The River by Beverly Lewis Page A

movie theatres and rock concerts. Some of its members even played competitive sports like baseball—another no-no under the Ordnung of the People here. The reputation of a young person is marked by the group they choose during Rumschpringe , Tilly thought, remembering. She puffed out her cheeks.
    Suddenly drained of energy, she picked up the receiver and dialed home.
    “I’m here safely, hon . . . in Eden Valley,” she told Kris when he answered on the second ring.
    “How was the trip?”
    “Really pretty this time of year,” she said, sighing. “The drive was just fine.”
    “You sound tired.”
    “Yes, well.” She paused. “Actually, everyone has been okay so far, but I really don’t belong here. . . . I feel it in my bones.”
    “Sorry to hear it, hon.”
    She nodded absently. “Thank goodness I’ll only be here a few days.”
    Kris was silent for a moment. “The girls miss you already. And so do I.” He said how happy his mother seemed to be, tending to everything. “She really enjoys grandmothering.”
    Tilly didn’t know why, but hearing this made her yearn for home even more. “The girls must be enjoying her.”
    “They are.”
    “Good, then. That’s what counts.”
    “So . . . you’ll be all right for the duration?”
    “I’ll make the best of it somehow.”
    He said he loved her.
    “I love you and the girls, too, Kris. I’ll see you Monday afternoon—can’t wait.”
    Tilly hung up and leaned against the rough wall. She felt the past close in like an unstoppable wave. She was a little girl all over again—petite Tilly Lantz, and a mischief, for sure. In her mind, she was sneaking to the laundry chute in her parents’ house after everyone had gone to bed and sliding down its narrow black burrow, landing in a pile of bedsheets.She had been caught off guard when her father was waiting for her in the dank, cold cellar—how had he known what monkey business she’d intended?
    She could never do anything right, it seemed, at least where her father was concerned. The knowledge had been ingrained in her as surely as Ruth’s initials on the wall there.
    “I was always in trouble . . . always wrong.” She let the words fall from her lips, reaching for the shanty door to yank it open.
    On the return drive to her parents’, Tilly slowed when she saw a young woman strolling along the left side of the road, walking a large German shepherd. Tilly felt a rush of anticipation as she realized that this was her former best friend, Josie Riehl, now wife to Tilly’s brother Sam.
    Honking and waving, Tilly quickly pulled over to the shoulder and stopped the car. Jumping out, she called to her. “Josie . . . it’s me, Tilly!”
    The blond, blue-eyed young woman turned and offered the barest hint of a smile. “I heard you might be home for the celebration tomorrow.”
    “I brought Ruthie along, too.”
    “ Des gut, really ’tis.”
    Tilly wasn’t sure if she should cross the road or not. It was the oddest thing, Josie being so aloof. But then again, Tilly had snubbed her, leaving her dearest friend out in the cold when Tilly began corresponding only with Ruthie after Tilly’s departure. Still, she wondered if she shouldn’t at least attempt an apology for her years of silence, try to make amends. Is it a good idea?
    Standing there on her side of the road, she felt the barrier—the invisible Do not trespass sign between them.
    “How long will ya be around, Tilly?” A safe enough question.
    “We leave early Monday morning,” Tilly replied, her mouth like cardboard.
    “S’pose you have to get back home right quick, jah ?”
    Tilly nodded and wondered what to do with her hands, wanting to fold them in prayer, in all truth. She shoved them into her coat pockets, noting the pain in Josie’s eyes. “I guess we’ll see you and Sam at the gathering tomorrow, then.”
    “ Jah , over at the house.” Josie waved so halfheartedly Tilly wasn’t sure she meant it as a