Gabriel cut in. “But the cost . . .”
Daed eyed him a few moments before speaking in a thoughtful tone. “You know, between your maemm, me, aunts and uncles, we just might be able to come up with enough for a serious offer.”
“Offer?” Before anyone could respond, Jesse went on. “Won’t there be an auction?”
“This time, I don’t think so. Word has it that a real estate company will be listing it.”
Jesse no longer tasted the dumplings. While he swallowed, his imagination worked in high gear. He could already envision horses pulling him in his field. A dinner table full of children and dumplings in the middle. He longed with all his heart to have a wife to kiss him when he came home from the field.
He furrowed his brows and pressed his palms against his hips. A large part of his dream was having a family. For his clan to grow together in Christ. But at twenty-two, he’d never been interested in any of the women who attended his church.
Now there was an opportunity to buy a farm. And for certain, that wouldn’t be easy. But his other dream might prove to be even more difficult. If not Anna, who would he share it with?
* * *
That evening, the only sound was the light brushing of the branches of a large oak tree against Anna’s bedroom window as she sat on the round, handwoven rug threaded with shades of blue on the hardwood floor. She leaned forward to close her hope chest lid. As she did so, she stared in amazement at the cross Old Sam had etched into the beautiful wood.
As she took in the lid’s details, she blinked at the sting of salty tears. With great awe, she moved closer to the art and traced a blade of grass in the oak.
As she did so, Jesse entered her thoughts, and she parted her lips in awe of everything she’d experienced with him within such a short time. So many details flitted through her thoughts as the sun took another dip into the west.
The storm . . . their time together in the barn . . . the unexplainable expression on his face as he’d pulled her out of the Conrads’ pond . . . and, most especially, their delicate, touching conversations. What they’d shared with each other.
She closed her eyes and drew in a slow, thoughtful breath. His words stirred an odd combination of peace and havoc within her. Peace because of the calmness that had filled her heart and soul as his kind, reassuring words had taken root. Havoc because every time she prospered from his goodness, she wanted more of his attention.
Finally, she acknowledged what she’d realized at the picnic. The fact that she’d tried to nix from her mind. She was falling in love with Jesse Beiler. She opened her lids and frowned.
This can’t be happening. Because nothing can come from my feelings.
She sensed that he liked her, too. Definitely, he trusted her and respected her enough to keep her secret. His unexpected friendship had been a welcome blessing. Even so, she considered where her heart’s path would eventually take her.
She straightened. Her shoulders tensed, and she rolled them once to relax. The more she liked him, the more difficult it would be for her to leave if she won the art contest.
At the same time, in her heart, her desire to come through with her life’s dream tugged at her heartstrings. It was more than that, though. She would never rest until she was free to explore who she was. To taste other cultures. Meet people from different backgrounds.
Yet the last thing she wanted was to hurt or to disappoint Jesse. A soft sigh escaped her throat. She closed her eyes a moment. When she opened them, she tried to make sense of everything.
He hadn’t said that he wanted to court her; at the same time, he’d told her she was the most special person he’d ever met. She’d also noted that his chest sometimes rose and fell too quickly when they were close.
She hadn’t missed the vulnerable expression in his eyes. Most definitely, thinking this way was self-destructive. Jesse’s goals are very simple and clear. So are mine.
He wants everything good in life. To buy a farm, marry, and to raise an Amish family in Christ’s name. Nothing out of the ordinary. But he knows who he is. I feel divided inside. Part of me is Amish, but my other half is unknown.
God has a purpose for my talent. To use it for Him. I believe He wants me to share what gets my heart beating. My passion. So others can experience such joy.
As she traced her finger over the cross, his soft voice filled her thoughts. Anna, you’re the most special person I’ve ever met. Jesse’s words warmed her heart like a soft, cotton blanket on a winter’s night. That he believed this and felt this about her was so overwhelming, she shivered.
The familiar scent of freshly mowed grass floated in through her screens. Even though people in her church were loving and kind, she’d never felt as if she were one of them. The main reason stemmed from hearing her teacher’s hurtful comment about Anna not being a true Amish.
Of course, she’d never moped about it or let it anger her; it was just a fact, and such remarks about her skin color over the years had produced that sentiment. When she got down to it, she’d only heard the painful gossip from two women: Mrs. Graber and her teacher’s Aunt Sarah.
Secondly, she’d always guessed that since her parents couldn’t bear their own children, she was their backup plan. Of course she loved them, and they loved her. But if they’d produced their own, would she be a King? She shook her head.
She’d give anything to find out why her mamma had given her away. A lone tear slipped down her cheek. And an all-too-familiar loneliness swept up her arms and landed in her shoulders.
Do I have sisters and brothers? If mamma didn’t want me, why didn’t my biological father raise me? He didn’t want me either?
She stopped a tear and lifted her chin with newfound confidence. Because now, Jesse thought of her as extremely unique and special. His words mean everything to me.
Again, her gaze landed on her hope chest lid, and her thoughts automatically drifted to the late Sam Beachy. Automatically, the corners of her lips pulled upward.
She knew quite a bit about the old hope chest maker who had gone to the Lord at over one hundred years of age. But her stronger sense of curiosity prompted her to wonder what thoughts had passed through his mind as he’d sketched beautiful lids.
Anna firmly believed that her sketches conveyed her own interpretation of life. That when people observe art, each individual views it in a different way, depending on how they were raised and how they looked at the world.
As she took in the detail of the rugged cross in Old Sam’s hope chest lid, she couldn’t help but note the great detail. The different dimensions.
And apparently, when Sam Beachy imagined, he’d had the keen ability to capture every small detail. If each person could glimpse that much detail in small things that happened every day, we’d have more appreciation of God’s blessings to us.
She took her pencil between her fingers and added to the sketch she’d done of Jesse’s visage. With great concentration, she added a more serious expression to his eyes. With thoughtful care, she detailed the flecks on his pupils as she remembered them when he’d told her how special she was. The gentle curve of his mouth.
She stopped to adjust her hips to a more comfortable position and balanced the pad on her lap. Studying what she’d started, she added long, dark lashes and thick brows that rested above a set of serious dark eyes. She added to his thick head of hair that covered part of his forehead.
As she touched up her work, she pressed her lips together in a straight line and recalled their most recent conversation about the contest she would soon enter. To her surprise, he hadn’t tried to sway her against doing it. On the contrary, he said he prayed for her to win.
She stretched her legs, leaned back, and closed her eyes. In front of her, she pressed her palms together and spoke in a quiet, pensive tone. “Dear Lord, please hear my prayer. You know how much I respect and admire my family and this community. At the same time, You must understand my desire to be loved and accepted as the unique person I am.
When You created me, I believe You saw me as a masterpiece. Unfortunately, not everyone appreciates that I’m different. But in my heart, I don’t want to be like everyone else. I wish so much to be accepted for who I am, not who others believe I should be. Please continue to give me the courage to pursue my dream. Dear God, I know You brought me here for a purpose. Please guide and direct me down the path You created just for me, and please protect my parents from unfair talk that will inadvertently come about if You bless me with a contest win. Amen.”
She swallowed. And smiled with relief. As long as she communicated with her Lord and Savior, He would protect her. For years, she’d thought about a departure from the Amish community. If she followed through with her plan, she’d definitely need a cell phone. She wasn’t sure how to go about getting one under her name. But she’d cross that bridge when and if she came to it.
She wished she could speak openly about this to Mary Conrad. Anna could trust her. But she was afraid to involve her for fear that her friend would eventually suffer. She trusted Jesse more than anyone. But he’d become involved by accident, and getting him more involved than he already was . . .
She gave a decisive shake of her head, then stood and pulled her Bible from the shelf behind her bed. In times of need, she could always find a scripture to encourage her. To help her to realize her self-worth.
She turned to Psalms 107:1 and read out loud, “‘Oh give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, for His steadfast love endures forever.’”
Her shoulders relaxed as she held the Bible on her lap. She swallowed an emotional knot. Joyful tears blurred her vision. As she gazed at the cross on her hope chest, she’d never felt as loved as she did at that very moment. At peace. Because her Savior’s love for her would last forever.
* * *
Jesse couldn’t stop thinking about the farmland that would soon be up for sale. The pulse on his wrist danced to an excited beat at the Kings’ the following morning.
Jesse spotted Anna in the garden. Quick steps took him from the barn to where she was, while waving a friendly hand in greeting. As he made his way toward her, the image of her in William Conrad’s pond flickered in his mind. He grinned, sure it was a sight he’d never forget.
Anna didn’t look his way. That was all right, because he could take advantage of the opportunity to watch her. He’d always been taught to focus on a person’s heart rather than how they looked. But he couldn’t help liking the way Anna looked. He knew how long her jet-black hair was, thanks to her accident in the storm. And the incident at the Conrads’.
Her straight white teeth were pretty when she smiled. She wore no mascara, yet her long, black lashes were thick. Her lips had color, even though she didn’t use lipstick.
And her strong determination . . . he smiled a little before the corners of his lips fell a notch. He found it ironic that what he loved most about her could be the very reason he’d soon have to let her go. But did he have her? No. So I guess I wouldn’t really be letting her go.
He watched as she bent to drop something into her wicker basket before straightening. As he continued to the garden, he took in the pleasant scene in front of him, which was all too familiar. Chickens plucked at the ground. One goat chased another, and they butted heads in play. The empty buggy. Farms all around.
The rich green grass prompted a streak of happiness inside his chest. To him, everything about the country epitomized beauty. The smells. The plants, the crops, the livestock grazing. There was nothing like it. And it was something humans didn’t have the ability to create. These gifts were God-given.
Finally, she noticed him and offered a wave. Closer, he could hear the softness of her voice. “Jesse, what a lovely day it is.”
At the garden, he stopped, taking in the plant-filled plot of land. He was sure that Paul had planted straight rows with plenty of room in between vegetables, but the plants were so full that it was difficult to see the spaces between them.
Anna picked up her wicker basket and happily displayed it in front of her. “Daed’s plants are doing so well, I’m going to have to get another basket.”
When she stepped toward him, he waved a hand to stop her. “That’s where I can help,” he responded with a smile. “Where do you keep them?”
She gave a quick shake of her head. In a polite tone, she replied, “That’s not necessary, Jesse. You do so much for us. Without you, Daed wouldn’t have had time to raise alfalfa this year.”
He lifted a hand. “I insist.” He winked.
She grinned. “Okay, then. They’re on the back porch.” Then she quickly added, “On top of the cabinet.” Uncertainty edged her voice as she went on. “There’s no need for you to get another one, Jesse. I should have known I’d need more room.”
“I’m happy to help.” He turned, and as he did so, he motioned to her basket, which was filled to the top. “Hand it to me and I’ll leave it on the porch.”
“Thanks.” She did as instructed, and he took the basket with both hands, kept it close to his chest, and finally lowered it to his waist while exiting the garden. The house was a good distance away.
He enjoyed helping others. But while he considered Anna, he acknowledged that he especially liked helping her. Since his first day of working for Paul and Naomi . . . the very day he’d carried Anna into the barn, he’d known how much he enjoyed making her happy.
Perhaps it was because she was his boss’s daughter. He wasn’t just working for Paul; in the entire scheme of things, he was employed by the King family, which included Anna.
He frowned and stepped to the side to avoid a dip in the earth. As he approached the small back porch, he arched a skeptical brow. That’s logical. But is that all there is to it? Is that the only reason I enjoy making Anna happy?
He took in two large terra-cotta holders that held eye-catching hot-pink geraniums on both sides of the two steps at the back porch.
On the narrow dirt path, a light scent floated through the air, and he breathed in the pleasant aroma of flowers. A bed of deep red geraniums occupied a small area to the right.
He laid the vegetables on the bottom step while he opened the screened door. It creaked. He held it open with his foot while he bent to retrieve the basket.
Inside, he was careful to place the vegetables on top of the cabinet and gently pushed it back far enough from the edge. It didn’t take long to select the right empty basket, and swift steps took him back to the garden where Anna continued to pick produce. He eyed the pile of red at the edge of the garden and nodded his approval.
“Those are mighty fine-lookin’ tomatoes.”
Anna reached for the basket he handed to her. She proceeded to place it next to the pile on the ground. As she began filling the new container, Jesse knelt beside her and did the same.
Squatting, Anna turned and reached for a tomato close to Jesse’s knee. As she tried for it, she lost her balance and began to fall forward. Quick to react, Jesse leaned toward her just in time to prevent her hands from meeting the dirt.
He caught her and pulled her closer. He realized, of course, that their accidental embrace wasn’t proper; he was a single Amish male and she a single Amish female. Yet, for some reason, he didn’t let her go.
Several moments later, with great reluctance, he found his voice and gently released his hold on her. The moment he’d held her hadn’t lasted long; still, he recognized that something about it had felt comfortable. Right.
Maybe it was the way her navy dress and white apron smelled of tomato vines. Or perhaps it was her soft hands that had wrapped around his shoulders when he’d saved her from the fall.
The scent of her hair smelled of fresh peaches. Even though most of it was tucked under her covering, several unruly strands had escaped. But to his dismay, there was something nice about the way they helped to frame her flushed cheeks.
Embarrassed at their physical closeness and especially his thoughts, he struggled for the right words. As their gazes continued to lock, he finally fo
und his voice. In a soft pitch that was barely more than a whisper, he started. “Anna, I’m sorry I touched you . . . Please forgive me. All I meant to do was to stop you from landing facedown in the dirt.”
A short silence ensued until, to his surprise, she laughed. The sound was so innocent. But as she spoke, he glimpsed her fingers and noted that they were shaking as she plucked each tomato from the pile on the soil, one at a time, and placed them in the basket. And when she talked, her voice sounded out of breath. Her cheeks were flushed, taking on a rosy appearance.
“There’s absolutely nothing to be sorry about, Jesse. No need for an apology. What you did was common courtesy. In fact, thank you for saving me from what could have been an embarrassing situation.”
After getting her breath, she went on. “It’s ridiculous to think you did something wrong.” She lifted a challenging brow. “I’m sure you wouldn’t enjoy seeing me with dirt all over my face.” She smiled widely. “And dirt has never been on my food list.”
Together, they laughed. Letting out a satisfied breath, she lifted her palms to the sky in a helpless gesture. “And I’m even more certain I wouldn’t want you to see me fall face-first into the ground.”
As she talked, a breeze caressed the back of Jesse’s neck. While it did so, more jet-black strands broke free from her kapp. To his dismay, he found it impossible to look away from the beautiful flush in her cheeks and the wavy black hair that matched her dark brows.
To his surprise, Anna lowered the pitch of her voice to a serious tone. “Jesse, if you want the truth, I feel special when you’re around.” She smiled shyly. “And I love being with you.”
He absorbed her words, unsure of how to respond. So he jumped to his feet and stepped to the plant nearest him to retrieve the bright red vegetable that was ready to be picked. While his back was to Anna, he took in the horses and cattle grazing in the pasture.
A welcome sense of calm came over him as he decided to move to a different subject. The contest entered his mind. “I meant to ask you, how’s your entry coming along?”
Love at Pebble Creek Page 10
