by Amy Clipston
“Only since last week.” Turning her back on him again, she filled one side of the sink with hot, soapy water for washing and the other side with plain hot water for rinsing, then began to wash the pan she’d made the eggs in.
“Oh,” he sounded interested, but she knew he was only being nice. He didn’t remember her, so why would he care about her life? After all, he obviously didn’t care about even his mother’s feelings.
“Do you still live in Paradise?” he asked.
“Ya,” Linda said, scrubbing the pan harder and harder. She knew it was rude to keep her back to him, but she couldn’t stop thinking of Ruth and her broken heart.
“It hasn’t changed much in the past seventeen years, has it?” he asked.
“It has changed a bit,” she said. “There are more stores and more traffic, but the town is still somewhat the same. After all, the Amish community does what it needs to in order to stay separate from the Englishers.”
He was silent as she continued her work. She hoped the other guests would join them in the kitchen soon so she didn’t feel so self-conscious.
“This jam is amazing,” he said. “Did you make it?”
“No,” Linda responded as she rinsed the thoroughly cleaned pan. “I believe Hannah and her dochder made it.”
“It reminds me of my mamm’s strawberry jam,” he said.
She couldn’t stop herself from turning around. “You know, it does taste like Ruth’s.” The comment popped out of her mouth.
He tilted his head in question. “You’ve had my mamm’s jam?”
“Ya.” Linda wiped her hands on a dish towel. “She brought a jar of jam and some brot to share at lunch one day at work.”
“You work at the hotel where my mamm worked?” he asked.
“Ya, I do.” Had he been to see his mother yet? If so, had his mother’s heart mended after missing him for seventeen years? Had his visit helped her heal? She hoped his being back would help Ruth recover from her stroke instead of setting her back.
They stared at each other for a moment, and her cheeks nearly burst into flames. She wasn’t used to men noticing her. She quickly turned her attention back to the sink. She wished she could look at Aaron without feeling so awkward and self-conscious. Linda never outgrew the shyness of her youth. Instead, she was forever stuck in a painful, awkward stage.
Footsteps and voices echoed in the stairwell, and Linda was thankful the other couple was joining them for breakfast.
“Good morning,” an older man with graying hair said as they entered the kitchen. He took a seat across from Aaron. “Everything smells magnificent.”
“Hello.” His wife sat beside him and picked up the jar of jam Aaron and Linda had just discussed. “Oh, good. I love this jam.”
Linda nodded at them as she continued cleaning up the counter and stove. Guests quickly got used to the informality of an Amish kitchen. In fact, Linda had noticed they all seemed to love it.
“How are you doing today?” the man asked Aaron.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Aaron said. “I can tell you that breakfast is wonderful. Linda is a fantastic cook.”
“Oh, yes, we know,” the woman agreed. “You should have her barbecue meat loaf with boiled potatoes. We had it last Wednesday night, and it was wonderful.”
Linda wished her cheeks would stop burning. She worried her face might spontaneously combust!
“I’ll have to try that,” Aaron said as he stood.
“I highly recommend it,” the man chimed in.
Aaron crossed the kitchen and handed Linda his plate. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“Gern gschehne,” she said softly. She gazed into his eyes and found sadness there. She longed to ask him where he’d been for seventeen years and why he chose to stay away from his mother, who loved him deeply. It was none of her business, and it didn’t matter. After all, he was probably going to visit his family and then go home.
“I’ll see you later,” Aaron said.
She nodded as he left the kitchen and went back up the stairs. Somehow, the frustration and disgust she felt for him had melted away.
TWO
Aaron contemplated Linda Zook as he drove to his parents’ farm. He could see the recognition in her eyes as soon as she looked at him, and he felt guilty that he didn’t remember her. Her name was familiar, but he couldn’t place her, which surprised him since she was attractive. Linda had the most striking, bottomless brown eyes and clear, ivory skin. She seemed terribly bashful, though. Or maybe she just didn’t feel comfortable around him.
She intrigued him, though, especially when she said she worked with his mother. He’d wanted to ask her if she knew any more than Saul had about how his mother was doing, but the subject was too painful to bring up. He feared he might get emotional in her presence, and that would have been awkward for both of them. Although when he mentioned his mother, Linda had stared at him as if she had something she wanted to say to him too. He wondered what she was thinking, but she turned away from him before he worked up the courage to ask her what was on her mind.
He parked his pickup truck in front of his parents’ house and stared at the front door. His heart thumped in his chest and he grasped the wheel. He had to face his fear and make his way to the front door. If his family rejected him, then he’d pack up and go back to Missouri with the satisfaction of knowing he’d tried once again to reach out to them. Only this time, he had traveled a long way instead of writing a letter.
Aaron rubbed the bridge of his nose. He knew he wouldn’t handle the rejection that easily; his heart would be broken, especially if his mother turned him away. Saul said she had been asking for him, but he also wondered if that was merely some result of the stroke.
Just do it, Aaron. Go face your mother. His inner voice pushed him to risk seeing his family despite a possible painful outcome.
He killed the truck’s rumbling engine and stuffed his keys in his coat pocket. He wrenched the door open and walked toward the front porch. His heavy boots crunched the frozen ground, and he shivered even though it was warmer than most January days. Aaron glanced toward the barns and knew his father and brother were busy caring for the animals. He remembered all those freezing winter days when he’d spent hours mucking the stalls. Since the animals spent more time inside the barns during the cold months, there was more shoveling and hauling to do than during the warm months.
Aaron climbed the front steps, stopped on the porch, and instantly felt transported back to his childhood. After taking a deep breath, he knocked and waited for someone to answer.
The door swung open and a young woman dressed in light-blue scrubs appeared.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“Hi,” Aaron said, suddenly feeling self-conscious and out of place. “I’m Aaron Ebersol. I came to see my mother.”
Her expression lit up. “You’re Aaron? I’m her nurse, Jocelyn—the nurse who’ll be here most days. It’s nice to meet you. She talks about you nonstop—even with the difficulty she’s having trouble speaking.”
“She does?” He was stunned by that. He truly thought Saul had said that to make him feel better.
“Yes, she does. Please come in.” She opened the door wide and he stepped into the small foyer. “Mrs. Ebersol is sitting out on the back porch. I have her well covered, but it’s not too cold today. It’s the only place that seems to calm her down when she’s upset.”
She paused. “If it’s all right with you, I’d prefer to let her know you’re here before you see her. She’s quite fragile, and I don’t want her to be shocked when you walk in. If anyone else in your family knew you were coming, they haven’t mentioned it to her or to me.”
Aaron elected not to explain that he hadn’t yet told anyone in the family he was here. “How has she been agitated?” he asked.
Jocelyn paused again, and he wondered if she was censoring her words. “Mrs. Ebersol becomes very frustrated when she can’t communicate. She knows what she wants to say, b
ut she can’t put it into words. It all stems from the damage done by the stroke.”
“Oh.” Aaron jammed his hands into his pockets. He hoped he had the strength to face how the stroke had changed her.
“I’ll go tell your mother you’re here and then come and get you when she’s ready. Her moods have been unpredictable. If your visit is too overwhelming for her today, then you may have to come back.”
He frowned. “I hope it isn’t too much for her. I drove a long way to get here, and I’m eager to see her.” He felt ashamed now that he hadn’t come in the day before.
“I’ll see what I can do. Just give me a few minutes.” Jocelyn headed toward the back porch.
Aaron sighed. He couldn’t be forbidden from seeing his mother after coming so far both physically and emotionally. He couldn’t turn back now.
He stepped into the family room and a chill passed over him. The house was exactly as he remembered it. The furniture he recalled clearly from his childhood was still there, though looking more worn. The same tan sofa, brown wing chair, oak end tables and matching coffee table sat in the exact spots they were in when he was a young boy. Two propane-powered lamps decorated the end tables. The walls were painted plain white and sparsely decorated, with only two shelves that held candles. He clearly remembered his parents sitting across from each other after supper every evening. Once again he felt as if he’d stepped back in time and had never left home.
“Mr. Ebersol?” Jocelyn asked from the doorway. “Mrs. Ebersol is ready to see you.”
Aaron’s stomach flip-flopped and he stood cemented in the middle of the family room. The moment of truth had arrived. He’d anticipated this moment ever since receiving the message from Saul. What if things didn’t work out the way he’d hoped? What if his mother rejected him? What if Mamm isn’t happy to see me after all?
The nurse tilted her head in question. “Is something wrong? Her mood is fine. She’s eager to see you.”
“Great.” Aaron rubbed his hands together, and his heart pounded. He still couldn’t move.
“Are you okay?” the nurse asked as she approached him. “Mrs. Ebersol is waiting for you.”
“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, sounding more like a little boy than a full-grown man. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen her.”
“Just be yourself,” Jocelyn said gently. “She’s overjoyed that you’re here after all these years. You really don’t have to say anything. Just be there with her. Hold her hand and tell her that you’ve missed her.” She motioned him to follow her to the kitchen, and he did.
When the nurse reached the door to the mudroom leading to the porch, she said, “I’ll give you some privacy. We were working on her exercises, but she can use a break. I just don’t want her to overdo it.”
“Thanks,” Aaron said softly.
His steps were bogged down with the weight of his anxiety as he crossed the mudroom floor. His breath hitched when he made it to the doorway and saw his mother sitting in a wheelchair at the far end of the porch, facing the back pasture. She looked so petite and frail instead of tall and self-assured as he remembered from his childhood. She had on a thick shawl, and a blanket covered her lap and legs. Her hair showing from beneath her prayer covering was gray instead of the deep brown he recalled from his childhood. The porch was outfitted the way he remembered, with three rocking chairs and a wooden glider.
He leaned against the door frame as his emotions churned inside him.
“Aa-ron?” His mother called. “You t-there?”
Her voice was weak and her words were garbled, which further caused his heart to feel like it was twisting. He could tell the stroke had stolen the light he’d always seen inside her. When he was young, he believed his parents were invincible. They were the strongest, wisest adults he knew. He felt as if he were watching a television drama about a family he didn’t know. This wasn’t the mother he remembered.
“A-aron?” His mother struggled to turn the wheelchair with her left hand. “Y-you there?”
Aaron stepped onto the porch and slowly made his way over to her. As he reached her wheelchair, she turned her face toward him. She gasped, and her tired brown eyes shimmered as she looked up at him.
“A-Aaron,” she gushed. “Y-ou k-k-k-um t-t-t . . .” She closed her eyes and scowled. She opened and closed her mouth several times, and her cheeks flushed bright red.
So this is what the nurse means when she says Mamm becomes agitated.
“Mamm.” His voice broke as tears spilled from his eyes. “Calm down, Mamm. It’s all right. You don’t have to say anything.”
After opening her eyes, she reached her good hand toward him, and he held it.
Regret, love, and anguish drenched him, and he was overwhelmed by the riot of emotions. He dropped to his knees in front of her, and she pulled him close. He couldn’t stop the tears that were burning his eyes and streaming down his cheeks as his mother hugged him. He felt like a little boy cradled in her arms.
“Ach, A-Aaron,” she whispered, tracing her fingers through his hair. “C-curls.”
“Yes, I still have them,” he said as he sniffed. “There’s no stopping them. No matter what I do, my hair is a mess of curls. I’ve considered shaving my head.”
“No, no. No sh-shave.” Her words were garbled, but she still sounded like his mother. He could feel her unfailing love, despite the years he had stayed away. “H-home. You h-home.”
Aaron sat back on his heels and brushed his hands over his wet cheeks. “Did you get my letters?”
She tilted her head, and her eyebrows pinched up with confusion. “What l-letters?”
“I wrote you twice a week, then monthly, for years, and I sent you checks,” he explained. “I paid back every cent you and Dat would have to spend on the bishop’s barn. I sent you extra money, in fact, but you didn’t cash even one of the checks.”
“N-no,” she said slowly. “N-no.”
“You didn’t get the letters?” he asked, trying to make sense of her terse responses.
Aaron stood and sat in a rocking chair beside her. “I know I wrote the correct address on the envelopes. I don’t understand why you didn’t get them. All this time . . .”
She gave him a lopsided smile and placed her hand on his.
He took in her face and noticed the right side seemed frozen. She was partially paralyzed, and it nearly crushed his heart. He thought again about how she was so strong and intelligent when he was a child. She always had good advice and an encouraging scripture verse to share when he needed support. Now she had problems speaking and was sitting in a wheelchair. The reality settled over his soul, tearing at his emotions. He tried to take a deep, cleansing breath but could only produce a puff of air.
His mother seemed oblivious to his shattering emotions as she continued to smile at him.
“I fr-froh.” A tear trickled down her cheek as she squeezed his hand.
He patted her fragile hand and cleared his throat, trying to eliminate the knot that swelled there.
“St-stay for lunch. Sup-per too,” she said, speaking slowly. “M-must s-see kinner.”
“Kinner?” Aaron asked. “Are you saying you want me to meet Solomon’s kinner?”
Mamm nodded.
“How many children does Solomon have?” Aaron asked.
“F-four,” Mamm said. “Two buwe and two maed.”
“Four?” Aaron repeated as the information sank in. Solomon had everything he’d hoped to have. He was helping their father run the farm and he had his large family. “That’s wonderful, Mamm.”
“M-must s-see Dat,” Mamm continued.
Jocelyn appeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Ebersol, it’s time for you to take your medicine and I think you should get some rest. This has been an exciting morning for you. We’ll work on your exercises later.”
“Ach, no.” Mamm’s face shone with disappointment.
“I know you’re disappointed to end your visit, but Aaron can come back later, r
ight?” The nurse gave him an expression imploring him to agree with her. “You’re planning to come and visit again soon, right, Aaron?”
“Right,” Aaron chimed in. “I’ll come back and visit you very soon.”
His mother hesitated and then nodded. “G-gut.”
“Take care of yourself, Mamm.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for inviting me for a meal, but next time might be better for you.”
His mother cupped her hand to his cheek and her eyes glimmered with fresh tears. “Ich l-liebe d-,” she whispered, her mouth stumbling over the words.
Aaron blinked back his threatening tears as his emotions swirled again. She was attempting to tell him she loved him, and watching her struggle to say the words tore him apart. “I love you too, Mamm,” he said with a quaky whisper.
As he walked past Jocelyn on his way into the mudroom, she smiled at him.
“I haven’t seen her this happy since I started here last week.” She touched his arm. “You’re like a miracle drug.”
Aaron merely nodded since his emotions were still raw. He started to go back through the kitchen, but two Amish women he didn’t know were there cleaning and talking in Pennsylvania Dutch. Without his mother seeing, he quickly slipped back through the porch and out the back door. He wasn’t ready for church members to pepper him with questions about where he’d been and why he’d left.
Once he reached the safety of his truck, Aaron breathed a deep sigh of relief. The visit had been overwhelming, but he was grateful he’d come. His mother had welcomed him with open arms, but he wasn’t certain how his father and brother would react to his return, and he was glad no one else in the family had seen him. He needed to take the visits one step at a time, and this was the most emotion he could face in one day.
His eyes scanned the house while considering his mother’s condition. He remembered a job he and Zac had completed last year. They had made a home handicapped accessible for a woman when her elderly father came to live with her. Aaron and his crew built a ramp on the front of the house, widened doorways, and added a large bedroom and bathroom on the first floor. He wondered if his father would allow him to add a ramp to the front and back of his house. Would he consider having Aaron redesign the downstairs bathroom? The smaller one near his parents’ bedroom was too small for what he thought his mother needed as she was more able to get around. Ideas and plans rolled through his mind for a few minutes.