The July night air was thick with humidity as Arlan descended the carriage house steps. The sounds of summertime filled the air: cicadas, tree frogs, crickets, and an incessant mockingbird. But Arlan was used to the season’s hot weather and the critters’ chorus drifting through the open windows. No, the bugs, birds, and frogs weren’t what had kept him awake in the middle of the night.
He walked to the closest barbed-wire fence and peered into the pasture. All the clutter in his mind moved to a single conversation he’d had with Betty eighteen hours ago. She’d asked him to stay on until mid-December, saying she needed his help for two reasons: to free up her time so she could focus on preparing for Holly’s wedding and to get the homestead ready to host hundreds of guests for the daylong event in December.
He’d taken that opportunity to do as Ivy had asked and talk to Betty about the workload of increasing the herd. She’d nodded and thanked him, but he wasn’t at all sure she took any of it to heart. She’d offered him thirty percent of the milking profits if he continued doing repairs and other chores throughout each day as he’d been doing.
And he’d accepted. Why? Why was he still here? It’d been almost four weeks since the wreck, and he didn’t know if Magda would be ready to go home even by mid-December, but leaving by then was his goal because now he’d given his word he’d stay. Had the money lured him? Or the freedom this place afforded Magda and him? Or the fact that a widow’s firstborn was marrying and she needed his help?
How would he explain to his parents that he’d stayed here until mid-December? The Old Order had a lot going for them, which totally messed with his mind. They weren’t as skilled at obeying God as the Swartzentrubers, but they worked hard, dressed modestly, and, despite all he’d been taught, he’d seen no sign of them drinking or partying.
Thoughts of his parents were like heavy weights inside his head. It seemed they weren’t as godly as he’d believed all these years. Even so, he still wanted to return home with Magda as soon as possible, repent before the church, and move to New York.
His stomach rumbled. Confusion must stir the appetite the same as working hard. Betty had made a cake, and he’d had a small slice after dinner. He’d wanted a second piece, but Ivy had been there, so he’d left as quickly as he could. She was opinionated, and since his goal was to be a good guest and keep his thoughts to himself, it seemed wise to avoid her. He walked toward the house. It was pitch black, and she had to be asleep by now.
Betty never locked the doors, so he eased into the kitchen and with the moonlight could see well enough to cut a piece of cake and put it on a plate. He got a fork and dug into the sugary delight. Betty was quite the cook.
Just then a piercing scream came from upstairs. Was that Magda? Arlan bounded up the steps. Another yell filled the air, longer and louder, and then glass broke.
Ivy was hurrying down the hallway with a lantern. “What’s going on?”
“Don’t you move!” Magda yelled.
Arlan rushed into her room, followed closely by Ivy. The light from Ivy’s lantern cast odd shadows, but he saw Magda standing on the bed, clutching a baseball bat. A wide-eyed man was standing beside the bed with his hands up. A shattered drinking glass was on the floor behind him. Had his sister thrown it at the man and hit the wall instead?
“Red?” Ivy moved in closer.
“Ya,” the man murmured. “I was planning to surprise everyone.” He shook his raised hands. “Surprise,” he said softly. He was wise not to do anything that would upset Magda any further.
“Magda,” Arlan chided, “what are you doing wielding a bat?”
“Ya,” Ivy said. “You should be more like your brother.” She moved in closer. “He brought cake.”
Arlan looked down. Sure enough, he was still carrying the plate with cake on it. How had it not fallen off?
Still clenching the bat, Magda moved closer to Red. “I woke to find him trying to get in my bed!”
Red kept his hands in the air. “My bed actually.”
Magda lunged toward him a bit. Was she in shock or something?
Red raised his hands higher. “Fine. It’s yours.” He shrugged. “But can I just mention that for more than a month I’ve been looking forward to and dreaming about sleeping in my—your—lumpy old bed?”
Ivy moved between Magda and Red, and she hugged her brother. “Welcome home.”
“Ya. I feel welcomed too.”
“And you should.” Ivy gestured toward the plate in Arlan’s hand. “We have cake.” Ivy then climbed on the bed with Magda. Ivy also stood on the mattress, and she looked her in the eyes, and whispered to her while stroking her hair.
Ten or fifteen seconds passed before Magda broke eye contact with Ivy, looked at Red, and visibly relaxed. Maybe Magda was on high alert because she feared that her parents or other Swartzentrubers might show up to drag her back home.
Ivy eased the bat from her. “Magda, this is my brother, Ezra. He’s named after our Daed, but we call him Red because of his ginger hair and also because he was born around Christmas, like Holly and me. He’s been living in Rocks Mill, which is a few hours from here, for the past year. He’s hardly had time to visit due to work.”
Magda drew a breath. “He’s your brother?”
“Ya. And this is his bed.” Ivy grinned. “It’s fine. You’re fine.” Ivy waved the bat toward Red. “If you’d told someone you were coming, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Red peered behind Arlan, and when Arlan glanced in that same direction, he saw Betty and Holly in the doorway.
Red lowered his hands slowly. “It never dawned on me that it was better not to surprise my family. That they could’ve given my room to a complete stranger.”
Ivy got off the bed and helped Magda get down. “Magda isn’t a stranger. I’ve introduced the two of you, and her brother, Arlan, brought you cake.”
Arlan looked down at the cake. This was embarrassing. But where was Red’s indignation for being greeted with madness in his own home? And his Mamm’s and sisters’ anger, for that matter. It was the middle of the night. Chaos was happening. Shards of glass were in the far corner, and they were making wisecracks. Not one person had been scolded for the incident, and no one had quoted a scripture. Arlan couldn’t think of a thou-shalt-not Bible verse that was pertinent, but he bet his Daed could’ve rattled off three or four.
“Red.” Mamm elongated his name. “Hi, sweetie.” She came into the room and gave him a big hug before releasing him. “Just so you know”—she patted his chest—“this is Magda’s room now. So get out.”
Red laughed. “Denki, Mamm. Good to see you too.”
Betty chuckled. “I’ll get you a blanket and pillow for the couch.”
“Hey.” Holly embraced him. “I’m so glad to see you.” She backed up. “But why are you here?”
Red made a face. “Things didn’t go as I’d planned.”
“You and Emily?” Holly asked.
Red sighed. “Ya. Can I have cake now?”
Betty cinched the belt on her housecoat. “If you’ve been dreaming of being in your own bed, it sounds like you’ve known for a while you needed to come home.”
He nodded.
“Are you home for good?” Ivy set the baseball bat on the bed.
“I don’t intend to live with my mother indefinitely, but, ya, I’m here for a while. Is that a problem?”
“Not for me.” Ivy didn’t smile, but she looked very pleased, probably because this meant that even after Arlan left, she wouldn’t have to start milking cows again.
Mamm tugged on Red’s collar. “With Holly’s wedding taking place here in December, I’ve asked Arlan to help get the farm ready.”
“We’re expecting nearly three hundred guests to feed, all of Josh’s big family,” Holly said. “So it’d give us more wedding money to work with if you two mowed the hayfields and stored the hay yourselves. Then there would be no need to hire outside help.”
“Ya.” Red looked at Arlan. “We can do that, right?”
Arlan nodded. “With the two of us, we could take off ten years of aging on this farm pretty quickly.”
“Deal.” Red held out his hand, and Arlan shook it. “Besides,” Red said, “I need the distraction of hard work.” He put an arm around his Mamm’s shoulders. “Looking back—and I’ve done a lot of that the last several weeks—I realized I shouldn’t have left you and the girls so quickly or stayed gone so long. I’m sorry.”
Betty put her arm around his waist. “You believed Emily was the one. You have nothing to apologize for. Kumm.” Betty motioned. “Let’s not stand in Magda’s room and talk. Let’s go to the kitchen.”
“Sounds good.” Red pointed at Arlan’s plate with its slice of cake. “We’ve got milk to go with that. You and your sister are welcome to join us in continuing this family nonsense downstairs. Guaranteed to be a mixture of fish tales, overt honesty, and a good helping of idle chitchat.”
“Denki.” Arlan had never seen a man stay so calm and be so upfront about what was going on in his life and do all of it with a bit of humor. Who was this guy?
Holly put a housecoat around Magda’s shoulders. “Kumm. Some milk and cake will do you good.”
Magda glanced at Arlan and left the room with Holly. Betty and Red filed out also.
Ivy stopped beside Arlan. “You dashed up the steps to save your sister with cake in hand. You think Mamm’s cake could be used as a weapon if it came to it?”
“Nee. I’m a pacifist.” His face felt hot with embarrassment. “My plan was to coax the intruder into eating cake and then hope he choked on it.”
Her grin was his reward for coming up with something to add to the silliness of the last few minutes.
“I have to say, your plan sounds more passive-aggressive than pacifist-like—here’s a delicious piece of cake. I hope you choke on it.” She laughed. “That aside, I’m going to do you a favor and not tell Mamm you think her cake could choke someone.”
She took the plate from him and looked longingly at the cake, apparently still being lighthearted.
“Next time there’s a skirmish in the house, bring cake and milk. What were you thinking?”
“Clearly I wasn’t. I apologize.”
Obviously Red’s family was thrilled he was home. When Arlan returned home, he would get the opposite response—for months, maybe a year.
“About time you apologized.” Ivy’s eyes met his, and she smiled. “Right?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged.
She left the room with his cake. “You coming?”
He lagged behind. When Ivy got to the bottom of the steps, she hurried into the kitchen, and the volume in the house rose. He sat on the steps, watching and listening to the oddity of this family. They talked openly about personal things. In his few minutes of sitting on the steps, he learned more about the thoughts and feelings of this small family than he’d learned in a year of sharing meals with his own family. It dawned on him why he enjoyed writing letters even when he didn’t send them. It was his way of airing all he felt, of sharing all that was never shared at any other time.
Red spoke softly for a moment, and Ivy grabbed his hand, lowered her head, and prayed aloud.
Was he still in a Plain home? Or even on planet Earth, for that matter?
He had no doubt that the Zooks had to face sharp differences of opinion and weather hard times too, but he couldn’t see them hiding in corners, plotting hypocrisies beyond everyone’s back.
He’d never seen anything like this, and his sister seemed mesmerized too. Despite how interesting the interactions were, they also flew in the face of all he’d been taught.
Maybe he should put his foot down and insist that he and Magda leave. But he’d given his word that he would stay to help, and he wanted some time around this Red person. Red was in his home interacting with the women while being open and vulnerable.
Wasn’t this how families were meant to be with each other?
For years his gut had said that men weren’t supposed to shove all emotion out of sight, come up with a plan, and demand everyone fall in line behind them.
Is this what the Word meant by “abundant life”? To experience the fullness of the heart, mind, and emotions? To give room to all of it in one’s own self and in others without trying to suppress or control it?
A desire to write overtook Arlan. He couldn’t talk about this, not like the Zooks were doing, but he could write about it until he felt clearheaded and calmer.
What was happening in this room is what he wanted—to embrace life with honesty and vulnerability.