Free Leaving Lancaster by Kate Lloyd

Holly bopped out, rounded the hood, and strode to Esther’s door, just as Mamm bustled onto the porch, wearing a navy dress and black apron.
    Esther hesitated, knowing she must appear to be one of those fancy folks Mamm used to complain about with distrust. And Holly? Would Mamm see her as an alt maedel —an unmarried spinster trapped into caring for her aging mother?
    â€œ Willkumm! It’s gut to see you!” Mamm hastened down the steps. The strings of her prayer cap were tied under her double chin, a sign the old ways hadn’t changed.
    Esther tried to smile through the window, but her upper lip stuck to her teeth. Using all her concentration, she opened the car door, swiveled her knees, and stood, barely able to maintain her balance. Mamm swooped closer, her arms reaching to embrace Esther, who leaned back against the car and waited for a verbal assault, since she hadn’t written or left a message on the phone shanty before arriving.
    â€œI’ve been expectin’ yous,” Mamm said. She’d aged considerably and added inches to her middle. Esther could see her thinning hair, blanched the color of dust, through her heart-shaped prayer cap. Fine lines mapped her face and a veneer of tears moistened her once bottle-green eyes, now faded like driftwood.
    Mamm patted her breast. “Zach drove over to tell me you were in town so I wouldn’t faint when I saw ya.”
    Esther stared at her mother’s animated face. Hadn’t Esther intended to recite a significant phrase to reverse the decades? She finally mustered up, “I’m sorry to hear you’ve been ill,” rather than hugging Mamm as she longed to do—or fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness. She didn’t deserve her mother’s love. “I regret it’s taken so long,” she said. A shallow remark, and not true. Half of her didn’t want to be here, even now.
    â€œThis is gut,” Mamm said. “A gift from God. Ain’t so?”
    Esther nodded. She wondered if God had orchestrated her homecoming or if Mamm was trying to make her feel guilty. She couldn’t feel smaller than she did already, the size of a mouse. Would that she could scurry away.
    â€œTruly, ’tis of God.” Mamm grinned, showing crooked teeth, then turned her attention to Holly. What must Holly think of her grandmother’s sing-songy accent? Her grandma must sound like a country bumpkin.
    â€œI want to hear all about my precious Grossdochder .” Mamm’s plump arms encircled Holly, who stood the same height, but half her girth. Esther was surprised Holly hugged her grandmother back. She hadn’t received an authentic embrace from Holly for ages—just pecks on the cheek.
    A gamut of emotions—feelings of isolation, nostalgia, shame—inundated Esther’s mind, quickening her breath. She’d deprived Holly of her grandma, yet all these years she’d been certain she was making the right choice.
    Mamm stepped back, her gaze glued to Holly. “Let’s have a look at ya. You’re a fine young woman, as pretty as any in the county.”
    Who looks like her father, Esther thought. The morning light sloping through the branches of the oak trees on the other side of the road highlighted Holly’s hair, much the hue of the sorrel mare grazing amongst the neighbor’s herd of Holsteins—Samuel’s rusty-brown hair. He’d be older now too: Esther’s age. Would a day ever pass by when she didn’t long for him?
    â€œI hope we’re not intruding,” Holly said.
    â€œNee!—no! Silly me,” Mamm said, her hands steepled. “I should have invited you in immediately. Kumm rei —come in. Esther needs no invitation. This will always be her home. Her old room’s redd up with two beds in it these days.”
    The three women climbed the porch stairs. Esther expected to hear the second step creak as she had as a child, but the