An Amish Garden

by Beth Wiseman

  She returned home, ready to make lunch for her grandfather. He wouldn’t be happy with the simple cucumber salad, sliced cheese, and fruit she planned to make. Still, she would ignore his usual grumblings, which lately had included complaining that his clothes were getting looser. After so many months, she was getting used to it.

  But as she pulled into the barn, she saw movement among the piles of Grandfather’s belongings. Rachael pressed her lips together, parked the buggy, and jumped down.

  “Grossdaadi!” As she neared, she saw he was in the middle of lifting a heavy board, one that she’d barely been able to move herself last week.

  He let the board drop and turned around. “Rachael,” he said, putting his hands behind his back and giving her a half smile. “You’re back already? I was just checking mei inventory.”

  “You were doing more than that. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

  He lifted his chin, his beard reaching just past the collar of his shirt. “I have been—for a year.” He grabbed his cane and limped toward her. “I can’t spend the rest of my life doing crossword puzzles, taking naps, and walking out here wishing I could do something other than watch the day pass by. I need to work.”

  “But what if you have another stroke?”

  “I won’t.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “And I promise I won’t do anything I’m not supposed to.”

  “You already are. You shouldn’t be lifting that board.”

  Grossdaadi held up his good hand. “Fine. If you’ll stop nagging me, I won’t lift any more boards.”

  “And if you need to move something, ask me.” Rachael went to unhitch the horse from the buggy. “I’ll do it.”

  “You do enough around here.” He turned and started walking out of the barn. “Too much, if you ask me. I’ll be in the haus. Where I always am.”

  Rachael leaned her forehead against the horse’s neck. Lord, what am I supposed to do? She understood her grandfather’s frustration. But she wanted him to be safe. Yet she didn’t want to be his jailer either.

  She finished unhitching the mare and led her to her stall. After feeding the horse his lunch, Rachael went back in the house, expecting to find her grandfather in the kitchen. When he wasn’t there, she checked his bedroom. Cracking the door open, she peeked inside. He was lying on his bed, his back to her. Slowly she closed the door.

  Somehow they had to find a balance. Maybe he was right—what harm could it do if he spent some time fiddling around in the barn? As long as he didn’t overdo it, he should be fine. When he woke up, she’d apologize for being so strict. She wanted him to be happy and healthy, to enjoy life now that he was getting better.

  She just hoped she was making the right decision.

  The next morning, Rachael went about doing the chores inside the house—paying particular attention to the bathroom and kitchen. When she finished, she retrieved the push mower from the barn and began tackling the backyard.

  She waved at her grandfather as he made his way to the barn. Their talk last night had been short, but she could see he was happy. This morning he didn’t complain about his oatmeal and she heard him whistling from his bedroom as he got dressed, which made her smile.

  A couple of hours later, the grass in the front and back yards now neatly trimmed, she entered the garden, determined to do more work on the greenhouse. The ground felt cool against her bare feet as she walked to the partially built structure. She’d work on attaching a couple of old windows together to start the bottom of the second wall. She wasn’t sure how she would connect that wall to the other one, but the answer would come to her. It usually did once she started working on a project.

  Rachael passed by the potting bench, almost ignoring it, until she spied a flash of color on the plain wood bench. Another flower, this time a gorgeous sprig of lavender. She picked it up, inhaling its sweet fragrance. Purple, her favorite color. She tried to think if she’d told anyone that. Had she mentioned it to Gideon? She didn’t think so. Rachael read the attached card, written in the same neat, square handwriting. Admiration. Once again the secret admirer idea popped into her head. Yet she realized there was nothing overtly romantic about this card, or the Iris card.

  “Another flower?”

  She turned to see her grandfather approaching. His steps were slower than they had been earlier in the morning, but she saw a sparkle in his light-green eyes that hadn’t been there in a while. She held up the flower. “Ya.”

  “Smells nice. Lavender?”

  She eyed him for a moment. So, he knew about Irises and lavender? Plus, he’d planted the talk of a secret admirer in her head. Suddenly she realized what was going on. She went to him and kissed his whiskered cheek, ignoring his awkward grimace. She’d kiss him whether he liked it or not. “Danki for the flowers. I love them both.”

  He shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

  Rachael grinned. “I know they’re from you. I don’t know how you managed to get them, but then again, I always knew you were resourceful. The notes are nice, but you didn’t have to do this.”

  His bushy gray brows furrowed. “Rachael—”

  “I am glad you remembered purple is my favorite color.” She sniffed the lavender again. “This is very sweet.”

  “It is?” Her grandfather leaned against his cane.

  Rachael looked at her grandfather, love swelling in her heart. “You don’t have to thank me for helping you.”

  “You’ve gone ab im kopp.”

  Her smile faded. “What?”

  “I didn’t leave those flowers for you. The thought never crossed mei mind.”

  “Oh.” She dropped her hand to her side.

  “And I didn’t know purple was your favorite color.” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t matter anyway. I’m color blind.”

  “You are?”

  “Ya. Can’t tell if your dress is blue or green.”

  “It’s yellow,” Rachael said.

  “See?” He pointed to his straw hat. “Got knocked in the head when I was a kid. Been living in a gray world ever since. Although I do remember that the sky is blue and the grass is green.” He chuckled.

  “But . . .” Rachael looked at the lavender. “Who else would do this?”

  “I don’t know.” He turned and walked away. “Maybe you do have a secret admirer.”

  Rachael rubbed a petal of lavender between her fingers, releasing its scent. “I can’t imagine who that would be.”

  “What about Gideon?” her grandfather called over his shoulder. “He knows you like flowers.”

  “Everyone knows I like flowers.”

  He waved her off. “I’m heading inside. Gut luck solving your mystery.”

  Rachael put the lavender back on the potting bench. She stared at it for a moment, then tried to put it out of her mind. She picked up a hammer from the toolbox underneath the bench. Then she opened a mason jar filled with nails and rummaged to find the right size. But she couldn’t concentrate on the greenhouse. All she could think about were the flowers, and her grandfather’s suggestion that Gideon might be the one who left them.

  She blew out a breath and set the hammer down. Only one way to find out for sure. I’ll geh over to the Beilers’ and ask him myself.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Hope is the only bee that makes honey without flowers.

  —ROBERT GREEN INGERSOLL

  Rachael walked to the edge of the property line between her house and Gideon’s. The warm air carried the sweet scent of freshly mowed grass mixed with the musky smell of the cows next door. She looked at Gideon’s house, a simple structure much like her grandparents’—white, without shutters or other decorations, except for a small flower bed at the base of the front porch. She smiled, noticing her hanging basket suspended from the extended roof covering the porch.

  Then dread filled her stomach. Asking Gideon about the flowers was a bad idea. Not to mention awkward. What was she supposed to say? Hallo, Gideon. Did you give me the flowers? Does
that mean you like me?

  But she couldn’t let this go. She had too much to do, too much responsibility to be distracted by the mysterious flowers. Her palms dampened as she gripped the lavender, took a deep breath, and walked over to Gideon’s.

  Again, doubt assaulted her, making her emotions sway back and forth. Maybe he wouldn’t be home. Maybe she should just turn back and forget about this. Maybe—

  “Hi, Rachael.”

  She stopped at the bottom of the Beilers’ porch steps. “Hallo, Hannah Lynn.” She looked up at Gideon’s sister, who was four years younger than Rachael and several inches taller. She was one of the tallest Amish women Rachael had ever met.

  “What a pretty flower.” Hannah Lynn bounded down the steps. “From your gaarde?”

  Rachael studied Hannah Lynn for a moment. If she knew anything about this flower, Rachael couldn’t tell by her expression. “Nee, it’s . . .” She sighed. “Never mind. Is Gideon here?”

  “He and Daed left for an auction early this morning. I was just going out to work in the barn.” Hannah Lynn frowned, wrinkling her freckled nose.

  “You don’t like working with the cows?”

  “Not really. I can think of a hundred other things I’d rather do.” Hannah Lynn shrugged. “But when Daed and Gideon are gone, it’s up to me.”

  “I won’t keep you, then.”

  “I’ll tell Gideon you stopped by.”

  “All right.” Rachael paused. “Actually, don’t tell him. It’s not important.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Ya. Have fun with the cows.”

  She scrunched her face again. “I definitely wouldn’t call it fun.”

  Rachael waved to Hannah Lynn as she walked away. Rachael went inside her garden and closed the gate behind her. As it latched shut, she noticed a deer peeking through the woods directly behind the rear fence.

  “Shoo!” She ran toward the deer. It ducked back into the trees. Rachael shook her head. She’d seen more deer stalking her garden lately. She loved the beautiful creatures—except when they helped themselves to her garden. She’d had the same problem with her garden in Indiana.

  She walked over to the greenhouse, laid the lavender on the potting bench, and picked up her hammer. Best to just let all this nonsense go and focus on the task at hand.

  But as she hammered the first nail into the window sash, connecting it to the pallet floor, an idea came to her. She paused. Smiled. Problem solved. By tomorrow, she would know if she really had a secret admirer.

  “Was that Rachael?” Gideon asked Hannah Lynn as she came around the back of the house. He wiped his dusty hands on his pants.

  “Where?” Hannah Lynn’s eyes grew round. Innocent. She was a terrible liar.

  “I just saw her. She was talking to you by the front porch.” That familiar twinge of excitement tickled his belly. “What did she want?”

  Hannah Lynn looked around, her eyes widening. She pulled him to the side. “She knows, Gideon.”

  “That I left her the flowers?”

  His sister huffed. “Nee, that you are running a farm. Of course I’m talking about the flowers.”

  “Then why did she leave?” A sick feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. “She’s upset, isn’t she?”

  Hannah Lynn shook her head and grinned. “Nee. Not at all. She was holding the lavender when she came over. And from the look in her eyes, she’s confused.”

  “That doesn’t sound so gut.”

  She elbowed him in the side. “Confused and interested. That’s the important thing. I told you this was a great idea.”

  He scratched his chin, not sure what to think. He’d balked at his sister’s corny idea of leaving the flowers with a note attached to each one. It wasn’t something he would think about doing. But she had been insistent that Rachael would appreciate them. “How do you know she’s interested?”

  “She wouldn’t have come over to talk to you, then chicken out at the last minute and decide she didn’t want to talk to you.”

  “What?”

  “Just trust me, Gideon. I know what I’m talking about.”

  Women. He’d never understand them. “Okay. So she’s interested.” The tickle returned in his belly and he couldn’t resist smiling. “Guess I better ask her out now.”

  Hannah Lynn gripped his arm. “Nee. Not yet.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we have to finish the plan.”

  He raised a brow and turned to Hannah Lynn. “We? I thought the whole idea was to get her attention. Now I have it.”

  Hannah Lynn rolled her eyes. “You really think a couple of flowers are enough? You have to woo her, Gideon.”

  “Woo?”

  She fingered the white ribbon of her kapp. “Keep letting her know she’s special to you.”

  “I think you’ve been reading too many of those novels you keep bringing home from the library.” Gideon turned and headed toward the pasture.

  Hannah Lynn ran to catch up with him. “I’m just trying to help, you know. The least you could do is show me a little appreciation.”

  He stopped. Turned and faced her. “I’m sorry. Danki for your help. But I think I can take it from here.”

  She moved to stand in front of him. “Gideon, if you could see how happy she was—”

  “I would have if you’d told me she was here.”

  “I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” She took a step back. “Look, you have three more days. Three more flowers. Then you can reveal who you are.” She clasped her hands together. “It will be so romantic.”

  “I think you’re enjoying this more than me,” he said. But he had to admit that he liked the idea of surprising Rachael at the end of the week, now that he knew she was okay with getting the flowers. He wished he could see her face when she found them in her garden. But he didn’t want to risk getting caught. Now that didn’t seem to matter as much.

  “Maybe I’ll just give her the rest of the flowers in a bouquet,” he said.

  “Gideon, just stick with the plan. Please? She will definitely geh out with you after this.”

  He took off his hat, letting the air cool his dampened hair. It was still morning, but he’d worked up a sweat already milking the cows. “All right. I’ll put the Geranium in the garden tomorrow morning.”

  “Nee. She’ll be expecting that. You’ll have to find a different place.”

  “Like where?”

  Hannah put her hands on her hips and sighed. “You’ll figure it out. I shouldn’t have to think of everything.” She turned and headed back to the house, her bare feet disappearing into the lush green grass with each step.

  He put his hat back on and looked over at Rachael’s house again. He saw her grandfather coming out the back door, heading for the barn again. He’d done that every day this week. He guessed Rachael thought her grandfather was okay enough to start working again.

  Once more, Gideon thought of all the responsibility Rachael had resting on her slim shoulders. If he could, he would help her carry that burden. He realized Hannah Lynn was right. Even if he initially thought leaving Rachael secret flowers was silly, they made her happy. And he would do anything to make sure she stayed that way.

  The next morning, Rachael awakened an hour before dawn. She snuck out of the house and hid in the back of her garden, where she still had a view of the greenhouse and potting bench. She waited. And waited. And waited some more, until her legs began to cramp from her crouched position. As the sun rose higher in the sky, she couldn’t wait any longer. She needed to make breakfast before her grandfather fixed himself biscuits and gravy. Or eggs and sausage. Or something he knew he wasn’t supposed to have but would try to sneak by with anyway.

  Her shoulders were slumped as she went inside the house. She had looked forward to another flower, guessing as she fell asleep last night what kind of bloom she would receive today. Now she realized she’d been prideful to assume she’d get another. She should be grateful for the two flowers she h
ad and not expect any more.

  She put the disappointment out of her mind and set about the day’s chores. After making breakfast, she headed to the garden again. She didn’t have much to do, just pull a few weeds from the patch of Begonias in the corner and water the tomato plants in the vegetable patch. The straw mulch she’d mounded around each plant had kept her weeding to a minimum this year.

  When she finished, she went inside and retrieved a freshly laundered load of dresses from the spin washer. Most of her neighbors did their wash on Mondays, but since she went to the flea market on Mondays, Wednesdays were her wash days.

  She held the woven clothes basket on her hip as she made her way to the line behind the house. Rachael set the basket on the ground and reached for a clothespin from the cloth bag attached to the line. She froze.

  Attached to the bag with a wooden clothespin was a bright red Geranium. She smiled as she unfastened it and read the card. Sincerity.

  She left the clothes and took the flower inside, adding it to the other two in the vase on the kitchen table. The purples contrasted beautifully with the vivid red of the Geranium. My Compliments. Admiration. Sincerity. What did it all mean?

  Rachael pondered the puzzle as she went back to hang up the clothes. She paused at the clothesline when she saw Gideon heading toward the barn. She started to wave, only to notice he wasn’t looking in her direction. “Gideon!” she called.

  Instead of answering back, he disappeared into the barn.

  She frowned. He must not have heard her.

  Deep in her heart, she harbored hope that he was the one leaving the flowers. But that possibility seemed to disappear with each passing day.

  Would he act that way if he was interested? Would he ignore her if he was the one leaving flowers with such lovely sentiments?

  She picked up her light-blue dress, shook it out, and pinned it to the line. Whoever was leaving the flowers was doing a good job of keeping his identity a secret. She wondered if he would ever reveal himself.