“Tilly, you all right?” her sister asked softly.
She waved absently, without turning around, and stared out at the sky . . . still thinking of the Conestoga River and the fact that Melvin wanted to go back there. The whirling, churning river had carried Anna downstream, out of their reach. Life felt like that, too, sometimes. An unpredictable yet powerful flow of circumstances—some appalling, like Mamm’s experience in the woodlot, and now Daed’s brush with death—some good and even sweet, like her marriage to Kris and the birth of their twins.
She wondered if she shouldn’t get word to Daed’s siblings about how he was doing, or that he was even here. She walked back to the foot of the bed and suggested this to Mamm, who sat stiffly, pressing her fingers into the edge of the hospital bed. She looked like she might cry.
“Gut thinkin’.” Mamm wiped her eyes. “And Abner and Naomi planned to bring supper over tonight, too, don’t forget.”
Daed raised his head slightly. “Naomi’s cookin’?”
“Oh now, you . . .” Mamm sputtered a soft laugh. “We’ll save you some . . . if they even come at all.”
“Sure they will,” Ruth said. “They won’t want you to do any cooking. And anyway, they know we’ve packed up most of the kitchen for the move.”
A few moments later, the doctor appeared, looking both professional and serious in his long white coat and with a stethoscope dangling from around his thin neck. He politely informed them that only two people should be in the room at a time, so Tilly took this as her chance to exit. She waited in the hallway, wondering what was happening inside while the doctor examined Daed, feeling yet again like she was on the outside looking in. All my life. Truly, she’d been an outsider long before she left the valley.
Nurses bustled back and forth. A patient lying on a gurney, returning from surgery, was pushed past her. The hallway suddenly smelled of antiseptic, and it turned her stomach. I’m too sensitive, she thought. I could never be a nurse.
After what seemed like a long while, the doctor exited the room and caught her eye but didn’t stop to fill her in. A bit later, a tall, slender nurse, like a magazine model, approached her with a pleasant expression and suggested that she relax in the family waiting room.
Tilly thanked her and headed in the direction the nurse had pointed.
Another half hour passed, and eventually Mamm poked her head into the small waiting room. “If Naomi and Abner still want to come for supper, you should welcome them,” Mamm suggested. “All right with you?”
“If they’re fine with that. Or . . . if they’d rather, I can drive them here to be with you and Daed instead.”
Mamm smiled. “Denki, Tilly. It’s such a blessing to have ya here just now. But before ya go, dear, your father wants to see you. Alone.”
There it is again—“your father,” thought Tilly as she accompanied her mother back to the room. Again, she waited while Mamm went inside to ask Ruth to come out to give Daed privacy with Tilly. What’s on his mind? she wondered.
Ruthie’s eyes looked pink and puffy as she moved into the hallway with Mamm.
“We’ll wait right here, dear.” Mamm motioned for Tilly to go inside.
Tilly crept in and noticed again how vulnerable Daed looked in the hospital bed, elevated more now than it was earlier.
“Kumme, Tilly, to the other side.” He motioned for her to sit where Mamm had been before.
He must feel better.
“Mamm wants your brothers and sisters to know you’re in the hospital,” she started the conversation, feeling jittery. “I’ll head back as soon as—”
“Tilly,” he stopped her. “Listen to me once.” He frowned at the needle in the crook of his elbow. Then, with an exasperated-sounding sigh, he turned to look at her. “While I’m able, I want to say this to ya.”
She listened, and if she wasn’t mistaken, his lower lip quivered.
“I shouldn’t have talked like I did the other night—in the carriage, ya know.” He drew a labored breath. “I’ve had some time to think about everything,” he said. “For one thing, what ya name your children is your business. And I don’t mind if ya want to keep Anna’s Kapp.”
Tilly was too shocked to speak.
He looked pained. “There’s something else, too. You might not know it by the way I acted, but I’m awful glad you and Ruthie came for the anniversary get-together.” Here, his eyes filled with tears. “I know it maybe wasn’t the easiest thing for you to do, daughter. But it means a lot to your Mamm and me.”
Daughter . . .
Still unable to say what was in her heart, she reached up and placed her hand on his. “Denki,” she whispered. “Thank you, Daed, for telling me.”
Tilly waited for him to say more. But when she was certain he’d said all he wished to, she found her voice at last. “Da Herr sei mit du, Daed—God be with you.” She tiptoed to the door and quietly left the room.
Respectfully, Tilly drove to each of Daed’s eight siblings’ homes after leaving the hospital. Thanks to the Amish grapevine, five had already heard, and the rest said they were grateful for her dropping by and were eager to call for a van driver to take them to Lancaster General Hospital as soon as possible.
“We’ll do everything we can so Lester’s not alone in this,” Uncle Hank was quick to say. He thanked her repeatedly for coming. “Mighty nice of ya.”
The Amish way, she thought. Rallying around someone in need.
At last she headed to Uncle Abner’s, where she broke down and cried, despite acting so outwardly strong earlier.
“You just go ahead and let it all out real gut,” Uncle Abner said as he motioned for Aunt Naomi to come and embrace her—together, they formed a small circle of compassion. “Your father will be all right,” he said. “We’ve been prayin’ ever since Benny ran by and told us the news.”
“Word travels fast round here,” Aunt Naomi said.
Tilly dried her tears and headed for the door, indicating that Mamm had said they could still come over to the house with supper as planned.
Aunt Naomi seemed to like the idea. Then, moving to the icebox, she said. “You might need a bite to eat now, too, ain’t?”
Tilly thanked her but wanted to get back to the house. She needed to finish packing up the kitchen for Mamm, and the breakfast things needed cleaning up, too. “Not sure what I’d do without you two. Denki.”
“That’s why Gott gives us big families, jah?” said Uncle Abner. “We can be like the Lord Jesus to each other.”
Tilly had never heard it put quite like that.
“We’ll see you around six o’clock, then,” Aunt Naomi said. “After Abner’s all cleaned up from milkin’.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
While driving down Eden Road, Tilly remembered Daed’s remarks to her at the hospital, and the almost gentle expression on his face, usually so stern when she was around. Nearly always, she recalled.
“To think he apologized,” she whispered, struck by the reality. Her Daed seemed to have given as much thought to their stormy time together as she had.
Was this a new beginning?
Chapter 36
When she arrived at her parents’ house, Tilly finished up what was left of the kitchen, leaving out a few essentials, then packed Anna’s former room, except for her own things. Mamm had asked her last night if she wouldn’t mind doing so—it was too emotional a task for Mamm herself to tackle.
Not long afterward, several relatives arrived to help Tilly finish the packing and begin the work of carrying things over next door and placing boxes in the specific rooms, according to Mamm’s instructions. Many hands made light work, and by the time Uncle Abner and Aunt Naomi arrived with a single large hot dish, Tilly’s stomach was rumbling. She’d only taken time to eat an apple and two oatmeal raisin cookies when she arrived back from the hospital, wanting to make good use of the time Mamm was with Daed in town.
Tilly had set the table with paper plates, missing Mamm’s pretty
white dishes with blue edging, already packed. Her aunt lifted the lid from the casserole and the steam rose, filling Tilly’s nose with the tantalizing smell. “Ah . . . your baked chicken mushroom dish.”
“Abner’s mighty fond of it,” said Aunt Naomi. “I made enough for seconds and more.” She and Tilly sat with Uncle Abner at the far end of the table so as not to usurp either Daed’s place at the head or Mamm’s spot.
Uncle Abner seemed to want to get Tilly’s mind off her father’s situation, telling stories during the meal. “Now then, have I told ya this one?” His soft eyes shone as he leaned forward and folded his arms on the table. “My older brother was out visiting the Grand Canyon last winter when a curious tourist came up to him and asked, ‘You’re from Pennsylvania somewhere, right?’ to which my brother nodded and said he was.
“ ‘Lancaster County?’ the man persisted.
“ ‘Jah, that’s right,’ my brother said.
“ ‘Does everyone there wear beards?’ asked the tourist.
“ ‘Not everyone, no.’ Then my brother grinned mischievously. ‘The women sure don’t!’ ”
Tilly had to laugh right along with him; he was getting such a kick out of telling the tale.
When they bowed their heads for the second silent prayer, she thanked the Lord not only for Aunt Naomi’s delicious food, but for her aunt and uncle’s comforting presence at this, her mother’s long table.
Melvin was well into the milking process at Daed’s when he stepped outside for some air while the rest of the fellows hauled milk to the milk house cooler. He’d noticed Tilly on the back sidewalk, over there talking with Uncle Abner and Aunt Naomi.
Paying closer attention, Melvin saw that the three of them were actually laughing. What on earth? After all, Daed was lying in a hospital bed, and yet there they were, having themselves a good time. For pity’s sake, he could hear their chatter clear over here!
Frowning, he stepped back, not wanting to be seen. He knew as well as anyone how bleak Daed’s situation was—he’d never forget helping his father to the floor of the barn, nor performing CPR after Daed became unresponsive. It seemed wrong for Tilly, especially, to act this jolly, considering the rather tentative outlook for Daed.
Unless . . . does she know something new about Daed, perhaps? Oh, he hoped all would be well. He truly did. And he must not assume the worst but trust the Lord God for the outcome. There’d been far too much tragedy and loss in this family. Enough for a lifetime.
Ruth was content to let other relatives take turns visiting Daed, since she’d had some time with him already. And, too, she wanted to stay close to Mamm, who looked awfully peaked—the day wore heavily on her.
Ruth sat quietly in one corner of the family waiting room, now packed with bearded Amishmen and devout women wearing white organdy prayer coverings, all of them relatives. Most of the men were talking about the harvest, which made Ruth even more grateful for their sacrificial visit. Occasionally, a passing nurse would glance in and respond with momentary surprise, then quickly attempt to conceal her startled reaction, which Ruth found comical.
Even more amazing to Ruth was the appearance of Will Kauffman and his parents. She thought it wise to leave the room and go into the hall when Will called to her with his eyes. “Thanks for coming to see my father,” she whispered as they took a short walk.
“I was sure surprised to hear ’bout this, Ruthie.”
“We’ve been told he’s going to be all right.”
“Thank goodness,” he said.
“And thank the Lord.” She smiled, pleased he’d come.
“I made arrangements with my parents for us to ride back in the hired van with them, if you’d like. Then you and I can go for a spin in my carriage later. That is . . . if you’re up to it.” His face lit up when he talked; she’d nearly forgotten how well he expressed himself back when they were nearly an engaged couple.
She had little time left in Eden Valley—now that Daed was stable, it was all right with her to spend the evening with Will, and she told him so. “We can leave once you’ve seen Daed, if you’d like.” She suspected he may have come mainly to see her, but he nodded, saying he’d like to go in and say hullo once the next two relatives departed the room.
“All right.” Ruth still felt confused, even torn, when she was with Will. How much longer would she feel this way? Was it merely part of the process of getting better acquainted again?
“I’d like to stop off at the house before we go riding,” she told him. “I have a surprise for you.”
Instantly, he grinned. “I’m all for surprises, Ruthie.”
She wondered how it would seem to ride with him in his courting carriage . . . the first time in years. Would being with Will bring happiness to her heart tonight? Or would she regret going?
The almost pumpkiny scent drifting through the atmosphere was not unfamiliar to Ruth. She recalled the sights, sounds, and smells of October and early November in Lancaster County from her childhood as she took Will’s hand and stepped into his black courting carriage.
“You look almost like a regular Amish girl tonight,” he said, smiling up at her and standing near as she sat to the left of where he would sit to hold the reins. “All ya need is a Kapp.”
“Are you surprised, then?”
“To be honest, I kinda wondered if you might not put on Plain clothes for our date.”
He’s pleased I’m trying on my old life again. She watched him hurry around and climb in next to her.
“Let’s go have some ice cream or pie at the Strasburg Creamery,” he said, picking up the reins. “Sound gut?”
She agreed with a nod, a smile bubbling up. It was still light enough to see the smooth-washed stones in the brook running along the roadside. She remembered how cold the water had felt one springtime evening, when they’d stopped the buggy so she could follow a darling brown bunny rabbit. She and Will had both ended up wading in their bare feet, laughing and enjoying the moment like happy children.
“You’re quiet tonight, Ruthie.”
“Just thinking back to when you rolled up your pant legs and went splashing into that brook over yonder.”
He chuckled. “Were ya?” He shook his head, as if quite amazed. “I was just thinkin’ the same thing.” Will slipped his arm around her. “So many gut memories before I messed everything up ’tween us.” He paused. “But that’s all over and done with.”
“Jah, ‘under the blood,’ like some of my evangelical friends say.” She’d heard the phrase at a revival meeting at her church last year.
“Do you remember takin’ our scooters down Eden Road, too?” he asked. “We had a race, and I recall letting you win.”
She rolled her eyes. “How can I forget? At the time, though, you insisted I won fair and square.”
He smiled mischievously. “That I did. And I would let you win again, if you wanted to race me,” he teased.
“Would you, now?” She was enjoying herself, though she felt strangely like she was stepping where angels might fear to tread.
“So.” Will suddenly sounded tentative. “Have you decided what ya want to do yet?”
Her heart was in her throat. “I’m getting close to a decision.”
Will inched back a bit, like he was bracing himself. “Like I said, I want you to take your time, so you’ll know for ausdricklich—positive.” His eyes shone in the growing twilight. “I mean that, Ruthie.”
“Denki,” she said gratefully, feeling more relaxed.
After supper, Tilly took care to wash the countertops and table, and she swept the floor, as usual. When finished, she walked to the front room and stepped out the double doors to stand on the wide porch. As she recalled from her childhood, it wasn’t used much at all. The front porch served as an overflow for funerals and weddings for most Amish families. But there hadn’t been any weddings here . . . not yet anyway. The family activities had all taken place in the backyard.
It was hard to believe that she and Ruth had
only been back for five days. In that space of time, the radiant leaves had boasted their brilliance and begun to fall. Due to strong winds in the night, the leaves were nearly all underfoot now . . . on the ground in clumps around the bases of trees and caught in clusters beneath bushes.
There was a decided nip in the air, and she went back inside to get one of Mamm’s older long shawls, noticing one was missing. Ruthie must have taken one, as well. Out with her former beau, Tilly thought, still getting used to the idea. She was worried Ruth might be swayed by Will tonight if he was to become romantic—the old tendrils of first love reaching from the past. Even so, it was her choice to make.
Wrapped now in Mamm’s black woolen shawl, Tilly waited, leaning on the smooth porch banister, watching for her mother to return from the hospital. The English neighbor boy had stopped by on his motorbike over an hour ago to say that Mamm had called, hoping to spare Tilly yet another trip into town, though Tilly wouldn’t have minded. And there she stood, hungry for the latest news about Daed and feeling a lack of enthusiasm toward winter’s arrival in another month or so.
Winter will be less dreary for Mamm this year if Ruthie returns home. She frowned, her head spinning with the upcoming changes already decided—the move to the Dawdi Haus for her parents, and Sam and Josie taking over the original house. Momentous.
“If Ruthie succumbs to Will and returns, will she stay with Mamm and Daed in the Dawdi Haus or in her old room here?” Tilly whispered. She almost thought she saw her breath in the chilly air.
Thinking more of her sister’s unexpected state of affairs, she wondered suddenly why, if Will Kauffman was so eager to court Ruth, he hadn’t pursued her by letter long before now. Had he actually needed Ruth to make the first move toward Eden Valley? If that were so, Tilly believed her sister deserved far better.
Chapter 37
Mamm slowly inched out of the neighbors’ blue Studebaker when she arrived at the house near dusk. Tilly hurried out to meet her, reaching to steady her. She offered to pay the neighbors for their time and trouble, which they graciously refused. She made further small talk, asking how they were doing, feeling a little strange about seeing the Eshlemans again now that she was an Englisher like them. Greg Eshleman hadn’t changed a lot; he was still as stocky as she’d remembered, if not more so, and his blond hair had thinned in places on top. His wife, Jocelyn, had lost a significant amount of weight, and her light brown hair was peppered with gray. Greg had been one of the men who’d leapt into the river to try to save Anna that dreaded day, along with Chester and Melvin.
The River Page 20