“Do you need an antacid?” Jonah had asked.
“Nay. I’d like a rest, but what can you do? Harvest is a busy time.”
A very busy time. As Jonah cranked the winch to stack the bale high in the loft, he knew for certain that he would have to stay on here for a good while, even if Annie and Hannah soured on him when they learned the truth.
“And the truth shall set you free,” Jonah said aloud as he brushed the hoof clean and took one last look.
The sheep’s eyes softened. He seemed to be thinking over the words of scripture. Mmm. A good Amish sheep.
The high-pitched laugh of a child came to him on the wind, and he looked toward the outbuildings. Annie and Sunny were walking toward the sheep pens, Annie with a baby bottle in her hand. Levi was running in crazy circles, scrambling after the orphaned lamb that kept darting out of his reach. It was feeding time for the bummer lamb.
Annie said something he couldn’t make out as she held up the bottle. That got the lamb’s attention. It leaped in her direction, nearly collapsing as it landed on its spindly legs.
“And what am I supposed to do now?” Jonah asked the big sheep. “I have to return these clippers to that shed, right there where they’re sitting.”
The sheep gave a spastic shake.
“Ya, you’re right. I could do that later, but I don’t mind seeing Levi.” He released the sheep, and the creature immediately scrambled to its feet and loped away, pausing only once to look back in scorn.
“Go.” Jonah got to his feet, brushing grass from his pants. “Find green pastures.” In truth, there wasn’t much green grass left—mostly fields of gold and brown. Soon the sheep and cattle would need special feed to get them through the winter.
By the time Jonah came upon Annie and Levi, the boy was seated with the orphaned lamb in his lap. Sunny had scurried off to the edge of the fence to bark at a group of sheep, no doubt keeping them in line.
“Your lamb has taken to the bottle,” Jonah said.
“She likes it!” Levi moved the bottle and the lamb’s muzzle followed, sucking contentedly. “And she has a name now! We call her Fluffy.”
“Ya?” Jonah rubbed his chin. “Some people don’t name their sheep. They don’t want the children to get too attached when …” Many sheep farmers, Amish and English alike, slaughtered their herds before the sheep were a year old. He turned to Annie. “Tell me you raise these sheep for their wool.”
“Is that what you’re getting at? Ya, we take their wool, and Dat sells some of them off.” She patted the lamb in Levi’s arms. “But he’ll make an exception for little Fluffy.”
“Gut.” He lifted one side of his mouth in a half smile. “I’ll sleep better tonight, knowing that.”
She rolled her eyes, a gesture that tugged at his heart. It amazed him how Annie could be womanly and girlish at the same time. “You mean an experienced farmer like you would worry about one little lamb?”
“I work the land, but on our farm we never took a life. Dat believed in sharing the land with all Gott’s creatures. He passed those ways on to all of us.”
“I remember that about your dat,” Annie said. “All those birdhouses he used to build. He would make sure they had seed in the winter. And he didn’t believe in hunting, did he?”
Jonah nodded. He missed his parents, but he was glad to remember them by the good they had done in their lives instead of the terrible way they had died.
He went into the shed to return the clippers and get a rake. When he came out, the lamb was scrabbling to be released.
“Fluffy! Settle down,” Levi ordered.
“Fluffy wants to run,” Jonah said. “She’s done with her milk. See?”
Levi noticed the empty bottle. “Oh.” He helped the lamb onto the ground and she bowed at his feet, then circled around as if chasing her tail.
“Fluffy thinks she’s a dog,” Jonah observed as he started raking the pen.
Annie and Jonah laughed as Levi tried to pet her and she slipped away. The lamb seemed to enjoy playing tag.
“Levi’s so good with her.” Annie leaned on a post near Jonah. “And you’re good with Levi. He likes having you around, Jonah. He’s told me that.”
“I’ve been thinking, it might be good to bring Sam around sometime when I’m working here. He and Levi could play together.”
“That would be wonderful good,” Annie said. “Levi misses Mark. Do you think Sam would like to help with Fluffy?”
“If Sam spends five minutes with Fluffy, he will be begging us to get some sheep on the farm.”
Annie sighed. “You know the little ones well. Someday, you’ll make a very good father.”
He stopped raking, caught by her comment. Looking down into her sparkling blue eyes, he wanted to remember this moment in time. Annie could see him as a father … that lightened the weight on his shoulders.
“Hannah is blessed to have found you.”
The hope that had been sizzling inside him now sputtered and went cold. He went back to raking. “Annie, we need to talk about that.”
“No.” She held up her hands. “You and Hannah need to talk. I don’t want to butt in. But I will say I’m glad you’re spending a lot more time here with us. It’s been good for everyone. You’ve become a good friend, Jonah.”
She wouldn’t feel that way when he told her the truth. “Annie … I’m not coming here for Hannah.”
“I know that. You’re working for Dat, and we all appreciate that. He’s feeling the burden of the farm right now, with Perry gone.”
Jonah wiped the sweat from his brow. It wasn’t a hot day, but the strain of trying to cut through to the truth was more work than any farm chore.
Stop raking and tell her. “I don’t favor your sister. I favor you.”
Why couldn’t he wrench those words from his throat?
Because he didn’t want to end this moment with Annie. Because he wanted to be her friend … and her beau, too. His time here on the farm had changed some things for the better. Now he didn’t worry so much about talking to girls. He could find plenty to say to Hannah or Annie without his face heating up and his tongue getting twisted in his mouth.
He continued cleaning the pen. “Have you gotten word on how the Fishers are doing up there?”
“Sarah called from town! She called the tea shop, and Mamm talked with her. They’re settling in. Perry’s cousin is putting them up in a little cottage on his dairy farm. She said it’s very cozy. And Gideon has twins who are around Mark’s age. Isn’t that perfect? Gott has truly blessed them.”
“He has.” He didn’t look up from his work as he asked, “And what about you, Annie? Are you still thinking of joining them in New York?” The words were tight in his throat, and he prayed that she would answer no.
“How did you know that?”
“My hearing works just fine … and you’ve made it no secret.”
“It scares me to think of leaving my home. Not just my family, but everyone here. Halfway is all I’ve ever known, and I’m happy here.” She leaned onto the post, watching him closely. “Do you ever think about leaving?”
“No. Halfway is where I belong.” His family, this land, this community … He lived and breathed this small parcel of Lancaster County. Gott wanted him here; he was sure of that.
“I feel that way, too, except when I go to the singings and have a look around. While I was waiting on your brother, all the men my age found wives. There are no single men left!”
She said it as a joke, but it stung.
There’s a single man who’s waited for you all his life, he wanted to say. A man who loves everything about you.
But the words were locked inside, too delicate to wrench out. He spread fresh hay in the pen, angry with himself for shutting down.
“That’s why I’m so torn,” she added. “I feel like I belong here, but I know that Gott wants me to have a family. So what can I do? If I’m to have a family, I’ll have to go somewhere else to find a husband. And
that breaks my heart.”
Mine, too, Jonah wanted to say. That would make two broken hearts.
TWENTY-SIX
That’s it. Keep twisting,” Gabe said.
Gabe stepped back from the fence as his younger brother used a set of pliers to twist the wires around, creating a braid that would hold. They were in the back acres, repairing a hole in the fence, and once Gabe had shown Simon how to attach the wires, his brother had stepped up to give it a try. It was Simon’s first time mending a fence, but he was getting the hang of it.
Cold air was setting in over the land, and clouds of mist rolled in over the hills. Puffs of steam came from the nostrils of the waiting horses. Gabe tucked the spool of wire into his saddlebag and looked over the east hills, toward the town. They were too far away to see the town or any of the houses, but he knew that Emma’s home was in that direction, on the outskirts of town.
Emma was there right now, probably grading papers or helping Fanny prepare dinner. He imagined her in the kitchen, punching dough. All the anger she had toward him now could go right into that fat wad of dough.
Or maybe it was worse than that. Maybe she didn’t even care enough to be mad. She might have decided that a proper schoolteacher like her could never be seen courting a man like him. Someone who dared to break the rules.
He patted Mercury’s withers, thinking that people should be as loyal as horses were. Emma had said that he could tell her anything. Her big beautiful eyes had never blinked when he’d talked to her about his parents’ murders. She had understood his resentment toward Adam coming home to be the boss, and she had always listened when he told her stories about “the big girls,” the cows that Gabe cared for and knew so well.
But Emma didn’t want to hear about how it felt to ride a motorbike. All at once, her heart and mind had closed to Gabe. Just like that.
And he decided that he would do the same. He knew how to curl up inside himself like a beaver settled in to hibernate for the winter. He could dig into the mud and never, ever trust anyone again. That was fine with him.
“How’s that?” Simon asked, stepping back.
Gabe leaned in for a closer look. Simon had twisted the wire into a nice, tight braid. “That’ll hold it. Good work, Simon. Now you know how to do it.”
From the way Simon stood tall, with his head up, Gabe could tell that his brother felt good about learning the task.
“Now I can fix the fence anytime the cows push it loose,” said Simon.
“You can fix the wire part,” Gabe said. “The fence posts—that part takes a little more time to learn.” Gabe pushed against the post. It was solid and secure, but there were miles of fence around their farm. “I hope we don’t need to replace any of the posts until spring. It’s hard to dig in frozen dirt.”
“Any more fixing you need?” Simon asked, holding up the pliers.
“We’re done for today. It’s time to head back.”
Simon tucked the pliers in with the other tools in the saddlebag, then called to his horse. Shadow didn’t come like a dog, but her ears perked up, and she lifted her head to eyeball Simon. The boy walked over to her and took the reins. “Hold still now.” The horse stood like a statue as Simon put one foot in the stirrup and swung his small body high into the saddle.
“You’ve trained her well,” Gabe said.
Simon nodded. “She’s a smart horse.”
As Gabe got on his own horse, he hid a smile. Sometimes Simon echoed things their dat used to say. He looked over at his brother. “Do you want to race?”
A mischievous look crossed Simon’s face. “I’m just warning you, Shadow is fast.”
Gabe nodded. “We’ll see who gets to the barn first. Are you ready?”
Simon counted down, and they were off. At once they urged their horses ahead, pressing them to gallop over the damp grasses. The world sped past him below as Gabe’s senses became alert to the pounding of Mercury’s hooves, the rush of cool air on his skin, and the beating of his own heart. Gabe laughed out loud. He hadn’t done this with his brothers for years!
His horse was ahead, but when he rose over the last hill and caught sight of the barn and the smaller outbuildings, he slowed Mercury, just in case someone was watching.
At that moment, Shadow pounded past him in a thundering blast. Gabe groaned, hating to lose, though he didn’t mind giving Simon the sweet taste of victory.
His younger brother was waiting outside the barn. He had jumped down from the horse, and he stood beside Shadow, casually leaning against her withers and talking quietly. Simon looked up at him and grinned. “What took you so long?”
Gabe laughed. “You won, fair and square. But next time, I will show you what my horse can do when I let her.”
“That was fun,” Simon said as they led their horses into the barn. “I love galloping fast.”
Gabe recognized the look in his younger brother’s eyes. The need for speed. “Galloping can be exciting,” he told Simon. “But it’s nothing compared to racing motorbikes.”
“Motorbikes?” Simon pushed his hat back on his head. “I’ve never done that.”
“I have, and I can tell you, a motorbike is ten times more exciting than a horse.”
Simon’s eyes opened wide in an expression of wonder. “Where did you get the motorbike?” He turned toward the barn. “Is it here, in the shed?”
Gabe explained that he had only borrowed a bike from an English friend who had many.
Staring at him in awe, Simon rattled off a dozen questions. “Does it steer like a horse? Does it start with a key, like a car? Do you put gasoline into it? Is it hard to balance?”
As they unsaddled their horses, Gabe answered Simon’s questions, glad to be talking about motorbikes with someone who understood the thrill.
“Can I come along and ride a motorbike, too?” Simon asked.
“No. It’s too dangerous.”
“But you’re doing it.”
“I’m older, and bigger, too. Your feet probably wouldn’t reach the pedals.”
“Folks said I was too small to ride a horse, but Dat let me do it,” Simon pointed out.
“Simon, you can’t do it now. You’re too young, and it’s forbidden by the Ordnung. Adam would never allow it, and he’s in charge now.”
Simon was quiet a moment. “But you’re doing it,” he said slowly.
“I’m older, and I’m in rumspringa. When you get to be my age, then you can ride a motorbike.”
Simon frowned. “Okay. But can we still race horses?”
“Ya, we can race. But don’t tell anyone about that—or about the motorbikes. If the bishop hears about it, he’ll ride right over to give me a talking-to, just like the ministers did with Sadie.”
Gabe still remembered how the ministers had come to their house to scold their sister Sadie, who had been caught singing in bars. The bishop had told her to stop being of this world and return to the Plain ways, but no amount of scolding could fix the unzufriede, the discontent she felt in her heart. That was probably why she was now many miles away, living among the Englishers.
“I miss Sadie. Are you going to go away and live with the Englishers, too?” Simon asked as he brushed down his horse.
“No.” That was one thing Gabe was sure of. He didn’t want a life away from the land and the animals he loved. Living on an Amish farm kept a body going. From what he’d seen of cars and televisions, he liked them just fine, but they took a person away from the important chores of life. He knew he would get antsy sitting in front of a picture screen all day long, just watching other people live. Englisher life wasn’t for him.
Gabe knew that someday he would choose to get baptized. Amish was the only way he knew to live, and it suited him just fine. But he wasn’t ready for that yet. And right now he couldn’t change who he was. He was in rumspringa, and he’d found an adventure right here at home—a sport that challenged his balance and skills.
Ya, when he was on a speeding bike he felt like a man.
>
And he wished Emma could understand that. The last few days he had missed her. He wanted to court her, but she was the one who had broken it off.
All over a motorbike.
He would have galloped into a fire to save her, but with this demand she wanted too much from him. Right now, riding bikes was the one thing that made him feel powerful and independent. There was no way he would give this sport up for a girl.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Saturday morning, as soon as the milking was done, Jonah and Adam went to the barn to have a look. Working together, the two men pulled open one of the wide red doors and stepped into the shadowed space.
“We’ll move most of the animals out,” Adam said. “The children will sweep up. Uncle Nate is bringing the church wagon, and Abe and Ben will cart over the propane heater in case the weather turns.”
So far the day had dawned sunny and cool, but dark clouds over the hills were headed their way. Jonah hoped they could get the benches loaded into the barn before the rain started.
“Mary has had the girls cleaning house for days already. And somebody’s got to mow that lawn out front.” Adam pushed his jacket back and put his hands on his hips, looking solid and strong. “What do you think?” he asked Jonah.
“I think we’d better eat a big breakfast,” Jonah teased, “because we have a big chore ahead of us.”
Adam clapped a hand on his shoulder as they headed toward the house. “A big chore, but we do it every year.”
“And deep inside, I like it,” Jonah admitted. “But don’t tell anyone. They’ll think I’m verhuddelt.”
Jonah didn’t mind when it was their turn to host. The duty fell on each family in the district every year or so, and Jonah always enjoyed the days of preparation. The house got a scrubbing from top to bottom. Windows were washed till they gleamed. Walls and floors were washed. The yard would be clipped and trimmed, and the women had already started cooking and baking enough to feed lunch to the entire district.
It was a mountainous task, but every year it brought the family together. That was the part Jonah liked most—everyone in the family pitching in.
A Simple Autumn: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel Page 15