“I understand,” Seth said solemnly, marveling at Trina’s willingness to honor her mother’s wishes, as well as to obey God’s word about forgiveness.
“Of course, forgiving him and allowing him back into my life doesn’t mean selling the property to him,” Trina clarified. “If he’s truly desperate, perhaps I can help him financially so he doesn’t end up homeless. I’ve contacted a realtor from church and I’ve asked about making a quick sale so no one can pressure me. We also discussed putting conditions on ownership, so no one can turn around and sell the house to anyone except residents in the future, too.”
The gravity of what Trina had done sank in for Seth. Not only was she honoring her mother’s memory, but she’d rejected her father’s offer in favor of the Amish. She no doubt would have profited greatly from selling the property to him, but she’d said no in part because she understood the adverse effect a liquor store in that area would have on Seth and his family, as well as on the rest of the Amish community. Just when he thought he couldn’t love her any more...
“Trina,” he said, touching her arm gently. “Please take off those sunglasses and look at me. I need to see your eyes.”
Trina did as he asked and gazed at him, droplets collecting on her lashes.
“I can never repay what you’ve done for my family and me. For all of Willow Creek’s Amish. What you’re doing takes courage and—” Seth’s voice cracked and he abruptly stopped talking and tried to regain his composure.
“Denki,” Trina uttered, blinking. Then she cleared her throat and said pointedly, “It was the right decision, but sometimes even making the right decision is difficult. It’s excruciating.”
Seth nodded, knowing what she meant. She was talking about the two of them parting ways because it was the right thing for each of them to do.
“Trina! Daed! Why are you just standing there like that?” Tanner called from atop of the large rock in the distance.
Timothy was more polite. “Please kumme! If you don’t hurry all the tadpoles will be grown up by the time we get to the creek.”
The two adults chuckled, in spite of themselves. Trina glanced sideways at Seth and taunted, “I’ll beat you there.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” Seth retorted, breaking into a run.
Several paces later, Trina passed him, her hair flying out behind her as Timothy and Tanner cheered them on. She tagged the rock before Seth did and then collapsed onto her back on the new grass, laughing and clutching her stomach. The boys scrambled down to pull her up by her hands, just as they had that first day. It was the only moment in his life when Seth ever wished he had a camera so he could capture the sight on film as well as in his memory.
* * *
Trina had been so distraught about Kurt’s phone call on Saturday that she completely forgot about the envelope with her name on it until midway through the week. She was cleaning her house on Wednesday morning because the realtor, Dianne Barrett, had said she’d come over later that day while Martha watched the boys. The meeting with Dianne was really just a formality since Trina had already spoken to her about making a quick sale and about the stipulation of the property being family owned for any sales within the next fifty years.
Trina tucked the envelope into her nightstand drawer so she could read it at bedtime and then she surveyed the house. Aside from the surface cracks Seth had fixed, it was a sturdy, well-built home and she hoped the realtor could find a nice, quiet but friendly couple or small family to make it their home. Seth had said he’d ask Amish families to spread the word to their relatives in neighboring districts. Perhaps one of them would want to relocate to Willow Creek. As long as it’s not Fannie Jantzi, Trina thought. Because I don’t believe she’s given up on Seth so easily.
Trina should know; she was still having a hard time letting go of him herself. She was so depressed about it her appetite vanished again and she spent more time awake than asleep at night. Despite her insomnia, Trina forced herself to go through the motions of a regular routine, just as she had after her mother died. For the sake of the boys—and to make things easier on Seth—she was determined to keep her feelings about leaving to herself, too. There would be enough time to cry after she returned to Philadelphia.
But who would help comfort her there? Missing her mother had been more bearable when Trina was surrounded by people who knew her and could bring memories of her to mind. But because Patience and Trina had moved around so frequently and her mother tended to keep to herself, there was no one in the Englisch world who could comfort Trina as well as the Amish had comforted her, even if their memories were only of Patience when she was a girl.
By the time Seth returned home that evening, Trina was beat and she declined Martha’s invitation to eat supper with them. Remembering the envelope from Kate and hoping it contained memories about her mother, Trina went to bed early so she could savor reading it beneath the covers. She delicately tore the envelope open and unfolded the paper. The letter was longer than she expected and as she scanned the page, she was aghast to realize the signature was Abe Kauffman’s. Her hands trembled as she read.
Dear Trina,
You probably know a little about me from stories your mother told you. Regrettably, they’re all true. I was exactly the kind of father she said I was. Actually, knowing her kindness, I was probably much worse than Patience ever described.
It’s not an excuse for my behavior, but after your grandmother died, part of me died, too. Instead of cherishing my daughter and relying on Gott for comfort, I turned to drinking, may the Lord forgive me.
You’re probably also aware that your mother sent me a photo of you with a brief letter every year until you turned eighteen. What you don’t know is how much her messages meant to me. I’ve kept them and the photos in the drawer in my nightstand if you want them.
Trina sat straight up in bed. It felt as if her world was tipping on its axis. She had no idea her mother had communicated with Abe for eighteen years, much less sent him photos of Trina. She didn’t know what to make of this new information. Why wouldn’t her mother have told her she’d done that? She continued reading.
Her sweet letters might be of consolation now that Patience is with the Lord instead of with you, just as they were a comfort to me when she was in the Englisch world instead of with the Amish community.
This part of the letter made Trina so furious she would have liked to rip the letter to shreds. The nerve of him! He was the very reason Trina’s mother left the Amish. What right did he have to claim he missed her?
As you’ll read, after your father divorced her, your mother asked me each year to say the word and she’d return with you to Willow Creek. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. And I want you to know why because it had nothing to do with her or you or with being Amish.
Now Trina started to cry. Was Abe lying? She felt as if she didn’t even know her mother anymore. She’d had no idea Patience had so much as thought about returning home, much less asked for Abe’s approval to do so. Every time she’d talked to her mother about going back to Willow Creek, her mother said they were better off where they were. Why would Patience lie to her about something so important?
Then Trina realized her mother hadn’t actually ever said she wasn’t in contact with her family. Whenever Trina asked her if she wanted to go back, her mother had replied, “You don’t understand, honey. That’s just not done under circumstances like mine.”
“It isn’t? Not ever?”
“Well, there is a process which allows a person to repent and return. But for someone who is divorced...well, there’s a great deal of shame in that.”
Trina had always assumed her mother was talking about her own shame. Now it was dawning on her that Patience had longed to return, but she wouldn’t because she wanted to spare Abe the shame of having a divorced runaway daughter. Trina sat there weeping for some time before she could read any
further.
To say I wanted my daughter to come back would be to admit I was the reason she left in the first place. That would mean coming to terms with my drinking, which I was unwilling to do.
As contradictory as this sounds, I was ashamed of myself. I read Patience’s letters and saw the photos of you and I knew your mother was raising you far better than I ever raised her. I thought you’d be happier in the Englisch world with her than you’d ever be within a one-hundred-mile radius of me.
It wasn’t until I stopped drinking four years ago that I began to take responsibility for my wrongdoings. By then, the letters had stopped coming and I figured Patience no longer wanted to return home. I tried several times to locate you two, but my letters were returned with a stamp indicating you’d moved. Smith is a common name so I couldn’t track you down after that.
I didn’t hear about you and Patience again until your father contacted me and informed me of her passing.
So, Trina’s father had known about Patience’s death. Why hadn’t he at least gotten in touch with Trina to offer consolation? Hadn’t he been able to find her, either?
To say how grieved I was would be an insult to your own grief.
That’s for sure! Trina thought and then she kept reading.
But I want you to know I am so sorry for your loss. Your mother loved you dearly and I’m sure you loved her dearly, too.
People often said Patience made the decision to leave the Amish, but in truth, I didn’t give her much of a choice. I feel like I’ve stolen an opportunity from you as well as from her, which is why I put the stipulation on the inheritance that you have to stay here for sixty days. I want you to decide for yourself whether you want to live in Willow Creek.
Your mother gave you the best parts of being Amish—her faith and her love. But she couldn’t give you the community. For what it’s worth, I want to give you that now.
Whether or not you choose to stay in Willow Creek, I pray you’ll forgive me. I wish I had said those words to your mother, too, but I trust we’ll be reconciled in heaven, through God’s grace.
Abraham Kauffman
PS: I’ve had a problem with mice. The next-door neighbor, Seth Helmuth, might be able to trap them for you if you’re squeamish.
Despite her heartache, Trina laughed aloud at the postscript, but the laughter twisted deep within her chest, like a sob. Too distraught get up and retrieve the photos and letters from the drawer in Abe’s old room, she curled up in a ball, alternately thinking, weeping and praying for guidance until the sun came up.
* * *
When Seth returned from milking the cow on Thursday morning, he noticed the kitchen lamp on and he smelled something baking in the oven, but his grandmother wasn’t present.
“Groossmammi?” he said quietly, wiping his boots on the rag rug by the door. When she didn’t answer, he walked toward the parlor, but she wasn’t there, either.
“I’m here,” a muffled voice cried from the hall.
When Seth came around the corner, he spotted her sitting on the floor with her back against the wall and he rushed to her side. “Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so. Help me up, slowly, please.”
Seth cautiously eased her to a standing position and she moaned as she limped toward the sofa with his assistance. Then he settled her onto a cushion.
“That’s better,” she said. “I’ll sit here awhile. Will you bring me my kaffi?”
Seth retrieved the steaming cup and only then did he ask what happened.
“I don’t know. I slipped on something, I guess.”
Seth walked to the hall and looked. One of the boys’ library books lay on the floor. How many times had he told them to put their books away at night? Yet he wasn’t really angry at them; he was upset that such a small thing could have resulted in a big accident for his grandmother.
“Are you certain you’re okay?” he asked again. “You didn’t bump your head, did you?”
“Neh. I caught myself before my head hit. My arm hurts a little, but it was probably from the impact.”
But Seth continued to worry about her until Trina arrived and he pulled her aside to tell her what happened.
“Oh, neh!” she exclaimed, which elicited a scolding from Martha in the other room.
“You two need to stop talking about me in there. I told you I’m fine.”
Trina whispered, “She probably is fine but should we take her to the hospital to get checked out?”
“She hates hospitals. She wouldn’t go,” Seth answered. He didn’t add, “And I wouldn’t, either.”
“Perhaps you could ask Ethan if he’d take a look. She seems to like him alright.”
Seth agreed but instead of using the phone shanty he decided on his way to the shop he’d stop and talk to Ethan in person at his home. The doctor seemed glad to help before going to the clinic. “I want to see Trina as often as I can before she goes back to Philly, anyway.”
His reminder that Trina was leaving soon was like a punch to Seth’s gut, but he thanked Ethan and continued toward work. It was pouring and it took him longer than usual to get there. On the way he thought about what could have happened to Martha. He couldn’t put it off: he definitely needed someone to keep her safe as much as he needed someone to watch the boys. What was he going to do in between the time Trina left, and school let out and a local maedel was available? Would it really be so offensive if he asked Emma Lapp to help? His understanding was she didn’t have a full-time job until the summer when her family sold produce at their roadside vegetable stand.
Inside the shop, he examined the leather frame he’d made for Trina. He just had to burn a few more details of the etching before it would be ready to give to her, but since it was a parting gift he delayed finishing it, as if that would mean she wasn’t leaving. Once again, thinking about her departure made his stomach hurt and he was unusually irritable with a customer because her coat dripped rain onto one of the suede purses he had on display.
Then, as if his day couldn’t get any worse, at two o’clock Fannie Jantzi came by with Hope and Greta. “We were buying cupcakes for Greta’s birthday at the bakery,” she explained.
Seth was surprised—Elmsville to Willow Creek was a long way to travel for cupcakes. Faith Schwartz’s were the best around, but they were considered specialty items, not something the Amish would ordinarily buy for a child’s birthday.
“I see,” he said noncommittally.
“So the Englischer is leaving Willow Creek soon, jah?”
Through clenched teeth, Seth replied, “As you know, her name is Trina, but jah, she’s moving the Sunday after this one, on May first.”
“Who will care for the buwe until school lets out?” Fannie asked.
Seth didn’t know why it was any of Fannie’s business, but he was too tired to point that out to her. “I don’t know,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I thought I’d ask Emma Lamp.”
“Emma Lamp? You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
“She broke her ankle chasing that scamp brother of hers, Thomas.”
Seth tried not to show the disappointment he felt. “I guess I’ll have to make other arrangements.” But who would he ask? Pearl and Ruth couldn’t keep up with the boys. Iris might be able to, but she was already occupied tending to Ruth.
“I suppose I could help,” Fannie volunteered, “since my sister-in-law lives right next door to me and her kinner are in school, too, I could take the meed to her house in the morning and pick them up when I return from your house toward evening.”
I suppose now that Trina is leaving, Fannie isn’t avoiding me any longer, Seth thought. As unpalatable as the idea of having her as a nanny was, he didn’t have any other options. It would only be for a few weeks until school let out. As long as Fannie understood he wasn’t interested in any other kind of r
elationship with her, he decided to accept her offer.
“I’d appreciate it,” he said. Then, to emphasize it was an employment arrangement, he added, “I’ll pay a fair wage, especially considering you’ll have to kumme from Elmsville.”
“Gut. I’ll see you bright and early on Monday, May second. Mach’s gut, Seth.”
After she exited the shop, Seth shook his head. He knew he should have been grateful the Lord had provided him a solution to his problem, but all he could think about was that when Trina first arrived, he’d wished time would pass quickly until she left. Now he wished it would stand still.
Chapter Nine
While the boys were napping, Trina brought cups of tea into the parlor for herself and Martha. Ethan had arrived that morning before he headed to his office and looked Martha over. He’d said she seemed fine, but if she developed pain anywhere, she’d need to get X-rays. Apparently people didn’t always realize how they landed when they fell and sometimes they broke their bones without knowing it.
Before leaving, he urged Martha to reconsider visiting an ophthalmologist. “It could change the quality of your life. Wouldn’t you prefer to be more independent than you are now?”
Martha pretended her hearing was as poor as her vision and she didn’t respond to his question, but Trina wanted to get to the bottom of the matter and find out why she refused to consider surgery. She also wanted to talk to Martha about the letter from Abe.
After taking a seat across from the older woman, Trina decided an indirect approach was best. “Martha,” she started, “there’s something I’d like to ask about Willow Creek’s Amish leit. Does the Ordnung here prohibit modern Englisch medication and technology?”
“In other words, you want to know why I’m refusing to have eye surgery,” Martha replied bluntly. Subtlety was lost on her. She explained, “I had an emergency removal of my gall bladder when I was in my fifties. The doctors botched the procedure and I needed a second surgery. I was in the hospital for a week. So, plain and simple, I’m scared to death of hospitals.”
Her New Amish Family Page 14