The Amish Seamstress (54 page)

She nodded, taking that in. “I guess you're right about that.” She sucked in a deep breath. “
Danke
.”

I nodded, my eyes narrowing in concern.

“I'm okay,” she said, wiping at her face with gloved hands. “I just needed some time. This is a good thing, really. I had to come back to this place.” I thought she meant Pennsylvania, or the farm, but then she gestured toward the creek, and I realized she meant this exact place, this body of water.

I gazed at the creek, at the clear liquid that trickled between large rocks and frozen slabs of ice as it flowed downstream. It was about average-sized, as creeks go, but for Giselle I knew it loomed large. To her, it was a river. No, it was an
ocean
, one that had come between her and her mother, her sisters, and her children, keeping her away for all these years.

I thought suddenly of that poem I'd discovered on the bus ride from Indiana, by William Penn, and I asked if I could quote a line from it now.

“Sure.”

“It says, ‘Death is but crossing the world, as friends do the seas; they live in one another still.' ”

She repeated the sentiment, and then she smiled through her tears.
“Wow. So true. Me, my daughters, my mom, even my sisters—no matter what, no matter where we are, we live in one another still. We always have. We always will.”

Her voice choked on the last word as she burst into a fresh round of sobs. I embraced her then and she hugged me back, not for long but still I felt the hope of healing behind it.

We stayed there together a few more minutes in silence, but sensing her need for more alone time, I left her to her thoughts and started back to the house, my mind grasping at some new truth of my own as I went. I had just told Giselle that God knew what was going to happen back then. And I believed that. He knew that little Lexie would almost drown. He knew that in her grief and panic, Giselle would flee, leaving behind not just her toddler but her new infant too. He knew that someday all three would be together again, and that from that reunion would come great healing.

He also knew about me. He knew I would struggle for a while with the deaths of loved ones. And He knew I would fall in love with Zed and want to make a life with him.

Eyes wide, I realized one more thing He knew. He knew I
wasn't
going to join the Amish church.

Before that moment, such a realization might have caused me to feel regret or sadness or even guilt. Instead, I felt nothing but peace.

“I'm not joining the Amish church,” I whispered aloud, just to make sure that the words felt right on my tongue. “I will still love the Lord with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength, but I will do so as a Mennonite instead.”

Again, a surge of peace filled my heart. Not only did God
know
, but to my very core, it felt as if He approved.

Movement up ahead caught my eye, and I realized Zed had come looking for me, wearing his coat and cap against the cold. “We need to talk,” I said as we met beside the fallow garden.

Without speaking, he took my icy hand in his and led me around the corner of the house to the stand of pines, which gave us some privacy.

“What is it?” he asked, peering deep into my eyes with concern.

I gave him a reassuring smile and then reached up and touched the handsome plane of his cheek. “I don't want you to become Amish,” I said
softly. “Though your willingness to do so says volumes about your faith and your love for me.”

His lips curved into a tentative smile as he waited to see where I was going with this.

“I want to join the Mennonite church instead. I believe it's the right thing for me, and for—”

Before I could say
us
, Zed's mouth was on mine. His face was cold but his lips were warm, sending rays of heat through my entire being. I kissed him back, just as fiercely, then held on tight, the two of us clinging to each other in the frosty stillness.

After our embrace, we stayed there a while, standing among the trees, gazing into each other's eyes, and stealing a few more kisses. Somehow, being here and talking with this man about spending the rest of our lives together felt as natural and normal as could be.

We both agreed we shouldn't get married until after he finished school, so the question was what my life was going to look like between now and then. We considered the idea of me moving back in with Ella so that we could be closer, but then Zed astounded me by bringing up Switzerland as another possibility.

“You never know, Iz. My mom has been wanting to go to Switzerland for years. Maybe the two of you could do it together.”

“What about us?” I asked, my heart filled with fear but also excitement.

“You and me, you mean?”

I nodded.

“I still have a year and a half to go before I graduate. As long as you're back by then, I think it would be an incredible opportunity. Think of all you could see, not to mention all you could learn from Giselle about your craft.”

My heart surging with happiness, I hugged him tight, thanking God that this dear sweet man wanted and would always want for my life to be as rich and full—of experiences, of learning, of
pushing
myself—as his was.

Finally, the wind picked up and green needles showered over us like confetti, bringing the fresh scent of pine mixed with the cold. Nearly frozen, we had no choice but to head inside and join the others. As we walked side by side, I thought of what Giselle had said, how life can change in an
instant. I thought of all the life-changing instances I'd witnessed of late. Frannie's last, peaceful breath. The other deaths in my life. Zed's accident that had thrown me into such a spiral.

My mind returned to Psalm 139 as he opened the front door and then stepped aside, allowing me to enter first. Just as surely as God knew my past and present, He also already knew the many things my future held, my future as Zed's wife, helpmate, and very best friend.

I couldn't help but smile to myself. In that same chapter, the psalmist proclaimed, “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,” and I had to agree. Such knowledge
was
too wonderful. But it also brought great comfort.

And great joy.

E
PILOGUE

I
went to Switzerland three months later, in March. Giselle paid my way, and I worked as her assistant and Herr Lauten's aide for more than a year, helping him organize his books and papers, along with daily care, and helping her organize her studio and expand her business. Giselle made regular appearances teaching fabric art, and she took me along for a few of those too. One time she even had me contribute to the class, but I didn't enjoy it.

I preferred working behind the scenes.

Marta traveled to Switzerland with me, much to my parents' relief, and stayed for eight months while her new business partner managed the practice in Lancaster County. It wasn't a vacation for Marta—she taught classes at a birthing center in Bern, just over a half hour away. But her trip was a huge success, and I was sorry to see her go once her time there came to an end.

Daniel and Morgan became my close friends, especially as they were my bridge to the Mennonite faith. They attended a lovely little church in town, and though there was quite a difference between the services there and the Amish ones I was used to, the theology was similar, and
that's what was important. I found it to be a good fit, though sometimes I missed the sense of community that seemed more pervasive in the churches back home.

One of my biggest quandaries over there was clothing, because while I was no longer going to be Amish, I was definitely going to remain Plain—yet the congregation there did not observe rules of dress. In the end, it was Marta who suggested I adopt the garb of her district back home, and I thought that was a good solution. With her guidance, I slowly created a new wardrobe for myself, trading the capes and solid colors and straight pins of my Amish clothing for the modest dresses in simple prints, with buttons, of the Mennonites. At my request, Susie sent me several smaller Mennonite-style
kapps
, which she procured from one of her seamstresses.

Together, Giselle and I worked on the costumes for Zed's film, doing the research, weaving the fabric, and sewing the garments all by hand. Otherwise, I used my sewing time to come up with more items for the gift shop, create prototypes, and implement some of Giselle's designs.

Though I didn't use a computer, Zed convinced me that the best way for us to stay close while so far apart was through face-to-face computer calls, so I relented in that one area. We soon fell into a routine and, using Giselle's laptop, I was able to see and talk with him at least once a week, sometimes even more than that, which was wonderful.

He spent his spring semester in Los Angeles, learning screenwriting and visiting the “majors” and “minors,” which I learned were just nicknames for the larger and smaller movie studios that proliferated out there. Though he loved the experience, I could see that it helped shape in his mind a better vision of his own creative future. He came to realize that Hollywood held no interest for him as a long-term career goal. He wanted to be an independent filmmaker and focus primarily on documentaries, especially those on historical topics. I thought that sounded perfect. Somehow, I had never envisioned him making popcorn-munching, cineplex-going movies anyway.

Giselle and I mailed the costumes to Zed in May, and then I followed them soon after myself, making it home just in time for filming, which began in June.

Though I would have loved to have spent hours and hours of quiet
“down time” with the just the two of us while I was home, we spent almost every waking moment of that one month together, making our movie,
Hidden Motives
, instead.

We were able to wrap filming before I returned to Switzerland, and once I was gone Zed buried himself in what he called “postproduction” for the rest of the summer. That kept him extremely busy, and I didn't hear from him as much during that time, but once he returned to Goshen in the fall for the beginning of his senior year, our regular communication resumed. Together, we decided I would come home again, for good this time, in April, before his college graduation.

I planned my trip accordingly, arriving in Lancaster the week before, to give me some time with my family. Of course, I spent a good deal of that time in my little room trying not to feel overwhelmed by all the activity around me. Living with Giselle had been peaceful and easy. A week with my family left me feeling frazzled. Though I knew I wouldn't be returning to Switzerland, I was eager to plan a future beyond the walls of my parents' home.

I rode to Indiana with Marta, and we arrived the day before Zed's graduation, going straight to the Home Place. There, we greeted Rosalee, Ella, Luke, and little Sarah, the child Ella had been carrying when I was working here for Rosalee. Now Sarah was a year and a half old and had been joined by a baby brother, just one month ago, named Samuel.

Late that afternoon, as Ella and Rosalee fixed dinner in the kitchen, Samuel napped, and Marta and I played with Sarah in the living room, Marta got a call on her phone. It was Zed, and he asked to speak with me. I wouldn't be seeing him until the next day, but it was still a thrill to hear his voice and know he was just thirteen or so miles away from where I sat at that very moment.

“Hello?” I said, trying to temper my smile in front of his mother.

“What are you doing right this second?” Zed asked in a near whisper.

“Making a tower with some building blocks. Why?”

“Because I'm outside. I only have fifteen minutes, and then I have to get back to school for commencement practice. But I couldn't wait to see you; it was killing me. So I got in the car and headed over.”

“Aw, Zed,” I whispered, my smile no longer containable on my face.

“I don't want to hurt my mom's feelings, but I don't have time to see her now too. Is there some way you can slip out and just come say hello? Why don't you tell her I need you to borrow her phone to snap a few quick pictures out in the orchard for me?”

“Why?”

“I don't know…for a little film project I'm doing? You know how it is. She's used to accommodating all sorts of wacky requests for the sake of my art.”