The Brethren (11 page)

Grimacing, he opened it and silently began to read.

Hello, Jesse Zook, and greetings from Ontario, Canada!

I received your letter and have been thinking what to write back. First, let me say it was a big shock to hear of your dis’ covery, Yet, I was somehow comforted to know Isaac has been found after so many years.

With Mary’s recent passing, I had been considering making a trip down there to Lancaster County sometime. Then when you wrote of Isaac’s remains, I felt nearly compelled to return. I’d like to see his grave.

For all the harsh words between us, Preacher, I would hope you and I might be able to talk some whenever I can come. Meanwhile I have a great yearning to see Zeke again and to lay eyes on his children my only grandchildren.

I remain your old friend, Daniel Hochstetler

Jesse was downright surprised at Daniel’s response to his letter and his interest in returning to visit. And to think the bones weren’t Isaac’s after all and there was no grave for the man to see. He’d best be writing back to tell him so. Jesse sighed. Just now he would not say anything to Barbara, but he did need to get word to Esther that her father-in-law might be coming unannounced.

Ach, and what of Annie? No, it would not do for Ichabod to stay in their midst. Not with Zeke away and the preacher’s daughter and one shunned woman running the house over yonder. But there was more to it. The brethren would have a problem with Ichabod’s arrival without a confession first.

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“Anything interesting in the mail?” Barbara asked. “Nothin’ to speak of.” He didn’t want to worry her, especially if he could put a stop to Ichabod’s plans to return.

Stuffing the letter back into its envelope, he thought of something else that had been flitting around in his mind for weeks now. Esther was no longer attending Preaching service and was taking her children to hear who knows what at the Rancks’ meetinghouse of a Sunday morning Annie was likely going with her. So he’d pay them a visit soon and kill two birds with one stone.

He had an hour till supper. Enough time to write back to Ichabod, informing him of the mistake; that there was no reason for him to come after all. He just hoped his second letter would arrive in time.

Fatigued from driving for more than eight hours straight, Ben began to read billboards to pass the time. One popped out at him: the Hops long Cassidy Museum. William Boyd was a native of Cambridge, Ohio, the large sign with bright lights touted. Ben was, glad for any interesting sight, even though he was almost too tired to keep going. He had promised Irvin he would make it there in a single day, though not in time for supper, and he’d called to say as much around three-thirty, to give Julia plenty of notice.

Another billboard caught his eye: the Pennyroyal Opera House, featuring bluegrass music. Intrigued, and noting his gas supply was dwindling quickly, he took the exit ramp, hoping to find a gas station.

But he got distracted listening to a radio talk show and

132 found himself on a back road, entering a small town. Up ahead, he saw a closed general store and a barn-style building bearing the marquee of the Pennyroyal Opera House.

Flickers of a memory, or was it something else, burst into his head. Why did the opera house seem vaguely familiar? Had he driven this way on his first trip to Pennsylvania? No, he’d taken a different route. Besides, the memory felt more distant. Had he and his family visited here once? But who comes to such a location on vacation?

He was really tired this was exhaustion talking. And this was nuts, pushing it so hard. For what purpose? Just to avoid a hotel and arrive before Irvin and Julia retired for the night?

Reaching the end of the “blink and miss” town, he made a U-turn. Heading back, he noticed the sign: Fairview, Ohio. The town, he noted, had not a single gas station.

Just great.

He switched off the radio … and experienced another vision. A memory? Someone quite large had sat up in the driver’s seat while he sat in the back. Someone with a

smashed nose and an obscured face.

No… no, he must be remembering something he’d seen on TV or a movie when he was a kid. Sure, that’s all it was.

But the memory kept coming at him. He was smaller … much smaller, sitting in the back seat. He remembered the pinching squeeze of being buckled in much too tightly. All he could see was the back of the large man sitting up front, behind the steering wheel. Not his father a stranger.

Ben shook his head; his mind was playing tricks. He needed more caffeine … something to eat.

Getting back on the highway, he took another exit and found a small gas station. As he pulled in to refuel, he had another burst of sickening memory: he recalled crying out at such a gas station similar to this one. He had shouted loudly that night, at the top of his voice, as if his very life depended on the volume of it … but there had been no tears. No, little brothers did not cry. They held it in, he had been told. They were brave … very brave. They sat quietly in the back while the big man got out of the car and purchased gas and some candy and hot coffee. That’s what they did.

And if they weren’t quiet or obedient, they were pushed into the trunk and there they stayed for hours and hours, till they were so cold they couldn’t get warm, even though they shivered and shook and their little teeth rattled in their

heads. And even though they dreamed they could kick and bite and run fast and get away, they could not. At least not at that moment.

And this little brother was left in that trunk long enough to think he would surely never get out again … until he believed that if ever he was found, people would look sadly at him all coiled up in a frozen ball and say, Der Biebche is am Schtarewe the little boy is dying.

Ben shivered and shook his head again. I’ve been driving too long, he thought. I’m imagining things.

On Sunday, Annie fretted while redding up the kitchen after the noon meal for Esther, who was busy nursing Essie Ann upstairs.

134 Even though Annie was not thinking of breaking her six-month promise to Daed, she had begun to envision all the wonderful things about Ben in anticipation of the time she could draw them in a collage. She already could visualize how she wanted to set up the composition on the canvas and felt sure it would not be long after the sketching phase that she could bring it to life with the vibrancy of paint. Sometimes she even crept away to the barnyard and pushed a stick around, sketching out her layout on the ground. Surely that was not prohibited.

Oh, I can scarcely wait for that day.

To think of Ben staying over at Cousin Julia’s right then seemed terribly strange … even awkward. Will he come see me?

Finishing up, she checked the time. Plenty of time before I have to feed the hogs again and help Essie with supper. She had a sudden eagerness to take a long walk, so she scribbled a note to Esther.

I’ll be back soon, she wrote, leaving it propped on the table against the paper napkin holder.

Delighted to be in the locust grove along Pequea Creek, Annie sat on the old rope swing, at first testing it with her weight. Seems nice and straight … She leaned back, stretching her legs forward, allowing the swing to lift her higher and higher, shooting toward the milky blue sky, her dress tucked in carefully on either side. The generous length of the rope made it possible to experience a real thrill like when she was little, she realized, smiling. Whyever had Daed taken it down in the first place? Had he wanted to

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discourage children from playing at the site of a presume kidnapping? Or had he not liked seeing the swing … aid the memories it stirred? Annie continued to lean back arvd push forward, overjoyed to be here despite the past, reveliig in the sunshine and this pretty, peaceful spot.

Before I sent Ben away, I was ever so happy.

She leaned into the sway of the swing hers anŤJ Isaac’s thinking back to the many hours spent here, seeing who could swing the highest. And there was the risky jumping, too jumping off and landing on two feet without falling forward. All childish games, but tantalizingly fun.

All this was a part of me before I started my art. Still, my love for it must have been there all along, she thought, having always been intensely aware of the Lord God’s colorful palette of nature. She looked at the sky, pondering, as she often did, what heaven was like. Was Isaac there? What was doing now?

Rising, she turned to look around, wondering exactly where it was that Isaac and Zeke had made a grave for Isaac’s special pet.

Wandering down to the creek, she stared at the rushing water, watching it sweep leaves and other pieces of God’s creation into a fluid yet textured portrait until she was drawn back to the swing. She sat and pushed herself back with her bare feet, glad for the smile of springtime on the lovely grass, the flowering blossoms in the trees overhead. This place was so private, yet resplendent with color and aroma. “Surely a glimpse into what heaven must be like,” she told herself. After all, the heavenly Father was the

136 supreme creator-artist. She closed her eyes, eager for the little tickle of excitement as she swayed back and forth, a welcome sensation she had often felt when she was a little girl sitting right here, swinging double with Isaac.

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ulia Ranck was setting the table for lunch when Ben wandered into the kitchen, young James hanging on to his knee as Ben pretended to limp and stumble. Looking at James roughhousing with their guest, Julia frowned and motioned to him, and her son quickly let go, then headed for the sink, where he put out his hands to be washed.

“I hope you like egg salad sandwiches,” Julia said, glancing Ben’s way with a smile, drying her son’s hands with a dish towel.

“Sounds good.”

Irvin appeared from the small sunroom off the kitchen, carrying his Bible. “Well, there he is! How was your night after so many hours on the road?”

Ben laughed self-consciously, having slept through not only breakfast but church, as well. “Sorry I slept so late.”

“Not a problem.”

The sound of squealing erupted from across the room. Little Molly came charging toward him, running right into his arms. “Mr. Ben’s back!”

He leaned down and picked her up, swinging her high,

138 then low again. This brought more giggles from the blond, blue-eyed cutie, and she begged for more. “Do it again! Do it again!”

“Now, Molly, let’s settle down to eat,” Irvin said, and she obediently, but not so happily, headed toward Julia to have her hands washed before joining her brother at the table.

After Irvin offered the blessing, the children became quiet. The adults discussed the weather, and then Ben inquired about Zeke, thinking he’d make additional small talk, taking the attention off any second-guessing the Rancks might be doing about the reason for his return visit. But he was stunned to hear that Zeke was being treated for depression and a mental disorder.

“There’s a fine new center not far from here,” Julia spoke up, and Irvin described the facility created specifically for Amish and Mennonite patients, to make them feel comfortable in a Plain environment, similar to their own homes.

Ben felt a twinge of sadness for the man who’d sought him out so faithfully while he had lived and worked here briefly and for Zeke’s family.

“And Annie Zook … I’m sure you know she’s staying with Esther, for the time being,” volunteered Julia, not making eye contact as she poured milk for Molly.

“I’d heard that, uh … from Annie. She wrote me.”

“Ah, how nice,” Julia said, now smiling.

“Was this Annie’s choice to go to Esther’s?” Ben asked.

Julia shrugged. “I think so. I don’t know all the ins and outs of it, really. But Annie’s all right. We see her several times a week.”

Irvin seemed to agree. “She’s figuring some things out, is

all. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s back home soon, when things blow over.”

Ben wondered what things but assumed it had a lot to do with him and with her father’s discovery of their dating.

“So, Ben,” Julia began, giving him a knowing look. “What really brings you back so soon?”

Irvin chuckled. “Julia, nes barely recovered from his trip. Give the man time to catch his breath.”

Irvin and Julia traded humorous glances, and Ben felt a subtle twinge of envy, admiring their close relationship.

For a moment, Ben considered telling them about his adoption bombshell but decided to wait. It hadn’t occurred to him until now that he preferred to tell Annie his strange news first.

After the meal, he returned to the attic room to make his bed and put his few items of clothing away in the empty bureau drawers, as Julia had kindly instructed.

When he came back down, Julia mentioned that Irvin was taking a Sunday afternoon nap.

“Poor man’s all tired out,” she explained. “He helped a neighbor chop several cords of wood yesterday.”

Ben was sorry he hadn’t been there to help. He imagined Irvin walking through the woods, ax in hand, looking up, going from tree to tree, deciding which one to topple, which would make the best firewood. For a passing moment, flickers of just such an outing filled his recollection. Funny, he was pretty sure he had never done such a thing since, growing up, he and his family had lived in town. Still, the memory lingered. Was this something he’d done as a very young boy, before he’d been found in Kentucky?

140 Feeling the need for some fresh air, Ben could scarcely wait to drive the back roads with every window down, breathing in the rich scents, taking in the splendor of trees lining the road or the varieties of fruit trees filling the orchards. Most of all, he wanted to revisit the old covered bridge on Belmont Road.

Soon he was driving down the road, questions concerning his adoption plaguing him. There was no way of know’ ing his real birth date, nor his full name, beyond Zachary. He was like a dinghy drifting on foggy seas. And yet for some reason, he felt at home in Lancaster County. Being here was like a sigh of relief, and he was glad he’d made the journey back so quickly.

Spying the bridge up ahead, he pulled off to the side of the road and parked the car, more perplexed as he stared at the quaint yet picturesque site. What was it about this place that kept drawing him? And why had Annie Zook painted such a scene and had the painting so beautifully framed, only to hide it away from the eyes of the People? Did it have some special meaning to her? He knew he could not leave Paradise again without asking.

He thought of the swing in Annie’s painting and the spotlight on what had appeared to be a peach stone. Why had she chosen to highlight it, as if that specific detail was in some way important?

Walking through the bridge now, Ben was not afraid. He experienced a nearly compelling sense of hope, though he had no idea why.

He turned to the left and strolled down the grassy slope, looking ahead toward the trees. He noticed a young

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Woman an Amish girl sitting on a swing.

He looked again. He hadn’t remembered seeing the long rope swing the other times he’d been here.

Ben stopped in his tracks.

Annie? Or is my mind playing tricks on me again?

Slowing his pace, he remembered the fear he had experienced the first time he’d come here. Only this time he was nervous for a different reason.

Is it really Annie?

Now that he was this close to the girl, he was tentative, not wanting to alarm her. So he made some noise, crunching some dry twigs under his feet, and saw that hers were bare. Naturally they were. This was the third week of May, and he’d learned quickly that Amish women and girls shed winter’s shoes and ran barefooted, ready to embrace the warmth of the sun and earth, as soon as the first bumblebees were spotted.

Unexpectedly, she looked his way and frowned curiously. “Ben?”

A flood of emotions filled him at the sound of his name. “Hello, Annie.”

She rose somewhat unsteadily from the swing. “It’s awful good to see you again.”

He could hardly believe she was standing there before him. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

An awkward moment passed as neither seemed sure what to say and they just stood there smiling at each other. Ben didn’t say he’d missed her, but he certainly had, and seeing her now brought it right home to him.

“I’m back … because I can’t seem to stay away.” He

142 chuckled, offering a nervous smile.

“What could be so important that you traveled all this way?” She quickly told him that Julia had let her know he was coming, and how surprised she was. “My cousins seemed very pleased that you were going to stay with them.”

Suddenly feeling comfortable with her, he reached for her hand. “It’s so great to see you, Annie.”

She grinned. “Did you get my letter?” she asked, then added, “I almost didn’t send it, because it was … um … too honest.”

He was surprised at her candor. “Too honest? I didn’t think so.”

She looked down, cheeks pink. “I was afraid you might think I was too bold.”

Ben shook his head. He had other concerns burning in his brain, but in her presence they seemed to slip away. He squeezed her hand before releasing it. Then he pulled out the carefully folded magazine cover from his pocket and showed it to her. “This is your work, isn’t it? Your painting that won first place?”

She nodded, looking self-conscious.

“I recognized this spot as soon as I saw it.”

She looked wistfully about her. “I guess I just love this place. My brothers and I used to come here to play when I was small. I used to swing on this very swing with my best friend in the world.”

“Essie?” he asked.

She shook her head. “A little boy named Isaac.”

Something within Ben whirled at the mention of that name. His mind seemed to cloud over, then clear with

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recognition. He-knew that name. Or had Annie mentioned it before?

He forced himself to focus. “I know the last time I asked you about this place, it upset you. You said something bad had happened here, but you didn’t tell me what. I need to know.”

Annie looked at him for a moment. “This is where Isaac disappeared kidnapped, most likely,” she told him sorri’ berly. “Remember what Zeke told you, about the bones he thought were his little brother’s? Zeke even thought he killed Isaac himself, but it turns out the remains the police found were those of a young girl. So we still don’t know what happened to Isaac.”

Zehe’s missing brother was named Isaac?

Annie gestured toward the folded cover. “Where did you get that?”

“From a friend of mine who works for the magazine. I’ve carried it with me since last Christmas. …” “Even before you came here?” He nodded. “Why on earth?”

“I think it’s one of the main reasons I first wanted to travel here to Paradise.”

“How so?” she asked, clearly perplexed.

“I didn’t understand then, but I think I’m beginning to.” He took a deep breath. “Annie, I need to tell you something I’ve learned … about my family.”

Her face shone with concerned interest. “Jah? I hope everyone’s all right.”

“I just found out I’m adopted, Annie. I had no idea all