Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy God, he it is that doth go with thee;
he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.
Deuteronomy 31:6
With a thud Bree’s suitcase landed at her feet. She looked up at the taxi driver, quite surprised by his sudden change of demeanor. Was it because she’d had barely enough money to pay her fare? She’d been completely honest with him about how much money she had, and he’d agreed to drive her to the address she’d passed him on the slip of paper. If he’d miscalculated the fare it wasn’t her problem.
Without saying anything further, the driver got back into his taxi and sped back up the road. Bree hoped she’d get a better response from Simon’s parents.
Shrugging off the strange behavior of the driver, she stared up at the pretty white Amish farmhouse, wondering what Simon’s family would say when she told them why she was there. She’d seen them in the distance at Simon’s funeral but hadn’t introduced herself and now they’d have no idea who she was. But if Simon was being truthful, they were very nice people. Surely they wouldn’t turn her away.
Picking up her suitcase, she was glad she’d only brought the essentials with her after her parents had kicked her out. In the case were a few changes of clothes, her cell phone, a few toiletries, and her makeup. After she took a deep breath to calm herself, she headed to the front door.
Before she knocked, she put the suitcase to one side of the door so they wouldn’t see it immediately. She didn’t want to do what she was about to do, but she’d thought things through and there was no other way.
After one more deep breath, Bree pushed her hair away from her face and knocked on the door.
A few moments later, a teenage girl opened the door. When she saw Bree, she raised her eyebrows and stared at her.
“Hello.” Bree was completely thrown off her game; she’d rehearsed what she’d say over and over in her head, quite expecting that Simon’s mother or father would answer the door. “Would your mother or father be home?”
“My mother is home.”
“Could I speak with her?”
The girl nodded and left Bree at the door.
Simon’s mother came to the door and stared at her, before she said, “Hello?”
Mrs. Stauffer was a small woman and her face was quite lined. Bree guessed she’d be somewhere in her forties, but somehow, she looked older. Possibly the stress of losing Simon had aged her considerably.
“Hello, Mrs. Stauffer. You don’t know me, but I knew Simon.”
At the mention of Simon, Mrs. Stauffer’s fingertips flew to her mouth. “You were a friend of his?”
“A little more than a friend.” Bree took a deep breath and glanced at Simon’s sister standing behind her mother. Her well-rehearsed script wasn’t for the ears of a teenage girl. “Could we talk privately?”
Mrs. Stauffer looked over her shoulder at her daughter before she stepped through the doorway onto the porch. She closed the door behind her. “We can sit out here.”
Right at that moment, Bree wanted to run, but she knew she had no other option; she had to go through with it. She sat on a porch chair and when Mrs. Stauffer sat on one herself, she began what she had rehearsed, “Simon and I were very close. I don’t know how to tell you this in any other way except right out. I’m having Simon’s child.”
Mrs. Stauffer looked horrified and gasped with both hands on her cheeks. She stared at her for a while before she said, “No! It can’t be.”
“It is. I’m more than four months along.”
“He didn’t tell me.” Mrs. Stauffer started howling, which brought her daughter running through the front doorway to her.
The daughter looked at Bree. “What’s wrong with her? What did you say?”
Bree stood up and wondered if it would be easier if she walked away.
Mrs. Stauffer screamed at her daughter, “Go get your vadder. Tell him to come here right now; it’s urgent.”
The girl turned and ran into the fields. All Bree could see was the full skirts of a purple dress and the bottom of her boots as the girl ran. The pounding of feet as she ran in the dirt throbbed through Bree’s head causing her to cringe. Putting her hand to her left temple to ease the throbbing, Bree turned away from the running girl and looked at Mrs. Stauffer. Mrs. Stauffer was eyeing Bree’s suitcase.
“Please sit.” When Bree sat back down, Mrs. Stauffer asked, “Where do you live?”
“My parents kicked me out of their home when they found out about the baby. I have nowhere to go.”
“How did you know Simon?”
“I met Simon at a club. We became good friends.”
Her face soured.
“We were going to marry,” Bree added, knowing that, just like her parents, Simon’s parents wouldn’t be happy about the fact that the baby would’ve been born out of wedlock if they had chosen not to marry. Even though her parents weren’t religious in any way, they were upset about Bree’s pregnancy because they had wanted her to marry Ryan Lexington, the son of a wealthy couple they knew.
“It’s too late to say you were going to marry. So Simon knew about the baby?”
“He did and he wanted to get married even more when he found out, but then things didn’t turn out well. I want you to know that his intentions were good.” Bree looked up to see Simon’s father striding toward the house and her heart pumped hard against her chest.
Mrs. Stauffer stood up. “I’ll tell him what you told me. Then we must all talk.”
“Yes, good,” Bree said in the wind because Mrs. Stauffer was already hurrying to her husband. Staring at her hands in her lap, Bree sat on the porch not sure what to do. It suddenly occurred to her that they might not believe her. It had never occurred to her before now that they might question whether their late son was truly the father of her baby.
After Mrs. Stauffer stopped speaking to her husband, he turned around and said something to his daughter who had been walking up behind him. She immediately turned around and walked in the opposite direction, away from them. Then Mr. and Mrs. Stauffer made their way toward Bree.