Christmas Gift for Rose (9780310336822) (8 page)

Panic overwhelmed her. “You know, Jonathan, I just assumed we’d join the church so we could get married. I couldn’t imagine ever living my life without my family and community. But now I wonder. I don’t have to stay in Berlin. I wasn’t born Amish. If I choose not to wear Amish dress … or if I buy my own vehicle, can they shun me? And you …” She turned and grasped the thick fabric of his jacket. “You’ve seen so much. You’ve lived out in the world. Do you really think you could be happy going back to the way things were? Do you really want to live the life of a farmer or delivery man? You could be a doctor.”

“I don’t want to be a doctor.” Jonathan’s voice was sharp. “Just because I have knowledge of the world doesn’t mean I want to live there. Just because I know about medicine doesn’t mean I want to practice it.”

Jonathan climbed down from the wagon and offered her a hand. Instead of studying her, now he barely glanced at her. His mind was on another place—not here. Far from here. He offered her a forced smile, and she thanked him for lunch, and then without looking back she hurried down the path to the front door.

“Rose!” he called to her.

Rose paused and turned.
“Ja?”

“Can I come back tomorrow? Can we talk again?”

She studied him for a moment, considering what tomorrow would bring. He’d talk of their future, yet also urge her to make peace with her past. He’d urge her to find her family. He’d offer to help. Though Jonathan meant well, he’d try to convince her that his way was the right one. And he’d be stuck in their Amish community. Then she’d never really know if he was staying because he believed this was the right lifestyle, or staying because he didn’t want to let her go.

“No, Jonathan. I’d rather you not.” Without waiting for his response, she hurried up the porch steps.

Before she’d closed the front door behind her, he was already gone. And the worst part was that Jonathan wasn’t going because the world was calling him. He was going because she was pushing him away.

T
HAT NIGHT
R
OSE PLAYED CHECKERS WITH
M
ARTHA
and then listened as Dat read the Bible in German to the family, yet her mind wasn’t on the game or the words. Instead she slowly came to the realization that forcing Jonathan away hadn’t started today. It had begun with the first letter she’d written to him. The one where she first declared her anger for what he had done.

Dat glanced at her when he finished reading. He paused, as if he was going to ask a question, but before he could Rose stood and moved to the kitchen to grab a candle. “I’m going to bed. I’ve had a headache most of the day. In fact … I’m not sure if I’ll make it to church in the morning.”

Her siblings didn’t seem startled by her words, but the color washed from Mem’s face.

Mem stood, knotting her hands in a ball in front of her. “Do you need me to come with you, Rose? Do you need to talk?”

Rose turned away. “
Ne.
I don’t want you to catch what I have. I’d rather jest be alone.” She moved down the hall to her room, not wanting to know Mem’s response. Not
wanting to feel the waves of pain that surely radiated from her parents. It wasn’t like it was their fault. They’d done everything for her. But Rose knew that sometimes those who hurt the most were also the most innocent.

And those who were accused—like Jonathan—were also often noble … despite what anyone thought.

Rose placed the candle on her side table and nearly held her breath as she moved to the trunk. Jonathan’s third letter was one she’d read only once, because once had been enough.

Jonathan had stopped there. He must have come back and finished the letter at a different time. The ink looked different. The script looked different. And the words—well, she had no doubt what had happened. In between the first
and second part of his letter, her own had arrived. The one where she’d poured out her pain and anger. She’d wondered how he could have done this to her. He had escaped, but she was the one living in the community. The one who heard the disapproval of the bishop. Who lived with the stares of church members.

She had been ashamed. It had been winter and the darkness had descended on her soul. Along with that, feelings of emptiness and of missing Jonathan. Rose couldn’t remember everything she’d written, but it was clear that her fears had shouted louder than hope’s whispers.

She’d been selfish, she realized now. She’d shown Jonathan her wounds, but had given him no way to bandage them up. She could see now that his words meant to do that, but they fell short.

Rose folded the letter and set it on the side table. He’d returned but nothing had gotten better. Maybe if they’d only had to deal with his status in their community they could have overcome this together. Now? It seemed impossible.

Lord, is there any glimmer of hope I can cling to? Any at all?

T
HE MEMORIES SCROLLED THROUGH JONATHAN’S MIND,
as they did every night. They never played out in order—flashes of images, of emotions, of fears. Tall trees with heavy limbs covered in snow in the woods near Bastogne. The bombed-out German villages with frightened faces peering out the windows. The white crosses near the shores of Normandy. The camps in Austria. It was hard tending injured soldiers. Harder still was tending sores on thin bodies draped in black-and-white-striped uniforms and questioning if it was any good. Many concentration camp victims had been so thin he could lift grown men like children. Yet the former prisoners had at least died seeing faces
of compassion gazing upon them. That had eased his own pain from not being able to do enough. Never enough.

Jonathan turned to his side on his feather bed and pulled his mem’s thick quilt over his shoulders. He hadn’t shared much of what he’d seen and experienced. He’d told his dat a few things, but noting how uncomfortable it made his father, he’d stopped. Why would people want to hear stories like that? Wasn’t it enough that he’d come back? Wasn’t it enough that they’d won the war?

His stomach ached, but he wasn’t coming down with something. The pain came from Rose’s news. His heart ached for her truth. His stomach ached, knowing what he’d have to do to help her face it.

He couldn’t care less that she wasn’t born Amish. Rose was as
gut
an Amish woman as any he’d met. He had no doubt that they would get married and follow the way of their ancestors—if not in this community then another. What bothered him were the questions that filled her eyes. They were the same questions he’d seen in the internment camps.

Where are they?

What happened?

Do they still think of me?

Am I not forgotten?

More than food, the prisoners had wanted answers. What had happened on the outside? Did anyone know the whereabouts of their family? When could they leave and try to find their loved ones? Lack of food shriveled up a body, but lack of answers, of truth, ate at one’s mind. There
were men who every day spoke of finding a wife or child. Jonathan only hoped they had.

If he was ever going to be able to ask for Rose’s hand in marriage—her whole heart—he’d have to find answers for her first. Even sad news was better than not knowing.

The only way to gain Rose in the end was to walk away from her now … and seek the answers she was too afraid to search for.

Lord, give me strength.

R
OSE FELT STRANGE WEARING HER EVERYDAY CLOTHES
while everyone else donned their Sunday best. She had only missed church service a few times that she could remember—once when she was ill and two other times when she stayed home to be with Mem after the birth of a sibling.

Little Martha’s shoulders drooped as she approached. “Are you sure you don’t want to come, Rose?”

“I’m sure I’ll be feeling better next time around.” Rose offered what she hoped was an eager smile. “I do hate to miss it.”

Dat walked past her and offered a sideways glance as he slid on his coat. He moved toward the door and then paused, approaching Rose. He placed a hand on her shoulder and a thin layer of tears filled his eyes.

“If you need to talk, I’m here,
ja
?”

She nodded and placed her hand over his. “
Danki.
Thank you, Dat. Thank you for everything.”

He stepped away, removed his hat from the peg on the wall, and set it firmly on his head, then walked with quickened steps out to the barn to finish hitching up the buggy.
He was obviously concerned, but she could tell he didn’t think any less of her than he had days ago. He didn’t seem too bothered that she’d chosen to stay home. Mem said Dat’s mind was always at work. Even when his body sat, his mind was never still. Maybe he—more than anyone—understood that she needed time to think before facing their community.

Mem approached next and placed a soft hand on Rose’s cheek. “We’ll be back before long,
ja
? We’ll see you then. I do hope you start feeling better soon.”

Louisa wrapped her arms around Rose’s legs and clung tight. Rose gently patted her sister’s
kapp.
“I’ll be here when you return. I’m not going anywhere.”

Louisa lifted her chin and rested it on Rose’s stomach. Her youngest sisters’s lip puckered and her wide-eyed gaze didn’t look convinced. Louisa was a sensitive one. She no doubt realized from Dat’s and Mem’s actions that more was going on than just Rose not feeling well.

“Then tonight I’ll read you another chapter of
Heidi, ja
?” Rose offered. “Maybe we’ll read the chapter of Heidi and Grandmother again … but I’ll save the new chapter for everyone at school.”

A few minutes later, her family piled into the buggy, placing blankets around each other. She imagined their bodies pressed together and how the heated stones Mem had tucked into coat pockets would warm them up by the time they got to the end of the lane.

Five minutes later the buggy’s wheels creaked over the gravel and her siblings’ voices bounced across the frozen
ground. And then another minute after that, the world seemed void of all sound. Only the crackling of the fire told her that she hadn’t slipped into nothingness.

The silence of the house penetrated her heart. Rose blinked hard, trying to clear her vision, but the image of the buggy blurred as it crested the hill and disappeared.

She turned away from the window and wiped her eyes with her palms, running her hands down her face as she sat. She allowed tears to wash her cheeks. It was hard staying home, but she couldn’t imagine walking into the church service, looking around and questioning who knew. Surely those who’d lived in Berlin most of their lives knew the truth. Those who’d been Mem and Dat’s friends … and who’d possibly known her
Englisch
parents. Had members of her own community spoken about her in hushed tones whenever she wasn’t in earshot? Had they shared the story with their children? Had everyone in the community known but her?

A trembling hand covered her stomach, and her breakfast felt like a lump. Had she been a laughingstock among them?
“Look at Rose, trying to be the perfect Amish woman. If she only knew the truth
…
”

Truth.

What was the truth? That her birth parents had abandoned her? Not her other siblings, but
her.
What had she done so wrong to not be worthy of their love?

I love you
… The voice floated through her mind, as soft as a butterfly landing on her fingertip. In the past she’d trusted it was God’s voice, but what did she know?

Then again, what did she have without Him? Where could she turn except to God? She needed Him, more now than ever.

She sat in Mem’s rocker and attempted to work on her tatting, but her mind couldn’t concentrate enough to count the stitches. Instead she rose and set the table for supper. Tin cups, chipped ceramic plates. For as long as she could remember their family had never had new things. Their clothes and shoes came from cousins. There was always just enough to eat … and the jars of canned food sometimes ran out before winter did. Yet Mem and Dat always had enough to go around. It made her sad to consider how poor her birth family had been then, to not even have what she’d grown up with here. What if they were still in need now? Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away. How could she ever enjoy life without knowing if they still went to bed hungry at night?

The hours passed slowly, and Rose watched out the window for her family to return. Finally their buggy crested the hill. An even greater joy—her brother-in-law and sister’s buggy followed.

Excited voices entered the house, and little Louisa seemed especially excited to see Rose, but it was Vera’s pinched face that drew Rose’s attention. And when Vera took the cradle to Rose’s room to lay baby Ira down for a nap, Rose followed.

Vera spoke about the church service and the low attendance because of the weather. She shared news of new couples dating, but Rose could tell that’s not what she really wanted
to talk about. Rose waited as Vera changed the baby’s diaper, swaddled him, and then placed him in the crib. Then, with her lower lip turned down, and large mournful eyes, Vera turned to Rose.

“I think Jonathan might be considering leaving …” Vera fiddled with the strings of her
kapp.

“Leaving?” Even though Rose thought it could happen—that Jonathan would go elsewhere—she was surprised. “Where is he going?”

“You don’t understand. Leaving the Amish.”

The air punched out of Rose as if a bridle tightened around her lungs. She sat. “Why would you think that?”

Vera lowered her head. Red burned her sister’s cheeks.

“Did he tell you something?”

“
Ne
, I saw something. He was in a vehicle, in town. With a woman.”

A trembling hand touched Rose’s lips. She had done this. She’d given Jonathan enough reason to walk away. When he’d asked to come back and talk to her, she’d told him not to. Even though she’d done this to herself, pain ripped at her heart.

“Who was she? Was it someone from Berlin?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure. I do not think I recognized her. We’d gone to church at the Bontragers’ house and we were driving back through town. I tried to get a good look while we passed, but the woman’s face was turned away from the buggy. She was focused on Jonathan.”

“Did they look … close?”

It wasn’t until Vera answered that Rose realized she’d asked the question out loud.

“I’m not sure … They were focused on each other, as if they were deep in conversation. I’m sorry, Rose. I know you have so many questions. There has been so much on your mind lately. I’m sorry to add another question. I just thought you would want to know.”

“Did I?” Rose turned away. She crossed her arms over her chest. She’d been so sad about it all. She’d been overwhelmed with questions about the past. About the future. But now an unwelcome emotion returned: anger.

Rose stood, shaking. “Did I want to know that? No. Did I want to know that I was abandoned by my real parents? No. This is not how my life was supposed to be. Why couldn’t have things been as I’d always thought? I never wanted anything different than what I already had.” Her voice lowered. “I had everything … or so I thought.”

“Did you, Rose? Was life perfect? Do you really think so?”

“
Ja
. Did you think it wasn’t?”

“I am your sister. I saw the fear in your eyes. I saw the questions. You say you didn’t know … but deep down, somewhere, you wondered about your life. It was as if you walked through each day in your normal routine, but you were trying to figure it out.”

“Figure out what?”

“You tell me that.”

Rose held her elbows tight at her sides. She had no control of anything anymore, especially now with the pounding
of her heart and the tightness of her lungs. During the war everything had been uncertain. Every day they’d waited for the news. Is that what had brought the uncertainty? Had she been used to waiting for bad news—looking for trouble? Is that what had caused the tension deep inside? Or was it something more?

Oh, Lord, I don’t know what to think anymore. My life feels as if I’m on a runaway stallion, and I don’t know how to make it stop … how to just make everything stop.