A Time to Heal

by Barbara Cameron

  He saw a smaller circle of people here in Paradise. Funny, he'd used the word circle. But that's what it seemed like, a circle. People were closely bound here, eager to help with the harvest—the way his men had bonded over a task.

  Well, except for one. One man had never seemed part of them, and he'd ended up bringing them all down.

  Chris turned off the shower, toweled dry, and dressed. He kept a close eye on the time. It wouldn't do to be late for supper.Jenny ran a tight ship with the meal on the table, dishes washed, and children in bed by a certain time. Bedtime came early here.

  He made it to the table with time to spare, his offer of help turned down, as usual. They treated him like family, but he was still a guest who wasn't supposed to set the table or wash the dishes.

  Supper was a noisy gathering of the children sharing events of their day, what Chris had always thought of as "chowing down" on big bowls and platters of home-cooked and homegrown food, and then good coffee and conversation with adults afterward.

  Chris stood on the porch of the dawdi haus later, watching the sun set over fields that were nearly harvested. His time here was coming to an end, and he was strangely reluctant to leave. Somehow it felt more like home than home had felt when he was there after being in the hospital.

  He didn't mind the early bedtime here. It was enjoyable to lie on the big soft mattress, under sheets and a quilt that smelled of the sun, and read a book by the gentle glow of the battery lantern. Sometimes he read the Bible, sometimes the library book or a farming book Matthew loaned him. The window was always cracked open to let in the breeze and nature's music instead of the radio or recorded music he'd always listened to in the evenings.

  A sense of peace, something he'd craved with an urgency akin to the worst hunger he'd ever experienced, had begun to steal over him. He was healing here in a way that didn't happen in a hospital. His restlessness and inner conflict was fading.

  Except for the inner conflict he felt whenever he thought about the woman who lived next door.

  He got up and looked out the window. There was a gentle glow of a lantern in the barn. Someone was obviously up with Daisy. He thought about how he'd promised Hannah that he'd look in later, but had decided against it when Matthew said he'd check in on her.

  Joshua had begged to go along too. He worried that he'd done something wrong when he helped Chris take care of her the night before she'd fallen sick. Matthew pointed out to his son that people and animals often got sick while those around them didn't.

  Chris went over and over what he'd done to feed and water her but there hadn't been anything out of the ordinary. And the other horses were healthy, so he suspected she'd just eaten something when she'd been out in the pasture.

  He dressed, pulled on sneakers, and let himself out of the house.

  As he walked the distance between the two farms, he thought about how nice it was that the two families lived so close together. He wondered if it was a case of Jenny falling in love with the boy next door all those years ago.

  Funny thing, Hannah was the girl next door right now. She was so different from the girls he'd dated before he went into the Army: outspoken, unaffected, loving.

  And so not someone even remotely in his league.

  He pushed open the barn door, and she turned around and looked at him. The lantern light cast a soft glow on her as she sat on the old chair near Daisy.

  She touched her forefinger to her lips as he approached."She's sleeping. I think she's doing a little better," she said quietly.

  He approached and looked down at the horse. She did look a little better.

  "The vet stopped by on his way home and he gave her a shot," Hannah told him. "Phoebe was worried, so I told her I'd stay up with Daisy for a little while."

  Chris pulled a bale of hay over and sat on it. "Mind if I keep you company for a little while?"

  He saw her eyes shift to the barn door.

  "Problem?"

  She shrugged. "Single men and women aren't supposed to be alone together like this."

  "Sorry, I didn't realize," he said. "Should I open the barn door for propriety's sake?"

  Her eyes narrowed. "Are you laughing at me?"

  "No, of course not! How could you think that?"

  She folded her arms across her chest. "I suppose it sounds . . . quaint to you."

  "Hannah, I wouldn't dream of being critical of you or anyone here," he said quietly. "Everyone's been very welcoming to me."

  "Except for Josiah."

  "Well, yeah, except for Josiah," he acknowledged. "Do you want me to open the barn door?"

  She sighed. "No, it's all right."

  It was quiet for a long time except for the soft noises of horses shifting in their stalls and settling in to rest for the night.

  Chris glanced at Hannah and she blushed and looked away.A few moments later, when she thought he wasn't looking, he saw her glancing at him.

  Neither of them mentioned the kiss the night before.

  Then Chris broke the silence by telling Hannah about Annie's adventure at school that day.

  "That Annie," she said, laughing and shaking her head. "She has such a colorful way of telling a story, doesn't she? I have no doubt she'll be a writer just like her mamm."

  "They make quite a family, don't they?" he mused. "Jenny talked about how she was engaged to Matthew and going to be a stepmother when we met at the veteran's hospital. "

  "Kinner respond to love," Hannah said simply. "They can tell Jenny truly loves them."

  An easy silence fell between them for a time.

  "Why did you become a soldier?"

  His eyes widened. "Where did that come from?"

  She shrugged. "Just wondered."

  "It's a tradition in our family," he told her slowly. "Goes back to my great-grandfather's time. The men volunteer for a tour of duty. My parents actually met when my mother was a nurse in the veteran's hospital where he was sent."

  "Was he injured the same way as you?"

  "No, thank goodness."

  Chris fell silent for a moment. Then again, if his father had experienced the same things he had in his military service, he might have understood what Chris had gone through. Nothing about his duty or his injuries had been within the scope of his father's understanding.

  But he wouldn't wish that on anyone anyway. Even if it made for better rapport.

  "Did they come to see you in the hospital?"

  "Sure."

  She nodded. "That's what families do."

  He stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles."Well, that's what a lot of families do, but not all. There were a lot of patients there who never got a visit. Sometimes it was because their families were too far away, but sometimes it was because they didn't get along."

  "People aren't perfect. Families aren't perfect—even here."

  "You're right. I've been around you and your family and none of you pretend to be perfect, or to be saints."

  She laughed and Daisy moved her head and snorted in her sleep. Clapping her hand over her mouth, Hannah's eyes danced above her hand as she waited for the horse to settle again.

  "Saints we're not," she whispered when Daisy settled again.

  "Not even you?"

  "Especially not me. You know I'm nosy and impatient—"

  "No!" he said sharply. "That's not true."

  Her eyebrows shot up at his vehemence.

  "I might have thought that in the beginning. But you're just inquisitive . . . eager to understand. And you're one of the kindest people I know. So don't go putting yourself down."

  He got to his feet, avoiding her startled glance, and took a closer look at Daisy. Then he met her eyes. "I'll go if you want me to."

  She hesitated for a moment. "Like I said, we shouldn't be alone together."

  Now it was his turn to raise his brows. "Surely it's not right to leave a woman alone in a barn all night."

  She lifted her shoulders and then let them fall. "No. Matthew of
fered to come over, but I didn't want him to. He needs his sleep during a busy time like this." She sighed. "Stay for a while. It's nice to have company."

  He sat again and after a moment, they began talking again, only this time, they talked about the horses, the harvest, the weather. Everyday stuff. Nothing deep and personal.

  The long day under the sun, the physical work, and the big dinner Jenny had served him finally took its toll. Chris felt himself doing what his buddies called "chicken pecking"— falling asleep and the minute the chin touches the chest you jerk awake. He told himself he should just give in and go to bed, but it didn't seem fair to leave a woman alone in the barn in the middle of the night caring for a sick horse.

  So he joked and apologized and accepted the coffee she made and brought out for them.

  She'd said she was just staying up a little while longer but clearly she wasn't leaving, too worried about the horse. He was convinced he could pull an all-nighter. After all, he'd done it during his military duty. Hannah was keeping her eyes open.He became determined to do so too.

  He dreamed.

  It was one of those dreams where you knew you were sleeping.Where you tried to wake yourself up. But you kept on dreaming because it was so pleasant where you were.

  Chris walked through the field of corn, the sun warm on his shoulders, the sky a bright blue overhead.

  If there was any place he felt at home, this was it. And this was his home at last. He'd plowed the fields in the way it had been done for so many years, here in Lancaster County. Planted the seed. Nurtured and prayed over it. Then given to God the glory of the bountiful harvest.

  His feet sank a little into the soft soil as he walked down a row of cornstalks, healthy and tall and green, topped by golden tassels. He pulled down an ear, shucked its green covering to reveal the kernels within, and smiled and nodded with satisfaction.

  He grew several crops, as did Matthew on the adjoining farm, but corn was his favorite. It reminded him of all the happy years he'd enjoyed growing up on the family farm in Kansas. He couldn't wait to harvest the corn and try out the first ears, boiling them in a huge metal pot right out in the fields the way his father had always done. They'd be served with real butter slathered on them and be almost enough to eat all by themselves.

  But of course Hannah wouldn't allow that. She'd insist that they had to have something else: some fried or baked chicken and her special potato salad. And, of course, some pie. She'd become quite a baker since she'd lived with Phoebe. She was considered one of the top bakers in the community, and that was saying something with all the fabulous cooks here.

  A flock of birds flew up suddenly, and he saw Hannah walking toward him, smiling. The fall breeze fluttered the strings to her kapp and molded the fabric of her dress against her body, outlining her shape. Her lips were parted in a smile that reached all the way to her blue eyes.

  The ear of corn fell from his hands and he began walking toward her, meeting her halfway.

  He cupped her cheeks in his hands, marveling at the softness of her skin. She gazed at him with such love. What had he ever done to deserve her? When he'd first come here, he thought life had dealt him a really rough deal, that somehow he'd been punished for doing what he thought was the right thing.

  But now? Well, now he had everything he could ever hope for: a healing of his spirit, and the true peace that came with knowing God loved him, not just this woman.

  Everything else was better than he could have ever imagined . . . he and Hannah owned this farmhouse and land since Phoebe had offered to sell it to them after they were married and move into the dawdi haus at the back of Matthew and Jenny's farmhouse. He had friends and family who loved him, who welcomed him into their church, their lives, their community.

  Hannah kissed him fervently, surprising him. They'd exchanged kisses, of course, since they had become engaged.But she'd never shown him quite so powerfully how much she had missed him that day.

  "Sweetheart, I love you, too, but we shouldn't stand out here kissing like this," he said as she continued to kiss him.It was torture, but he tried to pull away. He was trying hard to fit into the community and such passionate displays of affection—even between those who were engaged—was considered unseemly. He didn't want to get in bad graces with the bishop.

  "Please, darling, I—"

  There were giggles. It sounded like more than one person.He opened his eyes and stared up into pink rubbery lips, a big wet tongue, and breath that smelled like it could knock a tree over.

  Daisy!

  Not only did she look like she was feeling better, she was giving him big, sloppy, horsey kisses as Hannah and Phoebe looked on and laughed uproariously.

  Chris struggled to sit up on the hay bale and carefully pushed Daisy away. "Well, look who's feeling better," he said, feeling his cheeks redden.

  "Who were you talking to?" Hannah asked, trying but failing to look innocent.

  Chris couldn't help it. He shook his head and then gave in and laughed with them.

  14

  There's something different about you today," Jenny said to Hannah the next day.

  Hannah bobbled the plate in her hands but managed not to drop it. "Don't know what you're talking about."

  "No?" Jenny grinned. "It wouldn't have anything to do with a certain young man by the name of Chris, would it?"

  She'd spent a lot of time thinking about that night he'd kissed her, and when he'd been talking in his sleep about kissing her.

  "He's passing through," she reminded Jenny. "You haven't forgotten that, have you? He came for vacation, and he's stayed to help Matthew. That's all."

  "I don't know," Jenny said slowly, glancing out the kitchen window as they got dinner on the table. "He seems happy here.He looks more peaceful than when he first came."

  "But he—" Hannah stopped, appalled that she'd nearly mentioned Chris's episode of sleepwalking.

  She didn't know much about sleepwalking—she'd only heard of someone doing that once here in her community, and that was Leroy Esh who'd done it after he'd had a traumatic experience.

  "He what?"

  "Nothing."

  It didn't feel right to tell Jenny about it. She cast about for something to say to change the subject. But the only thing she could think of was to tell Jenny about her grandmother, and that didn't feel right either. She knew Phoebe didn't want anyone fussing over her and so far, there wasn't enough reason to do so.

  "I think there IS something."

  Hannah gave her a look. "Now you're trying to interrogate me."

  Jenny laughed. "Old habits die hard." She shook her head and her smile faded. "You can't deny you're attracted to him.And I've never seen that happen with any man from this community."

  Going to the refrigerator for the pitcher of iced tea, Hannah thought about how to maneuver Jenny away from the topic.When Jenny wanted to know about something, she was like a bulldog. She returned to the table with the pitcher and began pouring its contents into glasses, setting one before Jenny.

  "We've talked about how I'm not interested in anyone

  "I remember how you disappeared during my wedding reception when it came to the courtship games," Jenny said with a nod. "And there's something you're not considering.I stayed, remember? How do we know Chris isn't thinking about doing that?"

  Hannah blinked. "He's said nothing about that to me. Has he talked to you or Matthew about it?"

  Jenny shook her head. "But it's not outside of the realm of possibilities."

  "I thought you wrote nonfiction, not fiction."

  Laughing, Jenny got out a bowl for the vegetables.

  Hannah finished pouring the tea and set the pitcher on the table. Trying to act casual, she looked at Jenny. "I know you said you met Chris at the veteran's hospital and you had a lot in common. But what do you really know about him?"

  "Not much," she said as she started slicing a loaf of bread."Well, this turned out very nice if I do say so myself," she said, looking at the bread.<
br />
  She couldn't help it. Hannah started laughing and couldn't seem to stop.

  "What's so funny?" Jenny demanded.

  " 'If I do say so myself,'" Hannah said, wiping away a tear."I'm sorry, you said it again, just like that time you cooked artichokes."

  "Hey, I did everything I was supposed to do," Jenny insisted, looking indignant. "I even cooked them a little longer than the recipe called for."

  "So you sat there and when you realized they were barely edible, you could have just told us that they weren't fit to eat.But you just smacked your lips and said, 'Oh, these are very good if I do say so myself.' And the kinner and Matthew just chimed in with, 'And you do say so yourself!' "

  Jenny put her hands on her hips and glared at Hannah."I'm so glad I provide you with such a source of amusement! When are you people going to stop ragging on me about my cooking?"

  Hannah wrapped her arms around her sister-in-law and hugged her. "I'm sorry, it's just that you do so many other things well!"

  "Well, that's not true," Jenny said, but when Hannah released her and she stood back, she shrugged her shoulders. "It's taking so much longer to get good at cooking. And the Bontrager family is so interested in filling their stomachs."

  "That we are," Matthew said, walking into the kitchen. He sniffed. "What are we having for dinner?"

  "Oh, you!" Jenny waved her potholder at him. "Your mind is always on your stomach!"

  "Not always," he said with a smile and they exchanged a look that was so warm and intimate that Hannah glanced away.

  "I'll go wash my hands," he said and left the room.

  "Hannah?"

  "Ya?"

  "What's on your mind?"

  Jenny walked over to touch Hannah's arm and looked into her face with such concern that Hannah sighed. "We've talked about how this time of year I get a little moody."

  Now it was Jenny's turn to wrap her arm around Hannah."I know. It's not easy to watch so many of your friends and cousins getting married and you're thinking it's not going to happen. I thought that myself a number of times, especially after I was such a mess from being hit by the car bomb."