He’d been selfish, he told himself as he walked into the kitchen. He placed the money and the gift from Miriam on the table and got a cold drink from the refrigerator. Then he wandered out to the back porch. It was cooling off some.
The screen door creaked. His grandfather walked out.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good. Miriam came by and left some money for the produce she took to the market for you.”
“Gut.” He settled himself into a chair.
“I don’t remember you doing that before.”
“We had a bumper crop of some things.”
“Everything’s okay?”
“Schur. Why?”
“If you need money—”
“I just had too much produce and I wasn’t willing to ask Miriam and the other women to can it for me, not with all they have to do. And I wouldn’t know how to can it myself.”
Relieved, Mark grinned. “Women’s work?”
“Ya. Not that I’d dare say it around them.”
“Did you ever think of remarrying?”
John looked out at the fields for a long time. “Never felt the same way about anyone but your grossmudder,” he said at last.
“She was a special woman, that’s for sure.”
They sat in companionable silence.
“Getting hungry?”his grandfather eventually asked.
“Yeah, some.”
“Used to have a hollow leg, you did.”
“You’re no piker at the table yourself.” Mark stood. “What do you say to a ride into town for some pizza?”
“Who’s buying?”
“Me.”
“Beat you to the car.”
And he did, which showed Mark just how much the heat exhaustion had taken out of him. Of course, he hadn’t expected the older man to take off like that either.
“I bet I can still eat more pizza than you.”
John just chuckled.
Nine
Miriam didn’t really expect Mark to take her up on her offer to talk and rush over, but when two days passed and he didn’t appear, she was disappointed nevertheless.
Well, no problem. She regularly visited John with meals and to help with his kitchen garden, so she had a built-in reason to stop by.
She knocked at the front door, then walked in. There were few locked doors in their community. Good thing, too, since her arms were loaded. She set the baskets and totes on the kitchen table, then put a bowl of potato salad in the refrigerator.
A pizza box sat on the top shelf. Just as she suspected, once Mark was here. He loved pizza and had to have it at least once a week when he’d visited before. Was this was the way single Englisch men ate?
She pulled out the box and wrapped the leftover slices in aluminum foil. Now she had room to put the things she’d brought on the top shelf. John favored her potato salad so she’d brought a big bowl, along with a ham for sandwiches. Fannie Mae was bringing strawberry-rhubarb pies for dessert.
Naomi walked in a few minutes later. “Warm one again today.” She fanned herself with her hand.
Mark came in the back door carrying the big water cooler kept on the table near the fields. He smiled at the women as he set it in the sink and began filling it with cool water from the tap. “We already ran out of water and it’s only nine o’clock.”
“I’ll bring out some pitchers of iced tea and lemonade,” Miriam said as she hurried to the refrigerator.
“So did Isaac’s moth hatch yet?”
“Yesterday.” She chuckled. “Fortunately it was in a box on the back porch instead of in the house. Life schur is interesting with bruders.”
“You have all those brothers and sisters and teach school, too. I can’t imagine being surrounded by so many children.”
“I love it,” she said simply.
The three of them took drinks out to the field and Naomi passed around a plastic container of oatmeal raisin cookies.
Then Miriam and Naomi got to work weeding and harvesting the kitchen garden.
“I saw the way he was looking at you,” Naomi said as she pulled a large weed and tossed it into a pile at her side.
“Who?” Miriam looked up from the strawberries she was picking.
“Mark. John’s grosssohn. I saw the way he was looking at you.”
Miriam swiped the back of her hand over her forehead. “We’re friends.”
“More than.” Naomi tugged at a big weed and won the battle. “Always did seem sweet on you when he came here all those summers.”
“We’re just friends.” Miriam wished they were more, but Naomi didn’t need to know that.
“Just friends?”
Miriam looked up. “Gut friends. That’s all.”
Naomi gave her a long look, then nodded. “Just as well, I suppose. Nothing could come of it, him being Englisch and all.” She sat back on her heels, looked off into the distance where the men worked, then resumed pulling at weeds. “How long’s he staying? Seems like it’s less and less these past summers.”
“He has an important job back in Philadelphia. He’s a lawyer.”
“Ya, they’re important in the Englisch world for schur. I heard everyone’s always suing everyone else.”
They worked for a while.
“Speaking of people not getting along . . .” Naomi began.
“Hmm?”
“Where’s Fannie Mae today?”
Miriam couldn’t help herself. She giggled as she piled strawberries into her basket. “Shame on us both. She’s just not a happy person this time of year.”
“I love her, but she does like to avoid working outside in the heat in summer.” Naomi sat back on her heels again and rubbed at the small of her back.
“She said she’d be along later with some dessert for lunch.”
“Gut. In the meantime, I think it’s time for a break.”
“Sounds gut to me.” Miriam picked up the basket of strawberries and headed into the house with Naomi.
They poured glasses of ice water and sat at the kitchen table with an eye on the clock. They needed to feed the men their noon meal, and it had to be on time.
“Hope Fannie Mae isn’t late,” Naomi said, echoing Miriam’s thoughts.
“She’s often late, but she always shows up when she’s promised to.”
“True. You know, the reason she’s been so unhappy lately is because she’s been expecting to marry Abram after the harvest, but now she feels he’s hesitating.”
“Oh my, I didn’t know. I feel bad. I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had much time to talk to her.”
Fannie Mae came in a few minutes later loaded with a basket and two tote bags full of plastic containers.
“Well, taking a break, huh? I’ve been cooking all morning.” Her tone was tart, her movements jerky as she unloaded the contents of the basket and totes.
Miriam didn’t take offense. She knew why Fannie Mae wasn’t being friendly. “We just came in from working in the kitchen garden,” she said mildly. “How are you doing, Fannie Mae?”
She looked from one to the other. “So you told her?” she asked Naomi.
“You didn’t tell me not to.”
Fannie Mae’s shoulders slumped. “Nee, I didn’t. Abram and I are going to talk later.”
Miriam hugged her. “We’ll pray things work out. We know you love him and he loves you. Listen, he’s here today.”
“I know.”
“Do you want to leave before we serve lunch?”
She stood straighter. “Nee. I said I’d help and I will. If we don’t resolve this and get married, I’m still going to have to see him at church and such.”
They busied themselves preparing lunch, and they’d just gone outside and put everything on the tables when the men came in from the fields to wash their hands and eat. Abram was among the last of the men and he avoided looking at any of them. Miriam noticed Fannie Mae wouldn’t look at him.
She exchanged looks with Naomi, who shrugged. No o
ne else noticed. Either the men were too hungry or Abram hadn’t shared what was going on with Fannie Mae. No surprise. Amish couples usually kept their relationships private until wedding plans were announced at church. But she, Naomi, and Fannie Mae were close.
Mark smiled at Miriam and she felt her cheeks warm. She tried to act casual but a glance showed her Naomi was watching her.
Heads bent to bless the food, then the men began eating eagerly. There wasn’t much talk at the table at such times. Eating to refuel was too important. They’d find time later to discuss the all-important topic of weather—something on everyone’s mind at harvest. Many a farmer had lost the time, sweat, and expense of raising crops only to see them ruined by storms or drought.
God was in charge, and the fruits of men’s labor were in His hands.
Gradually the men pushed aside their empty plates and looked expectantly at the women, clearly hoping for dessert. They weren’t disappointed when Fannie Mae began cutting slices of the strawberry-rhubarb pies she’d brought.
Miriam couldn’t help smiling. Fannie Mae had once confided that it was Abram’s favorite. Was it Fannie Mae’s way of reminding him what he might be missing? Amish men did love their food. More than one Amish maedel had won the heart of her future mann with her cooking.
Mark shook his head when Miriam offered him a slice of pie. “Thanks, but I’m too full.”
Soon the pie was gone, the last glass of tea drained, and the men filed out to finish their work. Mark lingered, and as Miriam walked past him to clear the pie plates he caught her eye. “Miriam?”
He glanced at Fannie Mae and Naomi, who were busy at the sink doing dishes. “Would you like to go for a drive later?” he asked quietly.
Her heart leaped. Finally they were going to talk and she could find out what was troubling him. “Ya. Love to.”
He nodded. “I’ll come by around five, if that’s all right.”
“Schur.” She glanced at her friends, making sure they weren’t listening. “I’ll see you then.”
Mark found himself staring at the contents of his suitcase. He’d been here a week and hadn’t yet unpacked.
Unpacking meant staying, and he couldn’t handle that.
It wasn’t that he minded staying here on the farm for a while. But unpacking had such a final feel to it. Like he was giving up and staying for good.
He chose a pair of cotton slacks and a short-sleeve shirt, his concession to leisure clothing for the summer. They were casual but dressy enough for any restaurant if they stopped for dinner. He hadn’t asked Miriam if she would go to dinner, but he figured a long enough drive might make dinner a possibility. And she’d done so much for his grandfather and the men who’d come to help him in the fields. The least he could do was treat her to a meal she didn’t have to cook.
After dressing, he stood before the mirror over the bedroom dresser. Working in the fields had given him a tan and he looked more relaxed, less stressed. Enforced vacation was worth something, he guessed. He ran a comb through his hair and frowned. He’d need a haircut soon. He wondered how Giorgio, his stylist, would feel if he went back home at some point and he saw that he’d gotten a haircut from someone else. Once he’d gotten a haircut during vacation, and Giorgio had almost told him not to come back.
He shook his head. Surely he’d be back in Philly before then. Just how long did he have to stay in exile? It had been a couple of days since he’d talked to his friend about what was happening with Maurice’s case.
A thought struck him as he walked downstairs. Maybe he should give his private investigator a call. It might be interesting to have him poke around the new case, see if there was anything he could find out. Something just didn’t seem right . . .
“Well, aren’t you all dressed up,” his grandfather said.
“Thought I’d go out for a while.”
He nodded. “Gut. You’ve worked hard since you came home.”
“Can I bring you anything back?”
“Some ice cream would be nice, if it’s no trouble.”
“No trouble at all. Vanilla?”
“Best there is.”
“Will do.”
Mark slid into his car, started it, and got the air conditioning running. He’d always enjoyed the comfort, the speed of the car. The status.
Now he thought the air conditioning was the best feature on the luxury sedan. Ever.
He had it cranked up good and cold by the time he got to Miriam’s house. He used to think he couldn’t get by without his smartphone, his laptop, his widescreen television. Now he wondered if he could live without air conditioning in the summer. Today, when he was working in the field, all he could think about was getting cleaned up and going for an air-conditioned ride.
Miriam’s concern touched him. She’d been such a good friend when he visited in the summers. She probably knew him better than anyone apart from his grandfather. So it was only fair to tell her why he was here again.
That reminded him. He hadn’t told his parents yet, either. They were off on their latest trip to Europe. His father had gotten about as far away from his Amish roots as he could, putting himself through college, marrying an Englisch woman. He had been so successful that he’d taken early retirement and whisked himself and Mark’s mother off to Europe twice now.
Mark figured news of his client being arrested again for murder—and his own subsequent forced exile—hadn’t reached Europe yet, or he’d have heard from them. He’d give them a call or send them an email in the next day or two.
Miriam must have been watching for his arrival because the front door opened as soon as he pulled into the driveway. She came down the porch steps looking cool and fresh as a daisy. How did she manage that when the day had cooled off considerably but was still warm?
She climbed inside the car and smiled at him. “Right on time.” She fastened her seat belt and leaned back in the seat. “This feels gut.” She turned to him. “So where are we going?”
“No place in particular. To have dinner in a while if you want.”
“Schur.”
“I should have asked if you were free.”
She laughed. “I am. Mamm’s always pushing me to get out.” Then she blushed. “That sounds like I’m pretty boring. A stick in the mud.”
He glanced at her, then back at the road. “No. You just like to feel needed. You always did. I remember how you reached out to a gawky Englisch kid his first summer here and made friends with him.”
She shrugged. “You weren’t gawky. You just felt out of place for a little while. But not for long.”
“Because you introduced me to everyone.”
“And you discovered you had a love for the land like your grossdaadi.”
“True.” Mark sighed. “It’s helped a lot to be here this past week. Even if I didn’t want to be.” He pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant. “Is this okay with you?”
“It’s expensive.”
“No problem. I’m fine with money.” He made a good salary. Okay, an incredible salary. And he didn’t spend much. He’d be fine if he had to take a break for a while.
They went inside and were seated quickly. He enjoyed how Miriam’s eyes went round, how she gasped quietly as she studied the menu.
“Don’t look at the prices. Order what you want. Something you’ve never tried.”
“I always thought a soufflé sounded interesting.”
“Then you should have one.”
Their server warned them about the wait time for the entrée, so Mark had her choose an appetizer. He ordered one as well. Miriam and her friends had made them a fine lunch, but that had been hours and hours ago and he was hungry.
Mark ordered iced tea since he was driving.
They handed their menus to the server and then they were alone.
“Allrecht, are you going to tell me now what’s troubling you?”
“I’m persona non grata at my firm right now. That means—”
“I know wh
at it means.”
“Yes, you’re a teacher. I suppose you would.” He met her gaze. “A client I defended was found not guilty. Then just days afterward, he was arrested and charged with murder again.”
Her hand flew to her mouth and she stared at him. “Oh my. How awful.” Then she frowned. “But I don’t understand. Why would they be unhappy with you at work? It’s not your fault he was arrested again.”
“It’s an old, established law firm. That’s not the kind of attention that the partners want,” he explained when her expression didn’t clear.
“So what are you going to do?”
“There’s not much I can do. I was escorted from the office.” He fell silent as their appetizers were served. “The thing is, I felt Maurice was innocent from the moment I met him. The jury acquitted him.”
“And this time? Have you talked to him?” She took a bite of her salad and closed her eyes in pleasure.
“I don’t believe he did it, but I can’t represent him this time.” He tasted his ahi tuna and found it surprisingly good.
“But you think he’s innocent.”
“I don’t get to choose my clients, and the firm won’t take him on again. Maurice got another attorney. I stopped by the jail before I left town and gave him the name of a buddy of mine who would be willing to take this new case on.”
Still, it didn’t feel like enough. Mark remembered how grateful Maurice’s elderly mother had been the day he was acquitted. She’d called him a saint and had hugged him so hard. He realized Miriam was talking.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I said, so what are you going to do?”
“I called a private investigator I’ve used in the past. He’s looking into the case.”
Miriam beamed. “It’s the right thing to do. But I meant, what are you going to do? With your life?”
“Use my enforced time off to help my grandfather with the harvest.”
“And then?”
A trickle of fear he hadn’t felt since that first day in court ran down his spine. “Then I guess we’ll see.”
“Maybe God has something new in mind.”
“What could be better than the law?” he asked. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” The server approached with their entrees. “Well, look here, your soufflé has arrived. Let’s see if it was worth the wait.”
Seeds of Hope Page 8