The Days of Redemption (7 page)

Almost immediately, he felt the tension in his muscles dissipate as his nerves began to steady.

And he was almost ready to go back out and confront his demons. But not quite yet. And definitely not in his wife's presence.

There was still one person who he felt always saw the best in him, and that was Marie. No way did he want to disappoint her.

“Peter?” she called again, this time accompanied with a fierce knock. “Please answer. I'm starting' to get concerned.”

“I'm fine, Marie.”

“Are you sure?” The doorknob jiggled. “Unlock the door.”

“Not yet,” he replied after vigorously washing out his mouth again with Listerine. There was no way he could come out of the room with the scent of liquor on his breath. “Marie, go on now. I'll be out in a minute.”

“Are you sure?” She lowered her voice. “Do you need some help? Unlock the door, Peter, so I can come in . . .”

Glancing at himself in the mirror, he grimaced. Looking back at him was a person who was on the verge of a breakdown.

Hating who he was becoming, he gripped the countertop, and waited for his eyes to focus. “Marie, let a man have his privacy, why don'tcha? Please, don't worry so.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude.” Her words were muffled. Full of hurt. Maybe even slightly embarrassed. But he heard something else, too. A thread of worry and doubt. Yes, her tone was laced with mistrust.

Gathering the last vestiges of his patience, he murmured, “You're not intruding, Marie. I just need one more moment alone. I'll be right out. I promise.”

He heard shuffling on the other side. “If you're sure . . .”

“I am very sure.”

When he heard her walk away, he hid the bottle back under the sink, behind an old assortment of shampoo and bars of soap and tissue.

After twenty-five years of marriage, his wife was starting to mistrust him.

He had married a smart woman.

And he was starting to feel as if she'd married a very weak man.

Something was going to need to be done soon. He couldn't continue the way he was, holding everything inside, pretending he was fine when he wasn't. All the subterfuge was taking a toll on his body and his soul. He had the sweetest wife in the world. And she put up with so much. She surely didn't deserve the man that he'd become.

Schooling his features, he opened the door and walked out. To his surprise, she hadn't gone far. She was standing at the end of the hall, eyeing him warily.

With a smile, he said, “There. I'm out now. What was so important that it couldn't wait? Did you need something?”

She stepped backward, obviously disturbed by his tone. “As a matter of fact, yes. But now I'm wondering if, perhaps, you need to tell me something instead.” Her gaze seemed to take in every inch of him. And it was obvious that she saw something that didn't please her.

“I don't need to tell you a thing.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You sound like your mother.”

The glint in her eyes told him she was teasing. “I hope I don't. She's the last person I want to emulate right now.”

“Then Peter—”

Folding his arms over his chest, he fought to act like nothing in the world could ever be wrong. “Don't fuss. I am fine, Marie.”

“Are you sure? Because, Peter, if you have a problem, I could help you. That's what husbands and wives do for each other.”

“Of course they do. And you know I would move heaven and earth to give you help, if that's what you needed.”

“I feel the same way.”

“I'm glad of that.” He gently rubbed his calloused thumb along the fine line of her cheekbone before turning and starting down the stairs. He wasn't sure about anything anymore. Not about his drinking, not about his family. But he couldn't tell her that.

She followed at his heels.

As he plodded down the steep staircase, trying to maintain his balance, he shot off a question. “Was there something you wanted to talk about now that we've determined that I am fine?”

“
Jah.
It's about your mother.”

He swayed a bit and blamed it on the topic. He loved his parents. But were they also a source of hurt and stress in his life? Always!

As they came to the landing, Marie rushed to his side. “Peter, you almost stumbled. This is not like you. Are you all right?”

Though he knew it hurt her feelings, he shrugged off her touch. “I am perfectly fine, Marie.” When they reached the kitchen, he said, “Now, tell me. What's wrong with Mamm now?”

“I think she's having a mighty difficult time with the photo being discovered.”

“I imagine she is.”

She lowered her voice. “And even more, I fear that your father is upset with her. When you left, Aaron didn't eat the biscuit Elsie brought him. Instead, he got up from the table in an all-fire hurry and left Lovina sitting alone.”

“Well, then, she can join our sorry club of disappointed folks. I'm having a difficult time accepting the fact that she's been hiding something so important from us all.”

“What do you think we should do?”

Her question took him off guard. Never had he ever felt that he should “do” anything about his parents. They were in charge. He adapted. That was the way of things and always had been. “You heard me try to coax them into talking. Until they change their minds, I don't think we can do a thing.”

“Nothing?” His wife looked aghast. “But this news of hers . . .”

“What can be done? Marie, they've always been secretive. Don't you remember that supper when Elsie asked my parents how they met? She couldn't have been more than seven, but they both scolded her for asking about things that were none of her business. That photograph only confirms that they had every reason to be secretive. We should have suspected something long ago.”

“I think this is a sign that we need to have a real discussion about the relationships in this family. Perhaps we need to ask Sam and Lorene to come over.”

Sam and Lorene were the only other siblings who'd stayed in the area. The others had moved far enough away to begin new lives. More than once, Peter had found himself envying their distance and independence, especially his brother Jacob who lived all the way out in Shipshewana, Indiana. It had taken a lot of strength for the eldest son to not do what was expected and move into the main house when he married.

But Jacob had never been shy about his desire to live away from his parents.

Peter had always taken the role of the peacemaker in the family. Now he was wondering if perhaps he'd just been too weak to follow his own dreams. Ignoring the lump in his throat, he did his best to concentrate on the topic at hand. “Sam would come over, but I doubt Lorene would.”

“Lorene would come if you asked her,” Marie countered.

Peter sighed. Everything inside him wanted to back away and continue to pretend that everything was fine. But he didn't know how to do that. “I'll call Sam now. Your idea is a good one, Marie.” And he knew it was, even though his stomach was tied up in knots.

“And Lorene?”

“Of course, I will go visit with Lorene and ask her to join us.” Anxious to get away from her piercing gaze, he turned and walked to the cloak room. With methodical motions, he put on his wool muffler and his wool coat. His hat and gloves. “I'll be back in a few hours, Marie.”

“Are you sure you're feeling well enough to drive the buggy? The roads will be busy.”

“Why wouldn't I be all right?”

Her anxious gaze turned steady. “Because we both know your mother isn't the only one hiding things.”

She walked away before he had a chance to reply. Which was a very good thing, of course.

Because he had no earthly idea what he was going to tell her. No woman wanted to hear that her husband had a drinking problem, and that it had been going on for more than a year.

Especially not an Amish woman.

And especially not Marie.

It didn't take long to get to Lorene's place of work by buggy. His thirty-two-year-old sister was still unmarried, and a few years ago, she seemed to have had more than enough of living at home. She'd announced one day that she had found herself a duplex on East Miller, just a few houses down from Sam and Mary Beth, and taken a job at Himler's Cheese Shop. Located in the center of Berlin, it was within walking distance to her new home.

Their parents had been sure that Lorene's bout with independence was going to last no longer than a week. Perhaps a month at the longest. But it had been more than three years now, and if anything, Lorene seemed far more willing to speak her mind than ever before.

She was honest to a fault. But there was still a wistfulness about her that he'd always appreciated. Peter hoped one day that she would find the man she'd been looking for.

Lorene usually worked the cash register. She was especially good with numbers and working with the English, too. She was able to fill orders with ease for people who wanted to ship large quantities of the Amish-made cheese home.

His sister smiled broadly at him when he approached the front desk. “Hello, Peter. I have to say, seeing you is certainly a surprise!”

“It shouldn't be that much of a shock.”

“Of course not.” Looking him over, she said, “I'm glad to see you, but if you had needed something from the store, you should have told me. I would've picked something up for you and saved you the trip.”

“I didn't come for food, I came to see if you could stop by the
haus
this evening.”

“And you didn't care to simply call the store from the phone shanty?”

“No. It's pretty important, Lorene.”

A line formed between her brows. “Now you've got me curious. See, I'd already planned to stop by. I'm going to make macaroni salad with the girls. Did no one tell you?”

“It must have slipped Marie's mind.” Frankly, he was surprised any of them could concentrate on their regular schedules given what was going on. He glanced behind him to make sure he wasn't holding up a line. Since no one was waiting, he was tempted to spill everything to Lorene then and there. But it wasn't the time. “Okay, then, I'll see you tonight.”

She studied him for a bit before clearing her throat. “Hold on a sec. I think we'd better talk right now. It's clear something important is going on.”

Peter watched her speak to Frank, an Amish man who was one of the managers of the store. Frank looked over at Peter and waved. “Peter, hello! Cold enough for ya?”

“Hiya, Frank. It's cold enough for January, to be sure.”

“Came to steal Lorene for a bit, have you?”

He hadn't, but he was fine with following Lorene's lead. “Just for a few moments. We won't be long.”

Seconds later, Lorene led the way to the small eatery on the side of the store. It was set up much like a snack bar, offering pretzels, hot dogs, and an assortment of drinks and desserts. “This wasn't necessary, Lorene.”

“Maybe not. In any case, I've got a break coming. Let's grab something to drink.”

Because he was glad to be speaking with her anyway, he complied. After they both got cups of coffee, they sat across from each other in one of the booths. “Now, you have to tell me. What in the world is so important that you'd drive over here simply to ask me to come to the
haus
tonight? What is going on?”

There was no easy way to share the news. “It turns out Mamm was raised English.”

“What?”

“We uncovered a high school graduation photo of her yesterday. When Elsie and I asked questions, she admitted that it was her.”

Lorene looked as stunned as he'd felt. While he continued to fill her in, she grew more and more disturbed. She clasped her hands together so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “Peter, I have to say, I'm shocked. And, I kind of feel like crying. For most of my life, she's made me feel less than perfect. That I was letting down the long lineage of Amish
fraus
. And all while she's been keeping something like this from us?”

She shook her head in wonder. “So, what happened? How did she and Daed meet?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, how old was she when she became Amish? What about Daed? Was he an
Englischer,
too? And what about her parents? She never spoke of them. Did they disown her?” Her eyes widened. “Or maybe she disowned them, just like she always used to threaten with us!”

“I don't know those answers, either.” Now that she brought up all the questions, he ached for the answers, too. “You know how she is. The moment she got upset, she left. She didn't join us for supper last night. Then, when I tried to get more information from her at breakfast she turned icy.”

“What did Daed do?”

“He says it's none of our business as well. Which makes me wonder if there's far more to the story. If they weren't trying to hide something else, they would've been far more open.”

Lorene pursed her lips, still in shock.

“Marie and the girls are upset. Actually, Marie thought it would be best if you and Sam came over this evening to talk about things with Mamm and Daed.”

“What good does she think that will do?”

Peter smiled. “I thought the same exact thing. When have our parents ever cared to hear our opinions about anything?”

“Let's see . . . Never?” Lorene quipped with more than a touch of bitterness.

“I agree with you. But, I do think Marie has a point. If we do nothing, our parents will decide that their pasts never need to be mentioned again. I don't think that is right.”

“I agree.” Looking into her half-f coffee cup, she sighed. “As much as I don't want to sit across from our parents and shoot questions at them, I think it needs to be done. When I think of how different our lives would have been, if we'd ever gotten even a hint that they, too, had had troubles . . . it makes me want to either scream or roll up in a ball.”