The River Page 12

  “You see that?” Chester leaned over and whispered at him.

  Melvin waved his hand. “Ach, might not be anything, really. Ain’t like Ruthie to chase after—”

  “No, and she ain’t Plain no more,” Chester added. “Will’d have to be awful desperate to let a right fancy girl catch him—our sister or not.”

  “Young folk.” Melvin reached for his pie, glad for it. His stomach had done its share of rumbling off and on all during the second sermon.

  No matter his exchange with Chester, one thing was certain: Young people had few hesitations when it came to love. Few, indeed.

  ———

  Ruth didn’t have to walk fast to catch up with Will, who was the picture of piety in his black vest, white long-sleeved shirt, and black broadfall trousers. He turned and saw her coming, then, removing his black hat, he began to walk back toward her. A breeze swept his blond hair over his eyebrows. When he came closer, he suggested they go around the barn and walk where they wouldn’t be seen. “Thought maybe I scared ya off yesterday,” he said quietly.

  They were both still thinking about that brief encounter out on the road.

  “I wonder if congratulations are in order,” she said when he looked her way. “I’m ever so happy for—”

  “For what, Ruthie? For me finally getting your attention, maybe?” He gave his usual tuneful chuckle.

  She was confused. “What do you mean?”

  He stopped near a shade tree, motioning for her to join him. “Like I told ya yesterday, I have something important on my mind.” He paused to glance at the sky, then back at her. “It’s been a long time comin’, but now that you’re home again, I want you to hear this directly.”

  His expression was so serious, she had no idea what he was about to say.

  “I have to tell ya, Ruth, I feel like I’ve been reborn,” Will continued. “And I’m not sure I can explain what actually happened . . . but I’ll try.”

  Even more curious now, she kept her eyes on him.

  “I’ve made peace with God,” he told her. “Some months ago, I realized you were right—the Jamborees gang was a bad fit for me. So while it took some doin’, I’ve started over with a new buddy group. We’re far more conservative, I can assure ya.” He leaned against the trunk of the tree, looking more humble than pleased. “I never should’ve followed Lloyd back then—should’ve made up my own mind.”

  Hearing all this from Will was nearly unbelievable. The peer gang a person chose during Rumschpringe was the group that a person followed throughout life. You paired up with your mate in that group and worked side by side with those friends, who became a sort of extended family. Typically, there was no breaking away from the group, no saying, “I changed my mind.”

  “I guess I don’t understand,” Ruth said. “How’d you get out?”

  “It required a lot of time on my knees in prayer. And even then, it wasn’t so easy.” He explained how he’d gone to his parents and the ministerial brethren for advice, then talked to the few adult sponsors of the rowdy group, explaining his situation—how he felt convicted of having a radio and a camera, for starters, and eventually a car, and water skis. He was thankful he hadn’t gotten caught up in drinking alcohol or using drugs. Some of his friends would tell him they couldn’t remember what they did the Saturday nights they drank too much. A few of them got caught one way or another, and Will just didn’t want that sort of wild life before marriage—or afterward.

  Ruth was relieved for Will, but she was baffled by why he was telling her this now.

  “There’s more.” His voice grew soft. “You might not believe it, but I haven’t forgotten you, Ruthie. Not at all.”

  Considering the pretty girl in Will’s carriage yesterday, his admission was bewildering. Wracking her brain, Ruth was sure she knew all of his cousins—the young woman was not a relative. “Have you forgotten, Will? I’m no longer Amish.” It wasn’t the only thing she wanted to say, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

  “Well, I wonder if, deep down, you’ve actually turned your back on the Old Ways.”

  “I’m enjoying a good life,” she answered. “Involved in a church I love, learning more about Christ’s teachings—and I have lots of new friends . . . a great job. And I really like living near my sister and her family.”

  “That’s not what I asked, though.” Will’s eyes penetrated hers. “Have you abandoned the Amish ways in your heart?”

  Such a thing was nearly impossible, she’d discovered. The Amish world would always hold special meaning for her, no matter how worldly she might appear. She did appreciate that he still seemed to care for her, and oh, how she’d missed talking to him. There had been a time when she could hardly wait to do just that. Even so, Ruth wasn’t going to let Will think she’d come rushing back for him. That was another thing altogether.

  “Remember the old saying—Go far from home, and you’ll have a long road back,” he quoted.

  She hadn’t forgotten.

  “You know what, Ruthie? It’s been a long while since we’ve shared our thoughts like this. So askin’ questions is a gut thing,” he reminded her. “For both of us.”

  Ruth wondered if she ought to bring up the young woman—she didn’t want to seem jealous. “Well . . . aren’t you seein’ someone, Will?” she asked hesitantly.

  He shook his head no, then rubbed his forehead.

  So, is this little talk merely for old times’ sake? She stepped back, feeling awkward and still puzzled.

  Just then they heard rustling behind them, and footsteps, and she turned to see the very girl she was about to inquire of. When Ruth looked back at Will, she caught him smiling suddenly at the appearance of the younger woman.

  “Oh, there you are,” the slight woman said, eyes alight. “I’ve been lookin’ all over for ya, Will.”

  “I didn’t realize you were in church today.” His neck and face looked flushed. “Honestly thought you’d—”

  “I wasn’t. Just walked down to see if you were still around,” the girl with the strawberry-blond hair said, eyeing Ruth. “One of the men inside said they’d seen ya head this way.”

  Will looked embarrassed, but he must have remembered his manners, because he began to introduce them. “Ruth, I’d like you to meet Arie Schlabach, here from Mount Hope, Ohio. And Arie, this is Ruthie Lantz, who grew up just a few farms over.”

  “Ah, we meet at last.” Arie stepped forward and shot out a stiff hand. “Will’s spoken of you from time to time.” She took in Ruth’s modern attire without even trying to hide her curiosity. Or was it disdain?

  The three of them exchanged comments about the enormous size of Allen’s farm and the upcoming cold weather. Then Arie asked if Ruth was going to the evening Singing in the barn behind them.

  Ruth didn’t have the heart to say she wasn’t interested. “No, not me,” she said instead. “But I know you’ll have a fine time. I’ll be visiting with my parents later.”

  By now, Will looked even more uncomfortable, as if he were feeling claustrophobic with two women near.

  “I’ll catch up with you later,” Will told Arie, his voice firm. Was it his way of telling her to leave him alone with Ruth? Such a prickly, peculiar situation this was! Ruth wished she had stayed back at the house.

  Arie raised her eyebrows and nodded, then turned and walked back along the dirt path toward the barn.

  Ruth asked, “Is that . . .”

  “Jah, she was with me in the carriage yesterday when I went to bring a bunch of boxes over to your father.”

  “Arie obviously likes you, Will. Quite a lot, in fact.”

  He removed his black hat and rubbed his hand over his clean-shaven chin. “S’pose she does, and she’s nice enough. But she ain’t . . .” He glanced back toward wherever Arie had headed.

  The other girl was nowhere in sight, and Ruth felt more awkward than ever, standing there alone with Will. She wanted to ask if he’d rather go after Arie—it sure seemed that way. />
  Then, just as she opened her mouth, Will excused himself right quick and darted off to head around the barn, leaving Ruth standing there, quite befuddled.

  She scratched her head, wondering if Will even knew his own mind. The silly boy!

  Ruth turned and rounded the opposite side of the barn, in case Will and Arie were on the other side talking privately, or who knew what else. She did not care to see the two of them together again. And as she walked toward the meadow, deciding not to return to the house just yet, she knew without a doubt that Jim Montgomery would never, ever treat her in such a flippant way!

  Chapter 22

  Instead of remaining at the house with Uncle Abner, Tilly got in the car and headed to Central Park in Lancaster. She didn’t feel put out by her uncle’s earlier remarks, knowing it was simply his bold and frank way. The man loved her beyond measure; she knew as much. But she wasn’t sure she could manage a wholesale act of forgiveness toward Daed, and even if she could, she didn’t have the slightest inkling of how to attempt it. Worst of all, what if he refused her effort to reconcile?

  All too likely, she thought.

  Tilly walked the expanse of the picnic area at the familiar park. Ribbons of tall grass swayed near the banks, with craggy driftwood scattered over the leaf-strewn ground. The sound of the water struck her as she approached the river, the swift movement as it flowed, ever moving, tossing, churning. From her vantage point, it was impossible to see into the water beyond the reflection of the twisted black bark of ancient trees, though its crest was far lower than the swell of that terrible day.

  For the life of her, she couldn’t remember the exact place where she’d last seen Anna walking with Ruthie and Josie, following the picnic that day. So many details were lost to her. She hadn’t forgotten, however, the sting of her baby sister’s words earlier that Sunday morning. In the privacy of Anna’s room, her sister had looked up with her wide blue eyes and shouted, “Ya act like you’re my Mamma!”

  Hurt, Tilly had hardly known how to respond, though she had urged Anna to be more gentle with her words. Still, she had been astonished and realized her young sister must be too doted upon to talk so. After all, Anna was expected to obey her elders, and Tilly was truly that.

  Earlier that week, Anna had tried her patience, spilling a full pan of snapped peas on the kitchen floor, the tiny green pods scattering every which way, after multiple warnings to be more careful. It was a good thing Mamm had been out delivering homemade cottage cheese to her cousin up the road at the time so she could not see Tilly’s frustration over the incident.

  Even now, Tilly disliked that Anna, the little darling of the house, had been able to push her buttons like that. There was no way Anna would have ever let their father see her misbehave so. Tilly recalled how Daed had carried Anna on his shoulders for nearly an hour some weeks before, Anna giggling as she ordered Daed around. Tilly couldn’t imagine her father putting up with the same from her at that age. Anna was obviously Daed’s favorite, she thought now.

  “Mamma always wants ya to look after me.” Anna’s words that final morning came back to her now. At the time, Tilly had made herself take in a few slow breaths, then went to sit on the cane chair near Anna’s little rocker. She’d purposed in her heart not to retaliate and held out her arms to Anna instead, trying to demonstrate unconditional love, like Mamm. “Kumme, Anna. . . . Hock dich naah!—Sit by my side.”

  Anna had stared back mischievously. “Nee.”

  “Ich liebe dich,” Tilly said softly, tears welling up. “I love you. Honest, I do.”

  But Anna refused to budge.

  It was normal for a five-year-old to exert her will—Tilly had certainly done that, too, and even long after her early years. Yet she was very sure neither Daed nor Mamm had seen their youngest daughter behave so.

  Tilly wondered if her clingy little shadow was merely testing her. “You’re just going to have to obey, Anna, and learn to do so more often,” she’d said.

  After a few tense moments, Anna had nodded her sweet head and meekly apologized as Tilly declared again how much she loved her. Creeping forward, Anna had come and wrapped her arms around Tilly’s neck, then sat on her lap. Later, she’d begun to jabber about starting school that fall—first grade—saying that she was no longer a Bobbli.

  Did we spoil her? Tilly wondered now. Did I?

  Presently, standing on the brink of the windswept spot—eerie with its tattered treetops and broken branches—she finally paid her last respects. Too distraught to attend the funeral, Tilly had remained in bed for the service, which was minus a casket—unheard of in the Amish community. But Bishop Isaac was insistent there be a fitting funeral for Lester and Sylvia’s youngest child, no matter the strange circumstances.

  Tilly stared now at the red and gold leaves swirling like her thoughts in the rapidly moving river. She felt off balance, as if she were the one moving. The large body of water traveled on for sixty-one miles, yet in places, it was shallow enough to walk across. Not that summer, though. She recalled its elevated crest and trembled. What was it like for poor Anna to drown? Had she suffered for long?

  All my fault . . . If only I’d kept a closer eye on her!

  Crouching in the high grass, Tilly’s years of pent-up anguish flowed freely. She sobbed and wished she’d done everything differently. Everything.

  When she rose at last, brushing away tears, she looked once more at the dreaded river. Since Anna’s death, it had been such a barrier . . . a place and a moment she could not seem to move past.

  A line I can’t move beyond . . . like my relationship with Daed.

  When Tilly returned to her aunt and uncle’s, Aunt Naomi was already home and mentioned she’d seen Ruth still over at Allen’s place with Mamm and other relatives, relaxing after the shared meal. Hearing that, Tilly decided to set out on foot to find her sister. Perhaps a walk would soothe her frazzled nerves.

  Tilly recalled again her uncle’s advice, unable to dismiss the things he had said that morning. Numerous times as a child, she’d huddled in the dark corners of her room and whispered her admissions of guilt to the heavenly Father. “I carried the weight of being wrong all the time,” she murmured as she walked toward her brother Allen’s house, where church had been held. How had things gone for Ruthie this Lord’s Day? Tilly pictured her running into Will Kauffman, him gazing into her sister’s eyes. No—she had to shake off that notion.

  As she walked the road, Tilly waved at each of the boxlike gray family carriages that passed her, the quaint sound of clip-clop-clip wonderful-good in her ears. Absently, she decided if there was anything she missed about Amish life, it was the appealing sound of horses pulling buggies in the early hours on a market-day morning. But not much else . . . not the Plain attire, nor the hard work of running a home without electricity or indoor plumbing, nor the required attitude of Gelassenheit—turning one’s back on individuality and wholly yielding to the community and to God. She certainly did not miss the fattening foods, either, as delicious as many of them were. I’d be as big as Uncle Abner’s two-story barn if I’d stayed, she mused.

  On the other hand, she was fairly sure her sister did miss various aspects of the life she’d left behind. Their family here, especially Mamm and her siblings, was a given . . . and the little ones she didn’t even really know and might not see again until they were half grown or older. Ruth had also enjoyed the work frolics and gatherings of the womenfolk—cornhusking and canning bees, too. Tilly knew that well.

  But Ruthie left to escape her disappointment over Will.

  Tilly heard the clatter of carriage wheels, and looking up, she saw two black courting buggies coming at a fast clip. The first buggy was occupied by a tall driver with a shy-looking girl next to him. As they approached, the pair bowed their heads in unison, not wishing to be identified, undoubtedly newly courting. Tilly recalled doing the same thing as a teenager with her first beau—hardworking Abram Stoltzfus, with his hearty laugh.

  Oh, the bl
iss and madness of first love. Tilly was relieved now that she hadn’t married young Abram, although he had been fun to be with and knew what type of farmer he wanted to be when he was older. Joy and determination were two important traits for a good Amish match. At the time, however, she had been nervous about her father’s strict rules and tendency to dominate the house, and she wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of handing over the reins of her life to another man, at least not an Amishman.

  Now the second buggy, directly behind the first, came near the shoulder, carrying none other than Will Kauffman. Tilly wasn’t sure if she should catch his eye or not, guessing he might still be annoyed with her from yesterday, but Will gave a friendly wave. She nodded, not wanting to be rude again.

  He slowed and asked if she wanted a lift.

  “Denki, but I’m headed that way.” She pointed toward the northeast, the opposite direction he was going.

  “I don’t mind turning,” he said, his bangs fluttering in the breeze. “I’ll come back for ya.”

  Surprised, Tilly agreed to let him take her to Allen’s farm. “I thought I’d go and see if Ruthie wants to walk with me—it’s such a nice day.”

  “Schee, jah?”

  She agreed the day was beautiful.

  “Wait right there,” he said, sounding chipper.

  While he made his way up the road to turn, Tilly hoped she wasn’t erring by accepting his offer for a ride. If Ruth saw her with Will, would she understand that Tilly was simply trying to make up for her earlier detachment?

  Standing and waiting, she took in the impressive reds, oranges, and golds of nature’s autumn palette; there weren’t many more days before the brilliant leaves would vanish from the trees. I must talk to Kris about staying to help Mamm pack, she reminded herself as Will returned this way. Won’t Ruthie—and Mamm—be pleased if I do?