The Choice (Lancaster County Secrets 1)

by Suzanne Woods Fisher

  A few weeks later, as Carrie was setting the table for supper, Esther’s buggy rolled into the driveway of Cider Mill Farm. She had been visiting Ada Stoltzfus, she said, who kept her longer than she should have. On her way home, she felt a wheel on the buggy come loose. Abel took out his tools to fix the wheel, while Emma invited her mother inside and encouraged her to stay for supper. Esther seemed to be in a rare pleasant mood and agreed to stay. She even asked to see Yonnie’s quilts. Still, a feeling of dread rose in Carrie, the same feeling she got before a storm was due in. Well, this was going to be interesting, she thought, setting an extra place at the table for Esther. Because like it or not, chances were that Esther was going to meet Steelhead.

  On the afternoon that Yonnie had her stroke, Carrie had returned to the house thinking Emma would have run Steelhead out hours earlier. Instead, she found the two of them playing Scrabble at the kitchen table and laughing over made-up words. Andy said they’d been playing for hours. Since then, Steelhead dropped by every day to see Abel, he said, but he spent his time at the kitchen table, talking to Emma while she cooked or ironed. Today, Andy had talked Steelhead into a motorcycle trip to Blue Lake Pond to see a heron.

  When the two came roaring in from their adventure, it was suppertime. Carrie bit her lip. There was no opportunity to flag off Steelhead. He and Andy came bursting into the kitchen, Andy talking a mile a minute until he saw Esther sitting at the table, and his mouth clamped shut. But Steelhead, oblivious as usual, plowed through the sudden silence and walked right over to give Esther a warm welcome. As Esther shook his big hand, her pleasant mood evaporated, the way a wisp of steam vanishes above a cup of hot tea.

  It was so quiet during the meal that Carrie could hear Esther’s chewing and swallowing echo through the kitchen. Finally, Steelhead broke the silence.

  “Would you pass me more of that shepherd’s pie, Miss Emma? It’s mighty fine.”

  Carrie noticed that it was getting so that Emma couldn’t pass him a serving dish without blushing the color of a plum.

  Steelhead turned to Esther. “Emma is a good cook. Really good. I’ve never known as fine a cook as Emma.”

  Esther didn’t respond. She just fixed her eyes on Steelhead, and he was looking like a bird caught in her lair. Carrie almost laughed out loud at the look of mild panic in his eyes.

  “She might be the best cook in the state of Pennsylvania,” he started to blather, “certainly better than that whack job who called himself a cook that we had in prison. Ain’t that right, little buddy?”

  He nudged Abel to help, but Abel knew enough to not step into that particular landmine. He tried to look off into the distant corners of the room as Steelhead, unstoppable, carried on.

  “Hooboy!” Steelhead continued, his head turning shiny. “I never want to eat another morsel of prison grub. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. Know what I’m saying?”

  Esther’s eyes went wide with shock and her lips puckered as if she’d just eaten a pickle. Emma covered her face with her hands. Carrie tried to kick Steelhead under the table but missed. Abel cleared his throat, trying to get Steelhead to stop talking, but Steelhead was cornered. His mind was whirring along, and his mouth dragged along behind it, spilling out any thought that passed through his head. Finally, after he had described prison life in its entirety, he ran clean out of words.

  Esther slowly stood. “I must go.”

  As Carrie closed the kitchen door behind her, it was all she could do to lean against it, her forehead against the doorjamb. Esther didn’t even wait for the silent prayer at the end of the meal, she was that perturbed.

  “Too bad Esther Weaver didn’t stay for my snickerdoodles,” Yonnie said, still seated at the table. “She could use a little sugar.”

  Steelhead snorted a laugh, then another. Andy’s eyes went round at the sound. A slow smile spread over Abel’s face. Emma’s eyes darted between the two men, as laughter started to rise up and carry them away. Then, to Carrie’s astonishment, Emma started to giggle.

  Carrie leaned her back against the kitchen door, studying them. Emma looked positively . . . happy.

  One afternoon, Sol had just dropped Mattie off near her home and decided to take the long way back, a route that went past Carrie’s farm. To his delight, he spotted Carrie getting the mail at her mailbox. He pulled up to her and rolled down his window. “Please, Carrie?” he asked. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

  She hesitated, but got in the car. “I’m surprised this old rust heap still drives.”

  “My baseball contract was cancelled. It’s over.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said faintly. “I know that means the world to you.”

  He was trying to hold her eyes, but she looked away. “No,” he said firmly. “You mean the world to me.” He reached over to take her hand and slowly brought it up to his jaw. She curved her palm against his cheek; he turned into the caress. He felt encouraged as he saw the anger in her eyes dissolve. “Carrie, what is it going to take for us to find our way back to each other? Do you want me to join the church? I will, if that’s what you want. I’ll do anything you want.”

  Carrie shook her head. “I don’t want you to join the church for me. If you join the church, you do it for you.” But even as she said it, sounding so sure, he saw her face soften, then her stiff shoulders, then, finally, her resolve.

  Softly he said, “We could pick up from where we left off last summer.”

  “I’m not the same person I was last summer.”

  “Come on, Carrie,” he said, his voice gentle and kind. “I know. I know all about you and Daniel.”

  “What do you mean?” She slid her hand out of his.

  “I know it wasn’t a real marriage. I know that he slept on the floor.”

  She recoiled as if she’d been slapped in the face.

  “I saw that fancy red-haired lady in town the other day. She told me. She said Andy told her. When I heard that, I knew. I knew for sure you still loved me.” His tone was as much a statement as it was a question, but his eyes were pleading with her.

  A look of utter disbelief covered Carrie’s face. “You’ve turned my marriage to Daniel into being all about you.” Her hands tightened into fists. “Daniel and I, we were finding our way to each other. The way we were, it had nothing to do with you. Nothing!”

  “It had everything to do with me! I got to thinking, why would any normal, red-blooded man agree to sleep on the floor? With a girl like you just a few feet away? Then it dawned on me . . . he knew you loved me too.”

  “Again, it’s back to you! As if the whole world spins on your axis.”

  Now Sol was getting indignant. “So you think making a man sleep on the floor isn’t selfish?”

  An angry flush streaked Carrie’s cheeks.

  “Admit it, Carrie. Aren’t you even a little relieved he’s gone?” She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then she turned to him, with a look in her eyes as if something just became clear to her. “No. I’m not relieved at all.” She got out of the car door and ran up her long driveway.

  He banged his head over and over on the steering wheel, frustrated, wondering why everything he said lately didn’t seem to come out right. They were such good thoughts, they sounded so reasonable when he worked them out in his head, but when he put them into words, they sounded haughty and proud. Downright vain.

  Carrie found Andy in the barn milking Hope. “Did you tell Veronica McCall that Daniel slept on the floor?”

  “What’s the big deal?” Andy asked, surprised at how upset she looked. “I saw him there, sometimes, when I had a bad dream and came in to get you. I thought it was neat that he slept on the floor. Like he was an Indian or something.”

  The next day, Abel took the buggy into town for an errand. When he returned, he unhooked the buggy from Old-Timer, but left the tired horse at the hitching post to tend to later. He found Carrie in the vegetable garden, filling up her apron with spring peas. He had a large manila envelope tuc
ked under his arm. “Carrie—”

  She looked at the envelope, gathered the corners of her apron, and brushed past him.

  He followed behind her. “I know you’re upset. You’ve hardly said a word to me all week. Look, about this deed—”

  Something inside of Carrie snapped as anger flooded through her. “Nemme dich die Baamgaarde! Nemme dich das Haus!” she shouted, choking over her own breaths. “Nemme dich alles!” Take the orchards! Take the house! Take it all! She ran from him, peas from her apron scattering on the ground. When she saw Old-Timer at the hitching post, she untied his reins and jumped on his back. She rode away as fast as she could, which, considering Old-Timer’s advanced age, wasn’t much more than a steady trot.

  When she reached the pond, she slid off Old-Timer and led him down to the water’s edge to drink. His throat rippled as he drank. Finally satisfied, Old-Timer lifted his head and whiffed the air with flaring nostrils. She sat down, her arms hanging loosely over her bent knees, and stared at the calm water. With one hand, she fingered the horse’s reins. She was always amazed at the ability of those narrow leather straps to control the instincts of such a mighty beast. Did God hold such reins to this strange, sad world, she wondered?

  Wrapping her arms around her legs, she rested her chin on her knees and watched a golden eagle soar over the still pond. An oriole trilled sweetly as a woodpecker drilled into a nearby tree. This was where she had come during those hard days right after her father had died and Sol had left. This was where, many years before, she had played with Mattie, skipping stones over the pond’s surface. This was where she could sit and hear the music of the wild birds. This was where she could always find peace.

  She didn’t know how much time had passed when Abel sat down next to her on the ground, breathless. “Took me awhile to find you.”

  She frowned at him. “I didn’t want to be found.”

  He ignored her comment. “Where’d you learn to ride a horse like that?”

  She shrugged, her gaze straight ahead. “I used to ride bareback a lot. Made Esther mad.”

  He smiled and leaned back on his elbows, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Why did you ever get baptized? Sounds like you grew up breaking every rule.”

  She tilted her head toward him. “I know myself well enough to know that I need the rules.”

  They sat in more silence after that, taking in the view of the eagle, hanging above them like a kite snagged in the sky. “Whatever problem you’re facing, I can help,” Abel said softly.

  She turned her head slightly toward him, asking in icy anger, “Before or after you sell my home out from under me?”

  He sighed. “I’m not taking your home. I’m not taking your orchards. I’m not taking anything. If you’d just let a man finish what he’s trying to say, you’d know these things.” He handed her the large manila envelope. “This is the new deed, changed to your name. Yours and Andy’s. It’s official. I had a notary witness it.”

  Carrie took the envelope from him, speechless. She opened it up, slowly, and pulled the papers out. Right in the middle of the deed, in a boldly typed font, was her name and Andy’s. Gratitude welled up inside of her, choking off the words. She needed to tell him that he could never know how much this meant to her. They had always felt like visitors in Esther’s house, never family. Never truly wanted. She needed to tell him how much she appreciated this gesture, and that she knew what it cost him, but all that came out was, “Denki, Abel.”

  The edges of his eyes softened, as if he understood all she was trying to say. “I told Veronica the deed has been changed. She wasn’t too happy.” He gave a short laugh. “One time in jail we were shown a TV documentary on erupting volcanoes. Kinda reminded me of that.” He grinned. “She fired me too. Said she didn’t need a one-armed carpenter.”

  “I’m sorry,” Carrie said.

  He lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “I’ll find work someplace. Surely somebody needs a one-armed carpenter.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a thin envelope. “There’s something else. There’s one more letter from Daniel. I just wasn’t sure if this letter would help or . . . well, anyway . . . seems as if you should know what it said.” He hesitated, then handed it to her.

  Carrie’s heart started to pound when she saw the postmark. It was mailed on the day Daniel died. Carefully, as if it were made of tissue, she unfolded the letter.

  March 18th

  Dear Abel,

  Spring is late this year. We had howling wind and blowing snow yesterday. Only the downy woodpecker didn’t seem to mind. He clung to the beef suet Andy and I put out on the bird feeder. He just kept pecking on the high-energy food, finding sustenance for another cold winter night.

  Speaking of finding sustenance, the strangest thing happened today. After a long struggle, Andy’s cow gave birth before dawn to a new calf. Carie helped through the whole thing without complaining or fretting. Afterward, I felt so glad she was by my side. I didn’t think I would ever feel anything again for a woman, not after my Katie. I maried Carrie because Dad wanted me to, and I wanted him to stop suffering. To be honest, I just didn’t really care. But somewhere along the way, I started feeling something for her, a fondness. I guess the plain truth is that I needed her. And then came love. I love her, Abel.

  I know in the next letter you’re going to be preaching me a sermon. I can hear it now, the text will be Romans 8:28, your favorite verse in the Bible, about God working things out for our good, even things that didn’t start out so good.

  Maybe you’re right, Abel. Maybe there’s hope for a sinner like me.

  I see the mailman coming so I’ll say goodbye and get this in the mail.

  Yours, Daniel

  Something broke inside of Carrie in a terrible gush of guilt and pain. Tears started to flood her eyes. “I let Daniel bleed. Just like Esther let my father bleed. Daniel told me about the kerosene fires that very day, just hours after he must have mailed this letter. And I turned and ran out on him. I was so upset, that he hadn’t told me, that Sol—of all people on this big earth—had been the one to tell me about those fires. I felt so angry and I just . . . I just had to get away from him . . . but I never dreamed he would die that night.” She took a big gulpy breath. “I failed him miserably. I’m just like Esther.”

  She went through her handkerchief, then soaked Abel’s, and finally, he gave up patting her on the back. He wrapped his arms around her and told her to go ahead, have a good cry. He just held her until she had no more crying left inside of her. She cried for her father’s death, and for Daniel’s life cut short, and for her own sorry mess. In between sobs she told him about Sol leaving and about grabbing Daniel’s offer to marry.

  “I didn’t love Daniel,” she sobbed. “Not the way he deserved to be loved.”

  Abel rested his chin on the stiff pleats of her prayer cap and held her closer. When she was finally able to look up at him, she noticed tearstains on his cheeks as well.

  “Carrie, maybe you needed Daniel as much as he needed you. I’m not sure why he died when he did. It’s just one of those mysteries God sends our way. But God has a way of fixing our messes, bringing good out of them.” He tipped her chin so she would look at him. “I do know that Daniel would never want you feeling like you failed him. You didn’t. One moment doesn’t erase all the good.”

  She wiped her face with her hands. “But what if that was the last moment?”

  “Even then.” Abel rose to his feet and walked to the water’s edge. He picked up a stone and skimmed it across the pond.

  Carrie was quiet for a while, watching the stone skip on the glassy surface a few times before it sank deep. “I just wish I knew, for sure and for certain, that he forgave me.”

  Abel turned to face her. “You knew Daniel well enough to know the answer to that.”

  A loud, raucous call came from the sky, and Carrie lifted her eyes to find its source.

  “Hear Mrs. Mallard honking?” Abel asked quietly, eyes fix
ed on the V formation of the ducks. “Three quacks mean she’s telling the ducks that all is well and it’s safe to come down.” He reached out a hand to help Carrie to her feet. “Es is alles in Addning.” All is well.

  Sol sat on a gray plastic chair in the LaundroMat, flipping through old magazines, waiting for the clothes dryer to buzz. It always surprised him to see men doing their own laundry. Amish men took a pass on laundry. And cooking and cleaning too. Sometimes, he felt like he had arrived from another planet, he had so much to learn. He watched a man separate clothes into bundles of light and dark colors and wondered why he would bother. Then it dawned on him. That’s why my white T-shirts are always gray!

  There were many aspects to the English that bothered Sol— their obsession with television, for example. But there was one thing about the English that Sol really admired. They gave themselves plenty of opportunities for second chances. Guys on the team had started college, then dropped out to play professional baseball. When they were ready, they could go back again. People moved from house to house. Even marriages could be easily dissolved. Two guys on the teams had been divorced and were already remarried, and it wasn’t a big deal. But for him, once he bent at the knee, if he changed his mind it would have harsh consequences. He hadn’t even been baptized yet and he was already getting a taste of feeling shunned.

  He thought the English were a lot kinder about giving people second chances, a margin of error. If the Amish were known for forgiving, why did they have to be so rigid when someone changed his mind? He was going to have to ask Mattie about that. He found his thoughts often bounced to wondering what Mattie would say about these things. Lately, it seemed that thoughts of Mattie filled his mind more than Carrie. He shook his head, as if to clear it.

  The next day, Mattie was watching for Sol’s car after she was done with work. She was careful to keep her expectations in check. She never assumed he would come to pick her up—she just hoped he would. When she saw his car, she could hardly hold back a grin. He opened the car door for her and had barely turned the ignition when he told her his theory of second chances and the English.