His eyes searched hers. “Then when? When can we talk?”
Carrie’s heart softened, just a little, as she saw the earnest ache in his eyes. Suddenly, a loud, persistent ringing noise came out of his pocket. A dozen white caps turned instantly toward Sol’s direction. Panicking, he pulled out his cell phone. Carrie used the interruption to step away from him. She picked up the baskets on the table and hurried to the kitchen, feeling the onset of tears burn the back of her throat. Just stay busy, she told herself, so you won’t dwell on the way things turned out.
She started emptying out the baskets, putting the desserts she had made last night on the counter with the others, as if nothing had happened. In her heart, though, she felt sore and lonely.
Mattie’s heart started pounding when she caught a glimpse of Solomon Riehl out of the corner of her eye. She was setting the table for lunch, determined not to look at him. She would not, would not, would not look at him.
She looked at him.
She scolded herself, feeling like she was back in sixth grade, Sol in eighth, when she would steal glances at him all day long.
She noticed that others were avoiding Sol. He was in that strange place in their community of straddling two worlds, Amish and English. He wasn’t being shunned since he hadn’t been baptized, but he wasn’t one of them anymore, either. She wondered how Sol felt to be among his people but standing on the fringe. How terrible, she thought, to be living on the wary edge. To never feel like you belonged anywhere, to anybody.
When Carrie’s buggy arrived, Mattie noticed how Sol put down his hammer, poising himself for a moment to find her alone. She tried to keep her eyes off of them when Sol approached Carrie, but she could tell Carrie seemed uncomfortable. Then his cell phone went off and Carrie turned abruptly to leave. Mattie’s eyes stayed on Sol. A look of stark pain crossed his face. He turned his head and caught her watching him. Their eyes met and held. Her heart started hammering so loudly she was sure he heard it, twenty feet away, but he dropped his head and went to the building site.
As Sol swung himself up on a beam, at ease in a precarious spot, Mattie couldn’t help but admire his grace. Barn raising was an activity he’d been a part of since he was a toddler. She whispered a prayer for him, asking the Lord to show him all that he was missing and to bring him back where he belonged.
As Carrie set clean dishes on the long picnic tables, she saw one man cup his hands around his mouth and yell, “Fix un faerdich!” All ready! Almost in unison, the hammering ceased. The women hurried out of the kitchen, wiping their hands on their aprons. Someone hollered out a count, as a few men picked up one frame of the barn wall and hoisted it upright. A few others swarmed to the base of the wall, hammering it securely into the cement foundation of the barn. The opposite wall went up, then the two ends, puzzle pieces locking into place. The youngest men, Sol and Abel included, climbed the wooden rigging as easily as if it were a ladder, hoisting the roof gables up with ropes. Within minutes, the skeleton of the barn, raw and yellow, stood silhouetted against the blue winter sky.
Lunch was served before noon. The men laid down their hammers and nails, untied their waist pouches, and dropped their bundles of tools, right where they’d be working. Emma and Carrie had filled up an old washtub, set outside the kitchen, with warm water, soap, and towels. Even with a brisk wind, the men were red-faced and sweating as they hurried to wash up and find an empty spot at the table. With the jerk of his head, Bishop Graber gave the signal for silent prayer. Automatically, the men dropped chins to chest, quietly communing with the Lord God. Then the bishop coughed, the signal to end the prayer, and the men grabbed their forks and shoveled the food in their mouths.
Abel arrived late to the table, lagging behind after examining something at the work site. Scratching his head, he went straight up to Abraham, seated at the end of the table, eating quickly so the next group, standing on the side, could sit and eat.
“In Ohio, we’re bolting the walls to the foundation.”
Abraham looked up at him curiously.
“It makes the barn sturdier to bolt instead of nail. Against storms and such,” Abel said.
Seated a few seats from the deacon, Sol said loudly, “And how many barns have you built in the last few years?”
Abel jerked his head in Sol’s direction, a confused look on his face.
Abraham intervened. “I have heard about this new bolting from my cousin in Ohio. It helps to protect against tornadoes, especially.”
“But not fires,” Sol said, looking straight at Abel. “What’s to stop a fire?”
Abel locked eyes with Sol.
Abraham slid down on the bench to make room for Abel. “Abel, please sit and eat. I want to hear about your bolts.”
Watching the exchange, Carrie hurried to set a place for Abel. As Carrie swiveled around to return to the kitchen to fill up a platter of pork chops, she saw Emma leaning over John Graber to pour lemonade into his glass. John was eagerly working his way through a pork chop and didn’t seem to notice her. She wondered if Abel had seen Emma fussing over John, but he was deep in conversation with Abraham about bolts. She could feel Sol’s eyes watching her, aware he noticed how she had tried to catch Abel’s eye, but she kept her gaze from meeting his.
As soon as the men and boys were finished, they returned to pick up their hammers. The volley of pounding began again as the women sat down to eat. Esther sat across from Emma and Carrie.
“So, where is Yonnie today?” Esther asked.
“She’s home, working on a quilt,” Emma replied.
Esther looked at Emma. “She should be coming to the quilting frolics.”
“She says she likes to quilt alone. Says it’s like praying to her,” Emma said, taking a bite of a pork chop. She wiped her mouth with her napkin and leaned forward on the bench, eyes shining. “She’s been teaching me all that she knows, all about combinations of colors. Her stitches are as tiny as baby teeth. And she doesn’t even use patterns, she just makes them up out of her head—”
“Lancaster Amish do not quilt like Ohio Amish,” Esther said. “And you would do well to remember the difference, Emma.”
Esther’s rebuke had the effect of dousing a candle. Emma’s smile faded; her neck drooped low as a cygnet’s. The brightness left her and her mouth tightened. Carrie had to look away.
What Esther was saying was right, Carrie had to admit. Lancaster was the first Amish settlement, and most of the church leaders clung tightly to traditions. As settlements spread throughout the Midwest, a willingness to change and adapt spread with them. Esther’s quilts were just like the Lancaster Amish, Carrie realized. Each one looked like the one before. Yonnie’s quilts, well, no two were alike. She brought combinations of colors and patterns together in ways no one could imagine.
Still, Carrie’s heart was touched with pity for Emma. Each night when she and Andy and Abel gathered after dinner—to read The Budget, or play Scrabble or Checkers—Yonnie and Emma would bend over the frame of a quilt. It was as if Yonnie was passing on all of her knowledge to Emma. Emma was a quick study too. The quilt they were making for Abel reminded Carrie of a kaleidoscope Andy had found once and brought home.
Andy ran up to Carrie and pulled on her elbow, whispering loudly enough to warrant a raised eyebrow from Esther. “Here comes that fancy red-haired lady.” He pointed to the driveway. A few of the teenaged boys who hadn’t been baptized dropped their hammers and hurried over to examine the car.
Carrie left her lunch and walked to meet Veronica. “Come to see the barn raising?”
“Abel invited me.”
Carrie raised her eyebrows. That didn’t sound quite right to her.
“Oh fine.” Veronica rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he would have if I had asked. Where is he?”
Carrie pointed to Abel’s figure, straddling a gable on the barn roof.
“Are you sure that’s him? They all look alike.”
“That’s him.”
They walked a li
ttle closer to the barn, smelling the sweet smell of fragrant pine.
“Isn’t it a sight to behold?” Carrie asked her. “To build a whole barn in a single day.” She pointed to the sides of the roof. “The framing is completed before the noon meal. And in the afternoon, the roofing is installed. That’s what Abel is working on now.”
Veronica squinted in the bright sunlight. “Nothing you people do is fast. Why in the world would you be building a barn in a day?”
“The point isn’t its haste, Veronica McCall. Wonderful things can happen when people work together. A barn raising is an amazing project of brotherly love.”
“Maybe I should hire them all to finish up Honor Mansion.” Veronica walked closer to the barn. “Abel! Abel! Yoo-hoo!” She waved up at Abel.
The staccato of hammers drowned out her shout, so she went back to her car.
As if in a dream where her feet were caught in quicksand, Carrie slowly realized what was about to unfold. She tried to stop Veronica, but it happened too quickly. Veronica leaned over the door of her car and honked the horn, then yelled out Abel’s name again and honked again. Startled, Abel turned, lost his balance, and slipped off the roof.
Abel’s fall was first broken by a beam, then by boards laid for the loft. Before others knew what had happened, Carrie ran into the barn and scrambled up a ladder, stepping carefully on the unnailed flooring. Abel lay crumbled on his side, moaning, one arm bent at a grotesque angle.
“We need to get him to the hospital,” Abraham said, peering at Abel from the top rung of the ladder. He turned to the crowd below and spotted Veronica. “Can you call for an ambulance?”
“I’ll drive him!” Veronica McCall yelled, standing among the Amish men and women. “It’ll be faster than an ambulance!”
Abel put his good hand on Carrie’s forearm. “Komm mit, bitte?” Please, come?
Carrie nodded.
The men made a gurney to hoist Abel down to the ground and carried him to Veronica’s car. Carrie found Emma to tell her she was leaving, to make sure Andy got home. As she hurried to Veronica’s car, Sol stopped her. “I’ll come too, Carrie. I could help.”
The words spilled out before she could stop them. “Like you helped Daniel?” She shook his hand off of her arm and climbed into the passenger seat, avoiding the hurt in Sol’s eyes.
Abel’s body went stiff as he stifled a moan of pain, intensified by Veronica’s wild driving. It was as if she took aim to hit each pothole and bump in the road.
Sol watched Carrie leave with that Abel Miller, moaning like he was dying, the big baby. He wondered who the good-looking English woman with the sports car was. It bothered him to see that Carrie had a life filled with people he didn’t know. Discouraged, he went back to work on the roof with the other men and hammered shingles until the sun started sinking in the sky. When the men were satisfied the barn was watertight, they packed up their tools. Sol handed his tools and carpenter belt to his father. He wanted to leave quickly, before his mother cornered him, asking him to come home again. It wrenched his gut, the way she asked. Almost begging.
He walked down the street to catch a bus at the crossroads. He wished he had just driven his car. He worried it would stir up trouble, but no one would have even noticed, he decided. Crossing his arms against the wind, his mind drifted to Carrie. He had been looking forward to seeing her all week, as soon as his mother had written to him about the barn raising. But it didn’t go at all like he had hoped. He thought Carrie might be eager to see him, but she wasn’t. Her lips held in a thin tight line as she spoke to him, all three or four words. And then the cell phone went off! He frowned, rolling his eyes. He could still feel the measuring glances of the women as he spoke on the phone. And it was that Alicia girl!
Sol sighed, discouraged. He thought he and Carrie might be able to get back to where they were before. When he saw her today, he felt a sharp pain as he realized again how beautiful she was, how big those blue eyes were. He felt such a longing for her. But his relationship with Carrie had veered off course like a runaway horse and he didn’t know how to get it back on track.
Sol thought back to a conversation he had, a year or so ago, with Carrie’s father. He was shining a flashlight on Carrie’s bedroom window one night when Jacob Weaver surprised him.
Jacob was standing on the porch, watching him. “What’s on your mind, Solomon?”
Hardly anyone called him that, only Jacob Weaver. Sol always thought it was Jacob’s way of reminding him what his name represented. Sol decided to be frank with him. He turned off the flashlight and approached Jacob. “You know about Carrie and me.”
Jacob’s chin dropped, his bushy whiskers rested against his chest, as if he was thinking. He wasn’t a big man, but he had a way of making Sol feel small. He lifted his head, as if he had decided something. “I’m sorry, son. You ought not to be expecting my blessing.”
Sol looked at Jacob, shocked. “And why not? You’ve known me since I was a boy. What makes you think I’m not good enough for your Carrie?”
Jacob leaned on his hands against the porch railings, slowly gathering his thoughts. Finally, he said, “I’ve known you plenty long. That’s why I’m saying no.”
“What?!”
“As long as I’ve known you, at church and barn raisings and other gatherings, I’ve noticed that you always eat first, with the older men.”
Sol shrugged. “I worked hard. I was hungry.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure you were. So were the other boys. But they waited, to show respect to the elders. Seems like a small thing, I know, but it’s more than that. It’s the reason behind it. You always think first about yourself.” Jacob shook his head. “I won’t let my daughter marry a man who takes care of himself first.”
Squarely meeting Jacob’s gaze, Sol said, “I would take good care of her.”
Jacob let his gaze slide away. “I’m sorry, Solomon.” After a moment he lifted his head. “But I don’t believe you would.” He turned to leave.
“Then who?” Sol asked him. “Who, Jacob? Who could be good enough for your Carrie?”
Jacob stopped, stood still for a moment, then walked into the house. This time, Sol let him go. By the way he squared his shoulders, Sol could tell that Jacob had someone else in mind for Carrie. He could also see that Jacob’s mind was made up.
That was the first time Sol started to think about leaving, with Carrie.
All of a sudden, he realized that at the barn raising today, he had eaten with the first shift of older men. He hadn’t even thought about it, he just grabbed an empty spot. He clapped his hand against his forehead, as if he had just proven Jacob’s point. But on its heels came a renewed vigor to win Carrie back.
To prove Jacob wrong.
A buggy clattered past him, then pulled over to the side of the road to stop. A capped head popped out of the buggy window. “Need some help, Sol?” Mattie shouted.
Oh, you don’t know the half of it! he thought, as he broke into a jog to catch a ride with her.
At the hospital, Carrie helped Abel walk into the emergency room while Veronica parked her little red convertible. A nurse took one look at how he clutched his arm, face contorted in pain, and pointed toward a bed behind a curtain. Abel stretched out carefully on the bed, took hold of Carrie’s hand, and wouldn’t let go. He held it so tightly that her hand turned a mottled white.
“Abel, they need to examine you,” Carrie told him. “You need to let go of me. I’ll be in the waiting room the entire time.” But he wouldn’t let go.
“Just stay,” the nurse said, yanking the curtain around the bed. “Men like their women right by their side.”
Carrie shook her head. “I’m not—”
The nurse interrupted Carrie with questions about the accident. Then she cut off Abel’s shirt. Carrie felt her cheeks grow warm at the sight of his naked chest, but what made her even more anxious to leave was Abel’s arm, bent askew. Still, he wouldn’t release her hand.
Veronica�
�s voice, raised in argument with a nurse, floated in from the hallway. “What do you mean, only family can be with him? I’m his girlfriend!”
Carrie leaned over to whisper to Abel, “I think Veronica Mc-Call would like to be with you.” She hoped this would convince him to let go of her hand.
“Nee,” he whispered back, wincing as pain shot through him. No.
“Since when have you been speaking the dialect?” Carrie asked, smoothing his hair back out of his eyes with her free hand to comfort him, the way she did with Andy when he was sick or upset.
He tried to smile but gave up.
“Okay, pal,” the nurse said, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around Abel’s good arm. “Let go of her hand. I need to get your blood pressure.”
Relieved, Carrie pried her fingers out of his, freeing her hand from his grasp.
After recording Abel’s blood pressure, the nurse took his pulse. Frowning, she asked, “Why is your pulse going so fast?” She peered at him, then at Carrie, who was stroking his hair. “Hey, buddy, stop looking at her and look at me for a second.”
Abel turned his head toward the nurse, puzzled, as she kept two fingers on his pulse.
“That’s what I thought. Now it’s going down.” She rolled her eyes. “We’re going to wheel you to X-ray, then the doctor will tell you what a mess you’ve made of your arm.” She snorted. “As if we all didn’t know that.” She yanked back the curtain and jerked his gurney, pushing him down the hall to X-ray.
Abel looked back at Carrie with pleading eyes. “Bleib do!” Stay here!
“Druwwelt nix, Abel,” she said reassuringly. Don’t worry. “Someone will be here.”
Carrie heard the nurse mutter to Abel, “Sheesh, pal. You got it bad.”
Carrie walked into the waiting room rubbing her hands, trying to get feeling back into the one Abel had squeezed for the last hour.
“Sis Schaade! Sei Dod waar ganz unverhofft!” someone called out, thinking Carrie was wringing her hands in grief. What a pity! His death was so unexpected!
The Choice (Lancaster County Secrets 1) Page 17