“It seems we were too late. The woman I talked to thought my parents moved to Wisconsin less than a year ago.”
“Wisconsin.”
Tears pricked her eyes. But for the first time in ages, instead of willing them away, she relaxed enough to let them float down her cheeks. “I can’t believe I’m disappointed. I mean, what did I expect? That everything here would stay the same after all this time?”
“You’re not alone in your thinking. I suppose I thought all we’d have to do was find the strength to reach out to our relatives. That they would be here, waiting for us.”
“We were so naïve. We should have thought things through.” She wanted to say more, but she was afraid she’d already said too much. Berating herself wouldn’t do any good. “Aaron, I’ve been so silly. I let far too many years pass without staying in touch with my folks. Even though they never understood why I became Amish, I should have continued to try to keep in touch.”
The lines around Aaron’s mouth deepened as he continued to gaze at her. “I am sorry. I know you broke things off with them because of our marriage.”
“It’s not your fault. I made my choices. My parents did, too.”
“But still, Lolly, I know you are disappointed.”
The use of her English name surprised a smile from her. “Aaron, you haven’t called me that in years! Decades, even.”
“I know, but it’s still a gut name. I’ve always thought it had a nice ring to it.” Looking a bit bashful, he added, “It’s the one I fell in love with, you know.”
“I know,” she whispered, remembering that first time he took her out for a soda and she’d noticed that his blue eyes were peppered with tiny flecks of gray.
Feeling mixed up and remarkably tender, she pointed to the phone. “I guess it’s your turn now, Aaron. Do you want to call?”
“I don’t want to,” he said, echoing her words. “But I guess if you can be brave enough to call, I can, too. Who knows? Maybe my family will have moved away, too.”
She knew he only said such a thing because he was nervous. It really was so much easier to push things away instead of facing them.
Matching his tone, she said, “If that’s the case, I think we should sightsee. I’ve always wanted to visit that Amish Experience theater.”
“If Laura Beth Swartz’s family has moved to Wisconsin, too, I’ll buy us two tickets.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” she teased. But inside, she knew they couldn’t be that lucky. Everyone in their past couldn’t have left.
The tension in the room increased again as she watched him dial the number and listen to the rings. But then, instead of hanging up, he took a deep breath and began speaking.
“Ah . . . this is Aaron Keim. My wife, Lovina, and I are in town and I was hoping to see you. We’re staying at the Harmony View Inn in Bird-in-Hand. If you’d like to talk, give me a call when you get this.”
He left the phone number, then hung up.
“Well, I did it. If they call me back tonight, we can go over there later or in the morning.”
“Yes, that sounds like a gut plan.”
“Then, ah, I’ll talk to them about Laura Beth’s family. And seek their advice about what I should do.”
“That sounds like a good decision.”
He shifted on his feet, looking as uneasy as she felt. “I guess we could walk around the hotel now.”
“I would like that.”
“Yes. I mean, you’ve always admired the place.”
“You’re right. I have.”
“I’m, uh, just going to wash my hands,” he said as he strode to the bathroom and shut the door firmly behind him.
She didn’t blame him needing a moment to himself.
She needed it, too.
Do you want me to stay with you when you tell your family about your appointment? Landon asked Elsie when their driver passed the sign announcing that they’d arrived at the outskirts of Berlin.
As his question hung in the air, Elsie forced herself to remember how kind he’d been to her over the last few hours. Ever since she’d gotten the news about a possible surgery, she’d been short-tempered and on edge.
But it seemed that the more disagreeable Elsie had been, Landon had been even more generous with his patience, and even more eager to help ease her burdens.
She was grateful for his presence, but he also made her uneasy, too. For the first time, she was actually thinking how her blindness—or lack of it—would actually affect other people.
That had been a bit of a shock to her system.
She’d begun to realize that for most of her life, she’d been intent on only how her loss of vision would affect her, and her wants. Not how everyone else would have to deal with the consequences.
Now, here Landon was offering to help her out again. She was almost tempted to take him up on it, simply so she wouldn’t have to face her family’s questions by herself.
But no matter how much she might have wanted to do that, the timing wasn’t right, not for either of them. Though she knew there was a good chance they could eventually have a romantic relationship, at the end of the day, Landon was currently only a new friend. She certainly didn’t want to expect more from him than that, not with her uncertain future.
Finally, she shook her head. “Landon, danke. I am grateful for your offer, but I can’t take you up on it.”
“Why not?”
There were many reasons, but she opted to share the main one. “I truly don’t know what I’m going to tell them. As far as they’re concerned, this was simply a routine eye exam.”
“I think you should tell them the truth. You have options now, Elsie. Options that could change your life.”
“I know, but I don’t know if I’m ready to do that yet.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know it probably doesn’t, but that doesn’t change how I feel.” Though she wasn’t ready to tell Landon, there were other concerns to weigh, too. Her large family had never been shy about sharing their opinions or taking charge. If she didn’t have an idea of what she wanted to do next, the situation would turn very bad, indeed.
“Elsie, do you not trust me?”
When she turned to him, he reached for her hand. His touch soothed her, helped her remember that she wasn’t alone. But she didn’t want to take advantage of him. “I trust you, but we are still getting to know each other.”
“This can only make our relationship stronger.”
But because he was still holding her hand, still looking so intent on solving her problems, she knew he really didn’t understand how wary she was about moving forward. “If what we have is meant to be, I want to be an equal partner to you. I want to be strong, too.”
“When you can see, you’ll be an equal partner.”
Slowly, she pulled her hand from his and clasped it with her other on her lap. This was the problem, she realized. He was already counting on her getting the surgery, while she wasn’t sure what the right decision was.
He only saw her as an equal if she could see . . . while she’d lived the last ten years of her life sure that she would be all right even if she was blind.
This was a problem.
chapter twenty-two
Peter supposed the discussion he was having with Roman was long overdue. But that didn’t make it feel any less painful. It was difficult for a man to know that he’d disappointed his son—especially when he knew that his son was justified in his disappointment.
As he stood next to the wagon and watched Roman unload the supplies he’d bought early that morning, Peter felt even more at a loss for words than usual. Roman had refused his offers to help, and now seemed to be afraid to give him any responsibilities.
It was tempting to walk away, to give them both some space. The Lord knew that there had been more than one occasion when his father had walked away from him when they were at a standstill.
But he didn’t want to be a man like his father. He year
ned to be closer to his son.
At the very least, he had to try.
“Roman, I won’t be leaving you again,” he repeated, not even caring that his voice sounded as strained as he felt. “You don’t need to shoulder everything any longer.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“But you’re not letting me do my fair share.” He held out a hand to stop Roman’s continual unloading. “Son, I would have gone to the supplier with you this morning if you’d told me you were going.”
“Daed, there was no need for you to go. I handled it.”
“But I could have gone. I used to meet with the supplier by myself.”
“Daed, this is my farm, too.” Roman’s voice was harsh sounding. Clipped.
“I’m aware of that,” he soothed. “But you have other responsibilities now. You’re preaching, you’re attending to our community, plus you’ve got Amanda and little Regina, too. Trust me, there’s no need for you to put in forty or fifty hours a week on the farm, too.”
“You’re talking like I’ve been doing a poor job.”
“No, I’m saying that you mustn’t spread yourself too thin.”
A shadow of annoyance crossed his face. “I’m not.”
Knowing that his son thought he was being criticized, Peter chose his next words with care. “Sometimes trying to do too much only causes more problems. I found that out the hard way.”
“Daed, you’re making too much of this.”
“I hope I am, but part of me feels like you’re doing all this . . . to shut me out. Part of me feels like you don’t want to forgive me for having a problem. And that worries me.”
“Daed, it ain’t my place to offer forgiveness. Only the Lord can do that.”
“I know. . . .” He let his voice drift off, hoping Roman would pick up the conversation and share more of what he was feeling.
But all he did was reach for another sack of grain.
Determined to smooth things over, Peter was just about to try another tack when Marie stepped out the back door. “Peter? Roman?” she called out, her voice bright with tension. “Come inside. We need to talk.”
“Can’t it wait, Marie?”
“Nee, I don’t think so.”
Roman tossed down the sack in frustration. “Can’t anything ever just be fine around here?”
“Go ahead. I’ll make sure the horses are watered.”
After a moment’s pause, Roman nodded, then strode toward the house, impatience dogging every step.
After checking on the horses, Peter followed in his son’s steps, his pace much slower.
He, too, was curious about Marie’s summons. But to his great relief, he realized he didn’t feel that knot that used to be ever present in his stomach. Instead, he felt like he could handle anything now without any help from a bottle of liquor.
Every day he was getting stronger. That was a wonderful sensation, indeed.
Mamm, you should be in bed, not standing in the doorway, calling for Daed and Roman, Elsie said as she watched her mother pace the kitchen floor. “You’re going to get sick again and end up back in the hospital.”
“I feel much better, Elsie. I’m almost back to normal.”
“But you’re still recovering. The nurses said it would take days, if not weeks, before you were back to your regular self.”
“Elsie, I am fine. Don’t start telling me what I can and can’t do.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Elsie grumbled under her breath as she sneaked a look at Viola. Viola shrugged her shoulders, but didn’t look all that calm, either.
Already things were going poorly and she hadn’t said a word yet! For at least the twelfth time, Elsie wished that Landon would have listened to her and simply let her go inside by herself.
Instead, he’d carefully walked her inside, announced that Elsie had learned some important news at the doctor’s office, then left.
Leaving her to answer a flurry of questions, which was exactly what she’d hoped to avoid.
Now the boys were coming in, and Amanda had joined them, too. For once, she wished her grandparents hadn’t left for Pennsylvania. Her mommi had always been her greatest supporter, and Elsie would have certainly appreciated that support right now.
“Viola, do something,” she hissed into her twin’s ear. “Mamm is going to make herself ill.”
“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do,” Viola answered. “I’m just as curious as she is.” Lowering her voice, she inflected a tinge of guilt that set Elsie’s teeth on edge. “I also happen to be pretty disappointed that you had intended to keep us in the dark. Thank goodness for Landon.”
Folding her arms across her chest, Elsie turned away and walked into the living room by herself. If she couldn’t prevent what was about to happen, she was determined to at least have a place to sit.
She was sitting there grumbling to herself, silently blaming Landon, when everyone joined her.
As Elsie stared at her family, she noticed that not a one of them was looking at her in a sympathetic way. Instead, each looked wary and a little perturbed.
“Well, Elsie?” Roman said impatiently. “What news did you learn? Tell us and be quick about it. I have things to do.”
Amanda squeezed his arm. “Roman, you are being rude.”
He tapped a foot. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why we couldn’t have talked about Elsie’s appointment at supper.”
Elsie wished she was anywhere else. “Don’t worry, Roman. This won’t take long.” She took a deep breath. “Um, first I must admit that I’ve been lying to you a bit.”
Her mother raised her brows. “A bit?”
“Jah. Um . . . the truth is that my vision has been blurrier than ever. Sometimes it’s been so bad it’s made me feel a little queasy. The appointment I had today wasn’t the regularly scheduled checkup. I asked to come in.”
“But you never said a word,” her father said.
“I could tell you that I never said a word because everyone’s been so busy.” She looked around the room, pausing a second on each person’s face. “You all have been getting engaged and married.” She smiled slightly. “Or you’ve been sick and out of town. It’s been a rare thing, to have all of us in the same place at the same time.”
“That’s no reason to keep secrets,” Viola chided. “We would have made time for you. We always have.”
The gentle reminder of how Viola—and the rest of her family—had seen themselves as her caregivers was all Elsie needed to continue. “Like I was saying, I could tell you that . . . but it wouldn’t be the truth. The truth is that I haven’t wanted to face what was really happening.”
“Which was what?” Roman asked, concern now lacing his tone.
That concern made tears prick her eyes and her bottom lip quiver. It took everything she had to keep her voice calm. “The truth is that my kerataconus disease has gotten mighty bad and it ain’t going to get any better. I could be technically blind in a year’s time. Unless I have surgery,” she added.
“What kind of surgery?” her mother asked.
“It’s called a corneal transplant.”
“Transplant?” Her mother looked at Elsie’s daed in concern. Even with her impaired vision, Elsie could tell her mamm was on the verge of tears.
Elsie cleared her throat. “It’s when they replace my corneas with someone else’s corneas.”
Stunned silence met her statement.
She understood their disbelief. She felt the same way. The Amish she knew weren’t ones to embrace experimental procedures like this. Some didn’t even trust modern medicine, preferring to rely on tried-and-true treatments that had been passed down from generation to generation.
Viola was the first to speak. “What will happen if you have this surgery?”
“I might be able to see perfectly well.”
“You’d be cured? Forever?” Her mother looked like she was about to cry.
“I think so. The doktah gave me some papers to r
ead. I mean, for you all to read. He said I was a gut candidate for the surgery, because I am young and healthy.”
“Elsie, you could be cured?” Amanda said with a smile. “What a true miracle that would be!”
Elsie bit her lip. “To be honest, the idea of having another person’s corneas doesn’t set well with me.”
Her father sat down. “We’re going to have to give this a lot of thought and prayer, Elsie. I’ll talk with your mother about this, too.”
“But it’s my eyes, Daed,” she whispered. “It’s my decision.”
“But it’s our values.” He shook his head slowly. “I just don’t know what to think.”
“I’ll speak about it to the other preachers and the bishop,” Roman said. “Perhaps they could give us some guidance.”
All at once, the family started talking and planning. Elsie leaned back in the chair, listening to the chatter. Letting the words bake sales and fund-raisers and schedules float over her.
It would be so easy to let all of them lead the way, to tell her what she should do. After all, she’d done that before. Elsie realized that, to some extent, she’d always let her family take the lead. It was easier to meekly follow instead of fighting or to argue.
But this time? She couldn’t do it.
These were her eyes, and her future, and no matter how much her family might think they knew what she was experiencing or thinking or going through, she knew they didn’t.
No, this decision was up to her, and her alone. She was the one who would have to deal with the consequences, just like she was the one who had been losing her vision little by little for most of her life.
“Shtobb,” she said quietly.
But still the conversation continued, no one paying her any mind. Irritated, she repeated herself, only far more loudly. “Stop,” she said again, this time in English.
When that didn’t get their attention, she gave in to her impatience and practically yelled. “Everyone, hush now! Stop your planning!”
And like a light switch getting flipped, the room fell silent.
As a group, they stared at her. Some wore expressions of shock, others seemed irritated.
Eventide: The Days of Redemption Series, Book Three Page 15