“Henry’s going to stop by right before supper and look at it. He said it might be something as simple as replacing a belt.”
The young women continued their chatter about wedding plans as they all unloaded the laundry baskets and set about sorting the garments to their owners.
Rochelle allowed herself to get swept up in their conversation, listening. Yes, forty years old might be looming closer, but inside, she felt the same almost-giddiness the young women shared about their upcoming double wedding day.
A double wedding day, here in Pinecraft, in the winter. Five hundred friends and family, maybe more, once all names were tallied.
It made sense, though, to have the ceremony here and not Ohio, with both women living in Sarasota now and their young men part of the village as well.
“Everything okay, Aenti?” Betsy frowned, folding a set of pillowcases.
“Yes.” She nodded. Everything was okay. “I’m just a little distracted. But tell me more. Did you both decide on a cake?”
The young women exchanged glances. Betsy set her jaw, and her chin stuck out just a little.
“We’re having two wedding cakes,” Emma announced.
“Two cakes?”
Emma nodded. “I want cupcakes to match the color of the dresses.”
“And I want an all-white cake, three stacked tiers, with white sugar flowers, and white piping,” Betsy added. “We just couldn’t decide on something together.”
“Well, I think it’s all right to have two cakes. I know there will be plenty of cake for everyone who wants some.” Clearly, the sisters didn’t agree on everything. Plain or not, all brides had their own opinions. “I think both ceremonies and the meal to follow will be beautiful.”
“I hope so.” Emma grabbed her stack of laundry. “I need to put all of this laundry away, and I want to get my afternoon work done early. Steven is picking me up for supper with his parents.”
Then Emma toted her stack of laundry down the hallway. Seconds later, her door closed with a click.
“Aenti Chelle, are you sure you’re all right? You said you were distracted, but you look more upset than anything else.”
“Maybe I am upset, just a little. I’ve had a shock, but I’ll be all right.” She didn’t want to say more. She hadn’t even processed her feelings at seeing Silas Fry, even a glimpse, after nearly two decades.
The last time she’d seen him, she’d turned her back on him and walked away, willing the tears not to fall, willing her heart not to shatter. It had been her fault. May her great-nieces never know her kind of pain. Betsy had felt the sting of unrequited love before she met Thaddeus Zook. But this feeling? Rochelle hoped Betsy never knew it.
“Well, Aenti, if you need a listening ear, I’m here. You were there for me, with Thaddeus, and I’m thankful.”
Rochelle smiled at Betsy. “Thank you. I’ll remember and let you know if and when I do. But, for now, I’ll hold onto this myself.”
Did her sister, Jolene, know Silas was moving to Pinecraft? And if Jolene knew Silas was coming, wouldn’t she have warned Rochelle?
She shook away the thoughts. Time for a quick lunch, then a busy afternoon of cleaning what her clients would only dirty again.
3
The inevitable Sunday service came around, and the final echo of voices raised in song fell silent in the sanctuary. All the while, from the first greeting until now, Rochelle’s brain had tried to process that Silas and his family sat two rows behind her.
Yes, his elderly aunt and uncle, Frances and Tobias Fry, attended Pinecraft Mennonite Church as well, but they weren’t part of any of Rochelle’s past memories. They had never questioned Rochelle’s sudden move to Pinecraft many years ago, but had welcomed her to the village.
Voices swirled around Rochelle as she stood, murmuring greetings to those sitting in front of her.
Emma plucked Rochelle’s elbow. “Aenti Chelle, did you ever hear anything from Steven? He said we might go fishing today, but he didn’t come to services this morning.” Emma frowned.
The young couple’s whirlwind courtship had been a surprise to many, except for Rochelle. Last fall, she’d seen things brewing between Henry Hostetler’s nephew and her great-niece.
Whirlwind was a good word to describe Emma. Formerly Amish but now fellowshipping at the Mennonite church, she had recently gained her full membership status in the congregation.
Emma said, “I want to meet the new family, the Frys. The daughter looks like she’s around my age. She looks nervous, too. I know I was glad to already know people when I first moved to Florida, and, of course, Betsy lived here already.”
“You go on ahead. I . . . I need to speak to Natalie.” Rochelle picked up her Bible, then touched her head covering. No, it wasn’t lopsided, but sometimes she just had a lopsided feeling. Like now. She didn’t need to speak to Natalie Miller. Need was too strong of a word. Every time she spoke with Natalie, she came away feeling encouraged. And right now she could use some encouragement. So maybe she did need to speak with her young friend.
“Rochelle, it’s good to see you,” said Natalie Miller, glowing with the first signs of new life inside of her.
“It’s good to see you, too. How have you been feeling?”
“Very well. I want to eat everything not nailed down, but other than food cravings like red velvet whoopie pies at three a.m., I’m doing great.” Natalie’s eyes sparkled. “Part of me wants to get an ultrasound to find out boy or girl, but I’m going with what Jacob prefers and we’ll be surprised.”
“I know you’re excited, either way.” The younger woman’s words made Rochelle smile. Only converted to Mennonite within the last couple of years, Natalie felt a bit freer than most in discussing personal matters such as pregnancy. Especially in church. Rochelle glanced around. Everyone else was taken up in their own discussions after the service.
Rochelle continued from her spot at the edge of the pew to the opposite end, then made her way along the side aisle and headed through another door into the foyer, then shot to the ladies room. While the family introduced themselves to the congregation, maybe she could stall long enough for Emma to meet and greet Silas’s daughter, who looked so much like Belinda at the same age it made Rochelle stare.
She greeted a few people then spent an inordinate amount of time washing her hands in the ladies’ room and checking the hairpins securing her head covering. There. That ought to be long enough.
She realized how silly she must look, sneaking around in the crowd and avoiding the Frys. It wasn’t as if she were a teenager. Not anymore. Rochelle squared her shoulders and studied her face in the ladies’ room mirror. Bright red spots covered her cheeks.
“Rochelle, are you feeling all right?” Her sister Jolene had entered the ladies’ room. “Your face looks flushed, and I understand why.”
“I’m okay.” She glanced from the mirror to Jolene. “I wish you’d told me they were coming.” She needed to get better at masking her feelings, with several people inquiring about her health lately.
Jolene stepped closer and lowered her voice. “I didn’t know. I promise. I would have told you if I knew.”
The bathroom door opened, so Rochelle kept her response simple. “Good. Well, I need to get going.”
“We should have a family lunch again . . . soon.”
“Soon.”
They both greeted the woman who entered, then Rochelle scurried from the ladies room. She needed to quit hanging back, letting Silas’s presence get to her like this. With him living in Pinecraft now, she needed to get used to it as soon as possible. When winter came, bringing the snowbirds from the north and the village population swelled, avoiding him would be easier and far less obvious until she could deal with whatever she was feeling once and for all.
Rochelle nearly collided with Silas and his family, who were talking to Emma and others in the foyer.
“Here she is now,” Emma called out.
* * *
Rochelle app
eared at his side in the foyer, almost knocking into his elbow.
Her cheeks shot with red, the expression was just as endearing now as it once had been. Quickly, however, her expression smoothed itself over.
“Hello, Silas.”
He’d forgotten how it felt when she said his name, and the inches between them shrank. “Rochelle . . .”
“Oh, so you know each other?” Emma glanced from Rochelle to Silas, then back again.
“When we were about your age,” Rochelle said. “But it was a long time ago. Ah, welcome to Pinecraft. I’m afraid I don’t know the names of your daughter and son.”
“Lena.” Wearing Belinda’s smile, Silas’s daughter stepped forward and shook hands with Rochelle.
“I’m Matthew.” His son wore a lopsided grin and shook hands with Rochelle.
“It’s nice to meet you both. Yes, I knew your parents a long time ago when we all lived in Ohio.”
“Your mother and Rochelle were good friends.” Silas found his voice again.
Lena’s eyes narrowed a millisecond. “But we never saw you or heard of you when we were growing up and visited Ohio.”
Rochelle now looked at him. Yes, the explanation was his to give.
“Well, right before your mother and I married—” his voice cracked.
“I moved to Florida. I don’t often get back to Ohio. I did know your parents were serving as missionaries in Mozambique.” She looked apologetic for the interruption. But she’d mercifully interjected when his voice failed him. So, she’d kept up with them, a little. “Then, life happened. I started my business here, and well, your parents and I . . . lost touch.”
“I want to go back to Africa, someday,” Lena said. “I miss it.”
“I’m sure you do,” Rochelle responded, warmly. “So, what brings all of you here to Pinecraft? We don’t often get new, permanent residents under retirement age.”
“I have a job, flying, a private charter pilot. I’m thinking of earning my commercial license after all.” He didn’t miss the blank expression on Rochelle’s face at the words commercial license. “And Lena here is going to start college soon for nursing.”
Rochelle opened her mouth, but Emma spoke first. “Oh, just like my Aenti Chelle. She’s going to finish her studies this fall, or soon anyway.”
Now Rochelle looked a tad cranky, but again smoothed over her expression. “Oh, Emma, I’d only mentioned it a week or so ago. I haven’t decided yet, for sure.”
Emma nodded. “Well, I think you need to. Aenti Chelle has only two more semesters, and then clinicals. You need to finish.”
“But you have a business here?” Silas asked.
“I have a cleaning company. Keim Cleaning. I discovered when I moved here people in the good city of Sarasota will pay good money for a Mennonite or Amish woman to clean their homes. I learned the business from an Old Order woman who lives here in the village, and she helped me find my first clients. So the business sort of grew and grew, and I’m always looking for good workers.”
“I know Lena wouldn’t mind something part-time, especially with school coming up.”
Lena nodded. “Yes, I’d like that. I applied at Yoder’s and Der Dutchman, and they’re not hiring right now.”
“I imagine I can find a client or two for you. And I sometimes need substitutes. We’ll talk again about it sometime soon.”
“All right.” Lena beamed. “Thank you. Thank you.”
Seeing his daughter smile so widely made his heart hurt. At last, the sun seemed to be breaking through for his family after a year of stormy skies.
“I’m going to help my uncle in his bicycle shop,” Matthew chimed in.
“Now, we haven’t discussed it yet, and it’s up to Uncle Tobias,” Silas said.
“Ah, yes. Fry’s Bicycle Shop. Your Uncle Tobias has more bicycles than anyone in the village, I think.” Rochelle nodded, then glanced at Lena and her niece, chattering together.
“Aenti Chelle, may the Frys come to the house for lunch today?” Emma asked, the young women exchanging hopeful looks between each other.
“Well, uh . . .” Rochelle’s cheeks bloomed a deep pink.
“We don’t want to impose . . .” Silas shook his head. He didn’t know who wanted to bolt from the foyer most at the moment, him or Rochelle. He cleared his throat.
Rochelle squared her shoulders, then nodded. “Yes, we have plenty to share for lunch today. But weren’t you and some of the others supposed to go fishing with Steven?”
Emma shrugged, a gesture Silas had seen a few times from his own daughter. “I hoped we would. Maybe we will later this afternoon.”
Silas cleared his throat. “Thank you, Rochelle and Emma, but maybe we’ll come for lunch another day.” Or maybe not. He didn’t want to add to Rochelle’s obvious discomfort. He had the distinct feeling young Emma Yoder was accustomed to getting her own way, most of the time anyway.
But again, seeing the smile blooming on Lena’s face did his own heart good. So far, it seemed as though his daughter was settling into life in Pinecraft. However, they’d only been here for several days. Time would reveal more.
He glanced at Rochelle, who appeared less stiff than before his polite refusal of the lunch offer.
“All right. Another time then.” She gave him a soft smile, although he could still see apprehension in her eyes.
He now had more questions. So she’d never become a nurse? She’d never made it overseas, either. At least not that he knew of.
Instead of silencing the questions he used to have about Rochelle, his mind now spun with more questions. Of course, he knew a big reason she’d left school, and it wasn’t just him. He’d told her, years ago, he always wanted her to finish her education. No matter what had happened between them.
* * *
Rochelle, 19
“What do you dream about, Rochelle Keim?”
No one had ever asked her, Rochelle Keim, the younger of the two Keim sisters, what she dreamed about. She’d been too busy helping in the household and, with her mother having cancer, helping act as caregiver as well. She’d gotten her driver’s license, could change wound dressings quickly, reminded her mother about her various medicines, and held her mother’s hand while the retching shook her dwindling frame. She’d been the driver for Momma’s chemotherapy appointments, too.
The question, coming from Silas, made her glow inside.
“I—I dream about working overseas, as a nurse. Remember the missionaries who visited a few months ago? Their visit made me start praying and thinking about it. I want to make a difference in people’s lives, people who have no hope and are hurting.”
“I think you’ll make a wonderful nurse.” Silas leaned back on the porch swing. “How much longer do you have until your studies are done?”
“Four semesters or so. I’ve, ah, only taken a class here and there recently, with Momma being sick. But, I want to get there. Someday.” Rochelle thought again about her mother. Her older sister, Jolene, had a toddler girl, and Rochelle knew Jolene couldn’t devote as much time to caring for their mother. So, of course, Rochelle had to be the one. She hadn’t told the family about her heart’s decision to search for a possibility overseas.
Silas studied her face. “I believe you will. I know it’s been hard with your mother’s illness, but your whole family can pitch in and help with her. She’s their family, too.”
“I know. It’s just easier if I take care of her.” She wanted to explain how the Amish part of the family didn’t acknowledge her parents, being shunned, and people at their home church . . .
It was easy to forget people with chronic illness.
“Easier for who? Them or you?”
Rochelle shook her head. “Silas—”
“Never mind.” He smiled at her like he smiled at no one else. Ever since the first time he caught her attention, she noticed how he treated other people. Always kindly, warmly. But when he looked at her like this? Well, it was the kind of smile reserve
d for her alone. It made her insides warm—no, blazing hot if she would admit it to herself.
“Anyway,” he continued. “I need help with a diagnosis. I have, uh, a lip lesion.”
“Lip lesion?” She studied his mouth. “I don’t see anything.”
“Look more closely.” He pointed at one corner. “It’s right here.”“Where?” She leaned a little closer, and her breath caught. She saw nothing.
But she was close enough for him to easily pull her to him and place his lips on hers.
The first kiss—ever—in her young life, and it was beautiful. The sweetest gesture, ever. But oh, how her insides shook. Her heart thudded.
“Silas?” Her throat croaked.
“Yes, Rochelle?”
“Is—is it better now?”
“Much better.” He punctuated the phrase with another swift kiss.
4
The great-nieces’ whispers in the kitchen drifted onto the lanai, where Rochelle sat sipping a sweet tea and listening to the soft breeze whistling in the palm trees. She closed her eyes. Florida, even in the summer with its humidity, had never lost its appeal. She thought of the coming fall season and plummeting temperatures up north. Dealing with humidity was far easier than digging out of a snowstorm.
Even Pinecraft’s quietness in the summer didn’t bother her.
However, with the Frys’ arrival, the village began to hum, just a little.
“Well, something was going on with them. They know each other,” came Emma’s voice. The young woman had pouted, ever so slightly, over the fact that Steven wasn’t meeting her immediately at the house after church, but brightened upon learning they would be going to a singing in the evening at his parents’ neighbors’ house.
“Leave it alone, Emma. If Aenti Chelle wants to tell us, she will. It’s up to her.” A sound of swishing fabric. Someone had risen from the kitchen table and pushed back a chair. The refrigerator door clicked open. “We’re almost out of iced tea.”
“Oh. Sorry. I meant to make more, but I forgot,” Emma said. “Could you please pour me a glass also?”
A Promise of Grace Page 3
