by Sarah Price
Her mother greeted her with a warm smile, unaware of the turmoil in her daughter’s head. “How was the widower, Sylvia?”
She set her things down on the bench by the door and hurried to the kitchen to wash her hands. She could smell the remnant of her mother’s cooking. She must have made fried chicken and mashed potatoes. The house smelled familiar and comforting. Yet, at the same time, as she dried her hands, she realized that everything was different. In just one day, it had all changed.
“Fine, Mamm,” she heard herself reply. She looked up and smiled softly at her mother. “Everything was fine.”
Chapter Six
The following Monday, Sylvia walked slowly to Jake’s farm. His farm was only a mile from her father’s if she cut through the fields. She didn’t mind the walk. April was one of her favorite times of year. The day was early, the sun barely cresting over the hill. Birds chirped from the trees, greeting the morning with a song of spring and a gentle breeze cooled her face. As she crossed through the field behind her father’s farm, she heard the neighbor’s rooster crowing. A dog barked in response. The day was awakening. It was her favorite time of the day. She felt alone with her thoughts, listening to the sounds and smelling the damp earth. Her shoes were wet from the morning dew that clung to the grass. She tightened her shawl around her shoulders, knowing that the coolness would disappear once the sun shone over the horizon.
He was sitting at the kitchen table when she knocked softly at the door before entering. There was a newspaper before him and he was drinking coffee. When he looked up, he greeted her with a broad but sleepy smile. His hair was tousled and his shirt unbuttoned at the neck. Sylvia averted her eyes but felt the familiar rush through her veins when he spoke,
“Good morning, Sylvia!” He gestured toward the stove. “Help yourself to some coffee. I’m afraid I’m not very good at making it but…”
“That’s alright,” she said. “I can make a fresh pot for you, if you’d like.”
“That would be most kind, Sylvia.” He leaned back in his chair, staring at her thoughtfully. “I haven’t had a good cup in ages, it seems. I never mastered that skill, I’m afraid.” He continued watching her. She could feel his eyes on her back. But when she glanced at him, his eyes were glazed over. He was miles away, somewhere else. He shook his head, caught her look, and smiled. “Suppose I better get to planning my day, eh? Looks like it’s going to rain later this week. Need to get my outside work done.”
She felt emboldened by his attention. Unlike at her parents’ farm, she was not in the shadows here. In fact, Jake seemed to want to engage her in discussion. “What are you working on, if I may ask?”
“You may,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “I have an idea in my mind to do more than just breed horses. I wanted to try my hand at some crops…I was thinking wheat.”
“Corn,” she said.
“No, wheat.”
She laughed. “I meant you should plant corn. Your soil is good for it and it is easier to tend. Less equipment to harvest, too.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Huh.”
“For your first crop, anyway,” she added. “And the time to plant is coming up. Knee high by the fourth of July. Besides, wheat should be planted in September or October. The season is underway. You’d be too late and the wheat would miss the market. But when you harvest the corn, you can plant the wheat for next season.” The expression on his face stopped her in mid-sentence. Was he angry that she had contradicted him? She chewed on her lower lip. “I’m sorry. Did I say too much?”
“No,” he said, leaning forward. The chair legs hit the floor and, as he pushed the chair back in order to stand up, it squeaked against the wood flooring. Carrying his coffee mug, he walked toward her. “Not at all, Sylvia. In fact, there’s a sparkle in your eye and animation in your voice. I rather like it.” He leaned against the counter next to her, watching her through his deep, thoughtful eyes. “You like working outside, don’t you?”
She wanted to answer but she couldn’t. He was standing close to her, his presence filling the space between them. She caught her breath, fighting the urge to stare at him. His nearness overwhelmed her with his faded jeans and halfway opened shirt. She could see the golden brown color of his skin and the hint of muscles. It made her too aware of how plain she must look to him. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun at her neck. Her dress was a simple green with a black apron covering her waist. For the first time in her life, she felt awkward with her appearance.
“Sylvia?”
“I’m sorry. Did you ask me something?”
He laughed at her. “I said you like working outside, yes? That’s the most animated that I’ve seen you yet.”
“Oh,” she flustered. She didn’t know how to respond. A flush covered her cheeks. Had she been animated? Overly enthusiastic? Lowering her eyes, she backed away. “I need to get started upstairs today,” she finally said. “The coffee should be ready in a few minutes.”
Without waiting for his response, she hurried to the staircase and quickly retreated upstairs. She stood at the top of the stairs, catching her breath and waiting…for what, she didn’t know. When she heard the door shut, she exhaled loudly and leaned against the wall, her heart pounding inside her chest.
For a moment, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. The confusion that she felt was a new feeling to her and she didn’t like it one bit. There was something about him, something strong and powerful that made her realize that life was much greater than the four walls of her parents’ house. She was standing in a man’s house, outside of his bedroom door, thinking thoughts that had never occurred to her. Yes, life was calling to her and she was torn between feeling frightened and feeling exhilarated.
Gathering herself, she took a deep breath and moved toward the master bedroom. She had only glanced inside when Jake had shown the upstairs to her and her father last week. Now, she took the time to look around and see the room with curious eyes.
It was a simple room with a dresser, bed, and nightstand. The furniture matched and was clearly not homemade. The bed was a dark oak sleigh bed. It was fancier than beds that the Amish used. Most Amish made their own furniture and Sylvia’s house was no different. Their beds were simple and light in color. She had never seen a store-bought bed before and this one looked rather elegant to her. She ran her hand along the headboard. It was smooth and cool to her fingers. She could tell that it was new by the way the wood shone. A new bed for an old house, she thought.
She looked at the dresser and saw a picture frame. While she had seen pictures in the calendars that her father hung in the kitchen and out in the barn, she had never seen a real photograph of a person. Curiosity got the best of her and she went over to it, picking it up gently to see who was in the photo. It was a couple. Jake and a young blond woman. She had long hair, pulled back from her face in a simple ponytail. They were standing on a beach but Sylvia could tell that it wasn’t warm by the way they were dressed. The picture was sun bleached. It was hard to make out the woman’s features but, clearly, she was pretty. Sylvia sighed. It was apparent that they had been happy.
She set the picture back on the dresser, next to a bottle of cologne. She reached for it, hesitating for just a moment before she sniffed at it. It was musky and strong. She couldn’t imagine wearing something so pungent and strong. Yet, it wasn’t unpleasant. She shut her eyes and tried to imagine her brothers wearing cologne. The idea was completely foreign to her and she smiled to herself.
On the light blue walls were the typical hooks used in the Amish houses. Amish didn’t use closets and hung most of their clothing on hangers from simple pegs or hooks in the wall. Sylvia frowned, not quite able to understand. The house had electricity and appliances but the bedrooms lacked closets, using Amish hooks instead? Yet, Amish had never lived here.
For the next hour, she tidied the upstairs. She found a spare set of sheets, changed his bed, and carried the dirty sheets downstairs so that she could was
h them. She had found a hamper in one of the other bedrooms and brought that downstairs, too. She was glad to be downstairs. She was uncomfortable being so near the place where Jake slept. It felt awkward and inappropriate to touch his clothing and his sheets. Besides, the upstairs had a sad feeling to it, more so than the kitchen. The rooms were bare and empty, except for the master bedroom. But even that was sparsely furnished and plain. Too plain for an Englischer. The house had been unloved for so long that Sylvia wondered if it missed the former families that had lived there. She wondered if it knew that someone was trying to make it feel loved once again.
It was almost ten o’clock when she finally ventured outside, carrying the basket of dirty clothing toward the barn. She didn’t know where the laundry facility was but she remembered Jake said it was in the barn. The sun was shining and it was warm. Springtime. She noticed an overgrown plot of land near the side of the house. The ghost of a garden. Sylvia could imagine tomato plants, cucumbers and lettuce thriving in the sunny patch of land. At one point in time, it had been well tended and the food that was harvested must have fed the family. But now it only grew weeds.
Inside the barn, she was overcome with the emptiness. The floors were clean, the stalls were empty. Even the air was still. A few sparrows darted in and out of the barn’s rafters but, other than that, it was deserted. At her father’s farm, the barn was either full of cows, waiting to be milked, or empty with rows of manure to be cleaned. There was always noise, whether from within the barn or from the paddocks. Sylvia could tell that this had once been a dairy farm, small in comparison to her father’s. There were only two rows for the cows whereas her father’s barn had six. But, unlike her father’s barn, this one had stalls for horses. She counted at least five along the back wall. Her father had a separate building for the horses.
“I thought I saw you walking toward the barn.” His voice startled her and she spun around, almost dropping the basket of laundry. “Sorry,” he said, but his eyes glittered and she could tell that he wasn’t.
“I…” She tried to catch her breath. “I was looking for the washing equipment.”
He took the basket from her and motioned her toward the back of the barn. “I was fixing the fencing in the fields. Saw you walking from the house. Come along, I’ll take you to the laundry area.”
“Fencing?” she asked as she followed him.
“Horses arrive in a few weeks. Coming in from Connecticut.” He glanced at her as he stopped in front of a door. “Standardbreds.” She didn’t comment but acknowledged what he said with a simple nod of her head. “Thought I’d try breeding them here…break them and sell them. But I need to build more stalls for all of them and must have good fencing so they don’t wander over to your father’s and eat all of his crops,” he teased.
Without realizing it, she frowned and chewed on her lower lip. “How many acres do you have?”
“Fifty acres.”
She was surprised. It didn’t look quite so large. She had guessed thirty acres. How could she not have noticed this farm before? True, it was nestled between two other farms with the driveway being the only public announcement that it existed. But fifty acres was a nice sized farm for a county that had high demand for farmland with shrinking availability. Land was so hard to come by that many Amish families were relocating outside of Lancaster County in order to acquire farmland in order to continue growing crops and raising dairy cows. She knew that her father’s cousin had moved to Ohio many years ago for that very reason.
So fifty acres was a generous sized farm. Sylvia realized that some of the pastures that she thought were Jake’s neighbors must be part of his farm. It was a shame for such a nice parcel of land to be used for breeding and not farming, she thought to herself. Then, immediately ashamed of herself for such a selfish thought, she lowered her eyes.
“That’s a good size farm for horses,” she said quietly.
When he swung the door open, she looked into the tiny room. The walls were painted white and in the center was an older washing machine. To her relief, it was a wringer washer powered by a small diesel machine. It was similar to the one that her mother used, although a bit older, and in good shape. “You know how to use that?” he asked.
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course!”
A sheepish expression crossed his face. “It’s a little different than what I’m used to,” he explained.
She didn’t reply. There was nothing more to say. It was just one more reminder that they were two very different people with different pasts and beliefs. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but wonder why he was here after all.
The silence was awkward. Neither knew what to say. Thankfully, Jake ended it by clearing his throat as he took a step backward toward the door. “Well, I’ll let you take care of this. You let me know if you need anything, yes?” He didn’t wait for a response and quickly disappeared out of the room. The air seemed to leave the room with him and Sylvia found herself staring after him. His presence brought so much energy that, when he left, the room felt empty and heavy.
It was close to noon when she had hung up the last of his freshly washed clothing on the line that stretched from the corner of the house to the corner of the barn. There was something satisfying about seeing the clothing wave gently in the spring breeze. The farm looked lived in. Now, she thought, to make it look loved. She glanced around the outside of the house and wondered if Jake would let her plant some flowers or tackle the garden. At home, she always worked in her mother’s garden but it was always under her mother’s firm guidance.
Sylvia longed for the day when she could plant her own garden. But that day was a long way off and she knew better than to approach Jake. He hired her to help in the house, not the garden or fields. But in her mind, she could envision the garden with climbing bean plants and bushy tomato trees.
She turned around, scanning the horizon. The fields were lush and green, tall grass waving. He had said that the horses would arrive in a few weeks. The fields would be grazed down in no time. By fall, many of the fields would have dirt patches where grass currently grew. The farm would transform into a living entity once the animals were there. New sounds, new smells, new life. She shut her eyes and listened. It was quiet now. But the quiet was peaceful and happy. With the sun shining down on her face, she felt relaxed and carefree. This is my time, she thought to herself.
Chapter Seven
For the next few weeks, Sylvia’s days began to fall into a welcomed routine. The flow of the days became very rhythmic. During the week, she’d walk to Jake Edwards farm every other morning. She would alternate which floor she cleaned before cooking him a nice midday meal. He was often busy in the barn, fixing and cleaning in preparation for his horses.
When he came in for his dinner, she tried to find a way to excuse herself, purposefully saving a last minute task that kept her out of the kitchen. He quickly caught on and tried to ask her to do something in the kitchen while he ate. It was an unspoken battle of wits that she didn’t always win.
Fortunately, she had been blessed with good weather, using that as an excuse to walk home. Every day that she worked at his farm, he insisted on driving her back to her father’s farm but Sylvia was always quick to point out that she enjoyed the warm spring air. That argument she tended to win.
During the days that she did not work at Jake Edwards’ home, she’d was happy to help her mother in the house during the mornings and work outside during the afternoons. She didn’t even mind helping her father spread fertilizer in the fields or mow the front yard. By Sunday, she was ready for the day of worship, rest, or visiting.
For the first time in a long time, Sylvia was happy. She liked being near home and liked not having to interact with the Englischers at the Farmers Market. She didn’t even mind caring for Jake Edwards’ house, despite being alone for most of the time. For the most part, it was quiet at his farm and gave her time to think and reflect.
“You seem relaxed today,” he said
to her when he came inside for his meal.
It was Monday. Sylvia had been working at his farm for three weeks now. It was clear that he seemed to enjoy her company, trying to engage her in conversation by asking her questions or telling her stories. At times, Sylvia wasn’t always certain how to respond to his friendly overtures. After all, she wasn’t used to such attention from men.
“Ja, I am,” she finally replied since he seemed to be waiting for a response.
“Suppose I am too,” he commented. He stood at the sink, washing his hands. When he was finished, he leaned against the counter and dried his hands on a towel that Sylvia handed to him. “I’m learning to like it here.”