The River (8 page)

R
emember all the turkeys we slaughtered that winter before you left?” Tilly’s brother Allen asked while Sam stood nearby.

“How can you forget something like that?” Tilly said, queasy at the memory. “It was traumatic.”

This brought a welcome laugh, and Tilly finally began to feel like she was blending in a little, despite her modern clothes and hair.

“I remember those birds hanging upside down, all stiff and plucked nearly bald,” she said, grimacing.

Allen nodded. “So many leftover feathers . . . and those bloodied eyes, too.”

“Ew . . . must we remember
that
?” Tilly shook her head, recalling the seemingly never-ending work to accomplish. She could still feel the gravel, as her father had always called the crop located between the gullet and windpipe. “It makes it a challenge to enjoy a slice of anniversary cake.” She looked at her plate and noticed she’d eaten only half her piece. Too busy talking . . . reconnecting.

“You’ve been a city girl for too long,
jah
?” Allen joked.

Sam nodded in agreement.

“Well, you know,” she said, “turkey season was never really my cup of tea.”

As she inched around and visited with each of her brothers and wives, Tilly repeatedly glanced toward the front room. Mamm was there now, bending low, saying something to Daed, who opened his eyes and moved his lips in response.

Tilly gave a sigh of relief and turned her attention more fully to her small nieces and nephews, some she’d never met—born since her leaving.

Later, she also enjoyed visiting with Melvin’s teenage sons, Caleb and Benny, who openly asked questions about her car. This made Tilly nervous, wondering who might overhear.

“Do ya know how to change the oil?” Benny was asking, blue eyes bright. His clean blond hair shone, bangs cut in a perfect line across his forehead.

“What about jacking up the car if a tire goes flat?” Caleb asked before she could answer Benny. “Can you do that, too?”

Looking around, she felt incredibly sheepish. “You two aren’t thinking of trading in your courting buggies for cars, are you?”

“
Nee,
wouldn’t think of it,” Benny admitted.

“Daed would have our necks on a block,” Caleb said.

Like all those turkeys,
thought Tilly.

“Well then, why don’t you stick with hitching up and taking good care of the harness and bridle?” she said for good measure.

“Well,
you
didn’t stay,” Benny shot back.

Tilly inhaled, feeling self-conscious. She’d caused enough trouble, helping Ruth leave Eden Valley—she wouldn’t be seen as responsible for luring away these two, as well.

“So maybe Amish life ain’t for everyone,” Caleb concluded.

“Please don’t pattern your lives after mine,” she said earnestly. “I had issues . . . nothing to do with being Plain.”

“If you say so,” Benny said.

She wasn’t sure they believed her, but Caleb changed the subject and said how nice it was to see her again. And Benny added he hoped she’d stay in touch.

“I’ll do that,” she promised, eager to get going, wishing Ruthie might walk her back to Uncle Abner’s. Except now she spotted her sister talking animatedly with several of their sisters-in-law, over in the corner near Mamm, who’d returned to the kitchen, looking weary, her glance returning to the front room.

I need to say good-bye to Daed,
thought Tilly, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time.

———

Tilly’s awful jumpy,
Melvin thought as he mingled with his siblings and their spouses. Chester and Joseph were together in the corner, talking and drinking more coffee than eating cake, although everyone had been served at least one ample slice. He also saw as he went to the table for seconds that there was plenty of cake left over. Melvin couldn’t resist licking off his fingers.

“I saw that,” his wife said, creeping up behind him.

“And I suspect you’re wantin’ seconds, too.” He winked at her.

She leaned close to whisper, “Do ya think Tilly and Ruth are havin’ a nice time?”

“
Gut
as can be.” He had been observing both of them, especially Tilly. “Daed’s not doin’ too well, though,” he said.

“Mamm says he thinks he ate too much cake,” Susannah
offered, her lips near his ear. “But honestly, he’s never had any trouble with sweets before.”

He nodded toward the front room. “Should one of us go and check on him?”

Susannah wrinkled her brow. “
Nee,
I think he just needs some quiet. And your Mamm gave him some hawthorn berry tea—the ‘great heart healer,’ some call it.”

Melvin had read about the home remedy in
Die Botschaft
not long ago. That and cayenne pepper dissolved in hot water had reportedly saved many lives during a heart attack. Of course, he’d also read enough about arrhythmia to know that his father needed more drastic intervention.

He felt tugged in the direction of the front room, eager to know how Daed was doing. Yet he did not heed it, not wanting to single out his father.
“Don’t make
a fuss,”
Daed had drilled into them since they were little tykes. Though Daed was a man who did not wish to have attention drawn toward him, he must feel bad about missing much of the family’s party for him and Mamm.

Across the room, Melvin saw Tilly showing pictures from her wallet to Josie and assumed they were of Tilly’s husband and daughters. Sam and Josie’s young son and daughter were standing near, too, on tiptoes to see the pictures. The sight warmed his heart, especially when Josie slipped her arm around Tilly’s waist.
Love
overlooks and forgives,
he thought, thankful he’d stuck out his neck and invited Tilly and Ruth.

Now if I
could just get Daed to see the light about that
pacemaker,
he thought, forking up some more cake.
An uphill
battle, for certain.

———

Some time later, Tilly was standing at the back door window watching each family leave for home—there were chores to
get to, including milking. Benny and Caleb lingered, however, and were standing partially hidden over near the old slanting corncrib, puffing on a shared cigar.
Are they wondering where I parked my car?

She stepped away from the window and smiled at the tender sight of Ruth and Mamm sipping tea at the table. Sam and Josie and their two children were still there, too, Sam having more coffee at one corner of the table, talking quietly with Josie. Josie was expressing concern that Daed might need to see the doctor again, and Sam solemnly agreed.

With everyone occupied—and Daed still resting in the front room—Tilly decided now was the ideal time to return Anna’s cap upstairs. She reached for her purse on the pantry doorknob and promptly snuck up the back stairs, glad to have written the apology note tucked into the plastic bag next to the
Kapp
.

At the top of the stairs, she noticed what had been little Anna’s room, the one nearest their parents’. She was very curious to see her sister’s room again.
Such a
long time
, she thought, wondering if Mamm had kept any of the dolls Tilly had sewn for Anna. Then again, it was hard to imagine that her mother had kept anything related to Tilly.

Trying the doorknob, she discovered the door was locked and crouched low to look through the large keyhole. To Tilly’s amazement, the little rocking chair Daed had made was still draped with the Double Bar–pattern dolly quilt brightening the room—Tilly had made it for Anna’s fourth birthday. “Mamm
did
keep it,” she whispered, wondering why the room was locked. It hadn’t been that way before Tilly left . . . though now that Tilly considered it, she’d never tried to enter.
Maybe it
’s been locked all this time.

Doubtless, Mamm had her reasons, and Tilly let herself think how she’d feel if she still lived here and had to see Anna’s door closed all the time. Truly, it was impossible to forget that everything had changed after Anna’s death. Life had ceased in many ways, just as the clocks in the house were stopped at the estimated time of Anna’s fall into the mighty Conestoga.

Feeling forlorn in spite of the mostly happy time downstairs, Tilly made her way to her brothers’ former bedroom, the largest of the four rooms upstairs, except for their parents’ bedroom, positioned over the warm kitchen. She looked inside and saw Mamm’s cutting table for laying out fabric in the middle of the room, her old treadle sewing machine on the window wall. On the west-facing wall were two spool cabinets, similar to Mammi Lantz’s own, and a hutch filled with quilting material. Seeing the room as it was now, Tilly had a hard time recalling the double bed, and bunk beds, too, stacked up along the wall, years ago.

Heading back toward her parents’ room, she paused in the doorway before slowly stepping inside. The room looked much the same as when Tilly lived there—Mamm was not one to alter the décor. The small oak table was still centered between two tall windows with a sturdy rocker on either side. It was there her parents liked to sit for their morning devotions, especially in the summertime. There was only one difference: a bed quilt she’d not seen before, a Country Songbird pattern in a lovely green, white, and mauve theme. “When did Mamm make this?” she murmured, setting Anna’s head covering on the bed and leaning closer to look at the quilt.

She studied the pattern and realized how many quilting bees and work frolics she’d missed out on during the past years. While she did not regret her modern life with Kris and
their young daughters, Tilly had completely cut herself off from her family here.

Reaching for the plastic bag, she went to the foot of the bed and opened the blanket chest, thinking she’d simply leave it inside.
For
Mamm to find later,
she thought, hoping to bypass any painful discussion.

Tilly could hear laughter floating up the steps—
Mamm, Ruthie, and Josie,
she thought. In that moment, she questioned her decision. Why was she doing this so secretively? Her mother had always been a person she could approach, in contrast to Daed’s detachment and seeming disinterest. Didn’t she deserve a personal explanation?

Looking down at the little cap, Tilly changed her mind. She closed the lid to the blanket chest, took Anna’s head covering and the note, and returned them to her purse before quietly leaving the room.

B
ack downstairs, by way of the main staircase in the heart of the house, Tilly noticed her mother sleeping in an easy chair over in the far corner of the hallway-like sitting area. Mamm kept her prettiest dishes in the narrow space, like a dining room but without any table. There were two upholstered chairs perched on either side of an old cherrywood desk Daed had made long ago. Mamm had always said this furniture would go to little Anna when she was married.
“
That
’
s
what
Daed
wants
,”
she’d told both Tilly and Ruth.

What does Mamm want?
Tilly mused.

In the kitchen, Tilly found Ruth cleaning up the dishes. “You’re working alone?”

“It’s okay, really,” Ruth said, mentioning that Sam and Josie had gone out to check on the new calves for Daed. “And Mamm must’ve needed a snooze, too.”

“Here, I’ll help you dry.” Tilly picked up the embroidered rose tea towel. “When we’re finished, let’s you and I walk back to Uncle Abner and Aunt Naomi’s together.”

“Only if Daed’s feeling better.” Ruth paused. “I overheard Sam say he was ready to call 9-1-1.”

“Well, Daed would not take well to it.”

“Sam knows that.” Ruth stopped washing, her hands deep in the soapy water. Beads of perspiration lined her brow. “Honestly, I think it’s probably a good thing we made the trip back here when we did.”

Tilly understood. “And I’m beginning to wish I’d stayed in touch better, too. Through all the years away,
you’ve
been the good daughter, writing letters to Mamm and others in our family.”

“Well, but even so, I sometimes think I have a lot to make up for.” Ruth paused, suddenly looking at Tilly. “Not pointing fingers, mind you.”

Tilly reached for another plate to dry. Mamm had written occasional letters and cards to her, but there had never been direct word from Daed. She had excused it, though, knowing most Amishmen were too busy plowing and planting and tending to the livestock to bother with letter writing.

Ruth shrugged. “Of course, I’m not sayin’ I could ever return to the Plain life, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Tilly wondered why Ruth would say such a thing. Wasn’t that a given? There was no turning back for either of them. Not now.

Ruth managed to match Tilly’s long stride during the walk to their uncle and aunt’s place. They talked about the anniversary party, especially the two new babies present. “Little ones who will grow up not knowing us,” Ruth said, feeling a little blue.

“We’ve obviously made some big changes in the direction of our lives,” Tilly offered. “People make choices. Difficult as it was to go, I just couldn’t stay.”

“That’s why we look to the Lord each and every day.” Ruth thought back to her younger days when she had been so carefree. Back then, she’d had not a single worry, at least not in her secluded little world in Eden Valley.

A large market wagon piled with pumpkins rattled past, pulled by two road horses. Ruth’s mouth watered at the thought of pumpkin pies and sweet pumpkin bread, and she realized how much she missed baking with her mother.

“Goodness, how can everything look so much like home, yet seem unfamiliar all the same?” Tilly said quietly, looking her way. “Do you feel it, too?”

Ruth said she did just as she spotted a gray carriage coming this way with a tall lone driver. “We must look terribly out of place to everyone here,” she said, glancing down at her shiny loafers. “Which is downright peculiar, considering this was once our home.”

“It’s not like we’re dressed very worldly, though.”

“But in contrast to the Amish here, we surely are.” Ruth looked down at her navy blue corduroy jumper. The hem came just to her knee, which must have seemed nearly scandalous to Mamm, who’d made no comment about it.
She bit her
tongue,
Ruth thought, remembering a few furtive glances her mother had given her attire and hair.

“Who’s this coming now?” Tilly asked, slowing her pace.

Eyeing the buggy, which seemed awfully familiar, Ruth continued to keep up with Tilly’s stride. “Well, I sure hope it’s not who I think.” She could be entirely wrong, not having seen Wilmer Kauffman since she left at twenty.

“You’d know better than I would,” Tilly said, picking up the pace again. “If it’s Will, what’ll you do?”

Ruth wasn’t sure and didn’t have time to answer, because the
carriage was slowing and an arm was waving out of the buggy. Then a sun-tanned, enthusiastic face appeared from the side, and as Ruth had feared, it
was
Will Kauffman, her former beau.

“Hullo!” he called a hearty greeting.

Where’s his beard?
Ruth was shocked that he wasn’t married by now.

She moved closer to the side of the road, her heart beating considerably faster, not knowing what to say to this young man she’d so loved. In that instant, she realized she hardly knew a thing about Will anymore. What sort of person had he become? Had he been ruined by the Jamborees, marked for life . . . spoiled for the Old Order church? She could not even estimate her own previous significance to him, except to remember that he’d wanted to make her his bride, before Lloyd Blank stepped in and steered him toward the wild side of things.

“Tilly . . . Ruth,” he said, halting the horse and jumping out of the carriage. He wasted no time in coming around to offer a gentlemanly handshake to each of them. He looked like he’d just had a shower; his blond bangs were clean and fluffy beneath his black felt hat. He wore a long-sleeved light blue shirt and black work trousers with black suspenders.

Not surprisingly, Tilly seemed a bit hesitant to shake Will’s hand. Her big sister had clammed right up, leaving it to Ruth to carry the conversation, if there was going to be any.

“We’re just out enjoying the day,” Ruth said, avoiding saying his name. She didn’t feel like looking him in the eye, either, but he was persistent and drew her gaze toward him.
Such confidence,
she thought.
Or is it arrogance
?

“I’d be glad to give you both a lift, wherever you’re headin’ to,” Will offered.

“
Denki
, but we’d like to walk,” Ruth was quick to say.

Tilly continued her silence.

“Well, once you’re back at your parents’, I’d like to talk to you, Ruthie. If you don’t mind.”

“She
does
mind,” Tilly finally snapped, then reached for Ruth’s hand and started walking away.

“I mean no harm,” Will called after them—after her. “Ruthie, is that how ya feel, too?”

What’s
to feel?
she asked herself.
After all this time, he’
s of no interest to me.

“I have something important to tell ya, Ruthie Lantz . . . if you’ll give me a few minutes.”

Tilly still held Ruth’s hand fast. “Don’t turn around, whatever you do,” she whispered. “Just keep walking.”

Ruth had never expected to find herself in such a predicament. She could no more describe what she was feeling than she could describe the smell of the air after a soaking summer rain. And while she purposely kept her head facing forward, allowing her sister to lead her up the road, Ruth felt drawn in two directions, by Tilly at her side, and Will pleading behind her.

“Are ya goin’ to be at Preachin’ tomorrow, maybe?” Will asked, sounding farther away.

“Just leave her alone!” Tilly hollered.

“Tilly—” Ruth said.

“What?” Tilly exclaimed.

Ruth jerked to a halt. “I’d honestly like to hear what he has to say.”

Groaning, Tilly released her. “Oh, Ruthie . . . what am I going to do with you?”

With that, Ruth turned and disregarded Tilly. She raised her
chin and walked back toward Will Kauffman, who evidently didn’t see her and was getting into his carriage. Oh, but she was still too far away to be heard even if she had the nerve to call out, and she certainly didn’t want to make herself look foolish.

“
Be careful who you love.”
The old warning swathed her thoughts.

Watching him go, Ruth stopped walking and stood still as a stone. She would not run after him. No, she’d just let Will go and be done with it.
For good.