Hope crossing, p.53
Hope Crossing, page 53
Sincerely,
Michael Blank
Enos Beiler
Jake Fisher
Grey hadn’t signed it. Either he didn’t agree with the decision, or he didn’t know what was going on in his absence. She guessed he didn’t know. Michael tried not to add more to a person’s life than was absolutely necessary.
Her Daed finished drying his face on a kitchen towel. “From your friends, ya?”
Lena stuffed the letter and envelope into the hidden pocket of her apron, drew a shaky breath, and turned around. “Ya, they’ve remembered Valentine’s Day.” The envelopes on the table contained cards from each close friend—Deborah, Anna Mary, Rachel, Linda, Nancy, Lydia, Frieda, and Esther. And every one of them had beaus … again.
“Did you remember to send them cards?”
“Hmm?” Lena sat at the table and put the napkin in her lap. “Oh, ya. I did.”
With the towel in hand, he took a seat. Lena choked back tears as they bowed their heads for the silent prayer. She tried to gain control of her emotions, but she wasn’t ready for the bowed heads and closed eyes to be over when she heard her Daed’s flatware shift. Trembling, she stood and dipped the corn chowder into a bowl for him.
He took it from her. “Smells great.”
“Denki.” She ladled soup into her bowl before sitting and passing him the bread.
“You’re awfully quiet of late, Lena.”
She nodded. How had she let this happen? What had she been thinking?
Her Daed’s usually jovial features had a downward pull. “I spoke to Michael earlier today. He apologized to me for any unease their decision may be causing you. You can imagine his embarrassment when he realized I didn’t know what he was talking about.”
Unable to speak or eat, she shrugged.
“Are you in danger of losing your teaching position?”
“There are other places to teach.”
“This school board covers three districts. If you aren’t hired by them, no other district is close enough to get to by horse and buggy. You’d need to hire a driver or move.”
She took a long drink of her water, hoping to get through dinner without falling apart.
Daed tore off a hunk of bread. “I didn’t think the complaints against you that caused your probation last spring to be fair. It wasn’t near the first time those children had come to school without their lunch. Every time you’d sent notes home, given them your lunch to share, and asked others to sacrifice part of their lunch. You had good reasons to send the oldest after the forgotten lunches—”
Lena raised both hands. “I know you side with me, and I appreciate it, but this has nothing to do with John going the wrong direction in my rig and getting hurt. I crossed a clear Amish line. I didn’t view my actions as threatening, but the board does. I guess since going to public school, I don’t see certain things as a hazard to our faith but as an opportunity to grow.”
“What did you do?”
“Samantha came and talked to the class on a couple of occasions, trying to help the children cope with the trauma of seeing Elsie killed.”
“Ach, Lena. You must’ve done it without going through proper channels. Why?”
“I told you why. I knew she’d be good for the class, and I … I invited her. I never let her be alone with any of the students. Everything she said was good and wise and helpful.”
“Grey is the clearest, most balanced thinker on that board. What does he say?”
Lena pushed the full bowl of soup away from her. “He’s not been to a meeting since Elsie died.”
Her Daed stared at her, disbelief and frustration radiating from him. “That’s not good for you, Lena. With him gone, those who are complaining will not be tempered.”
“You’re telling me things I know, Daed. Can we change the subject?”
“Sure. I’ve been taking different pieces of woodwork to Ada’s place, and she’s been selling them like hot cakes. I’m taking another load tomorrow. I’d thought about staying in Hope Crossing for a night or two. I’ve got friends there, and she needs help setting up some new adventures for springtime activities at Ada’s House. But maybe it’s not such a great time to be leaving you so much.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, please. I’m not a child.”
“Ya, but—” Soft knocking sounds interrupted him. He went to the front door. Figuring someone had come to talk to him about furniture, Lena stayed put.
Her Daed walked back into the kitchen alone. “Peter Bender is on the porch, and he wants to talk to you. He didn’t want to come in.”
Lena grabbed her coat and hurried outside. Winds whipped through her clothes and up her dress, giving her chills. “Peter.” She closed the front door. “What’s going on?”
“I … I want to talk to that woman friend of yours, you know, the one who came to our classroom.”
Suspicion filled her. Had Dwayne talked him into this? If she dared to bring Samantha into Peter’s life after the board’s letter, it would certainly be the end of her career. She’d never be allowed to teach at any school ever again. “Why?”
Peter shrugged, and under the silvery moonlight that reflected off the snow, she saw hostility etched on his face. He cleared his throat and sniffed. “I … I got to tell her some stuff I can’t live with. I can’t tell you or anyone else.”
She had no doubt that Dwayne was setting her up. But Peter wasn’t. To avoid the snare meant refusing to help Peter after she’d been the one to make the offer. Her throat closed and tears welled. “Ya. Okay.” Her hands shook as she wiped tears off her face, hoping he didn’t notice. “I’ll try to reach her tomorrow and see if she will come out this way again. Can you talk to her here?”
He rubbed his nose and sniffed again. “Don’t matter to me where as long as no one else can hear us.”
“I can arrange for that. It might be best if you keep this just between us for now. Your parents need to know later on, but talking with Samantha a few times first is ideal.”
“Sure. I won’t say nothing to anybody.” He looked like he wanted to hug her, and her heart melted.
“Go on home, Peter. It’s too dark and too cold to be out like this.”
He went down the steps and put his foot into the stirrup before pulling himself into the saddle. “Denki, Lena.”
The trap set before her was clearly marked. “You’re welcome, Peter.”
Deborah stood at the window in the dark living room, watching the street. Mahlon had asked for a few days. It’d been twelve. And he wanted more. She’d spoken to him twice. Each time hadn’t been for more than thirty minutes—once when she took out the garbage late one night and once when she was feeding Rosie.
At least now she knew a few more things about him. He drove huge trucks across the States. He sincerely regretted giving in to his confusion and running off. And when not hauling, as he called it, he obviously spent his time watching the house. It unnerved her, and she avoided going out at night.
Since his first appearance, she’d felt every emotion over and over throughout each day—anger, resentment, confusion, compassion, and traces of desire. What she’d like to do is jerk him up by the collar and shout at him until he felt some of what he’d dumped on her.
The stairs creaked, and she jolted. Through the dark silence, Cara studied her. “Waiting for Mahlon to show?”
“I … You know?”
“He startled me one night when I’d gone to the barn for a drop cloth. He thought I was you.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, I bet it’s close enough.”
“You can’t be mad at me about this. You’re the one who said I should compare.”
Cara sat on the steps. “Do you have any idea what kind of a game he’s pulled you into?”
Game?
She looked out the window. The moon dimly lit the yard, and memories of the hard work and successful nights of Ada’s House seemed less of a victory now.
“It’s not a game. Not for him or me.”
“Can you at least admit what you’re doing is dishonest?”
Deborah released the curtain and went to the foot of the steps. “He’s a truck driver now. Aside from that, I don’t even know what he’s been doing since he left. Why did he leave? Why is he coming back? I don’t want the answers he can give for Ada’s sake or anyone else’s. I need to know the truth of it for me.”
“All reasonable things you could find out without sneaking around.”
“I … I need this, Cara. Without pressure. Ephraim gave you time to figure things out. I just need a little time. Everybody has an opinion about Mahlon. They always did. I just want to think without anyone else’s opinion crowding in. Surely you get that.”
Cara sighed, and Deborah was confident she’d rolled her eyes too. Odd and infuriating as it was, Deborah still had feelings for him. But she couldn’t decide if they were real or if they were a fantasy left over from her days of wanting to be his wife and bear his children. What kind of man joined the faith and then left, only to return? From the moment she saw him again, the questions looped together inside her, repeating endlessly, and occasionally a new one would join in, but she had no answers.
“And … and you know how hard it is to live this life. Maybe he … he just thought he wanted something else and then realized he didn’t. You don’t know. I don’t know. But I need to find out.”
Cara patted the step beside her, and Deborah sat down.
She put her arm around Deborah’s shoulder and pulled her close. “Just do me one favor. Don’t confuse rescuing love for the marrying kind of love.”
Cara’s words unleashed years of memories, all telling Deborah the real story. Sketches of her life with Mahlon since they were children connected inside her, clearing away the fog. She saw herself. She saw Mahlon. And she began to understand.
Tears filled her eyes, and peace eased the tightness in her chest. “I think maybe I do know him after all—at least some things about him.”
Cara squeezed her shoulder, saying nothing.
Forgiveness slowly scrubbed the anger and confusion from her. “He needs me.”
“Yeah, but what do you need?”
“To see Mahlon and talk, I think.”
She just needed to leave a message for him at the Family Restaurant and arrange a meeting.
While Grey led his horse into Allen’s barn, Ivan ran into the house. Grey took a deep breath. A hint of spring floated on the icy air as the sun began to set. The winter nights weren’t as dark or as long or as cold as they had been. Patches of snow still lay on the ground, but spring would officially begin next week.
He’d survived winter. There were times when he could sense hope inside him, growing new roots and telling him he had a future. As he tossed some hay in a trough, he heard a noise as if a bucket had been knocked over.
“Hello?” He studied the dark barn. A shadowy figure darted out the side door. Grey hurried outside. A man, maybe Amish, clutched the mane of his horse, mounted it bareback, and took off. He returned to the barn, lit a kerosene lamp, and looked around. Nothing appeared to be missing, and there were no signs that the man had intended to set a fire. Feeling satisfied the person hadn’t caused any harm, he put out the lamp and left.
As he approached Allen’s house, Ivan appeared in the doorway, excitedly telling him Lena was here.
He didn’t know why Ivan sounded so surprised. With Emily expecting a fifth child, Lennie had been here to help her most Saturday nights since Christmas. Lennie added her own flavor of pleasure to an evening.
He stepped inside. Allen smiled. “Glad you’re here. I was going to come by your place in a bit.”
Grey removed his coat and hat and hung them next to Ivan’s. He’d tell Allen what he just saw when the two of them were alone. Lennie sat at the game table, surrounded by two nieces and two nephews. Allen’s wife had a smile on her face, looking more energetic than she had in a while despite her due date being in two or three weeks. Ivan stood next to Lennie, studying small cards that were turned facedown on the table. They were playing the Memory Game.
Grey talked with Allen about the weather, planting spring crops, and business at the cabinetry shop. Ivan chose a card, glanced at it, and then picked up another one. He then passed them both to Lennie.
She giggled and tussled his hair. “You are too good at this.”
Lennie glanced at Grey for the first time since he’d arrived. Her eyes held that familiar warmth, but she said nothing. He took a seat in the living room, choosing the chair that faced the children’s game table. Allen grabbed the newspaper and sat on the couch.
“I’m planning a hunt. Care to go?” Allen asked.
“When?”
“Thought we’d leave this coming Wednesday and come home Saturday. I contacted Dugger earlier in the week to see if he has an empty cabin we can rent, and he does.”
“I’ll see if Ivan can stay with Mamm for those few days and let you know.”
Rounds of applause came from the children’s table. Lennie received several hugs before the children took off for the stairs. She remained there, turning the cards facedown. “You didn’t even ask him what you’ll be hunting.”
Lennie didn’t look up, but Grey knew she was speaking to him. “It’s bird-hunting season. Does it matter the type?”
Her eyes moved to him, shining like emeralds in the glow of the kerosene lamp. “Don’t bring back any quail.”
“You don’t like them?”
“I love quail.”
Allen raised one eyebrow before opening his newspaper, looking determined to stay out of this conversation.
Realizing where this conversation was headed, Grey moved to a chair across from her. “So if you like them so much, we need to shoot ’em and bring ’em home to be cooked, canned, or frozen, right?” With the face of the small cards against the tabletop, he shifted them around until she had no idea what was where. She added the last cards to the table, and they began a fresh game.
She picked up a card and tried to find its match. Then she laid both of them down again. “If you shoot a quail, I’ll …” She took another card, only this time she found its match, so she took another turn.
When it was his turn, he flipped over a card and then chose another one. “You’ll what? Oh, wait. I’ve got it. You’ll throw cake at me or make me ride for two hours in the freezing temps so I can do a favor for you.”
“Have you ever listened to a quail?” She picked two cards, but they didn’t match.
“It’s hard to avoid hearing them in these parts.” He lifted a card.
“They are a beautiful-sounding bird.”
“Ya, but they’re still just birds. They taste good too.” He found its match and set it beside him.
“If you listen to a bobwhite, its melody might take you places without you ever leaving your yard.”
“It’s a bird, Lennie.”
She gave a half shrug while winning several more cards.
“Are you actually serious?” He matched three sets before she took another turn.
“I can’t imagine picking up a gun to kill anything, so my opinion isn’t worth much to a hunter, but it’s how I feel.”
“How come I never knew this bothered you?”
She studied him, her eyes reflecting dozens of thoughts. “I began feeding quail a couple of years back, and then I saw one that had been shot but wasn’t dead.” She shuddered.
“Do you still capture critters that have worked their way into your house and release them outside?”
“Maybe.”
He laughed and leaned the chair back on two legs. “Allen, we’re going pheasant hunting.” He lowered his chair. “Of course this means we need a bird dog. Can we borrow Nicky?”
“She’s more of a butterfly dog.”
“And you let her engage in that activity?”
She shrugged. “Not when I can stop it.”
Allen folded the newspaper and tapped it against his leg. “Dugger has a bird dog we can use.” Allen tossed the paper on the couch. “You can’t listen to my sister, or we’d all be vegetarians.”
Lennie clicked her tongue. “Or we could wait on you to fix a meal and starve to death.”
Grey laughed. “So we won’t go quail hunting. But, Lennie, you do know this means you have to clean and pluck the pheasants as a trade-off.” She won the last few rounds and tossed the cards onto the table in front of him. “If I was any good at plucking feathers off something, I’d have done it to Allen long ago.”
He chuckled. “One minute she’s sweet, and the next she’s sassy as everything.”
She stood. “One minute I was asking a favor, and the next I had what I wanted.” She gave an evil laugh, then looked at the stairway. “I promised the young uns a game of indoor freeze tag.”
When she was out of hearing range, Grey turned back to Allen. “Is she serious about the quail, or have I just been had—Lennie style?”
“I was only half listening and not watching her at all, so I don’t know.”
“Has she been feeding quail?”
Allen shrugged. “Not a clue. But if she has, we should find out where. Those will be some nice plump quail.” Allen smiled. “Wouldn’t she love that?”
“Listen.” Grey lowered his voice. “There was a man in your barn when I put my horse up.”
“A man? Any idea who?”
“None. He caught a glimpse of me and ran. Had a horse waiting near the barn.”
Emily walked into the living room, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. She sat down and put her very swollen feet on the coffee table.
He and Allen dropped their discussion, and the conversation among the three of them ambled onto a dozen different topics as the children ran in and out of the room.
Emily held her hand out in front of her. Allen stood, took her by the hand, and gently helped her up. She whispered something to him before leaving the room, and he smiled.
Allen sat. “I’ll keep an eye out, and if I see any signs of someone hanging around, I’ll tell Emily. You haven’t heard news about any trouble, have you?”
