by Amy Clipston
Chris looked up at Paul’s deep frown. “But I was the one who told Gabriel to take the horse out to the pasture. I wanted to try to train it to prove to Dat that I was as gut as you.” He pointed a shaky finger toward his chest. “It’s my fault because Gabriel was listening to me. He looked up to me the same way I still look up to you.”
Paul’s frown crumbled, and his blue eyes misted. “That doesn’t make it your fault.”
Chris scowled. “I still don’t see how Dat and I can work this out. We’ve been estranged for too long.”
Paul folded his arms over his chest. “You and Dat are both very stubborn and headstrong.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Now you sound like Mamm.”
“Oh ya?” Paul grinned. “I suppose that’s where I get my intelligence from, then.”
Chris couldn’t stop his smirk. “And your modesty too.”
Paul chuckled. “I think you should try to talk to Dat calmly. Somehow try to keep your fiery temper in check and just talk to him. Explain that you want to work things out for the sake of the family. Maybe that will work. Whenever I’ve had problems with him, I have had to take a step back and try to speak calmly to him. If I fly off the handle, he gets defensive.”
“I know. I’ve seen his defensiveness more than once.” Chris couldn’t envision his father ever truly listening to him, but maybe it was time for him to give it a try.
Suddenly he realized what Paul had said.
“Wait. You’ve had problems with Dat?”
“Of course I have. Do you really think you’re the only one who ever comes up against his stubborn and critical nature? It’s true that we have our love of horses in common, but I guess you’ve missed all the times he’s tried to tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“No, I didn’t know. I guess I was too wrapped up in myself, too afraid I was the only son he thought ever failed him.”
Paul sighed, and his eyes softened again. “I’m really sorry.”
“For what?”
“I’m sorry he’s compared you to me. I had no idea.” He leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. “I can’t imagine how awful that’s been for you. I’m surprised you don’t hate me.”
“I could never hate you. You’re mei bruder.”
“Thanks.” Paul looked toward the door. “Mamm has been gone for quite a while now. She must be helping Rosanna put the girls to bed.” He pointed toward the counter where a cake saver sat. “I’d hate to see that fresh chocolate cake get stale. Should we just cut the cake ourselves?”
“Now you’re talking.” It was good to be home.
As he examined the cake saver, he recalled the surprise party and delicious cake Emily had made for him. A sharp ache radiated through his whole body. Chris missed Emily so much. Did she miss him too?
CHAPTER 23
EMILY TIPTOED DOWN THE STEPS TO THE KITCHEN. SHE held a lantern up to guide her way through the dark house. After lying awake in bed for hours, she had decided to make herself some Sleepy Time herbal tea as a last-ditch effort to find sleep. Warm milk did not appeal to her tonight.
As her toes touched the bottom step, she heard her father’s snores rumbling from her parents’ bedroom on the other side of the family room. Smiling, she shook her head. How does Mamm sleep with that racket beside her?
Emily set the lantern on the counter. Then she filled the kettle with water and placed it on the burner. When she turned, she gasped as a figure came through the doorway.
“Mamm.” Emily took deep breaths in an attempt to slow her racing pulse. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry.” Mamm walked over to her. “Having trouble sleeping?”
“Ya.” Emily held up the box of tea bags. “I was going to try some herbal tea.”
“May I join you?”
“Ya.” Guilt pricked at Emily’s nerves. “Did I wake you? I tried to be quiet.”
“No.” Mamm pointed toward the doorway. “Don’t you hear that bear growling in my bedroom?”
A laugh burst from deep in Emily’s chest, and she clamped her hand over her mouth. Oh, it was so good to laugh again!
“Your dat has kept me awake for the past hour. Even though I’ve poked him and asked him to roll over, the snoring hasn’t stopped. I was staring at the ceiling and begging God to give me patience when I saw the light from your lantern. You most certainly didn’t wake me up, but I’m thankful for the company.” She placed a hand on her hip. “Now, why are you awake?”
“I just can’t sleep.” Emily shrugged and then retrieved two mugs from the cabinet.
“Emily, you can be honest with me.”
Emily set the mugs on the table. “All right. I can’t stop thinking about Chris. I imagine he has arrived at his parents’ haus by now, and I keep wondering how things are going for him.” She ran her fingers over the cool ceramic mug. “I hope he and his dat can work things out. And I hope he can be froh.”
She faced her mother as her eyes stung with tears. “I have a hole in my heart, and I don’t know what to do about it. Do you think he has thought about me since he left here?”
“Ach, mei liewe.” Mamm hugged her, and Emily held her breath to prevent herself from crying. “I’ve suffered with a broken heart before, and I promise you it will get easier. It won’t sting like this forever. Just give yourself time to heal.”
Emily sniffed and wiped her eyes. “How do I manage the pain until it eases?”
Mamm suddenly snapped her fingers. “I know just the thing.” She motioned for Emily to follow her.
Emily pointed to the stove. “The kettle.”
“It will be fine. We’ll get something from my room and be right back.” Mamm lifted the lantern. “I’ll need both hands, so you’ll have to hold this up so I can see.”
Emily walked behind her mother as they made their way through the family room to her mother’s bedroom. Emily stood in the doorway as Mamm set the lantern on the floor in front of her hope chest, and the soft yellow light illuminated part of the large room. The warm glow of the light seemed a stark contrast to the harsh, thundering snores reverberating from the bed at the far end of the room.
Mamm moved to her dresser and opened a small box. She picked up something and then put the top back on the box before returning to the hope chest. The glow of the lantern glinted off a small key in Mamm’s hand before she slipped it into the lock and turned it.
Mamm lifted the top of the chest, handed the lantern to Emily, and began searching in the glow of the light. Emily peeked over Mamm’s shoulder. She breathed in the sweet scent of cedar. Mamm sifted past linens and a few small boxes before she lifted a small book.
“I found it,” she whispered.
Dat gave three short snorts and breathed in deeply before turning over.
Emily clapped a hand to her mouth to prevent a laugh from bursting through her lips.
Mamm rolled her eyes and pointed toward the door. Emily moved to the doorway. Mamm closed the lid, locked the hope chest, and slipped the key into the pocket of her robe. She carried the book out of the room, gently closed the door, and walked through the family room with Emily.
The kettle started to whistle as soon as they entered the kitchen. Emily poured two mugs of tea before sitting down at the table beside Mamm.
“What is that?” Emily pointed to the small book.
“It belonged to your mammi.” Mamm pushed the book toward her. “It was her favorite devotional, and she marked her favorite verses. This book helped me through some really difficult times, and I thought maybe it would help you too.”
Emily admired the frayed cover. It featured an illustration of a rose and the title God’s Love for You. She flipped through pages decorated with beautiful drawings of nature scenes and flowers, accompanied by Scripture verses. Many of the pages had verses that had been underlined in light pencil. She looked up at Mamm.
“Did you mark any of these verses?”
“No, only Mammi did. I could have erased them, but I left them that
way so I could feel as if I were reading the Scriptures with her.”
Emily’s chest squeezed. As usual, Mamm knew just what Emily needed before she did. “This is perfect. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.” Mamm looped her arm around Emily’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze.
AFTER THEY FINISHED THEIR CUPS OF TEA, EMILY CARRIED the devotional up to her room. She propped up her pillows and leaned against them while she perused the book by the light of her lantern and her favorite pumpkin spice–scented candle. She read through several verses, but when she came to one, she stopped and stared.
Mammi had underlined it three times and then drawn a heart beside it. The Scripture verse was Psalm 59, verse 16: “But I will sing of your strength, in the morning I will sing of your love; for you are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble.”
Tears sprang to Emily’s eyes and then flowed down her cheeks. Oh, that verse spoke right to her soul. She whispered it to herself, repeating it until she had committed it to memory. It was as if Mammi had picked that verse out just for her. It was as if Mammi could feel Emily’s heartbeat and had sent the book to offer her solace.
Hugging the book to her chest, Emily blew out the candle and switched off the lantern before she leaned back against the pillows. She closed her eyes, prayed for Chris, and then cried until she fell asleep.
CHRIS’S ARMS AND BACK ACHED AS HE FOLLOWED PAUL TO the backyard of Paul’s house. Chris and a crew of three other men had spent the morning reframing the two exterior walls damaged by the fire. One wall included the stove, sink, and counter space, and the other housed cabinets. It was a miracle the fire damage was contained to only two walls, but the smoke damage had quickly spread throughout the house.
A group of women had spent the morning cleaning. The aroma of smoke, charred wood, and burnt fabric hung in the house like a dense fog, and all the volunteers donned respirators to protect their lungs.
Chris and Paul had picked up sandwiches, brownies, chips, and bottles of water donated by a community member and now sat across from each other at a picnic table. After a silent prayer, Chris unwrapped a ham and cheese sandwich and took a bite. His legs were grateful for the opportunity to sit after working all morning.
“I can’t believe it’s Friday already.” Paul opened his bottle of water. “The week has flown by.”
“It has.” Chris pointed toward the large house. “There’s plenty to do, but I think we’re making gut progress. The community has really stepped up to help you. I think you’re right that you’ll be back in your haus by Christmas. Maybe sooner.”
“I hope so.” Paul took a long draw from the bottle, angled his head to the side, and scrunched his brow. “Why do you seem so surprised the community is helping? You’ve seen it before. You’ve grown up here. Remember when the Bender family’s barn burned down? I think you were maybe ten.”
“Ya, I remember that well,” Chris said before biting into the sandwich again.
“The whole community came out and rebuilt that barn in a few days. That’s what we do.”
“Ya, that’s true.” Chris took in the sight of the house. His brother was benefiting from the Amish community’s generosity, but what would it take for Chris to actually feel as if he deserved all the community had to offer? The question burned deep in his soul.
“What’s going on in your head? You look as though you’re contemplating the meaning of life or something.”
Chris met his brother’s gaze, and Paul cocked an eyebrow.
“Nothing,” Chris mumbled. “I’m just grateful for all the help you’re getting.”
Paul took another long gulp of water. “Dat said he had some business to take care of this morning, but he’d come by this afternoon to help us with the walls. I think it will go quicker with another set of hands.”
Chris swallowed a groan. Except for meals, he’d managed to steer clear of his father that week, but it would be difficult when they were working side by side. He bit back the bitter taste of shame. Avoiding Dat was immature. He had to stop behaving like a boy and face his father like a man.
“Have you talked to him yet?” Paul seemed to sense Chris’s evasion.
“No.” Chris moved his fingers over the condensation on his bottle of water to avoid his brother’s curious stare.
“I didn’t think so. How long are you going to wait?”
“I don’t know.” Chris shrugged. “I guess until the perfect opportunity presents itself.”
Paul remained silent. Chris could feel his disapproval, and it sent a familiar resentment bubbling through him. He didn’t need Paul to be disappointed in him too.
“Look, Paul.” Chris leaned forward and lowered his voice in an effort to keep their conversation private. “Dat hasn’t tried to talk to me either. He didn’t exactly give me a warm welcome when I got here, and he hasn’t said much to me since then, except to ask me to pass the mashed potatoes at supper.”
Paul sighed. “You’re right. I have noticed that, but one of you has to make the first move.”
“I just don’t know what to say to him.” Chris squeezed the bottle of water, and the plastic crackled loudly in protest. “I don’t know how to open the conversation, and I know I’m going to lose it when he mentions Gabriel.”
“He just might surprise you when that subject comes up.”
Chris’s gaze snapped to Paul’s. “What do you mean?”
It was Paul’s turn to lean in close and lower his voice. “I think if you two talked, you’d see you are both feeling guilty.”
“What do you mean?”
Paul nodded slowly. “I told you, he shouldn’t have bought that horse. And a few weeks ago he finally admitted it to me.”
Chris blinked as the words soaked through him.
“So tell me about Bird-in-Hand,” Paul said, thankfully changing the subject. “You haven’t shared what it was like working in the harness shop with Onkel Hank. I want to hear all about it.”
“I really enjoyed it, and I learned a lot. Apparently I have a talent for leatherworking.” Chris took another bite of his sandwich.
“No kidding.” Paul grinned.
“I actually designed a wallet and coin purse that quickly became bestsellers.”
As he detailed the story of how customers were looking for souvenirs with a horse and buggy design, and how he drew the new design, Paul periodically nodded. He longed to tell Paul about his friendship with Emily, but he didn’t want to run the risk of becoming emotional in public. Instead, he stuck to the subject of leatherworking and soon their lunches were gone.
“I guess we’d better get back to work,” Chris said.
“Ya, you’re right.” Paul popped the last piece of brownie into his mouth, then grinned at Chris.
“What?” Chris asked, feeling self-conscious. “Why are you grinning at me like that?”
“I was just thinking about something you said Tuesday night.” Paul shoved his trash into the empty chip bag. “You said Dat has compared you to me, said you weren’t as gut at horse training as I am.”
“Really, Paul?” Chris deadpanned. “You’re laughing about that?”
“No, no, no.” Paul shook his head and frowned. “Just give me a chance to finish. What I’m getting at is I’ve never seen you as excited about horse training as you are about leatherworking. I think you’ve found your calling.”
“Do you think so?” Chris immediately wanted to hide his face with his hands. He loathed sounding like such a needy moron. But he had to admit he craved his brother’s approval.
“Ya, I do.” Paul stood and tossed his trash into a nearby can. “Let’s get back to work.”
Chris deposited his trash in the can and followed Paul back to the house. As he pulled on his respirator, Paul’s words about leatherworking being Chris’s true calling echoed through his mind. But if Chris was meant to work in leatherworking, how could he pursue that dream while living under his father’s roof?
CHRIS LIFTED THE RECEIV
ER AND DIALED ONKEL HANK’S phone shanty later that evening. After quite a few rings, Aenti Tillie’s words sounded through the phone line.
“You’ve reached Hank and Tillie Ebersol. Please leave us a message, and we will call you back. Thank you.”
After the beep, Chris took a deep breath. “Hi, Aenti Tillie and Onkel Hank. This is Chris. I want to let you know I’m fine. I arrived late Tuesday night. The trip was long, but it was gut. Everyone is doing well.” He paused and leaned back in the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. “I’ve been helping with the work on Paul’s haus. The structural damage was mostly confined to two walls, but there’s still a lot of work to be done.”
Emily’s gorgeous face filled his mind, and he took a deep breath before speaking again. “Aenti Tillie, I have a favor to ask of you. Would you please give a message to Emily? Please tell her I’m sorry I didn’t say good-bye to her. Tell her I really miss her, and, well . . .” Regret, longing, and affection tangled inside of him. There was much more he wanted to say to Emily, and so many things he should have said to her. Leaving them on a voice mail message for his aunt and uncle, however, was not the proper way to relay all those things to her.
“I just want to thank you both for everything,” he continued. “I really enjoyed staying with you, and I’m so grateful for everything Onkel Hank and Leroy taught me. I will talk to you soon. Good-bye.”
Chris hung up the phone and sagged in the chair. Regret held him hostage, filling his stomach with painful knots. He pushed himself up from the chair and started toward the back door.
When he entered the house, he found everyone sitting in the family room. He slipped into the room unnoticed and sat in his favorite faded blue wingchair in the corner. Across the room, Dat and Paul discussed horse prices as Mamm and Rosanna spoke softly, talking about their sewing projects.
Chris settled back into the chair, breathing in the familiar scent of the old, worn fabric. Ever since Chris was a little boy, he had enjoyed sitting in this chair. Turning to his left, he spotted Gabriel’s favorite—an old, rickety rocker that had belonged to their grandmother. His lungs squeezed as memories of quiet Sunday afternoons reading in this room rained down on him.