I knocked on the back door and waited several moments. As I was turning to vamoose, Ruth welcomed me with a hopeful smile. “Eva. Come on in. It’s gut to see you.” Her face was a road map of lines, and her mouth was white. She’d aged considerably since I’d last seen her. Poor woman. I had little doubt this transformation was from having her husband hanging on the brink between life and death.
She led me through a dark utility room and into the kitchen. She was wearing house slippers. I untied and kicked off my shoes and left them next to a pair of boots inside the kitchen door.
Ahead, an abundance of baskets filled with muffins, pies, Tupperware housing applesauce and canned peaches, and casseroles cluttered the table. “May I offer you anything?” she asked me. “Ach, our neighbors and church members have been generous, but it’s more than we can ever consume.”
“Nee, but denki for your kind offer.”
“How about tea or kaffi?”
“Maybe later.” I was on a mission of sorts and was determined to get it accomplished.
“Ready to see Amos?” She turned to me, her face as haggard as if all her life had been drained. “I should warn ya, he’s awake, but in a half-dream state. But I was told at the hospital he can hear us. For some reason he’s repeated your name over and over.”
“Why would he want to see me? Does Amos blame me for Jake’s going away?”
“I don’t think so.” She blinked, the whites of her eyes bloodshot. “I wanted to see you too, dear.”
But why? Did she think Jake and I were getting married? Nothing made sense.
A hospital bed stood in the living room beyond the kitchen. Amos was a big man, but he was hardly visible under the blankets and quilts. All I could see was a pale, bearded face and closed eyes.
Ruth touched his arm. “Amos, look who’s come to see us.” He blinked his eyes open. When he noticed me, his face came alive. “Eva?” His voice was a mere sliver.
“Yah, it’s me.” I expected harsh words, but the corners of his mouth lifted a smidgen.
“Look! He moved his hand.” Ruth sounded ecstatic.
Not knowing what to do, I placed my hand on his, the first time I’d ever been within six feet of him. His hand wavered, as if trying to grasp my fingers.
“You’re the only person he’s reacted to, Eva. Not even me, his frau.”
“Amos?” I said as his fingers went limp again. A moment later, he sank back to sleep.
“Please stay. Don’t rush off,” Ruth said.
“I don’t understand.”
“Amos thinks you’ve brought our Jake home, is what I’m guessing.” Her face was drawn, her skin gray. “Eva, please talk Jake into staying. I can’t run this farm by myself. Our dochders live in Indiana and have large families. Their husbands are busy managing their dairy farms. I’ll have to sell.”
“Is money the only reason?”
“Nee. I want our son back. I’m not strong enough to take care of Amos even with the community’s help.” She lowered her chin. “Now it’s my turn to help someone in her time of troubles.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ach, I shouldn’t have said anything.” She grimaced. “I’m a big blabbermouth.”
I heard the heavy tread of a man’s footsteps entering the room.
“Denki for coming, Evie.” Jake spoke as if he hadn’t seen me minutes ago. Maybe the whole Miller family had gone ab im kopp.
I was afraid to look at Jake, to be sucked into the vacuum of his deep-blue eyes.
“I was just leaving.” I pivoted away from the bed.
Jake looked to his mother. “Has Dat improved? Did he speak to Eva?”
“Amos recognized her, I’m sure of it. But then he drifted back to sleep.” She turned to me. “The doctor said Amos may do this for days. Or weeks. We’re expecting a therapist to arrive tomorrow to help Amos recover his motor skills, if he ever does. A frontal lobe injury can change a man forever.” Her lower lip quivered. “Will you come back, Eva?” Her words trembled as if she were restraining a sob.
“I can’t. I work every day except Sunday.”
Her fingers clammy, Ruth took my hand. “Then please come to supper after work.”
“I don’t want to cause Amos or you distress…”
“You won’t, dear. I’ll send Jake to fetch you.” Her gaze fell to the floor. “He drives a car now. It’s parked around behind a shed where no one can see it.”
“Nee, I can’t,” I said. “And I must be leaving now to see my parents.” I spun and walked right into an attractive late-teen Englisch girl. Her streaked, ash-blond hair cascaded over her shoulders. Her eyes were ringed with makeup that made her look like an owl.
Jake cleared his voice. “Evie, this is Brandy.”
“Oh?” My gaze homed in on her prominent abdomen. She was dressed in leggings and a loose blouse, no doubt trying to camouflage the fact she was with child.
“Hi, there,” Brandy said.
Despite my shock, I put my hand out to shake hers when she extended it.
“She’s…she’s a friend, Evie. Nothing more,” Jake stammered.
I pivoted to Ruth and caught her look of distress. “So they claim,” Ruth told me, her voice lacking conviction.
“It’s true, Mrs. Miller,” Brandy said. “I had a boyfriend, but he beat me up.” She lifted her hair from her forehead to reveal an ugly yellowish-green bruise, and then she pulled up a shirtsleeve to reveal more bruises.
“Brandy told me her parents booted her out.” Ruth moved closer. “I said she could stay with us if she’d help around the house and with Amos.”
“She just showed up at your front door looking for work?” I heard derision in my voice.
“No, I came with Jake.” Brandy rubbed her tummy as if she felt the unborn child moving.
“I have to leave.” My mouth was so dry I could hardly speak. “My parents are waiting for me.” I back-stepped toward the
