by Amy Lillard
Now he just wanted to get in and take a shower, then sit down and relax. He had a new book about Oklahoma’s part in the Civil War that he couldn’t wait to start. And that secondhand couch his parents had given them was calling his name.
It wasn’t that the work was so tiring right now, but his parents were. He wasn’t sure what they wanted from him, and aside from coming right out and asking, he had no plan on figuring it out. Not that asking would do any good. He couldn’t accuse his parents of trying to manipulate his marriage, no, his entire relationship with Sarah.
He shook his head and hopped down from the tractor. His relationship with Sarah. Did they even have a relationship? He supposed they did by default, but what he would call it was another matter. They weren’t exactly friends and they certainly weren’t more. And yet in a few more months they would have a baby. They were married, bound for life, and yet . . . what he knew about her would fit in the palm of his hand.
Time. That was what his father kept saying, all things change with time. But that was a farmer’s mentality. With time, seeds became plants, and plants became more. With time the seasons changed. All things with time.
He let himself into the house and took off his hat, hanging it on the wall hook that he’d hung just inside the door.
The smell of something delicious filled the air and his stomach grumbled in response. “Sarah?” He unbuttoned his coat and hung it next to his hat.
“Jonah?” She came bustling out of the kitchen, her cheeks pink from the heat of whatever it was she had cooking.
“Something smells good.”
She smiled. Why had he never noticed how pretty her smile was? “I cooked you a roast.”
He managed to keep the pleasant look on his face. Sarah had tried to cook before at his parents’ house with less-than-satisfying results. Face it, not every Amish woman was a whiz in the kitchen. But it sure smelled good. He had been hoping it was another heat-up meal from some kind soul in the district. But tonight he would have to eat his wife’s cooking.
Time. Just what his father had said. Maybe with time Sarah would learn the ins and outs of her kitchen duties. Until then he would just keep smiling.
“Go ahead and wash your hands. It’s ready to eat as soon as we get to the table.”
He nodded and moved toward the bathroom in the hall. He had taken it over as his own, left his shaving kit and toothbrush in there while Sarah had the one off the main bedroom. He washed his hands and face, then returned to the dining area just as she set down the basket of bread and peanut butter spread. In the middle of the table sat a large glass cooking dish filled with juicy-looking meat surrounded by potatoes, carrots, and onions all in a thin brown gravy.
“This looks incredible.” He hoped she couldn’t hear the surprise in his voice, but everything she had prepared at his parents’ came out overcooked and dry. And this was not.
“Danki.” She shot him that sweet smile, then sat in the chair on his right.
Jonah slid into the seat at the head of the table and bowed his head.
He had so much to be thankful for. Not just the food in front of him, but the house, the roof over their heads, and the baby on the way. Yes, he was thankful for the baby. It might not have been planned, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want it. The baby was a new start. He hadn’t realized it until this moment. After Lorie left he had stopped, but now he couldn’t do that. He had a family to think about. He had to start living again.
Danki, Lord.
This baby had taken him away from the self-destruction he was heading toward in the English world. It saved him. Sarah had saved him.
He lifted his head and blinked back sudden tears.
Sarah lifted her head and smiled. And he was thankful that she didn’t notice the misty sheen in his eyes.
The food tasted even better than it smelled. The meat was moist, the potatoes cooked just right. He wanted to ask what had happened that had so drastically improved her cooking skills, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She had been trying so hard to be a good wife to him, even under his mamm’s critical eye.
He reached for the spoon to scoop up another helping of roast and potatoes.
“Save room for dessert,” she cautioned.
And he knew why. She had never seen him eat this much at one time. He stopped mid-serve. “What’s for dessert?” If the main meal was this good, then dessert might just be out of this world.
“Peanut butter pie.”
Jonah returned the spoon to its resting place. “That’s my favorite.”
She smiled. “I know.”
“How? I mean, who told you?”
“Buddy.”
Bless his heart. He owed him one. A big one. Especially if her peanut butter pie was as good as her roast.
“I just wanted tonight to be special for you.”
So she had made the roast like he had enjoyed at Kauffman’s and his favorite dessert. “It is special.” Because I’m with you almost fell from his lips, but he managed to keep it in. The thought surprised him. Even more so because he was beginning to suspect that it was true.
* * *
The satisfied look on Jonah’s face as he took that first bite of pie was worth a fortune as far as she was concerned. All her past mistakes were corrected. And she could finally see a true glimmer of hope for the future. She pressed her hand to her stomach. A future for them all.
“Saturday night there’s a Rook game brewing,” Jonah said in between bites of pie. “I saw Hannah today, and she wanted to know if we would come.”
They had been invited someplace? Never mind that the invitation was from Jonah’s sister. It was one step closer to being accepted as a real couple. “What did you tell her?”
“That I had to ask you.”
It was up to her? “Can we go?”
He nodded. “If you want to.”
“I want to.” Sarah was so excited she almost bounced in her seat.
“Have you given any thought to Thanksgiving?”
She shook her head. “There’s not a wedding that day, is there?”
“Not that I know of.”
Which would mean they would have to decide which family to eat the meal with. The last thing she wanted to do was spend Thanksgiving with her mother-in-law, but the evening was going so well she didn’t want to ruin it by saying as much.
“Hannah’s hosting the dinner this year.”
So if they went to her parents’ house, they would actually be taking some pressure off the newly wedded Will and Hannah. “We could have supper with my eldra and then pie and coffee at Hannah’s?” Her voice turned up on the last word, making it more of a question than a suggestion.
Jonah scraped the last bite off his plate and licked his fork. “I think that’s a great idea, Sarah.”
“You do?” She had been prepared with an argument, but he merely smiled.
“That way we can visit with both.”
“And Christmas?”
“I would like to spend more of Christmas with Buddy and Prudy. Are you okay with that?”
The young and the young at heart. “I think that sounds like a fine idea.”
“So we’ll do the opposite for Christmas. Dinner with my family and pie with yours?”
“What about Second Christmas?”
“Maybe we could spend that with your family.”
She returned his smile. “That sounds perfect.”
* * *
“Can I ask you something?” After the dishes were washed and put away, Sarah joined Jonah in the living room. He had settled down on the couch to read a new book he’d gotten earlier in the week.
He stuck one finger between the pages to hold his place. “What’s that?”
She nodded toward the wall clock just visible through the doorway to the kitchen. “It’s almost time for bed, and I . . .” She faltered a bit, losing her confidence. She wanted this so very badly. What if he refused? She knew that he had been looking forward to reading his h
istory book all week, and now she was going to make more demands on his time. “I was hoping that we could start the tradition of reading the Bible together each night.”
He tilted his head to one side as if thinking about the suggestion. “Is this something you did in your family?”
She moved closer, perching next to him on the opposite end of the sofa. “Every night. Dat would get the Bible out and pick a verse to read, then we would all sit around and talk about it and what it meant to us.” She cast him a hesitant smile. “It’s amazing how you can read a verse and it means one thing to you now, then read it in a couple of months and it takes on a whole different meaning.”
He nodded. “I like this tradition.”
She nearly wilted in relief. Establishing a family tradition would be good for their marriage. Any bond to hold them together. “Can we start tonight? I mean, I know you wanted to read your new book and—”
He marked his place with a business card from Abe Fitch’s furniture store, then set the book on the end table. “Where did you stash the Bibles?”
She got out the closest, the one she had stored in the bottom of the coffee table so it was always handy but never in danger of getting something spilled on it. “Will you read?” She meant for her words to come out strong and sure, but instead they were barely more than a whisper.
His expression was unreadable as he took the book from her.
Sarah did her best to settle back and look normal. She wanted to act as if starting a new tradition with Jonah was no big thing. But it was. Somehow their entire marriage rested on whether or not they got this right. This was their first night in the new house acting as if they were truly one and happy to be married. She had made him a fine supper and his favorite dessert. She had wanted everything to be perfect. But it all came down to this. How could they work together, how could they build a life, build traditions together that they would pass down to their children?
Sarah pressed a hand to her belly as Jonah opened the Bible.
“Does it matter where I start?”
She shook her head. “Dat always opened the book to where it wanted to open. I guess you could say he left it up to God and what He wanted us to hear.”
“All right, then.” Jonah cleared his throat and started to read. “Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.”
He stopped abruptly as if he had wanted to read more, but was unable to go on.
“Jonah?”
“I heard an English preacher talk about this verse once.”
“An English preacher where?”
He shook his head, and she wondered if she might not want to know.
“People have stopped saying ‘charity’ and have replaced it with ‘love.’” He stood. “Where’s my Bible?”
“In the bookshelf.”
Flanking the windows on the opposite side of the room, a bookcase held a variety of books, plus games and a couple of knickknacks. It was a little sparse right now, but one day soon . . .
Jonah grabbed his Bible from the shelf and thumbed through it. It fell open to a spot where a small card had been placed.
“Love is patient, love is kind,” he read. “It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”
The verses took on a whole new meaning for her. “That makes it a little easier to understand.” She forced a laugh, but it sounded a little like she was choking.
Jonah stared at the card he held in his hands. “Jah,” he said absently, not bothering to look up. It was as if his thoughts had been captured by the verses he had read.
“Where did you get that?” She nodded toward the card.
“I, uh . . . I went to an English church once. They were handing these out at the door.”
“You went to an English church?” Suddenly the verses took a backseat to the fact that Jonah had been to an English church. She had heard about all the parties he had gone to, though she was certain the tales had been embellished as they were retold. But no one had ever said anything about him attending a church.
“I, uh . . .” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to know what Lorie saw in the English world.”
“And that meant experiencing all of it.” Not just the parties, drinking, dancing, and wearing English clothes. But even church.
“Jah.”
Sarah didn’t know what to say. The verse he read had been almost enough of a coincidence to set her back a bit. But to know that he had followed Lorie and gone to church to see what she saw in the English world was almost more than she could comprehend. No wonder he looked so sad all the time. No wonder he walked around in a daze. Jonah Miller was a good Amish man. He had been baptized longer than any in their group. There was no way he could understand what drew Lorie away. There was nothing there for him. Nothing at all.
“I’m sorry,” she finally managed to say.
He frowned. “For what?”
“I’m sorry that Lorie treated you so poorly, but I’m mostly sorry that you tried to understand what took her away and weren’t able to understand. And I’m sorry. I’ve thought all along that you might have taken advantage of my feelings for you. But that night . . . you were down and sad. I never meant to take advantage of you.” She moved past him and into her room. “Gut night, Jonah.”
Chapter Twelve
Jonah turned onto his side and fluffed his pillow for the third time in as many minutes. Sarah’s words kept repeating in his head, over and over. What God wanted them to hear.
Had God wanted him to hear a lesson of love?
When he had gotten the card from the ushers at the English church, he had thought it was a message that he needed to be patient and kind. He needed to keep his faith that Lorie would come back to him, and so he had kept the card. And waited.
Now he was wondering if God was trying to tell him that Lorie might be gone, yet Sarah was still waiting.
Except that night by the pond. She had told him that she had given up on him ever loving her. But those were the words that intrigued him the most. When she was constantly and completely at his beck and call, he hadn’t wanted her. But once she had removed herself from him, he had become intrigued. More than intrigued.
And look where it had landed them.
Now she was his. His wife. His life mate.
And once again the card had come to light.
Would her love for him come back? Was that what God was trying to tell him?
Love is patient, love is kind.
Sarah was both of those things.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
There was not a more humble soul than Sarah Yoder.
It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
He had never heard her say an unkind word about anyone. Not even his mother when she was nitpicking Sarah’s every move.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
Sarah was pure of heart, of that he was certain.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
That was his job, to protect her and the baby. Keep them safe. Care for them. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe love would come to them, but only because Sarah was the most loving person he had ever met.
Jonah flipped onto his other side. Sarah was all these things and more. She had loved him once. Perhaps it wouldn’t be impossible to make her love him again. And he fell asleep thinking of all the ways he could make his wife fall in love with him once more.
&nb
sp; * * *
Jonah examined the wood and counted out the lumber. The only bad part about buying an English house was that there was no barn. Since they had to drive a horse and a buggy on Sundays, a barn was an Amish necessity.
His father and brothers had promised to come over after the holiday and help him put one up. Nothing fancy. Two stalls and a roof. That was all they needed for now. Maybe later, after they had more children, they would need room for more horses and buggies.
“I think we should put a metal roof on it.” His father came up, slapping his work gloves against his thigh. “You won’t have to replace it for thirty years or more.”
It would be more expensive, but worth it for the future.
“I mean, you are planning on staying there for a while, right?”
Jonah frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His dat shrugged. “Your mother seems to believe that you might be unhappy.”
“Unhappy?” He was the furthest from unhappy that he had been in a long time. He might even go out on a limb and say that he could very well be happy. Honestly happy. How long had it been since he could say that? Longer than he cared to remember. But actually admitting that . . . well, that was more than he could think about right now. “We’re taking it one day at a time.”
His father nodded. “Sometimes that’s all you can do. Then one day you wake up and you’re in love.”
Was that how it would happen? One day he would wake up and the pain of losing Lorie would be gone, replaced by a new fledgling love for Sarah?
He could deal with that. Welcomed it, even. “Are you ready to go?” he asked his father.
Dat nodded. “As soon as you decide what kind of roof you want.”
“Metal sounds fine.” Metal that would last a good long while. Long enough that it would still be there when he woke up and found himself in love.
* * *
Love. The word knocked around his head all afternoon as they loaded up the trailer, picked out nails and a new hammer, and drove everything back to the new house.
The house had a separate garage with plenty of room for their tractor, their buggy, and all the materials they had bought that afternoon. Jonah and his father stacked all the lumber inside.
