That evening, after Rue was already asleep in her little bed with the curtains pulled shut to block out the last of the summer sunlight, Thomas sat on the steps of the house, a piece of wood in his hands, and he whittled away at it. Rue had given him an idea, and he was now working on some little wooden Amish people—a mammi, a daet and even two uncles. But right now, he was working on the mammi. Wood curled as his knife pared away another slice of wood, and he blew on it, scattering the shavings into the summer wind.
The funny thing was, as he worked on what was supposed to be the mammi, the figure was turning more slender, more lithe and much more like a mamm in a family... He didn’t carve a face, but the figure was one he recognized—this looked very much like Patience. Would anyone else notice that? What was it about this woman that had crept into his head, coming out in his work?
Because he couldn’t stop thinking about her... And that was wrong, because he had to put his daughter first. She hadn’t asked to be born, and yet here she was, thrust into a world that must seem incredibly foreign to her. She was trying to adjust—he could see that—but the burden couldn’t rest on those tiny shoulders. He was her daet, and he had to smooth the way for her.
A buggy turned into the drive, and he looked up in the lowering light. He recognized Bishop Glick with the reins in his hands, and he was alone. The sun was near setting, and the shadows were long and soft. Thomas put down his carving, then rose to his feet and headed toward the bishop’s buggy.
“Good evening, Bishop!” Thomas said, as he ambled over. “How are you doing tonight?”
“Well, I’m enjoying this dry weather,” the bishop replied. “After all that rain last month, it feels good to have dry feet.”
“Yah, it does,” Thomas said with a nod. “What can I do for you?”
“Well... This affects both you and your brother, so maybe I should discuss it with the both of you.”
“Mamm?” he asked.
“Yah.” The bishop tied off his reins and hopped down from his buggy. “Your mamm came to speak with me, and... I thought it best to come see you about it.”
Thomas led the way inside, and Amos and Mammi both greeted the bishop with smiles, but when his intention to talk with Thomas and Noah was made clear, they excused themselves and left the three in privacy.
The sitting room was lit by a kerosene lamp hanging on a hook overhead. There was another reading lamp between the couch and a chair, and the bishop took the chair, his expression solemn.
“Our mamm came to talk to us,” Noah admitted.
“Yah, I understand that,” the bishop agreed. “And she did come see me. She wants to return.”
“A little late,” Noah muttered.
“Are you angry still, then?” Bishop Glick asked.
“You could say that,” Noah admitted.
“And now that she’s wanting to come back,” the bishop said, “will you give her a home when she returns?”
“Yah,” Thomas interjected. “I will, at least. Of course.”
“Can you forgive her, though?” the older man asked. “Both of you. Can you offer her your sincere forgiveness for her past mistakes?”
Thomas looked over at his brother and they exchanged a silent, miserable stare. Forgiveness wasn’t quite so easy to deliver.
“We’ll try,” Thomas replied after a beat of silence.
“You left the service early on Sunday,” the bishop said. “I wanted to ask you why. The sermon was about forgiving others, and—”
“It wasn’t because of the sermon topic,” Thomas replied. “Rue isn’t used to worship, yet. Bishop, I’m doing my best. She hasn’t been raised in our community from babyhood. There is a lot for her to learn—for both of us. We’ll need a little grace.”
“Your mamm said something quite similar,” the bishop said, his voice low. “She said she’s made mistakes, and all she could hope for at this point was a little grace and forgiveness.”
Tears misted in Thomas’s eyes and he swallowed, blinking hard. His mamm... Facing life as a single parent was not easy, but she’d left them! She’d given them an impossible choice, and she’d gone alone to the city, to her sister and to that life that they’d been taught was fraught with evil.
“This is the part that is difficult for me,” the bishop went on. “If we vote to let her come back, then we’re opening our community to her influence. We all influence each other, whether we like it or not. But if I turn her away, then perhaps I’m going against Gott’s will. He asks us to forgive, not to judge, and Gott works in mysterious ways. He’s brought his wayward daughter to our door. She’s asked to be permitted to live a plain life again. What do we do with that?”
Thomas licked his lips, but he remained silent.
“What would you like us to do under these circumstances?” the bishop pressed. “This is your mamm. You must have missed her desperately.”
“Yah, we’ve missed her,” Noah confirmed.
“As her kinner, your lives will be directly affected by this decision,” the bishop said. “This will be voted on by the elders, but I’d like you both to give us an idea of how it would impact you if she returned, or if she stayed away. To have your mamm back in your life would be wonderful, I’m sure. But it would also impact your daughter, Thomas. I wanted to hear from you what you would like the outcome to be.”
“You want us to be part of the decision?” Noah asked.
“Indirectly, yes. I want you to let us know how you feel about your mamm’s return. And then we will pray for Gott’s guidance, and vote. But your feelings in this matter to us.”
“I don’t know what to