by Adina Senft
Sarah took a deep breath.
“No matter how old they get, we still worry,” Corinne told her, and squeezed her hand. “That doesn’t mean we lack faith. It just means we’re mothers.”
Chapter 19
Corinne asked Sarah and Caleb to stay for supper, even though the next day was Friday and they’d be back again as usual. But Sarah was glad. While the fear had subsided, her spirit was still unsettled and she couldn’t think of anything that would help more than Corinne’s warm gaze and Amanda’s steady shoulder at her side as they peeled potatoes and shredded carrots and red cabbage for a colorful slaw.
“The taxi is coming tomorrow morning to take Zeke and Fannie back up to Mount Joy,” Amanda said. “I’m glad you could stay so we can all be together this last night.”
Something she said snagged Sarah’s attention the way the cleavers on the hillside did her skirt. She rinsed the potato and picked up another one. “Zeke and Fannie? But Silas is going with them, isn’t he?”
“Apparently not,” Amanda said in a low voice. “Miriam and Joshua invited him to stay another week—more, if he wants. Joshua has been planning to remodel the old bathroom in their house for ages, and with another pair of hands he could get the job done this month.”
“Is that the only reason he’s staying on?” Sarah asked carefully, focusing completely on the smooth movement of the peeler.
Amanda blushed. “I don’t know. I hope—I mean, it would be prideful of me to think that—that—” She stammered to a stop.
“Has he said anything to you?” Sarah’s voice was nearly a whisper now, since the men were washing up just outside at the double sink.
“That’s the trouble—we talk all the time,” Amanda said in a rush. “But there is nothing to it. He remarks on the weather. I say how the garden is doing. He wonders if Dat will get the third planting done before it rains. I say I’m working on a quilt to go in the auction in the fall. But nothing about—about—nothing personal.”
Poor Amanda. Sometimes, before a boy finally decided that a girl might be the one for him, he spent more time hemming and hawing and making conversation than he did courting. When Michael had come along, all thoughts of other men had fled from Sarah’s mind. Conversation with Michael wasn’t difficult. It was a joy—two souls who couldn’t wait to discover each other, to peel back the layers of their characters to reveal the hidden fears and hopes inside. Conversation with Henry was a little bit like that—though why that should be was a mystery. She seemed to have jumped right into his life and learned some of his secrets—and he hers—without even trying. Sometimes she’d even made those discoveries in anger, which was even stranger.
“Maybe some men have a gift from God,” she said to Amanda. “Conversation isn’t easy for everyone, you know. Just be patient and make it easy for him to come to you. Be the listening ear and the welcoming smile, and you will be the one he wants to tell things to.”
“I try,” Amanda whispered. “But I don’t want him to think I’m forward.”
“Nobody could think that of you,” Sarah assured her.
The men came in, and Corinne bustled over to take the roast out of the oven, and the time for confidences evaporated.
After supper, Caleb and Miriam’s boys went with their grandfather to the barn to muck out the dairy and carry milk cans while Zeke and Jacob milked the cows. Jacob didn’t do it by hand anymore, but used a pair of portable vacuum milkers with hoses for his small herd. Still, it was a two-person job, and three was even better. The older boys carried the buckets of fresh milk to the big holding tank that was emptied by the milk truck driver every other day, and Miriam’s and Amanda’s job was to wash the buckets and equipment in hot water and detergent once they had been used.
While they were doing that, Sarah got busy in the kitchen, putting the food away and filling the sink with hot water. To her surprise, instead of heading out to the barn as well, Silas took a dish towel out of the drawer and leaned on the counter next to the drain rack.
“You don’t have to do that,” she told him, thinking quickly. “Not here, at least. You could help Amanda in the dairy with the cans, and send Miriam back here to help me clean up.”
“Knowing those two, the job is probably half done already,” he said with a smile, and Sarah knew she’d been outmaneuvered.
Well, she would just have to keep the conversation friendly and light, and hope that with all the help Jacob had in the barn, the milking would be done so fast they’d be back before she knew it, and the cows would wonder what had happened.
She got busy with the piles of dishes. “Fannie and Zeke have had a good visit, haven’t they? My in-laws will be sad to see them go tomorrow. We all will.”
“Myself included. You’ve heard I’ll be staying a little longer?”
Sarah nodded. “You’ll enjoy staying with Miriam and Joshua. He’s a wise man, and loves a good joke. Not as much as Zeke, though! Miriam will be glad to see the new bathroom finished, too. She’s had to put up with leaky pipes and a cracked sink for too long—it’s a big project to take on when time and money are short.”
“I’m glad to help. I’ve had a little experience with plumbing at my own house, which was painful at the time, but now I’m glad to have had it, if it helps Joshua.”
“Is your house old?”
“Yes—two hundred years or so. Which is probably why I was able to afford it.”
“Two hundred years!” She’d never lived in a house that old, but she’d visited plenty. They took a lot of upkeep, from what she’d heard folks say.
“Everything works, despite its age, though it could use a woman’s hand. It feels an awful lot like a bachelor place, and needs a change.”
Oh dear. Oh dear. What needs a change here is the subject—and quick.
She scrubbed a plate with energy. “I’m sure there are any number of girls in your district who would take on a job like that with pleasure.”
Another plate. And another.
“There might be, but some are easier to have around a home than others.”
An opening, she thought with relief, rinsing the plates and putting them in the rack, then plunging her hands in the hot water for the next one. “Amanda is very easy to be around, isn’t she? There is something about her calm spirit and loyal heart that makes you want to be in the same room with her, no matter where in the house she is.”
“You are a good friend to her.”
“She is a better friend to me. I have three sisters in Mifflin County, but I count her as my fourth. She might be only twenty, but she’s mature, a member of the church, and ready to care for a home of her own.”
There. Hints didn’t come any broader than that.
He took the stack of dry plates to the cupboard. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you are trying to point me in her direction, Sarah Yoder.”
“And why not? I’ve seen many a man who doesn’t know better. Sometimes they have to be pointed, for their own good.”
He smiled and began to dry the silverware. “I admit that sometimes we miss what’s right under our noses. But I don’t think that’s the case here.” The drawer closed with a sound like an exclamation point. “Sarah, I want to stop beating around the bush and ask if you would be interested.”
If she could have run from the room, she would have. Instead, she prayed that someone—anyone—would come.
“Interested…in what?”
“In me.” Color washed into his face. “I know there are many better prospects, and maybe you already have your eye on someone, but I wanted you to know that on my side, I’m very interested.”
She could hardly gather her thoughts together, between watching the door hoping someone would come through it, and hoping Amanda was not that someone. “I told you—Michael—I—”
“I have to confess that I engineered the extra week with Joshua just so I would have a reason to stay. Hoping that there might be some opportunities for us to get to know one another bette
r.”
She had to settle this once and for all, with no more stammering.
“I would value those opportunities, Silas, to become better friends. But friends is all we can be.” Oh dear. That sounded blunt. Unkind almost, and she didn’t mean it to be. But she couldn’t think of a way to soften it so he would not misunderstand.
He gazed at her, his towel going around and around inside a glass. “You sound very definite. Have you made your mind up so soon, without even giving me a chance?”
“I…had hoped that you might give Amanda a chance,” she said into the soapsuds.
“And I think I hinted before that while I like Amanda a lot and respect her very much, it is not she who fills my thoughts and makes me walk up the hill three and four times a day, and turn back before I get to the top.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing?” Could her face get any redder? Maybe someone better not come in right now. What would they think?
“It’s a sad confession, but it shows you my state of mind.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. This was awful. How was she going to tell Amanda this? They told each other nearly everything.
“You’re sorry about my state of mind, or you’re sorry you can’t return my feelings?” His tone was gentle—but she still didn’t dare look up and meet his eyes.
“Both.”
“Then I am sorry, too. And you’re sure?”
She didn’t know whether she was standing on her own feet, or upside down, or was just plain going crazy. “I’m so verhuddelt right now I don’t know what to think. But mostly I’m disappointed for Amanda’s sake. She—” Oh, no, she couldn’t betray Amanda’s feelings for him, and she had come within a word of doing so! She gulped. “She would be worth getting to know, Silas.”
“And I’m sure I will—as friends. We’ll all be friends.” But his voice had a note of disappointment in it. “No matter what, you are still my sisters in God.”
“And that is how you must think of me. Silas—I’m sorry. I don’t think I can face everyone just now.” She drained the water from the sink and wrung out the cloth. “If you could tell Corinne I’ve had to go home, and tell Caleb I’ll see him there…”
“Sarah, don’t—I don’t want to chase you away.”
“You haven’t. I just need a little walk and some breathing time. You’ll tell them?”
“Of course. Be prepared for Zeke to say something about it in the morning, though.”
Zeke always had a joke for every situation. But as Sarah slipped out the kitchen door into the soft summer night, she doubted very much whether anyone could find anything amusing in this one.
Chapter 20
After the debacle with the Parkers, Henry wouldn’t be surprised if Ginny decided that their friendship should end.
The moon was on the wane, but between its remaining quarter and the brilliance of the stars in this part of the country where there wasn’t a lot of electric competition, there was more than enough light for him to stroll along the creek bottom on the shortcut over to the Rose Arbor Inn. In the light backpack he used for day hikes was a carefully wrapped mug of a new design. He’d meant to bring it over earlier in the week, but now he was glad he hadn’t.
It would make a great peace offering.
Something glimmered in a break after the maple copse where the Youngie had been using the rope swing, and after a startled second, he realized it was an Amish woman carrying a flashlight.
A woman of a size and shape that was familiar. At this time of night, when most Amish women were tucking in their kids?
“Sarah, is that you?” he said in a gentle tone, the kind you’d use on a frightened horse. Even so, she turned with a gasp and dropped the flashlight. Luckily, she was well over on the path, so it didn’t land in the creek.
“It’s me. Henry. I’m just on my way over to Ginny’s. Is everything all right?”
With a shaky laugh, she retrieved the light and then shone it on him, as if to make sure it was really he and not someone else. Then she snapped it off. Twinkles danced in front of his eyes before they adjusted to the moonlight again.
“Henry. I thought it was—never mind. Wie geht’s? ”
“I’m well. But are you? What are you doing out here in the dark? Have you lost a hen?”
“A hen? Oh. No, I was just walking. Trying to…what do the Englisch say? Clear my head.”
“Has something happened? Caleb said Simon had suffered some kind of mishap. Is he all right?”
“I hope so. A horse stepped on his foot, so I sent a care package this morning. I’m hoping that Joe can doctor him.”
“That was good thinking. No doctors that far out of town?”
“None that the boys can afford, apparently. So between the two of us, we’ll do the best we can for him.”
“So now you’re walking, trying not to worry.” It didn’t seem like her, though. “I would have thought you’d be out in the garden, picking something to make yourself a calming tea.”
Her white Kapp bobbed in acknowledgment. “I need to finish up a salve I started this morning and haven’t got back to. But somehow I needed air and space and the sound of the water more. I’m grateful God gives us these helps in times of trial.”
There was more to the tone in her voice than worry about her boy. And when he’d greeted her, she’d thought he was someone else.
“Is something trying you? Other than what happened to Simon?”
She moved away, to where the stones and clumps of sedge formed a narrow barrier between path and water. “It’s not something I can talk about with you.”
Heat flooded his face at the reproof. “Oh. Sorry. I suppose there are some things you’d prefer to keep between you and your women friends, like Amanda. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Amanda.” The breath soughed out of her. “That’s just the trouble. I’ve made a mess of things by not speaking up sooner, and if her feelings are wounded, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Did she want to tell him or not? Or had the dark and the rush of the creek that covered the outside sounds worked its magic and given her a sense of privacy?
“Speaking up to whom?”
With a groan, she scrubbed at her cheeks with her empty hand. “Oh, to Silas. He told me this evening that he’s interested in me, and would like to court me.”
Henry felt as though she’d slapped him. He actually took a step back to regain his balance. “Court you?”
“You sound as surprised as I felt. He’s been here visiting with Corinne’s cousins all week, and I thought he would be a wonderful prospect for Amanda. I did everything possible to get them together, and come to find out, Fannie and Zeke have been doing everything possible to get him together with me.”
Thoughts flapped around in his head like a bunch of startled sparrows, and he couldn’t catch a single one in order to reply.
“And now he’s arranged to stay another week to help Joshua remodel the bathroom at their place—but underneath it all, it’s so he’ll have time to get to know me better. Except I told him we could only be friends, because it’s Amanda I thought he was interested in. Now what am I going to do?”
What was the matter with him? He needed to get a grip.
“Seems—it seems you’ve done it. Said you wanted to be friends, I mean.”
“Well, yes, but in the meantime, it’s going to change things between us. And how can I tell Amanda that he was staying for me when she’s the one who’s interested and will hope he’s staying for her? It would hurt her horribly.”
“You can’t tell her,” he said instantly. The fewer people who knew about this, the better. Including him. What had possessed him to walk tonight when he could have driven over to Ginny’s like a rational man?
Ginny’s. He needed to get over there. If he dillydallied here any longer, she might go to bed, and then when she had to come down and answer the door, she’d be even more annoyed with him.
“We don’t keep secrets from one a
nother,” she said on a sigh. “Not since Michael died. She and Corinne helped me through that time, and ever since, we’ve had complete confidence in one another.”
“Well, you’ll have to. Nobody wants to hear that the person they care about is interested in somebody else. Look, Sarah, I have to go. Let me walk you back to your place.”
Even in the dark, he could feel her recoil in confusion at his brusque tone and the sudden end to confession time. “You don’t need to do that. I’m not ready to go back.”
“Then you’re okay if I leave you? I need to get over to Ginny’s or she’ll be even madder at me than she already is.”
“Oh,” she said. “Well, you don’t want that. I’ll be fine. I was walking this creek path for years before you came, you know.”
“Good night.”
“Would you like my flashlight?”
“No. Thanks. Good night.” He didn’t need anything from her. He set off along the path at twice the speed he’d begun with. Not a flashlight, not a herbal cure, nothing.
And nothing, evidently, was exactly what he was going to get.
* * *
Ginny hadn’t gone to bed yet, and looked very fetching in a pair of shorts and a Seton Hill alumni sweatshirt. Also very fetching was her smile of welcome as she let him in and led the way back to her private sitting room, where guests didn’t go and the Amish girls didn’t clean.
After a brief stop in the kitchen for a couple of glasses of iced tea and a plate of chocolate chip cookies, she put them on the low coffee table and curled up in the armchair.
“So, did everything get resolved with the Parkers?” He might as well get that off the table right away.
“Oh, yes. No further apologies were forthcoming for poor Priscilla. Have you seen her? She says she’s all right, but she’s so humble that I don’t know if I can believe her.”
“I think she is. I don’t know about Eric, though. He left his project behind when they practically dragged him away, and who knows if he’ll ever be able to finish it. I wanted to ask you for their address so I can send it to him, at least. After that, it will be up to him.”
