by Marta Perry
“We’ll see.” Sarah was noncommittal, and Dorcas suspected that nothing would keep her from doing what she thought was her duty. Maybe she could get Noah and the twins to convince her.
Smiling a little at the thought, she headed out the door, pushing the bar with her hip to maneuver the armload through. She ducked automatically as she stepped outside and then realized it wasn’t necessary. The rain had stopped, and the air was full of the scent of growth. She tipped her head back to see a star-filled sky.
Her spirits rose. It would be muddy for sure, but a sunny spring day meant a good sale.
Dorcas had put her load into the trash bin and turned back when she realized she wasn’t alone. A figure moved in the darkness, giving her a momentary fright. Then she saw it was Thomas. He came toward her, one side of his face lit as he passed the glow from the window and then in shadow again.
“Mad at me, Dorcas?” His voice still had that tightly controlled sound, but at least he was talking.
She considered. “Not mad. Just wishing . . . well, that things were going better for you.” She looked at his face and then away. “And that you had someone to talk to who could help.”
“You think that would work?” He sounded unconvinced. “I can’t see that it does much good.”
“If it improved your mood, it’d be worth it.”
He froze for an instant, and then his smile broke through. “Never afraid to say what you think—that’s our Dorcas.”
“Not always.” Her thoughts fled to the time when she hadn’t spoken out.
“Forget that,” he said, his voice gruff. He seemed to read her thoughts with no effort at all. “I told you it worked out for the best.”
“Still . . . I owe you, Thomas. If I can’t help, at least I can listen.” Her hand went out to him, but then she drew it back, afraid of pushing.
For a moment his face was rigid in the dim light, as if he held out against her. Then he seemed to give in, all in an instant, his expression softening and his stiff shoulders relaxing.
“It’s Daad,” he muttered. “I don’t know how my mother got him to say he wanted me back, but it’s not true.”
She felt the pain as if she’d been struck. “You must be wrong . . . he can’t want you to leave again.”
“No? You underestimate him.” His mouth twisted wryly. “He didn’t trust me when I was young, and he still doesn’t. He managed to hide it for a time, but it came right back out again as soon as he had an excuse.”
“But why? You haven’t done anything to earn that attitude.” She knew the man was rigid in his beliefs, but this seemed impossible.
“He thinks I’m to blame for Adam getting into mischief. Says Adam never thought of such a thing before I came back, giving him ideas.”
“But that’s ridiculous.” If there was one thing she knew, it was kids Adam’s age. “He’s been prime for mischief since he was a six-year-old. I taught him, remember? I can easily predict which ones will go a little wild during rumspringa.”
“Personal experience?” His voice lightened.
“For sure,” she said. “But also it’s from watching my scholars for all these years. This is about him missing the singing, I suppose.”
“You knew about it?”
She shrugged. “My scholars talk all the time. You don’t think Esther would miss an opportunity to tell her friends about it, do you?”
“I guess not. What he did wasn’t all that bad, but Daad’s carrying on like he broke all ten of the commandments. It’s just making Adam resentful. Believe me, I know.”
“Personal experience?” She repeated his words.
“Yah.” The lines in his face deepened as he seemed to mull it over. “I remember the first time it happened to me. I told the truth about something that had happened, but he just yelled louder.” He grimaced. “I soon learned. Daad wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said, so I figured if I was still going to get punished, I might as well get some fun out of it.”
He said the words lightly, but she could hear the pain beneath them, buried so deep that Thomas probably didn’t recognize it himself until he saw it happening to Adam.
“And that was nothing compared to the way he acted when the police got in touch the night of the party.” His voice grated now, the pain coming closer to the surface. “He didn’t come to pick me up, did you know that? All the other kids were picked up by their parents, but he left me sitting there in the police station until morning. And when he did come, he acted as if I were a stranger—a stranger who’d outworn his welcome. I was a disappointment, he said. If I stayed around, I’d just be a bad example to the younger ones. So I had to leave.” He came to a stop, sounding as if his breath had run out.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice broke with the tears that weren’t far off. “So sorry.” This time she reached out, grasping his arm, longing to comfort him and not caring about anything else.
“Dorcas.” He said her name, very softly, and reached up to touch her cheek. His face twisted, and then she was in his arms and he was holding her as if he’d never let go . . . kissing her as if there was nothing beyond this moment.
There wasn’t. Her mind stopped functioning, and the world narrowed down to this moment with his lips on hers and her body close against his. This was what she’d wanted. This was what she’d been waiting for.
Then it was over. Thomas pushed her away, and the cool air where his lips had been chilled her to the bone.
“No. We can’t.” He threw the words at her. “I shouldn’t have. It was my fault.”
She couldn’t let him think that. She reached for him, but he struck her hands away.
“Don’t.” His voice went deep with pain. “I can’t, don’t you see? I can’t stay. Not with my father the way he is. I should never have come back.”
For the briefest of moments, his hand cupped her cheek again, but this time it felt like good-bye. And then he was gone.
He was gone, and in that instant she knew she loved him. That was what had been happening all along—she’d been falling in love with him. And now it was over.
CHAPTER TEN
When Dorcas arrived at the sale grounds the next morning shortly after sunrise, it was already a hive of activity. Booths had sprung up in the area around the fire hall as if they’d been planted there, and a crew of Amish and Englisch worked rapidly to set up the remaining ones.
Turning her horse and buggy over to one of her older scholars, who seemed pleased with his job for the day, she headed to the auction canopy. That was probably where help was needed most right now. Besides, given the way Mammi kept volunteering her to help, she’d best find out what she’d been signed up to do now.
A quick glance around showed her that at least Sarah wasn’t there yet. She certainly hoped that meant Sarah had followed her advice and slept in this morning. Sarah’s fatigue had been very obvious the previous evening.
“Dorcas, glad you’re here.” The hail came from Jacob, who was working on the popcorn and lemonade stand. “Are your bruders coming? We could use some more help with setup.”
“They’ll be here as soon as the milking is done. Be sure you put them to work,” she called back.
Jacob grinned. “No worries.”
Dorcas had to smile. She’d noticed that people who worked where they were in daily contact with the Englisch picked up those phrases easily and used them almost without thinking. Englisch phrases and words were dropped into their dialect and stayed, coming into common use.
It made sense. Language changed all the time, and Deutsch had otherwise not changed since the first settlers came to America hundreds of years ago.
At the auction canopy, a crew of young people were wiping off wet folding chairs and setting them up, managing to nudge each other and giggle while they did it. These kids were a bit under the semi-official dating age of sixteen, but that d
idn’t mean they weren’t sizing each other up. It was beyond the power of teachers and parents to prevent that, she knew.
Ben Schmidt, the wiry, energetic auctioneer, tinkered with the speakers that would allow him to be heard once the auction began. Nola King, organizer of the quilt collection, hovered over him, looking worried. When she saw Dorcas, her face cleared.
“Ach, Dorcas, you’re just the person we need. Your mamm said you’d be here early to help.”
Certain this meant Nola wanted her to do something she didn’t want to do herself, Dorcas approached warily, nodding at the auctioneer. “Good to see you, Ben.”
He looked up and grinned, nodding back at Dorcas as Nola clutched her arm.
“Ben needs some help, and you’re just the right person for the job, being a teacher and all.” Nola spoke quickly, as eager to pass the job along as if it were a hot potato.
Resigned, Dorcas nodded. “What do I need to do?”
“Be my assistant,” Ben said, straightening. “I need somebody to keep track of what’s coming up, bring things out to me, and mostly be quick enough to switch stuff around if I have to make a change once I get the feel of the crowd. Figure out the prime items so you can bring them when I feel the crowd is ready, yah?”
“That doesn’t sound bad.” It’d mean running back and forth, but she’d rather be busy. “I helped set them up last night, so I know where everything is. And we already separated out the things we thought would bring the highest prices.”
Ben grinned broadly. “Ach, I knew you were the perfect auction assistant. Anytime you get tired of teaching, you come to me. I’ll have a job for you.”
She shook her head, smiling. “I think I’ll stick to teaching.”
“Too bad, too bad. You don’t know what you’re missing.” Ben’s teasing accounted for a lot of his popularity as an auctioneer. “Be sure you’re ready to join in the patter if I need you to help jolly the bidders along. Some folks need coaxing to warm up and bid on things.”
There it was—the thing Nola didn’t want to do. She’d known there’d be something. She raised her eyebrows and saw that Nola was avoiding her gaze.
“I’m not much of a comedian,” Dorcas said. Especially not today, when her heart felt like lead in her chest.
He grinned. “Don’t worry. You’ll do fine. Just follow my lead.”
Skeptical, she nodded, and Nola hustled back into the conversation now that she had what she wanted. “Gut, gut. You’ll do fine. Now you go along in and grab some breakfast or coffee—whatever you need.”
Food for early volunteers was always available, and knowing that, Dorcas hadn’t had breakfast at home.
“Yah, I will. And I’ll go through the quilts and put them in a tentative order. We’ve already sorted out the things that should be put up when a lot of Englisch are here.”
Ben nodded approvingly, and with a quick look around the grounds, Dorcas slipped into the building through the door by the canopy.
Her searching look around the area had shown her that Thomas wasn’t there. She had hoped . . .
But it was no use hoping. After what he’d said last night, it wouldn’t surprise her if he’d taken off already. But she had to know, one way or the other.
People would start noticing if she just stood there looking at nothing. Dorcas forced herself to move—to walk over to the stacked boxes of quilted products and pretend she was looking through them.
At one point during her sleepless night, she thought she’d come to accept the situation as it was. Now she knew she’d been wrong. Maybe, one day, she’d get over feeling as if her heart had turned to stone. But it was going to take a long time. If only she’d realized sooner what she felt for Thomas. If only.
Forcing herself to concentrate, she found herself remembering something her grossmammi used to say whenever trouble loomed. Just do the next thing in front of you and pray. Trust the Lord for the rest.
Dorcas wasn’t left alone to stare blindly at the quilts for long. Dinah came up behind her and handed her a mug of coffee. “One sugar, yah?”
“Denke, Dinah. I didn’t know you were going to be here early.”
Dinah sipped her own coffee, studying Dorcas’s face as if something were written there.
“Yah, I came thinking I’d be wanted at the bake sale counter, but they have enough for that, so they asked me to do the popcorn and lemonade. Until they finish setting up the stand, I’m free, so I can help you, if you want.”
Since she couldn’t go into a corner and cry, it seemed Dorcas would have to take her grossmammi’s advice. Maybe Dinah would distract her enough not to brood.
She quickly explained what she was about, and together they began sorting through the various offerings, creating a separate stack of what they considered to be the best of the best. Although no one would ever claim to be the best quilter in the community, everyone knew whose work was extra special, either because of the artistry of the designs or the fineness of the sewing.
“We’d best not let anyone know what that stack means,” Dinah said lightly, “or we might find ourselves in trouble.”
Dorcas actually managed to smile. “True enough. That’s our secret.”
Dinah looked for a moment as if she’d ask something, but then she began chatting about the auction. Dorcas could only be grateful. Dinah, bless her, was almost too sensitive to other people’s feelings. She’d guessed that something was wrong, but she’d gone further and known that Dorcas didn’t want to talk about it. Dorcas could listen to her peaceful chatter with half her mind while the other half worked to suppress any thoughts about her loss.
As they finished, Dorcas spotted Noah and the twins heading toward her, but Sarah was nowhere in sight. When they reached her, she gave a quick greeting to the twins while raising her eyebrows at Noah. “Sarah?” she mouthed.
He clapped the boys on the shoulder. “We thought Mammi should sleep in this morning, so we got our own breakfast, didn’t we, boys?”
“We did. I poured the milk,” Matty said importantly.
Noah’s eye twitched in what was probably a slight wink, making her feel sure that he’d spilled it, too. “Tell Teacher Dorcas what you did, Mark,” he urged the shy one of the pair.
“I made toast and put butter on it,” he murmured. “And it didn’t burn, either.”
“I’m sure it didn’t. Sounds as if you two did a fine job, but I’ll bet you could use a little something more in your tummies. I think there’s coffeecake and shoofly pie over on the counter for helpers.”
Matty’s eyes lit up. “Can we, Daadi?” He tugged at his father’s hand.
“I guess so.” He glanced back at Dorcas as his sons tugged him away. “Denke. I hear you convinced her not to work so hard.”
“I tried,” she said, and then was distracted by Ben Schmidt beckoning to her. It looked as if he was ready for her help.
As she went out and saw the numbers of folks who’d already gathered, the business of the day threatened to overwhelm her. But against that pressure the need to see Thomas swept over her strongly. If only she could talk to him, maybe she could persuade him to give it more time.
Unless he’d gone already. One way or another, she had to find out.
* * *
—
As soon as the milking was done and breakfast over, Thomas began loading his tools in the buggy. Yesterday had been a loss as far as progress on the stable was concerned, but he could catch up today. The quicker he finished the job, the sooner he could leave.
“Thomas?” Mamm, pulling on her black sweater, was behind him. “I saw you from the window. You’re going to the Mud Sale with us, ain’t so?”
She must already know the answer to that if she’d seen what he was doing. He didn’t want to disappoint her, but he certain sure wasn’t up to a family outing today.
“No.” Hi
s tone had been too sharp, and he immediately regretted it. “Sorry, but I can’t miss the chance at putting in a full day’s work at the school.”
“You shouldn’t be working all alone. What if you were hurt and there was no one around to know?”
He tried to respond patiently. “If I promise I won’t climb up to the roof, will you stop worrying? Please, Mamm. I’m not up for a family outing today.”
Mammi knew what was behind his refusal, but she didn’t speak, any more than she’d spoken up to Daad.
Esther had come out behind Mamm, and she piped up. “Gut idea. I don’t care about any old Mud Sale. I’ll come and help you.”
“Not today.” He saw instantly that he’d hurt her feelings, and once again wished he’d been more careful. He managed a smile for his little sister. “What’s this about not wanting to go to the Mud Sale? You know how much fun they are.” He pulled out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to her. “Bad enough that I can’t go. You go and bring me a caramel apple or a bag of popcorn when you come home, yah? And get one for yourself.”
That seemed to mollify her. “Okay. Can I spend the whole thing?” She eyed the bill.
“Sure. That’s our contribution to the sale, ain’t so?”
Esther grinned back and raced off to the family buggy.
Mamm stood there a moment longer. Then she patted his arm wordlessly and turned back to the house.
He’d hit a new record in disappointing people this morning already, he figured. Still, the best thing for everyone right now was for him to be alone. At least then he wouldn’t take his bad mood out on anyone.
Like Dorcas, for instance. He swung himself into the buggy and headed out the lane. He’d spent most of the night berating himself for what had happened with Dorcas. He shouldn’t have told her what he did, and he certain sure shouldn’t have kissed her.
How had he come to kiss her? He hadn’t meant to. But there she’d been, looking at him with her eyes filled with sympathy and caring, standing so close he could hear her slightest breath, and it had happened.
