A Simple Autumn: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel

by Rosalind Lauer

  His question brought a new flood of tears, and Jonah turned back toward the dark road, wanting to kick himself. “That was too personal. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Emma sniffed and dabbed at her eyes, composing herself. “And it’s good to hear that you think Gabe is calming down. I thought that was true, too. I thought he was settling down … that I could trust him … but I was wrong.”

  He rubbed his chin, wondering what sort of high jinks his brother was up to now. “Gabe has always had a secret wild streak,” he said. “What did he do now?”

  “Motorbikes. He’s been spending his Sundays riding fancy bikes with some Englisher. Dirt bikes, he calls them.”

  “Mmm.” It made sense to Jonah; he had sensed that Gabe was sneaking away from the farm for something, but he wasn’t quite sure of the details.

  “He knows he’s breaking the rules … that it’s against the Ordnung.” She didn’t try to mask the raw pain in her voice. “But he won’t give it up.”

  “It makes things hard on you,” he said sympathetically. “But you shouldn’t worry so much. Worry is a sin, ya? Besides, most Amish boys try their hand at riding bikes or driving cars at one point during rumspringa.”

  Emma shook her head. “Why would anyone do that? I understand that people make mistakes, but to deliberately break the rules …”

  “There’s something about learning to drive a car or motorcycle … it’s something a man wants to try.”

  “But an Amish man isn’t supposed to drive a car. That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Because you’re not a man, and you’re trying to be logical. Ask your brother Caleb. If he’s honest with you, he’ll tell you he’s done it.”

  Emma pulled her sweater closer around her. “Oh, Caleb would never admit anything to me. He thinks I’m a Goody Two-shoes.”

  Funny, but Jonah had always thought the same of Emma. He sensed that Gabe had come to know a different side of her. “Don’t worry about Gabe. In the long run, he’ll come around. He’s not like Zed Miller, with that Jeep that caused so much trouble. Gabe is having his fun, but you won’t see him leaving the community the way Zed did.”

  “How can you be so sure?” she asked. “Your sister Sadie is gone, and your older brother left for years. He was gone for so long that people had given up praying that Adam King would ever come back. How do you know Gabe won’t be lost to us, too?”

  “Gabe is content in our ways, and he’s got dairy farming in his blood. No one knows our livestock the way Gabe does. To leave the cows would be like abandoning children. That’s not Gabe.”

  “I don’t know anymore,” Emma said. “I thought I knew him, but I was wrong.”

  Jonah didn’t like the idea of her giving up on his brother. “Do you see the horse up there pulling our carriage? His name is Jigsaw, and he was a wild one when he came to our farm. He was a beast of a horse. He bit anyone who came near him. Dat used to joke that Jigsaw would buck and kick if he didn’t like the way you looked at him.”

  Emma gazed ahead thoughtfully. “He’s been well trained. Was it you who trained him?”

  “With my dat’s help. But before any training began, the horse needed to be calmed. Have you ever just stood with your hand on a creature, feeling it breathe, praying for calm and peace?”

  “That’s something I’ve never done, but growing up in town, I wasn’t around animals much. Just the one horse we need to pull the carriage, and my brother takes care of him.”

  “Our dat taught us to respect all Gott’s creatures, large and small. He taught us well. And after lots of calming and a summer of training, Jigsaw joined the team for harvest. When I turned sixteen and my parents let me choose an animal, everyone knew it would be this horse. I was the one who named him Jigsaw.”

  “Because he was like a puzzle. You needed patience. You had to wait and see how the pieces would come together.” She sighed. “Patience is one thing I understand. Teaching my scholars is a process. No one learns everything overnight.”

  “Ya. That’s very good. I guess it takes a smart one to be a teacher.”

  “So they say. But I’m not feeling very smart right now. Trusting Gabe wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “But that’s the point of my story about Jigsaw. The wildest ones, the ones with spirit, once they settle down they make the most reliable friends you could ever have.”

  “Jonah, I hope and pray that you’re right.” Sadness crossed her face as she stared at the horse leading their carriage. “I know they say boys will be boys, and Gabe is still in his rumspringa.…”

  In Jonah’s eyes, Emma was very mature for eighteen. But then, girls at that age were often more settled than boys.

  “But men can’t be tamed like horses,” Emma said.

  Jonah rubbed his chin, thinking of the similarities. No, a man wasn’t trained. Gabe would come around; he knew that. But there were some things that book learning couldn’t teach you. Some things, you just had to stumble through in the school of life.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Gabe frowned up at the yellow moon shining like a round beacon in the sky. It would be a good night to court a girl on a nice long buggy ride.

  But not for Gabe.

  The girl he wanted to court was out on this dark road, walking home in the orange moonlight.

  Emma was part of the reason he kept Mercury moving so slowly. He figured if he squinted into the darkness he might find Emma hiding behind a fence post or walking primly, shoulders back and head so high and even that she could balance a book on top of it.

  He missed her. It hadn’t even been a week since she’d ended everything with him, but watching her get baptized, and seeing her across the barn at the singing, felt wrong. And this was their time—late Sunday, after a singing. This was the time when he picked her up along the side of the road and they talked and laughed and sat close under the stars.

  If he closed his eyes he could imagine the sweet, soapy smell of her neck and the luster of the soft moonlight on her lips. He could see the little crease that formed in her forehead when she was serious, and the dimples that appeared when she smiled. But he didn’t want to close his eyes too long and take the chance of missing her walking alongside the road.

  He let his horse poke along slowly, his eyes combing every tree, field, and sign for her as he headed home from the Stoltzfus farm. If he found her, he would find a way to make things right. Not that he’d give up the bikes. A man couldn’t cut off his arm to please a woman. But they could get to a place where they could talk again. He could make things up to her and ease the guilt that burned inside him like a piece of bark curling in the fire. He felt bad about taking Hannah Stoltzfus home. She was a sweet girl, but he had to admit, he wasn’t interested in Hannah. He had driven her home because she needed a ride and because he was hurt about Emma breaking things off with him.

  Had he wanted to show Emma that he could socialize with other girls? Maybe. But the truth? There was no replacing the bond he had with Emma. And during the whole ride, Hannah had kept asking questions about his cousin Ben, so it was clear who she was really interested in.

  As the family farm came into view, silos gleaming in the moonlight, he had to accept that he had spoiled things for Emma and himself today. From the start, when she had pulled up in the small carriage and he’d fled from her sister Elsie … Gabe winced. After today, he had some fences to mend.

  As Mercury climbed the rising path to the barn, he saw that the wide doors were still open, the lanterns lit. The church wagon had been pushed close to the doors once again, and Simon and Adam were hauling a bench out of the light.

  Eager to give them a hand, Gabe tied Mercury to a post and jogged to the barn.

  “Need some help?” he called.

  “Ya, help us finish,” Adam said, motioning him over.

  Gabe grabbed the end of a bench, opposite brother Simon. “I didn’t see you at the singing,” he teased the boy.

  Simon laughed, his sleepy eye
s glimmering. “No, but I got to stay up extra late to help clean up.”

  “It is late,” Gabe agreed. “If you stay up a few more hours, the cows will be calling to be milked.”

  “I can’t stay up all night,” Simon said. “I have school in the morning.”

  “We’ll get you to bed soon, but it’s good experience, seeing how the benches go just so in the back of the cart,” Adam said as they carried the bench past him. “Boy’s got to learn how to load a church wagon.”

  “True.” Gabe watched his younger brother’s face as they carried the bench out into the darkness. He was glad that Simon was enjoying this, and a little surprised at how strict a “parent” Adam was becoming. Although Dat had expected his sons to do their chores, most times his easygoing nature had made work seem like play.

  At the wagon, Jonah hopped down and helped them hoist the bench high so they could slide it onto the top.

  “Almost full,” Simon said.

  They returned to the barn for the last of the benches, and in no time the job was done.

  “Where does the church wagon go next?” Simon asked before dropping his jaw to yawn.

  “Depends on where church is next.” Jonah pulled the tarp down to cover the opening in the back. “The Fishers’, I think.”

  “Kumm.” Adam touched Simon’s shoulder gently. “Let’s get to bed.”

  “Good night,” Simon called, heading back to the house with Adam.

  “I’m glad that’s done,” Gabe said. “Less work for tomorrow.”

  Jonah nodded, watching as Gabe headed over to the fence to fetch his horse and send him out to pasture for the night.

  “Where you going?” Jonah asked.

  “I still have to unhitch Mercury.”

  “I’ll help.” Jonah met him at the line of horseless carriages. Gabe patted Mercury’s withers as he began to unfasten the line.

  Jonah worked from the opposite side. “It’s been some night.”

  “Ya.” Not a good one, Gabe thought, but he kept quiet.

  “Full of surprises,” Jonah said. “For the first time in years I left the singing with a girl in my buggy.”

  Gabe looked over Mercury’s backside at his brother. “After all this time?” Jonah had faithfully attended singings but always left alone. For a long time everyone had been sure he’d had his eye on a certain girl, but Jonah kept things to himself. “Who is she?”

  “Emma Lapp.”

  Gabe’s jaw dropped as his fingers pressed into Mercury’s bristly coat. “You …” He couldn’t believe it. “Emma Lapp? Jonah, is Emma the girl you’ve been pining for all these years?”

  Jonah circled in front of the horse to cuff Gabe on the shoulder. “Pining? I’m not a lovesick puppy. But no. Emma needed a ride home; that’s all. I gave her a ride, and she talked my ear off on the way.”

  “Ya, girls do that.” Gabe was relieved but cautious. What was Jonah getting at?

  “She talked about you the whole time. At least now I understand why you ran from their carriage this morning. She’s upset with you, Gabe. Something about racing motorbikes.”

  Gabe grunted. Why did she have to go and spill the beans? Emma had said too much and he didn’t want to talk to Jonah about this.

  “When I was your age, it was a Jeep,” Jonah said. “Manual transmission. You know, switching gears and all. It takes more skill than driving a car that’s automatic.”

  “You need to switch gears on the bikes, too,” Gabe said as tension drained from his shoulders. “And when you want to go, you gun the throttle. Have you ever ridden a dirt bike?”

  “Just a regular bike with pedals. So how did you get your hands on these motorbikes?”

  “An Englisher guy owns them. Ben met him first, and now the three of us go riding together. Blake doesn’t mind us using the bikes, as long as we help pay for the gasoline.” Mercury was free from the harness now, and Gabe led him away from the buggy, rubbing his coat briskly, smoothing down the hair on his back. “Don’t tell Adam. He won’t understand.”

  “Adam probably doesn’t want to know,” Jonah said. “It’s your rumspringa, and as head of the family he would probably look the other way … within limits. We’re all still missing Sadie, and no one wants to lose you, too, Gabe.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Gabe leaned into his horse, grateful that he didn’t have to face Jonah in this conversation. He didn’t want to be penned in by the rules, and he didn’t need his older brothers pushing him toward the church. “So tell me. When did you learn to drive this Jeep?”

  “When I was seventeen I used to go off with Zed Miller. It was my rumspringa. Zed was already in his twenties, but he hadn’t joined the church on account of his Jeep. It’s the one that sits along the road, for sale now—the one that got his father, Ira, into so much trouble.”

  Gabe smiled, imagining quiet, straight-arrow Jonah roaring along in a Jeep. “That’s what happens when you’re the Quiet One. No one notices when you’re sneaking around.”

  “That’s right. No one in the family noticed, unless Mamm and Dat figured it out. But they never said anything—none of the parents did. There were a bunch of us—five or six Amish boys who learned to drive in Zed Miller’s Jeep.”

  “And was it like jumping through a window into a different world?” Gabe asked. “Because that’s how I feel on a motorbike.”

  “I remember liking the power of the machine,” Jonah said. “That rumble when I started the engine. And the way it leaped forward when you hit the gas pedal. That part got the blood going. But the battery was always dying, and the gasoline was expensive then, too. Come the winter months, most of us just gave it up.”

  “But a Jeep would have been good in the snow. I’ve heard that it can climb over a mound of snow—better winter transportation than the horses.”

  “Mmm. Our horses are probably more reliable, but that Jeep can cross a river. Which we did more than one time. Once, the water came up over the wheels and started seeping inside.” Jonah chuckled. “Zed was a wild man with that Jeep.”

  “That’s what I like about the motorbikes. The power.” No longer feeling defensive, Gabe told Jonah about the dirt bikes, the track Blake built, and the fun of it all. “Once you get going, you feel like you’re flying over the land. You should come along sometime.”

  Jonah grunted. “No, not me. I’m a baptized member of the church. You won’t find me breaking that rule again.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Not for all the bother and trouble. Besides, I grew out of it. That kind of excitement doesn’t seem real to me anymore. It’s sort of made-up noise and power. But not everyone gets past it. My friend Zed Miller left, you know. I hear he drives a truck now.”

  “Come on,” Gabe teased. “You must miss it from time to time.”

  “Nay. Now I like the feel of a plow or harvester under me, and the excitement of working a team of draft horses. There’s nothing quite as thrilling as real horsepower … the raw power of horses pulling across the earth. Besides, bikes break down. Horses foal. Gott sees to it that our horses make more horses. It’s one of the many ways Gott provides for us.”

  Gabe saw the truth and wisdom in what his brother was saying. “Horses get the job done, all right,” he admitted, “but I’m not ready to give up the dirt bikes. And Emma was being unfair to make me choose between her and the motorbikes.”

  Jonah gave a mock gasp. “She gave you a choice? And you chose the bikes?”

  “You drove a Jeep.”

  “But I didn’t have a fine young woman waiting for me,” Jonah said.

  “You think I made a mistake?”

  “Mmm.” Jonah tipped his hat back. “In ten years, will the dirt bikes matter to you? In ten years, will Emma matter to you? I’m thinking you might want to choose the thing that will last.”

  “But I don’t want to look back with regret for the things I gave up. And it wouldn’t do to be mad at Emma for making me give up something I love.”

  �
��A bike would be cold comfort in the night,” Jonah said. “And the Bible says there are but three things that last: faith, hope, and charity. And the greatest of these is charity.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  After a restless night, Annie got out of bed before sunrise, lit a small lantern, and decided she could sleep no more with this heavy heart. She washed, dressed, and then moved quietly down the stairs, trying not to wake Mamm, who always joked that she slept with one ear to the door.

  Down in the kitchen she lit the big kerosene lamp, then opened the pantry door. The large plastic bins of sugar and flour and brown sugar were well stocked, thanks to Mamm’s trip to the bulk-food store. She considered what recipe would be best. Being up this early, there was plenty of time for dough to rise, and while she was waiting she could start the fire in the woodstove and prepare breakfast.

  It was a good morning to punch some dough. Annie had made a very tough decision last night, and though she believed it was the Almighty’s will, she still had a few concerns to punch out. She put on a kitchen apron and turned on the spigot to get warm water for the yeast.

  Whenever worry pressed upon her, baking was one thing that eased her mind. The sweet smell of baking in the kitchen provided comfort for the saddest heart. Besides, she knew the steps of bread-making … when to knead the dough and when to let it sit. If only the rest of life could be so simple.

  She decided to bake one of Dat’s favorites, a loaf of nutty cinnamon bread. Levi had recently asked why a “nutty sinner man” had a bread named after him—a question that had prompted some good-natured chuckling in the house.

  At the heart of the recipe was cinnamon, a spice that Annie believed could improve even the grouchiest mood. There was something about the clean, sharp taste that lifted the spirit. Mixed with plenty of butter and sugar, cinnamon reminded Annie of cozy winter mornings and holiday baking.