The Harvest of Grace

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “You’re something else.”

  She winked at him. “Don’t you forget it, or you’ll find yourself on my hit list.”

  “I won’t forget.” He held up his hand as if taking an oath. “Is there any way we can talk once I’m done in there?”

  “Jonathan asked me to meet him at Ada’s after my appointment here. Since you’re so close to Hope Crossing, why not go there when you’re done? So many Amish come in and out that no one will think anything of your dropping by.”

  “We might not have much privacy, but I’ll come by when I’m done here.”

  Lena pulled onto the main road, praying for God’s mercy over their future.

  Cara put the photo of Lori’s dad, Lori, and her into a frame she’d bought at a consignment shop downtown. Her daughter had carried the picture around for weeks with no signs of losing interest, so Cara had no other option. If she didn’t frame it, Lori was going to ruin it.

  She ran her fingertips across the cool, metal frame. It was hard to imagine ever having been the woman in that photo.

  The stairs moaned softly as someone walked up them.

  Ada stopped at Lori’s bedroom door and then came and sat beside Cara. “He looks like a good man.”

  “When I met him, he gave me something I’d spent years looking for: protection from Mike. Did you know that’s what brought us together?”

  “No. You’ve never talked with me about it.”

  “I was a waitress in the diner he managed, and when he caught wind of what Mike was doing, Johnny had no qualms about killing the man, if necessary, to protect me.” Cara set the frame on Lori’s nightstand. “When I think about all that God has done to protect me rather than about the hardships, I see everything differently. Even my landing here is because Mike was relentless.”

  “God used that man’s evil intent for good.”

  “Does He do that?”

  “Ya. The first mention of it is in Genesis, when Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery. Keep your eye out for it in the New Testament. Over and over again, evil men heaped unspeakable torment on good people, and God brought good out of it. All those men who hung Jesus on the cross meant it for evil too.”

  “Deborah?” came a voice from outside the room.

  “That’s Lena.” Ada went to the door and called, “She’s not here at the moment. I’ll be right down.”

  The pitter-patter of Lori’s feet echoed through the old house as she ran from the kitchen to the foyer to welcome Lena. Ada dusted off her apron and ran her fingers roughly over her cheeks to give them color.

  Cara straightened Lori’s bed. “Why do I get the idea you’re hopeful that Lena’s handsome Daed is with her?”

  Ada grinned. “I have no idea.”

  “You really like Israel, don’t you?”

  Ada grew serious. “Tell me one thing not to like about him.”

  “Well, if he’s not here, you won’t like that about him.”

  “True enough.”

  They both walked down the steps to greet Lena. Ada stepped into the foyer first. “Deborah’s out with Jonathan, having a bit of lunch.”

  “Guess I’ll wait,” Lena said. “I’m supposed to meet him here.”

  “Is your Daed with you?” Cara asked.

  “Not today. I came here from Dr. Stone’s.” Lena held up her cast-free hand.

  Ada gasped. “Well, look at you. I didn’t even notice.”

  “Her mind was elsewhere,” Cara teased.

  “Shush now, Cara, or I’ll put you to work.”

  “And that’s different how?”

  Ada laughed. “It’s not, but it sounds tough. Lena, how about some lemonade?”

  Lena sat on the steps of Ada’s front porch, waiting for Jonathan. Lori sat beside her and peppered her with questions about the Amish school in Dry Lake. Cara and Ada were in one of the porch swings. But the picturesque image of good friends gathered on a peaceful summer’s day drinking homemade lemonade didn’t line up with the concern beating out a strong rhythm inside her chest.

  Grey’s tests had been bothering her more than she’d expected, and right now her mouth remained dry no matter how many sips she took of her drink.

  “Lena Kauffman.” Jonathan appeared from nowhere. His grin made her jump to her feet and scurry toward him. He met her halfway up the sidewalk and embraced her. “My goodness, I don’t see enough of you anymore.”

  She squeezed him tight. “Well, that happens when a girl’s best guy friend gets a girlfriend.”

  He backed away. “Look at you! No cast. No medical boot. And no limp.”

  She held out her hands and turned around. Jonathan applauded as she finished her full circle.

  Deborah stepped in front of Jonathan and gave Lena a hug. “You look healthy and perfect.”

  “Well, the healthy part I’ll believe. Where have you two been?”

  “We found a little place to have lunch,” Jonathan said. “I want to show it to you.”

  “Now? You can’t be hungry again.”

  “Kumm.” Jonathan bent his arm at the elbow and held it out to her. She looped her hand around his arm, and they began walking.

  Lena paused. “Deborah, aren’t you coming?”

  “You two go. He wanted to visit with you alone for a bit, and if I go, I’ll talk the whole time.”

  They hadn’t walked more than thirty steps when he stopped. “We’re at our destination. What do you think?” He waved toward the house.

  A well-kept Victorian home stared back at her. “Oh no, you did not.”

  “Oh yes I did.” Jonathan took her on a tour of the house. “It was built in the mid-eighteen hundreds, and it needs work on the inside, but Deborah and I love it.” He told her of their plans and how he’d proposed. She adored seeing him completely happy.

  He’d been in love with Deborah for years. He’d courted other women while Deborah planned to marry Mahlon, but tears welled in Lena’s eyes when she thought of how patient and hopeful he’d remained. Even in the face of apparent defeat, he’d waited without complaint to see if God would give him a chance with Deborah.

  “Hey,” Jonathan scolded her. “There are no tears allowed over this.”

  Years of memories of their friendship and his loneliness for Deborah melted her, and a sob escaped.

  “Okay then,” he growled. “Cry like a girl.” He hugged her. “I knew no one would understand what this means to me like you would. Now all we have to do is find the right person for you.”

  She wiped her face and touched her lips with her index finger. “I do have someone.”

  “Who?”

  She heard Deborah’s voice and went to a window. Deborah and Grey were walking toward the house. “It’s Grey.”

  Jonathan grinned. “I should have known. You two will be good for each other. How long will you wait to court openly?”

  “October, probably the middle of the month. I … I need a few minutes to talk to him if you could help manage it.”

  “You got it.”

  Deborah walked inside. “I gave you twice the amount of time you asked for. Was it enough?”

  Grey followed her in.

  “Perfect timing,” Lena said.

  Jonathan pulled out his pocket watch. “Deborah, did you finish making that batch of cookies you promised Ada?”

  “No, but she won’t mind.”

  Jonathan slid his watch back into his pocket. “And when Lori notices you didn’t keep your word, what will you tell her?”

  Deborah made a face and gave Lena another hug. “I gotta go. You two finish showing Grey the house.”

  “Lena, I want to go with Deborah.” Jonathan pulled out a key and passed it to her. “Lock up when you leave.”

  “Not a problem.”

  Deborah and Jonathan walked hand in hand out the door and down the sidewalk.

  Grey removed his hat and hung it on the newel post of the banister. Lena waited, hoping for good news, but unwilling to ask. The empty old house was to
o quiet. Not even a clock ticked.

  He looked deep into her eyes. “The subject of chromosomal issues is a complicated one, and I’m sure I won’t use all the right jargon, but according to Dr. Stone, the test results indicate I don’t have any of the issues he was concerned about. The specialist only tested for certain hereditary issues, but he saw nothing that would cause deformities of any kind.”

  Unable to speak, Lena straightened his already straight collar. He drew her hand to his lips and kissed it.

  “You’re finally free.” She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest. Relief and expectation over their future wrapped around her as they stood in this unfamiliar home that she knew they’d visit for decades to come.

  Twenty-Eight

  Aaron sat at the kitchen table reading the documents the EPA men had left. He’d begun right after lunchtime. Now supper was over. The cows were milked—no thanks to him. And Sylvi and Trevor were probably done bottle-feeding the calves. Yet the pages about government regulations, grants, and teamwork between farmers and the EPA went on and on.

  He’d thought some of those self-help books that were required reading at the Better Path were dry. This stuff was so parched it could make a person die of thirst while sitting in a pool of spring water. But as he read, he realized there might be ways to get the much-needed help for this farm, the one-time boost that Sylvia had asked him about. The thought made him queasy, yet he intended to share the idea with her, not just because it was the right thing to do, but also because he wanted to quiet her fears. To see her excited.

  When he heard a car pull up to the house, he headed for the door, glad for the interruption. As Frani got out of her car, he walked down the steps to her.

  “You know how I kept telling you my folks weren’t willing to help me?” Frani asked.

  “Ya.”

  She leaned against the car. “You’ve made your bed, now you can lie in it,” she mimicked, wagging her finger.

  He laughed. “Sounds familiar.”

  “Well, they made a deal with me.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Said they’d help me in all sorts of ways if I agreed to go to rehab. Even offered to keep AJ while I’m there.”

  “And?” He waited.

  “I’m going.”

  “Frani, that’s great.” He hugged her. “You won’t regret it.”

  She grabbed his shirt and held him tight. “I can’t believe how scared I am. What if I mess this up like I have everything else?”

  He backed away, wishing he knew the right thing to say. “Make sure you don’t. You have to fight for yourself and for AJ. Where are you going?”

  “Some place in Baltimore that Mom knows about and trusts. My parents said if I come home clean, I can move back in. Like I’m looking forward to that. But if you can stand it, I can. I might even go back to school.” Her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at it. “It’s Mom. I told her I’d just be a minute.” She hit a button that made it stop ringing and shoved it into her pocket. “I gotta go. I don’t suppose you got a number where I can reach you?”

  “No. But you won’t be allowed to call anybody for a while anyway. You can write me.”

  She tilted her head. “Where? Aren’t you selling this place and moving?”

  “Well, yeah, but not for at least a couple of weeks, maybe four.” It struck him that his time was running out. But more than that, he wasn’t in a hurry to get off this land and move to Owl’s Perch. “Write to me here. And then I’ll send you my new address.”

  “I don’t want to lose touch.”

  “Then don’t. The farthest I’m going is no distance by car.”

  “I don’t understand, Aaron. Why did you try so hard to get me to go for help?”

  He shrugged. “I should’ve heard you years ago when you drank the night away but kept talking about getting sober. You wanted it long before I did. And this has sort of been like reaching into that part of my life and grabbing hold of one redeemable thing.”

  “Aw.” She hugged him. “That was really sweet.”

  He patted her back and stepped away. Hugging her was like embracing a cousin. A small scrunch was plenty.

  She smiled. “I won’t ever forget what you’ve done for me over the last couple of months—yakking at me about God and my future. It took someone who’s been right here, someone who knew the real me and still believed I had a fighting chance, to get me this far.”

  “It’s not near far enough.”

  “I know. But it’s a start.” She tugged on his shirt before hopping into her car. “See ya.”

  He waved as she drove off, glad she’d chosen to follow the once-buried hope of getting and staying sober. They might write a few letters here and there. Maybe they’d see each other a couple of times a year, but other than the days they’d spent drinking, they had little in common.

  Longing for time with a woman he did connect with, he wondered if Sylvi might go with him to Shippensburg to get an ice cream. It was a long shot, and he couldn’t say it was a particularly wise idea for them to spend more time together, but he didn’t care. He was going to ask anyway, right after he showered and shaved.

  But whether she agreed to go or not, he’d tell her some of the new farming ideas that were forming in his head.

  Annoyed and irritable, Sylvia soaked her aching body in the bubble bath. She’d scrubbed the milking parlor and tank room for hours, getting ready for tomorrow’s inspection. For what? To give the place a little more value when it came time to sell it?

  Her usual way of ridding herself of frustrations wasn’t working, so she got out of the tub, dried off, and dressed. It was time to own up to the facts. Aaron had come home with a plan, and he was slowly accomplishing it. Michael’s defenses and anger continued to fade. Not that he’d admit it openly, but she saw subtle changes in him—the look of pleasure on his face instead of resentment whenever Aaron came to the table.

  What really had her in a foul mood was seeing Aaron all cozy with Frani out in the driveway. And Sylvia had volunteered to let the woman live with her! She was such an idiot. He clearly wanted a different kind of life—one that didn’t involve a woman who sometimes smelled of Holsteins. She seemed to care only for men who wanted something or someone else. Did all men have to connect with women on an intimate level behind other women’s backs?

  Maybe some food would make her feel less grumpy. She wandered into the kitchen and looked through her mostly barren cupboards.

  Someone tapped on her screen door, and she turned to see Aaron. He held a large manila envelope in his hand, and his smile stirred fresh irritation. She had no interest in hearing about other ways to make the farm more valuable when he put it up for sale.

  “Sylvi, I have something to show you.”

  She pulled a jar of peanut butter out of the cabinet. “Great.”

  He stepped inside. “Is something wrong? I mean, other than the bad news we got about the fence?”

  “No.” It was a lie, but how could she tell him the truth?

  Aaron set the envelope on the small kitchen island and sat on a barstool. “I think I understood you better when you threw that hammer at me.”

  She opened the jar of peanut butter and grabbed a knife. “So, does Frani need to move in here?”

  He leaned his forearms against the island. “Actually, she doesn’t.”

  She faced the counter, her back to him, determined not to let him see any sign of the swell of relief moving through her. “Good. I’m sure having her own place will make your relationship with her easier.”

  He sighed. “I’ve already explained my connection to Frani.” He tapped the manila envelope. “Look, I brought you some information that may be useful in your quest to keep this farm. I thought maybe we could talk about it. But I guess you’re not in the mood.”

  He stood and headed for the door, and it thudded behind him.

  Until she saw him with Fr
ani, she’d thought he was totally honest with her. So why did their hug make her think otherwise? Her stomach turned. Jealousy. Unwarranted and unfair to him.

  “Aaron, wait.” She hurried out the door and tried to catch him as he strode up the lane, but her bare feet slowed her. “Aaron, please.”

  He turned, and she gingerly made her way to him on the gravel.

  When she looked into his eyes, she knew a simple apology wasn’t enough. “I saw you and Frani smiling and hugging, and I.” She shook her head. “You still frustrate me, with your defenses and contradictions. But …”

  His anger faded, and he sighed. “It’s not like that between Frani and me. Sylvi, think about it. Have I done anything that says I’m in a relationship with Frani?”

  She crossed her arms and held herself tight. It was time to come clean with him. “When Elam asked me to marry him and then asked someone else so soon afterward, I realized he must’ve shared moments with her while courting me. I had no idea, and I felt like a fool not to have known.”

  “Moments?”

  “I’m sure you feel it when we have a moment—when we share a laugh or talk about something meaningful, and our friendship grows stronger.” Her face flushed.

  “I like our moments.”

  “I do too. But I won’t be so foolish again, having them with someone I shouldn’t.” She scooted dirt around with her bare toe. “I’ve been on the other side of that fence too. I was close to the woman Elam married, and because of the moments he and I shouldn’t have shared, I ended up betraying her.”

  Aaron brushed strands of loose hair out of her face. “And yourself.”

  Tears filled her eyes.

  “You know forgiveness from God is there for the asking.”

  “I did ask. Over and over until I gave up.”

  “If you asked, He forgave you. Walking it out until you feel that forgiveness inside you—that’s often a different issue. But you have to accept that He forgave you. It’s a done deal.”

  Her tears refused to stay at bay. She wanted so much to believe that.

  “You seem to be carrying enough guilt for you and Elam both. Some of this belongs to him, you know. I mean, you didn’t chase him down and hogtie him, did you?”