Their Amish Reunion
Until he could make amends, prove himself worthy and...maybe one day ask Ava Jane to marry him.
His sister, Beth, and his mother, Moselle, had welcomed him with open arms the other day since the bishop had told them of Jeremiah’s wish to come home and help out. The bishop had talked this over with the ministers, too. They were all in agreement that as long as he followed the rules of the Ordnung and worked toward being baptized, he would be accepted back.
“Du bliebst Deitsch,” the bishop had warned him. You must keep the ways of your people.
Mamm, perhaps too tired to turn down the help of her only son, had rushed into his arms the minute he’d walked into the familiar house two days ago. Then she’d stood back and said, “Go and see your daed.”
“He doesn’t want to see me,” Jeremiah replied, every pore of his body working up a cold sweat, his too-tight shirt straining at his shoulders.
His mother put her hands in Jeremiah’s. “He needs to know his son made it home.”
When he hesitated still, she added, “Do this for me.”
Jeremiah couldn’t deny his mamm. So he nodded and made his way into the hallway that lead to what used to be a sewing room in the back. His father lay there in a hospital bed, his body gaunt and pale, his once-thick dark hair now thin and streaked with gray. A shroud of sickness hovered over him, but with his eyes closed, he looked at peace and as if he was only napping.
Jeremiah blinked away the hot tears piercing like swords in his eyes. Had he caused this in his daed? Standing at the foot of the bed, he remained silent and asked God to give him the strength he needed.
I need forgiveness, Lord. I need my earthly father to know that I made it back to him. And You.
Now this morning, as he stood in the same spot and again prayed about how to approach his father, he could at least know that he’d never turned away from God. God had been there with him in the raging seas when he’d swum through treacherous waters and on the smoke-covered battlefields when he’d crawled with the snakes. God had been there when he’d held a buddy in his arms and watched the life leaving his eyes. God had been there when Jeremiah had woken up in a hospital and cried out for home. And for his God.
He had scars on his body and scars in his soul.
But how did he heal this rift that had separated him from this man? The man who’d loved him and taught him all the ways of being a real man. The man who’d cried out in anger that Jeremiah was never to enter this house again.
Talk to him.
Both the bishop and his mother had said the same thing.
So Jeremiah took a deep breath and used his military training to focus. And then he sat down in the hickory rocking chair beside the bed and let out a long shuddering sigh of both relief and regret.
“I’m home, Daed. I’m home for gut.”
Isaac Weaver didn’t respond. He kept right on sleeping in that deceptively peaceful way. But Jeremiah talked to him anyway, in gentle, hushed tones that held both respect and sadness.
He began to tell his story of taking a bus across the country and finding a job in Coronado, California, where the US Naval Special Warfare Command was located. He’d lived in a hut of an apartment with two other roommates who were planning to join up, and he had worked at restaurants and on farms while studying to get his GED. He’d saved up some money and passed the test, thanks to the books Edward had encouraged him to read and to his well-educated and worldly roommates who to this day still called him Amish. He’d then joined the Navy and immediately asked to enter the SEAL Challenge Program. He’d entered the Delayed Entry Program as an enlistee, so he could be sure he knew what he was doing and get some extra training and instructions before the real stuff began.
The instructors and counselors had warned him that training and duty would wipe out everything about him and change him. And still, he had insisted he was ready.
“No one can ever be ready for such a thing,” he whispered in anguish. “But I couldn’t fail. I would have had to go back to fleet—regular Navy for two years—that is.” He stopped, shuddered a breath. “I didn’t fail. In spite of everything, I made it through.”
His father never moved, seemed to barely be breathing.
Jeremiah sat quiet for a while, his prayers centered on his father and this farm. He made a list in his head of all he needed to do. And he was just about to go on to explain boot camp and how the grueling training he’d undergone in a facility in Illinois, known as The Quarterdeck, had just about done him in. So close to his home and yet he couldn’t reach out or visit.
He never got that far, however.
Because he heard feminine laughter in the front of the house...and smelled lavender and fresh soap.
Standing, he peeked up the narrow hallway to the front of the house and saw three women hugging his mother and sister.
And one of those women was Ava Jane Graber.
* * *
Ava Jane glanced up and into the other room.
Jeremiah stood staring at her, his expression full of surprise and hope. He looked so different today. He was wearing the standard uniform of an Amish man: work shirt, broadcloth pants and dark work boots. He pushed the straw hat back, as if he’d become irritated with wearing it again.
Ava Jane couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. This had been a very bad idea. She should have stayed at home, where she belonged.
Jeremiah started toward her and then halted, his boots creaking against the hardwood floors.
Her mother and sister stopped talking and stared at her, and then they both glanced to the end of the hallway.
Deborah’s curious stare held shock. “So, Jeremiah is back.”
Beth nodded, her glance dancing over Ava Jane before settling on the others. “Ja, indeed he is. Home to help out.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Mamm said, patting Mrs. Weaver’s hand. “And to see that he’s visiting with his daed.” She sent Ava Jane an apologetic smile tempered with a motherly warning.
“Isaac rarely responds to anyone these days,” Moselle Weaver said. “We hoped Jeremiah might bring him back.”
Ah, that explained why Jeremiah was in his daed’s room. But Ava Jane wondered what would happen if Isaac Weaver should wake and find his wayward son sitting there.
Dear Lord, help me to be kind. Help me to find grace.
Jeremiah was now coming toward her, determination gathering like a thunderstorm in his eyes. He made it a few feet into the room and stood firm, his expression almost serene. “Hello, Mrs. Troyer. Deborah.” His eyes moved from them to her. “Ava Jane.”
Mamm hurriedly greeted him and turned back to Beth and Mrs. Weaver.
But both Beth and Deborah stood mystified by this encounter, knowing expressions passing between them like kinder playing volleyball.
“We only came to drop off this food and offer our help,” Mamm said, holding up the baking dish full of chicken potpie. “I believe Ava Jane has a chocolate pie for you, too.”
Ava Jane’s hands were shaking so much she thought she’d drop the pie.
But before that could happen, two strong hands took the dish right out of her grip. “My favorite,” Jeremiah said, his smile soft, his tone quiet. “Denke.”
The rest of the women started scurrying here and there like squirrels after acorns. Nervous chatter filled the big room and echoed off the crossbeams, but Ava Jane couldn’t hear what the women were talking about. She only heard the roar of her pulse pumping against her temples.
So she stood there like a ninny, wondering what to say or do. Ava Jane needed the floor to open up and swallow her. Needed the wind to lift her up and out into the wide-open spring sky. Neither of those things happened.
“How are you?” Jeremiah asked, true concern in his eyes.
“Fine, thank you,” she managed to say. “And how are you?”
A loaded question. What are you doing here? How did this happen? Explain everything to me and help me to understand.
His smile reminded her of the old Jeremiah. Her Jeremiah.
“I’m gut. Better than when I first arrived.”
“So...you’re going to stay here with your family now?”
“Ja. I was staying with the Camptons in their guesthouse.”
The Camptons.
Like a cold splash of water, sharp-edged anger hit her in the face. “That makes perfect sense,” she said, regaining her equilibrium and her strength. “Why didn’t you continue to stay with them?”
Jeremiah’s expression shifted and went dark. “Because they are not my family. I belong here. And I’m going to prove that to everyone, Ava Jane. Especially to you.”
Shocked at his blunt words, she ignored the rush of embarrassment surging through her and accepted that he held bitterness in his heart, too. Gut. She hoped he had a lot of guilt and bitterness left to deal with.
Regretting her harsh wishes, she nodded and swallowed her pride. “Your mamm needs you now. But you don’t need to prove anything to me, Jeremiah. Nothing at all.”
Praying they could leave now, she turned to face her mother. But before Ava Jane could form a good excuse, her mother announced, “We’ve been invited to stay for dinner. I’ve accepted only because after we eat, we are going to give Moselle and Beth a rest while we clean the house and wash up the laundry.”
Her mother’s tone brooked no argument. Ava Jane took a long breath and reminded herself that she had come here for Beth and Mrs. Weaver. Not for him. She could share a meal with these two friends. She’d be just fine because she would not let Jeremiah’s presence affect her. At all.
But before she could hurry into the kitchen, Jeremiah moved closer. “I have everything to prove to you. But mostly, I have everything that is left in me to give to God.”
With that, he spoke briefly to his mother, then nodded to the other women and turned to walk out the back door.
Ava Jane’s face burned with shame.
She’d never once stopped to wonder about what he’d been through out there. And she had to consider—did he truly have anything left to give to God? Or her?
Chapter Four
The women ate a quick dinner, and then Ava Jane, her mother and Deborah did a thorough cleaning of the Weaver house while Moselle and Beth tended to and then sat with Isaac. After an hour or so of sweeping, dusting and freshening up, the smell of lemon-scented furniture polish and bleach gave the whole place a clean springtime freshness. They’d thrown open all of the windows, and a gentle breeze cooled the entire house and cleared away some of the gloom of medicine and sickness.
The whole time Ava Jane’s nerves were on edge. She kept expecting Jeremiah to come through the door and glare at her again. She didn’t belong here but she was having a hard time seeing him here. He didn’t belong and he stood out like a mighty oak in a field of corn.
Father, help me to overcome this resentment. I know he means well but he left us. He left all of us.
Her prayers didn’t calm her, and yet Ava Jane tried to wipe the bitterness out of her mind and go about the task of helping friends in need. Since Jeremiah had left, she’d stayed away from the Weaver house. But she’d been friends with Beth since they were close in age and had attended school together, even if Ava Jane had let things lapse in that friendship. Civil. She’d been civil to his family and she’d been sympathetic to their pain. Ja, she felt that same pain to the core.
Maybe that was why her mother had forced her to face the entire family head-on. So she’d see her own bitterness and work to overcome it. Her parents had a way of embracing adversity instead of turning from it. Her mother was forcing her to face her worst fears and work through them with prayer and guidance.
Indeed, she had to put her raw feelings aside. Isaac was dying. And his only son had come home to help out and be with him. Maybe she should talk to the bishop and get some advice on how to handle things better.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Moselle said over and over after Mamm had told her they were done. Coming out of the sick room, she’d gasped in surprise at the fresh flowers on the table and the sparkling clean kitchen and sitting area, her eyes as blue as her son’s. Patting her kapp, she added, “I’ve neglected so much around here.”
“Mamm and I try,” Beth explained with an embarrassed blush. “We hurry through chores because we want to sit with Daadi as often as we can.”
“Of course you want to spend time with him,” Mamm said with a sympathetic smile. “That’s why we came to help.”
“We’re blessed to have gut neighbors who do the outside chores,” Moselle said, grief in every word. “I’m thankful Isaac is home with us and we can be near him.”
Not to mention cleaning him and bathing him, Ava Jane surmised from hearing their conversations. No wonder the two of them looked so withered and exhausted. And no wonder they’d welcomed Jeremiah back with open arms. He was needed and she had to admire his stepping up to do the right thing.
That took courage, considering how he’d been gone for so long. Considering how he’d left and what he had become.
Father, can I ever forgive him? How can I even start?
Beth had voluntarily filled them in on the details earlier, her voice hushed and whispery. Ava Jane hadn’t wanted to hear it but she’d held her breath with each revelation Beth brought out.
“He is staying in the grossdaadi haus for now. The bishop approved that. He takes his meals with Mamm and me, but doesn’t sit with us.” She shrugged. “His choice, out of respect for Daed.”
He was here to work hard and help his family, she explained. In the meantime, he planned to make things right with the church. With God.
“He started the baptism sessions weeks ago.”
Deborah glanced at Ava Jane during these tidbits of information regarding Jeremiah. “Where has he been for so long?” Deborah asked, her innocent tone barely masking her inquisitive nature.
“Out in California,” Beth said. “At least that’s the address he sent me a year ago, after he’d finished his duty. But I didn’t tell anyone except Mamm.” She shrugged. “He joined the Navy and went on some sort of secretive missions. I don’t ask for details. I think whatever he did out there must have changed him. He needed to come home.”
She shot Ava Jane a beseeching, hopeful smile.
Ava Jane didn’t tell Jeremiah’s sister or mother that she’d searched in the library to learn about the Navy and the SEALs. Why bring that up now? She hadn’t asked any questions while Beth talked either, but now she tried not to think about Jeremiah being out in the world alone. She only knew he’d have to make a lot right in order to be brought back into the fold. That was the Amish way. The bishop and ministers had obviously approved of him coming back. He’d have to study and understand adult baptism, discipline, shunning and separation to see where he fit in and to accept that once he committed and was baptized, he’d be expected to stay here and follow the church rules.
Once Jeremiah confessed his sins in front of the church and asked forgiveness and was baptized, he would be accepted. They would not mention his past again. And he would become Amish again. For good.
Could he do that? Could he confess what he’d done all these years, just forget all about it? How did a man forget about killing and war? What if he wanted to go back out there into the world or go back into the fray? What about that duty Beth had mentioned?
If he left again after he’d pledged to serve God and return to the tenets of the Ordnung, which consisted of a district-wide set of rules and regulations they were all expected to observe, Jeremiah could never return.
Please, Father, I pray he means to stay.
She refused to feel anything beyond that hope, but her heart hurt for what he must have done in the name of war. He had courage, too much courage. He’d always had a reckless, rebellious side and he defended his friends, no matter what.
Honoring a friend was why he’d left in the first place.
But he was back and he was indeed trying to make amends. Ava Jane knew she wasn’t to judge. That didn’t mean she could forget either.
She could only pray for Jeremiah and hope for the best for him.
The shining thankfulness in Moselle Weaver’s eyes told Ava Jane one thing. He was still very much loved. And love could heal a multitude of sins.
“I think that’s it,” her mother announced from behind where Ava Jane stood by the sink, staring out toward the fields.
They’d finished in time for Ava Jane to make it home to greet her children after school. “Gut. I need to get back before the kinder put out a search party.”
She was about to turn to leave when she saw Jeremiah plowing, his broad shoulders firm and solid, his big hands working the reins with a seasoned knowledge, as he urged the two big Belgian draft horses through the hard dirt. Growing up, he’d been muscular and big boned, his upper body full of strength because he managed to sneak off and swim in the creek all summer long. He’d had a natural grace about him. He’d been the kind of man who could take on any task and make it look easy. A smart learner, her daed used to say. Now that muscle was solid and fully matured and that grace fell across his broad shoulders like a mantle. He would farm this land and make it good again.
She didn’t want to accept how natural he did look, back in the fields, his hair long and curling around his hat, his face bare to mark him as unmarried. When she thought of that and of all the unmarried friends she had, a streak of fierce jealousy shot through her like a spark of fire.
She would not be jealous. She had no right to be jealous of anyone who might be interested in Jeremiah.
Behind him in the far distance, the covered bridge stood solid and firm, a glisten of water peeking through in diamond-like sparkles. Beyond that, far on the other side of the big creek that ran deep and wide, stood Campton House. The huge Georgian-style mansion had always fascinated Ava Jane. But the house held bad memories for her, too. Jeremiah spent a lot of his rumspringa at that house.
Something fluttered inside her heart. A memory of Jeremiah and Jacob laughing and playing in the body of water centered in their community. Jeremiah loved to swim since the day his daed had begun teaching him. He’d glide through the water like a fish. Jacob hadn’t been quite as strong but he tried to keep up. She’d watch them from the covered bridge, her fear of water too pronounced to allow her to join them. Jeremiah coaxed her to join even though girls didn’t swim with boys.
“I’ll teach you how to swim, Ava Jane,” he’d said.
She’d never learned. And she’d never told him that she was terrified of the water.
Why had she remembered that now, when the man she watched was deep in rich dirt and misty dust?
“He’s going to plant our spring garden even though it’s late in the season,” Beth said from behind, causing Ava Jane to come out of her stupor. “He’s trying so hard, Ava Jane.”
“I can see that,” she said to Beth, meaning it. “I’m glad for him. You need him home, ja?”
“Ja,” Beth replied. “God brought him home. Our prayers have been answered.”
Thinking of the Biblical story of the prodigal and how his father had welcomed him with open arms, Ava Jane touched Beth’s hand but didn’t speak. Then she turned to her mother and sister. “I need to go now please.”
She almost ran out of the room, her heart betraying her every step. She had to stay away from Jeremiah Weaver. He’d broken her heart once...and she was still mourning the loss of her husband. But she was still mourning the loss of Jeremiah, too. It was wrong to think of another man when she ached for Jacob every day.
Jacob had drowned down in the creek, trying to save a hurt calf. He’d slipped on some rocks and old limbs, fallen and hit his head. A neighbor had heard the little calf crying out and had found Jacob.
The prodigal might be home but her husband was gone forever. That didn’t seem fair to Ava Jane. Not at all.
She would try her best to forgive Jeremiah for leaving her but she couldn’t forget how badly he’d hurt her. The guilt of loving him haunted her. Even now.
* * *
Jeremiah stayed away from the house long after he was sure Ava Jane and her mother and sister were gone. He couldn’t be around her right now. It hurt too much to see the disappointment in her eyes, to read the judgment in her expression.
Coming back here had been hard. He’d been prepared for the curious stares and the condemning whispers. He’d also been prepared to work hard toward forgiveness and baptism. But he’d blocked out everything else. Or he’d tried. He thought he could get on with things if he avoided Ava Jane. Campton Creek was a small community and the Amish community within the tiny hamlet was even smaller. People knew he was back and, while most had been kind if not standoffish, everyone was watching him as if he were a deadly bug.
Shunned but not really shunned.
Alone in the middle of the world he’d loved and left.
Longing for a woman he’d loved and left.
Dear Father, I don’t think I can do this.
“Jeremiah?”
He whirled, hoping.
But it wasn’t Ava Jane walking toward him with a tall glass of lemonade. His sister, Beth, came up to the fence he’d been working on. “I reckoned you’d be thirsty.”
“Ja.” He took a long swig of the cool tart liquid. “Denke.” His little sister gave him the curious expression he remembered so well. “Is there something else you need to say, Beth?”
Beth watched as the big Belgian geldings munched on their evening hay. “You stayed out here all day. You must be exhausted.”
“I’m used to hard work.” He glanced back toward the house.
“They have left, Jeremiah. You can come inside now.”
“I’m used to being outside, too,” he replied. “It’s nice to be back on the land.”
Again, that curious stare. “What was it like, Jeremiah? Out there, I mean.”
His gut clenched. He didn’t talk about such things. None of them ever did. For one thing, his team members were trained to stay quiet about their missions. But then, how could he explain it to innocent, pure Beth? Or anyone for that matter. The brutality of being in such a secretive, demanding career changed some men in ways that could never be explained. But he had refused to let it change him.
He did not want to talk about it either.
Instead, he did a scan of the landscape, his gaze hitting the big creek where he’d frolicked and played with Jacob, with Ava Jane sometimes watching from the shore or the bridge. “What happened to Jacob?” he asked.
Beth shot him a disappointed frown. “Did you not hear? I thought I told you in one of my letters.”
“No. I didn’t even know she...Ava Jane...was a widow. You never mentioned that in your letters.”
“I did try to contact you, but later I tried not to mention her in my letters,” Beth replied, guilt coloring her pretty eyes. “I didn’t want you to think of a married woman, and then I only wrote about our family, since I didn’t want to gossip or hurt you.”
“I thought of her every day,” he admitted. “Now, tell me what happened to Jacob.”
Beth swallowed and held on to the weathered fence post. “He drowned down in the creek.”
Jeremiah flinched and closed his eyes. “How? He was a fair swimmer.”
“He went in after a trapped calf and, from what the sheriff could put together, he must have fallen and hit his head. They found a deep gash over his left temple. He was knocked out and went underwater. Just a foot or so of water.”
Jeremiah hit a hand against the fence, causing the old wood to crack. Beth stepped back, shock in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a gravelly whisper, his heart rate accelerating. “I...I had to learn to swim one thousand yards in twenty minutes and to hold my breath for at least two minutes underwater. I mastered scuba diving, underwater demolition and swimming for miles at a time. I could have... I could have saved him.”