Titus Returns

Book 5: Wells Landing Romance

by Amy Lillard

Genres: Amish & Mennonite; Christian Romance; Clean & Wholesome Romance

Synopsis

In Wells Landing, Oklahoma's warm and welcoming Amish community, there's always hope for a new beginning—and a second chance . . .



Five tumultuous years have changed Titus Lambert in every way. Back then, Titus was preparing to marry his longtime sweetheart, Mandy Yoder. Then came the unthinkable—a tragic car wreck that left Titus serving time for vehicular manslaughter.



Titus isn't sure he belongs in this peaceful place anymore, but he must make amends. When he goes to visit the Kings, whose son, Alvin, died that terrible night, he's shocked to see that their farm has fallen into disrepair. Alvin's sister, Abbie, resents Titus's reappearance, but there's no denying she needs his help. Honest toil—and their evolving friendship—slowly help his soul to heal. But with his feelings for Mandy still strong, Titus must choose between two very different futures, and find the strength and faith to claim the surprising gift of a fresh start.

Release date: December 27, 2016

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 317

Sample

Titus Lambert pulled the strap of his backpack a little higher onto his shoulder and stepped to the side of the road as the car whizzed past. A stream of laughter and music trailed behind and mixed with the exhaust fumes to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. He had never quite gotten used to the speedy movements of cars. Even during the short time he actually drove himself, he was always a little unnerved when he stopped to think about how fast he was really going. So he never stopped. At twenty that was easy. But five years had passed and things were different. Much, much different.

And yet some things were the same. He hitched his bag a little higher once more and studied the sign looming ahead: WELLS LANDING. It was just as he remembered. Pristine white that had barely started chipping around the edges. Flowing green letters that made it seem like a fancier place than it really was.

He stopped and stared at the sign, his heart pounding in his chest. His mouth went dry as ash. What was he doing here?

He had no business being here. But where else could he go?

Wells Landing had been his home all of his life. Until the night everything had changed forever. Now he had no idea where home was. He had no idea if he’d ever feel at home anywhere. It certainly wasn’t the concrete cell that had been his shelter during the last five years.

He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, the stitching in his shirt irritating his skin. These were the clothes that he had worn into the prison. The clothes that his mother had made for him. Nowadays the sleeves were a little tight and a little short, but the uncomfortable feeling that stole over him had more to do with memories than the fact that five years had passed since he had worn them.

He had heard the other guys talking about getting out and their families bringing them new things to wear, driving up to get them, and all the celebration that would be had that night.

But there was no celebration for Titus. He hadn’t told his parents that he was coming home. He didn’t know if he could call it home. He didn’t know if he could actually go through with it.

Another car whizzed past, then he caught the low chug of a tractor.

The sound grew closer, the speed becoming slower until it practically stopped right beside him.

Titus kept walking.

“Titus? Titus Lambert? Is that you?”

He should have known that he wouldn’t make it back into town without someone noticing. Wells Landing just wasn’t big enough for that kind of secrecy. Wells Landing wasn’t big enough for any kind of secrecy.

Unable to ignore the man who had called him by name, Titus turned to see who was driving the tractor.

Jonah Miller.

Emotions rushed him: anger, sadness, and an overwhelming need to hug this person he had known most of his life. He shoved them all into the box he kept buried deep inside and gave his onetime friend a brief nod. “Jonah.”

Jonah swung down from the tractor, leaving it idling as he hit the ground. “It’s good to see you.” He stuck out his hand to shake.

Titus looked at it, unable to move. How long had it been since he had touched another person? One year? Two? Fistfights aside, it had been nearly four years since he had clasped another man’s hand in friendship.

It hadn’t taken long for word to get around the yard that he was Amish. The other inmates had considered it great sport to tease him and see if they could get the pacifist to respond. It took even less time for Titus to learn that if he wanted to have any peace at all he had to fight and fight harder and meaner than anyone else. He wasn’t proud of the measures he had been forced to take, but he had done what any and every man does on the inside: whatever it took to survive.

He clasped Jonah’s hand, then met his tawny-brown gaze. Jonah’s eyes were the exact color of good maple syrup. How long had it been since he’d had a short stack with syrup and butter? A long time.

That was another thing he wasn’t used to—making eye contact. He’d done whatever it took to stay off the radar of the harder prisoners. But he looked into Jonah’s eyes, trying his best to begin his life on the outside. His eyes burned and his hand trembled. This was going to be harder than he thought.

“It’s good to be here.” His voice sounded rusty and unused as he uttered his lie. Was it good to be there? Or was this the only place he could be? Wells Landing was his home. At least it had been once . . . a long time ago.

“Are you on your way home?” Jonah jerked one thumb over his shoulder toward his waiting tractor. “I can give you a ride.”

It was on the tip of Titus’s tongue to tell him no, but the trip down memory lane was exhausting. He had seen just about all of Wells Landing he wanted to see for the time being, and he had barely made it past the welcome sign.

“Yes.” He nodded. “I’d like that.” He climbed up into the cab of the tractor next to Jonah and tried not to think about how many times they had ridden this way in their youth.

They were still young, he knew, but the innocence of that time was gone. And he could never get that back.

Jonah didn’t say much as they chugged down Main.

Titus did his best not to stare at everything as they passed. Fitch’s Furniture Store, Kauffman Family Restaurant, Lapp Bakery. He had spent so many hours hanging out in the park that divided Main Street that a part of him wanted to tell Jonah to stop and let him out. He could swing for a couple of hours, maybe use the time to get his head right. Then what? He would still have to go home. Still have to face his parents. Still have to learn to live again.

“You okay?” Jonah asked.

“Yeah,” Titus lied. “How’s Lorie these days?” Anything to change the subject. He wasn’t okay. He was drowning in memories.

Jonah made a face that was somewhere between a frown and a grimace. “Uh, a lot has happened since you’ve been gone.”

Of course it had. He’d been in prison for nearly five years, a stiff sentence for second-degree manslaughter. But apparently the judge had been feeling particularly peevish that day about Amish who thought they could run amok in his district without consequences. Of course it didn’t help that the state’s plaintiff was an attorney himself. Titus hadn’t known it would prove to be important at the time, but it was. Oh, how it was.

“You want to fill me in?” Titus asked.

Finally, they were through town and on the other side, where most of the Amish farms were located.

Jonah took so long to answer for a moment Titus thought he wasn’t going to. Then he took a deep breath and started. “Let’s see, we’ve had a few new folks moving in. Caroline Hostetler came with her daughter Emma. She went to work with Esther Lapp in the bakery, then she met Andrew Fitch. He’s Abe Fitch’s nephew. He moved down from Missouri. They ended up getting married—Caroline and Andrew—which you don’t know either one of them but you’ll meet them now that you’re . . . home.” He seemed reluctant to say that last word.

Titus couldn’t blame him. The stench of change clung to him. He knew it. But it was more than change. Things would never be the same again and those around him didn’t know how to handle it. Until he figured it out, he would just exist. And pray that one day he would understand.

“Then it was about that time that Esther Lapp married Abe Fitch.”

That wasn’t what Titus expected Jonah to say. “You don’t say.”

For as long as he could remember the man was absentminded euphemistically speaking and downright scatterbrained if a person really wanted to state the truth. But most people hated to say that about Abe. He was as kindhearted as they came, generous and caring, even if he was a little bit unkempt at times and would lose the thread of the conversation as easily as a fish slips off the hook.

“That is quite a bit,” Titus said.

Jonah gave a small nod. “That’s not the half of it. Luke Lambright ran off to drive Englisch race cars.”

Titus nodded. “I’m not surprised.”

“Jah, well, Emily wasn’t very happy about it.”

“Emily Ebersol?”

“Of course,” Jonah said. “Except she’s Emily Riehl now. Elam Riehl stepped in and started to court her. Now they’re married and have a baby girl. Then there’s his father.”

“James?” It was so much easier talking about the many residents of Wells Landing and how they had been doing rather than dwelling on all the aspects of his own life.

He missed these people. He knew in his heart that he would never be a complete member of the community again. The Amish preached about forgiveness and understanding and that he could understand. But he wasn’t the same person he had been when he’d left. How could he come back and pretend that nothing had happened? That was the saddest part of all.

“Jah, James was hurt. He got kicked in the head by a milk cow. He’s not the same anymore. But he’s doing all right. He and Joy had a new baby. They named her Lavender.” He made a face telling Titus exactly what he thought about the name, then he shrugged it off. “He has a thing about purple.”

“Thing?” Titus asked.

“You’ll just have to talk to him. You’ll understand then. Let’s see, Sadie Kauffman is getting married this fall to a Mennonite guy named Ezra Hein. Clara Rose married Obie Brennaman.”

“I knew that would happen,” Titus said, nodding. “I think we all did except for Obadiah and Clara Rose.” He chuckled.

“Then there’s Lorie.” An undeniable sadness crept into his tone. “Her dad died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And Titus was. He liked Henry Kauffman. He was a good man, always happy. Titus would never forget him buzzing around the restaurant, big smile on his face as he made sure everyone had enough coffee and pie. His death was a shame.

“Lorie started going to Tulsa visiting with a grandmother she never knew she had.”

“An Englisch grandmother?”

Jonah nodded and turned down the farm road that led to Titus’s house.

His heart pounded a little heavier in his chest.

Almost home.

And then not. How could this ever be home again?

“It seems that Henry Kauffman was really Henry Mathis. And he wasn’t Amish at all. It’s kinda complicated, but when he died Lorie saw that he had a tattoo.”

Titus whistled under his breath. Tattoos were strongly forbidden among the Amish. That was one of the many things he struggled with in prison. Everybody wanted to mark themselves to show what group they belonged to. Titus just wanted to keep to himself and do his time. He just wanted to get out with as few changes as possible. He did everything he could to come out of prison unmarked physically, but his marks were invisible, bolder, deeper.

“Anyway she met this sod named Zach something or another. I forget. . . .” He trailed off, and Titus had a feeling he knew exactly what this Zach’s last name was, but he wouldn’t press the issue.

“I’m sorry to hear that, too,” Titus murmured.

“Jah, well, it’s God’s will.”

Was it? Titus had lost faith in God’s will. What proof was there that God wanted these things to happen? Why would God want some of these things that happened to happen? What good was it all?

He pushed those thoughts aside. He was going to see his parents again for the first time in four years, the first time since the trial. He hadn’t seen his brothers and sisters since even before then. He’d had a few visitors that first year in jail, the year he served before the trial. But when he was shipped off to prison, he hadn’t wanted them to come by. He didn’t want anyone to see him in there. Now he was going to get to see them in just a few minutes. The thought sent his heart soaring even as it sank like a rock in his chest.

“Baby steps,” the chaplain had said when he visited with Titus before his release. “Just take baby steps.” And that’s what he intended to do. What was that quote? “Do you know how to eat an elephant? One bite at a time.” And that was what he was planning, to take one bite at a time until he figured out if he should swallow or spit it all out. Until then, he would enjoy what little remained of the life he had before.

“It’s all right,” Jonah said. “I’m doing okay.”

Titus could spot a lie when he heard one. He’d been lying to so many people for so long that it had become easy. And he could tell that Jonah was lying now. As long as Jonah was trying to fool the outside and not himself, he’d be okay. Titus had fooled himself for years, and he knew that road led to destruction.

“It sounds like it’s been a busy few years.”

Jonah slowed the tractor as they neared the mailbox marked with the Lambert name. It hadn’t changed. Their name was still spelled out in those gold and black letters. Half of the T was missing as it had been when he left. The mailbox seemed to have a couple more dents in it. But it seemed as if not much had changed at all, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Jonah turned the tractor, and they chugged down the drive. Once again Titus’s heart was stabbed with the sameness of it all. Nothing had changed here. The barn still sat close to the road, the first building they came to when they turned down the driveway. It was still painted a bright red with a white fence wrapping around it. The white fence gave way to barbed wire and a sprawling pasture. On the opposite side of the drive the house sat, all pristine white with green shutters and a gray roof, just the same as it had always been. Only the flowers outside were different. How he knew that he didn’t understand. But when he left there’d been flowers, mounds and mounds of beautiful blooms, spilling red, purple, and white all around the house. Now the flowers seemed a little tamer. They were more contained and looked thin as they stood straight and tall and reached for the sun. The flowers themselves were white with a couple of pinks mixed in, and it was definitely not what he had been used to seeing in the years before. Maybe that was what he needed, that one difference to bring him into the here and now.

Jonah pulled to one side of the house, then turned to Titus without cutting the engine. “Do you want me to go in with you?”

Titus stopped for a moment, mulling over every facet of the problem. He would love to have Jonah’s familiar and steady support at his side as he entered the house he hadn’t set foot in for five years. Yet this was something that he had to do alone. He needed to face the past and survive. And he needed to do it on his own two feet.

“Nah. You go on home.” Titus climbed down from the tractor, grabbed his backpack, and slung it over one shoulder. He was standing on the opposite side of the tractor from the house, and yet he could see faces peeking out of the window to see who had come visiting.

“I had better get in there before everyone comes out on the porch.” If that happened, then Jonah might not ever get to leave. That was one thing about his family: they were welcoming and loving and enjoyed having company of all sorts. If they knew Jonah was there, they would definitely invite him in, convince him he needed some pie and to drink some coffee, play a couple of games of Uno and twenty other things until they finally let him go. Titus wasn’t sure they would treat him the same way. He was an outsider now, an outcast, a rebel, an outlaw, a convicted felon.

He couldn’t handle them embracing Jonah with all the love that they always showed him before yet shunning him now.

He shook the thought away. Shunned or not, things would never be the same.

“Thanks for the ride,” he told Jonah.

His friend nodded. “I’m glad you’re home.”

Jonah backed up the tractor and turned it around. He started for home, throwing a small wave over his shoulder as he putted along. Titus stood there, backpack slung across one shoulder, and watched him leave.

The front door opened and his youngest sister, Rachel, came to the door. She looked at him, turned her head one way and then the other. She had been only seven years old the last time she’d seen him. Plenty old enough to remember who he was.

“Titus.” She breathed his name as if she never thought she’d speak it again. “Mamm! Dat! It’s Titus! Titus is home.”

He stood stock-still as inside the house movement erupted.

He heard his father’s voice though he couldn’t discern the words. Then Rachel responded. “I’m not kidding; he’s right there.” She pointed at him.

This was it. This was really happening. He was home.

His mother came out onto the porch, no doubt wanting to see what Rachel was so adamant about. She looked at her daughter and then looked at him. The moment froze. So many years had passed, but she looked the same as she had when he left. Maybe a few more lines around her face, a couple more wrinkles on her forehead, and a little more gray hidden under her prayer kapp. But somehow she looked just as she always had. Her blue eyes were kind and loving.

“Titus?” She said the word as if he would disappear if she said it too loudly.

“Hi, Mamm.”

“Abner, get out here! Titus is home!”

After that, chaos reigned. In an instant Titus was surrounded by the members of his family. His mamm; his dat; Rachel; his brothers Gabe Allen, Michael, and Paul; along with his oldest sister, June. As the oldest in the family, Titus had been the one who was supposed to set an example for them all. But after all the trouble he’d gotten into he was no role model, that was for sure.

But for now at least he was home. How long he’d be able to stay was anybody’s guess.

Titus allowed himself to be pulled into the house. He did his best to seem as enthusiastic as his family. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy to be home. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his family, but he knew that things had changed. And he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stay. Not long anyway.

Before he knew what had happened he was sitting at the kitchen table with everyone clustered around. His mamm was filling him a plate of leftovers as everyone tried to talk to him at once. He was the only one eating, so he was allowed to sit with them, but next time, he knew it would be different.

“How did you get home?” his mamm asked. “Why didn’t you call us? We could have gotten a driver and come get you.” She sat the heaping plate in front of him, and Titus resisted the urge to snatch up his fork and eat every bite as quickly as he could. That was how it had been on the inside. A person had to eat with single-mindedness or lose his meal to the next guy. The next bigger guy. Or the closest guy, whoever was meaner.

“I—” He stopped, unwilling to tell his mother that he hitchhiked home. That he hadn’t wanted anyone to see him walk out of that prison. He was leaving it behind him and wanted them to as well. Or at the very least he was trying. “I caught a ride.”

She reached out a hand to touch his face, but stopped short, just inches away from her target. She dropped her hand back to her side, then went around to the refrigerator and took out a large pitcher of lemonade. She poured him a glass, then hovered around him as if she wasn’t sure what she should do next.

Well, that makes two of us.

“I joined the Turtles,” Michael said. Titus could barely comprehend that his brother was old enough to run around much less that he had already settled on a youth group.

“Dat wouldn’t let me join the Dragons like you did,” Gabe Allen said. “I’m a Turtle too.”

“The Turtles are a good group.” He was sad that his parents wouldn’t let his brothers join the youth group that Titus himself had been a part of, but he could understand their mindset. Titus had ended up in enough trouble for all of them. Not that it was the Dragons’ fault or that being in a different youth group would have changed anything.

Titus took up his fork and steadied his hand as he tried to eat at an acceptable pace. A pulled pork sandwich with barbecue sauce and potato salad on the side. And as always there was applesauce, peanut butter spread, and biscuits most likely left over from breakfast. He took a bite and chewed as slowly as he dared. He didn’t have to fight any longer. Didn’t have to eat food that he wasn’t familiar with. He was eating his mother’s cooking, at home, at the table where he had eaten so many meals in the past.

The potato salad was as cool and tangy as he remembered it to be. Tears rose into his eyes. He blinked them away, swallowed the lump in his throat, and took another bite. He’d have plenty of time to think about what it meant to be home. But he would have to wait before taking out his emotions and examining them.

“If I had known you were coming I would have made something more special. Chicken and dumplings or fried chicken.”

“Sit down, Jenny. Let the poor boy eat,” his father groused.

His mother hesitated, then moved to the opposite side of the table.

“I’ve only got one more year of school,” Paul boasted. “Then Dat said I could take over at the market.”

Once upon a time that had been Titus’s job and his dream: to take over at the market and run the family business. They sold anything and everything at the market. Canned goods, yarn items, produce, quilted pot holders. Name it and they had it. Once upon a time, Titus had thought that he would expand their operation. He’d had dreams of opening an actual store in town. He had even gone so far as to search for a place on Main Street. He’d found one too, but he had noticed on the way through town that someone had claimed that space. It appeared to be a specialty sports store selling jerseys and such for all the Oklahoma sports teams. It didn’t add as much to the charm of the town as his store would have, but that opportunity was long past.

What were you thinking? That the place would still be empty, waiting for you to come home? Life went on; even while he felt suspended in time, everything in Wells Landing had continued without him.

“That’s good, Paul.” He was proud of his little brother. Truly he was. But with Paul in Titus’s old spot where did that leave Titus?

“June’s in love,” Rachel sang.

He had expected protests from his oldest sister, but instead she turned a bright shade of pink.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” When he had gone in, June had been seventeen and just getting into the swing of her runaround time. Back then she had been crazy about Noah Treger’s little brother, Samuel. But the blush on her cheeks was not from a five-year-old relationship. No, this was something new.

“No one,” she muttered.

“Timmy Glick,” Rachel squealed.

“Rachel,” Dat warned.

She covered her mouth and her eyes twinkled over her fingers.

“Jonah’s cousin?”

June nodded.

Why didn’t Jonah say anything about that?

Or maybe Jonah had recognized the fact that Titus might not be in Wells Landing long enough for it to matter.

Titus wanted to ask what had happened between June and Samuel, but that was a story for another day.

He couldn’t believe he was actually sitting there, in his mamm’s kitchen, listening to his family talk about everyday things as they struggled to catch him up on what he’d missed since he had gone to jail. The whole experience was almost more than he could bear. He was so thankful to be at home, so very glad to be free. Free! He was free. Though he had no idea what to do next.

He wanted to do everything at once and yet couldn’t find the energy to get out of the chair. Titus pushed his plate to the side, and his mother was on her feet in a second. “Do you want some more? There’s plenty.”

He looked down at his empty plate. He had used the last of his biscuit to wipe up anything left. It was a habit from his childhood, but it served him well on the inside. Sometimes he didn’t know where the next meal was coming from.

“No, thanks.” He wasn’t sure where he’d put all that he had just eaten. He was hungry and yet not. His stomach was tied in knots, his . . .