The Harvest of Grace

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “I see.”

  “If you insist on staying in the barn against my wishes, I’d appreciate it if we could work without talking.”

  “Oh, come on. I’m not asking about your love life.”

  She bristled. He’d obviously hit a nerve. His conscience kicked him. He shouldn’t be prying into her personal life. But goading people into disliking him came easy. He’d used it for years to keep up his defenses.

  “Just explain to me why a young, single woman is handling a dairy herd.”

  Her hand moved gently down the cow’s side. “Amish wives and daughters help run farms all the time. Is it that much of a stretch for me to work on one that doesn’t belong to my parents or husband?”

  “An Amish feminist. I bet that goes over well with the menfolk.”

  Her brows furrowed, and he saw innocence reflected in her eyes. “An Amish what?”

  “Never mind. So where’s your family?”

  “Path Valley.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Two hours northwest of here by carriage.”

  “That’s quite a ways.”

  “I … I think it’s far enough.”

  Was that fear in her voice? The girl he met last night didn’t seem prone to being afraid. “So what’s his name?”

  After a sigh she picked up one of the buckets and headed for the milk house.

  Instead of badgering her with questions, he should’ve been emptying those heavy buckets. He moved toward her, reaching for the sealed bucket.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Please.”

  She stopped and let the bucket thud onto the ground.

  Aaron tried to suppress his smile.

  Her face flushed. “Please just get out. What is wrong with men your age? Is it impossible to respect the wishes of a female?”

  “Maybe your wishes lack good sense.”

  She closed her eyes for several long seconds. When she opened them, she picked up a half-empty bucket and its claw milker, went to the next cow, and began humming.

  He knew he was acting like a jerk, and he couldn’t explain why he was putting so much effort into irritating her. This wasn’t who he was. Not really, and certainly not when sober. That question circled his mind as he took two full buckets into the milk house, removed the lids, and dumped the contents into the bulk tank.

  With empty buckets in hand, he reentered the milking parlor. Although he didn’t spot her immediately, he followed the sound of her humming and found her on a milking stool in the tenth stall.

  He started to apologize several times, but he wasn’t able to say the words. He sighed and picked up another full bucket to take to the milk house.

  “It’s obvious that you don’t want to be here.” She glanced up at him from her milking stool. “Perhaps next time you can follow that instinct and avoid coming into my barn.”

  Her barn?

  He paused, thinking of what he knew about her and had seen in her eyes and actions since the moment he’d found her in the cabin. Last night he’d thought his father had hired only a girl when this place needed a team. There was just one of her, but she had fearless grit and determination, both of which would make his task harder.

  But he’d succeed. He had no choice.

  No single individual had enough strength to make this place profitable. She’d grow weary of trying or fall in love at some point, marry, and move off. It was inevitable. But he didn’t have time to wait for either of those scenarios.

  He needed his parents to open their eyes about the farm’s condition—and the changes to his character. And his best chance of getting them to agree to his plan was to get Sylvia to quit and go back home.

  But how?

  Sylvia walked to the creek behind her cabin. Loneliness weighed heavier on Sundays. Only work that was absolutely necessary was allowed on a Sabbath, which meant she could milk the herd and nothing else. All those unoccupied hours gave her time to really miss her sisters, especially Ruth.

  Sunlight sparkled off the murky water. The cows were probably upstream, wading in the creek to cool off. The temperature had to be nearing the nineties, and it was only early June. The almanac said this summer would be unusually hot and dry, which would take a hard toll on livestock and crops.

  She needed to be working—cutting hay, scrubbing the milk house and parlor for inspection, and tending to the cows’ hoofs and udders, for starters. Michael said the farm had a lot of debt, but if she kept her nose to the grindstone, this place was bound to become profitable soon. He hadn’t shared the financials with her, but it couldn’t be that bad.

  Hearing the sound of crunching gravel, she walked to a clearing to catch a glimpse of its source.

  Aaron Blank was finally leaving the house.

  She’d like to know why he’d come home. Michael had told her that Aaron cared nothing for dairy farming, so he hadn’t come back to work.

  With him gone for a while, she could visit with Michael and Dora and enjoy the kind of Sundays she’d had since arriving here. She went to the old homestead and knocked lightly as she stepped inside. No one greeted her.

  That wasn’t normal. She went into the living room. Michael sat on the couch, staring out a window. Dora was in her rocker, holding a book, but she wasn’t reading.

  “Hello?” Sylvia whispered.

  Michael turned to her with a forced smile. “I’ve been wondering where you were.”

  He didn’t sound like himself.

  “Kumm rei, Sylvia. We could use a bit of cheering up.” Dora lifted her book. “I can’t get enough light to be able to see.”

  “And you can’t find your glasses, right?” Sylvia looked around, trying to spot them. She snatched them off the top shelf of a bookcase and passed them to Dora. “Now, who do you think put them way up there?” She eyed Michael.

  He smiled again, this time a real smile. “I look better to her when she can’t find those things.”

  Dora put on her glasses and began reading.

  Sylvia hadn’t seen the Blanks look this sad in months. When she’d arrived, neither Dora nor Michael had any words left in them. They’d been blessed with only two children. Their daughter, Elsie, had died eight months earlier in a terrible accident, and their son, Aaron, had left without a word three months later and entered rehab.

  Sylvia, Michael, and Dora had spent their evenings together during the cold winter months after she arrived. She and Michael played games and read. She and Dora baked and sewed. After a while Michael and Dora slowly began to open up. Dora had said that talking to an outsider helped them. And it had helped Sylvia feel as if she mattered. After leaving her parents and sisters, she needed someone to treat her like family.

  “What was the sermon about today?” Not that she wanted to know. But talking about religious things always lifted Michael’s and Dora’s spirits.

  Within an hour they were relaxed and appeared to be feeling better, just as Sylvia expected. She took the Old Maid cards out of the drawer, and Michael joined her at the table for a game.

  Dora took off her glasses and adjusted the frames. “Michael, did you use my glasses for reading last night?”

  “Hush now, Dora.” Michael grinned. “You’re going to give Sylvia the idea we’re a cranky old couple.”

  “Nothing worse than someone thinking that.” Sylvia shuffled the deck.

  “We are not a cranky old couple,” Dora retorted. “He’s the only crank.”

  Sylvia burst into laughter and dealt the cards.

  Michael picked up his hand. “Aaron’s back.”

  Afraid he might read her displeasure if she looked at him, Sylvia kept her focus on rearranging her cards. “We met when he came by the cabin last night.”

  She wouldn’t mention his being in the milking barn that morning. Fresh grief had settled over Michael and Dora for reasons she didn’t understand, and she wouldn’t add to their sadness by insisting Michael keep Aaron out of the barn. Either she’d convince Aaron herself, or she’d have
to accept that he did what he wanted.

  Michael laid down his pairs. “I talked to Clay Severs last week. I think we can get a good price for our hay if it is an early cut. If we wait, he’s likely to buy it elsewhere.”

  She spread her cards on the table facedown. “I’m ready to start cutting hay tomorrow right after we do the morning milking.”

  “I wanted to talk to you about that.” Michael chose one of her cards and added it to his hand. “While Aaron’s here, he needs to work. I’ll still help with the milking, but it’ll make your day easier if he and I do the hay. After all, you have an inspection to get ready for.”

  Her pulse quickened. She liked the idea of not having to bale hay but wasn’t thrilled about Aaron being the one to help. She could see two possible scenarios. Since he’d left the farm in ill shape, he might unintentionally damage her and Michael’s efforts. Or maybe he’d returned to prove that he could be a valuable worker after all. Then he might take over everything important to her … just as Elam had.

  Seven

  Lena sat under a huge shade tree in her brother’s yard, enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon despite the fact that her arm inside the cast itched like crazy in the heat. Her Daed and all her siblings, their spouses, and their children were here at Allen’s. Adults and children sipped lemonade, ate cookies, and played badminton, horseshoes, and games of tag.

  Wishing Grey were here, she kept glancing at the bridge that connected his property to her brother’s. She held her two-and-a-half-month-old niece, who was fidgeting and fussy, and her Daed sat in a lawn chair next to her. She and her Daed had always been close but even more so after her mother had passed away.

  Lena cuddled and jiggled baby Elizabeth. “Your mama will come feed you soon.” After a bit of cooing to her, Lena drew a toothless smile from the baby. The warmth of holding a little one brought her such joy and hope that she wondered how it would be possible to love a child of her own even more.

  She peered through a gap in the lilac bushes, looking for Grey.

  Daed leaned closer. “You can’t miss him already. You were together just last night.”

  “Ya. But we were interrupted, and I want to really see him. And to be together without the concern of hurting the Blanks.”

  She and Grey had enjoyed two hours together at the shop, cleaning it and then playing cards with Cara and Ephraim. But then Ephraim’s Daed walked in with Michael and Dora, wanting to show them a cabinetry project. Their pained expressions when they saw their former son-in-law laughing and at ease were too much to bear.

  She didn’t like sneaking around to catch a few minutes with Grey. She loved him enough to put all of herself into his hands—her soul, her body, her future. And she believed God’s goodness had brought them together. But to court openly right now would wound Michael and Dora, and she couldn’t do that.

  “You’re the one who convinced Grey to keep your relationship a secret from the community,” her Daed said.

  After Grey had saved her life a few weeks ago, then refused to leave her side at the hospital, some folks became suspicious about their relationship, including the church leaders. It felt wrong to hide their romance, as they’d been friends since childhood and hadn’t begun falling in love until several months after his wife had died. But Grey and Lena had chosen to protect Michael and Dora’s feelings by giving them a year to grieve the loss of their only daughter before Grey and Lena started courting.

  Very few people knew about their plan to start courting in the fall: Grey’s coworker and friend, Ephraim Mast, and his fiancée, Cara; Lena’s brother Allen, who was Grey’s closest friend and her closest sibling, along with his wife, Emily; and, of course, her Daed.

  “I stand by my decision, Daed, but I ache to go for long rides or walks and talk for hours. When we made our choice, I didn’t realize how long spring and summer would last.”

  “You chose to honor others over yourself. Don’t regret that just because it’s difficult.”

  His words worked their way into the deepest parts of her. If anyone knew about being patient for the sake of someone else’s feelings, her Daed did. He’d been a widower for fourteen years, and he’d tried to court Ada, without success, for the past five, maybe longer. At least they were occasionally seeing each other now.

  She leaned over and looped her arm through his. “I have the best Daed there is.”

  He squared his shoulders. “I know.”

  Lena chuckled.

  A rig of Amish folks from within the community arrived. They climbed out of the wagon and filled the yard, ready to play games and enjoy a Sunday afternoon.

  Her Daed nodded toward the bridge.

  Grey’s five-year-old son, Ivan, raced over it. Lena looked through the shrubbery that ran along the creek bank to see if Grey was crossing the yard.

  Because Grey was a widower and Lena’s face was marred with a noticeable birthmark, many would think he was marrying her merely because he needed a wife for himself and a mother for his son. At first, despite how much she loved him, she’d had her own doubts about how Grey really felt and why, but he and God helped her see the truth. Grey had told her, “I know what people are going to think, but we know what is between us. Truth of what exists between couples is all that matters.”

  When he’d said that, she saw into him, and she knew their love was everything she’d hoped for. And at twenty-four, she’d had lots of time to build her hopes.

  She caught a glimpse of him as he stepped into the clearing, and joy coursed through her. When he crossed the bridge they’d built, it was all she could do not to run into his arms.

  Grey spoke to her siblings, in-laws, and friends as he’d always done at gatherings, but she knew he was trying to appear nonchalant as he came toward her.

  Her Daed stood. “Grey.”

  Grey walked over to him and shook his hand. “Hello, Israel. Beautiful out here, ya?”

  Her Daed glanced at Lena, not the least bit fooled by Grey. “Ya, it is. Sit, please. I’m going to the side yard to check on my grandchildren.”

  Her Daed had given them a minute to talk.

  With his back to everyone but her, Grey approached the chair. His eyes connected with hers, and she felt his love all the way to her toes. “Hi, Lennie.” He took Daed’s seat and leaned in to adjust the baby’s prayer Kapp. As he did, he placed his hand over Lena’s for a moment. “I was beginning to think Ivan would never wake up so we could walk over here.”

  “Ah, so that was the holdup.”

  He sat back. “He doesn’t usually take long naps, so I figured he really needed it.”

  “Sounds like a reasonable assumption. I dreamed about him the other night. You know, cooking meals for him and reading to him.”

  Grey interlaced his fingers, looking thoughtful, but he’d barely uttered a syllable when Lena’s sister-in-law Emily interrupted them.

  “You must be ready for a break.”

  Lena studied the beauty of her niece. “Never.”

  “Still.” Emily lifted her fussy daughter from Lena’s arms.

  Grey stood, offering his chair to Emily. “I should probably go play a game of horseshoes.”

  Lena nodded. If he stayed with her too long, it’d draw attention.

  While chatting with her sister-in-law, Lena saw movement on the road. A man. He looked familiar.

  Aaron.

  She stood and began hobbling toward him. When she reached Grey, she tugged on his arm. “Look. It’s Aaron.” Her friend had quite a stride, and she needed to hurry before he was gone again. “Aaron!”

  Grey put a supportive hand under her good arm as they continued toward the road. “Easy, Lennie.”

  Aaron turned, and the moment he saw her, he grinned and began closing the gap between them. He engulfed her in a gentle hug.

  “Look at you.” Lena put space between them.

  “I sure have missed you.” His eyes moved to her cast and the medical boot on her foot. “I didn’t realize you’d been this injured.
Your letter only said you were bruised all over.”

  “I’m mending just fine.”

  Aaron and Grey looked unsure how to greet each other. They’d been brothers-in-law for nearly six years, but Lena had no idea what their relationship had been like. Strained, she’d guess, with Aaron’s drinking.

  Aaron held out his hand. Grey took it and pulled him into a hug. “I’m proud of you for going for help like you did, and I’m glad you’re home.”

  Aaron backed away, staring blankly. “I … I appreciate that.” After several long moments he turned to Lena. “Are you really okay?”

  “I promise. So when did you get back?”

  “Last night after dark.”

  “Tell me how you’re doing.”

  He looked at all the people in the yard. “Not here. Can we go for a walk?”

  “I’m barely off my crutches, so I can’t do much walking. But we can pull a set of chairs into a more private spot in the yard.”

  He nodded toward the guests. Several people were glancing his way and whispering.

  “Or we can go for a ride in Daed’s rig, and you can tell me everything,” Lena said. “But first you should say hello to everyone.”

  “Nobody except you wants to see me.” He looked at Grey. “Sorry, but I know it’s true.”

  Grey put his hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “That’s not true of me. I hold nothing against you. But you and Lennie should go for that ride. If you ever care to come by the house, I’d like that.”

  “And I’ll help break the ice with everyone here.” Lena slipped her hand into his and squeezed it. “There won’t be a better time than now.”

  Aaron hesitated, studying the crowd.

  Grey squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll hitch the horse to the rig for you and Lennie while you shake folks’ hands.”

  Aaron nodded. “All right. Let’s do this.”

  She turned to everyone. “Look who’s here.” Smiling with confidence, Lena silently dared any of them to give Aaron a lukewarm reception.

  Cara had never been a fan of Mondays, but having to study the handwritten pages in front of her made this one worse. She put her elbows on Ada’s kitchen table. “Begreiflich.” She had no doubt she’d butchered the pronunciation, but she should know the meaning by now. Sighing, she turned the paper over to find the answer.