by Sarah Price
“That’s right gut,” she managed to say, reaching for the now damp towel. When he handed it to her, she noticed that he didn’t release it right away. She lifted her eyes to look up at him. “Being that it’s your home now, you should be relaxed and enjoying it, ja?”
He laughed. “I suppose you are right, Sylvia. Home should be where your heart is.” He sat down at the table and waited until she placed his plate on the table before him. “I will say that I’m learning to like your cooking, too!” He smiled at her. “You don’t know what it’s like to miss home-cooked food.”
A compliment. No one had ever complimented her over such simple things. Compliments were empty plates and full bellies, not words. “Danke,” she whispered and hurried over to the sink to clean up the dishes so that she could leave after he finished.
“You know,” he continued between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes and ham. “I wanted to ask your opinion about a garden. I suspect I should be growing some of my own food…vegetables. But I don’t have any idea how to go about that.” He looked at her. “I was thinking that you could help me with that. It would be best to plant it now before the horses come, yes?”
Her heart skipped a beat. In the past, she always loved tending her mother’s garden. There was nothing like working outside, feeling the dirt on her fingers and the sun on her back. She loved to watch the vegetables and herbs grow, the young shoots of a tomato plant or head of lettuce poking through the ground. Even better, she loved when her mother cooked with food that came from their very own garden. Was Jake asking her to grow a garden for him? To plan it, plant it, and tend it for him?
“I suppose that would be a wunderbaar gut idea,” she began slowly. It was an exciting idea but she didn’t want to seem too eager. After all, he had hired her to tend to his house, not spend time gardening. “But it might be hard to get started with all of the housework. That garden plot needs a lot of preparation since it is overgrown for sure and certain.”
“We could work on it together until the horses arrive,” he suggested.
The thought of spending time with Jake Edwards unnerved her. She had worked so hard at keeping her distance from him. It was safer that way, she had convinced herself. Working for Jake Edwards kept her away from the market, something she greatly appreciated. But working for Jake Edwards caused too many thoughts to float through her mind. His smile and laughter caused her heart to flutter. When he was in the kitchen, she felt the power of his presence. While she found herself looking forward to interacting with him, she dreaded it at the same time. She wasn’t used to the dangerous feelings she had when he was near.
“I…I suppose that would work,” she said when she realized that he was looking at her.
After dinner, he insisted on her walking out to the garden with him. It was very weedy and overgrown with grass. She took a deep breath, kneeling down to dig into the soil with her bare hand. It was dry and crumbly on the top but, deeper under the topsoil, it was rich. He watched her while she paced the perimeter. She could see the finished garden in her mind. But the reality was that the garden had basically turned into a patch of spotty grass and weeds.
“We’re going to need to plow it,” she said when she stood back at his side. She rubbed her hands together to free them from the dirt. “And you should think about spreading some manure. Makes wunderbaar gut fertilizer.”
“Do you think I could buy some from your father?” he asked.
Sylvia almost laughed. “Buy manure?”
“What’s so funny about that?” he retorted, a smile on his face.
“With all of his cows, there’s plenty of manure to give away, ja?”
It was a nice moment, the two of them standing in the future garden, laughing together. She had a pretty laugh, light and soft. It was genuine because she didn’t share it with him too often. So, when she did share it, that delightful noise, he appreciated the special gift of her sharing such happiness and joy.
On Wednesday, when she arrived, she noticed Jake was already at work on the small plot of ground, shoveling at the overgrowth. It was warm, despite it being early. He wasn’t wearing his shirt; she could see the shirt was tossed on the ground next to him. Stopping on the driveway, Sylvia found herself staring at Jake, her eyes unable to look away as he worked. His bare skin, already golden brown, glistened with sweat and there were streaks of dirt on his shoulders. He was muscular and toned in a way that was unfamiliar to her. After all, she had never before seen the naked chest of a strange man. Watching Jake brought the color to her cheeks and she felt ashamed of her own thoughts.
“Hey there,” he called out and leaned against the shovel. “Almost finished here.”
Quickly, Sylvia averted her eyes. “Ja, I see that.”
Jake frowned. “Sylvia, are you OK?” She glanced at him but, once again, looked away. It only took him a second to register the source of her discomfort and shyness. He chuckled to himself. “Ah,” he said. “My apologies.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach for the almost forgotten shirt that he had tossed over the side of the fence. To her relief, he turned his back to her while he pulled it over his head. “It’s hard work,” he explained sheepishly.
She didn’t respond, her cheeks still pink from her embarrassment.
He cleared his throat, trying to figure out how to defeat her modesty. “Come here, Sylvia, and let’s plan out the rows, yes? Then I can buy the plants for Friday.” She didn’t move right away so, setting the shovel on the ground, he walked toward her. “Sylvia?” He stood before her and reached out, tilting her chin up so that she was forced to look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the time.” She glanced away. “It won’t happen again, I promise,” he said softly.
With the hint of a nod, she stepped back and collected herself. She realized that she wasn’t necessarily offended but, to her shame, she realized that she was intrigued. Her interest in Jake Edwards alarmed her more than anything else. She felt guilty of her own thoughts. Where did they come from? In all of her life, she had never felt interest in anyone outside of her family. She had no inclination to the ways of the world. Even when her brother Emanuel had begun courting the Englischer, Shana, Sylvia’s interest was more in the beauty of their romance, not in any exposure to the outside world.
She felt foolish, knowing that such a worldly man, a widower at that, would never think twice about a young Amish girl. After all, she was but nineteen and, from what she could gather, he was at least thirty. But when he was near her, even when he worked outside while she was tending to the housework, she felt a warm feeling grow inside her chest that frightened her. She had done what she could to avoid being alone with him, too intimidated by his unspoken power over her thoughts and the intensity of his presence. Yet, his attention made her feel special in a way that no one had ever done. It was as if a wall inside of her was crumbling down and, unbeknownst to her, on the other side was a magnificent and fertile valley that she hadn’t even known existed.
“So, about those plants?” he asked, breaking her train of thought.
“Being that it’s almost May, we’re getting a late start,” she finally managed to say, breaking the silence that had befallen them. “I’d start with green beans, tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers. They can be used for chow-chow and canned for the winter.”
“Wonderful!” he said cheerfully. “Then that’s what we will plant!”
True to his word, on Friday, when she arrived, there were dozens of plants waiting by the garden plot that they had cleared earlier in the week. She stopped and stared at it, wondering at the quantity as well as where he had purchased them. She was used to planting seeds, nursing the seedlings throughout the season. With the plants already started, he would have a bountiful garden indeed. Tending to it would take most of her time, a realization that sent a wave of panic through her. What if she couldn’t do both? Would he send her away?
They spent the day planting neat clusters of the vegetables. They di
dn’t speak while they worked, but the silence was comforting. A few times, Sylvia kneeled back on her heels, wiping the sweat away from her brow only to find him nearby and watching her. He’d smile, say nothing, and continue working. It was as if he was waiting for her to notice him watching her. Inside of her chest, her heart would flutter and she could feel the color rise to her cheeks.
Once again, she found herself wondering about his interest in her. She was concerned that she was imagining it as it befuddled her to think that such a worldly man could find her to be anything more than hired help. But, as the day wore on, she began to consider that there was that possibility as an explanation for his attention and kindness. The only thing she could not understand was why.
She glanced at the sky, noticing that the sun was overhead. “Oh,” she exclaimed. “I forgot about your meal.” She started to stand, wiping her hands together to shake the dry dirt from her skin.
“Sylvia,” he said softly. “I have the meal covered.”
“Covered?” She turned around to look at him. “I don’t understand.”
He stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans. There was a mischievous and boyish twinkle in his eyes, one that made her want to smile but, instead, she felt a wave of panic. “Wait here,” he commanded with a hint of a smile. He disappeared into the house but was not gone for long.
The warmness crept back into her chest, radiating throughout her body. What was he up to, she wondered, partially afraid and partially excited to discover this secret that had bought such a twinkle to his eyes.
When he emerged from the house, he was carrying a picnic basket and an old blue blanket. He motioned toward the shade of a tree near the barn. The pounding of her heart increased and she wondered if he could hear it as she approached him. She stood back, watching as he spread the blanket on the grass and set down the basket.
“Today,” he announced. “I will wait on you.” He paused, waiting for her to meet his gaze. “To thank you for all of your help.”
She stood there, feeling quite awkward and uncertain about what to do. It dawned on her that, indeed, he might be flirting with her. If she had convinced herself that she had only imagined the emotion behind his words and actions before, she knew now that she had only been fooling herself. “Jake, I…”
He waved his hand at her. “Sit, Sylvia. I won’t take no for an answer. You work hard for everyone else, don’t you? But when do you ever get treated and pampered? When does anyone ever thank you for what you do?”
For a moment, she felt tears at the corners of her eyes. She fought the urge to cry while trying to understand why she had the urge at all. Was it fear of where this might go or was it simply because he spoke the truth? Dare she take this first step beyond an employee relationship?
She looked into the sky at the sun, blinking back those dreaded tears. What would he think if she cried, she wondered. And why on earth did she care? But she knew that she did care. It dawned on her that she had made the first step over a month ago when she had accepted the ride home from him, letting him rescue her from the dreaded marketplace and those intrusive tourists. If he had rescued her from that, from what else did he intend to rescue her?
True to his word, he waited on her, pulling wrapped sandwiches from the basket and store-bought bags of chips. He made no apologies for the informality of the meal but served her with great aplomb, bowing down before her with a smile on his face. She couldn’t hide her own smile, joining him in his jovial mood. He was so alive and so different from anyone she had ever met before. His attention to her needs challenged her senses.
The few Amish boys that she had interacted with at singings or other social gatherings were just that…boys. They were awkward and quiet. They didn’t know how to take command of a situation. They weren’t confident when they spoke to her. Sylvia found herself enjoying herself, despite the growing pit of apprehension in her stomach.
He talked during the lunch break. He told her about his plans for the farm, his hopes for the horses he would breed and sell. He mentioned that he was curious about the dairy business but not certain if he wanted to embark down that path. It was outside his realm of knowledge, his zone of comfort, he explained. When they had finished eating, he laid back on the blanket, his hand tucked behind his head as he stared into the sky. After a few minutes, he shut his eyes and his breathing slowed down.
She took advantage of the quiet to watch him. He was handsome, she couldn’t argue that. There was a rugged look to him, mostly because his skin was bronzed and his features chiseled. He was refined looking with dark hair that fell in large curly swoops over his forehead. Most of the Amish men she knew were short and stocky or tall and lean. There weren’t many that were tall and muscular.
She looked away and gazed around the farm. He had worked hard on it over the past month. The fields were no longer overgrown, the fencing was fixed, and it was looking lived in. They had accomplished a lot even just that day. The garden was planted and ready for an evening watering. She wondered if he knew not to water them under the midday sun. But he was sleeping. The warmth of the spring air mixed with the gentle breeze had lulled him into a peaceful nap.
It was time for her to leave, to return to her father’s farm but she didn’t want to disturb him. As quiet as she could, she stood up and gathered the remnants from his picnic surprise. She didn’t want to leave him with things to clean up, especially after he had gone to so much trouble to do something so special for her.
It was almost one o’clock by the time that she finished tidying up the kitchen. The dishes were put away, the basket was set on the floor of the pantry, and she even had set the table for his supper meal. By the backside of the house, a small patch of daffodils had started to sprout. She clipped a few and put them on the table, arranging them in the center so that he’d be certain to notice. Glancing out the window, she was surprised to see that Jake was gone from the blanket under the tree.
“You left,” his voice said from behind her.
Startled, she jumped and spun around. “Jake!” A soft laugh escaped her lips. “You scared me.”
His hair was tousled and he looked more tired than he had before his brief interlude with sleep. There was something endearing about his just awoken look. He looked boyish and even more charming. “You were gone when I woke. How long did I nap?” He looked around the kitchen. “Ah, I see. Long enough for you to tidy the place, eh?” He smiled and leaned against the counter. “Lucky for me, I suppose.”
“I must get going,” she replied. “I’m later than usual.”
“Let me drive you home.”
She shook her head. “Danke, Jake, but I can walk.”
“Sylvia, I know you can walk. But I’d like to drive you. It’s faster…”
Against her best judgment, she relented, if only to avoid unwanted questions from her mother or father about why she was returning later than usual. “But you will drop me at the lane, ja?”
He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I can drop you at the lane, yes,” he said, the defeat apparent in his voice. “That seems a bit silly but…”
“It’s just not proper,” she said softly and turned around so that he couldn’t see her face. “It makes it easier, Jake,” she added but she wasn’t certain if he heard her.
True to his word, he stopped before her driveway. “I want to thank you,” he said before she got out of the truck. “We did a lot today…perhaps more than you bargained for when you signed up for this gig.” His eyes tried to catch hers but she was adept at looking away from him. “You are helping me in many more ways than you can imagine, Sylvia. And it’s not just the help around the house that I’m talking about.”
She reached for the door handle and started to open it. But she felt his hand on her arm. Looking over her shoulder, she couldn’t help but get caught in his gaze. “Jake, please…” she pleaded, despite wishing she could shout just the opposite.
“I know, I know,” he said and released her arm. “No questions, no cu
riosity. Maybe one day you will have those questions and I’ll be ready to answer them, Sylvia.” He paused before he added, “Friends are allowed to ask questions of each other, you know.”
Friends. The word lingered between them and the confusion struck her once again. Had she misjudged his attention? Had she almost made a fool of herself with this man? How could she have let her imagination run so wild as to think that there was a possibility that he could have been interested in her?
“I have to go,” she replied, her voice trembling from embarrassment at her presumptions. How could she have made such a mistake?
