by Susan Rohrer
Hope dashed through pedestrian traffic, across the blocks to her apartment. She ran just as fast as those cute but not-so-sensible shoes she’d worn to her audition would carry her. They really were starting to rub.
The fact that Leanne didn’t want an ambulance was no comfort, not given her financial condition. Still, she was barely even eight months. It was too soon for this to be about the baby. Or was it? Who knew if Leanne had calculated her due date right? As far as Hope knew, the closest Leanne had come to prenatal care was one visit to the free clinic. Even then, the line had been so horrendously long, she’d had to bail and get back to work.
Hope’s heart beat even faster. The more she gulped for air, the drier her throat became. This could be awful. Disturbing memories flooded back.
No. Please God, no.
Not again.
six
Hope dug deep. Sprinting up three flights of stairs after running from the theater wasn’t exactly on her exercise program. A cramp yanked from under her ribs. She winced through the pain. Rounding the last corner, she spotted her door ajar. What in the world? “Leanne?” Hope flung the door open. It clattered against the doorstop.
Leanne popped out of her seat, giddy relief on her face. “Hope! You’re here.”
Gasping, Hope scanned the room. She did a double take, disbelieving her eyes. She didn’t recognize the young Amish man who rose from the sofa, but as soon as the young woman turned, she knew immediately. “Wait, you’re... I...” Suddenly lightheaded, Hope steadied herself on Leanne’s shoulder. Delight tickled its way across her lips. “They’re the emergency?”
Leanne shrugged. “Well, yeah, I—”
Before Leanne could finish responding, Hope approached Charity. “You... You’re Charity. You don’t even have to tell me. I know it.” Hope stepped closer as Charity rose. “Come on, up. Let me look at you. Ah, Charity!”
Hope threw her arms around Charity. Why was Ivan there? She would deal with him later. Charity’s frame felt so light, yet so strong at the same time. Was she being too familiar too soon? The intensity of the embrace Charity returned gave her all the reassurance she needed.
“How did you know who I was?”
Hope pulled back to arms’ length, taking in the details of Charity’s features. “How could I not? You look even more like your mamm than you did when you were little.”
“That’s what Opa says.”
“No wonder. I know you’re all about being Plain, Charity, but I can’t help it. You’re so lovely. Just like she was.”
Charity brushed Daniel’s arm. “Aunt Hope, this is Daniel. Daniel Yoder. You probably knew his father, Mose.
“Yes! And didn’t he marry Rachel Schwartz?”
“He did.” Daniel looked toward Charity, clearly pleased.
Light danced across Charity’s eyes. “Dat asked Daniel to come with me to visit you.”
Hope extended a hand to Daniel, regarding him thoughtfully. “Well, then. My brother must trust you very much.”
“I’ll do my best to live up to that.” Daniel shook her hand. His grasp was firm and warm in hers.
For a moment, there was silence. Charity bit at her lips. Hope ping-ponged between the two of them. Just who was Daniel to Charity? Color rose to Charity’s cheeks. She fiddled with her sleeve, her eyes communicating what she didn’t speak.
Hope nodded softly at Charity, and then gazed back at Daniel. “Yes, Daniel. I’m sure you will.”
“We’ll be here in the city for three weeks, till Christmas Eve,” Daniel said. “We’ve arranged for rooms at a hostel not far from here.”
Hope shook her head. “No, no, please. It’s a fleabag. We can cancel. I want you to stay with me.”
Charity beamed. “Really? I confess I was kind of hoping you’d ask.”
“Good. Then it’s settled.” As they chattered on, Hope couldn’t help but notice Leanne’s face fall. Hope shot an encouraging grin toward her, but it didn’t seem to help. The girl just tucked her arms around her bulging abdomen and trudged away. Yes, Hope was over the moon to see Charity, but there was a part of her that ached for Leanne. She knew well what it felt like to be seventeen, the odd one out, completely alone in the world.
Hope drew her coat around herself as she led Ivan outside of her building. All the ease they’d felt together over the passing months was gone. Sure, she’d thought of little else since she’d broken things off with him, but what more could she say? With Charity and Daniel upstairs, she was on overload. She needed her space, and he would just have to understand.
Ivan turned back to Hope. “Daniel could stay at my flat.”
Hope sighed. “Ivan, no. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, your place is tiny.”
“And yours is not?”
Once again, a text alert landed. Hope checked it. “It’s Frank. I’ve gotta get back to work.”
“Okay.”
Hope shivered. “Look, I just don’t... Maybe we should detach, you know, not—”
Ivan’s face fell. “I thought you liked me. Maybe even loved me.”
Hurting Ivan was like kicking a puppy. How could she not do something to soften the blow? She brushed his arm. “I do like you. A lot. I’m just not so much on the marriage track, and you are, so—”
“What is so wrong with getting married?”
“Nothing, Ivan, but ask yourself. Why are you pushing this so soon?”
Ivan took Hope’s hand. “We could make a home. Start a family.”
Decidedly, Hope let go. She wrestled for words. There was no way to sugarcoat it. “Okay, when does your green card expire?”
“That is not it.”
Hope locked eyes with him, standing her ground. “When?”
Breaking her gaze, Ivan exhaled wearily. “I do not exactly know.”
“Liar!”
“All right, Hope. Sometime late in January. But I promise you, that is not why I—”
“Of course, it is, Ivan. I get it. You come from an oppressive country. You don’t want to have to go back, even though everyone you’re connected to is there. So, now you’re desperate for an anchor here, someone to secure your place in the free world. It’s just...I can’t be that person.”
“Believe me,” Ivan insisted. “It really is not that way. You do not understand.”
After so many years of being shunned, it took everything Hope had not to completely recoil. She did her best to stuff it inside. “Trust me, Ivan,” she assured. “I understand more than you think.”
It was kind of mind-boggling for Hope to imagine that Charity and Daniel would want to go back to work with her, what with all there was to see in New York City. Still, it pleased her that they just wanted to be with her, wherever she needed to go. When she led them into the Café Troubadour, she found Frank at the register, struggling to keep up with the rush.
“Finally. Is that what you call an hour off? Myrna, call Leanne. Get her in here,” Frank barked.
As Myrna rang Leanne’s cell, Hope fumbled for an excuse. “She said she’s not feeling so hot.”
“Well, I’m not feeling so hot about being down to four clean plates.”
Myrna hung up and grabbed her orders, “She’s not picking up.”
The agitation in Frank’s voice grew. “Call information. Call that employment agency down the street. Hire a temp. Call somebody to get me clean dishes!”
Myrna buttonholed Hope as she approached. “Girl, am I glad to see you back.” Myrna passed by Hope, spotting Charity and Daniel just beyond her. “Table for two?”
Hope intervened. “They’re with me. Myrna, this is my niece, Charity.”
Charity smiled sweetly at Myrna. “Hello, Myrna. So nice to meet you.”
Hope’s heart filled. “Wow. My niece. It feels so great to say that. And this is Daniel, her—”
With a nod, Daniel rescued her. “I’m Charity’s friend from home. Nice to meet you.”
Myrna checked toward the kitchen momentarily. “Daniel, you and Cha
rity can make yourselves comfy at whatever table you like, but fair warning, Hope. Dishwasher’s fried, Leanne’s vapor, and Frank’s having himself some kinda holiday hissy fit.”
Charity exchanged a glance with Daniel. “I can help.”
“Sure, we can,” Daniel added.
Hope put a reassuring arm around Charity. “Relax. Honeypot, you just got here.”
Charity congenially headed toward the kitchen. “Yes, and it sounds like we’re just in time.”
Back in the Café’s kitchen, Hope prepared a salad. Charity stood at the sink scrubbing. Daniel dried each cleaned plate as Charity rinsed and passed it to him.
Frank fiddled with the disabled automatic dishwasher. Hope nudged him toward Charity and Daniel. Finally, he relented. “Are you sure I can’t pay you two something for this?”
Hope stifled a grin. “Better take him up on it. He won’t offer twice.”
“I already offered twice,” Frank blustered. “This is twice.”
Charity turned back to Frank. “It’s fine. Really. We’re happy to help.”
Frank scowled in frustration at the dishwasher. “Blasted piece of high-tech junk! Thing crashes every time you blink.” He looked up at Daniel as Hope headed out with the salad. “You wouldn’t know anything about—”
Daniel shrugged apologetically.
Frank slapped his own forehead. “What in blazes am I talking about? You people have the right idea. You work with your own hands. Hands, you can depend on. Hands don’t blow a fuse. Hands don’t crash.”
Hope couldn’t help her amusement as she passed through the swinging kitchen doors. She smoothly served the salad to Goldie where he sat on a stool at the counter. He’d been her customer so long; she knew exactly what he liked. He preened over her attention, so attend to him, she did. “Half Cobb, chopped. Hold the egg yolk, crispy bacon—turkey, not pork. Light balsamic on the side.”
Goldie motioned back toward the kitchen, a sardonic sneer on his face. “So, what? Did the Mayflower just dock?”
Well accustomed, Hope took Goldie’s caustic humor in stride. “They’re not time-travelers, Goldie. They’re Amish.”
Goldie drizzled dressing on his salad. “Very quaint, but what are they doing back in the kitchen?”
Hope stuck her hand out to receive his empty dressing cup. “The dishes you’re eating off, at the moment.”
Goldie eyed Charity and Daniel uneasily through the pass-through window. “I don’t know about you, but religious people give me the willies.” He stuffed a first bite into his mouth.
Hope tipped her head. “Really?”
A spot of dressing glistened on Goldie’s chin. “Pretend to be all sweet and pure, but I watch those exposés on TV. I know better. Those people have got huge issues.”
Unintimidated, Hope answered. “They’re my family. She is, at least.”
Goldie’s jaw dropped. “Oh. What...you mean, you’re—”
With a perky smile, Hope headed back toward the kitchen. “Congratulations, Goldie. You’ve outed me. Yes. I’m Amish.”
Never had Hope been so glad to be back at her apartment. With Charity and Daniel there, it felt full in ways it never had before, and not just when it came to improvising accommodations.
Hope spread one of her handmade quilts over the sofa for Daniel. She’d never tired of looking at that particular quilt. The piecework formed an expansive tree. Laden with colorful autumn leaves, its boughs reached out against cornflower blue heavens with white clouds.
Embroidered on many of the leaves were the names of her Amish ancestors. All the dates were there, too. It chronicled the years anyone had been born or married into the Bright family, extending from the eighteenth century, all the way up to the births of Charity’s twin brothers Aaron and Isaac. How she longed to see those two boys.
Her heart warmed as Charity and Daniel leaned in to examine her work. It had been time-consuming, but knowing how that quilt would make them feel made every hour spent on it worthwhile. Charity would recognize the quality of the stitching. It was fine, just as her mother had taught her. It told of many more nights engrossed in this solitary pastime than she cared to admit to most people. Hopefully, they’d see that it also spoke of the bond she felt with those she’d left behind. They were all still part of her. They always would be.
Daniel traced the family line, all the way up the branches until he located Charity’s name. It was stitched on a vibrant yellow leaf. “There you are, Charity.”
Charity studied the quilt, transfixed. “This is so beautiful, Aunt Hope. Ah, there’s Oma and Opa. See, Daniel? Faith and Eli Bright.”
“It’s the whole Bright family tree, as much as I know, all the way from when they left Switzerland. You know, I’d always wondered why we call our grandparents Oma and Opa instead of Mammi and Dawdi like so many there do. It goes back to our Swiss-German roots.”
Charity marveled. “So, our family—we’re from Switzerland?”
“Yep...where the whole Amish faith began.” Aunt Hope gestured to the top of the quilt. “See there, in the sky? Those are pieces from my old dresses. The clouds, they came from my Sunday apron.”
Daniel traced through the generations. “How did you find out about all of this family history?”
Hope grimaced. “Would it taint it for you if I told you I got a lot of it off the Internet? You know about the Internet, right?”
Daniel nodded acceptingly. “These people from the seventeen hundreds—so, they spelled the surname B-r-e-c-h-t. When did they change the spelling to B-r-i-g-h-t?”
“Right there.” Hope pointed to the first of the Bright leaves. “See, Simon and Anna Bright. The dates track with when the family immigrated to this country. Since Brecht is pronounced the same way as Bright, I guess with the language barrier it was heard and recorded as Bright when they registered here. Now, there are Brights all over Pennsylvania.”
“And at least one New York City,” Charity smiled.
“Yeah. At least one.” Hope released a bittersweet sigh. What a joy it was to see Charity now, but all the growing up years she had missed—they were forever gone.
Hope looked around her apartment. In all of the time she’d lived there, it had never felt so much like home as it did at that very moment, even with the makeshift arrangements. It confirmed what she had always believed, that home wasn’t so much a particular dwelling place as it was just being with those that she loved. After seventeen years away from family, that sense of home was nothing less than a healing balm.
Charity covered a yawn. It had been a long day for everyone and morning would come quickly. Charity traded goodnights with Daniel, then headed into Hope’s room to get ready for bed.
Daniel stuffed a feather pillow into a cotton case. “Thank you for making room for us.”
Hope set the sofa’s back cushions aside. “You sure this will be okay? Under the circumstances I could always ask...” Hope cocked her head toward Leanne as the girl eased herself onto the futon in the spare room.
Daniel leaned in so as not to be overheard. “Charity will be with you. Leanne will have her place. I’ll be fine out here.”
There was a kindness and maturity about Daniel that Hope couldn’t help but appreciate. He reminded her of the gentler folk of her Amish upbringing. So often they put the needs of others far ahead of themselves. Already, she liked him. “Okay, then. Guten nacht, Daniel.”
Daniel smiled as he pulled back the blanket. “Guten nacht.”
Hope started to leave, then returned to him. A thought nagged her mind. “I hope I didn’t... I mean, when first I introduced you at the café, I didn’t know exactly what to call you, how exactly you and Charity...you know.”
Daniel returned an understanding smile. “We should wait to let Charity speak for herself. But between us, I have your brother’s blessing to call her my Special Friend.”
Hope nodded. “No small feat, knowing Nathan.
“He’s a good man, her Dat.”
“Yes.”
Hope headed back toward her room. “So he is.”
Standing in her bathroom with Charity, Hope could still hardly believe it. The inquisitive three year-old child she’d left behind was gone. There, splashing her face with water at her side, was a mature young woman.
Though she did her best to suppress it, regret knotted in Hope’s throat. Oh, to turn back the clock. Aunts should be close with their nieces. Why couldn’t she scurry back across the years? If she could she would gather up every frayed end between them and tie them all neatly together. She expelled a resigned breath. Those were bonds that could only be forged over time.
How naturally beautiful Charity was, her dark lashes accenting crystal blue eyes. In contrast, Hope rubbed on cold cream to remove her waterproof mascara. “I used to do that.”
Charity pressed a towel to her face. “Do what?”
“Just wash my face. Soap and water. That was before the days of volumized lashes and flawless finish foundation.”
Charity hung up her towel. “You don’t like makeup?”
Hope chuckled. That was so far from the case. “I like makeup too much, actually. Addicted in a way. To that and my smart phone. You watch. I will never set foot out of my apartment without either one.”
Charity turned to face her. “I don’t know much about phones, but I like how you look as you are.”
Hope knew it wasn’t like the Amish to flatter. Still, she didn’t entirely believe it. “There’s Plain and there’s plain.” She wandered back into her adjacent bedroom, tossing her smudged tissue into the trash.
Charity followed. “You sound like Bethany. My best friend. At home.”
Hope turned down the quilt on her queen-sized bed. On this one, she’d stitched Double Wedding Rings in soft lavender, rose, and moss green calicos, framed by candlelight muslin. She wondered if Charity would think it an odd choice of pattern for a single woman’s bed. “So, how are things? At home.” It was both strange and wonderful to call Amish Country home again, after all this time.