in,” Aenti Suz said. She walked to the door, her head held high.
She opened it to reveal a thin man standing in the doorway. I gasped. Arden and Amos were identical twins, but they no longer appeared as if they were. Amos was at least fifty pounds lighter than Arden. He also wore jeans, a work coat, and a cowboy hat and boots and looked as if he’d stepped out of an old Clint Eastwood movie.
But when he took off his hat, even though his face was thin, the
resemblance to Arden was still evident. The heavy blue eyes, the round nose, the thin lips.
“Aenti Suz,” he said.
“Amos!” She threw her arms around him.
I stayed back for a long moment but then started toward him. He let go of our aunt, and said, “Jessica?”
I nodded.
“Same dark hair,” he said. “And brown eyes.” Marie and I had Mamm’s eyes, but Leisel’s were blue like Dat’s and the twins’. Amos gave me a half hug. “I thought you said you’d left.”
“I did.” I lifted my apron. “I’m dressed this way to appease . . .” My voice trailed off. Mamm. Marie. Arden. The usual suspects.
He smiled a little. “Well, I won’t be appeasing anyone.”
“Of course not,” Aenti Suz said. “We’re just so glad you’re here. But you must be exhausted.”
He shrugged. “I slept some on the plane.”
“Then how did you get here from the airport?” Aenti Suz asked.
“I rented a car in Philadelphia.” He ran his hand through his hair. It had more gray than Arden’s did, and he had far more wrinkles on his face. “I forgot how beautiful the landscape is here,” he said. “It’s a different sort of beauty than in Colorado.”
So that was where he’d been living.
Aenti Suz offered Amos breakfast, but he said he’d grabbed a bite at the airport.
“You’re staying with me,” she said. “In the spare bedroom. If you’d like, you can nap now.”
He shrugged again. “I’ll wait. I’d like to take a look around the farm and see Marie and Leisel.”
I wondered if he had any desire to see Arden. Or Mamm. Neither of them ever spoke kindly of Amos. I’d been six when he left—he’d been gone sixteen years. Although Marie was five, she always claimed she didn’t remember him. Leisel was only three, and of course she didn’t remember him at all.
Aenti Suz asked, “How about a cup of coffee?”
He agreed to that, and we all sat around the table. This time I didn’t caution Aenti Suz about sitting with us. I doubted anyone, except maybe Leisel, would venture into the Dawdi Haus to intentionally see Amos. Hopefully Marie, Mamm, and Arden wouldn’t be rude to him.
We soon found out. Leisel and a neighbor were hanging laundry on the line when we ventured out, so I introduced Amos to her. She gave him a hug, her blue eyes dancing. “Oh, I’ve wondered about you my whole life,” she said.
He blushed and glanced down at his cowboy boots.
“You’re much what I imagined,” she said.
That made him chuckle. “Well,” he said, “you’re nothing like what I imagined. I’ve been thinking of you as a little girl all of these years.”
Leisel frowned in response. “I can’t imagine how much has changed since you left.” She pinned a sheet on the line as she spoke. “And I’m so sorry you weren’t able to see Dat before he passed. I planned to call once Dat gave me your number, but then he faded much quicker than we thought he would. He spoke of you often.”
Amos looked at his boots again and toed the lawn.
“I’m sorry,” Leisel said.
“No, it’s fine.” He raised his head and met her eyes. “What did he say?”
“He talked about you working as a ranch hand. He kept the photos you sent beside his bed and looked at them over and over.”
That surprised me—first that Dat had told Leisel far more about Amos than he had me. That stung, honestly. Second, I was surprised that Mamm would allow Dat to keep the photos Amos sent.
Leisel continued. “He was proud of the life you made. He wished he’d gone to visit you.”
Amos’s eyes grew teary. “I would have liked that.”
I was truly blessed that Dat had been able to visit me. I couldn’t imagine how much harder all of this would be if I hadn’t seen him since I left, which was Amos’s reality.
“Leisel took care of Dat,” I told him. “Once he was diagnosed with cancer.”
Amos put his hat back on, probably to shade his eyes from the morning sun. “That sounds as if it would have been a big job.”
Leisel grabbed another sheet and more pins. “I was happy to do it,” she said. “I’ve always enjoyed caring for others. It was a privilege to do so for Dat.”
A commotion across the fence distracted us. Milton chased a cow while Arden sauntered along after them, his face turned away from us.
Amos asked, his voice low, “Is that him?”
I nodded. “And his oldest son, Milton.”
Amos exhaled. Arden and Vi married soon after Amos left and had Milton less than a year later.
“I suppose I should get this over with.” Amos started toward the fence. I followed, wishing Aenti Suz had come with us, but she’d stayed behind to clean up after breakfast.
Milton chased the cow toward the barn, but Arden stopped as we approached.
“Brother,” Amos called out.
Arden put his hands on his wide hips.
Amos had reached the fence line, but Arden stayed put. Finally he said, “Amos, is that you?”
“Yes,” Amos called out, his voice calm and crisp.
Arden shifted his cold gaze to me even though he spoke to Amos. “No one told me you were coming.”
Clearly he felt that had been my responsibility, but why would I? I sighed. It wasn’t like last night at supper I was going to shout across the room, “Oh, by the way. I called Amos and he’ll be arriving in the morning.”
“Sorry,” I muttered.
Amos waved his hand in my direction, as if dismissing my words. “How have you been?” he asked his twin.
Arden crossed his arms. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to mourn my father. And to see my siblings. My Aenti. My stepmom.”
“No one wants you here.”
Before I could state Arden was wrong, Leisel started toward the fence line, waving a wet sheet as she called out, “That isn’t true. I want him here. So does Aenti. So does Jessica.” Her voice was calm, but strong.
“Jessica doesn’t count,” Arden said.
Leisel reached Amos’s side. She put her free arm around him as she spoke to Arden, still waving the sheet. “Dat would be so ashamed of you.”
“Ashamed of me?” Arden rocked back on his heels and began to laugh. The breeze caught his long beard and blew it to the side. Abruptly he stopped, pivoted ninety degrees, and started off toward the barn, after Milton.
“Ignore him.” Leisel’s eyes flashed.
“Only if you will,” Amos replied. He patted her back. “Thank you for coming to my defense.”
“Jah.” Leisel clenched the sheet. “I’m so tired of the self-righteousness demonstrated by two of our siblings. How did such a loving father have children who are so judgmental?”
She didn’t wait for either Amos or me to answer. Instead she marched back to the clothesline, waving the sheet again. It might have looked like a flag of surrender, but it was anything but.
Amos smiled at me. “Looks like I missed out on a lot.”
“Your brother’s wrath?” I asked.
“Jah,” he said. “But also what strong women my sisters became.”
I sighed. “Wait until you meet Marie.”
“Oh?”
I nodded. “She’s squarely on Team Arden. So is Mamm. And of course, Vi is too.”
Amos winced but didn’t say any more.
Throughout the rest of the day, none of them let me down when it came to my assessment of them. All were rude to Amos, in one way or another. By the end of the afternoon, he and I were both hiding in Aenti Suz’s Dawdi Haus. I didn’t dare to offer to help with the chores or even assist the neighbors who swept out the shed and set up the benches for Dat’s memorial service the next day. I saw the neighbors come and go through the front window of Aenti Suz’s little house. One time Arden marched by, his head held high in determination, or more likely arrogance. Another time Silas hurried by, glancing toward the house as he did. I couldn’t help bu
t wonder if he was looking for me.
Later, over Aenti’s chicken potpie and homemade bread, I announced, “I’m going home after the funeral tomorrow. As soon as we get back from the cemetery.”
“I don’t blame you,” Amos said. “My return flight isn’t until Saturday. Right now, it feels as if it might be a long week.”
I put down my spoon. “Sorry it’s this way.”
He shrugged. “I expected it, kind of. I mean, I hoped it would be better. That everyone would welcome me with open arms. Or at least not be rude.” He picked up his water glass. “At least I have you. I’m thankful for that.”
“I’m thankful for you too.” I picked up my water glass too and gestured a toast.
He laughed and clinked my glass as Aenti Suz watched over her reading glasses. “Don’t forget that God is at work,” she said. “He wants nothing more than to heal this family.”
I believed that too—but I doubted that everyone wanted to be healed. A buzz in my pocket took me to Aenti Suz’s porch. I stood with my back to the big house in case Arden was spying on me. The text was from Tom, of course. Looking forward to seeing you. I’ll be there by 8. You’re in my thoughts and prayers. He signed off with an emoticon blowing a kiss. My heart warmed. I didn’t need my family. Or Silas. My life belonged in Harrisburg. The sooner I returned, the better.
I still needed to learn the rest of Ruby’s story, but tonight all of us had Dat’s viewing, which would be held in the front room of the farmhouse.
7
The next morning at eight I stood on the front porch wrapped in my Englisch coat, waiting for Tom. The morning had dawned icy and cold with a thick cover of fog. The viewing the night before had progressed without incident, but breakfast had been tense, to say the least. Amos and I sat together at the table in the corner while our family ate with neighbors and friends. I suggested that we stay at Aenti Suz’s until it was time for the service, but Amos said he wanted to see the inside of the farmhouse and he figured he might as well do it in the morning, before there were even more people around.
I hoped the fog wouldn’t slow Tom down. I felt as if I couldn’t wait another minute as I mulled over the last two days. The most frustrating part of all of it was that the drama took away from me mourning Dat. Instead of thinking about his life and honoring him, I was putting all of my energy into avoiding Marie and Arden and Mamm.