Abram walked into his house and was surprised to see his parents on the couch. After he left Sarah, he’d gone to the coffee shop to kill some time, then drove around until he thought his parents would be asleep.
“You’re still up.” He hung his hat on the rack by the front door, then pulled his suspenders over his shoulders, letting them drop to his sides. “What did the midwife say about Mary?” Abram’s younger sister had married a fine man in their community two years ago, and she was due to have their second child any day. It would be his parents’ fifth grandchild. His brother and his wife had three of their own. If Abram’s daughter was included, that would make six grandchildren for his parents.
“I stopped by Mary and Jacob’s today, and the midwife had just been there. She says Mary has a few more days, at least.” His mother folded her hands in her lap and sat taller. “Did you finally get to meet your daughter? When will we get to meet her?”
After Sarah’s mother told Abram that Sarah was coming home with a five-year-old child named Miriam, he and his parents had quickly done the math and assumed Abram was the child’s father. “I didn’t see Miriam.” It would have felt odd to say “my daughter.”
“Why not?” His mother put a hand to her chest. “I thought that’s why you went over there.”
Abram shrugged as he untucked his blue shirt, then sat in the rocking chair in the corner. “Maybe I should have been nicer to Sarah.” He shook his head. “She slapped me.”
“What?” His father’s eyes widened. “That’s not our way.”
“Goodness, what did you say to her?”
“Do we have to talk about all of this now? I’m worn out.” Abram was sure of the answer, but he figured it was worth a try.
“Ya, we absolutely do have to talk about it now.” His mother lowered her hands, folding them in her lap again. “We have a grandchild we didn’t know about, so we’re obviously anxious to meet her.”
Abram’s parents had avoided a verbal lashing when they found out Sarah had a child. He sensed their disappointment, but it was quickly overshadowed by the revelation that they had another grandchild. Sarah and Abram had gone against God by being together as man and wife before they were married. Abram recalled that day in the barn, the tenderness, the love he felt for Sarah. It hadn’t been planned, but they crossed the boundaries they’d set for their relationship. He touched his cheek as he thought about her slapping him today, which he had deserved. Then he cringed when he remembered the way he’d treated her, but Abram had held on to six years of pain and emotions to reach that point. Still, he regretted his actions.
“She said the child isn’t mine,” he finally said, unable to look either of his parents in the eye.
Silence filled the room. Only the sounds of the outdoors breezed into the house through the open windows. Crickets chirped, an occasional frog made its presence known, and their confused rooster crowed every few minutes.
“Barbara said Sarah left when she was pregnant, too scared to face what the two of you had done.” His mother scowled a little. “I can understand her being fearful of her parents, but I don’t understand why she didn’t let you know. And how could the baby not be yours?”
Abram had had enough time earlier this evening to consider the possibility that Sarah was telling the truth, which made her return to Lancaster County even harder to bear. He didn’t believe she could be a cheater, but if the baby wasn’t Abram’s, who else had she slept with in their community? That thought disturbed him as much as anything else. Was someone walking among them carrying such a secret? And if so, did that person know he was a father? He finally shook his head. “I don’t know, Mamm. I’m just telling you what she said.”
“Do you think she’s lying?” His father eyed Abram like he was the one who might be lying.
“I don’t know. I did at first. But now I’m not sure.”
“Ach, that would mean that while you two were promised to be married, Sarah . . .” She brought a hand to her mouth but quickly shook her head. “Nee, I don’t believe that. Sarah is a gut girl. She wouldn’t do something like that . . .”
“You mean, she wouldn’t do that with someone else.”
His mother sighed. “Your daed and I aren’t proud of the fact that you and Sarah took liberties that aren’t right in the eyes of the Lord, but it isn’t like you were the first. Lots of times such things are swept under the rug, and there have been a lot of babies come early in this community. I suspect they didn’t all arrive prematurely.”
“Sarah knew how much I loved her.” The more he thought about it, the more Sarah’s leaving made sense. She had been with someone else. “She knew I would have stuck by her, no matter what, even if she thought we should leave here.”
Mamm lowered her eyes to her lap and gripped her apron, frowning.
“I loved her.” Abram raised one shoulder and let it drop slowly.
“I know you did.” She finally looked up at him with sad eyes. “But you didn’t sneak out in the middle of the night, leaving all you’ve ever known and those you love, without any explanation.”
Abram raised an eyebrow. “She didn’t give me the choice. Could you have predicted she would do something like that?”
Mamm shook her head. “Nee, it was hard to believe when she left.”
“I guess it makes sense if the boppli isn’t mine.” Abram stood up and walked toward the stairs. His parents didn’t call after him. They realized this was all they could handle. It was all Abram could handle tonight too.
By the time he bathed and got into bed, he was crying. Again. He hadn’t cried this much since he was a little boy. He’d become a master at turning hurt into anger over the past six years. But seeing Sarah today had confused him more than ever and opened a floodgate of tears he’d held back for a long time. God, help me. I still love her.
Barbara scooted closer to John in the bed, then lay her head against her husband’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around him. Two lanterns lit the room, and she and John were awake much later than normal.
“I heard you talking to Sarah, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying.”
John was quiet. Barbara sat up and looked into his face to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep. His eyes were wide open.
“What did she say, John?” She nudged him, her bottom lip starting to tremble. “Tell me. Was it about us not opening the letters?” Barbara couldn’t shed the regret that was wrapping around her tighter and tighter as she envisioned how different things could have been.
“She’s beating herself up for what she did to us by leaving.”
Barbara took a deep breath. She picked up the brush from her nightstand and ran it through her hair a few times before she said anything. “I know. But she will eventually have to forgive herself.”
John twisted to face her and propped his head on his elbow. “You will have to forgive her too.”
Barbara locked eyes with her husband. “Do you remember our sleepless nights, wondering if she was all right? Until the first letter came, we didn’t know if she was dead or alive.”
“We should have opened that letter,” he was quick to say.
Barbara set the brush in her lap and turned to John, blinking back tears. “Ya, I know.” She stared into her husband’s eyes as she swallowed the knot in her throat. “I should have opened the letters.”
“It’s my fault too. I should have insisted that we read them.”
Barbara sighed. “I wrote her a letter.”
John sat up. “What? When? And why didn’t you say anything?”
She raised a shoulder and dropped it slowly. “I was afraid she wouldn’t write back. And she didn’t. So I just didn’t mention it. I thought it would hurt you even more to know she was shunning us as well. It was a while before I did, maybe two and a half years.” She paused, thinking back. “I never told Abram about the letters we received. He would have resented me for returning them unopened. But at the time, I thought I was protecting him.”
They were both quiet for a while.
John ran his hand down his beard. “Somehow we are all going to have to let go of the past and move forward. We can’t change the things we did or didn’t do back then.”
More silence. Barbara was fighting tears. Deep down, she was sure Sarah left mostly because of her, not John, and moving forward was going to be harder on Barbara than her husband. She had much to regret. But if Sarah would just stay, hopefully Barbara and her daughter could make amends. She chose to focus on the miracle that had stepped into their lives.
“Miriam is a beauty, isn’t she?”
Her husband smiled. “Ya, she is. She looks like Sarah.”
Barbara dabbed her eyes with a tissue, then smiled back at her husband. “She looks like Abram too. Did Sarah say anything about her and Abram? They could get baptized and marry, become a family, and at least make things right now.”
“She said she and Miriam are a package deal.” He cut his eyes at Barbara just enough to let her know he was about to say something important. She’d learned to recognize that expression. “She feels like you will bond with the child, but maybe not with her.” He paused, and Barbara had to admit to herself that it was easier to be around Miriam than Sarah. “When I asked her how Abram fit into the package, she said he doesn’t.”
Barbara resumed brushing her hair, praying she didn’t have a full meltdown in front of her husband. “Then they won’t stay. I had hoped that her choosing to return had less to do with the lack of a place to stay and no money, and more to do with her wanting Miriam to get to know her father. I thought it would all be a precursor to them getting back together.”
John shook his head. “Abram has been an angry man since she left. Maybe any love he had for her is gone. We will have to let Sarah divulge what she’s comfortable with over time. If we push her, she might leave again, before we have much time with her and Miriam.”
Barbara hung her head. Her husband was right. The past couldn’t be undone. She sniffled as a good thought found its way to the forefront of her mind. “It warmed my heart when Miriam told me that her mother said they were saved from the storm by the grace of God.”
John propped his pillow, then lay prone and smiled. “I’m happy to see you finding some good in all of this. Sarah held on to her faith. Miriam is our beautiful granddaughter, and of course we want her in our lives. But we want Sarah in our lives, too, and your daughter needs you. She won’t confide in you if you cling to the bitterness. I agree with what Sarah said—they are a package deal.”
“I know.” Barbara snuffed out the lantern on her side, and John took care of the one on his nightstand. She snuggled into the nook of his arm. “Sarah broke my heart when she left. I’m trying to get past that.”
He squeezed her, kissing her on the forehead. “Pray about it.”
“I am. But I hope she is able to reconcile with Abram.”
“It’s their journey, Barbara. God always has a plan, even when we can’t see it.”
She sighed. “I’m Sarah’s mother. It’s only natural for a parent to want to control a child so everything turns out okay.” She paused. “Right?”
John kissed her again. “Sarah isn’t a child anymore. And she is a mother, too, now. Control is a harsh word, but you can bet Sarah is making decisions based on what is best for her own child. Keep that in mind.”
Barbara closed her eyes, knowing sleep wouldn’t come for a while. Her daughter was home. She had a granddaughter she longed to know. And as she pulled John’s arm around her, she thanked God she was married to a wise man who put up with her during times when maybe he shouldn’t have. She recalled throwing kitchen plates across the room about two months after Sarah left, using words she’d only heard the Englisch use in fits of anger. John had stood patiently by, then walked to her, scooped her into his arms, and carried her to bed as she cried on his shoulder. When she awoke the next morning, the broken dishes had been cleaned up. John was the love of her life when she was seventeen, and he still was. That was all she’d ever wanted for Sarah.
An hour later, Barbara was still tossing and turning when a loud scream resounded from upstairs. She and John shot out of bed and headed for the stairs. Barbara’s heart raced as she took the steps two at a time, wondering what could cause Miriam to scream in terror the way she had. Barbara’s motherly instincts kicked in as if they had never left her. “I’m coming, Miriam.”