“Sure.” Jacob set the wooden crate on the ground and leaned against the wagon.
Ammon shifted from one foot to the other. “I … I shouldn’t have spoken to Essie the way I did when you were at the house. She said I embarrassed her. It took me a while to see what she was saying, but she’s right. I’d be humiliated if anyone treated me like that.”
“It was disturbing to witness.”
His brows narrowed. “That bad?”
“Every bit and worse.”
“I feel so much pressure concerning … stuff going on in my life. I’m sure a single man can’t imagine. Did Essie ever tell you the situation?”
“She mentioned you were under stress but nothing else.”
Ammon removed his hat and scratched his head. “Anyway, the bottom line is, I should’ve been much calmer that day and certainly nicer to her, whether you were there or not. Even when I’m at my best, and that’s been a while, she deserves better than I can give.”
This was a welcome side to Ammon, and the relief Jacob felt for Esther surprised him. “You want to talk about what has you under such pressure?”
“It’d be nice, but I can’t, not if Essie hasn’t talked about the situation.”
“Not a problem. I forgive your outburst, Ammon.”
“Gut.” He scratched his beard. “She said you’ve been traveling since you were a teen.”
“At times. I settled down for a while, but it didn’t work out too well.”
“So you’ve seen and heard things people like me never will.”
“Maybe. What’s on your mind?”
“My troubles.”
Jacob chuckled. “Of course. That’s nearly all we think about when they’re screaming at us. Ya?”
Ammon nodded, and his smile erased some of his usual solemnness. “Do you think God controls every bit of our lives?”
“It’s what we’ve been taught, but I wonder about it sometimes.”
“Me too. I want to believe it. But if it’s true, doesn’t that take the responsibility for our actions right off our shoulders and put it on God’s?”
“That’s a good question, and I’ve asked it a time or two myself.” Jacob would like to know what Esther thought about that. “What does your wife say?”
“She believes everything is His perfect plan.”
“Really? That doesn’t seem to line up with her fighting so hard for young people to make the right decisions, does it?”
“Oh, you meant Ess …” Ammon stopped cold. Was that guilt on his face?
Jacob motioned. “Go on.”
Ammon shook his head. “I was up with the baby half the night, and it’s all”—he pointed at his head—“fuzzy and confused in there today.”
Jacob wasn’t good at sizing up situations because all too often he took what people said at face value. The trouble was that some people lied, a lot. Hadn’t he had some of these same troubling thoughts when talking to Bailey only minutes ago? He doubted that either man would tell outright lies. Still, it seemed both were hiding something.
He pondered again the strange conversation he’d had with Bailey. It was as if the man wanted Jacob to have a reason to return and work on a project with Esther. And Ammon didn’t appear to mind Jacob spending time with his wife.
The name bobble was huge. He and Ammon were talking about his wife, and suddenly Ammon got confused as to the name of the person they were talking about?
If Jacob didn’t get this cleared up, it would nag at him for years. Was Ammon not married to Esther? A lie like that made no sense. But he wouldn’t put Ammon on the spot. He seemed really nervous, and if someone was lying to Jacob, it was Esther.
Ammon grabbed the reins. “I need to go.”
“Bye.”
Ammon paused. “You know about the situation, don’t you?”
Jacob’s chest pounded. “You could clarify it.” Jacob didn’t really know, and he hated the idea of asking directly, are you and Esther married? Jacob had known her for nearly six months, but he wasn’t sure Ammon and the Esther inside the shop were married. They were together a lot, and Jacob had never seen Ammon with any other woman. She took care of his children, or maybe they were hers. They did call her Mamm.
His head ached from the confusion, or more likely it ached from his pounding pulse and rising anger. If his suspicions were correct, what would be her point in tricking him? He’d relaxed with her and opened up to her.
Ammon stared at the sky before he released a slow sigh. “She gives all the time and asks almost nothing of me, but she wanted this. You’ll be gone in a few hours. Could you leave well enough alone?”
Jacob’s skin pricked up and down his body as his ire grew. He wanted answers, but he wanted them from the person lying to him!
“It was nice meeting you, Jacob.”
Jacob gave a halfhearted nod, and Ammon drove the rig out of the parking lot. How could Jacob let this go? He grabbed the crate of junk and went into the shop. When he set it on the counter inside Esther’s cubicle, she turned.
Her eyes grew wide, and she grinned before shaking a putty knife at him. “This is a nice surprise. When we were at the new houses last week, you said I wouldn’t see you again.”
That’s when it occurred to him. Even though her smile and words welcomed him, it wasn’t the same vibe single girls gave off. Whenever he and Esther were alone, she talked to him and carried herself like a … He wanted to say married woman, but that wasn’t quite right either.
She used the putty knife to flick loose paint off an old windowpane. A moment later she stopped and studied him. “You’re angry.”
He wouldn’t raise his voice much above a whisper, but he wasn’t leaving here until he understood. “Who is Ammon to you?”
He wasn’t prepared for the depth of disappointment that etched itself on her face. She closed her eyes. “Jacob—”
“Who is he?”
“My brother.”
“Why would you let me believe you’re married? It doesn’t add up, Esther.”
She drew a deep breath and lifted her eyes to meet his. “Please don’t let this ruin our friendship. I didn’t realize that’s what you thought until Ammon was upset and you told me to go help my husband. I was too surprised and in too much of a hurry, so I dropped it. When we saw each other two days later and his name came up, you could see I was uncomfortable, and you said we didn’t have to talk about Ammon. Remember?”
“Of course. I thought you were embarrassed because he’d yelled at you in front of me. I had no clue your secret was that you weren’t a wife at all. The children call you Mamm. Are they yours?”
She fidgeted with the putty knife, scraping flecks of paint from the dull blade, but she finally shook her head. “They call me Mamm zwee, only they make it one word that sounds like Mammzu.”
“Mamm two.” He shook his head.
“Esther Mae, Ammon’s wife and my good friend, needs a lot of help when she’s pregnant, and I’m the one who meets that need. She came up with that name. But she’s not pregnant right now, just hurt from a bad fall.”
Jacob didn’t want to hear about Ammon and his wife. “When you realized what I thought, why not tell me the truth?”
“A lot of reasons, and, believe me or not, all of them centered on us being able to simply be friends while you were here.”
Did she actually think any type of real friendship was built on lies? “You’ve yet to give me even one reason.”
“You’d dated my sister, and she was so angry with me when you stopped seeing her. Dora thought it was my fault, and when she realized we were seeing each other some—in town, here at the shop, at my property—it was easy to reassure her through the simple words he thinks I’m married.” Esther focused on the old, weather-beaten windowpane, and as she scraped off loose paint, her fingers trembled. “There was something enjoyable and exceptional between us because you thought I was married. I didn’t want to ruin that.” She looked up at him, her eyes asking for underst
anding. “I’m twenty-seven years old, and I like my life as it is, Jacob. But no one Amish, especially a man, believes a woman wants to be single. If you’d known the truth, you would’ve avoided me like you have Dora. I … I just wanted us to be able to be friends.”
“I don’t want a friendship based on lies.” He had issues—plenty of them—but he saw himself as a patient man. But women could be so wearying. First Sandra. Then Rhoda. Now Esther. For Casey’s sake he dealt with whatever lies Sandra dished out. But he didn’t put up with that from anyone else. “I told you things about my life. I talked to you about the construction company I went to work for and the legal troubles and Sandra and returning home injured, and the list goes on. You should’ve stopped me.”
Concern and self-doubt radiated from her. “I … I thought I was giving you the chance to be yourself. I would never tell anyone a word of it, but I really, really needed to hear what you had to say.”
“You needed to hear it?” What she must really think of him seared like a hot iron. “Why, so you could be assured of what you already believed? That men are reckless and senseless?”
“Jacob.” Disbelief echoed inside her whisper. She held her forehead. “Okay, maybe this will help.” She lowered her hand, studying him. “You understand riptides. For a lot of reasons, we were caught in one from the first night we met in town. You know that the best thing people can do to free themselves of a riptide is to relax and let it carry them to the end of it. That’s their best chance of having the stamina to swim to shore.”
He resented her using that analogy. She wouldn’t know to say that to him if they hadn’t swapped stories of learning to snorkel and swim in the ocean.
She fidgeted with the scraper. “Can you understand?”
Underneath his anger he realized a part of him was relieved that she wasn’t married and that he wouldn’t have to feel concerned over her being married to Ammon. But he no longer liked her the way he had before. She was like too many others he’d known—willing to trick him because it suited her needs.
“That’s just it. I don’t understand. How foolish did you make me look to the men in this shop and to your brother? Whispers must be making the rounds to plenty of folks I’ve never even met.”
“I doubt anyone knows you think I’m married except Bailey, Dora, and Ammon.” She stared at the buttons on his shirt. “I only wanted to give us the chance of being a friend to each other—no strings or fears or expectations.”
“A friend,” he mumbled, remembering when he considered Sandra and her husband his friends. In the name of friendship, he had done things that could have landed him in jail. And then there were Samuel and Rhoda, who had been among his closest friends. “The older I get, the more I find the whole friend concept a myth. I thought you—we—were different than that. How would you feel if a guy lied to you and brought others in on it too? You wouldn’t be that desperate for a friend, and surely you didn’t think I was either.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she kept her eyes focused on the work station. “I’m sorry. I just …” She shook her head. “I’m sorry.” She ran the scraper down the sides of the old windowpane. “Forgive me?” Her hoarse voice sparked a sense of eeriness, but why?
Of course he forgave her, and not because he’d been taught relentlessly that Scripture was clear about having to forgive others in order to be forgiven by God. He had no desire to punish her or imprison her inside his disappointment. But even so, he was done here. She’d proved who she was. The tunnel around him—the one he’d thought he would soon walk out of, the one she’d brought light into—seemed to lengthen, and the light at the end of it faded until darkness surrounded him again.
She stood there, staring at him, waiting for his final verdict, the one that would define who they’d be from now on. “Can you forgive me?”
“Ya. I forgive you.” But he wasn’t hanging around. “I need to go.”
EIGHTEEN
Samuel’s stomach growled as he parked the wagon near the barn. Phoebe had called him to eat lunch more than three hours ago, but he’d stayed in the orchard until all the oil tanks in his wagon were empty. He got down and unhitched the horse. Walking the animal into the barn, Samuel heard Rhoda talking on the phone, and despite how hungry and tired he was, he’d rather have some time with her before getting a fresh horse and reloading the wagon with oil.
While he put the horse in a stall, filled its water trough, and fed it, he listened to her doing some type of business. She could make reading a grocery list sound interesting.
Wind whipped through the barn, playing with the fabric of his lightweight jacket. Strong winds this time of year seemed to be normal. April had only four more days left, and the snows had not only stopped, but most of it was melted. The ice in the rivers had broken up enough to be whisked toward the ocean, and he’d read in the newspaper this morning that the first canoeists of the season were getting on the water today.
Despite the great springtime thaw, Samuel had to admit this business venture had an odd wintry feel to it of late. Could they move past the weight they seemed trapped under without Landon? He doubted it. Landon had left a hole no one else could fill—not just in the field, although that alone might sink them, but also as a friend. Leah’s grief had buried her, and no one knew how to help ease that. Well, they didn’t know how to do it and remain in the good graces of the Amish. Landon had been gone for more than three weeks, and it felt as if it’d been three months.
“That’s fine. I can wait.” Rhoda’s voice drifted into his awareness.
Samuel smiled, wondering who she had on the line. True to form, she showed strength and determination despite the situation they were in. But when he looked in her eyes, he saw the hurt. He didn’t want her life mired in difficulty and pain. He longed to give her everything—love, joy, peace, and help for the house and office duties. His goal was, by this time next year, for her to tend the orchard as it suited her, not as the orchard demanded. Then she’d enjoy the canning season even more.
But the truth was, all his hopes could be dashed if they didn’t catch a break. They’d come to Maine with four men and three women—Steven, Landon, Jacob, and Samuel; Rhoda, Phoebe, and Leah. That wasn’t enough full-time workers. Iva then joined them, and that had helped. But then they lost Jacob. Now Landon. And the part-time help from the other families who had moved here fell far short of compensating for their losses.
Sometimes Samuel wanted to pound his head against a wall. If it’d help anything, he would.
When it came to making the farm profitable, losing Jacob and Landon had been a huge blow. If one more thing went wrong, he doubted Orchard Bend Farms could survive. Who was he kidding? They might not make it as it was—even if everything went right from here on.
Once the horse was taken care of, he pulled off his dirty, oil-covered jacket. It’d been a bit warm today to wear it while working, but it kept his clothes from getting a layer of oily mist. He tucked the hose between his arm and body and used the flowing water to rinse his hands and face. He turned off the water and hung the hose on its hook.
While wiping water from his face and slinging it from his hands, he went into the office. Rhoda had the phone to her ear and papers spread out on the desk, looking studious. “Could you run those numbers again, please? One of us is mistaken.”
She glanced up and waved, a gorgeous smile on her lips.
“Yes, that matches my figures.” She scribbled on a notepad. “You get it in on Monday, but you can’t deliver it before the following week?” She paused, listening while taking notes. “Yes, I remember. Landon picked it up for us before, but he’s no longer with us, and …” She cradled the phone between her head and shoulder and motioned for Samuel to take a seat. “Okay, I’ll call you back about whether you need to deliver it or we can pick it up. Sure, I’ll call Monday. Thank you.” She hung up. “The good news is they can have the oil in the store by Monday. The bad news is they can’t deliver it until the following Monday. And if we h
ave to get it by wagon, the round trip will take most of a day.”
“We need a driver with a truck.”
“What we have is a wagon with a team of horses. Is there enough oil to last until they can make a delivery?”
“Doubtful. My guess is I’ll be out by Tuesday.”
She opened a drawer and slid the notes inside. “I put an ad for help in Amish newspapers across the states. Maybe we’ll get a few nibbles soon.”
He hoped so. “That’d be nice.” Thus far the Amish who’d moved here were farmers, and they were busy with their own springtime work—plowing fields with a team of horses. Crist was good, stout help, but his first priority was his parents’ farm, so he had only a day now and then when he could work here.
She frowned and set her two-way on the desk. “I didn’t hear much of anything you said today through that radio, including when you told Phoebe you weren’t coming in for lunch. I learned about that when I went to lunch and you weren’t there.”
He put his radio on the desk and took the one she’d laid down. “I’ll work with it later.”
She rose. “You’re not fooling me, Samuel King. Every tenth word someone says is more than you care to hear most of the time anyway.” She paused, looking up at him. “True?”
“Only when it’s someone else on the two-way radio. I want to hear every word you say on the radio or in person.” He longed to kiss her, but if he did, he’d only want more. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets.
She giggled. “I didn’t realize you were such a smooth liar.”
“Now you know.”
She let loose a full-fledged laugh. “You realize you just told me you love listening to every word I say and then admitted you’re a good liar?”
He smiled down at her. “I did, didn’t I?” He scratched the side of his face. “Did you know it’s almost too warm for a jacket today?”
Seasons of Tomorrow Page 16
