Amish Redemption. Patricia Davids

and you won’t.” Getting out of the car, Officer Merlin came around to Joshua’s door. There were no handles on the inside. Even though he was on his way home, he was still a prisoner. The moment the door opened, he drew his first free breath in six months.

      Freedom beckoned, but he hesitated. What kind of welcome would he find in his father’s house?

      Officer Merlin’s face softened. “I know this is hard, but you can do it, kid.”

      At twenty-one, Joshua was not a kid, but he appreciated the man’s sympathy. He stepped out clutching a brown paper bag that contained his few personal possessions. A soft breeze caressed his cheeks, carrying with it the smells of spring, of the warming earth and fresh green grass. He closed his eyes, raised his face to the morning sun and thanked God for his deliverance.

      “See you in two weeks.” Officer Merlin closed the door behind Joshua, walked around the vehicle, got in and drove away.

      Joshua immediately sat down in the grass at the edge of the road and pulled off his boots and socks. Rising, he wiggled his toes, letting his bare feet relish the cool softness beneath him. Every summer of his life, he had worked and played barefoot along this lane and through these fields. Somehow, it felt right to come home this way. Picking up his bag and carrying his boots in his other hand, he started toward the house.

      Set a little way back from the highway stood his father’s woodworking shop and the small store where his mother sold homemade candy, jams, jellies, the occasional quilt and the furniture his father and brothers made. The closed sign still hung in the window. His mother would be down to open it as soon as her chores were done.

      Joshua had painted the blue-and-white sign on the side of the building when he was fifteen: Bowmans Crossing Amish-Made Gifts and Furniture. At the time, his father thought it was too fancy, but Joshua’s mother liked it. The bishop of their congregation hadn’t objected, so it stayed. The blue paint was fading. He would find time to touch it up soon. Right now, he had to face his family.

      Joshua was a dozen yards from the house when he saw his brothers come out of the barn. Timothy led a pair of draft horses harnessed and ready for working the fields. Noah, the youngest brother, walked beside Timothy. Both big gray horses raised their heads and perked up their ears at the sight of Joshua. One whinnied. His brothers looked to see what had caught their attention.

      Joshua stopped. In his heart, he believed he would be welcomed, but his time among the Englisch had taught him not to trust in the goodness of others.

      Timothy gave a whoop of joy. He looped the reins over the nearby fence and began running toward Joshua with Noah close on his heels. Their shouts brought their oldest brother, Samuel, and their father to the barn door. Samuel broke into a run, too. Before he knew it, Joshua was caught up in bear hugs by first one brother and then the others. Relief made him giddy with happiness, and he laughed out loud.

      The commotion brought their mother out of the house to see what was going on. She shrieked with joy and ran down the steps with her white apron clutched in her hands and the ribbons of her Amish prayer kapp streaming behind her. She reached her husband’s side and grasped his arm. Together they waited.

      Joshua fended off his brothers and they fell silent as he walked toward his parents. He stopped a few feet in front of them and braced himself. “I know that I have brought shame and heartache to you both. I humbly ask your forgiveness. May I come home?”

      He watched his father’s face as he struggled with some great emotion. Tall and sparse with a flowing gray beard, Isaac Bowman was a man of few words. His straw hat, identical to the ones his sons wore, shaded his eyes, but Joshua caught the glint of moisture in them before his father wiped it away. Tears in his father’s eyes were something Joshua had never seen before. His mother began weeping openly.

      “Willkomme home, mein sohn.”

      Joshua’s knees almost buckled, but he managed to stay upright and clasp his father’s offered hand. “Danki, Father. I will never shame you again.”

      “There is no shame in what you did. You tried to help your brother. Many of our ancestors suffered unjust imprisonments as you did. It was God’s will.” He pulled Joshua forward and kissed him on both cheeks.

      When he stepped back, Joshua’s mother threw her arms around him. He breathed in the scent of pine cleaner and lemon. Not a day went by that she wasn’t scrubbing some surface of her home in an effort to make it clean and welcoming. She had no idea how good she smelled.

      Leaning back, she smiled at him. “Come inside. There’s cinnamon cake and a fresh pot of kaffi on the stove.”

      “We’ll be in in a minute, Mother,” Isaac said.

      She glanced from her husband to her sons and nodded. “It’s so goot to have you back.”

      When she returned to the house, his father began walking toward the barn. Joshua and his three brothers followed him. “Do you bring us news of your brother Luke?”

      “He is doing as well as can be expected. I pray that they parole him early, too.” It was Luke’s second arrest on drug charges, and the judge had given him a longer sentence.

      Samuel laid a hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “We never believed what they said about you.”

      “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. My mistake was thinking that the Englisch police would believe me. I thought justice was on the side of the innocent. It’s not.”

      “Do you regret going to Cincinnati to find Luke?” Noah asked.

      “Nee, I had to try and convince him to come back. I know you said it was his decision, Father, but I thought I could persuade him to give up that wretched life and return with me. We were close once.”

      In the city, Joshua had discovered his brother had moved from using drugs to making and selling them. Joshua stayed for two days and tried to reason with him, but his pleas had fallen on deaf ears. He’d been ready to accept defeat and return home when the drug raid went down. In a very short time, Joshua found himself in prison alongside his brother. His sentence for a first offense was harsh because his brother had been living near a school.

      His father regarded him with sad eyes. “The justice we seek is not of this world, sohn. God knows an innocent heart. It is His judgment we must fear.”

      “Do you think this time in prison will change Luke?” Timothy asked softly.

      Prison changed any man who entered those walls, but not always for the better. Joshua shrugged.

      His father hooked his thumbs through his suspenders. “You are home now, and for that we must all give thanks. Timothy, Noah, Samuel, the ground will not prepare itself for planting.”

      Joshua smiled. That was Daed—give thanks that his son was home for five minutes and then make everyone get to work.

      Joshua’s brothers slapped him on the back and started toward the waiting team. Timothy looked over his shoulder. “I want to hear all about the gangsters in the big house tonight.”

      “I didn’t meet any,” Joshua called after him, wondering where his brother had picked up such terms.

      “Not even one?” Noah’s mouth fell open in disbelief.

      “Nope.” Joshua grinned at his little brother’s crestfallen expression. Joshua had no intention of sharing the sights he’d seen in that inhuman world.

      “Come. Your mother is anxious to spoil you. She deserves her happiness today.”

      Joshua followed his father inside. Nothing had changed in the months Joshua had been away. The kitchen was spotless and smelled of cinnamon, fresh-baked bread and stout coffee. Standing with his eyes closed, he let the smells of home wash away the lingering scent of his prison cell. He was truly home at last.

      “Sit,” his mother insisted.

      He opened his eyes and smiled at