“Girls.” Esther’s motherly tone surprised him, but it probably shouldn’t have. The door slammed shut.
He eyed her. “So tell me about yourself. Do you enjoy volleyball?”
“I do. But not quite as much as I once did. I used to get quite vocal at those things.”
“Used to?” The loud, girlish whisper from the doorway was followed by giggles and shushes from the other room.
The door was ajar again, with pairs of eyes and ears in the gap.
Esther smiled, shaking her head. “They have a valid point. I’m still loud while playing.” She turned toward the door. “If you’re only going to pretend to give us privacy, please come sit with us. At least that way you’ll hear correctly, and we’ll be aware of what’s being heard.” How did she manage to sound like both a mother hen bent on teaching her baby chicks and a dear friend who was simply one of the brood?
“Sorry,” one girl said, and the door slammed shut.
Jacob imagined this home was a handful day and night. Why would she take on being a housemother to pregnant Amish girls? He jumped one of Esther’s pieces.
Chatter and laughter rose in the other room, which told him no one could overhear them now.
“I’ve been wondering a couple of things, Esther.”
“Like?”
“The afternoon I realized you weren’t married, I was talking to Ammon, and he asked whether I believe God controls every bit of our lives. He seemed weighed down with the worry of it.”
She stayed focused on the board. “I know what that was about. The church believes in having all the children God chooses to give, and the deacon’s been preaching that hard lately, but I told Ammon it wasn’t God causing Esther Mae to conceive. Ammon’s twenty-six with four children. He might consider using a little abstinence, but he has to figure out what he believes—whether it’s all in God’s control or he should take personal responsibility.” She finally moved a piece. “What else have you been wondering about?”
He started to make a move and changed his mind. “That night in town when we were sitting on the curb talking, you said, ‘It was on this night,’ but then Ammon arrived, and you never finished your thought.”
“Ah. It was the anniversary of my Daed’s death. He was both difficult and good, so losing him was heartbreaking but also freeing.”
Her words were matter of fact, but he sensed a depth of emotion that she was holding back.
She pointed at the board. “It’s still your turn.”
He slid a piece into place. “Thanks for the answers.”
She smiled. “Anytime.”
At the sight of Esther’s wry smile, he thought of the first time he went to Bailey’s to help her. “I am glad to see that you still have your ears.”
“Me too.” She made a face and touched each ear. “Were they in jeopardy?”
“I about talked them off that first day we worked together at Bailey’s.”
She chuckled. “That was a good day.” She moved a checker piece.
“All you ever wanted to know about one Amish man’s journey into the world and back again.” He countered her move.
“You didn’t cover everything.” She studied the board before making another move. “Was the outside what you’d thought it would be?”
“It was better in some ways, worse in others. But you travel with Bailey and his family. You see what it’s like.”
“Vacations are insulated from real life.”
“I can understand how they would be.” He moved another checker piece. “Our preachers warn us what it’s like out there, but despite their description, the reality is very different.”
“Like reading about a place in a brochure, and then when you get there, its cultural feel is not at all what you’d expected.” She moved another checker piece into place.
“I wouldn’t have thought of it like that, but ya.” He jumped another man of hers. “The problem isn’t sin staring you in the face. It’s the real people with real hurts and problems, and when you try to help them, they grab you and pull you under with them while hoping you’re strong enough to keep them afloat.”
She studied the board and frowned. “I’m losing.”
“You are.” He slid the bowl of popcorn out of her reach. “Just in case the winner always wears popcorn.”
She smiled, her eyes reflecting such calmness. “So other than a desire to forgive and be forgiven, which you could have expressed by phone, why are you here?”
An image of Phoebe lying in the hospital sent fresh grief through him. Followed by thoughts of Steven beside her, hoping against hope that she’d recover … of Leah’s and Landon’s broken hearts … of Rhoda’s and Samuel’s love and their fight to keep Orchard Bend Farms well tended. Fresh hurts and turmoil churned within him, and he was surprised to realize his eyes were misting. “I need a friend.”
“Ah.” She studied him. “Friendship I can do. But at the risk of sounding both conceited and motherly, I will confess that single men aren’t particularly good at being just friends with single women.”
Which had to be why she wanted him to think she was married. “You know yourself well, Esther, Essie, Shark Bait Beachy. You definitely sounded conceited and motherly.”
“I know. Sickening, isn’t it?”
“I’ve never before met a single girl who wanted to stay that way.”
“My poor Mamm still struggles with it. It was about her undoing when I was younger. I almost have her calm about it these days. Give her three more years, once I cross that thirty-year-old threshold, and she’ll come to terms with who I am … maybe.” Her eyes lit up with a hint of surprise.
“New thought?”
“Dora.” She tossed her pieces onto the board. “I’m not sure what to tell her.”
“I get the feeling if she thought I was here right now, she’d be in a chair beside me. Am I wrong?”
“No. I don’t mean to share too much, and I feel guilty for what I need to say.”
“But I have to know the straight of it if we’re to avoid conflict or misunderstandings with her.”
“If she knows you’re coming to our district at times and don’t have houses to build, she’ll believe that her prayers are being answered and that you are warming up to the idea of happily-ever-after with her.”
“Could you and she be any more different?”
“Doubtful. But if she thinks there’s a chance with you, she won’t move on.”
“I definitely want her to move on.”
“And without us working on projects, please don’t get caught being around me. She’ll blame me for you not dating her, and like I said, our relationship is complicated enough as it is.”
“Sounds like you two have had guy trouble before.”
Esther nodded. “About a year ago a nephew of one of our members moved here. I thought he was trouble the moment I saw him. He dated a few girls in the area before he set his sights on Dora. Rumors were swirling that he was going to ask her out, and she was so excited. I didn’t handle it well.”
“You came between them before their first date?”
“I know what I saw, Jacob.”
“She might have seen it too if you’d given her the chance.”
“For almost nine years I’ve housed girls who’ve given some Casanova a chance.”
Jacob could see why the relationship between Esther and Dora was complicated. Esther loved her sister, and Dora desperately wanted to find romantic love.
“So what do we do about your sister?”
“You are careful not to be seen coming here or hanging out near me for a year, maybe two. After that, Dora will find someone, and you won’t ever matter again.”
“Thanks.”
“Anytime. What are friends for?” Her smile faded. “Do you think that’s a reasonable plan?”
“Sure. I doubt I have much reason to be in Virginia very often anyway.”
She held out her hand. “Phone.”
He gave it to her.<
br />
She touched various buttons, clearly comfortable with the forbidden item. Bailey’s influence, he guessed. “I’m sharing phone numbers where I can be reached. You may call, or don’t call. I don’t care. But unless you say it’s an emergency, I probably won’t return the call in less than three to four days. However, if I call you, you’d better pick up.”
Once again she had stirred humor within him, and he was glad he’d come. “You’re demanding and have a double standard.”
“What was your first clue?”
“When you opened your mouth.”
She laughed. “Hey, you’ll be the one with a cell phone in your pocket. There’s no excuse for not answering.” She touched another button and listened to a salsa ring tone. “That’ll do for now.” She looked up from his phone. “Amish in these parts don’t cotton to keeping a phone in their pockets.”
“They may not, but you should.”
“You take that up with the bishop. If he says yes, you can buy me one. Until then, I gave you the numbers to the phone shanty and Bailey’s shop.”
Her sassy attitude deserved a little harassing. “What if I prefer to text?”
“Then text. Neither number gets text messages, but if you need to vent, and I’m not available, text away, my friend.” She slid the phone across the table, and her smile faded as she studied him. “Tell me, Jacob, what’s so heavy that you came all this way to talk?”
“It’s a lot to unload.”
She leaned in. “I live with pregnant teens. I dare say we have more drama between waking and eating breakfast than you could share if you took all night.”
“You’re sure?”
She went to the oven and opened it. “For now and future reference, could you not ask me if I meant what I’ve already said? Trust me, unless I’m teasing, I mean what I say, every time.” She turned off the oven and pulled out four loaves of bread.
“Good to know.”
She sat back down at the table. “What’s going on?”
He drew a deep breath, hoping to steady the pounding grief and confusion, and told Esther about Phoebe. He paused and then said, “And the girl I told you I hoped to forget—she’s marrying my brother … in two days.”
“Jacob.” Her shocked tone resonated as a victory. He’d found someone he could tell the hardest parts of his life to and feel better afterward. That was rare.
“And as much as I can’t stand the idea of returning to Orchard Bend Farms to help out, especially during the first few months of their wedded bliss, the family business desperately needs me.” As he continued to list everything on his mind, including Leah’s woes, all he could think was, I can’t return to the farm. I can’t.
She returned to the oven and dumped each loaf of bread onto a cooling rack. “What a mess.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I can’t. You’re a man, and men know everything.”
He chuckled. “Not this one.”
She snapped her fingers. “That must be why I like you.” She glanced at the clock, and her eyes widened for just a second. “So the original Orchard Bend crew is now down three men—you, Steven, and Leah’s Landon, leaving only Samuel?”
“Ya.”
“That’s tough.” She glanced at the clock again. “We need to leave. Dora’s coming by with a donation from a local grocery store. I prefer to keep this home for unwed girls as private as possible, but the store manager is one of Bailey’s good friends who knows about the girls and helps out whenever he can.”
“You have things to do, and I should just go.” Disappointment wrapped around his shoulders. “I’ve said what I needed to.”
She made a face. “Do you actually believe that giving an outline of the issues is equal to finding some peace with them?”
He couldn’t imagine what else there was to say on the topics, and he felt better for having shared his burdens, but he didn’t want to part ways just yet. “Where can we go?”
She wrapped a loaf of bread in a kitchen towel. “A back way to Bailey’s. During your rare trips here, his place will be the best spot to meet. No one will think anything about a rig or two being there, and yet few Amish ever have a need to go there, and Dora never has.”
“Why not?”
“Bailey likes to tease, and she has no sense of humor whatsoever.”
An idea hit. Bailey had asked Jacob to build an outdoor kitchen. If he returned to help on the farm in Maine the way he should, he’d need an escape—an excuse to pull away and find a refuge of sorts. This seemed like a good solution. He and Esther could visit at Bailey’s without Dora discovering their friendship too soon.
Esther went to the door of the room where the girls were and knocked while opening it. “I’m going to Bailey’s. Dora will be here shortly. I expect each of you to help her unload the groceries. The stew and bread are ready. No arguments and no leaving the kitchen a mess. Okay?”
The young women stared at him and nodded.
Jacob grabbed his hat and coat. She passed the bread to him, put on a heavy sweater, and went down the steps with only a hint of a limp.
They crossed the lawn toward the hitching post. “What if they mention to Dora that I was here?”
“Then we deal with it, but they won’t. We have a code: no lying but no volunteering information about someone else’s life.” She held up her hand. “I know, you seem to have gotten caught in some version of that yourself, and that’s my fault. I absolutely, positively …”
Even though she’d already apologized, he expected her to finish her sentence with another one.
She raised one eyebrow. “… should not have let you near Ammon.”
“What?” He laughed.
“Did I mumble?”
He started toward her door to open it for her, and she shooed him away. “Much appreciated, but I’m not your date, so get.”
He did as requested and went to his side. As he worked to turn the horse and rig in the right direction, he looked forward to talking about the serious things and getting perspective. But he also hoped to find out things about her—like why she felt so strong about not marrying, why she began helping unwed expectant moms, how Esther Mae was these days, whether Esther lived in the Daadi Haus with the girls, and dozens of other questions.
“Go right.”
“Right it is.” He pulled onto the road, and another question popped into his mind. “How’s your knee these days?”
“Gut. A doctor injected steroids into it. If the pain returns, I’ll get another injection. But all tests indicate that there’s no permanent damage and that it simply needs time to heal. I appreciate the nudge to have it seen and the money to cover the cost.”
“Anytime. So how did you originally hurt your knee?”
“In the same accident where Esther Mae was injured.”
“Were you two in a buggy accident or something?”
“No, that would be you and me, remember?”
He’d never forget the awful feeling when he hit her with his horse. But would he have gotten to know her otherwise? “That will stick with me forever. So how did you hurt your knee?”
She straightened. “I was at Ammon and Esther’s home, on the stairs, and had paused while talking to Ammon. Esther Mae was at the top of the steps, carrying a riding horse for one of the children, when she tripped over a piece of loose carpeting and fell.”
“Wait.” Jacob needed a moment to absorb this. So Esther was in her brother’s house when her sister-in-law ran over her with a horse—a toy one but still a horse. He pulled off the road onto the empty parking area. “Could you get out now?”
“Why?”
“Safety precaution. For me. The way I figure it, it’s about time for you to get hit with another horse, and I’d rather not be sitting next to you when it happens.”
Her eyes reflected shock. Apparently she hadn’t thought of the connection. Then she broke into laughter.
When their laughter quieted, he felt refreshed and stro
ng and whole again.
And for the first time in a long time, he knew what he had to do.
TWENTY-NINE
A loud thud ricocheted against Rhoda’s nerves, and the plates slipped from her hands and crashed onto the hardwood floor. A quick glance told her that her uncle had just dropped two benches. The poor man. Everyone was exhausted.
Trembling, she knelt inside her childhood home, separating broken plates from whole ones. At least a few had survived. As if Phoebe’s illness weren’t stressful enough, her family now had to deal with a wedding. If only there had been a better way for her and Samuel to marry, but Amish girls married in their parents’ home, and the parents provided two meals to the guests.
Warm hands covered hers, and she looked up. Samuel crouched near her, wearing newly made black pants and a well-ironed new white shirt. His silky blond hair shone like a halo that emphasized his dark brown eyes. “Hi.” He paused. She wasn’t surprised he’d seen her drop the plates. How many times had one of them been caught admiring the other from across the room or the yard today?
Her cheeks warmed. “Hi.”
He helped gather the broken pieces into a mound.
She and Samuel had left Maine three days ago, along with everyone else, and they’d needed every minute of those days to get ready for this small, simple wedding. He’d been tempted to stay at the farm to work an extra day or two, but at the last minute they decided against that. Good thing too. Otherwise, there might not be a wedding today. Getting an expedited marriage license had proved to be quite the task, and it’d taken both of them to accomplish it. Before they left Maine, they’d written and overnighted a letter asking for a waiver of the three-day wait for a license, explaining their reasons and need. Even so, they’d spent most of Tuesday at the courthouse getting their license. Yesterday the men had moved furniture out of the house and replaced it with tables and benches while the women cleaned and prepared food.
Rhoda bit her lip. She must have been out of her mind to think she could pull off even the smallest of Amish weddings in three and a half days. Feeding a wedding feast to sixty-three guests on Thursday when they hadn’t arrived here until late Monday afternoon was nearly impossible.
Seasons of Tomorrow Page 25
