“I’m sorry you had to drive all the way out here, but I can’t be your partner. I’m not supposed to.”
Wagner’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about doing the right thing.” He let out a long breath. It was early morning, but the sun was already heating up. Or something else was making him sweat. “There’s nothing wrong with the idea you’ve proposed, but—”
“It’s a perfect idea,” Lois said, stepping in front of her husband.
“Not for me. I want a simple horse farm.”
“We already said you could have your little farm.” Lois crossed her thin arms. “We even put that in the contract.”
“I’m sorry.” What more could he say? How could he make them understand, when he was just now beginning to understand it himself? “The answer is no.”
“You can’t build your farm without our help,” Wagner said. “Not even a little horse farm.”
“You’ll end up with nothing,” Lois added.
“Maybe that’s the point.”
Wagner glared at him. “You’re making a big mistake.”
“Not to mention wasting a huge chunk of our time,” Lois added.
“I apologize—”
“You know what you can do with your apologies,” Lois said. “You’ll regret this decision. We’ll invest somewhere else. And we’ll be successful. We always are.”
Johnny nodded. “Then I wish you luck.”
As the Wagners peeled out of his dirt driveway, Johnny plopped down on the chair.
They were right—he had nothing.
Except God and family. And right now, that’s all he needed.
“I thought you weren’t allowed to drive a car.”
Sawyer glanced at Cora as he guided the midsized dark green sedan out of the Bylers’ driveway. “I’m not a member of the church yet. I can drive. I just choose not to.”
“Until now.” His grandmother shifted in the passenger seat. “Where did you get the car?”
“Rental.”
“Maybe you can rent it again when you take me to the airport.”
Sawyer held in a sigh. After visiting with Laura’s mother, Cora was more withdrawn than ever. And more determined to go back to New York. But he wanted to give her one more chance to change her mind—not about leaving Middlefield, but about rejecting it and the people who lived there.
“How did you manage to get a day off?” she asked.
“It helps that work is slow right now.”
That gained a little of her interest. “Is the business in trouble?”
He shook his head. “It has its ups and downs. Like any business. I’m sure you understand.”
She gave him a brief nod, looked outside the passenger window, and said nothing else.
This is going to be a long drive. “You asked me back at the house where we were going. I want to show you around.”
“I’m not interested.”
He expected her answer, which was why he didn’t tell her the purpose of the trip. “You needed to get out of the house.”
“I need to go home.”
“You’ve said that.” A million times. “When we return to the house, I’ll call the airline. Or your travel agent. Whatever you need. We’ll get you home.”
A pause. “Thank you.”
“In the meantime, I thought you should see my city. Cities, actually. I wanted to give you a little tour of the area. We can stop for lunch at Mary Yoder’s—”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Or not.”
Sawyer left it at that. Despite his grandmother’s sour mood, it was a beautiful day for a drive. Women were out hanging their laundry on the line—and not just the Amish, but Yankees too. The sun’s golden rays warmed the interior of the car.
As he drove down Route 87, he saw an Amish farmer standing on his plow, directing a pair of huge Belgian horses as they broke up a patch of grassy field. It was a little late to plant summer vegetables. Maybe he was preparing a pumpkin patch.
Sawyer realized he was lost in his thoughts, drawn to the countryside as he wished Cora could be. But he wouldn’t force anything on her. He also wouldn’t let her leave without seeing where he and Laura would spend the rest of their lives.
Cora folded her hands in her lap, trying to ignore her grandson’s incessant chatter. He was like a tour guide, pointing out different attractions and businesses as they traveled, explaining which friends lived where, even drawing her attention to “an authentic Amish schoolhouse.”
As if she cared about any of this. All she could think about was her bleak future and limited choices.
A few words stood out as he talked, mostly names of places. Mesopotamia. West Farmington. Parkman. Geauga County. It all meant nothing.
Everyone else, including Laura’s mother, was overjoyed about Sawyer joining the church and getting married. They’d gotten what they wanted. She’d gotten nothing.
It was past noon by the time they were finished with the tour. Sawyer pulled up at a red light. A black buggy stopped next to them. Sawyer waved, and the Amish man driving the buggy waved back. Cora’s hands remained clenched.
“So what did you think?” Sawyer asked as the light turned green and he propelled the car forward.
“Not much to recommend it. As I thought.”
“Everyone’s entitled to their opinion,” Sawyer said, his voice sounding tight.
Cora looked at him. “I don’t know what you hoped to accomplish. Were you hoping that once I saw green fields and horses and a cheese factory that I would suddenly accept everything that’s happened?”
He shook his head. “I only wanted to show you a part of my life you hadn’t seen before.”
“I saw it. Let’s go.”
Before she turned away she saw Sawyer grip the steering wheel. A sudden and unfamiliar twinge of guilt battered her conscience. He was trying. But he didn’t understand how bitter defeat tasted.
More importantly, he had no idea how much she would miss him.
He might not embrace her values, but she couldn’t dismiss that he was exactly what she’d told Ella Stutzman—an excellent young man. For a few brief moments, when she could get her mind off her own disappointment, she could see that he was successful on his own terms. And happy, so very happy. Wasn’t that what she’d wanted for Kerry when she was young? For her daughter to be happy?
Something along the way interfered with that wish. Something had changed her definition of bliss and made her put wealth and status before her only child. Now she had tried without ceasing to do the same to her grandson. Like Kerry, he would have none of it.
Couldn’t she be satisfied with his decision? Or was choosing pride, prestige, and money over another family member worth it?
“I have one more stop to make,” Sawyer said, turning down a dusty gravel road. “It will only take a minute.”
She nodded but didn’t speak. A thick knob blocked her throat. A swelling rose in her chest. She fought the sudden tears that stung her eyes. How she despised sentimentality! Yet she was unable to control the emotions surging through her.
They pulled into the driveway of the saddest piece of property she’d ever seen. The yard was shorn and neat, but the house and barn were on the verge of collapse. A young man wearing a straw hat, a pale yellow short-sleeved shirt, and the same kind of blue denim pegged pants she’d seen all the Amish men wear was hammering a handmade sign at the street edge of the front lawn.
She peered at the lettering: FOR SALE.
Sawyer frowned. “What’s he doing?” He got out of the car and walked over to the man. They talked for several moments, Sawyer clapping him on the shoulder in a sympathetic gesture. But he seemed more upset than the young man did. They parted and Sawyer went back to the car, but he didn’t put it in reverse right away.
“Can’t believe it,” he said.
Cora’s curiosity led her to speak. “What?”
“My friend. He’s lost his farm.”
“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”
“That’s not all. He told me he’s also lost his girl, and a few weeks ago he lost his job.” Sawyer shook his head.
“He’s lost everything?” She frowned, compassion niggling. “How tragic.”
“That’s what I said. But he’s okay with all of it. He said he has God. His family.” He turned to Cora. “And then he said that’s all that mattered.” Sawyer put the car in reverse. “You’ll be happy to know we’re heading home now.”
But Cora’s mind was still on the young man. “Will he be okay?”
“He already is.”
She glanced in the side-view mirror as the decrepit farm shrank from view. A memory, sharp and clear—and one she hadn’t thought of in years—entered her mind. More than fifty years ago, when she and her husband first married, they had started a business, a simple print shop in a depressed area of New York City. They were so full of excitement and promise. Within six months the shop nearly failed.
Then they received an investment tip from a friend and put the rest of their meager savings toward it. The stock turned out to be a sure thing, and before the year was over they had sold their shop and started their own investment firm—one of many different businesses currently under her conglomerate.
A tip from a friend was all it took to change their fortune. She couldn’t remember if she’d even thanked the man.
When they reached the Bylers’, Cora turned to Sawyer. “What is your friend’s name?”
“Johnny Mullet. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
Johnny ran a bristle brush against the roan’s coat, using long, even strokes. He had been surprised to see Sawyer yesterday, especially driving a car. But when he said he was taking his grandmother around Middlefield, it made sense. Johnny prayed everything would work out with that situation. That God’s will be done.
Last night, as he sat in his empty house, the silence chilled him. He didn’t belong here, not right now. Not with all the manipulation he’d done to obtain the farm and keep it. His drive to succeed had caused him to ignore his family and community and go outside his faith for help. What had that gotten him?
Nothing.
After a restless night, he rose early and started on his chores, his mind buzzing with thoughts. Not about the farm, but about Katherine.
He missed her, wanted things to be different between them. But she had been right. He had to strip away his pride, layer by painful layer, and get over himself. The only way to do that was to focus on what God wanted from him. Not on his own desires—whether those included Katherine or a farm or anything else.
“Sohn?”
Johnny looked up to see his father coming into the barn. “Hi,” he said, stuffing down his turmoil. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Considering you never invite me over, I can see why.”
The comment stung. But his father was right. Since that first day when he’d showed his daed the property, he hadn’t asked his father to come back. Mostly because he had so little to show for himself.
“I understand you’ve been having a pretty rough time.” His father picked up an extra brush. “Mind if I help?”
Johnny shook his head. The two men combed the roan, not saying anything for a few moments.
“Why didn’t you tell me you lost your job?”
Johnny looked at the ground. He shook the hay off his boots. “I was embarrassed.” He glanced up at his daed. “You were right. I never should have bought this place.”
“Is that why there’s a For Sale sign out front?”
He nodded. “Ya.”
“I see.” His father stroked one of the horse’s withers. “I didn’t think you would give up that easily.”
“I don’t really have a choice.”
Might as well confess everything. He told his father about the Wagners. About their plan for the fake Amish playground. About how he almost gave in to the temptation, all for the sake of his pride.
Daed’s shoulders slumped. “Sohn, I really wish you’d come to us.”
“You and Mamm don’t have the money.”
“We could have gone to anyone in the district. You know that.”
Johnny put the brush back in its holder on the wall. “I wanted to do this myself. Now I know I can’t.”
“Do you think the place will sell?”
“I’m praying it will. I don’t need the farm. Not right now. I’m starting to see things clearly for the first time in a long while.” He opened the stall door, and his father followed him out into the middle of the barn.
“I suppose this new clarity includes Katherine Yoder?” Daed asked.
“Let me guess. Mary Beth.” He’d confided in his sister yesterday, shortly after Sawyer left.
His father chuckled. He had grayed early, and the silvery strands in his beard and hair made him seem older than his years. “She’s concerned about you. We’ve all been. But we also respect your right to your privacy.”
“I appreciate that. But there’s nothing private anymore.” He held out his empty hands. “Nee farm, nee maedel, nee job. I’ve got nix.”
“Nice wallowing you’re doing there.”
“It’s not pity, Daed. I don’t feel sorry for myself. Ya, I’m upset at some of the foolish stuff I’ve done. But I’m on the path to fixing all of that.”
“All by yourself?”
“With God’s help.”
His father moved closer to him. “How about some help from your familye too?”
“Other than buying this farm or giving me a job, I’m not sure what you could do.”
“We’ll figure something out.” He clasped Johnny’s shoulder. “In the meantime, are you ready to come home?”
Johnny’s chin twitched. Even after he’d abruptly left home and failed, his father still wanted him back, welcoming him with open arms. A jagged, broken dam burst inside of Johnny, the stress of the past month pouring out in a deluge. “Ya,” he said, choking back tears. “I’m ready to come home.”
Several days had passed since Katherine had last seen Johnny. Her father hadn’t asked any questions when she returned home on foot. He had simply given her a look, then went back to reading his paper. He hadn’t mentioned Johnny again, and neither had her mother.
She had worked two part-time shifts at Mary Yoder’s, getting back into the swing of things at work. It seemed that everything was back to normal.
Except nothing felt normal at all. There was a peace in her soul, one she hadn’t felt in a long time. She didn’t doubt her decision about Johnny. He didn’t plague her thoughts or make her feel guilty or inconsequential. Instead, she felt free.
Bekah walked into the living room and plopped onto a chair. “Don’t your eyes get tired from looking at that crazy pattern?”
Katherine looked up from the partially finished afghan. She was using primary colors in a zigzag pattern. She had to admit it was bright, not at all what she was used to making. “I like these colors. And the pattern.” She looked at her sister. “I could easily say the same thing about you reading books all the time.”
“Won’t have much time to read.”
“Why is that?” Katherine went back to crocheting.
“I got a job.” She grinned. “I’ll be working at Middlefield Cheese.”
“Yum.” Katherine smiled. “When do you start?”
“Next week.” She folded her hands across her lap. “I feel bad for Caleb, though. He’s still looking for work.” She paused. “So is Johnny, from what I understand.”
Katherine didn’t look up from the afghan. “I’ll pray he finds something soon.”
“Or that he sells his property. No one seems interested in it.”
“Sounds like you’ve been talking to Caleb recently.”
“Ya.” Bekah didn’t say anything for a long while. “Aren’t you going to ask me how Johnny’s doing?”
“You just told me.”
“Don’t you want to kn
ow if he was asking after you?”
“Nee.”
“Hmmph. He wasn’t, by the way.”
Katherine looped the yarn around her hook. “That’s fine.”
“Are you even listening? Katherine, put that yarn down and look at me.”
She did as Bekah asked. “I’m looking. And I heard every word.”
“Aren’t you upset?”
“About Johnny? I’m not happy about his financial situation—”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Bekah lifted up her hands. “How can you fall out of love with him like that?”
“I haven’t fallen out of love.” She picked up the crochet hook again. “A part of me will always care about Johnny.”
“Give me a break. That’s not true and you know it.”
“Bekah, it’s true. If it’s God’s will for us to be together, He’ll make it happen. I was trying too hard. Lately, so was Johnny. We have to wait on God. And we’re both willing to do that.”
“And you accept that?”
Katherine looked at her sister. “Ya. I do. For the first time, Bekah, I’m happy. I’m at peace. I’m looking at life and counting the blessings, not wishing for what was lacking. I’m finally living. And it’s a gut feeling.”
Bekah nodded. “I never thought I’d hear you say that, at least without Johnny being a part of it.” She smiled. “But if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.”
“Danki, Bekah. Now, you want me to show you how to crochet this stitch?”
“I’d rather read a book. Or plow a field. Or dunk mei head in cold water.” She grinned. “Anything but yarn work.”
After Bekah went upstairs, her father came into the room. He sat across from her. Katherine put her crocheting down. Guess she wouldn’t finish much of the afghan tonight.
“I heard what you told Bekah,” he said. “Is that true? Are you happy?”
“I am.” She touched her father’s hand. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”
“I’ll always worry about mei dochders. It’s part of mei job.” He sighed and looked at Katherine. “Johnny Mullet doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
“I think he does, Daed. In fact, I’m sure of it.”
The Middlefield Family Collection Page 64