A sharp word to one of his sisters.
Some chore he had completed hurriedly and in a sloppy fashion.
Impatience with his parents.
Bitterness toward his brother—that one always nagged at any sense of peace, unsettling his conscience. He could push it down for a few days, maybe even a week, but he could never forget the troubles his brother’s selfishness had caused their family. He realized now, as his father’s deep voice read from the German family Bible, that he had never forgiven Andrew.
His oldest sister, Susan, followed along in the Bible she’d received for her birthday. It contained German text on one side, English on the other.
“We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us.”
Almost against his will, Jesse’s gaze drifted up and locked with Andrew’s. What was his brother thinking and why had he come home?
Did he have a different gift? Was that why he had left?
He’d never actually asked his brother about his Englisch life when he saw him in Chicago. He’d been too busy trying to persuade him to come back to Middlebury, to the farm, to come back home—for good.
“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.”
He had not been faithful in prayer. He’d been too busy working, trying to take on the responsibilities for their household as he saw his parents age. He’d certainly not been joyful or patient. Jesse closed his eyes and bowed his head. He felt a sweet release as he handed his burdens over to the Lord. But he didn’t stop there; he petitioned God for his forgiveness and asked for patience that his new resolve to be more Christlike might last beyond their private family service.
His mother led them in singing “Burdens Are Lifted at Calvary.” It was an old hymn that Jesse had sung as far back as he could remember. He joined in. His younger sisters—even Teresa—were singing with gusto now. Teresa, in particular, was off-key. Somehow the sound was still sweet, the harmony coming from their relationship with each other rather than the notes.
A faint glimmer of hope sprang up in Jesse’s heart. Perhaps everything would work out after all.
Apparently Jesse’s mother had invited every family in their district to the celebration luncheon.
The buggies began arriving as Jesse and Andrew created tabletops under the trees. They placed planks of wood across sawhorses to hold the bounty of food—casseroles, shaved ham, cold fried chicken, and all types of sliced sausage and cheese. They created a second table that would normally suffice for a vegetable and dessert area, but today they would need more. Each family seemed to feel they should bring several dishes. Jesse’s mouth literally watered as the women placed the food on the makeshift tabletops and stepped away.
He couldn’t help but notice the smiles on their faces, the spring in the steps of his friends and family, the lightness in their voices. This was a day of celebration—for all of them.
How many had family members who had left to join the Englisch or the Mennonites? It was no longer an event that required shunning, at least not in their district and not if it happened before one had joined the church. Still, such incidents were a tremendous strain on the families involved—emotionally, financially, and of course spiritually.
“Andrew, it’s gut to see you. Glad to have you home.”
His brother was greeted by each person in this fashion, and each time the speaker turned to Jesse, clapped him on the back, and said, “Our Lord is gut. Ya?”
Jesse tried to find the anger that had consumed him the last few days, but it was gone. Perhaps his time of confession and prayer had worked. Maybe he was tired of fighting the fact that he was glad to see Andrew. He had missed his brother. Possibly the combination of divine intervention and his own exhaustion had pushed him past his own bitterness. He was glad his brother was home. Still worried but glad.
More guests made their way from the parking area near the barn, where Ben, Hannah’s older brother, was helping with unharnessing the buggies and pasturing the horses. Every direction he looked, family members were smiling at one another. Jesse realized that this day offered hope to those families who were going through similar situations. They saw Andrew, and in Andrew they recognized their own loved ones.
Perhaps one day they too would be a whole family again.
Few of the boys or girls Jesse knew actually left the church. Sometimes it would take a few years before they settled down. Occasionally someone might spend a year or two working at jobs that might not be offered within the community. Others spent their time away sampling what the Englisch had to offer—technology, education, a different life.
Jesse’s own rumspringa had been exceedingly short. For perhaps six months he had carried a cell phone, texting friends and even watching videos on it. Yes, he’d had the internet, which his father had never known about. At least, he didn’t say anything about it if he had known.
But soon the fullness of their lives called him. He would happen by his shelf in the barn, stop to check the mobile device, and find the phone uncharged. So he would set it aside with the intent of charging it when he went into town. And then he’d forget to carry it with him. One day he picked it up, and the device seemed like a child’s toy to him. So he’d thrown it into the trash pile and hadn’t thought about it since. Until today. That slight rebellion came back to him with startling clarity as he studied the crowd of folks surrounding his family and offering their blessings.
He had stepped away from their community, from their faith, just as Andrew had.
He simply hadn’t stepped as far.
Silence fell over those gathered as Bishop Joseph indicated it was time to bless the food. At that moment, Jesse spied Hannah. His pulse jumped, and he couldn’t have stopped the smile spreading across his face. She blushed prettily, glanced at her feet, then closed her eyes in silent prayer.
Joseph pronounced a blessing over Andrew and the entire Miller family. Then he asked them to remember Naomi and confirmed what Jesse had heard several people saying—the funeral would be on Tuesday. Naomi would be accepting visitors to view the body at her home on Monday. Pausing a moment, as if to shift the direction of their thoughts, Joseph once again reminded them of the goodness of the Lord. With outstretched arms, he motioned toward the tables, indicating it was time to eat. Jesse’s father held up his hand to stop them and thanked everyone for coming. Then there was an orderly chaos as men and children flooded the tables where the women were serving.
Twenty minutes later, Hannah joined him at the old picnic table under the maple tree. “Lots of people came.”
“Ya, my bruder is quite the celebrity.” There was no bitterness in his heart, and he grinned at her as he uttered the words.
“You seem happy today.”
“I am.” Jesse shoveled a forkful of sliced, maple-glazed ham into his mouth.
“So you talked to Andrew?”
“Nein.”
Hannah studied him for a moment, her head cocked and a puzzled expression on her face. Then she shrugged and picked up a piece of fried chicken from her plate. “Maybe it’s just as well.”
“Maybe so.” Jesse glanced back toward the main group. He could barely make out his brother, laughing at something someone had said and then looking toward a table of girls. “Maybe all is well.”
And it was possible to believe it that afternoon.
So he spent his time resting, as he had been raised to do on the Sabbath.
Soon he was playing volleyball, Hannah on one side of him, Mary on the other. Mary hadn’t wanted to play. He’d heard her offer several excuses to Hannah, but once on the makeshift court, she produced a killer serve.
Andrew was on the other side of the net, with a mixed group of boys and girls. His brother seemed completely at ease, none of the anxiety from their Friday night discussion evident on his face.
Jesse enjoyed more food, another game of volleyball, and then a walk alone with Hannah.
The last of his barriers fell away as he clasped her
hand and they walked slowly along the banks of the creek. He thought of asking her then, asking her to be his wife. But something told him the time wasn’t right. Soon. At the rate things were going, he would ask her to marry him very soon.
Sixteen
Hannah needed some time alone with her friend, so she opted to walk home with Mary. They could have ridden in a buggy, but the afternoon had turned warm and sunny. Winter would close in soon enough, and walks down the Pumpkinvine Trail would be less frequent.
She breathed in the scent of falling leaves, final crops that had been harvested, and fall flowers in bloom.
They’d walked along in silence for a few moments when Hannah asked, “How are things at the shop?”
“Gut.”
“Any new crochet patterns you’re working on?”
“A shoulder bag. I’m using a nice cotton blend that is variegated with a combination of Christmas colors. It’s turning out nicely. I purchased a new book of patterns, and my goal is to crochet each of the items, then create a holiday display around them.”
“I can’t wait to see it. I can crochet, but I’m better at knitting. Maybe you’ll convert me.”
“The two are very similar, but crocheting is a bit faster.”
A comfortable silence once again fell around them as they walked, each lost in her own thoughts.
Mary had seemed to enjoy herself at the luncheon, but once or twice Hannah had caught her staring off into the distance, a disturbed look on her face. If Hannah had been pressed to describe it, she would have said it was a look of fear.
“I suppose you’ll go to Owen’s funeral on Tuesday.”
“Oh, ya. If Amber can find someone to take my place at the yarn shop.”
“I’m sure she will. If no one else, Seth could do it, and I could stay and work his shift at the kaffi shop. You were closer to Owen than I was.”
“No offense, but I’m a little afraid to leave Seth alone in my shop.”
“He’s improving. Honest, he is.”
Mary considered that but didn’t offer a comment. Instead, she changed the subject. “I’m relieved the police have released Owen’s body to Naomi. It’s a shame she had to wait.”
“Police procedures. That’s how the bishop explained it to my dat when he asked.”
“What difference can their procedures possibly make? Dead is dead.”
“Ya. I suppose. Though finding whoever did such a terrible thing would be gut too. Not that I think he’ll do it again.”
Mary stopped suddenly in the middle of the trail. She stopped so abruptly that a family with five children, each riding a bike, had to swerve around them.
Her voice quavered slightly, and her next words came out in a bare whisper. “He could. He could do it again.”
“Why do you say that, Mary?”
“Because I found . . .” She shook her head but then added, “They should leave it alone. Maybe then he’ll go away.”
“Who will go away?”
When Mary didn’t answer, Hannah reached out and clasped her arm, squeezing more tightly than she had intended. She moved her hand to Mary’s shoulder and repeated, “Who will go away?”
Mary resumed walking but not before Hannah noticed that her hands had begun to shake. She clasped them around her middle and hurried down the trail, as if she needed to make up for lost time.
“Do you know who it is, Mary?”
“How would I know that?”
“Do you know more about Owen than you told the police?”
“I know Owen must have stumbled onto something, and it scared someone. Frightened people do drastic things. We should leave it alone.” Her voice was becoming firmer, her tone resolute.
“But whoever did this should pay for what they’ve done.” Hannah walked faster to keep up with Mary.
“He will. Gotte will pass judgment.”
“Yes, of course, but I don’t know about leaving it alone. We can’t let a killer run around loose.”
She reached out to Mary, intending to slow her down. When she did, she saw the tears sliding down her friend’s cheeks.
“What is it? Mary, please talk to me. You can trust me, and maybe it will help.”
Mary covered her face with her hands, and Hannah tugged her toward the side of the trail.
“I want things to be . . . to be as they were.” Her voice shook, and she pulled in a deep, quivering breath. “I want . . . I want to go back to helping folks, helping to bring about reunions like the one we celebrated today. But I can’t with all of this going on. I’m too . . . too . . . scared.”
Mary scrubbed her face dry, then stared up at the barren tree limbs that created a dappled canopy over the trail.
Hannah didn’t know how to respond to her friend’s confession or her fearfulness, so instead she looped her arm through Mary’s, and they continued down the trail.
Amber and Tate enjoyed a lovely church service, followed by the congregation’s annual fall luncheon. Amber was new to Tate’s church, but she wasn’t new to Middlebury. She had found fitting in to be easier than she’d expected. Actually, the congregation had welcomed her with open arms. It seemed they were happy to see Tate remarried. Though they were from two different denominations, Amber found the differences in theology and worship minor and not a stumbling block for her at all.
After the luncheon, they headed straight home. Usually they spent Sunday afternoons going for a walk or reading books together out on the back porch—both ideas would have sounded crazy to Amber six months earlier. When she was single, she viewed Sunday afternoon as a time to catch up on the previous week’s work. Not anymore. It was her family day, and Tate was her family. The problem was that Tate was packing his bag for a three-day trip with his younger son, Alan.
“You’re sure that you’re okay with this?” Tate studied her as he zipped his suitcase closed.
“Of course. It’s something you do every year, and I don’t want you to change your traditions for me.”
“You can come. Enjoy the hotel room, maybe visit the spa and pamper yourself a bit.”
Amber shook her head even as he pulled her into his arms. “I have work to do this week. Maybe next year I’ll plan ahead to take the time off, if Alan doesn’t mind my intruding.”
“He’s the one who suggested you come.” Tate lowered his head and kissed her thoroughly. Then he murmured in her ear, “Maybe next year you can golf with us.”
“Ha! Stick to whispering sweet nothings. I’m a terrible golfer and you know it. I proved it to you the last time we went out to the course together.”
“That was two weeks ago. Things change. You could have improved.”
“I haven’t improved.”
“You didn’t hit the ground as often on the back nine.”
“I stopped playing on the back nine. At that point I was content to drive the cart.”
Tate tilted her face up and kissed her again. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
“No, and that’s one of my favorite songs. You can sing it to me when you get back.”
“Deal.”
Hand in hand they walked outside, under the covered awning, and to his truck.
“Call me if you need anything.” Tate reached for one more kiss.
It was their first three days apart. Amber was basking in the extra attention, but she knew the reality of his being gone would hit her before he’d made it down the drive. “Sure. You too.”
She had been independent from the age of eighteen to forty-four. She was sure she’d have no trouble keeping busy.
Three hours later she was sitting on the porch swing reading, or attempting to read. A part of her mind was wondering if she should go into work for an hour. Old habits die hard, especially when you’re left alone on a Sunday afternoon. Then her phone rang, and she dropped her book and grabbed for it. Pam’s cheery voice traveled over the line, bringing a smile to Amber’s face. Her assistant manager was headed out to the big discount store to purchase suppl
ies.
“I thought you might be bored, with Tate gone and all. Care to ride along?”
“Absolutely.”
“Need time to get ready?”
“Nope. I’m good to go. Meet you at the Village?”
“I’ll pick you up. Once you were at the Village, I’d never drag you away from your in-box.”
As she put up her book and grabbed her sunglasses and purse, Amber wondered how Pam could already know her so well. But she did. She was spot-on with the in-box comment. Amber’s thoughts skimmed back over her last assistant manager, Larry. That hadn’t turned out so well. She’d certainly traded up.
Waiting on the front porch, she thanked God for Pam—for her work ethic, her fresh insights, and her friendship.
Pam pulled into the driveway, horn honking and hand hanging out the driver’s side window, waving. She parked the car and stepped out, revealing an orange outfit that looked like something from an African bazaar. The material was covered with safari animals, and the colors would have looked terrible on Amber. On Pam, they accentuated her dark-brown skin and her shoulder-length hairstyle. She looked saucy.
“Love the outfit, but are you sure you want to wear it to go shopping? You might have trouble wrestling all those supplies into the grocery cart.”
“That’s why I invited you. Besides, I dress professional all week. Saturday and Sunday I wear whatever makes me smile.”
“And today that happens to be elephants and giraffes.”
“Exactly. Besides, we had a children’s choir from Africa singing at our church today. I wanted to make them feel at home.”
No wonder Pam’s mood was so chipper. She’d enjoyed a children’s choir from Africa. She was wearing a fun and comfortable dress, causing Amber to reconsider her blue jeans, and she wasn’t counting the hours until her husband returned.
“I didn’t think it would be this hard when Tate left. I’m sort of at loose ends.” Amber smoothed out the legs of her blue jeans. They were her most comfortable pair—not too baggy and not too tight. She’d also put on her favorite Indiana Colts T-shirt, which boasted raglan sleeves, bright-blue colors, and a logo that read “We Have Luck.”
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