After a long moment, understanding began to dawn in his eyes. It was there for only a flicker and then he blinked it away, but I knew what I had seen.
My point was made. Maybe now Brady would finally find it within himself to forgive me.
THIRTY
Over the rest of that evening and the next, sure enough, my little brother slowly came around. As the chip on his shoulder melted away, he began to smile at me more, hang out with me more, take an interest in me more. By the end of Thursday night, we were lounging on the floor of the living room, fighting it out on the digital football field like any two brothers in any family in any house anywhere. It felt good, especially when Dad and Liz settled on the couch behind us, picked sides, and began hollering along with us as ad hoc cheerleaders.
My dad seemed to settle back into home life with ease, showing a tenderness with his still-injured wife that I hadn’t known he possessed. As he took over my duties one by one, caring for her and serving up meals and managing things around the house, I found my own time freeing up more and more. By Friday morning, I knew I could start making plans to head home. Dad was expecting me to stay through Thanksgiving, but that meant waiting another whole week. I just didn’t think I could risk taking that much time. I needed to get back to Rachel as soon as possible, to save what was left of our relationship. To convince her that all of our years together had not been in vain.
To convince her my commitment was real. And for a lifetime.
Once I explained the situation to Dad, he seemed to understand—especially when I told him that my intention was to marry Rachel in the following fall. He actually got tears in his eyes when I said that, and then he cleared his throat and clapped me on the back and said he wished us all the best.
After he and I talked, I decided to go online to try changing the date on the airline ticket myself. But as I logged in and started to pull up the website, I had an odd feeling, as if there was something important here I needed to understand. Confused, I sat back in the chair and thought about what else God might have for me to learn.
Closing my eyes, the image that came to mind was that of Daadi and of the bishop and elders who had so kindly and wisely given their blessing on this trip. That’s when it struck me. By flying home, I was exercising the privilege they had granted me as the son of an Englischer and one not yet baptized into the church. That was all well and good, but if I truly wanted to come home in the right spirit—as a man ready to commit to the Amish life in full—then I should not fly, no matter how eager I was to get there. I should follow the standard Amish custom and go by ground instead. I hated risking more days away from Rachel, but I knew God would bless this sign of submission and patience and obedience. I would take the slow way—the Amish way—and trust Him to handle the rest.
After exploring my options, I ended up reserving a seat on the train. I’d be leaving Sunday evening at seven, which would get me home early Wednesday afternoon. That meant I would still get there before Thanksgiving—and I would have almost the entire weekend here to enjoy my California family before it was time to go.
Once the trip was booked, I called and left a message for Daadi, giving him the date and time of my arrival. I was going to tell my dad about the change in my travel plans as well, but Liz said he’d just run out to the store, so I went up to my room instead and spent the next half hour getting myself organized and partially packed.
I owed Lark a proper goodbye, not to mention her payment as my tutor, and it seemed as good a time as any to take care of both. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and texted her to see if she was free for a few minutes.
She was.
Before I left, I brought the Leica downstairs to put back where it belonged. Dad had returned and was in the study, but before I could even tell him about the train trip, he looked up and spoke.
“I see you found your mother’s camera.”
I froze, staring first at him and then down at the device I was holding. “What?”
“The camera. It was your mother’s. I gave it to her.” He stood and came over to me for a closer look.
I blinked. “Are you serious? I figured it belonged to Liz.”
“Nah, I bought it in Frankfurt for your mom at the beginning of our second tour to Germany.” He took it from my hands. He held the thing to his eye and twisted the lens, and then he pulled back and shook his head as if to say he didn’t understand the attraction. “She wasn’t thrilled to be back, and I was trying to find a way to lift her spirits. I realized she hadn’t fooled with photography for a while, so I sprang for the best German camera I could afford and surprised her with it.”