A Promise of Grace

by Lynette Sowell

  “You expecting someone?” Uncle Tobias asked.

  “Yes. I think so, if she decides to come.” Should he have offered to stop by her house and escort her here for dessert? Maybe it would have been a better idea.

  “Rochelle is coming for dessert,” Lena said, nodding her head. “She mentioned it Tuesday, on the way home after classes.”

  She’d mentioned dessert. Good. Or so he hoped.

  “Ah, Rochelle Keim.” His mother gave him a knowing look. But she said no more.

  Way back when, his parents hadn’t understood their parting of the ways. Looking back, he didn’t understand it either. Youth, in its rashness, often made life-altering decisions merely because they seemed like good ideas at the time.

  He wouldn’t have decided what he did had she not pushed him away.

  Of course, he could have been more persistent and less stubborn.

  Was it worth the venture now, to spend more time with Rochelle and see what happened?

  A brisk knock sounded on the door. Rochelle.

  He should have walked to her home, met her there, and headed off on the walk before stopping for dessert here.

  Silas strode to the door, ignoring his mother who’d stood up and moved in the same direction. Suddenly, he was twenty-one again, with clammy palms.

  “R—Rochelle.”

  “Happy Thanksgiving.” She smiled at him, and touched her kapp. A few stray hairs floated on the light breeze. She tugged her navy blue cardigan a little tighter.

  “Dessert or a walk first?”

  “We can walk first. I think I overdid it a bit at dinner.” Rochelle touched her stomach.

  He joined her outside, and they headed off along the front walk. Delightful smells came from neighboring homes, and a few neighbors sat on their porches. They waved, and both he and Rochelle responded in kind.

  “The neighborhood sure is quiet today,” Rochelle observed. “Yesterday, did you see how crowded it was? I had a hard time getting down the street, for all the cars.”

  “What for? What was all the crowding about?”

  “Yoder’s, pie pickup, day before Thanksgiving.”

  “Ah. I wasn’t sure what was going on.”

  Rochelle nodded. “Everyone lined up to get their pie orders. I don’t know how many thousand they prepared for this Thanksgiving, but it was a lot.”

  “Speaking of preparation, what did you make for dinner?”

  “Not much. I made mashed potatoes and a sweet potato casserole. I had clients to visit all the way up until five last evening. A few special requests before the holiday today.”

  “You amaze me, Rochelle Keim.”

  “What do you mean?” Her face colored.

  “You’re busy making other people’s homes clean and orderly places. Lena is impressed. Thank you, by the way, for letting her work as a substitute cleaner.”

  “She’s good. And you’re welcome. You and Belinda . . . I’m sure she was proud of Lena.”

  “Yes, she was.” Silas said, “About Lena . . .” He stopped himself. This wasn’t the time to bring up the subject of the quick wedding so long ago, then Lena’s swift arrival.

  “What about Lena?”

  “Ah, never mind.” They reached the Bahia Vista light, the street surprisingly busy for a holiday.

  He did realize he ought to tell her about the job offer, the details of which he’d kept a lid on while he pondered and prayed.

  An unusual-looking vehicle approached from across the street and stopped at the red light. A black buggy, like Uncle Tobias’s only larger, had the appearance of a traditional Amish buggy, but had seating for six instead of four.

  “Would you look at that? Another horseless buggy.” He smiled.

  “They seem to be popping up all over the place.” Rochelle shook her head.

  “I wanted to tell you about something, something I’ve only shared with Uncle Tobias so far.”

  “Oh, what?”

  “I got a job offer, but if I take it, I’m going to have to leave Sarasota.”

  “Piloting for the Kingsleys, I assume?”

  “Yes.”

  “I liked the Kingsleys. They’re a nice couple.”

  He couldn’t read her expression. Why did her reaction mean something to him? Maybe it was because he wanted to continue getting to know her again, but leaving Sarasota after the new year would definitely complicate the matter.

  “I’d live in southern Connecticut, where they have a permanent home. They have a place here in Sarasota, but it’s more like a getaway spot for them. Ted said he’d even pay for advanced training, if I’m interested in flying larger aircraft like for overseas flights.”

  “Oh, Silas, what an opportunity for you. But, Connecticut?” The light changed, and she hurried across. He lengthened his stride to keep up with her.

  “I know. Matthew doesn’t want to leave Sarasota, he told me not long ago. Yes, he’s practically grown, but I don’t like the idea of the three of us all over the place.”

  She slowed her stride. “Did you talk to him and Lena about the job offer?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, I’m, ah, honored you chose to speak to me first, outside of your family.”

  “I couldn’t tell my parents. Not just yet. They still want me back in Ohio. Moving back there isn’t an option for me.”

  “So, have you prayed about it?”

  “I have.”

  “What do you think the answer might be?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. Not a yes, or a no. Of course, I see reasons why and why not. But not one more than the other.”

  “Maybe the answer for now is to wait. When do you have to give him an answer?”

  “On December twenty-third.”

  “Ah, so you still have time to decide.”

  He nodded. True. “You’re right.” They passed the Yoders’ complex of stores, closed for the holiday, and continued along toward Pinecraft Park.

  Right about now, Silas wanted pie. But pie meant sitting in the room with unspoken questions and glances exchanged by his family members at Uncle Tobias’s house.

  The shuffleboard courts had a quartet of players. No one played bocce on the expanse of park lawn today.

  “This is the wedding site,” Rochelle announced.

  “Wedding site?”

  “The park lawn. It’s where Betsy and Thaddeus then Emma and Steven will be getting married on December thirtieth.”

  “Huh, not at the churches. A bit out of the ordinary.”

  “True.”

  Did she know about the tension between Lena, Emma, and Steven? Maybe she did. He wasn’t about to bring it up. Better leave it unsaid, and hope things blew over.

  “They wanted to share their day as much as possible. Which makes sense, not having to cook two reception meals. I’ve been drafted to help with cupcakes. We’re making three hundred, with aqua or teal blue frosting. Emma’s request.”

  “She definitely knows what she wants.”

  “On a good day, yes.”

  They ambled along the path winding past Phillippi Creek. A heron on the opposite bank spread its wings, then soared into the sky.

  The afternoon light made Rochelle’s face glow, erasing the years from her features.

  No, the reason for his hesitation about Ted’s job offer stood beside him. He didn’t want to leave Sarasota, at least not so soon. And not without knowing where Rochelle stood.

  Today, taking a walk, was literally another step telling him the door was open. Or, was he interpreting her politeness and kindness as interest?

  Long ago, he never had a problem knowing what to say to her. Maybe it was the confidence of youth.

  But now he stood beside her, after slogging through the weight of the past year. Some confidence. He’d been brave enough to take her flying, but only because of the Kingsleys. The look of bliss on her face as she told him what it was like to soar through the skies, well, he’d been buoyed along by her expression for days afterward.


  He glanced around the park. The oblivious shuffleboard players kept up their game of skill, paying them no mind.

  Silas reached for Rochelle’s hand. She didn’t pull away, but stood there, staring at his hand clasping hers.

  “Rochelle . . .”

  “Please, if you’re thinking about leaving, don’t . . .”

  “I haven’t decided I’m leaving. Not yet. I want to know if there’s a reason you can think of for me to stay.”

  “I want you to stay . . . as long as you believe you should.”

  “No, do you want me to stay? Regardless of what I think? What do you want?”

  “Silas, we’ve gotten to know each other again. I . . .”

  “Don’t think of me. Think of what you want. You always think of other people before yourself. You deserve the same consideration you give others.”

  Rochelle bit her lip. He knew he’d struck a chord, but he couldn’t stop.

  “Use your voice. Tell me you want me to stay.”

  “Silas . . .” Her voice caught, and she squeezed his hand. It took all his strength not to pull her into his arms. “I want you to stay. But I’ve learned in life, we don’t always get what we want.”

  20

  Rochelle sat up late Saturday night, trying to concentrate on the study guide in front of her. She yawned. If she didn’t get to bed soon, she’d be yawning her head off at service in the morning.

  But studies wouldn’t wait, not anymore. After Thanksgiving weekend was over, the remainder of the semester would begin in earnest, and then final exams in two weeks.

  She rubbed her forehead. Next semester, she’d limit herself to two classes and then pick up the third class in the summertime.

  This was all Silas’s fault. The walk on Thanksgiving after the meal, with Silas taking her hand.

  Goodness, the moment had made her feel like a youth again. Of course, she had the wisdom of years to remind her hand-holding and a stomach doing flip-flops weren’t the keys to a good relationship. Not as if she’d had experience with relationships over the years, save last fall. She shrugged off the memory and thanked God He had spared her further heartache.

  She’d prayed for a husband in her most quiet moments over the years. If she couldn’t have Silas as a result of her stubbornness, surely God could send someone else. She frowned about Daniel Troyer for the last time.

  The cool night air drifted into the screened lanai and gently lifted the pages of the book. Staying indoors studying would have coaxed her to drift off to sleep.

  Still, her mind wandered back around to Silas yet again.

  He might be leaving Sarasota. This shouldn’t surprise her. Most who came, visited, then left and went back to their “normal” lives back home. She tried to imagine what it must have been like for him, living in Africa for so long, then losing Belinda and trying to build a life without her.

  He’d loved Belinda deeply. She could hear it in his voice, even mentioning her name. It had been a little more than a year. When was it appropriate to “move on”?

  An older widow and widower had married last spring in their church, and everyone had rejoiced for both of them. Their engagement had been brief, yet no one doubted the couple’s connection to each other.

  Tonight, she’d remembered the couple as she stood beside Phillippi Creek while Silas held her hand.

  Could she dive headfirst into the idea of loving Silas?

  It wouldn’t be hard. It hadn’t been hard the first time.

  However, things had crumbled when tough times came, losing her mother, and then losing John. Maybe their youth had been a factor in their relationship crumbling. And, on her part, she’d weighed Silas—unfairly—and found him lacking.

  Soft footsteps in the kitchen made her look toward the doorway—Emma.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she said, her hair hanging in a braid past her waist.

  “Ah.” She knew better than to ask if Emma was all right. “All right” depended on the moment.

  “But I’m awake because I’m excited. My mamm is coming on the Thursday bus, my daed, too. She’ll have the dresses.”

  “Well, being excited is a good reason to be awake at this hour.” Rochelle glanced at her book and notes. “I think upcoming final exams have me excited for a different reason.”

  “Aenti Chelle, I hope when I’m you’re age, I’m like you,” Emma blurted out. “You take such good care of people. You let me and Betsy stay here, and you didn’t have to.”

  “We’re family. And anyway, I have plenty of room.”

  A frown flickered across Emma’s face. “I wish the whole family would come to the wedding. I asked Mamm again, tonight when she called, if they’d changed their minds. But no.”

  “They feel strongly you should have stayed in the church.”

  “I know. But I am part of the church. The Mennonite church.”

  “Yes, but to them, you know this . . . you leaving . . . was seen as an act of disobedience.”

  “The bishop didn’t forbid it. But it took a lot of talking, for him to agree to not shunning me.”

  Rochelle knew about shunning. She’d seen it in action long ago, in Amish communities back home in Ohio. She remembered, dimly, the relationship between her parents and their extended family.

  Pinecraft, though, and time, had likely insulated her from much of the harshness shunning involved in some districts. This, though, was the first time Emma had spoken of her own perspective.

  “I’m sorry, Emma. Sometimes, no, many times there’s no changing another person’s mind, once it’s made up.”

  “It’s all right. I’m excited, Mamm and Daed will be here soon enough. And my friends will arrive right before Christmas.”

  “Not long now, is it? I love weddings and seeing the bride’s face as she looks into her groom’s eyes.”

  “It’s a serious thing, I know. And about Steven, the other day, after we went fishing . . . he and I talked about it, and everything is okay.”

  “Good. Because,” Rochelle said, closing her textbook, “I think it’s time to start baking cupcakes. Four hundred will be a lot, you know, and with Christmas coming and finals and my schedule in general, I can’t see me baking them within a week of the wedding. I’m planning to freeze them, and on the twenty-sixth, thaw them and then ice.”

  “Yah, it’s a gut idea.” Emma nodded. “Danke again.”

  Enough of studies for tonight. Rochelle put her study materials into a stack.

  “I think a cup of tea is in order.”

  “I’ll put the kettle on.” Emma scurried into the kitchen.

  Rochelle released a quiet sigh. Emma seemed to be back on track. Her choice hadn’t been an easy one. Rochelle prayed the young woman had made the right decision.

  * * *

  “Look, it works.” Matthew sat astride his bicycle and started pedaling. The motor rumbled to life, and the bicycle shot down the driveway toward the street.

  “Great job! Hang on, I’ll join you,” Silas called out. Matthew turned onto the street, heading toward Bahia Vista, then swung around and headed back for the driveway.

  Silas grabbed one of Uncle Tobias’s spare bicycles and joined Matthew, who delighted in zooming past his father.

  “No fair, I don’t have a motor.” Silas kept pedaling. He hadn’t bicycled in years, but like the old saying, it came right back to him.

  They zipped along, waving at other villagers until they made a complete loop around the block, ending up back at Uncle Tobias’s house.

  Matthew’s face glowed. He braked his bicycle and glanced at Silas. “What do you think?”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “The motor kit was easy to put in. Uncle Tobias didn’t even have to help me.”

  “Nope, I sure didn’t,” Uncle Tobias said as he left the workshop, wiping his hands on a rag. “Did you tell your dad what you’ve been up to?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Oh, a surprise, is it?”

&nb
sp; “I’ve made money from selling bikes I fixed up. I sold two, today.”

  Tobias nodded. “It was his idea. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.” He needed to talk to Matthew and to Lena about the job offer. He and Belinda had always discussed things as a family.

  He didn’t realize how much he still found himself derailed since Belinda’s death until he’d sat on the job proposal for almost a week.

  Telling Rochelle was like holding up a mirror. He didn’t like what he saw.

  “You about ready to go, Son?” He tousled Matthew’s hair.

  “I wanted to have supper with Uncle Tobias and Aunt Fran.”

  “You know, you three are welcome anytime,” Uncle Tobias said.

  “Thanks, but we need to have a family meeting after supper.”

  “We haven’t had a family meeting in . . . I don’t remember.” Matthew hopped off his bicycle. “But I like Aunt Fran’s cooking better than yours.”

  Silas laughed. “Of course you do. How about some Village Pizza? I’ll see if Lena can meet us there.” Maybe if he plied them—Matthew—with pizza first, it would help him talk to both of them about their future.

  “I’ll buy the pop,” Matthew said. “I have money now.”

  Silas shook hands with his uncle. “Thank you, again, Uncle Tobias.”

  “The pleasure is ours. See you tomorrow, Matthew?”

  “Tomorrow!” he called out as they headed down the driveway.

  Silas paused long enough to call Lena and ask her if Rochelle could drop her off at the pizza shop behind Big Olaf’s.

  They walked along the street. Silas could have driven from their home, but found walking the neighborhood kept him closer to it, instead of the vehicle separating him from everyone else.

  “I’ve made almost two hundred dollars selling bikes.” Matthew nearly strutted beside Silas.

  “Two hundred?”

  “Uh-huh. So Uncle Tobias let me buy a used motor from him, and I put it on my bicycle to go faster. And now, I’ve got money I can use to buy more used bikes, and fix them up.”

  “I didn’t know.” How had he missed this? Matthew was growing up. Of course he was. Maybe Silas had babied him, just a little, after losing Belinda.