The Patch of Heaven Collection

by Kelly Long

  “I’m glad,” Seth said. “I’m really glad. Do you think she will eventually move out on her own to the daudi haus?”

  Jacob shrugged. “When the kinner start to come, maybe.”

  Seth laughed. “And they’re coming! So tell me the answer to the eternal question—do you want a boy or a girl? And no fair citing ‘just healthy’ either.”

  Jacob ducked his head. “Truth be told—and don’t repeat it—I’d like a little girl, with Lilly’s brown hair and blue eyes. I want to see the Lilly I missed when we were in school together.”

  “Yeah, you noticed nothing but Sarah then.”

  “Right. But I was wrong, and God turned it around. God can turn this around for you too. You’ve got to have faith, Seth.”

  He nodded slowly. “Well, that’s the trick, isn’t it?”

  CHAPTER 31

  Violet sat idly on the front steps of the house, warm kerosene light burning gently in the windows behind her. She felt particularly dreamy that evening, turning over in her mind the brief encounters she’d had with Luke King. The Englisch spoke of “love at first sight,” and she wondered if it was true for some people. The problem was getting Luke to believe it.

  She looked up in surprise as a rapidly moving horse and buggy swung into the circle in front of the house. Then she recognized Luke, and her heart began to pound. A materialization of her dreams, maybe even a confirmation from der Herr about her feelings.

  She smoothed her apron, then rose to greet him. His hair was slicked down, and he wore a clean white shirt. He slipped his hat off in deference to her.

  “Hello, Mr. King,” she said. “Is there something that you need?”

  She watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed for a minute. “Look, Violet, I came . . . I came to tell you to let me be. I’m not the marrying kind. I do what I want to do in life.”

  “Like saving baby caterpillars?” She took a step toward him and he backed off. “Why don’t we go for a ride? It’s such a beautiful night.”

  His jaw muscle twitched. “Did you hear what I said?”

  She turned back to the house. “Alice!” she called through the screen door. “I’m going for a buggy ride with Luke King.”

  Alice appeared briefly in the doorway. “Fine with me. Have fun.”

  Violet scampered up into the buggy and looked down at Luke with innocent eyes. “I think we can discuss your concerns better if you’re driving.”

  He muttered darkly under his breath, slapped his hat against his thigh, then mounted the seat beside her.

  “You,” he said, “are not . . . are not . . .”

  “I know,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  After Violet left, Alice tried to concentrate on learning the benefits of a particular Pink Lady night cream, but the familiar fear ate at her again. She hated being alone, even though the dog was with her. She tried to cling to her faith, remembering that God had promised to protect her. But she still felt her heart pound and closed the brochure to pace the kitchen.

  Then Pretty began to seem antsy.

  “Oh great,” Alice moaned. “You need to go out, right?”

  The pup seemed to nod her assent and whirled around, pounding her tail on the hardwood floor.

  Alice sighed and picked up the kerosene lamp from the kitchen table. “All right. Lord, protect an old woman from her silly fears.”

  She went to the door and had barely pushed open the screen when Pretty dashed through and ran out like a streak into the night. This was no bathroom call; the dog was growling and barking in the distance.

  “Oh boy,” Alice muttered, stepping off the porch. “Probably she’s seen a cat. Pretty! Here, Pretty!”

  She called in vain for a while and then stood in indecision, her gaze drifting to the backdrop of stars against the frame of the mountains. Bud used to say, “A person can’t know God as Redeemer if they don’t first know Him as Creator.” And who was it that made the mountains and flung the stars into space? The same God who loved and looked out for her.

  Just as she was uttering a prayer of thanks, Pretty rushed to her out of the dark.

  “At last!” Alice exclaimed. She shooed the dog up the steps. “I hope you didn’t bother a cat, you silly dog.”

  Then she closed the door on the night with a sigh of relief.

  Have you ever kissed a girl?” Violet framed the question in the same carefree tone she might use if she were asking about the weather. His long hands tightened on the reins.

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Surely it is.” She laid her hand on his arm and felt the heavy muscles tense beneath her fingertips.

  “I don’t even know what I’m doing with you.”

  “We’re building our future, of course,” Violet replied. “Ach, look! A shooting star. Quick! Make a wish.”

  She felt him shift beside her. “I wish I understood women.”

  She patted his arm and stifled a laugh. “Now, that wish, Mr. King, is not about to come true.”

  Abel sat on the floor quietly coloring while Grace and Lilly sat at the table drinking tea. Grace had spent time with Lilly before, but for some reason, she now felt uncomfortable. Lilly must have sensed it because she reached across the table and caught Grace’s hand.

  “Is there anything wrong, Grace?”

  “What has Jacob told you about . . . about us?” Grace asked, unconsciously fingering a spot on her neck where a bee sting still left a red welt.

  Lilly pulled her hand away and stirred her tea. “He told me about the bees, and—well, he told me Seth was pretty upset yesterday for some reason. He wouldn’t go into detail. Those two are very private and are best friends. They share so much together.”

  “Yes,” Grace said. “I suppose I should become the one who is sharing with Seth, at least a little—it’s not an easy process, though.”

  “I know firsthand that you cannot become best friends overnight when you marry someone you barely know. I had spent a lifetime fantasizing about Jacob, but I didn’t really know him, or how deep his heart was, or how much fun he was, or how considerate.”

  “You really are in love, aren’t you?”

  “Jah.” Lilly’s blue eyes grew bright. “And what about you, Grace?” The question hung in the air between the two women, and when Grace did not reply, she heard Lilly draw a deep breath. “Will you tell me please about your first husband? What was he like—Abel’s father?”

  Grace bowed her head. “I wish I could explain it. I wish I could say anything good, in fact. I guess the best thing I can say is that he was Abel’s father and, without him, I wouldn’t have my son. But as for being in love, I don’t even know what that means. I don’t even know what it feels like.”

  “Give Seth a chance,” Lilly said. “Ever since he laid eyes on you, his artist’s eyes, there has been no one else.”

  “There are other younger women about,” Grace said. “I am, after all, so much older than him.”

  Lilly laughed. “You are not. You’re beautiful, and honestly, when I first met you, I couldn’t tell how old you were. I thought maybe you were as young as nineteen, but your eyes—your eyes are wise and sad. Won’t you please share some of that sadness with me so that I can help you?”

  “You’ve helped me already, simply by talking, by accepting me,” Grace said. “But yes, someday I’ll tell you my story. I think I owe it to Seth to tell him first. I owe it to him to let him know exactly what kind of person I am.”

  Grace paused and looked up as the men came in the door. Soon they all sat together, laughing and talking, and then it was time to go home. Abel did not want to go, and he started to fuss. Grace was embarrassed, but fortunately Lilly diverted him by allowing him to take the coloring book with him and a few of the crayons.

  “Since school is out for the summer,” Lilly said in her sternest teacher voice, “you should be doing something productive with your time.”

  Abel agreed.

  On the ride home, the mountain road was inky
dark. The trees were giant shadows; the grassy roadsides filled with the fragrance of flowers. The mountains enclosed them like an embrace as they drove along.

  “Did you have a good time?” Seth asked.

  Grace nodded as she held a drowsing Abel against her side. He was near asleep in a matter of minutes.

  It was a characteristic of his autism: social situations, which to others seemed fun, could be stressful for him, and afterward he would simply shut down. Sometimes Grace wished she had that ability as well—to turn off, to shut down. Mostly she wished she could understand the inner workings of her son’s mind better; what went on inside his brain, how much he remembered of his father. She hoped it wasn’t a great deal.

  Seth reached over and covered her hand with his. She felt the strong bones, warm palm, and calm confidence of him, and she sensed an answering response from deep in her heart. Maybe tonight he might kiss her again. The thought went through her—unbidden, uncalled for, but still present.

  Yet he didn’t seem prepared to make such a move. Alice took a drowsy Abel and Pretty off to bed, and then Grace and Seth went through the act of climbing into bed in the darkness. Seth removed his shirt and lay down with his trousers still on. Grace waited until the light was doused to change into her nightgown.

  Grace slipped into bed and took a few deep breaths before she spoke. “Lilly and Jacob seem to be very much in love.”

  She heard him move beneath the sheets and then he sighed faintly. “They are, but it was a long road to get there.”

  “I’m sorry about earlier today—pressing you about the past when you’ve been so gentle with asking about my own,” she said.

  “I’m sorry for telling. I should have had the sense to keep my mouth shut, I guess.”

  “No,” she protested quietly. “You are—were—you are what you are. I just think that I won’t ever be able to match up to those girls. All those girls.”

  He let out a little bark of a laugh and reached out to clasp her shoulder. “Grace, I can’t explain it, but I feel like I’ve been waiting for you all my life. Those girls don’t matter—any more than Silas Beiler matters.”

  She shivered at his touch, but her words were mournful. “It seems that Silas will always matter.”

  She felt his hand slip away, and soon his even breathing told her that he was deeply asleep. She slid out from beneath the light quilt in the darkness and came around the bed. With sure fingers, she felt on the dresser, found the matches, and lit a candle.

  Carrying its mellow light before her in the surrounding darkness, she slid the candleholder onto Seth’s bedside table. She smiled down at him. He was deeply asleep, his golden hair tousled against the pillow. It was like coming close to some strong, wild animal, lazing in the sun, yet having the instinctive knowledge that there was safety there too.

  She trailed one finger lightly down his cheek.

  He stirred, but he did not wake.

  He was dreaming, the deep, involved kind of dream that teases the senses and blurs the boundary between reality and imagination. He was lying in an apple orchard in spring; the fragrant white blossoms contrasted with the deep blue sky above. He lay on his back, one arm behind his head, his knees bent as he looked up into Grace’s smiling face. He had a sketch pad in his lap, balanced against his knees. He wanted her to bend closer so that he could steal a kiss and make the picture complete in his mind. But she’d gotten hold of a small brush and was touching his face with it. He was afraid if he moved, she’d stop, so he held himself purposefully still.

  She trailed the brush down one shoulder, then traced the length of one arm and up the other, swirling the delicate bristles across his wrist and hand and then across the breadth of his chest.

  Seth sat up in the darkness and tried to slow his breathing. The faint smell of candle smoke tickled his nose, and he peered over in the bed, trying to make out the outline of Grace’s form beneath the sheets. He touched her once, a grazing brush of his knuckles along her hip, but she didn’t move.

  He flung an arm over his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

  But the dream was much too vivid, and the scent of the candle too strong.

  CHAPTER 32

  Tobias was growing used to the hard work of being a hired man. He’d managed to balance his time shrewdly with enough work to allow him time to slip off through the fields and spy on the Wyse place. After last night’s visit, he decided that the kid’s dog was a hindrance and he had to do something about her. But the thought gave him no satisfaction; he had an affection for animals and couldn’t see himself lifting a hand to an innocent creature.

  He entered the kitchen for breakfast and sat down at the table among the various-aged children. “A fair morning to you,” he said to Fraa Zook.

  Deacon Zook already had his seat and asked his wife as to the whereabouts of Kate, their eldest daughter.

  Tobias said nothing, though he might have predicted that the chit was still in bed. Seventeen-year-old Kate Zook was too intent and too aware of her own beauty. Compared to Grace, who reminded him of a dewy violet, she was an ostentatious iris.

  The girl finally arrived and gave Tobias a haughty, condescending glance. He looked down at his plate and waited until silent grace was finished before helping himself to the bacon.

  “So, Abraham, my husband tells me that you come from Ohio originally,” Esther Zook began in a conversational tone. From listening to her at mealtimes, Tobias already knew her to be a venomous gossip. It might not hurt to let slip a few tidbits about Grace—just enough for the community to begin to question her integrity.

  “Jah . . . Middle Hollow or thereabouts,” he murmured.

  “Middle Hollow?” Esther Zook straightened in her chair like a spring gobbler. “Why, our neighbor, the newly married Grace Wyse, comes from there. Did you know her? Her last name was Beiler.”

  Tobias shrugged. “I’ve heard the name Beiler. There were several Amish communities thereabout, but the one Beiler fella was said to be a rich man.” He reached for another biscuit.

  Esther leaned in over her plate. “I heard her husband met an unfortunate end.”

  He nodded. “Did hear something like that.”

  “Well, Grace Beiler was awful high-handed when she came here, sticking to herself and her son. The boy’s got some sort of mental problem. Anyway, she up and married one of our neighbor boys—someone I’d hoped that our Kate here might—”

  “Esther.” Deacon Zook raised a hand. “I want to enjoy my breakfast. Let’s speak of other things.”

  Tobias watched Esther Zook bristle and then fall silent. She might obey her husband in the moment, but she couldn’t change her nature. Once a gossip, always a gossip.

  Seth was glad when the first light of dawn stretched across the expanse of the window. He swung out of bed and was pulling on a blue shirt when his wife slowly awoke and sat up. She rubbed at her eyes like a little girl and he turned away as he tucked in his shirt.

  He needed a diversion—a safe diversion—after his fruitless night’s sleep. “Hey,” he said, turning back to her. “Why don’t we do something fun today? Let’s take Alice to town. She can see all the Amish stuff, the souvenir things, and then we can go to lunch, and you and Violet can do some shopping. You haven’t gone shopping in weeks. I know you must need things for the house.”

  She hesitated. “I don’t know, Seth. I . . . well, I haven’t yet been paid in full for the wedding quilt.”

  Seth had never spoken with Grace about finances. She had no true idea how much property the Wyse family had been blessed with, or how well off they were.

  He supposed there was no time like the present.

  Grace watched as Seth sat down on the edge of the bed and turned to her. She sensed a serious conversation coming on. “I know it’s not always something that’s comfortable to talk about, but we might as well discuss finances as long as the subject has come up.” He reached out to stroke her hand where it lay against the quilt.

  Money, in
Grace’s experience, had always produced stress. She desperately wanted to avoid an argument if possible, and she wished she’d never said anything about it. “Uh, we really don’t have to discuss it. Just tell me how much I have to spend and how you want it spent, and I’ll make it work.”

  “Grace,” he said softly. “You told me that you married Silas Beiler to save your family. Did it have something to do with money?”

  She slid her hand from his and curled up with her arms around her knees. “Jah. My family was bad off in debt. If . . . if I married Silas, he would take care of all of that and buy my mother’s medicines. It seemed I had no choice at the time.”

  “Didn’t the community step in to help?”

  “One too many times, as far as the bishop was concerned, I guess. And then—well, Silas was wealthy, but I couldn’t buy so much as a piece of fabric without his approval. So I’d really rather you handled all of this and we not talk about it,” she finished in a rush.

  “Sweetheart, we have to talk about it. First of all, the Wyse family holdings and the horse-breeding farm are extensive in their earnings and worth.” He named a sum that made her eyebrows shoot up; it was nearly triple of what she knew to be Silas’s assets.

  “I—I don’t know what to say. I certainly didn’t marry you for your money.”

  He laughed out loud and slid closer to her on the bed. “Of course you didn’t, but what I have is yours. And there’s also what Daed calls the old money—wealth dating back hundreds of years, which has more or less accrued as time has gone on.” Again he shocked her with the amount.

  “So . . . you’re rich?”

  “Jah, but so are you. And I’d be exactly as rich with not so much as a penny to my name, so long as I had you and Abel.”

  She looked into his eyes and knew what he said to be true.

  “Grace, the Lord has chosen to bless us. You need never worry about money or my approval for something that you buy. Buy anything you need for you, Abel, the house. I’ll tend to the outdoor purchases, and we can talk together about investments. How does that sound?”