Gladden the Heart

by Olivia Newport

  She opened the door. The English man stood on the stoop.

  “Miss Hooley,” he said. “I wonder if I might speak with your father.”

  Susanna could not remember the man’s name. In her mind she had only called him “Mr. Indiana,” because his interest in the farm had stirred her mother into frantic action.

  “I am not certain where he is,” Susanna said.

  “It would be worthwhile to find him,” Mr. Indiana said. “I’ve brought papers, and the offer is more than fair. Quite generous, actually.”

  “I will do what I can to find him. Please come in.”

  She left him standing in the front room and scurried to the kitchen.

  Veronica clapped her hands, careful not to let them make a sound as they met. “He came back! I hoped he would, but your daed said I should not be so eager.”

  “Where is Daed?” The man was here. Susanna could do nothing to prevent the conversation both her parents had agreed to have.

  “The south field,” Veronica said. “He took the boys out there to make sure they understand what they are to do once the harvest begins.”

  Susanna nodded.

  “Go.” Veronica put both hands on Susanna’s shoulders and spun her toward the back door “Run quickly. We do not want to try Mr. Ingersolla’s patience.”

  Ingersolla. That was it. Not so different from Indiana.

  Susanna raced across the backyard. Was it wicked of her to hope her father might have finished in the south field and taken the boys to another corner of the farm? Perhaps they had finished to the south and rotated around to the north and she was now running in entirely the wrong direction. He could be anywhere, and Mr. Ingersolla’s patience would have its limits. Surely he was a busy man.

  She passed the fence where she used to meet Patsy when they were little girls and felt its tug to linger and remember easier days. Instead, she raced past and found her daed just where her mamm had said he would be. Breathless, she recounted the guest’s arrival.

  Elias handed the hoe in his hand to Timothy, who was grinning at the news, and set his face toward the house.

  Susanna glared at Timothy. This was his doing. If he had ever learned to mind his own business, Mr. Ingersolla would not be in the Hooley front room encouraging their mother’s fixation on Indiana.

  Susanna paced after her father, two steps to each one of his strides.

  “Daed, you would not really sell the farm, would you?”

  “I promised your mamm I would hear him out,” Elias said. “If he has come in good faith, I will keep my word to her.”

  “You have spent twenty-five years building this farm,” Susanna said. “Your work is paying off now. There are enough acres for at least two of the boys to do well here.”

  “Susanna.” His voice was calm, as always, but firm with caution. Susanna was overstepping.

  By the time they reached the house, Veronica had poured Mr. Ingersolla a cup of coffee and set a thick slice of lemon coffee cake in front of him. He consumed both with visible enthusiasm.

  “Here is my husband,” Veronica said. “Thank you, Susanna. We will allow the men to conduct their business now.”

  Veronica took Susanna’s hand, her grasp unrelenting as she led her daughter to the kitchen. Susanna raised a fist to her mouth to constrain herself as her mother discreetly set a tea tin in the threshold to keep the door from closing fully and then pulled a chair up to the opening she had created. She widened her eyes at Susanna and lifted a finger to her lips.

  Susanna closed her eyes and took a deep breath before inching closer to the door. She was here. She may as well know what was happening.

  Mr. Ingersolla’s voice was rich and full, and he seemed to have no reason not to speak robustly. Elias’s voice was muffled, courteous, restrained—and difficult to hear. Susanna and her mother looked at each other and shrugged, neither of them able to hear both sides of the conversation.

  They could hear Mr. Ingersolla saying, “You won’t find a better value for your land …. Certainly we can discuss your terms …. You can be sure your land will be will cared for and will not go to ruin …. The new life you seek is within your reach with the price I am offering.”

  The inflection of her father’s muffled voice made Susanna think his contribution was largely patient questions. Whether he was satisfied with Mr. Ingersolla’s responses was less evident.

  “’Tis going well,” Veronica whispered. “If your daed was not interested, the visit would not have lasted this long.”

  Panic rose through Susanna’s core. Her mother was right. Her father was taking this offer seriously. His patience with the conversation went beyond his promise to hear out the English man merely to placate his wife. Susanna’s chest stung with every breath.

  “I am sorry, Mamm,” Susanna said, whispering. “I cannot leave Noah. Please do not ask me to. I beg you. Please.”

  And I do not want to leave Adam. Not like this. Not ever. These weeks were a season that someday they would look back on and barely be able to recall the details. Never before had she wanted to believe anything as much as she wanted to believe this one thing.

  Veronica met her daughter’s eyes for the second time that morning. “This is a decision your daed and I will make, and we will not leave behind an unmarried daughter.”

  Finally, the two men stood, shook hands, and walked toward the front door, where they shook hands once again.

  What did that mean? Were they shaking on an agreement? Had her father given his word in his reserved manner?

  Susanna jumped back from the kitchen door, and her mother scraped her chair back to its place at the table and scooped up the tea tin just as Elias reached the door.

  Elias looked from his wife to his daughter. “I hope you heard what you wanted to hear.”

  Veronica slapped his shoulder with the back of her fingers. “Would it hurt you to speak up for once in your life?”

  “Daed,” Susanna said, “do not tease us. What have you decided?”

  “I have made a significant decision.” His face sobered.

  Susanna’s stomach sank.

  “You have accepted his offer?” Veronica said, her eyes bright.

  Elias wagged a finger. “No, I have not.”

  Susanna’s heart surged.

  “But I have agreed to look at the papers very carefully,” Elias said, “and take the matter under prayerful consideration. Mr. Ingersolla is of the Baptist faith and understands what it means to seek Gottes wille in a decision such as this one.”

  “What are the terms?” Veronica said.

  “The land, the structures, the cows, the pig, as many chickens as we want to leave behind,” Elias said.

  “And the harvest?” Susanna asked.

  “He offered to buy out the harvest,” Elias said, “but I want the boys to see the harvest through, especially Timothy. It will not be long before he must be able to handle a farm from planting to harvest. He needs this season to learn.”

  Veronica nodded. “Yes, that is wise. And the horses?”

  “We will take that under consideration,” Elias said. “He will buy them if we wish to sell, but of course he understands we need to take at least four to see us to Indiana in the wagon.

  Susanna could not bring herself to ask about the old mare, who would not be able to keep up on a lengthy journey but also had no value as a work animal.

  Prayerful consideration was the least she would expect from her father, but it was not a decision.

  “How long?” Susanna asked.

  “We will meet again in one week, and I will give him my answer.”

  CHAPTER 31

  After breakfast the following day, Adam made a list of tasks, all of which would keep him up close to the road or in the Zug farmyard where he had a clear view of passing traffic. It included checking the fence again for repairs—although he and Jonas had done this several times and the fence was more than ready for winter; trimming tree branches threatening to hang too low into
the road; making sure the ditch alongside the road was unimpeded, in case a sudden fall rainstorm required rapid drainage; and exercising the horses in the pasture that had not been called on for service in recent days. None of it was essential. Adam settled for useful.

  And none of it pleased him. His hope to catch sight of Susanna out making deliveries of cloth was not because he hoped to divert her for a walk with her collection basket. If only that were so. On this day, breathing did not come automatically. Every few minutes he caught himself short on breath and inhaled with sharp urgency. The sound of every approaching horse or buggy, few as they were, caused him to raise his head in a concoction of anticipation and dread.

  But he must see her. Delay would bring no soothing balm.

  Susanna’s creaky cart gave her away. Adam had offered several times to oil every part of it, and Susanna shrugged, seeing no need. Flimsy as it was, the cart served her well enough. Seeing it hitched to one of the Kauffmans’ tamest horses underscored the necessity of this conversation.

  Adam flagged her down in the road. She halted the horse but said nothing.

  “I thought we should talk again,” Adam said, slipping fingers in the bridle lest Susanna decide to put the rig into motion prematurely.

  She still said nothing, barely meeting his eyes.

  “I am sorry that my decision to stay away from the Kauffmans’ hurts you,” Adam said. “You know I care for you.”

  Susanna looked up now. “Have you reconsidered?”

  “I have further considered,” he said. “Prayerfully and daily.”

  She read his eyes. “And you have arrived at the same conclusion.” Same, yes. And more.

  “Susanna.” He choked on her name.

  “Do not say it, Adam. Please.”

  “So many days I have lingered in view of the road,” he said, “imagining where we might walk and what we might find and what our words for each other would be.”

  He had not yet said the final words, and already her face wrenched. His own no doubt matched her contortions.

  “I will not ask you to deny your conscience,” he said. “I must only follow mine. And if that parts our paths …”

  “Adam.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I wish you could understand about Noah.”

  “Help me. Your loyalty is admirable, but if it should lead you from the church, I wonder if it can be right after all.”

  “I was a child,” Susanna said. “I like to think I was no naughtier than any child, but I hated to be scolded. “Noah was a young man, not even married to Phoebe yet, and he was the one person I knew who would listen before scolding. My own foolishness might have cost me my life, and it was Noah who found me and carried me home, just the way I imagine the Good Shepherd carries home the lost lamb.”

  “Why have I never heard this story before?” Adam asked.

  “It was so long ago, and it was always just between Noah and me. I never imagined it would matter to anyone else.”

  “If it matters to you,” Adam said, “then it matters to me.”

  “You know Noah. You know he is not malicious or self-seeking. You know he needs help. You know he speaks truth.”

  Adam kicked a rock. “I do not claim certainty about what to believe. But when I was baptized, I promised to submit to the church. When I transferred to this district, my promises came with me. If the bishop does not bless what Noah does, then how can assisting Noah be an act of submission?”

  “So you will not see Noah, and you will not see me. Is this what you mean to say?”

  Adam nodded. The only words that formed were ones he had promised himself not to speak.

  Susanna picked up the reins, her face pale and shoulders slumped. Adam stood in the middle of the road and watched her disappear around the bend. Only then did he speak.

  “Susanna Hooley, I love you.”

  Susanna sobbed as she turned off the main road in favor of a less used route that would keep her tears from sight. The deliveries would have to wait. She wanted only to get back to the Kauffman farm, throw herself on the narrow cot where she spent her nights, and turn her face to the pillow. When the wind slammed the back door behind her, though, Phoebe appeared in the kitchen, and fresh engorging tears made it impossible for Susanna to hold her composure.

  Phoebe took her by the shoulders and guided her to a chair.

  The English man’s offer on the farm.

  Veronica’s determination to take her children to spiritual safety in Indiana.

  Adam’s refusal to patch the roof.

  Now his breaking off with Susanna.

  She wept, and Phoebe held her until the shuddering stilled.

  “Perhaps Noah and I were wrong to suggest you stay with us,” Phoebe said softly into Susanna’s ear.

  Susanna drew back. “But you know what my mamm did to my things. You know she will keep trying to separate me from Noah.”

  Phoebe nodded. “I am not a mother, but I cannot be certain I would not do just as your mamm has. She is protecting you because she loves you, just as the other families that have moved to Indiana believe it is best for their children.”

  “But Noah is my mamm’s cousin. How can she have so little pity?

  Phoebe shook her head. “Noah and I do not need pity.”

  “I have chosen my words carelessly,” Susanna said. “I am here out of love, not pity.”

  “We may not have counted the cost before we built this house.”

  “I would not change anything!”

  “But I might,” Phoebe said. “I have received your love without loving well in return.”

  “No!” Susanna gripped Phoebe’s hand.

  “No one need decide anything this moment,” Phoebe said. “Think and pray, just as your daed has promised to do.”

  “But if I leave, what about you?”

  “God will provide. Gottes wille.” Phoebe stood up. “I promised Mrs. Swigert three dozen eggs. She has a house full of relatives from Somerset County.”

  “I will stay with Noah.” Susanna looked out the kitchen window. “Where is he?”

  “In the barn building you more shelves.”

  Susanna sighed.

  “I know what you are thinking,” Phoebe said. “If you go home, he will have wasted his time.”

  Susanna nodded.

  “Leave him be,” Phoebe said. “We can always use more shelves in the barn. But you do not have to stay to watch him. ’Tis still before midday, and Noah has been remarking of late that he does not need to be hovered over quite so deliberately. He is himself in the morning without exception. Finish your deliveries.”

  “I will think about it.” Susanna stood and smoothed her apron.

  Splashing cold water on her face might erase the distress from her face and restore purpose to her day. Phoebe picked up her basket of eggs, and Susanna went outside to the well to raise a bucket of refreshing liquid. She wandered into the barn to reassure herself that Noah was making progress on an ordinary task for which he was more than capable and found him humming a hymn. He looked up and smiled.

  “I did not realize you were back,” he said.

  “Just stopping in.” Susanna choked back the urge to say more. There was no need to distress Noah. She needed time to think. Driving to make deliveries might be the right choice after all. “Phoebe has gone to see Mrs. Swigert. Do you need anything before I go?”

  “Nothing at all.” Noah picked up his hammer. “Go. I feel quite fit. We will see each other for our dinner in a little while.”

  Susanna calculated carefully. Despite Phoebe’s best intentions to simply drop off the eggs and return home, Mrs. Swigert would foist coffee and pastries on her and make sure Phoebe met every visiting relative and chatted long enough to uncover where her family line might have crossed theirs sometime in the last hundred years. Mrs. Swigert, who had been to hear Noah preach on four occasions that Susanna could recall and whose husband had brought the benches Susanna detested, might even raise the subject as a point of fascinati
ng conversation, making it even more difficult for Phoebe to make a swift departure. But it was barely midmorning. Susanna had time to make at least some of the deliveries she had planned for the day and still be back on the Kauffman farm before the earliest time she had ever seen Noah fall under and before spectators would begin to assemble.

  First she went to the Maist farm with a pale gray length of fabric that would become dresses for three young daughters about the ages of her youngest brothers. Mrs. Maist paid her with newly woven cloth she thought Susanna might like to use to make herself a new dress.

  “God will provide,” Phoebe had said earlier. If Susanna decided not to return home, she would need a new dress. She could not share Phoebe’s wardrobe indefinitely.

  Next she took dye made from beet juice and dandelion roots to Mrs. Beiler, who gushed over the rich hue even though Susanna considered it quite ordinary. In exchange Susanna placed a meat pie and a fruit pie in the cart, a barter that would ease Phoebe’s burden in the kitchen. Perhaps they would eat them for midday dinner.

  Susanna judged she had time for one more stop. She owed Deborah Zug a tin of pale yellow dye meant for a tablecloth, but it would have to wait until Susanna could face the possibility of seeing Adam. If only she had thought to foist it on him while he stood there in the road. Instead of the Zugs’, she went to the Hostetlers with the only color dye Mrs. Hostetler ever requested, black. The deeper and darker the black, the better, and it came as no surprise that Mrs. Hostetler’s barter was a black apron.

  “God will provide.” Muslin for a dress, a complete meal, a perfectly stitched apron. Susanna whispered thanks for these provisions as she returned to the Kauffmans’. Phoebe’s buggy was not yet back. Susanna slipped into the kitchen to leave the pies on the table, pleased that she could provide a meal for the household.

  “Noah?” Susanna stuck her head into the front room. “Are you here?”

  No answer came. Noah must still be in the barn. Susanna went out the back door and crossed the yard, supposing she would hear the sound of a hammer. The barn was empty.

  Susanna stepped outside again. “Noah?”

  A few chickens clucked and fluttered.