by Amy Clipston
His stomach rumbled and he realized it was well past lunchtime. He suddenly had a craving for his old favorite, ham loaf, which he used to enjoy at the Bird-in-Hand Family Restaurant and Smorgasbord. The idea of having a nice, leisurely lunch warmed his soul. He needed to get away from his parents’ house and allow all these overwhelming emotions to subside while he cleared his head.
Once Aaron was seated in the restaurant, he ordered ham loaf then contemplated his mother’s condition as he occasionally sipped his cup of water. He folded a napkin over and over as he recalled his mother’s face when she first saw him.
“Aaron Ebersol?”
He looked up to find a pretty Amish woman staring at him. She was holding an infant. Her face was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. She looked to be about his age and was standing with an Amish man and teenage boy.
“Yes?” he asked while trying to recall who she was. Why did he have such a terrible time remembering faces and names? Had he blocked them from his memory to mask some of the pain of leaving his hometown?
“Aaron!” She repeated his name and snapped her fingers and smiled. “I thought that was you.” She pointed to her chest. “I’m Carolyn Lapp. Actually, I’m Carolyn Glick now, but I used to be Carolyn Lapp. We went to school and youth group together. And we worked at the Philadelphia Market together.”
“Carolyn!” Recognition flashed through him. Praise God! He remembered her! “How are you?”
“I’m well, thanks.” She gestured toward the man and boy. “This is my husband, Josh, and my son, Ben.” She then turned the infant to face him. “And this little angel is Sadie Liz.”
Aaron stood and shook their hands. “It’s nice to meet you all.”
“This is Ruth’s son,” Carolyn explained to her husband. “Could you give me a minute to talk to him?” Her husband nodded, but his expression was stoic, almost accusing.
“Of course. We’ll go sit.” Josh tapped the boy’s arm, and he and Ben ambled to the other side of the restaurant.
“Have you seen your mother?” Carolyn asked while bouncing the baby.
“Yes.” Aaron frowned. “I just left her house.”
“I’m glad you came,” Carolyn continued. “She’s been asking for you.”
“That’s what I’ve heard.” Aaron crossed his arms over his chest.
“Linda Zook and I were just saying last week that we hoped your family would locate you. Ruth was so adamant about seeing you. She needs you to be here with her.”
At first, he was surprised to hear she knew Linda, but he quickly reminded himself how small and tight-knit the community was. He was bewildered by how much he missed being a part of that community.
“I was shocked when I saw her. I had no idea what to expect, but I was still really stunned by how much she has changed and how frail she is. She’s not the person I remember at all. And she can barely speak. It was painful watching her try to pronounce words.”
“I’m sorry.” Carolyn’s eyes were full of empathy. “I know it was difficult for you. The stroke took a lot out of her.”
Aaron sighed. “That’s very true.”
“Listen, I want to ask you something.” Her expression was hesitant, and she lowered her voice. “I heard when you left that you went with the others from our youth group.”
“That’s right. A group of us went together.”
“Did—” She stopped as if the words were too difficult to say. “I don’t know if I should even ask.”
“What do you want to ask me?” he gently questioned her.
“Did Paul go with you?” After she said the name, her cheeks blushed bright red. “I know he left around the same time you did.”
“Paul Bender from the Philadelphia Market?” he asked.
She nodded, but her expression was a mixture of embarrassment and apprehension. “Please don’t tell anyone I asked about him. It’s been a long time, and I don’t want anyone to think wrongly of me.”
“I know he was in Missouri with us for a while, but he left several years ago.”
“Oh.” She smiled and seemed relieved. “Danki. I had wondered what happened to him because I never heard from him again. He was gone in a hurry, and only left me a cryptic note.” She glanced across the restaurant toward her family. “I better go before they eat without me. They both were complaining they were hungry.”
“Enjoy your lunch,” he said.
“You too. I’m glad you came back to the community.” Then she walked away.
The server brought Aaron his lunch as he considered his conversation with Carolyn. He was stunned she’d recognized him, but he was also thankful to talk to her. The community truly cared about his mother, and that warmed his worried heart. He just couldn’t figure out why she didn’t get his letters. Had she really not received them? Or had she forgotten about them due to her stroke? Yet Saul didn’t seem to think she had ever received them.
When he finished his lunch, he drove back to the bed-and-breakfast. As he climbed the front stairs to his room, he heard the hum of the vacuum. He walked slowly down the hall and found Linda propelling the vacuum cleaner back and forth in his room.
She was focused on cleaning and completely unaware that he was standing in the doorway. When she looked up, she gasped, cupping her hand to her mouth, mirroring the same reaction she’d had to seeing him that morning. She flipped the vacuum cleaner off, and her cheeks glowed a bright pink.
“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t help but smile at her adorable expression. Her deep-brown eyes were wide, like a child seeing fireworks for the first time. “I’ve startled you yet again. I honestly didn’t mean to.”
“No, I’m sorry.” She trained her gaze down on her apron. “I didn’t mean to get in your way. I was just finishing up.” She pointed to a pile of towels on the chair by the desk. “Your clean linens are there. Please let me know if you need anything else.”
She seemed to deliberately avoid his gaze, and he wondered why she was so shy. Had she always been this self-conscious? He longed to remember her. She lunged and unplugged the machine from the wall. After winding the cord around the handle, she pushed the vacuum toward the door, and he stepped aside so she could move past him. She was so petite and thin that he felt like a giant next to her.
“Wait. Don’t leave on my account.” He felt bad for interrupting her. “I can go downstairs until you’re done.”
“No, really, I was just finishing up.” She started to push the vacuum cleaner toward the room next door and then suddenly stopped and faced him. “Did you go to see your mamm?”
“Ya.” He sighed and leaned against the door frame.
Her eyes were full of sympathy. “You were shocked by how she looked.”
It was more of a statement than a question, and the compassion in her expression caught him off guard. Although her cheeks were still slightly pink, her eyes were focused on him, eagerly awaiting his response.
He nodded as emotion churned anew within him. He didn’t want to get emotional in front of her. What would she think of him if he shed a few tears in her presence? No self-respecting man would reveal that kind of sentiment in front of a woman he barely knew.
“I was stunned when I first saw her too,” Linda continued. “But it will get better. Hold on to your faith. God won’t abandon Ruth.” Her expression was determined, and he knew she believed those words.
“I know.” He cleared his throat. “I just never expected her to be so weak and frail. When I was a kid, she was always the strongest woman I knew. And now, she has to use a wheelchair.” He felt a lump swelling in his throat, and he stopped speaking and regained his composure. “She was so astounded that I’d come. I could see it in her eyes.”
Linda nodded. “I know she was. Still, she’s prayed for this for a long time.”
“But that’s what I don’t understand,” Aaron said. “I wrote her many times. After I moved to Missouri and got settled in a job, I wrote her every week, and I even sent her checks. But she ha
d no idea what I was talking about when I asked her if she got the letters and the checks. None of the checks were ever cashed, which didn’t make sense to me.”
Linda tilted her head and squeezed her eyebrows up. “She never mentioned any letters to me.”
Aaron felt his frustration swelling. “I don’t understand that. How could all my letters get lost in the mail? Maybe she did get them and never mentioned them to anyone. Did she lose her memory at all when she had the stroke?”
“No, I don’t think she lost her memory.” Linda’s eyes were steady and focused, showing her certainty. “She talked about you all the time at the hotel. I think she would’ve mentioned the letters if she’d received them.”
“She talked about me all the time?” His voice hitched on the last word. He couldn’t help but question that every time he heard it.
“Ya, she did. Well, actually she still does talk about you.” Linda looked confused again. “Why does that shock you?”
“I figured she forgot about me.”
“You can’t possibly believe that, Aaron.” Linda’s expression became incredulous. “I’ve never had any kinner, but I’m positive a mamm would never forget a kind. Ruth shared many times that she worried about where you were, whether you were warm and had food, if you were froh. She didn’t know where you were, so I know she never received those letters.”
“I don’t understand it,” he repeated as he slapped his thigh with frustration. “It doesn’t make any sense at all.”
“I think all that matters now is that you’re here. In her mind, her prayers have been answered.” Linda’s expression was full of sympathy again, and her kind expression calmed his growing frustration.
“I know you’re right, but that doesn’t excuse the years she had to worry about me. I’d feel better if she had received those letters,” he insisted. “I feel bad, but I had tried to reach her.”
Linda’s expression hardened. “Saul and I are both friends with Madeleine Miller, and he had already told her you were back. When she came by to see how Hannah is this morning and I mentioned you were here and had left to see your family, she and Trey both realized they didn’t have to keep quiet about you being here now. Madeleine explained how Saul tracked you down. They just didn’t tell anyone in case you changed your mind about coming and Ruth would be crushed.”
She paused a moment before going on. “I’d just like to know, if you were going to come home, why did it take you so long after Saul called you?”
Aaron blanched at her direct question. “I came as soon as I could. I own a business, so I had to make sure things were handled before I could come.”
Linda nodded, but she looked unconvinced. “It’s none of my business, but after the stroke, Ruth became more upset and worried about you than ever. She told my friend Madeleine that she had to see you right away, which is why Madeleine helped Saul find you on the Internet. Business or no, I can’t understand why you didn’t jump in your fancy pickup truck and drive here the day after Saul called you.”
Aaron crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. “You’re right, Linda. I should’ve come the next day. The truth is that I was a coward. I was afraid my family would reject me, and I was also upset that my mother had never answered my letters. I felt as if they’d shunned me, even though I can’t technically be shunned since I never joined the church. I’m an awful person for not coming right away, but I was scared. Now I feel bad knowing that she’s worried about me all these years.”
Linda’s expression softened again. “I imagine she’s forgotten all of that worry now that she knows you’re okay.” She turned her attention toward the room next door. “I better get back to my cleaning.”
As he watched her walk away, a memory of the school playground flashed through his mind. He was about ten years old and standing up to bat during a softball game. He glanced toward a big tree across the playground and saw a little brunette girl sitting alone underneath it. She was small for her age and shy. And, he remembered now, she was almost always alone. That was Linda. She was a wallflower, never talking much or contributing in class. But he suddenly remembered those captivating eyes.
“Linda, wait,” he called after her.
She stopped in the doorway of the room next door and gave him a curious expression.
“You were raised by your onkel Reuben and aenti Verna, right?”
She paused, her eyes assessing him. “So you do remember me.”
“Of course I do,” he tried to stave off the awkwardness, but he could feel it filling the air between them. “How are your onkel and aenti?”
Her expression softened slightly. “Mei aenti passed away several years ago. Onkel Reuben is the same.”
“Oh.” He did a mental head slap. Great job, Aaron. More awkwardness. “I’m sorry about your aenti.”
She gave him a stiff nod. “Danki.”
She pushed the vacuum cleaner into the room, and he wondered why she was still single when it seemed most members of the community their age had married and started families. He didn’t remember seeing her at any youth group gatherings. Did she prefer being alone?
Soon the vacuum roared to life and he was left alone with thoughts of his mother. He needed to find out what had happened to his letters, but Linda’s encouraging words echoed through his mind. He had answered his mother’s prayer by coming home, but would the rest of his family welcome him as his mother had?
THREE
Solomon couldn’t prevent his scowl while sitting at his parents’ long kitchen table that evening. His family ate meals with them a lot more often now that Becky and their daughters were helping out with some of the cooking. He chewed the pot roast slowly, and, although it smelled delicious, it tasted like sawdust in his mouth while he listened to his mother haltingly detail her visit with Aaron.
He still couldn’t believe the news—Aaron had returned. His irresponsible, inconsiderate, reckless, thoughtless younger brother had returned to the community after seventeen long years. It was too much for him to process. His appetite had vanished, and he dropped his fork onto the plate with a loud clatter.
Becky, who was sitting beside him, jumped.
“I’m sorry,” Solomon muttered before wiping a napkin across his mouth.
Becky leaned over and lowered her voice. “Is there something wrong with the pot roast, mei liewe?”
“No.” He lifted his glass of water. “It’s gut.”
“Why aren’t you eating?” she pressed on.
“I’m letting my food settle.” He knew it was a sin to lie, but he couldn’t admit the truth to his wife—he was furious that his brother had come back and given their mother the false hope that he would actually stay. And he hadn’t even had the decency to face the rest of the family.
“He . . . t-tall,” Mamm said, struggling with every word.
“Really? He’s tall? Taller than Dat?” Solomon Jr. asked with amazement. “I know I’m only eleven now, but I want to be really tall when I grow up.”
“Will we get to meet him?” Katie asked, ignoring her little brother. “Onkel Aaron left four years before I was even born, but I’ve always wondered about him.”
Ruthie Joy looked over at Solomon. “And I was born a year after he left, so I’m really curious too. We’ll meet our onkel, right, Dat?”
Solomon gave her a curt nod, but in his heart, he doubted Aaron would stay around long enough to get to know his nieces and nephews. And that thought irked him. Why was his brother showing up now anyway? Just because the mother he had abandoned was ill? And who had contacted him? That was the even bigger unknown that infuriated him.
“I can’t believe it.” His father’s eyes gleamed with tears as he sat at the head of the table. “What a miracle that Aaron has finally come home. I worried that we’d never see him again and then he just shows up out of the blue when we need him most. I wish he’d come to find me out in the barn.”
Solomon gritted his teeth. How could his parents celebrate his brother aft
er he’d been gone for so long? Didn’t they resent his absence as much as he did? He felt Becky’s eyes studying him, and he busied himself with piling more mashed potatoes on his plate even though he wasn’t hungry.
“It’s very unexpected.” Becky frowned while cutting up a piece of pot roast. “I’m stunned that he’s back now after all these years. I never thought we’d see him again either. He left in such a rush that it felt as if he had no feelings for his family. In fact, I didn’t think he cared about any of us. Now he’s back and it’s difficult to believe anything will ever be the same again.”
“Did Aaron say where he’s staying?” his father asked. “Those bedrooms upstairs aren’t even used anymore. I hope he’s not paying for a room somewhere when we have more than enough room for him.”
His mom stopped struggling to fork a piece of meat with her left hand and shook her head. “N-no.”
“Did he say when he’s coming back?” Manny asked. At nineteen, his oldest son was one to ask for details.
“Y-ya. T-t-o-m-morrow.” Mamm sniffed as a tear trickled down her cheek. She reached up and touched her prayer covering with her left hand. “H-he . . . c-curls.”
“He has curly hair?” Katie’s eyes widened. “Are they like my curls?”
“Ya,” Mamm said.
“Wow.” Katie beamed.
“I want to meet him,” Manny said.
“I do too,” Junior added. “I didn’t know I had an onkel.”
“Ya, you did,” Katie corrected him. “Mammi’s mentioned Onkel Aaron before.”
“Not to me,” Junior insisted before turning to Solomon. “Why don’t you talk about your bruder, Dat?”
Solomon felt all the eyes at the table turn to him, and the room fell silent. It was as if he were stuck in a fishbowl. He simply shrugged off their stares. “Aaron left. There was nothing more to say.”