Tillie pushed that thought away.
“You think he’ll come back?” Leah asked.
That seemed to be what was on everyone’s mind: Was she staying? Was Melvin coming back?
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want him to?” Leah’s question caused a hush to fall across the room.
Did she want him to? She didn’t have an answer for any of this. She just didn’t know. All she knew for certain was that she wanted to raise her baby and live in peace and not have to worry about what everyone thought. And for that to happen she needed Melvin.
“Uh-oh,” Leah said. “I know that look.”
“I just want to raise my child in peace,” Tillie said.
“The only place you’re going to get that is in the English world.”
Tillie hated the thought of it, but Leah was right. There were too many restrictions with the Amish for there to be no censure of her wrongdoings.
They had warned her before she had left. She didn’t need to hear it again.
“Why?” Tillie asked even though she expected no answer. “Why is it just so hard?”
She supposed Hannah had it a little easier, since she had married an English man with money, but deep down she knew that wasn’t true.
“Why is everything a struggle?” Tillie and Melvin had struggled. They struggled with the bills, struggled to get along with each other, struggled to survive.
“There are different kinds of struggle,” Hannah told her.
Tillie knew. They all did. That Mitch had been unfaithful. That he hit her once. And that she had been planning to get away when he died, leaving her without a cent to her name, just Brandon’s car. And she only got away with that because it was in her son’s name and technically belonged to him.
“Melvin loves you,” Leah said. “That’s worth a lot.”
Tillie didn’t answer.
“What?” Gracie asked. “What is that look on your face?”
“You don’t think Melvin loves you?” Hannah asked.
Tillie sighed. “I guess so, but I know that he loves being with his friends. He left here to drink beer, fix motors, and a bunch of other things that the English world has to offer. He doesn’t see the struggle as a struggle. He thinks it’s just the way the world is. I don’t feel like we struggle here.”
“We do,” Leah said. “Everyone struggles everywhere. The world is full of struggles.”
Tillie knew she was talking about Peter and Jamie and all the struggles they had been through to get where they were today.
Gracie gave her a small smile. Tillie knew she meant for it to be encouraging. “It all depends on how you handle them.”
And that was the problem. Tillie didn’t feel like she was handling these problems very well at all.
* * *
Their talk plagued her for the rest of the day, on in the afternoon, past supper, even when Tillie was getting ready for bed. It affected her prayers. She could hardly concentrate on what she needed to say—maybe even should say—to God. These days, when she talked to God, it felt like all she did was ask. She asked for peace, she asked for understanding. Asked for forgiveness. Asked for hope. So far, she had been delivered none of these things. She was beginning to think God was sending her a message back: some of it was up to her.
Even with all of the decisions and pressures waiting on her, Tillie had enjoyed the day she spent with her sisters and Gracie. She enjoyed being with them and talking about their problems, other people’s issues, and which scent was going to turn out to be the best for the season. It was more than just about making soap and lotion; it was about the four of them being together. She wondered if that was what caused the success of their brand. As if somehow the customers could sense the community and love that went into each bottle.
“Do you have anything planned for the day?” Mamm asked as they finished the breakfast dishes.
“No,” Tillie answered. She picked up the stack of plates and set it back into the cabinet. She didn’t have any plans at all—except to muddle through the mess that had become her life.
“I thought we might make some cranberry Christmas bread,” Mamm continued.
Cranberry Christmas bread had been a Gingerich tradition for as long as Tillie could remember. When Leah and Hannah had returned home, the tradition had grown into what it had been before: all the Gingerich ladies in the kitchen baking together. Even Anna came over. And since Libby was now eighteen, Tillie figured her young niece would be included in the mix.
The thought was both comforting and exhausting. Everything seemed to be exhausting these days. She wasn’t sure if it was the pregnancy or the stress. As much as she hated to admit it, she was fairly certain it was the stress. She had come back for these times with her family and yet now they seem to wear her out—just one more of the trials she faced but hadn’t anticipated. Coming home was supposed to be easy. It was usually the right answer.
Mammi would tell her the opposite. A lot of times, the right decision was the hardest one to make. Now when faced with that sort of tough decision, it was equally hard in either direction, and she didn’t know which way to turn. She had left Melvin a note and told him she was headed back to Pontotoc. In that moment she had felt confident in her choice. Now she wasn’t so sure. But that had nothing to do with her family and everything to do with struggles.
“I suppose everyone is coming over,” Tillie said. She did her best to make her voice level, even upbeat at the prospect. She needed to, for any other day the idea would be appealing.
Mamm shook her head. “Now that the girls have their business going, it’s too hard to get everyone together a second time.”
“Oh.” Tillie felt sort of deflated. Amazing how things changed. One tradition rose and another tradition
