“Is there a way, Gotte?” he asked aloud. He would not leave his Order, but he could not ask her to convert, to become Amish, for him.
He thought about the dream he’d had about Hannah, and he was right. He hadn’t dreamed of her again. What had she said—he would have more children one day? Only Gotte knew the future. Maybe it was just his wishful thinking, or the consequences of him being distracted had made him have that dream.
Jacob made his way downstairs, not bothering to turn on a light. What would he do with the house, were he to live in Florida? Maybe one of his cousins would live in it. Likely his father would decide.
He already knew his father’s advice. He needed to remember who he was, where he belonged. His life was here, in Ohio, raising his children and working at the factory. Gotte had already set his lot in life, and it was his duty to follow. Briefly, he’d thought of Betsy Yoder, then negated that idea. Then there was the distraction of Natalie and all that happened in Florida. Now, he’d been introduced to a suitable young Amish woman in Anne Troyer. She was young, yes, but she’d made it clear she was willing to become an instant mother.
He paced the kitchen, wondering about what his future held here in Ohio. Could he follow the adage, What happens in Pinecraft, stays in Pinecraft? He’d heard the saying before, which mimicked the Englisch saying about the city of Las Vegas, nicknamed by the Englisch themselves as “sin city.” Had he sinned, where Natalie was concerned?
He tried to imagine if instead of what had promised to bloom with Natalie, if it had been Betsy. Would he have been so hard on himself, kissing Betsy and then mentally flogging himself for it? No, Betsy was Amish, nor was she a former circus star who’d led him into temptation. But then, was it a sin to remember what it was like to be married?
No, the simple fact was: Natalie Bennett wasn’t Amish. Then why wasn’t that simple fact easily overcome?
If he could overcome it somehow, what was stopping him? The opinion of his family, his bishop, his Order. Some might never accept Natalie, even if she were to go through a time of proving before being baptized. She was a city girl, too. She’d never last here, without her modern conveniences and her car. She would have so much to learn, and might always feel as though she were on the outside looking in at a world she was never born into.
Sometimes, Jacob Miller, you think too much.
What he’d like right now was to talk to Henry Hostetler. He remembered their conversations, their debates on this or that, but always friendly, always full of grace. Henry might not be Amish, but he was a true friend, and in some ways, a counselor as if he were Jacob’s bishop or father.
He thought of the cell phone upstairs.
One phone call to Henry could help still some of this. Henry wouldn’t judge, wouldn’t tell him what to think, but could help him discover the answer he sought.
Even if that answer wasn’t one he truly wanted.
28
When Rebecca woke, she didn’t remember where she was at first. Then she remembered tiptoeing upstairs to the room where Natalie was staying, and talking to her until she fell asleep.
There was the dresser, the chair by the window, the row of different size cape dresses hanging from hooks, but no suitcase and no cell phone. The room was empty of anything not—Amish. Natalie was gone.
Rebecca pushed back the covers and hurried downstairs, not caring if her bad leg ached with her quick movements. She stumbled into the kitchen.
“Natalie?” She glanced around. Her aenti Katie was cooking at the stove, the other children waking up in the front room where they’d slept on piles of blankets and quilts on the floor, so Natalie could have the bed.
“She’s loading her car now,” her aunt said. “She has a very long drive ahead of her.”
With that, the door opened and Natalie entered, carrying a plastic travel mug with a lid. “Thank you, Katie. I apologize for eating and leaving in a hurry this morning.”
“You are very welcome, and no apology necessary. Here, let me fill your coffee cup before you leave.” Aunt Katie reached toward Natalie and took her plastic cup.
“I thought you were gone,” Rebecca said.
“Not yet. I wouldn’t go without telling you and your brother good-bye.” Natalie held out her arms. “Where’s Zeke?”
“In the front room.” Rebecca buried her face in Natalie’s shoulder and inhaled. She would do her best to remember the smell of Natalie’s perfume. It smelled like spices and flowers. She would miss Natalie’s hugs, too. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”
“Winter will be here again, before we know it. We’ll see each other again.”
Zeke bounded into the room like a little goat and joined the hug. “Bye.”
She kissed them both on the tops of their heads. “You be good, work hard in school, and I’ll see you in the winter if I can.”
“We will.” Rebecca couldn’t say anymore. Aenti Katie returned the plastic cup to Natalie.
“Thank you, thank you again, Katie. Your family means a great deal to me.” Natalie’s voice sounded like she had a bite of dry bread caught in her throat.
“You, as well, Natalie. You were a blessing from God during some very dark times. Travel safely.” Aenti Katie blinked.
“I’ll do my best.”
Rebecca followed Natalie out the door and into the yard, watched Natalie get into the driver’s seat of her car, then Rebecca waved until she couldn’t see the silver car anymore.
She looked up at the clear blue sky from where she stood in the empty yard. “Gotte, I’m not telling you what I want, with a bad attitude. But if you have another mamm for me, I sure want her to be Natalie, please. She’s not Plain, but I love her anyway.”
The trip to Florida dragged on, mile after mile ticking along, and by the time Natalie reached Sarasota, she was ready to sleep for a week. She couldn’t bear the thought of stopping for the night and sleeping in an empty hotel room. Instead, she caught a few hours’ sleep at a rest stop.
“I still say, you could have flown,” Grace told her when Natalie called to share her progress home. No, she couldn’t have. Not if she wanted transportation throughout Amish country.
“It was easier this way, even though it takes longer. I needed some time, on my own, to think and pray.”
Grace had begged her to stop by her house as soon as she arrived home.
She pulled up in the Montgomerys’ driveway, knowing she wouldn’t hear the end of it, if she bypassed Grace’s place. She rang the doorbell, her eyelids drooping.
“You’re back, you’re back!” Grace’s voice rang out as she opened the door. “It feels like it’s been forever.” She enveloped Natalie in a hug. “You must have a million stories to tell, about your mother’s family, and seeing Jacob.” Grace pulled her into the house.
“Yes, it feels like I have a million stories to tell.”
“Well, I can’t wait to hear about you meeting your mother’s family. Go, relax on the lanai while I get a tray of refreshments. Just don’t conk out before I get there. Iced tea on the lanai and scones sound good?” Grace bustled around the kitchen, with her dogs scampering back and forth from Grace, to Natalie, whose eyelids begged for the mercy of sleep.
“Yes.” Natalie had to smile. She’d missed the sun, the palm trees, the fact that people had lanais, and the mercury stayed at a balmy level most of the time.
Once settled in the screened porch facing a canal, Grace let Natalie tell the whole story. To her credit, she didn’t interrupt or offer her opinion.
“And so, I left after giving the kids hugs and kisses.” Natalie sighed, then took a bite of scone. Chocolate chip. Made with real butter. She wondered if Rachel Miller had ever baked scones before.
“So lovely. And so difficult for you. But now, you know where you have family. Besides your dad.”
“Yes, I fell in love with them. And despite what my mother had done, rejecting that faith—rejecting them, too—they didn’t hold that against me. Even though I’m not Pl
ain like them.”
“Ha. I can’t picture you getting up at four a.m. to milk the cows.”
“Ha, yourself. I might just become a passable cook one day. My grandmother, or mammi, I should say, even taught me how to make a pie crust.” Natalie’s heart swelled at the recollection. She should have asked for the recipe. However, she had their phone shanty number and address, and could contact them as often as she liked.
“So, to deal with the elephant on the lanai, are you sure you still plan to leave the school? I know I can find someone to take the next set of classes, somehow. But . . .”
It hurt her to leave the school, but leaving Sarasota, at least for part of the year, would help her not miss the Millers as much. On the road, she’d be busy, training and overseeing some of the performers, she’d be working 18-hour days. But she didn’t say any of this aloud.
Instead, Natalie said, “I’m sure. I’m sorry, Grace.”
“But of course, I did give a glowing reference for you to the circus HR department.” Grace gave her own sigh.
“Well, thank you for the reference, and I’m happy you’ll be able to find another teacher.”
“So, after all this, there’s no chance for your verboten love? Are you sure?”
“No, I can’t live in Ohio. Meeting my mom’s family for the first time is something I’ll never forget. I’m looking forward to visiting them again, but I’m realistic enough to know I couldn’t convert to Old Order, not like that.” She was tired of the round, and round, and round. “Jacob likely wouldn’t think of moving to Florida permanently, either, especially if being with me means leaving his Order.”
“Hmm . . .” Grace stared out at the water. “So, did you ever think about becoming Mennonite?”
“Well, no, I haven’t.” She hadn’t explored that option, didn’t think it was one. “I . . .” Joining the Mennonite church wouldn’t be forsaking her faith, her whole way of life. The more conservative Mennonites she’d seen in Pinecraft still had cars, electricity, and used technology, although some didn’t have televisions. Giving up television altogether wouldn’t be such a bad thing, and of course Jacob wouldn’t want it in the house.
She thought of her mother’s dress and the prayer covering, not so different than what she’d seen the conservative Mennonites wear. The men wore their beards long, like Henry Hostetler did.
“I can see the wheels spinning in your head so fast, there’s smoke pouring from your ears.” Grace chuckled. “So, what do you think?”
“I think . . . I think after I’ve had a nice long nap, I should call Mr. Henry Hostetler and see if he can put me in touch with someone from his church.” A faint hope bloomed in her heart.
It might not be possible, but she had to investigate the possibilities, at the very least. Then once she had all the information together, maybe, just maybe, someone like Henry Hostetler could talk to Jacob.
Three days ago, Jacob had had a very interesting conversation with Henry Hostetler. Afterward, he felt as if he were standing at the edge of a cliff and someone had just offered him wings, telling him he could fly.
Men weren’t made to fly. They weren’t birds. Neither were they made to race like the wind in vehicles made of steel. Yet, they did so anyway.
He sat in the break room at Stoltzfus Cabinetry, eating the lunch Rebecca had carefully packed in his insulated cooler. A simple sandwich with beef from last night’s supper, some fresh fruit, and a small glass container of milk.
After today, he was off for four days straight. He didn’t like the fact his paycheck would just cover expenses for their little household. The bulletin board section listing current job openings at the factory was empty. No hope of a promotion or raise anytime soon.
Yes, despite his efforts, he still had his pride of not taking good enough care of his family. Talking with Henry had reminded him of an opportunity in Florida; and something else he had never considered as a possibility.
The time clock clicked, one minute closer to him having to clock back in for the rest of his shift.
Here came Stan Stoltzfus, his supervisor, and part-owner of the factory. “I saw your note on my desk, Jacob.”
“Is that all right? I hope it doesn’t put you in a bad position.”
“No, not at all, not at all. I appreciate you letting me know.” Stan looked thoughtful for a moment. “Just, keep me in informed if anything changes.”
“Yes, I definitely will.” He nodded.
The rest of the afternoon dragged, just like he knew it would. “Spring fever,” some called it. The restlessness he felt surprised even him. Usually he was the one chiding the children to be patient. Now, he was schooling himself in the same discipline. Patience, a fruit of the Spirit. Patience everything would unfold as it should, Lord willing. Some might call him foolish, but then some might call him full of faith.
He remembered what Natalie had told him, echoed three days ago by Henry—he would answer to Gotte, and not to man. After he clocked out, during the van ride home he prayed for Gotte’s wille will to be done.
The children came running to the end of the lane to meet him after work, as they usually did if they weren’t seeing to their studies or running around the yard with their cousins.
“You’re home,” Zeke nearly leapt into his arms. Did he imagine it, or did Zeke cling a little tighter? Jacob had never grown up with hugs like this from his parents, nor had he or Hannah ever hugged them very often. However, since their time in Pinecraft, somehow the hugs and demonstrations of affection had grown more frequent between the three of them. He didn’t mind.
“I missed you, Daed,” Zeke whispered as Jacob leaned over to return the hug. Of course, Jacob had to work, the children had their duties at school. The same had happened in Florida, once Rebecca had recovered from the worst of her injuries.
“I missed you, too.” He stood straight, then ruffled Zeke’s hair. With his other hand, he touched Rebecca’s kapp. “How were your days?”
“Rebecca got in trouble for talking too much during class.” Zeke released his father.
“Ezekiel Miller, I was going to tell him.” Rebecca stomped her foot before they continued along the driveway together. “I . . . I was punished, and I apologized.”
“We’ll talk about it after supper, and a few other things.” They ambled along the driveway. Jacob took in the sight of his snug farmhouse, the white picket fence separating it from the rest of the yard—built after Hannah had caught the cows eating the laundry not long after they’d wed.
Some sad memories here, but yes, some happy ones too. The children chattered as they walked along, but Jacob heard the whispering of breezes through the rows of young corn. A cow bellowed out in the pasture somewhere.
He had talked to Ephraim last night about his decision, reached after much prayer and counsel. His brother was still in disbelief. Katie had cried, and Jacob wasn’t sure if the tears were joyful or not. Women.
Once inside the house, he let the children run ahead of him. Rebecca bragged about learning how to make soap from her Aunt Katie, and Zeke chattered about the frog he’d almost caught in the garden.
“Rebecca and Ezekiel, I have something to tell you.” He motioned to the chairs in the front room, one on each side of the fireplace.
They both complied. Rebecca opened her mouth as if to say something, but Jacob waved his pointer finger and she closed her mouth.
“Tonight, you are going to stay with your aunt and uncle for a few days, because I won’t be home. I’m going to make a trip.”
“You’re going away?”
Jacob didn’t miss the quaver in Zeke’s voice.
29
Thank you, thank you very much.” Natalie ended the phone call. She wasn’t sure she’d made the right decision and wanted to apologize to Grace for causing her even a few moments of worry.
She looked around her apartment. On her budget, a good apartment in a decent neighborhood was hard to come by, and this place had served her well. Natalie sucked
in a deep breath at the thought of the changes that lay ahead for her. Good changes. Necessary changes.
Her breath shuddered. She needed to get some air. The world’s most beautiful beach was minutes away by car. Siesta Key and the waters of the Gulf of Mexico would soothe her. She hadn’t been there since the last day, when Jacob met her before he ran away back to Ohio.
Natalie had sent the children a letter. She didn’t want to make it any more painful for them than it already seemed when she left Ohio. But kids were resilient. She knew it firsthand, growing up as she had.
She stopped by Rachel’s in Pinecraft, paying no mind to the curious looks the neighbors gave her as she left her car and strode to the front door. Yes, she was still Natalie.
When Rachel opened the door, she did a double-take. “Well, look at you. My, my.”
Natalie touched her hair, caught up into a bun and pinned, covered with the same kapp her mother had once wore. Women owned more than one. She supposed there must be a store, somewhere, although she’d never seen a kapp store in Sarasota. Rachel would know, and would help. And Imogene, once she knew.
She tugged at the waist of the Plain dress. “I . . . I thought I would try this on. I think it could use a little taking in? But then, you already know about my sewing skills. I’m not dressing up, you know. This . . . this isn’t a costume, to me.”
Rachel nodded. “Henry has filled me in about everything.”
Natalie continued. “I’ve talked to his bishop at the Mennonite church, and they’ve welcomed me. Not as a member yet.”
“No, not yet. But I think you’ll find the Mennonite church more to your liking. And, the services are in English, so you’ll follow along just fine.”
“I’m not planning to stay long today, I just thought I’d stop by to say hello on my way to Siesta Key Beach.”
“Well, hello then. They’re having a haystack supper Saturday night at the park, in case you didn’t know.”
A Season of Change Page 26