by Beth Wiseman
He smiled. “Do you sing or play any instruments?”
“Ya, I love to sing. When I was younger, I attended many Sunday singings. We sing in church, too, but only in High German.” She sighed. “We are not allowed to own any instruments, though.”
The car seemed to slow down. “What? Really? But why?”
“Owning an instrument would bring forth heightened emotions. It’s not necessary to our way of life.” She hoped that would end the conversation so she could enjoy the music.
“I don’t understand. Singing brings forth emotion too. How can you be allowed to sing but not own an instrument?”
It was a valid point and one she didn’t really know how to answer. She’d asked herself the same thing ever since she had first been introduced to instruments during her running-around period. Truth be known, most of the community couldn’t remember why instruments weren’t allowed. Like much of the Ordnung, rules to live by had been handed down from generation to generation, some with little explanation, but followed just the same. She took what she thought would be an easy way out. “We live by the Ordnung, which is our order of conduct, and owning instruments is not allowed.”
A brief silence followed.
She felt Kade’s eyes on her. “I still don’t get it.” When she didn’t respond, he went on. “This arrangement of Shostakovich’s is amazing. He is one of my favorite composers.” Kade moved his thumb on the steering wheel, and the music grew louder. “Too loud?”
Sadie shook her head. She could feel the vibration from the sounds pulsating against her chest, growing bolder and more intense.
“Well, if anyone is going to bring forth emotion—it’s Shostakovich.”
Sadie couldn’t agree more. She wished he’d be quiet so she could listen.
“Shostakovich ranks right up there, in my opinion, with some of the greatest composers—Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, and Mozart.”
Sadie had no clue who he was talking about. But the passion in his voice made her want to hear more. “I think this music is very . . . sweet.” She paused, tilted her head to one side. “But sad.”
“You have a good ear.” He turned to face her, and in the dark she could make out a smile. “Dmitri Shostakovich is known for his ability to invoke extreme emotions, often beautifully sad and sweet at the same time.”
“Do you write musical notes or play an instrument?”
“No. I wish. I just enjoy listening to music, all kinds of music.” He paused. “Besides, composers are strange people.” He chuckled and spoke with an ease Sadie hadn’t heard before. “Alexander Robert Schumann lived in the 1800s. He attempted suicide by throwing himself into a river. He was committed to a mental asylum and died not too long afterwards. People speculate that Tchaikovsky committed suicide too.”
He seemed to be waiting for a response. How does one respond to this? “I expect it’s gut that you are not one of these strange people, no?”
For the second time, he laughed. “Oh, I never said I wasn’t strange. But I’d like to think I wouldn’t kill myself.” He shrugged. “Guess it depends on what day it is.”
Surely he wasn’t serious. “Taking your own life is a sin.”
“That’s what I hear.”
They pulled into the driveway. And not soon enough.
Kade prepared a cup of hot tea, shuffled in his socks to the front window of the cottage, and gazed across the snow-covered space that separated the cottage from the main house. For the first time in weeks, he wouldn’t mind some company. But the farmhouse was dark. He supposed Sadie wouldn’t join him for a cup of late-night tea anyway. As a matter of fact, she’d probably be appalled by the idea.
He couldn’t fathom what her life must be like. It looked like all work and no play to him, and without the modern conveniences. But the woman sure enjoyed music. There was a time when a great melody would quiet Kade’s loneliness, take him away from all that plagued him, even invoke a sense of spiritual well-being. But not anymore. He still enjoyed a good tune, but any sense of spiritual calm eluded him. God had dealt him a rough blow three years ago. And his life continued to be a mess.
After Monica left, Kade had struggled to move forward without her in his life. Three years of marriage, and she’d split. No divorce. Only separation. Divorce wasn’t a concept he’d ever been comfortable with. If two people vowed to love each other forever, then that’s what it should be—forever. He’d loved Monica. Despite their problems, Kade would have never considered leaving, especially after the baby came. But three years had passed, and he’d lost hope that they would ever go back to being a family.
Monica, who was ten years Kade’s junior, hadn’t wanted children. Tyler was a surprise in so many ways. And Kade knew the only reason his wife fought so hard for custody of Tyler was for the money. When Kade thought a relationship might develop with Alicia, he’d called his attorney to draw up divorce papers, knowing that he should be legally divorced before he started dating anyone. But Alicia carted her gifts away before anything serious evolved. He halted the divorce proceedings. He didn’t have the energy right now to follow through. There were no other prospects on the horizon, and divorce represented failure in his eyes.
Why hunt him down all the way in Lancaster County?
During the separation, she’d played as mean as any person Kade had ever known. He still loved Monica in his own way, but over time she’d stripped him of the love he once felt for her. During their phone calls, her voice was always laced with anger and resentment, despite the hefty check that she received every month. Kade could still recall her pulling out of the driveway, Tyler strapped in his car seat, only two years old. It was the only time Kade could remember crying as an adult.
He’d thought about fighting for custody, or at least joint custody. But in the end, he didn’t. He convinced himself that his choice to forgo a split arrangement was because a boy needs his mother. That thought was more comforting than the truth.
Kade knew that raising Tyler full-time, or even half of the time, was more than he could handle, and the job took a toll on Monica. Sometimes, she’d call him in the middle of the night, hysterical, complaining about what a bad hand she’d been dealt. But she was the one who left with their son, moved to North Carolina, and often refused to work with his schedule for planned visits. The first year she was gone, Kade traveled to North Carolina several times for his monthly weekend with Tyler, only to show up at an empty house. Monica later said that Kade’s refusal to take Tyler overnight didn’t provide her with any reprieve, so she didn’t feel the need to accommodate him. She was breaking the law by denying Kade access to his son, and he could have pushed the issue. But again, he didn’t.
In the rare times he did see Tyler, they spent a few hours at the park before Kade returned him to his mother. He just didn’t know what to do with the boy. Tyler was hard to entertain. He wasn’t like other kids.
Kade was eaten up with guilt that he hadn’t tried harder to spend more time with his son. But there was work. Then there was Alicia, for a while. Somehow, forcing the issue of seeing Tyler kept taking a backseat. Somehow, six months had passed since his last visit. Now Tyler was five years old, and Kade didn’t really know his own son. And the part that shredded his insides the most was that he was afraid to know him.
When Tuesday arrived, Sadie had something to look forward to. Today Milo would call, and she couldn’t wait to hear the sound of his voice. It had been a long week. She hadn’t done more than wave from afar to Kade since the night they went looking for Jonas, but today was the day she’d restock his refrigerator.
At least it wasn’t snowing, and the temperature was up into the forties. The sun was shining, and slowly things were thawing out. So far this winter, Lancaster County had gotten more snow than usual. And she just read in the paper that another storm was coming in a week or so.
Sadie pulled on her boots, but decided to forgo her heavy jacket to wear her cape and bonnet instead. It might be a bit chilly with the wind, but she�
�d been bundled in the coat for days. She welcomed a trip to the market. Just not looking forward to the challenge of finding replacement items for Kade’s groceries.
She was grateful that Kade continued to stack firewood on the porch, replenishing as needed. And Sadie continued to make fresh batches of tapioca pudding when the empty container showed up on the woodpile. But he stayed to himself, and that was fine by her.
She’d started this day the way she did every day, beginning with prayer, followed by a bowl of oatmeal. No sense making a big breakfast just for her. After she ate, she’d always do whatever cleaning was on her list for the day. Today, she dusted all the furniture downstairs. Some days it seemed a waste to keep things so tidy when she was usually the only one who ever saw the inside of the farmhouse. But she needed to keep up the practice for when she and Milo started a life together. Plus, she couldn’t let Lillian or any of the other women catch her house in a mess.
Next was tending to the few animals she had left—two horses, an old milk cow that no longer produced, and two pigs. It was enough to handle—feeding them all, brushing the horses, and cleaning the stalls. On Mondays, she fired up the gasoline motor for the wringer and washed the clothes, then hung them to dry outside. The clothes would often freeze this time of year, but when that happened, she’d cart them in and drape them across the furniture near the fireplace. There was always something to do, even if it was a simple chore like mending a dress hem. She baked daily for herself, and also for others, like Lizzie. And lately, she’d been baking for her renter as well.
Her schedule varied when it was her day to tend the shop. Lillian’s sisters-in-law, Rebecca and Mary Ellen, were taking their turn today, so it worked out that Sadie could go to market. She was getting ready to step into the buggy when she heard Kade call her name.
She turned around to see him walking toward her.
“I’m on my way to market, Mr. Saunders. I’ll be back shortly to restock your refrigerator.” She pulled her cape tighter around her and wondered if she’d made a mistake by not wearing her heavy coat.
“What happened to calling me Kade?” He didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he swooshed his hand the way he does. “Anyway—”
And that was all it took.
“Why do you do that?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
“Do what?”
“That shushing thing you do with your hand. It’s most rude.” Right away, she wished she hadn’t said anything. His face drew a blank. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No. It’s okay. I’ve heard that before, and it’s a terrible habit.”
He held his hands up as if Sadie had a gun pointed in his direction. “I won’t do it again. I promise.”
“Is there something you need?”
“Yes. A ride.”
“What?” Impossible. What was he thinking? She couldn’t be seen driving the Englischer to town. Besides, he had a car. “I’m sorry. I don’t have time today. I have many errands to run. You understand, no?”
He walked around to the other side of the buggy and opened the door. “I must have run over something the other night. I’ve got two flat tires and only one spare. So, I’m grounded here with no wheels unless you can take me to get a couple of tires. I won’t slow you down on your errands.”
Rebecca and Mary Ellen would see them leaving, and no telling who might see them at the market. No, no. But she was at a loss as to what to say.
Kade sat down on the double seat beside her and closed the door.
She turned to face him. “Mr. Saunders—I mean, Kade—you can’t come with me.”
“Why?”
“Well, because . . .” She heard her last word squeak out in frustration. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.” She held her chin high.
“What exactly would be inappropriate about it?” He shifted sideways in the seat and faced her. His leg brushed against her knee. She jumped and scooted away from him.
“Ohhh,” he said as he drew out the word. “I think I see.” He rubbed his chin and kept his eyes fixed on her. It was most uncomfortable, and she could feel a blush rising from her neck.
“It would be improper for you to be seen with me,” he continued, more as a question than a statement.
“Ya.” She drew her eyes from his and looked down.
“So, let me get this straight.” He paused, but held his position next to her. “It’s okay for us to ride together in a car when you need something. But now that I need something, it’s not all right to be seen together?”
There was humor in his tone, but Sadie found her circumstances anything but amusing. This was serious. And he had a point. How was she supposed to argue? She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“Never mind.” He opened the door and stepped down. “I’ll call someone to come out here and take care of it.” He shook his head.
“Danki, Kade.” She tried to sound chipper and waited for him to respond.
But he just stood there, staring at her. She wanted to look away, but his eyes seemed to lock with hers.
“Well, okay, then,” he finally said.
Kade closed the door and turned away without looking back. He began walking toward the cottage.
Sadie felt badly about his predicament, but it didn’t outweigh the relief she felt at not having to spend the morning with him or risk being seen. What if Bishop Ebersol or one of the elders saw them together? Sadie knew she was already pushing the limits by housing a single man in the cottage. It had only been allowed because those in charge knew it was difficult to lease the cottage this time of year and that Sadie needed the income. Carting him around town would be looked down upon.
She motioned the horse into action with a gentle flick of the reins
Monica was about two hours from Lancaster County. After three days of driving, potty stops, food breaks, and unfamiliar hotels, she was exhausted. It would have been a ten-hour drive if she had been traveling alone, but with Tyler, that was impossible. Her restless five-year-old was only good for about two hours in the car, and even that was a struggle. She was hoping they could make it to the place she knew Kade was staying without another delay.
In her wildest dreams, she couldn’t imagine what would bring Kade all the way to the heart of Amish Dutch country in the winter. Kade hated the cold.
She glanced over her shoulder at Tyler, who had dozed off, and noticed how much he looked like his father.
Monica knew she’d made a mistake by not agreeing to joint custody of Tyler. Turns out, it had backfired on her. She never realized how much work it would be raising Tyler, and it had gotten harder and harder each year. How nice it would have been for Kade to actually keep Tyler for days or weeks at a time in Los Angeles. Instead, Kade barely saw his son and wouldn’t even keep him overnight when he did visit. Now, Kade had managed to go six months without seeing him.
But if she hadn’t fought hard to keep Tyler, the money wouldn’t have been enough to sustain her way of life—a life that Kade had introduced her to. Until now. Her new fiancé had enough money for both of them, and it was Kade’s turn to be a parent. She was tired and deserved this opportunity. Her fiancé was kind, handsome, wealthy, and all the things she had thought Kade was when she married him.
Leaving Tyler with Kade would be a high price to pay for her happiness. She loved her son. But she was only twenty-seven years old. She had her whole life to live, and she planned to follow her own dreams—dreams Kade never encouraged. Plus, there would be theater, shopping, nights on the town—all the things she’d missed since Tyler was born.
Monica needed this time to pursue her interest in interior design. Kade had wanted her to stay at home and take care of Tyler, forgoing her own dreams while he pursued his. Well, now it was her turn. Her opportunity. And she was going to take it.
It would be hard on Tyler to leave his school, but Kade would be able to enroll him in another school. Probably even a better school. And Kade would be able to pr
ovide Tyler with opportunities Monica couldn’t, even with the money Kade gave her.
She twisted her head over her shoulder again. “I love you, Tyler,” she whispered, suddenly wondering if she could go through with it
Kade paid the guy for replacing his tires and huffed out a “Thanks.”
The man did a good job and was careful with Kade’s car. It wasn’t him causing Kade’s exasperation. Kade was frustrated with the backward ways of the Amish, one redhead in particular. Not that he’d been looking forward to changing his tires in the snow—which would have probably taken him three times as long as the tire guy—he was mostly hoping for a little company following his few days of solitude. He thought the ride in the country might do him good. Wait till next time she needs a ride.
Who was he kidding? Kade knew he’d help the Amish woman with anything she needed. There was something about her that portrayed both vulnerability and strength. And he wasn’t sure which characteristic was more prominent. He smiled, remembering the way she shoved him after she hit her head, deciding strength prevailed. Strange folks, the Amish. You’d have thought Kade was making a pass at her the way she acted.
Kade decided to take advantage of the somewhat warmer weather. Not that much warmer, but bearable. He zipped up his jacket and took a seat in one of the rockers on the front porch. Later, he would venture out to keep from getting cabin fever. He knew the towns of Bird-in-Hand and Intercourse were nearby. Maybe he’d do a little sightseeing.
Perhaps Val had been right about coming here. The place had a peacefulness about it that he certainly didn’t have in L.A. or any of his other frequented retreats. Almost spiritual.
But Kade resisted the idea. He’d stopped reaching out to God three years ago. He had prayed that all the doctors were wrong about his son, but they weren’t. Then Monica had left with Tyler, and Kade slowly shut himself off from communication with God. His parents had raised him in a nondenominational Christian church, and for most of his growing-up years, the Lord was an important part of Kade’s life. But it was hard to trust this God he didn’t know anymore, or understand.
