The Bridge of Peace

by Cindy Woodsmall

“It’s hard to choose, but I guess the table saw.”

  “Show me.”

  He walked over to it.

  “It’s not a hand-held thing.”

  “Thus the name table saw. You’re not going to try to teach me how to use it, are you?”

  “Shut up, ’From, and tell me how it works.”

  “It runs off an air compressor, which is run by a battery-operated generator.”

  “If you had to give it up for me, would you?”

  “Ya.”

  “Would you miss it?”

  “Ya.”

  “Would you return to it and lose me in the process?”

  “No.”

  “Would knowing that keep you from missing it?”

  “You and leaving your ways is not even comparable.”

  “Yes it is.” She grabbed him by the suspenders. “I’m always going to miss some things about my previous life, but I’ve made my decision, and you can’t keep doubting me because I like talking to Englischers about television or music … or, in words you understand, talking to them about how much I used to enjoy my table saw and what all they’re making with their table saws.”

  “I don’t like this parallel at all. If Englischers have and use table saws like they have and use televisions, I’ll be run out of business.”

  She laughed. “I believe this is where God intended me to be. I’m not messing that up for anything draus in da Welt.”

  “Out in the world.” His smile seemed never ending. “Very good, Cara.”

  “’From?” She tugged on his suspenders.

  “Ya?”

  “Stop doubting where I’ll land. I’ve landed. I have a lot more adjustments to make, but I’ll make them.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Now shut up and kiss me.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Eeeew.” Lori screeched and covered her eyes.

  Wearing the silky pajamas and housecoat Samantha had given her, Lena put the muffin tins in the sink to soak. As much as she loved teaching, she loved Saturdays and the freedom to start the day slowly and ease into it. She’d find a school district that would hire her, and she’d keep right on doing what she did best: teach. She’d made some mistakes. Who hadn’t? But the complainers wanted something even they couldn’t offer—exactness in all things all the time.

  Her Daed stood. “Those were good muffins, Lena. Denki. I’m going out to get started.”

  She dried her hands and followed him out of the kitchen. He stopped at the coatrack and grabbed his straw hat. “You got plans for this morning?”

  Lena slowly climbed the stairway. “Getting dressed, which I’m about to do, and then whiling away the hours like a single working woman should.”

  “You, dressed soon after dawn on a Saturday? I need to write this down in my journal.” He smiled broadly and left the house.

  Lena went to her room and slid out of her housecoat. The fleece throw blanket on her hope chest tempted her to wrap up in it and get a second cup of coffee. The wonderful thing about Saturday mornings was they were most often hers to do as she wanted. She grabbed the blanket, her Bible, the auction notebook, and a pen before heading back down the stairs.

  She spread the stuff on the table, got another muffin and a cup of coffee, and relaxed against the kitchen chair. Wrapped in the fleece blanket, Lena opened her Bible.

  She’d never enjoyed her weekends as much as she had recently. Not only did she have a new, two-week-old niece to adore; she had a good reason for spending a lot of time at Allen’s. Helping Emily as much as possible after each birth was part of her life. And she stayed with her sisters and other sisters-in-law after they’d given birth too. But this time it’d become an unexpected pleasure. A fair amount of the evenings, Grey arrived in time for dinner, let Ivan go to sleep with Allen’s children, and stayed until after midnight, playing games. Allen and Emily’s enjoyment in his company ran deep. She’d been tempted numerous times to talk to him about the board’s decision to let her go, but she hadn’t. He didn’t know about it, or he’d have apologized for their decision. But if Michael didn’t want to burden Grey with the matter, she would respect that.

  She tried to clear her mind of thoughts of Grey and focus on prayer and the Word. After a little while she nudged the open Bible to the side and grabbed the notebook for the auction. Trying to concentrate on her organizational lists spread out on the table was quite difficult. Grey filled her mind—his voice, eyes, sincerity, and even his rare grin. He was the only man she’d given ample opportunities to consider her, but he never did. When she’d gone to him to talk about attending public school, she’d hoped he would say, Go, and when you’re done, you’ll be of a good age, and I’ll be here waiting. But he never showed an ounce of interest, not the romantic kind.

  She traced her birthmark, wondering how he really saw her. He was past feeling sorry for her as he did when they were children, wasn’t he? And what did he mean when he said he hid things while boldly looking at people? What would he have to hide, except his true thoughts concerning how he perceived people?

  The question stung, especially since everything about him drew her. Would he ever see her as more than a friend? To marry a man like Grey would make up for all her years alone and be worth every unkind whisper she’d overheard about her being an old maid. Marriage happened young for Amish women. And courting even younger. If Grey slowly grew to love her, she might be twenty-eight or thirty before they were married. That’d be quite a wait, and she had no doubt that he would be well worth it, but could he ever care for her in that way?

  That thought skewered her heart. She grabbed the bottle of her favorite lotion off the middle of the table and put a dollop in her hand. The creamy texture carried a mix of fragrant flowers as she spread it over her bare arms and hands. She drew a deep breath and tried to focus on the upcoming Picnic Basket Auction. She had to get her feelings for Grey in perspective. But it seemed that after all her years of pooling the love in her heart, waiting for a man to give it to, she now had no say over how she felt. He’d unknowingly opened the floodgates.

  Elsie’s rare quietness, beauty, and poise held Grey captive. When he could get past that loss, he might see that Lena had other things to offer, good and valuable things—like a powerful friendship, lots of laughter, and children. Years ago, before he married, Grey had said he wanted a lot of children. For whatever reason, Elsie only gave birth twice.

  Since Lena wasn’t graceful or gorgeous like Elsie, and Grey would always love Elsie more than her, maybe God would bless them in different ways, like them having a large and strong family. In her mind’s eye, she could see his blue eyes and the joy she could bring to him—if he’d give her a chance.

  Twenty-Eight

  The new worker at the cabinetry shop, Christian, helped Grey load the buckboard with wood to take to Lennie’s. April began tomorrow, and the warmth of spring had melted most of the snow. When Grey’s Mamm asked to take Ivan to Lancaster for the day, Grey said yes, and he intended to use this free Saturday to make the window boxes he’d promised Lennie.

  “Denki, Christian. I didn’t realize you’d be here on a Saturday.”

  “Ya, me either.” Christian’s toothy grin came just short of laughter. “But Dwayne wanted to see inside the place, so I brought him over. What project are you working on today?”

  “Just keeping a promise to the schoolteacher.” Grey glanced toward the cabinetry shop, making sure Dwayne was still milling about inside. “Have you met Lena Kauffman yet?”

  “I might have. I’ve met a lot of people in the two weeks I’ve been here.”

  “She’s the schoolteacher.”

  Christian’s brows knit. “Don’t recall—”

  Dwayne barreled out of the shop. “Sure you do,” he said as if he’d been eavesdropping. “You saw her at church Sunday before last. The one with the stain on her face.”

  Christian looked at Grey and shook his head at Dwayne’s crassness. “Ya. I talked to her for a sp
ell. She’s witty and nice looking.”

  Dwayne looked as if he’d just swallowed bad milk. “Are you crazy? She’s not …” He stopped and then huffed. “Whatever.”

  “Her name is Lena.” Grey slid another board into the wagon. “And as the local schoolteacher, she has a picnic basket auction every year. Single men bid on baskets filled with goods single women have made. Of course married women make baskets too, but only relatives—mostly husbands and children—bid on those.”

  “You’re telling me she’s not seeing anyone special?” Christian looked very interested in what he’d just learned.

  “No,” Grey answered, feeling unease grab his gut. Christian had been working with him and Ephraim for two weeks. Grey liked the man, and he’d thought about mentioning this to him before, but he kept getting a catch in his gut. He just figured he needed to know him better first. Today, as Grey looked forward to seeing Lennie, he’d wanted to ease some of her loneliness for Jonathan, but right now he wished he hadn’t opened his mouth.

  “So”—Christian closed the tailgate to the buckboard and fastened one side—“I could go to this auction, and if I won the bid on her basket, she and I could go on a date?”

  “Ya.” Grey fastened his side of the tailgate.

  Dwayne crossed his arms. “You picking Christian out for her, or do you go around encouraging all the single guys to give her a chance?”

  Grey had started this conversation at a really bad time. If he should’ve started it at all, he shouldn’t have done so with Dwayne around. “I’m not picking anyone out. I just thought I’d mention the auction to the local newcomer.”

  Christian stayed focused on Grey. “She hasn’t been to any singings since I’ve been here, ’cause I looked. So I figured she was taken.”

  Dwayne spat on the ground. “If you’d asked me, I’d told ya to …” He caught Grey’s eye and then shrugged. “Never mind.”

  Grey didn’t know what unkind remark Dwayne was going to say, but he had no more respect for Lennie than Peter did. Grey found it encouraging that Christian wasn’t bothered one bit by what Dwayne thought.

  Christian shifted, turning his back on Dwayne. “When is this picnic auction?”

  With the rig loaded, Grey climbed up and took the reins in hand. Regardless of how he felt about starting this conversation, he couldn’t undo what he’d begun. “The third Saturday in April.”

  Christian nodded. “In three weeks. Denki.”

  Grey slapped the reins without responding. The sick feeling in his gut didn’t ease as he drove toward Lennie’s, but he couldn’t come up with what bothered him so much. It felt like jealousy, but that made no sense whatsoever. He pulled into her driveway and saw Israel in the side yard, applying stain to a freshly made coatrack. He hopped down and went to him. Lennie’s dog came up to him, wagging her tail. He petted her. “Morning, Israel.”

  “Grey, what brings you out this way?”

  “Mamm’s got Ivan busy for today, so I’m using this time to keep a promise I made last fall. Lennie did some work for me in exchange for me making and mounting window boxes.”

  “You know, I remember her asking me to make her some of those a few years back.” He chuckled. “I guess she gave up on me and came up with a new plan. She’s inside somewhere. Go right on in. If you don’t see her, just holler for her.”

  Grey went to the front door, tapped on it, and walked inside. He heard what sounded like a coffee cup chink against a plate in the kitchen, so he walked that way. When he caught a glimpse of Lennie, he stopped cold. The image engraved itself on his heart. Her long chestnut hair flowed. A fleece blanket had fallen off one shoulder, revealing a thin, bright pink strap and a lot of milky white skin. Clearly she hadn’t dressed for the day, which meant she must still be in her sleeping clothes. He’d thought all Amish women wore white nightgowns from neck to ankle, but whatever she’d slept in, it wasn’t a gown. Papers were spread out in front of her, and she had a pen in hand, looking every bit as gifted in intelligence as she was in beauty. Breakfast dishes and coffee cups still sat on the table.

  Desire grabbed him. Lennie danced through him like she’d turned to vapor and entered his very being. How had he not realized what had been taking place within him since … since Christmas?

  She took a deep breath and stretched, looking relaxed and absorbed in her own thoughts.

  “Lennie.”

  She raised her eyes to his, and she seemed to awaken dreams he’d given up—dreams of unity, laughter, and hope with a woman. “Grey.” Covering her bare shoulder with the blanket, she sat upright. “I … I didn’t know you were coming.”

  He wrestled with guilt. What had he come here for, anyway—to build window boxes or to talk and laugh with Lennie? Right now, he knew the answer to that, but his wife had died in his arms not yet six months ago.

  From her chair at the table, Lennie waved her hand. “Grey?”

  He demanded his eyes move from her so that his lips could speak. “Uh, I … your Daed said for me to come in.” He motioned toward the front door. “I brought the wood and saws to make window boxes.”

  “Ach, that’s wunderbaar.”

  “Ya, I … I need to take measurements … of the window sashes.”

  “Sure. I’ll get dressed. Have you eaten?”

  He nodded.

  “You can help yourself to a cup of coffee if you like. I’ll just run upstairs.”

  When she stood, he noticed the long pink satiny pants peeking out from the wide gape in the blanket that ran down the front of her. She tugged at the fleece, trying to cover her immodesty. He lowered his head and stared at the floor as she hurried past him and up the stairs.

  Her scent of lavender and roses and violets hung in the air. Trying to clear his head, he went outside and began unloading the wood. He wasn’t ready to feel any sort of attraction for a woman. He had nothing left in him to give. Besides that, the feelings pouring into him were not who he and Lennie were. She’d been a constant in his life, but when did she seep past being a friend and sink into the deeper parts of his heart?

  Thoughts of Elsie tore, and fear ate away. The idea of marriage terrified him. He never again wanted to give someone the power that came through the bonds of matrimony. But he hadn’t known that until today. As hidden thoughts continued to reveal themselves, he understood one thing: he had nothing left to give to a marriage—the ideals of it, the struggles, the walls. He … couldn’t.

  Before he unloaded the last board, Lennie bounded out the front door—cape dress, black apron, and prayer Kapp in place. But none of that stopped his heart from pounding like crazy.

  Nicky ran to her, and she knelt, patting her dog. “You might not know this because I kept it really quiet, but a couple of years back, right before school began, I injured my back and had to wear a plaster cast around my torso.” She stood, looking rather serious. “It fit under my dress and wasn’t noticeable at all. I had some tough eighth-grade students and wasn’t sure how I’d corral them into being good for the year, especially since I couldn’t move around too well. On that first day I had the windows and doors open, and a strong breeze kept flapping the ties to my prayer Kapp, so I took the stapler out and stapled the ties to my chest. Oddly enough, I had no trouble with discipline that year.”

  Grey held her gaze, feeling laughter stir as he watched humor dance in her eyes. “You’re lying to me, Lennie Kauffman.”

  “Ya, but I made you smile.” She interlaced her fingers and popped them.

  He stared at her, awed at how she made him feel stronger than he was, rather than weaker. Surely she wanted no more from him than he could give—friendship. “You are something else.”

  “Ya, I am. So where do you want to start measuring first, upper-level windows or ground level?”

  “I’m not very practiced at this, so let’s start at the top. The extra distance will help hide the goof-ups from those looking at your home.”

  “Good thinking. Is that why my bedroom is on the top floo
r?”

  He chuckled. The hours melted away too quickly as they worked together. She fixed them a quick lunch of leftovers from the night before, a beef stew and jalapeno cornbread, both of which were so good he asked for the recipe. Israel ate with them, and afterward he pitched in to help make window boxes. Grey wouldn’t finish today, but a couple of hours next Saturday should do the trick. By evening they’d built, stained, and mounted six window planters. He still had to build two large ones for the front porch, but those would need extra care, so he’d get to them next week.

  Lennie lined each wooden box with a mesh often used for screening porches. Then she passed him the stapler to secure them while she went to the greenhouse to get a bag of soil.

  From inside the home at a ground-level window, he stapled the mesh in place.

  Lennie came around the corner of the house. “Can you take this and fill them about three-fourths full of dirt?”

  The top of her head was two feet below the bottom of the windowsill. He reached through the window, easily able to grab the top of the bag of soil as she held it up as high as she could. While he filled the box with dirt, she remained outside, using the squirt nozzle to pressure clean the screen that needed to go back in the window where he currently stood.

  “Okay, these two are done.” Grey shot one last staple into the mess. “Do you want us to put the screens back on now or wait until you’ve put flowers in them after the last frost?”

  She gazed up at him, smudges of dirt on her face and stains on her dress and apron. Even with the heart of a woman, her countenance seemed like the carefree girl he’d always known her to be. “What’s the prediction for the last frost this year?”

  He set the bag of dirt in the windowsill and wiped his hands on his pants. “May fourth.” Unable to see her, he leaned out the window. “Hey, where’d you …” His elbow knocked the bag of dirt over. He caught the bottom of it, but all that did was cause its contents to flow right on top of her.

  She screamed. “Benjamin Graber, I’m telling!” She shook her head, dumping mounds of soil around her feet. He started laughing while she flapped her apron, ridding it of some dirt. She then used the underside of her apron to wipe off her face.