Go back to bed, Esther,” Detteh said. “It’s still dark out.”
“Dah hant?” Esther pointed to her dad’s hand, and her head tilted to the side. “Bloot.”
“Just a little blood.” He winced, and his face grew whiter. “I’m leaving the Bivel for you and Mem. Read it every day.” He laid the thick black book on the table in front of him.
“What about you? Don’t you need to read the Bible?”
He hesitated for several long moments, his lower lip tight between his teeth. His dark hair was waxy on his forehead beneath his black hat, the good one that he wore to church. He was wearing his nice suit too, she noticed.
“Esther, why are you out of bed?” Her mother walked into the house. Her face was white and shiny. Ghostly. Why was she outside with Detteh? The old dishrag she held was bloody.
Her parents looked at each other, but neither spoke. Her dat grabbed the suitcase that was on the floor and turned toward the door. Her mother inhaled deeply, then her fast footfalls went up the stairs without even giving Esther a second glance.
“Where are you going, Detteh?” Esther asked.
“Listen, Mem will explain it all to you—later. I’ll be back soon.”
“But you said you would teach me to play the harmonica.” Esther pointed at the small mouth harp on the kitchen windowsill.
“I’ll teach you when I come home.”
“Promise?” Esther raised her eyebrows.
“I promise.”
“And you promise you’ll be back soon?”
“I promise, Essie.” He stepped forward and his hand reached out to her but never touched her. He pulled it back, rubbed his black beard, and was out the door a moment later. Her nightgown flapped as a cool draft pushed through the doorway. He was gone.
Esther’s eyes startled open. This wasn’t the first time she’d dreamed about the morning her dat left. It was the first time, however, that the memory of his bloody hand had infiltrated the dream. She’d called him Detteh back then—just the way little English children used Daddy. Not all Amish children did this, but she had always loved the affectionate term.
She tried the word in the dim morning light.
“Detteh.” The soft-spoken word floated around the room but she privately vowed that it would never land on her lips again. Instead, the word brushed against the glass panels of the windows and the embroidered scripture wall hanging with its reminder to be silent and patient.
A June breeze danced through the open crack of the window and carried with it the scent of rich soil, dew, and freshly cut grass. The field behind the house had perfect rows of rounded stacks of hay. The serene and orderly view brought Esther comfort and peace, but there was Chester, taking up residence in her mind. She didn’t want to think about him. Her time with Daisy was diminishing fast and Chester’s presense was a constant disruption to her.
Was this the last time she and Daisy would make peanut brittle for Mrs. White? Had this spring been the last time her little pointer finger would poke deep into the moist soil to drop in a seed for Esther? Time with Daisy was what she wanted to focus on, not stewing over what to do about her father who had returned from the dead.
This was Chester’s third morning in their home, and he was like overripened fruit—he was past his usefulness to her. She didn’t need a father now. Hadn’t she told him only two nights? He didn’t socialize with the community, except for meeting with Reuben once, as far as Esther knew. The rest of his siblings lived out of state and had left soon after Orpha’s funeral. During the days, he had left in his Oldsmobile for hours, only to return with the smell of brew trailing in the air behind him. This was the first morning he’d stayed for breakfast.
“How’d you learn to do all of that signing stuff?” Chester wiggled his fingers and hands around as he sat waiting for the fried eggs Esther had reluctantly offered him.
Did she really want to share with him the journey she’d taken with Daisy? He made easy conversation that led to him acting more at home and less like a guest. She didn’t like it, nor did she want to accept him. She would have to ask him what his future plans were since he could not continue to stay here. The meek and humble Amish women her church had bred would continue to allow him to stay indefinitely, but she would not.
“A church in Washington, DC, worked with the deaf.” She flipped the egg onto a plate and put it in front of Chester. She wanted to enact shunning rules with him, which would mean she couldn’t eat at the same table with him, but the church had not officially shunned him yet. Though for a man who had abandoned his family, then returned and planned to stay, a shunning was anticipated. The church leaders would visit him soon, and then it would be brought before the church. A shunning for his lifestyle and actions was inescapable. “An Episcopal church.”
He chuckled. “An Episcopal church? How’d that happen?”
Esther sat at the table, waiting for his questioning to end so that they could pray for their food with a silent blessing. She clasped her hands in her lap.
“A librarian in Dover gave me the church’s address. She knew of them through a friend or a cousin or someone.” Esther exhaled. “I wrote to them and they sent me a book—for free.”
Chester rubbed his shaved chin and nodded his head.
“And you’ve learned it all just from a book?” His voice and eyebrows rose.
“We don’t use that many signs, and we come up with some of our own.” She didn’t really answer his question.
Daisy’s early months with Esther had been a nightmare. When she recognized that the little girl’s problem was that she couldn’t hear, things began to get easier. Esther had started creating her own signs before she received the sign language book. Although Orpha never grasped all that Esther had done for Daisy to learn to communicate, Chester understood the enormity of the undertaking after having observed for only a few days.
“You’re a smart one, Esther. I venture to guess that there aren’t a whole lot of men around here who could handle a smart woman like you.” He smiled at her, then took a large bite of his buttered toast. His Pennsylvania Dutch was coming back to him, but his accent still sounded off.
Esther couldn’t explain the contradictory feelings that played tug-of-war inside her. He ate without praying and had said that she wasn’t the type of wife a man was looking for. But he’d also said it with the kind of pride and admiration that Esther had never received from anyone else.
Esther’s feelings betrayed her. She could hear the awe in his voice and sensed his pride in her. She imagined herself signing take away, where the right hand scratches something away from the left hand, only this time she would scratch away the feelings from her heart.
She caught Daisy’s eye, and they bowed their heads together. Her usual silent breakfast prayer was less about appreciation for the food and more about asking God for the answers she needed. What was she to do with her back-from-the-dead father living with her? Most of all, how was she to handle Joe’s return?
“Amen,” her father piped up when she raised her head. His mouth was full of bread and he smiled at her.
Daisy instantly began eating while Esther slowly gathered a bite on her fork, debating how she would bring up the uncomfortable topic of him finding a different home.
“Looks like you have a load of somethin’ on your mind,” he said in English without any apologies.
His glibness gave her confidence to just say what she was thinking.
“I said you could stay for two days. You’ve stayed for three.”
Chester didn’t answer but bobbed his head up and down in agreement. He chewed his bite slowly and looked out through the open back door toward the fields.
“Yep, you’re right. I’ve overstayed my welcome,” he said in agreement. “I was hoping you’d change your mind.”
“Well,” Esther hesitated, “I haven’t.”
“I see.” He pushed back his empty plate and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his belly. “I figured that’s what you’d say, so I’m moving across the road to the Whites’ farm. I’ll be working around the farm for a spell too. I’ve got a few bills to make good on.”
“So you’re staying?” Esther’s eyes diverted away from his. “In Sunrise?”
Chester leaned forward and looked out of the tops of his eyes at Esther, raising his eyebrows. “I came home for Mem’s funeral, but I’m staying for you. I want to make it up to you.”
Any response to this that Esther had thought of over the last few days vanished from her mind. She couldn’t help but pause at this, but she was as mute as Daisy and couldn’t think of anything to say. Silence was the answer Chester received.
“I’ll be out by lunch.”
“Well—I mean,” she stammered. What could she say to his quick willingness?
“When’s the girl’s daddy coming back?” Chester changed the subject. Unfortunately, this topic was as uncomfortable as the former.
The food in Esther’s mouth became like sand—dry and impossible to chew. She gulped a mouthful of water and swallowed the food, feeling it move down her throat.
He was always full of questions that she didn’t want to answer.
A crow screeched as it flew by the window next to the kitchen table. He moved back and forth, back and forth, squawking loudly each time.
“A few days.”
The crow’s racket grew louder.