Seeing Your Face Again (13 page)

Ida stole a quick glance toward the place Melvin had been sitting. He was still there, and he gave her a warm smile. She tried to smile back, but she was afraid it came across crooked. Still, Melvin looked pleased. Hopefully he was still interested in her—at least for now. Maybe he also didn't understand fully what it meant that the bishop's daughter had left for the world. With a sigh Ida walked to the kitchen. She would help serve dinner to get her mind off her family and herself.

Twelve

O
n Thursday evening of the following week, Alvin opened his mailbox at the Park Heights Apartments. He was on his way in from work and had walked several blocks from the nearest bus stop. It wasn't the best arrangement, but Mr. Rusty, the motel manager where Alvin had stayed first, had suggested the place. Alvin figured he didn't know much about the wild world of the
Englisha
, so if Mr. Rusty said this was a
gut
deal, then it probably was. And Mr. Rusty, who ran the Hyatt downtown, had proven himself an honest man in his business dealings with Alvin. That he did know something about.

Alvin had made no secret of his past when he'd asked at the front desk of the motel for employment opportunities in the area. The man at the desk had summoned Mr. Rusty, who had conducted a job interview on the spot. Their relationship was based on trust.

“If you grew up around old farm machinery, you might be just the man I'm looking for,” Mr. Rusty said. “And the Amish have a reputation for being honest, right?”

Alvin nodded and thought about the “old machinery” comment. He hadn't expected his farming background to carry much weight. In fact, he'd thought it would be a negative in the
Englisha
world.

“Then why don't we give it a try!” Mr. Rusty had given him a slap on the shoulder. “Handymen are hard to come by, especially in the winter when everything's breaking down. I'll start you out at a decent wage and give you all the overtime you can handle. What do you say?”

“That's fine.” Relief flooded through him. And the wages—once Mr. Rusty had named an amount—had been much more than he'd dared hope. How
Da Hah
could bless him after he'd done such wrong was hard to imagine, but Alvin was still thankful.

Now Alvin squinted into the mailbox. At first he saw nothing because the letters had been set up on edge. They fell over just before he closed the lid and caught his eye. Alvin reached in and took them out. He turned them over to see Deacon Mast's return address on one. The other one was from
Mamm
. So things had come to this so quickly, he thought.
Mamm
had written a letter last week too. And she must have given the deacon his address. Not that he'd asked her not to or made any effort to hide. That would have been a useless endeavor anyway. Church discipline was what it was, and one couldn't postpone things for long. Even if a man hid out in a big city, things happened at home at their usual pace.

Alvin took the elevator to the fifth floor. He held the letters in one hand, and with the other he found his key and let himself inside. The room was plainly decorated. Mostly bare walls. He didn't have any money to splurge, he'd told himself. Besides, it felt more like home this way. His life in the
Englisha
world still had a painful feel to it. This feeling might never go away for all he knew. His heart throbbed at moments like this when he came home to an empty apartment. It was a different feeling than the pain the deacon's letter in his hand would surely cause.
Mamm
's letter would make the other ache return too. He already knew that.

Homesickness was a common affliction everyone suffered. But he found that wasn't a very convincing argument. If this was homesickness, he might die from it before this was over. He should be
able to bear up better, but the truth was that the things of home ran deep in his heart and soul. What he wouldn't give for some of
Mamm
's cooking right now, meager though it had been the past few months. Homemade cornbread smeared with butter would taste like heavenly manna, to say nothing of
Mamm
's bread, fresh from the oven. Those things would always be at home regardless of how bad the financial situation became. The community would see to that, which was one of the problems really.

Alvin believed he couldn't bear the shame of his
daett
's downfall, and yet he wasn't holding up well in his escape to the
Englisha
world either.
I must do it!
Alvin told himself. He pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat down. He might as well begin with what the deacon had to say. Cutting open one end of the envelope with a kitchen knife, Alvin unfolded the single page.

Our dear brother Alvin:

I need not tell you, I suppose, what the purpose of this letter is. I and the others of the ministry are deeply grieved in our hearts and troubled in our minds by the news of your departure from home. We have joined your parents in mourning this great tragedy, and we pray fervently that
Da Hah
might begin his
gut
work in your heart and draw you back to the truth.

As you know,
Da Hah
's vineyard needs much work. If we have failed to minister to your needs or if anyone else in the community has done so, we beg your most heartfelt forgiveness. We hope you will remember that we are all frail human beings and subject to mistakes like anyone else. May
Da Hah
grant us all grace to live better lives than what we are living.

I hope this letter finds you well and not too settled in where
you're staying. Our hopes are that
Da Hah
and home will be calling you soon, and that we will see your face again.

Whatever happened, Alvin? You seem to have left without telling even your parents what the problem was in your life. Please don't allow this matter—whatever it is—to bring a gulf between you, your parents, and the community. Perhaps
Da Hah
will need much time to repair the hurt, I don't know. But we want you to know that you are welcome back, as you always will be. Coming home would be as simple as giving us your confession of failure, which you must surely know by now has occurred. How can leaving for the world do anyone any
gut
, Alvin?

Please consider returning and making things right with your dear parents. Their hearts as well as ours would have a great burden lifted from them. The church was told of this matter on Sunday, and they were also notified of this attempt to reach out to you. I don't need to say what will happen, Alvin, if you don't respond with repentance and return. It grieves me unbearably to even say such words, but
Da Hah
's rod is with us for a purpose.

The Holy Scriptures say, “Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” Allow
Da Hah
's comfort to reach you, Alvin. Return home and visit me. Not that much damage has been done yet. Nothing that a few words spoken and a heart turned from wickedness cannot make right.

Think on these things, Alvin, and do not throw them away lightly.

Yours truly,

Deacon David Mast

Alvin closed the letter, and slid it away from him. He'd expected something like this, but the pain still cut all the way through him. How did Deacon Mast know exactly the words to say to drive his point in the deepest? He could almost see last Sunday morning's meeting when the announcement was made at church—the sober faces, the tears in
Mamm
's eyes, the burden on Bishop Beiler's shoulders. Deacon Mast managed to bring that picture and a thousand thoughts to his mind. All Alvin had to do was return home and express his sorrow. They would forgive him and take him back with open arms. If not, then surely the
bann
was only weeks away. Deacon Mast hadn't said that, but he didn't have to.

Alvin stood up and paced the floor between the kitchen table and the window that overlooked the parking lot. He paused and gazed out at the vehicles. Most of them were dirty from being driven through the snowy streets marred by the city's grime. Snow here didn't look the same. It wasn't pure like the snow at home. There the fields didn't leave stains on the flakes. The farm animals made a mess in the barnyard,
yah
, but clean straw and hay lay inside the barn. Here the earth didn't reach one with its soft touch preserved from last summer's sun-kissed fields. Here there was concrete and asphalt that covered much of the earth, and the buildings and his apartment smelled of things he had no names for.

Perhaps he should repent and return home. Yet how could he? It would be one more failure on his record.
He tried it out there in the world and couldn't make it
. Paul Wagler would snicker at this idea and make no attempt to hide his disdain after services or at the Sunday dinner table. And it would be true. Alvin had tried something new, something out of desperation, but had changed his mind.
Yah
, but this was entirely his own decision for once.

He wanted to at least stick it out for a year or so. Deacon Mast and the ministry would have
Daett
's financial situation well under control by then. Alvin wouldn't have been the one required to reveal the truth of his
daett
's poor farming ways.
Nee
, Alvin couldn't run
back home before that problem was solved. He might have to bear the pain of excommunication. They would release him from the burden and shame when he returned and repented. And perhaps this experience would help make him the man he wished to become.
Yah
, he should have done this during his
rumspringa
time, but his family was known for their objection to
rumspringa
and their strong support of the
Ordnung
so Alvin had minimized it. He'd wanted to please his
daett
. But even in that obedience, he'd failed.

Alvin cut open the second letter and unfolded it. Tear stains were clearly visible on the bottom edge.
Mamm
must have cried as she wrote. Alvin bit his lower lip as he read.

My dear, dear son, Alvin,

I need not say that you are often in our thoughts and prayers because you know you always are. I struggle with my health at times and lie awake at night thinking about where you might be and what trouble you might be facing. I cry out to
Da Hah
for your safety. I ask that you might be protected from the evils of the world. Oh, if you would only come home, Alvin. Whatever the problem is, it can surely be worked out. There is nothing on this earth that could have been so bad that you had to leave home. Surely there wasn't, Alvin. I refuse to believe there could be even for a moment.

I suppose you have received a letter from Deacon Mast. It was announced in church today that contact with you would be officially attempted. You know what that means. I hope you will have sense enough to straighten things out with Deacon Mast before you are lost to us in spirit also. Such a thing is unimaginable to us, Alvin—you being shut out into the darkness by yourself. Please come to your senses and return home. Our hearts do nothing but ache and long for you.

Your
daett
is almost out of feed this week—as you know, I'm sure. I'm not saying that's your fault because it isn't, Alvin. We'll make it somehow. He will have to ask for help soon, and Deacon Mast will see that your
daett
gets what he needs for the spring planting—if things come to that.
Da Hah
knows we try our best, but for some reason we are not blessed as others are even if we have some of the best farmland in Snyder County.

I've been wondering, Alvin. Did
Daett
's farming methods and troubles these past years have anything to do with your leaving? I think it must have, and I can't quite forgive myself for not seeing that possibility before. Now that I look back, I think you've been troubled for some time.

I thought it was only about that
Englisha
girl you took such a shine to, but I believe that is another subject entirely. You really need to get her out of your mind, Alvin. I've heard that Paul Wagler is making quite a fuss over her. I say Paul can have her.

We've been faithful church members for generations now, Alvin. What's gotten into you that you have made such a change? That you have done this to our family? Was it that Debbie? Did she put ideas into your mind that shouldn't have been there?