The River (18 page)

Ruth’s pulse raced. She did not know her own heart. One minute she was elated; the next she was eager to return to Rockport . . . and to Jim.

Oh goodness, it had not been easy, all this time apart from Will. She’d thought for sure she was long over him . . . that he’d forgotten her. What did it mean that he hadn’t?

Dear Lord, what would You
have me do?

A
lone once more in Anna’s room and trying to regain her bearings, Tilly realized things with her sister might possibly be on the brink of monumental change. She set the chair back between the windows with a great sigh, then returned to the dresser drawer where she’d seen the wooden box nestled just yesterday afternoon.

She waited until the rest of the house was dark and still before she began to search in earnest. Just to be sure, she looked in all the other drawers again first before moving over near the maple washstand that had belonged to her maternal grandmother. She searched the cedar chest, too, then opened the only drawer in the table next to the bed.

Not seeing any other options in the room for concealing the box, she found the flashlight in the top dresser drawer and turned it on. Then, getting down on all fours, she peered beneath the bed as the flashlight bumped against the floor. There, on the far side, back under the headboard, she spotted the wooden box. Feeling strangely relieved yet also bemused, she went around to the other side and fished it out.

She rose and sat on the bed to open it and saw that the same
letter was still very much there. Not knowing what to think, Tilly closed the lid and replaced the box where she’d found it and got ready for bed. Just knowing she hadn’t been wrong about seeing it before was enough to rest her mind—at least for now. Dutifully, Tilly put away the flashlight and snuffed out the lantern.

———

Ruth’s ears strained. She thought she’d heard a sound in Anna’s room. Was Tilly still up? Was she perhaps fretting over the things they’d discussed?

Holding her breath, Ruth waited, listening. Surely Tilly wasn’t staying up late and kneeling at the bedside, praying about all of that? Ruth climbed out of bed to check on her sister. Tilly had always looked out for her in this big old house. Shouldn’t Ruth do the same now? Thinking it was the sisterly thing to do, she made her way to the door of Anna’s former bedroom and quietly opened it.

To her shock, Tilly was down on her hands and knees with a flashlight, looking under the bed. Thinking it odd, Ruth stepped back, not wanting to spy on her dear sister. Yet she’d never felt so curious.
Did she hear a mouse?

Ruth tiptoed back to her own room, shuddering at the thought of a rodent on the loose. She flew into bed and pushed her bare feet under the covers. Oh goodness, she hoped Tilly managed to stun the nasty critter with her flashlight.

Rodents were just one of the troublesome things Ruth would have to look forward to, living in a breezy old farmhouse—if she returned to live amongst the People, that is.
An enormous
if.

A permanent return to Eden Valley would mean she’d
have to toughen herself up.
I’ve gotten too soft living in the English world.

The next morning, Tilly was surprised to hear Ruthie talking about the possibility of a field mouse skittering about the upstairs, going on and on about it during breakfast, no less. Finally, Mamm asked her to just sit and think for a while, which Tilly thought was out of character for their mother, and a little comical, too.

Tilly kept wondering when Ruth might reveal that she’d spoken last evening with Will Kauffman. Or would she abide by the Old Ways and remain secretive, even though Ruth was clearly a modern Englisher now? No, Tilly doubted she’d keep it mum from at least their mother.

Not long afterward, Daed dashed in and said he was too busy to sit and eat with them, snatching up a banana and a sticky bun, along with a cup of coffee. From Mamm’s expression, Tilly guessed it was a rarity for him to do such a thing, and had he stayed, there would’ve been no more talk about Ruthie’s fear of mice. On the other hand, a dreaded undertow was always present when she and Daed were in the same room, so perhaps it was better this way.

Mamm got down to business after Daed left for the barn. “I think we should be able to finish sorting everything this afternoon,” she said.

“Next comes the packing,” Ruth said, her blue eyes wistful, though surely not over the challenge of the work ahead. No, she looked like a girl who was mighty flustered over her long-lost beloved.

“You seem befuddled today, dear.” Mamm prolonged her gaze on Ruthie.

She notices, too.
Tilly kept her head lowered for fear her frown would give away what she knew.

The meal of dippy eggs, crispy bacon, and toast with Mamm’s smooth apple butter was memorable. Despite that, Tilly found herself contemplating her mother’s mysterious letter again, wondering over the possibilities. Had Mamm heard of someone else writing a loving farewell to a child? Yet if so, why weren’t there letters for all of her children?

Tilly could not imagine any of Mamm’s many sisters or cousins writing a letter meant to be opened only upon their death. Had it been Anna’s sudden passing that had prompted Mamm to do this? If so, Tilly felt guiltier than ever.

———

Ruth went to feed the poultry, and Mamma and Tilly were doing up the breakfast dishes when Mamm asked her, “Was Joseph harsh with you last evening, dear?”

“Oh, you know how brothers can be.” Tilly had no need to bash him, but didn’t feel it was necessary to repeat the conversation, either.

Mamm stopped washing the dishes and turned to shake her head. “I should think the passage of years might have soothed Joseph’s anger some . . . and your visit here with Ruthie, too.” Mamm filled the sink with more hot water. “I, for one, have forgiven ya, daughter. I truly have.”

Tilly drew in a deep breath—she’d already sensed the mercy in her mother’s sweet demeanor. “That means a lot to me, Mamm.”

Her mother smiled a little. “It wasn’t so easy after you left . . . not at first, I’ll admit.”

“And I compounded all of that by not keeping in touch with you. It was terribly wrong of me.”

“Well, and knowing Ruthie was getting mail from you when I wasn’t, nearly made me
ab im Kopp—
crazy in the head.”

Tilly had never considered this and felt awful. “Oh, Mamm . . .”

“I’m not sayin’ this to make ya feel bad, Tilly. Shouldn’t have said it at all. Let bygones be.”

Thinking it was the first talk of this kind they’d had in years, Tilly embraced the opportunity to say more. “It’s past time we aired all this, isn’t it?”

“Just so we don’t put up more walls by doin’ so.” Tears threatened to spill over as Mamm kept her hands deep in the hot, soapy water.

Tilly put her dish towel down and leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder. “If only it were possible to talk openly like this with Daed. . . .”

“
Jah
, without getting his ire up.” Mamm shared a knowing glance. “He’s easily irritated, that’s for sure.”

Around me
, she means.

Mamm bobbed her head and kept glancing up sheepishly, and Tilly suspected she knew what had set Daed off in the carriage.

“You should know that he told on himself ’bout the other night,” Mamm said. “Couldn’t keep it in, I guess.”

Tilly felt less animosity toward Daed, just hearing this.

“I took your side—informed him that you most certainly could keep Anna’s little
Kapp
, since the two of you were nearly joined at the hip.”

Tilly was astonished. “You spoke up?”

“And lest ya think otherwise, his sharp response to you
has been eatin’ away at him.” Mamm finished washing the last of the dishes.

Daed
must
care.
But if so, why did he seem to be taking great pains to avoid her at the table?
Now’s not the time to ask.
One hurdle at a time.

She contemplated the little wooden box again, not wanting to reopen a rift with Mamm by bringing it up. Tilly also recognized that the subject of Anna’s drowning had gone almost untouched between the two of them.

“You all right?” Mamm leaned forward to pull the plug to drain the water. “You look awful sad, dear one.”

Tilly shook her head. “There’s a lot on my mind, coming home and all.”

“Well, I certainly hope it’s not a hardship, bein’ here.”

Tilly put her arms around her mother. “You’ve endured so much because of me. Especially Anna’s drowning.” She paused to swallow, her chest tight with so much emotion. “I really hope you know how much I love you.”

Mamm kissed her cheek. “And it’s a joy to have you and Ruthie here, believe me. But I certainly hope you don’t blame yourself for Anna’s drowning, dear. There’s no reason for that.”

“I do struggle with it,” Tilly admitted. “It’s one of the reasons I left. It was so hard to be here, with her dear memory all around.”

“Tilly . . .
nee,
you must not fault yourself. Has someone else blamed you?” Mamm’s concerned eyes searched her own.

Only me,
Tilly thought sadly. “No one else,” she answered, still secretly wondering if Daed didn’t hold it against her. But she wouldn’t ask. With all the faults her father had found with her over the years, why would that be any different?

J
osie tucked her arm through Tilly’s after arriving that Tuesday morning. The endearing gesture reminded Tilly of their days as dear friends.

“Mind if we work together?” Josie asked, her eyes hopeful.

“I’d like that.” Tilly smiled.

Mamm had assigned them to the attic, to bring boxes down to the hallway on the second floor, where they were to make designated piles—giveaways, discards, things to save, and items to be set aside for a future auction.

To Tilly, there had always been something intriguing about their attic, although it wasn’t a typical one, like that in Mammi Lantz’s old farmhouse. The whole expanse of one side of her parents’ attic was partially finished, complete with a darling dormer window. As a youngster, Tilly had imagined what it might be like to have her room up there, perhaps with white lace curtains over the dormer, although Mamm would never have heard of it. Of course Tilly knew enough not to ask.

“Do you remember slipping away up here to tell secrets?” Josie asked, her voice hushed, as if entering hallowed ground.

Tilly smiled. “How can I ever forget?”

They talked quietly of all the fun they’d had growing up, nearly like close-in-age sisters. And amidst the busyness of emptying trunks and boxes, Tilly realized what a mistake she’d made not keeping in touch with Josie, the most helpful person she’d ever known, and sweet as shoofly pie.

As they worked, they finally began catching up with each other’s lives. Eager to tell her former best friend about Kris and their twins, Tilly took the lead in removing the barrier her silence had long created.

“You might be surprised that I’ve taught Jenya and Tavani how to sew a little.” Tilly glanced at her, checking to see if Josie looked surprised, but she didn’t. It was perfectly normal for an Amish mother to put a needle in her tiny daughter’s hand at the twins’ age.

“Will ya show them how to quilt, too, as they grow older?”

“It’s still one my favorite pastimes, so I want to, yes.” Tilly laid out some ecru-colored linens on the floor, unsure whether they were family heirlooms. If they were, Mamm would surely have had them downstairs in her sitting room, on display. She decided to set them aside and ask her mother later.

“My girls like to sing together, too,” Tilly added. “Mostly little worship songs from Sunday school.”

Josie didn’t comment directly on that. “I wish I could meet your daughters,” she said, her soft blue eyes bright.

“Wouldn’t that be fun?” Tilly paused. “And your
Kinner . . .
it’d be nice to get to know them better, too.” With the lingering uncertainty between her and Daed, she had no idea what the future held as to visiting there again . . . but she could hope.

“Lots of folk meet their one and only well after their teen years,” Mammi Lantz was saying as Tilly settled in for the second visit at her grandmother’s later that afternoon.

“You must mean Ruthie?” Tilly smiled.

“Who else?” Mammi tittered and pushed her small reading glasses up the bridge of her nose. “She’s how old now . . . and no prospects for marriage?”

Tilly pointed out that Ruthie was still fairly young at twenty-three, according to the English world. Tilly herself had been twenty-five when she married Kris, and she knew two young women who were going back to get their master’s degree, after working for several years.
They’re still single.
While Ruth wasn’t interested in pursuing much more higher education, Tilly didn’t think her sister was at risk of remaining a
Maidel.
And from what Ruthie had told her privately that afternoon, once Josie left for the day, she wanted to talk things out further with Will before supper.
Right about now.
Tilly checked her wristwatch.

“Well, you must’ve finished up early over at your folks’,” Mammi said, glancing at the wall clock. “I would’ve expected ya to still be pokin’ through all the disarray in the attic.”

“With four of us, counting Mamm, we made fairly short work of it.” Tilly explained how they’d organized everything from old sets of dishes to Anna’s baby clothes. “You should see the sorted piles of things everywhere.”

“Oh, I remember my own move . . . and hope to never have to go through that again,” Mammi said. “Such a
Marasch
it was, truly a mess for days on end.”

They talked about the tendency to accumulate things,
sometimes unwittingly. Tilly thought of her mother, who had thus far been unwilling to relinquish Anna’s things.

“Well, chust remember, havin’ doesn’t bring happiness. Never, ever does,” Mammi said, as if Tilly hadn’t heard it repeated during her childhood. “Investing time in family and friends and fellowship with
Gott
is what adds up to happiness on this earth, ya know.”

Tilly agreed. She also knew full well the value of such blessings as compassion and joy, goodness and faith, and peace and patience.
And gentleness and
cheerfulness
, which Tilly observed in Josie. There was just no one as happy as Josie Riehl Lantz. And Tilly could hardly wait to in some way make up for lost time with her sister-in-law and friend.

“You’re awful quiet, Tilly. Your mind must be somewhere else.” Mammi angled her head questioningly.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Are ya worried ’bout something, my dear?” Tilly’s mother had always said that Mammi had a way of seeing a person’s heart through their eyes.

“Ruthie’s meeting someone today.” She let it come rushing right out. “Just don’t say anything, all right?”

“Must be a young fella, then.”

“I probably shouldn’t have said.”

“Well, that answer told on ya.” Mammi gave a shrewd grin.

Tilly sighed. “I’m a bit concerned, actually,” she said, deciding she could trust her grandmother with more. “Ruth’s seeing her former beau today.”

Mammi’s eyes lit up.

“I just hope Ruthie’s not impulsive about such an important decision.”

“Does she want to return to bein’ Amish, maybe?” Mammi asked. “That’s the first thing for her to consider, ain’t so?”

Tilly couldn’t have said it better herself.

Will Kauffman insisted he and Ruth talk sensibly and not let their emotions guide their time together as he and Ruth walked toward the big pond between his father’s grazing land and the English neighbor’s cornfield.

“Are you sure we aren’t being too public about our meeting?” Ruth asked, glancing around them.

Will shook his head. “No one but the heavenly Father can see us walking out here together.” His tone was gentle.

But if I can glimpse
the road from here, surely we can be seen,
she thought, though she kept her opinion to herself.

“If you’re worried, then we can head up to the woods over yonder.” He pointed in the direction of the dark forest.

“Well, the pond’s so pretty,” Ruth said, feeling more comfortable in the sunlight.

“You seem anxious.”

“Do I?” She smiled at him.

“Maybe it’ll help if I tell ya that I know of a rental house with electric,” he said, a grin on his handsome face. “What do ya think of that?”

“That’s thoughtful of you, Will, but electricity alone isn’t enough to make me decide to return.”

“What do ya mean?” He gave her a confused look. “Help me out here.”

She felt sorry that she couldn’t be as confident as he was that they had a future together. To come back to Eden Valley
was her decision alone, after all. “I really don’t know if I can embrace the Old Ways again.”

But he wasn’t listening. “We’re young, Ruthie . . . we don’t have to figure everything out this second . . . or this week. We have our whole life together, Lord willing.”

It was clear he didn’t understand her need to ponder things . . . or that she might feel rushed.

“If I’m to return, I need to come back for the sake of the Amish way of life, for the church,” she said.
Not because Will wants to court me.

“
Ach
, let’s stop right now and pray about that, all right?”

“I have been praying, Will. I even prayed about us the last time, when we went our separate ways.” She paused a moment. “Besides that, we’re starting over as friends, getting reacquainted. We really don’t know each other anymore.”

But he seemed bent on his agenda. “I’m not talking ’bout praying whether or not we should be together.”

Well, I am!
she thought, glad she hadn’t voiced it. “Go ahead and say a prayer,” she said, trying to show a smidgen of meekness. Goodness, she needed to be more submissive. If she was entertaining the idea of being courted by a young Amishman, she must start putting on the adornment of a gentle and quiet spirit—a priority she’d lost touch with in the English world. Her female friends, even the ones from church, rarely talked about deference to the men in their lives.
Only to God
. In fact, most of them would have been shocked if they knew she was thinking about giving up her modern life to go back to Plain farmland. But then, they didn’t know of her past affection for Will . . . or his for her.

So long ago
,
she thought.

Will stopped walking and bowed his head. “O Lord God, I
come before You, askin’ for our paths to be made straight, and ever so clear—’specially for Ruthie. We need divine help in finding our way through the obstacles ahead. We know that where Your presence is, we can find peace. And we look to You for all that we need for our body, mind, and spirit. In the name of Your Son, Jesus Christ. Amen.”

Ruthie wiped away a tear—she’d never imagined hearing Will pray aloud, especially not in such a reverent, heartfelt manner. It was heartening and a real blessing, too, seeing how much he’d changed. “
Denki
, that was beautiful.”

He reached for her hand. “We’ll get through this together, with the Lord’s direction.”

“If God’s in it,” she reminded him.
An echo from the past.

“When we put Him first, everything will follow. Ain’t so?”

Ruth studied him at that moment . . . his sincere eyes, the confidence he exhibited in his faith now. But could she trust Will as her beau? His present behavior was certainly light-years better than the way he’d carried on before. God forgave; but could she?

Thinking about Will’s prayer for her—for them—a covering of peace settled over her.
“Jah,”
she said. “I do believe the Lord will guide us, whether we’re together . . . or apart.”