She knew Jacob’s answer from his hesitation.
“Not from me,” he said. “Betsy, I can’t make myself love you.”
“But . . . but I love you.” She risked the words. “Maybe love could come in time?”
“I don’t want to take the chance. I told you before, you deserve someone who will love you with his whole heart. I know . . . I once knew what it was like.”
“But the kinner need—”
“Gotte knows what my children need and will send it at the right time. We are doing fine as we are. No, it’s not traditional. But I can wait.” He swallowed hard. “I have to.”
Betsy nodded. “I see. And what about Natalie? You have feelings for her, then?”
“I do.” He spoke the words slowly. “But that has nothing to do with you.”
So this was how it felt, to have one’s heart splintered. As long as she thought she had a chance, well, she’d been prepared to be there until Jacob realized how perfect the two of them could be together.
“Well, I guess there’s nothing else then, is there?”
“No, there’s not.”
“Goodbye, Betsy.”
“Goodbye, Jacob.” She climbed on her bike and sped off before he could walk away. Only then did her tears begin. They didn’t stop, even after she got home to Aunt Chelle’s. She didn’t care who saw her.
The sun was sinking to the horizon by the time Jacob stepped off the bus near Siesta Key beach and caught up with Natalie, right where she told him she’d be. Rebecca and Zeke were fast asleep in their beds back at the house, with them needing a good night’s rest before they began their trek back to Ohio.
The day visitors to the beach had all but disappeared. Natalie was facing the waves, her shoulders drooping. Evidently, she knew. Someone had told her.
“Natalie.”
She turned to face him. “I said goodbye to the children this afternoon, before you got home from work.” Even with the twilight, he could still see redness around her eyes.
“I know. Zeke cried over his supper.” He hesitated, recalling the sight of Zeke staring at his supper plate, sniffling. “I had to come find you, and tell you goodbye in person, and thank you for everything you’ve done for my family. The children will miss you.”
“And I’ll miss them too.” She shrugged. “Maybe, when I head up to Ohio, Lord willing, and my grandparents contact me, I’ll stop by.”
“Maybe,” he said. Although part of him didn’t think it was such a good idea.
“I—I’m going to miss you, too, Jacob.” She looked down, speaking the words as if to the sand, white as flour.
“Oh, Natalie.” He pulled her into his arms. Her body felt lithe and strong. Hannah had been slim, but she’d never felt as strong as Natalie did.
“Don’t leave me,” Natalie whispered. Her heart thudded and he could feel the sensation in his own chest. “Please, Jacob.”
He allowed himself to cover her mouth with his. Kissing Natalie Bennett was as sweet and wild as he’d imagined. She molded against him perfectly. He ran his fingers through the length of her hair, down her back, and then pulled her more tightly against him. She snaked her arms around his neck.
“Don’t leave me,” she repeated, her voice husky. “Give us a chance.”
He moved to kiss her again, recalling the fluttery pink of her costume. “A kiss, to remember me by.” What was he doing? A kiss, to remember me by? It was better they strike each other from their memories and move on, to things as they should be. Yet the kiss deepened, hinting at all the passion he’d give her. Her response showed she could give him plenty in return.
“Don’t go.”
“This is wrong, so wrong.” He muttered the words into her floral-scented hair. He spoke the truth, he knew.
“Why is it wrong?”
“Ever since the day of the circus, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” He released her slightly, but held her against him. “There are times, I think maybe we could make something work. With Gotte’s help.”
“I’m ready to build a life with you, Jacob. We can figure this out. I know it would be difficult, for both of us. Can’t Henry, or the bishops here, think of something?”
“But we’re too different. Our worlds are too different. You can’t give up what you have for me and I can’t walk away from everything for you.”
“You had a choice to marry someone you didn’t feel anything for. Betsy was ready, waiting. Waiting for you. It’s been obvious to everyone she’s the logical choice, the uncomplicated choice. But will you even give me a chance? Don’t deny you feel nothing, otherwise you wouldn’t have broken a rule somewhere, by meeting me here. And who says we can’t find someplace in the middle?” He tried to step back, but her strong, slim hands held tight. She wrapped her arms around him this time.
“It’s too much to ask.” He ground out the words, pulling away from her. Desire, the God-given desire of a man for a woman, screamed through all his nerve endings with Natalie’s nearness. This hadn’t happened since Hannah. Surely, though, feelings like this were only a sign of his corruption, of all the compromises he’d made since being in Florida. So perhaps the feeling wasn’t from Gotte after all. Which meant this was all wrong.
Perhaps he was one step away from compromise and eventual damnation.
He had to think of his kinner, like he had before.
He left Natalie standing by a dune, with tears on her face.
22
Jacob had all but forgotten the chill of winter, but it lingered even in the early Ohio spring.
“Ah, it’s a warm one today,” Ephraim said, then gave a chirrup to his horse. “Nothing like Florida, though.”
“No. Nothing like it.” Jacob looked out at the fields, passing them by slowly. The first new shoots had already come up after the last frost. He yawned.
“Was a long trip, even in a van.” Ephraim glanced at the children in the back of the buggy. “Your littlest one is out.”
Jacob laughed, for the first time in days. “He can sleep anywhere, I think. But it will be good to have him back among everything familiar. Rebecca, too.”
“I’m not tired, Daed,” came Rebecca’s voice from beside Zeke.
“I have a feeling you’re more tired than you think. I know I am.” But there was a lot to do today, upon returning to the house. Airing it out. Unloading their bags from the buggy. Seeing what needed washing.
With his house closed up for these months, who knows what needed tending to?
“Katie’s been through the house,” Ephraim said as if knowing Jacob’s direction of thought. “She figured it needed ‘freshening,’ as she put it.”
“I’m very grateful. Please, thank her for me.”
“Thank her at supper. You know you’re welcome tonight.”
“Gut, we’ll be there.” Supper at his brother’s was usually about five-thirty and Katie’s cooking never disappointed.
They rolled on in silence for a time, and Jacob closed his eyes and listened to the familiar clop of horse’s hooves on asphalt, the squeak of harness and creak of wheels. Now, those were sounds he’d missed while in Florida, with the only buggy in miles being a prop outside Yoder’s restaurant.
Ephraim broke the silence. “Something’s different about you, brother.”
Jacob opened his eyes, squinting at the morning light. He shrugged. “Florida was different, very different. But you know that already.”
“Did it change you?”
“My daughter nearly died after being struck by a car, our daadi passed on, I had to uproot my family for months. Yes, I think it did.” He didn’t mention a certain former circus star who’d nearly succeeded in laying claim to his heart with barely any effort on her part. Jacob struck the thought of Natalie Bennett away. Surely, as his family and others had suggested, there was someone else more suitable. Even someone else besides Betsy.
If anything, Natalie had helped open his heart, just a little, and open his mind to the idea t
here was a possibility for love after Hannah. For that, he would always be grateful.
“I had a lot of questions, Ephraim. Talking to Henry Hostetler helped.”
“Your Mennonite boss.”
“Yes, the same. He became a good friend while I was there. You know about the fish fry he sponsored?”
“I heard about it. But, Jacob, why question? Why not just accept?”
“Too late for that. I’ve accepted, but I still want answers.”
“And Henry gave you some.”
“He did.” The memory of that conversation sprang up and filled him with warmth. “I know I’m going to see Hannah again one day. I know her faith saved her and not her works.”
“Ah.” Ephraim reined in the horse and turned onto the lane that led to their homes. “Careful where you tread, bruder.”
“I am.” He decided to drop the matter. He didn’t care for a debate about doctrine. What mattered most right now was getting settled inside the house again, and figuring out what next, beginning tomorrow. Maybe he’d get his position back at the cabinet shop. They’d held it as long as they could, but he had no promise of what he would return to.
Ephraim pulled the horse to a stop not far from the kitchen door. Jacob’s home was newer than Ephraim’s, having been built on the Miller property before he married Hannah. Ephraim, having been married first, had his house built first.
“Home again, children.” Jacob put on his best smile as he looked back at them. Zeke stretched and yawned while Rebecca clasped her hands.
“You’re right, I am tired, Daed.” She gave a little sigh.
They had the children unbundled and their bags and suitcases standing in the kitchen.
“I’ll see you at supper, then?” Ephraim asked.
“We’ll be there around five-thirty,” replied Jacob, rubbing his chin.
Ephraim left them, and the children ran off toward their rooms. He’d call them back for their bags soon, but he too felt the urge to do a walk-through.
The atmosphere of the kitchen hit him like a board swung by a distracted carpenter. If it was barren without Hannah these long, long months, it was desolate now. The scent of cleaner and bleach met his nostrils at the sink and countertop.
Jacob went to the stove, where the teakettle waited for him. He ought to heat water for coffee, or something. He missed the warmth of Mammi’s Florida kitchen with its accents of tropical color and the perpetual scent of something baking. He missed the laughter around the supper table.
They laughed around supper tables in Ohio, too, but under his parents’ and brother’s scrutiny, he was reminded of his shortcomings as a father. It would be worse, now that he’d returned to Ohio without a wife. Without Betsy. Mammi, the whole time he’d been in Florida with the children, had never once nudged him about his unmarried state.
“Daed, I will get your bag for you,” Zeke said at his elbow. The boy had grown taller in these last few months. Still with big brown eyes and now a warm glow to his skin from hours outside with his Florida friends.
“Thank you, son.”
“When . . . when will we go back to Florida?”
“Probably next Christmas.”
“That’s a long time from now.”
“Oh, about eight months.”
Zeke sighed. “I wonder if Miss Natalie will forget me.” The boy’s English skills had improved dramatically in the space of a season.
“No, I am sure she will never forget you.” He wondered which of the children would bring Natalie up first. Not surprising, it was Zeke, although he was the quiet one between the two of them. He was the one who’d latched onto her the quickest.
He’d seen something in Natalie, just like they all had. Zeke picked up the handle to Jacob’s suitcase and pulled it into place. He dragged it along behind him from the room.
The morning sun provided enough light for the kitchen, but Jacob turned on the light overhead with a flip of the switch. Nope. Battery dead.
“My room is too dark,” announced Rebecca as she entered the kitchen.
This was the price they were paying, and would continue to pay, for being Amish. He had never missed what he didn’t have, including electricity at the flip of a switch. The propane tank was full, so they’d have hot water for cooking and baths.
“Ah, well, I’ll work on that. Is it too cold in the house for you?”
“No, Daed, it’s fine.” She yawned. “You’re right. I am tired.”
“You can nap. I’ll wake you for lunch.”
“Okay, Daed.” She crossed the room, with only a slight limp, and wrapped her arms around him. “Danke.”
“For what?” He placed a kiss on the top of her forehead.
“Being a good daed. I am thankful for you.”
“That’s good to hear.”
She looked at her suitcase.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. Go sleep.”
Inside of ten minutes, he could hear a soft snore coming from the direction of the sitting room, their one large soft chair adequate enough sleeping room for Rebecca. No one ever slept in the sitting room, but Jacob didn’t care.
Sometimes it was better to pick and choose your battles about what was right and wrong. They’d all been through a lot, especially recently.
“You’re getting skinny,” Grace said. “Here, eat. A protein bar. A bag of chocolates. Or find a bacon cheeseburger. Something. You can’t lose muscle mass. It’s unhealthy.”
Natalie shrugged. “I’m not hungry.” She stared at the computer screen, trying to focus.
“Honey, you don’t have to be hungry to eat chocolate. Every woman knows that.”
Natalie had to chuckle at that. “I know.” She wasn’t that skinny. Her mind crept back for the thousandth time, to her last encounter with Jacob. The memory of the kiss still woke her up at night, breathless.
She thought his beard would have been rough, but it wasn’t. The way he’d kissed her was a gentle kiss, sweet at first. But the next one progressed and had promised more, much more, and had left her pulse roaring in her ears.
No, it wasn’t a mere physical attraction between them. There’d once been a trapeze artist she’d toured with. Physical attraction was nothing to base a relationship on. She knew from past unfortunate experience. Yet, it was another life, someone else, and wasn’t her anymore.
But with the Millers and Jacob, she’d more than had fun. It was more than the novelty of seeing into a lifestyle she’d only heard about. It was their acceptance of her, Englisch ways and all, acceptance as a fellow believer. She found how much she had in common with them. They weren’t as legalistic as she’d thought.
Maybe she didn’t have full acceptance, as she’d never been baptized into their faith, although she’d been baptized at her own church. But still, all she’d felt from them was love.
And the children. She, Zeke, Rebecca, plus the addition of Jacob had added up to more than just four people. It was the prospect of fitting into a family as if the hole Hannah had left behind was just her size.
“You’re quieter than usual.” Grace’s voice snatched her away from her thoughts. “What are you looking at?”
“Job openings.” Natalie’s shoulders slumped. What was wrong with her? Ever since Jacob had left a week ago . . .
“What?”
“I’m sorry. This is terrible and unprofessional. You’ve been so good to me. I’m not really looking. Right now, I just feel like getting—away. Somewhere, anywhere.”
“If you need a vacation, you should take one. You never ask for time off. Go to your dad’s in California.”
Natalie tried not to snort. “We haven’t spoken since right after New Year’s.”
“Give him a chance.”
“It’s Jacob.”
Grace yanked up a chair. “I know he and the children left. I also know something was going on with you two. Was it verboten love?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Natalie shook her head. “Right before he left, I as
ked him to stay in Florida. For me. For us.”
“Oh, honey. That’s a big step, for a man to uproot his entire family practically halfway across the country.”
“I know. But he had a job here, and I know Grandma Rachel is lonely without Isaiah. And Jacob is supposed to remarry, especially for his children’s sake.”
“And you were ready to apply for the job?”
Natalie nodded. “I feel so . . . alone . . . since they’ve been gone.”
“What about your volunteer work? I notice you haven’t mentioned the hospital since February or so.”
And volunteering was what got her into this mess in the first place. She’d crossed a line a long time ago, made it personal. Not like any of it mattered now.
“I should get in touch with the hospital auxiliary group. They haven’t called in a while,” Natalie admitted.
“Good idea. And you should visit Rachel.” Grace blocked Natalie’s view of the monitor with her hand. “Go, find something to do, someone to help. I did offer you chocolate therapy.”
“Thank you, Grace.” She scurried from the office.
Seven days made one week, but it might as well have been a century. Every day since opening the post office box, she had stopped by the little building to check if there was any word about her mother’s family. Except for the last week.
Grace was right. She should check on Rachel, as well. The woman had her community and her own people to help watch over her, but Natalie couldn’t help but wonder how she was getting along in a now-empty house.
As if her car knew the way on its own, she found herself turning onto the street for the Pinecraft post office. The afternoon was a sleepy one; the streets of Pinecraft were vacant.
She checked her post office box.
An envelope.
Fingers trembling, Natalie fished it out.
“I thought that was something you’d be looking for,” said the postmistress, a sweet Amish lady, yet another in the village familiar with Natalie’s story.
A Season of Change Page 20