Leah's Choice

by Marta Perry

  The stable door stood open, letting out a shaft of yellow light from Daad’s lantern. She went in, pausing a moment on the threshold, appreciating the fact that all was just as she’d imagined it.

  Daad leaned on Betty’s stall door, pouring oats into her feed bucket, talking to her in that same gentle tone that he’d always used with his children as well. He looked up at her step, smiling in welcome.

  “You’re up early, daughter.”

  “Not so early as you.”

  Her father never changed, it seemed to her. His beard might be more white than brown these days, but he still moved with the same quick, wiry strength he always had. His hazel eyes watched her with love and maybe a little question.

  She leaned against the stall door next to him, patting Betty’s neck. The mare, nose deep in her oats, flickered her ears in greeting.

  “Greedy girl,” she said, stroking her.

  In the next stall Dick, one of the big Percherons, pawed and snorted impatiently. Daad chuckled.

  “We’d best get the rest of them fed, if we don’t want to hear about it.” He handed her a feed pail. “While we’re doing it, you can tell me what has you so worried already.”

  “You noticed that.” She took the pail, going to fill it at the barrel that held the oats.

  “Ja, I noticed.” Daadi poured oats into Dick’s feeding pail, glancing at her with a faint trace of a frown between his brows. “Is it Johnny’s coming back that has you upset?”

  She blinked in surprise. Other people might be talking, but—

  “You know me better than that, don’t you, Daad?”

  “I know you’re a levelheaded, responsible girl. But I also know that once you loved him with all your heart.”

  “That was a long time ago. I don’t have feelings for him now.” Do I? She hoped that was true.

  “Are you sure you’re not gettin’ involved with him again, seeing him as you do?”

  “No, Daad.” Unless she considered setting up a meeting between Johnny and Rachel getting involved.

  He looked at her searchingly for a moment, as if he sensed that she was hiding something. “Ser gut,” he said at last. “So what is it then that has you worried?”

  “Anna.” It was a relief to say it. “I know she has to have her rumspringa, just as the rest of us did, but I’m concerned about what she’s doing.”

  He nodded, leaning his elbow on the top of the last stall. The sound of contented munching filled the stable.

  “I know. She’s been running with English friends, maybe even a boy, hasn’t she?”

  She studied his weatherworn face. “Daadi, if you know, why haven’t you talked to her about it?”

  He smiled a little. “Five times we’ve gone through this, your mamm and me. Five times we’ve worried and prayed.”

  “The rest of us didn’t go so close to the line, did we?”

  “Well, you were the one we didn’t think we needed to worry about, settled as you were on Johnny so early. But when he left, it seemed we should have been more careful with you.”

  “No one could have predicted that.” Not even her, apparently.

  “And you don’t know what foolishness your brothers got up to.” His eyes twinkled a little. “Them I understood a little better than you girls. Your mamm knows you and Anna best.”

  Maybe that was part of the problem. With Mamm’s illness, perhaps they hadn’t concentrated on Anna enough.

  “I haven’t wanted to upset Mamm. But I think you should talk to Anna.”

  He folded his hands, almost as if in prayer. “We’ve always believed rumspringa to be a useful time. We give our young people a taste of what life is like on the other side, and then they can make a decision of commitment without regrets.”

  She didn’t have regrets, at least not about that. But still, sometimes she wondered. What would her life have been if she’d gone with Johnny? Could she have thrived, as he apparently had, without family and church?

  “You’re still worried.” He patted her shoulder. “Try to have trust that Anna will sow her wild oats and then come out the other side, just as the rest of you did.”

  She wished she had his faith. “It’s not just the English friends,” she said. “Paula Schatz stopped by yesterday to talk to me. She didn’t want to upset Mamm, but she says Anna has been coming late, leaving early, sometimes not showing up at all. You know Paula. She wouldn’t come to us without cause.”

  Her father straightened. “That’s so?” At her nod, he frowned. “This will not do. It is not right for Anna to be taking her wages without putting in an honest day’s work. I’ll talk to her.”

  Leah gave a rueful smile. “I feel as if I’ve shifted my worries to your shoulders.”

  He patted her hand. “That is where they belong. I’m glad you care about your sister, but you shouldn’t carry the burden for her. It’s enough for you to deal with your own concerns.” His fingers tightened on hers. “I’m always here for you, Leah.”

  She nodded, her throat tightening. “I know you are, Daadi.”

  He was still worrying about her, she could see that. But she couldn’t reassure him that everything was all right with her. She didn’t know that herself.

  “What if he doesn’t come? Or what if we’re late?” Rachel twisted her hands in her lap, peering out the window of Ben Morgan’s car. Leah had arranged for Ben to drive them to this meeting with Johnny.

  “Calm down already.” Leah patted her hand, trying to ignore the fact that her own stomach was tied in knots. “I’ve never seen you so ferhoodled.”

  “I haven’t seen my own twin in ten years.” Rachel transferred her grip to Leah’s hand. “Is it any wonder? What if he doesn’t come?”

  “Johnny wouldn’t let you down that way.” She glanced toward the driver, but Ben could be trusted to keep quiet about this trip. That was why she’d asked him to bring them.

  “I hope not. But ten years with hardly a word . . . I know I’m being foolish, but I can’t decide whether I want to hug him or box his ears for him.”

  “Maybe both,” Leah suggested.

  Ben slowed the car, peering out at the houses they passed, obviously looking for the number she’d given him. They must be nearly at Lydia’s now.

  Setting up this meeting had been so difficult that she’d felt at times as if she were negotiating a peace treaty. Rachel didn’t want to go anyplace where she might be seen by someone who’d relay the news to her parents, and Johnny had shown signs of getting prideful again about the whole thing.

  Finally Lydia had stepped into the breach, offering her home in Mifflinburg, and the time was set.

  Leah and Rachel had come early, giving themselves plenty of time to do the fabric shopping that was the stated reason for their trip.

  Leah hadn’t expected to enjoy the shopping part of the day, but as it turned out, Rachel had found fabric for new dresses for Becky and shirts for the boys, while Leah had bought the lining and backing material for her and Elizabeth’s quilts. They’d taken their time, weighing the merits of one bolt against another, but even so, they were arriving at Lydia’s place a little early.

  “Here we are, ladies.” Ben pulled into the driveway of a small white cottage, his gaze meeting Leah’s in the rearview mirror with a look of encouragement. “You can leave your bundles in the car. I’ll just sit and read the paper.”

  He slid his seat back a bit and unfurled the newspaper from the seat beside him.

  “Ser gut.” She opened her door, but Rachel was already out ahead of her.

  The yard was tiny but beautifully kept, and several varieties of roses bloomed in a bed across the front of the house. They followed a flagstone path that led to the front door. If it were not for the electric lines running to the house from the street, this might be an Amish home.

  “All right?” Leah glanced at Rachel when they reached the stoop.

  Rachel nodded, her face pale but determined.

  Almost before she could knock, Lydia opene
d the door. “Welcome to my home. Please, come in. This must be your friend Rachel.”

  Rachel gave a quick nod, looking around with a certain amount of apprehension in her blue eyes. “It’s kind of you to have us.”

  “My pleasure.” Lydia led the way into a small living room, gesturing to the sofa. “John called a while ago to doublecheck the address, so I imagine he’ll be along soon.” She glanced at Leah. “Perhaps when he comes, you’ll join me in the kitchen for a cup of tea.”

  Leah nodded.

  “Maybe you should stay—” Rachel began.

  Leah grasped her hands firmly. “You’ll be fine. John is still your brother.”

  “But he’s different now. A fence-jumper. Englischer.” She glanced at Lydia.

  Lydia smiled. “Like me, yes. There’s no need for you to feel uncomfortable about it. My situation and John’s are similar.”

  Similar, but not entirely alike. Lydia had already gone over the difficult bridge to establishing a relationship with her family. John had yet to do that, but Leah hoped and prayed that today would be a first step.

  A car pulled into the driveway—she could hear the tires crunch on the gravel. Her fingers pressed taut against the skirt of her dress, and her stomach seemed to turn over.

  “He’s here,” Rachel whispered, her eyes wide and apprehensive.

  Please, Lord. Leah’s throat was so tight that she couldn’t have said the words aloud. Please let this go well. I long so much for Rachel and Johnny to be brother and sister again.

  The knock came at the door, and they could hear the soft murmur of Lydia’s voice as she opened it. Rachel gasped, and her hand squeezed Leah’s convulsively.

  There was the sound of a familiar step, and Johnny appeared in the archway. He stood, hesitant, looking at his sister.

  With a strangled sob, Rachel catapulted herself across the room and into his arms. In a moment the two of them were hugging and laughing and crying all at the same time. Leah exchanged a glance with Lydia and followed her into the kitchen.

  On the verge of tears herself, Leah sat in the kitchen chair Lydia pulled out for her. She pressed her fingers against her eyes.

  Lydia, not speaking, turned the gas on under a teakettle and began rattling cups and saucers, obviously giving her time to calm herself.

  By the time Lydia brought the cups to the table, Leah was able to smile at her. “That’s kind of you.”

  “I always think a hot cup of tea does wonders for emotional upset.” She poured the brew from a squat brown teapot and then sat down across from Leah.

  “I don’t think they’ll be ready for refreshments for a time.” Leah glanced toward the door to the living room.

  “I didn’t mean them,” Lydia said. “I meant you. This surely is emotional for you as well.”

  “I suppose it is.” She held the cup between her hands. “Seeing them together—well, it feels so right. They were always very close, and for a long time, I couldn’t get used to seeing Rachel without knowing Johnny was around somewhere.”

  Lydia nodded, staring down into the contents of her cup. She and her siblings had come to a relationship, she’d said. It must have been a difficult road.

  “Everyone’s actions affect so many other people,” Leah went on. “Rachel just hasn’t seemed heart-whole without him. Maybe she’ll be better now.”

  “I hope she’s not counting on his coming back.” Lydia traced the rim of her cup with her finger. “It would be a nice dream, but it won’t happen.”

  “You think he’s too happy where he is?”

  “Happy?” Lydia seemed to look at the word. “I’m not sure that describes it. When you fence-jump, you never entirely leave the past behind. How could you?”

  “So you never really fit into the English world.” That was what Johnny had hinted.

  Lydia intrigued her, and she’d like to understand the woman better. Lydia apparently loved her work and was probably very good at it, but she didn’t seem entirely to match with the life she’d chosen.

  “Something like that.” Lydia smiled, her gaze meeting Leah’s. “I’ve told you that sometimes I wonder if I’d be better off right now if I were still Amish, and I can never really leave that yearning behind. But that’s not the choice I made.”

  “You could change.” Leah ventured the words tentatively.

  Lydia shook her head. “Some can’t go back because they invest too much in the English world, like John. Others, like me, might long to return, but there’s something they can’t give up. For me, it’s my work.”

  Leah nodded. She might not entirely understand what made someone leave, but she could understand why a woman like Lydia couldn’t go back.

  She hesitated, wondering if it would be intruding to ask the question in her mind. “Do you think, twenty or thirty years from now, you’ll have regrets?”

  “I’ll be alone here in my little house then, you mean. With no family and community to look after me.”

  Leah thought about Mamm, surrounded by people who loved and cared for her. That was the old age an Amish woman expected to have. They didn’t worry about being left alone.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said.

  “I’m not offended.” Lydia’s smile had a tinge of sadness. “It’s an honest concern. Yes, I think about that. But I’ve made my choice.”

  Leah nodded. Each time she met Lydia, the woman gave her something new to think about.

  “You know, Leah, if you ever left, it would be for reasons like mine. For the work, not for love.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t even think about it, because she was afraid Lydia had verbalized something that might possibly be true.

  This welcome should go a long way toward convincing his mother that he and the children were fitting in here in Pleasant Valley. Daniel smiled, relaxing a little as he saw that Mamm had settled into a folding chair in the shade of the big maple in the Beilers’ backyard.

  His mother had arrived on yesterday’s bus from Lancaster County, fresh from helping at the birth of his sister’s new babe, and already the Beiler family had planned a picnic to welcome her.

  “I hope your mamm wasn’t too tired from her trip.”

  Leah paused next to him, a basketful of rolls in her arm that must be intended for the serving table that was filling up with more food as each family arrived once evening chores were done.

  “If she was, seeing her grandchildren has more than made up for it.” He nodded toward his mother. “It seems like she and your mamm are finding plenty of things to say to each other.”

  “Ja.” The faintest shadow crossed Leah’s green eyes at the thought.

  Perhaps she still worried about the persistence of the matchmakers who were determined to yoke them together. That didn’t seem as annoying to him as it once had.

  “It is gut for her to see that we’re fitting in and happy here. She can’t help but worry.”

  “That comes with being a parent.” Leah smiled, the shadow vanishing. “My mamm certainly hasn’t stopped yet, no matter how old we are.”

  He nodded, looking down at Leah. She’d be that kind of mother, too, he felt sure. You could see that in the care she had for every one of her students.

  “When my children were gone—” He paused, his throat tight at the memory. “I don’t know how I’d have gotten through it without my family.”

  “They must have been overjoyed when the children came home at last.” She hesitated. “I wonder if—” She stopped, perhaps not wanting to voice the thought.

  But he knew what it must be. “They didn’t really understand why I wanted to move afterward. They hated seeing me take the children away from Lancaster County, but once they knew I felt it was the right thing, they supported my decision.”

  “It’s hard to let go, for them and for you.” Her understanding was as quick as ever. “But I suppose sometimes it’s needed. You had to get away from the reminders.”

  “Getting t
he children away was the important thing. The older ones, especially. They couldn’t seem to settle down after they came home. I felt as if they were always looking for Ruth. They’re better here.”

  Elizabeth raced up to them at that moment, tugging on Leah’s skirt. “Did you see that my grossmutter is here for a visit, Teacher Leah?”

  “I know.” Leah smiled at her. “That makes you both happy, doesn’t it?”

  The tenderness in Leah’s face when she looked at his daughter touched Daniel’s heart. Elizabeth darted off again, giving him the opportunity to say something that was on his mind.

  “She was happier even before my mamm arrived. She told me—about her feelings over Ruth’s dying that way. About feeling guilty over it.”

  It was difficult even to say the words, but if he’d learned one thing from this, it was that speaking was better than keeping silent. “She said you wanted her to tell me.”

  Her face filled with the concern she felt for his child. “I did my best to reassure her, but I knew she needed to hear it from you as well. I hope you’re not upset that I didn’t tell you about it right away.”

  Maybe he had been, just for a moment, but then he’d realized that Leah had done exactly what she’d said she would. “I can’t be, when it’s turned out so well. My little Elizabeth acts as if a weight has been lifted from her shoulders.”

  “That’s wonderful gut. I’m so glad.” Her free hand moved, as if she’d reach out to him, but then it stilled.

  Maybe she was too aware of the people who watched them. No one came near to interrupt them, though. They were being given a chance to be together, even in a crowd.

  There was one thing more he had to say—had to admit—to Leah.

  “I should have seen long before this that something was eating at her. You tried to tell me, but I thought I knew better.”

  “Maybe there are times when things are easier seen by an outsider instead of a parent. It won’t help Elizabeth for you to be blaming yourself, you know.”