was coming face to face with Anna Zook. She’d changed—that was his first automatic thought. He’d left behind a tender girl whose face had glowed with the impact of first love. Now he faced a woman who wore her maturity like a cloak around her.
“Anna.” He said her name heavily, embarrassment and sorrow mixing in his tone. He didn’t doubt he’d hurt her when he’d left. She had plenty of reasons not to welcome his return. “It’s been a long time.”
The words seemed to jolt her out of a daze. “Three years,” she said tartly. “None of us have forgotten.”
She seemed already armed against his return. Maybe that would make things easier. Whatever else happened here in Lost Creek, he couldn’t hurt Anna again.
“I guess not.” He gestured toward the door. “Mind if I come in?”
For an instant he thought she would slam it in his face. Then she nodded and stepped back, standing silent as he entered.
He looked around with appreciation. “The birthing center wasn’t finished yet when I left. It looks good.”
“Your father and brothers did fine work on building it just as your mamm wanted.”
Was that a reminder that he hadn’t been here to help? Probably so. He turned slowly to face her, letting his gaze drift over her. The honey-brown hair seemed to have lost its glints of gold, but maybe that was because it was December, not August. He’d always picture her under the apple tree on a summer night, her heart-shaped face tilted toward his, her green eyes lit with love.
“You’ve changed.” It was inadequate, but it was the only thing he could think to say.
“People do in three years.” She glanced at his leather jacket and jeans. “You have.”
She couldn’t know how much. If Anna’s face showed her added maturity and assurance, his must be a map of disappointment and betrayal.
Time to leave behind this fruitless conversation and move on to the family. “Is Mamm at the house?”
Anna nodded, warily it seemed. “She went over a few minutes ago. We’ve finished with the patients for today, unless there’s an emergency.”
“I guess I’d best go and face the music, ain’t so?” The familiar Pennsylvania Dutch phrase fell easily from his lips after training himself not to use it. He half turned toward the door and found that his feet didn’t want to move. Coward, he told himself.
Still, his gaze sought Anna’s face again. “My family—is everyone well?”
“So far as I know.” She bit her lower lip, as if she’d like to say something else but restrained herself.
“If you’re ready to go, I’ll walk over with you.”
She hesitated, and Ben recognized her reluctance. He opened the door, waiting, and Anna walked out with him.
The farm he’d grown up on spread out before him, the grass turning brown with winter’s cold, the fruit trees bare. Resting, Daad would have said. Everything rested in winter, building up strength for the spring.
Funny. He’d never expected to cherish the most common of sights—the spring wagon parked beside the red barn, the windmill spinning in the strong breeze, the chickens pecking at the earth inside their pen, hunting for a forgotten bit of grain.
He’d left because he’d thought he didn’t belong here. He’d learned the hard way he didn’t belong in the outside world, either.
Could he come home again? They’d reached the back door that led into the kitchen. He was about to find out.
Anna hesitated on the step. “Maybe I should wait. Give you time with the family...”
“Mamm always said you were part of the family. There’s no reason I can see to back off now.” He may as well face all the people he’d disappointed at the same time. He seized the doorknob, turned it and stepped inside.
Daad and Joshua were sitting at the table. Mamm stood at the stove. All three of them turned to stare, seeming immobilized with shock. He waited, all the words he’d rehearsed deserting him.
Daad recovered first. He set down his coffee mug with a thud, his keen blue eyes fastened on Ben’s face. Daad looked much the same—lean and wiry, his skin weathered from working outside. His beard was a little longer, a little grayer, that was all.
“So,” he said. “You’ve come back.”
It wasn’t exactly the welcome given to the prodigal son, but he guessed it would have to do. “Ya,” he said. “If you’ll have me.”
Daad’s face was impassive. “It’s your home.”
As if he’d been waiting for Daad’s reaction, Joshua scrambled to his feet, grinning. “It’s gut to see you, Ben.”
“Can this be my little bruder?” Ben grabbed his shoulder. “You’re near as big as I am.”
“What do you mean, near as big? I am as tall, ain’t so?” Joshua, the youngest, had always been eager to catch up with his brothers.
“Maybe so.” He was already looking beyond Josh to where his mamm stood, her hands twisting her apron.
The pain in her eyes shook him, and his heart wrenched. His throat grew tight. “Forgive me, Mammi,” he murmured.
Tears filled her eyes, but to his relief they were tears of joy, not sorrow. She held her arms wide. “My Benjamin. You’ve komm home to us.”
Ben stepped into her embrace, his heart overflowing with mingled grief and happiness. Grief for the pain he’d caused her—happiness at feeling her forgiveness wash over him in a healing flow.
If he could truly mend anywhere, it would be here. Mamm, at least, welcomed him with all her heart, despite the pain he’d caused.
Still holding her, he looked over her shoulder at the others. Josh, too young and too openhearted to hold a grudge, was still grinning. Daad—well, Daad was going to be more difficult. He was reserving his opinion, Ben thought. Not quite ready to go back to normal with the son who’d disappointed him so badly.
Anna stood with her back to the door. Anna had plenty of reason not to trust him. And right now she looked as if she thought welcoming him home was the worst idea in the world.
It seemed to Anna that Elizabeth hadn’t stopped smiling in the past twenty-four hours. She’d always known how much Elizabeth missed Benjamin and longed for his return, but she hadn’t even realized how much that was reflected in her face. Elizabeth looked as if she’d shed ten years in a single day.
Anna led the buggy horse to the gate and then turned him into the field. Buck seemed to shrug all over, as if delighted to be rid of the harness. He sniffed the icy grass and then broke into a gallop, racing to where the other horses stood at the far end of the field.
Smiling at his antics, Anna headed for the house. She’d volunteered to take the home visits today, so that Elizabeth could be free to enjoy Benjamin’s return.
But Anna couldn’t deny that she’d had another motive, too. She’d been just as eager to get herself well away from Benjamin’s disturbing presence.
Her steps slowed. She’d thought having time alone during the drive would give her a chance to come to terms with Benjamin’s return. Unfortunately her thoughts just kept spinning around and around like the windmill blades in a strong wind.
Enough, she told herself. Was she reluctant to accept his return because she worried that he’d hurt his family again? Or was her concern more selfish?
When Anna put it to herself that way, she couldn’t help but see the answer. Christians were called