“Good morning,” Tom said.
“Guten Morgen.”
His father showed little interest in the “stranger” who stood before him. He was unscrewing a battered blue thermos that Tom recognized. Like his father, it was much older, and worse for wear, but still functioning. His father was nothing if not frugal.
“I was wondering if you could direct me to Jeremiah Yoder’s home.”
“I am Jeremiah Yoder.” Those sharp blue eyes that Tom remembered so well pinned Tom with a penetrating stare. “What do you want with me?”
No pleasantries. There never had been. Not with an
Englisch
stranger.
“My name is Tom,” he said. “I used to know your son, Matthew, a long time ago.”
“What business do you have with Matthew?”
“I was passing through town and thought I’d check in on some old friends.”
“You were friends with my Matthew?” Suspicion dripped from the old man’s voice.
“I knew him.” Tom was testing the waters, but if his father recognized him, he gave no sign. “There was also a brother named Tobias, if I remember right.”
His father poured black coffee out into the lid of the thermos and then took a sip, but said nothing. Tom decided to try again.
“I hired on one summer to help bale hay over at the Dennison’s. He was an
Englisch
farmer over in . . .”
“I know who Clyde Dennison was,” his father interrupted. “Matthew worked for him. Dennison was a fair man. He paid well.”
His father would know exactly what Dennison paid, because
both he and Matthew had handed their father every penny the day they got it. This was not unusual, just the way things were among the Amish—no one ever questioned it. Jeremiah had fed and sheltered his sons for many years and it was considered a reasonable thing for them to pay him back. The only recompense either of them received for their labor was some pocket money his father doled out to them, with an admonition not to spend it all.
Tom had hired out that summer along with Matthew, although he was only fourteen and his muscles not yet as hardened as his older brother’s. Matthew had seen that Tobias did not have quite enough strength to do the job, but instead of gloating about his greater strength, he quietly made allowances for it, taking some of Tobias’s work on himself when he saw that his younger brother was about to falter.
That was the kind of brother Matthew was.
Jeremiah took a cookie wrapped in waxed paper out of his front pocket. Tom saw that it was oatmeal raisin, and remembered that it was his father’s favorite. Jeremiah broke the cookie in two and stared down at the pieces. “Matthew went home twenty-seven years ago.”
“Home?”
“My son passed.”
“I’m so sorry.” Even though he knew the truth of it, hearing it from his father’s lips still felt like a blow, but he felt the need to press on. He wanted to hear what his father would say. “How did he die?”
“An accident.” His father, instead of eating the cookie, crumbled it between his fingers.
Tom did not ask what sort of accident. He knew more about it than his father did. He had entirely too much knowledge, so much knowledge that it had weighed him down for years.
Then he asked the question he had been aching to ask.
“What of the younger brother, the one named Tobias?” He held his breath. Like a child wanting his parent’s approval and love, even when he’d done something wrong, he longed to hear some hint of love for him. Some longing. Some molecule of regret in the old man’s voice.
Instead, Jeremiah’s voice hardened. “I have no son named Tobias.”
Tom tried again, a part of him desperately wanting his father to acknowledge him. “But I distinctly remember . . .”
“I have no son named Tobias,” his father repeated.
Jeremiah poured the leftover coffee back into his thermos, tucked the waxed paper back inside his front pocket, and rose. “What is your name again?”
“Miller. Tom Miller.”
He waited. Something inside of him cried out for his father to recognize him.
Jeremiah looked up at the sky, distracted. “Lots of Millers around here.”
“Yes.” Tom glanced up as well. There was nothing but cloudless blue. It was Jeremiah’s way of shutting him out.
Jeremiah’s eyes continued to peruse the sky. “You related to any of them?”
Tom considered this question. His father had just informed a complete stranger that his son Tobias did not exist. Things didn’t get much clearer than that. “No,” Tom said, with resignation. “I’m not related to any of the Millers around here.”
• • •
Claire was surprised when she saw a shiny, new black car pull into her driveway and Tom climbing out. He was so deep in thought as he approached the house, he didn’t even see her
sitting there on the swing with mending in her lap until she spoke.
“Hello, are you back for some of Maddy’s fudge?” she teased. “Elizabeth tells me you forgot to buy some the other day.”
He did not seem startled by her presence, nor did he answer her question. Instead, he sat down on the top step and leaned against the porch railing.
“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” he said.
She bit off the thread she had used to sew a patch on one of Jesse’s shirts. “You may ask me anything you like.”
“I’ve never been a parent,” he said, “so I don’t know what it is like to raise a child. Could any of your children do anything bad enough to cause you to hate them?”
“Of course not.” She was appalled. “There is nothing my children could ever do to make me hate them. I would sorrow for them, and pray for them, but I would never stop loving them.”
“So that’s what a normal parent would do, then?”
“I can’t say. I only know what I would do.”
“I thought that is what you might say.”
“What is wrong, Tom?” She was getting concerned. This man who had endured so much physical pain seemed to be having some sort of emotional battle. Everything within her wanted to reach out to him.
“Would you forgive that child in addition to loving him?”
“How could I not? How could I expect my Father in heaven to forgive me if I could not forgive my own child?”
Tom seemed to drink in every word. “You believe in forgiveness, then.”
“Of course. Without forgiveness, love cannot exist. Not with God, not with a family, not with a church.”
“Thank you.” He stood up, ready to go.
“What is bothering you, Tom?”
It seemed as though he desperately wanted to tell her something, but what, she had no idea. His life had been so different from hers, she could not imagine what went on inside of him. There was no way she could anticipate his next question.
“What do you want out of life, Claire?”
“What do you mean?”
“Some people want to achieve great things, some want to amass great wealth, some simply want to be loved. What do you want?”
“Peace.” She did not even have to stop to think about it. “I want peace. In my home. In my life. I have had enough turmoil to last me a lifetime.”
“I imagine you have.” His voice was kind, but she could tell their conversation was over. “Thank you, Claire. I hope you find that peace, and I hope no one will ever take it away from you again.”
As he drove away, she wondered what had just happened. That was one of the strangest conversations she’d ever had. Somehow, she felt as though her words had disappointed him—but she couldn’t imagine why.
• • •
She had been so compassionate, so understanding. For a few minutes it had been on the tip of his tongue to tell her who he was, and to ask for that very forgiveness of which she spoke.
Then came the comment that all she wanted in life was peace. The information he had almost given her would not give her peace, it would bring more turmoil into her life—the last thing she needed.
He was not selfish enough to try to erase his own heartache by unloading all that pain on her. The woman had enough to
deal with. He was quite certain that she did not need Matthew’s long-lost brother rising out of the ashes.
Let sleeping dogs lie
. That was something his father had often said. There was another saying of his father’s that was a little more earthy.
The more you stir a pile of horse manure, the worse it stinks.
In other words, leave it alone. Let it lie. Keep quiet. If you’ve got a mess, don’t go stirring it all up again.
He was grateful now that he’d been gifted with the choice of anonymity. Claire didn’t need Tobias in her life, and his father didn’t
want
Tobias in his life. Elizabeth had been wise in cautioning him about revealing his identity too soon. Right now, he doubted that he ever would be able to reveal it.
T
hat afternoon, Tom and Elizabeth were having lunch when Levi astonished them by carrying in the largest flat-screen TV Tom had ever seen.
“When did you get that?” Elizabeth said. They both followed him into the living room as Levi unboxed the giant screen along with a TV mount, and promptly began attaching them to the wall.
“This morning. Walmart.”
“Why?” Elizabeth asked.
“Because I am trying to make Grace happy. It is not such an easy thing, making Grace happy.”
“I thought she had agreed not to have a television in the house,” Elizabeth said.
“We did agree.” Levi searched in a bucket of tools for the correct size wrench. “But I have changed my mind. I think Grace’s moods will get better if I buy her a nice, big television. We are not Amish. We can have this in our house if we want. I have been unreasonable keeping this from her.”
“Boy, when you change your mind, you really change your mind!” Elizabeth surveyed the gargantuan object with interest. “Although it does seem to be a little overkill to put that in a house that only gets three stations.”
“I will allow Grace to get satellite or cable.”
“You will ‘allow’ me to get satellite or cable?” Their heads all swiveled to see Grace coming down the stairs. “You will
‘allow’
me to get them?”
There was a look in Grace’s eye that made Tom pity Levi. The poor man had no idea who this woman was that he had married. Tom had seen the determination that was in the hearts of the military nurses who flew into the valleys and mountains of Afghanistan. They did not back away from a fight, no matter how great the danger. They
ran
to the helicopters when a call came in and then flew right into the mouth of it!
Elizabeth and Tom took one look at each other and by mutual, unspoken agreement, melted into the kitchen.
“I am so sick of this.” Elizabeth went to the sink and filled the teakettle with water. “I apologize to you. Here you are, a guest trying to recuperate in our home, and there is no peace in this house. It’s about all I can stand to live here myself—and I genuinely love those two.” She sat down and sighed. “It seemed like such a good idea for me to give up the house and move into that nice, new little
Daadi Haus
Levi built right beside them. I envisioned dandling babies on my knees and having cozy chats with Grace and Levi in the evenings on the porch.” She shook her head. “But it is not turning out to be anything like I’d envisioned. Instead, most of the time my
Daadi Haus
just feels like a place to duck and take cover.”
It pained him to see the feisty older woman looking so frail and emotionally exhausted.
“If I had not gotten sick,” Elizabeth said, “then Grace would not have come home and we wouldn’t be having all these problems. Levi would have married some nice Amish girl, Grace would be happily bandaging someone somewhere, and I would be left in peace.”
“From what I understand,” Tom said, “if you hadn’t gotten sick, then Grace wouldn’t have been here to save Claire’s life.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed. “That is true. And those children of hers would have been motherless
and
fatherless. That man would still have come into their home, whether Grace was here or not.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Tom said, as the voices in the living room rose one pitch higher. “Let’s me and you take a walk.”
Relief etched itself across Elizabeth’s face. “I would like that.”
The loud voices receded somewhat as they walked out into the overgrown yard. Getting away from all that tension was a relief.
“I guess maybe you have to be Amish for a
Daadi Haus
to work,” she mused, as they watched Levi storm out of the house. He slammed into his car and spun gravel as he took off toward town. “I warned her not to fall in love with him. But did she listen? No. Now Grace is having the worst pregnancy I’ve ever seen. Hormones all over the place. Trust me, you are
not
seeing the real Grace. I thought the girl had more to her than what I’m seeing. I thought Levi did, too. Never would I have guessed that their marriage would turn out this way. Lord help the child who comes into it if those two don’t get things sorted out in the next few weeks. I’d hate for even a newborn to have to listen to that mess.”
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” he said. “But I really think it is time that I found someplace else to recuperate.” He wished he could grab his duffel and bolt right now—but he hated to abandon Elizabeth.
“Heavens, no. Don’t do that. You aren’t the problem.
They’re
the problem. Levi can’t help sticking his foot in his mouth, and Grace is too emotionally unstable right now to
deal with things well. I’d leave right now myself if I didn’t want to be here when my other granddaughter, Becky, comes home for the summer from college. She would feel so rootless if she didn’t have this old place to come home to.”
“Tell me about Becky.” Tom hoped talking about her other granddaughter might distract her from the drama that was happening in the house.
Elizabeth brightened. “She’s such a sweetheart. For a long time it was just me and Becky here while Grace was in the service. Becky was my buddy. Until I had my heart attack, we did everything together. She’s only a sophomore in college, but she’s going to be studying law.”
Elizabeth’s back had been hunched from all the conflict, as though she were trying to protect her middle from a blow. Now, talking about Becky, he watched her straighten up. “She’s one bright little penny, our Becky. Got her sights set on law school at Ohio State once she graduates. With her straight-A’s, I’m sure she’ll get in.”