It’s leaning,” Jayne said when Levi finally stood the Christmas tree upright. “And possibly crooked.”
“It’s nature. You want a straight tree, buy a fake one. Bet you it won’t smell this good.” Levi stepped back. “It looks green. Healthy. Needs decorations.” He looked to Jayne. “You got lights?”
“Do you really want me to answer that question?” Jayne folded her arms.
“It would have been nice if you’d told me that while I was out for a tree stand.” Levi studied her and shook his head. “I don’t suppose lights and decorations were much on your radar.”
“We need twinkle lights,” I said. “And ornaments. And snowflakes.”
“And peanut butter crinkles,” Jayne added. “Just saying.”
Levi ignored her. “We could string cranberries, hang tinsel…”
I wrinkled my nose. “The cheap shiny stuff that melts in vacuums?”
Suddenly I had Jayne and Levi’s full attention. “When…what?” Jayne tilted her head. “When have you…come in contact with tinsel?”
“Um, William mentioned it at the store. That’s what he said tinsel was.” I sighed. I’d done it again. I watched as Jayne and Levi suppressed amused expressions.
“He’s right,” Jayne said. “Sorry. It was just funny hearing you say it. Absolutely right though, you and William. I would know. My mom went on a tinsel binge when I was eight. The vacuum had to be put down.”
I clapped my hands. “Let’s get decorations.”
Levi patted my head. “I thought you saw Christmas decorations as frivolous.”
I batted his hand away. “Some, yes. But just a little is okay. And they sparkle.”
There was no mail Sunday, which was just as well. For the past week the only thing stopping me from going home every lunch break to check the mailbox was the thought of losing my parking space, even though it was tucked in the back. People in Portland were ruthless about spaces, and I wasn’t going to take that chance.
By Monday though, I was getting anxious. Weeks had passed since my disastrous “I like clothes” interview, and I hadn’t heard a word.
They would tell me one way or the other, wouldn’t they? I knew I could ask nearly anyone, but I was too afraid and too tired of asking questions with answers obvious to everyone but me.
The shop was busy Monday. During a short lull, William shared with me his trick for getting rid of books that hadn’t moved—he put them on the front display table with a sign that read “For Your Holiday Consideration, 30% Off Our Yuletide Picks.”
“People come in looking for books,” he said as I studied the display he’d put together.
I lifted one. “Birds of the World?”
“We’ve hardly sold any since we got them in two years ago. That’s when Richard still did the ordering.”
“He doesn’t anymore?”
“Oh no. He knows I handle it better.” He pointed at the book. “There are some very nice birds in there. Would work for coffee tables and bird lovers. And the cardinal on the front is festive.”
“Festive?”
“It’s red. Red like Christmas.”
I put the book back. “Does this work?”
“Like magic. On the idiot shoppers, at least. Others are more discerning, but we have books for them too.”
“Why wouldn’t everyone be discerning? Wouldn’t you want to find books for people that they’d actually enjoy?”
William snorted. “People should, but they don’t. It’s Christmas, you know?”
I didn’t. But I didn’t want to tell him that.
I hurried home after we locked up. Hurried as much as I could, anyway. Maybe three miles per hour over the limit. Maybe.
Jayne wasn’t home yet, so I used my key to open the mailbox. Catalogs, a utility bill, and something that looked like a Christmas card from Jayne’s sister, Beth. A Bed, Bath & Beyond coupon. And two letters addressed to me.
One bore the logo for the Art Institute. The other spelled my name out in familiar loops and lines. The name in the return address read “Rebecca Zook.”
My sister.
Jayne came home to find me sitting at the table, both letters in front of me. “Mail? Did you get something from the art school?”
“I did,” I said, still not able to wrap my mind around the situation. “I got a letter from my sister too.”
“Oh.” Jayne finished taking off her motorcycle gear and took a seat in the chair next to me. “Did you read it?”
“Not yet. How did she get this address?”
“Your mom has it.”
“Did I know about that?”
Jayne placed her elbow on the table and rested her head in her open palm. “I don’t know if we ever talked about it. But I called her a few days after you left.”
“That wasn’t any of your business!” I said, even though I knew it was stupid to even think such a thing. I lived in her home. She was engaged to my brother. It was completely her business.
She knew that too, I think. Instead of arguing, Jayne sighed and put her arm down. “You’re not going to be happy with me, but there are other letters.”
“What?”
“Levi calls it the mail brigade. For a year after he left, Rebecca sent letter after letter trying to get him to come back to the community.”
“Rebecca’s been sending me letters?” My head spun. I loved Rebecca, looked up to her. “For how long?”
“A while.”
I felt my chest grow tight. “How long?” I demanded.
“They started after you’d been here all of a week.”
“What did you do with them?”
“Levi was here when the first one came. He insisted I hold them aside. He’s got them if you want them. I didn’t want to go through your mail, but I didn’t want you part of a brainwashing effort either. None of it’s true. It’s all manipulation, trying to get you to come back. And it’s not like I was spying on you—I can’t read them. They’re written in Pennsylvania Dutch.”
Without waiting another moment, I opened the letter and scanned the contents.
We miss you so much…Mother cries every time she speaks of you…Father has grown so pale, I worry for his health…He has seen the chiropractor many times, but nothing seems to work…The children miss you…Leah looks so much like you these days, but sadder…
I put the letter down. “Could it be true? Did I ruin my family?”
“Think about it. Rebecca wrote things just like that to Levi after he left, or so he’s told me. What was it like after Levi left. Do you remember?”
“I was young,” I said, “but I remember. It was very sad. But after a while, it got better. Levi sent letters. He visited, especially when the younger ones were born. We adjusted.”
“See? You adjusted. Rebecca was trying to make things seem worse than they were.”
“But Levi wrote letters and visited. I haven’t. Now my parents have lost two children.”
“Do you want to call your grandmother? Ida would be straight with you.”
I thought about it and shook my head. “I can’t go back. I can’t call.”
“Are you sure? It’s only a phone call.”
“No. It’s contact. I can’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
I knew she was. And I didn’t blame her for keeping the letters away. I told her as much.
“Are you going to look at the other letter?” she asked.
My heart pounded as I looked at it, the narrow white envelope on the table. “What if they say no?”
“Then you will find work as an organic farmer. Farm woman. Farm-stress.”
I reached for the second letter, this time opening it with more care. I unfolded the enclosed paper and read.
“Oh?”
“They must not have thought I was a moron. They let me in.” I looked up at Jayne. “They let me in?” I took a closer look at the letter. “Are they crazy?”
Jayne laughed out loud. “You did it! You don’t have to be a farmette after all!”
We stood up in our chairs, hugged each other, and danced around the living room. I tried to fill my mind with thoughts of school and crowd out thoughts of home.
William squinted at me Tuesday morning. “You’re smiling a lot.”
“Am I?” I think I may have smiled when I said that.
“What’s going on? New meds?”
I didn’t know what he meant, but that was nothing new. “I got into the school I applied for.”
“Oh yeah?” He paused with the box he was unloading. “What school?”
“The Art Institute.” I couldn’t help it. I beamed.
“So you’re, like, an artist? I didn’t know that. What’s your medium?”
“Fabric, I guess. I want to go into…” I tried to remember what it was called officially. “Apparel design. You know, clothes.”
“Congratulations,” William said to my surprise. I had expected him to say something pointed or possibly show remorse for the holey flannel shirt he wore. “I hear that’s a great program.”
“Thank you,” I said. Feeling bold, I asked where he went to college.
“William and Mary for my undergraduate degree. Colombia for my graduate work. Hated New York. Most of that time, I traveled back and forth to the American Academy of Bookbinding in Colorado to earn a diploma in binding and book conservation.”
My mind tried to take it all in. “You attended two schools at once?”
“The Academy offers one-week classes a few times a year. It started out as a hobby and ended up as a profession.”
“You went to school in three different places?”
“Yup.”
“Wow.” I couldn’t imagine going to so many places, learning so much. “What did you study?”
“English literature at William and Mary, Russian literature at Colombia.”
“So much literature,” I said.
He shrugged. “I liked to read.”
“If I make clothes with my design degree,” I said, thinking as I spoke, “what do you do with literature degrees?”
“This and that.” He gave an empty smile. “At least I’m not waiting tables.”
“People wait tables with literature degrees?”
“Dirty secret of the academic world. When are you starting classes?”
“January eleventh. Although there’s an orientation for new students on the seventh.”
“Were you planning on working through school, or are you going to give notice to Richard?”
Was he trying to get rid of me? I shook my head. “I want to work. I need to work. I like being responsible for myself.”
“That’s always the goal,” William said, with a bitter tinge to his voice. A customer stepped in before I could ask why.
As elated as I felt over the acceptance to the school, Rebecca’s letter weighed heavily on my mind. I called Levi over my lunch break, and he offered to bring dinner to the apartment that night.
Getting Levi to come to the apartment wasn’t hard, considering his fiancée lived there. I wondered how long they would live in limbo before they married. I wondered where I would live when they did, but I stopped myself. I could only worry about one thing at a time.
“Is that Chinese takeout?” I asked Levi when I let him inside.
“It is.”
“Buttering me up because you kept Rebecca’s letters from me?”
“Felt like my sodium level was low, that’s all. Jayne’s not home yet?”
“She had a few projects to finish up at the paper.”
“Sit down with me?”
“Okay.” I followed him to the couch and seated myself next to him. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
“Honestly? No. There wasn’t a good reason to. She’s our sister, and I know we both love her, but Rebecca is a skilled manipulator when she wants to be. I didn’t think you needed to be exposed to that.”
“Manipulation or not, what did she say?”
“Everything she said to me when I left. How everyone was sad and miserable and crying in their pie slices at every chance. I’ve talked to Mom about it. She said it certainly wasn’t easy, but it was never that bad.”
“But you visited and wrote. I don’t. What if it is that bad?”
“Then wait for it to come from someone who’s still living at the family house. They have this address if they want to write. But I think Mom knows that you’ll write or visit when you’re ready. She told me once that she wasn’t surprised that I left, that she could see my restless spirit outside my skin. She had hoped I might stay or even return, but she didn’t expect me to do either. My guess is that it’s the same with you. You’ve wanted this a long time.”
I did—that was the crazy part. I wanted to be here so badly, and I now I felt torn between my life in Portland and my life at my parents’ farm. Sometimes I felt as if I were splitting into two people, my Amish self and my new English self. I still knew how to be Amish, how to be plain, how to not say hello and goodbye because it was too fancy. But now there was my English self who watched films, baked fancy cookies, and dressed in clothes from Nordstrom’s sale rack. Little wonder I had no friends outside of Jayne and Levi’s circle—making friends with me had to be a confusing experience.
“The letters are in my truck if you want to see them,” Levi said, his words interrupting my thoughts. “Although I really don’t recommend it.”
I sat up straighter. “But I could see them if I wanted?”
“Absolutely. You’re an adult.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “An adult whose mail you hid. In fact, I think that’s actually illegal.”
“Probably is. Want to give Joely a call?”
“She’d be more likely to get the police in Washington to make Rebecca stop—what’s the word? harassing?—harassing me through mail.”
“You’re probably right.”
We heard Jayne’s footsteps as she came up the stairs. “So we’re okay, you and I?” he asked. I could tell he was a bit worried.
I wrapped my arm around his back and gave him a hug. “We’re okay.”
The bolt on the door turned and Jayne stepped in. “Hi, guys. Chinese? Everything good in here? ’Cause, you know, you have to tell me before you hitch a ride in the trunk of my car again.”
We laughed together. The moment felt so much like home, like family. I blinked back tears without anyone seeing and went in search of clean plates for dinner.