by Sarah Price
Ignoring her comment, he hurried her into the barn. “They’re gorgeous, all of them. I had forgotten how beautiful and graceful they are.”
The barn was different. There was noise and life from the stalls. The dairy aisles were still empty but she could feel the energy. Everything was clean, almost too clean. Jake must have spent hours, if not days, cleaning and sweeping the barn. There were new boards nailed to the wall in random places. When she looked up, she noticed that there were also new boards on the ceiling above. Jake had been busy, indeed. She was impressed with the amount of work that he had invested in repairing the old barn.
He led her to the back of the barn, to the place where the horse stalls were kept. It was darker there, the windows tucked back and small, allowing only a little bit of light. The barn had minimal electricity, a few random light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The further into the barn, the cooler it was. The horses would thrive in this barn, she realized, especially in the heat of summer.
Jake took the time to show her each one. They were large horses, each one a deep chestnut color with dark mane. Their faces were narrow and elegant with attentive ears and intuitive eyes. Some of them seemed to recognize Jake. He would pause at a few of the stalls, spending a moment to caress the horse’s neck or tug gently at its ear. He smiled at Sylvia when he came to the end of the stalls. “What do you think of them?”
Her opinion was not something that many people sought. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, trying to formulate a response. She didn’t know too much about horses, not like she knew about crops and cows. But she knew that they were beautiful and she knew that he was proud of them. “God makes lovely creatures, doesn’t He?” she finally said.
For a moment, Jake didn’t respond. He was silent as though pondering her words. Yet the silence was not uncomfortable. There was a sense of reflection, perhaps on both of their parts. She tried to avoid watching him, but his expression was so honest and pure as he stared at the horse before him, rubbing its neck. The horse nickered and nuzzled at his hand. Jake smiled softly, still thinking about something else as he rubbed the horse’s nose. “Yes, lovely creatures indeed,” he finally said quietly. He looked up and met Sylvia’s gaze.
She felt flustered again. “I really should be going.”
“Is it noon already?” he asked. He sounded genuinely surprised and a little disappointed.
“I’ve finished my work and your meal is warm in the oven,” she responded, trying to focus on the one subject that was safe: her work. “I was planning on leaving to help Daed,” she explained.
He moved closer to her and touched her arm. “Not yet, Sylvia. Don’t leave yet.”
“Jake,” she pleaded softly, backing away from his looming presence in the darkness. She felt the barn wall at her back and, for the briefest of moments, she felt trapped. He was too close and she had no escape. Yet, while escape was on her mind, it wasn’t what she really wanted. Her heart pounded inside of her chest as he stood over her. She flashed back to those movies that she had seen, thinking about the heroines and heroes who, in the throes of passion, fought their feelings for each other. Surely this was how they felt.
“I had hoped you would help me with the horses today, Sylvia.”
She frowned. It had appeared that he had everything under control. “You don’t really need my help,” she chided gently.
Even in the darkness, she could sense his smile. It was soft, warm, and just for her. “OK, perhaps I just want you to spend more time here,” he said, closing in on her. His hand was still on her arm. It felt warm and sent tingles throughout her body. “Spend more time here with me,” he added, his fingers resting on the naked skin of her arm.
“That’s impossible,” she replied flatly. Her voice sounded stronger than she felt. For a moment, she wondered who had actually spoken those words. Had they truly come from her mouth?
“Why is that?”
“You’re not Amish,” she reminded him, her voice a stern whisper.
“Are you?” he retorted too quickly.
She realized the trap that she had stepped into and she faltered. Had Steve told him or had he merely guessed that she had not yet taken her baptism? Until she did, she wasn’t truly Amish. Most Amish took their baptism before marriage or after their rumspringa, the years of running free from Amish rules. While Sylvia wasn’t close to being married, she certainly had no interest in running free.
“You said I have nothing to fear from you,” she whispered.
“You don’t.”
“I have everything to fear from you. This isn’t….”
He finished her sentence with a simple “proper.” She heard him sigh. “No, I suppose it isn’t.”
“You don’t understand,” she said softly, suddenly feeling more like herself. “This…whatever this is…could ruin me with the community, the church, with my family. There is no return if tongues start wagging, even if I have yet to take the kneeling vow.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” he countered.
“Jake,” she whispered.
“No, Sylvia. There is something different about you. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. You haunt my every thought. In my life, dear Sylvia, I have never felt so overwhelmed with anyone. You have a peace about you. I want to find that peace. I think you can help me and I can help you. You are special, Sylvia. I sensed it then.”
“You don’t know me,” she said, her voice barely audible.
“Ah, perhaps that is what intrigues me…wanting to get to know you.” He reached out and brushed his fingers across her cheek. His touch stung her skin, leaving a warm trail where his fingers had been. “I want to spend some time with you…away from here, away from farms and Amish.”
She recoiled as if his words physically hurt her. “I couldn’t do that!”
“A dinner out? Has anyone ever taken you out?” Her silence confirmed his suspicion. “Or even a walk through a park, a place to talk.” His hand lingered near her neck, his touch sending a burning sensation throughout her body. “Anything to be near you, Sylvia.” He leaned down again, his lips pressed against hers, holding her captive in the barn, but not exactly against her will. She felt his chest pressed against hers and it warmed her. But she knew that it was wrong and leading her to a place she wasn’t prepared to travel.
“Please Jake,” she managed to say, her cheek pressed against his and her hand gently against his chest. “I simply cannot…”
He backed away, just enough to give her some space. One hand rested above her head on the wall and the other gently touched her shoulder, her arm…her hand. He sighed but smiled in the dim light. “I understand, Sylvia…and I will wait.” Reluctantly, he backed away and, with a final touch of his hand to hers, he stood at a respectful distance. “I won’t bother you anymore. Perhaps there will come a day when you will understand better. Perhaps you will ask me to continue.” He lifted her hand and brushed his lips against the back of it. “The intention is honorable, I assure you.”
“You are not Amish,” she repeated softly, her eyes downcast so that he could not see the tears that formed on her eyelashes. “It will never be honorable, I assure you.”
He took a deep breath and exhaled, still staring down at her. There was sadness in his expression, a look of disappointment that was unmistakable. But she couldn’t help wonder what had he expected from her? “Then I suppose I should be taking you home. After all, I promised your father, didn’t it?”
They rode in silence on the drive home and, when he pulled into the driveway, she felt beads of sweat on her forehead and palms. She had never arrived at the house in a car. The few times she had ridden in a car, she had always been with her mother or a neighbor. Mennonite neighbors often drove them places for a few dollars to cover gas. But her exposure to traveling by automobile was limited and always shared with the company of others. Of course, she reminded herself, the exception was the three previous car trips with Jake. But he had dropped her at the lane, a
clandestine drive that hid more than could be revealed in the open.
“Friday then?” he asked before she jumped out of his truck. “You will come back on Friday, yes?”
She answered with a slight nod and averted eyes. Then, before she knew it, he was gone and she was left alone with the racing questions that flooded through her mind. He had seemed more reserved today. On the one hand, she was grateful. Perhaps he was as remorseful as she was about the indiscretion. On the other hand, she was embarrassed to admit that she felt alive in his presence. She would be lying to think that she hadn’t enjoyed the kiss, if only there was no guilt associated with it. If it was right, she told herself, there would be no guilt. That realization made her feel even worse.
Her sister-in-law, Lillian, was in the house with her children when Sylvia entered. She was cleaning up from the noon meal. Her family had obviously shared it with Katie, Jonas, and the boys. Sylvia felt a pang of envy that she had missed such a joyous gathering with her family.
The difference between her daed’s house and Jake’s was tremendous. Sylvia loved having the little ones around the house. She loved their laughter and jokes, their silly observations and comments. In fact, when the little ones were underfoot, that was the only time she didn’t mind being inside. She loved visiting with her other sister-in-law, Shana, when she gave birth, first to Noah and then to Hannah. She had helped Shana during those first few weeks, taking care of chores as well as the babies.
“Gut day, Sylvia,” Lillian said. She was always cheerful, always smiling. Sylvia felt the weight of the world lift from her shoulders when she was in Lillian’s presence. “Haven’t seen much of you these days. Been keeping busy with that widower, ja?”
“I’ve been working there, if that’s what you mean,” Sylvia said softly as she leaned down to pick up little Abram. He was just starting to crawl now, chasing after his two older sisters and one brother. His soft gurgling and gentle cooing made Sylvia laugh. “Such a big boy, ja?”
“Mamm mentioned the widower was here for supper last night,” Lillian said innocently. “She was surprised at how young he is.”
“I suppose,” Sylvia replied.
She wasn’t surprised that her mother had commented on Jake’s youth to Lillian. Certainly Mamm had also pointed it out to Daed, too. Sylvia had seen the look in her mother’s eyes. Her mother had wisdom that ran deep when it came to her children. Nothing could escape her. Thankfully, Sylvia realized that her mother was not in the house, although she wondered where she might be. It was unusual for her mother to not be in the kitchen, helping to clean and sharing in the fellowship. But Sylvia didn’t mind. It was always much nicer to clean up after the meal with Lillian was around.
“When I first heard about you working for a widower, I thought he’d be old and pining for his wife,” Lillian confided. She set the last plate on the drying rack before she turned around. “But I understand Steve will be helping him with the farm, too. Seems Jake Edwards is terribly eager to farm that land, ja?” She laughed. “What takes us centuries to figure out, Englischers want to learn in one season.”
“I wonder what happened to his wife,” Sylvia said out loud, immediately wishing that she hadn’t. She didn’t want to call attention to the fact that she had been thinking about him and asking questions about his past. Lillian didn’t seem to notice as she reached out for Abram. The baby stretched his chubby arms out toward Sylvia and both women laughed as he wiggled in his mother’s arms, trying to return to Sylvia’s.
“Ach vell,” Lillian said. “I’m sure he’s bound to miss her.”
The conversation was interrupted when Katie walked through the kitchen door. She greeted Lillian and Sylvia before turning her attention to the grandchildren. They spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen, crowded around the kitchen table, mending clothes and talking. It wasn’t unusual for Sylvia to not contribute much to the conversation. Instead, she just enjoyed listening to Lillian’s light voice tell stories or her mother share the latest news from her afternoon visit to a neighboring farm, which explained her absence when Sylvia returned earlier.
“Seems like Ida Ebersol is having a quilting this weekend,” she said.
Lillian responded with a cheerful, “Oh, I’m ever so glad. Now that spring is here in full bloom, it seems no one gets together anymore. I miss visiting folks.”
Katie looked up from the shirt she was mending and looked at Sylvia. “There’s a singing on Sunday evening, too. Millie asked if you’d be going.”
“Where at, Mamm?” she replied, her voice barely hiding her lack of interest. She’d much prefer to stay at home than stand around singing all night, especially since the singing was a cover up for the real purpose: finding a future husband.
“The Smucker’s farm,” she replied. “I’m sure Steve or Daniel would take you.”
Everyone seemed to be staring at her, waiting for her answer. Truth be told, Sylvia had no desire to go to a singing but she knew it would do her some good to be away from the farm, away from Jake Edwards, and away from the crazy thoughts that were lingering in her mind. If she didn’t go, they would wonder why. If she did go, she’d be one step away from Jake Edwards and perhaps closer to getting back on track.
“Yes, I think that sounds like a fine idea, especially if Steve or Daniel would take me,” she finally said before bowing her head to concentrate on the mending and fighting the lingering memory of Jake Edwards’ lips on hers.
Chapter Eleven
It was raining on Friday, torrential rain that created big swelling puddles in the fields and large muddy pits in the paddocks. The cows were drenched and dirty. It took longer than usual to round them into the barn and tackle the morning milking. Everything was wet and cold. It was a rain that chilled to the bone.
Sylvia shivered as she ran from the barn to the house. The hem of her dress was caked with mud mixed with manure. Days like this were exhausting and gloomy. The grey skies and wet weather seemed to drain everyone of joy. Once inside, Sylvia quickly changed her clothes so that she wasn’t wet or dirty. Despite being inside, she couldn’t get warm. The cold had taken ownership of her and refused to leave.
The rain increased her dread of having to walk over to Jake’s. She’d have to take the roads and that would double the amount of time to get there. With the horrible weather, she’d be drenched in no time. And it didn’t help that she’d had too many sleepless nights, nights spent tossing and turning with her mind in a whirlwind. Frankly, she was beyond tired. But she knew that to not go would create a situation where questions would be raised. While part of her wanted to stay home and to avoid the entire situation, the other part of her was longing to be there, near him, even if just for a few hours.
“You take a change of clothes with you, ja? No use getting sick, daughter,” her mother reminded her as she began her own morning chores.
With her bag of clothes under one arm and a plain black umbrella in her free hand, she set off down the lane. The rain would help the crops grow so she knew there was no use in complaining. And, despite her mother’s warning about getting sick, water didn’t get people ill. So she kept her head down, tucked under the umbrella for as much protection as she could get from the driving force of the raindrops.
She heard, rather than saw, the truck pull up next to her. She was walking on the right hand of the road and, for a few seconds, the truck seemed to drive alongside of her. Finally, it slowed down then stopped. The passenger window rolled down and she heard him calling her name. “For God’s sake, Sylvia! Get in the truck!”
It took her a moment to realize that it was Jake calling for her. She looked up, peering out from under the umbrella. “Jake?”
He leaned over and opened the door. “Get in, Sylvia!”
There was no hesitation in her step as she moved over to his truck and slid inside, shaking her umbrella twice before closing it and putting it on the floor at her feet. She shut the door and shivered, thankful to be out of the rain but wondering what she
was doing sitting inside Jake’s truck. He fiddled with a dial on the dashboard and she suddenly felt a blast of warm air.
“Let’s get you into some dry clothes before you get sick,” he said. There was an edge to his voice. Gone was the cheerful, jovial tone that she was used to hearing. Instead, he seemed annoyed and irritated.
“I suppose I should thank you,” she said.
“I suppose I should be upset with you,” he replied.
His words shocked her. She couldn’t think of anything that she had done that could offend him. “Upset with me? Whatever for?”
“Sylvia, did you honestly think that I would let you walk to my farm in this weather?” He frowned but didn’t take his eyes from the road. “I’m surprised that your father or brother didn’t drive you. I’m even more surprised they let you walk!”
