Ties That Bind (5 page)

T
he mattress beneath Lovina felt wonderful as she snuggled against it. She'd longed all week for this between Sunday to arrive. No church and only necessary chores. As she drew a deep breath, she smelled bacon and coffee.

Really?

She opened one eye. It was daylight. Barely.

Did someone have to be somewhere, maybe visiting an Amish district that did have church today, and she'd forgotten? She eased out of bed, leaving her husband sound asleep. After grabbing her housecoat, she slipped out of the room and tiptoed down the wooden steps, hoping not to wake her grandchildren. Her own children slept until seven or eight on between Sundays, but when it was daylight, Salome's young brood woke easily.

Once on the last few steps, Lovina could peer into the kitchen.

Ariana.

Ah, the joys of having a daughter who loved to bake. Sunday wasn't meant for earning money, but baking for the family was welcome. Despite being groggy Lovina felt a smile cross her lips. As she passed the twenty-foot beat-up table in the dining room, dozens of memories flitted through her mind. After a few more steps, she was in the kitchen and could see that Salome's newborn was cradled in the nook of Ariana's arm. That was par for Ariana. She was a helper at heart, and she'd taken the night shifts for the first month or two with each sibling's newborn. With fourteen nieces and nephews, Ariana had spent many a night cuddling newborns.

But Ariana's movements weren't her usual smooth, gentle ones. Her shoulders were stiff, and each action was choppy, as if anger or panic was smoldering just under the surface, not that anyone else would see what Lovina could—except Abram.

Perhaps Ariana was simply tired. Had she rested at all last night? The counters were covered in the familiar clues that fresh croissants were in the oven. Since Ariana hadn't even begun them by the time Lovina went to bed, they would've taken rounds of attention during the night to be ready to bake for breakfast.
“Guder Marye.”

Ariana glanced up, and Lovina saw distress in her gorgeous green-blue eyes. “Good morning.” Ariana continued bustling around the kitchen, using one hand to scrub counters and set dirty cookware in the sink while holding the newest member of the family in the crook of her other arm.

Disquiet settled over Lovina. Ariana was no brooder. When she was upset for long, it was rooted in something serious. “I heard that Berta is coming home soon, right?”

“Ya.” Ariana seemed completely distracted.

“I'm guessing once she's released, a driver will take you to the hospital to get her.”

She nodded.

“And you'll stay with her during the day as much as you can until she's on her feet again?”

Ariana nodded again.

Lovina slid her hands into her housecoat pockets. “Something seems to be bothering you, and I gather it's not Berta's health. Ya?”

Ariana closed her eyes and gave a slight shrug. “Ya.”

The heaviness in her daughter's voice sent chills down Lovina's back. “Since when?”

“Night before last.” With the baby bundled warmly and tucked safely in her arm, Ariana opened the refrigerator and just stood there, staring inside.

Lovina grabbed the tongs and turned the bacon. “What's going on?”

Her daughter, who was less than three feet from her, didn't seem to have heard her, and Lovina's heart sank. Had she and Rudy broken up? It wasn't like Ariana to get out of sorts over a breakup, but Rudy was the first man Ariana had shown any real interest in.

The timer dinged, and Ariana must not have heard that either because she didn't budge. Lovina peered into each of the two ovens, seeing four large baking sheets covered in golden brown croissants. Why had her daughter made this many croissants? The ovens were old hand-me-downs that her husband constantly repaired, but with their large family, having two felt like a necessity. She took out the pans and placed them on the cooling racks Ariana had already set out. When she turned, Ariana was still staring into the refrigerator. Lovina moved in close and placed her hand on her daughter's back. “Ariana, honey, whatever you're looking for, you won't find it in there.”

Ariana turned. Her usually sun-kissed skin was pale. She pressed her lips tight, as if she'd keep the trouble to herself—or more likely between her and Abram. Ariana started to speak. But then she glanced at the stairs, and Lovina knew that whatever was going on, Ariana didn't want to chance anyone overhearing.

Lovina shut the refrigerator door. “What's wrong?” she whispered.

“I…I think someone is planning on leaving the Amish.”

Lovina's heart skipped a beat. “Someone among the Summer Grove community?”

Ariana nodded and wrapped both arms protectively around Katie Ann.

Lovina's head spun, and she willed her knees to remain strong. She pulled out a barstool from the island, gesturing for Ariana to sit. “What makes you think that?”

Ariana barely shook her head before she lowered her eyes. Her sense of lostness seemed to mix with the wonder of the newborn resting in her arms.

Lovina went to the cabinet, took out two mugs, and poured them each a cup of coffee. “You could be mistaken, right?” Lovina was ready to launch into an encouraging sermon. “I mean, there's no cause to borrow worry when—”

“I ran into Quill night before last.”

Lovina's pep talk melted, and all hopeful words of wisdom vanished. “Where?”

Soft moos from their small herd of dairy cows drifted inside. They were milked a little later on between Sundays than any other day.

“I saw him in his home.” Ariana raised her eyes. “He apologized to me.”

Lovina's hackles rose at the mention of Quill. “And well he should, but that doesn't mean—”

“It was clear his apology wasn't for what he'd already done.”

Terror crept into Lovina's heart.

This was the fear Amish parents lived with—every bridge being burned between them and their offspring. What an awful way to end such a beautiful beginning—welcoming newborns into the fold, watching over them with love and prayers for two decades, give or take, and then to see them across a great divide, standing in the world with the Amish on the other side. Did Englisch parents live with such fears for their children—the terror that the fires of hell would swallow their loved ones? “Did Quill give you cause to believe that the someone leaving is a part of our family?”

She shrugged, frustration and disgust evident on her face. “I'm unclear what he meant, but late last night after everyone had gone home, I knew what I needed to do. So I called the married sibs, and without explaining why, I invited them to breakfast. They're all coming.”

Now it made sense why Ariana had made so many croissants. “Ari, honey, this is awful news, and my insides are shaking, but you can't directly ask your siblings. That will sound accusatory. Besides, if someone is planning to sneak off, do you think that person would answer truthfully?” Her question sounded callous even though her heart threatened to break at the thought of losing someone. But she understood the issues with confronting someone who was on the verge of leaving, and Ariana didn't.

“What do you want me to do, Mamm?” Ariana's face flushed with anger. The whisper barely contained her desperation. “Maybe my plan won't work, but it's better than doing nothing, isn't it?”

And there it was—her daughter's unbearable guilt for doing nothing when Frieda disappeared into the world with Quill. Lovina supposed it was like survivor's guilt. There wasn't anything Ariana could have done to keep Frieda and Quill from leaving, but because she was with them when they disappeared, she carried guilt.

“Ariana, honey…” Lovina wished she knew what to say. Maybe she should wake Abram. Lovina rarely had the words that could reach inside her daughter's heart and make a difference.

Quill had once had that power, and his misuse of it caused Ariana to dissect every word spoken to her.

The stairs moaned and creaked, and Lovina stopped searching for the right words. A few moments later Mark stumbled into the kitchen, his shirt half buttoned and one suspender over his shoulder, keeping up his pants. “Coffee.” He plunked onto the barstool next to his sister, clueless that he'd just entered a room filled with emotion. He rubbed his eyes, and Ariana scooted her mug to him.

He gazed into the dark brew. “Now that's good service.” He patted Ariana's shoulder. “For once.” He took several sips of the black liquid. “Live somewhere long enough and you'll finally get decent service.”

“Think so?” Ariana raised both brows, staring at him, a forced humor for Mark's sake. “Because I've been here almost as long as you, and it's not happened yet.”

He motioned toward Lovina. “Ya, Mamm, what's the deal with that?”

Lovina chuckled. “I think she meant you haven't given her any timely help.”

He frowned. “Really?” He shook his head. “Nah, she can't mean that. After all”—he held up one arm and flexed a muscle—“it's me. All the girls think everything I do is perfect, right?”

Mark, Lovina's third son, was the jokester of the family. Lovina was fairly sure he had tenderness underneath all his swagger, but she had to take that on faith because he didn't let her actually see what was in his heart. At twenty-three he was losing his boyish looks and had the appearance of a man ready to find a wife. Did he wish to leave the Amish to do so?

Lovina's eyes met Ariana's, and she seemed to be wondering the same thing. Ariana got up and eased the sleeping baby into Lovina's arms before she went to the cooling racks. “Mark?” Ariana took a spatula to several croissants, moving them to a platter. “I heard someone in these parts is thinking of leaving the Amish.” She paused her actions and turned to study her brother.

“Again?” He seemed completely surprised, and Lovina felt the same relief she saw on her daughter's face. “Well”—he stood and buttoned his shirt before slipping the other suspender over his shoulder—“maybe it'll open up more work for me, something with better pay than a small dairy and more permanent than doing odd jobs.” He gulped half the cup of coffee. “Take next Saturday for instance.” He set the mug down and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “I heard about a job through the grapevine, and on Saturday I will help build a stage on the green space of some subdivision. What's an Amish man doing building a stage for a bunch of college actors and singers?” He grinned, clearly pleased with his humorous observations. The Amish often did whatever work came along, but they didn't believe in being in the spotlight, nor did they think higher education was helpful toward staying humble and rooted to home.

A cow bellowed. “But this morning I have cows to milk.” Mark popped his suspenders. “I gotta go.”

Ariana passed him a croissant. Lovina heard a soft rumble of noise from upstairs. More of her family would come down soon.

“Denki, Sis. You're the best.” His faint smile spread into a mischievous grin. “The question is…the best at what?” He shrugged. “No one has yet to figure that out.”

Ariana wagged a finger in his face, taunting him.

He swatted at it while backing away. “I hate when you do that.”

“I've known that since I was ten.” She moved forward, wagging her finger in his face and chuckling. He ate a bite of the croissant and grabbed his straw hat off a peg near the back door. Mark would milk the cows this morning. Someone would probably join him in a bit to help, but with such a small herd, one person could easily take care of it. “I would say I'll be back when you're less annoying, but then I'd have to spend my life in the barn.” He laughed, and the back door slammed shut.

Ariana looked out the kitchen window, watching her brother disappear into the barn. She drew a deep breath. “At least we know he's not making arrangements to leave.”