The Prodigal Son Returns

“No one ever helped my Dat, and I don’t remember him ever...” His words stopped as he saw the looks on the other men’s faces. John and Matthew exchanged glances. Had he said something wrong? Bram gave a scan to the milling farmers around them again.

“Bram, I’m sorry.” John glanced at him, then back at Matthew. “I forgot about your father...” He cleared his throat. “You can count on us to give you a hand anytime. Anything you need.”

Dat had never had the easy camaraderie with the men in their community that John and Matthew shared, but as a child Bram never knew why. Now he was beginning to figure it out. He swallowed hard as the memories came rushing out of the place where he had shoved them. Dat’s stash of moonshine in the barn, the weeks of missed church, the halfhearted repentance that was just enough to keep the ministers from putting Dat under the bann...

And most of all, Dat’s way of always finding something else to do whenever the men gathered together for a work frolic. The Lapps were never part of the community unless it worked into Dat’s plans.

He had shoved those memories away and locked the door as he stood on the roadside with his thumb out, heading west. Oh, yes, he remembered the stares, the whispers. This was one of the reasons he’d left.

Matthew put his hand on Bram’s arm, and he almost shrugged it off. He wanted to be angry, to shut out their pity, but he stopped himself. That was what Dat would have done.

“Let us give you a hand, Bram.”

Matthew’s face was grim, but there was no pity there, only the determined offer of an alliance.

Bram nodded, trying on the friendship offered. It felt good.

“Ja, I’d welcome the help.”

* * *

“How many quarts of rhubarb juice do you think we’ll end up with?” Lovina dumped another pile of cut rhubarb into the bowl.

“Whatever we end up with, you know it won’t be enough. Dat drinks a cup every day.” Ellie eyed the bowl. A few more inches, and it would be full enough to start the first batch of juice. She was glad that even though Lovina lived several miles away she was still willing to help with this chore every year. The two sisters had made the family supply of rhubarb juice for as long as she could remember—ever since they were the same ages as Mandy and Rebecca, for sure.

“The plants at our place aren’t growing as well this year. Noah says it’s a sign we’re in for another bad year.”

“And Noah is always right, of course.” Ellie looked sideways at Lovina. Even after four years of marriage, that telltale blush crept up her neck at the mention of Noah’s name. Lovina still thought her husband was the next thing to perfect.

“Ja, of course.” Lovina grinned at her, then went back to her cutting. “I do hope he’s wrong this time, though. Another year with no rain will be hard.”

Ellie’s thoughts went to the field of young strawberry plants. There had to be enough rain to keep them alive. She forced her mind in a different direction.

“What does Noah think about the new baby?”

“He’s on top of the world with this one. It was a long time to wait after Rachel before we knew this one was coming.”

“Not so long. Rachel is only three.”

“Ja.” Lovina paused.

Ellie glanced over to see a distant look on her sister’s face. Ach, she should never have mentioned it. Now Lovina was thinking about the one they had lost after Rachel. She always knew what Lovina was thinking, even though they weren’t as close as they had been as girls.

Lovina dumped another pile of cut pieces into the bowl. Ellie added her rhubarb and gave the bowl a shake to even it out.

“Looks like it’s time to start cooking the first batch.”

“Ja. I forgot to ask earlier. Do you have enough sugar?”

“Mam said to use sorghum. Sugar is too dear.” Ellie added water to the big kettle on her stove and then poured in a pint of the thick, sticky syrup.

“Not too sweet, remember.”

“Ja, I remember. You say that every year.”

“If I didn’t say it, it wouldn’t be right.”

Ellie stirred the mixture and smiled at her sister. She was right. They had to do the same things the same way every year. It was tradition. “Do you think Susan and Rachel will make rhubarb juice together when they’re grown?”

“That would be sweet, wouldn’t it?” Lovina smiled at the thought, then went back to cutting more rhubarb. “How are the strawberries doing?”

Ellie stirred the rhubarb. Dat wouldn’t let them hear the end of it if she let them scorch. “Truth to tell, I’m awfully worried about them. It’s been so dry.”

“Do you think they’ll last long enough for you to get berries from them next year?”

“I hope so. I can’t bear to think what might happen if they don’t....”

“What do you mean?”

Ellie looked at Lovina. She could always share everything with her sister, but should she share this problem now?

“Come on, Ellie. I know when you’re worried.” Lovina gave her a sudden, piercing look. “You spent all of your money on those plants, didn’t you?”

Ellie nodded and went back to stirring the rhubarb.

“You’re not in danger of losing your farm, are you?”

“Ach, ne. As long as the Brennemans continue to pay their rent, I’ll be able to keep up on the taxes. It will just delay moving back there. If the plants don’t make it, I’ll lose the money I spent on them plus next year’s income from selling the berries.”

“And the year after...”

“I hoped by that time we’d be back home.”

Lovina was silent as she sliced rhubarb.

“Ellie, I haven’t said anything before...”

Ellie looked at Lovina. “What is it?”

“It’s been almost two years...”

“Not yet. It’s been only a year.”

Lovina’s mouth was a firm line as she turned to her. “It’s been longer than that. It will be two years in September. You keep talking about moving home as if you think that will make everything the same as it was.”

Ellie turned back to the stewing rhubarb. “I just want to give the children what Daniel wanted for them.”

“And what is that?”

“You know, we’ve talked about it before.” Ellie turned to Lovina again and gestured with the spoon. “It’s what you and Noah have. Daniel never had a home. He was moved around between relatives until he came to Indiana to live with Hezekiah and Miriam. When he bought our farm, he was determined to give his children what he never had.”

“Ellie.” Lovina’s voice was quiet. “You don’t have to do it. Things are different now. Daniel is—”

“Daniel is gone. I know.” Ellie turned back to the rhubarb. She didn’t want Lovina to see the tears that threatened. “But I’m not, and his children aren’t. It’s up to me to see that his wishes are carried out.”

“Have you thought about what he’d want now?”

“What’s that?”

“I think he’d want something more important for his children than a farm. Remember, something else he never had was a father. Don’t neglect that, Ellie.”

Ellie kept her eyes on the pot of rhubarb. She couldn’t marry again. How could she bear to risk that again? Besides, her children had a father, didn’t they? She’d never let them forget Daniel.

Silence filled the kitchen, along with the sour-sweet fragrance of cooking rhubarb.

“I hear there’s a new man in the area.” Lovina kept her eyes on her knife as she said this.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Mam. Does he have a family?”

“Ne, he’s single.” Mam would have told her that, too. She knew what was on Lovina’s mind.

“Oh.” Lovina put a long lilt on that one word.

Ellie groaned to herself. What else could she talk about?

“Have you met him?” Lovina asked before Ellie could think of anything.

“Ja, I have.”

“And?”

“And he’s very Englisch.”

Lovina put her knife down and turned to Ellie. “Englisch?”

“Well, he dresses Englisch. Dat says he’s been living in Chicago.”

“Then what is he doing here?”

Gut, maybe this Englischer in their midst bothered Lovina as much as it did her.

“I don’t know, but Dat says he wants to be Amish again.”

“What does Dat think? Is he serious about this?”

“Ja. Dat says he is. He came by on Monday and bought Partner, that gelding Dat wanted to sell, and he was back again yesterday.”

“So what do you think? Is he nice?”

Ellie’s thoughts went to his eyes. She had been so rude to him, but those blue eyes had still smiled at her as if he could see right through her. Could he see what she was thinking? She felt her face grow hot. She hoped he couldn’t.

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t talked to him much.”

“Much? Then you have talked to him.”

“Ja, a little.”

“What does Dat say?”

“Dat likes him. He’s asked the family to give him a chance to be part of the community.” Ellie moved the pot of rhubarb to a cooler part of the woodstove as it started simmering. “But those Englisch clothes are so fancy, and he’s much too bold.” Ellie turned to Lovina. “You wouldn’t want an Englischer to spend too much time with Rachel, would you? Wouldn’t you be worried about how he might influence her?”

Lovina was silent as she cut the next bunch of rhubarb into one-inch pieces. She dumped them into the bowl, then turned to Ellie.

“I’d trust Dat. I know he’s never been wrong when it comes to a man’s character. Don’t you remember how everyone else thought Noah was wild and wouldn’t amount to anything?”

Ellie remembered. Lovina’s husband had almost left the community during his Rumspringa, but had returned to be baptized and then married Lovina.

“Dat never stopped having faith in him. Noah has told me that Dat’s support was the one thing that gave him the courage to come back home after his Rumspringa. Without someone believing in him...” Lovina picked up another bunch of rhubarb to cut. “Without someone believing in him, Noah might never have come home. If Dat thinks we should give this new man the same support, then I think we need to do it.”

Was Lovina right? Ellie cut her rhubarb in silence. Was Bram the invasive weed that would ruin their lives, or was she wrong?

She gave her head a decisive shake. As long as he wore those fancy clothes, she couldn’t trust him, no matter what Dat said.

* * *

“You got this plow for a good price.” Matthew ended his sentence with a grunt as he and Bram lifted the final piece of the dismantled equipment off the back of the wagon and onto Bram’s barn floor.

Bram lifted the tailgate and fastened the latch. “Ja, it didn’t go as high as I thought it would.”

Matthew took a wrench out of the toolbox behind the wagon seat and started reassembling the plow. Bram held the axle steady while Matthew replaced the bolts and tightened them.

“I saw Samuel while we were in Shipshewana.”

Bram didn’t answer Matthew. So what if his brother had been there? There had been no sign of Kavanaugh, and that was what mattered.

Matthew continued in his mild tone, “We could have taken the time to see him.”

“It would have been a waste.” Bram kept his eyes on the wheel he was adjusting.

“I know you have your differences, but it doesn’t seem right to ignore him.”

“My brother and I don’t have anything in common, that’s all.”

“Except you do.” Matthew was persistent. “You share your family, your parents, your history...”

Bram glanced at his brother-in-law. Did he have any idea what it was like to grow up as a Lapp?

“Ja, we share our history, and that’s the problem.” Bram tightened the last bolt and stood up to admire the plow. It was a beauty. He wiped his hands on a rag and turned to Matthew.

“Our Dat was an alcoholic. I didn’t like it, but that’s how he was, and that’s what killed him.” And what probably killed Mam, too, in the end. Bram rubbed a bit of grease from the side of his finger. “My brother is just like him, and if I never see Samuel again, I’ll be happy.”

Bram waited for the shock on Matthew’s face. Any Amishman would tell you that the attitude he had toward his brother was sinful, but Matthew’s face only showed sadness.

“Ach, Bram, Annie never told me all of this.”

“Ja, well, it happened when she was a little girl—and I don’t think the girls saw all of it. Mam did what she could to protect them.”

The silence that followed was as welcome as rain. Bram fastened the barn door and then climbed onto the wagon seat with Matthew for the drive back to their farm.

“How soon do you think you’ll be able to move onto this place?” Matthew asked.

“Next week, I hope.” Bram was glad to change the subject. “I’ve been working on the barn, and I’ll need to clean out the house before I move in.”

“It’ll be a good farm when you’re done.” Matthew slapped the reins over the horses’ backs. “You’ll be able to count on the church’s help with the farmwork, Bram.”

“Ja, that will be good. I appreciate it.” At least he thought he did. He liked to work alone.

Bram glanced sideways at Matthew. What kind of man had his sister married? A good man, for sure, but he was young. Oh, in years he was almost as old as Bram, but he seemed so naive about the world. All these Amishmen did. Compared to the men in Chicago...well, it was a good thing they’d never meet. These poor fellows wouldn’t survive on the streets.

Bram rubbed at the grease on his finger. He had survived, but he had been tougher at seventeen than Matthew was in his twenties. Maybe having a father like his wasn’t such a bad thing.

* * *

“Lovina, you be sure to take some of these cookies home to Noah.” Mam took another panful of snickerdoodles out of the oven.

Ellie took in a deep breath full of cinnamon and sugar. No matter how old she was, Mam’s kitchen would always be home.

“Were the children good for you today?” Ellie couldn’t resist taking a cooled cookie from the counter.

“Ach, ja. They are always the best when they’re with their grossmutti. They play so well together.” Mam slid another cookie sheet into the oven. “Of course, I haven’t seen anything of them once the girls got home from school. They’re all in the backyard.”

“I must be getting home.” Lovina found an extra plate and put some cookies on it. “Noah will be waiting for his supper.”

“We’ll see you at Matthew Beachey’s tomorrow?”

“For sure. I wouldn’t miss a frolic for anything.”

Ellie put down the cookie she was nibbling. “A frolic?”

“Ja,” Mam said as she put some more cookies on Lovina’s plate. “Remember? We’re having a sewing frolic for Annie Beachey. It’s their first little one.”

Ach, how could she forget? The cookie suddenly lost its flavor. She had let this frolic slip her mind, like most occasions that meant facing a crowd of people.

“You’re coming, aren’t you, Ellie?” Lovina paused, her hand on the door. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been to any of the frolics or get-togethers.”

A long time? Only since Daniel’s death.

“We’ll get her there.” Mam put her arm around Ellie’s shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ellie waited until Lovina was out the door before turning to Mam. “I don’t think I’ll go tomorrow.”

“Why ever not? And don’t try to give me the excuse that Danny’s too young. He’ll be fine.”

“I...” How could she tell Mam how it felt to be in a crowd? She had never liked large groups of people, but lately she was more than just uncomfortable. The thought of all the women talking, laughing, staring at her... Church was bad enough.

“I just don’t feel like going.”

Mam gave her a long look. “I know you don’t feel like it, but you’ve waited long enough. I haven’t pushed you, but perhaps I should have. You need to do this, Ellie. You need to be with your church family. The longer you put it off, the harder it will be.”

Mam was right, of course.

“Ja, I’ll go.” Ellie sighed, but with the sigh came a stirring of something she hadn’t felt for a long time. She would go. She had always enjoyed her friends before, hadn’t she? Perhaps she would even have fun.

Chapter Five

As soon as the scholars left the next morning, Ellie and Mam were off to Matthew Beachey’s in the family buggy.

“Who will be there, Memmi?” Susan sat on the front bench seat between them, her legs swinging with the buggy’s movements.

Ellie hesitated, her throat dry, and Mam answered. “Rachel will be there and most of the children from church.”

Susan’s anxious face mirrored her own, and Ellie gave the little girl’s knee a reassuring squeeze. They both shared an intense shyness around groups of people. Should they have stayed home after all?

Matthew Beachey came out of the barn to greet them as Mam drove into the yard.

“Good morning.” He reached for Brownie’s bridle. “I’ll take care of the horse for you while you go on into the house.”

“Denki, Matthew.” Mam returned the young man’s smile. “You’re keeping busy away from the hen party, are you?”

Matthew’s natural laugh put Ellie at ease. He was always friendly and ready for fun—no wonder everyone liked him.

When Bram Lapp walked out of the barn behind Matthew, Ellie looked away and straightened Susan’s kapp. She had forgotten he might be here.

“Good morning, Bram.” Mam’s voice was friendly as usual, as if seeing Bram Lapp in the Beachey’s farmyard was an everyday occurrence.

“Good morning.” He answered Mam, but when Ellie finished fussing with Susan and glanced his way again, he was looking directly at her. His eyes were dark, unsure. Ja, he remembered how rude she had been the last time they’d talked. She looked over to Mam for help, but she was deep in conversation with Matthew.

Bram stepped closer and reached out to help Susan down from the buggy. Before Ellie could stop her, Susan jumped into his arms, and he gently lowered her to the ground. He lifted his hands up for Danny, but when Ellie held the baby close as she stepped down on her own, he just reached into the back of the buggy for her sewing bag and handed it to her.

“I hoped you would come to the frolic.” Bram stood close to her, Susan’s hand in his.

Ellie stared at his clothes—his Plain clothes. His brand-new shirt and plain-cut trousers were exactly like the ones all the men in the district wore, complete with the fabric suspenders and broad-brimmed hat. He didn’t look Englisch anymore, and he didn’t talk Englisch.... Her resolve wavered.

How would she answer him? His nearness was forward and unsettling, but she couldn’t help wishing for more. What would she do if he gave her that secretive grin again? The thought brought on a flurry of butterfly wings in her stomach.

“I forgot you’d be here.” Her face grew hot as soon as the rude words left her mouth. Why couldn’t she talk to him like she would Matthew, or anyone else, for that matter? Every time she spoke with him, her tongue seemed to belong to someone else.

Ellie reached for Susan, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Have I done something wrong? I know we only met a couple days ago, and you don’t know me, but I’d like to change that.”

His hand warming her skin through the sleeve of her dress prickled her nerves to awareness of just how long it had been since she had felt a man’s touch. She should turn away, let his hand slide off her arm, move to a more appropriate distance, but she was frozen in place.

She glanced up at his face. At her look, a smile spread, flashing the dimple in one cheek and encouraging her own mouth to turn up at the corners. She looked down, her face flushing hot again. What was wrong with her? She was acting like a schoolgirl!

Bram seemed to take her hesitation as an encouraging sign and stepped closer. Ellie found herself leaning toward him to catch the familiar scent of hay mingled with shaving soap, and she breathed in deeply.

Ja, just like a schoolgirl. What must he think of her?

“I’ve bought a farm.” His voice was low, the words for her alone. “It’s the Jackson place, just a couple miles west of your father’s farm. Would you like to see it sometime?”

The Jackson farm? Ellie knew that farm—it was an Englisch farm. A blast of cold reality shoved away all thoughts of dimples and hay and...soap. The telephone lines strung from the road to the house on that farm were the fatal testimony. Her shoulders drew back as her chin lifted, and his hand fell to his side.

“Ne, Denki,” she answered as firmly as she knew how. “I’m already familiar with that farm.”

She took Susan’s hand as Bram stepped away, her face flushing hotter than ever. She couldn’t have been ruder if she had slapped him in the face. How could she be so harsh? But an Englisch farm? Resolve straightened her spine with a snap.

“Come, Susan, it’s time to go in the house.”

Ellie followed Mam up the path to the kitchen door, anxious to get away from those intense blue eyes. She struggled to regain her composure before she reached the porch steps. How could one man upset her so?

* * *

Bram blinked as Ellie walked away. What happened? One minute her arm was lying warm and sweetly soft under his hand as she leaned toward him while they talked, and then those shutters had slammed tight again.

Matthew stood next to him with a grin on his face, watching him stare toward the house. “I don’t think she likes you. What did you do to her?”

Bram frowned as he turned and checked the buckle on the harness. “Nothing. We were just talking.”

“She’s been widowed for almost two years now.”

“Ja, that’s what her father told me.”

“So when will you ask her to go out with you?”

Bram shot a look at his brother-in-law. Matthew’s smile hadn’t left his face. One thing about married men was that they were usually quick to make sure every other man ended up in the same trap.

“What makes you think I want to go out with her?”

Matthew didn’t respond. He just grinned, waiting for Bram’s answer.

“All right. I just did. She turned me down flat.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. She’ll come around.”

Bram took the horse’s bridle and started leading him to the hitching rail on the shady side of the barn. “I didn’t say I was giving up, did I?”

The problem was he should give up. He should let that prickly woman go her own way. He didn’t need her. He didn’t want her.

Bram went into the workshop next to the barn and found the broken harness strap Matthew had told him about. He turned the piece over in his hands. It was in good shape other than that one break.

Nothing felt as right as when he worked with harness leather. He loved this peaceful pleasure that came from handling the supple straps and the satisfaction that came with taking something that had been destroyed and making it whole again. Scarred, perhaps, because you could always see the repair, but useful once more and stronger than it had been.

He started in on the harness, first taking his pocketknife and cutting the frayed edges off the broken ends of the leather. As he worked, children’s laughter drifted in through the shop window from the backyard, and he shifted to get a view of the sandbox from his stool at the workbench. Girls’ pastel dresses and boys’ shirts in the same hues filled the yard. Older ones played a game of Duck, Duck, Goose. He looked for Susan, but she wasn’t among them.

How long had it been since he’d heard children playing without traffic noise mingled with their harsh voices?

Almost as long as he had missed the scent of a woman. A real woman, not girls like Babs, with her cloying odor of dying flowers and smoky bourbon. Babs had never looked at him with the cold eyes Ellie Miller used. No, she had been more than willing to press her silken dress against him, batting her heavy black eyelashes.

His eyes narrowed. Babs made sure he knew what she wanted—or what Kavanaugh paid her to provide—and he was glad he had never taken her up on her offer. He had never spent more time with her than an occasional dinner or as a date to one of Kavanaugh’s shin-digs. Something about the girl had turned his stomach. Not just her—black-haired Cindy before her and Madge before her. Kavanaugh kept his boys supplied with women.