Breath of Spring

by Hubbard, Charlotte

  “But we’ve gotta stay out of the mud and the poop,” his look-alike declared, “or Annie Mae’ll have our hides. She just made us these new church clothes.”

  “And ya look mighty fine in them, too,” Ben replied as he noted their black pants and the vests they wore over crisp white shirts. “Go out and have your fun for about fifteen minutes—but if somebody pulls into the lane, I want ya to skedaddle back in here, all right?”

  The boys nodded and shot out the door.

  Ben sighed, glancing at Adam. “Never thought I’d see the day when I had to warn our youngsters about folks who might snatch them while they’re playin,” he said. “Especially when it’s a parent we’re talkin’ about.”

  “I hate scaring them about their dat, too,” Adam replied as he looked across the room. “Annie Mae seems to be holding up pretty well. Doesn’t want to upset the younger ones by showing her own fear, most likely.”

  A movement caught his eye, and Ben turned to see Miriam scurrying along the edge of the crowded room toward the dawdi haus wing. And why would she be going into Rebecca’s rooms while the rest of the women were in the kitchen unwrapping the food they’d brought? Ben smiled . . . saw an opportunity to spend a few moments alone with his beautiful bride. “Excuse me a minute,” he murmured as he slipped away from Adam.

  When he passed through the door Miriam had closed, Ben had not expected to hear a miserable gurgling coming from the bathroom—nor was he prepared to see his wife doubled over the toilet. He joined her, steadying her as she finished vomiting. “Honey-girl, I had no idea ya were feelin’ poorly—”

  “Me neither,” Miriam rasped as she righted herself. “Sure hope I’ve not caught a flu bug. Or maybe those eggs in the breakfast casserole were bad.”

  Ben considered this as she rinsed her mouth and splashed cool water on her flushed face. He’d devoured a second serving of that same casserole, and his stomach was rumbling because it was time for dinner. . . .

  His heart skipped into a quicker rhythm as he handed her a towel. “Is there somethin’ you’d like to tell me, perty girl?”

  Miriam blotted her face. “What’re you thinkin’?”

  Barely able to control his grin, Ben gently grasped her shoulders. “Well, we have been havin’ our share of fun before we go to sleep at night,” he hinted.

  Miriam’s jaw dropped even as she shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think I could possibly be—not after all those years when Jesse and I couldn’t—”

  “I’m not Jesse.” Ben pulled her close, so excited he could barely breathe. “Could it be that you weren’t the reason no more Lantz kids came along?”

  Her grip tightened as an “ooohhhh” escaped her. When Miriam gazed up at him, her dear face was turning three shades of pink. She was trying not to cry—or was she laughing? It was one of the sweetest things Ben had ever seen, and he knew he’d remember this moment forever.

  “You keep this under your hat, Mister Benjamin Hooley!” she insisted. “We don’t know for sure what’s goin’ on, and I don’t want a false alarm gettin’ everybody all stirred up for nothin’.”

  Ben hugged her close again. “Whatever you say, Missus Benjamin Hooley,” he teased. Then he kissed her temple . . . kissed her slowly on the lips. “I love ya more than life itself,” he whispered. “And every day I spend with ya, Miriam, I can’t wait to see what happens next. Now you’ve really got me wonderin’. But your secret’s safe with me.”

  Miriam swatted his backside and turned him toward the door. “Get back out there before folks think we’re foolin’ around in here. A gal’s gotta use the bathroom once in a while, after all. That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.”

  Ben did as he was told, valiantly trying to keep a telltale grin from his face. This being the end of March, some quick nine-finger math suggested they might be having a blessed event in the Hooley household right around Christmastime. Now there was a gift that would keep on giving—and after the unfortunate incident with Annie Mae this week, it put him in a much happier frame of mind, too.

  “Everything all right?” Matthias Wagler asked as Ben helped him and Adam scoot a long table into place.

  “Never better,” Ben replied breezily. “Sometimes, just the look on a woman’s face can change everything, ain’t so?”

  Annie Mae ate her cold sliced ham and salads even though she wasn’t hungry, for if she appeared upset, the women would only cluck over her more. While it was a blessing that everyone had expressed their regrets about what Dat had done, she’d had it with folks patting the back of her kapp where her bun used to be.

  But that’s the worst of it—and the pity and the head-shakin’ are behind ya now. It was such a lovely day, Annie Mae was ready to step outside with the kids while the other women cleared the tables and put away the leftover food—until a warm hand on her shoulder made her turn around.

  “Adam! How are ya?” she asked. Even if his Sunday clothes needed pressing, his smile seemed especially . . . meaningful today. “Denki for lettin’ the boys sit with ya again this morning. The twins think they’re too big to be over on the girls’ side with Nellie and me now.”

  “Happy to have them. While they’re perfectly quiet,” he said with a chuckle, “they wiggle around enough to keep me awake during the sermons. Not a bad thing, that.”

  “If they get too antsy, be sure to tell me—”

  “I’m not a bit concerned about that,” Adam said as he stepped closer. “What I am interested in is a walk on this fine spring day. Join me?”

  Annie Mae sensed something was on Adam’s mind, but she didn’t want to anticipate too much. The pity party folks had thrown this morning had taken its toll and she was hoping to relax this afternoon. “I was thinkin’ to watch the kids—”

  “Rhoda and Katie Zook are already out there,” he replied smoothly. “Shall we stroll?”

  “You go along now, Annie Mae,” Miriam said with a flick of her dish towel. “All work and no play, well—it’s not a gut way to let our lives go by. The other young people are already out by the barn, settin’ up the volleyball net.”

  Annie Mae blinked. She didn’t feel so much like “young people” now that she’d taken in her siblings—and at twenty-two, Adam was beyond joining their games, as well.

  “Shall we head across the road, down the lane at the Lantz place?” Adam asked as they stepped outside. “What with the apple trees blooming, the orchard might be a pretty place for a stroll.”

  “I suppose now that Rachel and her Micah live there, it’s really the Brenneman place,” Annie Mae remarked, “even if it goes past Ben Hooley’s smithy. Lots of changes in this town these past few months, if ya think about it.”

  Yet when Adam wove his fingers between hers, Annie Mae wasn’t sure what to think. She was contented to look down the long rows of Rachel’s garden, where the peas, lettuce, radishes, and onions were off to a fine start. Bright red and yellow tulips swayed in the breeze on either side of the front steps, and the white porch swing moved as though an invisible someone might be sitting in it, enjoying this fine day.

  “I’m thinking to make a few changes myself,” Adam said.

  Annie Mae’s eyes widened. His tone seemed a bit mysterious, although he also sounded confident that whatever new path he was considering was the right one—and wasn’t that interesting? As they started across the orchard between the blooming apple trees, she decided to explore his statement a bit. “And what sort of changes are we talkin’ about? Are ya ready to sell your motorcycle? Or are ya—”

  “Sold it Saturday,” Adam replied. “Officer McClatchey told a friend of his about it, and . . . and he didn’t bat an eye about payin’ the price I asked for.”

  As she thought back to Rebecca’s research on what his cycle was worth, Annie Mae let out a low whistle. “Glad to hear that. But mostly I’m happy ya found a way to move forward, instead of clingin’ to those bad memories about your mamm’s wreck.”

  “I’ve got you to thank for that, Annie
Mae.” Adam’s pitch had risen a bit, as though he might be nervous. “The way you listened when I was talking about Mamm’s death helped a lot, come time to tell Preacher Ben and Bishop Tom about it. Both of them understood what I’d been going through at sixteen. Said the whole matter was behind me now, and that I’d made the only confession I needed to—especially since I was sellin’ the bike.”

  “See?” she chirped. “Didn’t I tell ya it was mostly fear keepin’ ya from that little chat?”

  They were passing across the back of Dan and Leah Kanagy’s property, where Leah’s stacked, white hives buzzed with her bees. Adam stopped just inside the windbreak of spruce trees that flanked the next road. When he turned to face her, Annie Mae sensed he had planned this route to give them some privacy. She—and a lot of other girls—had been known to linger behind these dense evergreens with a boy after Singings, before going home.

  “I’m changing the way I think about my future,” Adam went on. He held her gaze as he grasped both of her hands. “And I was wondering—”

  The loud rumble of a muffler drowned out his next words. Even though Annie Mae understood that Adam was preparing to say something very important, the commotion across the road had her looking over his shoulder instead of into his eyes.

  Then Annie Mae frowned. “Now why’s that big truck pullin’ up into our lane?” she muttered. Still clasping one of Adam’s hands, she shifted so she could see between the tall evergreens. “And this bein’ Sunday, why would anybody . . . that’s a ramp the driver and another fella just lowered out of the back.”

  Adam turned to gaze between the trees with her. Now that the truck’s engine was shut down, the clank and clatter of the metal ramp sent an ominous chill up her spine.

  “Something tells me this is your dat’s doing,” he said in a low voice.

  As they stepped between the trees for a better look, Annie Mae wished she hadn’t. “Is that big wooden sign at the road a—”

  “FOR SALE sign,” Adam confirmed as he gripped her hand harder.

  A little cry escaped her. “Why didn’t ya tell me about this before we walked—”

  “I had no idea, honey-girl,” he rasped. “This must’ve happened while we were in church. The sign’s from that Hammond fellow’s real estate company.”

  “So . . . so Dat’s sellin’ the home place.” Annie Mae struggled to draw a breath. “Emptyin’ out all the—”

  She pivoted, unable to watch as the two men wheeled her mamm’s china hutch into the truck. Had they even taken out the dishes? Were they going to remove every piece of furniture she’d grown up with? A truck that size would hold a lot of—

  Annie Mae heard a keening sound before she realized it was coming from her own throat. When Adam took her in his arms, she was too stunned—too numb—to protest. She curled herself around him so her head found his sturdy shoulder, unable to suppress the tears that now spotted his black vest. “I suppose it’s wrong to think any of Mamm’s pieces would’ve come to Nellie or me, after the way we walked out,” she whimpered. “After all, we’ve been livin’ without that furniture for months now, and—and it’s only stuff—”

  “Jah, but it’s your stuff,” Adam whispered. “I’m sorry we happened over here when we did. Do you want to head back to Ben’s?”

  Annie Mae sniffled loudly. Where could she possibly go to forget what she’d just witnessed? Was there to be no end to this crying, this upheaval? It was almost as though Dat had known she and Adam would be walking past here after church. Every time her father thought of some other way to make his presence known, she would be dragged across the emotional coals, scorched again. Dat knew just how and when to pull her strings, so his actions would have the nastiest impact on her.

  “Annie Mae, I—maybe this isn’t the best time to talk about what’s on my mind.” Adam gazed up into her face, gently thumbing away her tears. “But I want you to know that even when it seems like your world’s getting loaded up and hauled away—like you’ll have nothing to fall back on—I . . . I deposited the money from sellin’ my bike into your account, honey-girl. So even if you keep thinking you won’t marry—or you won’t marry me—you’ll not have to work so hard to support your sibs.”

  Annie Mae felt her mouth drop open and then close again. “What are ya sayin’, Adam? That makes no sense, that you’d put the money from sellin’ your cycle—”

  “But you were the one who got me to the point I could get rid of it, along with all the guilt I was hanging on to,” he said earnestly. “That bike’s been in the barn for years, so it’s not like I’ll miss the money—not like I need the money. But if . . . if you change your mind about getting married, I want to be first in line to—”

  “Adam Wagler!” As the full impact of his words sank in, Annie Mae backed out of his embrace. “You are not tellin’ me ya put thirty thousand dollars into my—”

  “No, it was um . . . thirty-five thousand,” he murmured as he pulled a slip of paper from inside his vest. “The fella who bought it wanted to chip in on—when he heard you were keeping the kids and—”

  “So ya made me out to be a charity case? To a total stranger?” Annie Mae cried. “This ranks right up there with gettin’ my hair whacked off! How am I supposed to—I feel like I’ve been bought and paid for, Adam. It’s like I’ll owe ya for the rest of my life, because I can’t possibly—”

  “Annie Mae, it’s not like that,” Adam pleaded.

  But when he gently grasped her arms, Annie Mae yanked away as though his hands were burning her through the sleeves of her dress. “I thought we had an agreement! I thought we weren’t gonna think about—and now you’ve gone and turned the tables on me, knowin’ I can never repay—”

  “I don’t want to be repayed—”

  “Leave! Just leave me alone,” she blurted as she walked backward, away from him. Then she turned, so she could jog out of range, out of sight of such a conniving, scheming man whom she’d believed was her friend.

  This was no time to return to Ben and Miriam’s where everyone in town would quiz her about why she was upset—again. Annie Mae headed toward Bishop Tom’s house, on the other side of the Kanagy place. She just wanted to walk and walk, maybe until she walked off her legs. Eventually she had to return to the kids, to her reality, but right now she was wound too tight to be around anybody.

  Annie Mae strode back through the orchard, oblivious to the apple blossoms this time, to cut through Rachel and Micah’s yard and then across the Brenneman place . . . along Bishop Tom’s back lot and past his dairy barn to the road. She turned left toward the county highway, on the far side of the Sweet Seasons where no one still at the Hooleys’ place would see her.

  Up ahead stood the clinic that would soon open, with Andy Leitner’s medical wagon parked alongside it. For years the building had stood vacant, after housing a flower shop and then a hair salon. With the Brennemans’ and Adam’s remodeling work, it was now transformed for a new purpose that would truly serve their community. Not only would Andy see patients there, but his family now lived in half of the building. Rebecca had an office for her graphic design business upstairs, too, so she could work there when she wasn’t serving as Andy’s receptionist on the main floor.

  Annie Mae stopped to admire the white window boxes, a homey touch Rhoda had requested. Cheerful purple and yellow pansies caught the afternoon sunshine . . . pansies that could withstand the chill of early spring yet bloom well into summer.

  Didn’t everything about this clinic speak to change? To the possibilities that became reality when people allowed God’s love to transform them, the way this building had taken on a whole new purpose? Andy Leitner had risked everything—had sold his home and his car, and was shifting his kids out of public school. And he was taking instruction to join a church that had the power to veto his membership . . . all because he and his kids loved Rhoda so much.

  Andy had also graciously, gratefully accepted the thousands of dollars folks at Ben and Miriam’s wedding had dona
ted toward his new clinic—not to mention the money that had poured in from Plain folks across the country who’d seen Miriam’s note about his new venture in The Budget. The Amish helped their own....

  Thirty-five thousand dollars.

  Annie Mae let her shoulders relax. She unwadded the deposit slip she’d been clutching, gazing at the numbers in disbelief. Adam had not only received the full amount his motorcycle was worth, but the fellow who’d bought it had chipped in five thousand more . . . and the bank teller had been their accomplice, authorizing the deposit into her account.

  They did it because they want you and the kids to be secure. Isn’t this the same sort of love—a gift from God through folks here on Earth—that Rhoda and Andy have accepted?

  Annie Mae let out a ragged sigh. She’d been upset about the FOR SALE sign at the house . . . and seeing those men loading Mamm’s china hutch had ripped yet another hole in her heart. It wasn’t Adam’s fault she’d witnessed these unfortunate events when he was pouring his heart out to her . . . even if you keep thinking you won’t marry—or you won’t marry me—you’ll not have to work so hard to support your sibs.

  She sighed again. Had she been listening to Adam, she would have heard these words plainly . . . would have heard his no-strings-attached intentions. And while everyone in Willow Ridge had shown her extraordinary compassion, who else had made such a generous commitment to her future? He had risked giving all his cycle money to her, not knowing if she would ever marry him. The money was hers even if she eventually wed another man. Now that had taken some kind of faith! And something else neither of them was quite ready to name yet . . .

  If you change your mind about getting married, I want to be first in line.

  A little thrill went up Annie Mae’s spine. Here was a fellow who’d vowed never to marry—never to commit to such responsibility—yet now he was considering her, knowing five siblings came as part of the package. That took courage, and a sincere change of heart.