Their Amish Reunion
So now while her children did their chores and ran around in the sunshine, chasing butterflies, Ava Jane sat in Jacob’s rocking chair and cried for her husband, her head pounding with both physical and mental pain. She needed his warmth right now. She needed him here with her in their safe, comfortable beloved world. Jacob would hold her close and tell her he’d protect her and take care of her. No matter what.
Her husband had tried to show her the love that Jeremiah had thrown away and, in turn, she’d tried to be a good wife to Jacob. They had truly grown to love each other. They’d been together through the loss of both of Jacob’s parents, first his mother and then, a year later, his father. Jacob never quite got over losing his parents. But then he’d died five years later.
Now, struggling on her small farm, she didn’t have Jacob to shield her from the pain of seeing Jeremiah again. Jeremiah, the same but so different.
Ava Jane tugged her shawl tightly around her as the gloaming fell across the green grass and newly budding fruit trees, the last of the sun’s rays covering the hills and valleys and rooftops like a light linen veil. She wondered how she’d ever be able to accept Jeremiah being back in Campton Creek. No matter that she was allowed to speak to him since he’d never been baptized and there was no ban on him. No matter that she might not see him every day anyway. No matter that his family needed him and he’d heeded that call. None of it mattered and she shouldn’t even fret about these things.
Just knowing he was nearby—that would be the hard thing.
Ava Jane rubbed her aching temples and sipped the tea she hoped would subdue the agony attacking her brain.
Dear Lord, give me the strength to go about my life. He has no meaning to me now. I have to forget he’s back.
She would. She’d go on the way she’d been doing. She was blessed and, while she grieved the loss of her husband, she had to consider her children. They had kept her going these past two years. She’d concentrate on them and their needs.
But, even through her fervent prayers, Ava Jane knew that trying to put Jeremiah Weaver out of her mind would be like trying not to breathe.
Impossible.
Chapter Two
News traveled fast in the Amish community. Jeremiah knew before he approached the dirt lane leading up to his family home that they would be expecting him, even if they probably dreaded him being here. Bishop King had offered to come and talk to them, but Jeremiah wasn’t sure if he indeed had made it by yet or how well that visit had gone. Maybe they could all meet with the bishop as a family. The bishop and the ministers had given Jeremiah their blessings to go through the eighteen required weeks of lessons he’d need before he could be baptized.
He’d already started on that at least, and he’d kept in touch with Beth so she’d know he was close by in case his father took a turn for the worse.
“When are you coming home to us?” his sister had asked when he’d sent her word to call him at the Campton estate.
“After I take care of a few things.”
Things such as transferring the money he’d saved to a bank here so he could help his family financially and set up provisions for his mother and sister.
He’d wanted to talk to Ava Jane, too, but he’d never found the courage. So now, she knew he was back. Soon the whole community would know he’d returned. He’d stalled long enough.
These last few weeks, he’d been staying in the guesthouse at Campton House and working for the now-elderly Camptons. But after seeing Ava Jane yesterday outside Hartford’s General Store, he knew it was time to do what he’d set out to do.
He had to face his family.
Beth had faithfully written to him through the years. That was allowed at least. He knew a lot of Amish who kept in touch with relatives who’d gone out into the Englisch world.
Mamm always sent her love but even now she wouldn’t talk to him if his daed was alert and aware. But Daed. That was another matter. While he had not officially been shunned since he’d never been baptized, Jeremiah knew he’d been gone a long time. His daed had made it clear he was not welcome back in the Weaver house, unless he was willing to give his confession and be baptized. Then Jeremiah would be welcomed back and forgiven, and the past would be the past.
Only, he’d brought his past with him. Not willing to think about that now, he made his way up to the wide, welcoming porch that his mamm and sister kept swept and spotless. Already, a riotous bed of flowers bloomed in shades of purple, red and blue all along the porch border. Two potted plants graced each side of the front door. His mother and sister loved their gardens. Daed frowned on such frivolous colors, but Jeremiah knew his father well enough to know Isaac Weaver would do anything to make his wife smile.
Anything but forgive his only son for leaving. His father might accept him back, but Jeremiah wondered if that wound could ever be completely healed. He’d deserted his family.
The bishop had given Jeremiah some advice to help him get started on the process of attending baptism sessions, which happened an hour before church on every other Sunday. Then he needed to get right with his family. The bishop had prayed with him about that, too. And, while Jeremiah had not been ready to share everything he’d seen and done, Bishop King had offered him some hope. “You can talk to me, Jeremiah. Anytime, about anything. Wilkum home.”
Thankful for that, Jeremiah had asked, “Where do I start?”
Rubbing his silver beard, Bishop King had lowered his head. “Your daed is gravely ill. He might not ever know you are home but Isaac will be glad in his heart to see you return. I encourage you to talk to him, even if he seems to be sleeping. Your mamm and sister need a strong man about. The place is going down in spite of neighbors pitching in to help. You will step up, Jeremiah. And in time you’ll begin to heal.”
He was about to step up, all right. He might not be able to truly be a part of this family but he’d do the right thing because he was ready now. Ready to settle down and give his life back to the Lord. Jeremiah would do whatever it took to find his way back to God.
And to Ava Jane.
He hadn’t planned on trying to win her back but...she was alone now. She needed him and, even though she’d acted afraid and angry, he’d seen the truth when he’d touched her hand and looked into her eyes. She could love him again with time and forgiveness. Now he had a wonderful reason to work hard to prove his intentions. He’d make things right with God and his family and then he’d win Ava Jane back. It would be the toughest battle of his life.
Now he stood at the steps of the home where he’d been raised, memories coloring his mind in the same way those flowers colored the yard. But the pretty flowers couldn’t hide the gloomy facade surrounding the big rectangular two-story house. One of the porch posts needed replacing, and the whole place could use a good coat of paint. The house contained four big bedrooms and a large open kitchen and dining area with a cozy sitting area by the woodstove. Big enough to hold church services, if need be. A large basement for storage and summer use. And the grossdaadi haus where his grandparents had lived before their deaths.
A lot needed to be done around here.
Jeremiah closed his eyes and thought about growing up on this vast farm. The laughter, the discussions, the prayers before each meal, the hard work. A heavy mist filled his eyes. He opened them and took a deep breath to calm himself.
Home.
Before he could take another step, his younger sister, Beth, rushed out the door and flung herself into his arms.
“Jeremiah, you’re home! Gott segen eich.”
God bless you.
Jeremiah held her close, the scent of lavender and fresh soap cleansing away the ugliness of what he’d seen on the battlefield.
He held her for only a second and then stepped back. “Shh, now. You know Daed wouldn’t want you touching me.”
She blinked back tears, her dark hair spilling around her white kapp like smooth chocolate. “Daed doesn’t wake up much anymore. We need you home and I need a hug from my big brother, ja.”
“Where’s Mamm?” he asked, his voice clogged with emotion. He smelled pot roast and gravy, maybe even biscuits. His mouth watered just thinking about his mother’s cooking.
“Seeing to Daed in the downstairs room,” Beth replied. “Kumm, we have a grand feast for you.”
“A feast for the prodigal?”
Beth gave him a solid stare, her blue eyes bright. “Ja. And glad to have him home at that.”
* * *
Ava Jane sat down next to her sister. Once or twice a week, she and her sister and some other friends got together to quilt and bake, taking turns to host. Some might call this time together a frolic and they did frolic, but they also worked and prayed and shared common joys and concerns.
Her friends had seen her through two babies and the loss of her in-laws and her husband. She loved them dearly and counted her sister, Deborah, as a friend, too. Deborah had been eight years old when Jeremiah had left. Ava Jane remembered her little sister crawling into her bed and snuggling close to her while she cried. Deborah remembered how Ava Jane had suffered.
Today, they were at Ava Jane’s house finishing up a quilt she was making for Sarah Rose. The women had been working on the intricate appliquéd patterns all winter and now they needed to complete it before the spring chores, such as planting, gardening and canning, took over.
“Beautiful,” Deborah said, her green eyes searching Ava Jane’s face. “I think Sarah Rose will love this so much. The rose in the center is precious. It will make a wonderful present for her seventh birthday.”
Ava Jane continued to stitch one of the black squares with white backings that would frame a colorful flower, bird or butterfly. “Ja, I’m thankful for the help. I have to work on it when the kinder are with Mamm and Daed.” She glanced at the big-faced clock in the kitchen. Eleven in the morning. “We have a couple more hours. Daed is supervising the pony rides today.”
Both of her children were learning about chores and responsibility thanks to help from her parents. Daed provided a good male influence that helped to discipline them properly, but he couldn’t be with them all the time.
Jacob. She always thought of what a good father he’d been.
“Gut,” her sister said in a conspiring tone, bringing her back to the task at hand. “Now you can tell us what you think about Jeremiah Weaver coming back to Campton Creek.”
Ava Jane missed a stitch and pricked her finger.
Which her shrewd and overly curious sister saw right away.
With a soft yelp, she dropped her needle and held her finger to her lips, the metallic taste of blood making her wince. But she didn’t dare look at her sister or her suddenly quiet friends.
Deborah handed her an old remnant of fabric to hold over her finger. “You’ve talked to him?”
Ava Jane held the fabric to her skin, the pain of the tiny cut stinging through her with a warning while the pressure she put on the wound only reinforced her anxiety. “Not intentionally, ne.”
Why did she feel the need to defend herself and him?
“Then how?” Deborah asked, concern mixed with hurt in her eyes that her sister had not confided in her.
Ava Jane glanced at the two other women watching her with a ridiculous intensity that made her want to laugh. But she couldn’t laugh. “I was coming out of Hartford’s and he was there on the street, loading some lumber into a truck.”
“Lumber, on the street? And a truck at that?” her friend Hannah asked, her brown-eyed expression full of awe. “What does he look like now?”
Did her friends think Jeremiah had grown two heads and now breathed fire? Well, remembering how she’d recoiled at first, she’d probably acted the same.
Ava Jane swallowed and wished she hadn’t been so transparent here today or with Jeremiah yesterday. She never could hide her emotions. Tenderhearted, her mamm called her.
Holding her head up, she said, “He looks healthy.” And hardened and world-weary.
Jeremiah had always been formidable, but now his shoulders seemed to be even wider than she remembered. Strong shoulders.
Her sister made a groaning sound. “Ja, I suppose he would at that.”
“I’ve heard things,” Hannah said, speaking in a rush. “Heard he looks like a different man now. Englisch, my daed says.”
“Does everyone know he’s back?” Ava Jane asked, unable to stop her own curiosity.
“Ja, and that he talked to you on the street,” Hannah replied. “Grossmammi heard it from Rebecca Lantz. She said he’s been taking baptism classes already.”
Ava Jane shook her head. “No wonder it’s all over the place.” Rebecca Lantz loved to gossip and she’d also had a severe crush on Jeremiah at one time. Now at least, she was married and settled. But she still didn’t know when to stay quiet. “Rebecca likes to prattle too much,” she blurted.
She also told herself that if Jeremiah was attending baptism sessions, he must be back for good.
“We are not to judge,” Leah, older and married with six children, said while she cast her gaze across the creamy quilt backing. “Ava Jane might rather not talk about this.”
“He looked fine,” Ava Jane said to show them she was unaffected and that she, for one, wouldn’t judge. “We spoke briefly and I left.”
She didn’t go into detail about dropping her groceries or how Jeremiah had helped her salvage what she could. Nor did she tell them that seeing him had shattered her into a million pieces. She’d thought her grief was becoming better but now she mourned Jacob’s death in a raw, fresh way. She blamed Jeremiah for that. He’d brought out too many emotions in her.
“Has he returned for gut then?” Leah asked, sympathy and understanding in her brown eyes.
“I didn’t ask. And it’s not my concern.”
Hannah supplied the rest, her brown eyes settling on Ava Jane. “According to what I’m hearing, he’s come home because Isaac is dying. Jeremiah will take over the farm chores and continue the carpentry work he and his father used to do together. His father needed him a long time ago. At least he’s home now. Beth is happy. She never gave up on her brother.”
This time, when her friend looked at Ava Jane, there was a trace of regret and condemnation in Hannah’s expression.
What did she know about heartache? She had yet to find a husband.
Ava Jane went back to stitching her daughter’s quilt, her face burning, her eyes misting. She was pretty sure she made a mistake in laying the pattern, but then some believed no quilt should be perfect anyway. Only God held perfection.
A good reason to remember she shouldn’t judge.
The women went on to other topics such as the upcoming Campton Creek Spring Festival to be held next month. The Amish had always participated in the fair. They took their wares into town and held a sidewalk sale in the park by the creek and across from Hartford’s. But her sister’s hand over hers brought her head up.
Deborah gave her a quick, quiet smile and then went back to stitching a yellow-and-white butterfly.
Her sister knew her so well, Ava Jane thought. Well enough to know Jeremiah being home was a concern. A big concern.
* * *
A few days later, Ava Jane’s mother and sister came for an early-morning visit. “Wilkum,” she said, surprised to see both of them there on a fine Friday morning. “Come in.”
Her family lived just around the curve, close enough that she could walk across the field and then take the covered bridge over the big creek between her land and theirs. She sometimes avoided going that way, though, and instead took the lane that wound away from the deep creek that held the same name as the town.
She visited with them weekly and her folks often stopped by to check on her. But usually that occurred when the children were just returning from school up the road. They loved their grandchildren.
This was an unusual visit.
“We need your help,” Martha Troyer said, giving Ava Jane a quick hug. “We dropped by to see if you’d like to ride over to the Weaver place with us. Moselle is having a hard time of trying to take care of Isaac, and we’ve brought food to take.” Then Mamm gave a little shrug, but her intent was soon clear. “I just felt that I needed to visit with Moselle this morning.”
“And she felt that we both also needed to be there with her,” Deborah said, giving Ava Jane an eyebrow lift that warned her this was not Deborah’s idea. “Are you busy?”
Her dear sister was trying to give her an out.
Ava Jane searched to find an excuse. She’d already worked in the garden, swept the porch, hung some laundry on the line out back and made two chocolate pies. “Ne,” she finally said. “But why do I need to come along?”
Her mother gave her a soft smile. “I thought it might cheer up Beth. We haven’t had a good housecleaning frolic in a long time, and Beth’s been working by her mamm’s side day and night for the last few weeks, helping to take care of Isaac. You two can distract her while I help Moselle with whatever needs doing. It’ll be gut for Beth to talk to women close to her age.”
Ava Jane couldn’t say no. And besides, she wasn’t sure Jeremiah’s parents even knew he was back. But they’d have to know if he’d come back to help out. Everyone must have heard by now. He might be living here again, but he’d been using a truck in town when she’d seen him several days ago. That meant he might prefer life with the Englisch. But he must be living somewhere near here, at least. She wondered if he’d decided to stay out there in the world, after all.
But either way, surely he wouldn’t be at his parents’ place. He was no longer welcome there, from what Beth had said about their father’s wrath.
Of course, Ava Jane hadn’t been the best of friends with Beth through the years. Their friendship had been tested mightily. Maybe a visit could help that.
“Let me freshen up and get my bonnet,” she said, already tugging at her work apron. “I made two chocolate pies. I can take one of those to go along with what you’ve provided.”
Deborah gave her another meaningful glance and stepped back to mouth, “Sorry.” Martha’s all-knowing gaze moved between the two of them.
Did Mamm know what she was asking of Ava Jane?
Chapter Three
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” Jeremiah said, his hand over Mrs. Campton’s, while they sat in the stately den of the big house he remembered so well.
Judy Campton smiled over at him and shook her head, her misty green eyes centered on Jeremiah. “No, son, we are the thankful ones. You made a great sacrifice, doing what you did after our Edward died. He would be so proud of you.”
Jeremiah didn’t feel proud. He’d done his duty and he’d followed orders, but he didn’t know how he could ever wipe the stench of death and destruction off of his body.
“I did what I had to do at the time. I thought I’d make a difference, but so many died. So many. In spite of being wounded I managed to be whole and survive. I got to come home.”
Judy nodded and patted his hand before she sat back in her comfortable chair and took a sip of tea, her faithful housekeeper and assistant, Bettye, hovering nearby. Looking into Jeremiah’s eyes before skimming her gaze over his blue cotton shirt and broadcloth pants held up by black suspenders, she said, “But you’re not really home quite yet, are you?”
“No, ma’am,” Jeremiah said, his coffee growing cold on the Queen Anne table centered between the two chairs. “I wanted to thank you and the Admiral for allowing me to stay in the guesthouse for this past couple of weeks. I needed to get my bearings and being here helped.”
“I wish the Admiral felt like sitting here with us this morning,” she replied. “He so loves talking to you. Makes him feel close to our Edward.”
Admiral Campton had taken a turn for the worse over the last year. He had a private nurse and was resting in his bed now, but some days he managed to get up and sit out in the garden he’d always loved. It was a garden Jeremiah had helped landscape and plant all those years ago, he and Edward working side by side with the hired yardman.
“I’ll go up and see him before I leave,” he finally said. “I won’t be that far away. You can get in touch with me if you need anything.”
Mrs. Campton nodded, her pearl earrings shimmering along with her short white hair. “I know you’d come immediately, Jeremiah. But your family is depending on you. I think God’s timing is always perfect, so you go on and get settled. But I expect you to visit whenever you’re in town. Please.”
Jeremiah saw the anguish on her face and heard it in that plea. They’d lost their only son and now they had no grandchildren to carry on the Campton name. When he’d called and asked to come by for a short visit, they had immediately taken him in and sheltered him, because they understood what he’d been through. He loved them like he loved his own family but he couldn’t be a substitute for their son. And they couldn’t fill the void inside his heart, kind as they were to him.
“I will always come and see you,” he said, getting up to stand in front of the empty fireplace. Staring up at the portrait of Edward in his dress uniform hanging over the mantel, he said, “I only knew him for a year or so but he changed my life forever.”
“Do you regret knowing him?” Judy asked, her tone without judgment.
“No,” Jeremiah said, turning to smile at her. “He was one of the best friends I’ve ever had, and he did not pressure me in any way to join up. I regret that I didn’t understand exactly what I’d be getting into. I don’t mind having been a SEAL. But the torment of war will never leave me.”
“You have PTSD, don’t you? Post-traumatic stress disorder is a hard thing to shake and I suspect you, of all people, know that.”
Judy Campton was a wise and shrewd woman who’d been a military spouse for close to forty years. She and Ed, as the Admiral liked to be called, married late in life and had Edward a few years later. Like his father, Edward had lived and breathed the military. And he’d given his life for that loyalty.
“Jeremiah?”
He looked around the big rambling room with the grand piano, the exquisite antique furnishings and the rare artifacts from all over the world. This place brought him both peace and despair. “I have nightmares, yes. Bad memories. Moments where I have flashbacks of the heat of battle. But I’m hoping that will improve now that I’m home.”
“Or it could get worse,” Judy replied. “I can give you the names of some good counselors.”
Surprised, he shook his head. “I don’t need that right now.”
“I see.” Mrs. Campton didn’t look convinced. “There is no shame in getting help. I used to volunteer at the veteran’s hospital about thirty miles from here. I’ve seen a lot of men and women improve by just talking about things.”
“I’ll be fine,” Jeremiah said, “once I’m back where I belong.”
“As you wish,” Mrs. Campton replied. “But call me if you ever need me. I’ll be right here.”
With that, he made his way to her. When she tried to stand, he said, “Don’t get up. I only wanted to tell you denke. I owe both of you so much.”
She gripped his arm and pushed with a feeble determination, so he helped her up. “And as I said, we owe you. Having you home brings a little bit of Edward back to us. Now, you go to be with those waiting to see you again.”
“I’ll tell the Admiral goodbye before I leave.”
He helped her back into her chair and alerted the nearby housekeeper that he was going upstairs. Then he turned and headed toward the curving staircase.
“Jeremiah,” Judy Campton called, her gaze lifting to him. “Don’t tell him goodbye. Tell him you’ll be nearby.”
Jeremiah nodded and took the stairs in a rush.
Once he left here, he’d head straight back to his parents’ house and he’d be living there from now until...