Word of Evan’s impending return had traveled fast around Bird-in-Hand, particularly during the fellowship meal yesterday after Preaching. Relatives and other church members had been dropping by the house with casseroles, baked goods, and even packages of licorice sticks, a favorite of Evan’s.

Ellie had freshened Evan’s bedding on Saturday and thoroughly cleaned the room for his first night back. He’ll be exhausted from traveling, she assumed, and she wanted to give him a chance to return to familiar surroundings, at least for now.

She stayed indoors instead of doing orchard work that morning, but it was almost impossible to focus on her housework. Mamm and Dawdi came over for the noon meal, as did Jonah and Titus . . . and Dat, who’d been sitting out front, waiting. Seeing her father out there, her heart had been drawn to him, and if she’d been finished folding clothes, she might have gone out there to wait, too.

Midafternoon, Lyle spotted a young man dressed in an army uniform and hat walking slowly up the road and carrying a tan army-issue bag. Lyle sprang to his feet and squinted.

He looks older . . . and thinner, he thought, making his way toward the porch steps. Can this be my son?

Heart in his throat, Lyle nearly lost his footing going down the steps. The soldier turned into their long, tree-lined lane and seemed to lean toward his left side at times. As Lyle walked farther to better see him, the young man began to quicken his pace, his right arm moving strangely—as if to steady himself.

Lyle’s pulse was pounding now as he strode toward him. This was Evan, for certain, but the cuff at the bottom of his left sleeve was knotted shut, the sleeve hanging empty as Evan quickened his pace.

Dear Lord in heaven!

Lyle’s heart dropped like a stone, but he opened his arms wide. “Willkumm Heem, son.”

Evan stepped awkwardly into his big embrace. “At last,” he said, his breath against Lyle’s neck.

They walked unhurriedly now, without speaking, then Evan paused to set his canvas bag on the ground. He almost stumbled as he turned to face Lyle. “I’m guessing I look a little different to ya, Dat.”

Lyle studied him, sincerity all over Evan’s scarred face. “I’m just glad you’re home.”

Evan looked around, taking in the side yard, the meadow, and the orchard beyond.

“The family’s anxious to see ya.” Lyle took a step forward, but Evan didn’t budge. He just stared at the house, standing stock-still.

Lyle saw tears welling up. “Son?”

Evan’s gaze found his, and then he said with measured words, “There’s something I need to say. . . .” His eyes were full of pain.

Lyle braced himself. “All right.”

Evan took a deep breath. “I was wrong every which way, Dat. Will ya forgive me?”