A Simple Autumn: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel

by Rosalind Lauer

  But her annoyance faded quickly when she realized that she was wrong. It was Jonah King. He and his brother were both tall, with broad shoulders that seemed to test their shirts. And Jonah’s dark hair and eyes beneath his straw hat were so like his brother’s.

  Her sister Sarah’s words came back to her. She did need to move on.

  Annie uttered a quick prayer to Gott, asking Him to free her heart.

  She glanced back at the roof. Of course Adam wouldn’t be here. They wouldn’t be able to spare him with everyone trying to finish up the harvest.

  Just then Jonah King lifted his head and waved to her. She swallowed hard. He’d caught her staring. She nodded primly, turning back to the clothesline.

  “How’s your lip?” he called down.

  Annie pressed her fingers to her mouth. “Much better, denki,” she called before ducking behind the wall of a damp sheet. The swelling must have gone down overnight. It didn’t hurt at all.

  Odd how the body could heal quickly, but the heart took its good old time.

  TWELVE

  Guitar music floated from the boom box behind him as Gabe drove his buggy toward town. He had decided to combine his run into town with a trip to the school to see Emma. Of course, everyone thought he was stopping by the school to drop his brother and sister off. No one knew he had been out late last night, driving down dark roads with Emma beside him.

  He knew there would be students there this morning. No chance to kiss or pull her into his arms. But it would be enough, just looking in her eyes for a bit. That smart, steady flicker in her eyes always made him feel good. He could see the love in Emma’s eyes, and on a cold September morning, there was nothing quite like that.

  The hum of an engine over the music let him know that a vehicle was creeping up behind him.

  Gabe slowed the buggy and directed Mercury to the far right of the road to let the vehicle behind him pass.

  The yellow bus’s engine grumbled as it slowly moved around their open carriage, taking Englisher children to their school.

  “I wonder what it’s like to ride a bus to school every day,” Ruthie said.

  “I want to drive a school bus,” Simon said. “No one on the road would be bigger than me. And if a bad person came along, I could close the door and drive away.”

  Gabe kept quiet. Simon had a fear of evil bred from the trauma of witnessing their parents’ murder, but he’d gotten much better in the last year. Gabe smiled at the notion of Simon driving a yellow bus. The boy would get his chance to drive a vehicle soon enough, and Ruthie … well, Ruthie was a girl. She might live her whole life without hearing of a boy’s rumspringa antics.

  Squinting, Gabe measured the bus with his eyes. He had never driven anything that big, but he had been behind the wheel of a car before. It had been fun to drive a car, but nothing like the thrill of racing over bumps and taking tight turns on a motorbike.

  He was itching to get back on a motorbike. Now that he’d had a taste, it was just like Ben had said. He felt the need for speed.

  To hit the throttle and have the bike surge ahead, that was power. And the way the brakes responded when you wanted … that was control. Two things that Amish life lacked … power and control. The pace of life was slow, and someone else was always making decisions for you.

  Gabe liked being in command, and the bikes gave him that.

  As their buggy approached, he spotted Emma on the front porch of the schoolhouse, sitting beside a student. He hoped she wouldn’t be mad at him for stopping by. Emma was always careful about their relationship. She didn’t want folks seeing them together, but he figured the students wouldn’t think anything of Gabe dropping off his brother and sister.

  “We’d better turn off the music,” Gabe told his siblings, who were sitting in the cramped backseat area. “Do you know how to do it, Simon?”

  “I got it,” Simon said, and the music faded.

  “Denki. Teacher Emma doesn’t like loud buggies pulling up to the school.”

  “How do you know?” Ruthie asked.

  Gabe shrugged. “I just know. Teachers don’t like anything that breaks the rules.”

  “Teachers like rules,” Simon agreed.

  The schoolhouse was a simple wood structure. Painted a buttery yellow, it had a concrete porch where an old-fashioned school bell hung, its rope dangling in easy reach. Gabe hadn’t liked the place much when he was a student here, but now that Emma was the teacher, it seemed warm and cheerful.

  He pulled up in front and reined in his horse.

  “Good morning, Teacher Emma!” Ruthie called as she climbed out of the buggy with her plastic lunch cooler in one hand.

  “Good morning,” Emma called from the porch. Her smile froze when she saw Gabe in the buggy.

  Was she going to be cross, just because he wanted to see her for a bit? School wouldn’t begin for another fifteen minutes.

  Simon dropped down beside his sister in silence.

  A man of few words, like me, Gabe thought. He shifted in his seat and saw that Emma was still sitting on the porch with a little boy.

  He would have to get out and go to her.

  He secured the buggy and climbed out.

  “You make two rabbit ears.” Emma leaned over the little boy’s shoes and folded his laces. “Like that.”

  “Good morning, teacher,” Gabe said.

  She looked up and tried to hide her smile. “Good morning.”

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” He nodded toward the fence. “Just over there.”

  She hesitated a second, then lifted her head. “All right. Amanda, will you help Luke with his shoelaces?”

  An older girl with pink lips who reminded Gabe of a mouse came up to the porch, and Emma followed him across the tidy lawn of the school.

  “You shouldn’t come here, Gabe,” she warned. “During school time, I have to focus on my scholars.”

  “It’s not school time yet.” He turned around to face her, relieved to see that steady light in her eyes. Her prayer kapp was crisp and white. Of course, all the kapps around here were the same. But when Gabe looked at Emma, he saw her pure heart in that kapp. A pure heart and a starchy sense of order. Some of the other guys thought she was a priss, but Gabe loved that about her. She truly wanted to do things the right way, and she tried with all her heart.

  She folded her hands and pressed her knuckles to her chin. “You shouldn’t be here, Gabe.”

  “And you’re beautiful when you get mad.”

  “I’m not mad, I’m … serious. That’s how I have to be. The education of those children is my responsibility, and—”

  “I know. It’s all on your shoulders. But you’re still an eighteen-year-old girl who’s allowed to court. If you told people about us, we wouldn’t have to wait for two weeks to see each other. Or sneak around like this.”

  “I’m not sneaking around. This is my job.”

  “You know what I mean.” He put one hand up to lean on the fence post. “I want to see you, and I don’t care who knows about it. And I know you feel the same way, Teacher Emma. Let me teach you how to go courting, the right way.”

  “Oh, Gabe …” Her stern expression gave way to a small smile. “I’d like that. But I’m not ready to shout it out over the hills yet.”

  “You don’t have to do that, but I would like you to tell your family about me. If our families know, it won’t be such a big secret anymore.”

  “It would be a good way to break the ice.…” She crossed her arms, considering.

  Gabe smiled. He could watch her think for hours.

  He had thought of the idea last night on the ride home. If Emma’s parents accepted him, he figured the rest of the community wouldn’t be too far behind.

  “Let me think about it,” she said.

  Before he could answer, a swell of noise came from the lane in front of the school. “Thank God I’m a country boy!” came the friendly voice of the singer from the boom box. Gabe swung around to see Simon hunch
ed in the back of his buggy.

  “Oh, no!” Emma turned quickly, then took off running toward the sound.

  Gabe raced ahead of her, his long legs covering the distance quickly. “Simon! Turn it off.”

  Simon ducked down, and within seconds the blare of music stopped.

  “What are you doing?” Gabe jogged to a stop beside the buggy, where Mercury twisted his head back and nudged him, as if he was impatient to get going.

  “I didn’t turn it on!” Simon insisted. “I didn’t do it. I just climbed up here to turn it off after …”

  “After some other boy left it on.” Emma turned toward the cluster of boys who were Simon’s age. “Who did this?”

  No one raised a hand.

  “All right, then. Let me just say that it was not the right thing to do.” She crossed her arms and paced in front of the group of boys before turning to them. “We don’t use electronic things here at school.” She turned to Gabe with a scorching look. “Good Amish do not have electricity or Englisher music in our homes … or at school.”

  Gabe winced as he tipped back his hat. Ouch. This wasn’t going to help him persuade Emma that she should let people know they were courting. Emma had been disappointed that he had decided not to get baptized with her this month. He understood her disappointment, but he’d made his choice for a reason. He wasn’t ready. It was as simple as that.

  Months ago the bishop had ordered the young people who were getting baptized to get rid of their cell phones and stereos and iPods. Remy had traveled back to Philadelphia to give away her Englisher things. “They make you give up the fun,” Ben had told him. Gabe agreed on that. He knew the rules, and he wasn’t ready to buckle down and follow them just yet.

  “Let’s go into the classroom and get our primers out,” Emma said.

  Although her voice was calm, her words held power. The children picked up their lunch coolers and headed in the front door.

  Simon paused in front of Emma, his brows hard lines of worry. “Sorry, Emma.”

  “It’s not your concern.” She stood, arms folded into her bulky sweater, watching as another carriage came down the lane, before looking up at Gabe. “But I’ll thank you to take that noisemaker far away from my students.”

  “Yes, teacher.” He followed her gaze to the approaching carriage and recognized Preacher Dave with his youngest children.

  Emma waited on the porch to greet Dave and the children.

  “Good morning,” Dave said. He stood by the carriage as, one by one, each child hopped out and accepted a cooler.

  “Come.” Emma smiled as the children filed past her on the porch.

  “Think the rain will hold?” Dave asked.

  “I’d like enough dry weather to make hay,” Gabe said.

  Dave touched his beard as his pale eyes rose to the sky. The sun was shining, but the west held murky clouds, like a skim floating on soup. “The way those clouds are moving, I don’t think you’ll be doing that today.”

  Gabe shrugged. “I’ll go with the weather.” He looked toward Emma, but she was already crossing the porch, on her way into the schoolhouse.

  Storms ahead, Gabe thought. But he could wait out the rain. The sunshine on the other side of the clouds was always worth the wait.

  THIRTEEN

  With two lambs born that morning and Perry and Sarah about to leave, the Stoltzfus farm was a very busy place. Annie was helping her sister pack that afternoon when Levi announced that a carriage was coming.

  “Visitors!” Sarah said cheerfully, swinging her son’s hand.

  When Annie hurried out, she wasn’t surprised to see her good friend Mary King. Mary had told her she would stop by to say good-bye to Sarah.

  “Kumm,” Mary called as she climbed out of the carriage.

  Annie hurried over to help her carry the heavy basket. “You brought strawberry jam?”

  “For Sarah and Perry. Pickled beets and apple butter, too. A little bit of home to take along with them.”

  “That’s so kind of you,” Sarah called from the open kitchen door. She accepted the hamper with one arm and hugged Mary with the other.

  They unloaded the colorful jars onto the table, and Levi made a show of counting and re-sorting them. Mary had also brought a sampler with the words HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS.

  “It will be wonderful for your new home,” Annie told her sister as she filled the kettle for tea.

  “All the girls in our house pitched in, except for Katie,” Mary said.

  “There’s so much love in the needlework.” Sarah ran her fingertips over the smooth yarns. “Denki, Mary.”

  “I wanted you to remember that your home is wherever you and Perry and little Mark are,” Mary said. “Gott will follow you to New York.”

  “I know that.” Sarah bit her lower lip. “I know this is the right thing, but it’s a bit scary to be moving so far from my family.”

  Levi looked up from the table and crossed his arms. “I don’t want you to go.”

  Sarah patted his shoulder. “I know, dear, but we have an exciting trip ahead of us, going to a new place. We want to build a wonderful good house there.”

  “With horses and chickens?” Levi asked.

  Sarah’s blue eyes sparkled with tears as she nodded.

  “Okay, then.”

  Annie had to look away as emotion welled up inside her. She was sick about her sister’s departure, but everyone knew an Amish wife had to follow her husband’s decision. Besides, Perry had listened to Sarah’s opinions, too. It had been wonderful having them here in the house, but Annie understood the young couple’s desire not to live under her parents’ roof forever.

  When Sarah left the kitchen to put Mark down for his nap, Levi followed along. He was a bit old for a nap, but sometimes he would doze off while telling his little cousin a story.

  “Poor Levi is going to be lost without his cousin.” Annie put her mug into the sink. “He’s like a little shepherd watching over Mark.”

  “I reckon it will be hard for everyone,” Mary said, her hazel eyes shining with sympathy. “But I’m glad we have a moment, just the two of us. I wanted to talk to you about my brother.”

  “Adam?” Annie felt her cheeks grow warm.

  “No … Jonah. That burst of temper you unleashed on him last night was frightful.” Mary folded her hands on the table. “I’m saying this because I’m your friend, Annie. I know you meant no harm, but it was cruel to put the blame on Jonah.”

  “But he knocked me down,” Annie defended herself.

  “It was an accident. And what happened to forgiveness, Annie? You’re not usually one to hold a grudge. ‘Forgive us our trespasses.’ ”

  A breeze pressed in from outside, stirring the curtains at the window and cooling the kernel of annoyance that had been burning inside of Annie. How right of Mary to remind her of the Lord’s Prayer. She’d made such a fuss about having a swollen lip. And now, this morning, it was as if it had never happened.

  “I was being silly, holding that against Jonah,” she admitted. To hold anger against anyone was wrong, she knew that.

  “You won’t find a kinder, gentler man than him.”

  Annie nodded absently, not wanting to admit that she’d been edgy with Jonah because he was Adam’s brother.

  That was wrong, too.

  “I’ll be sure to set things straight with Jonah,” Annie promised as she went to the window. Was he still working on the roof? She hoped he hadn’t left for the day yet.

  “I know you meant no harm.” Mary nodded. “And did you have a chance to ask your mamm about the tea shop?”

  “I did.” Annie had talked to Lovina that morning before she and Rebecca left for the shop. “Mamm said she’d love to hire Leah and Susie. If it works out, it will be a wonderful good apprenticeship for them, don’t you think?”

  Mary’s face brightened. “It’s a good way to learn about business, and Lovina will be a good teacher. Strict but kind.”

  “Mamm is happy to t
ake them under her wing. You know how she likes to mother young people.”

  “Denki,” Mary said. “I think the twins could use some mothering right now. There’s a bit of worry about me leaving after Five and I get married.”

  “Are they worried?” Annie pouted. “Poor dears. I wish I could sweep them all into my arms and hug them till their eyes pop.” The desire to help Mary’s younger siblings tugged at her. She’d been struck by that feeling a lot in the past few months … wanting to help Hannah, wanting to hold people’s babies. Now more than ever she enjoyed her time with Mark and Levi. She had been coaxing Rebecca to have another little one, telling her that sometimes her arms felt so empty without a baby.

  Mary laughed. “Next time Sam and Katie are misbehaving, I’ll bring them right over for one of those hugs.”

  They laughed together, but Annie stopped short of telling Mary about the deep desire that was beginning to worry her. So far she had told no one, not even her sisters, and she thought it might be best to keep it that way.

  Sarah returned, and she talked with Mary about how the Byler Amish were different from their district. Annie tried to listen, but her mind wandered off to Jonah King. He was a kind person. It had been unfair of her to blame him for her feelings about Adam. How could she make up for being mean to him?

  Working the pin on her apron, she stared outside, following the dance of leaves as the wind swirled them in a circle. Someone stood up from weeding in the garden.

  Hannah.

  Dear, sweet Hannah. Annie twirled the straight pin under her fingertips as an idea popped into her head.

  As soon as Mary left, Annie went outside to find Jonah. Moving away from the house, she shielded her eyes from the sun and gazed up. There he was, still working on the roof.

  “Jonah! I’ve gotten so used to seeing you up there, like a bird perched in a tree,” she called up to him, trying to sound friendly.

  He lifted his head and tipped back his hat. “A very large bird.”

  She smiled. She hadn’t realized he had a sense of humor. “I thought you might be gone. It’s been a while since I heard hammering.”

  “I’m just finishing the flashing. Your roof is almost done.”