Ruth nodded.
“I. . .uh. . .I’m not sure what his reaction will be when he sees me. It’s been a long time, and. . .” Rosemary’s voice trailed off, and she stared at her trembling hands.
“Would you like something to drink? Maybe a glass of tea or cold water?”
“Yes, yes. That would be nice.”
“I’ll be right back.”
After Ruth left the room, Rosemary leaned her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes.
So my brother has his own woodworking shop. He always did like fooling around with wood. He’s obviously married, or he wouldn’t have a daughter named Ruth. I wonder how many other children he has
.
She opened her eyes and glanced around the room. The furnishings were simple, and the place had a homey feel. Several potted plants sat in one corner of the room, a scenic calendar adorned the wall, a pair of wooden sconces with white candles bordered an antique-looking clock, and several quilted throw pillows lay on the sofa. Roman’s wife obviously had good taste, even though her home wasn’t fancy like most English homes.
Rosemary thought about her visit to the home where she and her brothers had grown up. She’d driven to it before coming here and found someone else living there—a young Amish couple, Michael and Karen Mast. The Masts had told Rosemary that the elderly couple who used to live there were dead. When she’d asked about her brothers, Michael had said the only one still living in the area was Roman. He’d given Rosemary the address and said it was just a few miles down the road.
Rosemary’s thoughts were halted when Ruth returned with a tray
of cookies and a glass of iced tea. She placed the tray on the low table in front of the sofa and returned to her seat. “Please, help yourself.”
Rosemary reached for the glass and took a sip. The cool liquid felt good on her parched throat. “Are you the only one at home?” she asked.
Ruth nodded. “My mother went to the shop to take Dad his lunch, my sister Grace is at her house, and my sister Martha has gone to Walnut Creek to a dog auction.”
Rosemary’s interest was piqued. She loved dogs—had ever since she was a girl. But Bob wouldn’t let her have a dog. He’d said they were too much trouble.
Ruth shifted in her chair. “Did my dad know you were coming?”
“No, I—” A burning lump formed in Rosemary’s throat. “I stopped by the home where we grew up, but the young couple who live there said my folks had died.”
Ruth’s chair squeaked as she pumped her legs up and down. “Grandpa Hostettler passed away five years ago, and Grandma died a year later.”
Rosemary flinched. “I should have been here. I—I didn’t know.”
Ruth continued to rock, wearing a troubled look on her face. Did she think Rosemary was a terrible daughter because she hadn’t returned home in all these years? Rosemary had thought about it—even mentioned it to Bob a couple of times. But he’d always said no—that her family didn’t care about her, which was obvious because they’d never responded to any of her letters.
I was a fool to believe him
, Rosemary thought with regret.
I should have made an effort to see my family despite the things he said
.
She finished her iced tea and set her glass back on the table. “I’m ready to see my brother now.”
Martha smiled at the female beagle she’d bid on to replace Flo as a mate for Bo. The dog’s name was Polly, and she’d already had one litter of pups, so Martha was sure things would work out for her to raise some beagles. If Polly gave her a good-sized litter and Martha made enough money when she sold them, she hoped to buy a pair of cocker spaniels.
“Up you go,” Martha said as she lifted Polly into the dog carrier she’d brought from home. “I’m taking you to meet Bo.”
“Who’s Bo?”
Martha whirled around at the sound of a male voice. “Luke! I didn’t know you’d be here today.”
He motioned to the ginger-colored cocker spaniel he held on a leash. “Came to buy my mamm a birthday present.”
A pang of envy shot through Martha. She wished she’d been able to buy a pair of cocker spaniels, but she needed to be practical. Since she already had a male beagle, it made sense to buy him a mate.
“She’s beautiful,” Martha said, bending down to pet the spaniel.
“Was is dei name?”
“Her name’s Cindy, and she’s a purebred with papers. I think my mamm’s gonna like her, don’t you?”
“Oh jah.” Martha’s heart skipped a beat when Luke smiled at her. How could anyone think he could be responsible for the terrible things that had been done to her family? Besides, no one had proven that Luke had been behind the break-ins or horrible attacks. He’d told her that he hadn’t taken his truck out on Christmas Eve, so she was sure he wasn’t the one who had rammed Ruth and Martin’s buggy.
“I see you bought yourself another beagle,” Luke said, motioning to the dog carrier in the back of Martha’s buggy.
“I got her to replace Flo.”
Luke nodded. “John’s happy with her, too. Said she does a real good job running down rabbits for him.”
“Glad to hear it.” Martha shook her head. “She sure wasn’t able to give me the puppies I needed to get my business going good.”
“Maybe this beagle will work out better for you.”
“I hope so. The paper that came with her said she’s already had one litter of pups. At least I know she’s not barren.”
Luke scuffed the ground with the toe of his boot. “I’ve been wondering—how’s your sister getting along these days?”
“Which sister?”
“Ruth.”
“She’s still struggling with her grief over losing Martin, but we’re trying to help her through it, and she’s taking it one day at a time.”
“That’s the best way to deal with anything. Jah, just one day at a time,” he said with a nod.
Martha smiled. If Luke had been the one responsible for Martin’s death, he surely wouldn’t be asking about Ruth or looking so sad-eyed right now. She was sure he was innocent. If only he would get baptized and join the church, maybe her dad, the bishop, and others in their community would realize Luke was one of them.
Martha glanced at the cocker spaniel again. “I would have liked to bid on a pair of spaniels to breed, but I figured it would be best to get a mate for Bo.”
“Say, I’ve got an idea.” Luke’s dark eyes seemed to dance with enthusiasm. “Why don’t you get yourself a male cocker and breed it with my mamm’s female?”
“That’s a nice thought, but it won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“The pups your mamm’s dog might have would be hers, not mine. If she sold them, the money would be hers, too.”
Luke reached up to scratch the side of his head and knocked his straw hat to the ground. “Maybe Mom would be willing to split the profits with you. After all, she’d have to pay for stud service if she wanted to breed the dog on her own,” he said, bending over to retrieve the hat.
“I might have to talk to your mamm about this. After I’m able to buy a male cocker, that is.”
“I’m making pretty good money working for John. Maybe I could loan you what you need to buy the dog.”
“I couldn’t let you do that.”
“Why not?”
Martha didn’t feel she could tell Luke that her dad would have a fit if he got wind that Luke had loaned her money, but she couldn’t accept his gracious offer, either. “If I’m going to build up my business, then I want to do it on my own.”
“Guess I can understand that. I pretty much feel the same way about what I’m doing.”
“But you work for someone; I’m trying to build my own business.”
Luke shrugged. “I’ve got plans for the future, though. Plans I
haven’t told anyone about.”
Martha didn’t feel it would be right to press him about whatever plans he might have, so she gave the cocker spaniel another pat and said, “Guess I’d better get home. I told my mamm I’d be there around noon.”
“I should go, too. Gotta give this critter to my mamm before it starts thinkin’ I’m its master.”
Martha laughed and climbed into her buggy. “I hope to see you at the next preaching service, Luke.”
“Jah, sure.” He lifted a hand in a wave as he led the cocker spaniel away.
As Martha pulled out of the parking lot a few minutes later, a sense of hope welled in her soul. She was glad she had met up with Luke today.
Rosemary’s palms turned sweaty, and her legs felt like two sticks of rubber as she followed Ruth down a dirt path toward a white building. Would Roman recognize her after all these years? Would she know him? Would he welcome her home or turn her away?
“Dad, there’s someone here to see you,” Ruth said as they stepped into the woodworking shop a few minutes later.
Rosemary fought the urge to sneeze as the sharp odor of stain came in contact with her nose.
A young man with dark brown hair and a square jaw looked up from the chair he was staining and smiled. Rosemary knew he wasn’t her brother. The man was too young to be Roman.
“Who’s with you, Ruth?” a deep voice called out. “I’m about to have lunch with your mamm.”
When Rosemary peered around Ruth, she caught sight of a middle-aged Amish woman standing in front of a workbench, and when the woman moved aside, Rosemary’s heart felt as if it had stopped beating. The man sitting at the workbench had to be her brother. Hair that had once been full and dark was now thinning and streaked with gray, but the slight hump in the center of his nose was still there, and so were his piercing dark eyes.
“Roman, it’s me,” she said, moving closer to him. “I–I’ve come home.”
He tipped his head and stared at her. “Do I know you?”
She nodded, unable to answer his question.
“Dad, it’s your sister, Rosemary,” Ruth said, touching Rosemary’s elbow with her hand.
Roman jerked his head. The woman beside him gasped. But neither said a word. After several awkward moments, he spoke. “Where have you been all these years?”
“I’ve been living in Boise, Idaho, with my husband, Bob, but he died a few months ago. So I decided to come home and see my family.”
“You think you can just sashay in the door and pick up where you left off thirty-some years ago like nothing’s ever happened? Is that what you think?” Roman’s voice sounded harsh, and the scowl on his face spoke volumes.
“I—I would like to explain. There are things you don’t know—things you need to understand.”
Roman’s fist came down hard on the workbench, jiggling his lunch box and sending a napkin sailing to the floor. “It’s been over thirty years, Rosemary! Do you know how much can happen in that time?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off.
“Mom and Dad are dead. I’ll bet you didn’t know that, did you?”
“Not until I went by their house before I came here.”
“Do you have any idea how hard Mom cried after you left home? When you didn’t write and let her know where you were so she could write back, she was brokenhearted.”
“I did write. I—”
“Pig’s foot! If you’d written, we at least would have known where you were and that you were okay.” He waved his hand as if he were swatting at a fly. “Now everyone but me is gone.”
“My other brothers are dead?” Rosemary’s head began to pound, and she placed her fingers against her throbbing temples.
“They’re not dead; they moved to Wisconsin with their wives twenty years ago. Everyone except for Walt.”
“Where is he?”
“Walt and his family are living up in Geauga County now. Have
been for the last couple of years. I’m the only one from our family still living in Holmes County.” He compressed his lips tightly together, grabbed the mug on his workbench, and took a drink.
The woman who stood at Roman’s side reached out her hand. “I’m Roman’s wife, Judith, and this is Ruth, one of our three daughters,” she said, nodding at Ruth.
“It’s nice to meet you, Judith. I met Ruth up at your house.”
Judith motioned to the young man Rosemary had seen when she’d entered the shop. “That’s our son-in-law, Cleon. He’s married to our oldest daughter, Grace.”
Rosemary glanced over at Cleon and smiled, then she turned to face Roman. “Can we sit awhile and talk? I’d like to explain a few things.”
He shook his head. “I’ve got nothing to say, and there isn’t anything you could say that I want to hear.”
“Dad, don’t you think you should listen to Aunt Rosemary?” Ruth spoke up.