“Is that true?” A voice spoke close to her ear. Startled, Bethany slid the letter into her dress pocket and turned around to see Jimmy Fisher.
“What? Is what true?” she asked.
“That,” he whispered, pointing to the porch. “What your sister there said. Is it a fact? Pinching your nose makes you intelligent?”
Bethany looked at Mim sitting on the porch in the sunshine. She sat, holding her nose, reading. Beside her sat the little brothers, both holding their noses.
“My little sister knows nearly everything,” Bethany told Jimmy. “And what she doesn’t know she makes up.”
For a moment they looked at each other in silence. Then each began to laugh. When she stopped, Jimmy kept smiling. He took a step closer to her and didn’t disguise his frank examination of her face. “Where’ve you been all day? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
She lifted her chin. “I don’t know what you can be thinking, Jimmy Fisher.”
“Are you going to quit your double life soon?”
Her smile faded. “Why do you always want to talk about that?”
“Normally, I have many other thoughts running through my fine brain. But when I get around you, I can’t stop thinking about the first time I saw you working at the Stoney Ridge Bar & Grill in your fancy clothes. It’s all I’ve got left in my head to work with.”
Her mouth dropped open. It was just like Jimmy Fisher to say something she didn’t expect to hear. “Why can’t you just act like a normal fellow?”
“Normal is relative.”
“So you consider yourself normal, do you?”
“Certainly,” Jimmy said. “I never met a soul in this world as normal as me.” He leaned toward her and whispered in her ear. “Maybe if you agreed to go on a picnic with me to Blue Lake Pond some fine spring day, I’d have more to talk about.”
“I’ll have you know that I have a boyfriend. Jake Hertzler.”
Jimmy grinned. “Your imaginary boyfriend, you mean.”
By the time she got her wits about her and tried to come up with a snappy retort, Rose was clanging the dinner bell and Jimmy had disappeared through the privet to Galen’s. As she made her way into the house, she could hardly keep the grin off her face. But no, she thought as she opened the door, why should I feel happier? There’s no reason for it. It’s ridiculous. What is Jimmy Fisher to me? He comes and he goes. You already have a fine young man waiting for you, Bethany Schrock. She frowned. Someplace.
Jimmy Fisher had worked farms all his life and knew how hard the labor was, but it was different here at Galen King’s. He had never worked like this before. He quickly established the habit of arriving in time so that he could start the day with a good breakfast, cooked by Naomi. Both for his sake and for hers.
He felt a little sorry for Naomi—her brother wasn’t known for being much of a talker and all her siblings had married and moved away. Jimmy wasn’t sure what the future held for a girl as shy and delicate as Naomi King, though she was a first-rate cook. He supposed she might be able to attract another shy fellow, but who would ever start the conversation? Jimmy decided he would give the subject of Naomi’s empty love life some consideration. He liked to help people. He was just that kind of a fellow.
Jimmy Fisher put three heaping teaspoons of sugar from the bowl on the Kings’ kitchen table into the cup and stirred it and drank carefully. It was very hot and very sweet—the way he liked it. “Why did you put eggshells into the coffee?” he asked Naomi.
“It takes the bitterness away,” Naomi said. “Doesn’t it seem like the bite is gone?”
“With that much sugar in it, there wouldn’t ever be a bite.” Galen sat at the table and drank his coffee so quickly that Jimmy thought he must have a throat made of iron. He seemed to be swallowing steam. He gulped it down and bowed his head, signaling a silent prayer. Then he bolted out of his chair, nodded to Naomi, and headed down to the barn to take hay out to the horses. Jimmy swallowed the last of his sweet coffee, smiled at Naomi, and followed Galen.
The sun was just showing light in the east over a long green flat of pasture that led down to a small creek a hundred yards from the barn. Mist came up from the creek and layered the grass. The horses were making their way to the edge of the pasture. They already knew the routine—the morning hay would soon arrive.
Galen stood by the back door of the barn, one hand on the hay cart, watching the horses move through the mist as if walking on air.
“Well, look at that,” Jimmy whispered as he walked up to him. “Never seen anything so pretty before, have you?”
“You talk too much,” Galen said softly. “Just watch—you don’t have to talk.”
And so they stood and watched the horses head to their breakfast. Stood and wasted five or six minutes, and it was the first time working on Galen’s horse farm that Jimmy had ever seen such a thing. His sullen boss, just standing when there was work to be done.
Imagine that. Galen King had a romantic streak.
Sammy was a continual worry, Mim thought. This morning at breakfast he asked if he could bring a friend for supper and of course her mother said yes. Maybe two friends, Sammy asked. And her mother seemed even more pleased. She was always encouraging Sammy to make friends. She worried he was too dependent on Luke. He asked Bethany, in his sweetest voice, if she wouldn’t mind making her very excellent peach crumble for dessert. That was how he said it too. Her very excellent peach crumble. How could she say no to that? Then he went and got ready for school without being told. All during the school day, Mim kept an eye on him, wondering if he might be coming down with something. Cholera or the plague or dropsy.
Right at suppertime, Sammy came through the privet dragging Galen King by the elbow sleeve. Naomi followed behind. Galen looked all cleaned up, hair combed, face and hands scrubbed. He wasn’t the smiley type, but his eyes seemed to twinkle when he said hello to her mother. When they were all in the kitchen, Sammy cleared his throat real loud, as loud as Bishop Elmo did at church, and said, “Bethany, Galen King has come to court you.”
All heads swiveled to Galen. His mouth opened wide and his eyes quit sparkling.
Bethany dropped the excellent peach crumble right into the sink.
“What?” Naomi said. “Why, Galen, you never told me! You never even hinted!”
“How could he?” Luke yelped. “He never knew!” He started laughing so hard that he doubled over, holding his sides.
Mim’s mother bent down and put her hands on Sammy’s shoulders. “Son, sometimes we can get things confused.”
Sammy looked up, eyes filled with hurt. “But . . . but . . . ,” he sputtered, “Mammi Vera said the exact selfsame thing, and nobody yelled at her for it!”
“I never said any such thing,” Mammi Vera said, waving those accusations away. “Nothing good comes of matchmaking. I’d just as soon poke a sleeping bear.”
“You did! You said so!” He looked at Rose. “I heard her say it! In the kitchen the other night—she was talking to you about it. She said Galen was happier than he’d ever been.” His head swiveled toward Bethany. “And she said that Bethany should stop pining for Jake. Cuz he’s Car Amish. And you agreed. You said you didn’t think Jake was sweet on Bethany the way she mooned over him.”
Mim saw Bethany flash a dark look at her mother and she felt a tight knot in her stomach. Sammy kept on blathering! On and on and on.
“Sammy,” her mother said, “it’s kind of you to think about others, but it’s best to let folks do their own matchmaking.”
Mim thought Luke was going to die of laughter. He was rolling on the ground, literally rolling, gasping for breath. Head held high, glaring at her mother, Bethany swept around him and bolted up the stairs. Luke just kept laughing, like a wild hyena. Sometimes, he was just appalling.
“Luke, if you don’t get yourself up off that floor and stop acting like a silly fool,” her mother said, “I’ll get the switch and you won’t be sitting down for a week of Sundays. And don
’t think I won’t do it.”
Luke stopped rolling back and forth, but he didn’t get himself up, despite that threat. Finally, Galen picked him up under his arms and sat him on a chair. Luke quieted down straightaway, brought up short by Galen’s firmness.
Then Galen said he was grateful for the offer of dinner, but perhaps another evening might be best and he tipped his hat and took his leave. Naomi followed behind him.
Dinner ended up being a sad and quiet affair. The kitchen clock ticked loud in the silence. Only Chase seemed unaffected, checking under the table like he always did to make sure there wasn’t something left for him. Sammy didn’t understand what he had done that was so wrong. “I was just trying to help!” burst out of him once or twice. Her mother said they could talk about it later, in private.
Without Luke’s big ears and big mouth, was what she meant. Mim gave Luke a look of disgust and he returned it, crunched eyebrow to crunched eyebrow.
Bethany finally came down to eat but was, understandably, sulky. Sammy sat on the other side of Bethany, drawing up his small shoulders in a shrug as he sniffed back tears. Sammy meant well and Mim felt sorry for him. A few days ago, he had asked Mim a bunch of questions about courting. How did a fellow do it? What should he say? He was especially curious about the ages of people. Did they need to be the same age to court?
“No,” Mim had said. “Dad was a lot older than Mom.”
That knowledge was new to him and pleased him to no end. At the time, Mim thought he had a crush on Teacher M.K. A lot of the boys did. Not Danny, of course, but many others. Now she realized what was on Sammy’s mind. She wished she could have set him straight before he embarrassed both Galen and Bethany. But then, it was hard for anyone to figure out the reasoning a boy follows.
One thing Mim knew, she would never let anyone know all the thoughts she had swirling in her head about Danny Riehl.
By Wednesday, the skies had cleared, leaving the air washed clean and the earth saturated from rain. Rose had been up most of Wednesday night. Her young mare, Silver Girl, had dropped her foal early and the colt was too weak to stand up. Rose was determined to save it if she could.
The sun was barely climbing in the sky when Luke ran to her in the barn stall, tracking in mud from his boots. The mare startled.
“Haven’t I told you to walk up to horses?” Rose scolded.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Luke said, more excited than sorry. His eyes were fixed on the newborn colt.
“You were supposed to make up your bed before school,” Rose said.
“I never did understand that,” Luke said, eyes sparkling, “when I’ll just be getting back into it tonight.”
Rose frowned. “Seems like all you do is hang out the window looking for something to distract you from chores.”
Luke wasn’t paying her any mind. He had his palm laid out flat for the colt to sniff. The mare pinned her ears back in warning, not wanting him to mess with her baby, but Luke wasn’t minding her, either.
His recklessness almost stopped Rose’s heart at times—he was the kind of boy who would run out in the snow barefoot, bareheaded, oblivious to weather and risks. Sometimes, she feared for him, more than she ever did for Sammy. But she supposed most mothers shook their heads and worried about their sons. Boys seem to have to acquire common sense through bad experiences. The mare made a sudden move toward Luke and he stepped back, sticking his hands in his pockets. He looked like a ragamuffin under his shaggy head of hair.
It was hard to believe a little boy could catch a day’s worth of play and dirty roughhousing by half past seven in the morning. “Luke, I need you to go get Galen next door. Tell him I’m having some trouble with a new foal.” Before Luke disappeared, she added, “And then you’ve got to get yourself to school.”
She heard Luke whistle for his brother as she walked over to the barn door. Sammy came flying out of the house, hatless, and raced to meet up with Luke to disappear through the privet. Sammy liked delivering messages as much as his brother.
A few minutes later, Galen arrived and eased his way into the stall, calmly and quietly, so the mare wouldn’t spook. He looked the colt over. “I think you’re going to need the vet.”
Rose had feared that. She wasn’t sure how she could afford it, but she didn’t want to lose this colt.
Galen went down to the phone shanty to leave a message for the vet. When he returned, he let Chase into the barn, and suddenly an angry streak of gray burned across the center of the barn, tore past Galen, and disappeared in the yard.
“What was that?” Galen asked.
“That was Oliver,” Rose said. “Fern Lapp gave him to Sammy. He’s an old gray cat who hates dogs. He doesn’t understand that Chase has no interest in cats whatsoever, even for chasing purposes.”
“Well, I suppose a barn cat always comes in handy.”
“Not Oliver. He’s useless. He can’t be bothered catching mice and rats. He’s just a big sulking, gloomy presence.” She watched the mare nuzzle her colt. “Not unlike Vera.” As soon as the words popped out of her mouth, she wished them back. How could she have said such a thing? Thinking it was one thing, saying it was another.
She looked up, expecting to see Galen frown. Instead, she saw a big grin crease his face.
Galen returned home to finish feeding his stock, but later in the day he went back to check on Rose’s little colt, half expecting it to be dead. But no—there it was, standing on its wobbly legs. Rose said the vet had brought along some bottles with nipples designed for colts that had trouble nursing, along with some powdered formula. He balked at first, but then, Rose said, he guzzled that formula like sweet cream.
For a woman who had spent part of the night in the barn nursing a newborn foal, Rose looked wonderfully fresh, bright eyed, and beautiful. Her face was relaxed in a way Galen had never seen it. The strain that always showed—the strain of holding a household together, he supposed—had disappeared, making her look like a young girl.
Right now, although he couldn’t say exactly why, he felt uneasy.
Maybe he did know why.
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Rose. It made no sense. He hardly knew her—just a few minutes here and there, as neighbors. He doubted all those minutes would even add up to hours. After those few hours with her, what could he know about her? It made no sense.
Random memories went flickering through his mind: the delight in her laugh, her grace as she crossed the grass, and even the way she had picked up and held that little colt in her arms this morning. He simply couldn’t get her off his mind. What was happening to him? Now and then, he’d had a vague interest in a female or two, but he had never felt this way about a woman. This time it was different. Why was it different?
It was Rose. Rose in the rain.
He had a quick recollection of the first time he truly noticed her, as someone more than a neighbor. Last fall, a brief downpour had blown through Stoney Ridge without warning. Sheets of rain came pouring down, in biblical proportions, a nightmare on the roads. Someone was playing with the hose up there.
From his barn, Galen had seen Rose struggling with a flapping sheet on the clotheslines. Most women would have considered the wash to be a lost cause and run for the house, but not Rose. Her skirt was so wet it was plastered to her legs, and in the struggle, two or three pillowcases that she had already gathered up blew out of her hand and across the yard, which had begun to look like a shallow pond. Galen hurried to retrieve the pillowcases and then helped Rose get the wet sheets off the line.
Rose was soaked, as wet on the top as on the bottom, and the flapping sheets had knocked the pins out of her cap, causing it to come loose. The wash was as wet as it had been before she hung it up in the first place. She was taking sheets off the line that would just have to be hung back on in fifteen minutes, and it must have been out of pure stubbornness, since the sun was breaking through the clouds to the east of the storm. It baffled Galen as to why anyone would have a penchant to f
ly directly in the face of reason. Even worse, Galen was helping her do it as if it all made some sense.
In a strange way, he completely understood her logic. This woman would not quit. He had never met anyone with as much determination. As much as he had.
By the time he helped Rose finish pulling down those drenched sheets, the rain was diminishing and the sun was already striking little rainbows through the sparkle of drops that fell. Galen had walked on home, water dripping from the brim of his hat. He couldn’t get that image of Rose struggling with the sheets out of his mind. He felt like a hooked fish, absolutely smitten. The thing was, Rose Schrock wasn’t fishing.
The day finally came when Galen left Jimmy in charge. It was a weekday, which suited Jimmy nicely because it kept those little Schrock boys contained in the schoolhouse. Galen wanted to see some new horses brought in from Kentucky before they went to auction on the weekend. Jimmy did the chores with will and skill, whereas Luke and Sammy had marginal will and little skill. Sammy, Jimmy had to admit, tried his best. Luke—not so much.
Jimmy was determined to make a success of this day and prove to Galen that he could take on more responsibility. Just yesterday, he was helping Galen work a three-year-old gelding that was ready to be sold. “He’s like me,” Jimmy said, watching the gelding ignore all kinds of distraction that Galen was tossing at it.
“How’s that?” Galen asked, waving a flag at the gelding. “Lazy, you mean?”
“Mature, I mean,” Jimmy said. “He doesn’t get excited about little things.”
The Letters Page 10
