Their Amish Reunion

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.