by Leslie Gould
I spun around. “When?”
“About an hour ago.”
“How was she?”
“Better than last night.” Timothy shrugged. “Personally I think she’s faking it. And it’s just making the whole ‘Martyrs “R” Mosiers’ story way more dramatic than it needs to be. And you being with Jonathan in front of everyone isn’t helping either.”
I narrowed my eyes. I was certain he hadn’t seen me with Jonathan last night. Molly must have told him.
“And just so you know, once I found out you’d ratted on me, I was so upset I hit a pole on the way to George and Samuel’s last night.”
“You mean you were so drunk.”
“Ach, Addie, you’re always jumping to conclusions.”
“At least you didn’t hit a buggy.”
He ignored me and leaned against the counter. “Had to get towed. It will be a while till I can get it fixed. George had to give me a ride back here. So,” he said, “I won’t be paying you back for that stupid mantel anytime soon.”
“You never intended to pay me back at all.”
“Well, now I can’t. And it’s all your fault.”
I crossed my arms. “It doesn’t matter. Jonathan returned the money to me the next day.”
Timothy jerked his head back, his eyes wide open. “That only proves he’s even more of a fool than I thought.”
“No, it shows what a gentleman he is.”
“Well, my gain.” Timothy yawned. “Except you took mighty long to tell me. Oh well. Looks like I’m totally off the hook.”
Joe-Joe and Billy scurried around me into the house just as Daed bellowed, “Addie!”
Timothy smirked.
“Go wash your feet,” I said to the little boys. “And then get your pajamas on.”
“Addie!” Daed yelled again. I shooed the boys along to the hall and headed to the front of the house, dread permeating my entire being.
When I stepped onto the porch, Daed was waiting for me, standing tall, his broad shoulders squared and his arms crossed. “I already had it from two sources, and Bob just confirmed it. How dare you associate with Dirk Mosier’s son after we told you not to?”
Onkel Bob stepped toward me. “Now, Cap, we can all discuss this. You know as much as anyone that Addie didn’t seek Jonathan out because he’s Dirk’s son. These things happen. And like I said, this grudge—mutual, sure—has gone on long enough. It’s time to put an end to it.”
It was as if Onkel Bob hadn’t spoken—or at least as if Daed hadn’t heard a word of it. “What do you have to say for yourself?” His eyes bore down on me.
Mutter shuffled over from her chair, her face growing redder with each step. “Answer your Dat.”
“Jonathan is kind and true and wants to please the Lord,” I said. “There’s nothing about him that should bring you any concern.”
“Except that he’s Dirk’s son,” Daed bellowed.
“And that he’s not Phillip,” Mutter wailed.
I groaned.
“Phillip’s spoken for you,” Mutter said, her voice full of hurt.
“No one ever asked me how I felt about Phillip Eicher. Neither of you, nor Phillip.”
“Of course we did,” Mutter said.
I shook my head.
“There’s no reason to talk about Phillip right now,” Daed boomed.
Onkel Bob stepped in front of Daed. “Cap, let’s wait and discuss this tomorrow. After you’ve had some time to think about it.”
Daed shifted slightly toward his brother-in-law. “There’s nothing to discuss—not with you.”
“Then how about if Addie goes home with me tonight? She can spend some time with Cate.”
Daed sneered, just like Timothy. “Why would I send her over to your place? She belongs here. With her family.”
Onkel Bob didn’t seem offended. “Sometimes a break is a good idea. We can take a fresh approach in the morning.”
“I don’t think so, Bob,” Daed said. “I don’t want her sneaking out tonight to meet that Mosier boy.”
I held up my hand. “Denki,” I said to Onkel Bob. “I’ll be all right.”
Perhaps Onkel Bob was afraid Daed would explode once he left and take it out on me, but I couldn’t imagine he would. I could imagine, however, if I tried to sneak out of the house, that he would follow me and take it out on Jonathan.
“Good night,” I said to Onkel Bob and slipped into the house before any of them had a chance to say another word. I raced through the house to the back door. As I expected, being sure Daed wouldn’t want to talk anymore, Onkel Bob had nearly reached the driveway.
I hurried out the door and down the steps, meeting Onkel Bob at the walkway, but before I could ask him to meet Jonathan for me and tell him I wasn’t coming, Daed rounded the corner of the house.
“Denki” was all I could manage to say to my Onkel.
I sat in my room, running my finger along the letters of my name, thinking about Jonathan carving the A and then the D and on and on, when I heard the hoot of an owl.
The house had been quiet, except for Daed’s snores, for more than the last hour, meaning even Timothy was asleep. My heart racing, I stepped to my open French doors.
Under the elm tree stood Jonathan, his hat in his hand.
How I longed to be with him.
Daed let out another snore. It was well past eleven. At first I’d thought Jonathan was late again, then not coming at all. I’d been both disappointed and relieved. Still, I hadn’t changed out of my dress and apron.
Perhaps I could sneak out after all. I pointed toward the creek and tiptoed to my door, pushing against it to keep the latch from squeaking. Then I tiptoed down the hall. Daed’s snoring stopped for a moment and I froze. But then, in another beat, he started up again, and I moved to the stairs and tiptoed down. I avoided the loose boards in the living room and kitchen, stooped to pick up my flip-flops, and shot out the back door. Jonathan stepped toward me, but I waved him away, toward the creek, and followed at a distance.
Jonathan darted in front of the willow tree and disappeared down the trail. An owl hooted again.
I quickened my pace, fleeing to the willow. The weeping branches tickled my face and neck as I ducked beneath it. I slowed as I reached the path, finding my footing.
“Take my hand.”
I jumped and then relaxed, reaching for Jonathan. Silently, holding onto me, he led the way to the creek, over the stepping-stones, and to the sycamore grove, where we stopped near the hollow tree.
He wrapped both arms around me and drew me close. I breathed in his spicy smell of pine and rested my head against his shoulder, letting out a shudder of relief to be with him again after the last twenty-four hours of turmoil.
“I stopped by your Onkel Bob’s earlier. He told me about his meeting with your parents. I’m sorry—that’s why I waited so long to come over tonight.”
I exhaled. “He didn’t say much about his meeting with your family—just that your father wanted to know what my Dat said.”
“Ach, well, that was the nicest thing he had to say to Bob. The rest was one long complaint against your parents.”
I pulled away a little, tilting my face toward his. “What are we going to do?”
He shook his head. “Talk to the bishop in your district? Or run away? Elope, maybe?” He smiled. “Go to Atlantic City to marry? Or how about Las Vegas?”
He had me smiling at the image of two Amish Youngie getting married in a little white chapel halfway across the country. Not that it couldn’t happen. It just wouldn’t happen with us.
He pulled me close again, held me tight, and whispered into my ear, “What if I just came by tomorrow afternoon and addressed this with Timothy and your Dat. What if we stopped sneaking around? I’ll tell your Dat I’m crazy about you.”
I shook my head.
He continued. “That I want to court you.”
I shook my head again.
“I won’t say I want to marry you—that mi
ght seem a little soon. Right?” He grinned. “But I’ll make my intentions known.”
“Jonathan,” I said, pulling away again.
“Why not? Isn’t honesty the best policy?”
“Ach, it should be. But it doesn’t seem to work with our families. But we do need to figure something out.”
It didn’t feel as if we had much time.
“Just let me talk to Timothy,” Jonathan said, “about what happened to Mervin. Then maybe we could all play a game of volleyball. Or baseball. The Cramers against the Mosiers. Just the men. Whoever wins the game wins the grudge.”
Jonathan was a dreamer—that was for sure. “I don’t think that would work,” I said.
“But isn’t it worth a try? I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
“Jonathan,” I said. “I don’t see how that will possibly help anything.”
He put his finger under my chin and lifted it until our eyes met. “Not doing anything isn’t helping either.” Even in the darkness his eyes shone bright. “What other options do we have?”
I wasn’t sure, since even Onkel Bob struck out. “We need a plan,” I said.
“You sound like my father,” Jonathan said.
“I don’t think it’s wise to approach my Dat so soon, but we can’t just let fate decide.”
“But we could trust God.”
I bristled.
Jonathan raised his eyebrows.
I sighed. “We could move back to Big Valley,” I said. “Or somewhere else.”
“That’s an idea . . . if it’s God will.”
By the tilt of Jonathan’s head I could tell he would consider it. “Is that what you want?”
I paused for a moment. As much as my family demanded of me, I couldn’t imagine living so far away from them. I shook my head. “What I want is for us to court and marry here.”
He nodded. “My business would do better here too. There’s not as much of a tourist market in Big Valley.”
“So what now?” I said, glancing across the creek at the sound of a rustle in the bushes, wanting more than anything for him to kiss me. I’d been waiting oh, so long.
“I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Are you sure?” The tone of my voice confirmed my own doubt that it was a good idea.
“Jah,” he answered, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close. “I’ve been praying about it. I think it’s the only thing I can do.”
“Addie!”
I startled and then focused on Aenti Nell at the water’s edge, wearing a dress and a Kapp she hadn’t taken the time to pin but no apron. “Your Dat’s looking for you. Come now.”
Jonathan squeezed me tight and then released me. “Go! I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I waved to him as I rushed down the path. As I crossed the creek I slipped, sending my foot into the water. I hopped from stone to stone the rest of the way, my flip-flop slapping against the sole of my foot, onto the far bank. In the distance I could hear my father yelling.
“Come on,” Aenti Nell said, giving me a gentle shove. “You go first.”
I hurried up the path, slipping a few times. At the steepest part I reached down for my Aenti, taking her hand and pulling her up. Her Kapp had slid back on her head, and once she landed beside me, I straightened it for her. “Denki,” I said.
“Go,” she replied, nearly out of breath. “Tell him you couldn’t sleep—or something.”
I ducked under the willow tree and into the pasture. Daed stood at the fence, the moon illuminating his bare head and gray beard. Both appeared bright in comparison to his weathered face.
“Here I am,” I said.
“Where were you?” His suspenders hung down, as if he’d been in too much of a hurry to loop them over his shoulders.
“Down by the creek.”
“Alone?”
“No,” I answered.
“With Phillip?”
“No.”
He stepped away from the fence and jerked his hand toward the house. “I forbid you from going farther than the garden without my permission.”
I stalled a moment, waiting for Aenti Nell to catch up.
“Do you hear me, Adelaide Cramer?”
“Jah, I hear you,” I said, falling into step with Aenti Nell.
“And you.” Daed pointed to my Aenti. “What’s your involvement with all of this?”
“She has none.” I moved in front of her. “She simply came to say you were calling for me.”
“That’s hard for me to believe.” Daed stepped forward and glared down at me.
“It’s true,” I answered.
Aenti Nell grabbed my arm, pulling me beside her. “Cap Cramer, my involvement in this is that I think you’ve all been fools long enough. It’s one thing to limit your own life but quite another to box up your children.”
“Box up my children? I’m protecting my daughter.”
“No, you’re teaching your boys—or at least one of your boys—to be small and petty. And you’re teaching Addie to sneak around.”
Daed snorted. He pointed to Aenti Nell and then the house in a sweeping motion. “I’ve had enough of this tonight!”
He marched ahead of us. We followed. When we reached the back door, he swung it open, ushering us inside. As we entered the kitchen, Mutter turned in her chair at the end of the table.
“What in the world is going on?” She dabbed at her eyes with a hankie as she spoke.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Daed said, his voice tired. “Now, everyone go off to bed.” It was as if the fight, at least momentarily, had left him.
As I climbed the stairs behind my parents and Aenti Nell, for a fleeting moment I felt hopeful—that perhaps Jonathan could talk some sense into Timothy and Daed. And I felt grateful that my Aenti, even though she’d been feeling poorly, still stuck up for me.
It was midafternoon when I heard Daed yelling from the barnyard. I hurried to the back door and flung it open. He stormed toward the house with Jonathan following him.
“Addie!” Daed bellowed.
“Let’s not involve her,” Jonathan said. “The two of us should talk it through.”
Daed stopped and reeled around. “You don’t seem to be much like your father.”
Jonathan hesitated and finally said, “No. I’m not.”
All I could see was Daed’s broad back. He took his hat off and swiped his hand through his hair, then pulled the hat back on his head. “Not that it matters. You’re still not courting my daughter.”
Without missing a beat Jonathan said, “Then do you mind if I talk with your son?”
“Which one?”
“Timothy.”
Daed snorted. “Why?”
“If I can’t sort things out with you, I’d like to try with him.”
Daed laughed. “Do you want to get hurt? Because you may not be like your father, but Timothy’s a lot like me—and your father. Or at least like we used to be.”
“I don’t think he’ll hurt me.”
Daed snorted again. “He’s in the north field. Give it a try if you’d like.”
“I would,” Jonathan answered.
“At your own risk,” Daed added.
“Exactly.” Jonathan tipped his hat.
I slipped back into the kitchen and toward the front door, determined to get to the north field before Jonathan.
Billy was working a puzzle on the living room floor as Mutter dozed on the couch. Joe-Joe had only been down for his nap for an hour—he had at least another thirty minutes.
“Where are you going?” Billy whispered.
“To check on Timothy,” I said softly. “You stay here.”
He shoved the puzzle to the side and stood, saying in a normal voice, “I’ll go with you.”
“No,” I whispered. “I need you to stay here in case Joe-Joe wakes up.” I put my finger to my lips. “Don’t wake Mutter.”
He sank back down to the floor, obviously displeased. “I should go with you—because I’m brav
e,” he said.
“Oh, I know you are,” I said. “Just be brave in here now, jah? I’ll be right back.” We had to end the grudge. I didn’t want to lose Billy and someday Joe-Joe to the bitterness that had consumed my parents and was now eating away at Timothy too.
But first I had to protect Jonathan.
I flew out the door and down the worn front steps, around the far corner of the house toward the windbreak of poplar trees. Jonathan walked ahead of me in the middle of the pasture. Daed trailed him.
I cut around the other side of the trees and began to run, my stride as long as my dress would allow, the ties of my Kapp in flight behind me, my bare feet hitting the uneven ground, rolling with each landing. Once I reached the field I darted back through the trees.
Somehow Jonathan stayed ahead of me. Timothy continued to drive the team of mules forward as Jonathan stepped over the cut hay.
Daed had lagged behind.
I stepped to the side of a poplar. There was nothing I could do but watch.
“Timothy,” Jonathan called out in a firm but kind voice. “We need to talk.”
The team kept coming straight at Jonathan, and Timothy, a smirk on his face, acted as if he hadn’t seen or heard a thing.
Jonathan swept his hat off his head and began waving it. The mules balked and one by one, in a clumsy motion, veered to the left but kept on going.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Timothy bellowed. “Get off our farm.”
I lunged forward, away from the tree, into the field.
Now at the edge of the hay, Daed yelled, “Addie, go back to the house.” Both Timothy and Jonathan glanced toward me.
I stepped back again, this time behind the tree, out of view. Which meant I didn’t see what happened next.
When Timothy shouted, “Whoa!” I stepped back into the shadow of the tree, where I could see Jonathan, my brother, and the team. The mules weren’t easily spooked, but they were as strong as oxen, so when they took off, away from me, the cutter swung wide.
It appeared as if the breeching strap came unbuckled from the shaft, sending Timothy flying. He was holding the reins in his hands one moment and in the next they were whipping through the air as he flew beyond them.
Jonathan grabbed for the harness on the lead mule and yanked the team to a stop as Timothy landed on his side in the cut grass. I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get up right away. He rolled onto his back, holding his right arm in his left hand, rolling his legs back and forth.