The Prodigal Son Returns. Jan Drexler

      “Come, sweeties.” Ellie lifted Danny in her arms while Susan hopped on one foot next to her. “Time to get our dinner started.”

      Ellie crossed the drive to the worn path between the barn and the vegetable garden that led to the Dawdi Haus. The house her grandparents had lived in when she was a child had sheltered her little family during the months since Daniel’s death. Susan ran ahead of her along the lane, her earlier fright forgotten.

      “Plan on eating supper with us tonight,” Mam called after her. “I’m fixing a chicken casserole, and there’s plenty for all.”

      “Ja, for sure,” Ellie called back, then turned her attention to Danny, who was squirming to get out of her arms. “Sit still there, young man.” She laughed at the determined expression on his face as she followed Susan.

      Ellie watched the little girl skipping ahead, but her mind was full of a queer anticipation. It was as if her birthday was coming or the wild freshness of the first warm air of spring, pushing back the dark clouds of winter....

      That Englischer’s grin, that was what brought this on. It did something to her, and she frowned at this thought. It didn’t matter what an Englischer did, no matter how blue his eyes were.

      That grin held a secret. What was he thinking when he looked at her?

      She hitched Danny up as the thought of what might have been going through his head came to her. Ach, why did an Englischer’s wicked-looking grin give her such a delicious feeling at the memory of it?

      Dat and the stranger stood on the threshing floor between the open barn doors, where the fresh air and light were plentiful, but Ellie kept her eyes on the edge of the garden as she hurried to follow Susan. If she glanced their way, would she see that dimple flash as he grinned at her again?

      She had to stop thinking about him. He would talk to Dat and then be gone, and she’d never see him again, for sure.

      In the backyard of the Dawdi Haus, Ellie paused to pass her hand along a pair of her oldest son’s trousers. Dry already. She’d bring in the laundry before fixing the children’s dinner. After she put the little ones down for their naps, she could iron in the quiet time before Johnny, her scholar, came home. She smiled, anticipating the quiet hour or so in the shaded house, alone with her thoughts.

      Opening the screen door for Susan, Ellie chanced a look at the big white barn behind her. Ja, he was still there, talking with Dat. She followed Susan into the house, letting the door close behind them with a ringing slam.

      * * *

      Bram glanced at the man next to him. John Stoltzfus was stern, yet quiet and confident. More like the grossdatti he barely remembered than the father he had left behind so many years ago. From the clean, ordered barn to the little girl skipping along the lane at the bottom of the ramp, the Stoltzfus farm was a world away from the home he had remembered growing up.

      And a world away from Chicago. In the three days since he’d stepped out of his life in the city and walked back into his past, those twelve years had slipped away until even the stench of the West Side was a half-

      remembered dream. Was he losing his edge already? It was too easy to fall into this simple, Plain life.

      Bram’s thoughts followed the young woman in the brown dress as she walked past the barn toward the Dawdi Haus. When she ran her hand along the boy’s trousers on the clothesline, a door opened into a long-forgotten place in his mind. That simple, feminine action spoke of the home he had tried to forget. How many times had he seen his Mam do that same thing?

      The breeze brought the scent of freshly plowed fields into the barn as the young woman opened the door of the Dawdi Haus and then glanced his way, meeting his eyes before disappearing with an echoing slap of the wooden screen door. Why did she live there? And why were there no men’s clothes hanging with the laundry?

      Movement next to him drew his attention.

      “So you’re coming home?”

      John’s unspoken finally lingered at the end of the question, hinting at the speculation Bram knew he would be facing as word of his return spread. He could imagine the stir his disappearance had caused, even here in Eden Township.

      “Ja, I’m coming home.” How much information would get him the entrance into this community that he needed without divulging too much? “When I left, I was young and I thought I could always come back, but time got away from me....” Bram sighed and stared across the road at the rich brown corduroy of soil. A flock of blackbirds scattered through the field, picking at exposed seed.

      What would his life be like if he had never left? What did he have now, other than lost time and poor choices?

      “You left before you joined the church?”

      “Ja, I was in my Rumspringa.” A Rumspringa that had never ended. Once he’d left home, Bram had never intended to return.

      “What were you looking for out there?”

      He glanced back at the older man’s expectant face. From what his brother-in-law, Matthew, had said, John was one of the leaders in this district. Bram needed his support if he would ever be accepted into the community, but it wouldn’t be easy. The Amish kept tight fences.

      “I’m not sure now. Maybe excitement, freedom. I never found it, though.” He cast his glance to the side, away from John, as if he was repentant and ashamed. No, he didn’t need to do much acting to slip into this role. “I’m ready to come home.”

      Bram steadied his expression and looked back at the older man’s face. He had said it the right way—John Stoltzfus believed him—but Bram didn’t know if he’d ever be ready to come home. He wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for Killer Kavanaugh and the contract the gangster had put out on him.

      “The Ordnung can be hard to live up to.” Bram heard a warning note in John’s voice.

      “Not as hard as the way I’ve been living.” The memory of Chicago’s dirty streets clashed against the reality of the fresh spring air outside the big barn door. Yeah, life in Chicago had been dangerous, exciting, risky—and always hard. At least with the Ordnung, a man knew where he stood.

      “What does your brother think?”

      Samuel. Their father’s living legacy. His brief stop at the family farm near Shipshewana earlier in the week had let him know what Samuel thought. Where Dat had been cruel, Samuel was petty, but that had been the only difference. From the belligerent set of his chin to his bleary eyes, Samuel was Dat all over again.

      “Ja, well, Samuel doesn’t believe I’m back to stay.”

      “You can understand that. You left a long time ago, and much has happened since then.”

      Twelve years. Yes, a lot had happened, both here and in Chicago. Bram’s stomach clenched. He had to make this work....

      He forced his voice to remain quiet, in control. “I hope that with time he’ll see I mean what I say.” But he wouldn’t give Samuel the chance. He could go the rest of his life without seeing his brother again.

      “With time,” John agreed with a nod. He turned to look back into the shaded interior of the barn, where the horse was tied to a post, the subject closed for now. Bram moved his shoulders against the strain that had crept in without his knowing.

      “Partner here should be a good horse for you. He’s a little spirited, but he drives well. My daughter Ellie usually chooses him if she’s going out, and she won’t put up with a horse that won’t mind her. She won’t take any chances with the children in the buggy.”

      “Is she the daughter who just went into the Dawdi Haus?”

      “Ja. She and the children have been living there since her husband died.”

      So the young woman was a widow? Bram tucked that information away as John lifted each of the gelding’s hooves for his inspection. The horse