He tapped his fingers on the yellow Formica tabletop and then stood when he saw an older Amish woman entering. She leaned heavily on her cane. Her gray hair was pulled tight at the center part.
“I DELIVERED THOSE GIRLS AND EVEN THOUGH I’M Amish and Betty was Englisch, she became my best friend. She was such a beautiful, creative soul,” the woman confessed to him over a cup of coffee and pie.
“Did you hear from her after they moved?”
“Around once a year, usually around Christmas. And then there was one year … there were so many letters. At least one a week. Betty was worried about Rose. She feared something had happened to her. I wrote to reassure her. The Yoders lived in Berlin then. They’d moved not many months after frail, blonde Rose became a part of their family. Even though Berlin seems like a world away from Charm, I made sure to keep track of the family. A few people in Charm talked about the way she was abandoned—those things do create a buzz at first—but soon it just became part of life. I don’t believe the secret followed them when they left, and in our minds we felt it was better to just keep the matter to ourselves.”
Jonathan nodded. “And after that?”
“After a while Betty seemed content yet. She had peace over her decision. I’m not sure if it was something I’d said in my letters that reassured her, or maybe my prayers helped even more.”
The woman reached down and pulled something out of her pocket. “Every year Betty sent me a letter. They stopped for a number of years, and I was worried. But this note explains what happened.” The woman smiled. “If you notice the return address is in Columbus—not far from here. There’s no number to call, but maybe you can call information? I have an Englisch neighbor with a phone. I’m sure she can help you with that.”
Jonathan wanted to leap from his seat. Instead he reached over and patted the woman’s hand. “Thank you … thank you so much. I have to say you’ve jest given me the best Christmas gift ever.”
“I hope it turns out well—your plan, that is.” The woman smiled.
Jonathan had only three more days to make his dreams—Rose’s unspoken wish—come true before Christmas.
MEM DIDN’T THINK ANYTHING OF ROSE ASKING TO TAKE the buggy. She drove it to the school to read from the book Heidi. As Rose sat on the stool in front of the children, their curious gazes pierced her. She supposed she’d stare, too, if she saw a grown woman tearing up as she read a book. But the tears couldn’t be held back as she read the familiar words:
“‘Where is the child?’” Rose read. “Heidi was fetched, and as she walked up to him to say, ‘Good morning,’ he looked inquiringly into her face and said, ‘Well, what do you say to this, little one?’
“Heidi looked at him in perplexity.”
“‘Why, you don’t know anything about it, I see,’ laughed Herr Sesemann. ‘You are going home today, going at once.’”
“‘Home,’ murmured Heidi in a low voice, turning pale; she was so overcome that for a moment or two she could hardly breathe.”
Rose thought of those words as she finished up with the class, and she realized she couldn’t wait until after Christmas after all to talk to Curtis. Why wait? Why continue to live with the questions … the ache of the heart? She thought about the words from the book all the way to Hummel’s Grocery. If Curtis was who she thought he was, she would find home today—or at least part of it.
Rose stamped her feet to keep them warm as she waited for Mrs. Miller to open the front door of her grocery after taking off time for lunch. The shop was a few minutes late opening … not that it mattered. For so long, during the war, it seemed like all they did was wait. Wait for news to trickle down to their community like a slow-moving stream. Wait for the items they needed to fill the store shelves.
Being pacifists, the war didn’t change the Amish community much. Men worked at the jobs they’d always worked—at least most did. Mothers cared for children and for their home. Children went to school and did the evening chores.
Yet everything had been different too.
Banners with gold stars hung in the windows of some Englisch homes. The banners meant that a son had died in the war. The Englisch grief at times turned into anger against those in her Amish community.
“To say you’re against the war is to say you’re against my son,” Mrs. Miller had declared to Dat one warm, summer afternoon, the same day they’d heard about the American landing at Normandy. “How can you live in peace when we’re sacrificing everything?”
Live in peace? Is that really how the world saw things? Ja, their Amish sons didn’t fight—well, at least not most of them—but what Rose carried inside didn’t feel peaceful at all. Sometimes the hardest war was the one unknown to others, fought in one’s own soul.
Finally, Mrs. Miller strode to the front and opened the door. Even though a cold wind blew down the back of her neck, Rose stood just outside the door and watched Curtis hauling two large crates, filled with canned goods, from the back. He set them down in one of the aisles and then pulled his kerchief out of his pants pocket, wiping his brow.
Seeing him, she didn’t know how everyone couldn’t see the resemblance—or how she had missed it before. He had the same light hair, fair skin, and a splattering of freckles across his nose. And their eyes … When she looked into Curtis’s eyes she saw the same milky-blue color that she’d noticed in her reflection in her hand mirror at home.
Unable to stand still anymore, Rose tucked her hands into her coat pockets and strode in his direction. He was squatted down, carefully lining up rows of green beans on the shelf.
Hearing her footsteps, he glanced up and his eyes lit up. “Rose!”
“Can we talk?”
“Do you need me to find something? Maybe on one of the shelves? Or …” He cocked his head. “Maybe you already found something, Rose? Something you’d like to talk to me about?”
“Ja.” She nodded. “I was thinking we’d talk about more personal things, Curtis. Like our family.”
He straightened then, standing over her by at least six inches. Yet by the look on his face it seemed he was a little boy who’d just been caught sneaking a cookie.
“You could have told me … weeks ago. You should have said you were my brother and whatnot.”
Curtis’s lips pressed into a taut line. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t apologize. Instead he simply nodded once. “I just had my lunch break, but I can see if Mrs. Miller can cover for me … since it’s an emergency.”
“Please, would you?” She covered her mouth with her hand. Her fingers were trembling. “I’d appreciate that. I can meet you at the cafe next door.”
She turned and strode out the door, trying not to run. Why didn’t I ask more? Why didn’t I ask him what he remembers? Did Curtis have any idea that what happened then impacted so much now? She might never get married. She’d be maidel forever.
“He didn’t deny he was my brother,” Rose mumbled to herself as she made her way down the sidewalk. It was strange to realize that what she was looking for had been right in front of her the whole time. What answers would he give? And was it possible that this first reunion would lead to many more?
IT ONLY TOOK A FEW MINUTES FOR CURTIS TO JOIN Rose at the Country Cafe next door. They sat in a back booth. A couple of Amish womenfolk enjoying bowls of soup glared at Rose. Most likely because of her connection with Jonathan and his serving in the military. And now to be seen in public with an Englischman … “The shame of it,” she imagined them thinking.
One of those popular, upbeat songs on the radio ended with the announcer’s excited voice talking about the Nazi doctors put on trial in Nuremberg, Germany. Rose knew a radio announcer wouldn’t be needed for everyone in her community to know she’d had lunch with an Englischman. Rose guessed Dat, Mem, and everyone up and down their country road would know by supper, since these women knew her parents well.
She leaned forward, resting her arms on the table and giving Curtis her full attention. Who cared what those wo
men thought? When the truth of who she really was came out, this lunch would seem like a small thing.
“I s’pose I should apologize.” Curtis fiddled with the napkin on the table. “I wanted to tell you, but you seemed so happy. I wasn’t sure if you knew.”
“I didn’t know. Not until recently. It was very much a surprise,” she said. “I have to say, though, that my parents—my Amish parents—gave me a gut home.”
Curtis lowered his head. His finger traced a mar on the tabletop, and she could tell that he’d wished he could have done more to help his parents from having to let her go.
“Can you tell me about it … what you remember?” Her words caught as she spoke them.
“I remember that day. It was cold, real cold, but nothing as chilling as my mother’s wailings as the train carried us away from Ohio. We’d gotten to somewhere in Nevada when she woke up with a start one night and started running down the aisle of the train. I’ll never forget her wailing as long as I live. ‘Rose, Rose.’ Dad chased her, but she didn’t want to listen when he reminded her of where she—where you—were. And why they left you. Mama was quiet the rest of the way after that. Her face was ashen gray, the same color as the coat she wore. The same color as the morning they found little Daisy gone.
“When we got to California, things got worse instead of better. It seemed as if she thought of you—cared for you—even more than she wished to care for us. Then, one day, everything changed. I heard Mama singing—just under her breath. I felt all warm inside hearing it, even though our little house was so cold. Dad asked her about it later. I think he was afraid to at the time, and Mama said that she’d had a dream. You were older and beautiful, happy and healthy, running through the fields behind the Yoder house. She was so happy watching you, and as you ran over a ridge she turned and realized that someone was standing beside her. It was a man with gentle eyes and a happy smile. He said that you were going to have a good life. He told Mama you would be all right.”
Rose studied Curtis’s face, unsure if she understood what he was telling her. Questions throbbed in her head, and her thick wool coat captured her heartbeat.
“She missed you, Rose. Christmas was always the hardest time for years to come. But whenever she talked to you she said that you were ‘under Jesus’s eye.’ If I heard that phrase one time, I heard it one hundred.”
A tingling sensation moved down Rose’s neck, into her chest, and her breathing became labored, as if the air had grown as thick as chocolate pudding. What did that mean? She lived a Plain, normal life. Rose had neither exceptional beauty nor any specific talent. She had no intentions to do anything grand with her life. Her greatest dream was marrying Jonathan and having a family of her own. If Jesus’s eye was on her, He certainly had to be disappointed.
Rose fidgeted slightly, and Curtis ordered two cups of coffee and two of the daily specials before continuing.
“Dad found work in Alameda, working for the telephone company—setting poles, of all things. Things got better, eventually.”
“Can you tell me about something else? About Daisy.”
“Ja. She died just shy of her second birthday. She was never well, couldn’t gain weight. Wherever Mama went in Charm, ladies said Daisy looked like a little china doll, mostly because she just sat in her stroller so quiet and still, unlike us boys, who never stopped running.”
“It’s so sad that our mother lost … both girls.”
He nodded. “Mama went into a dark place after Daisy died. And then you got sick, Rose. You were in a mighty bad spot. I’d watch you all the time, sure you’d be gone next. Mama couldn’t deal with it. That’s when the nightmares came. She dreamt that she went to Daisy’s grave and when she looked down at the headstone it was your name on it. It was Dad who suggested that they leave you with the Yoders. They were much better off than us. Our parents knew you’d be cared for … that you’d no doubt soon have your health back.”
“But why didn’t they just ask? Why did they leave me that way?”
Curtis shrugged. “Shame, I suppose. No one likes to feel he or she failed their family …”
Rose released a soft sigh, wondering what she’d do, thankful they cared enough to sacrifice their hearts.
“Mama wrote many letters back to Charm—to a friend she knew—and the news was all the same: you were fine. She read them over dinner, and the peace came again after that. Mama decided she didn’t want to disrupt you. She turned to God and even had two more children—twin boys, Bobby and Rodney.
“It was that year that Dad came home with a special Christmas present for Mama—a Christmas rose. And every year that was her favorite Christmas gift.”
He paused his story, eating the turkey and rice with large bites.
“It’s so hard to take everything in … but are they doing all right? Daddy, Mama, and the boys? Although I suppose the twins must be teenagers now, ja? Maybe around the age of my sister Elizabeth.” A smiled filled Rose’s face at the thought.
Curtis paused with the fork halfway to his lips. “Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe I should have started with that. They’re gone, Rose, both Dad and Mama. She died after a bad illness right before the war. And Dad died of pneumonia just six months after that. I was in boot camp when I got the news. All our brothers—well, I wish I could tell you where they ended up. When I left for the war Bobby and Rodney were still in high school. Timothy was working as a flight instructor in Texas. We didn’t do a great job writing—most guys don’t. When I sent a dozen letters and all of them returned, I called the school and they said the boys finished up early and they and Timothy had moved to work for a transportation company. Instead of returning to California I headed here. It’s always seemed more like home to me, even though I was just a little kid when we left. But mostly I wanted to see you.” He smiled. “I wish Mama was around so I could tell her it’s true. God’s hand has been on you.”
Rose sat there a moment, letting the news sink in. Her parents—both parents were gone. She’d never meet them. She’d never get to hear their side of the story. She pushed the plate away, sure she couldn’t take one more bite.
“There is one more thing, Rose, that you need to know.”
She looked at her brother. The compassion was clear on his face.
“I also came because Mom asked that whenever I had a chance I’d come check on you. She had letters from friends, but she wanted me to see for myself.”
“Thank you.” Rose reached over and took his hand, then forced a smile. “I appreciate you telling me. More than that, though, I appreciate you coming.”
“I like it here, Rose. It’s a good place. I can see it becoming home.”
Home. Heidi had returned home, but now Rose would never have the chance. Not the home she hoped to find with her father and mother, at least.
“If possible, I’d like to get to know the Yoders better. Without knowing where our brothers are, well, you’re the only family I have left.”
Rose’s lower lip trembled and suddenly she felt like a fool. She’d been so wrapped up in her feelings that she hadn’t thought about Curtis—a veteran, a good man. He didn’t have a family to return to after the war.
A true smile filled her face this time. She squeezed her brother’s hand. “I know Mem and Dat will love it. And I will too. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better. To spend time with you.”
Curtis glanced down at his watch, gasped, and then stood. He put enough money on the table for the bill and turned to her. “I need to get back or I’m not going to have a job to return to.”
He took two steps, then turned and offered an impromptu hug. She laughed and realized that even though she hadn’t been born Amish, she was raised to think like one—and hugging wasn’t something you’d ever do in public. Still, she smiled and returned the embrace. Rose knew that in the months and years to come, merging two lifestyles would take some getting used to.
Curtis waved and walked out the door, and again Rose saw the eyes of the Amish w
omen on her. It didn’t matter if they disapproved. Like a jigsaw puzzle, a few pieces of her heart connected in a way they never had before.
Eighteen
THE SNOW FELL HEAVILY THE DAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS and even though Curtis had been over to get to know her family, Rose couldn’t make herself truly get into the Christmas spirit. In just a month’s time she discovered parents, and now mourned their loss. In a month’s time she’d seen Jonathan again, and had hoped for a renewed relationship, but the days had passed and still he was nowhere to be seen. She’d even gone to church in hopes of seeing him but was disappointed. And now she sat with Mem and Mrs. Ault, sipping cups of tea and trying to pretend her mind was on their conversation and not on the man she loved.
Wrinkles furrowed Mrs. Ault’s brow. She’d chatted with Mem about quilting and canning, but Rose could see it was the last thing she wanted to talk about. Finally, the older woman got around to what was really on her heart.
“Harold is living half in the past, half in the present.” Mrs. Ault sighed. “I just wish he’d pick one. Sometimes he acts as if yesterday was the battle. But then, in the beat of a heart, he’s with us. He’s present, aware of his splintered mind. That’s the hardest part—seeing him embarrassed and unsure of his future. Days pass, and he’s sleeping more and more. I wonder if it’s because it’s acceptable to be unable to control a dream, but the worst dreams are the ones you’re awake for and still can’t control.”
As Mrs. Ault continued, Rose stood to retrieve more water for hot tea. The pounding of the door caused her to jump. She hurried over and opened it. There stood Mr. Ault panting, his eyes wild.
“It’s Harold. I fell asleep on the couch and woke realizing an hour passed and he was gone. I’ve searched the house and the barn. He isn’t anywhere. I looked for footprints in the snow, but the only ones came here. I took the liberty of looking in your barn … He’s not there.” His eyes were wide and she could see his heartbeat pounding in his temple.
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