The River Page 4

  Ruth had never understood why Will followed his friend Lloyd Blank to join the wild buddy group, the Jamborees. This had perplexed her, because she’d never known Will to be swayed by anyone. So many unanswered questions.

  Ruth had continued to scratch her head over Will’s choices, and she wondered now if he’d settled on a girl from that Amish “gang” for his bride. If he was already married, it was wrong for her to second-guess what had transpired between them. Or even to pine for him, if that’s what she was feeling while hearing this sad love song.

  To think she was going back home, where the risk of running into Will and any wife, and possibly a baby, was quite high. Oh, why hadn’t Ruth thought this through before pleading with Tilly to return?

  I must be a glutton for punishment, she thought, knowing her growing relationship with Jim should put Will far from her mind. Yet the feeling of melancholy lasted all the way to the turnoff to Strasburg and beyond.

  ———

  It was Tilly’s idea to drive directly to Uncle Abner’s, bypassing their father’s farmhouse. It made little sense, perhaps, but Tilly wasn’t ready to see her parents without the emotional cushion of more siblings.

  Ruth went along with the notion with some measure of uncertainty, ever concerned with good manners. “Hope this won’t add more fuel to the fire,” she told Tilly.

  At the small historic square at the intersection of Route 896 and 741, Ruth’s face lit up as she pointed out the creamery while they waited for the light to change. “I loved that old place, didn’t you?”

  “Plenty of happy memories there?” Tilly asked.

  Ruth nodded dreamily.

  Probably with Will Kauffman, Tilly surmised.

  “They have the best ice cream—the most varieties I’ve ever seen in one place,” Ruth said.

  Tilly’d had her own pleasant experiences there, too, with a couple young beaus before she’d decided she couldn’t live in Lancaster County any longer.

  Another world ago . . .

  The remaining portion of their trip was a short distance of only a few miles, and Tilly slowed as they approached White Oak Road where it intersected with May Post Office Road. It was still hard to believe that they were actually headed toward Eden Valley after all this time away from home. She was struck by the height of certain trees, as well as the additional homes that had been built in the last eight years. And the brilliance of the red sugar maples.

  This was the road we took to the picnic that summertime morning. Tilly’s thoughts flew back to the day that had begun with such promise. Their English neighbors, the Eshlemans, had taken them in their large van to visit Mamm’s ailing aunt at Lancaster General Hospital early that morning. An off-Sunday from Preaching, Tilly recalled. After the hospital visit, they’d gone to Central Park in Lancaster around noon, having invited their neighbors to join them for a picnic—they wouldn’t have considered stopping at a restaurant on the Lord’s Day. The weather was warm and humid, and the hours following were filled with the sweet tastes of watermelon and other delicious treats—homemade root beer and nice cold meadow tea.

  There were long swings at the lovely park, and if you pumped hard enough and leaned way back, it seemed you could nearly touch the clouds with your bare feet. And there were seesaws, too—everything a child could enjoy against the backdrop of the beautiful Conestoga River.

  The river, thought Tilly, her shoulders tensing. So much was lost in the space of one dreadful afternoon.

  Chapter 6

  Ruth was staring at Tilly. “I think we just missed our turn.”

  “Oh, you’re right.” She’d fallen into a rabbit hole, as Kris liked to say when she daydreamed. “Should’ve been watching more closely.” Now Tilly was frustrated with herself; she’d have to drive another mile or more out of her way to make a safe U-turn.

  “It’s okay,” Ruth offered. “We’re not expected at Mamm’s for at least an hour yet.”

  “Good thing.” Tilly looked at her. “You’ll want to freshen up before we head there, right?”

  “Well, I didn’t put on any makeup. Didn’t you notice?”

  Tilly smiled. “You wear very little anyway.”

  “I like the natural look. Always have.”

  “Probably for the better, ’specially around the home folk.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” said Ruth.

  They exchanged knowing glances.

  Ruth touched her arm. “You all right, sister?”

  “I have to be, don’t I?”

  “Are you sorry you came with me?” Ruth asked.

  “Someone has to protect you.”

  She tried not to sigh as they drove past a large cornfield, then turned onto the familiar road, taking in its beauty. One picturesque memory after another competed for Tilly’s attention as she scanned the rolling hills beyond. How could she not remember the glow of a thousand lightning bugs over the pastureland, the delicate way the sky looked at dawn in early spring, or the strident bawl of a newborn calf? She recalled, too, the easy ascent of Mamm’s first yellow blooms up the tall arbor Daed had built in the rosy bower between the south side of the house and the potting shed.

  Where Anna used to play, thought Tilly, her heart sinking anew, torn about returning here, memories agonizingly near.

  “What’s going through your mind?” Ruth asked suddenly.

  Tilly shrugged. “Oh, you know.”

  “Well, it’s not that, I hope.”

  Tilly fell silent. It was hard not to remember how things were before Anna drowned.

  “Seems like just yesterday, doesn’t it?”

  “It does at times. I wonder if Mamm and Daed have managed to forget the worst of it,” Tilly said softly.

  Ruth frowned. “Go easy on yourself, hard as it is. You must think they’re holding a grudge against you for leaving . . . and eventually taking me with you.”

  Clearly, Ruth had no idea what she’d meant.

  Tilly spotted the mailbox for Abner Mast and slowly negotiated the turn into the treed lane, gathering her wits, reminding herself to breathe.

  I can do this. . . .

  “Just look at the size of those tree trunks,” Ruth pointed out.

  Tilly was also taken aback by the thick, spreading underbrush, as well. Clay pots of deep purple and gold mums highlighted the long front walkway, and two willow rockers looked lonesome on the wide porch. “Life goes on,” she whispered.

  Tilly recalled her aunt’s gentle voice when, a few days ago, Aunt Naomi had received Tilly’s call on her English neighbor’s telephone. Tilly had arranged in advance for her aunt to go there to take the call. “You and Ruthie must stay with us,” Aunt Naomi had insisted.

  Ruthie had declined hastily when Tilly relayed the kind invitation. “I want to stay at our parents’ farmhouse in my old bedroom, like before I left.”

  Privately, Tilly wondered if that was really why Ruth wanted to sleep at the old home place.

  What’s she thinking? It seemed odd her sister wouldn’t say when she was usually so forthcoming.

  “Well, here we are,” Tilly stated bravely, glancing at her sister.

  Tilly knew Uncle Abner was staunchly Old Order Amish—no ifs, ands, or buts. From the moment he’d reverently bowed his knee on baptism day at nineteen, yielding himself wholly to the Lord and the People, Abner had never looked back. The large man had the tender heart of a child and especially enjoyed spending time with his nephews and nieces. He’d often declared that he fit in much better with the younger generation than with grown-ups, and Uncle Abner went out of his way to avoid folks who took life too seriously. He’d always paid special attention to Tilly, supposedly his favorite, or so Ruthie had pointed out years ago. Tilly had brushed it off, but she knew one thing was sure: Uncle Abner had a knack for making folks laugh right out loud. It was generally known that if he teased you, he was in reality very fond of you.

  Tilly parked the car near the old icehouse, just down from the front yard, her thoughts turning to
two of Abner’s younger sons, Elmer and Henry, her close-in-age cousins. The boys were sleepwalkers who had once walked right out the back door and into the yard, jabbering all the while. Uncle Abner had decided that instead of allowing his sons’ nighttime hours to be an obstacle to his own rest, he would occasionally tie their feet to their beds, making sure to unfasten them before the boys awakened. The boys might never have known, but after they were both married, Uncle Abner let it slip at a church gathering, as Tilly recalled now. She had to smile at the memory and wondered if Elmer’s and Henry’s wives had devised a way to keep their spouses from roaming about while they and their children slept.

  These and other recollections flitted through Tilly’s mind as she got out of the car and went to open the trunk. When she’d retrieved her suitcase, she motioned for Ruth to go inside with her, even though Ruth didn’t intend to stay there.

  The two young women headed up the well-manicured front footpath toward the white porch before Tilly remembered that none of the Plain folk they’d grown up around ever used their front doors, at least not as a rule. She laughed at her near mistake and turned to go around the side of the house. “What was I thinking?” she muttered, glancing at Ruth, who gave her a quick smile of encouragement.

  In a quick minute, Uncle Abner’s deep voice echoed across the driveway.

  “Willkumm to ya, Tilly and Ruth.” He lumbered over from the stable. “We’ve been expectin’ yous.” He wore a hospitable grin as he brushed his hands on his black work trousers. His gray shirt was highlighted by black suspenders, and there were dozens of grayish speckles in his long brown beard that hadn’t been there before.

  She felt sure she could count on her uncle not to comment on their fancy attire or how she’d influenced Ruthie to leave the People. Tilly knew him too well to think otherwise. Uncle Abner could be quite frank, but he was not ill-mannered. Besides, he’d talked privately with her before she’d ever left Eden Valley, his tone gentle. Momentarily, she wondered if their uncle had done the same with her sister when she decided to go. If so, Ruth had never shared that.

  “Hoscht du shunn gesse?” He tugged on his beard and waved toward the house.

  “Denki,” Ruth said, brightening. “But we stopped along the way to pick up hamburgers and ate in the car.”

  He raised his eyebrows at the outlandish notion of eating anywhere but with one’s feet firmly planted beneath a dinner table. “Was that enough for a gut sound sleep tonight? Moreover, your aunt’s been bakin’ up a storm. You won’t hurt her feelings, now, will ya?”

  Tilly knew they ought to eat at least something here, as well as later at their parents’ house, if invited. It was the courteous thing, after all.

  Abner led them inside the farmhouse by way of the side door. Brightly colored rag rugs lay in a vertical row on the old linoleum—Aunt Naomi was a stickler for clean shoes, so no one dared track dirt in from the barn or anywhere else.

  “Naomi, kumm hiwwe,” he called happily, and his wife came bustling toward them from the kitchen and opened her plump arms, a big smile on her round, rosy face.

  “Ach, you’re both here,” she said, stepping back and looking at them fondly, her hands holding Tilly’s. “And you, Ruthie. Just look how you’ve grown up.” She moved to embrace her, as well.

  Tilly was pleased at the warm welcome, though she should have expected it.

  “How long a drive did you have?” Aunt Naomi asked.

  “Well, we were on the road by seven this morning,” Ruthie said, “and we decided to drive straight through. It was a little less than eight hours with one stop for gasoline and another for . . . well, whatnot.”

  “We grabbed some cheeseburgers near Terre Hill,” Tilly added. She could almost see the thoughts whirling in Uncle Abner’s head as he calculated the vast difference between the miles a car could travel in such a short while versus a horse and buggy.

  It wasn’t long before Ruthie was settled at the kitchen table with Uncle Abner, where she poured hot coffee to go with the warm pumpkin pie Aunt Naomi had sliced for her. The inviting aroma of this particular kitchen stirred Tilly’s senses.

  Eventually Tilly left with Aunt Naomi, going to the main floor guest bedroom adjacent to the front room. “Denki for asking me to stay here,” Tilly said, stepping into the spacious yet sparsely furnished room, just as she remembered it. So like Mamm’s bedrooms at home.

  “Are ya sure your sister won’t join ya?”

  “Ruth’s got her sights set on her old room. But she appreciates your offer.”

  “Whatever’s best, then.” The demure woman opened the heavy pine blanket chest at the foot of the bed and pulled out two extra quilts. “It gets chilly at night round here this time of year.”

  Bet she thinks my blood’s gotten thin, living with central heat, Tilly thought. And she’s probably right.

  Tilly reached for her aunt’s hand, thankful for the considerate welcome. “Not sure where I would’ve stayed without your invitation,” she said quietly, not wanting to ponder it.

  “Well, your Mamma will surely want to spend some time with you and Ruthie before ya head back home. She’s been missin’ ya, Tilly.”

  Tilly guessed Daed and Naomi had talked at length about her and Ruthie’s coming, being siblings themselves. “We’re looking forward to the reunion tomorrow noon,” Tilly said.

  “Sylvia’s talked of nothing else since she heard the news.”

  Tilly gave a smile. “Their wedding anniversary will be wunnerbaar-gut, jah?”

  “Such a special time for the whole family,” Naomi agreed. “Be sure and have some pie and coffee when you’re ready.” She waved and left the room.

  The whole family won’t be present, Tilly thought with a shiver and wandered to the tall window to peer out at the verdant farmland and grazing land. Especially pretty in winter, under a fresh coating of snow. She found herself sighing. No matter where a person lived, newly fallen snow all too soon took on a gray tinge. “Nothing stays new for very long,” she whispered sadly.

  For the umpteenth time, she wished she’d stayed back with Kris and their girls. Feeling overwhelmed, Tilly let herself sink onto the bed and leaned her head into her hands.

  Chapter 7

  How old did ya say you are now?” Uncle Abner teased as he and Ruth sat at the kitchen table.

  “I didn’t say.” Ruth smiled, enjoying the lighthearted encounter with one of her favorite relatives.

  Abner guffawed heartily. “I daresay you’ve got yourself a beau somewhere, though, ain’t?” He dramatically folded his arms and beamed at her.

  Ruth shook her head before she thought better of it. Jim’s a real possibility.

  “Ain’t holdin’ the fellas at arm’s length, are ya?” her uncle pressed.

  “Why do you ask?”

  He pointed toward her left hand. “Might’ve thought by now you’d have yourself a diamond ring.”

  Like the English, he means.

  “That would require a very serious young man, though,” she replied, playing along.

  He nodded slowly. “You’re right ’bout that.”

  Ruth dismissed his remark and looked around the kitchen, with its sturdy oak shelf and day clock near the double sink. It was the same clock she’d stared at while having dinner here with her parents following Tilly’s unexplained and sudden exit. As Ruth recalled, the meal had been meant as a time to console her parents in particular, although Ruth had received solace, too, simply by listening to Uncle Abner talk at the table. The man had a kindly way of expressing himself.

  “He seems to care about everyone, no matter,” her mother had always said of him.

  Presently, he reached to pour more coffee into his cup. “I ’spect your mother’s holdin’ her breath till she lays eyes on ya again.”

  This pleased Ruth. “And . . . she’ll be happy to see Tilly, too,” she said, not certain it was true.

  Her uncle took his time responding, eyeing her carefully. “Jah, the both of you,” he said at
last.

  This took her by surprise, since she’d wondered if her parents might still be upset about Tilly’s leaving. And encouraging me to leave, too . . .

  She heard a knock at the back door, and Abner rose to answer it. Ruth could hear muffled talking, the low sound of another man’s voice. Younger, and one she thought she recognized.

  When her uncle was delayed, Ruth spooned up some more sugar and stirred it into her remaining half cup of coffee. Seems strange, being here. Strange but good.

  After a short time, the men’s talking ceased. Then, lo and behold, Will Kauffman’s best buddy, Lloyd Blank, came walking in with Uncle Abner and sat down at the table like it was the only thing to do. He nodded in her direction but didn’t say a word at first, as if unable to find any words to speak. It was downright awkward.

  Ruth clenched her jaw. The dark-haired fellow with narrow brown eyes was the very reason Wilmer had chosen to join the rowdiest buddy bunch in all of Lancaster County. Seeing Lloyd again made Ruth want to run right out the back door and never look back.

  Instead, she picked up her coffee and took small sips—all she could manage. Her hands were terribly unsteady.

  Finally, Lloyd leaned forward. “Heard you were comin’ home, Ruthie.” He frowned slightly. “You wouldn’t look any different if it weren’t for those fancy clothes.”

  She could scarcely swallow. Back when she and Lloyd were in school together, Ruth had thought of him as foolish and, at times, even lidderlich—despicable.

  Uncle Abner intervened. “Ruth and her sister are just visiting.”

  Lloyd nodded slowly, locking eyes with Ruth. “Well, if ya don’t mind, there’s someone who’d like to see ya.” Ruth’s heart dropped, and she felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room. “If you can spare the time,” Lloyd added.

  Ruth looked away, steeling her will.

  “’Tis Wilmer,” Lloyd said more softly. “He’s asking ’bout ya.”

  She winced, and Lloyd’s eyebrows wavered as if he’d noticed.

  Ruth glanced at her uncle, hoping for support. “What does Will want?” she asked Lloyd.