A Love Undone

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “Why?”

  “I wanted to say hello in person.”

  “That was a lot to do just to say hello.”

  “That’s a figure of speech. We’ve already said far more than that today, and I knew we would.” She moved in closer. “I needed you to look in my eyes and see that I know what you did for me, Ray.”

  He didn’t know what to say, but memories of that night came rushing back in. Darkness had surrounded them as they walked for miles and then sat on a curb. He continued to listen while she talked of the unbearable pain inside her. Then she took off running as if she could outrun the memories. When he tried to follow her, he tripped on his shoelaces and fell on his face. He jumped up, but after that, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t catch up to her. One after another, street signs reflected car lights. Then tires squealed. Her body thudded against the shell of a car. She crumpled. And silence—utter, ugly silence—followed. He knelt, wanting to scream at God for how unfair life was. Instead, he bent and breathed life back into her as the driver phoned for an ambulance. No one Amish came to the scene, so no one recognized him. When the ambulance arrived, he gave the police the information to reach Teena’s parents, and then he disappeared into the crowd and slid back into being nobody again.

  Too confused to explain to Jolene what had taken place and too afraid of getting Teena in trouble, he’d never said a word to anyone about what had happened.

  Who would believe he was capable of doing something so right it was almost heroic? At least to Teena.

  She opened the small juice bottle. “I went from one hospital to another, spending months of time as I went through rehab. When I finally got out, I wasn’t in a place to contact you, not until now.”

  She went outside, and he watched as she took the drink to Mrs. Coldwell.

  Josiah came into the room and eased the dolly to an upright position. “She seems nice.”

  Nice wasn’t the right word. She was real. She’d once told him she was lost inside herself—the kind of thing that happens when a girl loses her twin.

  Had she found herself? If so, how?

  9

  Jolene slid two more boxes of baked goods onto the shelf in the pastry buggy. Naomi had arrived about fifteen minutes ago, driving the rig Jolene used to deliver pastries to the bakeshop. It was designed to keep the items from breaking or being exposed to dirt, insects, and flying horsehair. But the stationary cases were shelved to carry pastry boxes, and that had made it impossible to use this rig to carry all the items and ingredients she’d needed to bring here before dawn.

  Why was she trying this hard to help a man who clearly didn’t want her here?

  Lester’s voice rumbled from the porch swing, where he sat talking with Hope and Tobias, and Jolene remembered why. She would do anything Lester needed. He’d been too good to her over the years, making it possible for her to stay in her home and giving her a room for painting. Oh, how she’d love to climb those steps and paint right now. Her skin still prickled with heat as she remembered Andy’s abrupt departure from the kitchen more than an hour ago. He hadn’t said a word after she told him that he needed help and she was all he had.

  A longing to prove to him that she could be the help he needed had latched on to her heart as surely as the desire to paint. She wasn’t backing down, and he could just deal with it.

  Naomi swooshed open the screen door as she hurried from Lester’s house, carrying more boxes of pastries. “Sorry I got here so late.”

  “It’s not a problem.” She and her sisters were doing all they could, and she refused to feel overly responsible for things that weren’t in her power to fix. “Just let them know at the bakery that unless they send a driver for the pastries, they can expect to have them midmorning for the next week or two.” If she had to hire a driver, she would pay more than she made baking for the shop. The owners had cars, so they would need to step up and get the pastries to the store or accept that they would arrive late.

  That wasn’t a very gracious attitude. She hadn’t told them of the situation with Lester, and she should’ve done that yesterday. Truth was, at the moment she was simply in a foul mood.

  Why did Andy have to scrub off all her hints of feeling smitten before she got a chance to enjoy the notion for a few days? He seemed completely determined to frustrate her. Couldn’t he allow her to revive her waning hope that there might be a man out there somewhere she could fall for … eventually? It wasn’t as if she was in a hurry, although she couldn’t deny that the idea of finding love while she was still young enough to have at least one child did weigh on her. It wasn’t a heavy weight. Actually, it’d only been a notion a couple of years ago, just a little thought that passed through her mind here and there. She imagined the once-flighty thought would come home to roost about the time she turned thirty-six or thirty-seven.

  “Hey, Jo?” Naomi parked her feet on the gravel drive mere inches from Jolene’s. “If it’s okay that I’m running late, what’s got you so agitated?”

  Jolene glanced at the porch swing, noting how well Hope, Tobias, and Lester were getting along. Hope’s mothering nature seemed in full force where Tobias was concerned. Jolene looped her arm through Naomi’s, and they walked a few feet away from the others. Jolene was rarely sure where the line should be drawn between sister as parent and sister as friend. As a parent of sorts, she held back much of who she was from her siblings. Despite being only seven years younger, Naomi wasn’t even a teen when their parents passed, and Jolene had needed to parent her through those difficult years. That mission had left little room for Jolene to share any secrets, but it seemed that today Naomi could read her too well and too easily. “I’m a little annoyed with Lester’s houseguest.” She patted Naomi’s arm. “I imagine he’s feeling the same toward me. But if nothing else, this will be an interesting summer.”

  Naomi squared her shoulders, ready to argue with Andy on Jolene’s behalf. “What did he do?”

  Jolene sighed. “Nothing, really. But I’m not caving, and I’m pretty sure we aren’t going to make a very good team.”

  “Some men,” Naomi huffed. But then her countenance changed, and joy reflected on her face. “Well, at least others of them totally make up for it.”

  Jolene’s eyes met Naomi’s, and they shared a silent moment as Jolene searched for and found assurance that Naomi’s husband was every bit as good to her in the privacy of their home as he appeared to be when in public, and Jolene’s frustrations melted.

  God had given Jolene the privilege of helping raise her siblings, and He’d given the married ones excellent spouses. All her siblings were quite healthy and had jobs. Added to that, Jolene had more love in her heart for them than there were hours in a day to share it. Did she really want to mourn what she might never have when she’d already been given far, far more than she deserved?

  “I’m afraid I’m just irritable.” Jolene released her sister’s arm, and they returned to the rig. “I can feel it in my emotions and hear it in my thoughts. When I finally got home last night, I should’ve gone to sleep rather than stay up reading.” However, she had something to prove to Andy … if she could prove it.

  “You gave up sleep to read?” Naomi raised her voice as she went to the front of the rig. “That just can’t be true!”

  Jolene chuckled. Maybe something she’d read would be useful today. She secured the latches on the stationary wooden container that held the pastry racks. “You are now ready to go.”

  Instead of climbing into the rig, Naomi returned to the back of it with Jolene. She held out a small pair of muck boots. “They’re just hand-me-downs, and they’re for boys, but they’ll fit, and they have steel toes in case a horse stomps on your foot.”

  Where had her sister gotten these, and how much trouble had it been to get hold of them? She wouldn’t ask. It would be like asking how much money someone spent on a gift. “Denki. They’ll keep my feet dry and warm as we spend days washing horses.”

  “I’ll be back in a c
ouple of hours.”

  “Be sure to ask if they can pick up the pastries here for the rest of this week and maybe next week too. Surely we can find someone to work beside Andy by then.”

  “I will, and I’ll ask around town if any teens want a summer job. Bye.”

  Naomi was too optimistic if she thought she could find an Amish boy sixteen or seventeen years old who didn’t already have a job. It wasn’t as if they had just gotten out of school for the summer. They had graduated a couple of years ago, and they had full-time jobs.

  Anyone younger than that wouldn’t be helpful in this situation, because Andy was correct about the dangers. Jolene had to concede that. As Naomi drove the rig onto the road, Jolene scurried up the porch stairs. She changed into the clothes that had shared an aromatic evening with a smelly horse. Ugh. Her dress and apron smelled more of hay and leather than of sweat from a horse. Would a wild horse appreciate a human that smelled like harnesses and saddles? Or like hay for that matter? It wasn’t as if they could eat the clothes … she hoped.

  Taking her horse-training book with her, she walked out on the porch and gave Hope and Tobias a dozen instructions and then hurried toward the corral. Andy had maneuvered three horses into three small round pens, and he seemed to be in the process of separating one more horse from the herd, probably to get it into the fourth and last small pen.

  Andy glanced at her as if an insect had caught his attention for a moment. He then returned to his task as if she didn’t exist.

  Great. So maybe it wasn’t going to be an interesting summer after all. She stayed back from the fences, watching. Her goal was to help, and since he’d realized she was here, it was up to him to say what he wanted her to do.

  In Lester’s younger days he trained horses, but after he broke his hip, he sold all but a few horses and never bought any more. Until right now she’d never given much thought to how well his place was set up for dealing with horses.

  About a year after her folks died, he’d made a reluctant but generous offer to let the Keims live with him, but she’d declined. He’d been too unsure of his offer, and that alone was reason enough to turn him down. But also, by that point she was certain that she wanted to surround her siblings with as much of her folks’ parenting influence as she could. Even though Lester had a good and giving nature and encouraged her at times like her own Daed had, Lester was a strong-willed man with opinions and ideals that would have prevented Jolene from creating the home she wanted for her siblings. She reached into the hidden pocket of her apron and felt the padlock key to the attic. Whatever else he was, Lester was definitely a good encourager and an excellent keeper of secrets.

  After getting a beauty of a stallion extracted from the herd and in a pen, Andy moved to the center, coiled rope in one hand, and stood his ground. The horse charged toward him, threatening to run over him.

  She felt the coarse, dark-green cover of the book in her hand. Her heart had raced with anxiety last night while simply reading about the taming of wild horses. Right now her head spun as nervousness pulsed through her. She squeezed the book, wishing she could close her eyes tight and not watch this event. But Andy might look her way, and she refused to be seen with her eyes shut.

  As the horse came at Andy, seemingly trying to get the man to yield his tiny bit of ground, Andy raised the coiled rope, keeping it looped tightly, and flung it toward the horse while he yelled several short-syllabled sounds. The horse ran the other way. Andy then put his arms by his side and waited. Was he humming?

  The steed ran at him again, and he slapped the rope against the chaps that were over his pant leg. Then he hollered and flailed the rope against the horse’s face and neck. But Andy didn’t allow his feet to budge from his spot of ground. Andy and the horse were in a battle to see which one would rule the other.

  The horse took off running to the other side of the pen, and Andy lowered his arms and waited. This time it was clear. He was humming. Her heart pounded. Would she have to enter the pen with Andy? Or worse, enter one by herself? Sweat beaded across her upper lip and trickled down her neck and chest on this cool May morning. How could he calmly stand there as a thousand-pound creature thundered toward him, wanting to knock him down and stomp him?

  After a few more deliberate runs to try to knock Andy down, the horse ran toward him again, but this time Andy didn’t raise his arms to defend himself. The horse stopped just short of knocking into him and retreated. How had Andy known the horse would stop short this time?

  She understood what he was doing because she’d read a little about this method in her book. She opened it, looking for answers, hoping it would say a woman shouldn’t take on such a task. Instead she found a page that said the size of the adult trainer made no difference. Whether a trainer weighed three hundred pounds or one hundred, he or she was no match for the power and strength of a horse. It was patience, knowledge, and agility that made the difference.

  Hmm. Was that true? Patience wasn’t an issue, and she was trying to gain knowledge as quickly as possible. But how agile was she? Her racing heart said she needed years of experience to enter a pen with a wild animal. The dance between man and horse continued for half an hour while she watched them and read more of the horse-training book. Finally its charges toward Andy weren’t as fierce, and its retreats weren’t lightning fast. His approach made sense. Apparently his first goal was to calm the horses, probably followed by getting the animals comfortable with his touch. They certainly couldn’t bathe a horse that was completely terrified of touch. But since Andy was a trainer, she’d hoped he had some magic trick to calming and bathing them that wasn’t listed in the book. His way was not magic. It was terrifying.

  He’d singled out four horses. Could she make herself get in the center of one pen and let a horse stampede toward her in order to win its trust? Unlike the horse Andy was working with, a much smaller, white filly was in one of the pens. Determined to be of help, she squeezed the old book into her hidden pocket, went to the barn to get rope and a helmet, and returned. She put the helmet on over her prayer Kapp and wiggled her bun to a lower position so she could fasten the helmet in place.

  Drawing a deep breath, she opened the gate where the filly was.

  Andy gave two short, rather-soft whistles. The filly picked up its frantic pacing. Jolene turned to see why Andy was whistling, and he shook his head at her and pointed for her to move away from the fence. Andy’s horse raised its head and stomped its hoofs, seemingly protesting Andy’s whistle. What would the horse have done had he yelled?

  Did Andy think he could treat her like a child? Ignoring him, she eased into the ring and was thankful the filly ran the other way. Jolene closed the gate, her fingers trembling against the warm metal as she secured the latch.

  10

  The blue digital numbers on Mrs. Coldwell’s stainless steel stove said it was 12:16. Teena had provided plenty of drinks along with trays of crackers, cheese, vegetables, and dip on the patio a couple of hours ago, so Ray wasn’t hungry. Not for food anyway. But as the morning hours drained into the afternoon, he longed to talk to someone his age who didn’t confuse him or make fun of him, someone who cared but wasn’t obligated to, like Jolene and Josiah were.

  Until today he had thought Teena might be mad about what he did after she was hit by the car. Thought she might resent him for breathing air into her lungs and telling the police how to reach her parents. He’d never considered she might be grateful for his help.

  He often felt stupid, but maybe he wasn’t as dumb as he felt. That was a thought he’d like to hold on to for more than a few fleeting moments.

  “Pizza.” Teena walked into the construction zone, held up five boxes, and retreated outside.

  Josiah removed his tool belt, and they went into the workers’ assigned bathroom. “I don’t know about you, but I think this is bound to be better than another sack lunch.”

  It did sound good. “We don’t eat sack lunches.”

  Josiah shrugged and washed hi
s hands.

  Ray stepped up to the sink next. “We do eat sack lunches, don’t we? We just happen to carry them in a lunch pail.”

  “Exactly.” Josiah finished drying his hands and passed the towel to Ray.

  “Josiah,”—Ray kept running the towel over his hands even though they were already dry—“do you ever want to talk to somebody at the same time you want to avoid them?”

  “Ya. In all sorts of situations. When I first met Ruth, I wanted to spend every minute with her, but I was so nervous I dreaded it as much as I looked forward to it. Then there are times when I’m angry with someone I love, and I want to clear the air, yet I don’t want to talk about it.” Josiah put his hand on Ray’s shoulder. “Trust me. If I had done as my nerves wanted, I wouldn’t have pushed through and talked to Ruth.” Josiah squeezed Ray’s shoulder. “And look how well that turned out.”

  “Ya.” Ray laughed. “Until she figures out you’re a bozo.”

  “Don’t go telling my wife my secrets.” Josiah brushed dust off his shirt. “And if I buried my anger rather than talked to the one I’m upset with, I’d begin to love others and life less.” Josiah smiled. “And, ya, I said some really stupid stuff to Ruth when I was nervous. She probably did too, but I was too nervous to notice. I don’t think humans have found a way to avoid talking nonsense when they’re anxious, but it’s worth it.”

  Ray twisted the towel, considering his words.

  Josiah tucked in his shirt a little better. Suspenders kept the pants up, but the waist was loose, and shirts regularly needed tucking again. “Are you going to keep torturing the towel, or are you going to talk to Teena?”

  Ray wasn’t sure. The towel was a known object, and he could predict exactly what it would do in various situations. People not so much. He put the towel on its peg and left the bathroom.