The Forgiven (24 page)

Matt fought back his temper. He wouldn't gain anything by letting it rip, no matter how he felt.

“Isaiah's mother isn't doing very well. He needs to know what's going on with her, so he can decide what to do about it. I'm here to tell him.”

“You mean you're here to put a guilt trip on him about going home.”

“Sometimes it's right to feel guilty.” That was a subject he'd had plenty of experience with. “Isaiah's family hasn't heard a word from him since he went away. Not even a line or two to say he's safe.”

Zimmer's face hardened. “He might think it was safer not to let them know where he is. Maybe he didn't want any visitors like you. That's his right.”

“It's not your right to keep him from knowing about his mother.” Matt took another deep breath and counted to ten. “Look, I can't force him to go home. I know that. I just want to see him. If he won't write to his folks, he won't, but at least I can tell my aunt I've seen him and he's all right.”

Zimmer studied him for a long moment, and Matt couldn't tell what was going on behind that guarded expression. Finally Zimmer shrugged. “I'll talk to Isaiah. Come back in the morning, and I'll let you know.”

If Zimmer thought he'd be content with a secondhand message from Isaiah, he'd better think again. Still, there was no harm in trying it his way first.

Matt gave a curt nod. “I'll be back in the morning.”

He'd turned away when Zimmer spoke again.

“Are you sure you're not looking for help yourself? Seems to me the fact that you're not married means you have some doubts.”

Matt shook his head and kept walking. The man was just trying to needle him, he supposed. He couldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing that his words had an impact.

Maybe he did have a few doubts, but he didn't need Zimmer to tell him so. Anyway, his issues had little to do with being Amish.

He'd lost Rebecca before he'd even admitted how important she was to him.

So, was his determination to bring Isaiah home for his aunt and uncle's sake? Or because it would free him to leave behind the wreckage of what he might have had with Rebecca?

The truth was, he didn't know.

Lancaster County, Spring 1944

Another spring planting season had come—another time of struggling to do more with less. Anna knelt in the vegetable garden, setting out the small pepper plants she'd been nurturing on the windowsill. The family would be all right for food as long as the earth continued to bring forth its fruit in its season, no matter what else happened.

Did Jacob miss the spring planting, now that he was out west fighting fires? His last letter hadn't sounded as if he missed anything. He'd sounded so caught up in what he was doing, seeming to delight in the challenge of something new. It was hard to reconcile the writer of that letter with someone who would come back to Lancaster County, slip into his old place, and be content with his old life.

Eli finished helping Daad unload the wagon after their trip to the feed mill. They exchanged a word or two, and then Eli came striding across the yard toward her. He walked with a sureness that he hadn't had even six months ago, as if he'd finally adjusted to the way his body was sprouting up.

She sat back on her heels and watched him, smiling. He was going to be taller than Daad if he kept on growing so fast.

“Need some help?” He squatted next to her.

Anna raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. “You're volunteering? You sure you didn't get too much sun on the ride back from town?”

He grinned. “I can help my favorite sister sometimes, ain't so?”

“Ach, I'm only your favorite when you want something. What is it this time? An extra dessert?”

Still smiling, he firmed the soil around a pepper plant and reached for the next one. “I'm still growing, remember?”

“You'll start growing a belly if you don't watch out.”

This was the way she used to be with Seth, Anna realized, a pang touching her heart. She and Seth were so close in age they had been almost like twins.

Funny how the family had paired off—her and Seth, the two younger girls, the two younger boys. But now Eli was old enough to be more of a friend to her. It moved her to gratitude even as it made her miss Seth all the more.

“What was new in town?” she asked, suspecting he was only too eager to tell her everything he'd heard at the feed mill, that center for male gossip.

He paused, his face kindling with excitement. “If only you could have heard them, Anna. Everyone was talking about all the American victories in the war, especially in the Pacific. Folks are sure the war will be over soon.”

“They've been saying that since 1941, ain't so?” She concentrated on setting out another plant. “They haven't been right yet.”

“It's different this time. Honest it is. Why, even old Mr. Drumheller says so, and you know he never has anything hopeful to say.”

Her heart softened when she glanced at him. “Maybe this time they're right. I'll pray it's true.”

Eli crumbled a clump of earth in his hand. “I wish I were a man already. Then I could do something to help make the war end.”

“Don't be foolish.” Anna couldn't prevent the edge in her voice. “What would you do? Run off like Seth and break Mamm's heart again?”

He flushed. “I didn't mean that, honest.”

She couldn't look at his earnest young face and be angry with him. “I know. It's all right.”

“You're missing Jacob. But think of it, Anna. If the war ends, they'll let Jacob come home, too, ain't so?”

“I don't know.” It was like a splinter in her heart. “There's been nothing said about when they'll let the CO people go. And when they do . . . well, who's to say Jacob will want to come back to Lancaster County after everywhere he's been?” Her throat tightened with the pain.

“Anna!” His face expressed shock. “You don't mean it. Jacob will come back. You'll be married, just like you always planned. Won't you?”

It wasn't right to share her worries with Eli, so she nodded. “Of course, you're right. I was just thinking Jacob might find it dull around here after being out west fighting fires. That keeps him busy.”

Too busy to write to her, it seemed.

“It will be all right. You'll see.” Eli patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Jacob loves you. And Seth will come home, too. He can go before the church and ask forgiveness, and then he'll be baptized and find somebody to marry and it will all be the way it should have been all along.”

Eli wanted the rosy picture he'd painted so much. She only wished she could believe in it, too.

“Look, here comes Mammi to ring the bell for supper,” she said, trying to distract him. “I have to hurry and get these last two plants in. I'll water them after supper.”

“I can do it.”

Moving quickly, they set out the rest of the pepper plants just as Mammi rang the bell on the back porch. In a moment Daadi was heading in from the barn, Peter running ahead of him.

There was the usual scramble of washing up at the pump, and finally they were all around the table, with Mammi and the two girls setting out the food. Meatless tonight, Anna saw. That was happening more often these days, but nobody would complain. Everyone had to make do with less, especially with so many things rationed.

Daadi had no sooner bowed his head than they heard the rattle of a car coming down the lane to the house. His head jerked up again, and he looked toward the window.

Anna followed the direction of his gaze. The Mitchell's Grocery truck moved past the window and stopped at the porch, with old Mr. Mitchell himself driving.

They hadn't ordered anything from the store, had they? And besides, if it were a delivery, usually the youngest Armstrong boy would be driving.

But the grocery store was also the telegraph office, and everyone knew that if it was a telegram, Mr. Mitchell would come himself.

A cold hand gripped Anna's heart. She saw everyone around the table frozen in place, and she had a wild desire to stop this moment so that time couldn't move forward, so that Mr. Mitchell wouldn't climb the steps and walk to the door.

But she couldn't. The knock sounded. Anna glanced at Daad, and he nodded. Numb, she managed to force her feet to carry her there, and then force her hands to open the door.

Mr. Mitchell stood on the porch, facing her. Tears stood in his faded blue eyes. He held the envelope out to her with a hand that trembled, and she knew that he'd had to do this too many times to be borne.

“I'm sorry, Anna,” he murmured. “So sorry.” Moving as if he'd aged thirty years in the last three, he headed toward his car.

Anna turned, holding the thin envelope with her fingertips. She held it out to Daad.

He gave a quick, negative movement of his head. “Read it.” He rasped out the words.

Mamm's hand was over her mouth. The younger ones' faces were white, their eyes wide.

Anna ripped open the envelope and fought to find her voice.
Don't think. Just read.

“The Department of the Army deeply regrets to inform you that your son Seth Daniel Esch Private First Class U.S. Army was killed in action in the performance of his duty and in the service of his country.” Her voice wavered, but Anna pushed the words out, knowing she had to keep going before she couldn't speak at all. “The department extends to you its sincerest sympathy in your great loss. On account of existing conditions the body if recovered cannot be returned at present.”

Her voice choked entirely. She clamped her lips together, and the tears spilled over onto her cheeks.

Mamm let out a wordless wail, and Daadi gathered her in his arms, holding her tightly. The younger ones burst into frightened tears. Anna gathered the girls against her, trying to find some words of comfort to murmur. On the other side of the table, Eli had put his arm around Peter and was patting him. Their eyes met over the heads of their younger siblings.

Eli's longing to be a man flitted incongruously through her mind. She must remember to tell him. He was one already.

As for her . . . she must stop being a girl, longing for a safe and simple future that was never going to be. Seth was gone permanently now. There would be no homecoming for him, and her heart felt as if it had turned to stone.

A wordless cry formed on her lips. How could the trees outside the window still put forth their blossoms? How could the sun still shine? All creation should join in the endless wave of sorrow that enveloped so much of the earth. All over the world there must surely be families like hers, torn to pieces by the endless tragedy of this war.

R
ebecca
stood at the counter, the steaming kettle forgotten in her hand, and stared out the window toward Matt's workshop. Strange, how quickly she'd gone from thinking of it as Paul's dream to Matt's reality. But now . . .

Now Matt was gone. Two days had passed, and she'd heard nothing from him. She could hardly ask his family if they knew where he was. She had no excuse, no standing where Matt was concerned. What if he wasn't coming back at all?

Nonsense. He'd hardly leave all his things in the workshop if he didn't intend to return. He'd have to do something about his business.

“Rebecca, are you making tea or not?” Grossmammi's voice recalled Rebecca to what she was doing.

“Sorry.” She forced herself to smile and poured the hot water into two mugs. “I was just . . . thinking.” She turned back to the table. “I'm sehr glad you felt strong enough to walk clear over here today.”

Grossmammi stirred sugar into her tea, the spoon clinking. A homely sound, reminding Rebecca of the hundreds of times she'd had tea with Grossmammi, starting when her feet didn't even reach the floor from her chair and her “tea” had been mostly warm milk with a drop or two of tea added.

“Barbie is having fun playing with the kinder, ain't so?” Grossmammi nodded toward the backyard, where Barbie was engaged in a vigorous game of kickball with Josh and Katie.

“Sometimes I think she's not much older than they are,” Rebecca said, smiling. She reached across to touch her grandmother's hand. “You are doing better since you moved in with Mamm and Daadi, I think.”

Her grandmother's hand turned to clasp Rebecca's, still warm and confident despite the apparent fragility of the blue veins standing out over fine old bones.

Grossmammi nodded, her expression rueful. “Your mamm was right all along, much as I argued. It was too much for me, keeping up the old house. Worrying about all the family things I'd saved.”

“All of those things are going to people who will care for them,” Rebecca said. Did her grandmother still worry about those family pieces? She'd already given many of them away, and the rest were safely stored in Rebecca's attic.

“They are going to people who need them,” Grossmammi corrected. “Like you, ain't so?”

The question startled her. “I . . . I don't know. I've been touched by Anna's story, for sure.”

Touched, yes. Sometimes she'd been startled, even shocked, by how much she identified with what Anna had gone through. But need? She wasn't sure she wanted to look too closely at that idea.

“I knew you would be. Just open yourself to what you have to learn from others, Rebecca. At this end of my life, I see how important that is.” Grossmammi smiled. “I am content.”

Grossmammi almost sounded as if she were preparing to pass on. Rebecca was shaken by her reaction. She wasn't ready to get along without Grossmammi, not yet.

“You're doing so much better now,” Rebecca said, determined to show her conviction that her grandmother would be with them for years to come.

“I'm even working in my herb garden a bit. You should see how fast the mint is growing, despite my sinking the pots to keep it from spreading too much.”

Guilt flared. “I'm sorry I haven't been over to help you with the herbs this week.”

“Ach, it's all right. You have plenty to do with the business.” Grossmammi patted her hand. “I'm getting along fine. You must take care of your own work.”

“I guess so.” She couldn't hide the clouding of her expression from someone who knew her as well as Grossmammi did. “To be honest, I've been thinking it might be time to give up on the farm-stay. But don't say anything,” she added quickly. “I haven't told Barbie yet.”

Grossmammi's eyes widened. “Why would you close? I thought it was going well. Isn't Barbie enough help?”

“Barbie is wonderful gut at it.” Rebecca looked down at her tea, not wanting to meet her grandmother's keen gaze. “I'm the one who isn't. I just can't manage the farm-stay on my own.”

Grossmammi set her cup down with a decided thump. “And who says you have to?”

“No one. But even with Simon and Barbie helping, I need to be the one in charge. Paul could have done it single-handed, but I can't.”

“He could not.” Grossmammi's voice was tart, forcing Rebecca to look at her. “Rebecca, you are acting as if all the things you did were of no importance. Paul had the dreams, ja, but it was always your common sense that made them into reality.”

“No, I—”

“Ja, you.” Grossmammi looked at her sternly. “I don't like to hear you denying your own gifts, Rebecca. The gut Lord gave them to you to be used. And Barbie needs the chance to use her gifts, as well. And Simon.”

Rebecca stared at her grandmother, trying to find a response, when Barbie and the kinder burst into the room, all talking at once and seeming like far more than one adult and two children.

“Mammi, you'll never guess . . .” Katie said.

“Let Cousin Barbie tell her,” Josh declared. “It's not your news.”

“Enough, you two.” Barbie silenced them with a hand on each of them. Her eyes were dancing. “But Katie is right. You'll never guess.”

“Then I won't try,” Rebecca said. “What's happened to make you all so excited?”

Is Matt back?
The thought slid into her mind and was quickly dismissed. They'd have no reason to find his return so exciting.

“We heard the phone ringing in the shanty, so Katie ran and grabbed it,” Barbie said.

“And it was someone asking about the farm-stay, so I said they should talk to Cousin Barbie,” Katie added.

“The woman had heard about us from one of the couples who was here last week. Apparently they must have enjoyed their stay more than we thought. Anyway, this woman wants to bring her whole family for a visit—eight of them. And she didn't even hesitate when I told her the cost. Think of it—eight people for three nights.”

“Barbie—” How to find the words for what she'd been thinking of telling her?

“So I said yes, and they're coming tomorrow!” Barbie finished triumphantly. “Isn't that great?”

“Tomorrow?” Rebecca's stomach gave a nervous lurch. “Barbie, you should have asked me first.”

“Why?” A shade of defiance came into Barbie's face. “We're running a business, aren't we?”

The words hovered on the tip of Rebecca's tongue. The words that would end the business for good.

But they were all looking at her, all expecting something from her—Grossmammi, her wise old eyes weighing Rebecca's decision. Barbie, torn between hope and disappointment. Her children, and the future she wanted for them.

Maybe, as Matt had said, this wasn't her dream, but if she wanted it, she could do it. She had a new life to make for herself and her children, and it was time she stopped looking backward to what had been and faced the future.

She looked at them, and slowly she began to smile. “Well, what are we waiting for? If we're having a houseful of guests tomorrow, we'd best get busy.”

•   •   •

Matt
had breakfast with Joe Davis at the motel, and they were headed out toward the Zimmer place by nine the next morning. Matt still hadn't figured out just what he was going to say to Isaiah—always assuming he actually got to see his cousin. Maybe he'd be better off leaving the words to the good Lord and trusting in His guidance.

He glanced at Joe, who had been uncharacteristically silent so far. At the moment, he was frowning at the road ahead of them.

“Joe? What's wrong?”

Joe shot him a startled look that turned to a reluctant smile. “Guess it shows, huh? I was trying to decide how to tell you something.”

Just as he had been trying to decide what to say to Isaiah. “Just say it, whatever it is. Do you need to go home?”

“No, it's nothing like that. Well, like you say, I'd better just spit it out. You know that tavern that's next to the motel?”

Matt nodded, mystified. “I noticed it.”

“Well, I stopped over there last night before I turned in. To have a beer, but I figured maybe I could pick up something helpful about this Zimmer guy.”

It hadn't occurred to Matt to involve Joe in his search, and maybe it should have. “That was good of you. Did you find out anything?”

The frown was back, and Matt had a sense that he wasn't going to like what Joe had learned.

“Well, I got to talking to one of the locals. I mentioned Zimmer, and it was like I'd put a match to straw. He flared up right away, talking about how Zimmer was bringing all these troublemakers to the area. Kids who couldn't get along at home, so he said, so they'd come out here to make trouble.” Joe paused. “About that time another guy chipped in. He said the Amish kids weren't so bad. Some of the ones Zimmer helped were really trying to adjust, getting jobs, working hard, that sort of thing. So the first guy, he snorts, says he's talking about the ones who spend all their time drinking and starting fights.”

Joe came to an abrupt halt, but Matt knew there was more.

“What else? You asked about Isaiah, didn't you?”

Joe nodded, looking embarrassed. “It turns out his name was familiar to them. This guy I was talking to had had a run-in with Isaiah and a couple of his buddies a day or two ago. He said a lot of folks have been complaining to the police, and there's word around that the cops are going to crack down on them.”

“The police.” Matt's very soul winced. This was worse than he'd thought. It was what had happened to him. Was Isaiah destined to follow every bad mistake he'd ever made?

Joe gave Matt an apologetic look. “Sorry, but I figured you should know what was going on. It seems like Isaiah's got himself mixed up with a bad crowd. And he was always such a fine young man, too.” He shook his head. “I don't know what gets into kids sometimes.”

No more did Matt, and he was a living example. “Thanks, Joe. It's better to know the worst going in.”

“It makes it harder for you, I'm afraid.” Joe seemed to relax now that he had turned the burden over to Matt.

Matt nodded. Harder, and even more important. Isaiah seemed determined to make every mistake in the book, just as he had done. The difficulty was to stop him before his young cousin did something irrevocable.

He felt a moment of despair. Would anyone have been able to stop him, when he'd vowed to live life his own way no matter how much it hurt himself and others?

They'd reached the house, and Joe pulled up into the driveway. The place looked as deserted as it had the previous day, but someone had been here then. Maybe, very soon, he'd see Isaiah and face the truth. Tension gnawing at his nerves, Matt slid out of the car.

“Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?” Joe asked, leaning across the front seat.

“Thanks, Joe. But I think I'd better handle this on my own.” The offer was kind of the man, but Matt didn't want the responsibility of taking care of Joe when he was confronting a possibly angry Isaiah.

“Good luck.” Joe's pleasant face crinkled with worry. “You shout if you need me.”

Matt nodded, raising his hand in acknowledgment. He headed for the back of the house, where he'd found Zimmer yesterday. If anyone was here, that was likely to be where he'd find them.

No one was outside when he rounded the house, but when he approached the door it opened. Three men came out, jostling one another as if each was trying to be first. The one in the lead was Isaiah.

But not an Isaiah Matt could have easily recognized. His light hair straggled nearly to his shoulders, and it looked as if he'd neglected to wash it lately. A stubble of beard seemed to proclaim a desire to look tough, but the hair was so light it probably failed to deliver. Isaiah wore frayed denim jeans and a black T-shirt that looked a size too big for him, and a beer can dangled from one hand.

The other two were carbon copies of Isaiah. Or maybe it would be more correct to say that he was copying them. They both looked older, tougher, and meaner than Isaiah ever could.

Matt focused on his cousin, ignoring the other two. “I'm sehr glad to see you, Isaiah. It's been a long time.”

Too long, obviously. If Matt had been around, he might have headed off Isaiah's rebellion before it turned to grief.

“Fred Zimmer told me you were here.” Isaiah's young face was hard, rejecting him. “You come to take me home?”

“I'd like to.” But what were the odds he could get through to this older version of the youthful cousin who'd once idolized him?

Isaiah acted as if he found that hilarious, and the other two joined him, laughing and poking each other in the ribs. Matt stood, stoic, waiting for them to finish.

“Come home?” Isaiah jeered. “What would I go back there for? So I can be a dumb Dutchman all my life?”

“No. So you can be with your family. So you can have a gut, useful life.” Probably the only way he could ever reach Isaiah was to stay calm and answer his jeering comments as if they were really questions that deserved consideration.

“Hear that, Ike?” The older of his two buddies punched Isaiah's arm. “He wants you to be useful.”

Matt felt the underlying menace coming from the other two, and found himself wishing Zimmer were here. He'd at least seemed mature and well-intentioned, no matter what his attitude was.

“I've got the life I want now,” Isaiah said. “You can just take off again. There's nothing for you here.”

“Yeah, not unless you're ready to break free, too,” his buddy added.

Matt ignored him, looking into Isaiah's eyes. “What about your family?”

A trace of uneasiness passed over his cousin's face. “Tell them I'm fine.”