CHAPTER 9
H e’d fallen asleep on top of his quilt with his tennis shoes still on. Feeling groggy, as if a thick fog had settled in his brain, he shifted. As Jonny pried open one eye and then the other, he continued to try to make sense of where he was.
It was daylight out. The sun was shining. Not night.
Turning to his side, Jonny reached for the small travel alarm clock he’d purchased soon after he’d moved into his grandparents’ home. It was four in the afternoon.
He’d taken a two-hour nap.
When was the last time he’d napped on a Saturday afternoon? It had been years. Maybe when he was twelve or thirteen and had the flu? He honestly couldn’t remember. It wasn’t in his nature to nap. Not with being the youngest of four kids. His mom used to say that he’d been anxious to keep up with the others from practically the moment he’d been born.
Sitting up, he rubbed his face.
And then became aware of the voices floating up the stairs. Someone was over. By the tone of his grandmother’s voice, he could tell that she was agitated.
Stressed out, more like it.
When he heard the voices lower and then rise again, he got to his feet. Still playing detective, he listened, attempting to figure out who was downstairs. Then he heard a low voice, each word spoken with care. That was his grandfather. So, his dawdi was in the room, too, and he seemed to have a lot to say. Definitely a rarity.
And then he heard it. Low laughter followed by a spurt of words. All of it sounding confident. His father was in the house.
His father had come to pay a call on his grandparents. Or maybe he was visiting Kelsey and Richard?
Or him? Jonny thought that was a long shot, but he supposed that could be the case. He hadn’t called him in weeks, and his father had been concerned about the doctor’s warnings.
Walking to the bathroom down the hall, Jonny closed himself in, arranged the blinds so he could snag a little bit more light, and turned on the faucet.
He was going to need to splash some cold water and wake up to deal with whatever was going on below. After wiping his face with a towel, he gazed at himself in the mirror. Wondering what his father was going to say to him.
In spite of his grandparents’ suggestion, he hadn’t gone “full Amish” yet. He had taken to wearing the cotton shirts his grandmother had made him, and he’d allowed his hair to grow a few inches. But instead of wearing the traditional pants, he was still wearing his favorite pair of Levi’s and one of his two pairs of broken-in Converse sneakers. He figured he looked essentially the same. But different than he had when he’d been walking around his college campus. There was no doubt about that.
His father, being his dad and former Amish, would take note of every small change.
What Jonny didn’t know was if he would comment on it.
No, that wasn’t what was on his mind. He was wondering how he would feel about his father’s reaction to him. He didn’t have as many mixed emotions about his parents’ divorce as the other kids in his family did. Martin and Beth had been especially traumatized by their parents’ actions because they’d been forced to guide Kelsey and him through the mess.
Jonny knew that he had leaned on Martin a lot for most of his elementary and junior high years. He didn’t have a strong memory of what life had been like when their mom and dad had been a couple, but he had known from an early age that there were two different sets of rules at each of their homes. And worse, those rules and parameters often changed, based on whatever new relationship each was in.
He’d found it confusing but accepted it as his “normal.” Beth and Martin had resented their parents’ actions—and the expectation that they would become Kelsey’s and his adjunct mom and dad.
He turned off the sink. When he heard his father’s laughter float up the stairwell, Jonny decided that the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him.
Now that he, Kelsey, Martin, and Beth had decided to distance themselves from their parents . . . their father had decided he didn’t want to be forgotten.
He felt terrible for his grandparents. First, they’d had to deal with all of the siblings interrupting their lives . . . and now here was their long-lost son.
Deciding it was past time he’d joined them all, he picked up his pace. Maybe he couldn’t make the situation better, but he was pretty sure that he couldn’t make it worse. “Lord, please help me,” he whispered as he trotted down the last four stairs.
“There you are,” Matt said as Jonny appeared on the stairs. “I was just telling Mamm and Daed that I was surprised to hear you were napping. You sure didn’t do that when you were home.”
No. No way was his father going to suddenly act paternal. Or act like he actually had lots of experience with Jonny being a kid.
Looking him in the eye, Jonny said, “I also wasn’t working nine and ten hours a day five or six days a week, usually starting at seven.”
Meeting his gaze, his father lifted his chin. “Still. It’s new.”
“I told your father that he was making too much out of nothing,” Jonny’s dawdi grumbled. “Taking a nap doesn’t have to mean anything beyond being tired.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with sharing my opinion,” Matt protested.
Jonny glanced at his grandmother. She was sitting in her rocker, but her back was ramrod straight. She was stressed.
He hated to see that.
“Dad, is this really how you’ve decided to say hello? I haven’t seen you in months.”
Finally, he looked embarrassed. “You’re right.” Walking toward Jonny, he hugged him tightly. “You look good, son. What are you, six foot now?”
“Six foot two.”
His father smiled at his grandfather. “Jonny’s towering over us, Daed.”
Jonny’s dawdi ’s eyes warmed as he sat down in his usual brown easy chair. “You’re right about that. Back when he was eighteen, I thought he’d stay my height, but it looks like the Lord had other plans. The boy is hungry all the time.”
He was twenty-two years old. Hardly a boy. But he supposed if conversing about his size could settle the tension in the room, he’d go with it. “That’s because Mommi’s food is so good.”
“I can’t wait to eat one of your suppers, Mamm,” his father said.
“It will be nice to see you at the table, Matthew. It’s been too long.”
He was staying in Walden? “How long are you staying? And where?”
For the first time his father looked a little unsure of himself. “Only a couple of days. I haven’t asked your grandparents yet if I could stay here. Is there room?”
“There is, but it’s in the girls’ old room, Matthew. You’d have to sleep on either the twin bed or the pullout couch.”
“Oh.” He glanced at Jonny. “You’re staying in my old room?”
“I guess I am.” He took a deep breath and then said the right words, though he wasn’t happy about it. “You are welcome to take that room while you’re here.”
“You don’t mind?”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I did.” He inwardly winced. That wasn’t quite the truth, but it was close enough.
His father shared a long look with him before shaking his head. “That was kind of you to offer, but I’ll be fine in the girls’ room.”
“Are you sure, Matt?” his mamm asked.
“Of course.” He grinned. “I’ve slept on worse.”
But instead of making things better, his father’s joke only seemed to create a new, unwelcome tension in the room. Jonny reckoned it brought back memories of when his father had first left this house. He’d snuck out in the middle of the night, aided by a group of men and women who helped Amish teenagers get jobs and housing for their first few months on the “outside.”
Immediately, Jonny’s dad walked to his mother’s side. “Mamm, that didn’t come out right. It was a poor joke. What I meant was that I don’t want to be too much trouble.”
“You aren’t that, and you never were.” Her voice softened. “Not even when you and Helen came with all four of your kinner .”
His dad looked wistful. “Mamm, I love you, but you canna pretend that those visits were anything but disasters.”
“It wasn’t a disaster.”
“I’m sorry, but it was,” Jonny’s dawdi said with a low chuckle. “Your brood turned our house on its side from the moment you pulled up in the driveway.”
To Jonny’s surprise, his father didn’t disagree. “They sure did. The kids ruined the chicken coop’s fence within a couple of hours.”
“And threw a ball through the window,” Jonny’s mommi murmured.
“We also used all the hot water. Helen kept saying that she felt like she was never going to be able take a warm shower ever again.”
Jonny’s dawdi grinned. “But it was fun, wasn’t it?”
“It sure was,” his father agreed with a soft chuckle.
His grandfather turned to Jonny. “Do you remember that visit at all, Jon? You must have only been two.”
“Sorry, I don’t. I heard about it, though. Martin and Beth used to tell Kelsey and me about that visit. They said that our daed kept speaking Penn Dutch.”
The three other people in the room smiled, but it was obvious that it was a sore subject.
His father cleared his throat. “Anyway, all I’m saying is that the guest room foldout couch is fine for tonight. If I end up staying longer, I’ll move to a hotel.”
“You don’t have to do that, Matthew.”
“I know I don’t, but it might be for the best.”
His grandmother nodded. “I understand.”
Jonny had always wondered about what had really happened between his dad and grandparents, but none of them ever mentioned the exact reason his dad had run away. Feeling like he was prying, Jonny had never pushed, but he sure wished he knew.
Beth had told him once that no good would come out of pressing either of their parents for information about their dad growing up Amish, venturing out on his own, or the somewhat stilted relationship he had now with his parents. His sister said the only response she’d ever received to questions had been blank stares or reprimands about fishing for information that was none of her business.
“Are you sure you don’t want your old room?” Jonny asked—mainly as an effort to help ease the tension in the room.
“More than sure. Don’t worry about me.”
Jonny felt bad, even though he knew there wasn’t anything to feel badly about. Unless it was that he was reminded that he hadn’t actually worried about his father for most of his life. For better or worse, he’d always viewed his dad as a man who could handle anything.
He was only now realizing that was hardly fair.
“Well, um . . . let me know if you change your mind.” Yes, his words were stilted. Just as awkward as he was feeling.
“I will, son. But I won’t change my mind.”
“Now that that everything is finally arranged, it’s time to get to work,” Jonny’s mommi said in a brusque tone. “Matthew, you go upstairs and get settled. Jonny, come with me and help in the kitchen. Kelsey and Richard will be here soon.”
“They’re coming for supper?”
“Oh yes. And we’re having your favorite supper, too.” Treating him to a sly wink, she said, “Roast chicken.”
Jonny grinned. Until recently, his grandmother’s fried chicken was his favorite. Maybe she really had been listening after all. “Mommi, you’re amazing.”
Wrapping a slim arm around his back, she guided him into the kitchen. “I’m hardly amazing, child, but I do want you healthy. I’m going to try to be better about planning meals that are lower in fat and calories. At least most of the time.”
“I can work with ‘most of the time.’ Danke .”
“No reason to thank me for that. I am pleased about having you here. And that Matt has come down, too.”
“I hope everything will go okay.”
“Everything will be fine.” Lowering her voice, she added, “As much as you kinner like to believe that your parents don’t care about each of you, I know differently. They just let life get in the way. Don’t fret, child.”
“I love you, Mommi.”
“I love you back. Now, I’m no spring chicken. I’m gonna need some help to put this meal together. Roll up your sleeves and grab a knife. We have much to do . . . and much to be grateful for.”
“Always,” he whispered as he picked up a knife and reached for the cutting board.
He’d do whatever he needed to do in order for the upcoming supper to go well. All of them needed for it to.