A Place of Peace

by Amy Clipston

  She needed to talk to someone who understood. She needed some of her family behind her.

  She needed to go see Hannah.

  4

  After nodding to her children, nieces, and nephews carousing in the playground behind the bakery under the supervision of her niece, Beth Anne balanced the pies and cookies on her arms and climbed the steps leading to the back door. The sweet aroma of freshly baked bread filled her senses while she placed the desserts on the counter.

  She then crossed the floor and scrubbed her hands in the sink. The large open kitchen had plain white walls, and keeping with their tradition, there was no electricity. The lights were gas powered, as was the row of ovens.

  Due to the humidity of the summer, they did the bulk of the baking in the early morning in order to keep the heat to a minimum. Five fans ran through the power inverters and gave a gentle breeze. Nevertheless, the kitchen was still very warm. The long counter included their tools, plain pans, and ordinary knives and cutlery.

  Beth Anne made her way to the long counter to begin separating the desserts and getting them ready for sale.

  “Aenti Beth Anne!” Lindsay, her teenaged niece, rushed over, plucking a pie from the stack and grabbing a knife. “Thank goodness you’re back! The tourists haven’t stopped since you left. I don’t know how we’re going to make it through the summer.” She began slicing the pie and placing the pieces on small paper plates to sell individually. “Amanda and Ruthie are running the front, but I need to get back out there.”

  “Gut,” Beth Anne said. She was glad two of her sister Kathryn’s daughters, Amanda and Ruthie, had joined them at the bakery. Without the girls’ help, they would’ve had to hire someone outside of the family.

  “How did your visit go?” Elizabeth, her mamm, sidled up to Beth Anne and began helping prepare the pastries for the front counter.

  “I guess it was gut.” Beth Anne began separating the cookies. “Abraham was very quiet. Lilly said he’s having a hard time, which is to be expected. They appreciated the food very much.”

  “Dat and I will go visit them tonight,” Elizabeth said. “I really liked Bertha. The Lord decided it was her time, but we’ll certainly miss our friend.”

  Beth Anne continued to separate the cookies, while her thoughts were back at Edna’s home. She’d been surprised to see Miriam there with Abby. Beth Anne had often wondered what had become of Miriam and why she had truly left. Lilly’s story about Miriam pursuing her dream of becoming a nurse didn’t fit the Miriam Lapp that Beth Anne had known and called her dear friend.

  Although Beth Anne was hurt and disappointed Miriam had broken her brother’s heart, she had also missed her friend.

  Kathryn crossed the kitchen with a tray full of whoopie pies. “Glad you’re back,” she said to Beth Anne. “It’s been crazy here today. We may need to hire some more bakers. How are the Lapps?”

  “They’re devastated.” Beth Anne shook her head. “I think I’ll cook some more for them tonight and stop over again in the morning.”

  “I’ll make some chicken supreme tonight,” Kathryn said. “We can visit together.”

  Beth Anne nodded. “Sounds good.”

  “I can help you wrap those, Aenti Kathryn, after I take these out front,” Lindsay said over her shoulder as she carried the tray full of individually wrapped pieces of pie toward the front.

  “Danki.” Kathryn stood at the far end of the long counter and began wrapping the pies.

  Beth Anne sidled up to her mother. “I visited with Edna for a few minutes when I picked up the desserts.”

  Elizabeth wiped her hands on a towel. “How was she?”

  “I think her arthritis is getting the best of her.” Beth Anne cut her eyes to her sister and found her engrossed in wrapping the whoopie pies. She knew Kathryn would be upset as soon as Miriam’s name was spoken, since Kathryn was very emotional and defensive of their family—much more so than Beth Anne or Sarah Rose. “I was also surprised Edna had two house guests.”

  Elizabeth’s eyebrows lifted, her curiosity piqued.

  “Miriam and Abby.” Beth Anne braced herself for her mother’s reaction.

  “What?” Kathryn was standing next to Beth Anne before she could blink. “Miriam had the arrogance to come back after the way she abandoned Timothy? And Abby came back too? I can’t believe it!”

  “Kathryn,” Elizabeth began, “you must calm down. Remember what Jesus teaches us about forgiveness.” She then turned to Beth Anne. “How are they doing?”

  “Miriam seems … unhappy.” Beth Anne leaned against the counter. “She said she was doing fine, but there was something in her eyes. She looked sad.”

  Kathryn jammed her hands on her hips. “She should be after what she did to Timothy.”

  “Why are you being so harsh toward Miriam?” Beth Anne asked. “You were the one who defended your sister-in-law Anna Mae when she came to visit after being shunned. You stood by her when her father didn’t welcome her back for Christmas.”

  “This is different,” Kathryn snapped. “Anna Mae was always honest with her intentions. Miriam lied and hurt Timothy badly.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “You’ve always seen yourself as Timothy’s other mother since he’s your younger brother, but you have to take a step back. Anna Mae had her reasons for leaving, and Miriam surely had hers also. It’s not your place to judge.”

  Kathryn scowled. “No, it’s not my place to judge, but it’s my place to defend my brother. She shattered his heart, and she’s not to be trusted.”

  “Kathryn …” Elizabeth’s eyes were serious. “'Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.'”

  Nodding with defeat, Kathryn frowned.

  “Does Miriam have a family?” Elizabeth asked.

  Beth Anne shook her head. “She’s not married and she didn’t finish nursing school. I got the impression she was sorry she’d left.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I’m surprised.”

  Kathryn headed back to the other end of the counter. “I can’t believe you even talked to her. Timothy would not be froh.”

  “It’s the Christian thing to do,” Beth Anne said. “Besides, it’s been nearly four years. It’s time to heal.”

  Lindsay bounced through the door and made a beeline to Kathryn. “Aenti Kathryn, I finished putting the pie out on the counter. I’m ready to help you with the whoopie pies and continue my Dietsch lesson for today.”

  Soon Kathryn and Lindsay were engrossed in a discussion of Kathryn’s favorite hymns that were sung in German. Relieved Kathryn was distracted, Beth Anne moved closer to Elizabeth.

  “Mamm, this may sound crazy, but I think Miriam’s return to Lancaster County might be the Lord’s work,” Beth Anne whispered. “Perhaps God is using this solemn circumstance to bring closure and healing to Timothy and even to Miriam. I know Timothy never got over Miriam’s leaving. It’s not my business, but I don’t think he’s going to commit to Naomi. I know they’ve only been seeing each other for about a month now, but I don’t see love in his eyes like I did when he was with Miriam. The passion isn’t there.”

  Elizabeth gave a wide smile. “You are a very smart fraa, Elizabeth Anne.”

  Beth Anne felt her cheeks heat. “If I agree with you, then I’m prideful, but I guess that means you think I’m right about Miriam and Timothy?”

  Elizabeth chuckled and looped her arm around Beth Anne’s shoulder. “I do think you’re right. I’ve watched Timothy mope and mourn Miriam for too long. It’s time he move on.”

  “I’ll talk to him tonight and tell him he should see Miriam and talk it out with her. Maybe then he can find some happiness and settle down.”

  “You’re a gut sister, Beth Anne.” Elizabeth lifted a tray of cake and cookies. “I’m going to take this out front and check on the girls.”

  Beth Anne glanced over at Kathryn and Lindsay. When her sister’s gaze met hers, Kathryn frowned. Beth Ann
e hoped she was right about Miriam. She hoped Timothy would speak to her and would finally find some peace.

  Miriam stood on the wide, sweeping porch of her older sister’s large farmhouse. Glancing down, she assessed her purple T-shirt, blue jeans, and sandals, wishing she’d worn something nicer. She touched her hair, which hung loosely past her shoulders. A frock and prayer kapp would’ve been more appropriate, but Miriam had disposed of her Amish clothing soon after relocating to Indiana.

  Miriam gave herself a mental shake. She was being too tough on herself by worrying about her attire. Hannah was the only member of her family who hadn’t judged her before she left for Indiana. Taking a deep breath, Miriam stood straighter and licked her lips. She then knocked on the front door and held her breath.

  Footsteps sounded and then the door creaked open, revealing the young and pretty face of an adolescent girl with dark hair, yellowish eyes, and matching yellowish skin.

  “Lena Joy,” Miriam whispered.

  Remaining beyond the cracked door, the girl raised her eyebrows in question. “Don’t I know you? Aren’t you my Aenti Miriam?”

  Miriam took a cautious step toward her. “That’s right. I’m your Aenti Miriam. Your mamm is my sister.”

  “I haven’t seen you in a long time. Let me get my mamm.” Lena closed the door and yelled something.

  Quick footsteps rushed toward the door, which swung open, revealing Hannah beaming with her arms opened wide. “Miriam! I was hoping you’d come.”

  Miriam launched herself into her older sister’s embrace and held on for dear life as tears spilled from her eyes. “Hannah,” she whispered into her sister’s shoulder.

  “It’s so gut to see you,” Hannah murmured, rubbing her back. “Willkumm heemet!”

  “Danki. I just wish I could call it home.” Pulling out of the embrace, Miriam swiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “To me, this will always be your home. Please, come in.” Hannah grasped Miriam’s arm and led her into the spacious den where Lena Joy stood with two younger children, a boy and another girl. “Kinner, this is your Aenti Miriam. Miriam, I’d like you to meet Lena Joy, Ian, and Mary.”

  Miriam smiled. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “You’re not Amish,” Mary said, pointing to Miriam’s clothes. “How come you’re English?”

  “Mary!” Hannah shook her head. “I’m sorry about that. Mary is only five and doesn’t know when to be quiet.”

  “It’s okay.” Miriam squatted down to the little girl’s level. “When you were a baby, I left Gordonville and moved to Indiana. I live there now, and I’m not Amish anymore.”

  “How come?” Ian asked, stepping over to her.

  “I guess I wasn’t sure I wanted to be Amish. I wanted to try the English life for a while. I sort of lost track of time and just stayed English.”

  Lena Joy gave a cautious frown. “Did you come because Grossmammi died?”

  Standing, Miriam faced her eldest niece. “Ya, that’s true. Your mamm called me and told me the news, and I came as soon as I could.”

  Lena Joy folded her hands in front of her blue frock. “You used to come and play with me when I was little. We used to play dolls together, ya?”

  “That’s right. You remember.” Miriam nodded, tears filling her eyes. “We used to sit on the porch for hours at a time.” She pointed toward the door. “I cherish those memories with you.”

  Lena Joy pushed out her chin. “If they meant so much to you, then why did you leave us?”

  “Lena Joy!” Hannah snapped. “You apologize at once for your tone. You know better than to speak to an adult that way. Your daed will hear about this. Go to your room—”

  “No, no.” Miriam touched her sister’s arm. “It’s a valid question. I’ll answer it.” She met her niece’s gaze. “I’ve been wrong not to come here, and I regret it now. The truth is I was planning to come and visit later this year and I was going to talk to your grossmammi about why I’d left. But now it’s too late, which only proves you shouldn’t take your family for granted like I did. Don’t ever let the years come between you and your parents, okay?”

  Lena Joy’s expression softened as she nodded. “I missed you,” she whispered.

  “I missed you too.” Miriam wiped her eyes and touched Lena Joy’s arm. Her niece gave her a sad smile.

  “Kinner, those are enough questions for now.” Hannah waved them off. “Please go finish your chores while your aenti and I talk in the kitchen.”

  The children filed through the kitchen and out the back door.

  Hannah led Miriam over to the kitchen table and pointed to a chair. “Please have a seat, and I’ll get us some water and cookies.”

  “Danki.” Miriam lowered herself into a chair and glanced around the plain kitchen. “Your home is still lovely. I always dreamed of having a house like this.”

  Hannah chuckled while carrying a pitcher of water and two glasses to the table. “I’m sure what you have in Indiana is much fancier than this old place.”

  “Not really. Abby and I share a tiny apartment, but it’s enough for just the two of us.”

  Hannah placed a plate of butterscotch cookies on the table and sat in a seat across from Miriam. “For you.”

  “Oh, my favorites!” Miriam snatched two cookies from the plate. “You remembered.” She bit into a cookie and moaned. “You still are the best cookie maker in the county.”

  Hannah snickered. “You’re an easy audience.” She lifted a cookie to her mouth. “I guess you’re staying with Aenti Edna?”

  Miriam nodded. “I went to Daed’s, and Gerald threw me off the porch.”

  Hannah shook her head. “I don’t understand why they are still angry with you. It’s been four years. I bet Aenti is thrilled to have you and Abby.”

  “She is. Her arthritis looks like it has progressed. Abby and I helped her make some pastries, and Beth Anne picked them up today for the bakery. I plan to help her again tomorrow.” Miriam chewed the cookie. “How’s Lena Joy? She looks so …”

  “Jaundiced.” Hannah sighed. “I wish there was a cure for

  Crigler Najjar Syndrome, but our only hope is a liver transplant. The bilirubin keeps building up in her body, and she doesn’t get as much time under her phototherapy lights as she did when she was younger. We could control the yellowish tinge in her skin better when she was younger and wouldn’t fight spending eight hours at a time under the lights.”

  Miriam reached over and squeezed Hannah’s hand. “I’m so sorry. I pray for Lena Joy every night.”

  “Danki.” Hannah squeezed her hand in response. “Lena Joy came to me one night a few months ago and told me she was ready to have her liver transplant. We’d known since she was born that she would need one. It was just a matter of time. Lena Joy said she’s tired of sleeping uncovered under the lights, and she’s tired of people staring at her.”

  Miriam wiped a tear from her eye. “She’s so brave.”

  “Ya.” Hannah sniffed and cleared her throat. “She’s growing into a young woman, and she’s ready to live a normal life with her friends. She wants to go out and do social things without worrying about looking different. We took her to Pittsburgh to meet with the transplant doctors and to get her evaluated. She’s on the list, and we hope she’ll get a liver soon.” Hannah pulled out a cell phone. “We have this with us at all times. We never know when we’ll get the call that a liver is available for her.”

  Miriam’s eyes widened. “The bishop allowed you a phone?”

  “Of course. This is considered a medical emergency.” Hannah frowned. “I want my child well. I pray for it all the time, but I feel so guilty praying for a liver, since it will take someone losing their life to give Lena Joy another chance at hers.”

  “Remember it’s not our place to question God’s will. It’s God’s choice when Lena Joy gets her liver.”

  “Ya, that’s true.” Hannah wiped a tear from her cheek.

  “What if I were tested to see
if I could donate to her? Do people donate part of their livers?” Miriam asked.

  Hannah squeezed Miriam’s hand. “You’re so generous. The doctor says the most successful transplants are from cadaveric livers, but danki for asking.”

  Miriam shrugged. “It’s the right thing to do. I believe in organ donation.”

  “You’re a gut person.” Hannah’s expression turned to concern. “How are you really?”

  “I’m okay.” Miriam shrugged and lifted her glass of water.

  “I’m not convinced.” Hannah’s eyes studied Miriam’s. Even at thirty, Hannah still had the same perfect, clear creamy skin and dark brown hair that she’d had in her early twenties. “How was it when you saw Beth Anne today?”

  Miriam paused and took a drink while she considered the question. “It was awkward, but Beth Anne was still the same sweet person she was back when I was here and a part of the community.”

  “Did she mention Timothy?”

  Miriam shook her head. “I didn’t ask, but I wanted to.” She bit her lip, wanting to ask if he was married.

  “Last I heard he was seeing a girl in his district.”

  Miriam bit into a cookie to keep from showing too much emotion even though the news cut her like a knife.

  “I don’t know if they’re going to get married or not.” Hannah broke a cookie in half. “Will you go see him while you’re here?”

  “No,” Miriam said, a little too fast. “I – I wouldn’t even know what to say,” she stammered. “I have nothing to say. He was seeing someone behind my back. It’s obvious he never cared for me as much as I cared for him. It was a long time ago. It’s over. Besides, I made my choice when I left. I wanted to pursue my dream of becoming a pediatric nurse. I didn’t just leave because of him. I left because I wanted to see what being English was like.”

  Hannah sipped her water. “It’s a shame it didn’t work out for you two. I really miss you, and now that Mamm’s gone …” Her voice trailed off.