by Marta Perry
They couldn’t stand here staring at one another. Somehow she had to get things back to normal. Daniel shifted his gaze to her, a question in his intent face, and she managed a faint, reassuring smile.
“It was gut of you to come, Daniel. I’ll see the children tomorrow.”
He didn’t move for a moment, and she couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. It couldn’t be a positive thought, she’d guess.
Finally he nodded. He turned away, walking quickly toward his buggy without a backward glance. In a moment the children had scrambled in. The buggy rolled off down the lane.
“Someone new in the community?” Johnny asked. “I don’t recognize him.” He stood looking up at her, one hand on the stair railing, sunlight turning his hair to flax.
“He and his family just moved here from Lancaster County.” And why were they talking about Daniel when so many other things shouted to be said?
“He wasn’t very friendly.”
“Do you expect friendship here?” Her words sounded more in control than she felt.
His hand tightened on the railing. “Maybe not. I guess things haven’t changed much, have they?”
“They don’t. That’s the choice we make.” The choice he had rejected.
“Look, Leah, can we go inside and talk?” He planted one foot on the porch step, as if he’d come closer to her, and she felt a wave of something that might be panic.
“The porch is a fine place to talk.” She kept her voice calm with an effort.
It was bad enough that Daniel had been here to witness a man who was under the meidung come to visit with her. She wouldn’t compound the trouble by being inside the schoolhouse alone with someone the community had shunned.
What must Daniel be thinking about the Amish schoolteacher who apparently had a male English friend? The thought flitted through her mind, and she shooed it away. She had more serious concerns than what Daniel thought of her.
Johnny lifted his right eyebrow in a familiar movement. His hazel eyes were unchanged, but both his brows and hair were a little darker now than they’d once been.
“It looked as if you’d invited him inside—Daniel, was that his name?”
“Daniel is the parent of three of my scholars. Naturally we talked in the schoolroom. But you have no reason to be there.”
“I spent eight years there. Remember?” His smile teased, the way it had long ago.
“I remember.” She had to fight against the memories, just as she’d been doing all afternoon. “But you’re not the same person you were then. No one looking at you now would imagine you to be Amish.”
“I’m not.” He frowned. “Not anymore.”
The flip answer hurt her. “Can you deny what you’re born so easily?”
“Not easily.” His face became set in sudden, harsh lines, and he looked years older than she knew he was. “But it can be done. You know others who’ve done it and been happy.” His tone challenged her.
Did she? Maybe so. Once they were gone, she didn’t have much opportunity to judge whether they were satisfied with their choice or not.
“If you’re so happy with your decision, why are you here now?”
As soon as the question was out, her heart began to beat in hard, measured thuds, pounding against her rib cage. What if he said he was here because of her? How would she answer that?
“I’m not here to kneel in repentance and ask the church to take me back, if that’s what you’re thinking.” His jaw hardened. “Look, at least we can sit down and talk like civilized people, can’t we?”
He even talked differently now, using phrases she’d never heard from his lips, speaking in a cadence that was so quick it could never be Amish. He clearly wouldn’t go away until she’d heard him out.
“Fine.” She sat down on the top step of the porch, smoothing her long skirt over her legs. “Talk, if you want.”
If he wasn’t here to repent, then he hadn’t come with any idea of reuniting with his lost love. That should make it easier to deal with him.
She didn’t want that relationship anyway, she assured herself. She’d been over her feelings for Johnny a long time now.
One thing hadn’t changed about him, she noticed. He still wore that mulish expression when he was balked in what he wanted to do. He stood for a moment, frowning at her, and then he sat down next to her on the step, stretching out long, jeans-clad legs.
“So, John Kile, why are you back in Pleasant Valley, if not to rejoin the brethren?” She was satisfied that she sounded perfectly composed.
“Have you seen Rachel lately? Are you and she still close?”
He jumped from thought to thought like a June bug. That hadn’t changed in his years away.
“I saw her today.” She hesitated. Say the rest of it? Maybe she should. “She mentioned you, feeling a little sad because of your birthdays next week.”
She certainly wouldn’t mention Rachel’s concern that Leah was still single because of him.
“I’m sorry.” He clenched the knees of his jeans, muscles standing out on the backs of his hands. “I never meant to hurt her.”
She could only gape at him. “Never meant to hurt her? Your leaving hurt everyone in the community.” Especially her. “Maybe you’ve forgotten that in all the time you’ve been gone.”
“No, I haven’t forgotten. Anything.” His voice softened. “Not you, Leah.”
She laced her fingers together in her lap. It was best, safest, not to respond to that, but the words echoed in her heart. “Are you going to see Rachel?”
“I want to.” He leaned toward her, his eyes darkening in intensity. “Please, you talk to her for me, Leah. Tell her I’m here, that I want to see her.”
“Me?” Her throat clutched. “I can’t do that.”
“You two were always like sisters.” His voice went low and coaxing. “She’ll listen to you.”
Did he have any idea how hurtful it was to remind her that she and Rachel had nearly been sisters? It seemed he didn’t. Or if he did, he could ignore it in his need to accomplish his goal.
“She’s your twin, Johnny. If you want to see her again, then—”
“I’m scared.”
The words sent her gaze flying to his face. He gave her a rueful smile.
“Stupid, isn’t it? But I’m afraid to walk up to my own sister.”
She tried to harden her heart against that smile. Johnny wasn’t her responsibility any longer. “I think you’d better. Or else just go away again.”
“I can’t go away. I’m going to be working here for the next six months, at least. I’m doing research at the medical clinic over in Fostertown.”
She could only stare at him. “You are?”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it? I just finished a degree in genetics, and I’m going to assist Dr. Brandenmyer in his work. You know about him?” He slanted a questioning look at her.
“Ja, I know.”
Everyone in the community knew about the clinic and the doctor. Geneticists wanted to study the Amish because of the hereditary diseases that occurred too often in a community where most folks were descended from the same small group of ancestors.
Dr. Brandenmyer did gut work, so people said, ministering to those who were ill, in addition to conducting his research. That was not always an easy thing in a society as closed as the Amish were.
“Working with him is the opportunity of a lifetime.” Johnny stared past her, as if looking at some future she couldn’t see.
“Is your background why the doctor hired you? Because you were Amish once?”
Johnny frowned. “I have very good qualifications. But I suppose my heritage didn’t hurt.”
“And you want to get back in touch with your family for what?”
She was feeling her way. Once, she’d have said that she knew every tho
ught that went through Johnny’s mind. Now she feared that what she said to him might determine whether he saw his family or not.
Please, Father. Guide me. I don’t know what is best to do or say.
“I want to see them because they’re my family.” His tone was sharp, but then he smiled, shaking his head. “But it’s true. I need to find a way to make contact with the community again if I’m going to be much help to Dr. Brandenmyer. And it’s worthwhile work—you must know that. It can save lives.”
Children’s lives. She thought of the children she’d known throughout the community—the ones afflicted with Crigler-Najjar syndrome, spending half their lives under the special blue lights that helped them survive to grow up. Or those with the other genetic diseases that were too common among the Amish.
She didn’t want to be involved, didn’t want to risk the hurt that would come with his return.
But if what Johnny talked about could help those children, wasn’t it worth at least trying to smooth his path? She couldn’t easily turn away from something that might help them.
Her throat tightened, and she had to push out the words. “All right. I’ll talk to Rachel. I make no promises. But I’ll tell her that you’re back and that you want to see her.”
Johnny grasped her hand in a quick, warm grip before she sensed what he was about to do. “Thank you, Leah. You’re a good friend.”
She pulled her hand free, denying the pleasure she felt at his touch, his words.
“I’m making no promises,” she said again. She’d made promises to Johnny once, and that had come to nothing.
“Good enough.” He stood, as if afraid she’d change her mind if he delayed. “I’ll stop by tomorrow after school to see what she said.”
“Not tomorrow.” He’d turned into a typical Englischer, always in a hurry. “Maybe on Wednesday. I’ll have been able to talk to Rachel by then.”
He looked as if he wanted to argue, but then he nodded, his lips curving into the smile that was still familiar.
“All right. Take your time. I’ll see you Wednesday.”
He’d gotten what he’d come for, so he moved away quickly, sliding into the car without a backward glance toward her.
She rose, standing on the top step. Watching until the red car disappeared around the bend in the lane.
Johnny Kile was back. She didn’t think she’d quite accepted it yet.
He wasn’t the boy she’d loved, that was certain sure. But who he was now—she didn’t quite know. Or how it would affect her, affect all of them, having him here.
• • •
Any hope Leah had of going to see Rachel that evening disappeared when she got home and discovered that her brother Levi and his family were coming for supper. Her mother was already bustling about the farmhouse kitchen, and whatever tiredness Leah had observed earlier had vanished in her excitement over having a full table for supper.
“I know the boys have big appetites, but you are making twice as much as they will eat. Why don’t you just give us the leftovers from the picnic?” She’d noticed that, predictably, nearly as much food had gone home again as Mamm had brought.
Her mother shook her head, looking aghast. “I can’t do that. They would think I wasn’t happy to see them.”
“You see Levi every day.” With her oldest brother doing most of the farm chores now, that was inevitable. “And Barbara and the children at least two or three times a week.”
“Not for supper,” her mother said with unanswerable logic. She thrust a wooden spoon into Leah’s hand. “You make the dumplings. You have a lighter hand with them than Anna does.”
“Anna just doesn’t want to admit how good a cook she is, for fear she’ll have to do more.” But she couldn’t help but be pleased that her mother thought well of her cooking, even if the feeling was a bit prideful.
The Schnitz un Knepp was already steaming on the stove. Leah took the yellow mixing bowl from the shelf. She’d concentrate on getting the soft dough to just the right consistency. Maybe then she could push away thoughts of Johnny, of Rachel’s reaction when she heard the news of his return, even of Daniel Glick and his children. Those worries would have to be dealt with later.
An hour later, the substantial array of food Mamm considered appropriate for a family supper was spread on the long table and the house was crowded with people—all, it seemed, talking at once. Mamm sank into her chair.
Leah, taking her place next to her, frowned slightly, her gaze on her mother’s face. Even when she closed her eyes as her father began to pray, the image of her mother’s face lingered.
Mamm had aged since her bout with cancer, there was no doubt about that. Her brown hair, pulled tightly back into a bun from its center part, seemed to show more gray all the time.
But it was the strained tiredness on her mother’s face at the end of a long day that worried Leah. Nothing would convince Mamm that she couldn’t do all the things she used to do.
When the prayer ended, Leah leaned across to murmur to her mother under the clatter of cutlery. “Don’t you get up again, Mamm. If anything needs fetched for the meal, Anna and I will take care of it.” She glanced at her younger sister. “Ain’t so?”
Anna’s bright blue eyes registered understanding, and she nodded quickly. “Ja, that’s right, Mamm. You cooked, so we’ll serve and clear.”
Leah smiled. The baby of the family, at eighteen Anna could be unpredictable—sweet and happy one moment, distracted and short-tempered the next. That was natural, wasn’t it? When she’d been that age, she’d probably been the same.
When she’d been that age, she’d been in love with Johnny.
She shoved that thought away again, trying to focus on her sister. She couldn’t help but worry sometimes that Anna’s job, working at a Mennonite bakery in town, brought too many temptations into her life.
Still, Anna was gut at heart. She’d soon settle down and turn her flightiness into falling in love with a suitable young man.
“You have some new scholars at the school, Leah, ain’t so?” Barbara, her brother Levi’s wife, turned from spooning a dumpling into baby Sarah’s mouth to look at Leah inquiringly.
“The Glick children started today,” she said. “There are three of them—six, eight, and ten. The other children are making them welcome.”
“It’s gut for all of us to do that,” her mother said. “Poor man, a widower alone with three young ones. We must do all we can for them. I’ve invited them to supper tomorrow night.”
Leah’s heart sank. Not that her mother wouldn’t be welcoming even if she didn’t have two unmarried daughters in the house, but still—
“A widower with young children needs a wife. Maybe a fine opportunity for our Leah, ja?” As usual, Barbara burst out with something the others might be thinking but not be ready to say.
“I’m not looking for a husband,” she said, with no hope that would end the topic.
“Every woman is looking for a husband,” Barbara insisted. Her face beamed with such happiness that Leah couldn’t find it in her heart to be annoyed, though she did sometimes wish that Levi had found himself a wife who wasn’t quite so eager to run everyone else’s life. Mamm’s matchmaking intentions were enough to deal with.
I shouldn’t think that of Barbara. A quick prayer formed in her mind. She is a gut soul, I know, and she makes Levi happy.
Across the table, Anna put her fork down and leaned forward to glare at Barbara around Levi’s bulk. “Every woman is not like you, Barbara.”
Leah landed a gentle kick on Anna’s ankle, and Anna transferred the glare to her. Anna should know by now that the best way to take their sister-in-law’s pronouncements was to ignore them.
“Every woman wants a home of her own,” Barbara said, her good humor unimpaired. “You’ll find that out when you’re a little older, Anna.” She beamed around
the table. “And now is a gut time to tell you that Levi and I will have an addition to the family, come December.”
Under cover of the flood of congratulations from Mamm and Daad and brother Mahlon, Leah exchanged glances with Anna. Another young one coming, with Sarah not out of diapers yet and the little boys only two and four.
Children were a blessing to any Amish family, but where were Levi and Barbara going to put them all in the small house they rented on the Evansville road? She rose, pressing her cheek against Barbara’s and murmuring her good wishes.
Daad cleared his throat, and everyone turned toward the head of the table. Daad exchanged glances with Mamm, and Leah saw a faint nod.
“Your mother and I have something to tell you also.” Her father’s lean, weathered face was as solemn as if he were at prayer. “We feel it is time for us to move into the daadi haus and let Levi and Barbara take over the farm.”
Leah felt it like a blow to the stomach. Levi taking over the farm? Was Daad really ready for that now?
But the past two years had been hard on him, too. Though he seemed as strong as ever, his beard was completely white now, and he didn’t move as fast as he used to.
She’d known it would come sometime. That was the way things were done. She just hadn’t thought it would be so soon.
Still, the daadi haus, connected to the farmhouse by a covered walk, had been ready for new occupants since Grossmutter died five years ago. Levi was already doing much of the farmwork, and everyone in the community knew this was his place.
But what would the change mean for her and Anna?
Mahlon took the news happily enough, as would her brother Joseph. They were already settled in jobs, Joseph with his farm machinery repair and Mahlon as a carpentry apprentice.
Joseph and his wife, Myra, were probably thinking of starting a family soon, too, and everyone knew that Mahlon was courting the youngest Miller girl, with an eye toward a wedding in November, the traditional time for Amish weddings. Their lives would not be changed by this, but Leah’s and Anna’s—