MEN OF LANCASTER COUNTY 01: The Amish Groom Read online

  He flashed me a sheepish grin.

  “Everybody knows you get married in Maryland if you’re in a hurry,” he continued, “so that’s what we did. Drove right down to Elkton and found us an available chapel. She wore a blue dress and carried some kind of flowers. Daisies, maybe. Anyway, after that, it was just two hours over to Cape May for our honeymoon. That was the first time she ever went in the ocean—first time she’d ever even seen the ocean, actually. I can’t tell you how much fun it was to be there with her on that beach, to see how excited she got. Just ran right into the water, blue dress and all.”

  He lowered his gaze to the fire that danced before us, his grin fading to a more somber expression. “The next few weeks weren’t nearly as fun, though, I’ll tell you that. I was still stuck in bachelors’ quarters back at my post, so your mom had to stay with one of her friends in Philly for a couple of weeks since she’d already given up her sublet. While I finished things at the base, filling out the paperwork and such so she could come with me to Germany, she spent her time wrapping up her own affairs and trying to get a passport for herself.”

  He grew silent, lost in thought, so I prodded him by asking if she was successful.

  He seemed to snap back to attention. “Sure was. Now that was an act of God, I’ll tell you. She prayed every day that the passport would show up before we had to leave, and, to my astonishment, it did.” With a grunt, he added, “In fact, it was her getting that passport in time that made me think maybe someday I could have as much faith in the good Lord as she did, you know? She just believed, to her very core.”

  He glanced at me, adding, “I know you’ve probably been told by your grandparents that she turned her back on God when she married me. I can tell you that she did not.”

  Though that knowledge was deeply comforting to me, I said nothing. I wanted him to keep talking.

  After a moment, he did. “We went to see her family before we left for Germany, to tell them we were married and to say goodbye. It was a disaster. You would have thought your mother had married a mafia warlord. Her sister Sarah wouldn’t even talk to her. And your grandparents? They wouldn’t look at me. Did you know that?”

  I shrugged. The way Sarah had described it, that day hadn’t gone well for any of them.

  Dad turned to face the fire again. “Your grandfather pulled me aside before we left and told me to be good to your mother, but he wouldn’t look me in the eye when he said it. At least what he did next was…well, he put a hand on my shoulder and mumbled out something about God protecting us. Your mother told me later he was reciting a Bible verse, but at the time it felt totally personal, you know? Like it was just to me.”

  I nodded. How sad my father didn’t know that the Bible could speak personally to him all the time if he would bother to read it.

  “It was really touching, in spite of the cold welcome. I still remember it. Nicest thing anyone had ever said to me, besides your mother, of course.”

  “That sounds like Daadi.”

  “It was doubly meaningful because I knew what he really wanted to do at that moment was wring my neck, not pray a blessing over me.”

  We both chuckled. That definitely did not sound like Daadi, the gentlest person I’d ever known.

  “They never forgave me for taking their daughter away.”

  I glanced at him. “Not true.”

  He raised his eyebrows at me.

  “I mean, that’s not the Amish way. We always forgive. If we don’t forgive others, then God in turn will not forgive us. The Bible says so.”

  He took a long sip of his drink, draining the bottle.

  “Yeah, well, all I know is, they about broke her heart that day.”

  “That wasn’t about forgiveness, Dad. That was…” My voice trailed off. How could I explain it to an outsider? She hadn’t been shunned, but they had sort of treated her that way when she ran off. It wasn’t meant to be hurtful. It was meant to be biblical, a way to bring a wandering sheep back into the fold. I doubted that was a concept my father could understand, much less appreciate, so instead I just told him about my long-ago conversation with her sister Sarah, how she’d described it as a day none of them had been ready for.

  “Clearly,” my father said, shaking his head.

  “She also said that if they had known what was going to happen, they would have handled things differently.”

  “Yeah? Well, hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that. But I guess I’m glad to hear it. Trust me, I can relate.”

  We were both quiet for a moment.

  “I will say this about your grandparents. They sure came to my rescue when your mother died. I don’t know what I would have done if they hadn’t taken you in.”

  I hesitated, grappling for a response. How different my life would have played out had he done back then what a great many widowed fathers managed to do: find a way to carry on as a single parent. At the very least, I wouldn’t be as torn as I was now, because there would be no question about which world I truly belonged in.

  “They are good people,” I finally managed to say.

  Dad nodded. “Yes. Yes, they are.”

  A few minutes of silence stretched between us as we stared into the fire.

  “If you love Rachel, you should marry her, Ty.”

  “It’s not…it’s not that simple.”

  “Of course it’s that simple. It’s love. Love isn’t complicated. You just ask her, son. I know you’re still young and all, but not in Amish years.”

  I smiled in spite of myself. “Amish years? Is that like dog years?”

  He chuckled. “Sorry. You know what I mean. From what I understand, at your age, you should be married and a member of the church by now.”

  I was surprised to hear him put it so bluntly. I was tempted to tell him the truth, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to know the internal burden I had brought with me or not. Would he be happy or surprised or alarmed that I didn’t know where I belonged? In his mind, he probably thought I had settled on that long ago.

  I gathered my courage and then opened my mouth to tell him that Rachel was a member of the Amish church already and that that’s what made proposing to her complicated—because I wasn’t yet and didn’t know if I ever would be.

  But he stood and clicked off the fire pit. “I need to finish packing, and we have to go over the last of the details. The airport shuttle is coming at the crack of dawn.”

  The conversation about Rachel fizzled away.

  We went inside.

  I saw Brady for a few minutes before I turned in for the night. His attitude toward me was the same. Polite but reserved. I knew one of the first things I had to do after Dad left was have a heart-to-heart with my brother so that I could let him know I was on his side.

  Back in the guest room, I hung up the pants and shirts from my suitcase, though I wondered why I had brought them. I probably wasn’t going to wear any of my Amish clothes while I was there. I set my hat on the shelf above and then laid my suspenders and the empty duffel next to it. Dad had told me to hang on to the UCLA hoodie to wear while I was here, and though he hadn’t had time to pull together any clothes for me from his closet, he said I was welcome to help myself once he was gone.

  After I’d put my things away, I got the notebook out of my backpack and settled into the armchair that was positioned in a corner of the room. I began writing down the list of observations I had mentally made about living the non-Amish life. Then I added a few more:

  Houses can be kept by little work on your part.

  One man can own three cars.

  A house can have rooms that are never even used.

  I got ready for bed and knelt at the chair to say my prayers. I thanked God for getting me safely to California, and I asked Him to watch over Daadi, Mammi, Jake, and Rachel while I was gone. I asked that He give safe travel for my father the next day and safety for Liz, wherever she was in Honduras, and that He would show me how to reach out to my little brother.

 
; And I asked for wisdom and clarity to see His path for me. At this point it felt foggier than ever.

  TWELVE

  I was awake when I heard my dad getting ready to go to the airport. It was about five in the morning, which was eight back in Pennsylvania. Given that I was usually up before sunrise at home, sleeping in this late felt almost decadent.

  I dressed for the day in my new Englisch clothes and slipped on my watch, though I had to loosen the strap first. It had been a few years since I’d worn it. When I opened my bedroom door, Frisco was there to greet me. He had apparently heard me moving around and assumed I’d be coming out. He danced at my feet, and I leaned down to pet him before heading to the stairs. I had yet to warm up to the odd little creature, though his presence made me miss Timber all the more.

  The house was bathed in darkness, and out of the large window in the living room I could see that the street lights still shone and stars had only just started to wink out. I found my dad in the kitchen, sipping a tall glass of orange juice as he stood at the counter-height table, tapping his finger on an iPad.

  He looked up when he sensed he wasn’t alone. “Tyler. Hey. Did I wake you?”

  “No. It’s just way after sunrise back on the East Coast.”

  “Ah. Of course. Farm life and all that.” He powered down the iPad and slipped it into a black leather case slung over one of the tall chairs. “Any last-minute questions for me?”

  We had already gone over a lot, from how to use the Keurig coffeemaker to where the dog park was located to what day and time Liz needed to be picked up from the airport. The minor details I had down. The things I wasn’t sure about, he couldn’t address.

  “Can’t think of anything at the moment.”

  “You know you can email me whenever you want. I’ll be checking it often during the day. Do you still have email?”

  I nodded. I had a Gmail account I had opened a few years back that I used only for the buggy business. It had been a year since I had used it for anything personal. I really didn’t have anyone to email except for my dad and Brady. Dad wasn’t one for email small talk, and Brady had barely used email since he had gotten his iPhone and could text instead.

  “You can call me if there’s an emergency. And make sure you give Brady the number to that cell phone we got yesterday.”

  “Will do.”

  Dad grabbed the leather case off the chair. We walked toward the front door, where his bag was already waiting. From inside a coat closet he pulled out a leather jacket.

  “I tried talking to Brady last night after you went to bed,” Dad said, a sigh in his voice. “I asked him why he didn’t seem too happy you were here. He acted as though he didn’t know what I was talking about. I didn’t press it. I’m on thin ice with him already. I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but I feel that you’re my last hope. If you can’t reach him, I don’t know who could.”

  “God could, Dad.”

  He smiled wistfully. “Sure. God could.” As an afterthought he added, “So maybe you’ll put in a word with the Big Guy on our behalf?”

  “I already have,” I said with a smile.

  He opened the front door, and the warming night sky was tinged with dawn. Dad inhaled deeply and then turned to me. “I feel like I didn’t do right by you, Ty. I’ve felt it for a long time. I can’t change what’s in the past, but I can try to do better with Brady.”

  In my entire life, I had never once heard my dad speak of regret when it came to me. I didn’t know what to make of it now.

  “I don’t feel that you didn’t do right by me,” I said quickly.

  He nodded, but not by way of agreement. It was as if he already knew that’s what I would say. “I kind of wish you did,” he said softly, almost so soft that I didn’t hear it.

  A white van pulled up to the curb, its side painted with an airport shuttle logo and a navy blue jet.

  He thrust out his hand to shake mine in farewell. “Thanks for being here, Tyler. It really means a lot to me.”

  Our eyes met, and for some reason my father suddenly looked different to me. He was only fifty, but he seemed older than that and…defeated somehow. My heart went out to him. With a sigh, he stepped onto the tiled walkway, pulling his black suitcase behind him. Frisco was at my ankles, watching him go and barking the whole time. I scooped up the dog to shush him before he woke up the entire street.

  My dad got into the van, slid the door shut, and the vehicle pulled away.

  I went back inside the quiet house, set the dog down, and headed to the kitchen to have a cup of coffee, read my Bible, and contemplate what had just happened here.

  I feel like I didn’t do right by you, Tyler. I’ve felt it for a long time.

  I had to admit, just hearing those words filled some need inside of me, one I couldn’t explain and didn’t even realize I’d had until now.

  I was showered and dressed and already on my second K-cup, as Dad had called it, when Brady came down the stairs a few minutes after six. He looked half awake and irritable.

  “Hey,” he said to me as he crossed the kitchen floor and grabbed a clean coffee mug and a K-cup for himself. As I watched him use the machine, I mentally added another one to my list.

  Individual cups of hot coffee can be made in a wide variety of flavors with the push of a button.

  I almost made a comment to Brady about him starting the day with coffee at his age, but thought better of it. I was drinking coffee at fifteen. “Morning,” I said instead.

  He shuffled over to the fridge and pulled out a tall container of flavored creamer. “Dad get off okay?”

  “Yes.” At last, a question instead of just an answer. “Can I take you to school today?”

  “Nah. I got a ride.” The coffeemaker sputtered and spewed as it filled my brother’s mug, ending the cycle with an odd mechanical whir.

  “I’m happy to take you. And pick you up after football.”

  “Yeah, I know. I got a ride, though.”

  Brady poured the cream in his cup and stirred it lazily. He turned to leave the kitchen.

  “Brady, can you hold on a second?”

  He stopped.

  “Look, I just want you to know that I’m really glad I can be here with you while Dad and Liz are gone. And I’m looking forward to finding out what you’ve been up to since the last time we talked.”

  “Okay.” His tone was cordial but void of warmth.

  “Can we catch up at dinner tonight? I think I can figure out the grill. I could make us some hamburgers. Would that be okay?”

  He blinked. “Sure.”

  Again, he started to leave.

  “Wait, Brady.”

  Again he stopped. This time, I detected a sigh of annoyance.

  “What?”

  I moved closer to him so that just a few feet separated us instead of the entire kitchen. “Have I done or said something to offend you?”

  “What do you mean?” There was no questioning lilt to his voice.

  “You’ve barely said a whole sentence to me since we picked you up from school yesterday.”

  “What would you like me to say?”

  Was he serious?

  “I guess I’d like you to tell me what it is that I have done wrong so we can clear the air.”

  Brady took a sip of his coffee, but his eyes never left mine until he lowered the cup. “How could you have done something? You don’t even live here, man.”

  He turned from me to head back up the stairs, but I called out after him, asking if he wanted eggs.

  “Okay,” he mumbled, not even glancing my way as he went.

  As a child, I had helped Mammi in the kitchen often enough to know how to prepare eggs. I sprinkled a bit of paprika on them as they were finishing, just like she did, and popped bread into the toaster. When Brady came back downstairs, he grabbed the plate I made for him, grunted his thanks, and took it over to the family room. He clicked the remote for the TV to an ESPN station and ate while he alternately watched
the TV and fiddled with his phone.

  I brought my plate into the family room too. I took a seat on the other side of the couch, set my plate down on the coffee table, and pulled out the phone Dad had bought me the day before.

  “I have a cell phone to use while I’m here.”

  “Yeah, Dad told me.” Brady didn’t look up from his own phone.

  “Can I give you the number so you’ll have it?”

  “Just text me. I’ll have it then. Dad said he gave you my number.” Again, no eye contact.

  “Sure.” I found Brady’s name in the short list of contacts and tapped out a message.

  How are the eggs?

  I sent it and waited. Almost instantly, Brady’s phone made a trilling sound. He grinned ever so slightly and tapped a message back to me.

  Not bad. Add some grated cheddar next time.

  I responded with, Will do.

  And then I quickly followed up with, Is there a camera in the house I could use?

  He looked up at me when he got the message. “What do you want a camera for?”

  “I don’t know. To use as a doorstop?” I smiled, but he didn’t exactly appreciate my attempt at humor.

  “Well, duh, you know what I mean. What do you want pictures for? You can’t take them back with you.”

  I shrugged. “I was thinking I might sign up for a photography class or something.”

  Brady stared at me. “A photography class.”

  “Yes.”

  A few seconds passed before he responded. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No. No, I’m not. Do you have one? A camera, I mean?”

  “I use the one in my phone. Dad uses his phone. My mom has a real one, but I’m sure she has it with her in Honduras.”

  “Ah.” My heart sank. I hated the thought of having to buy one when I didn’t even know yet if I was going to like it or not.

  “There might be a couple old ones in a cabinet in Dad’s study. I think I saw one or two in there when I was looking for an HDMI cable.”