by Amy Clipston
Cevilla forced a smile but remained quiet. She didn’t want to think about him leaving, but he had no reason to stay. Meghan was doing better, and she seemed eager to get back home. Was Richard eager to leave too?
The ride home from Noah and Ivy’s was a quiet one. Once there, Richard asked, “Who’s going to unharness the horse?”
“I will. I’ve done it enough times. I can take care of Shep until Judah comes back for him in the morning.”
“Can I help? Even though I’m a city slicker? I watched Noah do it, you know.”
Cevilla chuckled. “Sure. I think we can get Shep settled between the two of us. Judah brought some grain for him, too, and we’ll get him water.”
It took a little longer than usual, since Richard still had to be instructed on every detail of unharnessing and putting up a horse. But he was interested in learning, and Shep was soon happily in his stall and ready for sleep.
They walked back to the house together, each of them using their cane, their free hands swinging by their sides. Cevilla’s hand brushed against Richard’s and she moved away. “Sorry,” she said, as they reached the front porch.
“It’s quite all right.” He turned to her. “Cevilla.”
She stopped and looked up at him. There was still daylight left, and she could see that inexplicable spark in his eyes that made her toes curl. “Yes, Richard?”
“This past week with you has made me happier than I’ve been in a long time. I feel young again.”
She understood. She’d had a bit of a bounce in her step this week, too, that hadn’t been there before.
He looked at her for a long moment. “You’re not saying anything. That’s making me nervous.”
“I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
He backed away, a shadow crossing his face before he gave her another smile. This one wasn’t as radiant as the others. “I’m sure Meghan is waiting for me inside,” he said. “She’s ready to get back to LA, and I still have to pack.” He looked at her one more time before climbing the porch steps and heading inside the house, the screen door closing behind him.
Cevilla couldn’t speak as he disappeared. Of all the times for her to lose her nerve. She should have said something. Told him she was feeling something between them. Asked him to stay and sit on the front porch with her. Adding to her beloved, well-worn hickory rocker, Noah had brought over two brand-new rockers for him and Ivy to sit on when they came to visit. She could picture her and Richard there, enjoying the warm weather, the earthy smell of the summer gardens, the music of the birds, and the occasional clopping of horse’s hooves as a buggy drove by.
She shook her head. That was a fantasy. And Cevilla Schlabach didn’t indulge in fantasies.
The next morning Cevilla was waiting on the front porch when the screen door opened, and Meghan walked out. Her cheeks were bright pink, and she still had the lovely smile on her face Cevilla had seen at breakfast. Even she’d been surprised by the transformation. Meghan had told her she still had a lot to work out, but she’d made a first step.
“Where’s your grandfather?” Cevilla asked as they walked down the porch steps.
“He’s in the restroom, which gives me a chance to thank you for everything. As you could tell, I didn’t want to be here.” She looked around the yard, and then tucked her sleek brown hair behind her ear. “But this has been the best vacation I’ve ever had. I feel like I’m ready to face my life in LA now. And you’ve been a big part of that.” She hugged her. “You remind me of my grandmother, NanNan.” She pulled back. “I’ll miss you. If you ever want to come to California, you have a place to stay.”
Cevilla nodded. “Thank you, but I can’t see me making a trip so far from home.”
“Oh,” Meghan said as Richard came outside. “But you never know what the future holds.”
Cevilla looked at him as he made his way down the steps. He was handsome, charming, as salt of the earth as they came despite being monetarily rich. She had been so in love with CJ that she hadn’t noticed Richard except as a friend. A shoulder to cry on. Someone there for her while CJ and others were at war. A beautiful, wonderful man she might have fallen for back then if circumstances had been different.
A man she was falling for right now.
He stopped in front of her. “I guess this is good-bye.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I guess it is.”
He took her hand and smiled. “It was good to see you, Cevilla.” When she failed to reply he let go of her hand and walked away.
Her heart squeezed in her chest as he and Meghan got into their car, their luggage already in the trunk. She didn’t understand why, but Richard meant a lot to her too. Somehow an old friend from a lifetime ago had made an impact on her in such a short time. Then again, they both knew very well that life was short, which was why she hurried to the car and tapped on his window.
“Richard?”
He rolled down the window. “Yes?”
“Would it be all right if I wrote to you? Occasionally, of course.” She lifted her chin. “I’m fairly busy around here, you know.”
His grin was adorable. “You are a busy lady.” He reached into a pocket for his wallet, and then handed her a business card. “This one has my personal address on it. I would be pleased to receive a letter from you.”
She took the card, trying not to show her joy. “Very well, then. You can expect one.”
As Meghan pulled away, Cevilla turned on her heel and strolled back to the porch and into the house. But when she shut the front door behind her, she did a little fist pump.
CHAPTER 7
Dear Richard,
In the week since you’ve been gone, the garden is all planted, my flower box plants are still blooming, and the front porch has a fresh coat of paint. See, I told you I was busy. Busy supervising, that is. Our little community never lacks helping hands, and although I don’t like it, I must acknowledge that getting things done on my own isn’t as easy for me as it used to be. But that’s our little secret.
I hope Meghan is doing well. I’ve been praying for you both since you left. I know you have a good life in LA, but we all need prayers, and God doesn’t want us to talk to him only during the bad times.
A wedding is coming up in the fall. I’m not surprised—I was rather instrumental in getting these two young people together. The youth of Birch Creek seem to always need a matchmaker. I’d mention the couple’s names, but since you didn’t get a chance to meet anyone here other than the Bontrager, Chupp, and Yoder boys, Freemont Yoder, and Noah and Ivy, they wouldn’t mean anything to you.
Summer in Birch Creek is always a lively time of year. Frolics, barn raisings, cookouts, vacations . . . it’s my favorite season. Maybe—
Cevilla paused. She’d almost invited him back for a visit. It was one thing to write friendly letters to an old friend, but quite another to invite him back for a visit. She thought she’d been bold when she asked permission to write him, which was silly. Boldness was never a problem for her. Neither was confusion, at least when it came to the opposite sex. Until now.
She erased the word maybe, signed her name, and put the letter in an envelope. After she copied Richard’s address from the card he’d given her—which, of all things, she’d promptly put in the top drawer of her nightstand next to her bed for safekeeping—she took her cane and went to the mailbox. As she was raising the flag on the side of the box, a familiar buggy pulled into her driveway.
“Hi, Cevilla.” Ivy leaned over and gave her a wave. “Are you up for a little company this morning?”
Cevilla smiled. “I’m always up for company. Especially yers.”
While Ivy parked the buggy and took care of the horse, Cevilla made her way back to the house. It was midmorning and too late to offer Ivy breakfast, but she could at least make some peppermint tea.
Ivy came in the back door without knocking. Cevilla had told her and Noah to treat her house as their home, and they did. “I brought two
whoopie pies from Carolyn’s,” she said, placing a plastic-wrapped Styrofoam plate on the table. “One chocolate and one strawberry.”
“Strawberry?” Cevilla took two mugs from a cabinet and placed them on the counter. “That’s a first.”
“You know Carolyn. She likes to experiment.” Ivy went to the sink and washed her hands.
A few minutes later they were both seated at the table, sharing tea and the whoopie pies. Cevilla had the random thought that if Meghan were here, she’d be appalled at so much sugar in the morning. Cevilla took a large bite of the strawberry whoopie pie. You only live once.
After a few minutes, Ivy spoke. “How are you feeling, Aenti?”
Cevilla wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Right as rain.”
“Are you sure?”
Cevilla paused in the middle of putting the napkin back on the table. She peered at Ivy. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t just a friendly visit?”
Ivy shrugged, not looking at her. She wiped at a chocolate crumb on her plate. “You know Noah and I love you, and we want to make sure you’re all right.”
“I see.” Although she still sensed there was more to Ivy’s visit than she was saying, she couldn’t help but smile. This petite young woman who had won the heart of her dear nephew was more like a daughter to her than a niece, one God had provided in her old age. If God can provide a daughter, why can’t he provide a new love?
“Aenti?”
Cevilla blinked and looked at Ivy again. “Ya?”
“This is what I mean. You’ve been distracted lately. Noah and I noticed it after church last Sunday. You barely said three words to Rhoda and Naomi during the meal.”
“I don’t have to talk all the time.”
Ivy gave her a side eye. “Oh really?”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.”
Ivy sat back in her chair. Cevilla knew her toes just reached the floor.
“Sorry, Aenti. And I apologize if I’ve stepped over a line.” She looked at Cevilla and smiled. “You said everything is all right, and I believe you.”
Well, didn’t that just bring on a wave of guilt? While she didn’t relish the thought of talking about Richard, she also couldn’t be deceptive to her niece. “Fine. Something is . . . wrong.”
Ivy sat straight up. “What is it? Do you need to see a doctor? Do I need to get Noah?”
Cevilla chuckled, remembering how Meghan had been so over-protective of Richard. It’s wonderful to be loved. Sometimes it felt a little like coddling, but right now she was pleased. “No, there’s nothing physically wrong. In fact, I feel better than I have in a long time.” Which was true, and she knew it was because of Richard.
Ivy breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.” Then she frowned. “What’s bothering you, then?”
Her cheeks heating, Cevilla pushed back from the table. “It’s really nothing,” she said, standing up. She lifted her teacup, even though it was still half full, and went back to the kettle.
“Are you thinking about Richard?”
“A little.” Cevilla gave her a pointed look as she sat back down. “Now, don’t give me that look again. Richard was and is a friend. I’ve said that before.”
A small smile spread across Ivy’s pretty face. “That friend has you very distracted. Even after he’s gone back home.” Her smile widened. “I see.”
“Stop that,” Cevilla snapped.
“Stop what?”
“Looking like a cat that’s licked all the cream from the bowl.”
Ivy laughed. “Oh, Aenti, how the tables have turned.” She leaned forward. “It’s okay to have feelings for someone.”
“At my age?” She shook her head and stared at her hot tea. “Nee. I’m past all that.”
“You don’t seem to be.”
“I should be, though.”
“Why? Because you’ve been single all yer life?”
“Because God is enough.” That’s what she’d said all her adult life, not just to herself, but to others. Whenever anyone asked her why she never married. Whenever she offered advice to young women who struggled with their singleness. Or to anyone who was lonely and felt left out, for that matter. She believed that to her core. God was enough. Which meant she didn’t need Richard, or anyone else.
But that wasn’t true. She needed community. No man—or woman—was an island. And although God was enough for her and always would be, maybe he had something else in store for her too.
Cevilla pressed her lips together and nodded as she stared down at her hands. Then she said, “Maybe he does.”
“What are you talking about, Cevilla?”
She ignored Ivy and picked up Richard’s card from where she’d left it on the kitchen table. Not only did it have his address, but it had his phone number. She stood with the help of her cane. “It’s time I stopped acting so foolish.”
“Aenti, what are you doing?”
She held up the card. “I’m going to call my friend.”
“Um, you know phones aren’t to be used for chatting, Cevilla.”
“Oh, I’m not going to chat.” She grinned, happiness filling her. “I’m going to set things straight.”
CHAPTER 8
You’re moping, Grandfather.”
Richard peered at Meghan over the edge of his newspaper. “I’m reading,” he said. “How is that moping?”
“That paper is old. You read it yesterday.”
His eyes focused on the words, which he hadn’t been able to do since he opened the paper nearly half an hour ago. Sure enough, he’d read this article yesterday. He folded the paper and set it on the metal and glass table in front of him. He and Meghan were having breakfast on the patio, which not only overlooked an infinity pool but had an exquisite view of the Pacific Ocean. The air was filled with the scents of sea salt, sand, and the cinnamon oatmeal Francois had prepared. Sharon had had her usual black coffee and zipped out of the house before breakfast was served. But Meghan, as she had for the past three mornings, had joined him for breakfast.
She buttered a piece of wheat toast before adding a small spoonful of fresh strawberry jam. He had a feeling she had more to say. She was just taking her time.
“It’s hard to concentrate with Cevilla on your mind, isn’t it?” There it was.
“Humph.” He took a sip of his orange juice and looked out at the ocean. Later this morning he would take a swim in the pool, an exercise he’d always enjoyed. Then he would probably meet his friends at the club for a light lunch, return home for a nap, have supper . . . He grimaced. None of that appealed to him, not when he was preoccupied with Ohio Amish country. He felt the draw to go back. Or maybe a woman who lived there was what made him want to drop everything and leave for Ohio.
“Why don’t you call her?” Meghan asked.
“That’s simply not done.”
“Calling a woman?” she scoffed. “I know you’ve been out of the dating game for a long time, but it’s perfectly fine to call a woman you like.”
At the word dating, his cheeks heated. “I’m not dating anyone.”
“You will after you call her.”
He turned from the ocean view and regarded his granddaughter. “Since when have you been interested in my social life?”
A hurt look crossed her face. “I’m always interested in what you’re doing, Grandfather. I thought you knew that.”
He nodded, inwardly sighing. “I do know that.” He reached over and patted her hand. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a little . . .”
“Mopey?”
“If you want to call it that.”
Meghan smiled. “Mopey is accurate.” Since their return from Cevilla’s, she’d gone on two job interviews. She hadn’t heard anything back, but that didn’t seem to deter her good mood. He trusted his granddaughter to make wise decisions, whether they were professional or personal. She’d learned some lessons, and she’d also proven that she could rebound from serious setbacks.
“I’m proud of you,” he sa
id. “You’re a strong woman.”
“I don’t think so, not always anyway. I didn’t think I’d come back from everything that happened. Conor dumping me, Tawny selling my business . . .” She touched the edge of the table. “When you dragged me out to Amish country, I was able to get some perspective. I’ve also been talking to Conor again.”
That rang Richard’s alarm bells. “May I ask why?”
“It’s not what you think. We have a lot to work through. Our relationship wasn’t good from the start, on both sides.” She sighed. “I know you didn’t care for him.”
“I didn’t care for how he treated you. I think Conor has potential, but he’s self-centered.”
“That’s kind of normal in LA.”
“It shouldn’t be normal anywhere.” He let out a long breath. “I’m not going to pry into your relationship with him, Meghan. I know your mother does plenty of that.”
“I haven’t told her Conor and I are speaking again. We’re not dating, and I don’t think we ever will. But we have to work through our past so we can go forward with the future. We hurt each other. He’s willing to make amends, and I need to respond in kind.” Her gaze grew soft, her eyes teary. “You’ve taught me well, Grandfather. Thank you for always being there for me.”
His own eyes filled with tears. “Thank you for letting me.”
She dabbed her eyes with a tissue, and then she pulled a card from the pocket of her suit jacket. “Here,” she said, handing it to him. “Consider this a change of subject. I have an interview in an hour, and I don’t want to smear my mascara.”
He looked at the paper. “What is it?”
“I got the number of that community phone near her house. You know, the one she checked for messages a few times while we were there.”
His brow lifted as he took the card. He’d read up a bit on the Amish before going to see Cevilla, and then upon his return he’d devoured several reference books about the culture. They eschewed technology, and they used phones only for emergencies, business owner needs, or to leave important messages, all depending on the district. Never to just . . . talk.