by Marta Perry
“That wasn’t the only good thing,” he said mildly.
The three of them worked in silence for a time, side by side. It was a surprisingly comfortable silence.
Aaron glanced down at the schoolyard. Onkel Zeb was supervising a group of boys who were hauling the debris away and stacking it, while the women and girls were already organizing lunch.
“Seriously, how did you convince Onkel Zeb not to climb up on the roof?” he asked.
Caleb shook his head. “I didn’t. That was Jessie. She persuaded him that he was needed more down there.”
“He never turns Jessie down,” Daniel added. “I think she could ask him anything.”
“Yah.” Caleb sent a worried glance down at the group of women. “I wish I could have talked her into not coming today, but she was set on being here.”
“I’d guess the other women won’t let her do too much.” Aaron thought that was as close as he should come to mention Jessie’s obvious pregnancy.
Caleb nodded, maybe finding comfort in the thought.
The three of them moved to another row of shingles, working steadily. Aaron listened to the flow of Pennsylvania Dutch, punctuated by frequent laughter. There was a reason they called it a work frolic—the Amish found enjoyment in doing a project like this together. He’d forgotten.
It wasn’t that folks in the outside world didn’t get together to do good things. The boss had organized a crew to work on a Habitat for Humanity house just last year, and most of the guys had contributed their time. Enjoyed it, too.
But that had been something special in their lives. This was routine. If a job needed to be done, the community didn’t wait to be asked. They just came together and did it.
Aaron stretched, looking around, surprised by how much they’d accomplished already.
“We’re almost ready to start putting the new roof on,” he said. “That’s fast.”
Daniel looked up with his ready smile. “You should have seen us when we raised a barn for Sam Fisher. Now, that was a big project, and it was ready for use by sundown.”
Aaron looked suitably impressed. “I noticed the new barn. What happened to the old one?”
“Fire,” Caleb said shortly.
“That was when Caleb had his accident,” Daniel added.
“Not my favorite memory,” Caleb grumbled.
“If you hadn’t broken your leg, Jessie wouldn’t have come to mind the kinder. And you wouldn’t be happily married now,” Daniel said. “I’d guess that’s worth a broken leg.”
“Onkel Zeb said it was God’s plan working out.” Caleb stopped working for a moment, his expression considering. “I thought maybe He could have found a less painful way.”
“Not a chance. You’re so stubborn it’s a wonder the gut Lord didn’t hit you with a two-by-four,” Daniel said.
Aaron decided he’d have to give that idea some thought. In spite of Caleb’s grumbling, Aaron knew he’d take a broken leg in a second to have his Jessie.
Maybe God had some plan in mind that included the painful things that had happened to him, Aaron thought. But he’d just as soon decide his future for himself. Wouldn’t he?
He edged away from that thought, looking across the group gathered in the schoolyard again. His gaze snagged on Sally. She was bending over Jessie, helping her into a chair she’d brought out from the schoolroom. Caring...that was typical of Sally.
Even as he thought it, Sally looked up as if she’d heard his thought. Her gaze seemed to be drawn to his. Even across the distance between them, he felt its impact.
She turned away to say something to Jessie, so quickly that he felt he might have imagined that moment. He turned resolutely back to the work.
* * *
When the men started to come down the ladders, the flow of activity around the tables reached fever pitch. Sally, keeping a wary eye on Jessie, saw neighbor Leah Fisher intercept Jessie when she attempted to pick up a tray. Arm around Jessie, Leah steered her away.
Relieved, Sally grabbed a tray laden with sandwiches and headed for the picnic tables. Obviously other people besides her had noticed how tired Jessie looked. Her thoughts flew to the midwife, and she hoped Jessie’s household of men had sense enough to call at the right time.
As she circulated around the tables, Sally made an attempt to speak to everyone, thanking each person for helping out today. Most of them turned her thanks away with a joke or a laugh, but she wouldn’t want anyone to think she didn’t appreciate their efforts. The school gained its strength from the willing support of the community, and she’d never want that to change.
The King family was sitting at one end of a picnic table—at least the male part of it was. Becky, looking solemn and self-conscious, was carrying away used dishes.
Timothy and Lige, his soon-to-be cousin, seemed equally impressed to be eating with the workers. Sally paused to tap each one on his hat, earning a quick grin from Timothy and a shy smile from Lige.
“I saw how hard you two were working. Onkel Zeb kept you busy, ain’t so?”
Zeb, sitting next to the boys, gave them a fond look. “They are gut workers, both of them. I’m fortunate to have two such strong helpers.”
Timothy swelled with importance at the words. “We are strong, Teacher Sally. Look at the big pile we made of the shingles and tar paper.” He pointed a small finger at the stack of debris, situated so that it could easily be loaded onto a wagon and hauled away.
“That’s very impressive. And we’ll be sehr glad not to worry about the rain getting into the schoolroom when you’re done.”
“Yah, we don’t want our teacher getting wet,” Daniel said, reaching across to rest his hand for a moment on Lige’s shoulder.
“Or our scholars missing any class time,” Caleb added. “Hope you didn’t lose anything important to the water, Teacher Sally.”
“Nothing that can’t be replaced,” she said. “At least the books have dried out without damage.”
“We all know how important the books are to the teacher.” Aaron’s smile seemed to warm her. “She treasures those more than anything.”
“Some of us learn to love reading early,” she retorted. “And others are late bloomers.”
“What’s a late bloomer?” Timothy asked.
Caleb chuckled. “I think she means that your onkel Aaron never read anything he didn’t have to when he was in school.”
Timothy fixed wide blue eyes on Aaron. “But you have some books in your room. I saw them.”
“That’s right.” Aaron actually looked a little embarrassed. “It took me some growing up to learn how much books had to offer me. You’ll be better off if you learn to like reading early.”
“Mammi reads to us every night,” he said. “I’ll like learning to read, but...” A trace of dismay crossed his face.
Sally patted him, understanding. “Mammi will still read to you at night, even after you can read for yourself. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“That’s right,” Caleb said. “Teacher Sally has the right of it. Mammi loves to read to you.”
“Yah.” Timothy’s face cleared. “She does.”
Sally couldn’t help glancing at Aaron. He was watching her with Timothy, and his expression was so tender that it made her breath catch. He might not be ready to admit it, but everything he wanted was right here with his family. Whether it included her or not.
She straightened, realizing that Daniel was elbowing Caleb. Oops. She wasn’t sure how much they’d noticed, but if she wanted to avoid people talking about her, she’d have to start being careful now.
“I’d best get back to work,” she said, giving the kinder a smile. “Everyone needs a hearty lunch in order to finish the roof.”
Moving away, she tried not to look at Aaron. She was being foolish, reading so much into every glance. She’d do b
etter to focus on things she could do something about, like taking the desserts around.
A half hour later, most folks had finished eating, and there was a gradual movement back to the work area. Apparently, they were ready to start putting the new roofing in place. It looked as if they’d be finished in time for her and her volunteers to do some cleaning up inside. She’d have to put in as much work as possible today, since tomorrow was the Sabbath.
She’d avoided looking inside the schoolhouse thus far, but finally she just had to take a peek. Standing in the doorway, all she could do was shake her head. Thankfully they’d covered everything, because the tarps and the floor were littered with scraps of tar paper, shingles and the dust that must have been accumulating for a few years.
“I see what you mean about a mess.” Aaron’s voice, so close behind her, startled her. She swung around to find him inches away.
“I didn’t hear you.” Sally tried for a natural tone, but the words had come out sounding oddly breathless. “Did...does someone want me?”
Aaron’s eyes twinkled. “Probably. But I thought you might want to know how I made out with Star yesterday.”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” She eased backward a step so she could breathe. “Elizabeth said you’d been there working. How did Star react to the harness?”
He still had an amused look in his eyes, as if he knew full well why she’d backed up. “Better than I thought. He’s been harnessed before, so he worked pretty well. He didn’t like it when I put the blinders on, though.”
“No. He did a lot of head tossing when I tried it.”
“A good sign he needs them. He’s too distracted by what he sees in his peripheral vision. I worked him for about fifteen minutes on the lunge line with them. He settled down eventually. I’ll work him a bit more that way, and then we can try ground-driving him.”
She nodded. We, he’d said. It sounded as if she’d get to participate. “Sounds gut. Tomorrow’s Sunday, so Monday?”
“Yah, I guess.” Something wary had crossed his face at the mention of the Sabbath.
Sally hesitated for a moment, but she couldn’t seem to help one little question. “Will you be going to worship tomorrow?”
He nodded. “I have to, don’t I? I can’t be here and stay away.”
“You don’t need to brace yourself as if it’s going to be a battle,” she said. “I’m sure everyone will wilkom you.”
“Everyone? You really think so?” He sounded skeptical. “I’d guess there will be a few who aren’t so eager to see the bad boy back.”
“Nonsense.” The fear that he might be right gave extra emphasis to her voice. “Nobody would...” The rest of the sentence faded as she saw Elizabeth standing on the porch behind Aaron.
“Sally. We could use your help.” She divided a disapproving look between the two of them. It looked as if Sally were in for a lecture.
A wave of defiance swept through her, startling her. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, and she wouldn’t let anyone make her feel guilty.
Head held high, she marched out of the schoolroom.
Chapter Six
Aaron’s stomach lurched as Caleb turned the buggy into the lane of the Miller farm, and it wasn’t because of the sharp turn. He was on his way to worship for the first time in more years than he wanted to think about.
As they drove up the lane toward the barn, he saw the lineup of buggies parked along one side of the barn. One after another they stood there, a visible symbol of the Amish at worship. Horses and buggies... Onkel Zeb always said that was one of the things that kept the community together. He hadn’t had much time for that idea when he’d been a teenager, longing to be behind the wheel of a car.
As soon as Caleb pulled up near the wide door to the barn, two teenage boys, probably Josh Miller’s kids, came running to take the buggy and park it. They’d take care of the horses, as well. The kids in the host family always had plenty to do on worship Sunday. Aaron caught a curious look directed at him, and he figured he’d better brace himself for plenty more.
Sally had been naive when she’d snapped at him on that subject. Or else she was just so tenderhearted herself that she couldn’t imagine others wouldn’t be as welcoming as she was. But he didn’t have any illusions.
The curiosity would be bad enough. He’d be surprised if he didn’t encounter outright hostility. Probably a few people had thought “good riddance” when they’d heard he was gone. He’d had a reputation as a teen, and careful families hadn’t wanted their daughters anywhere near him.
None of his family seemed to be talking much, making him wonder if they were apprehensive about what was to come. Still, usually folks were fairly quiet when they gathered for worship, as he recalled. Afterward, during lunch, there’d be time for visiting and catching up on all the news.
He followed his brothers and his uncle to the line that was forming along one side of the barn door. Onkel Zeb first, then Caleb holding Timothy by the hand, Daniel, and he brought up the rear. Jessie moved slowly to the line of women along the opposite side, with Becky skipping at her side. Jessie murmured something to her, and Becky slowed to a sedate walk.
Before he’d had a chance to look for familiar faces among the men, their line had begun to move. He was carried forward, taken inexorably along with the others to their seats on the men’s side of the rows of benches ready for them. The routine of preparing for worship was as settled as the worship service itself.
The animals had been moved out, and the barn was as spotless as a barn could possibly be. He hated to think of the amount of work that involved. Most folks were glad they didn’t have to host worship more than once a year.
He sat, trying to look at ease while he took surreptitious glances along the rows of faces. There was Amos Burkhalter, who’d been his closest friend in his class at school. He sat at the end of the row in front of them, with four little boys arranged next to him like a series of steps.
Was it actually possible that Amos, who’d been as prone to trouble as he’d been, was the father of all those kids? Who had been brave enough to take him on? He’d have to find out after the service.
The two ministers filed in and took their places, followed by Bishop Thomas Braun. Aaron had thought him old when he’d left, but he didn’t look any different now. A few more gray hairs in his beard, maybe. Their gazes crossed, and Aaron looked at the floor quickly. He’d have to encounter the bishop sometime, he supposed, but he wasn’t eager for the meeting.
The song leader started the long notes of the first hymn, and Daniel stuck a hymnbook into his hands. Actually he remembered the words, but Daniel wasn’t taking any chances.
The long, slow cadence of the hymns was oddly comforting. They seemed to settle his mind. He took advantage of the moment to risk a sidelong look at the women’s section. Becky was snuggled close to Jessie, and Leah Fisher sat on Jessie’s other side. A row ahead of them he spotted Sally, realizing he’d know the back of her neck and her glossy hair under the sedate kapp no matter where she was.
Now, what was Sally doing sitting in the row with the young married women? She ought, by rights, to be with the unmarried girls.
Was this a tacit statement that she considered herself a maidal, an old maid? The anger he felt at the thought surprised him. Sally shouldn’t put thoughts of marriage away just because she’d made a mistake once.
He mulled that over as the service moved on, finding no answers. Sally would be a wonderful wife to someone who deserved her. Not him, of course, but someone who would bring a spotless reputation and a heart of devotion.
The bishop began to speak. Aaron, prepared to sleep with his eyes open, found he was listening in spite of himself. He’d been half-afraid the sermon might be on the subject of the prodigal’s return, but Bishop Thomas made no reference to him. Good. He didn’t need or want to be the object of everyone’s attention. There’d
be enough of that after worship.
By the time the service had wound to its conclusion, Aaron found that one leg had gone to sleep. He’d lost the knack of sitting through a three-hour worship service, apparently. Timothy, leaning against Caleb, had slept through the last hour, but he woke when his father moved.
In a moment the barn was bustling with activity. The women and girls went out, most to help with the lunch, he guessed. The men, including his brothers, started to work immediately, turning the benches into the tables and benches they’d need for the meal.
He wasn’t sure who had invented the convertible tables, but it had been a clever idea. Later they’d be folded up and loaded onto the church wagon, ready to be moved to the next site of worship in two weeks’ time.
Once lunch started, folks settled down to talk, catching up on all that had happened since they’d been together. He managed to touch base with Amos, and returned to Onkel Zeb afterward, grinning.
“You found a friend, yah?” Zeb said. “Do you think Amos much changed?”
“He’s turned into a pillar of the church, it seems. I don’t know how Mary Ann did it. But he’s about to get his comeuppance, because those boys of his look as ripe for mischief as he ever was.”
His uncle chuckled. “That’s always the way. Kinder repeat their parents’ deeds. The only hope for a parent is that you’ll live long enough to see their kinder do the same to them.”
Sally swept past them just then, clearly on her way to the kitchen with a tray. She gave him a nod and kept moving.
What had Elizabeth said to her after she’d found them together in the schoolhouse yesterday? Nothing pleasant, he could be sure. Elizabeth didn’t approve of him.
That was okay, because he didn’t approve of himself. And if everyone knew what he’d been accused of and why he’d left the Englisch, plenty more would disapprove. He turned, not wanting to be caught staring after Sally, and found the bishop bearing down on him.
Onkel Zeb slipped away, obviously thinking he ought to give them privacy. At the moment, Aaron would rather have protection. A flare of panic struck. What was Bishop Thomas going to say?
