Interest sparked in the agent’s face. “Well, now, I have a couple of similar properties available, too.”
He opened his laptop and showed them photographs of those places, too. One Luke dismissed immediately; the barn was caving in, and he saw no indication there was so much as a small creek or pond nearby. The other wasn’t as fine as the farm the Englischers were selling. Luke thought it overpriced, which was probably why it hadn’t been snapped up by an eager young Amishman. It seemed to be good land, though, and the real estate agent—Ken Reimer—pointed out a stream curving through the pasture. It appeared someone had dammed it up at one time, enough to create a pool big enough for children, at least, to take a dip on hot days.
Elam had his heart set on the other, but he carefully studied the information on this place, too.
“Do the owners live there?” he asked.
“No, it’s been vacant for several years now. I think they expected to get an unrealistic amount of money for it. Nobody has even looked at it in a long time. They might be more open to an offer now.”
Elam squared his shoulders. “I’d like to look at it as well as the Frampton Mill Road farm.”
“Now?” Ken Reimer pushed back his chair.
“No, both of us must get back to work. Would we be able to see them in the early evening? Six o’clock, maybe? Otherwise, we might have to wait until Monday.”
And Elam hated a delay of even a few days, Luke knew. Waiting for the property to actually get listed had been hard enough for him. What if someone else came along and snatched the prize right out from under his nose?
Well, if it was another Amishman, he’d be chagrined but accepting. Maybe not so much if the buyer was Englisch.
“This one”—Ken stabbed a finger at the more run-down property—“we can look at anytime. Let me call the Carters.”
So they waited while he did.
“Yes, two young Amishmen,” he agreed, his gaze going to them. “You already spoke to them, did you? What would you say to six o’clock tonight?” After an uh-huh or two, he hung up. “They’d be happy to have you come out today. Er, shall I drive . . . ?”
“Best if we meet you there,” Luke said. “It’s not so far between the two places. A mile?”
“Fine, fine.” He heaved himself to his feet and held out his hand. “I’ll look forward to seeing you at the Carters’ house at six.”
Elam shook first, then Luke.
Well pleased, they walked out.
In the alley, Luke asked, “Do we tell Daad what we’re up to now? Or should I make an excuse to be late to pick up Abby?”
“I told Mamm that I wouldn’t be there tonight for dinner. She assumed I’d be meeting friends. It’s up to you what you want to say.”
“I’ll imply something the same.” He could buy a burger and fries again on the way out of town. “I can pick you up at Willard’s. He won’t mind if you leave your buggy there for a few extra hours, will he?”
“No, I’m sure he won’t. Denke. That would be good.” Elam’s sidelong glance held nerves. “Can you afford so much money?”
Buying either farm outright would decimate Luke’s savings, but he felt confident his brother would pay him back over time. It helped that Elam’s substantial savings meant he could handle initial expenses, from equipment to seed to living costs. Besides, Luke was making plenty of money for his needs—in part, because of Julia.
“I can,” he said. “So long as you start making payments when you’re able. And yes, I know it will be a year or two before that becomes possible.”
“Denke.” Elam flung his arms around Luke for a quick, hard embrace. “Denke.”
He took off down the alley.
Luke almost called a reminder that he would be picking him up, but didn’t bother. As if his little brother would forget.
* * *
* * *
IT HURT, NOT to see Luke except in passing. Given that his face was always expressionless, Julia tried for the same. The first time she needed one of them to come up front to talk to a customer, Luke didn’t even turn his head.
“Can you take this one, Daad?”
Eli didn’t seem to think anything of it, but the third or fourth time she either had a question or needed one of them to come out to the display room, he gave his son a long, thoughtful look before agreeing.
Julia gritted her teeth. She had to make a decision. She couldn’t bear to stay if she wasn’t going to commit herself to joining their faith. This hurt too much.
When she was alone, she thought about almost nothing else. Every ramification ran through her mind, starting with how her family would react.
Nick had already made his opinion clear with his belief that her attraction to the Amish faith was “crazy.” And maybe it was. She was looking from the outside in at them. What if the view was different once she’d committed herself? What if she resented giving up so much she took for granted?
Within twenty-four hours of her talk with Miriam, she was panicking.
She hadn’t given a thought to the day-to-day practicalities, starting with where she would live. Her apartment was obviously unsuitable. Most Amishwomen lived with family until marrying. Would somebody take her in as a boarder? Or rent her a grossdaadi house not needed for a few years?
Oh, and what about transportation? So far, her knowledge of horses was confined to which parts of her lunch Charlie and Polly enthusiastically shared. She’d ridden in a buggy only the once—from the Bowmans’ house to the home where the Sunday service had been held, and then she’d been enclosed in the back seat, unable to see much ahead.
She’d never so much as sat on a pony or horse, and certainly not harnessed or steered one. Brushed one. Didn’t they need their hooves cleaned out? Even if she learned the basics, she’d be scared to death to take a horse and buggy out on a road shared with cars.
If she could stay close enough to town to walk . . .
But the idea of walking by herself any distance made her shiver, too, especially once dark started coming earlier. She’d sworn never to let herself be vulnerable again. Her new apartment was the first one ever where she hadn’t immediately had a second and even third dead bolt installed.
Would she be able to keep her job? See her parents? Fly . . . no, not fly, they’d have to visit her here. What if one of them had a health crisis and needed her? What if . . . ?
What if, what if, what if.
To even be considering this, she must be off in the head, for sure.
Yet as freaked out as she was, the quote from Romans drifted through her head that night as she lay on the edge of sleep.
And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.
The voice was deep, calm, welcoming.
* * *
* * *
A WEEK AFTER his apology, Luke struggled to hide his anguish from his family. Fortunately, he didn’t have to hide it from Julia; he’d perfected the art of avoiding her.
He’d stayed for dinner at his parents’ only two nights this week, which meant more grocery shopping and cooking, but Abby didn’t seem to mind. She wasn’t unhappy anymore to be left with her grossmammi, but he hadn’t heard a delighted giggle from her all week, either, or seen her light up the way she had when she spotted Julia in the hospital waiting room or at the Sunday service.
It seemed he wasn’t the only one grieving for what couldn’t be.
Tonight they had chicken in a barbecue sauce and corn on the cob, a favorite of Abby’s. She loved gnawing on the cob even after the kernels were gone. She’d lost a front tooth this past week doing that. This evening, neither had said a word in ten minutes, when she looked at him.
“Daadi, is Julia gone?”
His heart sank. Gone? “Out of their reach” wasn’t an explanati
on she’d understand.
“What do you mean by ‘gone’?” he equivocated.
She held his gaze. “Like Mommy.”
“Oh, little one. Come here.” Hurting anew, he pushed his chair back and held out his arms.
Abby scooted off her booster seat and chair and trotted around the table to him. He scooped her onto his lap and hugged her.
“No, Julia isn’t dead. She isn’t gone forever, like your mamm.” He ought to explain that Beth was waiting in heaven to see Abby again, but was afraid he’d only confuse her. “Julia still works for your grossdaadi and me. I see her most days.” He took a breath. “But she isn’t Amish like we are. She worships at a different church, dresses differently than we do, drives a car, and uses electricity.”
Face thin and anxious, she said, “So did Mammi.”
“Ja, I know. But your mother asked me to raise you the way she and I were both raised, putting God at the center of our lives. Julia—” The words stuck in his mouth, because he thought Julia did that. She wasn’t so different from him when it came to the important things. “It’s best if we stay apart from people who don’t share our beliefs. Sometimes that’s hard, when you love someone and can’t spend time with her.”
His daughter tucked her head against him and didn’t say anything for a long time. He closed his eyes and reveled in her slight weight and the trust that brought her to him so readily. He would forever be grateful to a merciful God who knew she needed him—and that he needed her.
“I liked playing with Julia,” Abby said sadly.
“Ja.” He heard his hoarseness. He had liked spending time with her, too. So much so, he had moments when he asked himself if he’d made the wrong choice. He’d been so sure this path to God was the right one for him, but no matter his determination, he wavered every time he thought about her.
But faltering wasn’t his way, either. The Amish had never chosen the easy path, but rather the rockiest because each carefully chosen step made them think of what their Father asked of them.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to this small child who couldn’t understand the battle he fought with himself or the reason for it. Yet he knew that time spent with Julia would hold his daughter in the Englisch world when his whole intention was to immerse her in a faith and a lifestyle that had deeper meaning, that would enrich every day of her life.
And still he felt as if he were being wrenched two ways, with the possibility he’d be torn apart.
Chapter Twenty-Four
LUKE DREW CHARCOAL Xs on pale wood that would be the side of a drawer. He always did, even though it was probably unnecessary. Still, the small amount of extra time kept him from ruining a piece of wood if he had a moment of absentmindedness when cutting out the dovetail joints he used for every drawer.
The door into the store proper opened. His hand stuttered. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Julia but didn’t raise his head.
She didn’t look at him, either. “Eli, may I speak to you for a minute?”
His daad had been placing a board on the table saw, but he said, “Ja, certain sure.”
The minute the door closed behind them, Luke sat up straight, the charcoal stick dropping from his hand. What could this be about? Had he made working here uncomfortable enough for her that she would quit? He could have been more pleasant, more cooperative, while still keeping his reserve. If she left—
He felt sick.
There were plenty of other things she might want to talk about. A bookkeeping or delivery problem, or she had another idea to increase their sales. A customer mad about something; that happened. In that case, she should turn to one of them.
Except, he knew she’d never come to him again.
He stared down uncomprehendingly at the dark Xs he’d drawn on a row of boards. Daad would return any minute. Whatever she wanted would be nothing of significance.
If she left them—
The door opened. Luke glanced up. His father was alone, two small furrows deep between his eyebrows.
“Is something wrong?” Luke asked.
“No, no, Julia asked for a few days off, that’s all.” Yet he looked perturbed. “To go home and see her parents.”
“Is one of them sick? She hasn’t been away for more than a few months.”
Daad shook his head. “She didn’t say, if that’s so.”
“She must miss them.”
“I couldn’t tell if she was happy to be going home or not.”
If not, why would she go?
She hadn’t been happy here these past two weeks. He’d seen that. What if she intended to job hunt while she was in Cleveland? And look for an apartment, as well, so that she could move back where she came from, near her parents?
He was responsible for her unhappiness. But what could he do?
“How long will she be gone?” This was Tuesday, the beginning of their workweek.
“She will fly to Cleveland on Thursday, stay for the weekend and be back at work Tuesday or maybe Wednesday.”
Maybe. Luke didn’t like the sound of that. If Julia left Tompkin’s Mill for good, how would he explain it to Abby, when she equated “gone” with “dead”?
He shrugged. “So, not even quite a week.” If she came back at all. “We can manage.”
His father narrowed his eyes at him. “I don’t understand that QuickBooks she’s using. But you do, ain’t so?”
He did, but had decided to avoid computers altogether once he came back. That part of his life was over. “If we save receipts and invoices, she can catch up in no time once she’s back. You know how far behind we were when we hired her.”
“We hired her?” Daad snorted. “You had nothing to do with it.”
“You’re right. So why are you worried?”
Daad only shook his head and went back to the table saw.
Luke had a suspicion they shared the same worry: that she wouldn’t come back at all, or only long enough to work out a notice.
Not seeing her daily might be best for him . . . but the idea of not catching at least a glimpse of her when she arrived every morning, of knowing she wasn’t just up front if he needed to see her, made him feel as if he were driving a car again, so fast he’d never make the curve ahead. Yet the brake pedal slammed to the floorboard under his foot without slowing the looming disaster.
A groan escaped him, but his father wouldn’t hear over the whine of the table saw.
* * *
* * *
JULIA HADN’T HAD to check a bag, so once she passed the last security checkpoint, she looked around for her parents. Dad should be at work, but she knew he’d take the time off to meet her. Even knowing she had Nick to depend on in Tompkin’s Mill, they hadn’t liked it when she called to let them know she’d gotten a job and intended to stay.
Oh, she dreaded the upcoming conversation, but she’d save that for this evening, not spoil the reunion.
“Julia!” Beaming, Mom hurried toward her. “Honey, I’m so glad you decided to come home, even if it’s only for a few days.” She flung her arms around Julia, who let go of the handle of her suitcase to return the hug.
Barely an instant later, Dad wrapped them both in a comforting embrace. “I missed you,” he murmured in her ear.
Her eyes stung. Here she’d run away from them, and she was about to cry because she was so glad to see them. The hug, the familiar smell of the cigars her father occasionally indulged in, the rumble of his voice and Mom’s warm cheek pressed to hers all made her feel as if she’d come home.
Yet she knew that, no matter what, she couldn’t. She had to forge a way herself, not lean on her parents forever.
Her father hadn’t cried, but she and her mother both had. Laughing, sniffling, they both wiped at damp cheeks.
“Mama Santa’s for lunch?” her father said.
On a bur
st of pleasure, she said, “I’d love that.” Her family had always considered the pizza at Mama Santa’s, in historic Little Italy, the best in the city. “Maybe when I go back, I should take Nick a pizza.”
“Will you buy a seat for it?” her mother teased.
Over a salad and pizza, Julia told them more about her job and the auction she’d been involved in planning, and her mother bragged about being asked to sit on the board of trustees for the enormous Cleveland Public Library system. She was already president of the Friends of the Library for their local branch. Dad, as usual, was quiet, saying only, “Nothing new,” when she asked about his work as a water engineer.
Nick, of course, wasn’t nearly as informative about his life as they’d have liked. They wanted the scoop from Julia, but she had to tell them that, if he was seeing a woman, he hadn’t told her.
“I do think he likes his job,” she said. “I get the feeling he’s surprised himself by being good at the politics part. Keeping the mayor and city councilors happy while reshaping the department by training and example. You know Nick. He likes being in charge.”
Maybe, it occurred to her, he’d taken after their mother more than Dad, a civil engineer who tended to be laid-back and unambitious about rising to a supervisory position. As he said, why would he want a change when he liked what he did and made a good living doing it? In contrast, Mom, a librarian, had risen to co-director of public services for the entire Cleveland Public Library, part of the leadership team of the system.
Huh, Julia thought. Maybe I’m more like Dad. And why was that a surprise?
Dad did decide to go into the office for a few hours. At home, Julia excused herself to take a nap, since she was exhausted after getting up at the crack of dawn for the hair-raising drive to Kansas City to catch the morning flight to Cleveland.
She got up to help her mother cook and get dinner on the table. Sharing the kitchen like this brought back good memories. They hadn’t been any different than Miriam and her mamm putting dinner together, doing a domestic dance perfected over many years. For a busy professional woman, Mom had been a good cook who loved to bake in particular when she had the time.
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