The air was crisp and cool and hinting of the winter to come as we moved down the path in Timber’s wake. We reached the clearing and came to a stop at the water’s edge, the sun low on the horizon, the sky a vivid orange. Standing there, I pointed out the cluster of rocks and my favorite weeping willow and the old boat I’d taken out in the water just two and a half weeks before. Then, taking her hand in mine, I began to describe that long-ago morning when my grandparents had brought me out here so I could see for myself the pond my mother had told me about. I had no gift for painting pictures with words, but I tried as best I could to describe the scene for her, focusing on the sadness and fear and confusion of that lost little boy.
From there, I moved into all that had been happening recently. I reminded her of the restlessness I’d been feeling, and then I told her about my prayers for guidance, my father’s phone call, and the meeting at Bishop Ott’s. I told her everything, ending with the news that the elders expected me to use the time I was gone to discover who I was—Amish or Englisch—once and for all.
Rachel was quiet as she listened, the pensive expression on her face slowly turning to dismay.
“You’re telling me the bishop wants you to go?” she asked when I was done, pulling her hand away from mine. “And your daadi. And the elders? They all want you to go?”
“It’s not that they want me to go. They think I should. They think God is answering the prayer we’ve been asking, that He would show me who I am.”
“I can tell you who you are!” Her raised voice sent a burst of starlings in the tall grass flinging to the air. “You’ve lived the Amish way for seventeen years, Tyler, with people who have loved you from the minute you got here. God brought you to us when you needed us most, when your father—”
Her voice cut off mid-sentence, one hand flying to her mouth. Then she turned her back to me, leaving the unspoken to hang there in the air between us, ringing out loud and clear.
When your father…abandoned you.
When your father…didn’t want you anymore.
When your father…found it easier to dump you on someone else and just walk away.
I closed my eyes, feeling more alone in that moment than I ever had in my life.
When I felt Rachel’s hand on my arm, I opened my eyes to see that she was again facing me, only now her cheeks were glistening with tears.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” she whispered, eyes liquid with regret. “I never should have said that. I’m so sorry.”
I hesitated only a moment, and then I pulled her to me and wrapped her in my arms. We stood that way for a long while without saying anything.
“Please forgive me,” she whispered. “Please, please forgive me.”
“Shhh. Of course I forgive you.”
“I’m just so afraid you won’t come back.”
“I love you, Rachel. I want to come back. I really do.”
She raised her head to look at me. “But you and I both know you can’t become Amish just for me. What if you get out there and you find the answer you’re looking for…and that answer is that you are not Amish? What then? What then, Tyler?”
I couldn’t even begin to imagine what that would mean. I ran my thumb across her cheek to brush away a trail of tears. “So you would have me stay and always wonder?”
“I would have you stay and know that love means you do not have to wonder.”
I let my hand fall away as I looked beyond her to the pond, where a slight mist had gathered above the surface and was hovering there. Was that what loving Rachel really meant? That I didn’t have to wonder which man I was?
“I’m sorry, Rachel, but it’s more complicated than that. When I think about my mother and what happened with her…” My voice trailed off. How could I explain my feelings to anyone else if I didn’t even understand them myself?
“What happened with her? You mean her death?”
I shook my head. “No. When she was younger. When she ran away from the Amish life. When I think about that, I just…” Again, words failed me.
But she wasn’t going to make this easy for me. She eased herself out of my embrace. Folding her arms across her chest, she just stood there and waited for me to continue.
“Nobody knows why she did that,” I said finally. “Not really. No one has ever been able to explain the thoughts and feelings that sent her away from here.”
Rachel frowned, her delicate brow furrowing. “But Tyler—”
“Don’t you get it?” Now it was my turn to take a step back. “How do I know what happened to her won’t happen to me? Something convinced her to walk away. Now that I’ve been feeling so unsettled lately, I have to wonder if that’s what happened to her too. Maybe this same feeling of restlessness just rose up in her, and it got worse and worse until it eventually took over. Maybe that’s what finally drove her away from the home and family and community she loved—for good.”
I could tell by the expression on Rachel’s face that she didn’t really understand what I was saying. How could she? Her own mother was an open book to her, a constant presence throughout her life. Mine had gone to the grave when I was only a child, leaving me with questions that could never, ever be answered by anyone else.
“Because your mother left,” Rachel said slowly, trying to understand, “you fear you will leave too?”
I took in a deep breath and looked into her eyes. “What I fear is that whatever drove my mother away will take root in me as well.”
“Maybe it already has.”