An Amish Homecoming Read online

  The woman typed in a few things, counted out Essie’s bills, and then frowned at the screen. “Were you in here this morning?” she asked.

  “No.” It seemed like an odd question. “I haven’t been here for a few days.”

  “I only ask because a transaction was made on this account this morning. A withdrawal.”

  Money had been taken out? Essie’s breath seemed trapped in her throat. “Do you know if it was Harlan Yoder?”

  The young woman pushed her curls over one shoulder as she pursed her lips. “He’s the only other person on the account, so it must have been him. Here. I’ll print out a record of recent transactions.”

  Why had Harlan come here without telling her? Essie wouldn’t have stopped him from taking any of the money if he needed it, and he had to know that. It worried her that some imposter might have come in to rob their account. It also hurt to think that Harlan might have withdrawn the money without telling her.

  “So here’s your balance—$2,738.59. A withdrawal of $2,500 dollars was made this morning. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  Essie studied the slip of paper, calculating in her head. That had to be it. Decision made, she looked up at the young teller and slid the paper across the counter. “If you please, there is one more thing I need to do.”

  * * *

  The White Dove Rehabilitation Hospital was a cluster of low-slung buildings set atop a grassy knoll that had at one time been farmland. Although Collette’s treatment there was still costly, it was a fraction of the price of the main hospital, and the rehab center was far more homey and friendly. Essie enjoyed passing through the wide glass double doors that quietly whooshed open and shut when she approached with her arms usually full of food, treats, Collette’s laundry, or books.

  Today she carried a bag of clean clothes, a jar of her homemade berry jam, and a small batch of gmay cookies that had been left over from yesterday’s church gathering. Collette had longed to attend church yesterday, especially since she was a friend of Alice Yutzy, their host, but the doctor had advised her to wait another two weeks. By then, she would be out of the wheelchair and moving with the assistance of a metal walker. “You’re coming along great,” Abby, the physical therapist, had assured Collette. “But part of the process of healing is accepting the things that you can’t do for now.”

  Essie paused at the desk to sign in and deliver the small bag of cookies to Gilda, the receptionist, who always had a kind word for folks passing through. “Thanks for the cookies,” Gilda said. “I’m going to try to take them home to my husband, mister skin-and-bones. I’m afraid the perks of the job are going right to my waistline!”

  “We all have our challenges,” Essie said. “Have you seen her this morning?”

  “Oh, yes. She was out here a few times, soaking up the morning sun.” Gilda nodded toward a corner of the lobby near the double doors where the rooftop had skylights that allowed light to shine through. “I keep telling her that she’s going to get a speeding ticket if she doesn’t slow down in that wheelchair.”

  Essie smiled. “That sounds like Collette.” Harlan’s mother had born up better than anyone had expected through the pain and physical challenges of her injuries. Normally a quiet homebody, Collette seemed to enjoy the social aspects of life in a facility. Reaching out to other patients, she had developed a new awareness of and sympathy for the difficulties other people faced. In her own course of treatment, she had done every exercise her therapist prescribed, pushing through each challenge.

  “Is she still scheduled to leave tomorrow?” Essie asked.

  “That’s what I hear. We’re going to miss her around here.”

  Essie would miss coming here. Besides saying good-bye to the cheerful staff of this facility, Essie dreaded having to deal with Linda Hostetler every time she visited Collette. That woman seemed to have a knack for saying things that hurt people’s feelings. But Essie would have to grin and bear it and learn to appreciate the help Linda was providing to Harlan’s family.

  “I’m sure Collette will come back and visit you,” Essie promised. “And she’ll be sure to bring cookies.”

  “Music to my ears!” Gilda exclaimed.

  Peeking into Collette’s room, Essie found her bed empty. She dropped off the laundry and jam, and then proceeded down the hall. The small solarium had a view of the garden, as well as trays of potted plants along the windows that patients and staff tended to. Collette was showing another patient in a wheelchair how to mist an African violet.

  “Not too much,” Collette instructed. “You want the soil to be moist, but never soggy.”

  “Such a pretty plant,” the other woman said. “I love that shade of purple.”

  “One of Gott’s beautiful creations,” Collette agreed. “But it’s such a delicate thing. African violets need to be kept away from cold drafts and doorways. Like a colicky baby.”

  Both women were laughing as Essie joined them. “The greenhouse plants will be happier from all the care they’re getting.”

  “I do miss having a garden,” Collette admitted, smiling up at Essie. “Thank you for coming. It’s always good to have company.”

  “I’m sure Harlan will get here after work,” Essie said. After the accident Essie and Harlan had agreed to stagger their visits so that Collette would have someone attending to her day and night. Essie came to visit during the day, Harlan in the evening after work. Although the plan provided Collette with companionship, it had created a schedule in which Essie and Harlan rarely crossed paths. “But in the meantime, I’ve brought some clean laundry and church cookies.”

  “Denki. I handed out the last of those chocolate marshmallow bars last night after dinner. Folks round here sure liked them.” Collette seemed to derive joy from handing out delicious treats to everyone in the facility. “But we’d better get back to my room. I’ll need your help packing up my things for the move to Linda’s spare room.” She turned to the other woman to add: “Looks like I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  “Good on you!”

  “We’ll drop off some church cookies in your room,” Collette promised her acquaintance. Wheeling Collette back to her room, Essie considered how this experience had brought Harlan’s mem out of her shell. Funny how you never knew what Gott had in store for you.

  Back in the room, a nurse helped Collette move from the wheelchair to the hospital bed, which cranked up and down for convenience. Then, under Collette’s direction, Essie loaded most of Collette’s clothes and belongings into paper shopping bags. “Just be sure to leave my nightgown out for tonight,” Collette instructed.

  It didn’t take long at all, and as Essie folded and tucked things away, Collette explained her long-term plans. “I know you and Harlan thought I’d gone crazy after the crash when I talked about going back to Ohio, but that’s my plan. The more I’m around folks, the more I’ve realized how lonely I was, cooped up in that apartment with church and the pretzel factory being the only activities I could look forward to. I was lonely and always worried about money. That’s not where Gott wants our thoughts to be.”

  Essie nodded, thinking about her worries over the money missing from their bank account. Dollars and cents were not meant to be the focus of any person’s life. “It’s good that you’ve learned these things about yourself,” Essie said, choosing her words carefully. She wanted to speak her mind to Collette, but she didn’t want to seem disrespectful of Collette’s plans. “But moving all the way to Ohio, leaving your friends and church behind, isn’t that a bigger step than you need to take?”

  “I don’t see any other way,” Collette said. “I’ve sent a letter to my brother, asking him to prepare for us to move in sometime in the next few months.”

  Essie turned toward the window so that Collette wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes.

  “At least, living with my brother, we’ll have a roof over our heads,” Collette added, “and we’ll be surrounded by family. Something we don’t have here.”


  Essie finished folding a blanket and dashed her tears away as she ducked down to put it in the bag.

  “What if you had a place to live here—a place you didn’t need to rent?” Essie imagined a house big enough for Harlan and her, with rooms for his mother and sister. It wouldn’t have to be so big. That way Collette could be with her close family, near to friends she knew well.

  “That would be nice, but wishing doesn’t make it so,” Collette said. She gathered three paperback novels from her tray table and handed them to Essie to pack. “I’ve lived in worry too long, wondering how we’d make the rent and have enough to buy meat and feed for the mule. Maybe the crash was Gott’s way of telling me it’s time for a change. Gott doesn’t make mistakes, so there’s something I’m supposed to learn from this bad situation.”

  Maybe you’re supposed to learn to let your son go. Learn that your friends were always nearby, even when you were lonely, and that you were the one who pushed them away.

  But Essie bit her bottom lip; she didn’t dare share her thoughts.

  The topic dropped quickly when other visitors arrived. Rose Graber had brought whoopie pies as well as her two little ones, a wobbly toddler and four-year-old Bitsy, who was immensely curious about the items packed in the bags. Mr. Smitty and his wife came with a tub of pretzels, and Bishop Aaron brought a soft shawl his daughter had knitted, in case Collette caught a chill at night.

  Too upset to participate in the conversation, Essie was relieved to take Rose’s children for a walk down the hall to give their mother a break. But as she took them to meet Gilda in reception, as she helped them split a cookie in half to share, she thought of the folks visiting Collette right now. Collette’s boss, her friend, her bishop. It was but a smattering of the many people who valued Collette Yoder as part of the tightly woven fabric of their community.

  Why didn’t Collette see the loving friends surrounding her in this moment?

  Trundling her family off to Ohio . . . Essie was sure it would be the biggest mistake of Collette’s life.

  * * *

  A half hour later, Essie was at reception fetching a dinner menu for Collette when Harlan arrived. With smudges under his amber eyes, he was rundown. Her heart ached for him, but then she reminded herself that she’d been losing sleep, too. Working hard and saving money, only to find it draining from their joint account.

  “Essie.” His amber eyes were suffused with sorrow as he took her hand and led her toward his mem’s room. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Harlan, hold on.” She tugged his hand, stopping him in his tracks.

  “What is it?”

  “We need to talk.” She nodded in the other direction, toward the warm solarium. “Come.”

  He gave in easily, weaving his fingers through hers so that they walked hand-in-hand, the way they once had along the banks of Joyful River. Ah, how the summer seemed so long ago! The carefree afternoons when they’d walked barefoot and waded in the frothy cold river.

  She was relieved to find the solarium empty. They went to the window overlooking the gardens, and he immediately pointed to two tall oak trees that stood on either side of the path but had grown together into one canopy overhead. “Look at those two trees. That’s us. Two separate trunks twining into one.”

  “Every time you see two trees you think of us,” she said.

  “I do. And since there are many trees in Lancaster County, I think of us often.”

  She smiled, despite her annoyance with him. How could she not laugh at his little jokes?

  “Tell me what’s wrong, Essie. I see storm clouds in your eyes.”

  She kept her eyes on those two trees in the garden. “I went to the bank this morning to make a deposit. When I was there, I learned that a withdrawal had been made from our account. More than two thousand dollars was taken out.”

  “I took the money. I was going to tell you, but we never get a chance to be together these days. But I only took out half of the money—my half—to use toward Suzie and Mem’s hospital bills.”

  “That’s a relief. I was worried that someone else took the money.”

  “Who else could have taken it? It’s safe and secure in the bank.”

  She lifted her face to look him in the eye. “Why, Harlan? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t have a chance, with everything going on. And this weekend, we got the first bill from the hospital emergency room. I knew I would need my money from the bank to make a payment. But I only took what was mine.”

  It bothered Essie that he saw a part of the money as his, when truly the whole account was theirs. Their savings as a couple. Two people who made all their important decisions together.

  “The money should go toward the medical expenses,” Essie said. “Their recovery is what matters. Money can be replaced, but our dear family, we must cherish and support them in every way.”

  “But saving up to buy the bishop’s place was your dream,” Harlan said. “You’ve worked hard for that money.”

  “It was our dream, Harlan. Our dream together. Yes, I want to marry you and have a home. But the money is only a tool to get a roof over our head. The bank account was never my dream. A life shared with you—that was what I’ve hoped and prayed for.”

  He winced, turning away. “I’m sorry, Essie. I’ve made some mistakes. I know I’ve hurt you, and right now, I don’t know what to do. In the past, the way forward has always been clear to me, but not so much anymore.”

  His words cut her to the quick.

  “You don’t know what you want?” she whispered. “You don’t want to get married?”

  “I do want to marry you, Essie. You know I do. It’s just that, we can’t get married this season. How can we go through with our plans when my family has such a huge debt, and Mem’s planning to move us to Ohio?”

  “We could get married,” she said, her voice wobbly with heartbreak. “And we can work through those things as a couple. We’ll figure it out together, Harlan. I know we can.”

  “Nay. That wouldn’t be wise, would it? And you know I’m not one to jump into the pond headfirst. As they say at the factory, caution keeps people safe. Details need to be straightened out before we go down that path together.”

  Details. Caution. Money.

  Were these things real obstacles, or was Harlan just stalling again?

  Just then a bank of pewter clouds pushed together, blocking out the sun and casting a gray pall upon the garden.

  “I need to get home,” she said.

  “Essie, wait . . .”

  “A storm’s coming, and Comet’s waiting outside.” She pushed past him, glad that she had an excuse. She was headed to the door when she remembered the cash. She reached into her shoe and removed a stack of carefully folded bills.

  “Here’s the other half of the money from our bank account. I left two hundred dollars in, so that the account could stay open.” She still held out a hope that they’d need the account in the future. “But the rest is here.” She placed the crisp, folded hundred dollar bills in his hand. “I know it won’t pay all the hospital bills, but it should help.”

  “Essie, no. This is yours.”

  “Ours, Harlan. It’s our money, and I can’t think of anything better to do with it than to take care of family in need.”

  “But you don’t have to do that. Mem and Suzie aren’t your family.”

  His words were a thorn in her heart. “Good-bye, Harlan.”

  * * *

  By the time Essie got home, the buggy and the horse were drenched. Poor Comet; in her fury to leave Harlan behind, she’d pushed him hard. It took her extra time to let Comet cool down from exertion, before she could dry off the horse. “You look the way I feel,” Essie told the horse as she ran a towel over his flank. “Wet and upset.”

  Essie kept to herself through dinner. As soon as the dishes were cleared away, she set up a batch of peach jam with the ripened, juicy peaches from the cellar and sterilized her newly purchased jars. As she car
ved up the peaches, she had to toss away a few on account of mold. They should have been canned a week ago, but she’d been too busy. The sight of the spoiled peaches made her want to cry. But then, it wasn’t peaches making her sad; she knew that.

  When she’d finished with the last of the season’s peaches, she scrubbed the pot and thought about heading up to bed. Her lower back was sore, though the tenderness paled in comparison to the ache in her heart.

  Sleep seemed so far away from her grasp.

  She decided to take advantage of the quiet house and do the plums tonight. The Damson plums were still purple, firm and perfect. Like dark, oversized grapes. She sliced them and put them on to boil, then set up the food mill, turning the bolts to affix it to the edge of the table.

  Tomorrow, she planned to experiment with a cranberry apple relish, and then maybe an apple cinnamon pie filling that she could sell with the jams. If customers liked the easy pie filling, she would work on an apple cranberry filling that would look festive for the holidays. With the inventory of apples and cranberries likely lasting through December, the pie filling would take her into the New Year.

  The New Year. She wanted to cry at the way her hopes for the next few months had been shattered.

  Come January, she would welcome the New Year as plain old Essie Lapp, not Essie Yoder.

  Because her beau was too careful. Unwilling to take chances.

  Or maybe he just didn’t love her enough.

  Trying to swallow back her sadness, she tended to the purple-skinned plums on the stove. Plums made the perfect jam, as the sweet fruit required little sugar. The simplicity of the recipe always made her think that Gott had created plums to become a delicious jam.

  She stirred the deep purple jam in the stockpot, wondering if she would ever get to marry Harlan. Her dream seemed to be disappearing like a delicate cloud on a windy day, and there was nothing she could do but stand by and watch it vanish.

  Out in the great room someone was coming down the stairs. She turned to the doorway and saw Mem in her nightgown, her dark hair in a single braid down her back.

  Essie turned off the first boil, put her spoon down, and turned to her mother. “Did I wake you? I couldn’t sleep.”