The thick grass underfoot was still marshy from days of torrential rains. He squinted from the bright sun peeking out beneath a cluster of storm clouds. Up ahead his father, Albert, sat in a wooden Adirondack chair, his back to him.
Leviticus walked up quietly, searching for the words he’d practiced repeatedly, but found he’d lost them to the nerves twisting his gut. “Daed?” he whispered. If only speaking Pennsylvania Dutch would make me Amish again.
A strong gust of wind carried his word and rushed it toward the sea. He stepped closer, fighting the urge to reach out a hand and touch his father’s silver hair blowing in the breeze. He had no idea how he’d be received. Like the prodigal son, he’d lived with the pigs and eaten their slop for far too long. It was time he faced his past. But doubt crept in. Would he be forgiven? Could he live the Plain life? “Daed.”
Albert Hilty’s head twisted round, glancing over his shoulder. His smile melted away. A dazed expression crossed his weathered face. He rose with effort, staggering, then reaching out for the arm of his chair. His father’s blue eyes blinked, his countenance growing incredulous. “It’s you, Leviticus? This time I’m not dreaming?”
“No, Daed. You’re not dreaming. It’s me. Such as I am. I’m home for good if you’ll have me.” Leviticus waited. A sense of peace came over him, edging out the dread he’d felt at the thought of confessing his sins to his father and the bishop. He was glad to be home, glad he didn’t have to deal with the remnants of PTSD alone. He’d needed his family and his growing faith more than he’d realized.
Albert stumbled forward, arms reaching out. He threw himself at his soh and clung to him in a warm embrace as he kissed his neck, murmuring, “At last you are home.”
As Albert held him, Leviticus could feel his father’s frail body trembling. A wave of love washed over him. This old man was more precious to him than he’d realized. For a moment, he couldn’t let go. It’s been so long. He’d been so angry. “I’m sorry I left so abruptly. I thought... Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought back then.” His head dropped with shame as his father’s gaze sought his. “I should have come home sooner.”
“Ya, you should have.” His father nodded in agreement. “Ach, and who is this child between us?” Albert held on to Leviticus’s arm for support, considering the face of his grandchild for the first time. The edges of his mouth turned up into a smile.
“This is my dochder, Naomi. She’s come to see her grossdaddi.”
Albert appeared bemused for a moment, his thin, graying brows arching down. His gaze locked with Leviticus’s. “The kind has your mamm’s button nose and her name. This is gut.” He nodded again. “You have a family now. I should have realized you would after all these years.” The old man’s next words rushed out. “Welkom home, Leviticus. You have been sorely missed.”
“But not by everyone. I’m sure Otto and some of the elders were glad to see the back of me all those years ago.”
Albert squeezed his son’s arm. “Nee. They prayed for your soul and your safe return home, as I did. But let’s forget all that for now. My soh is home. Gott in His mercy will forgive your past sins if you repent. He who was lost has returned. I care not what others think. Today is a gut day. Komm, let’s go into the haus. I want to get better acquainted with my kinskind.”
Albert shuffled forward, his steps unsure. Leviticus stayed close. How had Daed gotten so weak in a matter of years? When he’d left, his father had been a strong and able-bodied man.
Leviticus glanced up. Verity hurried to his father’s side, supporting him as he took small steps. He leaned heavily on her for strength. How long had his daed needed help just to walk? Shame raced through him, burned his cheeks. While he’d been busy living his own life, he’d forgotten time hadn’t stood still for his father, or for the grove. Gott forgive me, I should have never left this place.
“What happened to you, Daed?”
Verity supported his father by the arm. Her eyes surveyed Leviticus, saying, It’s too late to be concerned now. You should have stayed home.
Her arm around his waist, Verity assisted Albert up the back steps and through the kitchen door. The old man shuffled over to the table and sat with a loud sigh, then wiped sweat off his face with the swipe of a bandanna he carried in his back pocket.
Verity stood by the sink, her hand pressed to her throat, a worried frown creasing her forehead. His gaze shifted between her and his father.
Albert smiled. He spoke, as much to himself as anyone. “That Englischer doctor said I had a stroke a while back.” He shook his head. “Nee. I don’t see how he could suggest such a thing. I can still walk and talk just fine.”
Leviticus pulled out a chair at the kitchen table next to his father and lowered himself, watching the aged man’s every move, seeing confusion cross his father’s wrinkled face.
Albert’s age-spotted hand smoothed the tablecloth in front of him. “I’m certain-sure most folks can’t walk or talk after a stroke.” He smiled Leviticus’s way, one side of the old man’s mouth slightly drooping. “Verity can tell you. I’m doing mighty fine for an old man of seventy plus years. Ain’t so?”
Verity locked eyes with Leviticus and shook her head, encouraging him not to correct his father’s misconceptions. She reheated the coffee she’d made for herself a few minutes before and laced a cup with two scoops of sugar to ward off Albert’s shock. “He’s doing fine now that he’s up and about.” She placed her hand on Albert’s shoulder and set a cup of sweet coffee in front of him.
“Would you like something hot to drink?”
“Sure.” Coffee sounded good. Leviticus took off his billed cap and placed it on the table, revealing his windblown, long blond hair that grew down around his collar.
Verity’s mouth pursed, her disapproval narrowing her green eyes. Once he changed his clothes to Amish and had his hair cut around his ears he’d fit in better.
There’d been a time when he’d fit in fine, belonged...regardless of how rebellious he’d become. He was one of them. But now? The loss of who he could have been caused his heart to ache. What must Daed be thinking?
Verity poured another cup of coffee and set the steaming mug in front of him. As she went back to the stove, Leviticus could hear his new sister-in-law ushering the last of the singers out the front door. The pregnant woman’s nervous giggles told him she was doing her best to avoid saying too much about his appearance and the suddenly shortened choir practice.
A glance at the battery-run clock over the stove told him it was high noon. Solomon would probably be home soon for his lunch. Leviticus feared his return wouldn’t bode well with his hardworking bruder. There’d be enough gossip flying around the community about his homecoming without the ladies spreading tales of a heated argument between him and Solomon.
Verity swatted wisps of hair away from her forehead and then lowered her head, concentrating on making hearty roast beef sandwiches for the men. Albert slurped his coffee as he always did. Leviticus remained quiet for a moment, observing and remembering. Verity stole a glance his way as the kind in his arms began to fret. Naomi’s pudgy bare feet kicked the air in agitation.
“She needs a diaper change. Any chance my old room’s still available?”
“It is.” Verity cut into a ripe tomato and took out all the seeds for Albert’s sandwich.
Everything was different. Never in a million years had he imagined he would someday come home and have need of a cot for a boppli. Nothing had prepared him for the shock of seeing his father so emaciated. Not even the war.
“I’ve got a small porta-cot Faith used stored under