The River

by Beverly Lewis

  Yawning, Tilly glanced in her rearview mirror. She couldn’t let Josie’s reaction to her spoil her time exploring Eden Valley. No, she must choose to think back on their friendlier days and years, when they’d always shared their thoughts with each other . . . and their secrets, too. It would do her no good to ponder the loss of such a good friend. That was the last thing Tilly needed this weekend.

  Besides, a devout Amish girl like Josie might not have been too thrilled to receive my letters.

  Tilly refused to let her emotions take over. She was killing time, nothing more, while Ruthie and Mamm were getting caught up on the years they’d missed. Ruth sure doesn’t need me breathing down her neck.

  She slowed the car to a crawl when she recognized her Lantz grandparents’ homestead just ahead. She assumed that by now her widowed grandmother had moved into one of the Dawdi Haus additions at a son or daughter’s farmhouse. Hadn’t Ruth mentioned as much once? Tilly sighed. Her uncertainty about such things was the price she’d paid for not staying in touch.

  Nonetheless, there stood the splendid white house with its black front door and trim, a matching white two-story barn off to the left. Her father’s mother, Mammi Lantz, would sometimes have Tilly stay over, and she’d loved sleeping in the small spare bedroom, where an old feather mattress became her cozy nest for the night. Tilly’s father insisted that Mammi Lantz went out of her way to spoil her; however, his saying it didn’t faze her grandmother one iota. “I wish I’d had a little girl to love,” Mammi Lantz would whisper to Tilly as she tucked her in beneath handmade quilts that sometimes smelled of mothballs.

  Her grandmother’s remark had lingered in Tilly’s mind all these years, though Tilly wondered now why Mammi Lantz, who was so well loved by her four sons, including Tilly’s own father, felt such a loss. Was Mammi disappointed—even pained—by the absence of a daughter?

  Back when she was a little girl, when Tilly was sad and feeling lonely and lying in her own bed at home, she sometimes soothed herself to sleep by imagining her grandmother’s cool hand lightly on hers, or the wonderful-good feather bed not so far away.

  But as Tilly grew older, times with Mammi Lantz grew less frequent—she had to be around “to help out at her own home,” Daed often said. And so it was with many of the joys of Tilly’s life as duty took precedence over all else . . . even people.

  Maybe Daed never realized how fond I was of Mammi, Tilly thought now, though she wouldn’t have believed it back then. With her return to her parents’ home imminent, she was doing her best to think well of Daed, hoping a change in perspective might ease the coming reunion.

  Chapter 10

  After managing to navigate nearly every road in Eden Valley, Tilly had driven past the blacksmith’s shop, Deacon Kauffman’s farm, and the one-room schoolhouse where Amish and Mennonite children alike had attended alongside several English children, too, when Tilly was young.

  Presently, she headed back to Daed’s farm, lest Ruth become upset at her prolonged disappearance. She turned into the driveway and parked only a few dozen yards from where her brother Melvin was getting out of his gray enclosed carriage.

  When he noticed her, he didn’t waste a minute in coming and surprised her by opening her door and waiting good-naturedly until she got out. Then, closing it firmly, he kept his hand on the handle. “You are here,” Melvin said with a smile. “Gut to see ya, Schweschder.”

  “Safe and sound.” She nodded toward the house. “Ruth’s visiting with Mamm.”

  “I came to give Daed a hand in the stable.” He touched the brim of his black hat. “Would ya want to help me water the animals?”

  She turned to look again at the house, squinting to see into the kitchen windows, but there was no sign of Ruthie or Mamm. “I’m not exactly dressed for barn chores, am I?”

  “Ach, I’ll fix you up.” He motioned for her to follow him. “You can wear one of Daed’s long work aprons.”

  Thoughtful. Tilly hurried to keep up. Now that she was back at the farm, she felt tense and kept looking over her shoulder for her father to appear.

  The stable smelled of sweet alfalfa bales, humidity, and sweat from the animals. Tilly was surprised to discover she’d almost missed these surroundings. How many hours had she spent out here watering field mules or the driving horses? One of her favorite pastimes. The livestock had always been like family pets.

  “How is it, comin’ back home after all this time?” Melvin reached up for the brown apron he’d promised, took it down from its peg, and slipped it over her head. “If ya don’t mind me askin’?”

  “It’s . . . real different, I’ll admit.”

  “I’d ’spect so.”

  She tied on the apron while Melvin pulled two buckets off a small stack. “Still, it’s mighty gut of you and Ruthie . . . showin’ up for the anniversary an’ all.”

  She nodded, trailing along with him, the brother she’d felt closest to back when, in spite of the difference in their ages. Melvin had always demonstrated a gentle side toward her, no matter Daed’s mood. “Guess you never thought you’d see the likes of me again,” she ventured.

  “Well now, Tilly, ain’t a gut time to be sarcastic.” His tender gaze on her belied the seeming rebuke. “I’m glad to see ya again, sister!”

  He still cares. The realization made her skin prickle.

  They moved silently to the young colts’ pen and filled the water trough, and then on to the ponies’. Tilly felt tongue-tied and was thankful when Melvin began to talk again, revealing the plans for tomorrow’s gathering.

  “All the boys and their families will be here,” he said, referring to their brothers. “Chester and I’d thought of having the get-together out here in the barn, getting things all redded up, like for Preachin’. But Sam and the twins thought better of it. Besides, this late in October, ya just never know ’bout the weather.”

  She listened, curious if other Amish families were starting to have these kinds of celebrations, too. Was the English world closing in?

  “Instead of a big doin’s and a feast, there’ll be a sheet cake Susannah and Josie are baking. Chocolate with buttercream frosting, is what I hear. We’ll have us some fruit punch, too, and maybe a dish full of the creamy mints Mamm likes.” He straightened, and she noticed he was much taller than she remembered, even taller than their father. “The adults can stand around in the kitchen since there’ll be no gettin’ everyone’s feet under Mamm’s table,” he continued. “The little ones will need to sit there.”

  “Who will give the blessing?” Tilly asked without thinking.

  Her brother cocked his head, frowning. “Daed will lead the silent prayer, like always.”

  She’d completely forgotten her family didn’t verbalize their prayers like she and Kris and the girls.

  “Did ya think Bishop Isaac and the other ministers might be present, then?” Melvin was still looking askance at her.

  “Not really, no.”

  “What, then?”

  She shrugged, not wanting to clarify her blunder.

  Melvin let it drop. “Too bad your husband and daughters didn’t come along,” he said, moving toward the mules. “Would’ve liked to meet ’em.”

  “I didn’t think—”

  Melvin shook his head, catching her eye. “Nee—prob’ly not.”

  At that moment, their father’s ear-piercing whistle caught them off guard. Their heads jerked in unison at the shrill sound. With two fingers between his lips, Daed could be heard for nearly a mile away.

  “Is he signaling you?” Tilly asked quietly, clenching her jaw.

  “Might just be.” With that, Melvin left her there with a lone bucket and the dark-eyed stares of eight mules.

  In her mother’s spacious, sun-splashed kitchen, Ruth wiped her hands on the black apron she’d borrowed. “I assume you’ve asked Daed to consider getting a pacemaker, then?” Ruth said, continuing to chop raw vegetables for a tossed salad.

  Mamm nodded and stopped to lean against th
e counter. Wearing one of her brown choring dresses and black aprons, she looked much as she always had on an ordinary weekday. “Ain’t anyone gonna change his mind, neither.”

  “Wish he’d take his doctor’s advice.”

  “It’s no use.” Mamm put her hand on her chest. “He’s decided and that’s all there is to it.”

  “Then Daed’s days are numbered?” Ruth was aware of the lump in her throat.

  “Daughter . . . must ya say it like that?” Mamm wiped her brow on the back of her forearm. “It’s hard enough seein’ him fail like this. And ever so quickly, too.”

  “I’m sorry.” Ruth blinked back tears. “Really, I am.”

  Her mother sighed and brushed past her to the head of the table, where she pulled out Daed’s chair and sat. She looked tired all of a sudden, and her blue-gray eyes seemed darker as she stared back at Ruth. “We Amish live each day with God’s will in mind, first and foremost.” She kept her gaze fixed on her. “Maybe you’ve forgotten certain things, ain’t so?”

  To the contrary, Ruth wholeheartedly believed what her mother said. She also believed there were benefits to consulting a doctor.

  But Mamm had more on her mind. “Don’t be forgetting, the Lord God knows the day of our birth, and the very moment we’ll die, too.” Mamm’s eyes welled up, and she pulled a hankie from under her long sleeve.

  “Mamm, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Ain’t worth troublin’ yourself. Not a whit.” Her mother rose and plodded to the icebox in the far corner. She opened it and reached for a pitcher and began to pour cold meadow tea into four green tumblers.

  The ice in the glasses crackled, and Ruth realized then that only four would be present for supper—she, Tilly, Mamm, and Daed.

  Poor Tilly! she thought, her heart sinking.

  Chapter 11

  Having returned to the barn, Melvin watched in disbelief, although he should’ve known something like this might happen. Just having Tilly home again had been risky.

  Ruth had come wandering out to the stable a few minutes before, making a beeline to the corner and whispering to Tilly, “It’s just going to be us at supper with Daed and Mamm.”

  Next thing, and without so much as a good-bye to Melvin, Tilly turned tail and scurried to her car, then backed out of the driveway and promptly drove in the direction of Uncle Abner’s.

  Melvin now wished he and Susannah might have invited themselves over for the meal. Anything to ward off Tilly being uncomfortable on this, her first night home. Why do Daed and Tilly have that effect on each other? Melvin was baffled yet again.

  It was then Ruth spotted him. She looked almost embarrassed for Tilly’s dramatic behavior.

  “Hullo, Melvin,” she said. “It’s nice to see you.” She gave him a warm smile, and they talked for a moment as Melvin finished his chores, then got into his carriage and headed to his house for supper.

  “Something’s already up,” his wife told him as she met him at the back door. “Tilly came flyin’ past the house in that fancy car of hers like she was bein’ chased.”

  Nodding at her expressive account, he stepped inside. He’d figured Susannah might have seen that.

  “By now, poor Naomi’s prob’ly had an earful.”

  “Well, maybe not. Tilly used to keep things inside till they blew,” he reminded her.

  A light went on in Susannah’s eyes. Now she, too, was nodding. “Ain’t always been Tilly’s fault, though. Don’t forget.” She hung up Melvin’s hat for him.

  “No, but for whatever reason, that sister’s never really fit in here,” he said, remembering.

  “Kris, I’m not sure I can do this,” Tilly said into the phone at the little shed. Here she’d only been in Eden Valley a few hours, and she’d retreated twice to make a call. “I’m sorry to bother you again like this. Just needed to hear your voice right now.”

  “Honey, please try to take a deep breath, okay? And you’re never a bother.”

  “It’s just that everything’s coming back to me,” Tilly continued. “I can’t let my father break my heart again. I won’t!”

  Kris was silent for a moment. “It’s not worth getting so upset. Maybe you should shorten your stay, hon.”

  “What about Ruthie? I can’t just leave her.”

  “Maybe you could get a hotel somewhere, go into town, perhaps.” His tone was calm and even, just what Tilly needed. She hated to sound panicked. Nevertheless, everything around her was a miserable reminder of the past.

  “Listen, Tilly, I’ll come get you, and you can leave the car there for Ruth. Is that a possibility?”

  She wasn’t surprised he would offer this. Kris was not only sensible and kind, but from the very first, he’d somehow understood the pain of her growing-up years. Not because he could relate to them, but because he’d taken the time to really listen during the hours she’d spent sharing with him. How she welcomed his caring prayers!

  “I could be there by early morning,” Kris urged.

  “But the girls . . .” As she calmed down some and began to think things through more logically, she was beginning to feel foolish.

  “I’m willing, Tilly. Just say the word.”

  She brushed away her tears and sniffled. “I came with Ruthie for a reason,” she told him. “And I also need to return something I took from my mother.” Tilly revealed what she meant by that.

  “But seriously, do you need a face-to-face encounter for that?”

  She said she thought she ought to at least hand the Kapp to Mamm and apologize outright. “I won’t involve my father, of course.”

  Kris said that was probably a wise idea. “Don’t you think you could do that before I arrive tomorrow?”

  She moaned. “Oh, Kris . . . I can’t expect you to drive all that way. Besides, it’s foreign territory for you here.”

  “No,” he said. “It’s your family heritage. Maybe it’s time I saw God’s green earth for myself.”

  Picturing her wonderful husband getting out of his car and walking with her toward her father’s house was the kind of awkward scenario she’d always dreaded. There was no need for Kris to do what he was offering, and she didn’t want to put him in the middle of a brewing pot of old stew. “Thanks, hon,” she said. “But I’m going to figure this out on my own.”

  After they’d said good-bye, Tilly drove past her father’s house, feeling freer, knowing she wouldn’t have to endure Daed’s disapproval just yet. It might be better for Ruthie if Tilly wasn’t at Mamm’s table tonight—it would give her more time with Daed and Mamm, a chance to enjoy all the attention the first evening back.

  And I’ll be fine with Uncle Abner and Aunt Naomi . . . besides, Naomi baked up a storm. Tilly recalled her uncle’s earlier remark and was heartened by the prospect of having supper with her kindly aunt and uncle instead.

  “Only one person ever led a perfect life,” Uncle Abner told Tilly as they sat around the table together later. It was just the three of them—Tilly and her aunt and uncle—though there was food enough for a feast. “You’ll keep that in mind, jah, Tilly?”

  She listened and believed, but her uncle couldn’t possibly know how difficult it was for her to forgive herself. Not just for leaving Lancaster County, or for taking Ruthie away, but also for being thoughtless the week of Anna’s drowning. No, she could never forget how she’d lost her patience with little Anna, and she had never breathed a word of it to anyone. Not even to Ruth.

  “Would ya care for more potatoes or anything else?” Aunt Naomi asked, looking at Tilly.

  “Everything’s delicious, but no thanks.”

  Uncle Abner tilted his head. “You don’t eat so heartily up in Rockport, do ya?” His grin was merry.

  “I’m not as plump as I might’ve been had I stayed around here,” she admitted.

  He laughed. “Well, we Amishmen prefer our women nice and round.” Here he winked at Naomi, who lightheartedly waved right back at him. “Mashed potatoes swimming in butter or topped with gut, thick
gravy never hurt anyone.”

  Tilly wouldn’t say what she was thinking. She’d read an article about the ill effects of an overly rich diet, especially on the heart. She wondered if her father was still a heavy eater but decided that, since she hadn’t had the nerve to stay for supper over there, it wasn’t right to ask.

  “Well, and the farmers work off all those calories, don’t forget,” Naomi piped up, which brought another smile to Uncle Abner’s sunburnt face. “They need to start the day with a big breakfast, too.”

  “Better be ready come mornin’, Tilly,” Uncle Abner said with another wink.

  Having been on the opposite end of all that food, helping Mamm prepare the generous hot meal, Tilly remembered and smiled.

  The sound of the day clock ticking broke the silent pause.

  “So,” her uncle said, “I s’pose if we’d known it was goin’ to be just you and your sister over at your parents’ tonight for supper, your aunt Naomi and I might’ve offered to show up and eat over there with yous.”

  “Oh, now, Abner,” said Naomi. “You don’t mean it.”

  “I certainly do.”

  Tilly had to keep her smile in check. These two had always been entertaining.

  “You honestly would’ve burst into Sylvia’s kitchen uninvited?” asked Naomi.

  “Puh! And why not?”

  “What purpose would that have served?”

  Uncle Abner reached for his tumbler of water, his eyebrows twitching as he drank. When he’d finished, he wiped his mouth on the back of his long-sleeved shirt and said, “If it made Tilly more comfortable, I think we just might’ve.”

  It warmed Tilly’s heart, and she wished for words to express her appreciation but felt weary. She thought of her drive around Eden Valley that afternoon and her unexpected encounter with Josie.

  “Keep in mind tomorrow’s a brand-new day,” Uncle Abner said, looking at her. “His mercies are new every morning.”