by Amy Lillard
The girls who had been standing behind her in the line were watching him as if the two of them were part of some live show brought in for their entertainment.
“Can I talk to you?”
The words sent joy zinging through her. This . . . this was what she had wanted for so long. Yet she reined in her joy. What if he just wanted to tell her that she had toilet paper stuck to her shoe?
She looked down at her short, lace-up black boots, but she had nothing attached to either one of them.
Still, she couldn’t get overly excited until she heard what he had to say. It might very well be nothing.
Or the most important thing ever.
“Jah. Sure.” He waited for her to come closer, then he glanced at all the faces anxiously waiting to hear what he was about to say.
“Let’s find someplace private.” He motioned for her to come with him down the hallway, away from the gym and the Valentine’s Day festivities.
Sarah followed Jonah as he checked a couple of the rooms as they passed. The rooms were used for a variety of classes, including English as a second language and art.
The third door he tried gave way and he entered, turning on the light as she came in behind him.
She willed her heart to remain true and not thump completely out of her chest. She wanted this. How she had longed for another chance. She had hoped and prayed, and it seemed as if her patience was about to see her through.
“I didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” he said.
She couldn’t read one nuance of his expression. Even his maple syrup eyes were guarded and closed. “I didn’t think you’d be here either.” Did that mean that he wouldn’t have come if he had known, or was he merely saying that he was glad to see her?
“Are you doing okay?” he asked.
How did she answer that? She wished some part of his expression would give her some clue as to his thoughts, but it remained as closed as all the doors they had passed. “I suppose.”
He nodded. “That’s gut.”
“How are you?” Why were they acting like small acquaintances who hadn’t seen each other in years?
“Gut, gut.”
She searched her brain for something else to say. Should she ask about his family? What he was doing these days? April?
“I’m going to sell the house.”
Pain shot through her. He was selling the house? Her house.
No. Not her house any longer.
“You can’t sell the house.” The words escaped her before she had time to think them through.
“I can. I have to. There’s no need in me staying there if you . . .” He gave a small shrug. “I’m moving back in with my parents.”
Not I love you. I miss you. I want you to come back home. If he had said any of those, she would have returned in an instant.
But Jonah didn’t love her. He never had. They had pretended for a while that they could make it, but that time was over.
“Talk around town is you’re thinking about joining the English.”
He shrugged. “I’ve thought about it.”
How could he even consider such a thing?
“I just didn’t want you to be surprised if you drove by and saw the sign.”
Why would she drive by the house? There was nothing for her there, not even him.
“I can’t believe you, Jonah.” Tears spilled over her lashes and slid down her cheeks. He looked as if he was about to take her into his arms and comfort her, then he pulled back.
“You aren’t living there anymore. Why do I have to live there too?”
Why, indeed?
“What do you want from me, Sarah? The entire time we’ve been married I could never figure that out.”
He was selling the house. Somehow she had it in her mind that as long as he lived in their house, there was a chance for the two of them. A FOR SALE sign in the yard would mean the end of her hopes for the two of them.
“All I wanted was for you to love me.”
* * *
Jonah watched Sarah stumble from the room. He wanted to go after her, but what could he offer her? She wanted his love, and that was something he couldn’t give. He had given it all to Lorie and watched her walk away. He wouldn’t do that again. Sure, he cared for Sarah. He would even be a good husband to her, but he couldn’t give her the love that she wanted. And he didn’t think he would ever be able to.
So he remained where he was.
He wouldn’t follow her. He wouldn’t give her false hope. He cared enough about her to at least give her that much.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sarah dashed the tears from her eyes and dried her cheeks on the hem of her apron. With any luck, Libby wouldn’t notice and she could get out of there without having to answer a lot of painful questions.
She managed to paste a pained smile on her face as she approached the craft table where her cousin still sat.
“There you are. I was beginning to think you had run off with the circus.”
Sarah shook her head and pressed one hand to her stomach. “I’m not feeling gut. I think I should go home.”
Concern wrinkled Libby’s forehead. “What’s the matter? Do you need me to ride with you?”
Sarah shook her head. “No, you stay and have fun. Don’t leave on my account.”
Libby didn’t seem convinced. “If you’re sure.”
Sarah widened her fake smile. “I’m positive.”
Somehow she managed to get her coat and get out of the rec center without having to talk to anyone else. She thought she heard Buddy Miller calling her name, but she pretended she didn’t hear him and hustled across the parking lot to her waiting tractor.
In the short time she had been in the rec center, the snow had started. The flakes were falling fast, stinging her cheeks as they connected with her skin. They mixed with her tears as she wiped the snow from the tiny windshield and climbed into her tractor.
She just wanted to get home.
It took a few tries for the engine to turn over. The cold was definitely working against her, but finally the motor caught. She pulled onto the street and started for home.
It was slow going. She didn’t drive much in these types of conditions. It snowed at least a little every year in Oklahoma, but the weather was infrequent enough that most times she could avoid getting out in it. Tonight was an exception, to be sure.
The road was completely white as she chugged along. Any tracks that had been there before her were filled in as the snow fell faster and faster.
But her tractor seemed to be slowing down. It was slowing down. She pressed a little harder on the accelerator, but it only went slower. She looked at the gauges. She was out of gas.
Her father’s warning to fill up the tank rang through her mind. She hadn’t stopped for gas. She had been a little too concerned about getting Annie to her party on time and then obsessing over the fact that she was finally going out. And on Valentine’s Day.
She eased her tractor to the side of the road. She had stayed on the back roads, as was their custom. It was easier by far to travel the little roads than the highways in their slow-moving tractors and horse and buggies.
She left the lights on to help it be seen by a passerby, but who would be traveling out here at this time of night? Not many folks, that was for certain.
She couldn’t remember the last house she passed by or if it had been Amish or English. Regardless, she couldn’t stay here. But should she go forward or backward?
Forward, she decided. Just like her life, she needed to get on, face front, and head out. She grabbed the flashlight from behind the seat and slid from the cab.
She wrapped her coat a little tighter around her and pulled her scarf over her head. Oh, how she had wished she had listened to the weather report before she had headed out tonight. But one could never tell with Oklahoma weather. It could drop ten degrees in less than an hour, or six inches of snow in the same amount of time.
The snowfall ha
d softened, but there were at least five inches of snow on the ground. Little trickles of cold seeped down in her boots with each step she took. She should have brought her rubber boots, but when she had gotten ready tonight she hadn’t thought she would be trudging through a winter wonderland. The snow wasn’t supposed to arrive until early morning. It was barely past nine.
She trudged on, her light only piercing the darkness and snow a couple of feet in front of her. She knew she couldn’t be the only one caught unawares, though she figured most people would just stay put, spend the night wherever they were and worry about getting home in the morning.
Her feet were freezing and wet, her stockings growing increasingly soggy with each step. She pulled her scarf a little closer around her ears as the strong Oklahoma wind tried to pull it from her head. She couldn’t tell if the snow had picked up once again or the wind was just blowing it around. Whatever it was, it seemed to cling to every inch of her, soaking through her coat, the bottom of her dress, the gloves on her hands.
She kept her eyes on the ground trying to determine if she was actually still following the road. Using the heel of one of her boots, she scraped a patch clean. Part of it was asphalt, part was frozen dirt and grass. At least she hadn’t wandered out in the middle of the roadway.
She thought she caught a glimpse of a mailbox up ahead, but it seemed the more she walked, the farther away it was. Or maybe she was seeing things, making out shapes that weren’t really there through the flurries of snow. Her feet sloshed in her wet shoes as she blew on her gloved fingers, hoping her breath would warm her frozen digits.
Was that . . . ?
She cocked her head to one side and listened over the wind. Was that the sound of an engine? Maybe someone was coming.
She only had a few moments to decide if she was off the road enough. She stepped off the road a bit more, careful not to slip down the incline into the ditch. She waved the flashlight in the air, hoping whoever it was would be a good Samaritan and help her.
The engine grew nearer and she could tell it was a tractor. Most likely an Amish couple heading home from their Valentine’s Day celebration. Her joy over them being Amish was tainted by the fact that they were most likely in love and not wanting to give a stranger a ride.
“Sarah?”
She recognized that voice. “Buddy Miller?”
He swung down from the cab of the tractor and hustled over to her. “Jonah! Jonah!” he called over his shoulder. “It’s Sarah and she’s cold.”
“Why are you out here?” He turned his attention back to her.
She shivered as he wrapped one arm around her. “My tractor ran out of gas a ways back.”
Buddy led her toward Jonah’s tractor. “Hey, brother, you were right. That was Sarah’s tractor back there.”
She had never been so happy to see anyone in her life. Even him.
Jonah’s eyes crinkled with what looked like concern. “What are you doing out here? You’re soaked through.”
She didn’t have the energy to comment. She just climbed in beside him, thankful to be out of the weather.
She closed her eyes, then barely stirred as warmth snuggled around her.
“Shhh . . .” Jonah’s voice soothed her. Jonah’s scent surrounded her. He must have covered her with his coat.
“Danki,” she whispered, then closed her eyes and drifted off.
* * *
“She’s asleep, Jonah.” Buddy held Sarah’s hand as Jonah navigated his tractor through the piling snow.
He hoped she was only asleep. How long had she been out in the snow? She was soaked to the skin and as cold as ice, her face as pale as milk.
“Her gloves are wet,” Buddy said.
“Take them off and try to warm her hands with yours, can you do that?” He would give anything to be able to stop the tractor and see to her himself, but the most important thing was to get her someplace warm.
Buddy had learned to drive a tractor long ago, but Jonah didn’t want to give him the stress of driving in this terrible weather.
He had heard the snow might possibly turn into blizzard conditions before the night was over. He and Buddy had decided to go home while others were deciding to stay at the rec center and see how the weather was once the sun came up tomorrow. Boy, was he glad he had taken that chance. Who knew where Sarah might be if he and Buddy had stayed at the rec center.
The mere thought made his stomach churn and his heart drop. She could have been out here for hours, maybe even until morning. He didn’t even want to think about it. She would have been frozen solid.
He swallowed hard and kept his eyes on the road.
“Are we almost there?” Buddy asked. He sounded concerned, as concerned as Jonah himself felt.
“Almost.” Actually he had no idea. He couldn’t see any landmarks as the snow continued to fall with a vengeance. But he didn’t want to worry his brother any more than necessary.
He wanted to reach down and touch her face, feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He needed to make sure she was alive. She was as still as death and twice as pale. Thankfully it was cold enough that he could see little puffs each time she exhaled. Her breathing was a little shallow but steady, and that was good. Wasn’t it?
“I’m worried about her.” Buddy turned his blue eyes to Jonah as if his big brother had all the answers. But Jonah didn’t have an answer for this one.
It was slow going on the slick, snow-covered roads. After what seemed like an eternity, but could have only been half an hour, Jonah spotted their mailbox.
He almost cried with relief, but they weren’t out of trouble yet. He still had to get them down the driveway. He needed to get her inside and warm. He needed to make sure that she was going to be okay. Then and only then could he breathe a sigh of relief.
It seemed to take years to get down the driveway. “Buddy, run ahead and open the door.”
“Are you going to bring her inside?”
“Of course,” Jonah said, turning off the tractor. “Now go on.”
Buddy, bless him, ran ahead as fast as he could.
Jonah swung down from the tractor and gently scooped Sarah into his arms. She weighed next to nothing, and for that he was grateful. The snow was piling up at an alarming rate and he fairly waded through it to get to the porch.
“Jonah?” His mother stood in the doorway, her sturdy form outlined by the lights inside the house. “What on earth is going on?”
He stomped as much snow as he dared off his shoes and legs, then continued into the house.
“Buddy, build up the fire, okay?”
“Jah.” Buddy gave a big nod, then started piling logs on the dwindling fire.
Jonah carried Sarah in and laid her on the couch. He needed to get her out of her wet coat and dress or she would never warm up.
“Mamm, get me one of Hannah’s old dresses and some blankets. Buddy, can you get me a couple of towels?”
“Jah.” Buddy hustled from the room as if the devil was on his heels.
“What are you going to do?”
“She’s soaked to the skin. I need to get her out of her wet clothes and into something dry and warm.”
“You can’t change her clothes.” His mother gasped in surprise.
“Mamm, she’s my wife. Who else should change her clothes?”
It seemed as if she had forgotten that small detail. She hesitated for a minute more, then left the room.
He had no sooner gotten Sarah’s coat off than Buddy rushed back in. “Here.” He thrust two towels at Jonah, then stood back as if waiting further instructions.
“Buddy, Mamm’s gone to get Sarah some dry clothes, but I can’t change her out of her wet ones with you standing there. You understand?”
Buddy shook himself out of his deep stare. “You want me to go upstairs?”
Jonah wanted to smile, but his heart wouldn’t let him. “That would be great.”
“Are you staying here tonight?”
Jon
ah didn’t think any of them were going anywhere anytime soon. “Jah.”
“Gut.” Buddy beamed his most brilliant smile. “I’m glad.” Then his expression fell. “I mean, I’m not glad Sarah is hurt, but I’m glad you’re staying here. I mean . . .”
“It’s okay, Buddy. I understand.”
His brother wilted with relief.
“But I need you to do one thing for me, okay?”
“Jah. Anything,”
“I need you to run to the barn and call Sarah’s parents. Tell them that Sarah’s tractor ran out of gas, but she is fine and staying here for the night. Can you remember all of that?”
Buddy nodded. “But is she? Going to be okay, that is.”
Jonah looked down at his wife’s milky pale face. “I’m going to make sure of it.”
Buddy hadn’t pulled off his coat and he hustled back out the door. Jonah vowed to give him fifteen minutes, then he was going after him. This snow was unlike anything he had ever seen.
Gently he removed the scarf from around Sarah’s head and the pins that held her prayer kapp in place. The linen-type material was soaked through and had lost much of its starch. She would probably have to buy a new one. One by one, he took the pins from her hair, releasing the curly brown tresses and drying them with one of the towels Buddy had brought.
“I found this.” His mother thrust a pale aqua-colored dress toward him. He could see it had a stain right on the front, as if his sister Hannah had been eating something and spilled it down herself. But it was dry, and that was all that mattered. As he held it up, he could tell that even with her weight loss, the dress would never fit Sarah.
“It’s too small,” he said, his disappointment clear. Not that it mattered. He would dress her in his clothes if need be.
“I was worried about that, so I brought this as well.”
It was one of his mother’s nightgowns, a soft white garment with a row of tiny pink flowers stitched across the yoke. He had seen it before hanging on the clothesline to dry, but he had never really thought about the garment or the whimsical little flowers that were so unlike his no-nonsense mamm.
