Silvia's Rose

by Jerry S. Eicher

  How much easier things had been with Lonnie. Here in this living room, her relationship with her first husband had begun. They had enjoyed long talks on Sunday evenings after the hymn singing. Was this where she wished to return? Was this what she wanted with Isaiah when their relationship resumed?

  “Confound it,” Esther muttered. “I am really confused.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Isaiah paced the floor of the small makeshift greenhouse behind his barn. The few rose plants he had left sat on the small table, their blossoms dull and lifeless. He should at least water them. The last time he had splashed a few drops on the roots was last week before his pitcher ran dry. That was the day Esther chose to visit her parents in Lancaster County without a word to him. Not that he blamed Esther for her sudden trip. He’d conducted himself shamefully since the night of his great embarrassment. His pride had been injured deeply, but that was no excuse.

  The flower minister! Even Bishop Willis had chuckled over that one, along with the community’s young men. Isaiah glared at the roses as if they were to blame. He was not used to laughter at his expense. His courtship with Mandy had included none of this upheaval and turmoil, and neither had his marriage. Isaiah clenched his teeth. In spite of his embarrassment, he had to get up in front of the congregation to preach at the services, all while sly grins played on the faces of the unmarried men.

  At least the community members had been sober faced this past Sunday. Everyone knew that Esther had gone back to Lancaster County for a visit, and that the reasons ran deeper than connecting with her parents. In the end, the sympathies of the community lay with Esther and Isaiah in spite of their chuckles over his initial plight.

  He had thought that all of this would blow over. He and Esther were both mature people, and they would settle this mess eventually. In the meantime, he needed action and a decision on what should be done about these roses.

  But what? That was the whole problem. At heart Esther and he were both practical, down-to-earth, no-nonsense people who had been caught up in this foolish rose business. He ought to throw these rose pots out and bury the plants behind the barn where they would be out of sight and mind. Only they wouldn’t be. The damage had been done. He would forever remember that he had honestly enjoyed the journey of romance he had embarked upon with Esther.

  Now that road lay pothole filled and rock strewn in front of him. They had best turn back. But how? He’d wanted to visit Esther these past weeks, but his cheeks had burned with shame at the thought. He’d avoided the sorrow in her eyes on Sundays, except for the few times they had passed each other in a crowded room and whispered a few words. He had tried to smile, the effort feeble, though Esther had smiled back.

  He was in love with her. There was no question about that. Heart pounding in love with her. Sweaty palms kind of love. Mandy had been a beautiful woman, and he had loved her, but not like this. With Mandy there had been no roses and no embarrassment.

  Isaiah gritted his teeth. He really should have thrown out the half-finished bottle of rose oil the first evening he came home from Esther’s place after his humiliation. His fingers had closed often around the neck of the bottle, but he had always stopped himself from tossing it aside.

  Esther’s face would rise in front of his mind in those moments. The sweet tenderness in her eyes, the softness in her face, the way she set the dishes on the kitchen table on Friday evenings. The woman had a grace and a wonder about her, a specialness that drew him. Did he want to lose that? Maybe he wouldn’t have to. Maybe they could go back to what had been before. Was it possible?

  Isaiah glared at the roses. They seemed to smile up at him even in their drooped state, as if they knew something he didn’t. Things had to be made right between him and Esther. Isaiah fixed an even sterner glare at the plants. “I will not be losing my mind completely,” he told them.

  Oh, great. Now he was talking to roses. Isaiah grabbed a pitcher and addressed them again. “Okay, you win. At least for now. I’ll water you. Are you happy?”

  He hurried outside without waiting for an answer. He was losing his mind, but what was new about that? He had been losing his mind since the roses entered his life—since that first time Diana had taken him to see her roses along the split rail fence. That seemed far away and distant, as if it had happened to another man. But he knew better. He had learned to not only love Esther deeply, but also Esther’s daughter.

  Isaiah plunged the pitcher into the horse trough and returned to the greenhouse to dash water on the plants. “You could say thank you,” he muttered, hurrying to the next pot. He stopped at the last one to study its petals. The water would soon bring life to the drooping plants, and the blossoms would regain their glow. He could use them to extract their scent and continue his project.

  But did he want to? Wouldn’t the easier path be to turn back and allow events to take care of themselves? Yet…he’d lived that way after Mandy passed, and look what had happened. Esther had moved to the community to marry him. There was no other way to say it, and he had been honored, if the truth were known. The whole community had seen the rightness of Esther’s move and understood how the Lord had led her to him.

  Esther would soon be back. She couldn’t stay away forever, and Esther wouldn’t move back to Lancaster County. She wouldn’t break their engagement unless he did—which he had no intention of doing. Esther would marry him this fall and be the dutiful frau he had originally wanted. They would forget roses and bouquets and bows and arrows. How foolish that had all been. Even Diana would get over her exuberance once her arm was fully healed. Things would return to normal.

  “Yah, they will,” Isaiah said to his roses. “Stop arguing with me.”

  But he was arguing with himself. That was the problem. He didn’t want to return to the way things had been. Mandy had been a wunderbah frau, but the Lord had taken her. He had a chance for live a new life with Esther—a life rough and scattered with the rocks of embarrassment that had tripped him up, but one of forgiveness. She probably would forgive him even if he didn’t ask. All he had to do was show up at her house once she returned from Lancaster County and mutter a few words about how he was ready to carry on.

  And could he come on Friday evenings for supper?

  Diana would hop up on his lap and Esther would smile, but her eyes would be sad, and so would his. They would always know that life had offered them more, that they could have grown beyond the hurt, if only he had the courage to continue the journey. And Diana? The girl would never understand what had happened to him. If the accident hadn’t occurred to occupy her mind, the hurt of misunderstanding over his continued absence might already have caused irreparable damage. That must be why Esther had made the trip to Lancaster County. This was Esther’s last effort before the bridge collapsed completely between them.

  Yah, Esther would still wed him, but the glimpses they had been given of each other’s hearts would withdraw. Perhaps forever.

  Isaiah stomped over to the barn window and looked out. He needed to work on his project today. That was the truth. He needed to tie on an apron and face the embarrassment head-on. He could practice alone in his kitchen, cooking oils to extract rose scents from petals. But if anyone saw him wearing an apron and bending over rose petals on his stove, he would never want to leave the house again. But they wouldn’t see him if he locked the doors, pulled the drapes, and—

  Isaiah stopped himself. This had to end. This wunderbah new life he had been given with Esther was worth a few chuckles from the community people. He could live down his new nickname, the “flower minister.” That would all go away after the wedding once he said the vows with Esther and she was his frau. Let them laugh. Esther was a woman worth almost anything, and more than that, their love—which had blossomed like roses when watered—was worth much more.

  He would drive to Joseph’s greenhouse today and purchase a few more rose pots, and if anyone saw him, he would smile and wave and comfort himself by imagining the joy in Esther’s
face once he gave her the scented rose oil on their wedding night. He couldn’t grow roses the way Joseph could, but he could extract the scent from rose blossoms. And if he was the only Amish minister in the whole world who set about to accomplish such a foolish thing, then so be it. He was the only Amish minister who would wed Esther. That was enough of an answer to satisfy him.

  Isaiah jerked open the back barn door and whistled to Echo. The horse came at a trot, and ten minutes later they were going up Highway 5 at a fast trot. He wouldn’t even bother with the southern approach. Esther wasn’t at home, and right now he didn’t care who saw him.

  “Whoa there,” Isaiah called out as he pulled into Joseph’s greenhouse driveway with a flourish.

  Joseph appeared in the doorway with a puzzled look.

  “Yah, I know,” Isaiah said as he hopped down and tied Echo to the hitching post.

  “And a goot morning to you,” Joseph responded, his smile uncertain. “What brings you out?”

  Isaiah wrinkled up his face. “What do you think the flower minister wants?”

  Joseph chuckled. “I’m sorry about that, but it is a little funny, don’t you think? Who would have thought only a few months ago that—”

  “You can stop it,” Isaiah ordered, and Joseph’s chuckle deepened.

  “So what are you going to do about your problems?” Isaiah shot back. “Both of our girlfriends are in Lancaster County, it seems.”

  Joseph sobered. “Maybe we should solve our problems together.”

  “I doubt if I can do much about Peter. But you could help me by selling me a few more pots of roses.”

  “That sounds like digging oneself in deeper to me.”

  “Maybe, but the tunnel might also lead to the sunlight on the other side of the hill.”

  Joseph laughed. “Now I believe all the rumors I heard. You are the poetic flower minister.”

  “Hush,” Isaiah warned, but he soon joined in the laughter.

  Minutes later six pots of roses were sitting in the back of Isaiah’s buggy.

  “Are you going to visit Esther in Lancaster County?” Joseph asked as they closed the buggy flap.

  “I suppose I will. That would be the thing to do, I guess.”

  “I’m leaving tomorrow with a hired driver,” Joseph told him. “Want a ride?”

  Isaiah shook his head. “Thanks, but we’d best do this our own way. Don’t you think?”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Are you going to try to win Arlene’s parents over?”

  Joseph grinned. “Yah, I am.”

  “That sounds downright dangerous if you ask me.”

  “And this isn’t?” Joseph motioned toward the back of the buggy with his beard. “Cooking roses in an Amish minister’s kitchen?”

  “We will say no more about that,” Isaiah said as he jiggled Echo’s reins. “I’m trusting you to keep your mouth shut.”

  “The same goes for you if you hear things about my trip,” Joseph called after him.

  Isaiah managed to smile and wave out of the buggy door. What had they gotten themselves into? But he couldn’t imagine that Joseph would do anything worse than he had done by making homemade rose oil on his kitchen stove. Some might say this was silly and beneath his dignity…only it wasn’t. This was how it really should be between a man and his intended frau.

  Isaiah comforted himself with that thought.

  THIRTY-SIX

  The following day, Joseph directed his Englisha hired driver, young Ralph Wilson, with a toss of his beard. “Down that road is where I’m headed.”

  Ralph made the turn with a smile on his face. “You still haven’t told me what this trip is all about, or what it has to do with what we’re carrying in the back. You didn’t come all this way to sell vegetables.”

  “I come bearing gifts.”

  Ralph shook his head and smiled.

  Joseph had carefully wrapped the choicest offerings of his greenhouse in wooden crates yesterday for the journey south to Lancaster County, but he also had other gifts he was bringing that Ralph didn’t know about.

  “I’m hoping for a decent reception, at least,” Joseph continued.

  “Do you want me to wait until you know whether you’re staying before I head into Gap for a motel tonight?”

  Joseph cleared his throat. “I’ll need a ride for later because I’m going down to my folks’ place for the night in Southern Lancaster County, so let’s say…” He thought for a moment. “I’ll take the risk that I’ll be invited for supper. Let’s make it eight o’clock that you pick me back up.”

  “I’m yours to command.” Ralph grinned. “Eight o’clock it will be.”

  “Thanks.” Joseph managed a smile.

  Now that he was here, his whole body was tense. His plan had seemed so foolproof back in the valley, but now…what if Peter ordered him off the place on the spot? He would have to depend on Ralph’s presence to prevent any overt hostility, such as shouting. After that, Joseph hoped he would have a few hours to make his case. Even if he had to sit outside on the front porch and speak through the living room window, he was determined he would have his say.

  The truck bounced onto Peter and Edna’s driveway on Mentzer Road. The house’s paint was peeling in places, and the barn was equally shabby. The front porch leaned on its pillars, with the posts crooked above them. He hadn’t expected such obvious signs of poverty, but he had known from Arlene that Peter’s financial situation wasn’t goot. Why this was so, he didn’t know, although Peter didn’t strike him as a man given too much common sense—which was necessary in the management of a prosperous business. Why else had Peter and Edna reacted so irrationally in removing their daughter from the valley?

  “Here we are,” Ralph announced as he brought the pickup to a stop by the barn. “Shall I help you unload?”

  “Perhaps that would be a goot idea.”

  Chills ran up and down Joseph’s back. What if he was wrong in his calculation? He had chuckled over Isaiah’s discomfort with his roses, but this had the potential of being a real disaster. He would never live this down if Peter sent him packing before he could even unload his vegetables.

  “Let’s set the boxes in the yard,” Joseph decided, pushing open his door. He shuffled toward the back of the truck and dropped the tailgate. Then he lifted the first crate. He almost lost control of it, but he managed to lower the box with some measure of dignity. Ralph didn’t seem to notice as he unloaded two more and Joseph grabbed another one. They soon had them all on the ground, and there was still no sign of anyone in the yard or on the front porch.

  Ralph glanced around with a face full of questions.

  “I’ll see you at eight,” Joseph told him.

  Ralph shrugged and climbed in to drive off. Joseph caught his breath and tried to order his thoughts, but maybe a prepared speech was not for the best. Better to rely on his instincts, as there was no way to know how Peter would react to his arrival.

  The front door opened, and Arlene stepped out onto the sagging porch, only to gasp and dash back inside.

  “Well, that’s a goot start,” Joseph muttered to himself.

  If Peter wasn’t at home, maybe he could make his case with Edna…but then again, that might not be wise. Peter would be affronted by the obvious maneuvering around him, and he’d never get the man to see the light of day.

  Joseph turned and shuffled toward the barn. Peter had to be out here and was likely ignoring him. Maybe he was waiting for him to go away, or perhaps Peter was in shock that he had dared show up after having his promised one removed so abruptly from the valley.

  Joseph pushed open the barn door and hollered, “Goot evening. Anybody home?”

  The only answer was the thump of an animal in its stall and the distant bray of a mule in the barnyard. Joseph shuffled on in and peered out of the back barnyard door. There was still no sign of Peter. A small building stood off from the barn that was even more ramshackle than the rest. Joseph headed across the barn
yard, but he stopped when the small door jerked open.

  Peter appeared with his hat pushed back on his head and a block of salt in both arms. He stopped short and stared.

  “Hello, Peter,” Joseph greeted him. “Can I help?”

  Peter dropped the block of salt with a start.

  “Let me carry that.” Joseph came closer and bent down to pick up the block. “Where are we going?”

  “To the pasture.” Peter gestured, apparently dumbstruck. Seconds later he seemed to recover himself and grabbed the block of salt from Joseph’s hands. “What in the world are you doing here? Thinking to charm me by helping with the chores?” Peter’s laugh was harsh. “Even that should be beneath you, Joseph. I told you to stay away, but apparently you can’t even follow simple instructions.” Peter hurled the block across the pasture fence and turned to face Joseph. “But I can understand that in a way. Arlene is quite a catch, as I’ve been telling her since we came back to Lancaster from that valley of yours. She’ll have no problem finding a husband in the community. So now you’ve showed up and confirmed this exact point. For this I thank you, but nothing else. Now go, Joseph, before Arlene sees you and you cause a scene.”

  “She already has seen me,” Joseph said, regarding the man. “She ran back into the house.”

  A pleased look crossed Peter’s face. “I see the girl has some sense, and there’s your answer in case you don’t believe me.”

  “I believe she was quite happy to see me,” Joseph ventured. “She didn’t talk to me, but she wants to. Look, Peter, we have to make peace somehow. I want to wed Arlene, and she wants to wed me. I want to love a woman again the best I can, and Arlene wants to be that frau, so let’s talk.”

  “There is no use talking,” Peter snapped. “Not with you or that flower minister of yours. What a joke your community has become! And now is this one of your romantic gestures, coming all the way to Lancaster County to woo my daughter? Well, you’ve wasted your time. That’s just all there is to it.”