by Amy Clipston
He placed his hand over the top of his mug. “I told you, you don’t have to wait on me. I can get my own coffee. You worry about that bacon. I want a piece before I leave.”
She chuckled. “All right.”
“Danki.”
Linda grabbed another frying pan and soon the bacon sizzled and popped as she moved it around in the pan. She fished out the fully cooked pieces with metal tongs and placed them on a platter beside the stovetop.
“You haven’t said anything about my Dietsch today.” His voice was soft in her ear.
She nearly jumped. Aaron was standing directly behind her. He seemed to be awaiting her response, but she couldn’t speak for a moment as she processed how close he was to her.
“Haven’t you noticed how many Dietsch words I’m using now?” He placed his mug in the sink, seemingly unaware of how his close proximity affected her.
“Ya, I have noticed,” she finally said before smoothing her hands over her apron. “You’re an expert.”
“I told you I was.” He winked at her as he swiped two pieces of bacon. “I have to run, but I’ll see you later. Danki again for your encouragement. It’s working.”
“Have a great day.” As she watched him leave, she knew she was in trouble. They’d shared another meaningful conversation, and she could feel her attachment to him blossoming.
She truly had feelings for Aaron Ebersol, and she’d be left nursing a broken heart when he went back to Missouri and left Pennsylvania behind.
EIGHT
Why did you leave the community?” Manny asked Aaron as they stained the ramp.
Aaron set his brush down and adjusted the ball cap perched on his head. He looked toward Solomon’s house and wondered what his brother had told his children about him. Had they learned anything about their uncle at all over the years?
“What has your dat told you about me?” Aaron asked
Manny shrugged as he dipped his brush into the stain. “Nothing really. I once asked him about you, and he only said that you’d left. He wouldn’t discuss it other than to say you had gone.”
Aaron nodded. He hadn’t expected to hear anything different, but it still hurt knowing that his brother had written him off with one simple sentence. They were brothers, not acquaintances who barely knew each other.
“It was more than that. I didn’t just wake up one morning and decide to run off to see the world.” Aaron picked up his brush again, put more stain on it, and moved it across the wood. “I got in with a wild group of buwe. They weren’t all buwe, really. Some of them were young men. We were constantly in trouble. We drank alcohol, smoked cigarettes, and snuck out at night.”
Manny grimaced. “Mei dat wouldn’t tolerate that.”
“Mei dat didn’t either, but I didn’t listen to him or obey.” Aaron blew out a deep sigh. “I’m not proud of what I did. I caused my parents a lot of stress and constant headaches. The last straw was when I burned down the bishop’s barn.”
Manny gasped. “Did you do it on purpose?”
“No, but it was my fault.” Aaron explained how the fire happened. “It was terrible. My parents had to pay for replacing the barn, which was a real burden since the farm wasn’t doing well that year. One of my friends suggested we leave because they were all tired of constant restrictions. We went off to Missouri and started a new life there.”
“And you were only fifteen?” Manny looked astonished.
“Ya, I was. It wasn’t smart at all, and I know now that I hurt my parents much more by leaving than if I had stayed and worked through my problems with them.” Aaron paused long enough to compel Manny to look at him. “Staying and facing my problems would’ve been the best way to handle the situation. You can’t run away from your problems. It only makes things worse because your problems will follow you wherever you go.”
Manny seemed to be listening, but Aaron wondered what his nephew was thinking.
“My advice to you is to stay on the straight and narrow path,” Aaron continued. “Don’t get involved with the wrong crowd.”
“I won’t.” Manny pushed his hat up and brushed back his hair. “I haven’t had the opportunity to get into trouble, and I really haven’t been interested in doing anything bad. Mei dat is strict, but I don’t mind it, really.”
“That’s gut.” Aaron wasn’t surprised to hear this since his brother had always been so serious. Aaron didn’t recall any times when Solomon was in trouble or when he disobeyed their parents. He always made the right choices, and he never caused their parents any stress.
“You sound like the opposite of mei dat,” Manny said. “I don’t think mei dat knows how to break rules.”
“That’s not a bad quality to have.” Aaron stared at his nephew and wondered about his life. “Are you baptized?”
“Ya.” Manny went back to running his brush over the ramp. “I was baptized last year. Most of my freinden joined the church then too.”
“Gut.” Aaron couldn’t help but feel happy to hear this. “I’m sure your parents and grandparents were happy to see you baptized.”
Manny nodded. “I really didn’t think twice about it. I’m happy with my life. I guess you weren’t baptized since you left the Amish so young.”
“No,” Aaron said. “And I didn’t know if I was ever going to be. I wasn’t sure what I wanted back then.”
“Do you know what you want now?” Manny asked.
Aaron was stumped. “I’m not sure how to answer that. I have everything I need back in Missouri. I have a good job and a growing business. I have a place to live. At the same time, I miss my family.”
“Do you miss the church?”
Aaron considered the question. “In some ways I do miss the church. I miss the community more than anything. You don’t realize how wonderful the community is until you leave. I have some friends in Missouri, mostly people I work with, but that’s not the same as being a member of a community that pulls together when one of the members is in need.”
They continued their work in silence for a few minutes, and Aaron realized he wanted to know more about Manny. Perhaps he hoped Manny had all the things he wished he could’ve had if he’d stayed in the community.
“Do you have a maedel?” Aaron asked.
Manny looked up at him and grinned. “Ya, I do.”
“What’s her name?” Aaron asked with a smile.
“Nancy,” Manny said. “Her parents own Fisher’s Deli. I’ve known her since we were kinner. She’s schee, intelligent, and sweet. I’m so grateful the Lord brought us together.”
“That’s great.” Aaron was honored that Manny was sharing so much personal information with him.
“How about you?” Manny asked. “Do you have a maedel?”
“No.” Aaron stood and stretched his back. “I don’t.”
“Why not?” Manny asked, incredulous.
“I haven’t found the right one, I guess.”
“Have you dated at all?” Manny stood and stretched his back too. “Oh, I’m going to be sore tomorrow.”
“I’m going to be sore too. I always seem to forget to stand and stretch periodically during a project like this, and then I suffer for a few days.” Aaron examined the ramp, taking in the planks that weren’t quite straight, unhappy the ramp wasn’t perfect. I should’ve done a better job.
“You’re avoiding the question.” Manny waved his brush toward Aaron.
“What?” Aaron pretended not to understand the statement, but it was true—he was avoiding the question. He didn’t want to discuss his lonely life with his nineteen-year-old nephew.
“Why won’t you tell me about your love life?”
“My love life?” Aaron laughed. He might as well answer the question. “Okay. There’s nothing to tell you—except that I don’t have one. Dating is not a part of my life.”
“So you’ve never dated at all?” Manny looked stunned. “How can that be? Aren’t you in your thirties?”
Aaron sank onto a pile of lumber bes
ide the ramp. “I guess I dated a couple of women in Missouri, but it wasn’t really dating.”
“What do you mean?” Manny took a drink from his bottle of water.
“I took them out for coffee once or twice. One woman went out to dinner with me a few times, but that was it. Nothing came of it. We talked on the phone for a while, but we were really only friends. I wouldn’t say she was my girlfriend because we were never really a couple.”
“Why not?” Manny looked confused. “Doesn’t taking a woman out a few times make her your girlfriend?”
“Not really. I didn’t feel a connection with her. We really didn’t have much in common. She was sweet, but she didn’t really understand me. I guess she wasn’t the right one for me.” He paused and thought not just about his dating history, but his life. “I can’t seem to find where I belong, I suppose.” He was bemused to hear himself open his heart to a teenager, even though Manny was his nephew. Although it felt strange, it also was cathartic.
“Maybe you’ve been looking in the wrong places,” Manny said.
Aaron chuckled and tossed a work glove at Manny, hitting him in the chest.
“What was that for?” Manny demanded.
“You’re way too young to be so profound.” Aaron stood. “Let’s finish this ramp.”
Manny grinned, and Aaron shook his head. He was thankful to have gotten to know his nephew. In fact, he was overflowing with admiration for the young man.
Aaron climbed into his truck that afternoon and looked at the completed front ramp. He was grateful for his two nephews’ assistance finishing it up today. Although the ramp wasn’t perfect, it looked decent. And, most importantly, it was functional. He started the engine and steered down the road toward the bed-and-breakfast. His mind wandered, and he found himself thinking about Linda.
She’d been on his mind all day long. He contemplated her suggestion to visit Elmer Smucker. He knew facing the bishop and apologizing again for the barn fire would help clear his mind and his conscience. He needed to find a way to forgive himself, and facing the transgression straight on would help him do that.
Making up his mind, Aaron turned right at the next intersection and drove toward the bishop’s farm. He’d already learned Elmer was not only still the district bishop but lived in the same place. His stomach clenched as he pulled into the driveway and eased his pickup to a stop. As he climbed out of the cab and walked up the rock path toward the white, two-story house, he scanned the pasture behind the house and spotted the large barn that replaced the one he’d burned down. It was nearly identical to the one he remembered—red with a black roof. He sighed. He should’ve stayed in town and helped rebuild that barn, but he couldn’t change the past. Instead, he could only try to make amends for the future.
Standing on the bishop’s porch, Aaron took a deep breath. Then he knocked on the door before folding his arms over his coat and shivering in the cold breeze.
A moment after the door opened, Elmer Smucker stood in front of him with a baffled expression on his face. Now in his late-seventies, the bishop looked even shorter than Aaron remembered. He was a stocky man, and he had a long, silver beard. “Hello. May I help you?”
“Hi, Elmer.” Aaron stuck his hand out. “I’m Aaron Ebersol. Jonas and Ruth are my parents.”
“Aaron!” The older man shook his hand. “I heard you were in town. It’s so gut to see you.” He opened the door wide. “Please come in.”
“Danki.” Aaron followed him into a large family room. “I won’t take much of your time.” He sat down on a sofa and placed his coat beside him as Elmer sat down across from him in a wing chair.
“Don’t be gegisch.” Elmer rested his hands in his lap. “What can I do for you?”
“I want to apologize for all the trouble and heartache I caused you years ago. I don’t think I ever gave you a proper apology.” Aaron could already feel the anxiety lifting from his shoulders.
Elmer waved off Aaron’s words. “There’s no need to apologize again. That has long been forgotten. You were always forgiven, and you should’ve known that.”
“I feel like I need to discuss this with you and set things straight. It’s time I take responsibility for my actions.”
“I heard you went to Missouri. Is that true?”
“Ya, that’s true.” Aaron shared his story, including how he co-owned a construction company with his friend. “We also hire former Amish workers and help them adjust to the English life.”
“Is that so?” Elmer fingered his beard and frowned. “I’m not sure that’s the best practice for the Amish community. We want our lost members to make their way back home, not find their way in the outside world.”
Aaron longed to take back his words and ease Elmer’s mind. He didn’t want to upset the bishop. “We don’t encourage them to forget the community. We help them find work. We’re all trying to find our way, so we offer them a way to start a new life.”
“I see.” The older man nodded. “What brought you back home after all this time? Was it your mother’s illness?”
“Yes. Saul Beiler called and told me about mei mamm’s stroke. He managed to locate me on a hunch with some help from a friend, using the Internet.” Aaron paused and rubbed his hands together. “I thought my family had forgotten me, but I realize now that they didn’t, and I caused more pain by leaving than I would’ve if I’d stayed and faced all the problems I’d created.”
“Ya, that’s true.” The bishop nodded slowly. “You didn’t have to leave. There’s nothing so bad that it can’t be solved with some prayer and your family’s support.”
“I know. I’ve missed out on so much,” Aaron continued. “Mei bruder has a nice family, and I’m enjoying getting to know them. My nephew Manny and I are building handicapped ramps for mei mamm so she can get in and out of the house when she’s able to walk again. Manny and I are enjoying spending time together.”
“That’s wunderbaar. Do you think you might stay now?” the bishop asked.
Aaron shook his head. “I don’t know if I can. I have my business in Missouri, and I don’t know how I can come back here to stay after all this time. It would be a huge adjustment. I mean, I’m not Amish anymore.” He surprised himself by deciding to confess to the bishop how confused he was feeling. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to be Amish or if I’m supposed to remain English. I drive a truck, own a cell phone, and use a computer. I haven’t been to an Amish church service since I was fifteen.”
Elmer watched Aaron while again fingering his beard. He seemed to be deep in thought before responding. “I would imagine the Lord led you back here for a reason, ya?”
“I have a feeling you’re right.” Aaron couldn’t help but agree. He was starting to think there was a deeper meaning for his visit beyond seeing his mother.
“Supper!” A woman’s voice called. “It’s ready.”
“Would you like to join mei fraa and me for supper?” Elmer asked. “She made her wunderbaar stew. You will really enjoy it. It’s the perfect meal for a cold winter’s evening.”
“Oh, I don’t want to impose.” Aaron shook his head. “I only wanted to apologize to you.”
“You’re not imposing.” Elmer stood and motioned for Aaron to follow. “Come on, now. You don’t want to insult Fannie. She won’t stand for people leaving here hungry.”
Aaron followed Elmer into the kitchen, which resembled his parents’ kitchen, including the plain white walls, the plain propane refrigerator and stove, and a long kitchen table with six chairs. The only decorations were candles on the windowsills and shelves, a clock, and a calendar decorated with flowers on the wall.
After welcoming Aaron, Fannie served her stew with bread, and then they had chocolate pie for dessert. During the meal, they discussed Aaron’s life in Missouri, as well as how much the surrounding tourist community had grown since he’d left.
“Danki for the meal,” Aaron told Fannie when his plate was clean. “It was positively appeditlich.”
> “Gern gschehne,” Fannie said as she stood to take his plate to the counter. “You’re welcome here anytime. We’re so froh you came by to see us.”
Elmer stood. “Let me grab my coat on the way to the front door and walk you out.”
The two men stood on the porch together as Aaron pulled on his own coat, zipping it up in an attempt to stop the frigid air from seeping beneath his shirt.
“Do you need any work done to your barn or home?” Aaron asked.
“No.” The older man lifted a gray eyebrow with confusion. “Why do you ask?”
“I feel like I need to do something for you to make up for the stress I caused you when I was a kid.” Aaron motioned toward the large barn. “I can replace rotten boards or do any repair work you need.”
Elmer chuckled. “You don’t need to do anything for me, Aaron. The barn was rebuilt, and we’re thankful. It’s over.”
Aaron nodded, and he thought of what Linda had said. Perhaps he needed to forgive himself.
“Do you attend church services in Missouri?” Elmer asked.
Aaron nodded. “I would be lying if I told you that I went regularly, but I have attended church. I’ve gone to the community church periodically, but it’s not the same. I miss the Amish services I grew up with.”
“Really?” Elmer folded his arms across his wide middle. “You should come to church with us while you’re here.”
Aaron’s lips formed a frown. “I don’t know how that would be received.”
Elmer’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? You would be welcomed back. You know that already. You know we are always froh to see former members of the community return.”
“I know,” Aaron said with a sigh. “I’ll think about it.” He knew he was welcome, but he wondered how comfortable he’d feel. Would he feel out of place sitting with the congregation?
“The members of the community would enjoy seeing you again.” The bishop’s expression darkened. “You should remind your workers who were formerly Amish that they would be welcome back to the fold as well. You should encourage them to go back to their communities. They shouldn’t hide on your construction crews. Their communities miss them.”