by Mary Ellis
Get hold of yourself. He probably just wants to borrow twenty bucks to buy gasoline. That sobering thought reined in her imagination before she embarrassed herself. Pausing outside the little outbuilding, she steeled her nerves and ducked her head through the low doorway.
“Nora, so glad you could make it.” Elam leaned against a stack of feed bags—a picture of casual disregard.
She opened her mouth to reply, but the smell of closely confined chickens assaulted her nose. She began to cough and gag.
Her reaction was met with snickers. “I thought you had lived on a farm back in Pennsylvania, not a high-rise loft in the city.”
She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. “I did, but I refused to enter the henhouse in winter. I only gathered eggs at our outdoor coop, which we moved around the yard on wheels to keep things fresh. I could collect eggs without entering the enclosure, while the chickens roamed free.” She stifled another wretched cough.
“Such clever girls, you King sisters. Care for a feed sack or an upturned bucket for a chair? I apologize for the amenities, but this is the only spot where we won’t be interrupted. Sally gathers eggs in the morning, always at first light, like a windup toy. You can count on her routines.” Elam fastened his coal-black eyes on her and didn’t look away.
Nora concentrated on breathing through her mouth. “What, no cigarette dangling from your lips?”
He laid a hand across his heart. “I would never endanger the lives of my poultry friends with a stray spark. Lately, they are the only friends I seem to have.”
She clenched her hands into fists deep in her pockets and whispered, “You have me.”
One of his dimples deepened and then the other. “I was hoping you would say that.” Elam waited as though for some dramatic effect. “Because I have a favor to ask you.”
Nora stifled another sneeze and forced her expression to stay neutral. “Sure, how can I help?”
He held up both hands. “Wait, you’d better hear me out before you agree. This favor involves sneaking around, freezing your tailbone off, possibly foregoing a good night’s sleep, and driving my buggy at night. I take it you’re still unfamiliar with Waldo County roads, but could you control my Standardbred? I can’t waste time with one of Thomas’s old nags.”
She inhaled a steadying breath, finally ignoring the odor of chicken manure. “I know how to handle a buggy horse. And I proved the other night that rain, snow, and frigid temperatures don’t deter me. Miss some sleep? I’ve slept so much since coming here that skipping a few hours will probably do me good.” Nora fluttered her eyelashes.
Elam reached down to pet a hen that pecked corn near his boot heel. “Wow, you are ready for some adventure and intrigue before settling in for a long winter’s nap.”
Nora shook off the image of deathly quiet Harmony, buried under several feet of snow for months. “What do you have in mind?”
He sauntered to the building’s sole window and rubbed a patch in the frost. “I listened to the weather report on my radio. This snow will dwindle to flurries by six o’clock and then stop altogether, but tomorrow we’re supposed to get a nor’easter down from Canada bringing along a major blizzard. We might be snowed in for days. The state highway workers will clear main routes first, so it could be a week before these back roads are dug out, depending how bad things get.” He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “I need to go tonight before I lose my chance.”
Nora waited as tiny hairs stood on end at the back of her neck. She ignored them. “I hope you don’t expect me to guess the destination,” she said after a moment.
He laughed with abandon. Several startled hens ran for cover in their nesting boxes. “Waterville, my lovely Miss King. In case you haven’t studied a map of Maine, it’s a city past Thorndike, which is five miles or so beyond Harmony.” He lowered his tone to a whisper, even though chickens weren’t known to spread local gossip. “I bought a car from a guy on the outskirts of town. I had a mechanic check it out for me. Everything’s been tuned up and ready to go—decent tires, plenty of antifreeze in the radiator, and the radio and heater are in good working condition.” Elam’s eyes nearly danced out of his head. “It might not be one of those cream puffs in a magazine, but it’ll get me where I’m headed.” He slicked his hair back with a callused hand.
“Congratulations on the purchase,” she murmured politely.
“Thanks. I’ll pay him the balance of cash tonight. He’ll sign the title over, and I’ll take possession of the car.” Elam leaned against the post. “The seller promised to fill the gas tank to the brim.”
“Where do I come in?” she asked.
“Use your head, Nora. The Englischer won’t take my horse and buggy in trade. I need some way to get them home while I drive my new car.” He rubbed a stubbly jawline. “Unless, of course, you would prefer to drive the Chevy.” He lifted her chin with one finger.
Though his touch electrified her, she batted away his hand. “No, thanks. Fast cars upset my stomach. I’ll drive the buggy. What do you plan to do with this car? Show Thomas after breakfast tomorrow and then take him for a spin?” She matched his sarcasm with her own.
He snorted. “My friend said I could store it in his barn for a while. They don’t use the building anymore because his daed gave up farming. I’ll cut across back land to get home—the same general path you took the other night.”
Nora needed to exit the crowded henhouse, not because of chicken odor—she’d grown accustomed to that—but because of his proximity. But Elam caught her sleeve before she reached the door. “We probably won’t be home until almost dawn, and there’s a chance you might get caught. I want you to understand what I’m asking you to do.”
She spent no time pondering her decision. “What time do we leave for Waterville?”
“That’s up to you. Whenever you can slip away from Amy and leave the house unseen, I will be ready. Just tap lightly on the cellar door. The buggy will be hitched with warm blankets inside.”
She nodded, dry mouthed and a bundle of raw nerves.
He took hold of her face a second time. “Thank you, Nora. I’ll owe you a favor—a big favor.” Then, without warning, he leaned over and kissed her on the lips.
Nora savored the kiss, and then she fled the coop as though the chickens had all decided to attack at once. She didn’t stop running until she was inside the kitchen, belatedly brewing her cup of tea. But the taste and sensation of his kiss would remain fixed in her memory for an eternity after that.
Amy dressed by the window and gazed across fields glistening with reflected sunlight. The diamond brightness hurt her eyes. The storm six days ago lasted forty-eight hours, dumping several feet of trouble on the residents of central Maine. Her cloistered period of contemplation grew only more claustrophobic as the women remained housebound. Finally, Thomas, John, and Elam shoveled paths to the barns and sheds, and then to the street so they might receive mail and view an occasional passing car or buggy.
Propping up the hand mirror, she studied her wretched face for a long moment. Amy King was absolutely miserable. This past week had been unbearable. Not that John had pestered her or in any way pressured her. On the contrary, he’d behaved as a perfect gentleman, similar to visiting a distant cousin she barely knew. He finished chores, ate his meals, and read his English Bible more than all previous Bible sessions combined. When John told Thomas that his High German was inadequate to study effectively, Thomas provided an English translation.
And neither Sally nor Nora caused her distress. Both had allowed her plenty of privacy. Amy simply couldn’t create a plan for the rest of her life. Although her anger with John had waned, her feelings of betrayal and mistrust had not. There was no way she could marry him this winter. And yet the prospect of leaving Harmony with a suitcase of memories scared her to the bone.
Her prayers had gone unanswered. Her nightly devotions hadn’t led to any great epiphanies regarding the future.
With a sigh she tucked the hand m
irror in a drawer, pinned up her hair, and donned a kapp. Trudging down the stairs, Amy heard a knock at the side door. When she reached the bottom, she heard the soft rap escalate into vigorous pounding. “Nora? Sally?” she called. “Someone’s at the door.”
Amy stuck her head into the living room. Sally sat in the rocker nursing her son, while Nora was reading a library book. Neither appeared concerned about whoever waited on the porch. “Did the storm knock out your sense of hearing?”
Sally arched an eyebrow. “We decided you should answer the door.”
Nora only shrugged and refocused on her book.
Because the other females apparently suffered from some storm-induced malaise, Amy hurried to the kitchen before the person splintered the wood. Yanking open the door, she gazed into the face of Prudence Summerton, bundled head to toe in heavy wool with knee-high farm boots. “Aunt Prudence!”
“Is this the kind of hospitality the Detweiler and King household offers?” Prudence sounded piqued, but her brown eyes twinkled with affection. “You would allow a middle-aged woman to freeze to death while you sip tea by the fire?”
“Come in and warm up.” Amy threw her arms around her. “Are you hungry? How about some hot chocolate?” She started to drag the woman across the threshold.
“Wait, wait.” Prudence extracted herself from her niece’s embrace. “I need to pay the cab before his meter bankrupts me. I wasn’t sure if I had the right farm or not. Snowbanks obscure most of the address posts.” She gingerly walked down the salted steps and shoveled walkway.
“I’ll fix you something hot to drink,” called Amy. She watched to make sure her aunt didn’t fall and then hurried to heat coffee and cinnamon rolls left over from the men’s breakfast. By the time Prudence returned, Amy had the fire stoked and a warm meal for them both.
“Oh good, coffee,” Prudence said. “Cocoa is for afternoons, in my book. And that had better not be decaf, dear niece.” She hung up her outerwear and tugged off her boots. Unburdened, she shed fifteen pounds.
“Nein. It’s good and strong too.” Amy stared at her aunt as she drank half a cup before sitting down. “How did you manage to arrive so early?” It was the first of many questions.
“I spent the night in Harmony at a motel. I didn’t want to look for this place at night with the roads only partially plowed.” Prudence finished her drink and refilled the mug from the pot.
“How did you find us?” Amy pushed the plate of rolls across the table.
“I had your address, remember? It’s a cab driver’s job to know the roads in his area.”
Why would you pick such a day to change your mind about visiting? Amy conveyed the question without opening her mouth.
“You’re wondering why I’m here.” Prudence bit into a cinnamon roll.
“Only why you would pick December and not during warmer weather. But I’m very pleased to see you no matter what the season.”
Prudence licked white icing from her fingertips. “The way I heard it, time was of the essence. If I didn’t come and talk sense into you—and fast—you would soon be back in Lancaster.”
Amy stared, wide-eyed. “You heard I broke my engagement? From who?”
“From whom,” Aunt Prudence corrected. “The letter was signed only ‘interested bystanders.’ But I suspect it was from the same people eavesdropping in the hallway.” She took a large bite of her treat.
Amy sprang to her feet and caught the interlopers before they could escape. She dragged Sally and Nora into the kitchen. “What have you two done? You made our aunt travel in this weather when she chose not to visit Harmony on a warm summer day?” Amy directed the admonishment at her sister.
Nora slipped from Amy’s grip. “You said you needed Aunt Prudence’s advice, and you sure weren’t listening to anybody else.”
“Settle down, both of you. No one forced me to do anything. Now, let’s get better acquainted. Nora, I remember you from Mount Joy, and you must be Sally.” Prudence held out both hands to the women. For thirty minutes, they chatted and drank copious amounts of coffee. Amy kept glancing from one woman to another, oddly miffed but not sure why.
Then Sally scrambled up and announced, “Come, Nora. Help me in the henhouse. We’ll give these two some time to talk alone.” Sally smiled at Amy.
Nora looked dubious, but she bundled up and followed Sally out the door.
“What’s this I hear about your breaking your engagement?” asked Prudence the moment they were gone.
Amy could only nod her head in agreement.
“You had a spat and you threw in the towel? Is that what my sister raised you to be—a quitter?” Prudence clucked her tongue.
“Perhaps when you hear the whole story you’ll understand, especially because it involves you.” With that, Amy launched into an account of recent events. However, she noticed the retelling generated little anger in her listener.
Her aunt sipped coffee without interrupting. When Amy was finished, she said, “He messed up badly, no doubt about it. And because you have never messed up, you can’t forgive him. I understand.” She nodded her head sadly.
“No, I’ve made mistakes in my life too—ones I will regret forever.” Amy stared at the tabletop, terrified to purge her soul of past sins.
The clock ticked, the wood shifted in the stove, drops of water hit the bottom of the sink at regular intervals as they sat together, waiting. Unable to keep quiet any longer, Amy whispered, “I bought smoke detectors at the Mount Joy hardware store back in Lancaster. My daed refused to install them. He said they weren’t permitted by the Ordnung and insisted that God would protect us.” She lifted her gaze to meet her aunt’s. “I should have put them up anyway. I could have hidden them in places he wouldn’t have noticed. If I had done that—taken the initiative like an adult—then maybe my parents would still be alive.”
Prudence’s eyes filled with tears. “My dear child, their deaths were part of God’s plan. Nothing you could have done would have changed the outcome. English smoke detectors aren’t more powerful than God when He calls someone home. Now you and your sisters must carry on.”
“But don’t you see? I’ve made my own mistakes. Forgiving John isn’t the point. I’ve already forgiven him. But this whole marriage thing—a husband always getting the final word—what if he makes the wrong decision? Like depleting our bank account to avoid a mortgage. Is that wise? I don’t know.”
Prudence shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know either, but you could ask a bank how much money you’d pay in interest during the loan. Maybe then you would have a better idea.”
“Is that how it must be? A woman must surrender her will to her husband and lose control of her life?”
Prudence studied the ceiling as though choosing her words carefully. “A Christian woman must surrender her will to God. He promises never to forsake you and will mark a clear path. Don’t try to figure out your entire life at twenty-two. You must trust, Amy. It’s the hardest and yet the easiest thing to do.”
Amy’s face grew hot with pent-up emotion, and when she couldn’t contain them any longer, she let her tears fall. She cried for several minutes, cleansing her soul of guilt and regret. “I do still love him, but I don’t know what to do now. Much has been said and done—selfish, hurtful behavior on both our parts.”
Her aunt, who had been eating her second cinnamon roll, grinned. It was a smile that reminded Amy so much of her mamm that her throat tightened. “One step at a time, dear niece. Right now, I suggest you eat a roll before I finish every last one of them. They truly are marvelous.”
NINETEEN
I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with my hand.
EXODUS 33:22
From the open door to the barn loft, John and Thomas had seen the taxicab arrive. They had been restacking hay bales and feed sacks, sweeping the floor, and checking for rodents’ nests. They had just about exhausted their list of possible chores when the vehicle crawled up the driveway.
A
middle-aged woman, indistinguishable in a heavy layer of clothes, climbed from the backseat and peered around with interest. She said something to the driver through the open car window before picking her way carefully toward the porch. With the sun simultaneously melting snow as the cold ground refroze the liquid, ice had formed in cleared areas.
“Who do you suppose she is?” asked Thomas, leaning on his broom handle. “She’s not anyone from the district.”
John rubbed the back of his neck to loosen tight muscles. “Don’t know,” he answered, but deep inside he had a feeling he knew exactly who had arrived. “She might be Amy’s Aunt Prudence,” he added after a bit.
“You think so? All the way from Chestnut after that blizzard we had?” Thomas pulled on his beard as the newcomer knocked on the door. “We’ll find out soon enough. Let’s finish this loft and feed the goats. Then a cup of coffee sounds about right.”
By the time they climbed down the ladder to the first floor, Sally and Nora entered the barn. Sally carried a wicker basket brimming with fresh brown eggs. Nora’s breath condensed into puffs of white vapor.
“Have our hens done their part to keep us well fed, dear fraa?” asked Thomas of Sally.
“We have more than enough for omelets tomorrow and to bake a cake this afternoon.” Sally held up the basket for their perusal.
“What brings you ladies out here?” asked Thomas. “An inspection, perhaps? To make sure we’ve been working hard enough?”
Sally emitted a charmingly undignified snort. “The condition of the barn is your domain, ehemann. We’re here to give Amy some privacy with her aunt.” She turned to face John before continuing. “Prudence Summerton is here. Nora and I wrote and asked her to come, but we weren’t sure if she would.”
John balanced his rake against the wall. “Danki for writing to her. I considered it myself but no longer had her address and…I felt too ashamed.”