“‘Because I have prayed for the same thing every day for weeks, and yet God has not done what I asked.’”
“‘You are wrong, Heidi; you must not think of Him like that. God is a good father to us all, and knows better than we do what is good for us. If we ask Him for something that is not good for us, He does not give it, but something better still, if only we will continue to pray earnestly and do not run away and lose our trust in Him. God did not think what you have been praying for was good for you just now, but be sure He heard you, for He can hear and see everyone at the same time, because He is a God and not a human being like you and me. And because He thought it was better for you not to have at once what you wanted, He said to Himself: Yes, Heidi shall have what she asks for, but not until the right time comes, so that she may be quite happy. If I do what she wants now, and then one day she sees that it would have been better for her not to have had her own way, she will cry and say, “If only God had not given me what I asked for! It is not so good as I expected!” And while God is watching over you, and looking to see if you will trust Him and go on praying to Him every day, and turn to Him for everything you want, you run away and leave off saying your prayers, and forget all about Him …’”
Rose continued on, and the children listened intently. Finally, after another ten minutes of reading, she closed the book and considered poor Heidi in a way she never had before.
How many times had Rose read this same passage? Dozens. But it had never pained her heart as it did now. The words pierced her, as if each letter was a small knife. She’d always agreed with Grandmother before. She had always inwardly cheered at her monologue. But this time Rose was pained at Grandmother for not understanding.
It was a hard chapter to read, and more than once she’d had to pause and wipe away a stray tear. Her sister Louisa, on the front bench, looked concerned. The other Louisa had started to cry softly over Heidi’s terrible homesickness. Seeing the young girl’s tears, Rosa’s throat grew thick and tight.
Rose stayed for another hour, helping Lucy by listening to the younger ones read, but when it was time for Rose to head home, it felt as if all her energy had been drained from her. Her arms felt like thick, heavy logs as she pushed them through her coat sleeves.
As she’d read about Heidi’s longing for the world in the mountains—beyond the white walls of Clara’s fine house—Rose had understood that feeling, of missing what had been there for so long. It was homesickness. Even when her mind didn’t remember, her heart knew.
Heidi lived within a luxurious home and had more fine things than she could imagine. Heidi had a good friend in Clara. Clara’s family had taken her in as their own. And still she ached for what was lost.
And Rose’s losses seemed to be multiplying.
She’d been so hard on Jonathan, but had she really taken the time to think about what she was giving up? She’d been so focused on how the community felt, but had she really allowed herself to think how she felt about Jonathan … and how he would feel when she turned her back?
Why hadn’t she been more open—to Jonathan and to God?
Rose slipped on her mittens, preparing to leave, thinking of Grandmother’s words. “God knows better. He knows the right time to answer your prayers.” It made sense that perhaps the time wasn’t right for her and Jonathan, but what couldn’t be right about living with one’s birth family? Had her mom prayed for a different way? She hoped so. Not that the prayer was answered.
Was it true that someday she’d thank God for those unanswered prayers too?
Ten
BUNDLED UP, ROSE BID THE CHILDREN GOOD-BYE AND prepared for the mile-long walk home. The cold wind—which carried tiny ice crystals from a soft flurry of snow—hit her cheeks as she walked outside. There, sitting in front of the school, was a wagon. Rose stopped short. The back was filled with long planks of lumber, and Jonathan was perched on the front bench.
“Need a ride?” he called.
Rose crossed her arms over her chest. Part of her was happy to see him. But part of her feared again growing close to Jonathan. Feared having to tell him her truth. Yet, as she gazed at his bright eyes and wide smile, Rose couldn’t help smiling back. “How did you know? What are you doing here?”
“Don’t you always read to the children on Fridays?”
“Ja.” Rose didn’t ask how he knew that.
“Then would you like a ride?”
She nodded and moved down the stairs, hurrying across the schoolyard with quickened steps. “But it’s only a mile.”
“A mile you don’t have to walk now.” He reached a hand down toward her as she lifted her foot to climb aboard.
Rose hoisted herself up into the wagon, and Jonathan scooted over. “Here … I’ll even let you have my warm spot.”
She sat without argument, the words of Heidi’s grandmother coming to her once again. Perhaps she did understand a bit more about them than she’d thought. By wishing she’d stayed with her birth family, she was negating all she’d experienced and felt with those she’d grown up with. She would have missed out on Dat, Mem, and her siblings. She wouldn’t be sitting here now, with Jonathan.
“Hey-ya,” Jonathan called to his horse. The wagon wheels squeaked on the snow, accompanied by the sounds of rocks being crunched as they left the schoolyard.
They shared small talk. He discussed his work. “I’d much rather be working on the farm, but delivering lumber in the winter helps Dat and Mem.”
She talked about reading to the children and about Heidi’s homesickness. “Sometimes you don’t realize what you have until you lose it—not that losing it was Heidi’s choice,” she rattled on as if Jonathan understood what she was talking about.
“Would you ever consider leaving the area, Rose?” Jonathan asked.
“Not before.”
“Before?” The way he said it, it was obvious he thought she meant before he left for the war. Jonathan had no idea she meant before three days ago.
Rose shrugged. “Why are you asking?”
“The other day, before we were interrupted, you said you wanted to talk to me. You mentioned you’d thought about leaving.”
“I’ve thought about it, but not seriously.” How could she tell him the truth? “Don’t most people think about it?”
“Not most people, Rose. Most people are content to walk in the way of their ancestors. To choose the Amish life and believe it’s the only … right … way.” The way he dragged out the last few words, it was as if he was asking her a question. Was that what she believed too?
They neared her house, but instead of slowing the horse continued on. Rose forced a chuckle to ease the tension between them. “Did you forget something?”
“I thought we’d have some lunch in town … if you don’t mind.” Jonathan lowered his head slightly. She studied the tufts of dark hair that covered the tops of his ears. Her heartbeat jumped into her throat.
To sit across from him. To look into his eyes. She wondered how long she’d be able to keep her secret. Yet even as she thought of telling him her throat cinched.
“Vell …” She tried to come up with a good excuse, but there was none. Mem was at a quilting circle, her siblings were at school, and there was nothing—no one—who needed her.
“If you’d rather not, I understand. “He pointed behind his shoulder. “I can turn around. I understand what people are saying about me—about my choice. I know that I’ve lost the approval of many in our community. I’ve lost your approval.” He sighed heavily. “I’m afraid I’ve lost yer heart too.”
“There is so much more you don’t understand, Jonathan. It’s not easy to explain how I’m feeling … what I’m thinking. Some days I can’t figure it out myself.”
The snow-covered fields of Holmes County rose and fell, stretching out on either side of the road. Here or there an oblique lump or mound marred the landscape. Rose knew if she got out and brushed the snow off she’d find familiar tree stumps or piles of fencing. In a w
ay, that’s how her emotions felt—she knew more was beneath, but it took too much effort to brush away the protective layer she’d built around her heart.
“Will you try to tell me, Rose?”
“I’m sorry, Jonathan. I should have taken more time to listen to you when you returned. I should have read your letters with an open heart, instead of being so worried about what the bishop thought, what others thought.”
He looked over at her. His eyes widened slightly as she studied his face. “Do you mean that?”
“Ja,” she said, realizing she did mean it.
“I’m ready to listen when you tell me, Rose.” He leaned forward slightly and his lips parted. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her.
Rose pulled her head back, knowing he wouldn’t want to do that. Not if he knew.
The disappointment was clear on Jonathan’s face.
“Do you mind if I drop this lumber off first?”
“Ne, don’t mind. Not at all.”
The buggy stopped at Hummel’s Grocery. The building was on Main Street, and large glass windows displayed full shelves. It seemed strange being able to see inside the store. During the war, the windows had been covered with war bond posters. Rose believed Mr. Hummel was patriotic, but she also guessed that the posters had hidden the limited supply of items on the store shelves.
“Why don’t you head inside and keep warm? I’m going to take this lumber ‘round back. They need it in the back storeroom to build some new shelves.”
“Ja, of course.”
Inside the glass front door, warm air and the scent of baking bread greeted her. One of the clerks was checking out a customer at the front counter. He turned in her direction.
“Why, hello there.” His fingers paused from entering prices into the register before he went back to checking out the customer. But instead of talking to the older Englisch woman at the counter, he glanced again at Rose. “I’ve seen you in here before, with your mem. She seems like a nice lady.”
He didn’t look familiar, but obviously he knew her, so she had to have met him before. He hadn’t lived long in Berlin, though; she was certain of that. “Ja, she is. I—I am blessed to have my family.”
He nodded and went back to punching the keys as vigorously as before.
She glanced around, trying to figure out how to spend her time. She didn’t have a shopping list and not a penny with her. She hadn’t planned on going anywhere but the school. Yet she walked down the canned goods aisle with purpose.
It was nice to see the shelves full again. Rationing during the war had been hard for many. More than once they’d had neighbors stop by to ask her parents if they had any extra eggs or meat to sell. Her parents always seemed to find something to offer, even if it meant they ate vegetable soup for dinner.
She moved to the far corner of the store where the meat counter was, pretending that the sign that read the prices of the meat was as interesting as her story from Heidi.
“Pot Roast of Beef, 29 cents a pound. Fresh ground hamburger, 28 cents a pound. Breakfast sausages, small link, 44 cents,” she said to no one in particular.
The butcher approached from the back room wearing a red-and-white-striped shirt, a white apron that looked as if it had just been pulled off the clothes line, and a straw hat. He was an imposing man in girth and stature, but he wore a nice smile. “Can I help you, miss?”
“Oh, no, Mr. Milligan,” she said. “I’m just looking today … and waiting for a friend.”
“Ah, yes. Jonathan is unloading the wood for the new shelves in back. We’re blessed to have run out of room for stock. We have quite the construction project going on back there.”
“I think everyone feels blessed.” Rose offered a smile. “It’s gut to have all our boys coming home.”
“I imagine especially that one.” Mr. Milligan pointed his thumb over his shoulder toward the back supply room. “Don’t think the people in the community don’t understand the sacrifice. And as someone who had a son come home in one piece, I thank Jonathan every time I see him.”
Rose nodded but didn’t know how to respond. Just as she was figuring out what to say, she heard the shuffling of footsteps behind her. She turned to see the cashier approaching. He leaned on a cane and walked with a limp.
Rose’s heart fell, and she understood now why she didn’t remember seeing him around before. He was a returning soldier who’d somehow landed in Berlin.
The cashier used his cane to point to his left kneecap. “It was a bullet. And the Jap was either a great shot and just wanted to slow me down, or he missed by a long shot when aiming for my heart.”
Rose offered a sympathetic smile. “Iwo Jima?”
The man shook his head. “No, I missed that one, but Saipan was no tea party.” He limped over to the cold case next to the meat counter and pulled out two Coca-Colas. Gripping them both in his left hand, he reached into his pocket with his right hand and pulled out a bottle opener. He popped both lids, dropped the bottle opener back into his apron pocket, and offered her a drink.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t.” She held up her palm, refusing his offer.
“Have you ever had a cola before?” The light-haired man tilted his head to the side and studied her in a way that made her want to escape out into the cold.
“Ne. I mean, no.” She shook her head vigorously. “But—” What excuse did she have? Any excuse. She lightly touched the top of her white head covering.
“Of course!” The man set one of the colas on the meat counter and extended his hand to her. “I should have introduced myself. I’m Curtis. Curtis Williams.” His gaze drifted up to the head covering she wore from morning to night.
“Nice to meet you, Curtis.” She looked back to the butcher, hoping to pull him into the conversation, but he’d slipped into the back room.
Not knowing what else to do, Rose extended her hand and shook Curtis’s, and then forced a smile as she accepted the cola.
“Go ahead. Take a sip. It’s on me.”
Rose lifted the bottle to her lips and opened her mouth.
Curtis laughed. “You don’t pour it into your mouth. You press it to your lips, like this.” Curtis turned his head and showed her how. Rose shrugged and then attempted it.
The liquid was so cold that it stung her teeth. There was a bubbly feeling to it and the sweetness caused her to wince and blink her eyes rapidly. She pulled the bottle away from her mouth and the liquid splashed onto her chin. Laughter burst from Curtis, and he covered his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Well,” he sputtered between breaths. “Do you like it?”
Rose shrugged again. “Not really … although I’m sorry if that offends you.”
“Offends me? No.” He took the bottle from her and placed it on top of the glass meat counter. “There are few things in this life that offend me. In fact—”
Footsteps sounded from behind, and Rose turned, expecting to see a customer approaching the meat counter. Instead, Jonathan neared. His eyes were narrowed, but rather than look at her, Jonathan’s eyes were fixed on Curtis. Jonathan paused at Rose’s side and placed a protective hand on the small of her back. She trembled at his touch. It was not the Amish way. Jonathan’s movement was bold. It reminded her that he’d seen the world, and maybe he’d picked up a few of their ways.
Jonathan fixed his gaze on hers. “Are you ready?”
Heat rose to her cheeks at his nearness.
“Ja.” She jutted out her chin.
Jonathan didn’t withdraw his touch.
She took two steps toward the door and paused next to Curtis. “Thank you again for the cola.” She thought about taking it home for her younger brother and younger sisters to try, but from the tense look on Jonathan’s face she guessed that wouldn’t be a good idea.
He was jealous! In a strange way it made her happy to see that.
Rose felt like she walked on a puff of air the rest of the way to the buggy.
Eleven
JONATHAN WAS QUIET AS HE HELPED HER INTO THE wagon and silent as they drove a few more blocks.
He parked at Boyd and Wurthmann Restaurant and tied up the horse. It was a small, white building with a sign that read “Home-Style Cooking.” She’d only ever eaten out a few times in her life and she had to wonder what other types of cooking there were. As they entered the restaurant, she noted Englischmen eating lunch at back tables and Amishmen lined up along the long counter on barstools. A group of young people also sat at the green counter studying the day’s pies.
They sat, and when a waitress came by they both ordered the chicken special. Rose still wasn’t interested in eating, but she was starting to feel lightheaded. She handed the menu to the waitress and pressed her fingertips to her temples.
“Are you feeling all right, Rose?”
“A little lightheaded, that’s all.”
“Are you coming down with something?”
Rose shrugged. “Just have a lot on my mind, and I haven’t had much of an appetite.”
“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Jonathan sighed. “All this has been hard on you, harder than I thought. He came by to talk to you, didn’t he?”
Rose fiddled with the edge of the paper napkin. “Who?”
“Wallace Yoder.”
“The bishop? Ja, he talked to me. He’s been to our house several times. First after he heard you joined the military. And then when he discovered you were overseas.”
“But not recently?”
“No, why?”
“He came by to talk to me last week. I assumed he took the time to get around to you too. He wanted to know what I’d been doing all that time serving in the military. I told him I worked in the field hospital, and I didn’t shoot one bullet the whole time I was overseas, but it wasn’t a good enough answer. He said there were more hours in a day than could be filled with tending to people. He wanted to know whom I spent time with. What I had done. He waited for me to list my sins, and he was disappointed that I wouldn’t.”
“He’s jest considering your soul, Jonathan. He wanted to ensure you’ll stay on the right path. He’s our bishop—our spiritual leader.”
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