Excusing herself, she went to her room and retrieved a skein. Julia kept her crochet hooks and knitting needles in a basket on the same shelf as the books. When she walked back into the room with the yarn, Julia smiled and nodded toward the basket. Sharon selected a size J hook, which would work nicely for the pattern she had in mind.
She was surprised when Julia put down her list, walked over to a sewing basket, and picked up a quilt top. She’d never seen Julia sew except to darn a few things. Moving back to the couch, she sat beside Caleb, threaded the needle, and began to stitch a border strip around the top.
Sharon watched Julia and thought of her mother. She’d received a letter each week from her. Julia always wrote back to her. She knew this because Julia would read the return letters out loud to her and asked if she wanted to add anything. Sharon didn’t know what to say to her mother, though.
The lavender paper sat in her room, waiting for her to use, but she didn’t know how to begin the conversation she needed to have with her parents. So instead she began to crochet. She allowed the hook and the yarn to sooth the worries in her heart. She allowed the rhythm of the crocheting to calm her anxiousness.
When Ada tapped her Bible and began to read, Sharon found herself listening, really listening, rather than merely tolerating her.
“‘I will both lie down in peace, and sleep…’”
Caleb folded his paper and placed his arm around Julia.
“‘For You alone, O Lord…’”
Julia lowered her sewing and smiled over the top of it at Sharon.
“‘You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.’”
At the last words, Julia glanced down and something crossed her face—a shadow maybe or it could have been she was having a stomachache.
Soon after that Ada said good night. Julia sewed another ten minutes and excused herself. Caleb folded his paper and followed.
But Sharon wasn’t ready for bed. She wanted to crochet just one more row. She wanted to think about the things she had to say to her mother and how she would ask for her forgiveness.
Chapter 32
Julia pulled away from Caleb, stood, and walked to the window. The night was so warm they had opened it, but no breeze stirred her gown as she stared out into the darkness.
The week had been exhausting, beginning on Sunday by learning about Frannie’s tragic situation. The woman had even come into the restaurant yesterday, brought in by Susan while the children were in school. Seeing her had driven the panic deeper into Julia’s heart. Seeing her had been like holding a mirror up to what might be her future.
She’d tried to talk to Ada about it yesterday. Her mother was on the mend but noticeably weaker than before. She had again joined the family downstairs, but she was no longer able to sit in the front hall and greet visitors.
“Were you ever afraid?” Julia asked.
“Of what?”
“That dat might leave or die?”
“He did die.”
“But—”
“Julia, be strong and take heart. Hope in the Lord.”
When Julia had only stared down at the floor, her mother had added, “And talk to Caleb. Tell him what has frightened you.”
Now Caleb was waiting, wanting to know why she’d become so silent and why she pulled away from him when he tried to hold her.
How could she find the words to explain her deepest fears? And even if she had the words, the right words, did she have the courage to share them?
“Tell me what’s wrong, Julia. Maybe I can help.”
“You can’t!” The statement leapt from her—too harsh, too absolute.
“How do you know that? You haven’t even given me a chance.”
He was beside her now, standing so close she could smell the soap he’d used earlier when bathing. It was all she could do not to turn and bury herself in his arms. Would that make things better or worse?
“Julia, what are you afraid of?”
“What am I not afraid of? That mamm will die. That the café will be a failure. That it will be such a success I won’t be able to rise to the challenge. That we won’t have children. That you will leave!” She pressed her fingers to her lips, wishing with all her heart she could pull the confessions back, especially the last one.
Why hadn’t he simply let it go? Why did he always have to push? Always need to talk things out? Why couldn’t he let her carry her fears and burdens alone?
“Why would I leave?” He hadn’t moved, but she could feel the tenseness in his body. How was it that she knew him so well after so short a time?
“Some men do—”
“We’re Amish, Julia. Our commitment is sacred and for life. Together we—”
“Some Amish men do.” She turned on him now, though she couldn’t see him clearly in the darkness of their room. “Some Amish men do, Caleb. They leave. They just disappear. Do you realize what has happened to Frannie? What happens to women who are abandoned? We are left in limbo—unable to marry, no longer single. We’re left to provide for ourselves or depend on the charity of others.”
“I am not one of those men.” His voice was almost a growl.
She knew she had pushed too far, understood that these fears, the ones that woke her in the middle of the night, were things she should wrestle with alone. She shouldn’t have admitted them to anyone, especially not her husband.
“How do I know that?”
“How can you not?” He reached for her then, but she stepped away.
“I don’t even know you.”
“You do.” He turned, walked to his side of the bed, and picked up his pillow. “You do know me. Maybe what frightens you is that you know you can depend on me. You know how much I care.”
Without another word, he walked out of their room and shut the door quietly behind him.
Julia thought she would cry all night, but exhaustion won. She woke at her normal time, well before dawn. The day was already feeling warm. Regardless of what had happened between her and Caleb the night before, there would be people to feed.
She dressed, stopped by the bathroom, and peeked into the sitting room. Caleb was already gone. His pillow was still on the couch, placed on top of a neatly folded sheet. It wasn’t his Saturday to work at the grocery, so he must be in the barn.
Why did she doubt him? He was a good man and a tender husband. He’d done nothing to warrant her distrust. Maybe she was having typical newlywed jitters. Perhaps she should have talked to Miriam or Lydia about it, but there had been no time.
She made her way to the kitchen and began preparing the dishes they would be offering on the lunch menu. It was the second Saturday in November, and with the unseasonably warm weather she expected they would have plenty of customers. Why didn’t that thought make her as happy as she had imagined it would only two months ago?
Peeking into the next room, she ticked off each item on her morning checklist—the list she no longer needed to see. Each table was properly cleaned, and a single fresh flower had already been placed in each vase for a centerpiece. Sharon must have been in the garden early. She was a gut girl, and Julia realized with a start that she would miss her if she decided to go home at Thanksgiving. A part of her hoped Sharon would stay with them. There were plenty of girls in Pebble Creek to hire for help, but they weren’t family.
Family. The word sent an ache through her heart.
Where was Caleb? And what could she say to him to bridge the distance that had grown between them over the last week? It was unnatural and wrong. She needed to trust what she couldn’t control to the Lord. Her mother was right about that.
Her cane tapping against the floor, Ada hobbled into the room as if thoughts of her could produce her presence.
“Gudemariye, dochder.”
“And you, mamm.”
“Whatever you’re cooking smells wunderbaar.”
“Indeed it does.”
Caleb’s voice sent her stomach tumbling. She missed him—missed everything about him.
More than anything she wanted to walk into his arms and feel his kiss, hear him murmur her name, see the teasing look in his eyes.
But she couldn’t do any of that, not with Ada in the room and Sharon somewhere close. So instead she managed a smile and said, “I’ve made your breakfast. It’s ready and set on the table.”
“Danki.” Caleb walked across the room. He stopped behind her, reached over her head, and withdrew a glass from the cabinet.
“There’s kaffi and juice on the table.” She did not want to talk about breakfast beverages. She longed to turn in his arms and bury herself in the smell and comfort of him, but Ada was watching them as if they were two kittens determined to chase a ball of yarn around the room.
“Ya, and I’ll drink them both. It’s so warm, though, some water would be gut first.”
Sharon joined them, washing her hands at the sink. “It was warm when I cut the flowers, and the sun was barely up.”
“You’re up early every day now. What would your parents think?” Caleb laughed as he finished the water and rinsed the glass.
Julia appreciated the fact that he didn’t allow the tension which existed between them to affect the way he interacted with the rest of the family. She joined them at the table, and they all bowed their heads to give thanks. Julia marveled at how different it was, praying within this circle. She’d always believed God heard her, but knowing that Ada, Caleb, and Sharon were offering up their thanks and concerns at the same time soothed her heart. Perhaps everything would turn out well after all.
Caleb reached for the bacon. Sharon poured some juice. Ada stared out the window at the warm November day. “I remember when we moved here. That was before you were born, Julia.”
Sharon snickered, and Caleb raised his gaze from his plate with so many emotions behind his eyes that Julia had to look away.
“So long ago, mamm.” Julia played along, grateful to see Sharon in such a fine mood this morning. “It’s amazing you can remember something from way back then.”
“Ya.” Ada’s eyes clouded in that way when she wasn’t completely with them, and her voice took on a softer quality. “It doesn’t seem so long ago. I was hoping for a boppli, but we hadn’t been blessed yet. We moved to Wisconsin in nineteen seventy. Even then there were a few old-timers in our district. They remembered that day. One woman was ninety-four. She lived close. Her name was Priscilla, and she taught me so much about quilting…”
Ada raised her cup of kaffi to her lips, her hand shaking slightly. “She taught me about quilting and about life. She was the one who told me about that day.”
Sharon had scooped a spoonful of eggs onto her plate and reached for a biscuit, which she was covering with butter and jam. “What day, Ada?”
“The day of destruction.” Ada set her cup into its saucer with something of a clatter. It landed off center, tilted, and nearly spilled its contents.
Caleb reached out and caught it in time.
“Danki, Caleb.”
“Gem gschehne.”
The old words. Spoken so early in the morning, they sounded like blessings, and they brought tears to Julia’s eyes. Why was she so emotional? She had much left to do before they opened, but suddenly she only wanted to preserve this moment—to reach out and hold on to it, to embrace each person at the table.
Ada picked up her fork and began tearing her biscuit into pieces.
“Why was it called a day of destruction? And when was it?” Sharon opened her mouth wide and took a giant bite of the buttermilk biscuit covered with blackberry preserves.
Caleb caught Julia watching her eat, and they shared a smile—shared that small victory.
“Because it was,” Ada said, still focused on working the fork into her biscuit. “The weather was warm, like today.”
She glanced toward the calendar on the wall in the kitchen, squinted, and said. “Perhaps this old world knows. It was the eleventh of November, nineteen eleven.”
“Ya, but the eleventh hasn’t arrived yet, Ada. You girls have nothing to fear today—or any day for that matter.” Caleb wiped his mouth with his napkin and refilled his kaffi mug.
“Do you know what she’s talking about?” Julia reached for the tie of her prayer kapp and ran her fingers down the length of it.
“Sure.” Caleb sat back and studied the scene outside their window. “Folks were talking about it at the grocery earlier this week and even over at the cabins.”
“I heard something at the church luncheon,” Sharon said.
“It was a terrible day. Priscilla said she thought it might be the end-times—first the heat, followed by the tornadoes, and then the blizzard. So much death and so many things destroyed.” Ada glanced from Julia to Sharon to Caleb. “Many wondered if it was the day of the Lord’s wrath.”
“It was a day of unusual weather, that’s the truth. And the forecast does call for colder weather according to Tim. He came by yesterday. You all should be fine for today, though I expect you’ll be hot in this house even with the windows open.” He stood and carried his dishes to the sink.
Julia followed him, needing to be next to him if only for a moment. Something in her mother’s voice had felt like a premonition, or maybe a vision from God, and it had unsettled her.
She whispered, “I want to say I’m sorry about—”
He ducked his head and brushed his lips against hers.
They both placed their dishes in the sink as Sharon walked up.
“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay around?” Caleb stood close beside his wife. His arm brushed against hers, and his voice in her ear, soft and filled with tenderness, made her heart lift and soar. Perhaps tonight it would be like it had been before. Perhaps tonight she could cross the distance she had created between them.
“Aaron is expecting you, ya?” She turned so that she was standing even closer, standing against him.
Sharon stepped out of the room. “Guests are coming,” she announced.
Caleb reached out and touched her face, ran his fingers down under her chin, and kissed her again on the lips. “I told him I’d be there after breakfast.”
“Then go.” She reached up and combed her fingers through the bangs which were again growing long. “If you make it back early, maybe we’ll have time to give you a haircut.”
“You’re saying I look shaggy?”
“You do.” Ada bustled past them. “Even these old eyes can see as much.”
“Hmm.” Caleb’s eyebrows shot up and then back down. “I’ll see if I can’t finish my work early then. You finish your lunch crowd by four?”
She nodded. She wanted to reach up and kiss him again. More than anything, she wanted to apologize thoroughly, but she knew now wasn’t the time.
“I’ll be home by three thirty so I can help you clean up.” Whistling, he snagged his hat off the hook by the back door and headed out into the fall morning.
When he opened the door, a draft of too-warm air filled the room.
Day of destruction, indeed.
Julia would welcome the cold front, but she suspected that by spring they would remember this morning fondly.
Caleb and Aaron had worked all afternoon adding an extension to the front porch that ran the length of the cabins’ office. It had become quite the meeting place for guests morning and afternoon, and Lydia had wanted it wrapped around the side of the building. The men had been able to keep tabs on the coming and goings of guests while completing the work.
“We should have done this in the spring when it was cooler,” Aaron muttered as they hammered the final boards in place.
“No one could have guessed we’d reach seventy-three degrees in November.” Caleb guzzled water from the plastic jug he’d brought. When he finished, he wiped the back of his arm across his mouth. “We might have broken the record high.”
“I don’t care about records. I’m ready for things to return to normal. Our baby’s due any day, and this hot weather is making Lydia narrisch.”
“She
’ll be happy with the porch. It looks nice. There will be room for half a dozen more rockers.”
Aaron’s smile was slow but genuine. “I don’t expect Lydia will be making it over here to rock until after the boppli is born. I’m glad she promised to stay home today—simply walking is hard enough.”
“You can describe the work we’ve done to her. With the view of Pebble Creek and the woods, this will be a perfect spot for an afternoon rest.”
“Clara can tell David to bring the chairs over next week.” Aaron studied the sky, which was darkening at an alarming rate. “It looks like we finished just in time. Tim’s storm is nearly here. He’s been talking about it for two days. The man has adapted to the Plain life well, but he does enjoy researching local history on his computer.”
“He’s not the only one. Ada mentioned the nineteen-eleven storm this morning. I need to get her and Tim together. They would have a fine time—”
But he never finished the thought because the wind suddenly picked up, coming out of the north and dropping the temperature instantly.
Aaron grinned. “Time to put up the tools for the day. Help me close the office?”
Together they went through the main room, shutting windows and locking the front door. It took some effort to push the door closed with the wind blowing in alarming gusts. As Caleb gathered his tools and placed them into his toolbox, Aaron went to speak with a man and woman from cabin two who were worried about the weather.
Caleb checked to make sure nothing was left on the ground. It wouldn’t do to leave a hammer or screwdriver outside during a storm. The wind might pick it up and strike someone or something, causing real damage. He had to hold his hat down with one hand and bend his body against the wind to cover the short distance between the picnic tables—where he picked up a rake someone had left outside—to the front of the building where everyone was gathering.
A Wedding for Julia Page 24
