The Promised Amish Bride. Marta Perry
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to, I’m sure.”
Ben, with his characteristic slow reaction, mused for a moment and then smiled. “Aaron finally home. That is gut news, ain’t so? It seems like just yesterday that we were walking down the road to school together.”
“I don’t know what call you have to be so happy,” Elizabeth said. “He wasn’t much of a friend, never getting in touch with you in all these years.”
By the time her parents returned from their lengthy visit and Ben and Elizabeth moved back to their own house, Sally figured her tongue would have calluses from biting it.
“He could hardly be in touch with Ben without letting his folks know where he was,” she pointed out.
“That’s so,” Ben said. “Aaron back again, think of that. Too bad tomorrow is an off Sunday for worship, or he’d have been able to see the whole church at once.”
Sally smiled. Ben couldn’t imagine that someone might not want to be confronted with the rest of the Leit all at once.
“Maybe it’s just as well he has a chance to settle in before greeting the whole community,” she suggested.
“Yah, maybe so,” Ben admitted. “I heard he was working with horses somewhere out west.”
“I don’t know about out west, but it looked as if he was giving Sally a hand with that fractious gelding. That animal’s too much for her.” Elizabeth frowned, then launched on her repeated refrain about Onkel Simon’s gift.
“Star was just a little leery of being on the road, that’s all,” Sally said, no more eager to get on to this subject of conversation than to talk about Aaron. She wasn’t about to admit how scared she’d been before Aaron came to the rescue.
“You’re making light of it, but I know what I saw.” Elizabeth gave the rolling pin a decided thump. “Ben should have refused that animal for you the minute your uncle showed up with it.”
The quick retort she’d been congratulating herself for keeping under control slipped loose. “That was not Ben’s decision. It was mine, and I’ll thank you to remember it.”
She was sorry, of course, the instant the words were out, but then it was too late. She sent up a penitent prayer. Would she ever learn to control her unruly tongue?
Elizabeth swung on her husband. “Tell her, Ben. Tell her that horse is too much for her.”
Ben, after a cautious glance at his sister’s flushed face, shook his head. Then he sent Sally a pleading look that she could hardly refuse.
She took a deep breath and fought for patience. “Don’t worry so much, Elizabeth. I won’t take any chances with Star.” She’d have to give more, if only to restore peace. “If he’s not learned to behave himself by the time Daad gets back, we’ll let him decide what to do.”
Elizabeth still looked a bit miffed, but she nodded. “I only want you to be safe,” she said.
To do her credit, that was probably true. Elizabeth had a kind heart to go with that tart tongue.
“That’s settled, then.” Relief filled Ben’s voice. Poor Ben. He only wanted peace, something he couldn’t get with two strong women after him.
But nothing was settled as far as Sally was concerned. She had no intention of giving up the liberty granted by having her own buggy horse. And she’d just had a thought that might well solve her problem.
Aaron King. If anyone could do anything with Star, it would be Aaron. Now all she had to do was convince Aaron of that.
* * *
Those moments with Sally Stoltzfus had distracted Aaron from his apprehension, but it had flooded back the instant she turned away. If he’d thought the road filled with memories, it was nothing compared to the flood that threatened to overwhelm him as he walked down the lane to the farm. Every fence post, every tree, every blade of grass even, seemed to be shouting his name.
Welcoming him home? Or reminding him that he no longer had a place here? He wasn’t sure. Just as he wasn’t sure he even wanted to be here. Or to belong again.
He’d have to make up his mind soon. He could only hope no one would force an answer about his plans. Or be too curious about what had caused him to return now. His mind winced away from that thought.
The field to the left of the lane was planted in corn now. Sere and yellow, it wouldn’t be long until they cut the stalks. Behind it, the pasture was filled with the dairy herd that supported the farm. The herd was larger than it had been when he’d left, it seemed to him. The barn and the milking shed looked in good shape, tidy and freshly painted. If the place had been neglected while Caleb recovered from the injury he’d suffered a year ago, it didn’t show.
The carpentry shop his brother Daniel ran was a new addition. He only knew about it because Daniel, once he’d learned where Aaron was, had written to him faithfully, as had Onkel Zeb. His oldest brother, Caleb, was never much of a letter writer, but that wasn’t the reason for his silence. Caleb, with his high standards and even higher expectations of his younger brothers, would be the least accepting of his return, he expected.
Still, Onkel Zeb had said that Caleb and his wife, Jessie, would like to see him, and Onkel Zeb wasn’t one to say things he didn’t mean.
As if his thought had brought him, Zeb picked that moment to emerge from the back door of the house. He stared for a long moment, probably not sure who it was he saw walking down the lane. Then, with a loud shout, he ran toward Aaron, beard ruffling in the movement, arms spread wide in welcome.
Once again Aaron dropped the backpack. In the grip of an emotion too fierce to resist, he raced toward his uncle. Zeb’s strong, wiry arms went around him, his beard, gray now, brushing Aaron’s cheek. The tears in his uncle’s eyes made him ashamed—ashamed not of leaving, but of failing to let them know where he was for such a long time. Onkel Zeb, at least, would have worried and wondered.
“Ach, it’s sehr gut to see you.” Onkel Zeb took a step back, but still held him by the shoulders. “We’ve been hoping... Why didn’t you tell us you were coming? We’d have been ready to give you a fine wilkom.”
“This is a fine enough wilkom for me.” Aaron blinked rapidly, forcing down emotion. He’d learned, out in the world, not to show his feelings too quickly. It gave the other person an edge, he’d learned. “How are you, Onkel Zeb?”
“Fine, fine. Nothing keeps me down as long as there’s work to do. And there’s always work on a dairy farm.”
“I saw the herd. Looks like Caleb has been doing well.” Aaron welcomed the return to a more casual topic. “Still dealing with the same dairy?”
“Yah, that doesn’t change. Lots more rules and regulations and paperwork now, but we keep up. But komm, schnell. The others will want to see you.” He marched to the bell that hung where it always had next to the back door. Reaching up, he gave it a hearty yank, making it peal across the farm.
They’d all come running when they heard the bell at such an odd time, Aaron knew. He retrieved his backpack, just as glad to hide his face for a moment from Onkel Zeb’s keen eyes. His uncle never missed anything, and he’d know the apprehension Aaron felt about coming back.
Zeb had become more of a father than an uncle to the three of them after their mother left. Their own daad seemed to lose heart once Mamm went away, and it was Onkel Zeb who’d stepped in, Onkel Zeb who’d had the raising of them. When Daad passed away they’d grieved him, for sure, but not much had changed. Onkel Zeb was still there.
Aaron straightened. It would have been Onkel Zeb to be hurt the most when he’d run off, he felt sure. Since his uncle seemed more than ready to forgive and move on, he could indulge in the hope that the others might feel the same.
The house door opened almost immediately, and a woman emerged, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “What’s wrong? Onkel Zeb, are you—”