The sound of the engine changed. The tires crunched across the gravel as he allowed the car to roll forward. Two more steps, these easier than the one before, and the driver started down the road. Two turns and he would be back in town. A quarter of a mile and she would be on her parents’ front porch.
Each step was a little easier to make than the last, but still it was rough going. Not so much because the winter had started to take its toll on the packed dirt road, but because she knew what was waiting for her at the bottom of the valley. Or rather, she didn’t know what was waiting for her. Would they be welcoming or would they flatly turn her away? There was only one way to know, and it was a trial by fire.
She stopped at the top of the hill, next to the cabin where Jamie and his adopted son, Peter, had lived for a time when they first came to Mississippi. Maybe her folks would allow her to stay there. It was almost a home. They had built a room onto the back, upping the room total to two, but it would be enough for her and the baby.
Tillie adjusted the straps on her backpack, then cupped her hands over the growing mound concealed by the bulk of her coat. Just another month or so and she would give birth to Melvin Yoder’s child while he remained in the English world repairing engines and enjoying the freedoms he couldn’t have in their conservative Amish community.
But she couldn’t stay there any longer. It was just so hard.
“Okay, baby,” she said. “This is it.” What was Cindy at the day care always saying? It’s now or never.
“Now or never,” she muttered.
Lord, please don’t allow them to turn me away. I know I’ve made more than my share of mistakes. But this child is innocent. She needs a home, a place to stay and be loved. Move their hearts and have them accept. If not for me, then for this baby. Amen.
Once again she started walking, taking in the subtle changes that had come to their little valley since she had left. There was a new tire swing in the large oak that sat next to the barn and horse corral. Someone had moved a washer up to her brother David’s house. She supposed their mamm had gotten tired of washing her youngest son’s clothes. A stack of bee boxes sat to one side of her brother Jim’s house. A lot of changes, but none at all. Maybe it just felt that way because she was different. The English world had changed her, taught her life lessons that she could not have learned anywhere else.
As she entered the shared yards, a screen door slammed. She turned to see Anna, her brother Jim’s wife, standing at the edge of their porch.
“Tillie?” Almost a whisper.
“Hi, Anna.” She smiled, hesitantly, the one motion asking for forgiveness from the start.
“Tillie?” The screech behind her had Tillie whirling around to face her mother.
“Abner! Come quick! Tillie’s home.”
* * *
After hugs from her brothers and her nieces and nephews, and a frown from her father, Tillie was led into the house and directly to the kitchen table. Of course her mother wanted to feed her straight away, but the roundness of Tillie’s belly gave her mamm pause.
During all the welcoming and joyful tears, no one had mentioned her obviously pregnant condition. She didn’t know if no one wanted to be the one to broach the subject or if they simply didn’t know what to say. Or maybe it was because of the mixed company—men and children. Women didn’t discuss such matters around men and children.
But now the clamor had died down. Everyone save Mamm and Libby, her brother Jim’s oldest daughter, had gone back to their lives. Dat was most likely in the barn working on one of the sheds he sold to English and Amish alike. Jim was out with him, she was certain. Just as she was certain David had been sent to her sisters’ houses to tell them the news. And to Gracie’s new home. Leah had written her about Gracie’s new family. She was delighted for her cousin. A family of her own had been Gracie’s unspoken dream for so very long.
Mamm slid onto the bench seat opposite Tillie and shot Libby a look.
The girl immediately stood. “I’ll go check on Mammi.” In the blink of an eye, she was gone, bustling off toward the dawdihaus to see about the oldest member of their family.
Obviously Libby had been brought over to help Mammi. Tillie’s grandmother had fallen and broken her hip a couple of years ago. Hannah had returned shortly afterward, using that injury as an excuse for returning when the real reasons were much more alarming—a dead, cheating husband and debts beyond anything they could imagine. Gracie had come to help at first and stayed until she married Matthew. If Tillie had been at home, Mammi’s care would have fallen to her. As it was, it had become Libby’s responsibility.
“Would you like to tell me about it?” Mamm’s voice was soft and so gentle that tears sprang to Tillie’s eyes.
No, she didn’t want to tell her mother about “it,” but what choice did she really have? None, if she wanted to stay for a while.
“The baby’s due in January.” Maybe not the best thing to start off with, but it was out and she had to be satisfied with it.
“And your Melvin?”
Tillie just shook her head. The lump in her throat took up too much room for her to speak around it. She swallowed hard and tried again. “He didn’t want to return.”
Mamm nodded, but the action was more resigned than agreeing. “And this is what you want?”
Tillie
