And Jake did not bring up Eben again during the zippy ride past Amish farmland. For that, Joanna was grateful. She was even more surprised later, when Jake pulled over on the side of the road, near Weaver’s Creek—the very spot she’d wanted to bring her former beau.
“What’re we doin’ here?” she asked.
“You’ll see.” He offered to help her down. “Follow me.”
They walked single file through the high grass, toward the wide, wooded creek bed. He scrambled to the top of the largest boulder and sat there like a tall bird. He smiled, watching her from his perch. “Oh, here, do ya need some help?”
“I’m fine,” she said, laughing. And she was. She could easily climb up there to join him.
When she’d sat down in the small spot left for her, she soon saw why he’d brought her here.
“Shh, just watch,” he whispered.
As the light dimmed, the sun melted the sky into pinks and gold, the rosy hue filling the shadows and the stream itself. Colors she’d never seen before were reflected in the water. Adding to that near-magical glow were the sparkles of hundreds of lightning bugs. Fireflies, Eben had called them in a letter. But Joanna had never seen them like this with Eben. No, her evening with Jake was far different than a date with a letter . . . or a phone booth! And Joanna rather liked it.
Eben initially thought Ada might be rather shy, but as the evening progressed, he discovered he’d been quite wrong. She seemed to feel the need to fill even the smallest gaps of silence. She also had a strange habit of wringing her hands, just like his tetchy Grossmammi on his mother’s side. Both habits made him wish he’d stayed home.
Ada was saying something now about her best friend planting an extra big crop of celery seedlings, starting tomorrow. “Ya know what that means, ain’t?” Her voice rose to a crescendo.
He knew, all right.
She jabbered on about this unnamed friend of hers, even though Eben knew perfectly well it was Dottie Miller, having seen Ada come into Singings and other get-togethers with her sisters and this good friend. So Dottie’s getting hitched, he thought, guessing one young woman after another would marry during this November. And if Eben didn’t get on the stick and get serious about finding a bride, he’d end up having to look at the new crop of sixteen-year-olds next thing.
He must’ve chuckled at the thought, because Ada looked over at him. Then, oh, the laugh she gave! It was the most harsh-sounding, peculiar laugh he’d ever heard before, sharp as shattered glass. Why hadn’t he noticed this prior to asking her out? Eben held tightly to the reins and reminded himself that he’d been the one who’d asked her to go riding tonight.
By the time they arrived at his brother-in-law’s place to meet another couple for a tournament of Ping-Pong, Eben was annoyed, though he knew he must be a gentleman and make the evening pleasant for her. He was not one to throw in the towel quickly.
So they played doubles in the cool basement—girls against the guys, and later couples against each other. The beautiful girl opposite Ada reminded him of Joanna in looks and demeanor, and he had to be careful not to stare, lest her boyfriend think he was coveting.
As the Ping-Pong wound down, Eben’s sister-in-law made popcorn and surprised them with some homemade strawberry ice cream for the occasion. The time of refreshment and visiting was dominated by Ada, yet in spite of the chatty girl by his side, Eben felt downright lonely. Was this how he’d always feel without Joanna in his life?
There was talk of another tournament—some other evening—and Ada leaped up a little in what Eben assumed was excitement at the idea. The other couple readily agreed, but Eben was reluctant. He saw the disappointment in Ada’s dark brown eyes but had to be true to himself. He was not going anywhere again with Ada Kemp. It was wrong to let her think he was interested in anything more than friendship.
Minutes after Eben had seen her home, he removed his black vest and rolled up his white shirt sleeves, nearly as tired as if he’d filled silo all day. The leisurely ride home was just what he needed . . . and the blessed silence. “What a mistake,” he whispered, vowing not to get himself into such a pickle again.
Cora Jane surprised Joanna by waiting up for her that night, perched on the edge of Joanna’s own bed. “Heard you might’ve gone out with Freckles Jake,” Cora Jane said, eyes wide. “Did ya?”
“I’m awful tired, if ya don’t mind.”
“You sure don’t look it.”
Joanna went to the window, her back to her sister. “Well, I am.” Did her sister suddenly think that all was well between them because Eben was no longer a part of Joanna’s life?
“Did he kiss ya?”
Joanna whirled around. “You know better than that!” She caught her breath. “Takes two for that.”
Cora Jane began to laugh, then clapped her hand over her mouth, stifling her own giggles. “You should see your face, sister. I mean, honestly!”
“This isn’t funny.”
“Ach, your face is.”
“I’d like to get ready for bed now, Cora Jane.” Joanna didn’t even think to ask if she’d had a good time with Gid. It was the last thing on her mind with her sister acting so foolish.
But Cora Jane continued to sit there, calming down some and looking more serious.
Joanna pointed toward the door. “I mean it,” she said. “I’d like some privacy.”
“What . . . so you can dream ’bout Jake Lantz?”
Joanna shook her head in disgust. “When will you ever grow up?”
“Are you just too old to have fun . . . is that it?” Cora Jane rose and stood at the door, leaning her head against the doorjamb. “How could you possibly go out with the likes of that boy?”
“He’s a gentleman, that’s how.”
“Well, ain’t what our cousins are sayin’. . . . Goodness, all the girls are avoiding him.”
“People can change.”
“But not Jake,” said Cora Jane.
“How would you know?”
“I’m smart enough to listen to gut advice,” Cora Jane shot back.
Joanna stood her ground. “I’m tellin’ you he’s nothin’ at all like the rumors.”
The two of them glared at each other, but the resentment Joanna felt wasn’t because of Jake. “I think you owe me an apology, sister.” She’d endured Cora Jane’s silence and near gloomy outlook for far too long . . . holding in her hurt the best she could. “You know precisely what I’m talking about.”
“Why, because I called the preacher’s attention to your disobedience?”
“Wasn’t necessary and you know it.”
“No?” Cora Jane shrugged. “Since when are you the rule maker?”
It was all Joanna could do not to retaliate and say, Since when are you? But she bit her lip and kept silent. She turned away. The encounter with Cora Jane was beginning to cloud her special time away. Not wanting to ask her sister to leave the room again, Joanna went to sit in the chair near the window, and when she turned around, wondering how she was going to keep her peace, Cora Jane was gone.
Joanna wished for a lock on her door as she wrote long into the night, remembering the beauty surrounding her at Weaver’s Creek. Yet the evening’s charms mingled with sadness at her loss of Eben, and she wrote with all the more fervor—only this story must have a happy ending.
She felt carried away to her lovely fictional world, like a character snatched away from another completely different place, where things of the heart were shared and treasured for always. Where there was no speck of pain or sadness over lost love. Just as always before, Joanna reveled in her precious creation.
Sometime later, after she’d put away her notebook, she dressed for bed, slipping into the lightweight blue gown she’d sewn a few weeks ago. Then she pulled out a box of greeting cards and found one to send to Mammi Kurtz, who was still in a rehab hospital in Lancaster. Each week, Joanna enjoyed sending a card with her own special made-up poem, hoping it might bring her grandmother some cheer. Joanna
’s mother had commented on the cards, which she’d seen when she’d gone to visit, saying how pleased Mammi was to receive them.
While writing this poem, Joanna wondered if anyone else amongst the People might see her poetry. If so, would they report her to the ministerial brethren the way Cora Jane had? She hoped it wasn’t against the church ordinance to write little rhyming encouragements, too!
When she was finished, she pulled out the wooden letter box in the hope chest and contemplated what to do with Eben’s many letters and cards. But the more she considered it, the more she knew she couldn’t part with any of it just yet. Maybe someday.
Something else weighed on her. Pleasant as he was, she didn’t know if she ought to go out with Jake again, except that all the other fellows who were unspoken for were even younger than he was. She’d so wanted to be married this wedding season. But not to just anyone . . .
Joanna turned out the gas lantern and slipped into bed, sighing. As her eyes slowly grew accustomed to the dark, it struck her that she might simply enjoy occasional dates with Jake Lantz, if he was willing. What could it hurt? But she should let him know next time they saw each other that she was only interested in a casual friendship until she was completely over Eben Troyer.
How will Jake feel about that? she wondered. Is that fair to him?
Chapter 30
The following Wednesday morning, Joanna worked with Cora Jane and Mamma—and Ella Mae’s daughter-in-law, Mattie Beiler—to transplant celery seedlings from the nearby Amish greenhouse. Afterward, Joanna stopped at the end of the lane to mail a get-well card to Mammi Kurtz. Then, setting off on foot so she wouldn’t tie up the family carriage, she went to visit Cousin Malinda.
A quarter mile along, here came Jake Lantz in his pony cart, waving to beat the band. He slowed and stopped in the middle of the road. “Hullo,” she said. It was clear by his smile he was happy to see her.
“We meet again,” he said.
Recalling what she’d wanted to tell him, she suddenly felt bashful. “Nice day, jah?”
“Ideal for helping the deacon. He’s still under the weather, ya know.”
She knew all too well. He’d been ill since April.
“Thought I’d take up some of the slack over there with barn chores and whatnot.”
Nodding, she smiled. “Gut of you.”
He glanced up the road like he had something on his mind. “I sure had a great time last Saturday. I’d like to take you out again, if that’s all right.”
Here was her moment to speak up, but by the happiness in his eyes, he surely wouldn’t want to hear anything but a positive response. “When were ya thinkin’?” She amazed herself.
“How ’bout we go riding after the Singing this coming Sunday night?”
She’d guessed that’s what he might suggest. “Preaching’s at Andy and Malinda’s, ya know.”
“Jah, heard Andy’s sweepin’ out the upper level of his barn come Saturday, so I’ll go over there and lend a hand.”
“I was just headin’ there now . . . to help Malinda wash down the walls and whatnot,” she added.
“Nearly forgot you’re kin to them,” Jake said as he reined in the anxious pony. “So will ya go with me, then . . . Sunday night?”
Another carriage was coming this way, so she had to make up her mind. Joanna smiled right quick. “Jah, I’ll go.”
His face burst into a grin and off he went. And, if Joanna wasn’t mistaken, she heard him say, “Glory be.”
“What am I doin’?” she whispered, moving back to the side of the road to let the coming horse and carriage pass.
———
Joanna enjoyed the walk to Cousin Malinda’s less for having bumped into Jake, and she stewed now about not having the courage to say what she should. This Sunday I will, for certain, she promised herself as she took in the stands of hardwood trees near the white horse fences of Andy King’s land and the open pasture beyond. Indeed, it was a splendid day.
Malinda was outside weeding her marigolds and asters, a patch of yellows and purples, when Joanna came up the driveway. “I’ve come to give you a hand,” Joanna called.
Malinda was red cheeked in the blazing sun. She wiped her damp brow with the back of her palm, her plain blue scarf having slipped back. “Ach, so gut to see ya. Sure, you can help.”
They worked together to finish up the bed so that it was free of even a single weed for the coming Lord’s Day. Of course, knowing Malinda, by Saturday she would go back and do the same thing where needed.
Once inside, they cleaned the house from the top of each room down, dusting, sweeping, washing, and making everything tidy and spotless. Joanna felt a hushed reverence about their work, knowing that this farmhouse would become a temporary place of worship this Sunday.
After the noon meal, Malinda’s twin sisters, Anna and Becky, joined them in beating rugs and sweeping every inch of the front and back porches before hosing them down. They finished off by cleaning the windows and screens, as well.
Later, once Joanna and Malinda were alone again, they enjoyed a tall glass of meadow tea, which hit the spot, as Mamma liked to say. Malinda dropped into the rocking chair on the shady back porch with a sigh. “Thanks to you and my sisters, I’m a little ahead of things,” she said, fanning herself.
“Glad we could pitch in.”
Malinda asked about her family and Cora Jane, and Joanna told her about planting the celery.
“Oh, Joanna . . . I hope Cora Jane’s getting married this fall isn’t hard on you,” said Malinda.
“Bein’ she’s younger than me by a mile?”
There was a sweetness in Malinda’s concerned expression. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No . . . no, that’s all right.” We’re more than cousins . . . we’re friends.
They sipped their iced tea, watching the breeze move through the tops of trees and the birds flitting about.
Then Malinda said softly, “I’m afraid I’ve got a rather prickly topic to bring up. I heard something the other week that’s hard to believe.”
Joanna froze and stared at her glass, wondering what on earth.
“Did Preacher Yoder come and talk to you?”
“Jah, he dropped by a couple months ago . . . about my stories.”
Malinda studied her. “Is everything all right?”
“For now, jah.”
“I’ve been concerned awhile but wasn’t sure if it was true.”
“Oh, true enough.” Joanna told on herself. Somehow it was different talking about difficult things with Malinda. A far cry from talking to Cora Jane.
“You must have a real gift for writing.”
Stunned, she looked at Malinda. “What?”
“Evidently the deacon’s wife read part of your story and was quite taken by your talent.”
“She did—she is?”
Malinda nodded and took a sip from her glass.
“How’d ya hear this?”
“My mother mentioned it last weekend, when she was over to help me put up beans.”
“Good grief, I wonder who else knows?” Joanna felt it strange to hear someone talk about her private writing like this.
“Word spreads, ya know?” Malinda encouraged her.
Jah, ain’t that the truth.
Joanna watched Malinda closely, wishing she hadn’t said anything just now. So, was everyone talking about this? Had it gotten to the grapevine? She cringed at the thought.
Malinda continued along the same lines. “Seems kind of peculiar that on one hand, the preacher wants you to put a stop to your creativity, and on the other, the deacon’s wife is praising your work.”
“Odd, indeed.” And that, Joanna thought, was all she ought to say.
Chapter 31
Joanna could hardly wait to see her grandmother that Friday when she learned Mammi Kurtz had at last been released from rehab. Fannie and the rest of the family had requested permission for the rehabilitation hospital to dismiss her
to their aid. With the help of a home care nurse several times a week, they planned to look after Mammi together.
Hurrying through her morning chores, Joanna got a ride to Mammi Kurtz’s with her father, who was on his way to see the smithy. “Mammi must be delighted to be back home again,” she said, making small talk.
He nodded so slightly she almost missed it.
“Do ya happen to know anything ’bout my namesake?” she asked, wondering if she might be able to get him talking. “The aunt I was named after?”
“You might ask your grandmother Kurtz. She’d know best. I don’t remember her so well.”
“I hope to but don’t want to tire Mammi out, ya know.”
He neither nodded nor commented.
After that, she remained quiet till they pulled over onto the side of the road, at the turnoff to the driveway. “Denki, Dat . . . I’ll walk home later.”
His eyes registered her words, and he gave another nod. “See ya then.”
From the street, the white clapboard house looked tall and narrow. Large oak trees flanked the east side of the lawn. A small shed and big barn out back, as well as the curing house over near a grove of trees, rounded out the property. The lawn had been recently cut; whoever had used the push mower last needed to sharpen the blade before the next mowing.
Three small children came running out the front door to meet Joanna—her married sister Salina’s three—Stephen, Sylvia, and Susan—all adorable towheads. “Aendi Joanna!” they called, flinging their arms around her long skirt.
“Come see the sweets Mamma made. Hurry!” said almost six-year-old Stephen in Deitsch.
“Could it be sugar cookies, maybe?” Joanna played along.
“Nee . . . come see,” said Sylvia, her eyes dancing.
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