The River (19 page)

A
fter a supper of scalloped ham and boiled potatoes; and a side dish of cabbage, pepper, and carrot salad; Daed read aloud from Second Corinthians, chapter six for family worship. Tilly noticed how quiet, if not contemplative, Ruthie looked over in the corner of the front room near the heater stove.

Mamm, on the other hand, looked bleary-eyed and ready to call it a day while Daed read verse seventeen, “ ‘Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord.’ ” There was not a speck of expression in his voice.

I could fall asleep to
his monotone,
thought Tilly as he read the Bible. It took her back to the days when her older brothers were still living at home, and this room seemed much smaller with all of them present. Joseph and Jacob were always the most relaxed during evening Bible reading and silent prayer, as she remembered.
Was it that they were less
interested?
She also remembered later, when Anna was old enough to calmly sit on Mamm’s lap and fold her little hands while Daed read to them.

Thinking of her baby sister still took her breath away, as if Tilly were realizing yet again that Anna was gone.

Later, when they knelt for silent prayer, Tilly asked God what to do about Mamm’s envelope with her name on it. She knew better than to open it without permission, but asking Mamm about it would mean admitting she’d been poking around Anna’s room.
Especially embarrassing now that I
’m a grown woman. . . .
Perhaps she should just go about her business, get the house packed up tomorrow and moved over to the
Dawdi Haus
, so that she could get herself back to Kris and the girls, where she belonged.

Then again, maybe this was an opportunity for Tilly not to run from confrontation . . . to open her heart to Mamm again. After all, she might not have another chance.

Ruthie shuffled across the hall to talk with Tilly after their parents headed for bed later that evening. Both young women had slipped into their robes, but neither felt very sleepy. “Do ya mind if I sit and talk with you for a while?” asked Ruth, seeming almost reticent about asking.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

“Where’d you go this afternoon?” Ruthie asked as she got settled on the bed.

“Over to visit Mammi Lantz again.” Tilly shared how Uncle Hank had urged her to stop in there before leaving the area.

“It’s probably a good thing—she must get very lonely.” Ruth pushed her hair behind her ears. “I’d make a point of seeing her often . . . that is,
if
I should decide to move back.”

Tilly swallowed her relief. “So you’re taking it slow and easy.”

“As much as Will wishes otherwise.” Ruthie smiled demurely. “I need to take one day at a time for now.”

“It’s always a good idea to let tomorrow worry about itself.”

Ruthie nodded. “To be honest, when I think about not seeing you and Kris and the twins, I feel sad.”

“Oh, but you’d still see us,” Tilly was quick to say. “Just not as often.”

Ruthie sighed. “It wouldn’t be the same, though. And I’d face a lot of challenges.”

“At first, sure. Like when you left here and got settled in Rockport.” Tilly gave her a small smile as she remembered. “But you haven’t decided to move back. And you know what I think about it, for what it’s worth.”

“Well, it’s worth ever so much to me. You’ve always helped me make sense of things.” Ruth looked away. “There’s just so much at stake.”

A silent, unruffled moment passed.

Then Ruth said, smiling at Tilly, “Can you actually picture my colorful sofa and chair in a farmhouse?”

Tilly laughed. “No, but even more than that, I can’t picture you living out your life as an Amish wife and mother . . . let alone as a church member.”

“Sincerely?”

“You’re entirely settled as an Englisher, my sweet sister. And it’s a good fit, in my opinion.” Tilly appreciated her sister’s humor—Ruthie was on a more even keel than three years ago, for sure. And from the sound of it, she was leaning toward dismissing the idea of returning for Will alone. If, however, Ruthie decided to make the leap back, she would have to embrace the Old Order Amish tradition, leaving the English world behind completely. There really was no middle ground.

“I’m glad you know what you’re up against, Ruthie.”
For sure and for
certain!

The room was pitch-black when Tilly awakened before midnight. She felt terribly restless. It was impossible to sleep, knowing that the wooden box was just a foot or so beneath her head and pillow. It was as if the box demanded her attention.

After several more attempts to get comfortable, Tilly sat up in bed for a few moments, staring into the darkened room. Then, exasperated, she went to the window and opened the blind, but the moon was shrouded by thick clouds. She had little choice but to get the flashlight, not wanting to light the lantern.

Is anyone else sleepless?

She stepped lightly on the back staircase, heading down to get a drink in the kitchen. The house seemed to moan at night, something she remembered from growing up here. Back then, the nighttime sounds had seemingly come from deep within the house and always made her scurry to get back into bed.

At the creak of a floorboard, she turned and was surprised to see Mamm standing in the opposite doorway. “Heard someone up,” she said in a sleepy voice. “You feelin’ all right, Tilly?”

“Not really.” She sighed, wondering if now was the best time to talk about the strange letter. She crept to the long wooden bench near the table and sat down, letting the flashlight shine onto the corner cupboard. “I found something in Anna’s room,” she began, then mentioned the lone letter. “I haven’t opened it . . . though I really wanted to. Would you mind telling me about it, maybe?”

During the silence that ensued, Mamm looked so troubled,
even agitated. A hint of suppertime scents still hung in the atmosphere, and Tilly felt almost sorry for putting her mother on the spot.

“
Ach
, maybe ’tis best, after all, if ya know this awful hard news now,” Mamm replied quietly, shaking her head. “It might help you understand your Daed better, for one thing.” She sighed. “You were my very first daughter, and I’m ever so grateful for your life. In fact, every day I give thanks to God for you.”

Tilly listened, as moved by the faltering of her mother’s phrases as the words themselves.

Her mother continued. “I’ve thought for many years whether to tell you this . . . wanting to spare you the trauma of your earliest beginnings—the memories I carry silently, deep in my heart.” Mamm sighed and came to sit beside her on the bench. “I wanted to take them to my grave, honestly. But then I decided perhaps it was better for you to know . . . at least once I was gone.”

Tilly shuddered, suddenly fearful of what her request had set in motion . . . what Mamm was about to reveal.

“One moonless night, I was violated, daughter. My pain and horror was such that I did not expect a child to come of it . . . certainly not my darling Tilly.” Her mother reached for her hand, holding it tightly. “I scarcely know how either of us survived, dear. It was an alarming time for us—for you and for me. The stress I bore surely affected you, my tiny babe, as you grew protected beneath my heart.”

Tilly scarcely believed what she was hearing. If her mother hadn’t been right beside her, real and solid, she would have rejected it as an appalling nightmare.

“Maybe now you’ll understand why Daed has always kept you at arm’s length, an added heartache for you and for me.
Jah
, I noticed that, believe me, I did . . . I always have. And no one but Daed was ever told of what happened in the woodlot that night. For your own sake, we made a pact to keep it just between us . . . a pact I’ve broken now.” Her mother let go of Tilly’s hand and wiped her eyes.

“The woodlot?” Tilly managed to ask.

Mamm nodded her head slowly, sadly. “The man was an outsider passing through the area. Not Amish, for certain.”

Tilly’s lip quivered. Oh, the pain her poor mother had suffered! And no wonder Daed had warned her and Ruthie against that woodland area, making it seem as though he never trusted them to go anywhere without him.
No wonder . . .

“I can surely see how the torment of that night colored your life, my dear. Daed’s overprotectiveness . . . our concern that ya turn out right. Daed was harder on you than my other children—never could forget what happened. I witnessed it all through your growing-up years.” Mamm was weeping now. “It was wrong of your Daed and me to let that happen. I am sorry, Tilly. So very sorry.”

Shaken to the core, Tilly sat like a pillar on the bench. Her fingers trembled as she struggled to turn off the flashlight. It was so difficult to breathe, to pull air into her lungs as she and her mother sat there in the now dim kitchen.

Poor, dear Mamm!
Tilly thought, her mother’s words tearing at her heart.
To think
I never suspected . . .

Tilly felt a cool hand on hers at that fragile moment, and slowly, she let herself lean into her precious mother.

I
think my sister’s still sleeping,” Ruth told Mamm while stirring pancake batter early the next morning.

Mamm nodded. “Well,
you
certainly look fresh as a flower.” She regarded Ruth, seemingly measuring her expression. “Makes me wonder if there might not just be something interesting comin’ . . . well, in your near future.”

Ruth was startled. Had Mamm somehow seen her with Will?

“I can certainly hope, can’t I, that maybe you and your former beau might be thinking of getting back together,
jah
?”

So, Mamm
had
seen them. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up, but I’ll tell you something to keep private for now.” At Mamm’s quick nod, Ruth went on. “Wilmer Kauffman has asked me to return home here. He wants to court me.”

“My dear girl . . .” Mamm’s eyes were ever so hopeful that it pained Ruth a little.

“I haven’t made up my mind, though.”

Mamm wiped her hands on her apron and reached to give her a hug. “Oh, Ruthie, when will ya decide?”

“I’m taking my time . . . praying, too.”

“Well, it sounds like you just might be persuaded.”

Ruth felt a flutter again at the thought. “I don’t want to jump into anything too quickly.”

“Very wise. And if you ask me, dating someone for all four seasons is a
schmaert
idea, too—my own mother counseled me to do that.”

Ruth’s mother must not realize she had already been Will’s sweetheart-girl for far more than twelve months. But that felt like a world ago. “It would definitely be a huge adjustment to leave my English life behind, but with God’s help, I’m willing—if that is what He wants for me.”

A big tear rolled down Mamm’s cheek, and she shook her head like she could hardly believe it. “It would be such a
wunnerbaar-gut
answer to my every prayer.”

Ruth wondered aloud how the rest of the family would receive the news, if it came to that.

“I can tell ya that your Daed would greet the prospect of gaining you back to the People with such joy.” Mamm smiled. “He’d pro’bly even shed a few tears.”

Ruth couldn’t imagine her father moved to tears over this, but perhaps he was more tenderhearted than she knew. “I still remember a thing or two about living Amish. Bet I could even hitch a horse by myself if I had to,” she joked.

Her mother laughed. “Well, and you’d be wantin’ a place to stay, too, I would guess.”

“
If
I decide to return . . . and if that suits you.”

“What do ya mean, child? Of course it does. Oh, Ruthie, do you know how delighted I would be?” With that, Mamm threw her arms around Ruthie and held her near.

———

Tilly yawned and sat up in bed, getting her bearings. She sighed and dragged herself out from under the covers, still
shaken by the stunning thought that Daed was not her father.
And poor, sweet Mamm . . . what she went
through that horrid night so long ago!

Earlier, Tilly had awakened out of a deep sleep to the sound of laughter from somewhere in the house. The sounds were muffled and coming from the kitchen.

Long before dawn, she’d returned the letter to Mamm, still unopened. The terrible secret was in Mamm’s safekeeping now, hidden from other eyes. Why her mother hadn’t concealed the letter in a more secure place, she did not know. To think Daed was not her flesh-and-blood father . . . that her violent beginnings had colored his view of her, his treatment.

The miracle was that Daed hadn’t insisted that Mamm get rid of her before the birth. Thankfully, he was a God-fearing man who valued all life. Still, the truth remained: Tilly was a constant reminder of what had happened to his beloved wife.

“I’m grateful to be alive,” Tilly whispered, reaching for her morning devotional book. Wearily, she went through the motions of reading it, and of praying, too, but her heart was in neither.

Peals of laughter echoed up the stairs yet again. Tilly braced herself, wondering how she could sit at the same table with her family this morning, knowing what she did.

———

Ruth rang the dinner bell several times, just as Mamm requested. Yet for whatever reason, Daed hadn’t come in for breakfast as usual.

“The waffles and eggs will get cold,” Mamm fretted, “and your father is not one for eating cold anything, ya know.”

“I’ll run to the barn and let him know we’re ready.” Ruth
took time to slip on her jacket, wondering if Tilly was ever coming downstairs. Now that everything was sorted, they had so much packing left to do; they really needed to get started.

The morning felt nippy, a far cry from the warm temperatures yesterday when she and Will had basked in the sunshine of late autumn. The hour they’d spent together walking and talking had been something she’d never anticipated, but she still had so many things to consider . . . including her relationship with Jim Montgomery.

Ah, Jim.
Their friendship had been growing in such a promising way—somehow Ruth knew she wouldn’t need to wonder about whether she could count on his word and intentions. She had observed his caring concern for others in their congregation, including the elderly couple whom he drove to church as needed. Jim was certainly a man she could depend on, whereas Will . . .

But
he’s changed, hasn’t he?
Ruth thought. The serious tone of their conversation was certainly an indication of that. Even so, it would take time to know for sure. And time would be in short supply unless Ruth moved back home.

Could I really give
up so much just for the
hope
of a happy
life with Will?

Ruth contemplated what Mamm had said earlier. The thought of pleasing her parents with her return—possibly causing Daed to weep. The idea touched Ruth profoundly, and she couldn’t imagine her father wiping salty tears from his ruddy face. As for her mother, even the slimmest possibility of a permanent reunion between Ruth and her family had lifted her spirits nearly to the sky.

Still, tempting as all that was, Ruth knew she needed to
proceed carefully, with wisdom. She was thankful Tilly was there to keep her mindful of that.

I don’t want
to raise everyone’s hopes only to dash them.

———

Tilly felt unsteady as she made her way down the steep back staircase and into the kitchen. She found Mamm alone there, standing over the cookstove, her face pink with the heat, small beads of perspiration on her brow. “Mamm?”

“Well,
Guder Mariye
to you, my dear.” Her mother looked her way, her expression amiable, though she, too, looked sleep deprived. “Were you able to rest . . . after we talked?”

Tilly yawned. “It wasn’t the best night I’ve ever had. How about you?”

“Oh . . . at my age, I get my sleep when I can.” Mamm sighed. “But no. Rest was hard to come by.”

Tilly took four paper cups out of the cupboard, needing to keep busy and wanting to be useful. “We certainly have a big day ahead of us.” She felt it wise to change the subject. Enough gloomy talk.

Mamm nodded and smoothed her apron. “Melvin and Susannah will be over to help, squeezing in work over here before picking field corn. And Caleb and Benny are comin’ to help with barn duties—doin’ double duty, bless their hearts. And I hear Naomi’s bringin’ supper. She and Abner will join us—ain’t that nice?”

Tilly nodded. “Is Daed around?” she asked. “And Ruthie?”

“Your sister’s out alerting your father ’bout breakfast.” Mamm eyed the stove. “Which is not going to be very good if the waffles get soggy.”

Your father . . .

Tilly trembled at the word. Mamm was right—the pain had
found its way into her own life. The heartbreaking knowledge she now possessed only deepened her hurt.

She was just making her way toward the icebox to get some orange juice when Ruthie dashed into the house, breathless.

“Come quick, Mamm. Something’s wrong with Daed!”

Mamm gasped and dropped everything to follow. “I’m comin’!”

Tilly hurried to the back door, offering to phone for help.

“
Jah
, or if he’s in need of a hospital, can
you
drive him, maybe?” Mamm called back as she rushed out to the barn with Ruthie.

Tilly stood there, paralyzed, not knowing what to do first. Wouldn’t Mamm prefer an ambulance? Then, suppressing her emotions, she darted out to the barn to assess the situation. She was shocked to see Daed lying on the cement floor, not far from the calves’ birthing pen. Melvin was already performing CPR.

“Someone better call 9-1-1,” Melvin said louder than Tilly had ever heard him speak. “
Graades wegs!—
Right away!”

Tilly moved quickly, running to the car, her heart pounding so hard she could scarcely hear herself think.
Oh, dear Lord, will Daed live?