Abigail's New Hope (40 page)

“Hello, everyone,” he said, while everyone simultaneously called out greetings. “I wanted to show you my son, Abraham.” He held up the plastic infant carrier for them to see as though his son were a prizewinning beefsteak tomato at the county fair.

The women jumped up and quickly surrounded him, oohhing and ahhhing as they peered at the sleeping baby.

“A fine-looking boy,” declared the woman who had lost her sister.

“How can he sleep through all this racket?” asked Bob, who had yearned to celebrate his fiftieth wedding anniversary.

“I can’t believe they make Amish clothes
so small
,” said the young mother with two surviving daughters.

“My aunt Iris sewed his outfit,” said Nathan.

“Oh, right.” The woman’s face blushed a bright pink. “It’s not like you folks shop at Walmart.”

“Actually, we do shop at Walmart. Just not for our clothes.”

Everyone laughed at this, and he felt the last of his nervousness drain away. He placed the baby carrier on a table by the window and sat on the same folding chair he’d occupied weeks ago. “I didn’t come here tonight solely to show off my son. I owe you all an apology for my behavior—”

His sentence was cut short as several people interrupted. They began talking at once, denying the need for apologies.

Nathan held up a hand. “Hold on there. I came here critical and judgmental of your ways. That’s inexcusable, whether this is a grief therapy session or not.” He crossed his legs at the ankles and leaned back in his chair. “Truth is, I was angry—mostly with God, because He chose to call home my wife, who hadn’t had a chance to live yet. I was also mad at myself for being so fired up about having kids. And I was mad at the world. With so many nasty people out there, many of them delivering healthy babies every day, why should my sweet Ruth be the one to die?”

He didn’t meet anyone’s gaze, but he noticed several heads nodding in agreement. “But dwelling on all that wasn’t helping me become a good father. I was raised better than to take out my anger on folks just trying to help. Lots of you are on the right track, and I’ve been giving things you said some thought. Anyway, I’m sorry to have stormed out like I had a bee up my pant leg.”

Everyone laughed again, while Bob boomed out a loud, “Apology accepted.”

Patricia stood up. “Because Nathan came in his buggy, he can’t stay for the entire session. Why don’t we go around the circle so each of us can bring him up to date on the progress we’ve made.”

“I’ll serve coffee and dessert now so Nathan doesn’t miss my new recipe for pineapple upside down cake,” said Carol, bustling into the kitchen.

Nathan relaxed, listening to his fellow mourners describe recent triumphs in their daily lives. Bob had decided to take his children and grandchildren to see the Great Wall of China.

The third male participant had made a contribution to Alcoholics Anonymous in his late brother’s name.

The abused sister took a bouquet of flowers and a lawn chair to the cemetery. She enjoyed a long chat with her sibling to clear away past anger and bitterness.

And the young mother and her husband were attending family counseling to become better parents.

Nathan offered encouragement to each one. When it was his turn to speak, he said simply, “I asked God for forgiveness, and I believe He has given it. I’m returning to church services this Sunday.”

“Churches aren’t just for the saints,” said Bob. “They’re for us sinners too or they would be mighty empty.”

Nathan had never heard it put quite like that but couldn’t disagree. He enjoyed the pineapple upside down cake along with the camaraderie of the
Englischers
. Mrs. Baker packed up an extra piece of cake for him to take home. When he and his son were leaving, everyone encouraged him to stay in touch and return to meetings whenever he could. He said he would try, but in his heart he knew he wouldn’t be back. Talking therapy worked fine for some people, but for others, quiet time on the back porch with the Good Book worked even better. He prayed for each of the people he’d come to know that they would fine peace and solace.

He had one more task to complete on his own road to healing. After he rubbed down and turned his horse out to pasture and put his sleeping son to bed, he turned up the kerosene lamp on the kitchen table. Taking paper and pen from the drawer, along with the address he’d received from Mrs. Daly weeks ago, he began to write one long overdue letter.

Abby sat at the kitchen table, savoring her third cup of coffee. In the several days since she’d been home, this was her first time alone. Either Jake or Laura tagged behind asking her endless questions, or Daniel hovered nearby trying to get her to eat more, or Catherine filled her in on everything that had happened on the farm or in their district while she’d been away.

Finally, their lives were returning to normal. Because the new school year had started, she had walked Laura to school that morning and then left Jake at the neighbors’ for a few hours so he could play with their boys. Daniel and Isaiah were cutting firewood in the hills to get a head start on winter. And Catherine was sewing up in her room by the window. Abby worried about her sister. Her effervescent personality had turned melancholy. If she felt reluctant to move back home, Abby intended to insist that she stay longer. She enjoyed having another woman in the house. Two pairs of hands accomplished chores such as canning, herb drying, or fall cleaning faster. And she was curious about the progress Catherine had made with Isaiah. But with everyone hovering nearby, she’d had no opportunity to ask.

Besides, lately the man in question had been scarcer than a robin in winter. He’d welcomed her home with a bouquet of flowers and then practically disappeared.

The sudden jangle of her cell phone pulled her from contemplation. “Hello,” she said.

“Abby? It’s me, Rachelle. I got a message that I should call you.” Her former cellmate sounded as though she were a thousand miles away.

“It’s so good to hear from you!” Abby was delighted. The main reason she’d kept her cell phone charged was on the other end at last. “I wanted to apologize for leaving so abruptly and not saying goodbye.”

Rachelle laughed with abandon. “Not to worry. Time served is the same as a get-out-of-jail-now card. You did what anybody would do… beat feet straight for home.”

Her giggle sounded wonderful, even though her analogies were hard to decipher. “That may be, but I would have liked to give you my phone number and address for whenever you get out.”

“That’s real sweet, but you’re Amish and all. Your husband probably wouldn’t like me dropping in on you.”

Abby considered how best to proceed, so it wouldn’t sound as though she were telling Rachelle what to do. “That’s not true. I talked to Daniel about you and he feels the same as me. If you need a place to stay temporarily when you’re released, we want you to come here.”
And not back to that boyfriend
. “We don’t have cable TV—or any TV at all, for that matter—but we have plenty of good food and an extra bedroom. Plus we have horses for you to ride. You did say you loved horses. And don’t forget you wanted to learn to knit too.”

The other end was so silent Abby thought they might have been disconnected. Then Rachelle spoke in a soft voice. “Wow, I sure didn’t see this coming. Thanks, Abby, because that’s about the nicest thing anybody’s ever wanted to do for me. But don’t worry. I’m not going back to bad-news Al. I have lots of friends I can crash with.”

“All right, but please save my number and also write down my address. You never know, Rachelle. You might change your mind someday.”

“Thanks, I will keep it. Maybe someday I’ll write a letter to let you know how I’m doing if that’s okay.”

“I’d like nothing better. Do you think you’ll continue with Bible study?” Abby hoped she wasn’t stepping into none-of-your-business territory.

“Are you kidding? I went yesterday and I’ll be there each week until I get out. Mrs. Jarvis bought me my own Bible, and it’s easy to read—not with all those big, old-fashioned words. Is that what yours is like?” she asked.

Abby thought of the family’s German Bible and smiled. “My English Bible is easy to understand, yes.”

“I plan to start going to church when I get out too. I don’t know which one yet. Depends on where I live. But there’s
some
kind of church in every town in America. I don’t intend to be picky.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Abby breathed a sigh of relief.

“How do you like being home?”

Abby glanced around her tidy kitchen and through the window toward the rolling hills. Splashes of gold and crimson dotted the forest to herald autumn, just around the corner. “It’s better than I remember. I don’t even want to leave to go to the Dollar Store, and that’s saying a lot.” She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. “But I do rather miss beef stew out of a can. If you don’t look in the bowl, you don’t know which vegetable you’re eating. They all taste the same.”

Rachelle snorted with laughter. “And I miss
you
, Abby. My new roommate wants to babble all night. A girl needs her beauty sleep. Well, I’d better hang up. There’s a line to use the pay phone. I’ll write whenever I get to where I’m going.”

“Don’t forget my offer. It’s always open.” Before they hung up, Abby recited her address and also the neighbors’ phone number, and then she whispered a silent prayer.
Let Rachelle draw close to You, Lord, and find a safe place in this world
.

She heard the screen door open and bang shut as she hung up the phone. Daniel marched into the kitchen, his cheeks bright pink. He tossed the Amish newspaper and a stack of mail onto the counter. “What’s this,
fraa
? You’re sitting around, sipping coffee while a hardworking man needs his lunch?” He buzzed a kiss across her cheek.

“You’re home early. Even when you’re working in the fields you never come to the house before noon.” She rose to her feet and headed toward the fridge.

“I missed you.” He lifted her up and swung her around the kitchen. “I don’t ever want to be separated again.” He nibbled at her neck.

“Put me down. You’re acting like a teenager,” she demanded, but only halfheartedly.

“I think they must have spoiled you in that place,” he teased while washing his hands. “Bringing you gourmet meals on a tray without your having to lift a finger. Now you are back to the grind, Mrs. Graber, if I must chain you to that stove.” He snapped the hand towel toward her skirt hem.

Abby jumped back in time, and then she carried bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and a tomato to the counter to make sandwiches. “No chain will be necessary. I’ll stay willingly.” Her gaze flickered over the sprawled pile of mail, landing on one handwritten envelope. She didn’t recognize the return address of any regular correspondent. Abby set down her paring knife, tore open the envelope, and extracted the single sheet.

She looked first at the signature. “I got a letter from Nathan Fisher,” she said with a ripple of unease.

Daniel sat down at the table with a glass of milk. “Read it aloud, Abby.”

She glanced at him and then back at the small, cramped handwriting. “Dear Mrs. Graber,” she read. “I saw in the papers that they let you out of jail. I would like to talk to you, face-to-face. If you’ll be home, I’ll stop over this Sunday after church. Expect me sometime in the late afternoon.”

Her gaze met his. “That’s it?” he asked.

“
Jah
, just his signature—Nathan Fisher. No ‘very truly yours’ or ‘best regards’ or anything else.” She returned to making sandwiches, cleaving the tomato into uniform slices even as apprehension took away her appetite.

“Men aren’t very good with letter-writing. You can give him some pointers when you see him.”