Lenora Worth - Their Amish Reunion

“And she felt that we both also needed to be there with her,” Deborah said, giving Ava Jane an eyebrow lift that warned her this was not Deborah’s idea. “Are you busy?”

Her dear sister was trying to give her an out.

Ava Jane searched to find an excuse. She’d already worked in the garden, swept the porch, hung some laundry on the line out back and made two chocolate pies. “Ne,” she finally said. “But why do I need to come along?”

Her mother gave her a soft smile. “I thought it might cheer up Beth. We haven’t had a good housecleaning frolic in a long time, and Beth’s been working by her mamm’s side day and night for the last few weeks, helping to take care of Isaac. You two can distract her while I help Moselle with whatever needs doing. It’ll be gut for Beth to talk to women close to her age.”

Ava Jane couldn’t say no. And besides, she wasn’t sure Jeremiah’s parents even knew he was back. But they’d have to know if he’d come back to help out. Everyone must have heard by now. He might be living here again, but he’d been using a truck in town when she’d seen him several days ago. That meant he might prefer life with the Englisch. But he must be living somewhere near here, at least. She wondered if he’d decided to stay out there in the world, after all.

But either way, surely he wouldn’t be at his parents’ place. He was no longer welcome there, from what Beth had said about their father’s wrath.

Of course, Ava Jane hadn’t been the best of friends with Beth through the years. Their friendship had been tested mightily. Maybe a visit could help that.

“Let me freshen up and get my bonnet,” she said, already tugging at her work apron. “I made two chocolate pies. I can take one of those to go along with what you’ve provided.”

Deborah gave her another meaningful glance and stepped back to mouth, “Sorry.” Martha’s all-knowing gaze moved between the two of them.

Did Mamm know what she was asking of Ava Jane?

Chapter Three

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” Jeremiah said, his hand over Mrs. Campton’s, while they sat in the stately den of the big house he remembered so well.

Judy Campton smiled over at him and shook her head, her misty green eyes centered on Jeremiah. “No, son, we are the thankful ones. You made a great sacrifice, doing what you did after our Edward died. He would be so proud of you.”

Jeremiah didn’t feel proud. He’d done his duty and he’d followed orders, but he didn’t know how he could ever wipe the stench of death and destruction off of his body.

“I did what I had to do at the time. I thought I’d make a difference, but so many died. So many. In spite of being wounded I managed to be whole and survive. I got to come home.”

Judy nodded and patted his hand before she sat back in her comfortable chair and took a sip of tea, her faithful housekeeper and assistant, Bettye, hovering nearby. Looking into Jeremiah’s eyes before skimming her gaze over his blue cotton shirt and broadcloth pants held up by black suspenders, she said, “But you’re not really home quite yet, are you?”

“No, ma’am,” Jeremiah said, his coffee growing cold on the Queen Anne table centered between the two chairs. “I wanted to thank you and the Admiral for allowing me to stay in the guesthouse for this past couple of weeks. I needed to get my bearings and being here helped.”

“I wish the Admiral felt like sitting here with us this morning,” she replied. “He so loves talking to you. Makes him feel close to our Edward.”

Admiral Campton had taken a turn for the worse over the last year. He had a private nurse and was resting in his bed now, but some days he managed to get up and sit out in the garden he’d always loved. It was a garden Jeremiah had helped landscape and plant all those years ago, he and Edward working side by side with the hired yardman.

“I’ll go up and see him before I leave,” he finally said. “I won’t be that far away. You can get in touch with me if you need anything.”

Mrs. Campton nodded, her pearl earrings shimmering along with her short white hair. “I know you’d come immediately, Jeremiah. But your family is depending on you. I think God’s timing is always perfect, so you go on and get settled. But I expect you to visit whenever you’re in town. Please.”

Jeremiah saw the anguish on her face and heard it in that plea. They’d lost their only son and now they had no grandchildren to carry on the Campton name. When he’d called and asked to come by for a short visit, they had immediately taken him in and sheltered him, because they understood what he’d been through. He loved them like he loved his own family but he couldn’t be a substitute for their son. And they couldn’t fill the void inside his heart, kind as they were to him.

“I will always come and see you,” he said, getting up to stand in front of the empty fireplace. Staring up at the portrait of Edward in his dress uniform hanging over the mantel, he said, “I only knew him for a year or so but he changed my life forever.”

“Do you regret knowing him?” Judy asked, her tone without judgment.

“No,” Jeremiah said, turning to smile at her. “He was one of the best friends I’ve ever had, and he did not pressure me in any way to join up. I regret that I didn’t understand exactly what I’d be getting into. I don’t mind having been a SEAL. But the torment of war will never leave me.”

“You have PTSD, don’t you? Post-traumatic stress disorder is a hard thing to shake and I suspect you, of all people, know that.”

Judy Campton was a wise and shrewd woman who’d been a military spouse for close to forty years. She and Ed, as the Admiral liked to be called, married late in life and had Edward a few years later. Like his father, Edward had lived and breathed the military. And he’d given his life for that loyalty.

“Jeremiah?”

He looked around the big rambling room with the grand piano, the exquisite antique furnishings and the rare artifacts from all over the world. This place brought him both peace and despair. “I have nightmares, yes. Bad memories. Moments where I have flashbacks of the heat of battle. But I’m hoping that will improve now that I’m home.”

“Or it could get worse,” Judy replied. “I can give you the names of some good counselors.”

Surprised, he shook his head. “I don’t need that right now.”

“I see.” Mrs. Campton didn’t look convinced. “There is no shame in getting help. I used to volunteer at the veteran’s hospital about thirty miles from here. I’ve seen a lot of men and women improve by just talking about things.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jeremiah said, “once I’m back where I belong.”

“As you wish,” Mrs. Campton replied. “But call me if you ever need me. I’ll be right here.”

With that, he made his way to her. When she tried to stand, he said, “Don’t get up. I only wanted to tell you denke. I owe both of you so much.”

She gripped his arm and pushed with a feeble determination, so he helped her up. “And as I said, we owe you. Having you home brings a little bit of Edward back to us. Now, you go to be with those waiting to see you again.”

“I’ll tell the Admiral goodbye before I leave.”

He helped her back into her chair and alerted the nearby housekeeper that he was going upstairs. Then he turned and headed toward the curving staircase.

“Jeremiah,” Judy Campton called, her gaze lifting to him. “Don’t tell him goodbye. Tell him you’ll be nearby.”

Jeremiah nodded and took the stairs in a rush.

Once he left here, he’d head straight back to his parents’ house and he’d be living there from now until...