he stood at the steps of the home where he’d been raised, memories coloring his mind in the same way those flowers colored the yard. But the pretty flowers couldn’t hide the gloomy facade surrounding the big rectangular two-story house. One of the porch posts needed replacing, and the whole place could use a good coat of paint. The house contained four big bedrooms and a large open kitchen and dining area with a cozy sitting area by the woodstove. Big enough to hold church services, if need be. A large basement for storage and summer use. And the grossdaadi haus where his grandparents had lived before their deaths.
A lot needed to be done around here.
Jeremiah closed his eyes and thought about growing up on this vast farm. The laughter, the discussions, the prayers before each meal, the hard work. A heavy mist filled his eyes. He opened them and took a deep breath to calm himself.
Home.
Before he could take another step, his younger sister, Beth, rushed out the door and flung herself into his arms.
“Jeremiah, you’re home! Gott segen eich.”
God bless you.
Jeremiah held her close, the scent of lavender and fresh soap cleansing away the ugliness of what he’d seen on the battlefield.
He held her for only a second and then stepped back. “Shh, now. You know Daed wouldn’t want you touching me.”
She blinked back tears, her dark hair spilling around her white kapp like smooth chocolate. “Daed doesn’t wake up much anymore. We need you home and I need a hug from my big brother, ja.”
“Where’s Mamm?” he asked, his voice clogged with emotion. He smelled pot roast and gravy, maybe even biscuits. His mouth watered just thinking about his mother’s cooking.
“Seeing to Daed in the downstairs room,” Beth replied. “Kumm, we have a grand feast for you.”
“A feast for the prodigal?”
Beth gave him a solid stare, her blue eyes bright. “Ja. And glad to have him home at that.”
* * *
Ava Jane sat down next to her sister. Once or twice a week, she and her sister and some other friends got together to quilt and bake, taking turns to host. Some might call this time together a frolic and they did frolic, but they also worked and prayed and shared common joys and concerns.
Her friends had seen her through two babies and the loss of her in-laws and her husband. She loved them dearly and counted her sister, Deborah, as a friend, too. Deborah had been eight years old when Jeremiah had left. Ava Jane remembered her little sister crawling into her bed and snuggling close to her while she cried. Deborah remembered how Ava Jane had suffered.
Today, they were at Ava Jane’s house finishing up a quilt she was making for Sarah Rose. The women had been working on the intricate appliquéd patterns all winter and now they needed to complete it before the spring chores, such as planting, gardening and canning, took over.
“Beautiful,” Deborah said, her green eyes searching Ava Jane’s face. “I think Sarah Rose will love this so much. The rose in the center is precious. It will make a wonderful present for her seventh birthday.”
Ava Jane continued to stitch one of the black squares with white backings that would frame a colorful flower, bird or butterfly. “Ja, I’m thankful for the help. I have to work on it when the kinder are with Mamm and Daed.” She glanced at the big-faced clock in the kitchen. Eleven in the morning. “We have a couple more hours. Daed is supervising the pony rides today.”
Both of her children were learning about chores and responsibility thanks to help from her parents. Daed provided a good male influence that helped to discipline them properly, but he couldn’t be with them all the time.
Jacob. She always thought of what a good father he’d been.
“Gut,” her sister said in a conspiring tone, bringing her back to the task at hand. “Now you can tell us what you think about Jeremiah Weaver coming back to Campton Creek.”
Ava Jane missed a stitch and pricked her finger.
Which her shrewd and overly curious sister saw right away.
With a soft yelp, she dropped her needle and held her finger to her lips, the metallic taste of blood making her wince. But she didn’t dare look at her sister or her suddenly quiet friends.
Deborah handed her an old remnant of fabric to hold over her finger. “You’ve talked to him?”
Ava Jane held the fabric to her skin, the pain of the tiny cut stinging through her with a warning while the pressure she put on the wound only reinforced her anxiety. “Not intentionally, ne.”
Why did she feel the need to defend herself and him?
“Then how?” Deborah asked, concern mixed with hurt in her eyes that her sister had not confided in her.
Ava Jane glanced at the two other women watching her with a ridiculous intensity that made her want to laugh. But she couldn’t laugh. “I was coming out of Hartford’s and he was there on the street, loading some lumber into a truck.”
“Lumber, on the street? And a truck at that?” her friend Hannah asked, her brown-eyed expression full of awe. “What does he look like now?”
Did her friends think Jeremiah had grown two heads and now breathed fire? Well, remembering how she’d recoiled at first, she’d probably acted the same.
Ava Jane swallowed and wished she hadn’t been so transparent here today or with Jeremiah yesterday. She never could hide her emotions. Tenderhearted, her mamm called her.
Holding her head up, she said, “He looks healthy.” And hardened and world-weary.
Jeremiah had always been formidable, but now his shoulders seemed to be even wider than she remembered. Strong shoulders.
Her sister made a groaning sound. “Ja, I suppose he would at that.”
“I’ve heard things,” Hannah said, speaking in a rush. “Heard he looks like a different man now. Englisch, my daed says.”
“Does everyone know he’s back?” Ava Jane asked, unable to stop her own curiosity.
“Ja, and that he talked to you on the street,” Hannah replied. “Grossmammi heard it from Rebecca Lantz. She said he’s been taking baptism classes already.”
Ava Jane shook her head. “No wonder it’s all over the place.” Rebecca Lantz loved to gossip and she’d also had a severe crush on Jeremiah at one time. Now at least, she was married and settled. But she still didn’t know when to stay quiet. “Rebecca likes to prattle too much,” she blurted.
She also told herself that if Jeremiah was attending baptism sessions, he must be back for good.
“We are not to judge,” Leah, older and married with six children, said while she cast her gaze across the creamy quilt backing. “Ava Jane might rather not talk about this.”
“He looked fine,” Ava Jane said to show them
