He grinned. “Didn’t I tell you? Aren’t they something?”
“They are. It was fun to see her grow as a photographer over the years, you know? She started out a little rough, but then she got better. Eventually, she was very good.”
He nodded.
“Any idea what started her on that in the first place? I mean, photography isn’t exactly a natural fit for someone who’s been raised Amish.”
Dad smiled. “You’re right about that. Actually, it came from a dependents class at the army base.”
“Dependents class?”
“Free courses offered to the dependents of military personnel stationed there. When we first went to Germany, she was struggling a little, trying to find her place both in the non-Amish world and as a new officer’s wife. I talked her into taking a class or two, really just hoping that would give her something to do, maybe make a few friends. She chose photography—and almost right away she really got into it. As you saw when you looked through the pictures, she kept going with it, long after the course was over. Said it was sort of therapeutic, a way to help her merge her old life with her new one.”
“You can say that again.”
My father’s eyes narrowed. “Huh?”
I shrugged. “All those scenes of the countryside…”
“Oh, I know. Your mother was always zipping out of town on her bicycle, heading off on the open road to take more pictures. Sometimes when I was gone, she would even bring the two of you on overnight car trips into the country. She’d find these little farmhouses in the Black Forest that took in renters. Half of the owners didn’t speak a lick of English, but that didn’t matter to her. She’d stay for four or five days just soaking up the rural scenery and letting you run around like a farmer’s kid.”
“Like an Amish kid, I think.”
I realized that Dad hadn’t put two and two together until that moment. His eyes widened, and then he sighed audibly.
“Of, course. They reminded her of home. I can’t believe I didn’t figure that out before now.”
I nodded, and we both grew silent for a moment.
“I’m glad I gave them to you,” he said at last.
I shook my head. “I’ll keep the box with me, if you don’t mind, but I’m not taking the pictures with me when I go, Dad. I am leaving them here with you.”
He frowned. “Can’t your grandfather make an exception just this once? They’re your mother’s photos, for crying out loud.”
“This has nothing to do with that. I want you to have them. I want you to look at them whenever you need to picture what it’s like to live a simpler life. I don’t need the photos for that. But I think you and Liz and Brady might.”
“What do you mean?”
I pondered how best to say it. “Your lives are very full here but also very complicated. Complex. Filled with distraction. I want you guys to consider coming to visit me more often. In fact, I think I am meant to show you the joys of a simpler life. I’ve been out here, doing it your way. Now it’s your turn to come there and do it mine, at least for a little while.”
Dad laughed lightly. “Trying to get us to become Amish, are you?”
I laughed too. “Merely trying to get you to unplug from time to time. Reconnect with each other. And with God. I think it would be great if the three of you came to Lancaster County for a quiet retreat from all of this.”
He was thoughtful for a moment. “That sounds great, but I’m afraid Brady won’t go for it. Not the way he’s acting.”
“I know. He and I still have a few things to figure out.”
“Want me to talk to him?”
“Thanks, Dad, but this is between us. Brother to brother.”
“I hear you.”
He was just returning his attention to his mail when I added, “But you do need to talk to him about something else.”
He looked up. “What’s that?”
I told him what Brady had said about playing football and the pressure he was under from all sides—especially from his own father.
“He doesn’t want to quit the team. He never did. What he wants is to be able to decide for himself how big a role football will play in his life. It needs to be his decision and only his. Not yours.”
My father let out a long, slow sigh.
“I think the more you push,” I added, “the more he’s going to push back. If you keep going like you have been, I’m afraid you’ll cause him to do the very thing you most don’t want him to do, which is to quit the team.”
“Okay. You’re right. I know. Liz has been saying the same thing for a while now. I just didn’t want to hear it.”
“You need to hear it, though, before it’s too late.”
“Fine. I’ll talk to him.”
There was a sound behind me, and I turned to see if someone was there. I didn’t see anything, but I realized we’d been speaking with the door not fully closed. Had Brady been standing just out of sight, listening to our conversation?
A part of me really hoped that he had.