The River (10 page)

F
rom the hints Tilly had dropped about Ruth’s helping Daed in the barn, Ruth was determined to oblige Tilly and make herself scarce when they arrived.
Something
’
s
up
. . . .

“Why don’t you just come out and say it, Tilly? You want to talk with Mamm alone.”

Tilly nodded as she pulled into the driveway. “I don’t mean to push you away . . . it’s not that. It’s about Anna.”

Ruth bowed her head. “Sorry, I’m not trying to make things hard for you.”

Tilly tried to assure her that it was all right. But Ruth knew it wasn’t. Why had it always been that, whenever the topic of Anna’s accident came up, it was Tilly who had the final say? It didn’t upset her, really, but Ruth had wondered about it. Then again, Tilly had been like a second mother to Anna, the oldest sister naturally looking out for the youngest.

Seems like Tilly still is,
thought Ruth.

As they sat there in the car, Ruth asked, “What do you think of Sam and Josie taking over Daed’s farm?”

“Sam’s always had a good business head. He learned that from Daed.”

“But you’ve been gone since Sam was twenty.”

“True, but don’t you remember how Sam was in charge of the roadside stand every summer? And the homemade root beer sales, too.”

“You’re right.” She smiled. “He never failed to count the customers’ change twice.” Ruth felt a twinge of sadness, thinking of those lost summers. “And he’s certainly been even more responsible since marrying and becoming a father.”

“He’ll be good managing all the turkeys and chickens, and with the livestock, too, keeping meticulous breeding charts like Daed does. And having plenty of help lined up to carry fresh milk to the cooler in the milk house.” Tilly leaned on the steering wheel, looking at her. “Something else bothering you, Ruthie?”

“I don’t know . . . maybe it’s just being back here. Our childhood home, you know?” Ruth swallowed. “It’s hard to think of Daed and Mamm moving like Mammi Lantz said.”

“Not easy, no. But when you think about Daed’s health issues, it’s probably for the better.” Tilly reached over and clasped Ruth’s hand. “Retirement’s a good thing for a hardworking farmer.”

“I guess I just have a difficult time with change.” She paused, remembering how tough it was for her after Tilly left home for Rockport, back when. “It’s one of the reasons I wanted to come and live near you in Massachusetts.” She faced her sister. “I never told you, but I missed you so much, Tilly. I thought leaving Eden Valley and being close to you might help me make sense of my life again.”

“Aw, sister . . . that’s the sweetest thing.”

“I mean it.”

“And here I always thought it was because of Will Kauffman’s shenanigans.”

“That too.”

“Which is exactly why I’m thinking you’ll want to steer clear of him while we’re here.” Tilly gave her a sly glance.

“I can’t help being curious about what he has to say.”

“That I can see . . . but again, I really caution you, sister.” Tilly opened her side of the car. “Keep in mind the harm he did to you.”

Ruth knew better than to say more and opened the door to step out of the car.

Tilly was relieved when Ruth headed to the stable. Taking this opportunity while the house was quiet, she hurried through the kitchen and into the small sitting space, where she found her mother relaxing with a devotional book. “Is Daed still resting?” she asked.

“
Jah
, but he headed upstairs a little bit ago,” Mamm replied. “What have ya been doin’?”

“Well, we dropped in on Mammi Lantz,” Tilly said, going to sit near her mother. “She seemed happy to see us.”

Mamm pushed one of her
Kapp
strings behind her shoulder. “I’m sure she was. How’s she doin’ today?”

Tilly said she thought she was well.

“You can’t always tell at her age.”

“True.” Tilly thought then of Dawdi Lantz’s last years and how she’d missed out on them . . . including his funeral.
I never even made the effort to
come.

She noticed how calm her mother seemed, sitting so primly in her favorite chair. There had been satisfying moments like this with Mamm through the years, and she was grateful for them even as she settled in to reveal her offense. “Mamm,”
she began, removing the plastic bag from her purse. “I wrote you a little note, and I’d like you to read it.” She removed the white head covering and gave it to her mother. “And this is Anna’s
Kapp
 . . . I took it when I left home.”

Mamm’s eyes glistened as she held it to her breast. “I always wondered what became of this.”

“I should’ve asked you first . . . and I’m sorry.”

“
Ach
, ’tis all right,” Mamm whispered, her lower lip quivering.

Tilly was taken aback by her gentle response.

Mamm smiled through tears. “Why not just keep it?” She looked fondly at the small cap and returned it to Tilly. “Maybe your twins would like to take turns wearing it,” she said suddenly. “They can see what they’d look like as Amish girls.”

“Oh, Mamma.” Tilly rose and went to kneel beside her. She felt so tenderhearted just now. “
Denki
 . . . thank you. This is so kind of you.”

Her mother reached for her hand, and Tilly squeezed it. “Will Daed ever forgive me for leaving the Amish life, do you think?”

Mamm sighed. “Goodness, he’ll have to if he wants to be forgiven himself by
Gott.
To tell the truth, ain’t something he talks about.”

Tilly should’ve known; she hadn’t spoken this openly with her mother in a long time. She reached for her purse and placed Anna’s
Kapp
back inside.

“But he is
ferhoodled
, I know that. Maybe upset at the Lord God . . . or himself. Maybe both.”

Tilly wondered why her mother was telling her this, and why so freely.

A
fter Tilly left the house and drove away, Ruth wandered inside. She poured fresh milk into a tumbler and looked around for Mamm, who must have gone upstairs with Daed, since the first floor was quite vacant.

While outdoors, Ruth had enjoyed the lovely day, meandering around the back of the barnyard, looking over at the turkey pens—reliving the old days. She’d also noticed the Amish neighbors up the road carrying pots from the back porch to their blue potting shed, all covered in vines on the south side.
They must think winter’s coming any
minute now,
Ruth had thought.

Presently, she made her way to the front room and got settled on the soft settee, picking up her father’s favorite periodical for Plain families,
The Budget.
It felt like such a long time since she’d read the interesting and sometimes humorous homespun stories the Amish scribes shared with Plain readers each week—many downright clever. The story that captured Ruth’s immediate attention was a true account of a three-year-old Ohio Amish boy named Jakey, who’d somehow gotten himself trapped inside the family barn while his father
and mother and many siblings hunted for him all over their vast property. When at last they found him inside and realized he was quite safe, they saw that he was not the least bit ruffled. To the contrary, little Jakey had occupied himself by putting feed in the horses’ trough and grooming the German shepherd watchdog.

Sounds like something Will might’
ve done at that age.
But Ruth chided herself, thinking again that Wilmer was not a wise topic to consider.
No
more!
she told herself, recalling Tilly’s concern and admonition.

———

The afternoon dream she was having was certainly a pleasant beginning to her nap. In it, she was peeling apples for the cider press along with Tilly, helping their mother. Ruth was just ten years old and humming as she worked in the warm kitchen while dark clouds blew in from the north. The family effort of making cider had always been fun, although lots of work.

In the dream, Ruth felt annoyed by one-year-old Anna’s whining. The little one, who’d just learned to walk, kept clinging to Tilly’s hem until finally Tilly leaned down and picked her up.

“She ain’t really
a baby anymore,”
Mamm scolded.
“Let her sit in
the playpen while yous work.”

“Aw, Mamm. Can’t
ya see she wants to be with us?”
Tilly talked back.

“That’ll come soon enough,”
Mamm replied, eyeing Tilly, who nonetheless kept Anna sitting on her lap.

In the dream, Ruth felt terribly tense. And when she woke up, she was perspiring, her teeth grinding.
Tilly often stood
up to Mamm without being scolded,
she recalled.
Though it
was never that way with Daed.

Stretching, Ruth stared at a sunbeam across the room surrounded by motes of dust, which Mamm had always called
heavenly powder.
Sunlight touched the tall grandfather clock on the far wall, and she found herself growing misty-eyed.

This time tomorrow, Ruth would be gathering up her things, packing for the trip home Monday morning. And while she was eager to return to her real life . . . and her job, she also felt confused. Drowsy and snug, she was reluctant to leave the shelter of her surroundings.

Just then she heard her mother in the outer room, talking to Josie, who must’ve come back while Ruth was resting.

“So it’s settled,” Ruth heard her mother say in the kitchen. “We’ll begin sorting through things Monday for the move this next week.”

“All right, then,” Josie said matter-of-factly. “I’ll let Sam know.”

Ruth sat straight up, nearly falling off the settee.
Next week? Moving to the
Dawdi Haus
that
quick?

She got up and made her way toward the kitchen, still sluggish from the effects of her nap and the strange flashback of a dream.

A few minutes later, when Sam came to pick up Josie, Ruth asked her mother if she’d overheard correctly. “I thought I might still be dreaming.”

“Oh
jah
, I can see why. But it’s all comin’ together nicely,” Mamm said, confirming their plans. “Though I
could
use some extra help with sorting, ’specially in the upstairs bedrooms and the attic. Well, and in the kitchen, too.”

Ruth looked about her at all the many high cupboards, wondering how much her mother wanted to take next door. “Do you plan to have an estate auction?”

“We might have to if your brothers and their wives aren’t interested in takin’ our excess furnishings, ya know. We’ll just have to see.”

Maybe Tilly would want some of the dishes and linens. But Mamm hadn’t mentioned either Tilly or Ruth. Ruth presumed their mother had too many things on her mind. After all, she and her sister were mostly out of sight, out of mind these days. “Well, will Josie and the other women in the family help you?”

“They want to, but I can’t expect them to drop everything. They have their own lives and chores . . . and their little ones.”

It was hard to imagine the womenfolk not converging over there en masse, like usual. In fact, Ruth was sure they would, but she had the sense Mamm wanted her to stay and help.
For old times’ sake?

“I wouldn’t mind staying longer, if that would be a comfort to you, Mamm. Assuming I can get off work, that is. My boss has been encouraging me to take a vacation for some time now—Friday was my first day off since I started there.”

“
Ach
, would ya consider it, then?” Her mother smiled briefly, then frowned. “But you rode here with Tilly, so how will that work?”

For a split second, she’d actually forgotten. “I see what you mean.” Ruth was surprised at her feeling of disappointment.

“You might ask Tilly if she’d mind extending her time here, too,” Mamm suggested hesitantly. “But, even so, it’s all in
Gott’s
hands.” Mamm got up and went to the woodbin near the stove to put several pieces in the grate. “Would ya care for some coffee or tea?”

Ruth smiled. She hadn’t sipped so many hot drinks in years. But the offer was her mother’s way of continuing their discussion.
And, feeling grateful for their time together, Ruth agreed and went to get some tea leaves from the jar in the cupboard.

“The move’s not as sudden as you might think,” Mamm told her. “Your father’s been talking ’bout it for at least three years.”

Since I left?
Ruth was shocked. “Really?”

Mamm nodded her head while she filled the teakettle with water. Then, not saying more, she went to get the sugar bowl from the center of the table, poured more sugar inside, and returned it to the table.

“Dairy farmers tend to burn out sooner than others, I daresay. The work is just plain exhausting. And now with your Daed’s heart ailing . . .”

Ruth heard concern in her voice. “You must be worried.”

“
Jah.
Awful hard seeing him this weak. I worry, too, ’bout how difficult it is for your Mammi Lantz to see her son this way, ’specially being a widow herself. At least she’s never alone for long. The family makes sure she’s included in all the work frolics and other gatherings, ya know.”

Ruth had witnessed this blending of generations even as a child, while playing beneath quilting frames with other youngsters her age. Overhead, the older generations made small talk, sometimes having friendly competitions to see who could get more than five stitches on a single needle by taking the smallest stitches one could imagine. Often, as she recalled, Mammi Lantz won with five or even six.

Mamm resumed talking about the many duties of dairymen, even mentioning that many Amishmen were gathering advice from professionals at Penn State in addition to neighbors and family. The hours, Mamm said, were long and grueling. “Even regular farmwork has its challenges. Just taking soil samples and learning to fertilize and spray properly, or knowing when
and how to plant and harvest correctly—all this takes time and knowledge,” Mamm told her. “And energy, too.”

“Can Sam keep up with everything, do you think?” Ruth asked.

“Well, it helps that he grew up here . . . and he’s become accustomed to working at your uncle’s dairy farm.” Mamm dropped two sugar cubes into her coffee as she took a seat across from Ruth. “And he’ll have some hired help, too, from two brothers.”

“What about the money? Does he have what he needs to invest in herds or equipment for the field . . . maybe more land for the future?” Ruth asked, curious. “Or will Daed permit him to use all the existing equipment for now?”

“It’ll take some time for the changeover, is all I know.” Mamm reached for her hankie and dabbed at her eyes. She went on to say that she thought the move to the
Dawdi Haus
would be relatively painless, considering everything.

“The Lord will be with us,” Ruth said, surprising herself. It sounded even to her ears as if she were already committed to staying.

“
Jah
, for sure and for certain.”

Her mother was winding down, ready to simply sit quietly with the late-afternoon sun drenching her back with warmth and light. Regardless of Mamm’s downplaying it, all the talk of the upcoming adjustment had taken its toll. And Ruth was more than sorry she had no way to stay here longer for Mamm’s sake.

On a whim, Tilly stopped in at the Bird-in-Hand Farmers Market and perused the aisles, reliving her childhood and later
years at this and other farmers markets in the area. Without her Amish garb today, she wasn’t recognized as Plain at all, even though there were times when she still felt quite Plain inside.

Glancing down the long aisle, she was drawn to the handmade quilted table linens, and later, she moseyed over to look at the neatly lined up jams and jellies—especially the strawberry and peach, as delicious as they were beautiful.

A number of vendors were interacting with customers, a lively atmosphere permeating the marketplace. She wondered if any of her kinfolk had a booth set up there but doubted it. After all, Bird-in-Hand was a long way by horse and buggy from Eden Valley. It would take some doing to transport merchandise and helpers to tend to the long market tables, something that usually involved calling for a paid driver. Daed was never too keen on car rides, she recalled as she strolled the aisles.

In the far north corner, Tilly noticed Josie’s plump brown-eyed mother, Edith Riehl, generally known as Edie. The woman smiled when she spotted her but then seemed to regard Tilly suspiciously, as if she wasn’t sure she knew her at all.

“It’s Tilly Lantz,” she said, leaving off her married name.
Too confusing.

“Well, for goodness’ sake, it sure is.” Edith Riehl reached for Tilly’s hands and gripped them both, pulling her around toward the side of the table. “I’ve been wondering ’bout you.” She looked her over right quick. “Don’t ya miss bein’ Amish, Tilly girl?”

A leading question for certain. “Don’t worry, you can’t take the Plain life out of me . . . not completely,” Tilly said politely—and truthfully—although her answer was vague enough not to get her in too deep with her sister-in-law’s dear mother.

“And you have little ones, I hear,” Edie said, wiping perspiration from her face. “Josie told me about your twins. It wonders me . . . what’s it like raisin’ a matchin’ pair?” She smiled, eyes growing wider as she seemed to lose the battle not to gawk at Tilly.

Tilly explained that what one twin didn’t think of, the other certainly did. “It’s been like that since they began to crawl—and always in opposite directions, if you can imagine.” She had to laugh, partly to relieve some tension. She’d spent so many delightful times at the Riehls’ farm during the years she and Josie were like sisters—the best of friends.

“When will ya bring the twins to see us?”

“We’ll have to figure out a time.” She realized after she’d said it that she might seem as though she was putting Edie off. But what else could she do?

“Time’s a-wastin’,” Edie said. “I’m sure your Daed and Mamm would enjoy meeting two more of their grandchildren.” The older woman fell silent before adding, “I just
know
they would.”

Tilly nodded. She had definitely felt bad that her girls were growing up without the benefit of their Anabaptist grandparents. In fact, she’d stewed over it frequently.

“Your Daed might not have much time left, I’m sure you’ve heard,” Edie said, pulling out a chair and waving toward it. “Care to sit awhile?”

Feeling pressured, Tilly respectfully declined. “I need to get back to Eden Valley,” she said.

“It’s nice you got to see your parents in their place once more. They’re movin’ right quick,” Edie said as if it were common knowledge.

Tilly was shocked at the immediacy but tried not to overreact.
After all, she’d already heard most of this from Mammi Lantz. “How soon?”

“From what I’ve heard, in just a few days.”

“Well, Daed’s been hard at work these many years,” Tilly said. “There comes a time to slow down, you know.”