“These young people,” Leah observed as a gaggle of young Amish women strolled by, chattering and giggling. “They move so quickly. Don’t stop and think.”
“Ha. I’m well aware. I’ve had two under my roof for almost two years now. But I love having them.”
“They don’t think about the future. Only now. Or if they have thought of the future, it’s silly things.” Leah shook her head.
Rochelle nodded. Emma’s preoccupation with wedding details. Of course, if she were the one getting married, details would be important to her, too. But she wouldn’t continually change her mind.
“Come, would you like to see my birds?” Leah set down her glass.
“Birds?”
“In the back yard. For some reason, they think my yard is the best of them all.”
Rochelle followed Leah into the cottage, through the living room and kitchen, and then out a screen door.
They stepped out onto a patio, which had a picnic table. But beyond the picnic table stood a tall pole, topped with a large wooden birdhouse. The pole also had perches, one or two feet long, sticking out from the sides.
“Look up.” And Leah pointed.
Parrots, at least a dozen of them, perched like emerald jewels on the birdhouse and preened in the sunshine.
“Oh, I’ve never seen so many of them, all in one place like this before. Even at the zoo.”
A few of them called out to each other. One flapped its wings and squawked at another.
“They all of a sudden just appeared here. One or two, and then more.”
Leah went to the small wooden shed in the corner of the yard and emerged with a large sack sagging on the bottom. Rochelle joined her and reached for the bag.
“Here, I can carry this.” She had no idea how on earth the older woman managed to lug the sack of sunflower seeds from the shed.
“I couldn’t help but start feeding them. So now, they wait for me.” Leah chuckled.
At the women’s approach, several of the birds took flight, landing a safer distance away to perch on the nearest electrical wires.
Leah reached for a lever, and as the pole glided down, the remainder of the birds flew to a nearby tree, but still kept watch as she and Rochelle filled the feeder.
“Do they talk to you at all?”
“I taught one to say ‘pretty bird,’ but I suspect he’ll be shy today.” Leah worked the lever, and the pole raised up to its original height.
“They’re beautiful. How much do they eat?”
“Oh, I go through one bag of these seeds in a week. Friends help buy the seeds.” Leah looked thoughtful for a moment, as if she wanted to say more.
“I’m sorry I haven’t come by more.” She could use the “I’m busy” reason, but Leah had always been a short walk away.
“Don’t you mind about it. I’ve kept busy myself. I’m going to have another yard sale next weekend, getting rid of a few things. No matter how simple I’ve tried to keep my home, I keep finding little doodads in every corner, it seems.”
Rochelle nodded. “I understand.”
They watched the birds for a few more minutes, laughing as some of the birds would scramble for the seeds, a few of which sprayed from the ledge of the birdhouse and landed on the yard.
“Oh, speaking of things. Since you’re here, I have something to give you. Follow me.”
Rochelle followed Leah into the cottage, where they paused in the living room and stopped at a cardboard box on the coffee table.
“A few things I’ve gone through, and you stopping by today reminded me.” Leah rummaged in the box and pulled out another, smaller box, carved from some type of wood and inlaid with a lighter wood in the shape of a cross.
“It’s pretty,” Rochelle said.
“I want you to have it. Do you remember the box?”
“I’m not sure.”
“It was always on my kitchen table, years ago.”
Yes, she remembered it now. Whenever Leah would distribute paychecks, she’d sit at the table and the box, no bigger than a shoebox, would sit in the middle of it. Leah always tucked papers and mail in the box.
“I remember it now.”
“I want you to have it.” Leah handed the box to Rochelle.
“Thank you.” She appreciated the kind gesture.
“Now, let’s finish our lemonade. But I think the ice in the glasses has melted.”
They returned to the porch, where Rochelle polished off the rest of her lemonade, as well as another glass, while Leah updated her on the family.
“And someday, I know my home here will belong to someone else.” Leah frowned. “I only hope they keep it in the family.”
“I hope so, too.” As the older villagers went to their eternal reward, who would be left to care for the homes that had sheltered many a family during the holidays, and for some villagers like her, year-round?
Rochelle shivered. One day, who would have her home?
And, would she end up alone, like Leah?
After her third glass of lemonade, Rochelle bade Leah good-bye, promising to visit again. She would. Leah had been like a mamm to her those first months here in Pinecraft.
Rochelle strolled home, carrying her gift from Leah under one arm. When she walked up the driveway, she could already hear Emma’s voice drifting out the front screen door.
“I’m so mad at that Steven, I could just—just—spit!”
Ah, so the girls were home.
* * *
Rochelle, 19
Word got around about the Keim place, and the old house had sold right after New Year’s, along with the acreage, just as Dad had said it would. The red block letters of the SOLD label covered the agent’s sign in the immense front yard.
“Are you sure, Dad? This is what you’re supposed to do?”
Her father gave a slow nod. “I’ve prayed long and I’ve prayed hard. This is the best thing, for all of us. Whatever you choose to do with the money is up to you. Donate, save, invest. . . . It’s too late to back out now, anyway.”
He’d never mentioned investing before.
Rochelle bit back the words that wanted to come: “I don’t need anything except to be right here.”
“You’re welcome to stay with me at my new place.”
New place.
Momma would have flipped if she’d known Dad was selling his section of the family’s property, along with the house. No one in the family ventured to buy out his share, either.
The old saying “When God closes a door, He opens a window” came to mind. Not quite scriptural, but Rochelle understood it. Every door had slammed on her, beginning with Momma passing away.
Her nursing studies had floundered, her relationship with Silas had soured and so had her friendship with Belinda. And then, there was the upcoming wedding, the announcement of which still made Rochelle’s head reel.
Another snowstorm had come the night before, and she stared out at the fields covered with a fresh blanket of snow.
“I’m going to Pinecraft, too, for Christmas. My cousin has a room, said I was welcome to come.”
Pinecraft, in Florida. Vacation spot for families and old people. She’d been a few times and enjoyed the volleyball and trips to the beach. But ever since Momma had taken sick, the trips had stopped.
“Dad, do you think Cousin Herb would have room for me, too?”
17
Silas’s nose burned, as did his cheeks and the back of his neck after spending an afternoon on the waters. He sat on the back patio, cleaning fish with Matthew while Lena was in her room, studying.
Well, she’d told him she was studying.
All the way home from the marina, Lena had remained quiet as a stone in the front seat beside him, other than to comment about not forgetting sunscreen the next time they went fishing.
“I’m glad we finally made the time to go fishing.” Silas added a fillet to the growing stack on the plate. Not enough for a large-scale fish fry, but enough for the three of
them to stuff themselves with tonight and tomorrow night, too.
“I’d fish every day if I could.” Matthew kept scaling the fish in front of him.
“I think it’s relaxing. I’d forgotten how much.”
“I don’t think Lena and Emma and Steven were relaxed.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think Steven likes Lena.”
“Well, they’re friends.”
“Aw, Dad. Of course they are. But I think he likes her especially.”
“Huh.” When did his son start noticing things like this? “But he’s engaged to Emma, you know. They’re getting married in five weeks, or some time soon.” He ought to scold the young man for saying such things, and he ought to mind his own business.
“I know. Lena says all Emma does is talk about the wedding.”
“Ah, I see.” But he didn’t see.
The subject turned away from Lena and over to boats and fishing and whether or not Silas might buy them their own boat someday. They kept cleaning fish until they transformed the stack of whole mullet into fillets.
As soon as they’d finished, Lena ambled from the house, her cheeks red. “I have a headache. I tried studying, but it was useless.”
“A day of rest today, including studies,” Silas reminded her.
She nodded, flopping onto the nearest empty patio chair. She glanced at Matthew, then to Silas.
“Are we cooking these tonight? I don’t mind preparing them.”
“Yes, maybe half.”
“Oh. Emma said there’s a concert tonight, in the park, at seven. A bluegrass band from Pennsylvania is playing. I might go.” Lena fanned herself with her hand.
“But you have a headache.”
“I’ll take something for it. Do we have any aspirin?”
“We should.” He studied her face. She didn’t quite meet his eyes.
Matthew picked up the bowl of fish bones and innards. “I’m going to throw out this stuff.”
“Not in the kitchen can.” Silas recalled the scent from the last time they’d cleaned some fish.
“Nope. I’ll bag ’em and stick the bag in the big trash can outside.”
“Good.” Silas glanced back to Lena. “Now, if you could tell me what’s going on? You’ve been quiet.”
“I’m . . . I’m not sure. Emma . . . well, she was starting to get on my nerves today. Wedding this, and that.” Lena wrinkled her nose.
“Hmm . . . I think someday, you’ll understand from her perspective.”
“No. Not like that. Steven . . .” Lena shook her head and stared at her tanned forearms.
“Steven?”
“He acted like she was getting on his nerves, too.” She gave a small smile in his direction. “I like Steven. He’s . . . nice. Smart, too. He knows so much about the fish and their habitat . . . I mean, he sounds like he could teach my biology class.”
A pink hue deepened on her cheeks.
“Huh.” This kind of talk made him fidget in his chair. If it had seemed strange to hear Matthew saying he thought Steven liked Lena, it was even worse to see the confirmation written on Lena’s face.
Not good.
Not good at all, with a wedding less than two months away.
“So, Emma must be getting nervous with the wedding countdown. I know your mother was excited, nervous too. It was all she talked about, the closer the day drew near.”
He remembered Belinda’s excitement about their wedding, although they didn’t have a long engagement.
With their grief still raw over John, some doubted their haste to the altar. At the time, Silas had been never more sure of anything. In his young adult mind, he needed to act, to do something. To right a wrong in the best way he knew how.
* * *
Silas, 21
Silas wanted to tell Rochelle himself about him and Belinda. It wouldn’t be fair if she heard it from someone else, even though they hadn’t spoken since the days just after John’s funeral. After the meal, her demeanor had closed off from him, and he couldn’t coax a smile from her, no matter how much he tried. However, it hadn’t been a day for smiles of any kind.
The Lord would heal their loss in time, at least take away most of its pain. Or so Silas hoped and prayed. He and Belinda, together, now would honor John’s memory.
He convinced himself true love would come in time, he hoped. Belinda had her own beauty, more obvious than Rochelle’s. She was quick to speak up and not quite as careful with her words as Rochelle.
But Rochelle’s recent turnaround had cooled his resolve.
Maybe his mother had been right. Maybe he ought to wait, give things some time.
He picked up the telephone, calling himself a coward as he punched in Rochelle’s number.
She answered on the first ring. “Silas.”
“Hello. Ah, um, how are you?”
“Doing well. Ready for Christmas to be over with for this year.”
“I understand.” Silence filled the line.
“So, how are you?”
“Doing well . . .” He wasn’t sure how to continue. “Look, I think you ought to know, you deserve to know before anyone else. It might seem like things are happening fast, but . . .”
“You and Belinda are getting married, aren’t you?”
“Ah, well, yes. Soon.”
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Her voice sounded even.
“It’s not always about what we want, Rochelle.”
“What do you mean? What’s happened to us?”
“There hasn’t been an us, not for a while. I . . . I feel like a failure with you. And with Belinda, ah, I don’t.” This was coming out all wrong and getting worse by each passing second. Yes, things had happened quickly with Belinda. All the time the four of them had spent together, and Rochelle with her grief, then all of them losing John—it had all boiled into a mess.
“Well, I pray God’s blessings upon your marriage. I hope . . . I hope you get the plane you always wanted.”
He wanted to say, “We can all still be friends,” but those words didn’t sound right to his ears.
More silence.
“Anyway, Silas, thanks for calling. Um, Dad and I are going to Florida for Christmas. I’m glad he wants to do something besides work in his shop. And, well, the house sold, too. So, I’m not sure where I’ll be after this.”
“Wow, it’s a lot to happen all at once.”
“We’ve had a lot happen, all at once. Good-bye, Silas.”
“Bye?” He spoke to a dial tone.
18
Rochelle stepped into the house, bracing herself for what would come next.
Had she and Belinda been so dramatic at the same age?
Maybe she ought to ask Jolene. Her older sister always seemed to be shaking her head over Rochelle when they were younger.
Likely it had to do with their age difference. Rochelle, the youngest, had likely been a bit spoiled, as she now considered herself from an older perspective.
Much like Emma now pacing the kitchen, while Betsy poured some water into the coffeepot.
“Aenti Chelle, I’m glad you’re home.” Emma paused. She leaned on the breakfast bar.
Rochelle crossed from the kitchen and into the living area. She placed the box from Leah on the coffee table before returning to the kitchen.
“Why?”
“Why do women do things like this?”
“Like what?”
“Lena is my friend. But . . .”
“But?”
“She and Steven were getting along well today.”
“Aren’t you glad your friend and your future husband get along well?”
“Not like this.” Emma began pacing again. Then she stopped. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Well, have you talked to Lena about it? I’m always willing to listen to you, but I’m not sure I’m the best person to solve this problem.”
“No.” Emma frowned. “Maybe I’m just a little . . . I don
’t know.”
“As far as Lena’s feelings, I’d ask her.” Rochelle stepped forward. “But what’s troubling you?”
“Cold feet.” Betsy took down three mugs from the cabinet. “I’m nervous about getting married, too.”
Their mamm would be here next week, along with their father. Rochelle helped herself to a cup of coffee. Wasn’t there still some pie left from earlier today? She uncovered the remainders of the blueberry pie. Betsy had brought one home from the bakery last evening, her contribution to the Sunday meal.
“This is one of the biggest decisions of both your lives,” she said aloud. She pulled out some forks and found paper plates. “There’s bound to be some nerves. You’ve both made some choices in the past that weren’t easy to make, I’m sure. Emma, I know it hasn’t been easy for you, living here, as much as you’ve enjoyed the, ah, freer atmosphere than back in Ohio.”
Emma nodded. “I . . . I love Steven. I do feel free when I’m with him. He makes me feel special, and I know we’ll take gut care of each other. I love it here in Florida, too. Even if it does get a little boring in the village during the summertime.”
Rochelle glanced at Betsy as the three of them gathered at the table. Betsy nodded, but didn’t say more.
“Sometimes when we pray and ask for God’s direction, it doesn’t mean the answer will be an easy one to understand or carry out. Even if it’s an answer we’re looking for.”
“Ya,” Betsy said. “When I last spoke with my mamm, she said a few of the other aentis and oncles aren’t coming to Emma’s wedding after all. Because Emma left the Ordnung. But they are coming to my ceremony because I stayed. Sometimes, it doesn’t seem fair.”
Rochelle tried not to sigh about the family dynamics. She knew this was how it worked, those who left their orders, even to join the Mennonites, sometimes being shunned. Thankfully in Emma’s case, this hadn’t happened. The decision was made by some of the family members, not dictated by their church. Thankfully, Emma belonged to a less restrictive group. Yet, because Betsy stayed in the family’s order and was marrying Thaddeus Zook, she had the family’s full blessing.
“I wish I could help,” Rochelle said. “But I know there won’t be any changing their minds. Not likely.”
A Promise of Grace Page 16
