Abram's Daughters 04 The Prodigal

Beverly Lewis

The Prodigal (Abram's Daughters Series, #4) The Prodigal (Abram's Daughters Series, #4) The Prodigal ' :

Copyright 2004 Beverly Lewis

Cover design by Dan Thornberg

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a

retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic,

mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written

permission of the publisher and copyright owners.

Published by Bethany House Publishers

11400 Hampshire Avenue South Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

Bethany House Publishers is a division of Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN 0-7642-2878-1 (Hardcover)6**> -

For

Carolene Robinson,

with happy memories

of our "baby days" . . .

and laugh'Out-loud Mark Twain nights.

i7ivww. Seuerfyfewis. corn

Abram's Daughters

The Covenant

The Betrayal The Sacrifice The Prodigal

The Heritage of Lancaster County

The Shunning The Confession The Reckoning

The Postcard

The Crossroad

The Redemption of Sarah Cain

October Song

Sanctuary*

The Sunroom

The Beverly Lewis Amish Heritage Cookbook

*with David Lewis

Beverly Lewis writes for younger readers, too! See back of book for details.8N'VHRLY LEWIS, born in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch i diiiiiry, fondly recalls her growing-up years. A keen interest in her mother's Plain family heritage has led Beverly to set m;u\y of her popular stories in Lancaster County.

A former schoolteacher and accomplished pianist, Beverly is a member of the National League of American Pen Women (ihe Pikes Peak branch) and the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators. She is the 2003 recipient of the Distinguished Alumnus Award at Evangel University, Springfield, Missouri, and her blockbuster novel, The Shunning, recently won the Gold Book Award. Her bestselling novel October Song won the Silver Seal in the Benjamin Franklin Awards, and The Postcard and Sanctuary (a collaboration with Iiit husbandf David) received Silver Angel Awards, as did her ili-lightful picture book for all ages, Annika's Secret Wish. Beverly and her husband have three grown children and one grandchild and make their home in the Colorado foothills. 9'/#

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Winter 1956

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Oometimes in the midst of gray fog and drizzle, especially at ill is time of year, it's difficult to tell where the day ends and the night begins. Alas, mud clings to nearly everything buggy wheels, horses' hooves, and work boots. But in a few short days, when the predicted cold snap arrives in Gobbler's Knob, all this sludge will freeze hard, and hopefully everyone's footing will be safer once again.

Yet even now tlje long night of separation is past. My repentant sister, Sadie, has returned to the open arms of the People, and my heart is tender with love for her. Nine-yearold Lydiann privately asks me why Sadie ever left us to live in the Midwest. 'Tis a prickly subject with little hope of being understood by a girl so young and one who scarcely knows Sadie. I can only pray that dear Lydiann will set aside her curiosity and enjoy her eldest sister for who she is now... for who she is becoming.

Little by little, Sadie and I have completed the task of sewing her new dresses and aprons all black for the one-year mourning period since the few she brought home in her

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suitcase definitely reflected the style and pattern she wore while living in Nappanee, Indiana. Even the head coverings are quite different out west compared to here in Lancaster County lots more pleats to iron than we have in our prayer veilings. We boxed up all of Sadie's former clothing and sent it back to Nappanee, hoping some of her deceased husband's family might be able to put it to good use. For sure and for certain, she intends never to need it again.

Along with tending to my youngest sister and only brother, I have been going to plenty of quilting frolics, where joyous fellowship fills the day now that I've learned to tune out the tittle-tattle and simply concentrate on making tiny quilting stitches. With Adah Peachey Ebersol, my best friend and cousin by marriage and, at times, Aunt Lizzie by my side, I am ever so content. Aunt Lizzie has an amazing ability to swiftly sew many little stitches, and straight ones at that. Sometimes she and I make a game of seeing who can sew the smallest ones, and she always wins with seven or eight per needle. Naturally she would; she's been quilting for many years longer than I. Yet it seems to me finishing well in this life is not so much about who is the best or greatest at something, but rather who embraces lowliness of heart. Laying down one's rights meekness is a blessed virtue, one that must surely come straight from the Throne of Grace.

In the nearly seven years since Mamma's death, Aunt Lizzie has become a mother to me, though I have yet to refer to her as Mamma. Still, in my heart she is now just that, and I know she senses the affectionate tie that binds the two of us.

On quilting days, Aunt Lizzie and Sadie take turns staying home to cook and clean and look in on Dawdi John, our

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elderly maternal grandfather, who still lives in the cozy Dawdi I lnus adjoining our farmhouse. But neither Sadie nor Aunt Lizzie will ever consider letting me stay behind, and they're nirher outspoken that I should be the one getting out of the house, even though winter is surely creeping up on us. I don't hiive to remind them that I do have ample opportunity to leave the Ebersol Cottage and have a change of scenery, since I work for the English doctor, Henry Schwartz, and his wife, Lorraine. Truth be told, sometimes I think Lizzie is concerned I hat too much of my free time is spent with fancy folk, though she brings this up only rarely. Probably in the back of her mind and Dat's, too is Mary Ruth's leaving the community I of the People behind for the Mennonite church, though I helieve Dat has begun to temper his displeasure with Mary Ruth, speaking out less strongly here lately. Dawdi John, too, says he's seen "a whole other side" to Dat in recent days.

Secretly I've been reading Mamma's old Bible and searching out the underlined passages, coming to understand why dear Mamma was so patient and kind walking the way of Hue humility. Such qualities seemed to come second nature to her, as she had'a servant's heart, just as I desire to have before the Lord. If I continue to follow diligently the path (Sod has set before me, though sometimes as prickly as nettles when I find myself alone, I believe I will be most joyful.

Patience is yet another virtue, one that grows stronger through the practice of waiting, and I've done much of that in recent years, come to think of it. I often linger near the school yard for Lydiann and Abe, whom I happily view as my own little ones. Young Abe, surrounded as he is by a houseful of women folk, is dearly treasured by each of us. He brings such delight to our lives that it's truly painful to contemplate

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how terribly close we came to losing him along with Mamma on the day of his birth.

I must also admit to waiting, with some measure of hope, for a letter from Grasshopper Level, praying that one day Mamma's cousins Peter and Fannie Mast might wake up and realize they have a whole family of folk who love them here. And it would be wonderful-good, if the Lord wills, to get word from someone anyone at all telling of Jonas Mast and his faraway life and family.

Most of all, I longingly wait for Sadie's six-month Proving to come to an agreeable end. Bishop Bontrager's choice of an older woman to oversee her during this time is Mamma's dearest friend, Miriam Peachey. The Proving means my sister can't be alone with a man for the time being, except male relatives. Of course this means she's not allowed to be courted until next April. Still, though she's but twenty-eight, I can't imagine her even being interested in another man or at least not for a good long time.

So there is nothing to do but go along with the minister's stern decree and look ahead to a happier season next springtime when Sadie will be reinstated as a member in good standing, if she keeps her nose clean. We can only hope and pray she will; otherwise, she will no longer be welcome in Dat's house or the community of the People. As harsh as her shunning was, what with no letters allowed all those years she was gone, I sincerely hope the severity of this second Proving has not caused further distress in my widowed sister.

Before long the shortest day will darken the hours at both ends of the clock, the celebration of the Lord's birthday will come and go ... and soon after, our little Abe will observe his seventh birthday. Then, too, my sister Hannah will bear her

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lliird wee babe. All of this in the space of a few short days, Lord willing.

For now I'm content to push split logs into Mamma's old wood stove and help Sadie and Aunt Lizzie cook and bake I lie family recipes, though in doing so, I am ever mindful of the constant ache in me, living life without dear Mamma. Keeping busy is one way of getting by, I daresay. Although Sadie now shares our parents' former room with me, it is in I he night hours, when the rest of the family is snug in their own beds, that I am most threatened by profound loneliness as a maidel. Nonetheless, I remember always to count my blessings, moment by moment. . . day by day.

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JH/arly morning winds pressed a row of saplings nearly flat to (he ground, and the stark contrast between a dreary sky and I lie eerie whiteness of a snow-sleek earth created a peculiar balance of light.

Leah pulled her woolen shawl tightly against her as she made her way back to the house from the barn, where she'd gone to take a tall Thermos of hot coffee to her father and brother-in-law, Gid.

" Tis terrible cbld out," she told Sadie, making a beeline into the kitchen, eager to warm her chapped hands over the wood stove.

Sadie looked up from Dat's favorite rocking chair, her needlework in her lap. " 'S'pose the men were glad for the coffee, jahV

Leah nodded. "I like seein' the smiles on their red faces. Besides, it's the least I can do for Dat and our new preacher, ya know." She smiled. Truth was, Dat needed a bit of fussing over, still floundering at times without Mamma. So did Gid, what with Hannah so great with child she could scarcely

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shuffle to the kitchen to cook a meal for their growing family. Both Lizzie and Sadie had been taking turns carrying hot dishes up to the log house on the edge of the woods, helping out some. "What do ya think Hannah will have this time girl or boy?" asked Leah.

"I'm sure Gid's hopin' for a son, just as Dat did all those years back. But it wouldn't surprise me if Hannah has another daughter. Girls seem to run in the Ebersol family," Sadie said.

"Jah, prob'ly so." Leah didn't care one way or the other. So far, young Abe was the only male offspring, and a right fine boy he was.

Hours later, when the time came to call the family together for dinner, Leah headed to the front room, where Lydiann was dusting the corner cupboard. Stopping to watch, Leah was struck by how sweet the girl's face was. Nearly heart shaped, truly, and pretty blue eyes much like Sadie's. She sighed, thinking what a handful Lydiann could be, yet at the same time, she brought a wealth of affection to the whole family. Lydiann was especially attentive to young Abe, her only close-in-age sibling.

"Sadie says the stew's ready," Leah said softly, so as not to startle her.

Turning, Lydiann smiled. She laid the dust rag on the floor and fell in step with Leah, slipping her arm around her waist. "Our big sister has that certain touch, ain't so?" Lydiann sniffed the air comically. "I daresay her cookin' oughta bring her another fine husband someday."

"Now, Lyddie," Leah chided her.

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"Well, Mamma," whispered Lydiann, "you know what I mean.."

"S'posin' I do, and Sadie does have that special something every cook yearns for." Leah went to the back door and rang I lit- dinner bell while Lydiann washed her hands at the kilehen sink. Quickly Leah pulled the door shut, keenly aware iif the bone-chilling cold, the bitter kind that crept up through long skirts and long Johns both.

The present cold snap was expected to linger for a while, according to the weather forecast, which wasn't always so relinble. Dat, however, took both the weatherman and The Far' trier's Almanac quite seriously most days, especially here lately. I ,eah wondered if her father simply needed something to hang his hat on, but the weather was the last thing a body could count on, as unpredictable as winter was long.

She went to help Sadie carry the food to the table. Along with stew, there were cornmeal muffins, a Waldorf salad, and il tray of carrot sticks, pickles, and olives, with plenty of hot coffee for the adults and fresh cow's milk for Lydiann and Abe. The children much preferred the taste of the milk when (he cows were barn fed instead of pasture fed, so she knew ihey'd be draining their glasses tonight.