“The school board members examined the damage this evening.” His father shifted his gaze to Zach’s drumming fingers. Zach stilled his hand. “The entire back half of the schulhaus will have to be rebuilt.”
I could have saved you the trip and told you that.
“Some of the men agreed to get together this Saturday and put up a wall. They’ll have to do it when they get off work, which means there won’t be much time to do anything else.” Uncrossing his arms, his father stroked his collar-length beard, which was almost completely gray. Only a few strands of dark red remained. “The rest will be up to you.”
“The rest?”
“The cleanup, the flooring, the painting. You’ll be expected to pay for materials and any labor. You’ll have to pay to replace the desks you destroyed. Byler and Sons agreed to make new ones as soon as possible, and they should have them done in a week or so.”
Zach gulped. He already owed Rick money for repairs on his truck, plus he’d spent his last few bucks paying for the tow. At least Rick hadn’t ended their friendship over it. Rick had been angry, but he was a good guy. Zach considered himself lucky.
But as the dollars added up in his mind, he saw his luck slipping away. How was he going to pay for everything? He didn’t even have a job. Not that he hadn’t tried. Since he’d finished school, he’d held a few short-term jobs, mostly helping out some of the Amish with their businesses. But he hadn’t worked in over three months. And he wasn’t the only one struggling to find work.
“This week you’ll have to clean up the schulhaus,” his daed continued. “Get it ready for the men to work.”
He nodded. “Whatever I need to do.” He dropped his cool façade and looked up at his daed. “I know I made a huge mistake. I’m really sorry.”
“You’re always sorry.” Daed’s look intensified. “You say the same thing every time you’re in trouble. Then you turn around and do something else dumm.”
If he had a dollar for every time his father called him stupid, he’d be able to pay for the schoolhouse repairs and have some left over. Over the years he’d let the comments roll off him, but he couldn’t tonight. “It was an accident! An honest mistake. Would it have been better if I’d flattened the deer?”
“You should never have been in the truck!” His father scrubbed his hand over his face, then lowered his voice, bending over slightly. His green eyes, so similar in shade to Zach’s, drilled into him. “You may not have joined the church, but you’re expected to follow the rules as long as you live under my roof.”
Zach could repeat this speech from heart.
“You embarrassed me tonight. I had to sit at that board meeting while everyone talked about fixing the damage my sohn caused because of his recklessness.” He straightened and started to pace. “And all you have to say for yourself is that you’re sorry. That’s not gut enough. Not this time. This is your last chance.” His voice shook. “You’re eighteen years old. Time to grow up and be a mann. Take responsibility for your life.”
“I am taking responsibility—”
“I had to bail you out again and smooth things over with the school board members.”
“I offered to go with you.”
His father shook his head. “You would have made everything worse. You always do.”
Zach withered. He’d been hearing these things all his life, but this time it was different. It wasn’t the warning that his father had given him. He’d heard that before too. This time something else spoke to him, something deep inside his soul.
He collected himself and straightened his shoulders. “I’ll take care of it.” Zach meant every word, more than he ever had in his life. “Everything will be ready by Saturday. And I’ll do the rest of the repairs myself and pay everyone back.”
“You better. Because I’m serious, Zach. You’re a grown mann now. The time for being a kinn is gone. Stop embarrassing yourself and our familye.” With those words, his father left the kitchen and headed for the front door. It slammed shut behind him, making Zach flinch.
Zach dropped back in the chair. He knew it was going to be bad, but not this bad. Every word his father said cut him deep inside, adding to the slashes his behavior had brought over the years. But until today he’d never been truly inspired to change. His father was right. He was always doing stupid things, getting into trouble. Forgetting promises, getting distracted. Now his mistake was costing both him and the community time and money. Not to mention he’d disappointed his father again. He wanted to change, to stop humiliating his parents and siblings. But he wasn’t sure how.
His mother came into the kitchen, giving him her usual sympathetic glance, but not saying a word. He was the youngest in his family, with three older brothers who had already left home. Two were married and one had moved to Indiana. He’d never experienced any compassion from them. They had always thought he was a problem child too.
Mami filled a metal teakettle with water from the tap, then set it on top of the gas stove and turned on the burner. She gazed at the flame, the white strings of her prayer kapp trailing down the back of her light-green dress. Unlike his father, she only had a few strands of gray, and although she was in her late forties, she looked ten years younger. She turned and looked at him. When he saw the lines of worry and fatigue around her eyes, his heart lurched. “I’m sorry, Mami.”
“I know you are.” She turned back to stare at the flame, her hands folded in front of her and resting against her white apron. “But I wish you understood how you’re hurting your father.”
Zach knew he was hurting her too. He could see the pain on her face. It was the same agonized expression she always had when he’d done something wrong. “I don’t mean to.”
“You never do.” She sighed, wiping her finger underneath her eye. Finally she turned to him, her eyes red, and he could tell she’d been crying. His heart ached like a knife had twisted inside. “I support your daed, Zach. You can’t keep doing irresponsible things. I’ve been on your side all these years, but I can’t be anymore.”
He stood and went over to her. “Mami, you have to believe me. I want to be a better mann. Like Daed. And my bruders.” He never admitted that he’d looked up to them before. Maybe because until this moment, he’d never known he had. But his father and brothers had everything he wanted in life. Steady jobs, and in his father’s case, his own small engine repair shop. Families. Respect from the community. “I know I have a long way to geh.”
His mother reached up and touched his cheek. “Just remember, you can’t do this on your own, Zach. I think that’s part of your problem. If you’d rely on God to help you, you’d understand you’re not alone.”
“I wish it were that simple.” He believed in God, but over the years, he had questioned Him. He’d grown up hearing over and over that God had a plan, that everything that happened in life was God’s will. But if God had a plan for him, why did Zach fail at almost everything? School had been a complete disaster, and now he couldn’t find—much less keep—a job. He was going nowhere, and even if he wanted to get married, he had nothing to offer his future wife. At that moment the only thing he was sure of was that things had to change. He had to change, unless he wanted to spend the rest of his life fighting his demons.
“I know you’ve had to struggle, Zach. Your father doesn’t understand, but I do. Just don’t think that God has given up on you. He hasn’t. He never will. And since He believes in you, all you have to do is believe in yourself.”
Zach turned away. Cracking walnuts with his bare hands sounded easier. But what other choice did he have? “I’ll try harder. I promise.”
“I know that you will, Zachariah, because I believe in you too. And every day I’ll be praying for you, just as I have since the day you were born.”
Chapter 4
Mail call!” Aunt Sadie sailed into the living room, a plastic bag of groceries hanging over one jiggly arm and holding a handful of mail, her thick, bright-red lips stretched into a smile.
> Deborah glanced up from her knitting. She figured her aunt must spend more on a month’s supply of her trademark lipstick than she did on food.
Sadie set down the bag on the coffee table in front of the yellow-and-pink-flowered couch and thumbed through the mail. “Bill. Yuck. Another bill. Double yuck.” She sighed. “This is what I get for not going to the post office for a few days. And here’s one from the electric company. I wonder how much they’re gouging me for this month.”
“You could always turn the power off.” Deborah settled back in her aunt’s soft-cushioned recliner and went back to knitting. She had been working on her son’s small, dark blue mittens for a week now, but it was slow going and she couldn’t get the thumb right. Maybe she should just give up and buy Will a pair at the discount store where she worked a couple of days a week. But she was determined to complete this project. Even though it was the end of August, her son would have warm mittens and a scarf by fall.
Chuckling, Sadie tossed the bill on the table. The plastic bag rustled from the movement. “My dear, you could live just fine without electricity, seeing as you’ve only lived here two years. It’s been twenty-five years since I left the Amish. I don’t think I could survive without my Desperate Housewives.” She continued going through the letters, then came to the last one. Her penciled-in eyebrow lifted and she looked at Deborah, handing her the small envelope. “It’s from your sister.”
Surprised, Deborah set her knitting in her lap and took the letter. Her aunt was right. She’d recognize Naomi’s precise print anywhere. A sense of dread gripped her. Her sister hadn’t written or visited since she’d left Middlefield. Shortly after Will’s birth, her parents had come for a visit to meet their new grandson. But Naomi had stayed behind, saying she didn’t have time to travel so far, even to meet her nephew. But Deborah knew the truth. Although her father and mother had accepted Will and the circumstances surrounding his conception, her sister never had.
Maybe now she was planning to visit. That had to be the reason for her letter. Relaxing a bit, she slipped her finger underneath the seal and opened the envelope. She hoped her parents would be able to come too. Her mother would be surprised to see how much Will had grown. He’d been walking since he’d turned one and was getting into everything. He was a normal, healthy child. That’s all she had prayed for before he was born, and despite her mistakes, God had seen fit to bless her with one.
If her mother visited, she could also talk to her about Thomas. Since he’d asked her to marry him yesterday, she’d been trying to figure out what to do. She needed her mother’s wisdom, something she’d rejected up until she’d gotten pregnant with Will. As a teenager, Deborah thought she knew everything and that her parents didn’t understand her. Now she realized she knew almost nothing, especially when it came to men. Her mistake with Chase proved that.
Sadie sat down on the couch and reached for a Star magazine from the table. “Heavens, it’s a hot day,” she said, fanning herself, despite wearing a black tank top that was too tight and more than a little inappropriate for her age. Her knobby knees peeked out from beneath the hem of her neon pink shorts. “So what does your sister have to say for herself ? It’s a travesty that she hasn’t written to you before now, if you ask me.”
Deborah opened the letter and frowned. There were only a few words on the page. She read them, then clenched the letter in her hand.
Sadie pitched forward to the edge of the couch, the magazine dangling between her legs. Her round belly pressed against the pink shorts. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
Tears formed in her eyes, and she looked at her aunt. “Mami’s gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean, gone?”
“She died.” Deborah could barely get out the words. “A couple days ago.”
Sucking in a breath, Sadie jumped up and went to Deborah. She sat on the end of the coffee table and took Deborah’s hands in hers. “Heavens, kinn. I’m so sorry.”
Deborah had never heard her aunt speak in Dietch, and at that moment she barely noticed. Sorrow enveloped her in a cold wave. She hung her head, the white ribbons of her kapp dangling by her cheeks.
Sadie lifted Deborah’s chin. “Did Naomi say how?”
She shook her head. “She didn’t say anything. Only that the funeral is Wednesday. Aenti, why didn’t she or Daed call and let me know? Why tell me in a letter?”
“I’m not surprised you didn’t hear from Naomi.” Sadie’s redpainted lips pressed into a line. The relationship between her and Deborah’s older sister had been strained for years. “But your father? It’s unforgivable, him not telling you himself.”
“Nothing’s unforgivable, Aenti. I’m proof of that. So is Will.”
Sadie’s expression softened. She blew out a breath, and the scent of cinnamon gum hovered between them. “I’ll drive you to Middlefield. Don’t worry, Deborah. You will be there in time for the funeral.”
Deborah wiped the tears from her cheek. “You don’t have to do that. Will and I can ride the bus.”
“My grandnephew will not ride a bus, not when he can be perfectly comfortable in my car.” Sadie gave her a half-smile, her eyes misty. “Martha was my sister-in-law and a wonderful woman. This is the least I can do.”
“The least?” Deborah sniffed, and reached for a tissue from the box on the end table by the chair. “Aenti, you’ve done so much for me.” She felt a sudden rush of gratitude for her eccentric aunt. “You took me in when I was pregnant and alone. You never judged me or treated my son differently.”
“Why on earth would I do that? People make mistakes, Deborah. We’re not perfect. I may not be Amish anymore but I still believe in God’s mercy. That boy upstairs is precious in the Lord’s sight. No reason he would be less precious in mine.” She patted Deborah’s hand and then stood up. “We’ll leave right now.”
“Now?”
“All right, maybe in a couple hours. We’ll be in Ohio by late tonight.”
Deborah nodded. She put her knitting in the basket on the floor by the chair and stood. “I’ll go upstairs and pack.” But first, she read the letter again, unable to help herself.
Mami died. The funeral is Wednesday. Naomi
Her throat constricted as she folded the letter. Her mother’s image filled her mind, along with flashes of memories, so many they all ran together. Good memories, like helping Mami make supper in the kitchen. Working with her in the garden. Fighting with her sister, then Mami coming to her to comfort her, saying she understood because she was also the baby in her family.
Then the bad memories came. The distance that had grown between them when Deborah turned sixteen and started to rebel. She’d longed for the attention she’d gotten when she was younger, but her behavior had the opposite effect of pushing her parents away. She relived the disappointment in her mother’s eyes when she told her she was pregnant with a Yankee’s baby. The pain of telling her good-bye when she left to have her baby in Paradise, too ashamed to face the community.
She reached the top step, sobbing as the last memory came into view. Her mother’s joy at seeing Will after he was born. The total acceptance of her grandson. Mami’s last words before getting on the bus to go back to Middlefield.
When you’re ready to come home, we’ll be waiting.
Deborah wiped her eyes with the soaked tissue and took a deep breath before she went into the bedroom she shared with Will. The last thing she wanted him to see when he woke from his nap were her tears. Once she composed herself, she walked into the room.
His crib was in the far corner of the room, away from the window. She had pulled down the shade earlier when she’d set him down for his nap, but the bright summer sunlight peeked through the sides and bottom of the shade, casting thin beams of light throughout the room. Tiptoeing to his crib, she looked at her son. Dark brown hair, the same color as her own, covered his head. His black eyelashes rested against his rosy cheeks. The room was warm, and he wore a small, white, short-sleeved one-piece, his chubby legs sp
read apart as he slept.
She closed her eyes against a new onslaught of sadness at all the milestones her mother would miss. Regrets kept slamming into her, reminding her that she should have done things differently. It wasn’t the first time such thoughts had assaulted her. She looked at Will and knew there was one thing she didn’t have a single doubt about. Having her son. He was her life, her hope, her dreams, all rolled into one. No matter the circumstances of his birth, he was meant to be here. And she would never, ever regret that.
True to her word, Sadie had them on the road less than two hours later. As they passed through Lancaster County, Deborah remembered Thomas’s proposal. In the wake of the news and rushing around to pack, she’d forgotten all about it.
Sadie glanced at her, wearing a huge pair of tortoise shell rimmed sunglasses that covered nearly half her face. “Did you forget something?”
She glanced over her shoulder at Will, who was playing with a rubber duck in his car seat. Love swelled inside her as she watched her contented son. “It’s nothing that can’t wait.”
“Yoo hoo! Moses, we’re home!” Sadie yodeled as she entered the house.
Deborah followed closely behind, clinging to Will, who wanted to get down. She put her mouth close to his little ear. “Not yet.” She didn’t want Will running wild all over the house or making a bad impression on her father. Especially now. It was late, after ten, and her father and sister were probably asleep.
“Moses!” Sadie yelled one more time. “Where is that man? I honked the horn twice; surely he heard it. At least he could come down here and help us with the bags.” She turned to Deborah and removed the diaper bag from her shoulder. “Here sweetie, let me take yours. I thought Naomi would be here too. Not that she would welcome me with anything but the cold shoulder, but still. Manners are manners.”
Will kept clawing at Deborah. She couldn’t blame her son for wanting to be free. He’d been stuck in a car seat for hours, something he wasn’t used to. “Will, settle down!”
The Hearts of Middlefield Collection Page 53