by Emma Miller
“God, it’s John Hartman, again. I’d appreciate it if you could help me out here. I’m in deep water and I can’t even see the shore.”
* * *
When Grace reentered the kitchen, Hannah and Aunt Jezzy turned to look at her. “What were you thinking, child,” Hannah said, “to run out in this weather without your coat?”
Grace murmured something and hurried past them into the hallway, but she didn’t go to her bedroom. She wanted to be alone, and if she went there, Dakota—who was happily playing with Jonah and Katie—might follow her. Instead, she climbed the stairs to the second floor and then another flight to the attic.
The air was chilly up here, but one section was always kept as an extra guest bedroom. The space was whitewashed and tidy, the antique maple bed and stacks of quilts a welcoming retreat. She wrapped a blue-and-white quilt around her shoulders, removed her shoes and curled up on the bed. Two windows allowed light into the chamber, and even with the rain coming down, Grace could see well enough.
Telling John her secret hadn’t worked out the way she expected. Why was it that nothing in her life ever did? He should have been disgusted, repelled by her deceit. Instead, he’d made excuses for her, blamed Joe and tried to talk her out of the only plan that made sense. Why couldn’t John see that becoming Amish would cleanse her and secure her salvation? Why was he so stubborn? Why couldn’t he accept her decision and her resignation without driving her to say awful things that would end their friendship? And why did he believe that she wasn’t strong enough to renounce the world to save herself and her son?
John was the one who was in the wrong here. Why had he ruined such a beautiful day? Dakota had enjoyed the Christmas bazaar as much as she had. She’d loved the music, the decorations, the bustle of holiday shopping, and she’d been so happy with the barn set she’d found for Jonah.
When John had offered her the opportunity to become a vet tech, she couldn’t believe her good fortune. She’d forgotten what was important. She’d hoped that she could have both worlds, the peace she’d found here among her father’s family and friends, and the excitement of working at a job she loved.
John had meant well. She knew that. If things were different, having John in her life would have been...
No! She wouldn’t think about that. John Hartman wasn’t for her. All he was—all he could ever be—was a temptation. Letting herself fall in love with John would ruin everything. And she could...so easily...she could. She could imagine the three of them, John, her and Dakota, laughing together over the supper table, cutting down a Christmas tree and decorating it, singing along with the country and Christian artists on his truck radio.
She could choose John and his way of life...even now. She could go to him and say she was sorry, ask him if they could start over. And he would agree; she was certain of it. But in opening her heart to John and his world, she would be closing the door to what mattered most. Forgiveness.
The rainfall intensified, and big drops spattered against the windowpanes. The Lord had brought her this far. It would be wrong to abandon the plan now. Her mother and father had both been born into the Amish faith. She wasn’t doing anything radical, not really. She was simply coming home, where she belonged, where she and her precious little son would find peace and happiness. If the price of that was giving up John, so be it. This was her last chance to turn her life around.
Far better to choose a good man, even one like Lemuel Bontrager, and marry him. What had Hannah said? Marriage was bigger than two people. Surely, if she picked a solid Amish husband, one she could respect, love would follow. And if it didn’t, she’d married for what she thought was love once before, and that match had turned hollow.
She could never wish that she hadn’t met Joe. If not for Joe, she wouldn’t have Dakota, and life without her son was impossible to consider. She’d made a foolish decision when she married Joe Eagle, and she couldn’t make the same mistake again when it came to picking a husband. The Amish way, thinking of family and community first, had to be the wisest way. Amish marriages lasted. If her father had been alive, he would have wanted her to follow in his footsteps.
Hannah had joined the Amish faith, hadn’t she? She hadn’t rejected it. She’d had a good marriage and a good life because she’d become Amish.
How much easier things would have been if she, Grace, had been born to Hannah and Jonas Yoder instead of foolish Trudie Schrock. A feeling of guilt made her pause. It was unfair to judge her mother for the mistakes she’d made in her life. Trudie had tried her best. She hadn’t abandoned her when she was born, and she’d never been cruel. Grace was convinced that Trudie simply hadn’t been mature enough to have a baby, especially not alone, without family or friends to support her. And if Trudie had been unwise in her choice of boyfriends after Jonas, had Grace done any better?
She closed her eyes and prayed fervently. “Please, God, help me to do the right thing. Tell me what You want me to do.”
But as hard as she strained to hear His answer, the only sound that came to her was the steady downpour of rain against the shingled roof and windows.
Chapter Fifteen
It was after dark Monday evening and still raining when John got back to the clinic. He pulled his truck into the triple garage and let himself in by a side door. He switched on the overhead lights and went to the supply room to refill the compartments in the back of his truck. He’d retrieved two bottles of lidocaine, a case of bandages, a package of gauze and a suture kit when he heard footsteps behind him.
“John?” his uncle called. Albert halted in the doorway and held out an oversize mug. “Nasty night out,” he remarked. “Made you some herbal tea. Lemon.”
“Thanks. Hold it for me until I get these in the truck, will you?” He’d hoped to slip into the house and go up to bed without running into either Uncle Albert or Gramps. He was in no mood for talking. All day he’d wrestled with his feelings about Grace, and he kept coming back to a dead end. His uncle was one of his favorite people in the world, and he deserved better than the poor company that John would be this evening.
The older man watched him for a moment. “Why don’t you come to my office? I’ve been catching up on my reading. There’s half a pepperoni pizza left.”
John nodded. “Sounds good. I think I missed lunch today.”
“And breakfast? Or did Grace feed you some of Hannah’s blueberry pancakes before she told you she was quitting?”
John dropped the supplies onto a cardboard box on the table. “Maybe we should talk. I can do this in the morning.” He followed his uncle down the hall into what had once been a spacious den in the original house.
This was a man’s room, without the hint of a woman’s touch: dark paneling, a rough stone fireplace, hardwood floors, bare of even a single throw rug. Two brown leather easy chairs and a small table were arranged in one half of the space; the other end of the room sported an oversize wooden desk and office chair, a fax machine/scanner and a pair of nineteenth-century oak cabinets. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with bookcases, filled to the max and overflowing onto the floor. The only decorations were three English oil paintings of hunting dogs.
John loved Uncle Albert’s office. Other than the size and brand of computer, the room had barely changed since he was a boy. He paused for a few seconds, inhaling the scents of burning applewood, cold pizza and Labrador retriever. John had never entered this room without feeling the warm embrace of coming home. The familiar sensation didn’t let him down tonight, and in spite of his distress about Grace, he was suddenly glad he accepted the offer of pizza and man-talk.
Travis, Uncle Albert’s three-legged Lab, raised his head and thumped his tail against his sheepskin bed in greeting. “Hey, there, Trav,” John said to the animal. “Flush any ducks today?” Uncle Albert never hunted, but he liked to take Travis to the marsh regularly so that the dog
could swim and flush waterfowl. When John was a boy, those trips to the woods and saltwater marshes had inspired his love of wildlife photography.
John took his usual seat in the chair to the left, facing the hearth. Uncle Albert tossed Travis a biscuit and handed John the lemon tea. The three of them sat in silence for a good ten minutes while the warmth of the crackling fire and the tea drained the chill from John’s muscles and bones.
It was John who broke the comfortable stillness between them. “How did you find out that Grace quit?” He hadn’t wanted to talk about Grace, but so long as it was the elephant in the room, they couldn’t move on to something else.
“She called in about nine o’clock. Spoke to Dad. Said you knew about it.” He arched an eyebrow quizzically. “You two have a falling-out? Heard you were pretty cozy at the bazaar on Saturday.”
John made a show of scowling, but it was impossible to be out of sorts with Uncle Albert. For a man who’d never married, he was surprisingly knowledgeable about women. And usually as inclined as them to gossip. Very little went on in the Mennonite or Amish communities that Uncle Albert didn’t know about. He was never unkind and he was careful with whom he shared his information, but he always knew all the news before it came out in the Budget or the State News.
“We had a good time together Saturday,” John agreed. “And when I told her about the chance to take the tech course, she seemed genuinely excited about the idea.”
Uncle Albert opened the pizza box, which had been standing on a section of a cherry log that did double duty as a footstool and table, and selected a generous slice. He pushed the box toward John.
John didn’t bother to argue. If he refused the pizza, his uncle would remind him that he couldn’t run a motor vehicle without fuel and a man was much the same. Uncle Albert was a stickler for three meals a day, no matter how irregular the fare and what time the food was consumed. John ate the pizza in silence, reserving one round of pepperoni and a bite of crust for Travis, who watched the entire process with eager anticipation.
“No begging,” Uncle Albert chided.
John knew the disclaimer was just for show. His uncle would be the first to share his food with the Lab, and fortunately, despite his handicap, Travis had the metabolism of a hummingbird. No matter how much the dog ate, he never put on too much weight.
“She quit because of me,” John admitted. “She knows or she’s guessed how I feel about her. I guess she’d rather give up her job than be around me.” And not for the first time, he wondered if he’d come on too strong...if he had read her wrong about returning his attraction. Guilt weighed heavily on him. If he’d hurt Grace or caused her to feel threatened, he’d done more harm than he’d guessed. That was the last thing he wanted.
“But you said she seemed interested in getting the education.” Uncle Albert rubbed at his graying beard. “Hannah put the kibosh on it? Because the Amish don’t approve?”
John nodded. “Grace has her heart set on being Amish.”
Albert mulled over that statement for a minute. “I suppose she has her reasons.”
“She does.” John wasn’t prepared to share with his uncle what Grace had told him about her marriage. Honestly, it wasn’t Uncle Albert’s business...or anyone else’s, for that matter. “But it isn’t realistic. You know her chances of becoming Amish and having it work out are—”
“Less than a snowman’s chance in Hannah’s oven on baking day.” Uncle Albert removed a second slice of pizza and offered it to John. He shook his head, and his uncle settled back and began to eat it himself.
“When she told me she didn’t want to take us up on the offer, I tried to make her see reason. I wanted to tell her how much I care about her, but she wouldn’t let me. We argued, and she told me that she was quitting. That was Saturday afternoon. I had hoped that she’d change her mind once she had time to think things over. She told me not to come for her this morning.”
“You did, anyway.”
John nodded. “When she didn’t come out, I went up to the back door. Johanna answered, told me that Grace had quit. That she wasn’t going to work at the clinic. Not this morning...not any morning.”
“How come you didn’t give me a call? Let us know what was up?”
“I’m sorry. I should have, but I...I didn’t want to...” He tossed the last morsel of pizza crust to Travis. “The truth is, I guess I felt as if telling you might make it real, and I didn’t want it to be.”
“You still have it bad for her, don’t you?”
John nodded. He did, and the disagreement hadn’t changed his mind one bit. He wasn’t ready to give up on her.... The trouble was, he didn’t have the faintest idea how to fix things between them. He didn’t know if it was even possible and the idea made him miserable.
“Have you considered that you might be rushing into this? That you don’t know Grace well at all? That a few weeks...even a few months’ acquaintance isn’t the soundest foundation for a marriage?”
John leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees. “I can’t explain how Grace makes me feel. It’s...” He stopped and started again. “The closest I can come is to say she completes me. When I catch sight of her, the sun comes out, no matter how hard it’s raining.”
His uncle groaned. “It’s a weakness we Hartmans have. We get our heads set on one woman, no matter how unlikely it is that we can win her, and we won’t give up.”
“I know I told you that I loved Miriam, but this...this is different.”
Travis laid his head on Uncle Albert’s foot. His uncle reached down to pat the dog’s head and scratched behind his ears. “Just the same, I was proud of you, the way you handled losing Miriam. I was afraid it would make you end up an old bachelor like me, and I have to admit, I’m glad to see you interested in someone else.”
“It’s more than interest,” John said. “I understand where you’re coming from. If our positions were reversed, I’d be cautioning you. It does sound rash to say I feel like this about Grace when we’ve hardly ever been alone together.” He hesitated. “What I want is a chance to see if we’re right for each other.”
“And what about her? How does she feel about you?”
John shook his head. “The same, I think. But she won’t admit it, not to me, maybe not to herself.”
“Because you’re not Amish.”
“Exactly. She’s just being so stubborn about the whole thing. She doesn’t want to give us a chance. She doesn’t realize that I can give her what she’s looking for. The Amish don’t have a market on good, old-fashioned courting.” He gestured toward himself. “I could court her.”
“Take her out in your buggy?” Albert chuckled. “In your truck? Maybe take her to a frolic or two? Or a work bee?”
John nodded. “I’d like to take her to services on Sunday, let her see what our church has to offer. I want to show her what I have to offer.”
“Grace hasn’t been baptized into the Amish church yet, has she?”
“No. There’s been no talk of baptism.”
“Then, technically, she’s not breaking any rules by dating you. So long as you two stay out of mischief.”
John felt himself flush. “It isn’t like that. I want to marry Grace. I want to be a father to her little boy.” He paused. “She’s just not seeing the situation clearly.”
Uncle Albert waited, giving John time to think.
“I wish it wasn’t just me pleading my case,” John said. “I wish Hannah would tell her how difficult it will be for her to convert.”
Uncle Albert untied one work shoe and pulled it off. He massaged his foot. “And you’ve talked to Hannah about this, have you?”
“No. I didn’t think... No, I haven’t. I was afraid Grace would take it the wrong way if I went behind her back to Hannah.”
“Fair enough.” Uncle Albert r
eached for the lace on his other shoe, taking his time before speaking again. “But there’s nothing to keep me from putting a bug in Hannah’s ear, is there? Letting her know you could use a little help.”
“I suppose not,” John answered slowly, “but—”
“But.” Uncle Albert broke into a wide grin. “Everybody calls me an old busybody. Might as well have the game as have the name, don’t you think?”
* * *
The following morning, Grace stood at the door of that same room and knocked. “Dr. Hartman,” she called. “It’s Grace Yoder. Could I speak to you?” When he answered in the affirmative, she took a deep breath and walked in. “I owe you an apology,” she said. “I’m sorry. Quitting without giving notice was wrong.”
Albert Hartman turned from his filing cabinet with a folder in his hand. “You’ve changed your mind?” he asked, not unkindly. “You’d like your job back?”
“No, sir,” she answered. This was worse than she’d thought it would be. Her mouth was dry, and her stomach felt as though she’d been riding a Ferris wheel at double speed. “No...I...” She tried again. “I realized what I did was wrong—quitting on you like that. I’d like to finish out the month, to give you time to find someone else to take care of the kennels.” She knotted the corner of her apron in one hand. “I don’t expect you to pay me. I just don’t want to leave you without help—you’ve all been so good to me. I’m really sorry that this hasn’t worked out.”
Dr. Hartman’s eyes narrowed. His eyes were brown, and his expression was so like John’s that she could feel her pulse racing.
“I didn’t realize that you were unhappy here, Grace.” He closed the drawer on the file cabinet. “We all thought you were doing an excellent job. That’s why we offered you the opportunity to enter the vet tech program at Del Tech. Is that why you decided you didn’t want to work here anymore? Because we suggested you might be able to use some further education?”
“No, sir. Well, a little, maybe.” She looked down at the hardwood floor, then up at him again. “Mostly, it’s personal. I don’t know if John told you, but I plan to join the Amish Church. The Amish aren’t allowed to go to college.”
