The Miting (37 page)

A sad smile contoured her lips, but confusion reigned in her heart. Her cheeks appeared rosier, and her face, devoid of makeup, looked young and scared.

Leah sighed. She couldn’t believe she was actually going to go home. Then the thrill of seeing her family and Jacob hit her. She smiled, glanced at the clock above the stove, and realized she’d have to hurry. Martha’s ride would be pulling in to pick her up in less than five minutes.

She brushed a strand back under the
kapp
and picked up the two bags stuffed with her things. Leah looked around the apartment. Everything was neat and tidy. Her bed was made, the sheets freshly washed this morning.

When I did that chore, I had no inkling I wouldn’t be sleeping under those sheets tonight.

As she went to the door and opened it, she was aware of the heavy and oppressive feeling of her clothing. It was as though the weight of the fabric mimicked the weight of the
Ordnung.
She hesitated. Leah heard a car crunching into the driveway and a horn beeped impatiently. She turned the lock in the doorknob and shut the door firmly behind her.

As Leah approached the pickup truck, she saw Martha waving from the small backseat. She could just see the top of Johnny’s fuzzy head.

The driver leaned across and opened the passenger door. Leah climbed inside the cab and turned to look at Martha. She was still in her jeans and T-shirt, with a warm winter coat covering her body. Leah was shivering already since the one Amish item she’d gotten rid of was the hated black wool cape she’d escaped in last fall. Thankfully, the driver saw her shaking and cranked up the heater a notch.

“Thank you,” she said shyly. “I don’t have my cape.”

Martha laughed and slapped her arm. “I can’t believe you still have all that stuff, silly. I plan on hiding my jeans and T-shirts for when I go to town. Did you bring yours?”

Leah shook her head.

“Why in the world not?” she asked incredulously.

“I don’t know. It didn’t seem right trying to sneak those clothes in now. I mean, I’m going back, right?”

Martha laughed again. “Oh, Leah, you are such a Goody Two-shoes, y’know? I, for one, plan to keep my
Englisher
stuff and go to town as much as I can.”

“But the church—you said you have to join—”

“So? Let them catch me. Mr. Brown, could you wait while Leah goes in to get her other clothes?”

“I guess, but I don’t have all the time in the world.”

“No. I really don’t plan to bring my clothes, Martha. You don’t have to wait, Mr. Brown. I’m ready.”

He gave her one long look and then nodded. They left the Schrocks’ driveway, and Leah watched through the side mirror as the house receded into the background. She was fighting the urge to ask Mr. Brown to stop. Thoughts and feelings seemed to slow down to a crawl. She had trouble thinking about anything except the mantra, “I’m going back … going back … going back.”

Twenty minutes later, Mr. Brown pulled into her family’s lane. It was just after six o’clock, and Leah knew supper would be almost finished. The yellow-orange glow from the kerosene lamps faintly lit a couple of the front windows, but the rest of the house loomed dark and cold. It was very stark sitting there in its colorless jacket, the winter wind beating against its windows and corners.

She shivered once again in apprehension of going through the front door. She debated going in the kitchen door at the back, but thought of how much more time it would give her to think of a greeting to the family if she went in the front and down the hall to the kitchen.

She turned and gave Martha a trembling smile. “Here I am. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

Martha nodded, her face a ghostly glow in the near dark of twilight.

Leah turned to Mr. Brown. “Thank you for the ride. I can give you some money for gas—”

He waved her off. “Good luck.”

She could tell he wanted to get Martha home, so she slid out of the cab, grasping the plastic bags in both hands, and hurried to the porch. The wind knifed her in the back as she rushed toward the shelter of the front door. She ended up barely glancing at the truck as it pulled out of the driveway. Leah had the feeling that with it went her last chance at freedom.

She tried the doorknob and, as she knew it would, it opened with a squeak. Fighting back rising panic, Leah stepped back in time and shut the door on modern life.

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

T
he wooden floor of the living room squeaked as Leah stepped across it. She could hear the low murmur of voices in the kitchen, and the scent of apple pie, fresh from the oven, drifted through the air. Did
Maem
bake a pie for her homecoming? The thought warmed her and hurried her steps. Leah smiled as she walked into the kitchen.

There was the family.
Maem
was standing at the stove, her hands still in the pot holders, clutching the steaming pie. As Leah came in,
Maem
’s teasing expression turned to shock, then just as quickly to stern.

Daet
sat in his usual place at the table with his back to Leah, but he twisted his head slightly, saying nothing. Only Benny ran to her, but just as he reached her outstretched arms, he stopped and shyly looked to
Maem
for permission to greet his long lost sister. She nodded—once. He jumped into Leah’s arms and laughingly teased her about her cold, red cheeks.

Leah couldn’t believe how solid and tall he had grown in a year!

“Hey, you have to jump down! You’re nearly as big as me now.” She smiled and ruffled his blond hair as she gently placed him on his feet. He giggled, leading her by the hand to the table.

“Look! Leah is home again!”

His voice was excited and loud.
Daet
gave Leah a short glance, taking in her Amish clothing, but still didn’t speak. She looked across the table to Ada, but her sister had her head dipped low over her supper plate, not even a glance in Leah’s direction.
Maem
carried the hot pie to the table and slipped into her chair, her gaze locked on the tops of Leah’s black shoes. Leah noticed
Maem
’s lips twitch, and a small puzzled frown dipped her eyebrows lower.

Other than Benny, no one uttered a single word. If he noticed the snub, it didn’t stop him from chattering on and on about all the things that had happened to him since she’d been gone. Leah listened, but her heart was breaking. This was not the welcome she’d envisioned.

Finally, after she stood five minutes awkwardly, Leah slid into the empty chair marking her old spot at the table. Benny’s chattering sputtered to a stop and he looked around the room. His face reddened as he noticed the heads bowed low over the dinner table and no one speaking but him.

All right, then it was up to her to start the mending. She cleared her throat. “How have all of you been? I’ve missed you—very much.”

Maem
said nothing. Ada said nothing. Benny didn’t answer either, but his eyes regarded everyone with wide-eyed curiosity. Leah faltered, but went ahead with her apology.

“I, uh … I’m very sorry for the trouble I’ve been to you this past year or so. I’ve had a lot of time to think—” She stopped. Why didn’t they act like they knew she was coming? Could it be they hadn’t gotten word? “Martha told me Jacob was going to stop by and tell you I was coming. Did he?”

Maem
, her eyes averted, shook her head.

Ahh, so the pie wasn’t for me, after all.

They were stunned, it was clear, that she’d come home. Silence ruled the room for several more seconds. Benny squirmed in his chair as Leah’s blush deepened.

What should she do now? Just as Leah started to say something again,
Daet
turned to face her. He cleared his throat.

“You need to speak to the bishop in the morning,” he said tersely. “Once we’ve talked with him, then we can discuss your plans to join the church. Until then, please do not behave as you did before you left. This is not settled between us until you have confessed and made things right before the church. And after tonight, you must eat at the small table
Maem
will put in the corner over there. Once you have confessed and joined the church, we’ll have you back with the family.” He stroked his beard. His face was set. “There’ll be no more talking tonight.”

He stood, and
Maem
and Ada joined him. They moved toward the door, Benny pushed along by
Maem.
He turned back for a last glance at his sister, his lips formed in an O, curiosity and confusion flickering in his eyes. One by one they left the room, leaving her sitting alone at the table.

Leah glanced around the familiar kitchen, tears of shame filling her eyes. Never in her life had she felt more alone than at this moment, here in her home. After a few minutes of listening to the clock in the hall tick its lonely message, she pushed the chair back, brushed away her tears, and quietly started up to her room. She glanced toward the table. Even the pie was abandoned in her family’s hurry to get away from her.

As she climbed the stairs, she thought of what the rest of her time would be like here at home. She had not imagined they would still be nursing the old wound. She had not imagined time could only have deepened the break and filled it with pain and bitterness. This was not the homecoming Leah wanted, but she thought back to Naomi’s counsel: things got worse for her and Matthew once they’d gone back. Would it be the same for Leah? Where was the love her parents had for her?

Her sister, too. They had been so close, and she had sent her a Christmas postcard! How had the past year erased all the time they’d shared growing up? It was as though her family’s love had been washed away with the rulings of the church. True, Leah had no idea what had been said about her in the months past. For all she knew, her family hadn’t expected to see her again.

Leah opened the door to her old bedroom, knowing she’d find it stripped bare of all but the bed and the chest. She carried her measly possessions and unpacked them carefully into two drawers of the chest. Leah went across the room to the window and lifted the purple curtain. No light from the moon illuminated the outside and, not having been offered so much as a candle, her dark room brought shadows down on her head like a shroud. She leaned against the cold frosty glass.

“Lord, have I done the wrong thing? How can I witness to my family of Your grace and mercy when they won’t even speak to me?”

A tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away. She went back to the bed and sat on the edge—still as a statue.

Would Jacob bother to come and see her? She had no idea who would befriend her or who would still shun her. She hadn’t yet joined the church and look at the treatment she was getting! If she joined and then disappointed them all, would she be put under the ban?

Shuddering at the thought of meeting Bishop Miller again, Leah went to the chest and searched the dark drawers for the flannel fabric of her nightgowns. She took off her
kapp
and apron and carefully removed each pin before pulling the dress off over her head. She shook out the soft folds of the flannel and pulled the comforting fabric over her body. Leah hung her clothes on pegs in the empty closet.

She crawled beneath the chilly covers, grateful her
Maem
had at least kept bedding in the room. She’d forgotten how cold this upper room was in the winter, despite the banked fire in the stove below.

Leah couldn’t sleep. Though her body ached with fatigue, her mind churned with questions and fear. She’d never felt such worry. Not even when she sat in the general store those many months ago and waited for Naomi to pick her up. She’d known nothing of the
Englisher
ways then, but the fear had been mixed with anticipation of what her future might hold in the English world. She felt none of that anticipation now.

She snuggled deeper into her blankets and wished she’d thought to get her Bible out of the dresser, too.

Never mind—it’s too dark to read anyway, and I am so very tired. Lord, please don’t leave my side. If I’ve made the wrong decision, please help me know what to do.

Her last thoughts before she fell asleep were about the bishop—what would he say to Leah tomorrow?

Leah woke with a knock at the door, and as she opened her eyes, she could see the sun’s rosy hues beginning to spread over the sky. Again a soft knock. Ada’s voice carried through the door.

“Leah?
Maem
and
Daet
are waiting in the kitchen. The bishop will be here soon. They want you to come down quickly.”

Leah jumped out of bed and hurried to open the door, eager to talk with Ada, but Ada made a hasty retreat to her bedroom, casting a fearful glance at Leah before she quickly shut the door. Leah walked across the hallway.

“Why won’t you speak to me, Ada?”

When no response came, Leah said softly, “Thank you for the wintery postcard. I loved it and still carry it with me.”

Inside her sister’s room, she heard a muffled sound—a sob?