Although Jake had eaten an enormous meal at the Yoder farm, his mother insisted that he have a piece of apple pie and a cup of coffee. She served the pie hot, with a slab of melted cheese on top.
“Father, you have spoken little,” Jake said.
“There is a reason God gave us two ears and one mouth,” Solomon said. “It is because we should listen twice and speak once.”
“Yes,” Jake said. “I remember this is one of the things you taught me.”
“Why have you come home?” Solomon asked.
“To see you, and mother, and my sister,” Jake said. Then, looking over toward young Jacob he added, “And my nephew.”
“You come home, but you do not stay. Sie sehen nicht, dass diese Mittel mehr Schmerz für Ihre Mutter?”
“It was not my intention to bring more pain to my mother,” Jake said, answering his father’s charge.
“Are you still in the Army?” Solomon asked.
“Yes,” Jake answered. “Such as it is. The way things are going in the country now, this new president we have is doing everything he can to destroy the Army.”
“Who is the new president?” Solomon asked.
“Father, I can’t believe . . .” Jake started, but he stopped in midsentence. There was no television in this house, no radio, and no electricity. There was no news beyond Lancaster that could possibly be of any importance to Solomon Lantz.
“His name is Ohmshidi,” Jake said.
“Ohmshidi? What sort of name is that for an English?”
Jake knew that by the term English, Solomon was referring only to those people who are not Amish. It really had no bearing on nationality.
“He is Pakistani,” Jake said. “He has an American mother, but he was born in Pakistan and is a naturalized American.”
For the next half hour Jake explained the condition of the country to his parents, sharing his fears that the president was only making matters much worse.
“It is not our concern,” Solomon said.
“I hope you are right, Father. Believe me; I have never envied the Life more strongly than I do now. How I wish I could live here like everyone else in total ignorance to the world outside.”
“Have you been to war, Jacob?” Solomon asked.
“Yes.”
“Have you killed?”
“Father, that’s not a fair question. Wars are fought as a matter of executive decisions. The men who fight them, men such as I, have absolutely no input into the decisions.”
“Have you killed?” Solomon asked again.
Jake was quiet for a long moment. “Yes,” he finally said. “I have killed. It was not something I wanted to do, but it was something I had to do.”
Solomon got up and walked over to a long table that sat under the window and stared outside, as if trying to come to terms with the fact that his son had killed. Jake looked at the table and remembered how, as a child, when it would rain outside, his mother would sometimes drape a quilt over the table and make a tent. That way Jake could camp in the rain without ever getting wet.
“You say that you are afraid the country will collapse,” Solomon said. “What does that mean?”
“I think it will mean no law and order. It will also mean runaway inflation and if that happens, money will become worthless. We may see wide-spread electrical outages, fuel and food shortages,” Jake said. “If all that comes to pass, there will be riots in the streets.”
“Will you survive?” Solomon asked his son.
“I—yes, I think I will.”
“You only think you will?”
“I will survive,” Jake said. “I am worried about you.”
“Worry not about me,” Solomon said. “All the troubles of the English will not trouble us. For many generations we have lived our lives and the English have lived theirs.”
“Father, I fear that things may be different now. This new president . . .”
“Is not of our concern,” Solomon repeated.
“Hide your food, Father,” Jake said.
“Hide the food? Why do you say such a thing?”
“If, as I fear, there is a total breakdown of civilization, the English know that Amish keep a lot of food stored. They may come try to take it.”
“I will not turn away a starving man,” Solomon said.
“They will be more than starving. They will be desperate, and they could bring much harm to you and to the others. Please, Father, heed my warning. Hide your food and tell your neighbors that they must do so as well. For if you don’t, I fear what may happen to you.”
“I will heed your advice,” Solomon said.
“Thank you.”
“Will you stay with us now?” Jake’s mother asked.
“No, Mother, I wish I could,” Jake said. “But I cannot.”
There was no real reason why he couldn’t stay, but it wasn’t entirely a lie either, because he did wish that he could. But he had Karin back in Lancaster, and he did not want to leave her alone. Also he felt a very strong and totally unexpected attraction for the Life that he had abandoned so long ago. It was an attraction that he could not succumb to. He needed to get away now, while his resolve was still strong.
Jake stood then, and walked over to retrieve his hat from a hat rack that was on the wall just inside the front door. The hat rack was a thirty-inch-long, highly polished piece of walnut. Carved into the hat rack were the words:
Die Lantz-Familie
Jake ran his hand over the smooth wood.
“It was a Christmas present you made for me,” Jake’s mother said.
“Yes, when I was twelve years old.”
“If go you must, do it now,” Solomon said.
Jake’s mother embraced him again, and he could feel her tears on his cheek. Martha embraced him as well.
Jake waited until he was back on Old Philadelphia Pike before he dialed Karin’s cell phone.
“How did it go?” Karin asked.
“All things considered, it went well,” Jake said. “They accepted me without shunning.”
“I’m glad.”
“Do you need me to pick up something to eat?”
“No, I walked across the street to a place that serves Amish food. Or so the sign says.”
Jake chuckled. “That’s for the tourists,” he said. “It’s pretty close, but it isn’t real.”
“Real or not, it was very good,” Karin said. “How much longer before you get here?”
“Fifteen minutes, more or less.”
“Are you still wearing your plain clothes?” Karin’s voice took on a deep seductive tone.
“Of course. What else would I be wearing?”
“You’ll need to get out of them.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll help,” she said.
CHAPTER FIVE
Fort Rucker—Thursday, March 15
General Clifton von Cairns swiveled around in his chair and looked through the windows of his office out onto the parade ground. He was the commanding general of an Army base whose sole reason for existence was to train aviators and aircraft maintenance personnel—but, by order of the Department of the Army, all training had been suspended until further notice. In the meantime he had over twenty thousand soldiers wandering around on the base with no specific jobs.
Worse, he had aviators who weren’t able to fly, not even to maintain their minimums. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair for a moment; then he reached for the telephone, and dialed the direct line to the deputy chief of staff, U.S. Army, G1, at the Pentagon.
“This is General von Cairns. I would like to speak to General Roxbury,” he said when the phone was answered.
“Yes, General, what can I do for you?” General Roxbury said when he came on the line.