Chapter Five
Grace
The phone rang as I was cleaning up the kitchen and deciding what to pack. Mike's voice on the other end of the line made me tear up. I quickly explained what had happened and that I needed to go home to help my family.
"Of course, of course," he said, "If you need anything, anything at all, just ask."
"Thanks, Mike," I said swallowing the lump in my throat. "I'll call as soon as I have an idea of when I'll be back. I just don't know what I'll need to do."
"Hey, don't worry about a thing," he said reassuringly. "But do you think you'll be able to get back in time for the Miter meeting?"
"Mike..." I trailed off unable to conjure a response.
"Too soon?" he asked before answering his own question. "Yeah, of course, don't be worried, Grace. We'll figure out a way to make it work. Just take care of yourself and your family."
"I will, thanks," I said as the tears welled up and I swallowed another sob. I disconnected and slid down the wall until I was sitting on the kitchen floor with my forehead resting on my knees and let the tears flow freely.
I cried as I remembered the seasons I'd spent in the big, white house helping Mamm make meals for our growing family and helping Dat in the fields or at the store. I remembered the way it felt to sit on the hard bench during Sunday services trying not to wiggle or fall asleep, and the way that Dat would encourage good behavior with a smile or a wink. I remembered the way I would boss my younger sisters around, mimicking the way the Mamm ran the household. I remembered the day that Mamm brought Daniel home and introduced him to all of us by explaining that he was a special gift from God and would need all of us girls to watch over him. I remembered the way that Mamm and Dat had encouraged me to make my own decisions after my rumspringa, and then had stood in the doorway smiling and waving as I made the jump from Amish to English the day I left for college.
Daniel. I cried harder when I thought about how we would explain this immense loss to him. Without Mamm and Dat as the center of his universe, how would he adjust? I took a deep breath and willed myself to stop crying. I needed to pack and get down to the farm as quickly as possible so I could help Verity and Honor prepare for the funeral. I knew the lion's share of the work would fall to Verity and me since Faith and Hope had families of their own to take care of, and Honor was a wild card—or at least that was what Mamm had written in her most recent letters.
"Pull it together, Grace," I muttered as I stood up and moved to the bedroom to pack my things. The good part about visiting my family was that I didn't need to pack much clothing. The only stipulation my parents had ever made about my returning from the English world was that when I was with them, I had to wear plain Amish clothing and a kapp covering my hair. It seemed like a small sacrifice, so I gladly adhered to their rules when I visited.
After having grown accustomed to a wide variety of soft fabrics in the clothes I bought off the rack at department stores and boutiques, I hated the plain, brown dress and the way the scratchy, cotton fabric felt against my skin, and I especially disliked the fact that the only fasteners I could use were straight pins. The Amish didn't believe in adornment, and buttons were considered a gateway to vanity. On the outside, I adhered to every convention, but underneath my dresses, I wore beautiful lingerie that I'd bought at La Perla or one of the many high-end stores on the Magnificent Mile. I loved the feeling of lace and silk against my skin, and when I was home, my lingerie reminded me that I had a life outside of the Amish.
Once I'd packed everything I thought I'd need for a week or two, I stopped in the front office to let them know I'd be out of town. Frank, the doorman, expressed his sympathies as he took my suitcase and loaded it in the trunk of the car I'd hired to drive me to Corner Grove, and I went back upstairs and did a final sweep of the apartment to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. Once I was satisfied, I took the elevator back downstairs. Frank put a protective arm around my shoulder as he walked me to the curb telling me, "You take care of yourself, Gracie, you hear?"
I nodded, gave him a quick hug and the climbed into the back seat to begin the dreadful drive south.
I hadn't visited the farm since Christmas, and it was now early June and the scenery along the drive had changed dramatically. We drove down Lake Shore until we hit the highway heading out of the city and away from the concrete and asphalt. As the landscape slowly began to unfurl, small subdivisions with immaculately kept lawns on neat, little blocks near the plants and factories quickly gave way to large fields carpeted with newly sprouted soybeans and short corn stalks. The fields were lush and green and stretched as far as the eye could see on either side of the highway interrupted by an occasional, white farmhouse and big barn where the farmers kept the sowing and threshing machines.
I smiled as I remembered how Dat would shepherd Faith, Hope, and me out into the fields to pick and detassel corn in late July. We'd always complain that the English used machines and not children to do the hard work of reaping the corn, and Dat would calmly reply, "Machines do not bring us closer to God, my daughters." He'd calmly ask us to feel the warmth of the ground beneath our bare feet, sun on our faces, and the satisfaction of knowing we were contributing to our family's well-being by providing food and sustenance. We'd grumble a little, but mostly we'd work together, feeling the pride that Dat had instilled in us.
Thankfully the car's driver remained silent as we made the trek, and when a small sob escaped from my lips as I tried to imagine what home would be like when I arrived, he handed me a box of tissues before turning the radio up a little louder. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I looked up and caught his eye in the rearview mirror and offered a weak, but grateful, smile.