“I know they would.” Elam flung the bits of twig away in a jerky, near-violent gesture. “I should accept gladly, but I can’t.”
“You think Daad won’t see you as a man until you go out on your own.”
“Am I wrong?”
Luke pondered that. Daad probably wasn’t as impatient and condescending as Elam believed, and Elam’s restlessness and refusal to accept help betrayed a level of childish resentment. Yet Luke’s sympathy went to his brother. Daad would never understand that he was part of the problem. Luke’s own relationship with his father had been contentious before he walked out. Daad had had no choice but to see him as a man when he returned. They’d been able to skip the stages in between.
Funny, when their father was a good man, kind and supportive, not pushing Miriam too hard or harboring a grudge about Luke having rejected his upbringing for so many years. Yet he could be blind, too, and especially where this youngest son was concerned.
To his brother, Luke said diplomatically, “I think you and Daad have been butting heads for too many years. It makes it hard to see someone in a new way, isn’t it so?”
Ain’t so was what he’d been thinking. Because of Julia.
He had to quit seeing her in his head, hearing everything she’d said to him.
“What I was thinking is that I can loan you the money to buy a farm. Once you’re established, you can start making payments to me. There’s no hurry—I know it will take time. I can help with other expenses, too. You might need horses, a tractor and other equipment, chickens or cows or . . .”
Elam stared at him, the expression on his face making Luke’s chest ache in a different way. The hope was so powerful but also fragile, as if he feared the offer could vanish in an instant, pop like a soap bubble.
“You mean that? You can afford it?”
“I can. I wish I’d thought to do it sooner. I suppose I listened too much to Daad.”
He, too, knew how it felt to want something desperately that you knew was out of reach.
“I’ve saved almost twenty-five thousand dollars,” Elam said unexpectedly. “Enough maybe for a down payment on a place, but with so much to do before I sell a first crop, I wouldn’t be able to make monthly payments soon enough to satisfy a bank.”
“That’s a lot to have saved,” Luke said, impressed.
Elam had his eyes on a shimmering dream. “I hear some Englischers out on Frampton Mill Road are planning to sell their place. It has rich soil, and a fine orchard already.” Eagerness had him talking faster and faster. “It needs work—they’ve let it go these last years. I hear their kids aren’t interested in farming and the old man can’t keep up anymore. It would be perfect.”
“It might go high at auction.”
“They may list it with a real estate agent.”
“What if we were to go take a look and talk to them?”
Excitement blazed in Elam like an internal fire, so hot Luke could have warmed his hands.
“Don’t count on this place. We may need to settle for a more modest piece of land,” he cautioned.
His words banked the fire, if only slightly. “Ja, even if they want to sell their farm equipment, it’s nothing I could use.”
Luke smiled. “They may be glad to meet a young man who will take care of their land the way they want.”
Elam grinned and bounded to his feet. “I wish we could go now!”
“Monday,” Luke suggested, standing, too. It was time he and Abby started for home, especially since he’d have to make dinner.
“Do we have to tell Mamm and Daad?” asked Elam.
“No. If you want to, that’s fine. Otherwise, let’s wait until we find the right place.
“You don’t know what this means to me.”
Luke clapped him on the back. “I think I do.”
He had to stretch his legs to keep up with his slightly shorter brother, who all but flew toward the house. If he couldn’t stop himself from glowing like a kerosene lantern in the dark, Mamm and Daad would notice right away.
* * *
* * *
“YOU’RE NO FUN anymore,” Miriam declared. “You never make a mistake.”
In her deep depression, Julia wondered how fast she’d forget what she’d learned if she moved back to Cleveland and never used Deitsh again. Her high school German had dwindled in no time until about all she could do was count to ten—although faint memories of what she’d learned back then were helping her learn the High German of the Bible and the Ausbund.
And why was she bothering with that?
If she was going to give her notice to Eli, she ought to do it. Instead, she’d dragged her feet over the weekend. Maybe she could find another job locally and not have to leave for good. She could stay friends with Miriam, couldn’t she? And many of the quilters she’d gotten to know. In fact, yesterday she’d spent the day at a quilting frolic, with nine Amishwomen and her working on a wedding quilt for Sol Graber’s youngest sister, whom Julia had never met. No matter; she agreed with the others that the loss and grief the family had suffered was good reason to do something nice for a young woman who might be doubting her decision to marry while her brother was still hospitalized, her nephew barely out of bed on crutches.
Everyone teased the grandmother who’d pieced the quilt, saying she’d chosen the classic Fruit Basket pattern in hopes the couple would be “fruitful.” Smiling slyly, she denied it, saying only that she hadn’t wanted to subject the young man to a flowery design.
“Girly,” Julia said in English, and watched them all think about that. Renewed giggles trailed around the room.
It had been a lovely day. Lydia Graber had come, looking much more relaxed. Sol was doing so much better, she said, regaining his spirit. With Gotte’s wille, he’d be driving his own team to plant their fields by spring.
Now she said to Miriam, “I don’t do nearly so well when people are talking fast. And when there are a bunch of people, and they talk over each other . . .”
“Oh, ach, that will come!” Her smile was beautiful. “You must spend more time with us.”
To Julia’s horror, tears burned in her eyes. No, no, no! But faster than she could blink them away, Miriam saw her.
“I said something wrong.” She had switched to English.
“No, I swear. You didn’t.”
“Then . . . then what?” Miriam asked, worry in eyes that were the very same color as her brother’s.
“Nothing. Really. I must have gotten out of bed on the wrong side.”
Miriam didn’t buy it. “Was it the quilt frolic at Gloria’s? If somebody wasn’t welcoming . . . !”
Julia smiled at her friend’s fierce defense. She had more in common with Luke than Julia had known.
“No, truly. Everyone was nice. Lydia asked that I be invited, you know, since I drove her to the hospital regularly.”
“Oh.” Miriam settled back in the chair. “Then what?”
“It’s . . . I’ve been looking at my life, that’s all. Wondering if I belong here. My parents want me to come home, and Nick and I have been quarreling, which makes it hard when he’s my only family here, so I don’t know.”
“I can see why it would upset you to be . . . be bumping heads with your bruder.”
She didn’t seem to have even noticed she’d used a Deitsh word while otherwise speaking English. The Amish often did that, Julia had noticed, even Luke, for all his fluency in English. Likewise, they used English words while speaking Deitsh. Of course, the old Germanic dialect didn’t have words for many modern objects and ideas, and the Amish had simply incorporated the English words.
“I don’t suppose Ruth has a job opening,” Julia said impulsively. “Sometimes I don’t think your father really needs me full-time.”
“But he talks so highly of you! He says sales are growing because o
f you, your work on the website and your ideas for promotion and your friendliness with people who call or come into the store.”
More pangs, because Julia loved her job. Thus the foot-dragging. She also smiled at the idea that it was her “friendliness” responsible for greater sales. “Well, compared to how your brother probably greeted customers . . .”
Miriam giggled. “Does he glare at them?” She made an awful face in mimicry.
“Sometimes.”
“I don’t want you to leave Tompkin’s Mill. I think you might be my best friend now. You understand how I feel when my Amish friends don’t.”
Tears overflowed again. Julia leaned forward and gave Luke’s sister a hug. “You’re my best friend, too. But . . .”
Miriam scowled. “But what?”
Did she have to say this? “You’re Amish and I’m not. I . . . haven’t made any good friends who are Englisch. Some quilters, but they’re all older and married. With you . . . I think there’s only so far our friendship can go.”
“I hoped you might be thinking about joining us.”
Julia couldn’t believe what Miriam was saying—well, what it sounded as if she was saying. “Joining you?”
“Converting to become Amish. I thought when you came to worship with us . . .” She broke off, unusual lines forming on her forehead. “You were thinking about it, weren’t you? Not just curious about us?”
Julia couldn’t seem to draw a breath. Join the Amish? She’d flirted with the idea, but never taken it seriously.
Was it really possible?
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I WAS WRONG?” Miriam whispered.
“No. Not wrong. I just . . . never thought . . .”
“Thought what?”
“That I could do it. Do outsiders convert?”
“Not often, but sometimes. You know Anna Rose Esch? The girl my brother was making sheep’s eyes at? Her mother’s family is Italian. Anna’s mudder grew up on a farm, not a city like you, but she met Melvin and said that her home was with him.”
“Didn’t, oh, the bishop expect more than that?”
“Oh, ja, of course. She had to study to become Amish, learn the language, show that her faith was genuine.”
Julia felt absurdly as if Luke’s harness horse had kicked her in the head. Or maybe the hot Missouri sun had finally felled her.
Nick had worried when she first came that she might get sucked into the “cult,” but she’d rolled her eyes even as she increasingly came to admire the Amish she got to know. Even as she fell in love with Luke—she couldn’t lie to herself, she’d been that foolish—she hadn’t ever stopped and thought, I could become Amish, too.
“I . . . have to think about this,” she said. “It would mean a huge change for me. It’s one thing for someone like Luke, to go back to a familiar way of life because your faith calls you, but for me . . .”
Hadn’t her faith called her here? Not just her faith, but God? Nick admitted he’d chosen Tompkin’s Mill almost randomly after looking at any number of small towns across the country for the right kind of job opening. If he hadn’t chosen this one, she might never in her life have set eyes on a black buggy pulled by a smooth-gaited Standardbred horse, or a flock of women in pretty colored dresses, their heads covered by kapps. She might not have felt the soaring joy of hearing the Amish talk so matter-of-factly about forgiving even the most brutal of their enemies.
She might have continued huddling in her apartment in Cleveland, afraid to venture out after dusk, to date, to encounter new people.
Miriam squeezed her hand. “I understand. I know that Bishop Amos would be glad to talk to you about what you’d have to do.”
“Yes. Of course.” Still dazed, she knew she really did need to let the idea settle inside her, make herself examine what she’d be giving up—and what she’d gain.
And part of that must be knowing that just because Luke had admitted to being attracted to her didn’t mean he was in love with her or would consider marrying her. She might, in fact, have to watch close-up as he married another woman who would become Abby’s mother.
A dry voice seemed to murmur in her ear, If you do this, it must be because you want to place God first in your life, and for no other reason.
Heeding that voice, Julia said softly, “And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.”
Miriam’s smile radiated peace. “Romans.”
Julia bit her lip. “Will you . . . not tell anyone that we talked about this?”
“Ja. This decision you must make with your heart. You don’t need anyone trying to influence you.” She added impishly, “Except for me, of course.”
Julia laughed and leaned forward to hug her friend.
* * *
* * *
LUKE COULDN’T THINK of any good excuse why it would be better if he were to drive separately to work that day.
That made it more difficult for him to speak with Julia alone, which of course was part of his goal. Still, he knew he owed her an apology. An explanation.
The moment came on Thursday when Daad realized he’d forgotten the lunch Mamm packed for them. He rushed out to the buggy to look, but came back shaking his head. “Getting old, I am. I’ll go out and buy lunch for us.”
They decided on burgers and fries, easy and quick, and a treat because it wasn’t a meal they often had. Eli went out through the front so he could ask Julia if she’d like him to bring her a meal, too.
Luke waited. He thought he heard voices, then silence. Now was the time. When he stepped through into the showroom, it was utterly quiet and appeared deserted. Had Julia gone with his daad?
But her head suddenly appeared above the counter, and he realized she’d been bent over.
Sounding embarrassed, she said, “I dropped something, and . . .”
He nodded and walked over to stand on the customer side of the counter. Best to have something between them.
“I wanted to apologize again for the other day. I know better than to touch you that way. I can’t get involved with a woman who isn’t of my faith. Then what did I do but act on impulse. I have no excuse.” He paused. “I hope you won’t be uncomfortable with me.”
He absolutely couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Her beautiful eyes had become opaque. No gold shimmered in them.
After a moment, she said, “I understand. Don’t worry about it, Luke.”
Was that an acceptance of his apology? He thought so. He should have been more relieved than he was. He considered telling her that he’d keep his distance from now on, as he should have from the beginning, but didn’t think it was necessary. Instead, he asked awkwardly, “Did you put in an order with Daad?”
She might have been talking to a complete stranger. “No, I resisted—” Her eyes widened. Temptation. That’s what she’d almost said. “I brought a lunch from home.”
“Well, then . . .”
The smile she cast his way was pleasant, one she might give a passing stranger on the sidewalk. He hated it. And then she turned her attention to the computer monitor as if he weren’t there.
As he retreated to the workroom, Luke rubbed his chest, feeling as if he’d been left with a crack in his breastbone.
* * *
* * *
FRIDAY HE MADE an excuse to his father and went out to the alley, then around the corner to the real estate office that was right next door to the store.
Elam hovered out front, relief blooming on his face when he saw Luke. “See?” he almost whispered. “They have the listing. There’s a picture in the window.”
Luke studied the photograph, thinking it wasn’t nearly as good as Julia could have done. Maybe real estate would sell better around here if the photos online told people how beautiful this part of nort
hern Missouri was, with rolling hills, flourishing woods that were spectacular with autumn colors right now, an old covered bridge over Tompkin’s Creek, not to mention the remnants of the mill that had given the town its name. Plenty of rivers and creeks, too, with good fishing.
This picture was of the house, which was a mistake, too. Nobody would buy this place unless they wanted the land and the two old but solid barns. Elam was right; work would have to be done on the fencing, and one of the barns needed a new roof. The fact that fields had been left fallow this last year or even longer was a good thing, resting the soil for new crops.
The house would be good for a family, though, a lot like Luke’s. Two stories, with a fine deep porch stretching across the front. The listing here, hanging in the window, said there were four bedrooms and a den, two bathrooms, and a separate dining room. No garage, which Englischers wouldn’t like. Of course, Elam would have to ask to have the power lines removed and then do the same conversion Luke was doing in his house. There’d be no big hurry, though, once he had the appliances hauled away and replaced by ones that ran on propane.
The price was exactly what Don Carter had told them it would be. He’d seemed pleased by their interest, told them he’d be right happy to sell to an Amishman because they took such good care of their places.
“All shipshape,” he said with a nod. “I hear even when you get old you have help with that.”
“We do,” Luke had agreed, seeing the sadness on this man’s face because his grown children hadn’t come to lend a hand.
Now he and his brother walked into the office, causing the small bell tied to the top of the door to tinkle. A man in polyester slacks overhung by a belly that strained at the buttons of a white shirt emerged from the back, seeming astonished by the sight of them.
“How can I help you gentlemen?” He eyed Luke. “Aren’t you one of the Bowmans next door?”
“I am. I work there with my father. Elam is my brother, but a farmer instead of a furniture maker.”
He was pleased when Elam took the lead from there. “I might be interested in the Carter farm on Frampton Mill Road. I’ve been looking for something like it.”
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