The Days of Redemption [03] Eventide

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  “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 read. 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.

  At the moment, she didn’t care how anyone else felt. She wanted to speak her mind and be heard. Before any of them could chastise her for speaking like she did—or begin to argue yet again—she stood and started talking fast.

  “Roman, yes, please do speak to the bishop about this surgery. But I’m not saying I’m going to do it. I may not.” Actually, right at this moment, she didn’t want to have the surgery.

  “But—”

  She neatly cut him off. “We don’t need to talk about this, Roman.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” Viola warned.

  “Nee. I don’t think so.” She took a deep breath, feeling braver by the second. “Actually, I think it is time for me to make some decisions, especially since it concerns my eyes.”

  “But, Elsie,” her mother said, “I don’t think you’re thinking through things clearly. You need our help.”

  Ironically, Elsie felt as if for the first time she was actually thinking with a clear head.

  While it was true she couldn’t see well, she realized that was really all that was wrong. She was just as capable and strong as the rest of the family. And maybe even more so, too, because she’d been living with a disability while everyone else had not.

  Indeed, no matter what happened, she would be the person who had to live with the consequences and repercussions.

  Weighing her words carefully, she said, “Mamm, Daed, right now, I can’t help but think about Mommi and Dawdi. They both made decisions that none of us knew about for years and years and years.”

  “But they regret that,” her father said.

  “Do they? Do you think they would have changed things all that much if they could do it again? Something tells me that Mommi and Dawdi are glad they got married. They are glad that they stayed Amish. I think they’re glad they didn’t burden their children with their pasts, either.” She shrugged.

  Viola, ever impatient, scowled. “Twin, what does this have to do with you getting new corneas?”

  “They made their choices and, for better or worse, they’ve lived with them. No matter what I decide to do, it will affect the rest of my life. It sounds like both Mommi and Dawdi did things that their parents and siblings didn’t understand, but they did them anyway.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to act the same way,” her mother said.

  “I realize that. But I also realize that at the end of each day, when they said their prayers at night, they had to live with their decision. For better or worse, at the very least they knew that the things they decided were what they wanted, not what someone else thought they should do. That is what I need. I need to be able to go to sleep, feeling at peace with myself.”

  Taking a deep breath, she continued. “I need to know that even if I’m
not proud of my decision—or if you aren’t proud—that I did it because it was what I wanted. What I needed. I need to be able to stare in the dark and know I did what I wanted—not because I wanted to make the rest of you happy.”

  She turned and left them, stumbling a bit on the edge of a chair before she climbed the stairs and slowly made her way to her bedroom.

  Finally, she realized. Finally, she’d grown up. It had only taken twenty-two years.

  chapter twenty-three

  “Nice of you to show up today,” Daniel said when Landon entered their office a little after three in the afternoon.

  After his adventure with Elsie, Landon had gone home and taken a short twenty-minute walk around his property. He needed some time alone to decompress and think about everything that had just happened. And to give thanks to the Lord for the many blessings He’d given them.

  He was still amazed that Elsie could one day be perfectly fine.

  And now that he was certain she was going to see one day? That erased the last of his doubts about marriage. Elsie was most definitely going to be the perfect wife for him.

  Eager to discuss Elsie and the doctor’s news, he’d hitched up his buggy and drove to the office.

  But obviously his brother wasn’t quite ready to hear his good news. “I’m not that late, Daniel.”

  “Late enough. Landon, you said you’d only be gone the morning. It’s almost closing time.”

  “We rarely work nine to five. Don’t act like I don’t put in my time at other hours. What can I help you with?”

  Daniel held up a stack of folders. “All of this. I’ve been trying to settle accounts and schedule jobs. It’s making me crazy.”

  Landon hid a smile. His brother’s strengths centered on working with his hands and organizing teams—not numbers or the hundred details that needed to be double-checked before each job began or was billed.

  “Hand it all over. I’ll work on it here for a while, and take home the rest.”

  “Danke.” Looking a bit sheepish, Daniel said, “Sorry. You know how much I hate paperwork.”

  “I know.” Taking a seat at their long conference table, Landon began organizing the folders by date. “Sometimes I wonder how you got so much done before I got here.”

  “Edith helped.”

  “Your Edith is a good woman.” Landon opened the top folder, picked up a pencil, and began carefully reading about the job, what materials had already been ordered, and what still needed to be taken care of. He enjoyed the work, and enjoyed making sense of so much that his brother considered gibberish.

  “So, what did the doktah say?”

  “That her eyes have gotten worse, but there’s a chance she could see much better with surgery.”

  “Truly?”

  Daniel’s surprise was palpable and he scooted back from his work.

  “Jah. God is so gut! I was trying to make sense of having Elsie as a wife even though she would always be visually impaired, but now it seems that may not be the case.”

  Daniel slapped him on the back. “I’m pleased for ya. This is mighty gut news, indeed. When is the operation?”

  “I don’t know.” Feeling a bit awkward, he added, “Actually, she hasn’t decided to move forward with the operation a hundred percent. She wanted to talk to her family first.”

  “That makes sense, but surely they would be all for the operation. I imagine it will be costly, but I bet everyone we know will help pitch in for the bills.”

  Roman nodded. “We can do a charity auction, too. Maybe even a couple of bake sales.”

  “We’ll all do what we can to make things as easy as possible for her and her family, for sure.” Grinning, Daniel slapped him on the back again. “This is truly a blessing for ya, Landon. Why, if Elsie can see, she won’t be a burden for you.”

  Something about his brother’s words sounded too harsh. “It’s not quite like that. She’s not a burden now.”

  “You know what I mean. I meant that she’ll be a normal woman now.”

  That sounded even worse—partly because Landon realized that he’d thought just about the same thing. “She is normal.”

  Daniel looked like he was about to argue, then took a long look at him and held up his hands in mock resignation. “Sorry. I can see that you’re not going to be happy with anything that I say about this. I’ll just say that I hope to meet her soon. Remember that we asked you to bring her over?”

  “I remember. How about tomorrow night, if it’s okay with Elsie? Will that work for Edith, do ya think?”

  “It should be fine. Hey, who would have thought that we’d end up like this? Here we are, having to check with our women to even plan a meal!”

  Put that way, Landon had to agree that it was something that would have sounded far-fetched even five years ago. “Mamm and Daed would get a bigger kick out of this than we are.”

  “I’ll say. Mamm spent half her time trying to get us to come inside for supper.”

  Feeling better and more at ease, Landon went back to his paperwork. Finally, he felt that he was getting everything he’d dreamed about when he’d started to make plans to come to Berlin. He wanted to work beside his brother, have his own little plot of land, and find a woman to have by his side for the next twenty or thirty years.

  Now it seemed as if it was all coming together better than he’d ever imagined.

  Lovina felt as if they were long-lost celebrities in their own hometown. No matter where they went, once their names were given and their connections recalled, she and Aaron were greeted with hearty handshakes, slaps on the back, and welcoming smiles.

  She’d been stunned, as had Aaron. They’d had many talks, imagining how everyone had either forgotten them or still held on to bitter feelings about the way they’d left their community and had chosen to stay out of touch.

  Little by little, they’d found themselves sharing more about their lives. Talking about Ohio and their six children. Proudly talking about their many grandchildren.

  And reaching out to others, too.

  By her side, Aaron seemed to smile more. She’d occasionally glimpse a side of him that she’d first been enchanted with all those years ago.

  But now, as they exited the taxicab and walked toward the front walk of Karl’s house, Lovina knew it would be difficult to say who was more nervous or uneasy.

  “I sure wish we had a way to leave easily,” she joked. Since the taxi had left, they were going to have to walk several miles if no one at the Swartz house was willing to give them a ride back to the inn.

  “Jah, this visit puts a whole new perspective on putting faith in others, don’tcha think?”

  “Do . . . Do you wish you would have asked someone to join us?”

  “Nee. This is between me and Karl. And you, of course.”

  Aaron would probably never have any idea what his words meant to her. For most of their married life, she’d felt disconnected from Aaron’s first life. He kept silent about his first wife and child, but she knew he harbored regrets and feelings that he kept from her. But lately, it seemed like they were growing closer to each other, culminating in this very moment, where they were standing together, ready to meet his worst fears head-on.

  With that in mind, she stepped forward and knocked. “Let’s get this over with then.”

  A step behind her, he eyed the door like it might bite him. “It is time.”

  Before they could say anything more, the door was opened by a man almost as old as them.

  She didn’t recognize him, of course. But by Aaron’s sudden tensing of muscles she knew that the man had to be Laura Beth’s brother.

  After a few seconds’ pause, it was obvious that he knew who Aaron was. A brief intake of air was followed by a look of surprise and disbelief.

  And quickly followed by an ugly scowl. “Aaron Keim. I never thought
I’d see your face again.”

  “I wanted to see you, Karl.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we have a lot to talk about.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  To Lovina’s amazement, her husband smiled. “Karl Swartz, you’ve sent me letters for well on forty years, blaming me for Laura Beth’s death. Did you never think we’d meet again?”

  Karl didn’t say anything. Instead, he gripped the side of the door more tightly, as if he was considering shutting it in their faces.

  Lovina felt herself aching to say something, to say anything to ease the tension between them. But for the life of her, she could think of nothing that would make Aaron’s job easier to bear.

  “I didn’t kill Laura Beth and Ben, Karl.”

  “You were driving the buggy.”

  “I was.”

  “And you were arguing. You were yelling at her.” He was visibly upset. The skin covering his jaw tightened, turning his haunted expression into something more pained. “That is the last memory I have of my sister, Aaron. And of my nephew. Of her cringing while you yelled at her. Of your boy sitting silently, watching the exchange. That is not how their last moments on earth should have been.”

  “I agree,” Aaron said quietly.

  Karl blinked. “What? You’re not going to deny what you did? You’re not going to deny what happened?”

  “I can’t. It was a terrible thing. Those last moments will continue to haunt me, just as they always have. But what happened was an accident.”

  “Are there such things as accidents?”

  “I hope and pray so,” Aaron replied solemnly. “I couldn’t bear the idea that Laura Beth and Ben were meant to die that day.”

  Lovina noticed something flicker in Karl’s eyes, right as the door opened wider behind him.

  “What is going on?” a man asked before narrowing his eyes at the two of them. “Aaron Keim, is that you?”

  “Jah. And this is my wife, Lovina.”

  “New wife,” Karl grumbled.