The River (16 page)

At the time, she hadn’t yet discovered that if this very thing had happened to Tilly, her sister would have been rebuked in front of all of them and sent to her room without supper.
Not
a morsel.
The glaring difference in Daed’s treatment of the two of them had long troubled Ruth.
Terribly sad
.

When Ruth pushed open the barn door, she found her father there talking with his brother Hank, planning a big turkey slaughter for the Thanksgiving season next month. She hung back and noticed Daed was pushing the earpiece of his glasses into one ear as he sometimes did when preoccupied. In spite of the thermos, she felt funny about standing there, so she changed her mind and pushed the door back open to head out.

But her father called, “Ruthie?”

She turned and held up the thermos. “Mamm sent this along . . . said you’d be expecting it.”

He motioned for her to approach and Uncle Hank quickly excused himself, leaving Ruth alone with Daed. He accepted the thermos and smiled at her. “Tell your mother I’m grateful for it. One other thing—let her know I’ll be away for dinner this noon.”

Not sharing the
meal with us.
Ruth’s heart dropped. Was it because Tilly had come? She deliberated on what to say, wishing she might ask him something to clear up the query so often in her mind since arriving. Why did Daed seem so put out with her sister?

“What is it?” Daed studied her, then poured the hot tea into the plastic cup. He began to sip it, his eyes still on her. “Daughter?”

She noticed how he seemed to enjoy the tea. “Are you goin’ to get better, Daed?” she asked at last, ignoring his questions.

“Well, that’s up to the Good Lord, ain’t?”

“But you aren’t opposed to taking medicine, are ya?” she asked, pushing the words out. “I mean—”

“I went once to the doctor . . . I s’pose I could go again.” He paused and visibly inhaled. “And if I consider it, maybe you’d consider something, too.”

She was unsure what he meant.

“My daughters have both left the faith of our fathers.” His voice wavered. “I’ve lost you and Tilly both to the world. It just ain’t right.”

Ruth shook her head. “I’m sorry, Daed, but what does that have to do with going to the cardiologist again?”

“Not much, I guess. Just that I might be more inclined to go if ya came back home, Ruthie . . . for
gut.
Won’t ya think on it?”

Ruth’s shock and frustration grew as his meaning sank in. Was Daed really saying that her return might prompt him to seek treatment? She decided to ignore that possible implication. “Can’t you just go again for Mamm’s sake?” Ruth asked suddenly. “She’s so worried. . . .”

He threw up one hand. “Everyone’s worried. What can I say?”

She’d never been one to speak up to her father, and she could see that he wasn’t going to budge. He was merely using her fancy life against her, and it seemed cruel . . . and unnecessary. While she’d expected her parents might ask her to reconsider returning to Eden Valley, she hadn’t anticipated this.

Exasperated, Ruth decided to press in a direction she’d never have dared otherwise. “Frankly, Daed, this may sound disrespectful, but I think I know why you and Tilly never got along.”

His head jerked up. “What’re ya sayin’?” He looked terribly worried.

“You’re both awful stubborn.”

Daed frowned yet looked strangely relieved. “Well, now, I ’spect you’re right.” He lifted his cup to his mouth again.

She didn’t know what to think. Now was as good a time as any to make her exit, or she might regret opening her mouth again. As Ruth left, she glanced back and saw her father reach for his wooden stool and sit down with a moan. Then, ever so slowly, he raised the thermos cup and took another drink.

T
illy volunteered to check the clothes on the line after the noon meal, well aware that Daed had disappeared just minutes before Mamm put dinner on the table.
I
’
m
invading
his
territory
. . . .

Josie’s presence at the meal was a pleasant memory of former days when she sometimes came to visit. Once Josie graduated from the eighth grade, Tilly’s younger friend was always most happy to help, glad for any excuse to be around.

The white and gray towels still needed a bit more time to thoroughly dry, Tilly decided. She noticed Uncle Hank waving from the barn’s entrance and wondered what he wanted. Then, of all things, he came rushing over, right up to the clothesline.

“Don’t mean to stick my nose in, but your grandmother can’t seem to stop talking ’bout your visit the other day,” Hank said, hazel eyes shining. Small pieces of hay were stuck in his brown beard, and his black work coat was frayed at the sleeves.

“I enjoyed seeing her, too.”

Uncle Hank stepped back a bit, as if appraising her. “I don’t s’pose you might drop by again, before you leave for home.”

Tilly liked the sound of it. “Tell her I’ll plan to do that.”

“All right, then.” He paused, a frown flickering on his brow. “I have to say it’s mighty odd seein’ you and Ruthie so fancy.”

“It must be quite a shock to everyone.”

“I know your Mamm misses ya,” he said.

“It’s good to be back, even for a visit.” Tilly was hesitant to say more.

“Well, I’d best be returning to work, then.” Hank nodded slightly, face flushing a bit, and turned to go.

For some odd reason, Tilly thought of Ruth’s old dresses hanging in her room, where she’d seen them yesterday. It was remarkable that Mamm had kept them. In hopes of Ruth’s returning, perhaps? Tilly’s own dresses, of course, were nowhere to be seen. Even if they had still been around, she wouldn’t think of trying to dress Plain to lessen the shock for her Amish relatives. In an attempt to honor her parents, the clothes she’d brought for this visit were skirts and dresses—floral and solid colors. She’d purposely left her blue jeans and polyester slacks at home. Ruthie, on the other hand, had worn jeans this morning, showing off her small waist and straight hips.
Is she trying to make a statement that she’s
truly English?

It was hard to know what Ruth was up to, but Mamm certainly hadn’t shown them the door yet. So that was as encouraging a sign as any.

After Ruth and Josie removed the washing from the line and brought it into the house to be folded, they resumed their work of boxing up the canned goods in the cold cellar—everything from fruit preserves and vegetables to homemade soups.

Later, Sam came by to take Josie home, and Ruth helped Mamm and Tilly make supper. It was their mother’s idea to cook one of Daed’s favorite meals—sausage loaf and mashed potatoes. They also heated up some canned lima beans and sliced carrots, which Mamm buttered only lightly.

She must be trying
to make up for Daed not being around at dinner
,
Ruth thought, glancing at Tilly.
Poor sister . . . always getting the brunt
of Daed’s moods.

When her father eventually came indoors, he was standoffish and silent, going to sit at the head of the table with his arms folded across his chest. Ruth had always pictured him in that very spot, after she moved to Rockport and sat mostly alone in her little kitchen.
At my minuscule table.

Tilly seemed to wait until the last moment to be seated, first carrying the remaining hot dish over and placing it on the table. When she finally sat down, it was on the right side of Mamm, farthest from Daed. Ruth sat to her father’s left, across from them.

“Let’s give thanks,” Daed said, bowing his head.

They joined in the silent grace. Ruth prayed that something good might come of the mealtime encounter.

After the amen, the stillness was so palpable Ruth felt the need to cough or make a small sound. Anything. The odd situation played out for many minutes, until Mamm asked if anyone wanted something that wasn’t on the table.

She feels the awkwardness, too
,
Ruth thought, looking at Tilly, who kept her head down, eating quietly, almost hiding over there beside Mamm.
Like always
.

No, on second thought, Tilly looked more defiant than sad. Her sister was put out in a big way.

Ruth wondered how long the charged atmosphere would
continue. Mamm had taught them to be peacemakers, although she couldn’t remember her mother ever making an effort to bring a peaceful resolution between Tilly and Daed. Why not?

———

About the time Mamm got up to bring over the warm apple crisp, Daed spoke for the first time.
At last.
Tilly had actually wondered if this was a contest to see who’d talk first.

“Your brother Joseph is droppin’ by to see you later on.” Daed glanced at Tilly, but he didn’t frown or look agitated. “Thought you’d want to know.”

“Well, he’s taking a chance on coming, because I doubt I’ll be around,” Tilly replied right quick.

Ruth cast a fleeting look at her.

“But aren’t you and Ruthie both stayin’ here?” Daed asked. “I thought yous—”

“If we’re welcome.” Tilly didn’t look at him as she reached for the server to dish up some of Mamm’s delicious dessert.

“Joseph’s visit has nothin’ to do with where you’re sleeping tonight.” Naturally, Daed had to have the last word, and Tilly let him.
Gladly
,
she thought, anticipating that Joseph’s visit was about his need to vent his opinions with her. She was fully prepared to be lambasted yet again. It was as if she had never left.

———

After supper dishes were washed and put away, Ruth excused herself and slipped on her jacket and left the house. The tension with Tilly there under the same roof as Daed was already becoming a trial, and her sister had just begun her stay. Ruth needed to get out for a while, and this was the ideal time to do something she’d had in mind since arriving.

There was still some light in the pale sky as she walked up
the road to the Amish cemetery. She remembered the peculiar sort of service they’d had for Anna. In lieu of a burial, Daed had given the bishop a newly chiseled headstone that the men had sunk into place while a hymn was spoken. Bishop Isaac had said a prayer of committal, but without speaking the familiar words
ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

What had left the greatest impression on Ruth was the enormous group of Plain folk from as far away as Strasburg, Nickel Mines, and Gap—Amish, mostly, and their many Mennonite relatives and neighbors. The blurry assortment of different-colored dresses and cape aprons amongst the womenfolk, representing all different church districts, was still vivid in Ruth’s memory. There were even black head coverings mixed in with a sea of white heart-shaped ones. All the dear people had come together for a single cause: to say farewell to the petite girl who was Lester Lantz’s last child . . . and Tilly’s little shadow.
Till we meet again.

Ruth had observed how the young folk from other families seemed less somber on the walk back to Daed’s house for the funeral supper that day. Some of them had managed to laugh, even to tell a few quiet jokes, talking as if life had somehow returned to normal.

She’d felt nearly sick with heartache that day as she stared at the little white stone marker, Mamm’s gentle hands on her shoulders as if Mamm needed steadying.

Ruth’s haze of grief had been so deep, it was all she could do to hold herself together. And oh, she’d missed Tilly, who had been home and ill that day, heartsick from the loss of Anna.

We
still miss Anna.
Ruth was a little surprised that Tilly had declined coming with her now but had taken Daed’s comment
to heart and was waiting for Joseph to arrive at the house.
Brave soul that she is.

Truth be told, Ruth didn’t know why anyone would still hold any animosity about Tilly’s leaving—or Ruth’s following her in the end. Truly, Joseph just needed to drop it and mind his own business. Sure, the Amish carried a deep sense of duty to their community, but Tilly and Ruth had long since left the People.

She shrugged off the tension in her shoulders, relishing the mild evening accompanied by intermittent breezes, wishing they might blow away the dust of concern from her head. Ruth hoped never to have to endure another challenge like they’d just sat through at supper. What was the matter with Daed anyhow? It was downright ridiculous.

In the near distance, dark trees clutched the fading sky as she made her way to the small mound—“cemetery hill,” the older folk called it.
It’s a hard walk when anyone is feeble or
sorrowing,
Ruth thought
.

Stepping through a heap of newly fallen leaves, she could see the turnoff to the narrow dirt path where the hearse carriage always led the way. Now that she was there, she wished she hadn’t come alone. But she knew she might not find another opportunity, so, determined, she made her way up the murky knoll.

It was easy to find Anna’s headstone—the third one in on the left, in the third row. Having memorized the spot, Ruth could have found it in the black of night, but it was only twilight . . . plenty of time to get home before dark. She remembered Daed telling her not to be gone long, or he’d come looking for her. But her father had always been like that, nearly scared to death of the dark, or so it seemed . . . at least where his daughters were concerned.

At that moment, she heard the crackling of leaves and turned. A rush of adrenaline shot through her. “Who’s there?” Ruth said it loudly to sound confident but startled only herself.

“Didn’t mean to frighten you,” Will Kauffman called. “I saw you out walkin’.”

That quickly, her heart jolted, like a motor just set off. “What’re you doing here?”

“I could ask you that, too, Ruthie.”

Her heart’s powerful pounding made it so she could not think straight, not for anything.
“Arie’s gone back to Ohio. And
she won’t be returning here,”
Josie had said some hours ago.

“Mind if I come up there with you?” His voice was urgent.

“That’s fine,” she said, then stiffened.
What am I doing?

“Odd, ain’t it, running into each other in a cemetery?”

She couldn’t have agreed more, but she felt so overwhelmed with emotion, she couldn’t come up with a sensible answer. How had he known she was there?

For what seemed like a lengthy time, they stood side by side, their coat sleeves brushing. She stepped away, not wanting to encourage him.

“You must be here for little Anna,” he said. “Ain’t so?”

“I needed to visit this place,
jah
.” She couldn’t stop thinking about all the time she’d missed with him.
Has Will been someone else
’s beau while I was gone?
The question plagued her even as he stood there.

“Ruthie, I don’t want to upset ya, but I have to say this—I made a mistake. I threw our love away,” he confessed dolefully. “Trampled it and tossed it to the wind.” Will paused. “And I can’t begin to say how sorry I am. I really am.”

“You don’t blame me for leaving?” She had to voice this, had to get it out into the air.

“I might’ve done the same thing.”

“Honestly?” She turned to him.

He paused, grew silent. Then he said, “I was the one to blame, Ruthie.”

Her thoughts were all jumbled up like never before. How she’d once dreamed of a day like this. He must still care. Yes, he
did
care. And, quite unexpectedly, Ruth was leaning her head against his shoulder. Then, just that quick, she realized what she’d done and straightened. “Sorry,” she murmured. “Truly . . .”

“It’s all right,” Will said, reaching now for her, gently pulling her into his familiar embrace. “I’m here . . . Ruthie. It’s me, the boy you loved.”

He held her like she might fall if he didn’t. And while she’d never have expected to be so close to him like this in the daylight, the covering of night seemed to embolden her . . . them.

Will whispered her name. “Oh, Ruthie, there’s so much I want to make right with you. Will ya let me?”

She tried with all of her heart to push Arie Schlabach far out of her mind. For this moment, all that seemed to matter was Will’s nearness . . . and what his strong arms were telling her.
Forget the past. . . .