Lenora Worth - Their Amish Reunion

Now, struggling on her small farm, she didn’t have Jacob to shield her from the pain of seeing Jeremiah again. Jeremiah, the same but so different.

Ava Jane tugged her shawl tightly around her as the gloaming fell across the green grass and newly budding fruit trees, the last of the sun’s rays covering the hills and valleys and rooftops like a light linen veil. She wondered how she’d ever be able to accept Jeremiah being back in Campton Creek. No matter that she was allowed to speak to him since he’d never been baptized and there was no ban on him. No matter that she might not see him every day anyway. No matter that his family needed him and he’d heeded that call. None of it mattered and she shouldn’t even fret about these things.

Just knowing he was nearby—that would be the hard thing.

Ava Jane rubbed her aching temples and sipped the tea she hoped would subdue the agony attacking her brain.

Dear Lord, give me the strength to go about my life. He has no meaning to me now. I have to forget he’s back.

She would. She’d go on the way she’d been doing. She was blessed and, while she grieved the loss of her husband, she had to consider her children. They had kept her going these past two years. She’d concentrate on them and their needs.

But, even through her fervent prayers, Ava Jane knew that trying to put Jeremiah Weaver out of her mind would be like trying not to breathe.

Impossible.

Chapter Two

News traveled fast in the Amish community. Jeremiah knew before he approached the dirt lane leading up to his family home that they would be expecting him, even if they probably dreaded him being here. Bishop King had offered to come and talk to them, but Jeremiah wasn’t sure if he indeed had made it by yet or how well that visit had gone. Maybe they could all meet with the bishop as a family. The bishop and the ministers had given Jeremiah their blessings to go through the eighteen required weeks of lessons he’d need before he could be baptized.

He’d already started on that at least, and he’d kept in touch with Beth so she’d know he was close by in case his father took a turn for the worse.

“When are you coming home to us?” his sister had asked when he’d sent her word to call him at the Campton estate.

“After I take care of a few things.”

Things such as transferring the money he’d saved to a bank here so he could help his family financially and set up provisions for his mother and sister.

He’d wanted to talk to Ava Jane, too, but he’d never found the courage. So now, she knew he was back. Soon the whole community would know he’d returned. He’d stalled long enough.

These last few weeks, he’d been staying in the guesthouse at Campton House and working for the now-elderly Camptons. But after seeing Ava Jane yesterday outside Hartford’s General Store, he knew it was time to do what he’d set out to do.

He had to face his family.

Beth had faithfully written to him through the years. That was allowed at least. He knew a lot of Amish who kept in touch with relatives who’d gone out into the Englisch world.

Mamm always sent her love but even now she wouldn’t talk to him if his daed was alert and aware. But Daed. That was another matter. While he had not officially been shunned since he’d never been baptized, Jeremiah knew he’d been gone a long time. His daed had made it clear he was not welcome back in the Weaver house, unless he was willing to give his confession and be baptized. Then Jeremiah would be welcomed back and forgiven, and the past would be the past.

Only, he’d brought his past with him. Not willing to think about that now, he made his way up to the wide, welcoming porch that his mamm and sister kept swept and spotless. Already, a riotous bed of flowers bloomed in shades of purple, red and blue all along the porch border. Two potted plants graced each side of the front door. His mother and sister loved their gardens. Daed frowned on such frivolous colors, but Jeremiah knew his father well enough to know Isaac Weaver would do anything to make his wife smile.

Anything but forgive his only son for leaving. His father might accept him back, but Jeremiah wondered if that wound could ever be completely healed. He’d deserted his family.

The bishop had given Jeremiah some advice to help him get started on the process of attending baptism sessions, which happened an hour before church on every other Sunday. Then he needed to get right with his family. The bishop had prayed with him about that, too. And, while Jeremiah had not been ready to share everything he’d seen and done, Bishop King had offered him some hope. “You can talk to me, Jeremiah. Anytime, about anything. Wilkum home.”

Thankful for that, Jeremiah had asked, “Where do I start?”

Rubbing his silver beard, Bishop King had lowered his head. “Your daed is gravely ill. He might not ever know you are home but Isaac will be glad in his heart to see you return. I encourage you to talk to him, even if he seems to be sleeping. Your mamm and sister need a strong man about. The place is going down in spite of neighbors pitching in to help. You will step up, Jeremiah. And in time you’ll begin to heal.”

He was about to step up, all right. He might not be able to truly be a part of this family but he’d do the right thing because he was ready now. Ready to settle down and give his life back to the Lord. Jeremiah would do whatever it took to find his way back to God.

And to Ava Jane.

He hadn’t planned on trying to win her back but...she was alone now. She needed him and, even though she’d acted afraid and angry, he’d seen the truth when he’d touched her hand and looked into her eyes. She could love him again with time and forgiveness. Now he had a wonderful reason to work hard to prove his intentions. He’d make things right with God and his family and then he’d win Ava Jane back. It would be the toughest battle of his life.

Now he stood at the steps of the home where he’d been raised, memories coloring his mind in the same way those flowers colored the yard. But the pretty flowers couldn’t hide the gloomy facade surrounding the big rectangular two-story house. One of the porch posts needed replacing, and the whole place could use a good coat of paint. The house contained four big bedrooms and a large open kitchen and dining area with a cozy sitting area by the woodstove. Big enough to hold church services, if need be. A large basement for storage and summer use. And the grossdaadi haus where his grandparents had lived before their deaths.

A lot needed to be done around here.

Jeremiah closed his eyes and thought about growing up on this vast farm. The laughter, the discussions, the prayers before each meal, the hard work. A heavy mist filled his eyes. He opened them and took a deep breath to calm himself.

Home.

Before he could take another step, his younger sister, Beth, rushed out the door and flung herself into his arms.

“Jeremiah, you’re home! Gott segen eich.”

God bless you.

Jeremiah held her close, the scent of lavender and fresh soap cleansing away the ugliness of what he’d seen on the battlefield.

He held her for only a second and then stepped back. “Shh, now. You know Daed wouldn’t want you touching me.”

She blinked back tears, her dark hair spilling around her white kapp like smooth chocolate. “Daed doesn’t wake up much anymore. We need you home and I need a hug from my big brother, ja.”

“Where’s Mamm?” he asked, his voice clogged with emotion. He smelled pot roast and gravy, maybe even biscuits. His mouth watered just thinking about his mother’s cooking.

“Seeing to Daed in the downstairs room,” Beth replied. “Kumm, we have a grand feast for you.”