The Baby Next Door

by Vannetta Chapman

  And her mood did improve as she made her way over to Adrian’s place. She found him on his knees in the garden next to the barn. Or what might have been a garden. It was hard to tell, with all the plants scattered around.

  “What happened?”

  “Hey.” Adrian smiled up at them, blocking the sun with a hand. “I didn’t hear you come up.”

  “What happened to your vegetables?”

  “Ah...” He turned to survey the torn-up plants and demolished rows. “Goats.”

  “But...it’s fenced. How’d they get in here?”

  “I guess I left the gate open. I hear I should fix the latches on my gates.”

  There wasn’t much she could say to that, since she’d definitely been a bad example to the very same goats. So instead of chiding him, she laid the blanket out under the shade of a nearby tree, plopped Nicole onto it and scattered a few toys around her.

  “I’ll help.”

  If Adrian was surprised, he hid it well. Within a half hour, they had a good amount of the vegetables replanted, though she wasn’t entirely sure if they’d survive.

  “Why don’t they eat them, once they pull them up?”

  “There’s no understanding a goat. My only guess is they have a short attention span.”

  It felt good to work her fingers in the soil, and Grace realized that it was nice to be somewhere different. She spent entirely too much time on her parents’ farm. Perhaps she should start going into town once a week.

  Or maybe she needed friends.

  That was probably it.

  “You’re focusing awfully hard over there.”

  “Ya. Just thinking that it feels good to be away from our place for a little while.”

  “I remember feeling that way when I was still staying at my parents’ farm.”

  “You did?”

  “Sure. I guess it’s something about living in the same place after you’re grown.”

  “Well, I might as well get used to that, because I’m not moving anywhere anytime soon.” Grace glanced over at Nicole, who was still happily sitting on the blanket, playing with her toys. Usually she’d be scrambling about, but the recent illness seemed to have left her with less energy. Or perhaps it was getting close to nap time. “Baby girl will be raised in the same house I was.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Pretty much, I do.”

  “So you’re saying you’ll never marry?”

  Grace had been tenderly replanting a tomato plant that had been ripped up by its roots. She sat back on her ankles and studied him. “I’m not sure that marriage is in my future, Adrian.”

  “Because of Nicole?”

  “Because of her...and other things.”

  “Oh. Well, a wise man once said to me—”

  “What wise man?”

  “Your dat.”

  “Oh?”

  “He said something to the effect that we need to stop waiting for the right time.”

  Grace suddenly wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Could things get more embarrassing? Was her dat actually pushing Adrian to date her?

  “We?”

  “And then he said that sometimes we just have to look at someone we already know in a different light.”

  “Adrian, I am mortified.”

  “Why would you be?” He looked at her quizzically, as if he didn’t understand her embarrassment. Then he did something she did not expect. He tipped his hat back and started laughing.

  “I fail to see what’s so funny.”

  “Come on, Grace. It’s not unusual for Amish parents to push their single children into dating. You’re aware of that, I’m sure.”

  “My parents haven’t even mentioned that they think I should date.”

  “Maybe they’re giving you time because of Nicole.”

  “About that...”

  “But any man would be blessed to have you for a fraa, Grace. As for Nicole... She’s a sweet boppli. You shouldn’t let your decision to raise your cousin’s child keep you from dating.”

  Except Nicole wasn’t her cousin’s child, and Grace wasn’t sure if now was the time or place to share that important fact with Adrian.

  Did her parents truly think it was time for her to date? Were they ready for her to get out from underfoot?

  Why would her dat say such a thing to Adrian, the one person Grace considered a friend?

  Adrian was a gut person, but she didn’t think he was ready to be a husband or a dat. It took only one look at his garden to see that. He couldn’t even remember to close the gate. His family would starve! As for the animals... She looked up as Dolly settled a few feet from them. The red-rumped parrot squawked something unintelligible and then commenced preening herself.

  Adrian actually responded with a similar squawk, then looked at Grace and smiled.

  It would take a patient woman, indeed, to agree to live in Adrian’s menagerie. It would take someone completely smitten with him!

  She wished him the very best in finding a woman to set up housekeeping in his barn. Was Adrian looking for a fraa? She felt the sudden and painful loss of his friendship like an ache in her stomach, which was ridiculous... He was kneeling six feet from her.

  But it would happen.

  Eventually some woman would take a shine to Adrian Schrock, and she’d lose the one friend she had in Goshen. What was the point in growing close to someone, in developing real friendships, when life seemed to rip them away? Wouldn’t she be better off learning to be happy alone?

  She’d thought herself in love with Kolby, then he’d vanished.

  She’d finally learned to trust Adrian as a friend—nothing more—but he, too, would one day be pulled from her world. Her mood sank to even lower than it had been earlier that morning. Tears stung her eyes, and she vowed not to let them spill down her cheeks. What was wrong with her? Why was she so emotional? And would someone please tell her how could she learn to rein in her feelings?

  * * *

  Adrian wasn’t sure what he’d said to upset Grace, but she’d gone suddenly quiet on him. She sat there patting the dirt around a plant that she’d already finished with, her head ducked so that he couldn’t see her expression. Her shoulders were hunched, and she reminded him of a turtle that had gone into hiding.

  Why?

  What had happened while they were working in the garden?

  He waited for a few moments to no avail. Grace was completely focused on tapping down the earth around the plant.

  Perhaps she needed a distraction from whatever was bothering her. He moved over to her row, picked up a bell pepper plant and plopped it into the ground.

  “I’ve decided to farm organically.”

  “Excuse me?” She looked up at him with an expression that suggested he was wearing his suspenders backward.

  “Organic farming. Surely you’ve heard of it.”

  “I guess.”

  “I’ve decided to do it. I even visited the library and checked out a few books on the subject. Did you know there’s an Amish man in Ohio who has founded an organization—?”

  “Hang on.” Grace had been kneeling in front of the plants, but now she sat down, her legs crossed like a child. “I know what organic farming is. You’re saying that you don’t plan to use any fertilizers or pesticides.”

  “Ya. That pretty much sums it up.”

  “But why?” She shook her head as if she needed to free it from a bothersome thought. “You have more work here with all these animals than any one man can possibly handle.”

  Kendrick picked that moment to dash down one of the rows of vegetables, sidestepping onto the plants. Adrian jumped up, shooed the beast out of the garden area and closed the gate. When he walked back over to Grace, she still hadn’t moved and she certainly hadn’t reset any more of his
plants.

  “Where were we?”

  “I was helping you replant until I found out you’re not going to fertilize, which means the plants won’t grow, so why bother?”

  “Of course they’ll grow. Plants don’t have to be drowned in chemical fertilizers. They just need the right balance of nutrition. Zook says so in his book. Did you know that eggshells worked into the soil can provide needed calcium?”

  “Do you eat eggs? Because I don’t see any chickens here.”

  “Well, not often. Mainly when I’m at my folks. But I could buy a few chickens, and then I’d have eggs to eat. I could save the shells and put them on my plants. It’s not that difficult to figure out, Grace.”

  “What is wrong with using regular fertilizer?”

  He glanced up at the sky, trying to remember what he’d read the night before, then snapped his fingers. “Mahatma Gandhi said something to the effect that a gut man is a friend of all living things.”

  “You’re quoting Gandhi now?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “It has nothing to do with whether or not to use fertilizer.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Changing the subject doesn’t prove your point.”

  “I’m not changing the subject and I don’t have to prove my point. Fertilizers and pesticides are not natural.”

  “Not natural?”

  “Nein. They’re both made in a laboratory, not in a field. I don’t want to put any of those chemicals on my plants.”

  “Do you want to eat?”

  “Ha ha. Gut one. You made a joke there.”

  She stood and brushed dirt off the back of her dress. “Actually, I was serious. I think I should be going home now.”

  Adrian jumped up to follow her. “Why are you so peevish today?”

  “Peevish?”

  “Irritable?”

  “I’m irritable?”

  The look she gave him caused Adrian to wish he’d simply let her go without a word. Now she’d stopped, hands on her hips, staring him down—though she had to look up to do so, since he was taller than her.

  He brushed his hands against his pants leg, unable to look her in the eye. Why did he suddenly feel embarrassed, like he needed to apologize? He hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d only shared his own opinion about natural farming on his place. “I don’t know what I said earlier to change your mood.”

  Instead of answering, she turned her head and stared out in the direction of his camel.

  “And the organic farming—I was just making conversation. I thought you’d be interested, especially in light of Nicole and all.”

  “What does this have to do with Nicole?” She turned to face him and skewered him with a pointed look.

  “I’d think you’d want to feed her gut food—food free of chemicals.”

  “You’re saying I feed my child poison?”

  Adrian had a sudden and overwhelming urge to go brush his camel. Cinnamon was always glad to see him, enjoyed his attention, and she never argued. But instead of walking away, he fumbled around, looking for an answer that would wipe the angry expression off Grace’s face. “I didn’t say you feed Nicole poison, but I guess you could see it that way.”

  “But your way—organic farming, which you’ve probably studied all of three days—is the right way?”

  “Natural is better, yes.” Now he felt his temper flaring. He liked Grace, and he liked it when things were smooth and comfortable between them, but right was right and wrong was wrong. Unfortunately, he decided to voice that thought. “Right is right whether you like it or not.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said right is right and wrong is wrong.”

  “Oh, Adrian.” She closed her eyes, and an expression that resembled amusement passed over her face. When she opened her eyes, she stepped closer, and to his surprise, she put a hand on each of his shoulders. “I remember what it’s like to be your age.”

  “I’m older than you.”

  “There was a time when I, too, was quite sure of myself.”

  “I can show you the book on organic farming.” He shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with how close she was and the look of pity in her eyes.

  “There was a time when I was convinced that I knew what was right and what was wrong—a time when I had had no doubts.” She shook her head in a mournful way, walked over to Nicole and set about picking up her things.

  “If you know what’s right, why would you doubt it?”

  She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she clasped Nicole closer, whispered in her ear, straightened her kapp, smoothed down her dress. Those things seemed to calm her. When she looked up again, the anger and frustration had been replaced by a calm certainty. She stuffed the bag of toys and the quilt into the back of the stroller, then added Nicole, who waved her arms at Adrian.

  He waved back—and waited.

  Finally Grace answered his question. “To doubt is normal. We doubt because we’re imperfect and we make mistakes. We doubt because life isn’t that simple.”

  She searched his eyes for something, again shook her head as if she were sorely aggrieved, then she turned and hurried down his lane, back to her parents’ farm. Adrian stood there, watching her retreating figure and feeling the loss of something that he didn’t quite understand. He didn’t know what had just happened. He certainly didn’t know what he’d done to set her off, but he did understand that Grace was not talking about farming—or at least not only farming.

  He felt a nudge on his shoulder and turned to look into Kendrick’s eyes. He reached up and rubbed the llama between his ears, which was exactly what Kendrick wanted. He really should stick to animals. They at least made sense to him.

  For the next hour, no matter how he tried, he couldn’t keep his mind on the animals. He finished his chores, thinking the entire time about Grace’s brown eyes—eyes that reminded him of cocoa and coffee and chocolate, all things he loved. He thought of Grace staring up at him. What had she been trying to tell him? He was still puzzled over that.

  He walked outside and looked over at the Troyer farmhouse.

  He should go over there now and talk to her.

  Nein.

  The last thing she wanted was to see him.

  So instead of going next door, he hitched up his gelding, Socks, and headed out to George’s place. He found his friend in the barn, having already finished dinner.

  “Does Becca know you’re hiding out here?”

  “Ya. She understands I need an hour to myself.”

  “I imagine she’s the one who could use some private time, what with six kinner to care for.”

  “Normally I would agree with you, but her schweschder who lives in Wisconsin is visiting for a few days. My being out here gives them plenty of time to chat.” George drew a pipe out of his pocket and began packing it with fresh tobacco, something with a sweet scent to it. Once he had it going, he motioned outside. They settled in chairs under the barn’s eave.

  “I don’t understand women.” Adrian had meant to tiptoe up to the subject, but the words popped out as soon as they were seated.

  “Any woman in particular?”

  “Grace.”

  “Ah.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Instead of answering, George motioned for him to continue, so Adrian did. He laid out the entire, inexplicable afternoon. With each detail, the smile on George’s face broadened.

  “I don’t understand what you find so amusing.”

  “Youngies.”

  “Please. I’m twenty-five.”

  “Uh-huh, but in matters of courting, you’re a bit behind.”

  “Thank you for the insight, though it’s most definitely not what I need to hear today.”

  “You’re out of sorts. Probably a full day
of splitting wood will put you in a better frame of mind.”

  “You want me to split wood? It’s almost May. I won’t need wood for months.”

  “True, but it’s something that requires your complete attention and uses up a bunch of nervous energy.”

  “I don’t have nervous energy. What do I have to be nervous about? I didn’t do anything.” He forced himself to stop jiggling his leg.

  George studied his pipe for a moment, then stood and said, “Walk with me.”

  Adrian had five bruders and five schweschdern. He was squarely in the middle of eleven children. He loved his family, but he’d never gone to his bruders for advice. They weren’t close in that way. He felt closer to George than he did to his own family. Maybe that was normal. He wasn’t sure, but he followed George across to the pasture fence, interested in what he was about to say.

  “I’ve a mind to give you some advice about women, if you’re interested in hearing what I have to say.”

  “Sure, ya, but just so we’re clear, Grace and I are friends—only friends.”

  “Okay. Let’s leave that alone for a minute.”

  Which was a rather odd thing to say, in Adrian’s opinion. Before he could correct him, George was speaking again.

  “Three things.” He ticked them off on his fingers for emphasis. “Number one—it’s not always about you.”

  “What’s not always about me?”

  “Anything. A mood. A look. A perceived slight. Maybe the baby was teething that day. Maybe she feels a little blue because something she was working on didn’t turn out quite right.”

  “Last week, Grace was making a cake that she claims fell. You’d have thought someone died. I don’t even know what that means. Cake is cake. Right? How can it fall?”

  “Number two. Don’t go too fast.”

  “Go where too fast?”

  “For a man, things can be simpler.” George pointed to his field with the stem of his pipe. “Say you need to plow that field. You hitch up the team and plow it. Simple. But for a woman, there’s more things to consider. Maybe she wants the vegetable garden planted, because she’s worried about having enough vegetables to put back for winter. Maybe she was planning on going to town, but now she can’t because you’re in the field and there’s no one to watch the kinner. Maybe—”